The sand around the boulder was still stained the reddish orange that was fading as time passed. Wind and sun would soo erase any sign that a man had nearly lost his life here, only to be saved by the least-likely of heroes.

"How did she move the boulder?"

"That is curious." The girl was tall, yes. Broad Shouldered with impressive biceps that Dietrich had staunchly refused to acknowledge, nothing like the dainty nurses who flitted in and out of the hospital. Each of them utterly taken with the American.

"If she could move it," his aide suggested, "then we shall certainly be able to."

"I do not disagree," he mused, eyeing the boulder, and wishing that there were still tracks around it. "Move this boulder." He ordered to the men he had brought with him, and after several minutes of grunting and heaving it eventually moved and he couched beside it.

"Sir?" panting faintly, his aide followed his movement. "What are we looking for?"

"A pack," the captain stood. "A pack that might be carried on someone's back. Spread out and search this area."

"A pack?"

"Fraulein Tulip was carrying a pack when she rescued Sergeant Wolfgang. Carrying food and water that was not found on her person when she approached the city gates." He gestured at the desert. "Whatever she wished to conceal is in that bag and must be found."

"Very clever, Herr Hauptmann." He looked distrubed. "Do you think she attacked the sergeant?"

"No, she did save him," he took a drag on his cigarette. "Anything?" He called.

"Nothing, sir!" One man returned, holding a rock which would have been confusing if it weren't for the fresh scratches on its face.

"What is this?"

"I found this," he paused. "It is very different from the rocks around it. I think it was cast aside, but I do not know why."

"No," Dietrich accepted the rock, and eyed the space that had once been beneath the boulder. It was...disturbed and loose. As if...with a free hand he dug into the loosened sand and scooped it out. "Get a shovel." He ordered. A private came over, and he moved back as the man quickly dug, and produced a small bag. A gasp went up, and Deitrich pulled the bag into his hands, discarding the rock and shaking the sand loose.

There was nothing of particular interest in the bag, a half-empty canteen of water, a few cigarettes, an empty bottle of rose water, several bandages and a weak beginning of a first-aid kit, a compass, and a heavily thumbed dime store novel, along with hastily re-wrapped k-rations. A pad of paper, two pencils and a pen, along with a few dollars..

"Impressive, herr Hauptmann," his aide was looking up, now more impressed than ever. "But why would she hide this?"

"I do not know." settling the rock on the hood of the staff-car, he took stock of the tools and supplies. He went through the lining of the bag, hoping to find any sign that it concealed anything further. Going to far as to rip open some seams and pulling the lining open.

Nothing.

"What do you see?" He asked, waving at the object on the hood of his car.

"FraulineTulips things." The man struggled, "I...do not know."

"What is not here?"

"I…." he stared, "I...no second pair of socks?"

"That is a good guess," Dietrich hadn't even noticed that. "No...where are her identification papers?"

"I... oh . Herr Hauptmann. Where are her identity papers?"

"This woman did not carry dog-tags or a wallet. Until we awoke we knew nothing about her."

'Yes, sir."

"So...a mystery then. Fraulein Tulip is in the desert; we do not know why. She saves Sergeant Wolfgang's life, because it is her duty and she takes offense that there is an alternate reasoning for her good deed."

"But."

"But she conceals her identity and her items...and there are no identification papers in here...and what do you see when you look closer, Corporal?"

"I see….I am not sure." Dietrich picked up the notebook and handed it to him. "It is empty."

"It is empty." tapping the notebook with his cigarette, he smiled. "There is nothing personal about these items. Nothing to indicate that they actually belong to Fraulein Tulip. No personalization."

"Perhaps it is forbidden."

"She is American," he reminded the man, "they contrive rules for the pleasure of breaking them."

"That is true, Herr Hauptmann...that is very clever."

"Thank you."

"But...what does that mean?"

"That we have missed something." He put the items back into the pack and slid it onto his back. "Search the area, look for loose and disturbed sand that might conceal another pack."

"You think that there is one?"

"I do not know," he was not too prideful to admit, but his curiosity was certainly getting the better of him. It was an excellent mystery, and Park Ranger Tulip was at the epicenter of it. Her taciturn nature might come from her breeding or it could come from necessity. It could certainly come from the fact that she was a spy, but every instinct in his body disagreed.

A lady spy was too simple of an explanation for everything that was going on. No, there was a mystery to Fraulein Tulip, one he intended to solve.

#$#$34

Isshiki's hands were stained with black ink. Not dark stains that might have been noticeable, but faded stains of someone who had tried to wash them off. There were even shadows under his eyes, and despite his excellent ability to pretend otherwise, he looked tired.

Troy pretended to busy himself with breakfast as he observed the man, and then to the visibly pained Miles Merry. The blond was listing to the side and even though he'd slept longer than Troy had in almost a collective week, still looked exhausted. Pain had that effect.

It was his interactions he had with Isshiki that was catching his attention. They interacted with...familiarity. None of the suspicion that he might have expected. Miles was courteous, responding to Isshiki as if he understood what he was saying and responding accordingly. It was clear that neither man had any idea what the other was saying. The flow of conversation and the resulting by-play was certainly interesting to watch.

"What are you thinking?" Jack asked, his voice soft enough that no one else would hear it.

"We need to contact the captain," he mused, "we need to figure out what they're doing in the desert, and we need to find out what Isshiki is doing here."

"He doesn't seem particularly dangerous."

"He's hiding something."

"Is that all?" Moffitt smiled, "They're all hiding something. Including the fact that she's not my sister."

"Something is wrong here," Troy muttered, "with them and all of this, and I don't like it."

"Rather, I don't either but until we can find out what Mr. Isshiki is doing it might not be safe for him in the base."

Troy's jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath. "I know, but we need someone to translate for us."

"We could find someone who speaks Dutch," Moffitt suggested, and he blinked. "Right, I know someone nearby. A neutral town that's not too far from here, there's a wonderful Dutchy who runs a bar."

"A Dutchman, good idea." Troy rubbed at his jaw, "Right. We'll go there when we can leave. Did you check out Miles?"

"No, not yet. Tully did tell me that he is rather body shy, and my dear sister is more interesting than I am."

"Really?"

"Yes," his mouth twisted into a wry grin. "The dangers of being an archaeologist, you are often more exciting than everyone else."

"Tully is one strange kid."

"If he thought Isshiki spoke English I am certain that he would be asking him all sorts of questions."

"No doubt." He watched the pair before glancing at Hitch. Hitch hadn't quite gotten over the shock of seeing someone with his face, though with vastly different expressions. He was grimacing every time Miles opened his mouth and seemed to be drawing closer and closer to Tully in his discomfort.

"Do you think that they're together?"

"Miles and your sister?"

"And Isshiki?"

Troy mused over the question, thinking of the interactions he'd seen between them. How they'd found the man wandering in the desert, alone and confused. How they'd been called to recover Miles and Helen. The fact that they were so different, each from a different country entirely.

"Maybe." He ignored Moffitt's curious look. "If they're not together then they're scheming together."

"Spies?"

"No," that was it, but it was suspicious.

"Sam...what did you do before the war?" He didn't often ask was his friend did. Sam Troy was not the most forthcoming of men, it had it had taken horse of trial and error to figure out how he'd like his tea or coffee. He drank anything he was offered, but he preferred his coffee with a dash of condensed milk, the exact proportion depended on how strong the coffee was. Sam seemed to know a little of everything, which was deeply bemusing to Jack. Who, while not technically one to flaunt his education, did like to be the one in the know. He supposed it was a good thing for the commanding officer to have a bead on people's intentions and the facts as quickly as humanly possible. Despite any of his attempts at being as open as Sam, there were some things the man picked up on that Jack wouldn't notice even if it was plain as the nose on his face.

In response to his question, Sam offered an enigmatic half-smile.

"You're being rather cagey about the whole thing, old boy."

"What a shame, old boy."

"If it comes out that you were an accountant," Jack tried to imagine the cowboy commando going over a book of ledgers and crunching numbers. "I reserve the right to hunt you down and exact vengeance."

Sam, predictably, did not rise to the bait. "Keep an eye on them, 'he ordered, 'while not keeping an eye on them. I want to know what Miles and Isshiki get up to."

"And Helen. It would hardly be proper for a young lady to be out and about with."

"That's not a problem." Miles hadn't glanced at any of the women or the men with anything even approaching intent. It was disconcerting to see. "The problem is I want to know if they're planning on scheming or not."

"Right," Jack sighed. "They'll be heavy on the jeeps. We won't be able to outrun patrol. I don't want to endanger anyone."

"Not one of them," he jerked his chin toward Miles, who was looking more awake and clutching what had to be the strongest cup of tea they could manage. "If we could scrounge up another jeep, we could let one of us drive, then we'd be set."

"Right," Jack mused, "I think they might have a...misplaced jeep around here."

"That would be convenient," Sam's wry grin didn't help, and Jack smiled anyway.

"Odd how things are misplaced in the desert."

"Odd." Sam agreed. "Very odd."