No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended. Copyright text, original characters and storyline belongs to L J Groundwater. Thanks.

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"Yes, Major, and when you and the Kommandant are done with your inspection of the camp, please do come back. I'm sure Colonel Hogan and I will be finished by then." Vogel watched Klink close the door behind the two men as they departed. Then he turned to Hogan. "Please, Colonel Hogan, sit down. This is to be an informal talk."

"Really?" Hogan asked. He hesitated, then sat, stiffly. "I'm not sure there's anything informal about the Gestapo interrogating a POW."

Vogel smiled and sat down behind Klink's desk. "Believe me, Colonel, this is not an interrogation. Not at all. I want to talk to you about Major Hochstetter."

"Does he need a job reference?" Hogan asked.

Vogel chuckled. "No, Colonel. It's just that the Major has some very interesting theories about this camp, and they all seem to center around you."

"Around me? I didn't think I was so popular with him."

"On the contrary, Colonel Hogan, he speaks of almost no one else."

"Must be a pretty boring conversation."

"I don't think so. If even half of what he says is correct, you are a most fascinating man."

"He must be talking about some other guy," Hogan said. "I'm not the fascinating type."

Vogel paused. Hogan waited. Finally, the German asked, "Tell me what you did before the war."

Hogan considered a moment before answering. "I was busy in the land of the free and the home of the brave."

Vogel nodded in seeming approval. "What did you do? What was your occupation?"

"Hogan, Robert E., Colonel, US Army Air Corps. Serial number—"

"Never mind," Vogel said, waving a hand dismissively. "Never mind, Colonel. I was merely curious. Major Hochstetter tells me you are a highly decorated pilot. I simply wondered if your career began before war broke out."

"You'll forgive me if I tell you that's none of your business," Hogan replied.

Vogel nodded courteously. "Of course. Tell me, Colonel: why does Major Hochstetter think you are so dangerous?"

Hogan shrugged. "Does he think that? Honestly?" Vogel didn't answer. "Sir, I'm not quite sure what you're fishing for, but you can ask anyone in camp—I was taken prisoner in July 1942, and I've been at Stalag 13 ever since I was assigned to a camp, and this is where I've stayed. That's all there is to it. Whatever the Major thinks I'm doing or being or directing, or whatever, is just a magnificent flight of fancy, and I wish I'd had that kind of imagination when I was trying to avoid being shot down—it might have saved me a couple of years of grief."

"Major Hochstetter is right in one regard, Colonel Hogan: you have an answer for everything." Hogan didn't reply or change his expression. "But I'm still curious as to why he thinks you are the most dangerous man in all of Germany, as I believe one of his reports declared."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Those reports must be terrific works of fiction," he said.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Look, Gruppenführer, what exactly do you want from me?"

"I want the truth."

"I gave it to you. Hochstetter's always picking on me, and quite frankly, it's getting a little old. He's fighting windmills."

The German paused for a moment, looked more closely at the American officer before him. "Have I seen you before?" he asked eventually.

"Maybe. If you've been here before. Or if you've been in Hammelburg when Hochstetter's dragged me into Gestapo Headquarters." Hogan paused to think. "Or if you've been to Bridgeport, Connecticut!"

"No, I don't think so," Vogel answered, smiling softly and shaking his head. "No. There's just something about you..."

"I just have that kind of face, I guess. Must be what makes me so fascinating to Hochstetter. I'm certainly not your typical Aryan." Hogan smirked almost as an afterthought. "But then again, neither is he!"

"I think I've learned enough from you, Colonel Hogan," Vogel said, a smile of appreciation of Hogan's wit curving the corner of his mouth upward. "I thank you for your indulgence today."

"That's very gracious of you, Gruppenführer. Did I pass your test?"

"You are a fascinating man, Colonel Hogan, a fascinating man, indeed."

"I'd hate to disappoint."

"You haven't."

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"What do you think, Colonel?" Le Beau asked when Hogan returned to the barracks.

Hogan shook his head. "I don't know. Dieter will find out. They're supposed to meet tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be able to find out what's on Vogel's mind."

"He seems like a pretty sharp character," Kinch observed.

"He is," Hogan agreed. "Let's just hope I was sharper."

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"And that is everything for the week!" Dieter announced with a smile. "Which leaves us just enough time this evening, my friend, for a game of Klaberjass."

"Klaberjass!" Friedrich echoed. "You always win. I think you must count your cards twice!"

Dieter smiled at his friend's good-natured accusation. "I did offer to take you up on Schafskopf, but you didn't like my adaption for two people—and you wouldn't bring your lovely granddaughter here to be our third!"

"Near an old scoundrel like you? Never. I cherish Ana's innocence too much to expose her to you." Friedrich chuckled.

"For that, I say you have impeccable, if regrettable, instincts."

Both men laughed heartily, then cleared the work aside from Friedrich's dining room table and settled in for a game. "You may be interested to know, Dieter, that I went to Stalag 13 myself this past week," Friedrich said as he began to deal.

"Really?" Dieter said, watching the cards carefully. "Don't tell me Hochstetter dragged you there." He looked at the card being turned up between them. Jack of spades. "Pass."

"Pass?" Friedrich said with a sigh. "You are going to win this again, aren't you?"

Dieter shrugged. "I don't like spades. Do you want it?"

"No. I suppose I do not like them, either. Pass." More cards were handed out. "No, Hochstetter did not drag me to camp. I thought perhaps if he felt his theories were considered, and then discredited, that he would back off being so persistent."

"Hearts shall be trump," Dieter announced. Friedrich raised his eyes toward the ceiling. "I love hearts, Friedrich. They are so beautiful!"

"For you, perhaps," Friedrich replied. "You will be holding at least three in the highest sequence possible."

"I only hold what you have dealt me," Dieter replied. "So, I presume Stalag 13 will no longer be considered a—what did you call it?—'a hotbed of subversive activity,'" he said offhandedly. "Twenty."

Another sigh from his opponent. "Good," Friedrich replied to the number, acknowledging his opponent's higher sequence. "This game may be over quicker than the last!—Well, I don't know if I would believe that everything Hochstetter has to say is true... but I made it a point of meeting this 'very dangerous' Colonel Hogan, Dieter, and I must say, there's something about him..."

"What?" asked Dieter. "What about him?"

"I'm not sure, but he's definitely not your ordinary prisoner of war."

"You are surely imagining it, Friedrich—an old man being swayed by the suggestions of that lunatic Hochstetter."

"Never."

"Not consciously, mind you; but certainly it cannot be. The Kommandant of that camp has a perfect record; there is nothing on Hogan's file that indicates he has even tried to escape; the camp is near Hammelburg; many Underground units could be responsible for all that Hochstetter claims is being led by a prisoner, in an impossible scenario."

"You did not meet him, Dieter; you cannot know. There is something about him..."

"Pfeh."

"Scoff if you like, but while I do not believe Hochstetter is precisely on target, I do not think he is as off-base as I once insisted upon. I will leave Major Hochstetter to his investigation, and I will follow up myself."

"When?"

"I'll be telling Hochstetter when I speak to him next week." A chuckle. "I did not want him to get too big-headed. So I told him—in front of Klink—that everything seemed fine and that the Major should be making only occasional routine visits from now on." Friedrich nodded. "That will give Stalag 13 a chance to get back to normal—Colonel Klink seems to get himself all wound up when the Gestapo is around. I will let him settle back in, so any activities that normally happen... may start to happen. And then I will send in Hochstetter."

"You are going to make my next meeting with Major Teppel most difficult," Dieter lamented.

"I am sorry, my friend. But I do have a job to do, after all." A triumphant smile. "Bella."

"What?"

"You heard me—bella. I believe, Dieter, that makes you bête, and I get to score... alone."

A groan from Dieter. "Now I have two difficult things to cope with tonight."

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"You're very late, sir," Kinch said as Hogan came into sight under the barracks.

"I am, but I see you're still up," the Colonel answered, nodding toward the radio. "Anything happening I need to worry about?"

"No, sir; nothing. I was just... uh..."

"Waiting for me." Kinch shrugged, caught out. "Thanks, Mom, but I'm okay. I just got caught up."

"Right." Kinch smiled. "And you're filthy. Did everything go all right?"

"It went fine," Hogan replied; "but I'm worried that these people don't have enough know-how to be an independent Underground unit. So I arranged for another group to adopt a few of them for awhile first to get them on their feet. Hence, I'm late." He glanced at his clothes. "I had to lay low for awhile getting back. Germans, you know. They're everywhere."

"I know; it's a real epidemic."

"Anything I need to know?"

"No, sir. Anything we need to know?"

Hogan shrugged. "No. It's all in hand now. I've got some cleaning up to do," he said. "You go on up; I'll be along soon."

"All right. Good night, then."

"Good night."

Hogan pulled off his shirt as Kinch climbed the ladder, then wiped himself down with a nearby towel. When he finished pulling on his uniform shirt, he looked up, noted that Kinch had latched the bunk entrance above him, and sat down at the radio.

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"Colonel Hogan."

A tiny groan. "Mm."

"Colonel Hogan." Kinch waved the flashlight a little more quickly in front of the closed eyes of his commanding officer.

Hogan squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, then moved his head irritably to get away from the insistent beam. "Mmmm… what is it, Kinch?"

"Sorry, sir," Kinch said, as Hogan reluctantly opened one eye. Kinch swung the beam so it wasn't directly in the Colonel's face any more, but still close enough not to let him slump back to sleep again.

"No, it's all right, it's all right," Hogan replied, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his face to try and become more alert. "It was just a really nice dream… for once."

Kinch nodded. "Sorry, Colonel," he said again. This time he let a smile slip onto his face.

"What time is it?"

"Two-fifteen. London's on the line, sir."

"Two-fifteen? What were you doing down in the tunnel so late?"

"Not me, sir," Kinch replied. He moved back as Hogan swung his legs over the side of the bunk and hopped down to the floor. "I just got the shake."

Hogan grabbed his bathrobe and wrapped it tightly around him. There had been a few days of cold sunshine, but it was still more than chilly down in the tunnel in the middle of the night. "Now if we could only get London to understand our opening hours," he retorted with a huge yawn. "Come on; let's go."

"Sorry, Colonel. You're solo this time; they want to talk to you alone."

Hogan favored Kinch with a baleful stare. "Thanks," he deadpanned.

"My pleasure. Don't mess with the switches."

The pair slipped past the sleeping prisoners of war spread around the common room of Barracks Two, and Hogan gave a slight shiver when he got to Kinch's raised-up bunk over the tunnel. "The shake" Kinch had talked about was one of Carter's inventions: a contraption that could be activated from the common room, rigged up to the radio below, to allow the radio to go unmanned as long as someone remained on the bunk above it; when a signal came through, the bunk would rattle hard enough to wake a sleeping man. The boys knew it worked; after all, it had even awoken Sergeant of the Guard Hans Schultz, who until then, they believed could actually sleep through the whole war.

"Shake when you want to come back up," Kinch said, then he watched Hogan descend.

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Kinch knew better than to ask, when Hogan reappeared in the barracks; if London wanted to talk to him alone, then the Colonel wasn't going to want to share whatever they discussed. Still, the stony expression on Hogan's face worried the radio man, and he made an excuse of wanting to go check that Hogan had shut down the equipment properly, to get himself back downstairs to see if... well, he wasn't sure what. But maybe he could figure something out.

As he'd expected, Hogan had, for the most part, done well with the radio. But there were no notes or scraps of paper anywhere. So whatever had been said was going to remain with Hogan again. Just as well, Kinch thought with a sigh; I'm not supposed to be the CO, anyway. He took a last look around the tunnel before heading up the ladder. It's times like this I'm really glad I'm not.