"How many rehearsals did you say we were getting before the night?" asked Newkirk, leaning on the top of the ancient piano.
"We'll have enough," replied Doyle, "and be careful, old chap, the frame's not as strong as you think."
Newkirk shifted his weight back a little, eliciting a distinct cracking noise. "Sorry," he murmured.
Immediately after the prisoners had returned from town, Hogan had convened a meeting in the recreation hall, ostensibly for a little extra work on a difficult tenor line. In fact little singing was taking place, though every so often LeBeau, keeping watch at the door, would give warning of an approaching guard, upon which Tanzen und Springen, Singen und Klingen would take over from the strategy conference.
"Are they going to be ready?" Hogan asked. "Not that it matters much if they're not."
Doyle looked slightly offended. "They'll do," he said shortly. Then, with reluctant honesty, he added, "They won't be perfect, but ..."
Hogan sighed. "Let's not forget what we're doing this for. It doesn't have to be perfect."
"But it doesn't not have to be, right?" put in Carter, slightly anxious.
"I've got some bad news about that," replied Hogan, almost apologetic for once. "Schultz got pretty edgy today when he didn't know where I was. I need to be able to get together with Morrison, without the guards noticing. For that to happen, they need to be too busy with something else to pay attention to me. Now, if Doyle were to decide he needed a few extra voices..." He let the rest of the idea hang there.
"Colonel, you can't be serious," said Kinch, after a moment of stunned silence. "You mean you want the guards to join the choir?"
"Can you think of a better way to keep them gainfully occupied?"
"But they can't sing." LeBeau looked as appalled as if he'd been asked to let the cook from the sergeants' mess help him prepare dinner for the French government in exile.
Newkirk obviously agreed with him. "Colonel, far be it from me to throw a spanner in the works, but if you think..."
Doyle cut into the debate. "Will it be the same four guards?" He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It should be manageable, at least for the combined choir songs, which is all we're rehearsing in town. Actually, Langenscheidt's not bad - low-range tenor, if we put him between Carter and Dowland he'll cope. Gluck sings baritone, loses pitch very easily, but he's not loud, so he won't be heard. Telemann's a natural counter-tenor, he'll be fine. As for Schultz... Why are you all looking like that? Some people collect stamps. It's no different, is it?"
"If you say so, Doyle," murmured Hogan. "So, no problem then?"
"With respect, sir, of course it's a problem." With an effort, Doyle restrained his impatience. "But if I can cope with those sopranos - my dear man, have you heard Mrs Burkhalter? She could moonlight as an air raid siren." He shook his head gravely. "It's no wonder the general works such long hours."
"What about Schultz, then?" asked Newkirk curiously, but Doyle just smirked, and turned back to the piano.
"Okay, so that's the guards taken care of," said Hogan. "Now all we have to do is give Fräulein Moller something to think about, other than keeping Valensizi under surveillance. And that, Newkirk, is where you come in. You can do without him, right, Doyle?"
"Absolutely," replied Doyle without hesitation, to Newkirk's obvious annoyance.
"Didn't think I was that bad," he muttered.
Carter snickered, and Newkirk turned on him at once. "What's that for, Carter?"
"Nothing," replied Carter innocently. "Just you're always late on your entries."
"No, I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You just are."
Hogan interrupted this promising line of discussion. "That'll do. Newkirk, I've got a very important job for you. It's right up your alley. You'll love it."
Newkirk gave Carter a little shove. "No, I'm not," he muttered. Then, very quickly, he added, "What's that, then, Colonel?"
"Oh, it's a good one," replied Hogan with a smirk. "You get to make friends with the accompanist."
Newkirk didn't appear to welcome the assignment. "What, little Miss Sweetness-and-Light? With respect, Colonel, I'll pass. A man could get frostbite messing about with that little darling."
"War's a dangerous business, Newkirk," Hogan pointed out. "Everyone has to take a few risks."
"I understand that, sir," said Newkirk. "But..."
"Newkirk, you'll chat up the Fräulein, and that's an order."
For a few seconds Newkirk teetered on the brink of refusal. "All right," he growled at last. "I'll do it. But if I don't get recommended for the Victoria Cross..."
"I'll write to Churchill about it," said Hogan with a grin. "Now..."
"Schultz is coming!" hissed LeBeau.
Doyle played a chord. "Men of Harlech, gentlemen." Newkirk uttered a groan, but it was more for form's sake than anything. The Welsh side of him couldn't fail to be stirred by that piece.
By the time Schultz got there, they were well away on it. Schultz, brought up short, hesitated, then tiptoed across the floor towards Hogan, who was conducting with great spirit and enthusiasm, since Doyle was fully occupied with the accompaniment.
"Well, Schultz, what do you think?" asked Hogan, at the end
Schultz sighed. "I think your side has all the good songs. But, Colonel Hogan, you are not supposed to be in here without supervision."
"We're not in here without supervision," replied Hogan reasonably. "Doyle's in charge."
"Doyle is not one of us. He is one of you. You have to have one of us."
"That's okay. We've got one of you, now. And frankly, Schultz, I'm a little disappointed it took you so long to get here. You're falling down on the job. You need to lift your game, otherwise we're going to have take steps." Hogan kept a straight face, but his eyes were dancing. "And even though you're here now, who's to say you won't wander off again any minute. It's not good enough, Schultz. I want your word of honour you won't stir from here till lights out."
Schultz's face folded into a suspicious glower. "You think I'm stupid, don't you? You make a big deal about me staying here, to make me think you want me to leave. But it's just a trick, to convince me that I should stay, when what you really want is for me to think you want me to...wait a minute. I lost track."
"It's perfectly simple, Schultz," said Newkirk, folding his arms. "The colonel tells you to stay, which makes you think he actually wants you to leave. So the clever thing to do is to stay."
"Except it's a double play," added Kinch. "Because he knows you'll be suspicious, and you know he knows. You're not dumb enough to fall for that. The colonel obviously wants you to stay. So you're definitely going to leave."
"Unless le Colonel thought of that, too." LeBeau took up the argument. "Which would mean he was pretending he wanted you to stay, to make you think he wanted you to leave, in order to get you to stay, but what he really wants is for you to leave."
"Boy, you're smart, Schultz," said Carter, his eyes wide with admiration. "I would never have gotten that worked out."
"Well, Schultz, what's it going to be?" Hogan finished up.
Schultz's gaze moved around the room, starting with Hogan, travelling to each of his men, before returning to the colonel.
"I will stay here," he pronounced at last.
Hogan's brow contracted; he looked worried. "You sure? Word of honour?"
"Word of honour." Schultz spoke more firmly. "I do not leave this building until lights out. And whether you like it or not, that is a promise."
"Oh, well, if you insist, Schultz," sighed Hogan. "Okay, Doyle, what's next?"
"Nothing," said Doyle. "We've finished for now."
"Really? Okay, men, fall out." As his men, in a burst of conversation, left the recreation hall, Hogan turned a look of surprised reproof on the sergeant of the guard. "Hold it, Schultz. Where d'you think you're going?"
Schultz, following in Doyle's wake, came to a halt. "You just said you were finished."
"So? You just gave me your word of honour. And if I can't trust your word, Schultz, then who can I trust?" With a smirk, and a quirk of the eyebrows, Hogan sauntered off after the others, leaving Schultz on his own in the dusty hall.
"It's true," he murmured to himself. "I did give my word, so..." He broke off in a low grumble of frustration. "Why do I always let them do it?" he muttered. "Jolly jokers."
But he stayed in the recreation hall. After all, it was a promise.