Aikens cleared his throat and leaned forward a little, resting his hands on his lap; one on either side of the gun that was lying there. He stared at Kinch and Newkirk for a few moments, as if trying to decide where to begin. At last he appeared to be ready.
"Well, I suppose the first thing I should tell you is that Lieutenant Brown is loaded," Aikens said.
"What, you mean, drunk?" Newkirk cut in, "He didn't look all that drunk to me."
Kinch leaned a little towards Newkirk. "He means rich, Peter."
Newkirk frowned. "Well, why didn't he just say so?" he muttered back.
"Kinch looked at Aikens. "Sorry, go ahead," he told him.
Aikens inwardly rolled his eyes. "As I was saying," he started again, "Lieutenant Brown is rich. Only he's not just rich, he's filthy rich. He's got his money stashed in a bank in Switzerland. That's where we're headed first, and that's why we need someone who speaks German."
Newkirk's eyes had widened substantially as Aikens was talking. Then they quickly narrowed, and he found himself asking, "Just how filthy rich are we talkin', 'ere?"
Aikens leaned in like he was divulging a huge secret. "I heard he's got a million dollars in that bank!" he practically whispered.
"Blimey…" Newkirk breathed, transfixed by the thought of that much money.
"Easy there, Newkirk," Kinch said, knowing his friend too well. "I don't think the lieutenant's planning on sharing any of that with us."
"No, sorry," Aikens said, "Only me, Thompson and Rodriguez get a cut."
"Oh, bugger," Newkirk mumbled under his breath.
The corners of Aikens' mouth turned up when he heard Newkirk's remark. Then he raised his hand and coughed into it, masking the smile that was threatening to overtake his face. He squelched the impulse quickly, and dropped his hand back onto his lap.
"Anyway," Aikens said, continuing on with his story, "Once we get out of Germany and into Switzerland, we're going to go to that bank, and the lieutenant's going to take out all his money. Then we're going to slip into France as invisibly as we can; hopefully we'll pick up someone by then who speaks French. Then we'll sneak our way south until we get to Spain. Once we get to Spain, Rodriguez will take over translating for us."
"Don't tell me, let me guess… Rodriguez speaks Spanish." Newkirk said.
Aikens nodded. "Yes, he does. I think he said his parents immigrated to the United States from Mexico. Anyway, he's going to get us through Spain, and into Portugal." Aikens then sat back slightly on his chair, unconsciously puffing up his chest a little. "And that's where I take over," he informed them, pride radiating from his voice, "I speak Portuguese."
It was Kinch's turn to look surprised. "You do?"
Aikens smiled. "Yes, I do. My father was a biologist, and a professor at the university where he worked. When he was younger, he and a group of scientists went down to the Amazon to do some studies, and that's where he met my mom."
Kinch's eyes widened. "In the Amazon?"
Aikens rolled his eyes. "In Rio de Janeiro! You know; the capital of Brazil?" (1)
"Oh," Kinch responded, looking somewhat embarrassed.
"From what he told me, his group stayed there for a few days before they came back to the U.S. I'm not sure what they did there, though…He was always a little vague about it."
Kinch exchanged a knowing glance with Newkirk. "I'm sure they were just relaxing after all the hard work they put in; from studying the Amazon," Kinch said.
"Yeah, that's what my dad always told me," Aikens replied. "In any case, he returned with my mom, who spoke only Portuguese. So, when I was growing up, I learned Portuguese from her, and she learned English from my dad. Oh, and also from the English courses she took."
"So, does that mean you're planning to hide out from the war in Portugal?" Kinch asked.
Aikens grinned. "Not exactly. You see, there's a group of islands off the west coast of Africa; the Madeira Islands, which belong to Portugal. I know about them from my uncle – my mom's brother – who lived there for many years. He came to visit us once, a long time ago, and told us how beautiful the place was. He said it was like a garden, and the people there are very friendly." Aikens' expression took on a faraway look, "He showed us pictures, and he was right. It's the most incredible place I've ever seen; a real paradise on Earth…" He continued to stare into space for a moment with a dreamy look on his face, and then, realizing what he was doing, quickly came back to reality. "When I told the lieutenant about it, he got all excited, and said that's where we need to go. So, that's where we're going."
A moment of silence descended on them after Aikens finished. At last Newkirk spoke up.
"You sure the lieutenant wouldn't want to share some o' that million dollars with 'is German translator?"
"Newkirk!" Kinch exclaimed.
"Yeah, I know, Kinch," Newkirk smiled at him, "You can't blame a bloke for tryin'!"
The side of Kinch's mouth rose in a lopsided grin. "Well, at least I know what your price is," he teased. Then he turned back to Aikens. "So, if Brown is planning to use Newkirk to get all of you through Germany and into Switzerland, what's he planning to do with me?"
Another moment of silence passed as Aikens shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "To tell you the truth," he finally said, "I don't know. I thought he would've let you go by now. Maybe he's going to bring you with us, to help keep Newkirk in line."
Kinch shot a glance at Newkirk. He could tell by the Englishman's eyes that Newkirk no more believed a word of that than he did.
"Maybe you should tell 'im," Newkirk said, low enough that only Kinch heard.
"Tell him what?" Kinch replied just as quietly.
"Tell the lieutenant that you speak German. You know he'd want to bloomin' keep you, then."
"And what about you, Peter? If Brown finds out I speak German, he won't need you, anymore. And I think we all know what would happen then, considering how he feels about you."
Newkirk looked at Kinch determinedly. "I'm willin' to take that chance, mate, if it means keepin' 'im from, well, gettin' rid of you."
"What are you two mumbling about?" Aikens asked curiously.
"Oh, nothin'," Newkirk said, "Just that, I think Kinch 'ere has somethin' to tell the lieutenant…"
Kinch raised his uninjured left arm and swung it over, clamping his hand tightly over Newkirk's mouth. "No, I don't," he replied, "Well, other than the fact that I'm hungry, and so is Newkirk. And we could both use some aspirin," he added. Then he glanced over at Newkirk and removed his hand, flashing him a warning look.
Aikens eyed them suspiciously, but decided to let it go. "I don't think you want to bother the lieutenant right now; not when he's sleeping."
"No, I suppose you're right," Kinch replied. Then he looked at Aikens curiously. "So, you've told us why Brown needs you and Rodriguez. What does he need Thompson for?"
Aikens scowled. "Thompson's sort of the lieutenant's body guard." He leaned in a little and said in a conspiratorial tone, "And he's not very bright, either, if you ask me. But he's big, and he's strong, and he's protective of the lieutenant, so he's part of the group."
"Just like a ruddy guard dog, is he?" Newkirk grinned.
"No, not a guard dog," Aikens countered, a grin forming on his own face, "Guard dogs are smart."
All three men chuckled over that. When it grew quiet again, Kinch piped up. "You still haven't told us how you got mixed up in all this."
The mirth in Aikens' eyes immediately vanished. "It's…complicated," he said.
"I'd still like to know." Kinch told him.
"It's a long story…"
"We're not bloody goin' anywhere." Newkirk said.
Aikens stared at them for a few moments. Then he let out a huge sigh. "All right, I'll tell you, but you have to swear not to tell anyone else; I mean it!"
Both Kinch and Newkirk looked back at him determinedly. "I promise, we won't tell another living soul," Kinch stated sincerely.
"That's right, mate," Newkirk added, "We won't tell. You can trust us."
Aikens nodded. "Okay, I believe you. Well, I guess I'll start from when my parents died…"
* * * * * * * *
Hogan, Carter, and LeBeau had reached the rendezvous point in the woods where Newkirk and Kinch were supposed to have met up with the escaped prisoners. After looking over the area briefly, Hogan walked over to where LeBeau had crouched down, looking at something on the ground.
"Here, Colonel," LeBeau said while pointing to a partial boot print in a small, visible patch of dirt, "This is where we picked up their trail." He looked up in the direction that he and Carter had gone earlier that night. "And when we followed it, it led us straight to that farmhouse we told you about."
"Then that's where we'll go," Hogan said. He waited for LeBeau to stand up, and then he let the Frenchman take the lead as he fell in behind him; Carter bringing up the rear.
They hadn't gone far when the trio suddenly heard a fairly loud crashing noise in the forest directly ahead of them. The three men stopped dead in their tracks, and as the noise grew closer, Hogan hissed, "Take cover!"
LeBeau went right, while Hogan and Carter dove left. They hunkered down in the bushes next to the trail, waiting anxiously for the source of the noise to reveal itself. When it finally did, they couldn't have been more surprised.
* * * * * * * *
"My folks were coming back from a dinner being held by the university; you know, one of those award dinners where they congratulate each other for all the hard work they've done, and everyone deserves to get an award…" Aikens paused, visibly attempting to keep his emotions under control. Then he continued, "Anyway, when they were driving back, they got hit by another car. Turns out it was one of the other professors at the award ceremony that night; Ed Ferguson, one of my dad's colleagues, and friend. He'd had a little too much to drink…" Aikens stopped and glanced down at the floor, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall at the memory of that night.
"I'm sorry, Aikens, I really am," Kinch replied softly.
"Yeah, me too, mate," Newkirk said, "I know it's 'ard to lose your parents; me own mum died before the war."
Aikens looked up at them, noting the sincerity in their eyes. "Thanks," he responded, and continued on with his tale. "After that, I just couldn't stand being there; I had to get as far away from home as possible. I was eighteen and fresh out of high school, and I didn't know what else to do, so I joined the Army. They decided I had some skills, I guess, so they sent me to the Army Air Corps… I mean, the Army Air Force – I still forget they changed that, sometimes. (2) Anyway, they trained me to be a radio operator, and when we entered the war, they stuck me with a bomber squadron.
"The next thing I knew, we were flying bombing raids over Germany. Then one night, after we released our payload and were heading back, we got hit by an anti-aircraft barrage, and the plane was knocked out. Luckily, we bailed out before the plane crashed, and floated to safety. Me and some of the other guys on the crew grabbed up what we could and started walking; hoping we could somehow get out of Germany and back to England. We didn't get far before we heard shouting, and we knew it was probably a German patrol…"
Aikens stopped; once again noticeably trying to compose himself enough to relay the next part of his story. After several moments, he continued. "We started running, but then we heard gunfire, and suddenly it seemed like there were German soldiers coming at us from all sides. I just happened to be standing next to a huge cluster of bushes, and, without thinking, I dove right into the middle of them. Well, the Germans didn't see me, but they rounded up the other four guys with me, and made them stand in a line next to each other. They searched them for weapons, and then they backed up, and pointed their rifles at them, and then they…they…"
Aikens raised his hand and wiped away the few tears that had begun to fall from his eyes. "They shot my friends… Just shot 'em!" He practically shouted, "And I didn't do anything to help them; I just hid there in those bushes and watched…and hoped that the Germans wouldn't find me." His tears started flowing faster. "I should have done something, but I was too afraid… I'm nothing but a coward!"
"Aikens," Kinch spoke quietly, "You're not a coward. There's nothing you could have done for them. If the German soldiers had found you, they would have killed you, too."
"You don't know that!" Aikens shouted.
"Yes, I do," Kinch replied calmly, "And I think you know it, too."
Aikens stared at Kinch for a moment. Then he nodded and looked at the floor. "I should have died with them, you know," he muttered, "But I was too scared. And now they're gone and I'm here, and I shouldn't be." He raised his head. "And that's what makes me a coward."
"What?" Newkirk exclaimed, raising his eyebrows, "You think just because the Krauts didn't kill you, you're a coward? Blimey, then I guess we're all cowards, aren't we?"
"Newkirk, let me handle this…"
Newkirk shook his head. "No, Kinch, let me say what I 'ave to say." He turned his attention back to Aikens. "Let me ask you somethin'; 'ow would you 'ave felt if you'd been killed, but one of your mates 'ad survived?"
"I don't know… I mean, I'd be dead."
Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Never mind that! Just pretend you know what's goin' on after you die. 'Ow would you feel if one of your mates didn't get shot with you and the others?"
Aikens didn't hesitate. "Well, of course I'd feel happy that he didn't get killed; anyone would!"
Newkirk smiled. "Well, then, has it ever occurred to you that your friends might be 'appy that you didn't get shot?"
As Aikens thought about it, his eyes began to widen at the realization of what Newkirk was saying. "So, you think they'd be happy that I survived?"
"Yes, I do, mate."
Kinch leaned over and whispered in Newkirk's ear, "Nice going, Peter."
"Told you, you could trust me," Newkirk whispered back.
Kinch flashed him a grin. "I always have." Then he looked at Aikens. "Newkirk's right, your friends would be very happy that you survived. And since you're the only one who knows what happened to them, I think it's up to you to tell someone. I bet their families would like to know."
"Yeah, maybe you're right," Aikens replied, "I have to admit, I never thought of it that way."
"That's why it's good to talk these things out, sometimes," Kinch stated. "So, how did you end up in a POW camp?"
"Oh, well, as soon as the patrol left, I ran. I didn't get very far when another patrol spotted me, and ordered me to stop. I did, and after they captured me, they took me to some kind of processing center, and then sent me on to Stalag four."
"Is that where you met Lieutenant Brown?" Kinch asked.
"Yes, but he didn't arrive until much later. Me, Thompson, and Rodriguez were already there when he showed up."
"So, he's not from your unit, then?" It was Newkirk's turn to ask a question.
"No, his plane was shot down more recently."
Kinch raised an eyebrow. "And you decided to follow him on this crazy scheme of his because…"
"Because he promised to get me out of Germany, and I would never have to fight again!" Aikens exclaimed.
"Maybe not," Newkirk said, "But you'll be a ruddy criminal; on the run for the rest of your life. Is that what you really want?"
"I…I don't know…"
"Then, why don't you help us?" Kinch suggested, "We can get you out of trouble, and you won't have to worry about Brown anymore."
Aikens stared at him. "You can?"
"Yes, we can. Well, us, and a certain American Colonel. Will you trust us?"
The conflicting emotions on Aikens face warred with each other for a few moments as he agonized over what he should do. At last his conscience won out, and he nodded. "Okay, I'll trust you," he sighed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Ow about gettin' me mate Kinch out of 'ere?" Newkirk immediately replied.
"How is that going to help?" Aikens asked.
"He can get us some reinforcements," Newkirk answered.
"I don't want to leave without you, Newkirk," Kinch said.
"Well, you're goin' to bloody 'ave to, mate," Newkirk raised his hand and rattled the handcuffs attaching him to the bed frame. "Don't worry, I'll be all right," he said, trying to reassure his friend.
Knowing he didn't have much of a choice, Kinch nodded. "Okay, I'll go."
"I can probably sneak you out of here," Aikens said, "Those other guys are pretty sound sleepers." He stood up and walked over to Kinch. "Are you sure you can make it?" he asked, knowing the sergeant wasn't in very good shape.
"I'm sure," Kinch stated. "Just help me up, okay?"
Aikens reached down and helped the tall man to his feet. He waited a moment as Kinch stopped swaying, and then guided him to the door. Kinch stopped and turned to take one last look at Newkirk.
"Hurry back, mate," Newkirk said, trying not to sound as worried as he felt.
Kinch smiled. "You'll never even know I was gone." He turned back, and held onto Aikens as he walked him to the main door of the house, both of them keeping their eyes open for any sign of Brown or Thompson. Seeing none, Aikens let Kinch out, flashing him a look of hope mixed with fear.
Kinch returned his look with one of calm reassurance, and slipped out into the night, his only goal at this point to get back to camp.
He started out well enough, but the farther he walked, the more his head and arm throbbed, and he began to feel dizzy again, which was causing him to stumble more and more. He was nearing the rendezvous point, hoping no Germans were around to hear all the noise he was making, when three men suddenly jumped out of the bushes on either side of the trail. He nearly lost his balance, and then cried out joyfully, "Colonel Hogan! Carter! LeBeau! Boy, am I glad to see you!"
(1) Rio de Janeiro was the capital of Brazil from 1763 until 1960, when it formally became Brasilia. – Source: Wikipedia
(2) The United States Army Air Corps (USAAC) was created in July of 1926, and became the United States Army Air Force (USAAF) in June of 1941. Then in September of 1947 it became the United States Air Force (USAF), which is what it is today. – Source: Wikipedia
