Hi, my dear readers!
The large amount of feedback shows me that my error-full writing without beta-reading hasn't scared you off, and I'm very happy about it. Thank you!
As I gave hints within the last chapter, a more darker time will begin now because Hochstetter learned of his nemesis being still alive and will make use of the knowledge that this time Klink can't interference.
Hochstetter has figured Hogan out, and finally he is able to do what he desired in his own way to do for two years: To get hold of his nemesis and make him suffer. All the times, our dear colonel taunted and humiliated Hochstetter, are not forgotten, and the 'poison-gnome' is going to relish in the opportunity of brutal pay-back…
Again I have to tell you that my beta-reader is still too busy to have a closer look on my writing, so you have to put up with my errors once again. Thank you for your patience and that despite the mistakes you don't give up on the story.
And now – off to Stalag 13 and it's known and also still unknown heroes.
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 8 – In the devil's den
Hogan's blood chilled.
Hochstetter! With many SS-guards! And Klink wasn't here!
As laughable as it would usually sound, but Hogan knew that he was for once really in need for the Oberst's support and protection. With Langenscheidt as a corporal in charge of the camp, there was no real Luftwaffe-office here who could stop Hochstetter. The major would take him, Hogan, with him, and the colonel didn't want to imagine what would happen then to him.
Quickly he rose and put his boots on. "Dammit, how did he learn so soon about Klink's and my survival?" he growled.
"We have no clue," LeBeau answered; kneading his hand nervously. "Mon Colonel, you've to hide in the tunnels. If Hochstetter gets you, then…"
Hogan shook his head. As tempting as it sounded to have a way out of the torment that lay ahead, he knew that he couldn't endanger his men by fleeing. "No. If he knows that Klink and I made it back to the camp, what obviously is the case, he will turn every stone in this area if he doesn't find me here. Everything could be revealed – the tunnels, our missions, you all. This is a risk I cannot take."
"Colonel!" Newkirk hasted into the room. "Hochstetter walked into the Kommandatur, while a few of his fellows are on their way to our barrack!"
"I know. Blasted it all, here we go again!" Hogan cursed. Then his gaze found Kinchloe, Baker and Carter, who stopped at the doorstep. "My orders from yesterday evening are still standing. Be ready to evacuate yourself. Don't risk yourself or the mission to rescue me! Take Langenscheidt with you when you escape. And Klink and Schultz, too, should they return before you have to flee. I don't know how long I will be able to withstand what Hochstetter has planned for me, and Berlin will never believe that our three German unwilling allies had no knowledge about our job. To bring them to safety is the least we can do for them."
"But Gov'nor…" Peter protested.
"That's an order!" Hogan snapped and slipped into this leather jacket. "I'll do my best to hold on as long as possible. Maybe Klink returns soon enough to learn of what happened before I'm done for. Or Burkhalter intervenes – given that Hochstetter has indeed no real proof of me being Papa Bear. Otherwise neither Klink nor Burkhalter will be able to safe me."
The five other men exchanged a glance. The sangfroid Hogan displayed in face of certainly upcoming brutal torture was unnerving them. Especially because they knew that deep down he was afraid as they were.
Baker balled his fists. "We contact Hans Wagner or…"
The door to the barrack flew open and four SS-guards stepped in; making room for a Leutnant in SS-uniform, but with the pin of the Gestapo on the knot of his tie. The guards had their weapons drawn and pointed it at several POWs – one of them aimed at Hogan's core team.
"Colonel Robert Hogan?" the Leutnant demanded, and with churning belly, the American stepped forwards.
"That would be me."
The Gestapo-officer waved a hand and two of the guards stepped behind Hogan; twisting his arms on the back and tied them with handcuffs.
"You guys really have a knack for this game, don't you?" he mocked.
"You are still under arrest from the Gestapo," the Leutenant aid. "Your attempt of escape worsens your…"
"There was no attempt of escape, because your boss left me chained to his car during an aircraft ambush while he ran away like a rabbit. I was freed by Kommandant Klink and he brought me back to the camp after he left sight of Major Hochstetter."
A sneer appeared on the Leutnant's face. "An interesting interpretation, yet…"
"We can also say it without remain polite: Your boss was a damn coward and almost murdered Colonel Hogan by leaving him behind! At least Oberst Klink kept a clear head and did his duty as he freed the colonel while your boss was too afraid of doing anything else than taking to his own heels," Newkirk snarled. A pistol was aimed at him and the Englishman crossed the arms in front of his chest. "Truth hurts, uh?" he taunted.
"Newkirk, stop it!" Hogan ordered. "We…"
"Enough!" the Leutnant interrupted him. "Schuster, Hartmann, you two stay here and watch the prisoners of this barrack. You'll be rotated with Krüger and Herrmann in three hours." He glanced around. "I've nothing against POWs. We all are doing our duty to the own country, and I can respect you as enemy soldiers. Therefore, I give you this one warning. If you try some silly attempts to disturb the order of this camp or to come to his aid" – he pointed at Hogan – "everyone who doesn't behave like strictly ordered will be executed."
"That's against the Geneva Convention!" Hogan cut in sharply. "The barracks are official havens for the private needs of POWs. To watch them within the barracks is forbidden. Also threatening them with execution is…"
Von Neuhaus glared at him. „This shouldn't concern you anymore, Colonel. You're out of the game." He glanced back at the prisoners. "Take my warning serious, Gentlemen. I respect warriors – and I don't want to give the order to shoot one or more of you." He waved at the two guards who held Hogan in an iron grip. "Take him outside."
"One moment!" Carter called; coming from Hogan's room holding the crush cap in his hand. "The colonel needs…"
"Keep it, Prisoner – as a remembrance," von Neuhaus cut in. "He won't return." He nodded at the two guards, who pushed Hogan outside of the barrack.
The American threw one last glance back over his shoulder, saw the rising desperation on his friends' face and gave them something he thought it was a reassuring smile, but failed miserably. Every one of his men could see the fear in his eyes.
Hogan gulped and tried to remain calm, yet the coldness deep in his veins outmatched the winter temperature. He knew that the short period of grace was finally over – that this time there would be no surprising way out. Klink was in hospital, unable even to try to help him. And his men's hands were bound. As long as the SS-guards remained within Barrack 2 no-one of his friends could try to contact the Underground or could call for help otherwise.
He was utterly alone in this – and the prospect of seeing the dead end of his life-road closing up on him, elicited bile in his throat.
He watched how approx. two dozen of SS-guards occupied the towers and gates; arguing with the guards of the Luftwaffe. Then his glance found the porch of the Kommandantur where he saw the slender figure of Hilda. The young woman had pressed a fist against her mouth and was pale as the tablecloth. Her gaze found him, and her eyes widened, before they filled with tears. She lowered her fist and he thought to read 'I'm so sorry' on her lips. Forcing his dread back, he offered her a short smile. More he didn't dare to do to comfort her. It was enough that Hochstetter already assumed that Langenscheidt – and certainly Schultz and Klink, too – were sympathizer with the Allies. He didn't want to put Hilda into the same position.
Hochstetter and Langenscheidt were arguing as they neared the major's staff car, then the Gestapo-officer pushed the corporal back with one hand. "This is my last warning! I outrank you, and if I hear one more word of protest I'll arrest for insubordination – or, even better, get your court materialled for conspiracy with the enemy!"
Karl didn't back down easily, even if his heart was on a permanent up and down between heart and gut. "Oberst Klink left me in charge – and this camp belongs to the Luftwaffe, Herr Major. General Burkhalter will learn of this and…"
"General Burkhalter will be glad that finally strict discipline will find entrance in this mess you're calling a POW-camp," Hochstetter snarled. "Our 'tough' Kommandant Klink is unavailable and to leave a Stalag in the hands of a simple corporal is irresponsible. The safety of the area is endangered when no-one is here to lead the camp with a stern hand. This leaves me no other choice than to overtake Stalag 13 officially. I leave Leutnant von Neuhaus in charge. If I should learn that some irregularities are taking place here within the next days, you and all corporals will be questioned and court materialled." He turned around and saw that Hogan was brought towards his car.
"My dear Colonel Hogan," he called. "You really have nine lives like a cat. But what's the old saying? A clever dog catches the cat?"
"That you made up," Hogan growled. "I know a real saying that fits you perfectly: The coward sticks his face up the own ass until he's too blind to see the dog before it bites him!"
He yelped as a hard fist landed on his back – making him stumble forwards straight against the staff car. The next moment he was turned around and the fist hit him in the belly.
"Enough, Mayer!" Hochstetter said; sounding almost kindly. "You should know that Hogan is too arrogant and stupid to know when it is better to keep his mouth shut." He closed the distance to the gasping American, who had doubled over. Gripping Hogan's collar, Hochstetter hauled him up, opened the car's door of the backseat and shoved his nemesis inside; not caring that the other man banged his head in the process.
Bending down, Hochstetter murmured, "This was your biggest mistake, Hogan – not to flee when you had the chance. We both know that Klink wouldn't have been able to hold you back yesterday evening, yet you decided to play the hero – again." He smirked. "I have an old saying for you, too, Hogan: 'The proof of heroism doesn't lay within brave acts, but in enduring of defeat'. And believe me, Hogan, your defeat and upcoming agony will demand your hardest grip on heroism – and this will be my biggest pleasure."
Hogan glared up at him, while still catching his breath. "You're a fool, Hochstetter. You always try to surpass others, even your own people, but you'll learn that this is the beginning of the end. You…"
"No, Hogan, it's you who doesn't understand what's going on. I've enough evidences and proofs of your deeds within Germany that it would be enough of executing you a dozen times. And for the case that you're too much in denial to realize your position: This time there is no Klink or someone else from the Luftwaffe who will interference. This time there will be no escape for you." He bent down into the car, gripped Hogan's hair, pulled his head roughly into the neck and whispered into his ear with glee, "Now you are mine!"
He let go off the colonel, straightened his form, pulled out his pistol, closed the door and rounded the car to take the seat beside Hogan. "Von Neuhaus, you have your orders. Keep an eye on Hogan's men – and by the tiniest suspect that they're up to something, arrest them."
"Jawohl, Herr Major!"
Hochstetter climbed into the car; his weapon was aimed straight at Hogan's chest. The driver took his place behind the wheel and started the motor.
Langenscheidt and Hilda got a last glance at the American colonel, who looked with hidden, yet still to see anxiety at them, then the car drove off.
'God, we've to help him,' Hilda thought, near a panic attack. But how? What if Hochstetter had indeed found out what Hogan's real mission was in Germany?
Okay, he had never admitted that he was a spy, but deep down she simply knew that Hochstetter was right – that Robert Hogan was indeed part of the Underground and was fulfilling missions in secret, using Stalag 13 as base and alibi. Too often he had asked for delicate information, had tricked her – and Klink – of revealing details and had closer looks into documents which were top secret. She had made calls for him, had flirted with German officers to distract them from what he was doing, and far too often odd things happened which prevented changes within the camp's routine. Her helping him finishing his missions over and over again made her a member of the Underground, too – and it filled her with pride.
What had become of Germany since it had changed into the Third Reich was hell on Earth, in which people – family, friends, neighbors, co-worker – couldn't trust each other anymore, but had to fear to be sold or revealed to the SD (the intelligence-department of the SS) or to the Gestapo. Destroyed cities and villages, hunger, fear and despair were all that was left after all those years of war, and the sooner the war would be over the better.
Therefore, she hadn't mind supporting Hogan and his men; knowing that Robert held the death toll among the German army and Gestapo as low as possible. To kill wasn't his style and he only did it when there was no other way anymore. He was an enemy officer to her homeland, a spy and saboteur, yet he had more honor as most of the whole brass in Berlin.
And now this man she had developed deeper feelings for than simple adoration, was in mortal danger. Even more, he was facing torture – because of her! As Hochstetter arrived, announcing that he learned that the camp was without leading officer and would therefore overtake command, she had known that she had conjured the catastrophe during the telephone talk with him an hour ago.
Hilda was devasted.
Looking at Langenscheidt, who had pressed his lips into a thin line, she knew that he felt bad for Hogan like she did. And maybe he felt sorry enough for the colonel to help her to get this madness stopped.
She watched Leutnant von Neuhaus stepping to the corporal and listened to his demand of the actual report. Expressionless Langenscheidt told him of the problems with the emergency generator, but that everything else was in order. In return they learned of the general power blackout in the whole area and that only the emergency generator within the camp supplied their needs by now. Wrapping her arms around herself she followed the short exchange between the two men, then the Leutnant's focus drove towards her. His ice-blue eyes watched her from head to toe and back, and she felt a chill running down her spine she was unable to suppress.
"You are 'Fräulein Hilda', Oberst Klink's secretary?" he asked.
"Yes, Herr Leutnant, Hilda Schneider is my name," she answered; sounding surprisingly firm given the circumstances.
He closed the distance to her and offered her his hand. "A pleasure to meet you," he said with unexpected charm, while lifting her hand shortly to his lips. "I hope we'll work well together."
'And I hope you go to hell,' she thought, but smiled back at him. Maybe it would be an advantage to woo the man – an advantage Kinchloe and the others could use to rescue Hogan. There was no doubt that the men were already making plans to safe their commanding officer and friend, and maybe she could be of help for them. After all, she had to make up a lot, even if it had been never her intention to risk Robert's life like she obviously did.
So, she answered with an almost shy batter of her eye-lashes. "I hope for the same, Herr Leutnant."
He nodded towards the Kommandantur. "Is it possible to get a cup of hot coffee?"
"Of course, Herr Leutnant, please come with me." She entered the building; von Neuhaus followed her. And while she closed the door she asked herself, what else could go wrong at this day.
*** HH *** HH ***
Hogan was roughly shoved in the visitor chair on the other side of Hochstetter's desk. It wasn't the first time the colonel was in this room. The last time he had been invited to be an official witness of the German's next top-weapon and its pinpoint accuracy he should report to the Allies, maybe giving them second thoughts not to surrender to Germany. The whole thing backfired after Hogan and the developer of the weapon sabotaged the missile. Hochstetter had been enraged – like so often – had brought them here and had questioned them. He had ranted at Hogan and the others without having any proof that the colonel had something to do with the failure. Hogan had been deeply amused as Hochstetter had acted like Rumpelstiltskin during a raging fit worth the gnome that wore this name in the fairy-tale.
But not now.
Amusement was as far from Hogan's mind as the home of his parents in the United States. He hid his dread behind a mask of bravery and cockiness, as Hochstetter took his own seat, but inside he was chilled to the bones what had nothing to do with the cold he caught. He knew that the next minutes of skirmishing were the last moments of his life which would be easy. Afterwards there would be nothing else for him anymore than pain 'til his last breath.
Hochstetter glanced at the guards. "Wait outside!" he instructed. "This is only between the prisoner and me."
Hogan felt his fear increasing. He doubted that the major sent the guards away to have a private talk with him that maybe would lead into an attempt of blackmailing him. The malic shimmer in Hochstetter's eyes spoke of the thrill of anticipation that had nothing to do with forcing Hogan into any kind of bargain. Hochstetter was convinced to have evidences for the American's role within the Underground, and he would love to press secrets out of his nemesis with brute force.
As the door closed with a click, there was for a moment nothing else to hear than the ticking of the mantle clock, then Hochstetter bent forwards and folded his hands on the desk top. Both men didn't look away from each other, as the major began.
"You ask yourself what I found out to arrest you – risking trouble with General Burkhalter and the Luftwaffe. To say the truth, it wasn't easy to glean all the information and details I needed to act at last. It costed me months of searching and following all hints I got, but finally everything fitted together like the pieces of a puzzle. And the picture of the puzzle is clear as fresh water – and confirms what I always assumed concerning you."
Hogan knew that he and his men had left tracks during their missions and that certainly a few evidences pointed towards them. Yet he was not ready to confess anything. Leaning back, his hands still shackled behind his back, he gave the major a half-smile.
"I already told you that you should get yourself a hobby, Major Hochstetter. You've obviously too much spare time to hunt prisoners which are locked up in the toughest POW-camp in all Germany."
Hochstetter chuckled – and it didn't sound nice. "I took your advice to heart, Hogan, and got myself a hobby: To bring you down."
"That is not a hobby, but obsession," the colonel deadpanned.
"To give your best, you have to be obsessed with something," the major answered with a crocodile smile. "And I gave my best."
He rose and began to walk the office. "Do you want to know what I found out? Of course, you do, and I can understand it. Everyone should learn what leads to the own death." He looked at Hogan who hadn't moved an inch but looked straight towards the wall.
Returning to the desk Hochstetter leant against it beside the colonel; bracing his arms backwards in a gesture of pure superiority.
"First I got suspicious because since you had been taken to Stalag 13, sabotages and odd things around the area increased dramatically. Then I heard rumors – of men wearing black and running through the night, leaving destruction behind and people went missing. People which were suspected of being members of the Underground, escapees from other POW-camps, jails, and so on. Then I got reports concerning German officers and soldiers of giving orders which ended in successful sabotages – men in uniform whose name had never been heard of before and never appeared again. Sometimes they were followed but they vanished like smoke in the air – and more than often near Stalag 13. Yet there was no proof that those men were POWs, because none got ever caught."
"So, your point is…?" Hogan asked; not liking to where the explanation was heading to.
"My point is, Hogan, that all evidence is telling me that you and your men are those saboteurs – in civil, in black, in uniform. And besides all the hints and indications there is one thing more – and this 'thing' is you!" He cocked his head; feeling satisfaction as he recognized the first sign of unease on the colonel's face. "Since I met you for the first time I knew something was off with you, and after seeing and speaking with you dozens of times, everything clicked into place."
He bent forwards. "I'm a predator, Hogan, and as a predator you must have a certain feeling, a six sense so to say, to smell your prey even against the wind. And you, Colonel, smelled exactly like this – only that I realized that you're a hunter like me. You're a wolf in the sheep's clothing and no-one can lock up a wolf without getting him restless. But even after almost three years in captivity you are calm, content and almost happy; protesting about minor matters and childish things to keep up the pretend. You are a predator who is successfully on the hunt, living out his nature in secret."
He leant back again and nodded slowly as he met Hogan's piercing eyes. "You are far too perky for a prisoner, always barking into the scene like you were in command – and we both know that, indeed, you are! At least you think so and maybe you really hold the reins within Stalag 13, but how much power you really have remains to be seen."
"The commanding officer of Stalag 13 is Colonel Klink – he was it and will remain it. To believe anything else…"
"…Will lead to make you fall into action to keep Klink in place. Don't think I haven't realized how often Burkhalter or other staff officers tried to transfer Klink to the Russian Front, but always Klink gets all of sudden important enough to let him remain in his position."
"Maybe because he is important. He's a high decorated officer who gained his reputation in the Great War – when you were still too much a child than doing anything else than to go to school."
"Just like you at those times, Hogan," Hochstetter taunted, before he looked thoughtfully at the other man. "The point is, that you are the one who make the others realize just what a 'fine' officer Klink is."
Hogan shrugged nonchalant. "Why not? Klink is tough but fair – a man of honor. I've seen too many officers in this country which are nothing more than cruel cowards, gaining their stripes by harassing and tormenting others, even the own people." He saw Hochstetter gritting his teeth and knew that he had hit home. "Of course, every one of us POWs prefers a reputable man like Colonel Klink in charge of our camp instead of someone who lives his frustration out by abusing his rank. And me as the senior POW officer is the only one who can speak directly with him and his visitors, therefore it is naturally me who points out to those narcissistic gongs-wearers what a good officer Klink is."
"Your obvious friendship with Klink is touching, Hogan," the major sneered. "But it also makes me think that there is maybe more going on between you two. Maybe the ever so 'honorable' Oberst Klink is nothing more than a traitor and works with you hand in hand!"
Hogan stared at him – and began to laugh. "Sweet Lord, are all Gestapo-officers suffering paranoia or is it only you and your obsession to gain victory over the Luftwaffe by renouncing loyal officers?"
"Don't reverse paranoia with logical thinking, Hogan! It's you who always come up with some excuse for Klink' foolish acting or mention some urgent matters Klink has to take care of when he gets into deep water. You sit in his office like you two are best friends, disrespect but also defend him whenever possible. And only yesterday you put his safety above your own, and…"
"It was Colonel Klink who saved me, not the other way around," Hogan interrupted Hochstetter; highly on alert of all the evident the major mentioned and which could only lead to one conclusion: The Gestapo-officer had psyched him out.
"Yes, this much I understand," the major nodded. "Oberst Klink, the biggest coward in uniform, ran back into a rain of bullets to save you. And you, knowing that I have revealed your secret, didn't try to flee to save yourself, but decided to take Klink back to Stalag 13. You two need each other – and want to know, why."
Hogan forced an expression of surprise on his face. "We 'need' each other? What do you mean with those words, Major? Really, I never took you for this kind of guy who…" He gasped as he was backhanded anew – straight on the same spot that was still red and slightly swollen from yesterday's manhandling.
"Shut up!" Hochstetter snarled, before he regained some self-control. "Your bad mouth is an insult for every honorable German officer. "
Hogan shot him a glance of pure disgust and hate. "Then it's good that no 'honorable German officer' is present in the moment, because…"
The next hit was delivered to the other side of his face, and his ears began to ring. Dammit, Hochstetter really had some hidden strength beneath his uniform. Slowly Hogan glared up at his nemesis – eyes narrowed, yaw lifted proudly. "You can beat me all you want, but it doesn't will change the truth."
"The truth?" the major snorted. "I'll press the truth out of you like juice from a lemon. Be sure of it, Hogan. And if you are as half as clever as you think you are, you better hold your tongue before you're in more trouble than you already are."
"They called me 'troublemaker' since I was little, and I didn't bow to anyone who thought he could put me down," Hogan said; displaying impertinence again by giving Hochstetter a lopsided grin. "Just ask my teachers. I even can give you the telephone number of my main teacher. He certainly will…" He stopped and pretended to be contrite. "Sorry, Major, I forgot that there are no telephone calls permitted between Germany and the US."
Hochstetter only glared at him and sneered, "Very funny, Hogan, but I guarantee you that you'll soon be laughing out of the other side of your face."
The colonel cocked his head. "'From the other side of my face'? Of course, after all you damaged enough of the right side of my face with your backhand. Have you played tennis during your youth? I could almost believe it given the strength you put into your blows."
Hochstetter glared with hate at him, pushed himself away from the desk and started to walk around again.
"Do you want to hear the rest of my investigation, or shall we move directly to the part that will be very unpleasant for you?"
Hogan didn't even know why he stalled time. There was no chance that his men could put any plan into action they maybe had come up with during the next hours – or even days. Yet every minute the 'questioning' wouldn't begin was a minute of grace more.
"I'm all ears, Major."
"I thought so," the Gestapo-officer snorted, before he took a deep breath. "The next parts of my investigations will certainly wipe any smirk off your face. Do you remember Major Pruhst?"
The alert-bells in Hogan's mind were almost deafening. "Small, older than you but definitely with the same foul mood you always have. I think he showed up during the time you were questioned in Berlin for letting Underground agents drive away in your car."
Yes, Hogan knew that it was anything but smart to provoke Hochstetter even more, but if he was about to be tortured and killed, then he would put as much thorns into his nemesis' sides as possible.
Hochstetter hooked the thumbs in his belt and watched him like a hawk. "There is a certain method in your insolence, Hogan. You try to enrage me enough to kill you on the spot to avoid a more 'stern' questioning, but believe me, Colonel, you will not succeed in this."
He returned to his desk and sat down again. "Major Pruhst came to the same conclusion than I did: That you are a spy and saboteur. Regrettable our superior officers don't see it this way, but contraire to Pruhst I knew for what to search to convict you. Ever heard the name Erik Schafstein?"
Hogan frowned and pretended to think of the question. "No, never heard," he said. "Who is it?"
"We both know that you're lying through your teeth just right now. On the other hand, I can understand your question who this man is – after all, he doesn't really exist."
The colonel felt his mouth going dry but decided to keep up the charade. "You insist that I know someone's name who doesn't even exist? Are you feeling well, Major?"
"Erik Schafstein was the pseudonym you used to set Pruhst and your 'honorable' Klink on the wrong track," Hochstetter continued; ignoring Hogan's jibe for once. "Pruhst had you identified by a German citizen who saw you destroying a bridge a few months ago, and you came up with the crazy idea the man saw a Doppelganger of you. So, you showed up on the party of Feld Marschall von Leitner – a high decorated staff-officer who returned to his residence in Hammelburg. Grey hair, a moustache and glasses were enough to give you a slightly different appearance, but still showed the similarities between you and the supposed Doppelganger. To top everything, you pretended to be an old friend of the family, especially towards von Leitner's son – and even made up a story about a tattoo you and the young von Leitner received on the right arms. You showed it Pruhst and Klink, and…"
"This was the reason why I had to roll up my sleeve in the middle of a chess game at the late evening?" Hogan pretended to be baffled. "Pruhst and Klink both rambled about a tattoo, but I hadn't the tiniest clue, why…" He stopped, and his eyes widened. "They thought the guy at the party was me?"
"Clever, Hogan," Hochstetter nodded and even applauded three times. "Really clever. And almost a perfect plan to steer any suspicions away from your person. I do not know how you manage to attend this party, coming and going like you want while the gates of the camp are firmly closed, but don't worry. I'll find the answer to this question when I turn every barrack upside down – especially yours."
"This again," the colonel sighed and shook his head. "As I said: Paranoia."
Again, the major ignored him. "I checked the odd guest's identity: There is no Erik Schafstein in the whole German army – not anymore. A man with this name died seven years ago at a heart attack. He lived near Bielefeld and was fifty-six years old! He also got injured during the Great War and had lost his left leg. So, there is no chance that the real Erik Schafstein was on that party – unless it was his ghost, but why should a ghost have your face and body, Hogan?"
The American felt the disaster closing up on him. He had to agree with Hochstetter: All evidence pointed towards him. Still he had to try to talk his way out – even if a tiny voice in his head whispered that there was no chance of success this time.
"Didn't the field marshal affirmed that this Schafstein was an old friend of the family?" he asked innocently.
"Yes, but von Leitner suffers dementia – the reason why he was pensioned. You could feed him with any story you like, and he believes it. Sad for a man of his caliber, but dementia is something everyone could get. The point is, Hogan, I spoke with his son. He doesn't know an Erik Schafstein – he hasn't even a tattoo. The man who showed up on the party was an imposter…"
"An imposter using a wrong name?" Hogan mocked. "We really live in evil times, Major. Spies and imposters are introducing themselves with the false names. The nerve of them!"
Hochstetter's palm landed with a sharp sound on the desktop. "Hogan, you really have no reason to make fun of this. The imposter wore your face, sounded like you and even charmed his way into the other's mind just like you would do – because it was you! You maybe can fool Klink – that isn't too difficult – but you can't fool me! Pruhst was in hot pursuit of you, and you wriggled yourself out of the situation by misleading him and your 'honorable' Kommandant Klink."
Hogan couldn't deny it: His stomach had turned into a churning stone, while ice seemed to flow through his veins. Hochstetter really got him – and cold fear was crawling up his spine. He was facing a dead end – literarily. Yet he wouldn't give up. Never!
"Do you have any real proof for your accusations, Major?" he asked; forcing his voice to sound firm.
"Besides all those indicators which would be enough for any judge to find you guilty? Yes, a witness who identified you a few days ago while you were in Hammelburg, wearing civil clothes and meeting with someone from the Underground."
Hogan blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he asked; truly confused now. The last time he had been in Hammelburg had been when he and his men were forced to clean the road from the snow, and they were locked up in the closed Hofbräu, playing music to trigger the avalanche that finally came down after Klink's thundering sneezing. Since then he hadn't been in the little town again.
"Oh, come on, Hogan, this is getting old!" Hochstetter taunted. "The witness came to the Gestapo and reported that a man of your size with dark hair met with another man in a dark alley, took some papers from him and then both vanished while acting very suspiciously – looking around the next corner before they entered different streets. The incident was reported to me and I sought the man out, showing him a photo of you. He affirmed that one of the two men was you!"
Hogan's heart pounded loud enough to be certainly heard. He hadn't been in town, but Newkirk. Peter had retrieved valuable information the Heroes had transferred to London the same night. Usually Hogan would have gone but…
"When should this all have taken place?" he asked; fighting to appear composed.
"Last Monday at eleven p.m. or so," Hochstetter answered.
Behind his back, Hogan balled his hands into fists. Yes, last Monday Newkirk had gone to Hammelburg in Hogan's place, because…
"Last Monday Colonel Klink invited me to play chess with him in his quarters. We played longer than intended and…"
"Of course," the major sneered. "Of course, you were elsewhere occupied – at best with one of the Germans as your alibi." He shook his head and smiled malicious. "The excuses and tricks you've up your sleeve seem to be endless, Hogan, and I have to admit that I almost admire you for this. You're worth of being a member of the Gestapo."
"Thanks, no need for belonging to a club of insane paranoids," Hogan shot back.
Hochstetter rose, braced both hand on the desktop and bent slightly forwards until he was almost on eye level with the American. "Admit that it was you who was in Hammelburg last Monday and…"
"I wasn't! Why don't you ask Colonel Klink? I know that he will get in trouble for playing chess with a POW until two o'clock in the morning, but we got carried away after each of us won a game and we agreed on one final one to see who the winner of the evening is."
"You know that Klink is in hospital, and…"
"Because of a nasty cold and two graze wounds. He isn't too ill to answer a few questions," Hogan protested. "Before you accuse me further of being a spy and saboteur, you really should get some true proofs, and…"
"I got them, Hogan, even if you deny it."
"The last one has already turned into smoke and concerning this imposter Schafstein you also have no proofs that I was him. I was the whole evening in my barrack and…"
"Nothing has 'turned into smoke', Hogan. The witness a few months ago, and the witness here in Hammelburg – both men clearly identified you. I see no reason to disturb Klink on his sick-bed only…"
"Only because you fear that your 'proof' turns out to be none if you ask him! You rather accuse an innocent POW of…"
Both fists banged on the desktop. "You are anything than 'innocent', Hogan!" Hochstetter yelled; his face turning red. "And I don't care with which arguments you come up to get your neck out of the noose. The noose is already too tight around your throat." He bent even more forwards. "You really should start to talk, or it will get very ugly for you."
Hogan, still clinging to his mask of cockiness, curled the left edge of his mouth. "Do you want to put me in a small room again – too low to stand in it and also too small to lay down properly?" he taunted; using Hochstetter's own threat from two year ago as the major had shown up for the first time in Stalag 13 and had tried to pave the way for his superior at this time, Gruppenführer Freitag. It had been the first time the two men had met and instantly clashed – and since then it had worsened into a peak.
The major gritted his teeth. "You simply do not know when to quit your jokes, Hogan." He took another deep breath. "We can do this the easy, or the hard way. Tell me what I want to know, and I promise you a quick and painless death. I even will put in a good word for your men, after all they only followed your orders. I've connections in Berlin. I give you my word that I will try to get them not executed but transferred to a labor camp. But remain stubborn, and you going to regret the day you were born."
Hogan swallowed the rising bile in his mouth; knowing that stalling time was no option anymore. And yet it was the only thing he could do to buy himself some more minutes. "I don't accept to be blackmailed into admitting something I've not…"
"Who is your contact in Hammelburg and in the Underground?" Hochstetter interrupted his protest sharply. "How do you get in and out of Stalag 13? Who supports you in the camp? I want names and details! How do you get your orders and from whom? What are the Allies next steps? What are your next missions? I want answers, Papa Bear, and I want them now!"
The colonel's belly clenched with anxiety, yet he clung to the reckless façade. "Papa Bear? You do have a knack for fairy tales, don't you?"
Hochstetter rounded his desk again, bent over Hogan and put his hands on the armrests to the colonel's both sides. His face was near enough the American's that Hogan could feel the major's breath on his cheek. "Stop your denying, Hogan. The game is over! Your life is forfeit, but you still can save that of your men. And you can spare yourself a lot of pain if you play along now. The decision is up to you."
Both men stared at each other with fierce loath in the eyes. Hogan knew that nothing he would say would convince Hochstetter that he caught the wrong man here – after all, the major was mostly right with his accuses. Fright crept through his inner being, spread through his heart and soul, and burnt icily beneath his skin. He knew what laid ahead of him if he didn't give into Hochstetter's demands, but there was only one answer he could give,
"Robert E. Hogan, colonel of the US Air Force, serial-number…"
He didn't get any further, as Hochstetter's right hand closed around his throat with a brutal grip; cutting off his breath.
"I hoped that you would chose the hard way, Hogan," he whispered; eyes shining with glee. "I hoped that you would remain stubborn what gives me the best excuse to put you to where you belong: To my feet."
Hogan reared up; tried to escape the cruel fingers which dipped into the tender skin and was about to crush the vulnerable inside of his throat, but to no avail. He felt his face reddening and even if his mind told him that Hochstetter wouldn't kill him – not so soon – a hue of panic rose in him.
The major smiled as he saw the fear shimmering in his nemesis' eyes, and added with malic joy, "I will break you, Hogan. I will break you until nothing is left of you despite a whimpering heap of misery, begging to be killed." He lowered his voice to an evil whisper, "You're going to be my masterpiece!"
He let go off him and stormed to the door, while behind him the colonel gasped for breath and coughed strongly. Pulling the door open, the major barked, "Guards, take Colonel Hogan to interrogation room 3."
"Directly to interrogation room 3, Herr Major?" one of the SS-guards asked with mild surprise.
"You heard me," Hochstetter snapped, before he looked back at the still coughing figure on the visitor chair. "Colonel Hogan belongs to those people, who never do easy. It will spare us all a lot of time and trouble, if he is thoroughly questioned from the beginning."
The two guards stepped to the American, hauled him on his feet and dragged him with them. As they passed Hochstetter, the major put a hand on Hogan's upper arm and squeezed it hard; driving the colonel's attention towards himself.
"What comes now, Hogan, is your own fault. I warned you, but you didn't want to listen. If you're religious, start praying, because soon you won't be able to think of anything else than of someone who will put an end to your misery!"
As the guards pulled him roughly down the hallway towards the staircase that led to the cellars, Hogan still was trying to regain his breath. There was no doubt what this interrogation room 3 was, and he felt his knees weakening. Only his pride and dignity prevented him from panicking. But as he was forced down the steps, there was only one thought that echoed through his mind with rising despair,
'Sweet Lord, please help me!'
TBC…
Yes, I already gave you hints that Hogan will face a dark time – and his friends' hands are more or less tied.
I always regarded Hochstetter as a highly intelligent but also very evil man, who won't stop at nothing to climb up the ladder of carrier and to bring those to fall who gave him trouble. He and Hogan clashed the very first time they met – and they goaded each other during the months and even years. Both are hunters, both are determined to help their countries to gain victory within the war's madness, yet there was always the small but still large difference between them: Hochstetter was a maniac in my eyes, Hogan – even as a spy and saboteur – still had his limits; especially when it came to other ones' lives.
The ultimate showdown between those two was something I always hoped to see in the TV-show (even if the show was stopped filming half a year after my birth, so the outcome was clear from the beginning as I became a fan). So I let it peaked into the almost biggest disaster that could take place: Hochstetter figured out the truth by simply deducing all evidences.
I really hope you liked it.
Within the next chapter, the Heroes are trying to find a way to rescue their superior and friend, while Hogan faces a cruel face of the war he had been spared of until now. And to make matters worse, the Heroes can't act like they would usually do because of the SS-member's overtaking of Stalag 13. Yet they won't give up – but the question remains, what they can do.
Like always I'll love to get comments and other kinds of feedbacks.
Thank you so much for putting up with my writing despite the lack of some beta-reading in the moment.
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Starflight
