"The serial number's a Canadian Navy one," Kinch reported quietly, coming into Hogan's office. "But they couldn't tell me much else right off the bat. They said they'd check into it with the naval authorities and get back to me."

"Any idea when?"

Kinch shrugged. "No idea."

"They tell you what a navy man would have been doing in an air force uniform?"

"Couldn't tell me that either. They said that sometimes Fleet Air Arm pilots train with air force units, once they switch over from sea duty. But they didn't have an explanation for the uniform."

"Thanks, Kinch," Hogan replied with a sigh.

"You're welcome, sir. I just wish I had more information for you," Kinch said, "especially since London wanted me to remind you about that factory the Germans set up between here and Dusseldorf."

"Like I could forget," Hogan declared, shaking his head. London closed off every transmission with a reminder about that plant.

"How's he doing?" Kinch asked, looking toward the closed door.

"O'Keefe says okay," Hogan told him. "He won't be up and about for another day or two, because of his leg, and I'm sure that O'Keefe could be prevailed upon to keep him in place for another day or two after that. So if he is a plant, we've got four days to make sure that he won't see anything we don't want him to. The sooner that London gets back to us with some answers, the sooner we can actually do something."

"Has he said anything else?"

"Of interest? Not really. He's been sleeping off and on, more on than off. Carter would know more than anyone else; I don't know if he's left the guy's side."

"Carter's pretty sure that he's not a plant?" Kinch asked. Carter might be naïve, but he was the one who had risked his life to save MacIntyre, if that was in fact the man's name.

"If it weren't for the whole uniform confusion, I'd be sure he's not a plant," Hogan declared. "We saw him parachute out of the bomber."

"If the Germans can do that, then we're really in trouble," Kinch commented quietly. "If they can do that, then there's not telling what else they might do to catch us in the act."

"That's what I'm worried about," Hogan admitted. "Let me know right away when you find out anything else, will you, Kinch?"

Kinch nodded solemnly and headed back out in the barracks, wanting to a chance to form his own opinion of the new arrival. MacIntyre had certainly set the camp talking; even the men who didn't know anything about the operation were gossiping about this airman who claimed to be a seaman.

It wasn't hard to find MacIntyre as O'Keefe had ordered that he couldn't be moved until at least the next day, but Kinch knew that it was a wonderful vantage point if MacIntyre was a plant and wanted to see the workings of Hogan's barracks. It was an easy enough trick to feign sleep and observe what was going on. And there was certainly always something going on, especially in Barracks Two, the hub of all the activity.

Carter was sitting beside MacIntyre's bunk, alternating between anxiously watching the man sleep and reading a dog-eared paperback, and Kinch felt a sudden stab of hope that this man might prove exactly what they'd taken him to be. It was not only for the sake of the operation, but also for Carter's sake. Harsh as they all might be on him, they all looked at him in something the spirit of a younger brother. Watching the sergeant now, his face bruised and battered from his act of daring, Kinch felt more protective than ever. Silently, Kinch vowed to make MacIntyre pay if he'd forced Carter to disobey his commander and risk his own life all on a ruse.

Carter heard Kinch's footfalls behind him and spun on his stool. "Anything?" he asked simply.

"Not yet," Kinch told him.

Carter's face fell. "We saw him come down," he whispered desperately.

"I know, mate," Newkirk said softly from his spot at the table. He was half-heartedly playing solitaire. "I know."

Kinch sighed and looked around the barracks. People were unusually silent, but he wasn't sure whether it was out of respect or secrecy. "Come and walk with me, Carter," he said on a whim.

"I'm good here," Carter asserted. "I don't want to leave him alone. Just in case." He didn't say just in case what and Kinch didn't ask.

"One of the other guys can sit with him for a while. I've got something that I need your help with," Kinch insisted. He'd have to think of something later, but he was betting on having at least a little time. Carter wouldn't breach the security precautions they'd hastily slammed in place, no matter what else he might have on his mind.

"Newkirk?" Carter asked hopefully.

"I'll be right here," Newkirk replied, flipping over another couple of cracked cards.

Carter thought about it for a minute and decided that was a good enough assurance. He stood up and followed Kinch out into the bright sunshine. It was quite a change from the darkness and fear of the night before, although Carter didn't remember any of that. "What did you need me for?" Carter asked when they were alone, sequestered in an out of the way corner of the compound.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay," Kinch admitted. "I wanted to make sure that you could talk about things, if you wanted to, without everyone else listening in."

"He's not a plant, Kinch," Carter declared. "I know that you think he is, but you weren't there. You didn't see it."

Kinch sighed. No, he hadn't been there. He was rarely there. "I trust you, Carter," Kinch assured him. "You saw it all happen."

"I don't remember much," Carter admitted more quietly. "I just remember seeing him hanging there and knowing that if someone didn't go and get him, he'd get caught in the explosion. I had to do it, Kinch. I would have had to even if he would have been a German."

Kinch nodded solemnly. It was different being up in the air. Up in the air you were isolated and although you knew intellectually that people were dying, you couldn't see their faces and you never heard their screams. The work that they did was different and he couldn't fault Carter for wanting to be the preserver of life for once, rather than the bringer of death. "You did a good thing," Kinch told Cater seriously. "It took a lot of guts."

"Shucks," Carter said with a blush. "It didn't really. Once I made up my mind, I didn't have to think about it any more. And after that, I don't really remember anything."

"It might come back," Kinch replied.

"Doesn't matter," Carter responded with a shrug. "I remember what's important."

"Okay, but if you ever need someone to talk about, whether it's about what you do remember or you don't, you can always come to me," Kinch stated. "I know I'm hard on you sometimes, but I'm here for you if you need it."

"Maybe I finally got some sense knocked into me," Carter joked, smiling to let Kinch know that there weren't any hard feelings about anything. His smile was only a half smile because of the bruises on his face, but there was nothing half-hearted about it.

"We can only hope," Kinch laughed, patting the younger man on the shoulder.

"When do you think London will be able to tell us he's not a plant?" Carter asked, his question firmly asserting his faith.

"It depends how long it takes for them to find out for themselves," Kinch answered with a shrug. "If they've got to go through naval channels, it might take longer than we're used to. You know how well the branches like to work together."

"Sure I do," Carter laughed. "There was this one time, not long before I shipped out to England, when some of my friends were trying to arrange a meeting with some naval nurses. They wanted me to come along, but it was just as well that my leave was different from theirs because…"

Kinch nodded in the right places, listening to the somewhat rambling story that concluded with a point that almost but not quite illustrated what Carter had originally set out to prove. Normally he might have cut in and demanded that the exuberant sergeant get to the point already, but after last night, Kinch was just happy to hear that Carter was still himself, whether some sense had been knocked into him or not.