It wasn't like any Gestapo prison Carter had seen before, and he'd seen a few, one way or another. The long, white corridor along which Faulmann was leading him looked clinical, and still had the distinctive electrical smell of a laboratory.
Shame we didn't know about it before, he thought, mentally calculating exactly how much TNT he would have needed to invalidate whatever research project had been going on here. Then, at the memory of what had happened in the lab a few nights ago, a cold tingling raced through his nerves. It would be a long time before he trusted himself with explosives again.
He guessed from a distance which room they were holding Cecilie in. Two SS men were standing guard outside the door, armed with semiautomatic rifles. The door looked sturdy and unbreakable, and had been fitted with a padlock. That was a lucky break. No keyhole meant less chance of eavesdropping from outside.
Faulmann nodded to one of the guards. "Open the door." Then he turned to Carter. "For security reasons, I must ask you to leave your pistol with me. We don't want to run any risk of her getting hold of it, and committing suicide."
Reluctantly, Carter drew his gun, and handed it over.
"I'm afraid I can't give you much time, Captain," Faulmann added. "Ten minutes, that is all. If she still refuses to co-operate, then she must face the consequences." He smiled, and went inside.
The room was small and windowless. It must have been used for storage by the previous tenants, judging by the horizontal marks left on the walls, suggesting that shelving had been hastily removed. By the light of a single globe, protected by wire mesh, Carter took in the details. There wasn't much, just a narrow cot, without so much as a single blanket, and a metal bucket in the corner.
The occupant, a woman of medium height and slender build, stood up quickly, stubborn resistance evident in both expression and stance.
"Good afternoon, madame," said Faulmann, with a smug courtesy that made Carter, normally the least aggressive of men, long for the opportunity to punch the guy out. "I trust you slept well?"
Cecilie didn't reply, but it seemed unlikely.
"You know Captain Weber, of course," Faulmann continued, gesturing towards Carter. "As you seem to have doubts about the benefits of compliance on your part, he has come to see what he can do to win you over. If he is unable to do so, we have other methods of persuasion. However, you may not find them particularly enjoyable. I advise you to listen to the captain, and take a sensible view of the matter. Ten minutes, Captain."
He bowed slightly, and left the room.
Cecilie glared at her visitor, the fire of hatred in her eyes. "Whatever kind of trick this is..." she began, in a low, husky voice. But she broke off, as Carter held up a hand, putting a finger to his lips.
She watched in silence as he gazed around the room, trying to work out where the Gestapo might have hidden a microphone. He checked all around the door frame, peered from all angles at the grille covering the light, then waved her to one side, and cautiously lifted the cot to check underneath. He even looked all around the bucket, unconsciously wrinkling his nose at the theft of dignity it represented.
"Okay," he said softly. "I think it's safe to talk."
Cecilie just looked at him, her lips pinched close together. For the first time, he noticed the discoloration under her left eye, and the awkward position of one of her hands, which she kept close against her chest as if it was too painful to move. "Did they hurt you?" he blurted out in English, before he could stop himself.
"What is that to you?" She spoke as quietly as he had, but there was no let-up in hostility. "You are wasting your time. I always thought you people were stupid, but this...!"
"Look, I'm not who you think..."
"I know you're not Karl Weber."
"No. No, I'm not him." Carter hesitated. He hadn't been authorized to tell her who he really was, but only because nobody had foreseen the necessity. He had to make the decision himself. "I'm one of Papa Bear's men," he said at last.
Her eyes widened for a second, then contracted. "You're lying."
"Am not," protested Carter, incensed. Then he shut his mouth firmly. Of course she wouldn't believe him, he'd expected that. He would have to convince her.
He started to search his memory for an operation where they'd been in contact with Düsseldorf. "Do you remember Gunther and Franz?" he asked suddenly. "They were part of your operation, right?"
That had her attention. He hastened to add some more details. "They were picked up by the Gestapo, along with one of our guys. It was North Star that turned them in - Myra, that was her name. And we got them out, and sent them to England. The Underground in Hammelburg organized it. You ought to remember that."*
There was doubt in her eyes. "All right," she said, after a long pause. "If you really are who you say, then tell me, where is your operational base, and who is Papa Bear?"
"I can't tell you that," he stammered.
"Why not? Don't you know?"
"Of course I know. But..." He broke off, torn with uncertainty. For all he knew, she could be a Gestapo plant. Faulmann might have gotten wise to him, and set this up. The real Cecilie might already be dead.
They stared at each other, the silence of mutual suspicion lying heavily over them. Someone had to give way. Inevitably, it was Carter. He took a deep breath, clenched his hands to stop them from shaking, and spoke. "Luftstalag 13, outside Hammelburg. But I'm not telling you who Papa Bear is."
"Colonel Hogan," she replied quickly, almost under her breath. "I know him, we worked together on a mission once. Is he...?"
"He's coming for us," said Carter, trying to keep his voice steady. It had been a big gamble, but it had paid off, and now they both knew where they stood. "But he's expecting to find us at Gestapo HQ, not way out here. We gotta get these guys to take us into town."
"How?" She had relaxed slightly, and sat down on the cot, with a slight gasp, and a tensing of the shoulders.
"We have to fool 'em." Carter sat next to her, grimacing unconsciously at his own physical pain. "Faulmann said he'd bring you to his headquarters, if you were ready to talk. So..."
"I will tell them nothing," she interrupted.
"Well, I should hope not," he replied, flushing. "Cause if I thought you would...well, I'd have to make sure you didn't. But if we pretended that you were going to squeal, it might work out."
"Ja...we could do that..." She bit her lip, as she thought about. "Does he really believe you are Karl?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Is it true, what he said? That Karl..."
"I'm afraid so, ma'am." Carter turned his face away a little, speaking curtly to cover his discomfort. If she really liked the guy, if they'd gotten real close, that was something he didn't want to know about. Even though she couldn't know what Weber had done, it had to count as a mark against her in his mind.
"Where is he now?" The words were almost whispered. Carter glanced at her, then jerked to his feet.
"He's where he can't make trouble," he said. "Forget about him for now. We got other things to worry about. Are you gonna go along with it?"
She thought for a few moments, then nodded. "Very well."
Carter straightened up, went to the door and rapped sharply. After a few seconds, it opened, and Faulmann appeared, his eyes bright with eager curiosity. He waited till they were in the corridor before he spoke. "Well?"
"We've come to an agreement," said Carter, slipping back into character. "She will give us her full co-operation, if we arrange protection from her Underground colleagues afterwards. Of course, Colonel Eisner will have to authorize the deal, but if the information she gives us is good, I can't see any reason why he would refuse."
Faulmann gazed at him with a slight, doubtful frown. "So, she has not yet given you anything?"
"No. She says she'll only deal with Eisner. I don't think she trusts either of us." Carter allowed the faintest hint of disapproval to enter his voice. "You were a little rough on her."
"Well, at least we have something," murmured Faulmann. "But I'm not sure it is enough to warrant transferring her to headquarters."
Carter's eyes turned steely. No way was he going to let Faulmann pull that one on him. "All right, Faulmann. But you'll be the one explaining to the colonel why he had to come all the way out here, when he could have saved time and trouble by picking her up in Hammelburg. And I can tell you now, there's nothing he hates more than wasting time."
It seemed for a moment as if Faulmann was going to answer in kind, and Carter tensed, preparing for a battle of wills he wasn't sure he could win. But the dominant position he'd established at their first meeting held good. "You are right, Captain," said Faulmann, only slightly resentful. "It would be better to hand her over to Eisner at headquarters." He turned to one of the guards. "Bring her to the car. In handcuffs, to be safe."
A short time later, the staff car emerged from the concealed gateway, and accelerated down the road towards Hammelburg.
"There! I have them in sight." Kurt lowered the field glasses with which he had been observing the road. The Opel had been drawn up some distance along the way to town, the hood raised to suggest engine trouble, allowing the two men to keep watch for any sign of the Gestapo car, or of the hidden way by which it had disappeared.
"Dieu merci!" muttered LeBeau, squinting at the approaching vehicle. "Is Carter there?"
"Too far away to tell. We'll have to wait till they get closer. But if not, at least now we know where they left the road. We can surely find the place." Kurt dropped the glasses onto the passenger seat through the open window, and went to lean over the motor. By the time the staff car reached them, both men were to all appearances tinkering with the spark plugs. But LeBeau looked up as the Gestapo went by, and met Carter's eye, sharing a split second of sheer relief.
Almost as soon as the staff car had passed them, the Frenchman was ready to leap into the Opel and follow. But Kurt kept his head. "Let them get ahead a little way, LeBeau. We don't want to arouse suspicion by setting off too quickly."
"But..." LeBeau gazed after the rapidly moving staff car, as if he were about to pursue it on foot. Then he braced. "You're right, Kurt," he said. "We'll wait until it's safe."
There was a firmness in his voice, and determination written in the set of his features. His friend and comrade was relying on him to keep close in case his help was needed, but he'd be no kind of back-up if he got himself and Kurt arrested. Until Hogan arrived to take over, he would take no further chances with Carter's safety.
*How To Catch A Papa Bear