No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.
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It was a sore and unrested Hogan that emerged from his quarters nine hours later. Trying to stretch without hurting, he made only cursory glances at his surroundings, though he had noticed that all conversation had come to an abrupt halt when he opened his door. He reached for the coffeepot on the stove. "Is this fresh?" he asked.
A cacophony of responses assaulted his ears and several attempts were made to grab a cup for him, resulting in a ruckus that Hogan would have found amusing if he had felt up to it. He smiled tolerantly, resignedly, and accepted the cup proffered earnestly by Carter. "Thanks," he said. He quietly allowed Le Beau to fill it, and, sighing, took a slow gulp, then briefly brought his hand up tenderly to soothe his slightly swollen, aching jaw before turning to his men.
"Before you ask: don't."
Kinch nodded, understanding. Some things were best left unspoken. That the men could see what Hogan had been through was enough; they didn't need to hear the gory details. He wouldn't want to share his humiliation and haunting memories. "I'm all right. They asked some questions and they let me go." He offered the worried faces a lopsided grin. "Hochstetter can't make anything stick. I guess they dropped me back here in the middle of the night to avoid their own embarrassment. But that means I haven't seen Klink either. So I guess they did me a favor," he added with forced lightness.
Carter was the only one who laughed. Hogan felt a surge of appreciation for the young demolitions expert. The others couldn't shake their somber moods or their worry long enough to take part in the charade that nothing had changed in the last two days.
Taking a last swallow from his cup, Hogan shuffled stiffly toward the door. "I guess I'd better check in with old Bald Eagle," he said. Again unbidden, he found someone had gathered his bomber jacket and his cap, and was thrusting them into his hands. He'd wanted to dress in private, so no one could witness how sore his back was. But it would offend the men not to accept their gestures now, so Hogan nodded his thanks, and trying to keep his groans to a minimum, he slipped his jacket and cap on, and left the barracks.
He met Schultz on his way across the compound. "Colonel Hogan, you are back!"
"That's right, Schultz," said Hogan. Normally he made plenty of time for the portly, good-natured guard. After all, it was partly thanks to Schultz's policy of seeing nothing, saying nothing, and knowing nothing, that Hogan's men were able to accomplish so much. But this afternoon he was in no mood for Germans, and kept his replies curt.
"I do not remember seeing you come in this morning—did you escape from the Gestapo?" he asked, wide-eyed. "Colonel Hogan, you should not have come back here; they will come here first, looking for you—"
"Settle down, Schultz, I didn't escape. They brought me back here last night while Langenscheit was on duty." Hogan kept walking. So much to do. So much to plan. "I've gotta have a word with the Kommandant."
"Jawohl," agreed Schultz. "I will announce you myself." And Schultz kept up a constant jabber as he accompanied Hogan to the office, where they found Klink's secretary, Helga, working at her desk.
Hogan was at once aware of his appearance. He had always liked to impress Helga. After all, she was the only female around here for miles. And they shared a mutual interest that Hogan found to be quite a wonderful distraction from the work at hand and the reality of his life here at camp. But now, as she turned toward him, her eyes wide and distressed, Hogan felt fleetingly self-conscious. His rumpled, dirty clothes and his unkempt look might frighten her, as she no doubt knew where he had been. "Sorry I haven't had a chance to shave," he began, as he saw her eyes scanning the bruises and cuts on his face. Helga didn't respond. She just looked at him with her doe eyes. "I'm all right," he said softly.
Helga smiled her relief. "Come back and see me when you have washed," she invited playfully, out of earshot of Schultz. "I will tend to you properly."
"I look forward to your tender loving care," he replied, grinning for her benefit, and he followed Schultz into Klink's office.
"Colonel Hogan to see you, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz announced, snapping to attention.
Klink's head bolted up from his work and he stared at Hogan. "They told me, but I didn't believe it," he said under his breath. Recovering, Klink stood up. "I was informed of your return at three thirty this morning, Colonel Hogan. I would have appreciated a less intrusive return." What do you say to a man whom you let be taken by the Gestapo?
"So would I," Hogan replied. He could feel Klink's discomfort.
"Colonel Hogan, you are well?" asked Klink, studying Hogan's face, his stance, searching him for signs of mistreatment. He tried to avoid looking at the purple bruises on Hogan's face.
"I could use a hot shower and a massage." Hogan pointed to Klink's humidor. "And a cigar."
Klink hated sharing his precious smokes. But he felt compelled to grant any of Hogan's wishes at the moment, and so opened the locked box and held it out to the senior POW. Klink nearly dropped his monocle when he saw the raw skin on Hogan's wrist as he reached for a cigar. "Hogan—your arm—"
"Just a little souvenir of my visit with Major Hochstetter," Hogan said with false cheer. He held out his other arm and pulled up the cuff of his jacket. "Actually, they're a matching set."
"See that the medic looks you over today, Hogan."
"I'm fine," Hogan said, accepting a light from Klink.
"It's my job under the Geneva Convention," Klink responded shortly. And as a human being. "You have my permission to use the hot water today, Hogan. Go back to your barracks and take all the time you need to recover." Klink returned to his desk and sat down, awkwardly shuffling some papers in front of him.
Hogan stood quietly for a moment, taking comfort in the relaxation of a good cigar. Then, casually watching Klink, he said, "Don't you want to know what Hochstetter wanted?"
"No I don't," Klink said quickly, as the papers moved faster. "I have no interest in anything that man has to say." He stopped and changed his mind almost instantly. The papers were silenced. "What did he want?"
"He wanted to know why I hadn't tried to escape more often," Hogan said. "Wanted to know what you do to keep the prisoners so cowed and in line. He was almost offended that someone like you could run such a tight ship."
"Really?" Klink said, amazed.
"Yep. Wanted to know all your secrets. Of course, I could only tell him that you run the toughest POW camp in all of Germany, that you rule with an iron fist, that you're feared by every man in the camp, including myself!"
"Including yourself?" Klink repeated, unconvinced.
"Absolutely," insisted Hogan, feeling his mind kicking in for the task at hand. "Of course, ol' Wolfie didn't like my answers much," Hogan said, fingering a cut under his left eye. "And he still doesn't trust me as far as he can throw a piano. But he sure has a lot more confidence in you, Kommandant. I made sure of that myself."
"Thank you, Colonel Hogan," Klink said, somewhat bewildered.
"He's promised me he'll be back for me," Hogan continued. "Please, sir. Ask him to be gentle next time. I know he'll listen to you, now that he knows that you already have me under your expert control."
Klink nodded, his ego stroked by the compliments, now willing to see himself as the in-control, strong man in charge. "Go look after yourself, Hogan. I'll send the medic to Barracks Two in about an hour."
"You're too kind, sir," Hogan said. And with a loose salute, he turned and left.
Klink stayed motionless for a moment, suddenly overcome by the feeling that he was being bamboozled, but not sure how or even by whom. He physically shook off the feeling, and ordered Schultz to make sure the medic attended to Hogan, whether the American wanted it or not.
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Hogan took Klink up on his offer of hot water, and groaned appreciatively as the wet, steady stream massaged his sore back and washed away the harsher memories of his encounter with Hochstetter. But the reprieve was too short-lived, and it seemed like the small pleasure was days past by the time he walked back to the barracks.
"We need to talk," he said to Newkirk, who was tossing a ball against the wall of the building. "Get Le Beau, Carter, and Kinch and meet me inside."
"Sure thing, Colonel," Newkirk replied, and set to work immediately.
Anxious for the well being of their friend and commander, Newkirk had no trouble gathering Hogan's closest associates. They had not strayed very far from the barracks, and eagerly came inside to hear what Hogan had to say.
Hogan propped one foot up on the bench and leaned forward. "Hochstetter's changing his tactics," Hogan began without preamble. "He wants to get rid of Klink, and he wants our help to do it."
"What?" cried his men, clearly surprised. "Why would we help him do that, Colonel?" Le Beau asked, shaking his head.
Hogan looked at his men squarely in the eyes. "Because I told him we would."