Act One
Scene Four
– One –
"Colonel Hogan," Kinch called. "Look at this."
Hogan took the message from Kinch's hand and whistled.
"It's the first time he's ever contacted us directly, isn't it?" Kinch asked.
Hogan nodded. "Wonder what's up?"
"What what's up?" Newkirk asked as he and the others came over.
"The Stage," Kinch explained. "He wants to see the Colonel."
"The Stage!" Carter exclaimed. "Wow! It must be really important."
Baker grinned. "Hey, we're moving up in the world. The big time. If the Stage wants our help."
"Whoa!" Hogan dampened their enthusiasm. "He just wants to see me. Doesn't say anything about wanting our help."
"But what else could it be?" LeBeau asked.
"Could be anything. Including something he didn't like us doing," Hogan reminded.
"He wouldn't do that," Carter said.
"Even if he did," Kinch said, "we're not part of his operation."
"No," Hogan agreed, "we're not. But from the way London reacts every time we mention him, we might as well be. We're big fish in the little pond around here. But he's a big fish in the biggest pond there is. And what he says goes."
"When do we go, Colonel?" Newkirk asked.
"We don't." Hogan looked at the message in his hand. "He wants to see me. Personally and alone."
"Whoops!" Baker said softly.
"Must be something special," Carter said.
"Yeah," Hogan said.
"You don't look too thrilled, Colonel," Kinch said.
A faint smile. "The truth is I don't know if I should be. I'd like to think he wants our help. But I can think of a couple of reasons for him to chew me out."
"But why now?" Newkirk asked. "He hasn't been seen around here in weeks. And we've been behaving ourselves."
"You mean," Hogan said, "I've been behaving myself. But we could have accidentally interfered with one of his operations."
"He can't get mad at us for that," LeBeau objected. "Not if he doesn't tell us about it."
"This is the Stage," Hogan reminded. "He can do anything he darn well pleases." Then a grin. "Look, I'm getting bent out of shape over nothing. This is the first time he's personally asked to see me. Maybe he'll let us in on one of his operations. Even if he chews me out, it'll be worth it just to see him."
"Yeah," Carter said. "Maybe you'll even get to see him without that mask on."
Kinch grinned. "Wouldn't that be something?"
"It sure would," Hogan admitted. "But that's a real pipe dream. Rumor has it that no more than a dozen men have ever seen him without a mask."
"Mister Secrecy himself," Baker commented.
"With good cause," Hogan said. "The Gestapo has been after him for years."
"Yeah," LeBeau said. "Hochstetter has a fit every time the Stage gets near this area."
"Don't underestimate Hochstetter," Hogan warned. "I know we tend to treat him as a joke, but he's not. I've heard stories about some of his interrogations; they're not pretty. And he hates the Stage. If he ever found out who the Stage is . . . " He left the thought dangling.
"Yeah," Newkirk said with disgust, "that bloody sadist would have the time of his life."
"If you want the truth," Hogan said slowly. "Much as I'd like to know who the Stage is, I'd rather not. That kind of knowledge is a bit too dangerous to have."
"So, when's the meeting, Colonel?" Baker asked.
Hogan glanced at the message. "Tomorrow night. 2300 hours."
...
The Stage stared at the message he had transcribed. It had come in on one of the normal channels, one he routinely monitored to see what the other groups were doing. And it had come in addressed to him.
Papa Bear wanted to meet him, alone. Something urgent to discuss. He had no idea what it would be. There was nothing unusual going on at the moment. In fact, it was rather quiet. Not that he was complaining; he could use the rest.
But why would Papa Bear want to see him? And why use that channel when it would be easier to go through London?
His blood ran cold. There could be one explanation. Just one. And a simple message would confirm it. He set the radio to a rarely used frequency and sent the message. They would respond in exactly forty-nine minutes. He checked his watch and walked over to the chair. He picked up the book he had been reading and opened it.
Forty-nine minutes later, he tuned in to another frequency. The message came in. And his explanation was confirmed.
Now he had a decision to make. What to do about Papa Bear? Or, more precisely, what to do about Colonel Hogan?
He could leave the man to his fate. It would end the operation at Stalag 13, but Stalag 13 could be written off. It would be unfortunate, but at this point in the war, it would make little difference.
It would also leave Hogan and his men in the hands of the Gestapo.
Fortunately, they didn't have much valuable information to reveal. He could warn all the units who would be affected that they had to leave. In less than an hour, it would be over.
And Hogan and his men would be dead. Dead after the Gestapo finished with them.
A thin smile. He had known from the start what his decision would be. He had always known.
