Newkirk caught himself saluting the truck as it pulled out of the front gate. It was a pointless gesture – the occupant was unconscious -- but somehow it felt right. A deep sense of loss settled on him as he stared down the road. He wanted to escape, to follow the truck. And he wanted to belt Kinch.
"It wasn't his fault, mon ami." LeBeau had seen the angry glare he'd directed at the radioman. "Fighting Klink would have been suicidal."
"Spoken like a true Frenchman." Newkirk regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. LeBeau was the most patriotic of their group and the last one who would abandon a wounded comrade. He knew he should apologize, but the insult had been too sharp. LeBeau stomped off to their barracks. Kinch shot Newkirk a look of disgust, then followed his friend.
Newkirk shrugged it off – or tried to. He didn't need Kinch and LeBeau any more than he needed Hogan. He'd survived before them, he could do it again. In fact, he preferred being a loner. Life was simpler when the only neck he had to worry about was his own.
He walked aimlessly across the compound. He heard footsteps and glanced over his shoulder. He had a tagalong. "What do you want?"
Carter shook his head.
"If you're here to tell me I was out of line with LeBeau, don't bother. I know he's no coward."
"I know." Carter slipped into step beside him.
"But if you think I'm going to apologize to Kinch when he stood by while Klink drugged the governor, you can just forget it. Hell will freeze over first."
"I know."
"You do, huh? Then what do you want?"
Carter shrugged.
Newkirk shook his head. Bleeding idiot. He strode several paces, uncomfortably aware of his silent companion. He finally halted and leaned against a barracks. "He's ok, you know."
"Who?"
"Who?! You know damn well who."
"The Colonel?" Carter looked hopeful. "Do you really think he's ok?"
"Well, he's with old Schultzie, isn't he? He's not about to take him into a field and put a bullet through his head."
"Yeah, but…"
"But nothing. The Colonel will be right as rain just as soon as he gets settled into his high and mighty officer's camp." Newkirk winked. " I hear they even have birds there."
"Birds? You mean girls? Really?"
Newkirk laughed. Carter could be so gullible. "Right. And I'm King George."
"Oh." Carter scanned the camp nervously. "What are we gonna do without Colonel Hogan?"
"Same as always, I expect. Wait for the tanks to show up at the gate so we can all go home."
"Yeah, but…"
"Carter…" Newkirk softened his tone. "You're not alone, mate. Me and Kinch and LeBeau – we'll keep an eye on you. Just like the governor did."
"I guess you think I'm a coward. I mean, I know you're never scared. Neither is LeBeau. And Kinch – boy, he never loses his cool."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Newkirk glanced at the guard towers. "You're in the middle of a Nazi prison camp, with a crazy Gestapo agent on the prowl. You'd be balmy not to be scared."
"Really? You don't think I'm yellow?"
Newkirk shook his head. "You just hang in there. You'll get back to Bullfrog ok. I'll see to that."
"Thanks, Newkirk."
Newkirk resumed walking before Carter could get too emotional. "So, tell me about this Bullfrog of yours. What's it like? "
"Oh, I don't know. I guess you'd find it pretty boring after London and all. But it's my home."
"Well, that's all that matters, isn't it? You got folks there?"
"My mom." Carter paused. " My dad died a couple of years before I enlisted. He was a great guy. He was a lot like Colonel Hogan."
"Yeah, that figures."
"What about you? Is you dad like…?"
Newkirk shook his head. "More like Hochstetter."
"Oh." Carter glanced away. "Sorry."
"It doesn't matter. I haven't seen him in years." Newkirk steered Carter back towards their barracks. "Come on. Looks like we've got company."
Carter drew closer to Newkirk as they watched two staff cars drive into camp.
By the time they reached Barracks Two, Kinch and LeBeau had the coffeepot set up. Newkirk mumbled a quick apology to LeBeau and pointedly ignored Kinch.
Hochstetter's voice cut off any further conversation around the wooden table. "You had no right to transfer him, Klink. I want him returned."
"Major, I…"
"Now, Klink!" Hochstetter bellowed. "Before I have you sent to the Russian Front!"
"That's enough." Burkhalter interrupted. "Klink had the authority to transfer Hogan."
"Not when I'm in the middle of an interrogation!"
"Interrogation?!" Klink's voice shook, either from fear or anger. "Is that what you call…"
Burkhalter drowned out the Kommandant. "You won't break Hogan with your primitive methods, Major. Men like him require a more subtle approach."
"I see." Hochstetter's sarcasm was barely restrained. " Please, go on, General. Explain the finer points of interrogation to me."
"It's not enough to win territory, Hochstetter. You must be able to keep order after victory. To do that, you need collaborators such as Quisling in Norway and Petain in France. Or Hogan in America."
"Hogan?" Klink and Hochstetter echoed each other.
"You've said yourself, Klink, he's always been cooperative. Do you think you're responsible for the perfect record here?" Hochstetter laughed dryly. "Hogan was a reasonable man, sensible enough to know the difference between blind patriotism and the realities of power. Given time, I could have convinced him of the need to help his people by negotiating with Allied command. But after your brutality, all hope of that is gone."
"Bah! Hogan is a saboteur. He should be executed, not coddled."
"That is the trouble with you Gestapo. All you understand is brute force."
"And that is the only thing that will stop an agent like Hogan."
"He's not…"
Hochstetter growled, silencing Klink. "I will deal with you all after I deal with Hogan."
"I want him kept alive, Hochstetter." Burkhalter used his best command tone. "He still has value as a bargaining chip."
"We will see what Berlin has to say about this." Hochstetter snapped off a 'Heil Hitler' and stormed from the office.
Kinch disconnected the coffeepot and the room fell into an awkward silence.
"Well, I can tell you one thing, boy." Carter stammered. "Colonel Hogan would never have turned traitor. I don't care what they offered him."
"Right." Kinch patted Carter's back. " He was just playing Burkhalter."
"Oui." LeBeau nodded fervently. "I doubted mon Colonel once. I'll never do it again."
"Well, it doesn't bloody matter now, does it?"
"Newkirk…" Kinch exhaled loudly. "If Burkhalter does think he can turn the Colonel, we might be able to work something out with him."
"Us?" Newkirk scoffed as he plopped onto his bunk. "He's not about to invite a bunch of corporals and sergeants to tea, now is he?"
"No…" Kinch considered. "I don't think we can discount him though. I don't know the details, but I know the Colonel had some type of deal going with him."
"Bloody charming." Newkirk flipped out his cards and dealt himself a hand of solitaire. It was what he always did when he needed to think, but today his mind refused to concentrate on the matter at hand. Instead he drifted back to the first time he'd spoken to Hogan. He'd been caught pilfering cigarettes and had been sent to the Colonel for disciplinary action. It was nothing new. He'd been called before headmasters, constables and commanding officers dozens of times. The previous Senior POW had made him stand at attention for hours, given him weeks of K.P. and taken away what few privileges they had. He'd expected pretty much the same from the new Yank Colonel, but he'd been in for a surprise.
"Scrounger, pickpocket, brawler." Hogan had grinned. "Can you crack a safe?"
The question had left Newkirk speechless, as had the American's offer to join his staff. Rumors were already flying around the camp about their new commander. It was well known that he'd commandeered the services of a French chef to cook his meals. Newkirk supposed it made sense that the man would want his own personal scrounger. Officers were officers, after all. So he agreed to move to Barracks Two, figuring he'd find a way to work the situation to his advantage. He'd had no idea what he was getting himself into.
"Maybe we can write to Colonel Hogan at his new camp and ask him what to do."
Newkirk rolled his eyes at the sheer idiocy of Carter's idea. The bloody fool was nothing more than a great puppy who lived to please his master. And now that his master was gone, someone would have to keep an eye on the kid. For the good of the cause, of course. After all, the little oaf was a good demolition expert and the more bridges they blew up, the sooner they all got to go home –assuming they still had an operation left. So it was only self-interest to keep an eye on Carter.
Newkirk slid a card from one stack to another, eavesdropped on LeBeau's attempt to reassure Carter that somehow, someway Papa Bear would return to them and they'd carry on the fight. If Carter was Hogan's puppy, than LeBeau was surely his cat. The little Frenchman was fiercely loyal to their commander and was often the only one beside Kinch who could get anywhere near the temperamental American without getting court-martialed. That he was able to get Hogan to eat anything when he didn't feel well was often a major victory for the Allies. It was also now a vastly moot point.
His attention wandered to Kinch and their eyes met for an instant before the radioman glanced away. He and the black sergeant had disagreed on many things through the years, but they'd always agreed that Hogan needed protection from himself. They'd always tried – the two of them – to keep Papa Bear from walking into the lion's den. But when he needed them the most…. Newkirk shook his head. Klink would never have gotten past him to sedate the governor. Awake, Hogan would have been able to talk himself out of being transferred. But unconscious….
Newkirk cursed at the memory of Hogan's still body being carried to the truck and the door slamming loudly on the lives they'd made here. He wasn't fool enough to believe that things would be the same under a new officer. Oh, the operation might go on, but there was no guarantee that they'd be involved. A dark part of him was certain that Kinch's days as adjutant were numbered. He knew enough about the American army to know that Kinch only held his position under Hogan's sufferance. Without the Colonel to prop him up, he would return to obscurity.
Newkirk frowned as he realized that he and Kinch had more in common then he cared to admit. Without Hogan, he'd no doubt lose his positions as liaison for the R.A.F prisoners and as chief of security. He expected that he'd soon be relegated to his former role as camp scrounger and thief. Not that it mattered. He'd always known that his life after the war would be pretty much like it had been before Hitler --drifting from scheme to scheme, dodging the law, looking for that elusive opportunity that would finally get him off the streets. He regretted never having told Hogan….
"Damn!" Newkirk slammed down his cards. "We can't let Hochstetter get off scot-free. Not after what he did to the governor."
"There's nothing we can do." Kinch addressed the floor.
"That's not good enough." Newkirk crossed to stand over Kinch. "He didn't deserve what Hochstetter did do him."
"I know." Kinch clenched his fists. "I'd gladly kill Hochstetter with my bare hands, but we'd jeopardize the whole operation."
"We'll find a way." Newkirk considered. "I don't know how, I don't know when, but I know I won't leave this bloody country without setting things straight with Hochstetter. I owe the governor that much."
"Oui." LeBeau joined the two.
Newkirk turned expectantly to Kinch.
Kinch glanced at Carter, who was staring blankly out the window. Probably watching for Hogan's miraculous return. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Ok, but just us three."
Newkirk and LeBeau glanced at the young sergeant, nodded in agreement.
"Come on, mates." Newkirk felt a sudden surge of energy. "I say we finish off the governor's whiskey before the new commander filches it."
"Oui." LeBeau sighed. "I wish I could have told mon Colonel what an honor it was to be on his staff."
"Me too. There are so many things…." Kinch smiled sadly. "Course, you know how he is. He wouldn't have wanted to hear any of it."
"Andrew, stop looking out the bloody window and come have a drink with us. We're toasting the Colonel."
"With his whiskey?" Carter shook his head. "We're not supposed to get into that."
"Except for medicinal purposes." Newkirk laid his hand to his stomach. "I'm feeling rather poorly myself."
"Oui." LeBeau imitated the gesture. "Come, Andre. Your stomach is upset too."
"No, it's not. I haven't been sick since the Colonel gave me that shot." Carter followed his friends anyway. "Are you sure this is ok? What if he gets mad?"
"He's not coming back, you idiot."
"Yes, he is. I know he is."
"Ok, guys." Kinch separated Newkirk and Carter. "If he comes back, we'll radio London for a priority drop."
LeBeau handed out glasses of the contraband liquor. "To mon Colonel. Bon chance."
"To the governor. May he enjoy the decadent delights of officer's territory."
"To Papa Bear. May God protect him from his schemes."
"To Colonel Hogan. Until he comes back." Carter gasped as he chugged his drink. "How does he drink this stuff? It's awful."
"You better stick to beer, Carter." Kinch confiscated Carter's glass. "The last thing we need is a drunk explosives expert."
"That'd be a sight. Rather like a Chaplin movie." Newkirk jumped as the door swung open and Klink barged in.
"Achtung!" Langenscheidt hurried them all to their feet. "The Kommandant and the new Senior POW."
Newkirk made a grab for the whiskey at the same time as LeBeau. The two only succeeded in knocking the bottle to the floor, where it rolled to Klinks' feet.
"What's this?" Klink stepped around the growing puddle of liquor. "Alcohol is verboten. "
"Uh, yes, sir." Newkirk suppressed a grin. "We were just getting rid of it, Kommandant."
"I'm sorry, Major. I'm afraid Colonel Hogan wasn't very military." Klink waved an American officer into the room. "This is your quarters. These men were the previous Senior POW's staff. I'm sure they'll help you get settled."
"His staff?" The Major scrutinized the enlisted men.
"Yes. Sgt Kinchloe was his adjutant, Sgt Carter, Cpl LeBeau and Cpl Newkirk were his aides." Klink nodded to the men as he introduced him. "This is Major Anders, your new commander."
Anders inspected the prisoners, halted in front of Kinch. "What nationality was this Hogan?"
"American, like you." Klink rambled through the awkward silence. "He was from Cleveland, OH. He showed it to me on a map once. He said it was the garden spot of the Midwest and…"
"Well, I'm not from O-hi-o. And this boy isn't going to be my adjutant."
"Of course, you're free to choose your own staff. " Klink noted the open hostility on the faces of Hogan's men. "As I say, Hogan wasn't very military. In fact, he was such a bad chess player that I often wondered how…"
"This Hogan played chess with you?" Anders rolled his eyes. "I suppose you discussed military strategy too?"
"Only regarding the battles in the Pacific. Hogan had a young nephew who was MIA on Bataan. He was concerned about the conditions in Japanese POW camps." Klink gestured nervously. "As you can see, the Luftwaffe complies with the Geneva Convention."
"We'll see." Anders considered the nearby prisoners. "Are these men all assigned to this barracks?"
"Yes." Klink glanced about. " I believe so."
"You must realize that the American Army is strictly segregated." Anders ignored the presence of Kinch and the other Negro prisoners. "As an officer, I'm entitled to be housed under conditions equivalent to those I'd have in my own country."
"Of course. Colonel Hogan asked me to desegregate the barracks and to allow his non-American staff to stay with him. As I say, he was undisciplined and…" Klink forced himself back on topic. "You can reassign the men, Major. Just be sure that Sgt Schultz gets the barracks roster when he returns to camp."
Anders nodded disinterestedly.
"I'll let you get settled then." Klink mumbled, gestured for Hogan's men to come with him. He looked almost apologetic as he ordered them to return to their proper barracks.
Newkirk stood next to Kinch, helplessly watched the proud adjutant transform into the silent, anonymous prisoner he'd been before Hogan's arrival. All the anger he'd felt for the man since Hogan's transfer dissolved, along with their operation.
****
"Hey, look who's back!"
"Lock up your cigarettes, everyone. Newkirk's come home to roost."
"Very funny." Newkirk stomped into his old barracks, tossed his duffle bag onto an empty bunk. "I'm glad to see you all again too."
"Did you scrounge any whiskey before you were exiled?"
Newkirk shook his head, flopped onto his bed. He knew his RAF friends were just joking, but he wasn't in the mood. He'd lost his commander, his position and his barracks. His sense of humor had gone with them.
"So what's the new Yank like?" A Scottish sergeant dragged his chair closer to Newkirk's bunk. "Is he as bad as they say?"
"No. He's worse. Once word got out that he'd given Kinch the axe, every bastard in camp volunteered to join his staff." Newkirk yanked his cigarettes from his jacket. "And after all the trouble Kinch and I went through trying to keep those blighters in line."
"Hogan should have had them transferred while he could."
Newkirk glared away the comment, though he himself had often suggested the same to the Colonel. Hogan had refused, saying he could keep the miscreants under control. Maybe he could – with help from his aides – but that didn't change the fact that Anders' entire staff was now comprised of the few bigots that Hogan had battled from the first day of his command. Reason, pleas, discipline and threats had failed to convince the hostile minority that all Allied airman were created equal. The fragile coalition that the governor had nurtured for two years hadn't survived him by even one day.
"Newkirk? Are you listening?"
"Huh? What?"
"I said, what about the 'no escape' rule? We made that promise to Hogan, not this new guy."
"Right. I say all bets are off. No. Wait." Newkirk quickly amended himself. "Hang on a few days until we know what's up. We may still need Klink."
"For what? The mission's over."
"It's not over." Newkirk raised his voice above the chorus of dissent. "Colonel Hogan took his orders from London, mates. Anders will have to do the same. So unless you're willing to abandon all those civilians at home who are trying to survive the bloody blitz-krieg, you'll just shut your mouths and wait till we assess the situation."
Nervous laughter and puzzled looks circulated throughout the room.
"What's so funny?"
"Peter 'What's-In-It-For-Me' Newkirk giving a lecture on loyalty."
"Yeah, well…" Newkirk's attention was diverted by a timid knocking on the door. "Go the hell away, whoever you are!"
The knocking ceased, resulting in more awkward laughter. Newkirk mumbled his way to the door and yanked it open. "What?!"
"Nothing." Carter stammered as he backed away.
"You're knocking on the door like a bleeding woodpecker for nothing?!"
Carter nodded solemnly.
Newkirk resisted the temptation to shake the idiot until his teeth rattled. He forced some of the anger from his voice. "What is it, Carter? What do you need?"
"Some place to sleep." Carter peeked around his friend. "Do you have an extra bunk?"
"You have to be RAF to stay here."
"Ok."
"Ok, what?"
"Ok, I'll join the RAF." Carter sighed loudly. "I don't like Major Anders and the guys he's brought into our barracks. They tell jokes my Mom and Colonel Hogan wouldn't like. Kinch said I'm too pale to stay in his new barracks. Louie said I could stay in the French barracks, but they're all getting drunk and singing the Marseillaise. So I don't mind joining the RAF if I can stay with you."
"Carter…" Newkirk shook his head, aware of another round of laughter behind him. "You can't stay here, but I'll help you find a decent Yank barracks. One your Mum would approve of. "
"Thanks." Carter followed Newkirk cheerfully.
Newkirk muttered an acknowledgement, scanned the compound to see if Schultz had returned. He was stunned to see that the guard had been doubled around the wire and in front of the Kommandant's office. He stared at the military stance of those protecting Klink. It had been two years since Newkirk had seen such a serious display of force in the absence of the Gestapo. Hogan had been given practically unlimited access to the Kommandant and few of the guards had considered him more than an annoyance. Apparently Anders rated higher on the threat meter.
"What's up?" Carter tugged on Newkirk's jacket. "Are you ok?"
"Old Klink's gone Kraut on us."
"Huh?"
Newkirk pointed to the guards. "Looks like we're in a prison camp."
"Oh." Carter considered. "Klink thinks we're going to try to escape now."
"Or riot." Newkirk spotted his quarry, shouted for Schultz.
The guard trudged to them. "No monkey business today. I'm too tired."
"We don't want any trouble." Newkirk pointed at the added guards. "Looks like you're expecting some, though."
"The new American Major." Schultz shook his head. "I wish the Gestapo would think he's a spy."
"Never mind that." Newkirk drew Schultz aside. "Tell us what you've done with our Colonel."
"Yeah." Carter chimed in. "Is he ok?"
"Ja, ja. I took him to his new camp and turned him over to his new Kommandant. He's fine."
"Well, what did he say?" Carter tugged eagerly on the guard's coat. "Did he give you a message for us?"
"Nein, nein. He was asleep the whole time." Schultz waved away their protests. "I told his new Kommandant about his trouble with the Gestapo. He promised he'd get him a doctor if he needs one."
"He promised." Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Come on, Carter. Next thing he'll be telling us that Hitler is giving back France."
"Wait!" Carter caught Newkirk's arm. "What about … you know."
"No, I don't know. What are…?" Newkirk nodded as he remembered his original mission. "Actually, we came to ask you a favor. Young Carter's Mum wouldn't approve of him sleeping in a snake's den." Newkirk offered Schultz a package of cigarettes. "We were hoping you could find him a barracks with a better class of people."
Schultz waved away the cigarettes. "Nein."
"Schultzie! The Kommandant doesn't care where you put people, just as long as the count comes out right."
"Nein, I do not want your cigarettes. Ja, I will find Carter a new barracks." Schultz shrugged off Newkirk's look of surprise. "I promised Colonel Hogan I would take care of his boys while he's gone."
"Well, I….That's truly nice of you Schultz. We owe you one. " Newkirk paused. "Wait a minute. I thought you said the governor never woke up."
"He didn't. He helped my son out of some trouble a while ago and I promised that if anything ever happened to him I'd take care of you four." Schultz waved away their questions. "Come, Carter. The prisoners in Barracks Seven are good boys who aren't involved in any monkey business. The barracks guard is Corporal Virdon. He's old enough to be your grandfather."
"Thanks, Schultz." Carter crossed his heart solemnly. "You won't be sorry. No, sir. I won't cause any trouble. Not even a little."
Newkirk waved Carter a quick good-bye, than drifted towards the Negro barracks. He stood uncertainly before Kinch's new building. The camp had been segregated before Hogan's arrival and Newkirk hadn't given it a second thought. It had been the way of the world and he'd learned early not to fuss over things that couldn't be changed. But now….he shook his head decisively as he knocked. The world was the world and there was nothing to be done about it.
The door was opened a crack by a nervous private. He sighed in relief as he recognized Newkirk and gestured the man inside. Newkirk quickly scanned the barracks. He was prepared for the fear, anger and resignation on the faces of the prisoners, but not for the sight of Kinch lying on his bunk staring at the ceiling. No book, no uncoded message, no notepad -- just Kinch and the ceiling.
"What do you want, Newkirk?"
"We need to talk." Newkirk gestured towards the door. "Can we go outside?"
"Too dark in here for you?"
"Kinch!" Newkirk was shocked by the bitterness in the radioman's voice. "We need to talk about the operation."
"There is no operation anymore. It's gone to Poland."
"I know, but I have a plan." Newkirk squatted beside Kinch's bunk, lowered his voice. "Listen to me. Why did Klink send the governor away? To get him away from Hochstetter, right? So we get rid of Hochstetter, Klink brings back the Colonel and ships out Anders. Then we go back to saving the world from the Crazy Corporal's Third Reich. Simple, huh?"
"Sure. Simple as rolling off a log in front of a firing squad."
"Ok. Fine. You don't like my idea, come up with one of your own." Newkirk waited for a brilliant idea, plowed on in the heavy silence. "Come on, Kinch. It hasn't even been a full day and Louie's getting drunk, Carter's moping for the Colonel and you're wallowing in self-pity. What kind of flipping team are we?"
Newkirk paused hopefully for a response. He was about to give up and leave when Kinch laughed softly.
"What's so funny?"
"The team pessimist giving a pep talk." Kinch slowly sat up. "Never thought I'd live long enough to hear that."
"Yeah, well don't get used to it. This being optimistic is giving me a headache."
"We can't have that." Kinch headed for the door, caught Newkirk in his wake. "Come on. Let's go discuss this plan of yours."
* * * *
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Newkirk caught himself from sliding on a patch of ice.
"No."
"Marvelous." Newkirk hurried to keep up with Kinch's determined strides. "Aren't you supposed to be the sensible one in the group?"
"If sensible won't work, try something outrageous. I learned that from…"
"Never mind. I know exactly where you learned that." Newkirk paused as they approached the Russian barracks. A group of prisoners was intent on building a snowman. Several more were idly tossing a baseball back and forth. Sasha sat by the door, casually strumming a primitive balalaika. "Plenty of sentries today. What do you think our Red friends are up to?"
"Nothing that would make the Colonel happy, I'm sure." Kinch headed for the balalaika player, found his most diplomatic tone of voice. "Zdrastvuyte, Sasha."
"Welcome, Comrades. What brings you to Moscow-on-the-Rhine?" Sasha leaned back in his chair, tapped on the barracks wall. "You are not delivering a message from Comrade Colonel, as he is probably dead by now."
"I just talked to Schultz. He's safe at his new camp."
Sasha waved away Newkirk's assurance. "So the fat one says, but I do not believe everything I am told by the enemy. When the Germans take a Soviet officer away, we do not expect to see him again. But then, Soviet officers do not make friends with prison guards."
Kinch bit back his retort, gestured for Newkirk to do the same. "Look, Sasha… I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, but we are both on the same side. "
"For the time being, at any rate." Sasha turned his attention to his balalaika. "We saw the Negroes herded into separate barracks like animals. I do not believe you have any love for this new American Major, Comrade Kinchloe."
"No. That's really why we came to see you. We think we have a plan to get rid of Anders and bring back Colonel Hogan, but we need your help."
"Oh? Perhaps I have plans of my own."
"Look, you lousy …"
"Newkirk." Kinch forced away his own frustration. He wished for the hundredth time that he had Hogan's talent for charming – or conning – people into seeing his point of view. "Sasha, we want to take Hochstetter out of the game, but it can't look like an Underground operation. It has to look like he died in a military attack."
"Ah." Sasha feigned sudden inspiration. "Perhaps an advance patrol of Russian paratroopers invades Gestapo headquarters and the Major dies a hero's death?"
"Exactly!" Newkirk nodded eagerly. "Will you help us?"
Sasha shrugged. "What does Moscow care if Hochstetter lives or dies?"
"Why you…"
"Newkirk!" Kinch pushed his volatile friend away from the Russian. "Listen, Sasha – Moscow couldn't care less about Hochstetter, but you do."
"I do?"
"Yes, you do." Kinch drew closer, heedless of the 'alert status' of the gathering Russian prisoners. "You care because Hogan saved your life. And you care because he tries to represent the Russian prisoners when he talks to Klink. You care because you've figured out by now that the only thing Anders likes less than Negros is commies. And you care because that tunnel you've got your men digging is going through meters and meters of sand and it keeps collapsing. You know and I know that the only way this place is going to be tolerable is if we do whatever it takes to get Hogan back here."
Newkirk held his breath as Kinch finished his plea. Sasha glanced from the American to the Briton, finally conferred with his men in Russian. It was an agonizing few minutes before Sasha returned his attention to his visitors. "Da, Comrades – we care about Hogan. Even though we think he is Klink's lackey and he is probably dead by now, we prefer him to this new American. We will be your mysterious Soviet commandos."
"Thanks." Kinch sighed in relief. "We've got to talk to the Underground, find out a good time. We'll get back to you as soon as we can."
"Da. We will be here." Sasha smirked. "Perhaps."
"You'll be here." Kinch chuckled softly. "We've tried digging at this end of camp. It's tunnel a foot and clean up the cave-in, tunnel a foot and clean up the cave-in. You'll never make it to the treeline."
"Perhaps." Sasha returned to his music. "Comrade Kinchloe, your Colonel did not teach you everything he knows. When he goes to ask favors of the fat guard, he takes chocolate. When he comes begging to Moscow-on-the Rhine, he brings Vodka."
"Sorry, comrade. I'll get right on that." Kinch tossed off a mock salute, grinned as they left the area. "As you always say, Newkirk –piece of cake."
"Assuming we can trust him."
"I think we can." Kinch shrugged. "We don't really have much choice."
"Charming."
"Now all we need is some kind of diversion to keep the guards busy while our comrades sneak out of camp."
"Oh, is that all we need?" Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Why don't we invite Hitler in for tea? That'd cause quite the stir. Or we could…"
"What's going on over there?"
"Where?" Newkirk followed Kinch's gaze, saw Carter huddled in discussion with a half-dozen men. "Just Carter rambling, as usual. What's the problem?"
"Nothing." Kinch shook his head. "Guess I'm just seeing boogey-men in all the shadows lately."
"Hmmm." Newkirk studied the men surrounding Carter. As far as he could see, it was just a group of Yanks talking. It clearly was more to Kinch.
"Hey, Kinch!" Carter waved them over. "These guys have been looking for you."
Kinch reluctantly joined the group, followed by a curious Newkirk.
"Sgt Kinchloe." One of Carter's companions held out his hand. "Sgt Jackson, Amarillo, Texas."
"Sgt." Kinch took the man's hand hesitantly. "What can I do for you?"
"Just wanted you to know…" Jackson indicated his friends and gestured vaguely at the nearest barracks. "There's at least two dozen of us good Southerners loyal to Hogan. We don't have anything to do with those yahoos over in Barracks Two. So whatever your plan is, count us in."
"Plan?" Kinch exchanged confused looks with Newkirk. "What makes you think we have a plan?"
"You have to." Carter grinned cheerfully. "You always do."
"Uh… I appreciate the vote of confidence, Carter, but I really don't have anything in mind." Kinch paused, considered the volunteers. "Though I if did come up with something and maybe needed a diversion…"
"You call us." Jackson jerked his thumb at himself and his friends. "Hogan's alright for an officer. And a northern boy. You come up with a way to get him back, we'll be there."
"Thanks." Kinch stared at the men as they drifted off. "I guess the Colonel's right – never assume a dog's rabid."
"So how are we going to get the Colonel back?" Carter obediently lowered his voice at a signal from Newkirk. "Well?"
"We don't have any plan, Carter." Kinch scanned the compound automatically. "Why don't you two do a perimeter check? I think I'll go sober up Louie."
"To help with your plan?"
"There is no plan!" Kinch and Newkirk shouted in unison.
"Jeez." Carter followed Newkirk as Kinch headed for the French barracks. "Must be some plan."
* * * *
Newkirk inventoried the scattered contents of Carter's lab. He gingerly filled the pockets of his overcoat with grenades and was about to tuck some dynamite under his shirt when he heard footsteps. He froze, instinctively held his breath.
"Hey! What are you doing with my stuff?!"
"Carter!" Newkirk growled at the intruder. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone who's holding explosives?"
"But that's my stuff." Carter reached for Newkirk's coat. "Give it back."
"Keep your paws to yourself." Newkirk ducked out of reach. "And keep your voice down. Do you want the Major down here?"
"You have no right in my lab." Carter did his best to whisper. "Colonel Hogan put me in charge of the explosives."
"I'm not after your bloody job." Newkirk gestured at the metal boxes stacked nearby. "Help me find some good noisemakers and I'll explain everything once we're outside."
"Oh, alright." Carter tugged a pair of backpacks from a footlocker. "Here. You're going to blow yourself up carrying grenades like that."
"Fine time to be telling me, mate." Newkirk cautiously transferred the contents of his pockets into the backpack.
"How much do you need?" Carter filled his own pack and tucked it under his jacket.
"I think this should do nicely. Come on." Newkirk led the way through the tunnel. "And don't clomp like a bull moose or trip over your feet."
"A moose does not clomp. I…"
"Carter!" Newkirk hissed a warning, quietly headed for the entrance to the cooler. He pushed aside the stone opening and crawled into the empty building.
"Ok." Carter clambered after Newkirk. "Now can you tell me what's going on?"
Newkirk slid the secret entrance closed and double-checked to make sure they were alone. "First you tell me what you were doing roaming around down there."
"I saw Schultz bring you in here so I asked him what you did to get in trouble and he said you just wanted to come in here to be alone so I figured you were going to use this entrance to get into the tunnel without Major Anders knowing and so I said to myself, "Andrew, why is Newkirk going down there" and…"
"Ok, ok. I get it."
"Pretty smart, huh?"
"You're a ruddy genius. So how much did you have to pay old Schultzie to get in here?"
"Two candy bars. How about you?"
"That and half a pack of cigarettes." Newkirk sighed as he rearranged his pack. "This war is getting expensive."
"Yeah." Carter caught Newkirk's arm as he prepared to leave. "You promised to tell me what you're doing."
"Had my fingers crossed."
"Newkirk."
"Carter." Newkirk sighed in resignation. "Ok. We're going out on a mission that we hope is going to help us get the governor back. That's all I can tell you. And no, you can't come along."
"But I'm part of the team. Colonel Hogan said so." Carter glanced away. "It's because I always do something dumb, isn't it? I try really hard to do everything right, but…"
"This isn't about you, Carter. You're a regular maestro when it comes to explosives. We just thought…." Newkirk consulted his watch. "Oh, hell. I'm on schedule here. I don't suppose you'll be a good little chap and forget all about this?"
Carter shook his head.
"Then you're going to have to come along and talk to Kinch. Maybe he can get through that thick skull of yours."
"Ok." Carter hurried after Newkirk. "I mean ok about coming, not ok about Kinch talking me out of it because if you're using explosives than you really need me because…"
Newkirk ignored the rambling behind him, peered outside the building to make sure the coast was clear. "Psst. Schultz. Has the Fuhrer been by lately?"
"Very funny." Schultz scanned the area, waved the prisoners outside. "I thought you two needed to be alone to think."
"We did, but we're all thought out." Newkirk adjusted his coat over the pack. "We've come up with the meaning of life, the universe and everything."
"Jolly jokers." Schultz pointed to the rows of barracks. "Now get inside before curfew and no funny business from either of you. "
"Us? Get into trouble?" Newkirk scoffed as he passed Schultz. "A decent man gets no respect around here these days."
"Yeah!" Carter slipped after his friend. "Jeez!"
Newkirk skirted the groups of prisoners, kept to the shadows as much as possible.
"Where are we going?" Carter shrugged off Newkirk's silence, concentrated on blending into the background. "Hey! Are we doing a mission with the Russians?"
"You're not doing a mission with anyone." Newkirk tapped on the door to Sasha's barracks, quickly entered with his uninvited guest.
"What's this?" Kinch frowned at the newcomers.
"This is an Andrew Carter." Newkirk yanked off his coat. "He snuck up on me when I was commandeering his bloody explosives."
"I'm the demolitions expert. If you're blowing something up, I should be there."
"We don't have time for this." Kinch tossed Newkirk a Soviet uniform. "Look, Carter, we're not acting on orders from London. This is a freelance operation."
"So that means I'm free to go."
"It does not. This doesn't involve you."
"If it involves Colonel Hogan, it involves me."
"Take him or shoot him." LeBeau mumbled from a nearby table. "Just do it quietly."
"What's wrong with Louie?" Carter considered the Frenchman, who had his head buried in his hands. "Why are you guys all wearing Russian uniforms?"
"It's all the fashion on Saville Row these days." Newkirk fidgeted by the door. "We're wasting time."
"Jackson." Kinch turned to the Texan. "Are you all set?"
"One riot, coming up." Jackson grinned and slipped from the barracks.
"Louie, are you ok?" Kinch considered the Frenchman. "Maybe you should sit this one out."
"I'm fine." LeBeau pulled himself to his feet, straightened his Soviet uniform.
"Take more than a flipping hangover to keep him down, eh, mon ami?"
"Oui." LeBeau massaged his temples. "I've been fighting the filthy Bosch longer than any of you. I could do it in my sleep."
"Ok." Kinch signaled for Sasha and his men to move out. He grabbed a Soviet jacket and cap from a bunk, tossed them at Carter.
"Are you sure about that?" Newkirk indicated Carter.
"Safer than having him follow us and then having to rescue him." Kinch caught Carter's arm. "You do what I say, when I say."
Carter nodded adamantly. "What's the score?"
"We're going after Hochstetter." Kinch led their small group towards the wire.
"We're capturing him and sending him to London?" Carter bent to help Newkirk with the sliding fence.
Kinch glanced from LeBeau to Newkirk, than back to Carter. "Yeah, Andrew. Something like that."
* * * *
Newkirk crept through the smoky halls of Gestapo headquarters, every sense alert for trouble. He jumped as he felt a hand on his back.
"There." Carter whispered. "That's Hochstetter's office."
"Right." Newkirk peeked into the room, gave Carter the all-clear signal. "Make sure there's nothing left of those records, especially not the Colonel's file."
"You got it, boy." Carter hurriedly set a demolition pack beside the filing cabinet that housed the documents starting with 'H'. "Ok –let's get out of here."
"I do not think so. " Hochstetter rounded a corner, his revolver aimed at Newkirk's chest. "Drop the weapons and the detonator."
"Oh, blimey…" Newkirk slid his gun to the floor, gestured for Carter to follow suit. He remembered his cover too late, rambled incoherently in pseudo-Russian.
"The charade is pointless. It's obvious you're an Englander." Hochstetter knocked Newkirk's cap from his head. "I believe I have seen you before."
"Really? You know, people say that to me all the time. You'd be amazed at how many folks mistake me for …"
"You are one of Hogan's men." Hochstetter gestured for Carter to remove his cap. "Who are you?"
"Me?" Carter swallowed nervously. "Boris…uh…Ivan…"
"Enough. You are clearly American." Hochstetter took a step back, his revolver unwavering. "Another of Hogan's men."
"Hogan?" Newkirk shook his head. "Don't know any Hogan, mate."
"We shall see. I will take you to that idiot Klink to identify and then I will execute you myself."
"No, you won't." LeBeau slid from the shadows. "Drop the gun."
"Don't be ridiculous." Hochstetter waved his weapon at Newkirk's heart. "Shoot me and your friend dies."
"And then you die." Kinch brandished his rifle at Hochstetter. "Go ahead, shoot Newkirk. You'll be dead before your finger leaves the trigger."
Hochstetter studied the four men surrounding him, listened vainly for the arrival of his own men. "At the moment you seem to have the upper hand. I surrender."
"Don't bother looking for your men. They've all been killed or captured." Kinch disarmed the Gestapo agent, handed the revolver to Carter. "On your knees."
Hochstetter growled as he complied. "Release me now or I promise you I'll hunt down Hogan and personally make his life a living hell."
"You won't be doing anything, you filthy Bosch animal." LeBeau put his gun next to Hochstetter's head. "Comprendre?"
The agent laughed darkly. "You don't have the nerve."
"I wouldn't bet all you money on that, mate." Newkirk joined LeBeau. "You shouldn't have mistreated our Colonel. We take care of our own."
"Carter." Kinch gave the young sergeant a push towards the exit. "Go make sure Sasha and DuBois have everything under control outside."
"Ok." Carter backed from the area. "What about blowing the file cabinets?"
"I'll handle it." Kinch gave Carter a commanding look. "Go on."
Newkirk, LeBeau and Kinch held their positions until Carter was out of sight, then formed a half-circle around Hochstetter.
"I see. Now that the boy is gone, you shoot me." Hochstetter shook his head. "There are more of us than you can imagine. Kill me and a dozen more will take my place."
"And we'll hunt them all down until your bloody Master Race is extinct."
"Oui. At least you will bring no more pain into the world."
"You'll never touch Colonel Hogan again. That's all that matters."
"Kinch!" Carter doubled back to his friend, placed his hand on his shoulder. "You can't."
Kinch shook off the young man. "I told you to get out of here."
"No." Carter glanced from one man to another. "He's a prisoner. The Geneva Convention.."
"Get out of here, you ruddy fool." Newkirk's gun never wavered. "You saw what he did to the governor. He's not leaving this building alive."
"But revenge is wrong." Carter slowly worked his way between Hochstetter and his friends. "It's bitter comfort –that's what my Mom always says. It makes you as bad as the person who hurt you."
"Andre, we are not interested in your mother right now. Move out of the way before you get hurt."
"No." Carter planted his feet and crossed his arms across his chest. "Colonel Hogan says you never kill a prisoner. "
"Don't go righteous on us, Carter. Your bombs have killed dozens of people."
"I know, but this is different." Carter's voice shook. "Colonel Hogan says a soldier kills when he has to, shows mercy when he can. We're supposed to be here to fight the Master Race, not to …"
"…be the Master Race." Kinch took a deep breath, raised his rifle. "On your feet, Major. You're going to London."
"Are you crazy?" Newkirk yanked Carter away from Hochstetter. "You know how much blood is on that bastard's hands. How can you…"
"He'll stand trial after the war. The Allies will see that he pays for his crimes." Kinch signaled for Carter to tie the agent's hands. "I'm sorry we don't have any chains handy, Major. I know you always enjoy using them on your prisoners."
"Bah." Hochstetter glared at his captors. "You are all as weak as your pathetic leader. The next time I have Hogan on his knees…"
"Gag him, Carter." Kinch matched Hochstetter's glare with his own.
"Oui. And don't be too gentle." LeBeau issued a curse in French.
Newkirk yanked Hochstetter to his feet. "Come on and don't do anything clever. I'm still in a mind to put a bullet through your bloody head."
"Newkirk." Carter started after the man, but was stopped by Kinch.
"It's alright. Newkirk's back to normal." Kinch smiled gently. "We all are –thanks to you."
"You're not mad?" Carter bit his lip nervously. "I guess you guys all hate me now, but…"
"No one hates you, Andre." LeBeau patted Carter's shoulder. "You did the right thing. I'll forgive you….tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? But…"
Kinch chuckled as LeBeau helped Newkirk with their prisoner. "Don't worry, Carter. No one hates you. You kept us from falling to Hochstetter's level. I'm proud of you."
"Really?" Carter beamed. "You're proud of me?"
"Yup. And more importantly, Papa Bear is going to be proud of you." Kinch directed Carter towards the detonator. "Speaking of the Colonel – it's time to blow those files. Make sure there's nothing left but ashes."
"You got it, boy. Uh, sir. Uh, Kinch. " Carter grabbed the detonator, happily followed his orders.
* * * *
