Spitfire Parade Part 12

How so?'

'I mean,. if you could have got a few more holes through your machine it would have made a useful sieve.'

The other grinned. 'I'll give it the cook for a colander,' he returned, removing his flying cap carefully and looking ruefully at a jagged rent in the ear-flap.

Biggles whistled softly. My word! If that one had been any closer it would have given you a headache,' he exclaimed.

'It's given me a headache as it is,' answered the stranger, feeling the side of his head gingerly, where a red weal, just below the ear, told its own story.

'Come across to the mess and have a drink?' invited Biggles. 'By the way, my name's Bigglesworth, of 666. This is where we live.'

'Mine's Lakers, of 298.'

'Where do you hang out ?' asked Biggles. 'I can't remember seeing any of your machines in these parts.'

'No,' was the reply. We're down in Suss.e.x, near Marley. We've been doing escort duties with the day bombers who have been operating against the invasion ports. We haven't been at Marley very long.'

'Marley ?' echoed Biggles thoughtfully. 'That's some way * from here. How do you happen to be so far from home?'

'Just plain curiosity I guess. As a matter of fact, I'm not really on duty today. I went up to do a test, and while I was up I thought I'd have a look at the narrow end of the 'Channel.'

Biggles was regarding the holes in the machine with a professional eye, 'Quite,' he said slowly. 'But how did you get in this mess?'

A.

Lakers laughed. 'Serves me right, I suppose,' he replied. 'As a matter of fact, I haven't got a Hun yet, so I thought I'd try to get one. I found one, but he was too good for me.'

Not so good,' commented- Biggles. 'You'd better fly with usfor a bit and learn how to do it,' he bantered. Come along; as you're so far from home no doubt you'd like some lunch.'

Sure! I can do with a bite.'

'You're a Canadian, aren't you?' went on Biggles, as they walked towards the officers'

mess.

'Yes. What made you think that?'

'People who say 'sure' and I guess' usually bring it with them from the other side of the Atlantic. Hullo, here comes Algy Lacey. He's a good scout - one of my Flight Commanders. You ought to know him.' He made the necessary introductions.

Algy smiled. 'Glad to meet you,' he said. Then, to Biggles, 'How did you get on ?'

All right - but there was nothing doing. I didn't see a Hun. I fancy Lakers kept them all to himself; his machine's got as many holes in it as a petrol filter.' He turned to the visitor.

What exactly happened, Lakers?'

In the mess Lakers told his story.

'After I left the aerodrome this morning I headed due east for a time, following the coast.

I didn't see a soul, which got a bit boring, so I edged a bit nearer to France to see if the Huns are as thick there as you fellows pretend. For a time I didn't see anyone, except an occasional Hudson on reconnaissance, and then, suddenly, five or six Messerschmitts piled on top of me. I was only about a mile from the English coast, which didn't seem very far, but I guess the Huns spotted me just as I spotted them, for as I turned they turned.

'I shan't forget the next five minutes in a hurry,' continued Lakers. 'At first I put my nose down and streaked over the coast, trying to outdistance them. In other words, I ran away, and I don't mind admitting it. You fellows might think it's good fun taking on half a dozen Huns at once - but I know my limitations. Well, the Huns kept pace with me, and managed to head me off. Then more Huns came down from the north. That did it. I got the wind up properly, and just made a wild rush for it. Somehow I managed to get through, but I must have been lucky. I didn't stop till I saw you in the distance - you may have noticed that I made for you flat out?'

'What do you suppose you're flying that kite for?' It was Tug Carrington who spoke, and his voice seemed to bristle with criticism.

Lakers shrugged his shoulders. 'To fight, I suppose.'

'You only suppose? You won't get many Huns if you go on like you did this morning,'

returned Tug frostily.

'Oh, give him a chance,' broke in Biggles. 'He says himself he hasn't been on the job very long. Do you really want to get a Hun?' he went on, turning to Lakers.

'I should say I do!'

'Then suppose we go over together this afternoon and have a look round - that is, you, Lacey, and myself? I've got to do a patrol, anyway.'

'That's fine! But don't let me b.u.t.t in on -'

'Oh, it's a pleasure. We always try to do the best we can for our guests, don't we, Algy ?'

'Certainly.'

Well, that suits me,' declared Lakers. 'Have a cigarette?' He took a cigarette case from his pocket and offered it. Biggles took it, removed a cigarette, and examined the case with interest. It was a flat one, solid gold, slightly bent to fit the pocket. Engraved across the corner were the initials F.T.L.

'Nice case,' Biggles observed, handing it back to its owner. He glanced at his watch. '

Excuse me, but I've got a little job to do in the office. I shan't be long. You'd better go in and get some lunch. About this trip this afternoon - suppose we leave the ground at three?'

Suits me,' agreed Lakers.

After lunch, leaving Lakers with his coffee, Biggles touched Algy on the arm and left the room.

'What's the idea?' inquired Algy, as soon as they were outside.

'I'll show you,' returned Biggles, and walked towards the hangars. On the way, at a point where a hedge came near to the path, he stopped to break off a thin straight ash stick, which he trimmed of its leaves as he walked along.

'Are you going to ride a horse or something?' inquired Algy, regarding this unusual procedure with interest.

Biggles shook his head. 'At the moment I'm just riding a hunch,' he replied. Wait a minute and I'll show you.'

Reaching the sheds, he went straight to the visiting Spitfire. Some mechanics were working on it, but he dismissed them. 'Now,' he said to Algy, as soon as the men had gone, 'I want you to take a good look at those bullet holes near the c.o.c.kpit. Can you see anything peculiar about them?'

Algy threw him a glance of frank amazement, and then examined the holes carefully.

'No, I'm dashed if I can see anything unusual about them,' he declared, after he had finished his scrutiny. 'They look like good, honest bullet holes to me.'

'Do you remember, when we were having lunch, I asked Lakers if he'd been under fire before this morning? I asked him the direct question.'

'Yes, I remember perfectly. He said no.'

'Then what do you make of this?'

Biggles inserted the ash stick in a hole on one side of the fuselage and pushed it on until the point rested in the corresponding hole on the opposite side, where the bullet had emerged.

'I still don't see what you're getting at,' murmured Algy. Can you tell me how a bullet could pa.s.s along a path now indicated by that stick without touching the pilot? It would go through his thigh, wouldn't it? It couldn't possibly miss hint entirely, could it?'

'No, it certainly could not,' agreed Algy slowly.

'Did you notice Lakers limping, or bleeding, or mentioning being hit? You didn't? Well, I'm as certain as I stand here that Lakers wasn't in the c.o.c.kpit of that machine when those bullets were fired.'

What on earth made you spot that?' gasped Algy.

'You needn't flatter me on account of my eyesight, but I'm not entirely a fool, I hope. I was looking at those holes before Lakers told his story. At first I thought he was just piling on the agony - some fellows talk like that, you know. But let us pa.s.s on. This fellow says his name is Lakers.'

'Have you any reason to suppose that it isn't?'

'Yes, I have a very good reason. You see, I happen to know Lakers personally. I was talking to him in the Club only about a month ago.'

'There might be two Lakers.'

'There might. But it would be a thundering funny coincidence, wouldn't it, if they both had the same initials - F.T.L. - and the same identical cigarette case, with the initials engraved in the same way in the same place?'

Algy stared. 'The same cigarette case?' he echoed.

'That's what I said. n.o.body's going to make me believe that there are two such cigarette cases in the world, both belonging to fellows named Lakers, who happen to have the same initials. There's a limit to my imagination. It happens that today was not the first time that I have seen the case which that fellow is now flaunting. Obviously something is wrong somewhere. I don't like mysteries - they worry me.'

'What do you think?' asked Algy in a low voice.

'I'll tell you what I think. I think that fellow who is now in the mess calling himself Lakers deliberately produced that cigarette case to prove, by suggestion, in case there should be any doubt, that his name is Lakers. I'm prepared to swear that case belonged to Frank Lakers. Why, we played bridge with it lying on the table. I even admired it, and he told me it was a twenty-first birthday present from his father.'

Algy stared. 'Have you finished giving me shocks?'

'Not quite. Just turn this over in your mind and see if it suggests anything to you. Frank Lakers is dead. He went out out on a patrol job near the French coast one day last week, and didn't come back. He was seen to crash - in France - near Calais.'

'How on earth do you know that?'

'Because I made it my business to ring up the Air Ministry just now. That's where I went when I disappeared just before lunch.'

'I see. Then what do you think - now?'

'I'll tell you. I think that Frank Lakers is either in a German prison hospital, or else staring up at the sky through six feet of Flanders mud. What's this fellow doing with his cigarette case? I should say he has got it as proof of ident.i.ty in case the question arises; and it wouldn't surprise me if he had letters addressed to Lakers in his pocket, too. Then what is he doing here, far away from his allegi6aerodrome ? Work it out for yourself.'

'You think - he's a spy?'

What else can we think? I don't want to appear to have a spy complex, but - well, that's what it looks like to me. Everything points to this fellow being a German agent'

'He speaks English well.'

'That's nothing to go by. There are hundreds of German-Americans who speak English as well as we do. On the other hand, of course, there's just a chance that he is a British agent up to some game. Funny things happen in war.'

'Can't you ring up the Air Ministry and find out?'

'And to be told to attend to my own business? In any case the fellow will have gone before our people can do anything, and we daren't detain him on mere suspicion.'

'Then what are we going to do about it? We can't just let him go.'

'I'm going to plant a trap,' said Biggles. If he is who and what he says he is he will come on this trip this afternoon; if he isn't, then he won't - at least, I can't imagine him shooting down an enemy machine if he's a Hun himself.'

'What is he doing here do you suppose?'

'I should say he's out to collect all the information he can, using a captured machine.

Having got it, he'll try to get back to where he came from. On the table in the map-room I've put a map; it shows all the Fighter Command aerodromes - but not in the tight places. I want you to go back to the mess and suggest to Lakers that it might be a good thing if he walked along to the map-room and ascertained the position of this aerodrome in relation to his own. Show him the room, and leave him there. He'll see the map, and if he's what we think he is he'll try to get away with it, because it would look like a first-cla.s.s prize to take to Germany. If he does pinch it, his next idea will bop get away as quickly as he can. In other words, if he's on the level he'll go back to the mess; if he isn't he'll make for his machine and take off.'

But what about you?' asked Algy. 'Won't he wonder where you are and what you're doing? What shall I tell him?'

'Tell him that I've had an urgent call from Wing, and may be late back. Suggest to him that our proposed trip may have to be postponed for a little while. As a matter of fact I shall be in the air, high up, watching the aerodrome. You will watch him, and if he makes a break for it run out and wave a towel in front of the mess.

That will tell me that he has left the ground. I shall be up topsides waiting for him. I shall suggest to him by certain methods that I want him to come back with me. If he doesn't - well, it'll be his funeral. Have you got that clear?'

'Absolutely.'

Good. Then I'll get off.'

Algy watched Biggles climb into his machine and take off, and then, deep in thought, walked slowly back to the mess. Lakers was still in conversation with the officers who were not on duty.

The man seemed so absolutely at home, so self-possessed and natural in his speech and movements, that a sudden doubt a.s.sailed Algy. Suppose Biggles had made a mistake?

Spy scares were common in every service, he knew, but that spies operated anywhere and everywhere could not be denied, and some of them with amazing effrontery. He watched the suspected officer closely for some sign or slip that might betray him; but he watched in vain.

'Well, there's no point in wasting time,' he decided, and touched Lakers on the arm.

Oh, Lakers,' he said, 'I've a message for you from the C.O. He's had to go off on a job and may* late back, so this proposed show of ours may have to wait for a little while. He will probably be back not later than half-past three, but, in the meantime, he suggests that you have a look round the map-room, so that if you got separated from us during the show you'd know your way back - either to here, or to your own aerodrome.'

'I see,' answered Lakers. 'That's not a bad idea. I think I'll follow his advice.'

He picked up his flying kit and threw it over his arm. Algy raised his eyebrows. You won't want those, will you?'

I may as well take them along,' replied Lakers coolly. 'I don't think too much of this weather,' he went on, looking under his hand towards the horizon where dark clouds were rising. 'It looks to me like thunder coming up. If it comes this way I may push along home without waiting for Bigglesworth to come back. I don't want to get hung up here for the night, and we can postpone the show until another day if necessary.'

Algy's heart missed a beat, for it began to look as if Biggles was right.

O.K.,' he said. 'You do just as you like. I'll show you the map-room.'

Together they walked across to the building.