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"I want to tell you why I have made this decision, Colonel Hogan."
Hogan had focused on regaining his composure when Voelker and Newkirk left him. He wished most for aspirin to curb his forceful headache, but that was hard to come by when he was in a hotel in the middle of Hammelburg, surrounded by people who could cure his pain permanently. So he simply lay still for a few minutes, willing himself to ignore the tenderness of his head and body. When he thought he had a chance of being successful, he sat up slowly and peeled the SS uniform from his tired limbs. He breathed easier as he pulled on his own shirt, pants, and shoes, and had nearly sighed in relief as he felt his bomber jacket embrace his shoulders.
Hogan walked to the mirror to fix his hair. He frowned when he saw his drawn features, displayed on a pale face that almost trumpeted his soreness. "You look like you could use a day off," he greeted himself wryly, then snorted at the slimness of the prospect. The most he could hope for was a decent night's sleep— even with his nightmares he was willing to risk it. But he knew that, too, would be denied him until this mission was completed.
Now he stood facing Voelker, still wary of the man whose allegiances seemed to waver. A talk "between gentlemen" was not what he had in mind, and he wanted nothing more than to get out. Even Stalag 13 was starting to look good. But here was Voelker, wanting to talk. "You don't have to explain anything to me," Hogan said.
"Do not get me wrong, Colonel; I am not asking for a pardon. I am doing what I must do to protect my family. A man accepts what he cannot change, and changes what he cannot accept." Hogan offered him a slight nod in response. "I simply want you to understand. What you heard in that Luftwaffe meeting today shocked you, did it not?"
Hogan paused, then answered quietly, "I don't think I've ever been so repulsed in all my life."
"It would not have shocked me. You see, Colonel Hogan, when Adolf Hitler first came to power, I was among the many who thought he would revitalize the Fatherland. He promised security to the workers, economic empowerment for Germany. He was able to make allies of other countries, to get them to make territorial concessions. We were a nation to be respected again. We were all behind Hitler. He was a man of destiny. Even I had given him my soul." Voelker stopped, as though ashamed of his admission. Hogan had the grace to turn away.
"But then things started happening," Voelker resumed. "The police—the Fuhrer's Schutzstaffel—became a force to be feared, instead of respected and admired. The churches were oppressed, the Jews began to be badly treated. We started hearing stories of atrocities, of power gone mad…. We—I – became disillusioned. I thought being part of the German Resistance would be a way to help shorten this war, and remove people like Hitler, Goering, and Himmler from power, that it would loosen the terrible grip they have on this country. But it has not. And now, Colonel, now I have a wife, Katrina, and a daughter, Anna, who is seventeen. A son, Colonel Hogan: Erich, who is seven years old. And I am afraid. Afraid for their future."
Hogan had stood silently during this narrative, growing more and more somber. He didn't want any of this explained to him; when people he encountered in this business opened themselves up to him it made it more personal, and he couldn't afford the luxury of feeling friendship or kinship with them. There were too many decisions that could be hampered by emotion. And still, Voelker's words touched him. To believe so much in a leader to free your people, and to have that crushed in a way too horrific to accept, must be an unbearable burden. And coupled with a fear for the safety of those you love… Hogan simply nodded, respectfully. "Thank you for taking the time to tell me," he said softly, his voice affected by his thoughts.
He replaced his crush cap, and turned to leave. "We'd better get going," Hogan said. "My men should be about done with the cars by now, and we've got to get this information to London as soon as possible." Voelker didn't move to join him. "Voelker," Hogan prompted. Maybe the man was still deep in his shame. "Kurt—"
"Colonel Hogan, you and your men are doing fine things for civilians at your camp. Your operation is widely respected and admired." Voelker seemed to shake his body into alertness.
"We do our best; we get four and half stars in your local travel guide." Hogan hoped his lightness would mask this feeling of foreboding that was beginning to eat away at him.
"I have actually had the opportunity to learn much about your undertaking. You see, you helped a friend of mine get out of Germany several months ago." Hogan did a double-take. If someone was leaking information about the operation it could put them all in jeopardy. "Do not worry, Colonel, he did not have the opportunity to pass on specific details of your unit. But he did manage to do something else for me."
"What's that?" asked Hogan, not really wanting to know.
"You are quite a good actor, Colonel Hogan," Voelker said, ignoring the question.
Hogan shrugged, uneasy. "Comes with the job," he acknowledged.
"You stay very calm in unexpected situations," Voelker continued. Hogan said nothing. "So do I." Hogan raised his eyebrows when he found himself facing the barrel of a pistol. "Put your weapons on the table."
"This day just gets better and better," Hogan remarked resignedly. He raised his hands slightly up and away from his body. Then, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he brought a small gun from his pocket and dropped it on the coffee table.
"You will get me and my family to Switzerland, Colonel."
"I can't get you there; you know that."
"England, then. Anywhere! We have to get away from Germany. It is not safe here."
"You picked a heck of a time to notice; you've been part of the Underground for more than a year."
"Colonel Hogan. I appreciate the work you do. And the sacrifices you make. But my family is in danger. They must come first. You will get us out." Hogan continued to listen, once again finding words inadequate. "You will return to Stalag 13, and you will not say a word about this to anyone. You will make plans for my wife and children to escape. And myself."
"I would have been happy to do that without the steel persuasion," Hogan said with a vague gesture towards the gun. Voelker did not move. Hogan sighed. "Okay, but we'll need time. Stalag 13 doesn't usually have kiddie quarters".
"The comrade whom I told you about, the one you helped. He helped me as well. He was able to make contact with someone in your camp who understands what is at stake for us of the German Resistance. Somewhere in your POW camp is a bomb, Colonel. If I do not show up there within a week of this meeting, this person will detonate it. I will not tell you where to find it, nor who it is that knows of its location. You will go back to camp, and do as I have asked, or someone will die."
Hogan straightened his back uncomfortably. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You don't." Hogan nodded grimly, knowing he was cornered. "But you cannot take any chances, can you?"
"You don't have to do this," Hogan said. He turned to Voelker. "You could have just asked and we would have helped."
"I trust no one, Colonel Hogan," Voelker answered. "Not even you."
Hogan felt his headache come back full force. This could endanger the lives of his men, or his operation, or both. "Voelker," he said wearily, "just call off your goon. We'll get you and your family out somehow. You don't have to threaten us; we're the good guys, remember?"
"I can no longer believe in men wearing white hats, Colonel Hogan. All hats are grey, their final color to be determined by the outcome of any given venture." Voelker shrugged. "Consider it a compliment, Colonel. If I did not have such faith in your ability to get my family and myself to safety, I would never have considered such a maneuver."
"I'll be sure to include that in the travel brochure: 'An operation to die for.'" Hogan rubbed the space between his eyebrows and tried to think clearly. "All right, a week. We'll have you out by then. How do we contact you when we're ready?"
"Make your usual contact with the Underground, Colonel. Tell them you need a music teacher and that you have pupils eager to learn. I will be contacted."
"You'd better pack light, Voelker; this isn't going to be a pleasure trip."
"You need not worry, Colonel Hogan; we gave up many things we held dear long ago." Voelker, who had over the course of the conversation become more and more rigid, seemed to relax. "We know we can start again, wherever we are. As long as we are all together."
Hogan considered Voelker's statement, and with a pang of envy at the man's close family ties, he nodded briefly. "My men are waiting."
"Fine. Let us go, Colonel. There is much to do. And you are on a deadline." He handed Hogan back his weapon, and the two of them left the hotel.