A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love.
A Professor Cohen adventure, written for the 2013 Short Story Speedwriting Challenge. The first line (slightly modified) is from Eefjes grootste avontuur (Eefje's Greatest Adventure), by Guus Betlem.
"I've looked up the timetable, and there's a grand total of two trains a day going to Frankenmuth." Klink looked up at the Gestapo officer with a baffled air. "But why on earth would anybody want to go to Frankenmuth?"
Major Hochstetter had been thinking over an earlier remark Klink had made, and he did not appreciate the interruption, which was, as usual with Klink, banal and irrelevant.
"You are being banal and irrelevant, as usual, Klink," he announced. "What matters is not why anyone would care to go there, but that there are only two trains a day." He peered over Klink's shoulder at the timetable. "And the next one is due in two hours."
"But I don't see what that has to do with anything," Klink protested. "The stationmaster merely mentioned that his famous cousin Doctor Kutzmann was planning on taking the train to Frankenmuth, and I couldn't help but wonder why."
"It is not necessary that you see anything, Klink. Kindly be quiet while I work this out."
In reality, there was not much to work out. Major Hochstetter did not have the slightest interest in trains, to Frankenmuth or anywhere else for that matter. His true interest was in the person who was seeking to travel to Frankenmuth: Doctor Helmut Kutzmann, famed efficiency expert and consultant to Albert Speer, der Führer's right-hand man for war production.
Hochstetter didn't want to admit it of course, but Klink had a point. Why was Kutzmann planning on traveling to Frankenmuth, of all places? No factories there, or potential for any either...it was a mere dot on the map that only rated two trains a day.
It was a puzzle, and if Hochstetter had truly been acting in his ostensible role of Gestapo agent, the good doctor might be in a bit of trouble with the paranoid idiots in Berlin right now. However, Major Wolfgang Hochstetter had a secret identity: he was really mild-mannered Professor Howard Cohen, formerly with Columbia University and currently an undercover agent for MI6. And like any good Allied agent, Cohen was always on the lookout for a high-ranking official of the Third Reich who might conceivably be persuaded to work for the Allies.
Every now and then Cohen received information on such a person, and maybe, just maybe, he'd hit the jackpot with Kutzmann. Recruiting a man was one thing, though; Cohen's big problem was that of logistics. Information was easy enough to convey to England; getting a human being there was a little more difficult. And that was where Colonel Hogan came in.
Cohen stole a glance at the picture of Hitler hanging on the wall of Klink's office. Yep, it still had the concealed microphone. Strange that Klink never noticed it, but that was Klink for you. He was probably scared silly to look der Führer in the face...even in a photograph.
Cohen felt sure that Hogan was even now listening in on the conversation and considering how this new information could best be used. Hogan was no doubt weighing two possibilities: recruiting Kutzmann for the Allied cause, just as Cohen was contemplating, or removing Kutzmann from this plane of existence entirely.
Cohen had no illusions about Hogan's capacity for ruthlessness if the occasion called for it. He had had a couple of cousins who had run afoul of Hogan's schemes, and although Cohen hadn't encountered either of them since childhood and had no reason to mourn them, he had no wish to share their fate.
Major Keitel had been sent to the Russian front after that odd occurrence with the gun battery he had commanded, and Colonel Feldkamp had met a more immediate and final end when his staff car exploded. Oddly enough, both had dealings with Hogan just prior to these happenings.
Coincidence? Cohen thought not.
Nor did he want Kutzmann to share their fate. If Cohen could determine that Kutzmann would be willing to work for the Allies, and somehow not only apprise Hogan of the fact, but also make Hogan think that the man was being threatened by the Gestapo and required rescuing...Cohen was pretty sure that the Colonel wouldn't hesitate to help Kutzmann get to England, especially if he thought it was all his own idea.
However, this was all supposition...first, catch your hare. Klink had mentioned the Doctor's proposed trip in passing, while making idle and somewhat nervous conversation with his unwelcome visitor. Apparently Klink had overheard the gossipy stationmaster discussing the odd event, and it had been in the back of his mind while he was searching for something to say to Major Hochstetter.
Hochstetter's abrupt visits always threw Klink into a state of deep unease, although one would think the Kommandant would be used to him by now. Cohen generally showed up at Stalag 13 at least twice a month, partly to keep tabs on Hogan and company (with the most benevolent intentions of course, although at this point in time they were not aware of Cohen's true status) and partly to pick up useful information. But he had to admit Klink's nervousness generally played out to his - Cohen's - benefit.
He gazed at the fidgeting Klink now and said thoughtfully, "So Doctor Kutzmann requires transport to Frankenmuth, and naturally he does not wish to inconvenience anyone. But it is my duty as a loyal German citizen as well as an officer of the Third Reich to assure the Doctor's safety on his journey. And one never knows when those Allied barbarians might take it in their heads to bomb the railway in Hammelburg. I shall meet Kutzmann at the station and bring him here - everyone knows the Allies would never bomb a POW camp - and then I shall arrange for his transport myself."
"Very conscientious of you, Major Hochstetter!" Klink tittered.
"Conscientious?" Cohen shot a scornful look at the Kommandant. "There is something afoot here, I can smell it! You said it yourself, Klink...why would anyone want to go to Frankenmuth?"
Klink reversed direction with a speed born of long practice. "Yes, yes, of course, Major Hochstetter. And I am quite sure you will get to the bottom of this in no time at all. Feel free to make use of our little camp here, and if you should need me to assist in any way..."
"Bah!"
In Cohen's opinion, any person in their right mind should want to work for the Allies and against Hitler. Even Germans...especially Germans. It was a source of continuing amazement to him that so many intelligent and well-educated people supported the madman running this country. What were they thinking? Or were they afraid to think?
At any rate, if Doctor Helmut Kutzmann could be turned, Cohen was determined to do it. First he had to accost the man, and determine just why the hell he was bound for Frankenmuth, of all places.
At the Hammelburg station Cohen regarded the sign on the exterior of the building with a familiar feeling of irritation. He wondered once again when the stationmaster would decide to have it repainted: every schoolchild knew the correct spelling was "Hammelburg", not "Hamelburg"! Apparently the concept of German efficiency had somehow passed right over this little town.
He rounded the corner of the building and swiftly scanned the scene. The train bound for Frankenmuth was puffing away, and there were but two people standing on the platform waiting to board: a tall gentleman wearing a drab overcoat with the collar turned up, and a slim woman at his side. It took a moment for Cohen to realize that this was his quarry; the female companion came as a bit of a surprise. Maybe the two were bound for a romantic getaway?
In Frankenmuth? Cohen asked himself, and then shook his head. Nah.
He strode up to the couple and introduced himself with his customary lack of charm. "Heil Hitler! I am Major Hochstetter, Gestapo. And I believe you are Doctor Kutzmann?"
The two turned toward him, and the looks of frozen terror on their faces made him sigh inwardly.
Nobody ever seems glad to see me. I wonder why.
Then the man drew himself to his full height and managed to look down at Cohen with hauteur, despite a nervous twitch in one cheek. "What do you want, Major?"
Cohen sneered. "Merely wondering why a distinguished person such as yourself is here, in an out-of-the-way little place like Hammelburg, waiting for the train to an even more out-of-the-way little place like Frankenmuth. So far from Berlin and your work there."
"Well, I..." Poor Kutzmann shrank in on himself, but the lady, despite her fragile appearance, did not hesitate to confront the annoying little Gestapo officer.
She said coolly, "Such a nice quiet little place, Frankenmuth. My husband has many responsibilities, Major, as I am sure you are aware. It is a place where he can go to unwind."
That could be true. But I doubt it...the poor guy looks like he's up against the wall.
"A most laudable objective, Frau Doktor Kutzmann. But I am afraid this little journey of yours does not look so innocent, ja?"
Cohen was about to turn up the intimidation factor, but all at once Kutzmann crumpled. His voice trembled slightly as he said,"My wife is ill, and I wish to take her to a clinic in Switzerland. Allow her to go, and I will do anything you wish. Anything!"
Cohen's gaze snapped back to the lady...she did indeed have the gaunt look and pallor of chronic illness. And it all made sense.
Of course! Frankenmuth is very near the Swiss border...I should have realized he was trying to flee the country. But that will make my job a little easier, I think.
Cohen cast a glance around the otherwise empty train platform and lowered his voice. "If your wife could go to England to be treated there, would that help her?"
The lady gasped, and Kutzmann stared at Cohen in shock. "That would be ideal...the leading expert on her condition is associated with St. Mary's Hospital, in London! But...but how can I possibly get her there?"
"It can be done...if you are willing to cooperate with the Allied authorities."
"The Allied authorities! Who...who are you?"
"Not what I seem," said Cohen. "But I can help you, if you will do as I say."
Kutzmann looked at his wife, who nodded serenely. "You know this is the right thing to do, Helmut, even if they cannot help me in London."
Her husband took a deep breath and turned to Cohen, nodding agreement. Cohen watched as their hands met fleetingly, and he cleared his throat. "Shall we go?"
An hour later, back in Klink's office, Cohen was at his most menacing. "Colonel Klink, Herr Doktor Kutzmann has kindly consented to my escort. Unfortunately, we shall need to make a trip to Berlin as there is some doubt regarding the Doctor's...intentions, and I feel sure Reichsführer Himmler will wish to speak with him personally. But my staff car is in need of some attention; would you kindly have your motor pool staff look at it? In the meantime I shall require the use of your staff car."
"Of course, Major."
Cohen turned to Doctor Kutzmann and his wife, gave them an almost imperceptible nod, and then launched into a typical Hochstetter diatribe, raising his voice slightly.
"We have had our eye on you for a long time, Herr Doktor, but I was very fortunate to forestall your escape to Switzerland, was I not? And now that I have gathered sufficient information on your activities, you will be held accountable in Berlin. As soon as I gain the use of the Kommandant's car, you will drive us there. You would be wise not try anything foolish, for I shall have my pistol trained on your wife for the entire trip. And do not imagine for a moment that the underground will rescue you!"
At that moment, the door of Klink's office burst open and Colonel Hogan catapulted in. "I heard you have company, Kommandant, and I just had to say hello, it's only polite!"
Cohen turned to face the new arrival. "WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE?"
Narrow dark eyes met narrow dark eyes, and then Hogan smiled the smile that never failed to irritate Cohen. "Why, it's you, Major! Whatever brings you to our happy little home?"
"Nothing that concerns you, Colonel Hogan. Klink, you will attend to the matter I mentioned?"
"Of course, Major," Klink sighed. "Hogan, why are you here? I did not summon you."
"Well, gee, Kommandant, we saw the Major's car drive in, but to tell you the truth we heard it a mile away. You really should have that engine looked at, Major Hochstetter," Hogan said, shaking his head in exaggerated concern. "You wouldn't want to have it break down on you."
"Major Hochstetter is well aware of that, thank you very much," said Klink. "As a matter of fact, I am loaning him my staff car while his own is being looked at. I was just about to telephone Sergeant Schultz to have my car brought round."
"No need, Kommandant," Hogan said, helpful as ever. "I'll let him know right away...you just continue your visit with the Major and his friends." He offered a haphazard salute and departed the office as abruptly as he had entered it.
Cohen watched him go with an inward smile. Good. He's got a plan...I just know it.
A short time later Cohen was occupying the back seat of Klink's car with Frau Kutzmann seated beside him. Doctor Kutzmann was behind the wheel, and his anxious eyes met Cohen's in the rear view mirror.
"I don't mean to be too inquisitive regarding your methods, Major, but just what is going to happen now?"
"We wait," said Cohen.
"Wait for what?" As soon as the words were out of Kutzmann's mouth, the car gave a lurch and Kutzmann wrenched at the wheel, pulling the vehicle over to the side of the road.
"That's it," said Cohen. "I believe we have a flat tire. Everybody out!"
The three of them climbed out of the car and gathered around the right rear wheel. The tire was indeed flat.
"Just as I thought," said Cohen. "Herr Doktor, you will get the spare and the jack from the trunk, bitte."
Kutzmann looked at Cohen as though he had gone mad. "Very well, Major. But I must tell you that I know nothing about changing flat tires."
"I imagine your rescuers will change it for you," said Cohen. "All you have to do is appear as though you are in the process of changing it. Meanwhile, I'll appear to be holding you and your wife under guard." He nodded to Frau Kutzmann, who took up a position next to the car.
"Do you really think Colonel Hogan will dare to rescue us, here, in broad daylight?" she asked.
"Oh, he'll dare, all right," said Cohen. "It's just a matter of time." He pulled out his Luger and pointed it in their direction. It won't be too much longer now, he thought, and tried not to think about what had happened to his cousins when they had tangled with the infamous Colonel Hogan.
A few minutes later, a very faint rustling in the underbrush behind him alerted Cohen, and he studiously ignored the noise, even when Frau Kutzmann's eyes widened as she looked beyond him.
THUNK!
"Herr Major! Herr Major!"
Cohen opened his eyes and then wished he hadn't. Corporal Langenscheidt and Sergeant Schultz were leaning over him and making tut-tutting noises, and for a moment Cohen greatly feared that he was about to be sick. But he heroically got his stomach under control and glared at the two anxious faces hovering over him.
"Let me up, Dummköpfe!"
The two Stalag 13 guards moved aside and Cohen sat up, gingerly touching the back of his head. A nasty lump, that was all; he wasn't even bleeding.
I guess I got off pretty easy after all.
Then he looked around. "Where are the Kutzmanns?" he demanded. "And Colonel Klink's car?"
"We found the car not far from here, in flames! It seems an Allied bomb must have struck it," said Schultz. "I am afraid Doctor Kutzmann and his wife must not have survived, Herr Major."
"What happened to you, Herr Major?" ventured Langenscheidt timidly.
"I was attacked from behind," said Cohen. "By traitors from the underground, no doubt. It is poetic justice indeed that after they stole Klink's car and kidnapped the Kutzmanns, they should be blown up by an Allied bomb!"
"Ja, I suppose so," said Schultz. "But let me help you get up, Herr Major."
"Bitte." Cohen allowed Schultz to assist him to his feet, and he dusted himself off, swaying slightly.
The two guards moved to support him, one on either side, and Schultz said firmly, "I shall drive you back to Hammelburg in your car...it is fixed now, see? That is why we are here, we were hoping to catch up with you. Is that all right with you, Herr Major?"
"Ja, ja." It was nice to let someone else take over for a time, even if it was only Schultz. Cohen got into the back of his staff car and closed his eyes. Schultz got behind the wheel, Langenscheidt joined him in the front seat, and they were off.
Well, there you have it, thought Cohen. Another successful mission for Hogan's Heroes, and all I got was a crack on the head. But I guess it was worth it. At least it wasn't MY car that got blown up!
A/N: Professor Cohen first appeared in my very first HH story, "The Unsung Hero".