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‘So, now we get to it,’ Biggles said, glancing at where Wing Commander Raymond sat behind his desk. ‘I might have guessed you didn’t send for me just to pass the time of day.’
His superior officer smiled and offered Biggles a cigarette. ‘Look here, Biggles. I don’t mind admitting that this latest trick of Jerry’s has got us foxed. Not only are we having the devil of a job finding out what he’s doing, we still have no idea why or even how.’
‘You mean the missing planes and so on? I should think it wasn’t too hard to see what the enemy could gain from that.’
‘Yes, but the disappearances are obviously targetted, but I’m blowed if we can find any sort of pattern.’
‘So, if you don’t mind me speaking plainly, sir-’
Raymond smiled faintly and motioned him to continue.
‘- well, what do you want me to do about it?’
‘I’m assembling a team. I suppose it will function as a small squadron. Picked men, of course. There’ll be yourself and Lacey and Hebblethwaite, if you like, with more airmen drafted in if you feel you need them later on. I imagine you’ll mainly be doing reconnaissance at first, try to get a line on where these planes are headed.’
Biggles nodded. ‘That sounds sensible, sir. And there’ll be mechanics and FOs and so forth?’
A curt nod. ‘And then there will be a specialist, acting in- well, officially he’s outside RFC command structure, but we’ve made clear he’s to follow your orders as operational commander.’
Biggles’s clear blue eyes clouded and he took a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. ‘I’ve never liked the funny bug- sorry, the special service, sir. Tricky to work with.’
Raymond stroked his moustache. ‘Well, yes. We all wish the involvement of intelligence wasn’t necessary, Biggles, but needs must. There is certainly an intelligence angle to this, even you can’t argue with that. And this fellow isn’t even official intelligence. And that’s to be kept strictly under your hat.’
Biggles raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘I’m sure you remember Sherlock Holmes?’ the Wing Commander asked, with a most unprofessional smile.
--
‘His name’s Holmes,’ Biggles explained, ‘and he’s some sort of consulting specialist for the intelligence services. Or that’s the nearest I can come to it, anyway. I’ve worked with him before. Queer chap, but undoubtedly brilliant, in his way. Rather unsettling to be around.’
All three were comfortably settled before the fire in their rather makeshift mess. The special squadron had moved to their new quarters only a week before, and so far the three flying officers had been largely concerned with making sure the place would function as a base for operations.
‘What is his way – tell us more, O Biggles. He sounds intriguing.’
Biggles rolled his eyes. ‘Lay off the histrionics, Ginger. It’s hardly a tale of buccaneers on the Spanish Main. He’s a genius, I suppose – and that’s not a word I use lightly. Would play an infernal fiddle at all hours to help him think, or so he said.’
‘Yes, but what does he do?’ Algy insisted.
‘He investigates things. He has an extraordinary power of recollection and deduction and he’s undergone some pretty specific study. He’s shockingly ignorant in other ways of course. We’ll have to take him through the navigational aspects of this problem, at least, I imagine.’
‘But if he’s a genius?’
‘Only at things in which he’s interested, or that are relevant to his work at the time, you know. His mathematics are sound enough, so if you can get him to listen he’ll grasp it quickly enough.’
‘And you said unsettling?’
‘Oh, he asks odd questions. Not much sense of what one does and doesn’t say, that sort of thing. To get down to brass tacks, I suspect he’s not quite right. Geniuses and that often aren’t, you know. He might make deductions about you. No point arguing. I found if you humour him or ignore him he gets bored pretty smartish.’
‘And is he right, in these deductions?’
Biggles looked momentarily unsettled. ‘No, I don’t think so. Tries for a lucky guess, most of the time. Like those gypsies who claim they can read your palm. The trick is not to let him see it if he does make a hit. He’s due any time now,’ Biggles added, checking his watch. ‘And we’re in close quarters here, so let’s give him the benefit of any doubt to begin with. It would make life difficult if we fell out at the first hurdle.’
Algy rolled his eyes at the mixed metaphor, but was interrupted as, nearly on cue, the door banged open. A tall, slim man strode in. He was wearing, as Algy later said, a most flamboyantly cut coat, lapels pulled up against the cold spring of northern France. A shock of dark curly hair, sorely in need of the attentions of a barber, bobbed above a china-pale face. Behind him followed another, shorter man, who walked with a faint limp.
‘Holmes, good to see you old man,’ Biggles said, with more enthusiasm than he felt, and held out a hand that was ignored.
‘Biggles. Raymond said it would be you. Good. At least you’re not completely dull-witted. We might have a chance. Allow me to introduce my travelling companion and assistant Doctor John Watson.’
The shorter man grimaced apologetically and shook hands all round, murmuring the conventional pleasantries.
‘Watson was a medico with the infantry at the front,’ Holmes explained, once all the introductions had been made. ‘But took a bullet in the shoulder and has some pain in his leg and so he’s been invalided out. He gets easily bored, so he’s helping me. Raymond’s vouched for him, if that sort of thing concerns you.’
Biggles, unusually put on the back foot, struggled not entirely successfully to conceal his discomfort, while simultaneously implying both that he was very concerned about matters involving the security of the realm and that he certainly wouldn’t question Dr. Watson’s probity or trustworthiness.
--
‘Stop the ginger one looking at me, his freckles are distracting me from my thinking.’
‘Well I like that. Thinking, indeed. You’ve been thinking since you got here, without any result.’
Holmes whirled round. Algy emerged from behind his paper and stood up as Ginger squared up. ‘Come on, now,’ Algy said gently. ‘There’s no need for that. Holmes, can’t you think somewhere else, if Ginger’s being a problem? It’s not- well, it’s hardly his fault he has freckles, you know. Bit of give and take goes a long way.’
‘I care very little for your opinion of me,’ Holmes remarked. ‘Your loyalty to your “Biggles” does you credit, but if Hebblethwaite does strike me, I’ll be sure to inform your leader that it was entirely our fault and no blame will fall on you.’
‘I’m not- you’re the most impossible man, Holmes. And Ginger has a point, you know. You and Dr. Watson have been over everything twice and we’re no nearer finding a solution.’
‘Impossible, yes; wrong, no. Or very rarely. And you are quite desperate for Bigglesworth’s good opinion. Still, no matter. And you’re right about the progress. I can’t theorise with so little data. It’s a first class mistake to jump to conclusions, Lacey, surely even a dullard like you can see that.’
Algy let the insult wash over him. Since Holmes had moved in, he had had practice enough. ‘Biggles is out right now getting you data. So what are you thinking about, that Ginger is so distracting you from?’
‘I very much doubt you would be able to follow,’ Holmes pronounced loftily.
Ginger snorted; Algy put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Steady,’ he murmured.
‘Fine.’ Holmes pivoted with the awkward grace customary to him and stalked out. ‘I shall think outside,’ he called loudly behind him. ‘Watson! John, I want my coat. I’m going for a walk. Do you want to come?’
--
‘- keep your team under control-‘
‘Now look, Holmes, we’ve given you a good bit of leeway here. Let you have a clear run and tried not to restrict you. We’ve flown every hour of the day and night on whatever course you suggest. And so Algy and Ginger don’t much care for it when you go on the attack like that. Whatever you said to them, I’m sure there was no call for it.’
‘Wrong. I wasn’t attacking, merely pointing out-‘
‘Well don’t,’ Biggles said curtly, blue eyes hard. ‘If you were up to your usual tricks, you’ve no right to speculate about- about other people in that way.’
‘I was admiring their loyalty. It clearly means a lot to you.’
‘They understood you to be insinuating unpleasant suggestions, Holmes. And while we’re holed up here achieving nothing, the Huns have made off with another two planes, and another of those cryptic messages turned up this morning.’
Holmes sighed extravagantly. ‘If you would all stop bleating about your feelings for more than two seconds together, I could have told you. It was one message too far. I knew they had to make a mistake sooner or later. I love it when they make mistakes. I can read the messages now – worked it out this morning while you were flying. If you had an ounce of the intelligence the service credits you with, you would have seen it yourself. John’s making up copies now.’
Biggles noticed once again Holmes’s habit of using his colleague’s first name when excited. It was an odd glimpse of humanity in a man who otherwise appeared to be an easily-angried automaton.
‘So we can read their communications? That’s a real step. Well done!’ and he shook Sherlock warmly by the hand. His fingers were stronger than Biggles would have imagined, and his hand larger. Biggles’ hand, always delicate and slight, looked even more so in comparison.
‘You will devise a plan to trap or stop them, I presume?’
‘Yes, we’ll need you to stay on for that, and Doctor Watson.’
Holmes nodded and sketched a bow. ‘Raymond emphasised that we were to be at your disposal, Major.’
Biggles, not normally a violent man, was surprised to find his fingers clenching into a fist.
--
‘You shouldn’t bait them, Sherlock,’ John said softly, staring up from his bed at the dark ceiling.
On the other side of the room, Sherlock kicked childishly at the covers. ‘I don’t bait them. But they’re so stupid. They can’t even see-‘
‘It’s not that simple. And it’s particularly cruel to Algy.’
‘Just because he doesn’t seem capable of discerning that Bigglesworth is using him for his support and ridiculous hero-leader complex and will never do more than that-‘
‘It’s not kind to tell him, though, Sherlock. Even if you’re right. Really. Trust me on this.’
He heard a rustle of fabric as Sherlock shrugged. ‘If you insist,’ he said sulkily. ‘I am right, though. It’s obvious when you observe.’
--
‘Congratulations,’ Wing Commander Raymond beamed at the three officers as they stood in his small office. ‘Do take a seat, gentlemen. In any other affair this would be medals all round – but I’m sure you understand, under the circumstances, the less publicity the better.’
Biggles nodded. ‘Of course, sir. And we never expected-‘
‘No, no, of course not. But I wanted to say it, nevertheless.’
‘Where’s Holmes?’ Algy asked.
‘This is a strictly RFC debriefing,’ Raymond replied. ‘Holmes has gone back to London, or so I understand. He wanted me to pass on his praise for you cooperation and apologise if he tried your patience.’
Biggles laughed. ‘Bring your eyebrows down from your hairlines, you two. I did tell you he was a decent sort under all that eccentric flim flam.’
Algy glowered. ‘Too clever by half.’
‘Conceited ass. Sorry, sir,’ Ginger mumbled.
Raymond nodded. ‘Well, yes. Between you and me I’ve never much enjoyed dealing with him myself. But between the lot of you, you’ve certainly put a spanner in Jerry’s works for the time being, so a little personal friction, shall we say, can be put aside in the service of the greater good.’
They nodded respectfully, each hoping fervently that in future they could conduct their special operations without the input of the great Sherlock Holmes.