Chapter Twelve
Risa stood on the sidewalk, mouth open in shock, and watched the staff car carrying Hogan, Klaus, and Hermann, pull away from the curb. The car traveled at a sedate speed, paused at the corner to allow a child to cross, made a leisurely turn, and disappeared.
With no thought to etiquette or explanations, Risa squirmed out of the entryway, leaving Frau Hahn sputtering indignantly at the loss of her audience.
Half-walking, half-running, Risa hurried for home as thoughts and questions swam through her head at dizzying speed. She could not shake the image of Klaus and Hermann following Hogan into the staff car like sheep trailing a shepherd. Neither man had seemed disturbed to see the American P.O.W. freely walking about in S. S. uniform in Wehrmacht Headquarters. Unless Hogan had a twin in the S. S., she could reach only one conclusion based upon what she had witnessed.
She had long harbored suspicions that her beloved brother was up to his auburn forelock in the Resistance. But she had never had the courage to ask him outright if it were true. Now, it appeared that she had her answer. If Klaus was involved in the Resistance, then Hermann was, also.
The more she thought about it the angrier she got. How dare Klaus take such a risk! Had he not thought of her at all? She could usually count on Hermann being the sensible one. He balanced out Klaus' impetuous and often idealistic nature. Yet he had willingly gone with Hogan, too.
What are they doing? Where are they going? Risa seethed to herself as she ran up the steps to her building. Breathing heavily, absently tucking back hair that had fallen loose from its ribbon, she rushed down the hallway to the apartment next to hers and rapped on the door. It eased open a few inches and a rheumy, blue eye warily peered out at her. Risa leaned toward the narrow opening, smiled nervously.
"Please, Herr Ramm. May I borrow your bicycle?"
The eye blinked. The door crept open another few inches.
"My bicycle? What need have you of an old man's bicycle?" There was a distinctly querulous tone to his voice.
Risa fought the urge to wring her hands with impatience. "I promise to return it today, Herr Ramm. I'll let nothing happen to it. Please."
Her distress pierced his suspicion. The door swung wide open and he beckoned her inside with one gnarled, arthritic hand.
"It is there," he said, gesturing toward a rusty bicycle leaning against one wall. "The front tire is a bit soft, but it should hold fine for one as small as you."
"Thank you, Herr Ramm."
Risa rolled the bicycle into the hall, being careful not to bump him as she passed. Before he could close the door again, she rested the bicycle against her hip and carefully wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
"What's this? What's this?" he chuckled, compassion softening his wrinkled face. He took hold of her arms and gently pushed her away. "Go child. Take care of your business."
She smiled weakly at him. He was right. She had to find Klaus and Hermann. And she suddenly had an idea where to look for them.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"Thank you for choosing the Stalag 13 cab service. Enjoy your stay," Hogan cheerily called out as the staff car pulled to the side of the road.
Hermann and Klaus looked through the windows. To their left and just visible in the distance lay Stalag 13.
Klaus grasped the door handle and glanced back at Hogan.
"This could all be an elaborate ruse to be rid of us. How do we know that we're not walking into a trap when we enter that tunnel?"
"You don't," Hogan admitted. "Just as I don't know that the two of you aren't in on an elaborate scheme to gain my confidence to break our operation."
Klaus appeared to think that over. "Point taken."
They slipped from the car and into the cover of the trees. Hogan stared after them thoughtfully, then leaned forward and tapped the front seat.
"Next stop, Andrew, and don't spare the horses."
Carter flashed a grin over his shoulder, gunned the motor and headed back to collect Schultz.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"Let me be the first to officially welcome you, gents," Newkirk proclaimed, sweeping his arms open wide and backing up the tunnel ahead of Klaus and Hermann, "to our humble little tunnel, our home away from home . . ."
Hermann and Klaus followed cautiously, completely unaffected by the inane chatter. Their attention remained firmly upon the matter of their own safety. If they were walking into a trap, Hogan's men would find them hard to hold.
Newkirk led them to the area where they had met with Hogan the night before. LeBeau, Kinch and Benson watched them warily from the other side of the table, papers, pins, needles, and other tailoring items strewn across its surface. Hermann and Klaus came to rest on the opposing side. The two groups stared at each other, silence cloaking the room like a heavy blanket.
Hogan and Carter suddenly entered the room, still divesting themselves of their German uniforms. Tossing the S. S. jacket aside, Hogan strode over to the table.
"Considering our time, limited options, and the nature of the mission," he began, addressing Klaus and Hermann. "You're the best we can come up with."
Klaus and Hermann shared a quick glance. "It is so nice to be wanted," Klaus muttered.
"My heart has certainly been warmed."
"And that makes us so happy," LeBeau sneered.
"Look," Hogan snapped, disrupting the building hostility. "I don't expect us all to act like one big happy family. I do expect us to work together as a team. Without teamwork, failure is inevitable. I refuse to accept failure." He let his gaze travel around the table.
"Understood?"
Receiving nods and 'yes, sirs' from his men, he looked to the other side of the table.
"Understood," Klaus and Hermann responded after a brief hesitation.
"Okay, that's out of the way. Let's get to the reason we're all here." Quickly, Hogan explained about the bunker and the meeting, then pointed to Klaus.
"You're going as Field Marshal Paul von Rogner, one of the bigwigs attending the meeting." Hogan handed Klaus the biographical information. "A dye job, mustache and a pair of glasses, and you'll look just like the real thing."
"But what of the real von Rogner?" Klaus asked, looking up from the paper. "Two Paul von Rogner's showing up for the meeting would be difficult to explain."
"The real one will be under wraps here."
"Wait," Hermann protested, briefly placing a hand upon Klaus' arm, as if to physically hold him back from committing. "You are sending him into a bunker full of people who may be familiar with the real von Rogner. Some might even be his friends."
Hogan nodded. "There is that risk, of course. He'll have to be on his game, do some fancy acting. The background information we have on von Rogner will help with that. The two of them already share a strong enough resemblance that it won't take much to make them twins. And don't forget that he'll be able to observe von Rogner up close. He can practice von Rogner's speech patterns, his mannerisms, body language, etc. By the time he leaves here, he'll be von Rogner."
Klaus frowned. "Your confidence in my abilities is flattering, considering the short time I have to prepare."
Carter sidled closer, offered Klaus a friendly grin. "I can help you get ready. I'm pretty good at acting, if I do say so myself."
"He'll need me for sure, then." Newkirk chucked Carter on the shoulder.
LeBeau raised his hand. "And I will take care of the uniform."
Hermann squared his shoulders, as if readying to do battle. "He's not going in there alone."
"I expected you'd say that," Hogan murmured. "You can go as von Rogner's adjutant. He actually arrived in town alone, but if anyone questions your presence, Leidel can claim he wanted a bodyguard as extra protection."
"I am curious," Klaus said with the thoughtful tone of a man viewing a problem. "Once the meeting is over, how will von Rogner's disappearance be explained? Once it is discovered that he's missing, they'll fear they've been compromised and discard their plans. Any information that we've gained will be useless."
Kinch smiled grimly. "They won't worry about a dead man."
Klaus lifted an eyebrow.
Hogan grinned. "Von Roger will appear to meet a sad, untimely end."
Scuffling and cursing sounded in one of the adjoining tunnels, bringing all conversation in the room to a halt. Parker and O'Malley stumbled into view, carrying a motionless, sheet-wrapped bundle between them.
Red-faced and panting, Parker backed toward the table, complained over his shoulder, "This guy is heavier than he looks!"
"Must be all those fancy dinners," grumbled O'Malley, helping him carefully lower their burden to the floor.
Hogan studied the bundle of cloth. "Did you have any trouble?"
"No, sir," Parker replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "It went like a dream."
"He'll probably have a dandy of a headache, though." O'Malley frowned down at their captive. "I didn't intend to hit him so hard."
Hermann crouched and twitched the cloth aside. The man inside the sheet was unconscious and decidedly rumpled. "This is von Rogner?"
"Yup." Hogan waited, expecting more arguments.
Hermann's gaze alternated between von Rogner and Klaus. "I see the resemblance. But von Rogner's nose is slightly broader and his forehead is higher." He slowly got to his feet, still studying his friend's face. "And his hair must be cut or slicked back." Hermann flicked the dangling forelock with a finger. Klaus' eyes rolled upward, slightly crossing as he focused upon the lock of hair.
"Newkirk's a wizard with disguises," Kinch said, endorsing the Englishman's talent for mimickry.
Newkirk smiled proudly, doffed his cap. "Kind of you."
"By the time he's through," Kinch continued. "You won't be able to tell the two of them apart."
"I had some friends who were like that," Carter blurted. "They were twins and were always switching places. Bill and Sam could make your head spin with some of --"
"Not now, Carter," Hogan growled.
"Yes, sir. Not now." Carter meekly backed away.
A groan came from the floor. Von Rogner stirred and looked up them. His bleary gaze wandered from face to face, ultimately settled upon Klaus. Hogan felt a jolt of dismay as the field marshal's eyes opened wide for the first time.
Hermann inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. "How, exactly, do you intend to change Klaus' eye color from gray to blue? What other bits of vital information haven't you accounted for?"
"Blue and gray are not so dissimilar," Klaus interjected evenly. "Various factors can affect eye color. Risa has told me that my eyes appear silver, green or blue depending upon the light or my mood." He forcefully poked Hermann on the chest with one finger. "Right now, my friend, your eyes are more brown than gold, so don't tell me that I'm simply pulling excuses out of the air."
Hermann stared back at him.
Klaus' face went hard. "A little thing like my eye color is not going to keep us from finding out what is going on in that bunker."
"Eye color is not such a little thing amidst men who might know the real von Rogner!" Hermann countered, getting angrier by the second.
LeBeau shrugged. "Maybe they are unobservant."
"Or forgetful," Carter offered, somewhat hopefully.
"This entire mission may be a dangerous waste of time!" Hermann snarled, finally losing his last shred of calm. "Vogt and Reuben reported no unexplained activity; nothing that even hints of such a high-level meeting!"
Kinch frowned. "Who are Vogt and Reuben?"
"Two of our men stationed with Hochstetter's squad." Klaus' voice had taken on a distracted note, as if he were only partially listening.
"You have people in the Gestapo?" Hogan shook his head. And his men thought he took incredible risks!
Klaus suddenly locked eyes with Hermann. "Hochstetter."
"Cochon!" LeBeau's hand clenched, crumpling the tape measure he had picked up from the table.
"What about him?" Hogan demanded.
"The last time we met," Hermann replied. "Vogt mentioned that Hochstetter had been unusually cheerful."
Klaus nodded. "A happy Hochstetter means trouble. This meeting may be the cause."
"Maybe," Hogan said slowly. "Or it could just mean that he'd had a particularly good day of slaughtering. He does enjoy his work."
"Who are you?"
Von Rogner's groggy voice pulled their attention back to the floor. The field marshal stared up at them in confusion, started struggling to rise.
Newkirk dropped to one knee and leveled the muzzle of his gun at von Rogner's face. "If I were you, I'd lay my head down and go back to my little nap."
Von Rogner considered the gun, Newkirk's grim expression and the faces above him. Carefully, he lay back down and closed his eyes.
Hermann's gaze shifted from von Rogner to Klaus and he sighed deeply. "Be certain to cover the roots when you do the dye job."
"We aim to please," Newkirk declared, saluting with a 'thumbs up'.
Hermann's face darkened in response to Klaus' grin. "Stop looking so happy. I still think this is a bad idea."
"We're wasting time, gentlemen," Hogan snapped. "Time we don't have." He grasped Newkirk by the shoulder and glanced over at Carter at the same time. "Take our guest to his room. Make him comfortable." The last was said with pointed meaning.
"We'll see that he's as snug as a bug in a rug. Tuck him in all nice and cozy." Newkirk poked von Rogner in the shoulder. The German's eyelids fluttered, revealing a sliver of blue. "Nap-time's over," Newkirk prompted cheerily, helping him into a sitting position. Carter grabbed the older man's arm on the other side and helped Newkirk get him to his feet.
Olsen ran into the room. "Company, Colonel!"
"Who's here?"
"His sister is at the gate wanting to see Klink!"
Hogan immediately wheeled toward Klaus. The German was tight-lipped and met Hogan's accusing gaze with a vehement shake of his head.
"I am just as surprised as you are."
Hogan started toward the barracks, then stopped as he remembered the gray dye in his hair. He turned and gripped Kinch's shoulder. "Get topside and keep an eye out until I can get there."
Kinch sprinted up the tunnel with Olsen leading the way. LeBeau glanced down at the tape measure, tossed it on the table and took off after them.
"What's she up to?" Hogan wondered aloud as he washed the gray from his temples. "No woman in her right mind would want to see Klink without good reason!"
Newkirk and Carter had paused on the other side of the room, von Rogner swaying woozily between them.
"Get him taken care of!" Hogan ordered. He grabbed his bomber jacket and started away, then stopped again and pointed at Hermann and Klaus. "Don't get any ideas! Just stay right here! And you two," he pointed next at Benson and Parker, "stay with them. I'll find out what's going on."
To be continued . . .