Thank you, Marilyn!

Chapter 22

Hogan and Klaus climbed down the ladder and back into the tunnels, still discussing various mission details.

"Rosstal presents another complication," Hogan muttered, tugging his jacket to rights after stepping off the ladder. "The explosion bought those people time, but now, on top of everything else, we've got to worry about him being even more on his game than before."

Klaus finished brushing the dirt from the ladder off his hands and turned to Hogan with a frown. "More on his game?"

"More suspicious and alert. On the lookout for anything out of the ordinary."

"Just because of a lab accident? It --"

They turned toward the tunnel, both trying to take the lead. They ended up wedged together in the narrow space, dirt from the earthen walls crumbling down on them, filling the air with a fine dust. Hogan sneezed, Klaus coughed and they swiveled to face each other. With a tight grin and another partially choked back cough, Klaus motioned to the tunnel ahead with a flick his hand, inviting Hogan to go first.

"It won't matter that the explosion looked like an accident," Hogan said over his dirt-smudged shoulder. "It was out of the ordinary. You know how Gestapo hate out of the ordinary. It makes them twitchier and even more paranoid and that makes our job a helluva lot tougher."

Klaus swore under his breath. "At least it kept Arkel from murdering those people."

Hogan stopped and swung about to face him. "You're too impulsive. We both know you got lucky this time. All the good intentions in the world won't amount to zip if you end up dead along with those you want to save. As it was, Hermann's back and legs got sliced and diced. Learn to control that impulsive streak of yours or sooner or later, it will get you killed." As Klaus readied an angry response, Hogan leaned in, jabbed a finger into his chest. "Even worse . . . it'll get one of your men killed." He held Klaus'gaze a moment longer, then pivoted on his heel and walked away.

Subdued, Klaus followed after him, his head bowed in thought. He made no attempt to correct Hogan's assumption that the decision to blow up the lab equipment had been his.

Kinch met up with them and with a significant look at Klaus, motioned Hogan aside. Klaus frowned, but continued across the room to where Kurt was talking with Hermann. Kurt turned at his approach, welcoming him back with a warm smile.

"I spoke to her," Kinch reported to Hogan, carefully keeping his voice lowered and his eyes fixed upon Klaus and Hermann's position. "She'll do what you asked, but insists upon being there, too." At Hogan's muted growl, his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I tried talking her out of it, sir."

"And got no further than I would have, I'm sure." Hogan raised his eyes to the ceiling, his jaw tight with suppressed anger at Tiger's conditions.

"Her men, her rules." Kinch's tone was slightly apologetic. His gaze stayed riveted upon Klaus and Hermann, their heads close together in some deep discussion. Noticing their tense stances and the sadness on Kurt's face, he wondered what they might be discussing.

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"This is not about throwing my life away, Hermann." Klaus quickly glanced around to be sure no one had ventured close enough to overhear. Kinch and Hogan were still talking, but Kinch's gaze was locked upon them. "Neither is it about my life being of less worth than Carter's, yours or any one else's. This is about doing my best to keep other people from dying."

"At the cost of your own?" Hermann threw back at him. He was drawn up to his full height, arms folded tightly across the expanse of his chest. "Given a choice between Carter's life and yours, my choice will always be you." His fierce gaze grew penetrating. "Stop this dance with death, Klaus. Even if you had been home that night, Father still would have died."

Bitterness swept over Klaus' face. "We will never know, will we?"

"So, you would leave Risa without her brother as well as her parents?" Hermann's face was dark with fury, his voice deepened to its most lethal timbre.

Klaus stared at his foster-brother, stricken mute. Kurt glanced between them, and hesitantly put his hand on Hermann's back, hoping the touch would calm him. The discussion had quickly spiraled out of control. Before he could offer words to defuse it, Klaus -still looking blasted by Hermann's fear and anger - suddenly glanced away.

"Are we interrupting something?" Hogan asked, coming to rest before Klaus. Kinch settled at Hogan's shoulder and directly opposite Hermann. Without realizing he was doing it, he folded his arms, mirroring Hermann's stance.

"No," Klaus answered shortly. "What is it?"

"We still have a few details to work out on one part of our plan."

"And that part would be?" Klaus prompted with ill-concealed impatience. Raising a visibly shaking hand, he tamed the oily forelock back into von Rogner's severe style.

"Klink."

A tight grin briefly tempered Klaus' stony expression. "I wondered how you will keep him from noticing that his senior POW along with a large number of the prisoners are missing from camp."

"The same way we always do," Hogan answered smoothly, smirking. "We distract him with something."

"What sort of distraction could possibly hold his atten . . ." Klaus stared at him, suspicion slowing his words. "You would not."

"Not if he wishes to retain the ability to eat," Hermann snapped, glowering at Hogan. His shoulders flexed, straining his uniform to its limits. Kinch leveled a steely-eyed stare upon him. They were still too new to each other for him to know if Hermann was serious or not.

Hogan's grin held not even a hint of concern. "Risa's a sure bet that Klink would think of nothing else while we're gone. The sky could turn purple with green polka dots and he wouldn't notice."

Klaus said nothing, merely returned Hogan's steady gaze. The longer his silence continued the deeper Hermann's frown got. Finally, unable to remain quiet any longer, he bent forward slightly at the waist, his gaze swinging between Hogan and Klaus.

"You can not seriously be considering using Risa," he growled at Klaus, who raised one hand in a gesture meant to silence. Hermann straightened with a jerk, anger rolling off of him in waves.

"He is right," Klaus admitted with obvious reluctance. "Klink is so besotted with Risa he would not notice if every prisoner in Stalag 13 suddenly broke into song and danced out the main gate."

"Or care even if he did notice," Hogan quipped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Of course, it might raise a few of the guards' eyebrows."

Hermann's burning gaze fixed upon him. His words, however, were directed at his friend. "Klaus, she –"

"Can handle herself," Klaus interrupted without looking at him. "And Klink as well."

"But will she do it?" Kinch questioned softly, speaking for the first time.

"Only for Klaus," Kurt sighed, breaking his own silence. He glanced at Klaus and his voice turned rueful. "Then again . . . maybe not. This is Klink, after all."

Hermann leaned forward again, finally captured Klaus' gaze. "What . . . exactly . . . will you ask her to do?"

Klaus rested his hands on his hips and lowered his gaze to the floor. Hogan had his own idea, but he kept it to himself. Despite the tension simmering between the two, he sensed that this time, the only idea Hermann would accept would be Klaus'. After nearly a minute, Klaus looked up at Hogan with eyes that appeared to have aged.

"I was not paying attention when we were upstairs. What is the weather like today?"

On the surface, the question seemed totally unrelated to their discussion. Yet Hogan thought he understood where Klaus was headed with it. It seemed they really did think alike. Hogan looked to Kurt, since his friend had most recently come from outside.

"It is warm and sunny," Kurt responded with a puzzled frown. "There were no clouds when I arrived. It should be a nice day."

Klaus' tight smile lacked amusement. "Nice enough for a picnic?"

A muted snarl rolled from Hermann's lips and his arms dropped to his sides. Klaus pivoted, putting his back to Hogan, Kinch and Kurt, effectively blocking them out of the conversation. Hogan frowned, surprised at how strongly he was affected by Hermann's palpable anguish. Probably for the first time, the big German found himself in a no-win situation – caught between wanting to protect both the people he cared about. It was easy to tell that he loved Klaus like a brother, but he was in love with Risa.

This damned mission, Hogan sighed to himself. He felt Kinch's shoulder lightly brush against his own as his friend shifted position. Apparently, he was not the only one feeling sympathy pangs.

"It is a public place, Hermann," Klaus said. "And Risa will wisely choose the most visible spot there. Klink may not be the most intelligent of men, but he is a complete gentleman. He will behave himself. And keep this in mind, also. If Risa is with Klink in the park, then we need not worry that she will return here to seek us out."

"That is quite true," Hermann relented after a moment's thought. The tense line of his mouth eased into a tiny smile. "But I still do not like it."

"Nor will she," Klaus softly chuckled. "Her dislike of Klink is quite. . . intense."

"There is that amazing talent for understatement," Hermann grumbled. Kurt casually pressed a fist to his mouth, fighting back a smile.

Klaus' attention returned to Hogan, his tone once more crisp and business-like. "Who will you send to speak with Risa?"

"Marc Zoellner. The cobbler."

Klaus nodded. "Good. She knows and likes him and is more likely to trust what he tells her. Even so, without a codeword or phrase, she will not believe that the message comes from me."

Hogan quirked an eyebrow; inviting a suggestion. Hermann gave it instead, albeit reluctantly.

"Gardenia."

Pain flashed over Klaus' face. "That would work."

"Gardenia would make a good codename for her," Kinch said in aside to Hogan. Kurt's mouth opened, then just as quickly closed. Klaus had a stronger reaction to the observation.

"Mein Gott," he groaned, bowing his head. "What have I done?"

Hermann immediately shifted closer to him, sympathy gentling his tone. "As much as I hate the idea, you are right to make this choice. There is a much better chance of Risa staying safe if she is with that idiot."

"I'm not so sure about Klink's safety, though." Hogan remembered Risa's responses to Klink's best attempts at courtship. The kommandant would be lucky if she did not dump the picnic on his head.

Klaus' chuckle quickly faded. Turning to Kinch, he nodded and gestured to the tunnel.

"I am ready to send that message."

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Risa paused, hairpins in her mouth, hands raised to her hair. Thinking the noise she had heard might be a knock; she waited to see if it would come again. It did.

"Coming!" Risa called out, hoping her voice would carry to whoever was at her door. She also hoped that the knock meant Klaus and Hermann had finished their business at Stalag 13. Yanking the hairpins from her mouth, she dropped them on the dressing table and let her partially pinned up hair fall where it may. She pulled her robe on and making certain it was securely closed and tied, rushed out of her bedroom. Zoellner, the cobbler, was waiting in the hall outside her apartment, his cap respectfully clutched before him. Risa stared at him in surprise and disappointment.

"Good morning, Fraulein Leidel." His deep voice was polite, but tight with something that put a cold knot of fear in her stomach.

"Good morning to you, Herr Zoellner," Risa returned with equal etiquette, which she abandoned an instant later. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"An errand, Fraulein. Your brother requests that you telephone Kommandant Klink and ask him to a picnic this morning."

Heat flooded Risa's face. She glared at Zoellner, yet her voice was cold as a January wind. "I would not have suspected you of possessing such a joking nature, Herr Zoellner. I do not appreciate--" He held up one large, calloused hand, rudely interrupting her and bringing her simmering temper to the boiling point. As if sensing the impending eruption, he hurriedly tossed out one word.

"Gardenia."

Risa openly gaped at him. Surely, she had heard incorrectly. Swallowing, she asked in a faint voice, "What did you say?"

Zoellner's expression softened. "Gardenia, Fraulein Leidel. Your late mother's favorite flower."

With a quick indrawn breath, Risa clenched the neck of her robe closed, leaned forward and looked first to the left, then to the right. The hall was empty except for Zoellner. She stepped back, opened the door wider and shakily beckoned him inside.

"Come in."

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Kinch leaped up the ladder and into Barracks Two.

"She made the call! Klink just finished making the arrangements with her!"

Hogan crossed the room in two quick strides, yanked the barracks' door open and peered across the prison yard at Klink's headquarters. His men - Klaus and Hermann included - crowded around him.

"Three . . . two . . ." Hogan counted under his breath.

The door to the Kommandant's headquarters crashed open. Klink ran onto the porch, flung his head back and shouted, "SCHULTZ!"

Minutes later, Klink's staff car roared out Stalag 13's front gates in a cloud of dust. Hogan closed the door and turned to face the room.

"Klink's on his way and now so are we."

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"Daylight missions," Newkirk muttered irritably under his breath. "I bloody well hate daylight missions."

Carter heard the complaint, yet let it go in one ear and out the other. His eyes and his attention never strayed from the pack of explosives nestled between his feet.

Newkirk tilted his head back and peered around the tree on his left. "Hermann? Give me a read on the mustache, mate."

Hermann rocked backward to look past the tree separating him from Klaus. "Present and level," he reported, completely undeterred by Klaus' tight-lipped glower.

"It looks like a cat's tail," LeBeau snickered from near the back of the group.

Carter glanced up from his pack long enough to share a grin with Newkirk. "No self-respecting cat would have a tail like that."

"Von Rogner likes it well enough," Olsen chimed in softly.

"Probably explains why he doesn't have a girl," Benson murmured.

Mouth twitching with suppressed laughter, Hermann kept his gaze fixed upon Hogan's back.

"Shoot it, burn it, bury it, and raise the flag," Klaus vowed under his breath.

Newkirk looked skyward and sighed in mock despair. "Some artists are never appreciated."

"Shut up back there!" Hogan snapped from the front of the group. The chatter immediately ceased. Through the trees, he could see Zoellner's paneled truck pulled off to the side of the road nearest them. The burly cobbler was kneeling beside the right rear tire, a tire iron lying by his side. An old tire -- flat – was propped against the truck. The truck's back doors stood wide open. Hogan glanced both ways along the road. There was no one in sight and no one had driven by in the last several minutes. Satisfied, he thrust his hand into the air and flashed the long-awaited signal.

They broke cover and quickly piled into the back of the truck. Zoellner stood by until they were all in, then heaved the flat tire in after them and stowed the tire iron. Bracing a hand on either door, he leaned inside the truck, his large frame backlit by the sun topping the trees.

"Please be brief, Colonel. This road is too well traveled at this time of the morning for us to remain here much longer."

Hogan reached between the lapels of his uniform and pulled out the map Klaus had made for them. Lifting and tilting it so that Zoellner could see, Hogan traced a finger along the winding route to the bunker. "This is where we're going, Marc." He tapped the exact spot so that there would be no confusion. Zoellner edged closer, angling his head to see better. "We'll pull off here, into this large depression," Hogan continued. "There are plenty of trees and brush. We shouldn't be seen from the road and there's plenty of room for both trucks." The cobbler nodded and Hogan tucked the paper away again. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Klaus caught Zoellner's attention. "Risa?"

A smile broke upon the cobbler's face. "Your sister is well . . ." Laughter crept into his voice. "Though quite angry." With a tip of his cap, he swung the doors shut and the cramped and humid cargo area fell into darkness. A flashlight winked on and Kinch's deep voice came out of the shadows to Hogan's right.

"Anybody else as nervous about this as I am?"

Chuckles and muttered comments flew back and forth and Hogan felt the bar of tension across his shoulders ease a tiny bit. The truck started rumbling and swaying around them and he braced himself against the motion. A particularly bad bump threw him off-balance to the left. He jostled against Newkirk, who in turn nudged back, providing support for them both against the rough motion. The Englishman's arms were wrapped tight about his pack and the bomb hidden within. Rough roads were not good for explosives and Hogan knew the sweat beading Newkirk's face was from more than the warmth in the crowded truck.

Hogan looked around at the eyes blinking and flashing in the soft light. "Everybody know what they're to do?"

The ring of shadowed faces bobbed up and down. One by one, as per their usual routine, each man sounded off with his individual assignment. Kurt, Klaus and Hermann did the same, repeating back their parts with calm assurance. As the last man fell silent, Hogan slouched back against the vibrating wall behind him and let out a near-silent sigh. The flashlight kicked off and the darkness grew quiet except for their breathing, an occasional growling stomach and the sound of the truck taking them onward.

To be continued . . .