Biggles Takes The Case by W E Johns

Author:W E Johns [Johns, W E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure
Published: 2011-08-28T21:10:19+00:00

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AFRICAN ASSIGNMENT

AIR COMMODORE RAYMOND, Assistant Commissioner of Police at Scotland Yard, looked up from some papers on his desk as Biggles walked in and closed the door behind him. “‘Morning, Bigglesworth,” he greeted curtly.

“‘Morning, sir.”

“Busy?”

“Not frantically, at the moment.”

“How would you like a run out to Central Africa?”

Biggles’ face expressed no surprise as he took a cigarette from the box the Air Commodore had pushed forward. “What is it this time?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” answered the Air Commodore frankly. “That’s what I want you to find out. I have here a report from the Colonial Office. They don’t know, either. I happened to be dining with the Colonial Secretary last night and he hinted pretty broadly that he would like to know.”

“I gather an aircraft comes into the picture?”

“In a vague sort of way.”

“Tell me how an aircraft can be vague?” invited Biggles. “Either there is one or there isn’t.”

“Sit down and I’ll give you the gen.”

Biggles pulled up a chair and lit his cigarette.

“The area with which we are concerned,” began the Air Commodore, “is a small native reserve just inside our territory near the boundaries of Kenya, French Equatorial Africa and the Belgian Congo. It is known as the Ubeni Reserve. It is occupied by a tribe of that name who live mostly in a village of that name.”

Biggles smiled faintly. “That simplifies the name aspect, anyhow.”

“The village is situated on the shore of Lake Kulu, a piece of water about forty miles long which occupies the centre of the reserve,” continued the Air Commodore. “These people apparently, have always been a bit backward. A few were recruited as labourers for the mines at Kimberley some time ago, but not liking work they returned home. We’ve never had any serious trouble in the Reserve, largely, perhaps, because the Head Game Ranger has closed his eyes to the poaching of protected game. There’s nothing unusual about that. Most natives are poachers by nature, but we don’t mind as long as the thing is kept within reasonable limits. On the whole the Ubeni are a surly lot, for which reason they seldom have visitors—I mean white men. So much for the place and the people.

“The first indication that things were not normal came in a report from Captain Callingham, the Assistant Game Ranger into whose district the Ubeni Reserve falls. He looks in about once a year just to remind the people that he exists; for Ubeni, you must understand, is not an easy place to reach on foot. Being a government official, Callingham has never been what you might call welcomed with open arms; but on the last occasion he went there, some months ago, he detected an atmosphere of definite hostility. There was no actual violence, but Callingham knew from experience that he was on thin ice, and, wisely perhaps, retired. The reason for such a reception was not disclosed, but that there was one we need not doubt. Something, or someone, was responsible, and Callingham, wise in such matters, suspected the influence of a white man.

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