Orchids for Biggles Read online

  ‘Keep still, both of you,’ he ordered harshly. Glancing at Biggles he went on: ‘Keep out of this and you’ll come to no harm.’ Then, to Neckel, he snapped: ‘Where are the papers? Hand them over. Don’t argue or you’ll get what your man outside has got.’

  Neckel half turned towards the open window as if contemplating escape, whereupon Bogosoff continued: ‘You can’t get away. I’ve a man outside and he’d as soon shoot you as look at you.’

  Biggles looked at Neckel. Feigning ignorance he asked, really to gain time, for he knew the answer perfectly well: ‘What’s all this about?’

  To which Neckel replied: ‘I don’t know. The man must be mad.’

  Biggles was watching his eyes, knowing, or hoping, they would turn subconsciously to the place where the papers were hidden, if they were in the room.

  ‘Come on,’ rapped out Bogosoff, with iron in his voice. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

  Neckel’s tongue flicked over his lips. All colour had fled from his face. He looked like a cornered rat. He glanced at Biggles appealingly as he sank, trembling, into a chair.

  Biggles would have helped him had he been able to do so, for the last thing he wanted was to see the documents pass into the hands of Bogosoff, who now stood revealed as an enemy agent. But in such a situation, with the other man holding a gun which he was obviously prepared to use, there was nothing he could do.

  ‘You’ve got five seconds,’ said Bogosoff. ‘I’m giving you a chance. If necessary I can find the papers myself, if I have to tear the house to pieces.’

  ‘All right,’ said Neckel in a hollow voice. ‘I’ll have to fetch them.’

  This, Biggles observed, was a change of tune. Neckel no longer protested that he didn’t know to what papers Bogosoff was referring. That implied they were somewhere in the house.

  ‘Where are they?’ asked Bogosoff.

  ‘In my bedroom.’

  ‘Lead the way. I’ll come with you. Try no tricks or I’ll shoot you as you deserve, you dirty traitor.’

  This apparently was a reference to Neckel leaving his job behind the Iron Curtain for the West.

  Sweat was running down Neckel’s ashen face. From his expression he expected to be shot anyway, for daring to betray his previous employers. He would know as well as anyone that he could expect no mercy from them.

  ‘I’ll give you the papers if you’ll promise not to kill me,’ he faltered.

  Biggles smiled faintly at the thought of what such a promise would be worth, even if it were given.

  How the matter would have ended is a matter for conjecture, but at that moment there came an interruption which, as far as Biggles was concerned, came as a welcome respite. It must have been a great relief to Neckel, too. There was nothing really remarkable about it. In fact, it might have been expected.

  From the garden came voices, then footsteps at the door. Into the room walked the Intendente with one of his policemen. ‘Who shot that man outside?’ he asked, crisply.

  On seeing who the visitors were Bogosoff had lost no time in putting the pistol in his pocket. But he was not quite quick enough, and the Intendente must have seen it, for he said sharply: ‘Was it you?’

  ‘I know nothing about a dead man,’ answered Bogosoff. ‘Ask him.’ He pointed at Neckel.

  ‘He’s lying,’ shouted Neckel excitedly. ‘He killed my servant and was just going to shoot me when you came.’

  Bogosoff waited for no more. Before anything could be done to prevent it he had jumped past the police officers and in a moment was out of the house. Through the window Biggles could see him racing down the slope towards the river. His companion, the man he had left outside, followed hard on his heels. They scrambled into the canoe, cast off and were away.

  The police officers had not stood idle while this was going on. They, too, had run out, and standing on the grass fired several shots at the men in the canoe. Excusably they failed to hit their target, which was soon at extreme range for pistol shooting.

  The Intendente came back into the house, where Biggles was standing watching Neckel pour himself a stiff drink with hands that so trembled that as much spirit missed the glass as went into it. Neither of them had spoken. Biggles could think of nothing to say, and Neckel was obviously suffering too much from shock for explanations.

  ‘What has been going on here?’ asked the Intendente, looking suspiciously at them in turn.

  ‘I’ll leave him to tell you,’ answered Biggles, indicating Neckel. This, he decided quickly, was the easiest way out. Neckel could do the explaining. He wanted no part in what seemed likely to be a difficult situation.

  ‘What brought you here?’ the police officer asked Biggles.

  ‘I merely walked along to tell Señor Salvador what had happened near his house last night. I thought he would like to know. That’s all. I found him engaged.’

  ‘All right. You may go. I’ll deal with this,’ decided the Intendente, much to Biggles’ relief.

  Biggles went out and walked quickly towards the town.

  CHAPTER 10

  COMPLICATIONS

  BIGGLES walked to the hotel somewhat worried by the course events had taken but on the whole well satisfied with the results of his visit to the Casa Floresta.

  Much of the fog in which he had been groping had been dispersed. As he had suspected, the man calling himself Salvador was Neckel, and Bogosoff had proved himself to be an enemy agent, in Cruzuado for the same purpose as themselves. It seemed almost certain from Neckel’s behaviour that the stolen documents were in the house. Bogosoff obviously thought so. Biggles had the layout of the establishment in his mind’s eye, and the interior of at least one of the rooms. He had reason to think the papers were in that room.

  The big question was, in view of what had happened, would the documents be allowed to remain there? For that matter, would Neckel continue to live there? He had had the fright of his life, and but for the opportune arrival of the police would in all probability have lost his life. Biggles would not have given much for his chance had Bogosoff succeeded in getting his hands on the papers. Another question was, what would Neckel tell the Intendente to account for the situation in which he had been found, with a dead man practically on the doorstep? One thing that did seem clear was this; the business was fast coming to a head.

  On walking into the hotel Biggles found Bertie the sole occupant of the bar, so taking a seat beside him he lost no time in telling him all that had transpired at the Casa Floresta.

  When he had finished Bertie pursed his lips and whistled softly. ‘Phew! I say! What a carry-on. This will certainly send the balloon up. What do we do next?’

  ‘We shall have to do something, and quickly,’ announced Biggles grimly. ‘Things won’t stay as they are for very long, you may be sure of that. Bogosoff got away, but he won’t stay away. He was sent here to get those papers and he won’t dare to go back to where he came from, wherever that may be, without them. Neckel, having lived behind the Iron Curtain for years, must know that as well as we do. From the way he looked and behaved when Bogosoff burst in, he thought he was going to be bumped off there and then — as no doubt he would have been had Bogosoff known where the papers were hidden. Neckel may have brains, but he has about as much guts as a rabbit. What I’m afraid of is, he’ll bolt like one after what’s happened. If he disappears we’ve had it. We could never hope to find him again; he’d take good care of that.’

  ‘The Intendente must have supposed the man who was dead outside, apparently Neckel’s bodyguard, had been shot by Bogosoff.’

  ‘No doubt Neckel told him that. I imagine it was true, anyway.’

  ‘In that case Bogosoff won’t dare to come back for fear of being arrested.’

  ‘He might come back after dark, up the river. Incidentally, I believe the man who was shot was the fellow who clouted you. I had a look at him when I left the house and noticed he was wearing shoes that might have made certain footprints I saw at the spot where you were coshed.’
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  ‘If that’s right I’m glad he got what was coming to him,’ said Bertie.

  ‘There’s just one thing that might keep Neckel here.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The letter I gave him. That is, if it says what the Air Commodore told me it would say. It was intended to gain time. It wouldn’t flatly refuse Neckel’s demand for a million dollars. It would say the matter was still under consideration. That would imply another letter, giving a definite decision, was to follow. Neckel would read it that way. All his plans must depend on whether or not the government is going to hand over the money; and the only way he can get to know that is by waiting for the next letter. If I’m right in this it means that Neckel, even if he leaves the Casa Floresta, will have to remain within easy reach of the post-office in Cruzuado.’

  ‘He could send someone in for his letters.’

  ‘Who? Dolores is dead. True, he might get someone else to go, but in order to arrange that he’d first have to go to the post-office himself. Methods here may be a bit slipshod, but I can’t see the post-office handing over other people’s letters to any Tom, Dick or Harry who walks in and asks for them.’

  ‘I see what you mean. Queer how things work out. If Neckel hadn’t asked Dolores to collect his letters she wouldn’t have been murdered, and the whole story would have been different.’

  ‘If it was Maria who stabbed Dolores it could have happened anyway. But never mind about the past. Let’s stick to the present. I left the Intendente at the house talking to Neckel. What Neckel will tell him I can’t imagine, but you can bet your boots he won’t mention the papers that are at the bottom of it all. One thing that is certain is this: as soon as the Intendente leaves he’ll get cracking.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like to know.’

  ‘Moving the papers, perhaps.’

  ‘Possibly, although they must be as safe where they are as anywhere.’

  ‘While you were in the house did you get any indication of where they might be?’

  ‘A very vague one. When Bogosoff barged in I watched Neckel’s eyes, thinking they might for an instant switch involuntarily to the place where he kept them. That can happen, you know. He appeared to glance towards a picture on the wall. Quite a small one, but large enough to hide a wall safe. If I can get into the house that’s the first thing I shall make for. There’s a chance the papers may be there, or somewhere in that direction.’

  ‘So the next step is to get into the house.’

  ‘No. The first thing is to watch the house to see if Neckel leaves.’

  ‘He might slip across the river to Brazil.’

  ‘He can’t do that without getting another water craft from somewhere. Bogosoff pinched his canoe, which I imagine was there for that purpose. If he decides to bolt he’ll have to come here, into the town, for transport. He’s not likely to get it anywhere else. Unless he’s out of his mind he won’t try going out through the jungle. By the way, how are you feeling?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Good; because I shall have to ask you to keep an eye on the Casa Floresta to see if Neckel leaves. I can’t do that myself because it’s more than likely the Intendente will want to talk to me, either about the murder of Dolores or to check up on Neckel’s story as to what was happening in the Casa Floresta this morning. He must be wondering what I was doing there. Tell me, did you see José?’

  ‘Yes, he came in here. He said you’d told him about Dolores.’

  ‘How did he shape?’

  ‘Not too well. He kept saying he’d kill someone for this. He seemed to hold Salvador, as he calls him, responsible, for throwing over Maria. He went across to the bar and settled down as if he was determined to drink himself to death. He was necking that local poison, aguardiente. He was here until about half an hour ago.’

  ‘Bad show. Well, we had nothing to do with what went on between Maria and Dolores. He must realize that. I wonder where he went. He said he’d be going back to the Villa Vanda this morning. If he was in the state you say he was he’d do better to wait until tomorrow. I’ll go and find out if he’s gone. If his pony is still here he must still be in the town. I don’t want him to run into the Intendente. He may talk too much. He knows about Dolores collecting Neckel’s letters. He might say I’d bribed him to get information from Dolores about Neckel.’

  ‘Hm. That’s a point I hadn’t thought of.’

  ‘It’s a point that could well start the Intendente thinking, and so make things difficult for us.’

  ‘It might.’

  ‘Stand fast while I have a look round.’

  Biggles went out into the yard. There he found the stable-boy and from him learned that José’s pony was still there. He didn’t know where José had gone. He hadn’t seen him for some time, when he had noticed him walking across the plaza.

  Returning to Bertie Biggles said: ‘I can’t see him about, but his pony is still here, so it doesn’t look as if he’s gone back to the Villa Vanda.’

  ‘He’ll turn up,’ replied Bertie. ‘Probably gone to sleep off the effects of the aguardiente.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ returned Biggles dubiously. ‘An angry negro can be a dangerous fellow. When he’s drunk as well, he’s capable of anything.’

  Further conjecture on the subject was cut short by the arrival of the Intendente, with the Comisario.

  ‘We meet again, señor,’ said the Intendente, cheerfully.

  ‘What news this time?’ inquired Biggles casually, but a little worried for fear the police officer was going to question him about what happened at the Casa Floresta.

  The officer said he had only looked in to tell the patron that he had arrested the woman who had murdered his receptionist, Dolores.

  Biggles frowned. ‘Did you say a woman?’

  ‘Si, señor.’

  ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘The one they call Maria. The girl who dances at the Bar Francisco. She’s the daughter of the man who keeps the place.’

  ‘What makes you think she did it?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Senor Salvador told me so.’

  ‘How does he know? Was he there?’

  ‘No, but he knew all about it. He told me in his house this morning after you had gone.’

  ‘He told you?’ Biggles could hardly say the words without showing his disgust and contempt for the man.

  ‘He admitted he hadn’t actually seen the murder done,’ went on the Intendente, as if the matter was of no great consequence. ‘But Maria had told him she would do it one day. She has often been heard to say that. It was her stiletto that did the killing. There were still bloodstains on the sleeve of her dress when I arrested her. Presently she will confess. Ah! Here is the patron.’ The three of them went through to the proprietor’s private sitting room.

  Biggles had no doubt that the police officer had arrested the right person, but he was appalled by her betrayer’s perfidy. He looked at Bertie white with anger. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What a complete swine Neckel must be. I’m pretty sure Maria did kill Dolores, but that’s beside the point. What turns my stomach is that Neckel, who’d been carrying on with Maria, should go out of his way to rat on her. He must have volunteered the information that Maria had said she’d kill Dolores, which may or may not be true. He, of all people.’

  ‘Why should he do it?’

  ‘Not because he’s concerned with justice, the yellow crook; you can bet your sweet life on that. It may have been to put himself on the right side of the Intendente, or more likely his way of getting rid of Maria for good now he’s had enough of her. Great grief! What curs there are in the world.’

  ‘Too true,’ agreed Bertie, moodily. ‘What effect is all this going to have on us?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s too soon to say. Maybe none. But it might upset our apple cart if Neckel told the Intendente that I’d seen a woma
n near the body of Dolores. Like a fool I admitted that to Neckel. The Intendente may wonder why I didn’t tell him that. Again, if Maria or her relatives ever got to hear that I’d told Neckel I’d seen her near the spot they’d be after me with knives and guns. She was popular with the llaneros. The trouble is, I don’t know how much Neckel told the police. It’s pretty clear Maria didn’t know much about Neckel’s business here or he wouldn’t have given her away for fear she spilt the beans. When I spoke to Maria she wouldn’t say a word against Salvador, as she supposes his name to be.’

  Bertie shook his head. ‘It all strikes me as being a dirty business. This feller Neckel must be an absolute stinker, and the sooner someone bumps him off the better for everyone.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more, but it isn’t for us to do that. To get down to brass tacks, we now know as much as we’re ever likely to know from the outside of the Casa Floresta. All that remains for us to do is get inside and find the papers. I’m not fooling myself that’s likely to be easy. Apart from Neckel we still have Bogosoff to reckon with. We know why he’s here, and he won’t leave the district while he thinks there’s the slightest chance of getting what he came for. Which reminds me. It’s time you pressed on to the house to see what goes on. Don’t go too close. All I want to know is if Neckel leaves the place, and if so which way he goes. I’ll waffle along presently and join you, but for the moment I think I’d better stay here in case the Intendente wants to speak to me again. I’ll try to find José. I’m a bit worried about him. I hope he doesn’t do anything silly. It only needs him to kill somebody, or even start shouting about what he knows, to put sand in our gearbox.’

  ‘If he got into trouble it’d be poor thanks to Don Pedro for lending him to us.’

  ‘You’re right. Whether Don Pedro said so or not he’d be bound to feel that in some way we’d been responsible, particularly if he knew I’d given money to José for drink.’

  Bertie got up. ‘Okay, old boy. I’ll press on. If I don’t meet you on the track I’ll see you back here.’