***

Unexpectedly, the conversation with Hogan wasn't the question-filled confrontation that Sam had feared. Instead, all Hogan wanted from him was permission to make some Halloween decorations for a party and some materials to make them with. After a suitable number of "no"s, Sam eventually "caved in" and said yes. Hogan had looked more satisfied than he probably should have by the outcome as he left the office with a hasty salute.

While Sam was very pleased that the whole thing had gone off without a hitch, the whole thing had seemed surreal. A prisoner in a POW camp worried about decorations for a holiday that was a month away? It was ridiculous. It was also suspicious.

The thing that seemed the most strange was the way Hogan had acted. He had acted very confident- even stealing some cigars from a humidor that Sam hadn't noticed before then. Sam hadn't said anything because he was just as happy to see them go. Still, it seemed like an odd thing for Hogan to do under the circumstances.

Then there was the roundabout way that Hogan had brought up his bizarre request. He didn't just ask; by alternately asking for impossible things (such as inviting girls to the barracks for the party) and overt flattery (such as calling Sam the "World Renowned Iron Eagle"), he eventually edged what he really wanted into the conversation. Sam had seen it for what it was before Hogan was even halfway through- a con. The only thing that he couldn't understand was why someone would go through so much trouble for such a minor thing. That, and who would be stupid enough to fall for the act in the first place. Well, what could you expect from a drunk Nazi?

In any case, Hogan had his decorations, for all the good that they would do him, and Sam still had no answers. He sighed and wished that Al would finally make a second appearance, maybe with something useful.

It was then that the Imaging Chamber door opened, and out stepped Al.

Speak of the Devil, Sam thought with a mental smile. "So, Al," he said aloud, "what do you have for me? Did Ziggy figure out why I'm here?"

"Ziggy won't tell us how you got here, if that's what you mean. I bet she just doesn't want to admit that she has no idea; that's what you get for building a computer with Barbara Streisand's ego." Al laughed his false laugh and chewed on his cigar.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "That's not what I meant. I meant, 'What am I here for?'. What am I supposed to do?"

Al stared back at him with sad eyes. "In three days there's going to be an accident."

"I see." When no answer seemed forthcoming, Sam prompted, "What kind of accident?"

"Well, the records aren't very good for this period, so we don't know what actually happened."

"What do you know?" Sam said, starting to feel frustrated with his friend. Why could Al never just say what Sam was there for? Was it to much to ask that he just relay the information without being so melodramatic?

Al sighed. "You're not going to like this, Sam."

"I already don't like it, Al." and I like it even less because you keep hedging like this, Sam finished silently. He knew that whenever he was in mortal danger, Al would get this way.

"In three days there's going to be an accident, and Colonel Klink dies."

Great. Wonderful. Didn't he have enough problems without the possibility of death added to them? "Why did I leap in to save a Nazi? What else happens?"

"The details are sketchy. Ziggy can't interface too well with foreign computers."

Sam nodded, basically to keep Al talking rather than to actually agree with Al's statement.
"As far as we can tell, after Klink's death there is a big investigation. I guess that they thought the POWs were responsible because Gestapo thoroughly checked the barracks. From what we can get from the Pentagon- "

"What does the Pentagon have to do with some POW camp?", interrupted Sam.

Al didn't say anything for a moment as he scanned the data on the Handlink. "During the war, the Pentagon and a few other military organizations in Europe came together and formed an underground in Germany. According to what Ziggy was able to pry from those computers, Stalag 13 was one of the main bases of operation for this underground."

"All right, Al. Stalag 13 is a base for the German underground. For some reason, Klink doesn't seem to be aware of the base's existence, or he is pretending not to be. Then Klink is killed in some sort of accident. What happens after that?"

"Well," Al started, sounding annoyed (probably because he had been interrupted), "when the Gestapo search the barracks, they found a network of tunnels, radio equipment and even some people hidden away." Al paused as if waiting for Sam to say something. When he didn't, Al continued. "The next day, several POWs, including a few members of the underground, are shot for trying to escape." The tone of voice Al had used to say the last part made it clear to Sam that Al didn't believe that they were shot for trying to escape any more he did.

"What about General Boes? Did you find anything about him?"

Al shook his head. "Nadda. According to Ziggy, Boes doesn't exist."

"Doesn't exist? Well, Al, I guess we have a problem then. Because this man who doesn't exist is coming here."

"I don't know about that. All I know is that Ziggy couldn't find anything. Who knows? Maybe Boes' records were burned or misplaced."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so, Al. It's too much of a coincidence. Someone who doesn't exist is paying Klink a visit. Then Klink dies in some kind of accident."

Al nodded, "Yeah, it does seem a bit too convenient. But why?"

Sam shrugged, "Maybe Klink knows more than he should, or maybe killing Klink gives them an excuse to do some searching. Or maybe it's a personal vendetta. I want you to get on it, Al. Give me something I can work with."

"I'll see what I can do."

Sam watched Al leave without actually seeing him go. Sam had a lot to think about and, possibly, not very long to do it.

***

". . . something that I can work with." Klink's voice sounded tinny over the bug's speaker, but Kinchloe had bigger concerns than sound quality. He looked at Carter, silently asking him whether he had heard the same things that he had.

Somehow receiving this silent question, Carter nodded. "We better tell the Colonel."

Kinchloe picked up his little black notebook, glad that he hadn't been so incapacitated by what he heard that he couldn't write it down. He knew that while Hogan had heard the first "conversation" himself, he would find this one a bit harder to believe. Besides, it was easier, and safer, for Hogan to read what was said rather than having Kinchloe try to remember it all. "Yes, I think that he'd want to know."

After waiting a few more minutes, in case 'Klink' said something else, Kinchole and Carter left the radio room in search of Colonel Hogan.

***

Hogan sat in his quarters, thinking about his conversation with Klink. There had been something . . . off about it. He had dealt with Klink the way that he usually did and he had gotten what he had wanted; but it seemed wrong. It was almost like Klink had noticed Hogan's manipulations and had been playing along for Hogan's benefit. It was just another thing to add to the quickly growing list of actions that were out of character for Klink.

What if this Klink wasn't really Klink? And where was the real Klink if that were so? Hogan felt surprised when he found himself actually worried about that. They were, technically, on opposite sides of the war. Still, that didn't stop Hogan from worrying.

No matter what he said or the way he acted, there were times when he felt genuinely protective of the German. So what if Klink was a bumbling incompetent? He was Hogan's bumbling incompetent. And while Klink was hardly what most people would call a friend, and while he was certainly not under Hogan's command, Hogan couldn't help but feel that he was responsible for him.

Never mind the fact that Klink's blundering was very useful or that finding another commandant who would be able to take Klink's place would be inconvenient, Hogan did not want something to happen to the guy. There were times when Klink could be a real rat. There were also other times when he seemed to be trying to do the right thing. All in all, Hogan didn't feel that Klink was an evil man; and he certainly didn't think that he deserved to-

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. "Come in."

In stepped Carter and Kinchloe, both looking disturbed.

"What is it?"

Kinchole handed Hogan a small black book. "I think you should read this, sir."

Hogan took the book and started reading Kinchole's hasty script. As he read, he felt a lump in his stomach. So, not only was the man in the commandant's office not Klink, Klink's life was in danger too. "Kinchloe, have you heard anything about this Boes person?"

Kinchkoe nodded, "He's supposed come here tomorrow. But other than that, I haven't heard anything. Whoever he is, he isn't one of ours."

"What do we do, sir?"

"I don't know. Whoever this Klink imposter is, he knows a little bit about our operation here. That means that he's got an advantage over us. But it does seem like he wants to help Klink." Hogan paused, collecting his thoughts. He turned to Kinchole. "I want you to contact to underground. See if you can find some information on 'Ziggy' and 'Al'."

Kinchole saluted and quickly exited.

"Carter, I want you to get some of the guys together and clean Klink's office. See if you can find anything suspicious."

"Yes, sir."

"But first," Hogan said, stopping Carter before he could leave, "I want you to get me Newkirk. We can't let this business with Klink get in the way of the mission."

"Yes, sir." Carter hesitated for a second, waiting in case Hogan had anything more to add. When he didn't, Carter too left.

Hogan sighed. Why was nothing ever easy around here?

***

TO BE CONTINUED

(sometime along)