Thank you, Marilyn!
Chapter Twenty-Four
For all the time he spent underground in their own tunnel system, Hogan felt distinctly uncomfortable walking the bunker's corridors. Wider and better lit than what he was used to, the concrete and stone walls still seemed to press in on him. There was also a distinctly strong odor, unpleasant and cloying. And something else. Hogan glanced around, skin prickling, then redirected his attention forward.
He could see only one difference from what Klaus had reported. The number of guards was higher, but then he would have been surprised if it were otherwise. The explosion, as well as their reasoning that Rosstal was Gestapo had made tighter security almost a foregone conclusion. Seeing it verified made Hogan doubly glad he and his men were carrying as much extra ammunition as possible. If trouble did break out, Olsen and Benson would provide additional firepower. Tiger's men would also provide back up once they had taken care of the ventilation shafts.
A firefight deep inside an enemy installation was something they all wanted to avoid. With little room to maneuver, three innocent lives to protect and a ticking clock to beat, their hands would be full enough without adding gunfire to the mix.
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"Gesundheit."
Newkirk sniffed, gave a single nod of thanks. The polite, bespectacled scientist strode on in the opposite direction; oblivious to the fact that the Gestapo soldier he had addressed was an Underground agent carrying a bomb.
"Damp in here," Newkirk complained, expressionless.
"You should be used to such conditions," Hermann whispered back.
They soon reached the correct intersection and Newkirk turned sharply on his heel, taking the corridor to the right. Hermann entered the left. Maintaining a steady pace, Newkirk looked behind him and up the opposite corridor. Sensing his gaze, Hermann glanced over his shoulder. Their eyes met and Newkirk touched two fingers to the bill of his cap. Hermann returned the salute and they walked on.
Newkirk tightened his grip on the satchel's strap, the weight of Carter's 'baby' dragging at his arm.
One special delivery coming right up.
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Breathing hard from her climb over the rugged terrain, Tiger chose a spot behind the protection of a large, moss-covered boulder. Peering over it and down, she could just make out the gray rectangle of the bunker's steel door and the small, uniformed figures of Olsen and Benson on either side of it. The rear of their transport was just visible as well, doors thrown wide in anticipation of receiving the men and the three liberated prisoners.
Please let them make it out safely, Tiger prayed, fisting her hand on the damp moss. Hogan's face and cocky, lop-sided smile flared to life in her mind as if to reassure her. He and his men had survived impossible situations before. They would survive this one as well. She clung to that belief with fervent tenacity.
She glanced at her watch, then returned her gaze to the entrance. Nothing had changed. Making the sign of the cross, she started her prayers anew, the only thing she could do now for Hogan, the prisoners and their men.
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"Take it easy, Doc," O'Malley breathed, clamping a hand to Kurt's shoulder to keep him still. The doctor had been fidgeting, muttering and generally driving O'Malley up a tree. Their friend just was not suited for these types of missions. He saw Kurt shoot an apologetic glance his way and nodded in response.
The waiting was always the hardest.
Kurt tucked his hands under his arms and nervously tapped his fingertips against his sides. It was times like these he was sorely tempted to chew his fingernails. Or take up drink. Or both.
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A door opened ahead of Hermann and a pair of white-coated men walked into the corridor. He recognized both from the tour. The taller of the two was pointing out something on the sheaf of papers in his hand. The shorter scientist moved closer to see and they continued walking, their shoulders occasionally brushing together. To Hermann's amusement, an argument soon sprung up between them, their voices growing progressively louder. Hermann slowed, letting the pair get further ahead of him. If he was right, they were all headed for the same laboratory and he did not want to arrive too soon after them. Nor did he want them to see him. They might remember him and alert the real guards.
Several minutes later, Hermann pulled up just short of a corner and checked the corridor behind him. Finding it empty, he flattened against the wall, edged to the corner and leaned out far enough to see around it. The guard stationed outside the laboratory was checking the scientists' badges. Hermann watched long enough to see that the pair was allowed to enter and then pulled back. He counted off sufficient time and then confidentlywalked around the corner. The guard watched him approach and then stepped out to meet him and tersely asked for identification. Hermann calmly produced his forged papers. After examining them, the guard let his gaze drop to the satchel hanging from Hermann's hand.
"What have you got there?"
"Instructions from Berlin for the next tests," Hermann answered, putting just enough warning in his tone to dissuade further questions. It worked. The guard passed the papers back and moved aside. Hermann entered the laboratory, closed the door and stopped in consternation.
The scientists had apparently settled their argument. They stood side by side at a table covered with equipment – right next to the support Carter had chosen for his bomb.
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"Look sharp," Hogan whispered. "We're coming up on our stop."
Kinch and LeBeau gave slight nods, while Carter slowed and dropped back, protecting the bomb from the coming violence. The guard posted at the laboratory noticed their approach and came to attention.
As soon as he was in range, Kinch shook free of the rope and lashed out. His fist slammed into the guard's temple, immediately rendering him unconscious. His legs buckled and he collapsed into Kinch's arms.
Hogan took a single step forward and then stopped dead. The back of his neck had gone ice cold. He spun toward the corridor at their backs, looking for danger. What he saw caused him to go completely still in shock.
The corridor was filled from one wall to the other with translucent, wraithlike figures. Men, women and children with empty eyes and wasted faces were drifting toward him, absolutely silent.
"Colonel?
Swallowing, Hogan blanked his expression and turned.
"Sir?" Kinch pressed in a whisper edged with concern, arms still wrapped around the unconscious guard. "What is it?"
Rather than answer, Hogan flicked another glance over his shoulder. The corridor was completely empty. He looked back at Kinch, keeping his voice noncommittal.
"Nothing."
Kinch studied him, but said no more. Hogan went to the lab's door and leaned close, listening. The voices on the other side sounded normal, unconcerned. Hogan looked to LeBeau and Carter and waggled two fingers, signaling them to hang back, then opened the door with one hand, his gun ready in the other.
Inside the laboratory, a trio of scientists was cleaning up the last of the explosion's debris. Noticing Hogan's appearance, they stopped what they were doing and looked up at him with curious expressions. The shortest scientist caught a glimpse of Kinch behind Hogan and turned to the others, his tone slightly accusatory.
"Did you order another . . .?"
The heavyset scientist scratched his ear and considered the ceiling. "Hmmm . . . no, no. I didn't.
The third scientist's lips pursed. "You know Herr Doktor Arkel likes to have as ma -- "
"Your demonstration's been canceled," Hogan growled, bringing his gun to bear upon them. "We've got a better one planned."
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Klaus quickly abandoned Von Rogner's awkward, pigeon-toed stride for a fast, ground-eating stride. Speed was essential if he were to reach the stockpile, set the bombs and still have time to get back out.
He was forced to slow his steps once he reached the final length of corridor leading to the stockpile. The alcove lay directly ahead and the guard, a different man from the night before, saluted, then stepped out to meet him, his attitude respectful, but firm.
"This is a restricted area, Herr Field Marshal. No one is allowed here unless accompanied by Herr Doktor Arkel."
Klaus set his satchel down. "Where is Herr Doktor Arkel? I was told he would be here."
The guard moved toward him, his gun dipping slightly toward the floor. It was all the opening Klaus needed. He jumped forward, grabbed the front of the guard's uniform and twisted, throwing the man over his hip and to the floor. Before the stunned guard could react, Klaus dropped to a knee and slammed the heel of his hand to the unprotected throat. The guard went limp, unable to draw breath through a crushed windpipe.
Klaus stayed on his knee, waiting, knowing the encounter had been loud enough to draw attention. Moments later, he heard boot steps and the guard from the stockpile rounded the corner at the far end of the corridor.
"We were talking," Klaus said, standing and spreading his hands. "And then he collapsed." He gazed down at the fallen man, feigning concern.
The second guard slowly approached, his eyes shifting uncertainly between Klaus and the man on the floor. Klaus watched him from out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the right moment to strike. When it came, he swiftly repeated his actions, with the same results.
Suddenly uneasy, Klaus tilted his head in the direction of the stockpile, listening. With the tightened security, there was a chance that Rosstal might have posted more than one man. Klaus crept toward the far end of the corridor, glanced around the corner and was surprised to see no one else. Not outside the storage facility, anyway.
One problem at a time, Klaus thought, glancing back at the pair of dead guards. He went to the alcove, thinking the room on the other side of the unmarked door would be the best place to hide the bodies.
A large hasp and heavy padlock protected the door. Klaus knelt between the guards and skimmed his hands over their bodies, looking for keys. Finding none, he pulled his lock pick from beneath the band of his cap and then stood, listening for voices or the sound of boot steps rushing toward him on the cement floor. Hearing neither, he picked up his satchel and dove back into the alcove. The padlock came off within seconds and he opened the door, expecting to find shelves and pallets of supplies. What he saw on the opposite wall of the small, empty room was the mouth of a tunnel. For a brief instant, he could only gape at it, then, setting his satchel inside the room, he returned to the guards. Grabbing them by their collars, he dragged them into the room and closed the door, then rushed to the tunnel.
The narrow, dirt, rock and beamed passage ran gently downhill before appearing to hook right. It was difficult to see more than that in the weak lightthrown bythe small bulbs strung down the center of the tunnel's ceiling.
Klaus yanked his sleeve back and checked the time. He was still on schedule, but only just. There was no time to explore the tunnel further.
Retrieving his satchel and bombs, he went to the door and cautiously looked out. The corridor was quiet and empty. He left the room and closed the door, obeying a last-moment hunch to leave the padlock unlocked. Without close inspection, the door appeared undisturbed. He could do nothing to hide the fact that the guards were missing from their posts. Hopefully, he would be long gone before anyone noticed.
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Newkirk's papers were accepted and he walked into the laboratory, pausing a moment to look around. It was crowded with equipment, and bubbling beakers and jumbles of multi-colored glass coils sat everywhere. Three rows of tables occupied the center of the room, set parallel to the door. A painfully thin man stood behind the table closest to Newkirk, his balding head bent over a microscope. Claw-like fingers gripped the microscope's knobs, adjusting focus. Newkirk easily recognized Arkel from Klaus and Hermann's description.
It's the devil, himself.
The scientist's head lifted and Newkirk suppressed a shiver. The sunken eyes burned with an unnatural light and when they settled upon him, seemed to peer into his very soul.
"What are you doing in here?" Arkel demanded in a raspy, cracking voice that made Newkirk's skin crawl.
Saluting the scientist, Newkirk went forward, making a show of digging his orders out of uniform and keeping the hand holding the satchel completely still. He wanted the scientist's attention focused away from the bomb. He presented the false orders and Arkel skimmed them with his strange eyes, then threw them to the table.
"More security. Hochstetter is a paranoid fool. Do what you have to but do not touch anything!" Arkel immediately bent his head over the microscope, then just as quickly jerked it back up again. "Do not interrupt me, either! This experiment is entering a crucial phase and needs close monitoring." He flapped his emaciated hands at Newkirk, as if shooing away an annoying insect. "Go!"
More than happy to comply, Newkirk strolled about the lab on the pretense of checking security, keeping one eye on the scientist the whole time.
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Hermann gently lowered his satchel to the floor and drew his gun. Rising up on the balls of his feet, he crept around the edge of the room, between tables, and came up directly behind the two scientists.
"Turn around, and do not make a sound or it will be your last."
The scientists went still, then slowly turned in place to face him.
"Move away from the table and turn to your right."
They did as instructed, Hermann smoothly circling to remain at their backs. As soon as they were far enough from the tables, he whipped the butt of his gun across the backs of their heads. They crumpled to the floor, making double, muffled thuds upon the concrete. Hermann flinched and whirled toward the lab door, fearing the sound had carried to the guard outside. Seconds crawled by without the guard appearing to investigate and Hermann holstered his gun.
He turned and paused, eyeing the scientists. For a moment, he considered the knife tucked in the sheath on his forearm. A single thrust of the blade to the base of their skulls would insure their silence and cooperation. But even that would take more time, and he had already used too much time dealing with them.
Walking quickly to the beam, Hermann looked for the best place to the set the bomb. The lab's tables were wide, had a lower shelf and bracketed the beam on two sides. With a shrug, Hermann quickly cleared space on the lower shelf and returned to his satchel for the bomb.
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Kinch carried the unconscious guard inside the lab, while LeBeau stayed outside to cover the corridor and signal if anyone approached.
Carter hurried across the lab to the curtained window and yanked the folds of cloth aside. His choked cry of protest told Hogan that the prisoners were still in the cell.
"We'll take care of them, Carter. Just do your stuff."
"Yes, sir." Carter, his face pale and set with determination, opened his satchel and carefully removed the bomb.
Hogan cocked his gun, pulling the scientists' attention away from what Carter was doing.
"All of you move to the cell." He pointed his gun at the tallest of the three. "Unlock it."
Walking in a tight group, the trio of scientists went to the cell. The tallest unhooked a key from a nail right next to the cell, unlocked the door and extended the key toward Hogan. He shook his head.
"Drop it."
The scientist opened his hand and the key fell to the fell to the cement floor, bounced several times and came to rest near Hogan's feet. Ignoring it for the moment, he urged all three men into the cell with a wave of his gun. Once they were inside, Kinch darted forward and quickly rendered them unconscious so they would not cry out or make noise. Tossing the key across the room behind a table where it would not easily be found, Hogan joined Kinch in the cell.
The boy and elderly woman were cowering together in a corner. They watched Hogan and Kinch approach, their eyes wide and filled with terror. Offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Hogan stowed his gun and showed them his empty hands.
"Relax. This black window dressing is just for show. We're the good guys." He helped the woman to her feet, quickly catching her when her legs buckled from weakness.
Kinch took the boy in his arms, cradling him as if he were glass. "It's okay. Don't be scared. We're getting you out of here."
Fat tears rolled down the boy's cheeks as he stared into Kinch's eyes, but he did not make a sound.
The blind man shakily levered himself to his feet and turned his head toward Hogan and Kinch. He was thin and in obvious need of a bath, but his voice held quiet dignity.
"Who are you?"
"Amerikaner," Hogan grunted, lifting the woman into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck, her breath harsh and fast with fear.
Suspicion entered the young man's tone. "Where are you taking us?"
"Somewhere that isn't here!" Hogan snapped, angry at the squalid conditions the three had been forced to live in. He walked over to the young man and brushed up against him. "Take a good hold of my sleeve and don't let go unless I tell you to. You'll have to keep up because we can't carry you, too. Understand?"
"I will keep up." With a tremulous smile, the young man turned blind eyes in Hogan's direction. "Thank you."
Don't thank us just yet. Hogan headed out of the cell with the young man shuffling along at his side, fingers clenched tightly in Hogan's sleeve. "Kinch?"
"Right behind you, sir."
"Carter?" Hogan called as he re-entered the lab. Carter was on his knees beneath one of the tables butted against one of the room's support beams. The pack lay empty on the floor next to him.
"Done in five," came back the muffled response.
"That better be seconds," Kinch warned, emerging from the cell with the boy. He spun on the ball of one foot and kicked the cell door closed. The lock set with an audible snap, sealing the scientists inside. Carter jerked out from under the table, tossed the empty pack in front of the bomb, and then shoved some boxes across the floor to conceal them both. Jumping to his feet, he drew his gun and went to the door. With his gun at the ready, he peered outside. LeBeau signaled the corridor was clear. Carter relayed the message.
"Clear."
The woman suddenly tried to get a tighter grip on Hogan's neck. He quickly shifted his feet, counterbalancing to keep from losing his balance. Steady again, he nodded to Carter, still awaiting his signal.
"Go."
Carter slipped into the hall with LeBeau. Hogan looked at Kinch, lips thinning into a grim line.
"Here we go."
TBC. Thank you for reading!