Chapter Ten

"We're late," Klaus growled, jogging faster. He threw up an arm to knock a branch aside, ducked under another, and hopped over a muddy deer trail.

"There are only so many hours in the night," came Hermann's panted reply from close behind him.

"Perhaps Dinske will sleep late, or his car will break down, or he'll be sick --"

Hermann smoothly leaned left, avoiding a lash to the face from an evergreen bough. "As long as you're asking for miracles," he puffed, vaulting a rotting log. "could you request that the war end tomorrow?"

A smile flashed across Klaus' face. "I'll add it to the list." A sturdy branch clipped the top of his head as he ran beneath it. Muttering an oath, he rubbed at the spot without breaking stride. "Is he still back there?" he asked, not looking back or slowing his pace.

Hermann checked behind them. "Yes."

"Good. I wouldn't want Hogan to think that we had knocked him off the trail because we have something to hide."

"We're all but leading him by the hand," Hermann huffed. "Stay away from there, that bank looks unstable."

Klaus easily changed direction and skirted the small, brackish stream. Throwing a glance over his shoulder at Hermann, he said, "If that's what it takes to get them past their suspicion then I'll personally carry him all the way to town on my back."

"You have always had a bad habit of bringing home strays."

Klaus checked the sun, now fully above the trees. "Move faster."

"What about Newkirk?"

"Tell him to move faster, too!"

"That would spoil his belief that we are unaware of his presence."

Klaus laughed, slightly breathless from their speed. "Who do you suppose he'll follow when we split up?"

"Me. He doesn't like me."

"You weren't at your best."

"We will meet you at headquarters."

"You think he'll follow that far?"

"He's back there for a reason."

"Good point. Remember, it's your morning to bring the crullers."

"I may be a few minutes late. Those new boots are still stiff and difficult to get --" Hermann slipped in some mud. Regaining his balance, he picked up his stride and pulled even with Klaus. "Do not let Grauer take the last of the coffee. Throw yourself in front of the pot if you must. I need that coffee this morning if I'm to stay awake."

"Come between Grauer and the coffee?" Klaus exclaimed, giving him a look of mock horror. "Oh, the sacrifices we make in the name of friendship."

"Now who's being dramatic?"

Klaus squinted into the brilliant morning sun. "We are so late!"

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The warning for evening roll call finally sounded, bringing to an end a day that had felt more like a year. Head down, Hogan followed the crowd of men outside and took his place in line. His thoughts were miles away in Hammelburg, on what might have transpired while he stood around marking time. The weight of his wristwatch seemed to drag at his arm, but he refused to glance at it again. It would not change the hour, nor bring Newkirk back any sooner.

Boots thudding on wood brought Hogan's head up and he peered across the compound, took his first look at Klink since morning roll call. The kommandant had been holed up in his headquarters all day, had stridently refused Hogan's attempts to see him. The blue funk, Hogan reasoned, was probably tied to Risa Leidel's brief, chilly response to Klink's first phone call of the day. His other calls to her flat – twelve in all -- had gone unanswered. Chewing pensively on his lower lip, Hogan watched Klink stomp toward them, his head thrust forward from between hunched shoulders, a scowl pinching his face.

"SCHULTZ!"

"Jawhol, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz's voice quavered and his eyes nervously rolled toward Hogan, seeking reassurance or possibly courage.

Hogan lightly tapped his own chest, over the same spot where he had tucked two chocolate bars into Schultz's uniform that morning. Schultz's upper lip twitched upward, approximating a weak grin, and he hurried to report that all prisoners were accounted for. Klink, still preoccupied with Risa, accepted the report, dismissed the men, and disappeared once more into his bolt hole.

Hogan swiveled to face Kinch. "Anything?" The sergeant slowly shook his head, dashing Hogan's brief moment of hope.

Facing forward again, he stared beyond the camp's fence as if trying to conjure Newkirk back. He still believed that the two Germans were on the level and really did want to join the Resistance. The convoy had been blown. That much was true. On the other hand, the entire mission could have been a set-up to make him lower his guard and let Leidel and Nuechterlein into his good graces. The Germans might sacrifice a warehouse and ten trucks if they were after something bigger. Bringing down an entire sabotage network qualified.

Carter, wearing a shadow of his usual sunny smile, suddenly appeared beside him. "You know Newkirk, Colonel," he said with forced cheer. "He's probably stopped off somewhere to eat."

Hogan gave no sign that he had heard. His eyes remained fixed upon the horizon, his thoughts closed to the young man. After a few moments, Carter quietly went into the barracks, leaving him to his solitary post.

A guard came by shortly afterward and irritably ordered Hogan inside for the night. Before closing the barracks' door, he paused and glanced past the fence one last time. The last, faint rays of sunlight backlit the woods and in the distance, he could hear the nightbirds starting to call. As he watched, the sunlight died and the woods became a solid, black wall. Suddenly, it felt as if Newkirk was even farther away than before.

Hogan pulled the door shut. It had been a long day. The night held the possibility of being longer still.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"He's back!"

Carter's excited call roused Hogan out of his quarters. Newkirk sat at the table next to Kinch, blearily staring into a cup of coffee cradled between his palms. A plate of untouched food lay cooling near his elbow. Hogan gently grasped his shoulder, silently sending his relief at seeing him back safe. Newkirk acknowledged the gesture with a tired grin and took another sip of his coffee.

Hogan sat down at the table. "Tell us what you found out and then get some shut eye."

Newkirk set the cup down and pulled the plate closer. "Well, they split up just outside of town. Couldn't go with both, so I took Hermann. Seemed the thing to do since London had already researched Leidel." He forked some food into his mouth and slowly chewed. "Hermann went into a flat on Stronheim and was in there about fifteen minutes. When he came out, he was in uniform -- Wehrmacht. Then he made a beeline for the bakery --"

"The bakery?" Carter interrupted.

Newkirk frowned. "Yeah, the bakery. Krauts eat breakfast, too, Andrew. Crullers, in this case. Saw the baker pull them out of the tray myself."

"Hey, I was right!" Carter crowed. "You did stop off for something to eat!"

Newkirk blinked at him, looking completely bewildered.

LeBeau tapped him on the shoulder. "He didn't see you, did he?"

"Hermann or the baker?" Newkirk asked in confusion.

LeBeau made a flustered sound. "Neuchterlein!"

Newkirk flushed from the perceived insult. "Of course, he didn't see me! You're forgetting who you're talking to."

"Could we finish this before I retire?" Hogan inquired mildly.

"As I was saying . . ." Newkirk shot a glare at LeBeau and Carter. "He picked up his crullers and went on to a building on Lingenstrasse. Wehrmacht headquarters. Leidel was probably already in the building cause I never saw him go in. After an hour passed by with no sight of them, I went back to Hermann's building and asked around." Each statement had been accompanied by a wave of his fork. He put it down now and rubbed at his temple. "According to the nice little widow on the third floor, ol' Hermann has lived there for almost two years. He's a nice young man, all polite and helpful. Carries her packages for her, takes care of her moggy whenever she's visiting her sister in -- "

"What's a moggy?" Carter burst out. "Is it some kind of fish? I used to have a whole aquarium full of them, but never any moggies. Just goldfish, catfish, mollies -- Did you mean a molly? That'd be real strange, because usually --"

Newkirk dropped his head into his hands. "It's a bloomin' cat!" he moaned.

Hogan thought it best to speak up before the discussion got completely derailed. "What else did you find out?"

Newkirk lifted his head out of his hands. "He's pretty much a loner. Hangs around mainly with one only person and that's Leidel. She's quite taken with Leidel, she is; got all dreamy-eyed about him and here she is in her seventies if she's a day."

Hogan's blank stare indicated he had heard enough of that particular subject.

Newkirk cleared his throat. "Well, that's as much as I learned from her. I went down to the market next and asked Max if he knew either one of our new friends. Said he did. That both of them came in about once a week, but they didn't buy much -- "

Hogan smacked the table with the palm of his hand. "Is there anything of real importance in all this?"

"Nothing much," Newkirk shrugged, looking slightly abashed. "Judging by what everyone told me, they're not around much, but when they are, they're usually together. Like two peas in a pod. They're polite, aren't ill-tempered like all the other Krauts hanging around the neighborhood. The two of them are pretty well tolerated, all told. That's a surprise, if you're asking me, seeing that they're soldiers an all."

"We could ask Kurt to visit Leidel," Kinch suggested quietly. "They're cousins, after all."

"The doc probably would know Hermann," Newkirk murmured, absently running a finger tip around the rim of his cup. "Hermann lived with Leidel's family when he was growing up." He waved his hand, forestalling questions. "He didn't cough up much more than that. Very closed-mouth is ol' Hermann." As though talking to himself, he added, "And very protective of his buddy."

"So the doc --" Kinch began.

Hogan shook his head emphatically. "No. If this goes sour in some way, I want Kurt as far away as possible."

Kinch sighed, braced an elbow on the table and rested his chin in a palm.

"Boy, the doc would sure be mad if he heard you talking like that," Carter said with a smile and short laugh. He slowly shook his head.

Hogan frowned. "That's why he's not going to hear about it. Right, Carter?"

Carter kept right on smiling and shaking his head. Hogan's frown turned to a scowl.

"Right, Carter?"

LeBeau reached over the table and slapped Carter across the chest with the back of his hand. Carter's look of surprise passed from him to Hogan. "Oh. Yeah. Right, sir." His voice picked up speed along with his enthusiasm. "Not a peep. Mum's the word. My lips are zipped. Couldn't pull -- "

"Somebody stuff a sock in him!" Newkirk wailed, jamming the heels of his hands into his eyes, splayed fingers clutching at his hair.

Olsen obligingly walked up behind Carter and wrapped his hands around his head, effectively cutting off the flow.

Newkirk sighed in relief and dropped his hands. His eyes opened to slits and fuzzily turned toward Hogan. "Now what?"

Hogan stood and patted him on the back. "You get some rest. I'm going to give cousin Klaus and his buddy Hermann some more thought."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The sound of knuckles rapping on wood pulled Hogan from a light sleep. He blinked, rubbed at eyes that felt full of sand, and squinted toward the window. The faint glow of sunrise was filtering into the room from between the shutters. A new day. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

Groaning softly, he struggled off the bed and stumbled to the door.

Kinch was waiting on the other side. His grin was apologetic as he held up a small slip of paper. "The quiet's come to an end, Colonel."

Hogan took the note and walked toward his desk to turn on the lamp. He read Tiger's message and coordinates, then read them again. His shins came up hard against the chair. Slowly, he turned and sat down, his eyebrows migrating into his hairline.

"You're sure you got this right?"

Kinch chuckled from the relative comfort of Hogan's bunk. "I had them repeat everything just to be sure."

"That's right in the middle of town, at the most expensive place around. Even Goebels is said to have eaten at this place when he passed through town once."

Kinch's grin widened and his dark eyes sparkled. "Maybe she's hinting that you've been neglecting her."

Hogan waggled his head, pantomimed laughter.

"You might want to stop by the printing room and pad your wallet before you leave tonight," Kinch suggested, giving Hogan a smile that was all teeth.

Outside, Schultz bellowed for morning roll call. Hogan stood, ripped the paper into shreds and let the pieces flutter onto Kinch's palm.

"You know what they say about the guy who laughs last, don't you?"

Kinch pretended to think about it as Hogan grabbed his cap off the top bunk. "He's usually the last one to get the joke?"

"Take it on the road, Kinch," Hogan said, donning his cap and pushing it to a rakish angle. "Take it on the road."

Laughing, Kinch dumped the scraps in the waste can and followed his commander outside.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tiger stayed in the shadows around the market, uneasily keeping watch around her. Very few people were out alone at this time of night, making her presence more noticeable as she waited for Hogan. A less conspicuous area would have been a wiser choice. But this was the most practical, considering she was out of practice walking in high heels. She glanced down at herself, smiled.

It is lovely to wear something other than my usual drab clothing.

She had dressed to accent her best features. Her belted, simple dress of deep gold showed off her tiny waist, while the slightly scooped neckline complimented her heart-shaped face. A gold chain necklace and the small clutch borrowed from a friend completed her understated, yet elegant look. Tonight, she was both agent and lover.

She took several steps away from the market and stopped, gazing around with a frown.

"He is late," she muttered, then let out a peep of surprise as arms slid around her waist from behind. Warmth spread through her as a voice, husky with tenderness, whispered in her ear.

"I got held up. Forgive me?"

She turned in his arms, looked up into the face that haunted her dreams. "Forgiven," she whispered against the lips hovering over her own. His kiss was light and quick, and she mock frowned at him.

"We're a little exposed here," he explained, brown eyes twinkling.

A loud, drawn-out rumble surprised them into laughter. Tiger slipped her hand between the buttons of his suit coat, rubbed his stomach.

"LeBeau must not be feeding you enough."

"We've been busy."

She pulled back a little, looked closely at his face. "Is that why you look so tired?"

He gave her another quick kiss. "Why the fancy meeting place?"

"You are changing the subject," she chided in a sing-song voice. Rather than answer, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and began guiding her down the sidewalk. She let herself relax, knowing he would be on the look-out for trouble.

He had come dressed for the occasion, looked very handsome and distinguished in a navy blue suit, white shirt and dark tie. Together, they would appear a striking couple, out for a romantic evening.

Only my beau, she thought as she glanced at his profile. is a highly respected and feared underground leader with a penchant for trouble – for both causing it and fixing it.

The impression of a romantic evening grew stronger once they were seated inside the restaurant. The large, vaulted room was dimly lit, lending an atmosphere that encouraged intimate conversation. Small, round tables were decorated with burgundy linens, a candle, and flowers in delicate, fluted vases. A small group of musicians played quietly from a tastefully curtained alcove. It was all very beautiful, very sophisticated. And for them, it was also very dangerous. For no matter the surface impression of a date, they were Underground agents and they were not here for romance.

Tiger unfolded her embroidered napkin onto her lap, letting her gaze drift about the room. Couples were scattered about at other tables, while here and there, men in high-ranking uniforms talked quietly over food and drinks. Her gaze was eventually drawn across the table and a smile came to her unbidden. The candlelight had softened Hogan's face and his brown eyes appeared even darker as they took note of everything and everyone around them. She sighed, wishing the war were over and that they were free to enjoy their time together without fear.

Until that day, she intended to treasure each moment they had together. For she never knew when it might be their last.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"This place would break Fort Knox," Hogan remarked under his breath, perusing the menu. He glanced up as she laughed softly.

"That is your sensible nature speaking."

He grinned, closed the gilt-edged menu and laid it aside. "You can say that again." Shifting in his chair, he looked about the room once more.

His attention was drawn to a LuftWaffe officer sitting alone at a table set apart from the others. A waiter hovered close by, pencil poised above a pad. There was nothing spectacular about the solitary diner. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, average build, average height, with dark, brown hair and a mustache. What had piqued Hogan's curiosity was that he was eating alone in a dining room filled with couples and groups of other officers.

"Field Marshal Paul von Rogner. The reason why we are here," Tiger whispered.

Hogan took another good look, then, not wanting to appear obvious by staring, turned back to her.

"So I have him to thank for an evening out with my favorite lady."

Her eyes narrowed. "You had better be speaking of me, Colonel," she playfully warned.

He leaned toward her, giving her his most seductive smile. "But of course."

Another waiter suddenly appeared at their table. Hogan sat back, smoothly recited their choices and the waiter glided away. Hogan slid his chair closer to hers so that they might talk with less fear of being overheard. To all appearances, they were a lovesick couple, completely oblivious to anyone but each other.

"Now," he told her, lowering his voice and taking her hand in his. "tell me why the field marshal is so special."

"He arrived in town three days ago and has eaten here every night since. During the day, he remains in his hotel room. In the evening, he comes here, eats the same things, and leaves at the same time."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan watched the waiter flash by their table with a steaming platter of food balanced upon one shoulder. Once he was out of earshot, Hogan turned his full attention back to Tiger and their conversation.

"So we know he's shy, enjoys a good meal, but doesn't have a sense of adventure," Hogan murmured, watching her lashes flutter as he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand.

"So far, nine other men of high rank have arrived in town," she continued, somewhat breathlessly. "Some of the guards accompanying them were overheard saying that there will be a meeting at a bunker outside of town, tomorrow night."

"Could be a high-level strategy meeting."

She nodded, gently withdrew her hand from his grasp to take a sip of water. In the soft light, her cheeks were flushed. "That was our thought exactly. Your mission is to discover what they are planning. We've located the bunker. It is set into a hillside, making it highly protected from bombing or outside attack. The security is much too tight for us to circumvent and we haven't been able to come up with any means of getting someone inside to bug the facility. They do not allow outsiders inside the bunker for any reason, and even send soldiers into town to pick up their food supplies."

"You don't believe in giving us easy ones, do you?" He complained good-naturedly. Her eyes sparkled in response. Putting her elbows on the table, she slowly moved close again, rested one fingertip lightly upon his chin.

"Ah, but Colonel," she breathed. "That's why they--"

"Pay me the big bucks," he recited along with her. They shared a quiet laugh and he glanced across the room. Von Rogner was just beginning the main course of his meal. An idea sparked to life, and Hogan slowly smiled.

"I think I may have just the --" he cut himself off. Tiger's eyes were closed, her full mouth curved in a soft smile of pleasure as she swayed in time to the music.

Hogan's eyes narrowed as he looked from her to the couples that had left their meals to dance. He glanced back at Tiger, then raised a hand, got the waiter's attention and gestured him over. Hogan quietly cancelled their food order, causing Tiger's eyes to fly open in surprise. The waiter's look of outrage quickly changed to a smile when a generous pile of marks appeared on his open palm.

"What ---" Tiger asked as Hogan stood.

He smiled, held out his hand and wiggled his fingers, encouraging her to take it. Her brown eyes silently questioned, but she took his hand and let him lead her toward the door.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"Where are you taking me?" Tiger demanded with a laugh. He turned a charming smile upon her, but said nothing, just kept leading her deeper into the woods. Tiger laughed again, caught up in his excitement for whatever he had planned. She felt suddenly carefree, as if they were alone in another world.

One of her heels snapped, throwing her off-balance with a jerk. "Wait!" Tiger called to him. He immediately pulled up, waited while she quickly kicked off her ruined shoes.

"I'll buy you a new pair," he said, taking the shoes from her and tossing them into the underbrush. She let out a gasp as he bent and picked her up. Somewhat dizzy from this sudden turn of events, she put her arms around his neck and held on. In the moonlight, his face was oddly intense, and without a word, he set off again, carrying her easily.

The clearing he set her down in was small, perhaps twenty feet across at its widest point. Branches dappled with moonlight stretched over their heads like a canopy of silver and black. Wildflowers scented the fresh breeze. The grass beneath her feet was slightly damp, but she didn't mind. She slowly turned in place, drinking in every detail. It was almost ethereal.

She went still as behind her, Hogan started humming, softly and melodically. Her eyes closed and she took an unsteady breath. He was humming the tune from the restaurant.

His hands turned her, gently drew her into his arms. She looked up, into eyes that were full and black. His head lowered, their lips meeting in a kiss that quickly turned passionate. She let out a little moan of pleasure, reached up to thread her fingers through his hair. At some point, she dimly realized that they were no longer standing still. They were dancing.

Dancing under the moonlight.

To be continued . . .