No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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Newkirk buttoned up the blue-grey jacket he had taken from the trunk of the camp car and shook his head at his companion. "Kinch, are you sure about this? Maybe you should have waited in the car instead of Louis…"

Kinch shook his head starting at Newkirk's first word and continued even as he himself spoke. "No—Louis's too squeamish. I'll do it. Besides," he said, pulling the black scarf over his face and drawing on a pair of gloves, "It's not like anyone's gonna see my face. Are they?" he asked.

Newkirk offered a lopsided smile. "No, I guess not." He pulled his own mask down. "I hate these ruddy things. Good thing I was never afraid of the dark."

Kinch's eyes smiled slightly from behind the cloth. "There are a lot worse things to be afraid of nowadays, Peter," he said. His eyes grew hard. "Let's go get Carter and the Colonel."

Then they drew their pistols and confronted the guards at the door to the factory.

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Hogan thought he had perfected his nonchalant look in time for Oberholzer's next appearance in this tiny prison. But he was sure it didn't show on his face when the door opened without warning and two masked men in Abwehr uniforms entered, their Lugers drawn, their eyes making a quick scan of the room. Still, as the door closed behind the pair, Hogan pushed himself off the floor and, staggering slightly, stared as expressionlessly as he could manage at the new arrivals.

The unknown men met each other's eyes for a brief second, then seemed to relax. They pulled down their scarves. "Colonel, it's us," Kinch said needlessly.

For a moment Hogan thought he would faint dead away. He was certainly dizzy at the sight of two of his men standing before him, as well as from the lack of food and water since last night. But he quickly recovered and asked, almost sharply, "What are you doing here?"

"We're gonna get you out," Kinch replied. He stopped and listened; Newkirk put an ear to the door.

"Where's Carter?" Newkirk asked in a hushed voice. He nodded to Kinch and came back to join him and Hogan.

"He's with Oberholzer in the plant office," Hogan answered as the trio pulled in closer to speak. "How did you get here?"

"It's a long story, Colonel," Kinch replied. "But we'll all be getting out of here soon enough."

"You shouldn't be here; this place is gonna be blown to bits any minute now!" Hogan protested.

"We know, gov'nor, and that's why we've come," Newkirk said, nodding.

"It's an unacceptable risk," Hogan said. The men let the comment roll off their backs, knowing it was Hogan's way of dealing with his men putting themselves in what he considered to be unacceptable danger—usually involving securing Hogan's own safety. "Where's Le Beau?"

"He's in the car," Kinch answered.

"The car?"

Newkirk nodded. "We'll bring it back to town when we're through. Schultz knows we're good for it."

Hogan shook his head. "Schultz…?"

"We don't have much time, Colonel," Kinch said urgently. "We know if Oberholzer suspects anything out of the ordinary that he'll never let you go. So we're gonna try to make him think getting you out of here is his idea."

"His idea?" Hogan echoed. "How?"

A noise from outside the room jolted the men. Kinch looked almost reluctantly at Newkirk as he came around behind Hogan. The Colonel straightened, bewildered, and looked questioningly at Newkirk. "What's going on?"

Newkirk bit his lip. "Do you trust me, gov'nor?"

Hogan frowned. "You know I do."

"Right. See you back at camp, then. Get him, Kinch."

Hogan's face registered an instant of pain, then went blank as he slumped into Kinch's waiting arms. Regretful about the surprise knock on the head he'd had to deliver to his commanding officer, Kinch gently but quickly lowered Hogan to the floor and pushed up a sleeve. He took the syringe Newkirk offered and plunged the contents into Hogan's arm. "Sorry, Colonel," he said softly. Then he looked up at Newkirk. "That's all we can do."

Newkirk looked worriedly at Hogan's now-still face and panicked inside. "Kinch, are you sure we can't just take him? I mean, what if we gave him too much—?"

"No," Kinch said, more strongly than he intended to. "We can prod them along, but taking him out of here will have to look like the Germans' idea." He pulled Hogan's sleeve back down and made sure he was settled on the floor. Then he stared, worried about what they had just done, and worried about what might happen. "Let's just hope they get that idea real quick." He forced himself to turn away and replaced the scarf over his face. "Now we'd better go find Carter."

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"Why have you not yet reported to me, Huesler?" Oberholzer's tone was sharp and impatient as he spoke into the telephone whose ring had roused Carter out of a stupor. They had been sitting for hours today, with Oberholzer trying many methods to get the young Sergeant to talk about Hogan and life at Stalag 13. And though the Gestapo Major was well-trained in the art of persuasiveness, he wasn't getting very far with Carter, and it wasn't because Carter was too clever for him; it was because Carter was too worried about what was probably going to happen to him, and to Colonel Hogan, some time this afternoon.

"You be sure to report in again in thirty minutes. And immediately if something should develop before then!" Oberholzer slammed down the phone and let out a not-so-subtle curse.

One side of Carter's face lifted in a smile. "Having a bad day?" he asked hesitantly.

Oberholzer glared at the American, then tempered his expression and fell into an easy smile. "Let's just say your Colonel Hogan is a stubborn man."

Carter dropped the smile. "What have you done to the Colonel?" he asked, fear lacing his voice.

Oberholzer shook his head. "Nothing, my young friend. He is quite safe. But I suspect he will not be soon. Nor will you."

Carter didn't want to know, but he asked anyway. "What time is it?"

A raised eyebrow and a glance at his watch. "Two-fifteen."

Carter gulped but said nothing. Oberholzer smiled softly. "Worried?"

Carter shook his head stubbornly. "Hungry."

"Perhaps you are getting angry that your Colonel does nothing to stop the 504th Bomb Group from coming here and destroying the plant—and, therefore, killing you."

Carter squared his jaw in rarely felt anger. "If you're so sure that's gonna happen, how come you're here? Don't you want to get out alive?"

"Of course!" Oberholzer said with a short laugh. "But I have more confidence, perhaps, than you do in Colonel Hogan; I am certain this plant will not be touched. At least not today. You, on the other hand—is it possible you are getting nervous? Or just a little perturbed with Colonel Hogan, that he has not ordered the attack to be stopped?"

Carter shook his head again. "I never said anything like that, mister. I trust Colonel Hogan more than anybody in this whole war! I just think he doesn't have anything to do with this ol' bombing you keep talking about, so you're wasting your breath!"

Oberholzer bowed his head in deference to Carter's impassioned outburst. "Nonetheless," he said quietly, "we shall see."

As Oberholzer finished speaking, the door swung open and two men dressed in Abwehr uniforms and with their faces covered in black cloths stormed in, guns raised. The Major looked up in surprise, then quickly recovered his composure and stood up to face the pair.

"Get up and hand over your weapon," the shorter of the two rasped.

Calmly, Oberholzer reached into holster and pulled out his sidearm. "And the rest," the taller of the men persisted as he pocketed the gun.

Oberholzer smiled resignedly and reached under his jacket to pull out another, smaller pistol. "Gentlemen, to what do we owe the honor of this visit?" he asked.

"You are interfering in Abwehr business. If this factory is to be bombed as the Gestapo believes, then we want the information now, before it happens, not later, after it has happened. You are taking too long with these men. We will take over."

As the taller of the men spoke, the smaller one came around to where Carter was standing and pulled him toward the door. "You will come with us," he said to the Sergeant, who frowned and resisted the tugs of the masked man. He raised his chin at his companion. "And where is the other one—Hogan?"

Oberholzer shook his head. "You may take this one if you like, but you are not taking Hogan. He is my prize. You see, I can be very accommodating to the Abwehr," he started gently. But then his voice hardened as he continued, "But in some things I am unshakable. Colonel Hogan is the key to this attack, and the key to the acts of sabotage happening around Stalag 13. I am as sure of it as I am of my own name. And no one will remove him from me. Not even the Abwehr."

"We shall see about that," the taller man said. "Take us to him. We will question Hogan ourselves." A pause. "Since you seem to have failed in your attempts to get information from him. Otherwise you would not be here now."

Oberholzer nodded graciously and, obeying the waving pistols, moved toward the office door. "You will only question him here," he insisted. "He will not be taken away from this plant. Otherwise, my interrogation will have failed, but not due to my own actions."

"Very well."

On the way through the halls of the plant, Carter gave a start when he found his elbow being squeezed by one of the Abwehr men. He was about to protest when he met the eyes of the man gripping him, and realized that this was their rescue. He grinned in spite of himself, and resolved to stay steadfast. After all, they weren't out of this mess yet.

But even Newkirk and Kinch, who had already been with Hogan earlier, were not prepared for the sight of the Colonel when Oberholzer opened the door to the small room. "Mein Gott!" Oberholzer exclaimed. "He's dead!"