Colonel Hogan had just returned from Klink's office after attempting to find out what the Gestapo wanted with Lieutenant Kincaid when Kinch came up from the radio room.
"Message from London, Colonel. They're sending the Falcon in here in four days to help the Underground search for his brother, and they want us to bunk him here until he gets a lead on where the German's might have taken him. They'll send us the drop coordinates and code in a few days; the Gestapo's radio truck showed up just as we were replying, so they had to cut the transmission short."
Hogan glanced at the message, then crumpled it into a ball and angrily threw it into a corner of his office. "This is just great! We haven't the faintest idea where this guy is, God only knows why London seems to think he's still alive, much less accessible; we've got to bring his brother in here with the Gestapo breathing down our necks; and on top of that, I've now got a seriously injured lieutenant who's been placed in indefinite solitary confinement because Major Hochstetter thinks he might be able to provide the Gestapo with 'useful' information!"
Kinch was startled at this revelation. "Indefinite solitary confinement? But why? I mean, if Kincaid is that important to the Gestapo, why haven't they been looking for him? He been here at Stalag 13 for at least two weeks."
Hogan shrugged. "They presumed him dead, I suppose, after they found the wreckage of that transport truck. And with Klink's usual level of efficiency, he didn't send in the paperwork on his new prisoner until yesterday, because he didn't want General Burkhaulter showing up here and finding a POW in the guest quarters. Kincaid's name threw up a red flag at Burkhaulter's office, so he called the Gestapo. Major Hochstetter seems to think that he has important information that he is willing to turn over… with some persuasion." At that thought, Hogan shuddered. "I'd hate to think what the Gestapo would do to an already injured man! And he's hardly even that! Newkirk said that when the Gestapo came storming into his room, the kid was absolutely terrified!" He slumped down into his chair, at a loss for what to do.
Kinch took a seat on the bunk across from him. "What do they think he could possibly tell them, Colonel? He's just a pilot, and a lieutenant at that."
"I don't know, and that's what worries me. I walked in on Major Hochstetter saying that he had already given a General Kreiss some valuable information and the Gestapo just wanted to clear up a few details. But Kincaid never mentioned anything about an interrogation."
"Well sir," Kinch considered, "he never told us much of anything. We know he was captured, held somewhere where some of his injuries were taken care of, and that he escaped from a truck transporting him to Stalag 7 just before it exploded. We know he's a pilot for the RAF, a lieutenant, and that he grew up in Dublin, Ireland. But there's no details in that. We have no idea how long he's been in Germany, where he was before he came here, how he escaped, or even anything about his life before we met him. Who knows what he might not have told us."
"Good point, Kinch. That kid is as tight-lipped as the Secret Service and as evasive with us as we are with the Germans! So there's absolutely no way to get any straight answers out of him. And now with the Gestapo keeping an eye on him, we may never find out what he told that general. And it places our other mission in jeopardy if they stick around too long. Then we'll have two prisoners to rescue instead of one. Unless…" He trailed off, and Kinch knew that a plan was forming somewhere inside that amazing mind of his. "All I really need is to get the Gestapo out of this neck of the woods for a few days. Then we can bring in the Falcon, and we'll be pulling Kincaid out of the fire and find out what it is that has the Gestapo so interested in him. Kinch, I want you to place a call to Major Hochstetter tomorrow afternoon telling him that he is urgently needed at Gestapo Headquarters in Berlin. That's far enough away that he won't be back for at least a few days. Then, Wilson and I will have access to the cooler so we can check on Kincaid."
"But why tomorrow afternoon, sir? Why not right now?"
"We don't want to raise suspicions too fast, Kinch. We need Hochstetter gone for at least three days, so the later he leaves, the longer it'll be before he gets back."
"But how are you planning to get into the cooler, sir? Won't Hochstetter leave guards?"
"Tell him that all his men are needed. Say it's for… security precautions. They want him to be protected on his way to Berlin, so that he gets there safely. Once he's gone, all it will take is doctor's orders… and some of LeBeau's apple strudel."
The next evening, no more than an hour or so after the entire contingent of Gestapo had left in a great hurry, Hogan, LeBeau, and Wilson headed for the cooler with food for Schultz and his prisoner. Hogan loved the fact that Klink was so predictable. As the three men slipped inside, they noticed that not only was Schultz the only soldier guarding Kincaid's cell, he was also the only guard within ten feet of the building. Obviously, the threat of Kincaid escaping while in his condition wasn't very likely. Hogan couldn't decide whether that was a good sign or a bad one.
"Hey there, Schultz!" Hogan called out as the men came upon the solitary cell. "How's the guard duty?"
Schultz jumped up from the chair he'd been dozing in and turned towards the contingent of POWs heading towards him. "Colonel Hogan, you are not supposed to be here!" he moaned, sounding rather uncertain of that fact. "Please go away, and no monkey business. If anything happens to the lieutenant, Major Hochstetter will send me to the Russian Front!"
Hogan shook his head to Schultz's pleas though, and Wilson stepped forward to explain. "Sorry Schultz, but these are Dr. Freiling's orders. I have to check on Kincaid to make sure his injuries are healing correctly. He made that very clear to the Kommandant."
Le Beau piped up as well, "Oui, and you would not want the poor boy to starve, would you, Schultzie?" To reinforce his point, he whipped the cover off the plate of apple strudel and waved it under the portly sergeant's nose. "I made some special just for you, because guard duty is a difficult job."
Hogan grinned as he watched Schultz go weak in the knees at the sight of the apple strudel. "So whaddya say, Schultz? We promise we'll just be in and out. It shouldn't take too long."
"I suppose… a few minutes wouldn't hurt…" Schultz mumbled distractedly, staring at the strudel. Then, snapping out of his trance, he pulled out the keys and opened the door. Wilson rushed in, and Hogan was about to follow him when Schultz put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him aside. "Please, Colonel Hogan, help him if you can," he said in a low, pleading voice. "He is such a young boy, and he seemed so kind and friendly before. The Gestapo… he is very afraid of the Gestapo, and I do not want to think of the horrible things they will do to him. If you can do anything, I will see nothing! I give my word!"
Hogan smiled understandingly at the compassionate sergeant and placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's why we're here, Schultz. And don't worry. I don't want anything to happen to him either." He would have said more, but he was interrupted by Sergeant Wilson's shout from inside the cell.
"Colonel, Louis, I need your help in here!"
Hogan exchanged a worried glance with Schultz before he and LeBeau rushed in. What they saw caused a gasp of surprise to escape Hogan, and LeBeau almost fainted. Silently, Hogan berated himself for not calling the Gestapo off sooner. He was afraid something like this would happen.
Wilson was kneeling next to Lieutenant Kincaid, who was sprawled out on the concrete floor of the tiny room, unconscious. As Hogan knelt down for a closer look, he noticed a nasty bump on Kincaid's left temple. He had dark bruises on his cheek and along his jawline and was sporting a rather impressive black eye. The lower half of his face was covered in blood, but Wilson was quick to allay Hogan's fears as to where it had all come from.
"Don't worry, sir. He just has a bloody nose and a split lip. We need to get him on the bed, though, so I can make sure those Gestapo bastards didn't do anything worse." He looked around for a second. "Where's LeBeau?"
Hogan looked behind him in time to see the corner of a red scarf disappear around the doorway. "He can't stand the sight of blood. It's probably best that he wait out there with Schultz." Then, at Wilson's nod, he turned Kincaid over on his back, being very careful not to jostle his right shoulder in its cast. He got his arms up under Kincaid's back as Wilson grabbed his legs, and they set him down on the bed. As Wilson went to get fresh water and bandages, Hogan uprighted a chair that had been lying in one corner of the room and pulled it next to the bed. Sitting down, Hogan put a hand on Kincaid's shoulder and shook it gently.
"Hey, Kincaid, can you hear me? You awake, son?"
After a moment or so of gentle insistence, Kincaid began to stir. However, as he regained consciousness, he became very tense. His pulse started racing, and his eyes opened, looking around wildly, their emerald gaze glassy and unfocussed. "O's that?" he called out, his voice hoarse and panic-stricken. "Please, I don't know an'thin'. I swear ah don't!" He began to struggle, trying to get away from Hogan's touch.
Hogan was surprised by his reaction. He hadn't expected anything like this. Gently but insistently, he said in a low voice, "I'm not here to hurt you, Liam. It's Colonel Hogan. The Gestapo are gone. You're safe now." At the mention of the Gestapo, he had stiffened, but he started to calm down at Hogan's insistence that he was safe.
"'S that Colonel 'Ogan?" he slurred, eyes staring but not seeing Hogan's face. Sergeant Wilson came back at that point and started examining him for further injuries, so Hogan decided it was best to keep him calm and his mind focused.
"Yes it is. Can you give me your name, rank, and serial number?"
"L'ten'nt Li'm Ki'caid, Roy'l Air F'rce, ser'l number 9 – 2 – 7 – 47 – 4 – 1."
"Good. Do you remember where you are?"
"POW camp… pris'n cell?" He started to sound a little frightened, but slightly more coherent. "The Gest'po… they… they…"
"Calm down, Lieutenant," Hogan said gently. "They're not here anymore. Can you tell me what they wanted?"
"Ans'rs."
"Answers? To what?"
"Quest'ns."
"Questions about what?"
"Mah mis'n."
"And what was your mission?"
"Jes' flyin'. But they dinna b'lieve me."
Wilson chose that moment to break in and pull Hogan aside. Keeping his voice low, he summarized Kincaid's condition. "Well, sir, it looks like all the Gestapo did was smack him around a bit. The worst he's got is that goose egg on his head, and it looks like they did that to knock him unconscious before they left. Do you think they'll be coming back, sir? Because there's no guarantees that they'll stay so 'civil', and in his condition, I don't know how much more of this he can take. He's been expending all his energy to fear, and he can't afford that. What can we do, Colonel?"
Hogan knew there was really nothing he could do. With this top-secret mission on the ropes and a missing pilot to find, the less suspicion he arose in regards to the Gestapo, the better. And somehow he doubted that the Secret Service would appreciate him risking the safety of their two top agents for a 20-year-old RAF lieutenant. They'd just have to keep an eye on him until the Falcon was gone, then they could work on a plan to get him away from Hochstetter.
"I bought him as much time as I could; hopefully, it will be enough. I wish I could do more, but I can't without arousing suspicion we really can't afford at the moment. Schultz will be keeping an eye on him, though, and we'll be able to get in here at least once a day to check up on him. Do you think that will be enough?"
Wilson nodded his head, resigned to the situation. "It will have to be, won't it, sir? And hopefully he'll start to calm down some once his head clears. I will check on him daily, though, to make sure he's doing alright."
"Sounds like a plan, Wilson." He sent the sergeant off to find LeBeau and the food, then he returned to the bed to check on Kincaid again.
"Hey, Kincaid," he said soothingly, and the young man turned his head slowly towards the sound of his voice. "I just wanted to let you know that we're going to look out for you, son. You needn't worry about the Gestapo for a bit. I promise I'll be back tomorrow, but for now, you just rest. You'll feel better by tomorrow, and I promise you'll be out of here before you know it, OK?"
He waited for a response and got none, so he figured Kincaid was probably asleep. However, as he got up to go, the lieutenant's good left hand closed tightly over his wrist. Hogan turned back to see panic in the young man's face. Not as incoherent as before, but panic nonetheless. He was whispering something, so Hogan leaned in to hear him better. Kincaid's voice sounded urgent.
"Colonel, ya canna let 'em take me 'way. If they break me, if… if they fin' out wot ah know, the war's as good as over. Please! Ya gotta help me! Keep them away!"
Hogan put his hand over Kincaid's before the boy could start hyperventilating and reassured him that they wouldn't let the Gestapo take him anywhere. Gradually, the panic in his face melted away and his eyes dropped closed. Hogan eased his hand out of the young man's iron grip and left the room with Wilson and LeBeau after leaving the tray of food on the chair next to the bed.
It wasn't until he was back in the barracks, sitting in his quarters, that Hogan actually realized what Lieutenant Kincaid had said. And it confused him. How could the success of the entire war hinge on information known by a 20-year-old RAF pilot? Maybe that knock on the head had confused him, but he'd seemed pretty sure of that fact. Or maybe… Maybe there was more to this pilot than met the eye. On a fleeting suspicion, he went and found Sergeant Wilson again just before lights out.
"Hey, Wilson, when you and the doc were patching Kincaid up, did you happen to notice any markings or tattoos on his right shoulder?"
Wilson looked thoughtful for a minute, then slowly shook his head. "I can't rightly say, sir. I mean, his entire arm was shredded to a bloody pulp, so we were more concentrating on putting everything back in place, but I don't recall seeing anything like that. Why do you ask, sir?"
Hogan shrugged, clearly disappointed. "Just hoping that he was more than who he seemed to be."
The whole crew slept fitfully that night, each worried in his own way about the fate of the young lieutenant sitting in solitary. Hogan paced the floor of his quarters until well after midnight in the darkness before he couldn't stand the wait anymore and crept out to check on his men.
He stood in the middle of Barracks 2, surveying each one of the bunks in turn. He saw that Carter had kicked his blanket onto the floor, and as he went over to pull it back over the sleeping demolitionist, he noticed the telltale glow of a cigarette.
Newkirk was lying on the bunk above Carter's, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. He'd been chain-smoking since the Gestapo had thrown him out of Kincaid's room yesterday morning, and Hogan was surprised he hadn't yet run out of cigarettes.
"Anything wrong, Colonel?" he asked when he noticed Hogan standing there.
Hogan shook his head. "Just couldn't sleep." His eyes crossed the room and fell on LeBeau, who was tossing and turning and muttering in his sleep. Then, Hogan's eyes fell on an empty bunk. "Newkirk? Where's Kinch?"
Newkirk replied without looking over, "Radio room. Guess we're not the only insomniacs 'round here."
"No, guess we're not," Hogan said distractedly. "I'll go down and see what's up."
When he got down to the radio room, he found Kinch staring at the ceiling, listening to static through the radio headset. He sat up and pulled it off when Hogan walked into the room.
"What's up, Colonel?"
"Nothing much. Just having a restless night."
Kinch sympathized. "Sorry to hear that, sir. I couldn't sleep either. Seems we've all got things on our minds tonight."
"I'll just rest easier when Kincaid is out of the Gestapo's interest and this whole business with the Falcon is over. I'd get him out of there right now if we didn't have to worry about that spy."
"That's understandable, sir. How was he doing when you saw him?" Kinch hadn't gotten a chance to ask before; when Hogan got back from the cooler, he'd headed straight to his office and closed the door, clearly not wanting to talk about it.
Hogan shook his head. "Not good by any means. They knocked him around quite a bit before they left. He was barely coherent enough to speak, and he seems completely terrified of the Gestapo. I'm hoping that was just a product of his delirium. I was actually thinking about going up there right now to check on him. Schultz should be fast asleep after all that strudel."
That made Kinch smile. "We can always count on Schultz. Best of luck to you, sir, and I hope he's doing better." As Hogan proceeded down the tunnel, Kinch pulled the headset back on and resumed his interest in the static.
Hogan slipped into one of the cooler cells by way of a tunnel under the washstand, slipped out the open door, and was rewarded by a soundly sleeping Schultz just down the hallway from Kincaid's cell, keys dangling loosely from his belt. Hogan quietly borrowed the key ring, unlocked the door, and slowly and silently let himself into Kincaid's cell, leaving the door slightly ajar.
He was surprised to see Kincaid awake and out of bed. The young lieutenant was standing at the barred window, left hand holding him up in the absence of crutches. The glow of the searchlight passed over the camp, illuminating his face for just a moment, and Hogan saw that same wistful look in his eyes. Hogan cleared his throat slightly, to get Kincaid's attention, and the young man jumped and turned around quickly, startled. He relaxed when he saw his CO, his eyes widening just slightly as he looked between Hogan and the barely open door.
"Good evening, sir," he said, his voice guarded as he limped back to the bed and sat down. "If ya don't mind my askin', sir, what brings you here at this time of night?"
Hogan sat down in the chair he had used before, which was still sitting by the bed. "You, of course. I wanted to see how you were doing, considering the shape you were in earlier."
"Aye," Liam gingerly touched the bump on his head, shuddering slightly in remembrance of how he came to have it. "I'd say those Krauts got a wee bit touchy when I wouldna tell 'em what they wanted to know." He tried to make the words sound light, but his voice was shaky. "Guess they figured they'd have as easy a time of it as General Kreiss did."
Well, now they were getting somewhere. "What exactly do you mean by that, Lieutenant? Did you give this General Kreiss information?"
"Not really, sir. I answered his questions, but I didn't give him any information. The general was denying me food and medical attention to get me to talk, so I figured I'd tell him what he wanted to hear so that he wouldn't resort to more 'extreme' methods…" His voice dropped off for a second and he closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I gave in easily so he wouldn't have any reason to disbelieve me. He said that the Gestapo were interested in what I had to say, but I had planned to be long gone before they got a chance to take that interest to a more 'personal' level." He rubbed his forehead and winced. "Guess my luck ran out a good while ago, though."
"Why do you say that?" Hogan was a little perplexed by his answer. He could see where Kincaid could give answers without giving information; he'd been doing it ever since he got here. But he seemed extremely afraid of being interrogated by force; was he afraid of what they would do to him? Or was it the information they could get out of him?
"Well, sir, ah was planning on making good my escape as soon as I got to Stalag 7. When the truck blew and ah ended up here, it kinda put a damper in my plans. Then, with the Gestapo showin' up and all…" he looked down at his hands, his face full of despair, "ah guess I'm well and truly caught now. An' I'm not sure what to do about it."
Hogan was quick to reassure him that the Gestapo couldn't ask him questions forever, but he was surprised at Kincaid's attitude towards escaping. "So you hadn't even gotten to a prison camp and you were already planning an escape? You got a girl waiting for you back home or something?"
Liam smiled sadly at this. "Well, yes sir, I do." His hand went unconsciously to his chest, as if searching for something there. "But that's not mah reason, not really. My reasons are my own." The hardened look that came over his face told Hogan not to push any further.
With that, the conversation died, leaving each man alone with his thoughts. Hogan was puzzled by what an enigma Kincaid was turning out to be. In all the conversations they'd had, with all the questions he'd asked, his admission to having a girlfriend or fiancée back home was the closest he'd gotten to actually learning anything about Kincaid's personal life. Most of the time, the kid led him into such roundabout conversations that it took Hogan hours to realize he hadn't gotten any of the information he'd meant to ask him about in the first place. Kincaid played him almost as well as he played Klink and the rest of the Germans, and it infuriated Hogan to be on the receiving end of his own game.
Hogan opened his mouth to ask Kincaid exactly why it was that he was so intent on avoiding interrogation, even at the risk of his own life, when the slightly open door was pushed ajar and Kinch slipped into the room. Kincaid was the first to react, jerking backwards and pressing his back to the wall, until he realized who it was. Then, he glanced from one man to the other, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Hogan would have explained, but the look on Kinch's face told him it was urgent. They walked over to the far side of the room, keeping their voices low.
"Man, that kid's as jumpy as they come!" Kinch remarked before getting down to business. "Sorry about the interruption, Colonel, but it's urgent. It seems that the Falcon decided to jump early. As in tonight. I sent LeBeau and Newkirk out through the tunnel five minutes ago, and the location of his drop coordinates means it shouldn't take them too long to find him. I figured you'd want to be back when he got here, for a debriefing." And hopefully a good chewing out for changing plans like that, he thought, but didn't say it.
"He jumped early? Why weren't we told about this this afternoon!"
"According to London, they didn't even find out until they found his plane and copilot missing. He radioed them twenty minutes ago to give them his revised plans and told them to contact us."
Hogan took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper. A change in plans was the last think they needed! But it obviously couldn't be helped now. "Well, it seems that we are going to have a rather… obstinate guest with us for a few days. Just what I need. I'll be down right behind you, Kinch. Leave the door open on your way out, willya?"
Kinch nodded and left as silently as he had come. Hogan turned back to find that Kincaid hadn't moved a muscle during their entire exchange. He sat there, eyes wary, back against the wall, and he was staring at Hogan with an odd expression on his face.
"Do all your men have personal access to the solitary cells, Colonel, or is there something else going on here that I'm not aware of?" he asked, incredulously.
Damn. Hogan hadn't expected the kid to be that perceptive, but after Kinch's appearance, he was bound to realize something was up. However, there was no time to explain the entire operation now. It would have to wait until after the Falcon was taken care of. "It's been an odd night, Lieutenant. I promise I'll explain everything to you later, but something's come up and I really have to go right now. I will be back tomorrow, though. I promise."
Kincaid just stared at him, doubt evident on his face. "You have pressing business in a POW camp at one-thirty in the morning?" He sounded skeptical and a bit confused, but Hogan had already headed for the door.
"Sleep well, Lieutenant," he tossed over his shoulder as he slid out, closing the cell door behind him. He replaced the keys on Schultz's belt, the man was still fast asleep and snoring softly, and headed back towards the tunnel to meet up with the Falcon.
Hogan was less than pleased at this turn of events, and he wondered exactly who this Falcon thought he was. You don't just change schedules without warning in this business! And this man was supposed to be the very best spy the Secret Service had! Or maybe it was his missing brother who was the brains of the operation.
Hogan made it back to the radio room and met up with Kinch and Carter. He updated them on Kincaid's condition, and the three of them were discussing plans for the Falcon's arrival and debriefing when they heard footsteps coming down the tunnel. The three men piled into the main tunnel to be met by LeBeau, Newkirk, and a man in a Royal Air Force uniform, lieutenant's stripes on his sleeve. He was carrying a loaded kit pack on his back, and a black mask covered his face.
"Papa Bear, ah presume?" His voice had an Irish lilt to it and sounded vaguely familiar.
Hogan nodded and stepped forward. "Yes, I am Papa Bear. Colonel Robert Hogan, US Army Air Corps. Welcome to Stalag 13, our base of operations. You caught us a bit by surprise, Lieutenant…?"
"Kincaid," the man said as he reached up and pulled off the mask, revealing a startlingly familiar face. "Lieutenant Kieran Sean Kincaid, Royal Air Force. Though ah'm better known as Falcon."