A/N: This chapter contains some intense language with racial overtones.

Chapter 10

Kinch sighed as he waited for the elevator to come so he could leave. He was eager to get home and find out what Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau had discovered. It was while he waited that he thought about what he had told Forbes. It troubled him that possibly somebody within the Pentagon itself could have played part in the murder of Hogan. He began to wonder if his late friend had a 'gut feeling' something was going to happen and that was the real motive behind ordering him to check out that experimental radio system for General Butler. Hogan had always had a gut feeling about these things and it had served them well in Stalag 13. Kinch grimaced. If he did, did Hogan have a suspicion he was about to die? How did the General feel as the plane spun out-of-control as it plummeted towards the earth below? Kinch secretly hoped that Hogan and the others were either unconscious or already dead so they wouldn't feel the rising panic or fear at the realization they were about to die. He withdrew from his thoughts as he heard the 'ding' of the elevator and the doors slid open. Kinch's eyes widened as he saw who was standing in the back of the elevator alone. Biting his tongue, Kinch stepped inside.

"Major," he said politely before moving to the opposite corner in the back of the elevator after pressing the button for the main floor.

Desmond didn't reply but glared at the Captain with disdain. Kinch for the most part, found the irritating man amusing knowing Desmond believed he could intimidate him. But what Kinch wouldn't give right now to grab the man by the throat and make him admit to having taken part in Hogan's death; but he had no proof of anything, at least not yet. Kinch glanced at the man whose eyes he had felt were on him the entire time. "Can I help you, Major?" he asked sweetly.

"You think you're something special because of your relationship with Hogan? As far as I'm concerned he was nothing but a nigger lover who deserved what he got," Desmond sneered.

"I would watch your mouth, Major," Kinch replied struggling to keep his temper under control. "General Hogan was one of the finest men I have ever known. And I resent how you're speaking about him."

Desmond's eyes widened. "You talking back to me, nigger?" he snickered. "Well, your master isn't here any more to protect his boy. Another thing, you might be a Captain, but as far as I'm concerned you're not fit to wear the same uniform I am. Your kind doesn't belong in the military with decent people. And if I have anything to say about it, you'll be tossed out of the military on your ass."

Kinch looked at the Major grimly. "Major, and I use the term with the respect that you really don't deserve, let's get one thing straight right now. First, I am not nor was I ever General Hogan's boy and that includes the time he was a Colonel. Second, I resent you slandering the late General by calling him names he doesn't deserve. And lastly, I am not going anywhere so get use to seeing me."

Desmond's face by now was a deep shade of crimson. "I wish you had been on that transport with your nigger loving CO. That way I would've been rid of both of you. But the fates saw fit to rid me of at least one of you, and it's just a matter of time before I'm rid of you too."

Kinch's eyes narrowed until they bore into the man standing opposite him. If anybody was the epitome of the Jim Crow laws, Kinch thought to himself, it was Major Desmond. Right now Kinch's entire body was shaking with more rage than he ever felt for Major Hochstetter, the Gestapo, or the Nazis in general. Having to listen to them calling Hogan all kinds of undeserving names was one thing; Kinch had been accustomed to that. It was even expected. Afterall, Hogan was the enemy. But to have one of their own refer to Hogan in such derogatory terms was almost more than Kinch could tolerate. Right now all he wanted to do was punch the man out cold, but then he would be playing right into Desmond's hands which is probably exactly what he wanted. But Kinch not only refused to play Desmond's game, but he had to keep what he suspected to himself for now. Fortunately, the doors of the elevator slid open at that exact moment.

"Have a good evening, Major," Kinch said calmly with a quick glance over his shoulder only to see Desmond's stare at his receding back. If Desmond could only see the smirk on the Captain's face as he exited the building.

Newkirk and Carter were playing another game of gin while LeBeau nervously paced, occasionally glancing impatiently at the telephone. "Ring!" he muttered staring at the phone and gesturing with his hands.

"Simmer down, Louie," Newkirk told him with his eyes focused on the cards in his hand. "She'll call when she has something to tell us."

"But why is it taking so long?" LeBeau said looking at his two friends. "I'm about to go crazy with worry."

Carter looked up at the little Frenchman. "Take it easy, LeBeau. You're gonna give yourself an ulcer. Marya will call when she finds out something. I mean, she never said when she would call just that she would." He threw out a card.

"And that's gin," Newkirk said with a grin as he laid his cards down. He chuckled as Carter threw his cards down on the table, annoyed.

"That's the third hand you've won, Newkirk," Carter said eyeing the smirking Englander. "I don't get it."

Newkirk reshuffled the cards. "That's because you were a rotten gin player in Stalag 13 and you're still one now, Andrew. Care for another game?"

But before Carter could respond the telephone rang causing everybody to look at it. LeBeau, being the closest, grabbed the receiver. "Hello," he said. The others noticed his face darken suddenly as he listened to the caller. "Batard! Qui est ceci! Vous ne m'effrayez pas!" he shouted into the receiver.(1)

The game forgotten, both Newkirk and Carter dropped their cards and raced to their friend; Newkirk yanked the phone out of LeBeau's hands and pressed it to his ear.

"Who the bloody hell is this?" the Englander shouted. But all he got was the dial tone. Newkirk slammed the receiver down then looked at LeBeau who was still trembling with anger despite Carter's best attempt to calm him. Newkirk put his hands on LeBeau's shaking shoulders. "Louie, calm down, mate. Look at me. Please. Take a couple of deep breaths, calm down, and tell us what happened to get you so upset."

Closing his eyes tightly the little Frenchman took a deep breath and exhaled just as deeply; then he repeated the process, and gradually began to feel the tension leave his body. After a couple of minutes, he nodded and indicated that he was all right. "I am fine now, mes ami," he told both of them.

"You sure, mate?" asked Newkirk, worried.

"Oui, I am sure."

Newkirk patted the Frenchman's shoulder. "Okay then. Now tell us what happened. Who called?"

"I do not know who it was, but it was definitely a man's voice," LeBeau began.

"And….?" Newkirk urged. "What did he say?"

"He said unless we wish to end up like le Colonel, we should cease our investigation immediately." He looked up at the faces of his friends who exchanged looks with each other.

"Did he say anything else?" asked Carter.

"Non. That was when Pierre took the phone from me." He looked directly at Newkirk. "What do you think it means?"

Newkirk pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. He saw both Carter and LeBeau looking at him, waiting. He inhaled and then exhaled through his nose.

"Well, mates, I have to say that phone call leaves no doubt that the Gov'nor was murdered, and somebody is getting' a mite nervous."

Just then the hotel room door opened and Kinch walked in. He noticed the looks on the faces of his friends as he closed the door. "What's going on?" he asked as he sat down his briefcase near the end table and began unbuttoning his coat.

"Kinch, are we glad you're here," Newkirk said, sounding relieved. "Let me ask you something. Did you see anybody followin' you today?"

Shrugging out of his coat, Kinch shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

Newkirk repeated his story about the car following him earlier, the calls to MI6, what his MI6 contact said about Burkhalter and Hochstetter, the call to Marya, then LeBeau ended by telling him about the recent phone call.

Kinch sighed as he tossed his coat across a nearby chair, picked up his briefcase, and walked over to the couch and plopped down in exhaustion. He sat the briefcase down on the coffee table and ran both hands down his face.

"Tired, mate?" asked Newkirk as he and the others sat down beside him.

"Most definitely," Kinch answered. "I had a very long, but interesting day." He laid his briefcase down flat and opened it. Removing the CO2 canister, he handed it to the Englander who looked it.

"Okay, you got me. What is it?" Newkirk asked with a puzzled look.

"It's one of the CO2 bottles that was in the cargo hold of the Colonel's plane," Kinch explained. He watched as Newkirk handed the canister off to LeBeau. "They're there in case of a fire in the cargo hold."

Carter took the canister from LeBeau after he had finished looking at it. "So what?" LeBeau asked. "What's so important about a CO2 canister?"

Kinch, arms resting on thighs, rubbed his hands together. "They were empty. I spoke with the Air Traffic controller on duty that day who told me the pilots didn't report any fire."

"I still don't get it," said Carter handing the canister back to Kinch who put it back in his briefcase.

Newkirk rolled his eyes in frustration. "Blimey, Andrew. Don't you see, CO2 is only used if there is a fire on-board. There was no fire so there was no reason for the canisters to be empty."

"Then what happened to the contents of the canisters?" LeBeau asked, somewhat afraid of the answer.

"That's the question I have yet to answer," Kinch replied closing and locking his briefcase. "I mean, I have a theory but that's about all."

"What's your theory then, mate?"

Kinch then repeated what he had told General Forbes regarding his suspicions about the canisters as the possible explanation for the missing toxicology reports. When he finished, he looked at his friends. "There's also something else I haven't mentioned."

"You mean there's something else?" asked Carter.

"Yeah," Kinch admitted. "I think whoever killed the Colonel may have somebody planted inside the Pentagon. What was done was too involved for just one person to accomplish by himself. He had to have help."

Newkirk sadly shook his head. "Blimey. We got us a bleedin' conspiracy."

"A conspiracy?" echoed Carter, puzzled. "In the Pentagon? Is that possible?"

"Of course it is, Carter," Newkirk said with a hint of annoyance. "They're not exempt from 'em." He rolled his eyes again. Then, he looked at Kinch. "Any idea who in the Pentagon might be a suspect?"

Kinch sighed. "Yeah I have. My so called 'friend' Major Desmond."

"He'd be my choice from what you have told us of him," LeBeau chimed in eying Kinch.

"Mine too," Newkirk added looking at the faces of Carter and LeBeau. "He hates Kinch as much as he hated the Colonel. Wouldn't put it past 'im to have a part in it."

"Oui. He is a racist pig," LeBeau sneered. He knew the problems his friend had with the Major.

"And he's not very nice either," Carter added.

Kinch rubbed his chin. "Y'know, I just had a thought." He waited until he had the attention of the others. "I've a feeling if we can somehow prove Major Desmond had a hand in the Colonel's death, he might be willing to expose the others to save his own neck."

"But are you certain he's involved, mate?" asked Newkirk warily.

Kinch shrugged. "Am I positive? No. But he hated the Colonel for costing him a timely promotion and receiving an official reprimand. I can't think of a better candidate, or a better place to start, can you?"

General Forbes, having returned to his office, went immediately to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a snifter of Scotch and downed it in one gulp before sitting down behind his desk. He massaged his forehead as he thought about what Kinch had told him. It was, to him, incomprehensible that someone in the Pentagon, even someone the likes of Major Desmond, to have taken part in murdering a fellow soldier. And that was despite the kind of person Desmond was which Forbes knew to be a racist despite being a good soldier; but his dislike of blacks overshadowed everything that was good about him. But murder?

Forbes knew about Hogan's run-in with Desmond while Hogan was a Brigadier General over Kinch's promotion to Lieutenant. He had heard the talk from others who were privy to the exchange between the two men and of Hogan's filing a formal complaint against the man. In fact, Forbes had often wondered how the man had gotten into the Air Force must less remained. But his brain still found it difficult to believe that even someone as despicable as Desmond would resort to murder to get even with someone over being passed over for a promotion; but he had to trust Kinch's judgment. If Kinch believed it to be true, then it must be because the Captain did not accuse someone of something without reason. And of this he seemed positive. Leaning back in his chair and sighing wearily, Forbes recalled his own last conversation with Hogan.

(Flashback):

Forbes studied Hogan's face as the General sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk. He could tell immediately his friend was visibly upset, and knew it had to be something serious because it took a lot to upset Hogan.

"Talk to me, Rob," he said. "What's wrong?"

Hogan exhaled deeply and wrapped his arms around himself in his usual fashion everybody was familiar with. "I just came from Lt. Desmond's office and I must tell you, I came this close to decking the man." Hogan held his thumb and forefinger a quarter-of-an-inch apart.

Forbes sighed. "I've heard things about Desmond. None of them pleasant. What did he do to get you so riled up this early in the morning?"

"The man's a pompous ass," Hogan said tersely. "He gave me back talk when I approached him about promoting Kinch to Lieutenant. He spouted his racial disfavor over the request. But I dealt with it myself and he shouldn't be a problem."

Forbes leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands together, and laid them in his lap. "I assume you filed an official reprimand?"

"I did."

Forbes nodded. "He'll probably also be passed over for promotion to Captain."

Hogan smirked. "The man shouldn't even be in the Air Force."

"I'll agree with you on that. But unfortunately he's not done anything but shoot off his big mouth. Other than that he has a good record."

Hogan frowned. "Be that as it may, sir, I have a gut feeling he'll do something eventually that will put him in the stockade. I just hope nobody gets hurt or worse in the meanwhile." He chuckled. "I know he's not too thrilled with me or Kinch right now. Personally, I don't care how he feels about me, I can handle myself. But I'm concerned for Kinch. Desmond's made no secret of his dislike of him and I'm letting you know right here and now, Monty, I will do what I have to in order to protect my aide."

Forbes nodded. "Understood, Rob. We'll keep an eye on Desmond as well." He stood up as did Hogan.

"Thank you," Hogan replied before turning and exiting the General's office.

(End of Flashback)

Leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, Forbes thought of Hogan's last words. Had the Major been so angry at Hogan that he was willing to commit murder to get even with the man? If true, then Kinch was indeed in danger and he was worried that a man who didn't hesitate to murder a man who cost him a promotion would have no qualms about killing someone he felt was the reason for Hogan doing what he did. But Forbes also knew he had to trust Kinch and the others because the Captain had been right. They had faced greater dangers in Stalag 13 and succeeded. However, the difference there Forbes believed, was that in Stalag 13, they knew who their enemy was.

(1) "Batard! Qui est ceci? Vous ne m'effrayez pas!" means "Bastard! Who is this? You do not scare me!" Courtesy of SDL/Free Translation.