"I've got to hand it to her, Colonel. She found that parcel in the corridor for us, as cool as you like, even though both Gruber and that aide of Burkhalter's followed her out there, and then managed to slip it into Klink's coat pocket when he was leaving, without him noticing a thing. Brunhilda's clever, all right."
Newkirk, keeping watch at the barracks door, made this observation over his shoulder, in a tone suggesting he would rather have admitted that his dentist was kind to animals.
"Of course she is. She's perfect, in every way," replied LeBeau. "And don't call the woman I love Brunhilda."
"Here we go," muttered Newkirk, shaking his head.
It was two days since the reception, and so far Claudia Valensizi had made no appearance at Stalag 13, nor had anything more been heard. Hogan wasn't saying so, but he was getting anxious. Assuming she was on the level, they couldn't afford to waste any time getting in touch with Morrison.
"I thought you had a thing for that Marya," said Carter, gazing critically at LeBeau.
"Oui, d'accord. But she's not here, and Claudia is." As far as LeBeau was concerned, the whole matter was perfectly reasonable. But then, he had a girlfriend in almost every town between Strasbourg and St Malo.
"Okay, don't get carried away, LeBeau." Hogan cut into the conversation. "Sure, she helped us out, but that doesn't mean we take her at her word straight away. Just because she's gotten hold of some information about Morrison - and about us - doesn't mean he's the one who told her."
"She is a friend of his, Colonel," said Kinch. "Information coming back to London said they were seen around Berlin together a lot towards the end of last year. But in the last few weeks before the Abwehr was closed down, they seem to have cooled off. Maybe Morrison knew there was trouble coming, and didn't want her involved if anything happened, or..."
"Or maybe he decided she wasn't to be trusted," added Hogan. "Without speaking to him, there's no way of knowing."
"Well, he hasn't been seen since February, and our people haven't heard from him," Kinch concluded. "And that could mean anything. For all we know, the Gestapo got him, or he could be dead. Or he could be in hiding, like the lady told you."
Hogan nodded thoughtfully. "The trouble is, Morrison knows too much. It's not just his head that's on the chopping block. If he cracks under questioning, we'll be lined up right next to him, along with who knows how many other agents. And at the moment, our only lead on his whereabouts is Valensizi. So if and when she finally turns up here..."
"She will turn up, mon Colonel," said LeBeau confidently.
"Maybe. Gertrude Linkmeyer said something about the concert maybe not going ahead. No concert means no excuse for Brunhilda - sorry, LeBeau - for the signorina to hang around in Hammelburg. And that's going to make it very difficult for Morrison to contact us."
Newkirk interrupted at this point. "Staff car just pulled up at the gate. Burkhalter's, I think. Looks like he's got company."
Hogan came to the door and looked out. The guards were hurriedly opening the gate; it was never a smart move to keep Burkhalter waiting while documentation was checked. The car drove in, and came to a halt in front of the Kommandantur.
Klink came scurrying from his office, so fast he almost fell down the steps. He hesitated briefly, unsure whether to help the general or his companion to alight from the car. Fear won out over charm; and while he was greeting Burkhalter, Valensizi accepted the courteously offered assistance of the general's aide, Captain Baumann.
"Oh, great," murmured Hogan. "Why didn't she bring the whole general staff with her? How am I supposed to get her alone, with Klink, and Burkhalter, and Baumann hanging around?"
"Don't forget Gruber, Colonel," murmured Newkirk, as Klink's adjutant made a tardy arrival. Then, at the look Hogan turned on him, he cleared his throat, and shut up.
"Well, you know, Colonel, it was never going to be easy," Kinch pointed out.
"True. But this could be our only chance to talk. She won't have any excuse to get back here, and the way things stand, I can't get to Hammelburg." He frowned, watching as Klink showed his visitors into the Kommandantur. "Is the coffee pot working yet?"
"I guess this is when we find out." But Kinch didn't look as if he had doubts.
"Klink's sent Gruber to the rightabout." Newkirk was still watching the performance. "And it looks like Baumann's been told to wait with the car. They don't look happy, either of 'em."
"She wouldn't look twice at them," insisted LeBeau, as he followed Hogan into the office. Kinch had already gone to set up the coffee pot; Newkirk, last in, closed the door and leaned his back against it.
"...before I go back to Berlin." Claudia Valensizi's voice came through the receiver, as clearly as if she was in the room with them. Kinch had done a good job with the rebuild.
"After the concert. I understand," said Klink.
"There may not be a concert, Klink." Burkhalter sounded even more disagreeable than usual. "The Hammelburger Chorgemeinschaft may have to pull out. And without the choir, there will not be a full programme."
"The whole choir, to pull out? I don't understand."
"It's perfectly simple, Klink. Almost the entire male voice section is composed of members of the 7th Air Training Division, based in Hammelburg. Unfortunately, that division has been reassigned to active duty. I understand the officer in charge made some ill-advised comments regarding Field Marshall Goering's hunting skills."
"That's very...inconvenient," mumbled Klink.
"It's more than inconvenient," Burkhalter replied irritably. "It has put me in a most uncomfortable situation. I have had to endure some strongly worded objections to the Field Marshall's actions from a very important person."
"Someone more important than Field Marshall Goering?"
"My wife," said Burkhalter.
"Ah...I see." Klink's voice dropped substantially in pitch.
After a respectful pause, he went on. "Do they have any male voices left at all?"
"Two octogenarian tenors, and one basso profondo with a speech impediment," said Claudia Valensizi. "Scarcely a balance against twenty-eight women."
"No, I can see that would be a problem."
"It is a problem I hope you can help me with, Klink," said Burkhalter. "How many of the guards here can hold a tune?"
In Hogan's quarters, there was a moment of astonished silence, before every man dissolved into helpless laughter. Klink also laughed, but more from nerves than amusement. "My guards, General? Oh, but that's ridiculous." He giggled again, realised Burkhalter wasn't joking, and sobered on the spot. "No, sir, none of them can sing."
"Anyone can sing," observed Valensizi.
"Not my men," said Klink flatly. "They just can't."
On the other side of the compound, a light had just dawned. "Maybe not," said Hogan. "But I know who can."
He looked at Kinch. "Have we cleared Lieutenant Doyle for security yet?"
"Sure, Colonel," replied Kinch, regarding him with a slightly puzzled frown. "But he doesn't really know about the whole set-up here yet."
"Well, he's about to find out. Newkirk, get over to Barracks 10, and tell Doyle to have his boys rehearsing outside their barracks in five minutes. And tell him I don't want to hear anything in Latin. I'll go and make sure they have an audience."
"Don't know if Doyle's going to listen to me, Colonel," said Newkirk doubtfully. "If he wants to know why, what do I tell him?"
Hogan raised one eyebrow. "Tell him it's an audition. Doyle's little ensemble is about to join the Hammelburger Chorgemeinschaft."
He headed for the door, but turned back. "And before you all start laughing again, maybe you should think about doing some singing practice instead. By tomorrow, you guys are going to be choristers, too."