A big thank you to Marilyn Penner.

Brothers in Arms

Chapter 8

"Hauptmann Leidel."

Klaus growled beneath his breath, set down his coffee cup and turned toward Dinske's office. "Yes, Herr Oberst?"

Rather than answer, Dinske stepped backward into his office, one chubby hand tightly gripping the door's edge. Keeping his hatred well hidden, Klaus responded, like a well-trained dog answering its master's call. As soon as he stepped inside the office, Dinske slammed the door.

"According to the roster, you were to lead tonight's patrol of Sector Seven," Dinske snapped, fists clenched at his sides. "Yet this morning, I see that you have removed yourself from the duty and placed Hilbrandt in charge of the patrol."

"With all due respect, Herr Oberst, Hilbrandt is fully recovered from the wound to his leg. He has experience leading patrols and should be back in the rotation. He is a good soldier and I believe that with encouragement, he will become an even better one. He deserves this opportunity to gain further experience and confidence."

Dinske's jowls quivered from the force of his anger. Spinning on his heel, he went behind his desk and slammed a meaty fist down upon a pile of papers. "The change was made without my approval!"

Klaus pulled himself to attention so sharply that his back creaked in protest. "A routine personnel change did not seem reason enough to impinge upon your valuable time. You placed me in charge of all patrols to avoid such minor matters, Herr Oberst"

"There are no minor matters at this post, Leidel! Everything is of interest to me!" Dinske's eyes glittered black with rage. "I am commander, not you, and all decisions, whether you deem them important or not, will be presented to me for approval! Is that understood?"

"Jawhol, Herr Oberst," Klaus answered, exuding false respect and contrition when what he really wanted to do was spit in the other man's face.

Dinske curtly gestured to the door. "Hilbrandt will take tonight's patrol in Sector Seven. You will take the next five. Dismissed!"

Dinske's petty posturing had been forgotten by the time Klaus reached his desk. Pulling the first of the day's reports, he went to work, his attention only partially upon the task. Thoughts of the coming night kept intruding.

Tonight, Hogan, Klaus mused, closing the report and going on to the next. You and I will meet again. And this time, I will have the last laugh.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"Colonel?"

Hogan continued staring out the window of his quarters at the waning daylight, arms clasped across his chest, brow furrowed in thought.

Carter hesitantly stepped further into the room. "Colonel? Sir?"

Hogan blinked, slowly looked in his direction. "Yeah, Carter?"

"Just thought I'd let you know I'm all ready for tonight, sir." A grin, one of Carter's brightest, lit his face. "These demolition packs are my best yet. That trestle bridge will stay down this time, boy." The smile lost a little wattage as Carter realized his slip of the tongue. "Sir. They're all set, sir. I mean, they're not set, but they're ready. To be placed that is. Tonight."

"That's good." Hogan's voice lacked its usual vitality and Carter frowned.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Hogan merely raised his eyebrows.

Carter's gaze flickered around the room before coming to rest upon him again. "You seem . . . well . . . distracted?"

Warmth crept into Hogan's expression. "Just daydreaming."

"Oh," Carter murmured, sounding faintly disappointed.

Hogan took a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out in a prolonged sigh. Carter waited, thinking Hogan was grappling with how to voice his thoughts. When several moments passed in silence, Carter softly cleared his throat.

"I'm good at listening, Colonel. Really."

The warmth returned to Hogan's expression, his brown eyes sparkling in the room's dim light. "Thanks, Carter, but I can't discuss it since I can't figure out what it is in the first place."

Carter gave him a wide-eyed look. "Uh, sir? You're starting to sound like me now."

Hogan laughed. Slinging his arm around Carter's shoulder, he started walking him to the door. "If I figure out what it is, Carter, I'll let you know." Pausing in the doorway, he faced the young man. "Thanks."

Carter smiled. "It's a standing offer, sir. Anytime."

He left and Hogan gently closed the door. Alone once more, Hogan's smile vanished and he returned to the window. He was still there when Kinch called him for evening assembly.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

A still, moonless night had fallen outside the abandoned, ramshackle barn. Stands of trees surrounded the structure, some growing so close that they appeared to have sprouted from its rock and mortar foundation. Inside the barn and behind dirt and cobweb-encrusted windows, a single lantern, its wick trimmed low, cast weak light. Far beyond the light's reach, Hermann stood framed in the doorway staring out at the darkness. A black shirt hung from the fingertips of his hand. His jaw flexed once, twice, and then he closed the door and returned to Klaus.

"Why do you believe that they will go out tonight?"

Klaus, kneeling, looked up from tying his boot. "There are several reasons. For one, the odds are in our favor considering their activity over the last month."

Hermann's lips pursed. "Our luck has not been the best, lately. And they may not be responsible for all of the sabotage around Stalag 13." He pulled his shirt on, slowly started buttoning it.

"True," Klaus conceded, standing and looking around for his jacket. "However, most of the sabotage exhibits the same boldness and innovative imagination. The same imagination that would locate an underground unit in a P.O.W. camp." Beaming confidently, he added, "And I feel lucky tonight."

A corner of Hermann's mouth lifted in a smirk. "Oh. Well. That makes all the difference. But luck or not, Klaus, how do we find them? We don't know how they leave and enter Stalag 13. We also don't --"

"I didn't get a chance to show you the report we received today," Klaus interrupted in a contemplative tone.

Confusion passed over Hermann's face at the seemingly random comment. "What report?"

"The repairs to the Haini trestle bridge have been completed. The supply trains are due to begin running again tomorrow."

"Making the bridge a primary target again. But it doesn't necessarily follow that he will try for it tonight."

Klaus shrugged. "I have . . ."

"A hunch?" Hermann cut in with a faint smile.

Klaus looked toward one of the filthy windows. "Destroying the bridge before it re-opens would be demoralizing. It would also keep a vital part of the supply line down. The opportunity is too good for him to pass up." His gaze swung back to Hermann. "I wouldn't."

"The bridge, then," Hermann declared. He started tucking his shirt into somber black trousers.

Klaus hooked an arm into his jacket and pulled it on. His clothing mirrored Hermann's: all black to blend into the night. Once fully dressed, their clothing would absorb the light, hiding them from their prey. Used oil would cover their faces, further disguising them. Dipping two fingers into a pot of the slick liquid, he started smearing it over his face. As he finished, he glanced sidelong at his friend. Hermann's expression was distracted beneath the oily camouflage.

Klaus reached out and swiped oil across his friend's chin. "You missed a spot."

Hermann's sigh was long and loud, but his smile (now underscored by a greasy smear) negated it. "Ever so kind of you," he responded as he slipped into his own jacket. "May I point out, Optimistic One, that getting inside is only the first step. The real challenge will be convincing them that we are on their side. A task, I might add, that will be made even more difficult if Hogan is as formidable as you claim."

Klaus paused in the act of wiping his hands clean. "Yes."

"There is a good chance that we may end up dead." Hermann looked longingly at the holster and gun lying on his discarded clothing.

"Possibly."

"Any brilliant ideas to keep that from happening?"

Klaus zipped his jacket and let his hands drop to his sides. "Just one. We must be very, very . . .very careful tonight."

Hermann stared back at him. "How utterly insightful of you." Turning away, he quickly gathered their clothing and guns and stowed them inside a barrel set against one of the walls.

"It only just came to me." Klaus sauntered out the door and into the night. Hermann blew out the lantern's flame and strolled after him.

"I'm in the presence of a true leader."

Klaus' soft laughter floated toward the stars.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

True to Carter's prediction, his demolition packs felled the trestle bridge for a second time in a dazzling display of pyrotechnics. Hogan stood with his men at a safe distance and watched the timber and iron bridge disintegrate. Kinch's words haunted him, muting the satisfaction he usually felt after successfully completing a mission. Subdued, he led the way back to Stalag 13. Once gathered near the stump hiding an entrance to their tunnel system, he pointed at each man in succession. Carter signaled thumbs up, acknowledging the order to go first. The searchlight flashed by. Carter dashed to the stump, raised its hinged lid and dropped out of sight.

Another sweep of the light and Newkirk followed, moving fast and low to the ground. LeBeau readied himself for the right moment to take his turn. Hogan sat back on his heels to await his own. Keeping an eye on LeBeau, he opened his senses to their surroundings.

The spring rains had packed the air with humidity. The high moisture sharpened odors, muffled sounds, and made everything, including clothing, feel damp and heavier than normal. All around them, condensation gathered and slid from leaf tips in fat drops, hitting the ground with muted plops.

Hogan inhaled deeply, his nose wrinkling at the musty tang of rotting vegetation. He started to look toward Kinch and went still instead. For a split second, the air had carried another scent -- one that didn't belong, that he couldn't identify.

LeBeau sprinted away. The searchlight swept past again and Kinch started forward. Hogan tugged him back, leaned in close and whispered, "Do you smell something?"

Kinch pulled in a deep breath. Then another.

"Lots of stuff. Anything in particular?"

Hogan tipped his head back and sniffed several times. "It's gone. For a second, I could've sworn . . ." his whisper trailed off and he continued testing the air. The searchlight passed, briefly illuminating the area. Kinch's knee dropped to the ground, steadying his crouch.

"What did it smell like?"

"I can't say, but it was familiar."

Kinch nodded to their left, to a clump of small, white flowers nestled at the foot of a tree. "Those wild flowers, maybe?"

"Maybe." Hogan breathed deep again. "It's gone now."

"Shift in the breeze." Kinch glanced back at the tunnel entrance. The light from the guard tower swept over it again.

"The guys will be out looking for us if we don't get a move on, Colonel."

"Yeah," Hogan murmured, still looking around. "Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."

"I've heard that one before," Kinch complained under his breath. He braced forward like a runner awaiting the starting pistol, then at the passing of the searchlight, lifted the entrance lid and dropped below ground.

A tingle danced up Hogan's spine, raising the hair on the nape of his neck. He stared hard at the surrounding bushes and trees, looking for anything to explain his uneasiness. There was nothing. But that persistent tingle along his nerves said otherwise.

The searchlight made another two passes before he dropped through the entrance into the tunnel. Kinch was waiting near the foot of the ladder, LeBeau, Newkirk and Carter pressed close in a semi-circle at his back.

"Get out of sight," Hogan ordered. We've got company." They immediately dispersed and the tunnel fell quiet.

Minutes crawled by and Hogan started to wonder if he had been wrong. Suddenly, he heard the stump's lid open with a scraping noise and an eddy of cool air washed through the tunnel. Cautiously, careful not to make a sound, he peeked around the corner. Black booted feet slowly descended the ladder. Without even realizing it, Hogan took a firmer grip on his gun.

Leidel!

His eyes narrowing, Hogan watched the familiar figure clothed head to toe in black step off the ladder, making way for his companion to descend. The second man was taller than Klaus, heavily muscled, with black hair, dark, slightly vulpine features, and bright hazel eyes. Those eyes avidly looked around and settled on the alarm wire strung from the entrance lid and along the ceiling bracing. Hogan watched him tap Klaus on the shoulder and point out the wire. Klaus followed the wire with his eyes into the tunnel ahead, and then indicated a course that would take them past Hogan's position.

Hogan pulled back and flattened against the wall. Once they had walked by, he slipped in behind them.

"Forget to lock the back door and all kinds of seedy characters wander in."

The two men instantly went still. Kinch, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk came into view, guns raised.

"Yeah, and here we are feeling cranky and all around inhospitable." Newkirk's unfriendly grin reinforced his declaration. He waggled his gun at the two Germans. "Very rude to drop in without ringing ahead first."

"Happens every time," Carter quipped out of the corner of his mouth to LeBeau. "When you don't want company, you get it."

The Frenchman ignored him, continued glaring at the Germans with hostility.

"Clasp your hands behind your heads and don't move." Hogan waited until they had obeyed, then motioned Kinch and Newkirk forward to check them for weapons.

Kinch's face and voice were puzzled as he finished frisking Klaus. "Nothing, Colonel."

"Same here," Newkirk reported, giving a hard slap to the other German's powerful chest. The hazel eyes briefly contemplated him, then slid back to Hogan as if dismissing Newkirk's presence.

No weapons and cool as a couple of cucumbers in July, Hogan mused, eyeing the Germans. They returned his regard, appearing completely unconcerned with the situation.

"I'm forgetting my manners," Klaus purred, a sly smile slowly forming. He indicated his companion with a tiny sideways hitch of his head. "Hermann Nuechterlein."

The big German gave a single nod. Hogan remained stockstill. In the back of his mind, a red light had started flashing with strobe-like intensity.

"Hermann," Klaus continued smoothly, sly smile still in place. "This is Colonel Robert E. Hogan. We know him better as Papa Bear."

The strobe flared white hot at the same time a quiet gasp sounded from someone at Hogan's back. With detached interest, he noted Hermann's eyes crinkle with silent laughter.

"How many are with you?" Hogan asked, making no mention of Klaus' revelation.

"There is no one else," Klaus answered calmly.

Hogan knew better than to take the answer at face value. He beckoned to LeBeau and Carter. "Check it out. Kinch, ask Baker if Klink's gotten any calls or visitors tonight while we've been gone. And see if anything unusual is going on in the camp. Extra guards hanging about, extra dogs, Klink watching out his window – anything. We'll take our guests someplace more secure."

With Newkirk bringing up the rear, Hogan led the Germans deeper into the tunnel system, where noise was easier to cover. After seating them at a table, Hogan took a position directly before them, while Newkirk positioned himself to one side.

Klaus cocked his head and peered up at Hogan. "What gave us away?"

"Your cologne. I caught a whiff of it outside and remembered it from Klink's party. That's the only question you get to ask. The rest are mine. You think I'm Papa Bear?"

Klaus' small grin held a hint of mischief. "Positive. Colonel Klink was very helpful with solving the mystery."

Hogan allowed a few moments to pass before taking the bait. "I doubt that."

Klaus' shoulder twitched in a shrug. "His supper invitation to Risa set events in motion, so he was indirectly responsible. But actually . . . you betrayed your true identity." Klaus settled back in his chair, smugly satisfied, and laced his fingers together on top of the table.

Hogan didn't react, unlike Newkirk. His eyes darted toward Hogan before returning to the Germans.

"They were telling the truth," LeBeau called out as he and Carter returned from scouting around. His tone was grudging, suspicion darkening the glare that he aimed at the table's occupants.

"Nothing out there except a couple of grouchy raccoons." Carter pulled off his black knit cap, glanced curiously at Klaus and Hermann. "I think we might have interrupted a date."

Kinch ran into the room, panting slightly from a fast trip. "All's quiet topside. Nobody's here who shouldn't be and Klink is sound asleep."

"By coming to Klink's quarters last night," Klaus continued, ignoring the interruption. "you gave yourself away as well as the location where you and your men have been hiding. It was a relief to stop searching for you after so long."

"Why would you be looking for me in the first place? We only met last night."

"Ah, but I had seen you before. Several times, in fact. And each time, you were engaged in suspicious activities."

Hogan tipped his head to one side, flashed a grin. "You must be talking about someone else."

Anger glinted in the silver-gray eyes and a muscle bunched in Klaus' jaw. "Oh, no. I am talking about you, Papa Bear. Colonel Hogan. Whatever you wish to be called. Let us stop playing games. We are here to offer a proposal to you."

Hogan raised an eyebrow, deliberately provoking him with a mocking tone. "Do tell."

Klaus' eyes narrowed, but his own tone held steady. "Joining our forces would be mutually beneficial."

Exclamations of disbelief erupted around the room. Without breaking eye contact with Klaus, Hogan raised his hand and flicked his fingers, instantly obtaining silence.

"We have been pooling resources and gathering allies for some time," Klaus went on. "But our network is still in the formative stages and what we have accomplished against Germany's war effort is piecemeal, at best. While you have already done so much, you could still do more. We have access to places and information that you do not. You have allies and contacts that we do not. If we combine forces, we will be much stronger than we are alone."

Hogan barked a short, derisive laugh. "You've got some imagination."

"You were right about him," Klaus complained under his breath to Hermann.

"Anything worth having is worth fighting for," Hermann returned, watching Hogan with a coldly analytical stare. "He has not remained alive this long and accomplished so much by being stupid."

"'Allo?" Newkirk snapped peevishly, waving his gun between them. "We happen to be in the same room."

LeBeau pushed forward, jostling Carter aside. "Filthy Boche! Let's shoot them and dump their bodies in the woods."

Hermann's head slowly turned toward LeBeau. "You are a very unfriendly person, aren't you?"

LeBeau uttered a string of French invectives and spat at Hermann's feet.

"I cannot take you anywhere," Klaus grumbled, looking at his friend from the corner of his eye.

With a shrug of his heavy shoulders, Hermann slouched back in his chair as if settling in for a nap. His hooded eyes swung back to Hogan again.

Maintaining a watchful eye on Hermann, Hogan addressed Klaus. "Shooting you sounds pretty attractive right now." Even if you are Kurt's cousin, his inner voice added.

"Undoubtedly," Klaus agreed with a tip of his head.

"It would, however, ruin my day," Hermann muttered. His gaze remained trained on Hogan, unwavering and intense.

Klaus did not move, but Hogan sensed a minute increase of tension in his posture. Not feeling so cool anymore, are you?he thought with a touch of glee.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't just shoot you and call it a night."

"I'll give you ten," Klaus shot back, sitting up straight once more. "At this very moment in a warehouse on the western edge of Stuttgart, a convoy of ten trucks is being loaded."

Hogan's eyelids drooped in apparent boredom. "How interesting."

Klaus took a deep breath. "The convoy will leave at dawn for its final destination. Unfortunately, we did not learn where that is."

Kinch edged closer, his quick glance with Hogan urging caution. "An operation like that would be hard to keep secret."

Klaus nodded. "Command has been forced to resort to more circumspect means of communication due to the efficiency of underground units such as yours."

Beaming with pride, Carter elbowed LeBeau. The Frenchman grunted, squinted his eyes in warning.

Newkirk rapped the table top with the barrel of his gun. "If it's so secret, how do the two of you know about it then?"

"Working at Wehrmacht headquarters allows us many advantages. Our commander, Colonel Dinske, had a visitor last week. A very distinguished bookish type, who looked as out of place with Dinske as a ballerina would look with a dancing bear."

"Now that's out of place," Carter chuckled, causing LeBeau's eyes to roll heavenward.

"This man's name was Folger and he was carrying a briefcase chained to his wrist. That piqued our curiosity further, of course."

"Oh, of course," Newkirk sniped. Irritated at the interruptions, Hogan glared at his men, silently warning them not to do it again.

"Dinske and Folger went into Dinske's office. The door to the office is slightly sprung, and if not closed tightly, will come ajar. Luck was with us. The door worked open and I was able to overhear most of their conversation. Folger grilled Dinske about the high level of sabotage activity in the area. He was concerned about security and went on at length about how vital it was that the convoy reach its destination. At one point, he took some papers out of the case and spread them on Dinske's desk. It sounded as though he was trying to explain something to Dinske, but I couldn't continue to linger outside the office without drawing suspicion. I made up a reason to enter the office and managed to see two of the papers on the desk. One was a map, which was partially covered by a list of chemicals."

Keeping his voice level and his face expressionless, Hogan asked, "Just for the sake of curiosity . . . What chemicals?"

"The list was written with symbols, some alone, some in combination. My knowledge of chemistry is rudimentary and so I didn't recognize most of them. I was hoping someone here might. If I may have a pencil and paper, I will show you exactly what I saw."

Kinch obligingly provided paper and pencil. Klaus started scribbling, his hand moving across the paper without hesitation. Hogan watched; one eyebrow hitching upward as a list grew until a quarter of the paper had been filled. Putting down the pencil, Klaus shoved the paper across the table to Hogan.

"Carter, come here." Hogan moved over, allowing Carter a good view of the paper. The sergeant read silently, his eyes growing rounder with each second.

"Holy cats, Colonel," Carter breathed. "Mixing some of these would produce really nasty stuff. If he's on the level, whatever the Krauts are planning, it's bound to be something . . ." he faltered, obviously groping for a word. "Well . . . nasty."

Klaus slammed a fist down on the paper, pinning it to the table and startling Carter so badly that he jumped backward with a yelp. "The convoy must be destroyed before it leaves Stuttgart!"

Hogan tilted his head to one side, acted puzzled. "You think we've got a few planes stuck in our back pockets?"

"Why not?" Klaus snapped, his control finally slipping a little. "Those explosives you used tonight on the Haina trestle bridge had to come from somewhere!" His voice turned heavily sarcastic. "That's the second time you have destroyed it. The repetition must be wearing."

If Hogan read the other man correctly, a nudge would blow the lid right off Klaus' temper. Staring into the gray eyes, he put on his cockiest smile.

Klaus jerked to his feet. Hermann shot to his a scant second later. Every gun in the room cocked and trained upon them. A few tense moments passed while everyone glared at each other. Then, slowly, Klaus and Hermann lowered themselves into their seats again, and the guns returned to their former positions.

Hogan lazily scratched at his chin. "I've got a few more questions."

Klaus let out a growl. "We're running out of time!"

"We've got as much time as I say," Hogan snapped, letting his own temper show. "That was quite a list you whipped out. You expect me to believe that you just memorized it on the spot?"

"I have a photographic memory." The information was given with obvious reluctance.

"So you can recall anything you've seen or read?"

Klaus nodded.

Hogan studied him, quickly thought up a test. "Kinch," he said in a languid voice. "get that copy of the Geneva Convention from my quarters."

Klaus let out a deep sigh and slumped back in his chair, arms folding loosely across his chest.

Kinch returned quickly with the rat-eared book. Hogan took it and started flipping pages, looking for a lengthy Article. Coming to one, he held out the book to Klaus.

"Article 23."

Silence settled upon the room as Klaus began to read. Hogan's men exchanged laughing glances, clearly anticipating failure.

"I'm done," Klaus declared, returning the book much quicker than Hogan had expected. Holding his finger at Article 23, he nodded, indicating Klaus could begin.

Staring straight ahead as if reading from an invisible blackboard, Klaus recited in a monotone:

Subject to private arrangements between belligerent Powers, and particularly those provided in Article 24, officers and persons of equivalent status who are prisoners of war shall receive from the detaining Power the same pay as officers of corresponding rank in the armies of that Power, on the condition, however, that this pay does not exceed that to which they are entitled in the armies of the country which they have Served. This pay shall be granted them in full, once a month if possible, and without being liable to any deduction for expenses incumbent on the detaining Power, even when they are in favor of the prisoners.

An agreement between the belligerents shall fix the rate –1

"That's enough." Hogan stared at Klaus with a measure of awe, watched the other man shake himself, as if coming out of a trance.

"He didn't miss a single word," Hogan explained to his slack-jawed men. They were as bug-eyed as he felt. Even LeBeau looked impressed.

Carter flinched when Newkirk reached over and closed his gaping mouth. "Gosh," Carter murmured. "School would have been a breeze if I'd had a memory like that."

"Could have helped with all those tech manuals," Kinch muttered.

Klaus gazed up at Hogan. "What more do I have to do to convince you?"

Realizing that time was indeed getting short, Hogan jumped to his next question. "You said you saw me before."

Klaus nodded. "The first time was on the Hammelburg road. I was in charge of the patrol that interrupted your meeting. After drawing our fire away from the woman, you ran into the woods. You were wounded. I trailed you to the river and could have easily shot you as you crossed or when you stopped on the other bank. But I let you go. When my men caught up with me, I told them that you must have doubled back. The next time was at the logging bridge. They," Klaus pointed to Carter and Newkirk. "were with you. Kurt was there, also. The four of you rescued a woman and child who had fallen from the bridge. The woman was hurt. When you left the bridge, I made a lucky guess and got to the Metzger's farm ahead of you. It was there that I discovered General Ryker was with you, and that Kurt and his parents were involved with the Resistance. When I visited my uncle and aunt the next day, I sensed that you were all hiding in the back room. I could have arrested Kurt and his parents and captured all of you. I could have also captured Ryker and had him charged with treason. Yet I turned a blind eye again and said nothing about what I had discovered. Not even while the Gestapo tore Germany apart searching for Ryker."

"Why did you let me go at the river?" Hogan asked bluntly, abandoning all pretence. "You couldn't have known, then, who I was."

"No. But I couldn't kill a man with such determination." The smooth baritone carried a trace of discomfort. As if Klaus found it galling to admit any admiration for him. Hogan felt a flare of amusement, which faded as he tossed out his next question.

"And the Metzgers? You allowed traitors --"

"Traitors?" Klaus hissed, jerking forward and grabbing the edge of the table with both hands. "Hitler is the traitor to our country! Not my family!"

Against his will, Hogan felt a flash of respect for the other man. The gray eyes were dilated with fury, the lean frame visibly trembling from it.

Klaus' hands clenched so hard that his knuckles popped. "Enough questions! Consider this, Hogan! After last night, we knew the location of your base and could have easily shut down your entire operation without endangering ourselves. Instead, we came here unarmed and placed ourselves in your hands, trusting that you would have sense enough to know that we are telling the truth! We are on the same side! Our goal is the same," he pressed. "Our fight is the same. Work with us, Hogan." He hesitated, then forced through gritted teeth, "Please."

Hogan allowed a lop-sided smile to slip out. "That hurt, didn't it?"

This time Klaus remained silent. Hermann sat beside him like a dark statue, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Well," Hogan finally drawled. "since you said 'please'."

To be continued . . .

1 The Avalon Project at the Yale Law School; Convention Between the United States of America and Other Powers, Relating to Prisoners of War; July 27, 1929.