Newkirk was in a sombre mood, brooding over the missed letter from his sister; and because he was such a forceful personality in the barracks, when he was down, everyone was down. So LeBeau's unusual silence, as the evening went on, passed without comment.

He was still coming to grips with what he had seen, still trying to work out whether he had understood rightly. He could hardly bring himself to confront the thought. Every time he looked at Carter, a rising tide of grief almost overwhelmed him. Nor could he contemplate the possibility of having made a mistake; it led inevitably to the conclusion that it might be someone else. Colonel Hogan, or Kinch. Or Newkirk.

The last thought chilled him to the core, and he instinctively rejected it. Which brought him back to Carter, and he couldn't stand that, either.

By lights-out a stubborn, desperate determination had taken root in his mind. There had to be something he could do, some way he could prevent this from happening. The vision had been both clear and specific; why should he be given such a message, unless it was a warning, a call to take preventive action?

So when Hogan raised the prospect of a meeting with Underground contacts that night, LeBeau volunteered to go along, on the pretext that Newkirk was too preoccupied to be any use. Carter didn't get a choice.

"They've got a demolition job for us," Hogan explained, when Carter showed signs of discontent. "New radar installation, this side of Bernsdorf. It's a mission that needs your special touch, Carter. Now, you don't want to miss out on the fun part, do you?"

"I guess not," murmured Carter. "But..."

"Good. We leave in an hour."

The light of the third-quarter moon made it necessary for precautions to be taken on this outing; black clothes and blackened faces. In a corner of the radio room, LeBeau prepared in silence, his thoughts focused on the undertaking ahead of him. He knew keeping Carter safe from harm was likely to be a challenge. Even under normal circumstances, sometimes it was hard work keeping Carter out of trouble.

LeBeau was starting to think he might need help. No matter how much he dreaded the thought of how it might be received, he might have to confide in someone.

He glanced at Carter, who had just finished applying blacking to his face, and was checking the result in the small mirror which they kept down here for these occasions.

"You look lovely, Andrew," observed Newkirk, making a determined effort to put aside his anxiety about Mavis.

"Yeah, that colour really brings out your eyes," added Kinch, grinning.

"Real funny, guys," said Carter. He turned sharply, and the mirror went flying.

"Well, there's seven years' bad luck." Newkirk leaned forward, regarding the splinters of glass on the floor with resignation. "As if it makes any difference, with you."

"You don't buy into that stuff, do you?" Kinch's grin got even wider.

"You never know, Kinch," replied Newkirk. "More things in heaven and earth, as they say."

Carter gave a low chuckle, as he started to pick up the shards.

"No, don't you laugh, Carter. I had an aunt who took it very seriously, you know. Never left the house if it was Friday the thirteenth, avoided black cats, that sort of thing. Shame what happened to her, too." Newkirk shook his head, with a sorrowful air.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," said Hogan, his face relaxing into a smile as he picked up on the gleam of mischief in Newkirk's eye. "What happened?"

"She stepped out into the road to avoid walking under a ladder," replied Newkirk, "and got hit by a bus."

LeBeau was the only one who didn't laugh. He looked around, noting the expressions of cynical amusement, and gave up any thought of trying to explain his own personal non-existent cryptozoological phenomenon. If they were so skeptical about mere superstition, the night bird didn't stand a chance. He would just have to watch out for Carter himself.

He was on edge as he climbed out of the tree stump; and the shiver which went down his back was only partly because of the cold air. He crouched in the low undergrowth near the exit, waiting for Hogan and Carter to join him. Then, as they set off towards the rendezvous point, he dropped back a little, ensuring Carter would remain in his line of sight. It was all he could do.

The meeting had been set up in a barn about three miles from Stalag 13; close enough to reach on foot, but not so close that detection by guard patrols from camp was a high risk. LeBeau remained on the alert until they were inside, and even then he only relaxed a little. The operatives they were meeting were known to them, but right now he wasn't inclined to trust anyone. The danger could come from anywhere.

The two men were regular Hammelburg contacts: Karl, a short stocky man of middle age, and Jakob, several years younger, quiet and earnest. He walked with a noticeable limp; one leg was shorter than the other, which had kept him out of military service. The girl, Magdalena, lived in Bernsdorf, and for some months had been a reliable source of information. She was older than she appeared; old enough to have married, old enough to be a widow.

As Hogan and his men entered, she looked over her shoulder, with a shy, grave smile when she saw LeBeau. He didn't return it, but his tension eased slightly.

"We will need to make this fast, Colonel Hogan." Karl spoke quickly, before Hogan could say anything. "Magdalena came along the old mill road, and she was delayed. There was an SS patrol."

"Six men," added the girl. "A captain in charge. I didn't recognise them." She knew the drill.

"More likely to be from Hammelburg than Bernsdorf," said Hogan. "LeBeau, keep watch outside. Okay, Karl..."

The rest of the conversation was lost to LeBeau, as the door closed behind him.

He paced back and forth in front of the door, his skin tingling. Clouds had covered the moon, diffusing the light into a dim radiance which smudged the outlines of the trees surrounding the barn. The shadows moved, and he jumped back, half-expecting to see a misshapen birdlike form come hopping forth. But it was just the wind.

"You're not taking him," he whispered fiercely. "I won't let you have him."

It felt as if hours passed before Hogan and Carter emerged from the barn; in fact it was less than fifteen minutes.

"I'm just saying, Colonel, it's a long way for a girl to cycle on her own at this time of night." Carter seemed a bit troubled.

"Carter, she knows what she's doing," said Hogan patiently. "What do you want to do, walk her home?"

"I bet she'd prefer it if Louis did," responded Carter, glancing at LeBeau with a boyish grin. "She really likes him."

Hogan shook his head, and pointed in the direction of home. "Nobody's walking her home. Let's get back to camp. Keep quiet, and watch out for that patrol."

LeBeau looked back briefly, as they set off. Magdalena and the two men were just leaving the barn; she sent him another quick smile, and headed towards the road, pushing her bicycle, while Jakob and Karl went in the other direction.

Carter was right about the girl; she liked LeBeau, and he liked her. But he had more pressing concerns right now.

Once again, he tried to keep Carter in sight, as they moved through the woods. So he had a perfect view when, just as they skirted a clearing, a pistol shot rang out. He jumped backwards, dropping into a crouch. Behind him, he heard Hogan do the same.

Carter was ahead of them. And he was down. LeBeau could just see him, lying huddled on the ground, just at the edge of the clearing. He couldn't tell whether Carter had been hit, or had taken a dive. But his heart stood still.

He'd failed. He had been given a warning, and he had still not been able to do anything to prevent this.

Then Carter lifted his head, peering about anxiously, before he made a rapid retreat, scrambling into the shelter of the undergrowth before scuttling back to join Hogan and LeBeau.

"Boy, that was close," he whispered.

"You okay?" murmured Hogan, still scanning the trees for any sign of movement.

"I think I got a splinter. The bullet smacked straight into a tree right next to me." Carter rubbed the edge of his hand across his cheek. "Yep, I'm bleeding a bit. It's okay."

"Good." Hogan took one more look around. There was nothing to be seen. "Right, get moving. If we get separated, we meet back at the tree stump. Go."

Silently, Carter slipped off among the trees. It took LeBeau a few seconds to control his breathing enough to follow him. Those few seconds had hit him hard, and he was still trembling, and totally confused about what had just happened.

Carter must have come within inches of being shot, but he was still alive. LeBeau expected further shooting any second, but they reached the emergency tunnel with no further incident.

Perhaps the night bird was wrong for once; perhaps the danger was over.

Or perhaps it was still to come.