"These are divine," Frau Vahlen said as she bit into a cream puff. "Oh I have not had such delicious food since…" she trailed off into a wistful smile and kissed her husband on the cheek.
"I must say, I am surprised," Vahlen said. "My thanks, sir," he said to Hogan.
"My man is the best," Hogan replied, feeling a burst of pride. Not only was the mission successful, but LeBeau had really outdone himself. The man deserved a silver whisk medal.
"I must go and thank him. And Mimi too," Frau Vahlen said. She nodded to Hogan and left.
Vahlen looked around and, after spotting Kisling across the room, he slid closer to Hogan. "Is it done?"
"We've got it. Guards, unfortunately, are a little suspicious, but I don't think they'll tell Kisling. Mutually assured destruction."
"Good."
Vahlen moved away from Hogan and went to go talk to one of his guests. Hogan grinned and pulled on his jacket. Job well done. He beckoned for Newkirk and Carter to come closer. The party was almost about to wrap up and, after a bit of cleaning, they could get out of there.
Suddenly, Frau Vahlen flew into the room and grabbed her husband's hand, dragging him over to Hogan.
"Monsieur," she said to Hogan, "thank you for all you have done. Please do not feel the need to stay. My staff will clean up in the morning."
"Hélène, what is this?" Vahlen hissed, looking around uncomfortably. Hogan shifted nervously as well as all eyes seemed to be watching them.
"I…" Frau Vahlen started. She looked wild and frantic. But then, a cloak of calm fell over her and she took a deep breath. "I caught his cook kissing Mimi. And she is very distraught," she explained. "I think it best if they just left."
"Oh Madame,' Hogan said. "I am sorry. But if you would just let me talk to him-"
"Non! You must leave. Now!" Frau Vahlen demanded.
"Calm down, my dear," Vahlen said, trying to placate his wife. But Frau Vahlen now looked close to tears and her husband immediately shifted his focus to Hogan.
"Yes, you must leave. This is very unprofessional! I expected more from you."
Hogan ducked his head. "I am very sorry, Herr Vahlen." He motioned for Newkirk and Carter to follow him. Dumbly, they put down their trays and hurried out of the room. They passed through the kitchen, where a very confused Mimi looked on. Hogan was tempted to stop and talk to her, but decided against it. They were in enough trouble already.
LeBeau was already out in the car. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. Hogan wanted to berate him then and there, but it could wait until they were safely on the road. So, without a word he started the call and pulled away from the mansion.
They drove in silence for a long time.
"LeBeau," Hogan growled. LeBeau turned wide eyes towards him, still in the same state as when they had left. "LeBeau, what were you thinking? Couldn't you just keep your hands to yourself for one mission?"
LeBeau's lips flapped uselessly. "Colonel?"
"You know, you're not as charming as you sometimes think- and not every girl appreciates being kissed out of the blue."
"Colonel?" Now LeBeau sounded really confused.
"Mimi. The maid. You kissed her."
"Colonel?!"
"Can't you say anything else?" Newkirk asked.
"Colonel," Carter piped up. "I don't think that's what happened." He was regarding LeBeau curiously.
"Well LeBeau, what did happen?" Hogan demanded.
LeBeau still looked shocked. "I… She… Henri…"
"Henri?" Carter asked.
LeBeu shook his head and looked down at his hands in his lap. "Oh mon Dieu, mon Dieu."
Hogan grunted in frustration. This wasn't going anywhere. "Look, it doesn't matter right now. We got the information and unless we're suddenly followed by the Gestapo, I think we're in the clear. But I don't think we'll be invited to another dinner party."
"Mon Dieu," LeBeau whispered.
That was pretty much all LeBeau said the entire trip home. Whatever had happened between him and the maid, it had rattled him. Hogan vowed to get to the bottom of it after a good night's sleep.
Some time later, they returned to the deserted road they had met Olsen on earlier. The outside man wasn't there to meet them. Hogan wondered if it was because his watch was slow again, but more likely it was because it was late in the evening. Ironically, it was easier for the POWs in camp to break their curfew than it was for civilians in town to break theirs.
They often joked that they had walked through these woods so often that they could do it while asleep. LeBeau, in his shocked state, proved them right. Somehow they made it all the way back to camp undetected. When they finally arrived, Hogan's anger had worn off, and now he regarded the French corporal with concern.
"LeBeau, are you all right?" he asked gently as he steered him to a cot near the radio. He felt a little guilty for being so hard on him earlier. What if he was hurt? Or had seen something that traumatized him? Hogan's thoughts briefly flitted to Private Wagner.
"Louis?" Newkirk said, placing a hand on LeBeau's shoulder.
"Hey, what's going on?" It was Kinch. He entered the radio room and regarded the group curiously.
"It's LeBeau," Carter explained. "Something happened to him."
"Is he all right?" Kinch asked worriedly.
"He looks all right," Hogan said. "But I think something happened that just made him… I don't know, snap. He's been like this ever since we left Vahlen's."
"Frau Vahlen said he kissed the maid," Carter explained.
"Maybe she decked him and he's got brain damage?" Newkirk speculated.
"You saw her," Carter said. "She couldn't concuss a fly."
"Maybe she hit him somewhere else," Newkirk said.
"Well whatever happened, I don't think we're going to get any answers tonight," Hogan surmised. He pulled the lighter/camera out of his pocket and tossed it to Kinch. "Kinch would you mind developing this and staying up with him for a bit?"
"Sure, Colonel. Why don't you guys hit the sack?"
Newkirk loitered next to LeBeau, hovering over him. He cast a worried glance to Hogan and then to Kinch. "If he snaps out of it, come get me," he said.
"Will do," Kinch promised.
"Come on." Hogan threw his arm over Newkikr's shoulder and led him out of the room. "He'll be all right." He had to be. Whatever had happened could not have been that terrible. And he couldn't afford to lose another man.
LeBeau lay back on the cot and looked up at the dirt ceiling. Across the room, Kinch was softly snoring in the chair next to his radio.
Hélène.
She looked just as beautiful tonight as she had ten years ago. And, he realized, she still wore the same perfume.
Henri.
He had a son. He had to be his son. He was his spitting image. He wondered why he hadn't seen it right away. But then, he supposed people only saw what they expected to see- that was actually a large part of Papa Bear's success. If it could work on hardened SS agents, why not on him?
He had a son! And for ten years, Hélène had kept it hidden from him. In ten years, she had not thought to call him, write him, send him a note tied to a pigeon! He had missed out on nine years of his son's life, and for what? Because he hadn't catered to her every whim and need?! It was unfair! It was cruel. It was evil!
Anger bubbled up inside him and took over.
How could she?! How could she allow his son to think that man was his father?
What had he done to deserve this?
LeBeau jumped from his cot and began to pace, wringing his hands as he cycled through his thoughts.
How dare she! How dare she!
Henri. That beautiful boy was his flesh and blood, and yet he was a complete stranger. He didn't even know LeBeau existed. And, if not for tonight, LeBeau might never have known he was a father.
It sickened him and horrified him. To think that his son was growing up in Nazi Germany. In a few years he would don a brown shirt and march with the Hitler Youth. He would never even be taught what true freedom was. He would live under a boot his whole life and, most likely, learn to wear that same boot and press it down on others.
LeBeau stopped his pacing, decision made.
He knew what he had to do.