Читать книгу Biggles and the Little Green God - W E Johns - Страница 6

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Before leaving the building to begin his investigation Biggles looked into his own office to collect his hat and tell his assistant pilot on duty, Algy Lacey, what was afoot.

‘Before doing anything else I’m going to try to have a word with this millionaire-type, Pallimo,’ he concluded. ‘I’m hoping they’ll be able to tell me at the Chilean Embassy where he is and when he’s expected back in London. He may be co-operative or he may not. We shall see.’

‘And if he isn’t?’

‘He can go and look for his precious green god himself.’

‘Can I do anything?’

‘Yes. To save me time you might slip along to London Airport and find someone who helped to organize this Chilean aircraft, a Caravana, for its flight home. Check on the crew, for instance.’

‘I’ll do that,’ promised Algy.

‘See you later.’ Biggles departed, and outside, to save parking complications, took a taxi to the Chilean Office in London. There, to his surprise and satisfaction, he learned that the man he wanted to interview had returned to England the previous day and was now occupying his usual suite at the Hotel Grande, a Spanish-run establishment, in Mayfair. He went straight on to it, announced himself to the receptionist and stated his purpose in being there. Having waited for a few minutes while inquiries were made, he was informed that Don Pallimo would see him right away. A page escorted him to the room, knocked, and opened the door.

Prepared to show his official identification papers Biggles went in and found the man he was anxious to interview standing by the window, smoking a long black cigar, waiting for him.

Don Carlos Ricardo y Pallimo looked much as might have been expected of a wealthy Spanish South American. He was a man of about sixty years of age, quietly but expensively dressed in an almost black suit with spotless white linen. He was not big, but carried his slight figure like an aristocrat, which presumably he was. Clean shaven and black-haired, he had a smooth flawless skin the colour of old ivory. His eyes were dark with a shrewd penetrating quality that indicated more than ordinary intelligence. His expression was one of calm self-assurance. He moved easily as he stepped forward to receive his visitor, waving aside the credentials Biggles proffered. When he spoke, in perfect English, his voice was quiet with hardly a trace of accent.

‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’ he inquired.

‘Please sit down.’ He indicated a chair.

‘Thank you, sir,’ accepted Biggles. ‘I am a specialist in aviation matters from the Air Police department at Scotland Yard. I have been assigned the duty of investigating the disappearance of a valuable object, acquired by you in this country not long ago, which I understand was lost while en route by air from London to your home in South America.’

‘You have been correctly informed,’ said Don Pallimo. ‘I sent it home by special messenger. I suppose you know what the object was?’

‘I know as much as anyone in this country seems to know. It was a carved jade figure with a large ruby inset, believed to be an ancient idol which came originally from the Far East.’

Pallimo’s answer surprised Biggles. ‘You are partly right. It is an ancient—very ancient—object: a god if you like to call it that. But it is not, and never was, oriental.’

‘How do you know that?’ Biggles couldn’t help asking.

‘Never mind how I know. Take it from me I do know. It’s disappearance has upset me very much and I would give a great deal to get it back. If I could think it was lost for ever, at the bottom of the sea for instance, I wouldn’t mind so much. I am more concerned that it does not pass into the hands of another person. That, really, is why I bought it.’

Again, this remarkable admission astonished Biggles. ‘I assume there is a reason why you should feel like that about it?’

‘Let us call it a personal matter. Now, why do you think I should be able to help you?’

‘Well, sir, I had to start making inquiries somewhere and this seemed to be the obvious place. You have said, I believe, that there may have been foul play. Is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then am I to take it that you regard the loss of the aeroplane carrying your parcel not to be entirely accidental?’

‘That is only a suspicion. I have no proof to offer you!’

‘But you must have a reason for thinking that!’

‘I have a feeling this is not just a matter of common theft.’

‘Why?’

Pallimo hesitated. ‘Call it intuition.’

‘Foul play is a broad term,’ went on Biggles. ‘Do you think the plane could have been hijacked? That sort of thing has happened, as no doubt you know.’

‘It is not impossible. A valuable object is always a temptation to rogues.’

‘When you bought the object at public auction somebody must have been bidding against you to lift the price to what you had to pay.’

‘I realized that.’

‘Do you know who it was?’

‘No. I couldn’t see. It was someone sitting behind me.’

‘A collector of such objects, perhaps?’

‘Quite likely.’

‘Have you any suspicion of who it might have been?’

Again Pallimo hesitated. ‘No.’

Biggles tried a new tack. ‘Having secured the object, you engaged a man, a courier, to take it to your house in Chile?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Who was this man?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It might.’

‘He must have gone down with the plane when it crashed.’

‘That is assuming it did crash. There is no proof of that.’

‘You can be sure he was a man of irreproachable character, or I would not have entrusted him with a package that was worth so much.’

‘You haven’t answered my question, sir,’ prompted Biggles. ‘What was his name?’

‘O’Higgins.’

‘An Irishman?’

‘Originally.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘He was a direct descendant of the famous Bernado O’Higgins, the soldier and statesman who, in the nineteenth century, as commander of the Chilean Army, liberated Chile from the Spanish Royalists. He became Dictator, but was subsequently deposed and went to live in Peru, where he died.’

‘So the O’Higgins whom you entrusted with your valuable purchase was a Peruvian?’

‘No. Later, some of the family returned to Chile and settled there. I know them well. I knew José O’Higgins was in London and about to return to Santiago, so I asked him if he would take a parcel home for me and he agreed.’

‘You talk of a parcel. What sort of parcel was it?’

‘A small cardboard carton tied up in brown paper by string.’

‘Wasn’t that a bit casual for such a valuable object?’

‘The idea was to make it look as if the parcel contained nothing of value. Not an original trick, I know. It has often been done.’

‘Did O’Higgins know what the parcel contained?’

‘Of course. I told him. I trusted him implicitly.’

‘Weren’t you in rather a hurry to get it home?’

‘Perhaps I was; but I didn’t want to leave it about.’

Biggles nodded. ‘I can understand that. Now, if I am not taking up too much of your time will you please tell me this. You have said the idol is not of oriental origin. Do you know where it came from?’

‘Yes. It came from Chile.’

Biggles’ eyes opened wide. ‘That does surprise me. It would surprise some of the experts on these matters, too, I’m sure.’

Pallimo smiled cynically. ‘Do not believe all the experts say. They have to pretend they know. They attribute anything they don’t understand to the Far East. They forget, or they don’t know, that there were older civilizations. Long before Europe discovered America there were wonderful cultures there. They, too, could produce works of art. The arrival of Europeans was their ruin. Europe began a methodical war of extermination; but a few of the inhabitants managed to get away and survive.’

‘You’re referring to the Incas.’

‘Not necessarily. They came later. There were great civilizations in South America before the Incas, as excavations are now revealing. These earlier people were superlative craftsmen, working in gold and precious stones. They did not know iron.’

‘And this idol—’

‘Let us get this right. It was a god, held in the highest reverence.’

‘You’re sure of that?’

‘I should know. I live there. All my life I have been a student of the country’s early history. I have mastered the language these early people spoke. I could claim to be the greatest living authority on the first South American civilizations, should I care to do so. I have talked to their descendants. I even know the name of the god they worshipped. It was Atu-Hua, god of the sierras—the mountains. Another thing you should understand, while we are on the subject, is this: the boundaries of the South American republics were not always the same as they are today. What is now Chile was once upon a time a much larger country than what it has become.’

‘Was it because you recognized the god Atu-Hua that you were so anxious to have it?’

‘You might say that was one of the reasons.’

‘Was there another?’

‘Yes, but I would rather not discuss it. Anything else you want to know?’

‘This man O’Higgins. Was he of pure European blood?’

‘Naturally, after centuries, there is not much absolutely pure European blood in South America. People intermarry. The great majority of the population is what are called mestizos; that is, of mixed blood. O’Higgins was one.’

‘Then he might have Inca, or even earlier, native blood in his veins.’

‘It is possible. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Why do you ask?’

‘It merely occurred to me that he might have more than just a passing interest in the god of his forefathers.’

‘That would be natural, would it not?’

Biggles agreed. ‘Well, sir, if that’s all, and there is nothing more you can tell me, I won’t take up any more of your time. I take it you are still anxious to recover your lost property, if that is possible!’

‘I would give anything to get it back,’ stated Don Pallimo in a voice so definite that Biggles gave him a second look. However, he said no more, and after thanking the Chilean for giving him so much of his time he took his departure and returned to the office at Scotland Yard.

‘Well, how did you get on?’ queried Algy, who was already there.

‘Not too badly,’ Biggles answered. ‘Don Pallimo told me quite a lot, but I think he could have told me more.’

‘You think he’s holding something back?’

‘I do.’

‘But why on earth should he?’

‘That’s a question I can’t answer; but I have a feeling in my bones that there’s more to this affair than has so far been divulged. It might even have a political angle. How, I wouldn’t try to guess. But you know what these South American republics are like. It doesn’t take much to start a revolution. Did you learn anything at the airport?’

‘Not a lot, but I picked up one item of information which I fancy will interest you.’

‘Let’s have it.’

‘Pallimo’s courier wasn’t the only passenger in the machine that disappeared.’

‘Is that so?’ Biggles said slowly. ‘You mean—a paying passenger?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wonder if Pallimo knows that?’

‘Surely, if he knew, he would have told you.’

‘One would think so. Yet, perhaps not. This might be the key to something he didn’t want to talk about. I felt all along there was something. In fact, he as good as said so. There was one aspect he said he preferred not to discuss; one of the reasons why he was so anxious to recover his lost property. That’s what convinces me that there’s more to this than the intrinsic value of a lump of jade, however beautifully it may have been carved. Who was this extra passenger? Did you manage to get his name?’

‘Yes. There was no secret about that. It was Barrendo. Professor Barrendo. A Chilean authority on early American civilizations. Apparently he’d been over here to give a lecture to some society and was anxious to get back home. Naturally, the air line would be glad to fill another seat.’

‘And he, I suppose, went west with the rest of the party.’

‘No. He’s okay.’

‘How did that happen?’

‘It’s been confirmed that he left the plane at Buenos Aires saying he’d decided to call on a relative there and would continue his journey home later. How lucky can some people be?’

‘So lucky that one would almost think they’d been given the gift of second sight,’ Biggles commented meaningly.

‘You’re not suggesting he could have known what was going to happen to the plane!’

‘I’m not suggesting anything. I’m merely saying that what some people call luck can be the result of having inside information.’ Biggles reached to pick up the telephone.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going back to see Pallimo if he’s still available. There’s a question I’d like to ask him. The more I learn about this case the fishier it smells.’