Colonel Hogan came into the radio room in the tunnel, where Kinch was monitoring the radio. "Any word from the Underground?" he asked.
"Not yet, Colonel."
Hogan folded his arms, leaning back against one of the support timbers. "When they get in touch, set up a meeting for tomorrow night." Seeing the doubtful look on Kinch's face, he added, "I know it's risky, but if there's a freelance saboteur running loose it puts our whole operation at risk. We need to exchange any information we have, and it's too difficult if it has to be coded, so we need to talk face to face."
Kinch nodded, reluctantly, "Okay. Where do you want to meet? And who's going?"
"I guess it has to be me and Carter. Make it the Hofbrau, around twenty-three hundred hours." Hogan turned to leave. "Oh, by the way," he said, "any sign of those rats LeBeau thought he heard?"
"Nothing, Colonel. But I've put out some traps." Kinch spoke grimly. As he spent more time down here than anyone else, he bore the brunt of the regular incursions by vermin into the tunnels. The last rat infestation, which had been severe, had left him with a complete horror of them, surprising given his level-headedness in the face of everything else this war could throw at him. He had even got leery of Carter's pet mouse.
Hogan gave a non-committal grunt. "He might have imagined it. He's still a little shaky. But if you see any - or hear them - let me know."
"Don't worry about that," said Kinch under his breath. "You'll hear the screams."
Hogan went back up into the barracks. It was after lights-out, but he knew the layout well enough to find his way in the dark. He paused by Carter's bunk, to check on LeBeau; a faint peripheral beam from a small flashlight was enough to show that he appeared to be sleeping. But as he moved away, Carter moved restlessly in the bunk above. "Colonel...?"
"What is it, Carter," said Hogan in a low voice.
"He will be okay, won't he? Newkirk, I mean. He's gonna make it, right?"
Hogan thought carefully before he answered. He didn't want to crush Carter's hopes, but they all had to be prepared. It was a question of how to put it, though. Sometimes it was hard to know exactly how naive Carter was. He knew the risks they ran every day of their lives, but knowing and believing were two different things.
"Carter," said Hogan, "he's in a bad way, and it's not looking good right now. But he's strong, and he's as stubborn as they come, so if anyone could have a chance, Newkirk has." He patted Carter's shoulder, as if he were a child needing reassurance. "Try to get some sleep."
He went into his own quarters and sat down, too tired himself for sleep. From outside, he could hear one of the dogs in the kennels whining unhappily. The next moment, a volley of furious barking broke out.
"What the hell...?" muttered Hogan, striding to the door and yanking it open. All around the barracks rose the exclamations and protests from men unceremoniously roused from their first sleep.
"Quiet down!" ordered Hogan. He went to the window nearest to the kennels, and pushed the shutter open an inch or so. The spotlight had been turned in that direction, and Hogan could see the guards racing over there, while the dogs were tearing back and forth along the enclosure fence.
Carter came to look over his shoulder. "What's the matter with them?" he asked.
"They are scared," said LeBeau, propping himself up. He knew the dogs better than anyone.
Hogan nodded, frowning. "I wonder what spooked them."
"Sais pas," replied LeBeau. But he sounded upset.
The guards were searching the area around the kennels, apparently with no result. Hogan closed the shutter. "Everyone back to bed," he said. "If they don't find whatever set the dogs off, the next thing will be a bed check."
He opened the tunnel entrance and swung himself down the ladder.
Kinch looked up as Hogan entered the radio room. "Still nothing," he began, but Hogan cut him short.
"Get up to the barracks. There's something going on outside, and the dogs have gone crazy."
"Bed check?" said Kinch, quick off the mark as usual.
"Any second, I'd say."
They rushed up the ladder, but Kinch had not made it into his bunk when the door opened, and Schultz barrelled in, switching on the lights.
"Nobody move," he ordered. "Bed check. Kommandant's orders."
It took no effort to slip into the task of baffling the sergeant; it was even a relief to follow routine.
"Evening, Schultz," said Hogan genially. "We were just about to have choir rehearsal. Would you like to join in?"
"No, thank you, Colonel Hogan, I am...Colonel Hogan, why are you not in your quarters? And why is Kinchloe not in bed?"
"Kinch is conducting," replied Hogan, "and I'm singing the descant. It's easier to reach the high notes if you stand up, you know."
"Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant is very angry about the dogs. Please, just let me do my job, and then maybe we can all get some sleep."
Hogan raised his hands. "Okay, Schultz. But you'd have loved our Gilbert and Sullivan medley."
Schultz muttered under his breath, and began the round of the barracks. "Where is LeBeau?" he asked suddenly.
"Over here, Schultz," said LeBeau. Schultz spun round, and trundled across the barracks.
"Why are you in Carter's bed?" he asked.
"I needed a holiday," replied LeBeau.
"And where is Carter?" demanded Schultz; then flinched, as he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He looked up; Carter waved at him from the upper bunk.
Schultz moaned. "LeBeau is in Carter's bunk. Carter is in Newkirk's bunk. So now, tell me. Where is Newkirk?"
Then, as he realised what he'd just said, his face fell with dismay. "Colonel Hogan," he faltered. "I am sorry. For a moment I forgot."
"Yeah, Schultz," said Hogan. "I wish we could."
Schultz finished his round amid a silence that was colder than the air outside, and got himself out of the barracks.
"Don't be too hard on 'im, fellers. He didn't mean it," observed Newkirk. He had taken advantage of the bed check to follow Schultz into the barracks, since he apparently couldn't yet pass through walls at will. He was getting used to being invisible, so it didn't surprise him to be ignored. It just annoyed him. A lot.
LeBeau had dropped back onto the mattress, and put his hand over his eyes. Hogan drew a deep breath, and drummed his fist against the frame of the tunnel bunk. "Okay," he said at last. "Lights are going out. Get some sleep."
"I guess I better get back on the radio," murmured Kinch, but he made no attempt to move. Carter had tumbled out of the upper bunk, and was sitting beside LeBeau, his face drawn with anxiety.
Hogan turned out the lights and put his flashlight on. He crouched beside LeBeau, while Newkirk stationed himself at the end of the bunk.
"LeBeau, you don't look so good," said Hogan quietly. "Do you want me to send for the medic?" LeBeau shook his head, pressing his lips together.
"Can we get you anything?" asked Carter.
"No," LeBeau said forcefully. "I'm fine. Go back to bed, Carter."
Hogan sighed. "LeBeau, whatever it is, spit it out."
LeBeau looked at him, to see if he meant it; decided that he did. "Colonel, it's probably nothing. But there is a superstition about barking dogs." He swallowed, and looked at Carter apologetically. "They bark when they sense someone has died."