Biggles Takes a Hand Page 4

  “Very well. When I knew the Lowenhardts they had a house on the Antonstrasse, Number seventy-one.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know how I get on. Now I’ll get along. By the way, in case you don’t know, Karkoff and Co. are still lunching at the Adlon. They are watching the arrivals from Germany at London Airport, also the boat trains at Victoria Station, so it looks as if they haven’t found what they came for. It was queer that you and Karkoff should choose to eat at the same restaurant.”

  “Not entirely. The name should tell you why. The people who run the Adlon are Germans. So are many of the customers. You know what they say—birds of a feather...”

  “Ah. So that was how it happened. I’ll be seeing you.” Biggles departed, and went direct to the little French restaurant near the flat where more often than not, when they were all at home, they had their evening meal.

  “Well, and how did you get on?” asked Algy, when Biggles had joined the others at their table.

  “It’s a bit early to say. Von Stalhein was as helpful as he could be. Told me all about a certain family. We needn’t mention names. I’ll tell you about it later. In the morning I shall go to Berlin and make a few inquiries on the spot. I should get back the same day.”

  “How will you go? In one of our own machines?”

  “No. It isn’t worth while. If I can get a seat I might as well travel on one of the regular services from London Airport and let someone else do the work— I’ll deal with that when we get home. For the present, what are we eating?”

  Biggles reached for the menu card.

  CHAPTER IV

  LADY IN TROUBLE

  BIGGLES had only one purpose in going to Berlin, and that was to call on the Lowenhardts to ascertain if they knew anything about the fate of the Roth family. They should, he thought, be able to confirm or deny the death of Hans Roth, ex-Under-minister of Defence in East Berlin. If in fact he had been executed there would be an end to the matter; but if he was still alive, and free, he might well be the man Karkoff was after. As a clue to Karkoff’s purpose in London this was so slender that Biggles did not seriously expect success, but as it was all he had to work on he felt bound to follow it up.

  He had no reason to suppose that the trip would involve him in any sort of danger, or even complications. Difficulties, perhaps, such as getting the Lowenhardts to talk; but nothing more. It was not as if he intended to invite suspicion, or call attention to himself, by entering the Eastern, Soviet dominated, sector of the city. West Berlin, where the Lowenhardts lived, was free for visitors to come and go as they pleased. Wherefore on arrival he took no precautions to conceal his destination, but engaging a taxi asked to be taken to the Antonstrasse, Number seventy-one. It may be that on this occasion he underestimated the magnitude of the opposing spy system.

  Having paid off his car he turned to the house, a place of medium size, one of a row standing practically on the road. That is to say, there was no front garden, merely three steps leading from the pavement to the door. He rang the bell. Almost at once he saw one of the window curtains move slightly, which told him someone was at home and that he was under observation.

  After a short delay the door was opened and he found himself confronted by a remarkably pretty girl of about seventeen years of age. Her eyes were blue and a wreath of corn-coloured hair, in plaits, was coiled on her head. The way she was dressed told him she was not a housemaid.

  Smiling what he hoped was a disarming smile he raised his hat, saying: “Guten Morgen, gnadiges Fräulein. Is Herr Lowenhardt at home?” Naturally he spoke in German.

  “Nein. Herr Lowenhardt ist nicht zu Hause,” was the answer, given somewhat coldly.

  “I am sorry,” returned Biggles. “A friend of mine, and yours, I think, who now lives in England, asked me to deliver a message. You will remember him no doubt. Herr von Stalhein. Gould it be that you are Anna?”

  The question was not answered. The girl’s eyes were searching Biggles’ face. “Do you mean you have come from England?” She spoke in English.

  Biggles raised his eyebrows. “So you speak English.”

  “I have lived in England.”

  “Good. Is your mother at home?”

  “My mother is dead.”

  “I beg your pardon. Then as your father is out may I talk to you? What I have to say will not take long.”

  “Come in. It is better not to talk here.”

  They went in. She closed the door and led the way into a sitting-room that overlooked the street. From the window she surveyed as much of the street as it was possible to see. Turning away she said: “You say you have a message?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is your name please?”

  “Bigglesworth. Rather a silly name, I know, but I caught it from my father. I have known Erich von Stalhein...”

  “He lived in East Berlin.”

  “That is true, but now he lives in London.”

  “What is the message?”

  “News has reached him that a man you both knew, Hans Roth, is dead. Is it true?”

  “So it is said. What of it?”

  “Von Stalhein is anxious to know if his family is safe.”

  The girl’s face had turned pale. “Why should he think we would know?”

  Biggles’ eyes went to the ring on her finger. “Perhaps because he knew Anna Lowenhardt was engaged to marry Moritz Roth.”

  The girl was silent.

  Biggles fired a direct question. “You are Anna Lowenhardt?”

  “That is my name, and that is all I can tell you.”

  Biggles could understand the girl’s reluctance to talk freely to a stranger. “Is that the message I am to take back?”

  “Why did not Herr von Stalhein come himself?”

  “There are reasons, which you should know, why he would not care to be seen in Berlin. He asked me to say he is willing to do anything in his power to help the family of Herr Roth.”

  “They are not here.”

  “He did not think they would be but he thought you might know where they were.”

  “How could he help if he will not come to Berlin.”

  “He thought the Roths might come to England.”

  Anna’s eyes were cloudy with suspicion. “I don’t know where they are.”

  “I have a feeling you have been asked that question before,” said Biggles softly.

  “I have said all I have to say.”

  “Even if I told you that if the Roths have gone to England they could be in great danger?”

  Anna went white to the lips. “From whom?”

  “Certain East German agents with bad reputations have arrived in London.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have seen them. I know their names. Von Stalhein knows them, too. He has good reason.”

  Still Anna hesitated.

  “You don’t trust me,” prompted Biggles.

  “I trust no one. Neither would you if you lived here.”

  Biggles realized how the girl was feeling. Living in a city torn apart by strife and the threat of war she was a prey to doubts and fears. “Very well,” he said quietly. “I will not press you with any more questions but I would assure you I come as a friend, which is, I think, something you need badly at this moment. I will give you my address in London. I will not write it so you must remember it. Should the Roths go to England, if they will call at this address arrangements will be made for them to meet Herr von Stalhein.”

  “You really think they would be in danger even in England?”

  “Remembering the position Moritz’ father held in the Eastern Sector they would be in danger anywhere. They must be numbered among the unfortunate people who know too much for the peace of mind of some we need not mention. Anyone helping them would be in danger, too.”

  “I understand what you mean.” Again Anna crossed to the curtain and looked up and down the street. “I think it is safe for you to go now.”

  Biggles frowned. “Am I to und
erstand that this house is being watched?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps. Anyone who knew Herr Roth will fall under suspicion. I have not been out to see.” Anna smiled sadly. “You do not know how lucky you are to live in England.”

  “What took you there?”

  “When I left school I went to England for a year to learn the language. I worked as a governess.”

  Biggles offered his hand. “Auf wiedersehen, gnadiges Fräulein. We may not meet again, but should you come to England and need a friend you have my address. I shall go straight back home and tell Herr von Stalhein what you say. You will tell your father of my visit when he returns home.”

  “Ja wohl.”

  She saw him out and he walked on down the street, looking for a taxi, thinking over their conversation. He suspected she could have told him more but he could appreciate the position she was in. He soon picked up a taxi and asked to be taken to the airport.

  On arrival he found he had half an hour to wait for the next plane to London. He had his return ticket so he bought a newspaper, found a seat in the waiting-hall and settled down to kill time, occasionally, purely from habit, looking around at other travellers coming in and leaving by the various services.

  The departure time of his own plane was drawing near when his attention was drawn to the behaviour of two men who had just arrived by car, apparently in a hurry, but were now standing close together on one side of the general flow of traffic. Both were looking in the same direction and there was something so alert, so tense, in their manner, that he knew from experience they were watching somebody. For an uncomfortable moment he thought he was the target of their interest; but then he saw they were looking past him at someone a little farther along.

  Raising his paper as if to turn over the page, but actually to hide his face, he looked to see who it was. A young woman, smartly dressed, with the collar of her fur coat turned up, carrying a small suitcase, was pacing up and down either with impatience or in a state of anxiety. The next time she turned and he was able to see her face any ideas he may have had were banished in a flash. It was the girl he had just left. Anna Lowenhardt.

  His first thought was, did she know she was being watched? No, he decided quickly, she did not, for she never so much as glanced in the direction of the two men who had her under observation. Clearly, he would have to do something about it, and quickly, for the number of his flight was now being called over the public address system. Getting up he walked fast enough to overtake her as she made for the passage to the airfield. Catching up with her he said tersely: “Anna, don’t look round but you are being followed.” He dropped his newspaper as an excuse to keep near her. As he picked it up he said: “Where are you going?”

  Anna faltered for a moment, as was excusable, but she did not look round. She took a quick look and saw who was speaking. “To London,” she answered.

  “Keep walking. Are you going on this flight?” Biggles spoke without looking at her.

  “Yes.”

  “So am I. What is the number of your seat?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Do exactly as I tell you. I shall get as near to you as I can. Follow me.”

  Biggles strode on and was one of the first to enter the aircraft. To the air hostess he said: “If all seats are not reserved I would like to sit as near as possible to number twenty.”

  The girl looked at her papers. “There are some spare seats. You may have the one next to twenty if you like.”

  “Thank you.” Biggles went on and took his place. Within a minute Anna was beside him. He stood up to allow her to have the window seat, he himself taking the one next to the gangway. “Behave as if we’re strangers,” he said quietly, without looking at her. “We can talk presently.”

  Nothing more was said. The other passengers took their places, among them the two men who were following Anna. They sat towards the rear. At the finish, when the door was closed, only about half the seats were occupied. Then, after the usual departure routine the machine was airborne, climbing as it headed westwards.

  Biggles allowed a few minutes to pass. Then, speaking quietly, he said: “Did you know you were being followed?”

  “No.”

  “Behave as if you still didn’t know. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe with me.”

  Anna did not answer.

  Biggles stopped the steward, who was serving drinks, as he passed. “I want to send a radiogram.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll bring you a form.”

  The form was brought. Biggles wrote his message, addressing it to Algy at Scotland Yard asking for a car to meet the plane at London Airport. He would see him in the Customs hall. As he handed the form back to the steward he gave him a quick glimpse of his police pass. “I’d like that signal to be sent off as quickly as possible.”

  The steward nodded understandingly. “I’ll see to it, sir.”

  Anna, who had of course seen all this, now spoke. “Who are you?” she asked curiously.

  Biggles knew this question would sooner or later be asked and realized that the time had come for it to be answered. He had refrained from volunteering the information when he had called at the house seeing no reason to provide it. Moreover, he was afraid it might alarm the girl unnecessarily. But the situation was now altogether different. Holding the police pass, open, low on his knees, he said: “If you look down at what I am holding in my hands you will see the answer to your question.” He gave her a few seconds to read it and then put the pass back in his pocket. “Now do you understand?”

  “Yes. Thank you. But why are you doing this?”

  “Because you, or someone you know, may be in danger. Now listen carefully. When we land you must do as I tell you. You will have to trust me. When we arrive it will not be necessary for you to get on the official coach because a police car is meeting us. You will get in the car and go with the driver. I shall follow later. I must see where the men who are following you go. You understand?”

  “Yes. So they are on the plane?”

  “They are sitting behind us—don’t look round. It would be better if they did not know you were aware of what they are doing.”

  “Do you know these men?”

  “I have never seen them before.”

  “How did you know they were following me?”

  “It’s my business to notice such things. I knew they were watching somebody before I saw who it was. They must have seen you leave your house. You said you thought it might be watched. Now you know. You must also know why you are being watched.”

  Anna did not answer.

  Biggles went on. “You made up your mind very suddenly to go to London, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it as a result of my visit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does your father know you are on your way to England?”

  “He will know when he returns home. I left a note with our housekeeper.”

  “You can trust her?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You are going to England to see someone—is that it?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Couldn’t you have written a letter?”

  “Letters are dangerous.”

  “Quite right. But we can talk about these matters later. When we arrive I shall see that you go straight through Customs without an examination. You have nothing you ought to declare?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Your passport is in order?”

  “It is the one I had when I came to London to work. I think it is still valid.”

  “Good. Then there should be no trouble.”

  “Won’t these men follow me when we land?”

  “No doubt they hope to but I think I can prevent that.”

  “How?”

  “By arranging for them to be delayed in Customs.” Biggles smiled. “Their examination will be very thorough. You see, I am a special sort of police officer well known at London Airport.”

  Anna looked at
him. “You are very kind. Why do you do all this for someone you don’t know?”

  “Shall we say because in helping you we may help other people to become our friends.”

  The aircraft roared on. They did not speak again, one reason being that Biggles was anxious that the girl should get a grip on the situation that had arisen before pressing her with more questions, and, for another, he wanted to think about it himself. It had come about so suddenly that there had been no time to anticipate what the outcome might be. He had set out that morning with the intention of trying to get a line on Karkoff’s purpose in coming to London. Was what he was doing linked up with that or was he right off the track?

  There was still no clear indication. If he was right, Anna, when she had gained confidence, might provide the answer. Should he be wrong it would look as though he had saddled himself with a responsibility he might have cause to regret. But as things had fallen out, he pondered, he could not have acted otherwise than he had. To play knight errant to a damsel in distress was a task he would not have gone out of his way to undertake. But there it was. The girl was obviously in greater danger than she realized and he would have to give her a helping hand.

  His train of thought was brought to an end by the arrival of the aircraft over its terminus. “You know what you have to do,” he said softly.

  “Yes. I shall follow you closely with my case.”

  “That’s right. Don’t attempt to see the men who followed you.”

  Having disembarked Biggles made straight for the Customs hall, taking no more notice of Anna than a surreptitious glance to make sure she was near him. When he entered the hall the first person he saw was Algy, waiting for him just inside the entrance, his police authority having gained him admission.

  Algy spoke first. “Karkoff is here.”

  “The devil he is! Where is he?”

  “In the public hall.”

  “Did he see you? He might have recognized you from the Adlon.”

  “I don’t think so. I walked straight in here. He had to wait outside.”

  “You’ve got the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’ve got a girl with me.”