No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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"Did you get to make the calls before Hochstetter came back?" Hogan asked later.

Kinch nodded. "Sure did, Colonel. No more calls, everyone lies low."

"Good." Hogan crossed his arms, frustrated. "How can we run an intelligence operation if nobody can talk to each other?"

"It might not be long, Colonel," Carter suggested. "Hochstetter's usually gone in a few days."

Newkirk nodded agreement as he reached for a cigarette. "He's right, sir; if Hochstetter's radio detection truck doesn't pick up anything for awhile, he's bound to give up and go looking elsewhere."

"Yeah, I know," Hogan agreed reluctantly. He ran a hand along the back of his neck. "It's just that we've got so much going on at the moment. I really wanted to get a handle on that munitions depot before the Krauts have a chance to use anything in it. We'll have to make sure Dieter Schmidbauer convinces Friedrich Vogel to call him off."

"But how are we going to get word to him?" Kinch asked. "There's no way we can touch the radio now that the radio detection truck is here."

"I'll take care of that," Hogan answered shortly. He covered his mouth with his hand. His pre-pacing gesture, Kinch thought to himself. But he was wrong this time; Hogan just stood in deep thought, then said, "And that whole set-up is delicate enough as it is."

"Mm, that is a special one," Kinch agreed. "Too many interruptions because of people like Hochstetter and the whole set-up could be destroyed."

"But those meetings were set up by the Abwehr. That American working as one of them, Major Teppel, helped us put it all together himself," Le Beau countered. "Surely the Boche old man is comfortable with Dieter by now."

"That's just it, Le Beau," Hogan agreed: "Vogel is an old man. He lives and dies by consistency. Our friend Teppel has it organized: Abwehr officially sanctions meetings between a bigwig in the Gestapo, and a bigwig in the Abwehr. That makes it comfortable for the old boy. Friedrich and Dieter meet every week. They tell the same stories, play the same card games, drink the same wine. They build up friendship, camaraderie, a mutual understanding of the way things should be, and a mutual disdain for the young ones who have taken over the reins. Vogel hands over information without ever realizing that he's actually working for the other side. Names, places, procedures. People to watch out for. And people to warn. It's a very fragile process, and it all depends on timing, and on trust. Hochstetter could blow it if everyone has to lie low for too long because of him, or if Dieter has to push too hard."

"That sure is a tough assignment," Carter observed. "I don't know if I could be that patient if I was Dieter."

"It has been a long war. Vogel has time to spend now, and many judgments to make," Le Beau said.

Hogan nodded. "That's right. And it's Dieter's job to urge Friedrich to make those judgments while he's around."

Newkirk grinned. "And I'll bet it's not hard... once the wine comes out."

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"It is kind of you to treat me to this wonderful meal, Dieter," Friedrich said, gesturing to the modest dinner that, in the times they were living in, could almost be considered extravagant. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

Dieter smiled and nodded, pleased. "The pleasure is all mine, Friedrich," he replied, watching the patrons of the busy biergarten laughing and talking. "I thought it was the least I could do after I polished off more than my fair share of that beautiful wine the other night." He sat back and gently patted his stomach. "Fine wine, fine food. An excellent combination, even if they are days apart."

Friedrich laughed. "Only you could think of it that way."

"I think of many things differently than other people."

"That I know for certain!" Friedrich agreed jovially.

Dieter's face took on a remorseful look. "My apologies again for missing our card game last week, Friedrich. I was unavoidably detained."

"Oh, I understand, Dieter." Friedrich chortled. "Payback for my doing the same to you recently myself." Dieter laughed and visibly relaxed, which pleased his companion. "Perhaps it is time for us both to retire." He smiled. "Coffee, my friend—this time it shall be my treat."

"That would be wonderful." Dieter put the last bit of potato into his mouth as Friedrich beckoned to a pretty waitress, then contentedly crossed his cutlery over the empty plate. "Something warm to ward off the cold night we are too soon to walk out into."

Friedrich ordered for the two of them and the young miss walked away. "We are such a unique pair," Friedrich observed suddenly.

Dieter chuckled. "What: two old men, sharing a meal? That's hardly unique, Friedrich."

Friedrich shook his head. "No, no," he said, smiling. "I mean our friendship. You, an old war horse, so mysterious, and yet so giving. And I—well, let's be honest: I am also an old war horse. But not so mysterious."

"But giving, Friedrich, definitely giving. And considering your work… well… I suppose that is unique."

"Well, I do still keep my fingers in the pot. And it is true, that generosity is not one of the Gestapo's better-known traits," Friedrich admitted. "But we were not all like that, you know. These young upstarts today—they make it hard for people to feel anything but fear for the State Secret Police."

"I believe that's the effect they are aiming for," Dieter noted.

"Oh, not like the Abwehr," Friedrich scoffed good-naturedly. "They are, of course, the high moral ground of the war. Like your friends in the Luftwaffe."

"I wouldn't go that far," Dieter replied. "But with the Luftwaffe, it is only the enemy in the air who needs to be afraid of us. Or enemies on the ground, in their little London hovels."

"And the enemies at home, Dieter," Friedrich pressed: "who is to look out for them? Someone needs to strike fear into their hearts. That is what the Gestapo is for."

"Then you are in the wrong business, Friedrich; people who have met you could never be afraid of you. Your heart is too gentle, too soft, to be feared."

Friedrich smiled slyly. "That is why, my friend, enemies of the Third Reich—my enemies—die before they ever get this close."

Dieter smiled, almost to himself. It didn't escape Friedrich's notice. "What is amusing you, Dieter? Do you think I am too old to make such threats?"

Dieter shook his head, his smile broadening a little. "Not threats, Friedrich; coming from you, they are promises." Friedrich chuckled appreciatively. "No, I am thinking of your overly-enthusiastic Major—that Hochstetter," Dieter admitted.

"Him!" Friedrich snorted out a laugh.

Dieter nodded. "Yes, yes. He sees enemies in men already disarmed and in efficient camp Kommandants—men with no influence. Those who are plotting against him are probably working right beside him, but he is too busy fighting windmills."

"The Don Quixote of the Gestapo," Friedrich agreed. Dieter laughed out loud. "I understand he was out at Stalag 13 again last week. No doubt there was a stiff wind blowing there."

Dieter's grin widened. "So I'm led to believe." He paused as two steaming cups of coffee arrived at the table. "Danke," he said to the waitress. She smiled and left the pair alone. "Hochstetter is actually becoming quite a nuisance, so I'm told," he resumed after a moment.

"Becoming?" Friedrich's playfulness subsided when he saw his friend no longer joining in. "Dieter, is there something I don't know about?"

Dieter's expression abruptly changed. "No, no," he said. "It's just that one of Hochstetter's reports got to Major Teppel after his most recent spy-hunt, and I had to spend an unreasonable—and very frustrating—amount of time explaining Hochstetter's delusions to him. He is upset that we have to spend time on such a useless man."

"He is not the only one," Friedrich declared. "Still, I see his point. Hochstetter had plans to head back to Stalag 13 this week. I will make sure that is stopped."

Dieter smiled. "Thank you, Friedrich. Now I know you are a friend. No one wants Major Teppel annoyed with him, including myself."

"Let us forget about Hochstetter; he is not worthy of our evening. A night off from the paperwork, and a night away from the lunatics—that is what we deserve."

"I couldn't agree more."

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"It's terrific that Vogel is going to help keep Hochstetter away from here," Le Beau announced with a satisfied nod the next day in the barracks.

"Yeah—with Dieter telling him over and over again how off-base Hochstetter is, it's bound to sink in at some stage," Carter said. He scowled when the thread he was using to darn his sock seemed to become tangled.

Hogan arched an eyebrow as he reached for his coffee cup. "Yeah, well, right now we're lucky. Vogel trusts Dieter and we can take advantage of that. But we have to remember: Vogel is still Gestapo, and he's got plenty of influence. We don't know when he might just take Hochstetter at his word and tear this place apart looking for the great conspiracy."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Newkirk quipped.

Hogan finished pouring his coffee and put the kettle back on the stove. "Yeah, well, they didn't make me an officer so I could be head cheerleader."

"A little bit of optimism wouldn't hurt," Newkirk replied, "even if you're lying through your teeth."

"Look who's talking about optimism," Le Beau retorted good-naturedly: "Mister Here-Is-My-List-Of-Everything-That-Could-Go-Wrong."

Newkirk shrugged. "I can't help being a bit of a realist," he said. "But I can be as positive as any of the rest of you lot."

"Don't get your pompoms out just yet, Newkirk," Kinch said from the door. "We've got company."

Hogan frowned. "Company?"

"Staff car. Heading to Klink's office." A pause. "Hochstetter."

Hogan made a face. "So much for Dieter's influence. We'd better find out what's going—"

"Wait, there's someone with him."

"With him?" Hogan came to the door and peered through the crack. He stiffened. "Let's listen in."

"Who is it, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"Well, he's all in black with a nice skull and crossbones, so he's either the Gestapo or he's the Welcome Wagon from Hell," Hogan said as he headed to his office.

"Hochstetter has a friend?" Newkirk asked.

"I don't think he'd be Hochstetter's friend," Hogan said shortly. "A guy like that hasn't got anything but enemies. I hope."

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"Colonel Klink, this is Gruppenführer Vogel," Hochstetter said with barely a nod in greeting toward the Kommandant. "He is here to help substantiate my suspicions about the unusual activity surrounding this camp."

Klink saluted the officer and frowned. "Unusual activity?" he echoed.

"Yes, Klink: the sabotage, the strange radio signals, the tanks and planes and cars that suddenly appear and disappear—those are unusual things, wouldn't you say?"

Klink tried to laugh. "But Major Hochstetter, all of those events had perfectly acceptable explanations—"

"Explanations, yes," Hochstetter said; "acceptable, no." He looked over at Vogel, then back at Klink. "You will give us full access to Stalag 13."

As Klink began to splutter a response, Vogel spoke up. "What the Major is trying to say, Colonel Klink, is that I would like to spend some time looking around your camp today, in order to see if the Gestapo should continue using Major Hochstetter here, or if his talents would be better used elsewhere." He looked at Hochstetter and smiled tolerantly. "As with all large organizations, the wheels of justice often turn quite slowly, and we would like to have the Major working with us on other projects as soon as possible. His enthusiasm for his work is an admirable quality that would be welcome in other areas."

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Kinch grinned. "Boy, that Vogel's good," he said.

"Yeah, he's probably got Hochstetter thinking he's the best Gestapo man that ever existed," Newkirk said.

"Oui, but Hochstetter is too shallow-minded to realize that Vogel is making fun of him."

"Sh," Hogan said. "Let's listen."

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"I want to start with Colonel Hogan," Hochstetter announced.

"Colonel Hogan?" Klink repeated.

"Yes." Hochstetter snarled. "That man is responsible for many unusual things, I am sure."

Klink laughed again. "But Major Hochstetter—Gruppenführer Vogel—Colonel Hogan is a very ordinary prisoner. Just a pilot shot down by our superior Luftwaffe planes..."

But Vogel listened to Hochstetter. "We will start with Hogan. Please send for him, Colonel Klink."

At his superior officer's request, Klink acquiesced. "I will send for him. Fraülein Helga!"

The secretary showed up at the door. "Yes, Herr Kommandant?"

"Have Sergeant Schultz bring Colonel Hogan to my office at once!"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." And she was gone.

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"This ought to be easy," Le Beau predicted. "Having Vogel question you will be like talking to your own grandmother!"

But Hogan wasn't convinced. "My grandmother never worked for the Gestapo," he replied.

"Gosh, I hope not," Carter said. "But I think what Louis means is—"

"Carter, I know what he meant. I'm just saying it's not going to be fun and games. One wrong word and Vogel won't be interested in taking Hochstetter out of here. I'd rather not speak to him at all."

"Why not, Colonel?" asked Kinch. "I mean—we know he's looking to debunk Hochstetter. Dieter says he's convinced Hochstetter is barking up the wrong tree. He's bound to take your answers at face value and then leave us alone."

"We'll see," Hogan said. "We'll see."