To everyone's surprise, the Desert Fox didn't show up. He was still in the area, but who waltzed through the gate a day and a half later was a familiar Gestapo agent shaking with ever-present hatred. Dietrich, when he wasn't thinking of the different accidents he could have arranged for the man in the desert, though he looked an awful lot like a chihuahua dressed in red and black.
"Who the hell?" Emerging from the black car, shaking with fear, eyes blown wide, and wearing a white nurse's uniform was Fraulein Bauer. "Sir!" Sergeant Thomas gaped at him and then at the woman. Every eye in the camp fell on the woman and the fact that Hochstetter had the woman's arm in a bruising grip.
Before anything could happen, Dietrich seized the man's shoulder in a bruising grip and squeezed to kill any protest he might offer.
"Find Colonel Hogan," he ordered under his breath as he caught sight of Lebeau inching into Barracks 2. "That woman is a spy and not to be trusted."
"What?"
" Go," he ordered, belaying his anger with a friendly pat that did more to send the man scurrying, safely, across the compound as Fraulein Bauer caught sight of him and Sergeant Troy's hat. She was a good actress that he had to admit, her eyes widened with something like hope, and she formed the good sergeant's name soundlessly before being dragged into Klink's office.
Of course, he would be cruel. Nothing would cause men to crumble faster than seeing one of their own countrywomen being manhandled by the enemy. He let himself react like the others, going shocked with concern and even a little bit of glee.
Fraulein Bauer was a spy and a damn good one, but Dietrich had seen only one woman successfully manage to bamboozle Colonel Hogan...and Bauer was not Fraulein Marya.
It would be a real pleasure to listen to this conversation on the coffeepot.
#$#$#
"Are you sure?" Hogan had one hand on the door and the other on his hat. News of an Allied' nurses' arrival had spread like wildfire, only to be doused in the freezing cold reality of Sergeant Thomas' announcement.
"Yes, sir. Exactly as he told me, she is a spy and is not to be trusted. Didn't have time to tell me why or how he knows this, but I guess that he does. Didn't want you to talk into a trap."
Hogan, for all of the missions he'd pulled off, had never met a man quite like Captain Dietrich. Despite assurance from London and his own two eyes, he still quietly doubted his loyalty and even his willingness to help.
He wanted to believe for obvious reasons, but he wasn't about to go and ruin a good thing with too much trust. It wasn't as if he'd been fully intending to trust the woman off the bat, but the extra warnings rang alarm bells in his head.
"Alright," he nodded. "Everyone, keep your heads down; you know what to do." He opened the door to find himself face to face with Dietrich. "Captain?"
"This," the man said, pushing into the barracks, "is a conversation I want to listen to."
"Anything I should know?"
"Do not fall for her womanly charms," the man called from Hogan's office, and Hogan nodded at Kinch as he stepped into the weak sunlight. It was as much of a warning as a reprimand; clearly Dietrich had opinions on his womanizing heard his staff shuffle into his office, and made a beeline for Klink.
#$#$
Klink could only gape in mounting horror at the sight of the young nurse being pulled into his office, past an alarmed Hilda and a visibly horrified Langenscheidt. Hochstetter, of course, it was Hochstetter, practically pulled the frightened woman to a halt.
"Kommandant," he snarled his usual snarl, "I have a new prisoner for you." He practically shook the woman's arm, and Klink felt his entire spine snapping into place for the first time in decades.
"Unhand that woman at once," he ordered, almost shocked when the major obeyed. The major looked just as surprised. "We are gentlemen, and there is no need to harass the poor woman. I expect you to comport yourself appropriately, Major Hochstetter." He glanced at the woman, hoping the woman didn't take fright at his tone. Half was for the comfort of the poor woman, and a half was for the inevitable when Hogan marched through that door. I saw the woman being mistreated, Klink was sure that there would be absolute hell to pay, as the Americans said.
"Please," he told the trembling woman in English, "sit, Fraulein."
"She is your prisoner," Hochstetter snapped, "do not coddle her."
"She is a lady," Klink replied, summoning one of the many lessons he'd been forced to memorize as a boy. "There is no need to act like a barbarian." Just one schedule, the door opened, and Colonel Hogan waltzed in like an avenging angel.
"Colonel Klink, Major Hochstetter," the man saluted as lazily as ever and offered the woman a bow that almost resembled a proper German's bow, "nurse." He turned back to Klink. "I'm here to protest, Major Hochstetter you."
"The woman is here to stay," Hochstetter, red in the face and visibly seething with hatred with the effort that came with trying to ignore Colonel Hogan in his natural habitat, "as a prisoner!"
"She should be returned to London," Hogan argued, "and you should have contacted the Red Cross!"
"Your Kommandant is responsible for this woman now. He will contact the Red Cross, and he will be responsible for her health and safety." The sneer on his face took on an animalistic turn that startled Klink and caused the American colonel to narrow his eyes. "Fraulein Baker is now your concern as well, Colonel Hogan until she is returned. I will be keeping a close eye on both of you." With that, he turned and marched out of the office.
"Are you alright?" Hogan asked, looking uncharacteristically soft, "miss?"
"Patricia," the woman's hands fluttered at her side, and then settled in front of her, "Lieutenant Patricia Baker….nurisng corps...I'm…." she glanced at Klink, who felt his stomach squirm uncomfortably at the idea that someone was afraid of him. It wasn't as if he was cruel or evil, and he wasn't used to beautiful women cowering. She seemed to be hiding in Hogan's shadow.
"It's alright," Hogan said and knelt beside her chair, "look, it's not the worst place to sit out a war, and if the Kommandant's as efficient with his paperwork as he always it." Klink puffed up with pride when soft brown eyes focused on him. The woman's eyes looked disbelieving. "Then you'll be home free before you know it."
"Fraulein Hilda!" He called, and the woman entered with her attention focused on Hogan and the new woman. "Prepare the necessary paperwork for a transfer request from the Red Cross," he ordered. "I should like to send it out with the evening mail."
"Yes, sir." Hilda's eyes shifted to Hogan, who was, for once, keeping a respectable and gentlemanly distance from the doe-like nurse. There was a bizarre approval in her eyes, and she disappeared.
"Fraulein Baker," Klink drew himself up, and the woman's attention shifted. "I understand that this is a rather frightening situation, but I assure you that you will be treated with every courtesy."
"Anyone is a step up from the Gestapo," Hogan added, causing a small smile to lift trembling lips.
"Yes, there's that. I will have the guards rearrange the infirmary," he tried to think of where he could put her. The cooler would be impossible, certainly not in the barracks, and keeping her in the VIP quarters would be unseemly and dangerous. "I am afraid that this is the only available space, Fraulein Baker."
"I understand," her voice was soft, the most delicate American accent he had ever heard in his life, and utterly charming. "Sir...i."
"She'll need a trustworthy guard," Hogan added, standing, "sir."
"Corporal Langenscheidt should work," Fraulein Hilda appeared, passing over a packet of paper. "He usually walks me to my bus stop." She offered Nurse Baker a smile. "I can vouch for him."
"Now the rules of Stalag 13," Klink began, only for Hogan to wave him down.
"Look, can't you skip the lecture? Hochstetter just dropped her off and dumping that indoctrination speech right after that has got to be against the Geneva convention."
"Oh," Klink wavered, "no! She must know the rules! There will be no-nonsense, no person has ever successfully escaped from Stalag 13! You will be separated from the others for your own safety." He ran through the list of things he thought she might need to know and glowered at Hogan when the man added an insolent running commentary. "Until your quarters are prepared...you will remain here with Fraulein Hilda." He glanced at the woman. "Come along, Colonel Hogan. We will make the necessary arrangements."
"Right," Hogan actually saluted, which was enough to surprise Klink that he didn't notice Hilda leaning close to the woman as he left.
#$#$3
The secretary, Hilda, leaned close and offered a handkerchief to a surprised Patricia Bauer. "Are you alright?" The woman asked, "I know the major can be very frightening."
"I'm alright," Pat replied; Hilda's English was excellent. "I...I think I'm alright."
"You will be just fine here, Lieutenant Baker. Colonel Klink will expedite your paperwork, ja? "
"Do you think so?" Playing the part of a frightened woman was easy. Men fawned over themselves to protect her, they played into her hands, and American soldiers always reacted the same way. Colonel Hogan would be hers before the week was out.
$#$#
"I mean it, Colonel Hogan." Klink snapped at him. "I will not tolerate any sort of nonsense from you or your men. I won't allow the Gestapo to behave like that; I certainly expect your men to do better."
"We won't let you down," Hogan replied, watching his crew and a few of the German clean up the little infirmary and try to make a little place like home for the woman who would be here for a while. If she was a Gestapo plant, and that's exactly what it looked like, then they had to really sell it. "Look at this, Kommandant, I'm the senior POW, and that includes taking care of Lt. Baker."
"In a most gentlemanly manner," Klink snapped, "none of your taking care of her that might tempt you." Affronted, Hogan pressed a hand to his chest.
"You don't trust me, Colonel Klink? I'm insulted. Look, I'll make sure everything is good here; why don't you go start on the paperwork."
"Very well," Klink huffed, "she will be watched and guarded, Hogan. This is your first and last warning."
"Alright, alright," Hogan waved the man off and turned to Kinch as he ambled close. "Kinch?"
"I sent off to London for the name the captain gave us," Kinch pulled his cap low, watching the cozy room come together. "Patricia Bauer"
"What did our good captain have to say?"
"German-born intended to immigrate to the United States but then war broke out. German Intelligence corps, good at what she does, and she knows him."
"She knows Troy or Dietrich?" Hogan smiled at Shultz as he frowned from supervising Carter.
"Both, I think. I'm pretty sure she doesn't like him, and he knows it."
"It's a good thing that I got a heads up." Hogan sighed briefly, "alright. We'll keep it professional. Nothing inappropriate; I want everyone acting like schoolboys with a priest standing over them: no unauthorized visits, no nothing. Everyone acts like she's a saint until we get confirmation from London. We don't want to tip our hands. Everything by the book."
"Yes, sir." Kinch grinned. "Captain Troy looks like he's settling in for a show."
"Really?"
"Yes, sir." His second was grinning, this time utterly unrepentant.
"Alright, let's see if she's really all that."
#$#$#
Mavis Newkirk was not a fool. She had lived through the Battle of Britain, her brother being captured and a POW for years, and she knew that the sheer amount of Americans now in London meant something was happening.
She also knew that there were girls who went for Americans and the money they were willing to spend.
Mavis was not one of them. Thanking the two soldiers who had helped right her shop had been a one-time thing, but there they were again.
"Oi," she raised her hand, waving from the shop window. The two Americans paused and catching sight of her, waved back. Doing her best to impersonate the ladies she saw around, Mavis gestured imperiously for men to approach.
They obeyed, neither afraid nor worried, just bemused, and soon she was staring down at two men who watched her every move with battle-tested wariness.
"I'm just about to finish your next order," she told them, mostly for the benefit of the nearby shopkeeper who was eavesdropping. "Come on in, lads."
"Wouldn't want to put you out, miss," the pretty blond one offered a smile that might have melted Mavis' knees at one point. "We can always come back."
"Eh? I said I'm just about done; come in and we'll have some tea." Mavis had no idea what she was doing. She was trying to invite two strange men back into her shop for tea, but she wasn't afraid of them. Tea was strictly rationed, and she'd traded most of hers for things for her younger siblings, so she made a bit of coffee instead.
Sitting in the shop, working feverishly on order, she watched the two Americans sip at their cheap coffee without a single noise of complaint. "It's not exactly what you're used to," she said, a trifle embarrassed.
"It's better," Hitch saluted her with his chipped tea-cup and glanced at Tully. They were quiet as if they had no idea what to say or do—complete foreigners on their shores, already battle-tested and possibly adrift.
"London didn't always look like this," she said, knitting furiously. "Used to be beautiful, used ta' walk down, not worry about bombs dropping on your 'ead." She blinked back a sudden tear. "Right, you lads. "A clatter at the door surprised her, and she had hardly risen from her chair when both Hitch and Tully took up guard positions as Barnard sprinted through the door.
"Mavis!" He bawled and jerked to a halt so sudden that he fell flat on his face. Frightened, he jerked away from them, clutching at the door jam and glancing around the room. "What do you yanks want?"
"Bernard!" She scolded.
"They bothering you?" Bernard, all of 15 years old and trembling with anger, bunched up his shirt sleeves to his elbows and raised his bony fists. "Alright, lads. Leave off! Clear on out!"
"Bernard," mortified, she rose from her chair. It would have been impossible to miss the sudden too-quick way that they'd moved, anticipating an attack from the newcomer. Now they were frozen, staring at her brother as if they couldn't believe he was threatening them.
"Alright," Tully said slowly, raising his hands away from his belt in a gesture of surrender.
"We'll be going, Ms. Newkirk." Hitch nodded at her. "Bernard." Splitting up, they edged around on either side of Bernard, who followed them with narrowed eyes until they were gone. As soon as they were, she exploded over her brother.
"What was that? I invited them in 'ere!"
"They're yanks!" Barnard plants his fists on his hips, "they shouldn't be here. What do you want with them? Huh?"
"I want them over for coffee!" She exclaimed and knew that both men were long gone. It was a large city, an even bigger war, and it was only because she was trying to finish one of their orders was she going to see them again.
"Why?" Bernard asked, and she wished she could think of an answer. A good one, one that he might believe, but she couldn't even begin to think of why she wanted the strange pair around.
"What brought you up 'ere?" she demanded instead. "Barging into the shop like that?" And picked up her knitting to hear the litany of complaints her brother offered.
Outside, pacing back toward their billet, Hitch and Tully were sharing the same thought.
"Strange woman," Hitch muttered, his fingers tripping towards his gum. "What do you think she wanted?"
'Lonely," Tully muttered.
"Haven't been threatened like that since prep school," Hitch grinned, "we'll have to teach him how to throw a punch." When Tully turned his way, eyebrows lifting in concern, he shrugged. "He's got to learn sometime."
"We'll go back?"
"Sure! It's nice to see a dame and not have to flirt."
"Flirt?"
"You know," Hitch waved a hand, "you step out or meet a lady, and you have to flirt. Have to impress them with charm and such, but Ms. Newkirk doesn't want that."
"Really?" Tully sounded impressed with his deduction.
"Just get to sit there and be," Hitch told him, "that's what I want."
"Well, go back," Tully promised. "To say hi."
#$#$#$#
"What do you think?" Colonel Hogan hovered by the door as Bauer observed her little room. There was nothing spectacular about it, but it was certainly cozy for a damp little prison. The bed was made, and someone had thoughtfully put a wildflower on the pillowcase. "We did our best."
"Thank you, Colonel Hogan," she glanced out the window to see a crowd of prisoners who waved. "Colonel...I saw a man I think I recognized when that….major brought me in here."
"Oh?" Hogan looked suspicious, "Is this going to be."
"I knew him in the desert," she said hastily, "I."
"Captain Troy?" Where was the unrepentant ladies' man that Hochstetter said Hogan was? So far, he'd been treating her like a nurse and a lady, but without any of the charm. "You knew him?" There , the glance of a man who needed to verify someone's identity. She had no idea how good Dietrich was at playing American, but they clearly suspected him. Her orders were to verify if Hogan was Papa Bear or if Dietrich had defected or was sympathetic to the Allies.
"Captain? When I last saw him, he was a sergeant," she sat on the cot, grimacing at the lumpy mattress.
"We tried to get the non-lumpy mattress," the colonel assured her, folding his arms over his chest and keeping a frustratingly respectable distance. "But that's all we've got here."
"It's quite alright, Colonel." she assured him, "it's far more comfortable than sand."
"Sand?"
"North Africa," she told him, "sandpits and dust everywhere. Wreaked havoc on the patients, they were in danger of getting sand in their wounds, and if we didn't have enough water to flush them out, then all sorts of complications could arise." Hogan grimaced. "This is wonderful compared to that."
"North Africa? So you."
"I took care of Captain Troy during a nasty case of sun blindness," she told him. Troy was charming, a decent patient, and not nearly as flirtatious as some of the GI's she'd met. "Is it possible to see him again...to talk with him?"
"I don't see why not," Hogan mused, "we'd have to clear it," she winked at her. "Old friend?"
"Colonel, that's hardly appropriate."
"Sorry, sorry," he blushed, almost like a schoolboy. "I"m a little jealous. I've been here for years, and."
"I'll as if the Red Cross can air-drop in some more nurses," she offered, gratified to hear the laughter that bubbled out of him and an even more quiet chuckle from Corporal Langenscheidt.
"I'll see what I can do with Captain Troy," he moved toward the door. "Is it the hat?"
"The hat?"
"Girls are going wild over that hat," Hogan told her, looking chagrined. "Every single one wants that hat."
"I," Pat smiled, "it is the hat, sir."
"Well, great." He offered her salute and excused himself from the room, the corporal taking up his guard position on the other side of the door. Deciding it would be best to settle in and wait, she made herself comfortable on the bed and hoped she could get his assignment over with quickly.
#$#$#
The mood in Colonel Hogan's office was quiet and subdued, and as he re-entered, Hogan shook his head. "She's a spy, alright."
"What gave it away?" Carter asked.
"She addressed you as Troy," Hogan pointed to a visibly pleased Captain Dietrich. "Not anything else; she knows who you are."
"She will attempt to discredit me," Dietrich told him, "and."
"And to see if you're right about our we play this by the book, no one gets close, and one drops anything until I give the word." He was met with confirmations. "Alright, dismissed. Except you, captain." The men paused at the door, and Hogan had to turn and wave them out. When he was left alone with the former panzer commander, he grinned. "So...captain, how do you know our delightful little turncoat?"
"We encountered each other in North Africa," Dietrich's answer came after a long moment of silence followed by a reluctant sigh. "I commissioned her services after my men captured Sergeant Troy. He was unconscious and stricken with heat-stroke. Given the severity of his blisters and the lack of reaction in his pupils, we deduced that when he woke, he could not be capable of seeing for several days."
"Really?" Hogan squinted at the man. "What happened?"
"I was right," Dietrich raised his chin, not at all cowed. "When Sergeant Troy woke, he was significantly weakened and blind." The man raised a thin hand. "Only temporarily. Sun blindness wears off after a few days."
"What happened?" Hogan asked, not at all liking where this was going.
"I created the illusion that he was in an Allied aid station," the man raised his eyebrows, possibly looking into the past. "It was an excellent deception. An American trained doctor and Fraulein Bauer helped keep the illusion until we convinced Sergeant Troy to unknowingly betray his men. " It was genius, an audacious scheme worthy of Hogan himself and a little nerve-wracking to see on the other side. "My scheme ultimately failed when Sergeant Troy escaped in time to find and warn his men. I arrived at their wadi only to find an abandoned motorcycle and the dark glasses I had given the sergeant to prevent further injury to his eyes."
"So she's on file?"
"Doubtless, the embarrassment of having fallen for my trick would not prevent Sergeant Troy from reporting on two spies."
"So, let me get this straight. You tricked a man into thinking he was blind for several days trying to find out where his men were, and...you used this woman and another traitor to do it?"
"Yes, sir."
"That," Hogan took a deep breath. "Is just...that could have worked."
"It very nearly did," Dietrich answered with insulted dignity.
"And if you could do it again, what would you do?"
"Excuse me?" The man paused.
"Where did you go wrong?" Hogan asked, "you wouldn't be a good commander if you didn't go over your battles in your head and recalculate what could have happened under different circumstances. What did you do?" For several long moments, the man was quiet, visibly seething with wounded pride that he bit down long enough to answer.
"It tipped my hand too early."
"How?"
"Am I to endure your?"
"I am your commanding officer," Hogan reminded him cooly, "by your own agreement, and your trick was good, but to work with us further, you need to see the flaws in your plans. Where. Did. You. Go. Wrong?"
Dietrich straightened to military attention and continued. "I taunted Sergeant Troy by announcing my presence and informing him that he was a POW. I opened the opportunity to escape by informing him that he was a prisoner. I...compromised Fraulein Bauers position by informing Sergeant Troy of her affiliation."
"First rule of the spy business, never give up information voluntarily unless you can use it to get more. Second, gloating is on hold until the end of the war."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, how do you suggest handling her? She wants to meet you."
"I imagine to gauge if I am still loyal. If she is working with Hochstetter, then she puts my family in direct danger. If at all possible, she should be neutralized."
"Hmmm, what if Klink's paperwork really did go through," he suggested, and Dietrich's eyes widened.
"If...she was sent to London...returned? She would give them an opportunity to spy on London from within."
"Not if London can feed her the wrong information." Hogan grinned. "Would you like to help me steal a spy?"
"Yes," the man nodded, "I would."
"I'll arrange a nice little meeting between the two of you, and we'll work from there."