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"Your Papa Bear was carried into Gestapo headquarters about an hour ago," the Underground contact told Le Beau and Carter. He had been watching the building since the alert came from the Heroes that Hogan had already gone out on his mission when the covert operation was exposed.

"Carried in?" echoed Carter. He glanced around him constantly while they whispered in the shadows. Newkirk and Kinch were waiting on the other side of the street, trying to formulate a plan, wanting to know what had happened. How had the Germans found out what was going on?

"Yes, he did not seem to be struggling." The young man shifted nervously. "Our agent on the inside says he is being interrogated but has not revealed any details of the Underground or its agents, yet."

"And he will not," vowed Le Beau. "Colonel Hogan would never tell the filthy Germans anything."

"You don't know the Gestapo very well, my friend," said the man. "Even a strong man can only take so much 'interrogation' by their trained monsters."

Carter wanted to get out of there, now. The idea of Colonel Hogan being battered by some high-ranking, low-IQ enemy officer was making him almost jump with anger. "Did anyone see Major Hochstetter go in there?" he asked.

"No. No one has gone in or out since Papa Bear was brought in." He paused, considered, then offered this up for the anxious men. "Papa Bear has not even given his name-he came in without dog tags. If Hochstetter is looking for him, there would be no way of him knowing it is Papa Bear here."

Le Beau nodded. A practice of Hogan's when on solo missions was to disobey general orders and leave the tags behind. This was frowned upon, as the Allies naively thought there would be good treatment for their men in the event of capture. They also wanted to be able to give them a proper burial if they died alone. In this case, Le Beau reflected, being anonymous in capture was probably prolonging his life.

"Time to get moving," Le Beau said, also anxious to get started. Colonel Hogan was so close! They had to get him out and back to the safety of his friends. And they had to do it quickly. What would happen at daybreak when roll call came...and half of Barracks Two was missing?

The pair thanked their contact and, ever alert for unwanted attention from the few people still on the streets, slipped across to Newkirk and Kinch, who were head to head, discussing a plan of action, and getting nowhere. They were too muddled to think straight at the moment. ~~This is why Colonel Hogan is the Papa Bear,~~ thought Kinch.

"The Colonel was brought in about an hour ago," Le Beau offered, explaining the situation. Kinch and Newkirk absorbed everything, Newkirk growing more aggravated by the moment.

"Those bloody Kraut's are probably working him over. We've got to get in there," he hissed.

"Oop-"

They assumed the cover of some unruly men having an argument over politics as a few people walked by. "You are insane," Kinch was saying. "It will be easy for the Allies to fall in line once the Germans have prevailed; look how badly they are doing now. They have little hope at all, the war is already over for them."

"Non, mon ami, the French will not give in. You may take our country, but not our spirit-" Le Beau protested, loudly for the benefit of the woman who had paused nearby.

"But Paris is lovely in the springtime," the fair-haired, attractive woman said.

The men stole looks at each other and turned their attention to her. "Especially by the banks of the Seine," Kinch said, testing the waters. Could it be?

"Would it not be grand to take a swim there?"

Newkirk's eyes started to get a bit of their spark back. "I prefer it in the winter, when it's cold," he offered, tentatively.

"That is when I like it best of all."

The men could not believe their luck, and, relieved, pulled the woman into the shadows. "Cinderella," Kinch confirmed.

"Yes," she answered. "Have you not been expecting me?"

"To be honest I think it's just pure dumb luck we found you," Newkirk answered. "We're running a bit short of it tonight." Normally he would have added a comment that reflected a bit of his idea about her lovely shape, but the thought flashed too quickly through his mind. There was too much at stake to be distracted by a beautiful woman!

"I understand," the young woman answered. "Things are ready for you." They stared at her, waiting. "Your Colonel is inside Gestapo headquarters. We have arranged for one of you to go inside to see him." Their eyes bulged-head straight into HQ? But they remained silent, listening for the rest of the plan. "Even the Gestapo have people to answer to. You can go in on the pretext of making sure the prisoner is being treated properly. If you are unhappy with it you can order him to be taken to hospital. The truck they take him in may possibly then be able to be...detained."

"Ambushed, you mean," Carter clarified.

"Yes." She smiled. Newkirk couldn't help noticing it made her face look like that of a young girl. "There is an officer's uniform that may just fit....." she looked at the foursome, considering, then pointed to Newkirk, "you." The smile disappeared as she got back to business. "Normally we would have taken measurements, but as you can appreciate this operation was a bit of an emergency. But you can handle it, yes?" The smile came back, and she aimed it at Newkirk.

"I'm sure I can, love," he answered. He grinned. Then the thought of what he had to do, and why, wiped the smile off his face. And the fact that they were sure that taking Hogan to the hospital would be considered necessary was almost too much to handle. "Where is it?-We'd better get a move on. The longer the Colonel's in there, the less I like it."

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Half an hour later, Newkirk was in a small apartment, chomping at the bit, hardly able to contain his nervousness and his fears. The uniform of the German officer was an almost perfect fit. ~~Better start going easy on the Bernaise sauce,~~ he decided, while Le Beau straightened his collar.

"You remember what to do," Kinch said, adjusting Newkirk's weapon and the decorations on his lapel.

"Get in, find the Colonel, order him taken out. Then you follow the truck, intercept it, and we get him out of there."

"Exactly," said Carter, handing Newkirk the forged papers that "proved" who Newkirk was. "Just don't take any chances, Peter. You can't help Colonel Hogan if you're dead."

"I wish you'd stop saying that, Carter," Newkirk said. He straightened up and looked at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Sometimes he found it amusing how he could look like a Kraut, almost like dressing up in a Pantomime at Christmas as a child. But tonight he was too worried about being convincing for the Colonel's sake to find it ironic. Everything stood out to him as wrong: the eyes, the hair, the build, the ruddy face.

"You look fine," said Kinch, as though he were reading Newkirk's thoughts. "Just think of the Colonel, and you'll follow the right track."

"I hope so," he answered.

He headed towards the secret exit in the rear of the apartment. "Bon chance, mon ami," Le Beau said. "We will be ready. Do not keep us waiting long."

Newkirk nodded, and took his leave.

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"I don't CARE what your Gestapo plans are," Newkirk was spewing in his thank goodness convincing German. "It is MY job to make sure all prisoners are well treated under the Geneva Convention. And if you would like to complain about the timing, Herr Corporal, then perhaps you should discuss that with Major Hochstetter, who sends me!"

The poor guard who was in charge of the night office nearly bowed to Newkirk at the mention of Hochstetter's name. "Jawohl, Herr Captain," he said. "I am sure it is fine. I will take you to the rooms."

"Are there any new prisoners?" Newkirk asked.

"Ja, Herr Captain, there is one. We do not know who he is; he was captured on patrols this evening without identification, and he is not speaking to us."

~~Bleedin' right he's not talking. The Colonel'd never give anything away.~~ "Take me to this man, I want to see him. Perhaps he will talk to me."

The Corporal led Newkirk down the hall and through a series of corridors. He opened the door to a dark, dank room, cold and draughty. And empty. "Well this is fine," complained Newkirk as he stepped inside. "Where is this man?"

"He must have been taken back to the interrogation chamber," the Corporal answered simply. Newkirk shuddered. "Herr Major in charge of questioning said he wanted the man to come up with answers tonight, as he is sure the man was part of a plan for sabotage."

As if on cue, noise filled the corridor. Two German soldiers were dragging a man with them, and threw him bodily into the room. The man moaned but made no attempt to move from the awkward position that he had landed in on the floor. Newkirk nearly fainted when he realized that pathetic figure on the concrete was Colonel Hogan. His muscles tightened, but he could not move to help his commander. Not yet.

"This is what you call humane treatment? What kind of answers does your Major expect to get from a man who is unconscious?" Newkirk spat. "Leave me with this man, I will examine him. Tell your major that I will most likely demand this man have hospital treatment, and to have a transport vehicle ready." It was not hard for Newkirk to sound like he was angry; he could not remember a time in his life when he had more felt like crying out and hitting without reason or rhyme. "GO!" he ordered.

The Germans left the room, the final man closing the door behind him. Newkirk made sure he was not being observed, then immediately knelt beside Hogan, who had not made another sound. "Colonel, Colonel Hogan," he whispered. He touched Hogan's clothing- drenched, Newkirk noted. He turned Hogan over on his back. Hogan let out a pitiable cry that clearly articulated his agony. "Easy, mate, easy," Newkirk soothed, until the cries receded into spasmodic whimpers.

Newkirk looked his friend over and despaired at his condition. A purple swelling around his jaw, a badly cut cheek that was still seeping some blood, a large, ugly bruise that was peeking out from behind his neck. Newkirk touched Hogan's face gently as the Colonel began to shiver violently. Fever. He looked around for a blanket; of course there was none. Cursing under his breath, he continued his examination. The skin on both arms was inflamed and raw near the wrists. The lightest touch on Hogan's torso brought anguished writhing from the American.

Newkirk stopped, shaking. He had expected Hogan to have been abused, but this was more than he had imagined. And through this Hogan had said nothing? ~~Of course he said nothing,~~ he told himself, overcome. "No wonder we all respect you, gov'nor," he said out loud, though he wasn't at all sure Hogan could hear him. "It wouldn't even occur to you to save your own skin." He took off his German officer's jacket and covered Hogan's broken body with it, momentarily forgetting that this man was his commanding officer, and comforting him like a brother.

Newkirk knew he was asking too much for Hogan to suddenly become alert. But in the hopes that he could somehow be heard through the shroud of pain, Newkirk whispered, "It's me, gov'nor. It's Newkirk. We're gonna get you out of here."

Hogan remained silent, his breathing interspersed with groans and some incoherent sounds that Newkirk didn't try to make out. The Corporal tried to think. Getting Hogan out would now become the easy part; no one in his right mind could deny that Hogan needed medical attention. How the hell the men were going to be able to help him later on was a bigger problem. ~~Don't think that far ahead, Peter. One step at a time.~~ Newkirk looked at Hogan. He had never seen his commanding officer so helpless before. Knowing the answer, Newkirk nonetheless muttered, "What the hell have they done to you?"