TITLE: A SPOT OF TROUBLE
AUTHOR: Meercat
RATING: Strong PG-13
WARNINGS: Violence, some torture, drama, angst
Chapter 4
"Escort the prisoners back to the barracks, Sergeant." Wolfgang Hochstetter yanked on his great coat and belted it against the night chill. In the yard before him, the major's aide leaped from behind the wheel, pulled opened the rear passenger door of his staff car, and snapped to attention. "And make certain they are here when I get back. I will have words with them, especially with Colonel Hogan, tomorrow."
Sergeant Schultz slid a sideways glance toward Colonel Klink. When the camp Kommandant voiced no objection to the Gestapo officer's order, Schultz saluted and herded the three prisoners off the porch.
Colonel Hogan couldn't resist a final dig. Giving his trademark two-finger salute, he said, "Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Kommandant Klink. Too bad the evening had to end so soon." The salute turned into a childish finger waggle. "And it was so good seeing you again, Major. Do come again anytime."
"Schultz, get him out of heeeeeeere," Klink whined even as he waved the party toward Barracks Two.
The spotlight from the nearest tower swiveled to follow the guard and three prisoners. As he strolled across the compound, thumbs hooked on the pockets of his bomber jacket, Hogan felt Major Hochstetter's beady little eyes follow them until they disappeared into their quarters and Schultz pulled the door closed behind them.
Once secure in the privacy of their barracks, the three men fell into snicker fits.
"Did you see ol' Wolfgang's face when the bombs went off?" Newkirk asked. "Ruddy beautiful."
"Hochstetter, non," LeBeau countered. "What about Klink? I thought he would swallow his monocle!"
Hogan joined on the laughter until he glanced over and spotted Carter's empty bunk. Reminded of the mission, he walked over to Kinch's bunk and gave it a hard rap on the side. The bed tilted up, revealing the trap door from the barracks down into the tunnel system.
"I'm going below. You guys get to bed. Tomorrow's going to get here soon enough."
The colonel climbed down into the stifling warmth of the underground tunnel, foregoing the last three rungs of the ladder. He tugged his flight jacket back into a straight line even as he hurried to the radio room. Ivan Kinchloe sat at the machine, one headphone pressed against an ear, the other resting on his shoulder.
"Hochstetter just left," the senior POW crowed, his voice heavy with false sympathy. "Poor man spent so much time on the phone to Gestapo Headquarters that he didn't even get a chance to finish his dinner. Seems there's been a terrible explosion--ordnance storage, I believe." The colonel looked around the room. "Where's Carter?"
"Not back yet, sir," Kinch said as he fine-tuned the frequency. "I've been monitoring the German radio frequencies just in case. Best I can tell, they think the explosion was an accident. Nothing yet about sabotage."
Hogan looked at his watch--12:34 a.m. 0034 hours.
"The depot went up right at 2130," Hogan muttered to himself. "If he set the explosives on timers like we planned, he should have been back by now. Where can that boy be?"
"He's only 90 minutes late, Colonel," Kinch said. "Maybe he had to detour or lay low to avoid a patrol."
Or maybe he's been captured. Hogan refused to say it aloud.