"Well, Colonel, what d'you think? Does he look the part?" Newkirk gave Zauner's lapel a final brushing down, and took a step back, studying his handiwork.
Hogan made his own appraisal. "Not quite," he said at last.
Newkirk went straight on the defensive. "What's wrong with it? You can't say it's not authentic. It's the real thing, you know. All I did to it was put some padding in the shoulders and change the medals round. So if it's not right, you can't blame me for it."
"No, the uniform's fine, Newkirk," Hogan replied, cutting off the flow of protest. "It's not that, it's..." He trailed off, frowning slightly.
"He looks too nice," Carter put in. He had changed into guard's uniform straight after roll call. Now, ready for his part in the day's proceedings, he stood leaning on his rifle, tilting his head as he gazed at Zauner.
"Exactly," said Hogan. "There's more to being a field marshal than just the clown suit. You need the right attitude as well."
Zauner clasped his hands together, meekly apologetic. "Forgive me, Colonel, but I am not certain of how I must act."
"Nasty," replied Hogan. "Remember, you're one of the Führer's top men, and you didn't get there by being likeable. You need to come over very self-important, very overbearing, but condescending towards your inferiors, which is just about everyone."
"I beg your pardon, Colonel," Zauner murmured.
"And don't apologise," Hogan went on. "Field marshals never apologise, not even to Hitler. With him, they don't get the chance. Now, where's Irma - I mean, Rudi?"
He turned around. Irma was sitting on the table behind him, and at sight of her he gave a low whistle. "Well, I'm impressed."
"Merci, mon Colonel," replied LeBeau. "Irma, petite, don't frown like that. I promise you, short hair is much more chic. All the prettiest girls in Paris wear their hair short."
"No, they do not," muttered Irma crossly.
"Never mind whether they do or not." Hogan regarded her with keen satisfaction. The boyish haircut, parted on one side and falling just across her forehead, gave her an entirely different appearance, and the grey serge jacket and short trousers looked to his eyes fairly typical of what he'd seen pre-adolescent boys wearing in Hammelburg. The sulky look put the finishing touch on it. "As far as I'm concerned, she looks perfect. I couldn't ask for better. What about shoes?"
"They're here." LeBeau held them up; a trim, almost new pair of black lace-ups. "Neat, aren't they?"
"Very," Hogan replied grimly. "Where'd they come from?"
"Andrew's been very cagey about that, Colonel," replied Newkirk, with a glance at Carter. "Definitely not from any of the prisoners, I can tell you that much."
Hogan quirked an eyebrow at Carter, who gave a little snicker. "They're Langenscheidt's. You wouldn't guess it from those great big boots the Krauts all seem to wear, but his feet are actually pretty small, and he's still on furlough, so they won't be missed for a few days."
"They're a little too big for Irma," remarked LeBeau. "I had to stuff the toes with newspaper. We were just about to try them on. Give me your foot, chérie."
"Cinderella," remarked Newkirk, as Irma stuck one foot out.
She turned her face away so he wouldn't see how close she was to smiling, and leaned forward to scratch her leg through the thick knitted sock, calling down an instant rebuke from LeBeau. "But they itch," she complained, screwing up her nose.
He finished lacing up the shoes, and took her hand as she jumped down from the table. "Will she pass, Colonel?"
"I'm sure she will," replied Hogan, taking a long critical look at her. She made a convincing boy, if a little delicate-looking. "LeBeau, go and get changed. Carter, you'd better get going, too. You and Schultz have to get the roadblock set up before Hochstetter gets there."
LeBeau shook the doctor's hand, and touched Irma's cheek with his finger. "Bonne chance, et bon voyage," he murmured, and hurried off. Carter hesitated, glanced at Zauner, then gave the girl a quick, brotherly hug.
"You take care, now, and be a good girl, okay?" he murmured. Then he was gone, too.
"Colonel, are you sure about sending Carter out there?" said Newkirk. "What if Hochstetter recognises him? He's seen him often enough."
"And never once made the connection." Hogan grinned. "And he's even less likely to make it right now. That swollen nose of Carter's makes quite a difference."
"You don't think maybe I should go instead?" Newkirk persisted. "It's not that Carter can't manage perfectly well, you know I would never say that. But..."
Hogan cut him short. "Hochstetter would spot you in a second, Newkirk. Same with LeBeau. Carter can handle it. He's only got to keep Schultz up to the mark." He paused for a moment, as his imagination played out the likely scenario. Then he gave a little shake of the head. "He can handle it," he said again. "You better get going, too, before some of us get too old for this. And take it easy. I don't want you putting your shoulder out again."
"Trust me for that, Colonel." Newkirk gave the doctor a wink, chucked Irma under the chin, and sauntered off, passing Kinch who was just arriving.
"Otto just called on the radio, Colonel," he said. "Dietrich and Frau Stadler have left Hammelburg. They'll pull off into the woods near the Weizenfeld bridge, and wait till they see Hochstetter go past, coming and going, before they finish the drive. Hochstetter's still at Gestapo headquarters, but his driver's waiting out front with the car, so it looks like he's coming here, all right."
"That's perfect," murmured Hogan. "Are those the field marshal's papers?"
"All done." Kinch passed him the neat leather document folder. "Of course, most likely no-one's going to ask to see them, but the one time you don't have 'em is the one time you can be sure you'll need 'em. The map and instructions for the rendezvous with the sub are stitched into the lining."
"Good work, Kinch." Hogan passed the folder to Zauner. "Keep it safe."
Zauner nodded. "Danke," he murmured. "Für alles, danke."
"Glad to help out," replied Hogan. "Okay, let's run through it one more time. When Dietrich arrives, LeBeau will be on the gate to sign him in. That way none of the goons will notice that you're not in the car. As soon as he pulls up in front of the Kommandant's office, you'll leave the barracks, stop in the middle of the parade ground and start looking as if you're making an inspection. Newkirk and his crew will handle the diversion. Irma, you wait in the barracks with me and Kinch until someone comes to fetch you. That'll be after Jäger's been sent off on his wild goose chase - the goose being Hochstetter. Once Irma's with you, you cut the visit short, and you get out fast. Are we all clear?"
"Yes, Colonel," said Zauner.
"Good. Now, we've done as much as we can, but it rests with you, Zauner. If you put on a convincing act for the guys upstairs, then you're home free. Can you do it?"
Zauner hesitated, with a long, loving look at Irma. Then he straightened, raised his chin, and looked down his nose. "Colonel Hogan, you dare to doubt the credibility of a Feldmarschall of the Third Reich?" he replied in icy tones.
Hogan blinked, and began to smile. For a few seconds, Zauner continued to gaze at him, then abruptly the mask of hauteur crumbled into the gentle humility they were used to. "Was that right?" he asked tentatively.
Hogan's eyes were alight with laughter; but he kept his face straight, drew himself up, and saluted. "Herr Feldmarschall," he said, "that was as right as it could get."