"You better stay here till morning," said Hogan. "It's not safe in the woods right now."
He had followed Magdalena into the tunnel, and stood at the foot of the ladder, studying her with unusual intensity.
She shook her head, with a slight frown. "General Langbein will be expecting me at eight o'clock. We can't afford to raise suspicion now. I will be careful, Colonel."
He continued to look at her for several seconds; she gazed back, determined.
"Okay," he said at last. "Give me a couple of minutes to speak to Kinch, and I'll see you as far as the road."
He went to the radio room. Kinch looked up. "There was a message from London, Colonel, just before she turned up. Bomber command are planning a series of raids on the armaments factories to the east of Bernsdorf. That radar facility has to be put out of commission, as a matter of urgency. The supply drop with the detonators is scheduled for tonight, at twenty-three hundred hours." He paused, but Hogan didn't reply. He seemed deep in thought.
"Colonel," Kinch went on, "what do you want to do from here?"
Hogan shifted his weight, and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said at last. "Carter and I will meet the supply drop. I want you to start making some enquiries - not locally, try Düsseldorf if you can reach them. We need any information we can get on everyone from Hammelburg who's been involved in this assignment. That means everyone in Karl's group, especially Jakob."
"And Magdalena?"
"Her, too," replied Hogan. "There's something about her story that just doesn't fit." He was frowning slightly. "LeBeau may have picked up some kind of hint somewhere that made him suspicious. If he did, it's most likely to have come from her."
"She seems real worried about him," Kinch remarked. "I don't think that was put on, Colonel."
"No, that looked genuine. But she knew about the meeting, which hardly anyone else did." Hogan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'll talk to LeBeau again later. He must have had some idea that something was wrong, otherwise he wouldn't have gone after Carter. He's going to have to come up with some answers."
He didn't know it, but the chances of getting any information out of LeBeau had taken a dive. Wilson remained concerned, and his anxiety grew as night turned to day, and the patient got more restless and preoccupied.
"What's the problem, LeBeau?" he asked at last.
LeBeau had been gazing at the corner again; he gave a start, and looked up with wide, startled eyes. Then he pulled himself together. "Nothing," he replied curtly.
He turned away and closed his eyes. Wilson, dissatisfied, turned his attention to the empty corner. It didn't tell him anything.
LeBeau, by an effort of will, kept still for some time. He was as far from sleep as he'd ever been.
It's finally happened, he thought, over and over. I've gone crazy. They were right, after all..
He tried to push the thought away, but it persisted; and in the corner, the night bird twitched, and uttered short gabbling noises, and refused to go away. For the first time, he had seen it by daylight. It didn't look any less unnatural.
Hogan relieved Wilson's watch shortly after roll-call.
"How's he doing?" he asked, seeing that LeBeau appeared to be asleep.
Wilson shrugged slightly. "Physically? Seems to be doing well. Don't know about his mental state."
"Any chance of getting an explanation out of him?"
"You can try," said Wilson. He got up, and bent over LeBeau. "Louis, you got a visitor."
"Tell him I died."
"That's not funny, LeBeau."
LeBeau opened his eyes, and gave the medic a scowl which made it clear, it hadn't been meant as a joke.
"Go get some sleep, Wilson," said Hogan quietly. He took the medic's place, and sat looking at LeBeau, with a grave, meditative expression.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked.
"Fine. Perfect. I could not be feeling better." LeBeau's tone was only just on the safe side of insubordinate, but Hogan let it pass, aware that the layer of antagonism was barely skin deep.
"Okay, LeBeau," he said. "We've been advised that the Bernsdorf job has to go ahead. Now as things stand, I've got Newkirk in the cooler, and you out of action. That leaves me seriously undermanned. I can't call on Karl and his team, until we know what happened out there. Have you remembered anything at all?"
"No, mon Colonel," replied LeBeau, very quietly.
"Why did you follow Carter to that meeting?"
LeBeau's eyes turned to the corner again. "I must have been mistaken," he murmured. "I thought..." He broke off, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I just can't explain."
"That's not good enough, LeBeau," said Hogan sharply. "If you know something and you're keeping it back, then you're putting the rest of us at risk. I'll ask you one more time. Why did you go after Carter?" He waited, but LeBeau had fallen back into sullen silence. "Did you hear something from Magdalena?"
LeBeau sat up with a jerk. "Magdalena? You don't think..." He finished with a gasp, as a wave of pain broke over his head.
"Take it easy," said Hogan. "I haven't come to any conclusions yet."
"But..." LeBeau dropped back onto the mattress, panting for breath. "What if the explanation is unbelievable?" he went on unsteadily, when he'd recovered a little. "What if I just...what if it was a premonition?"
Hogan sighed. "Don't even try it, LeBeau."
There was a long pause. Hogan kept his eyes on LeBeau. He still looked slightly confused, as if he couldn't quite understand what had happened . Finally he shifted restlessly, and looked up at the colonel.
"There's no other excuse I can give you, mon Colonel," he said, his voice very low. "I just had a bad feeling about that meeting."
It was unusual to see him so cast down. Hogan couldn't doubt his sincerity, and in spite of his own ingrained scepticism he found himself wondering briefly whether it could be just that - not a premonition, but some kind of intuitive instinct that had warned LeBeau of an unsuspected danger. It would be easier to accept that, than to believe LeBeau would wilfully hold back information.
In any case, it was clear there was nothing more to be got from him now. Hogan leaned back in his chair, and let the matter drop.
LeBeau appeared to be drifting off to sleep again. But behind half-closed eyes, he was thinking rapidly, desperately trying to work out what to do. The whole situation seemed to have changed, when he received that blow to the head; he was too tired, and in too much pain, to work it out.
Some time later - he wasn't sure how long - the door opened. "Colonel?" It was Carter. "Wilson says you should take a break."
"It's okay, Carter," Hogan replied. "I'll stay with him for a while."
"Well, gee, Colonel, he's not going anywhere," said Carter reasonably. "I can sit with him. I got nothing else to do."
A moment of hesitation, then Hogan gave way, let Carter take his place, and left the room. And the night bird made a harsh, angry chattering noise, and advanced from its corner with an erratic hopping motion. It turned one marble eye towards Carter, then abruptly snapped at his leg. Carter didn't seem aware of its presence, but he twitched slightly, and reached down to scratch just below the knee.
The bird looked at LeBeau, and gave another rasping croak. LeBeau almost stopped breathing. This was something new.
"You okay, Carter?" he asked, his voice weakened by the dryness of his throat.
Carter blinked at him. "Sure. Say, shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Perhaps," murmured LeBeau, his eyes moving back towards the bird. It jerked its head up and down, and ruffled its feathers, apparently satisfied it had got its message through.
LeBeau suppressed a shiver. Either he really was delusional, or the creature was still trying to warn him, and had found the wherewithal not only to stay within his perception on a continual basis, but to reach out from whatever non-existent space it occupied, and make its presence felt, however dimly, by a third party. It appeared the danger might be greater now than ever, and apparently Carter was still involved.
LeBeau's first intervention had not ended well. He felt sick when he thought what the consequences might be if he had to take further action. But he couldn't bring himself to confide in anyone.
They'll think I'm crazy, he thought; and he couldn't face it. It had been bad enough after Nina's death. Never again. Especially if it was true.