Hi, my dear readers!

I'm happy that the new 'adventure' obviously woke your interest. And, be certain, the next chapters will be one big rollercoaster.

Hochstetter is back, and even insane he has still a clever and almost brilliant mind, how it will be proven in this chapter. He plans his revenge carefully and makes certain that everyone will face it.

So, have 'fun' with the new chapter,

Love

Yours Starflight

Chapter 60 – Hellish plans

Leutnant Stephan von Neuhaus strolled into his own office, already in a bad mood. He had thought that after what happened two days prior with the whole disaster of the project of General Burkhalter, Schmidt would be kicked out of his job. Yes, Freiberger had taken charge, but Schmidt had chosen the men who had to observe the area during the last few days and which radio men should try to detect any possible forbidden signals – and they had failed.

But Schmidt was still here, leading this HQ, and Freiberger was with Burkhalter in Nürnberg; answering to two of the Reich's highest ranking men. Maybe Freiberger would pin the blame on Schmidt, and the blasted boy would stripped of his rank. Then…

The telephone rang and interrupted his dark brooding. "Yes?" He barked into the line, and frowned. "Who? Brigade General von Stetten? And he calls from Nürnberg?" Well, he didn't know a general who went by this name. Maybe someone had been promoted a short time ago, but that this was a priority-one call, came from Nürnberg, and was only for him woke von Neuhaus' interest. This call had to do with Schmidt and the Reichsmarschall, or the Reichsführer realized who was guilty at the shameful failure of the mission. "Yes, put him through." He waited, tensed. As it clicked in the line, he reported with his strong voice. "Leutnant von Neuhaus, Gestapo Headquarters in Hammelburg. How can I be at your service, General?" His mind was fully clear and concentrated on the upcoming talk.

But the voice that answered made him almost leaping on his feet. "Stephan, it's me."

The Leutnant needed a moment to collect himself as he heard a voice he had never thought to hear again. He felt adrenaline flowing through his veins while his heart beat quickened – but not out of fear or anger, but out of disbelief mingled with hope. "Major Hochstetter, is that you?" He asked quietly, looking to the closed, thick door made of strong oak wood. Good, no one could hear him.

"Yes, it's me," came the answer through the line. "Can we talk?"

Von Neuhaus sat back in his desk chair, the hint of a smile moving his lips. "Yes, Herr Major, I'm alone and protocol hasn't changed concerning the top secret status of a priority-one call." He took a deep breath. "Sir, I take it you escaped?"

"Yes, thanks to an US air fighter that was so nice to drop down on our camp and awake some chaos during which I was able to flee." His voice sounded tired, yet hard and determined – just like the Leutnant knew it from several occasions before.

"How are you, Herr Major?"

A sigh was to hear. "I'm not a major anymore and…"

"For me, you are," von Neuhaus interrupted him almost softly. "They really played a dirty trick on you."

"I see it likewise, but you're in a bad position if a general, an Oberst, and a traitor speak against you." He sounded bitter before he added, "I need your help, my friend."

"Of course, Herr Major," von Neuhaus agreed instantly, assuming that his former superior needed his support to disappear. But what he heard then made his eyes wide.

"I'm in Nürnberg and catching a train that travels to Frankfurt via Schweinfurt. Can you pick me up there? And I need some supplies. Something to eat and drink – and a pistol."

The Leutnant frowned. Out of more than one reason. "You'll take a train? They are only allowed for members of…"

"I'm wearing SS-black – as a sergeant. Not my original rank, but it is enough to get a free ticket for the railway," Hochstetter interrupted him. "Pick me up in Schweinfurt midday. I'll be at the main entrance of the interims building – that means, if it is still existing after the damn Allies' attack last week."

"I'll find you, Herr Major, don't worry," von Neuhaus said, asking himself to what his former superior was up to. "I'll also bring some food and…" He hesitated before he sighed in resignation. "And a pistol. What about papers? Are you in need for…"

"No, I don't need papers, but you should think of a reason to visit Stalag 13 afterwards."

Von Neuhaus stiffened as he began to realize Hochstetter's intentions.

"Herr Major," he said quietly. "I can understand that you want to make Klink and his damn Ami pet pay, but this would be suicide. You won't be able to escape from there if…"

"I don't care, Stephan. My life ended the moment I was sentenced and transported to a working camp, robbed of rank and honor. But I'll take those with me who brought me to fall. I'm still a SS and Gestapo officer of the Third Reich and know my duty – even if the Reich didn't help me. Klink is a traitor, and Hogan is a dangerous spy who has to be stopped…even if it is too late for it, seeing the fact that we're about to lose the war. But what he did can't go unpunished. Those two have to be stopped once and for all. And you should think of a chance to kick out this whelp Schmidt. Maybe you can put the blame of my success on his shoulders." He took a deep breath. "I have to end the call. The station master I sent out of his office is getting nervous by now, and a few SS men are heading into our direction. We'll speak when you pick me up in Schweinfurt."

Von Neuhaus wanted to argue – to make him see that there was still the chance to disappear from Germany and to return later, but it would be better to discuss with Hochstetter in the privacy of a car. "I'll be there, Herr Major. Please be careful." He heard a soft click in the line and put the receiver back on the phone.

For a long moment, he had to collect himself. He knew that he was about to cross a line if he really helped someone kill a Luftwaffe officer. On the other hand, if Klink was really a traitor – and given the velvet gloves he treated his POWs with and how strong he stood up for Hogan, Klink maybe was really a Judas – then he had to be eliminated. And if legal ways weren't enough, then more drastic methods had to be used.

Von Neuhaus wasn't blind. He knew that Hochstetter was right when he said that the war was as good as lost for the Third Reich, but those who had betrayed the Fatherland and helped the Allies to gain victory had to pay…now, before it was too late, and they would remain free and become 'heroes'.

Von Neuhaus still had a bone or two to pick with Klink for the Oberst's impertinence as he kicked him out of Stalag 13 and later treated him with arrogance and effrontery during the investigation of Kriminalrat Lübkemeier.

And concerning Hogan, there was something off with the American. Klink protected him far too much, while the colonel had liberties not even lower ranking German officers would have within the camp. Despite the fact that Hogan's cheeky manners were something von Neuhaus loathed, he also had heard all the arguments his former superior Hochstetter had signposted, and he believed him.

If he only thought of the failed mission last weekend with two destroyed and one amok running rocket, a mysterious transmitter radio, and a completely cleaned hunting cottage close to the place where the radio was found and the rockets were destroyed, his hackles rose. And then the fact that everything happened in close range to Stalag 13 – including Hogan and a working troop changing a wanted traitor's flat tire. He was convinced that Hochstetter had been right about the American the whole time.

There was no real proof, but the evidence spoke its own language.

Hochstetter's re-appearance gave him, von Neuhaus, the chance to kill not two, but three birds with one stone. Klink and Hogan would get what they deserved, he, von Neuhaus, could maybe overtake Schmidt's job, and Hochstetter would get real justice by taking revenge on those who tried to eliminate him. The only drop of bitterness was the prospect that the whole thing would be suicide of his former superior, yet he could understand him. They all had made an oath to the Third Reich, Himmler, and the Führer. To fight 'til the last breath, to protect the dictated ideals, and to destroy the sworn enemies.

So, how to proceed now? He needed an alibi for being away. For visiting Stalag 13, and he needed something that would lead to Schmidt's removal from his post in result of Oberst Klink's impending death.

And von Neuhaus already had an idea. But to make his plans work, he had to distract Schmidt with another task. Something that would take him away from the HQ in the late afternoon. With a smile, he gripped for the telephone again.

*** HH *** HH ***

No one in Stalag 13 could guess what darkness was beginning to reach for the camp – and especially for the two highest ranking officers in it.

Hogan had left his lover's cozy bed during the night and had returned to his own Barracks by creeping through the camp – just like he had done several times before his men and he had dug the tunnel to the Kommandant's quarters. His men had been deep asleep and, just like he had assumed, the bed that hid the secret entrance was occupied. He wouldn't have a chance to climb back into the Barracks without waking everyone in the hut. Good thing that he took the riskier way to return to his quarters.

Roll call happened like every morning, and everybody became aware of how easily the typical banter between the two officers went; making everybody laugh.

The lovebirds had had a very 'intense' night with each other, and Hogan had some minor problems with moving smoothly – just like Klink.

Will had been a storm of passion, and Robert had immensely enjoyed their hours of love making. But today they both had to pay the price for it. He was well aware of the partly questioning or amused gazes of his friends during roll call this morning and wracked his brain with what to tell them. He was slowly running out of explanations and excuses, and for once he would remain in his own Barracks this evening.

During midday, the weather changed again, and the clouds lifted. The sun didn't break through, but at least the daylight was brighter. Many POWs were doing some sport in the compound, while Klink brooded over his books, asking himself how to get the needed nourishment for all of them within the next four weeks. The prices had climbed to the skies, ration coupons weren't enough anymore, and the black market was an almost empty desert.

At the same time, von Neuhaus parked his staff car and headed towards the station. The arrival part of the station, including one of the best restaurants in Schweinfurt, had been destroyed on August 17, 1943 during a grave air raid, and the other part of the building was only stabilized to serve as an entrance to an interims area with new built railway platforms.

The bombs, which had been sent down a week ago during the wide range attack of the Allies against Germany's traffic lines, had missed the most important parts of the station, and it was still usable.

As von Neuhaus arrived, the dark pillar of smoke showed that the train form Nürnberg had already arrived. Wehrmacht and SS members left the station in this moment, and the Leutnant watched them carefully in order to not miss his former superior.

He recognized him instantly. Even if Hochstetter had lost weight, was unshaved, and looked unhealthy, von Neuhaus knew instantly it was him. He strolled out of the building, nodded at some other men he obviously had shared a compartment with, and stopped on the pavement to look around. A rifle hung from his right shoulder.

"Sergeant von Stetten," von Neuhaus called loudly, using a mixture of Hochstetter's cover and current 'rank' to wake the ex major's attention.

The smaller man turned around, saw him, lifted hesitantly a hand in greeting, and headed towards him. Both men stopped in front of each other, and von Neuhaus was shocked as he saw the condition his former superior was in. Thin, sunken cheeked, three day stubbles, pale, and with an unholy gleaming in his eyes which spoke of a still determined mind. He couldn't help himself but lay a hand on Hochstetter's shoulder. "It's good to see you again, sir," he said quietly beneath is breath. "Even if you look like hell."

The ex-major looked up at the younger man with whom he had worked well with – someone, who shared his point of views and his methods. He had hoped to make von Neuhaus his successor one day while he climbed up the career ladder. Okay, the Leutnant maybe would really become his successor when the next day dawned, but concerning his own career, it was at an end. And those who had robbed him of everything would pay for it in the next few hours.

"I'm glad to be out of this hell hole," he said softly. "Thank you for coming, Stephan."

"Any time, sir," von Neuhaus replied, and saw the other man shuddering. "What is it?" He asked concerned.

"Too little sleep, too little food, too much hard work," Hochstetter answered, before he took a deep breath and straightened his shape. "Do you have…"

"Everything is in my car over there. Please, come with me, sir." He turned around and crossed the street, Hochstetter following him. Getting into the car, von Neuhaus first gave his former superior a package with food and also a vacuum flask with coffee – sweetened with sugar, like the ex-major preferred it.

"Thank you," Hochstetter said between bites. "I knew I could count on you."

Von Neuhaus nodded and steered the car out of the parking lot, heading to the west. Because many streets were barely traversable, those roads which were negotiable were full of people and a few cars and trucks from the Wehrmacht and the SS. Giving his 'passenger' a short glance, he saw how Hochstetter watched out of the window while eating the bread. He granted the older man some time while he concentrated on the traffic.

Hochstetter had had anything but a pleasant travel. Not that the company on the truck or later in the train had been bad. Yes, the mood wasn't this enthusiastic anymore like it had been even a few weeks ago. After all, even the biggest idiot began to realize that the war was about to be lost for the Third Reich. Yet Hochstetter had felt the almost stubborn determination to keep on. But somehow he had been oddly distanced from the men and everything around him. The whole world seemed to have changed in the weeks he had been locked away. The people, the landscape, the houses, the streets – between everything and him seemed to be an invisible wall that separated him from the rest of the world. He felt numb, yet he had rarely been alive like he was now – at least deep inside. There was a fire burning in him that grew with every hour and kilometer which brought him nearer to Stalag 13.

Vengeance.

That was what made him hold on during his captivity in M1 and Weingut 1. That was what made him act during the catastrophe in the camp and moved his hand as he killed Vogel. That was what let him walk kilometer by kilometer towards the northwest last night. That was what made him man the train and ask his colleague and confidant for a support that would lead to his death.

Revenge. It was what stirred the fire in him, the flames of the burning hate that was about to eat him alive.

There was nothing left for him despite the all consuming desire to destroy the men who sealed his downfall: Klink, the traitor, and Hogan, the master spy.

It certainly would be the last thing he would ever do in his life, but it almost felt good to have this one last task before he finally would find peace in death. He even looked forward to the end, knowing that he had wiped the two biggest thorns of his existence from the face of earth.

They had left Schweinfurt now, and von Neuhaus had to avoid potholes as he drove the car down the road towards Hammelburg.

"Do you really want to go through with this, sir?" He finally broke the silence. "I can provide you with papers and arrange a transport to the Danish border if you want. The Allies have conquered the west and southwest borders, but they weren't able to cross the Rhine River until now. The way to Denmark is still open and…"

Hochstetter shook his head. "No, thank you, Stephan, but I made my decision. Hogan and Klink have to pay for everything they did. Not only to me, but also to the Third Reich. It's my sworn duty to eliminate enemies of our Fatherland, and this time it also will be my revenge." His eyes were lowered to a small slit, nonetheless von Neuhaus saw a malic gleam in them as he looked to the right. The ex major had bared his teeth, and fury played on his face.

The Leutnant sighed, knowing he couldn't change his former superior's mind. "I brought a pistol for you – one from the gun room. I also made certain that the report from the last counting of our weapons speaks of crudities which hadn't been followed up afterwards. It will seem as if Schmidt is lazy with his responsibilities."

Hochstetter sipped at the hot coffee, his belly burnt with the unaccustomed nourishment and wrath. "And you think this will be enough to kick this liar and traitor out of his chair?"

Von Neuhaus allowed himself a grin. "No, but it's one thing of a few. I'll make sure that it looks like you intruded the HQ through the open window in his chamber and got the weapon like this. The windows have to be closed when the occupant of a chamber isn't there, but he 'forgot' it – or simply ignored protocol. Only like this you were able to get the gun you shot Klink and Hogan with." He side glanced at Hochstetter. "And while everything happened in Stalag 13, he isn't on his guard, but rather follows private interests."

The ex-major frowned. "How so?"

"He has fallen for Klink's secretary."

"Fräulein Hilda?" Hochstetter became wide-eyed, and for a moment, the fire of lurking insanity drew back a little bit. "Those two are a couple?" He whistled. "I don't think Hogan will like this."

Von Neuhaus frowned. "Hogan? What has he…?" He realized to what Hochstetter was referring. "Ah, I understand. He's after the young lady, too."

"At least they used to flirt with each other. They thought I missed this detail, but I didn't," the ex-major said. For a few seconds, he was his old self again. "Have you witnessed Hogan and Schmidt together? Was there any rivalry?"

The Leutnant shook his head. "They rather act nice to each other, as if it doesn't matter that they are on different sides and wear different uniforms. Schmidt even rebuked me as I tested Hogan a few weeks ago if his injuries he got from you are really this serious, or if he puts up a show. Klink was like a watch dog, and Schmidt even apologized towards Hogan for my behavior. Can you imagine this?"

Hochstetter sneered. "Concerning Klink: yes, I can imagine this. Those two always were too close despite the fact that they are opponent officers. Both showing their claws if the other one's safety or life is at stake. But Schmidt…" He pursed his lips. "The boy is a wimp with a too big heart that is absolutely out of place given his rank and position. And that Hogan doesn't show any signs of jealousy concerning Fräulein Hilda proves that he has lost his interest in her."

"Maybe he found someone else?" von Neuhaus suggested, and the other man snorted.

"How and whom? Don't you know: he is a POW for almost three years who never leaves the camp except he's brought to the hospital or fulfills some tasks Klink gives him. The 'poor man' has no chance to meet only one single woman while being locked up in Stalag 13." His voice dripped with mockery, then shrugged. "It could be that he fell for another woman during his many sabotage acts and spying tasks within the last few months. But this isn't of any interest for me. If Fräulein Hilda finally opened her eyes and preferred a German man, the better for her. It will give her less to mourn when Hogan dies." He chuckled. "On the other hand, the young lady certainly will get some heartache when her new 'sweetheart' is stripped of his rank and position and rots in some working camp for his laziness of duty that led to a Luftwaffe-Oberst's death."

Von Neuhaus took a deep breath. "Fräulein Hilda is a nice woman, and I almost pity the circumstance that it will be her who initiates Schmidt's failure and downfall."

Curious, Hochstetter looked at him. "How so?"

The Leutnant smirked. "Just wait."

*** HH *** HH ***

"Colonel," Baker said, and stepped into the few rays of sun which came through the scattered clouds above them. Hogan, who leaned against the Barrack's wall and had his face turned up to the warm shine with his eyes closed, looked at his friend.

"Yes?"

"I got a message from London. They want to know exactly where the German OHK is. Zossen is a small part of another small town that is surrounded by farms, country houses and cottages, and our boys don't want to attack civilian buildings."

"Since when?" Hogan grumbled, still highly disagreeing with 'Operation Thundercap'. To fight soldiers of the enemy was one thing; to spread terror among civilians to bring a hostile government to its knees was out of Hogan's league. Yes, Hitler did the same, but – dammit! – the US and Great Britain weren't fellows of the crazy madman! Yet they used similar methods for several weeks now. So why all of sudden this change of heart? Not that he didn't welcome it. Rather the opposite. But he didn't think that Roosevelt and Churchill changed their minds this quickly. Maybe Butler was behind this, and Robert was grateful for it.

Seeing the exceptional glance of Baker, he sighed and pushed himself away from the wall. "I'll ask the boss of our travel agency. He visited the grand hotel there and certainly can give us some advice."

Baker and Newkirk, who was nearby, chuckled at the dry humor their superior displayed like so often. And they couldn't control the grin that spread over their faces as they watched Hogan walking quickly over the compound towards the Kommandantur.

"They really use every tiny chance to be together, don't they?" Baker smirked.

"Inseparable – like the two poles of a magnet glued together," Peter agreed before he snorted. "Thank the Lord I don't have to see them together when they get all cozy. LeBeau said he needed days to forget the sight of seeing them laying side by side in bed – even if both were asleep and in pajamas as he burst into the sleeping room."

"Pajamas and nightgown, you mean," Baker teased, winking at Newkirk as he mentioned the second vision of nightclothes.

"Why does everyone laugh about my nightgown?" the English flyer pouted. "It's an old traditional way in my country."

Richard began to laugh. "And now I need brain bleach when I imagine your prime minister in a nightgown."

Promptly, Peter stuck his tongue out, but his eyes gleamed with fun.

*** HH ***

Hogan knocked at Klink's office door and stepped in even before the usual "Herein! (enter)" was spoken.

Will looked up from the papers he was working at, the show of formality firmly in place. "Hogan, I'm busy. Whatever it is…"

"… can't wait, Kommandant," Robert finished the sentence – a kind of duet they had 'sung' for almost three years now even before they became friends and more. Closing the door and keeping his cap in both hands like usual, Rob closed the distance to the desk, turning private now.

"Sorry if I really disturb you, Will…"

"You? Never!" Klink answered with a tender smile, while straightening his shape. "What is it?"

"London wants to have the exact location of the OHK. They don't want to attack real farm houses or country cottages which are spread everywhere in the area."

Klink leaned back and let the pencil sink to the desktop. "At least they try to spare civilians this time," he sighed and rose. "I can show you on a map of Berlin and the nearby area." Getting out the map from of one of the dressers at the wall, he unfolded it and pointed to a spot that was marked with 'Zossen'. "Here," he said, laying his index finger on a green nothingness in the west of the village. "Your pilots can't miss it. The country cottages are forming an oval with a larger, grassy area in the middle. The cottages are seemed to built in wooden framework style, but it's a mask. One road leads to the houses. The entrance to the bunker is at the left from the only crossroad, and the headquarters are beneath the fields to the left row of the cottages. The whole area is one big bunker with different chambers, entrances, and even an elevator for trucks."

Hogan memorized the exact position. "I have a map of Berlin in our tunnels. I'll mark the location and send it to London. Like this, mistakes can be precluded."

"Good idea," Klink nodded, and put the map back into the drawer. "Tell your boys to take well aim. I really couldn't live with myself if civilians in Zossen would die because of my statements to the Allies."

Rob laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I'll tell London. Promise."

A knock at the door made both men step away from each other, and Hilda peeked in. "Herr Kommandant, they're broadcasting a speech of Minister Goebbels."

Klink rolled his eyes. "More propaganda, more lies, more sand to throw into the people's eyes." Nonetheless, he stepped to the radio and switched it on while Hilda left again.

Both colonels grimaced as they heard the sharp, clear voice of the man whose twisted but regrettable brilliant mind had taken care that more or less all German people were brainwashed with the Nazis' sick point of views. Those, who had looked through him, were locked away or dead.

He spoke of the losses the Wehrmacht suffered because of the advancing Red Army and the Russian's winter offensive. Warfare didn't look good for Germany by now, but – of course – this was only temporary. 'Of course' the Wehrmacht and the Waffen-SS would soon start a counter strike that would lead to a recapture of those areas the 'Russians' and the 'West Allies' had conquered.

Shaking his head, Kink switched off the radio. "Just what I thought – nonsense and more propaganda. I don't know if the Führer has somewhere a secret workshop where he creates all the soldiers he's going to need to force back the Allies, or if he finally is going to realize that we're not only running out of supplies, but mainly men who are able to fight."

Hogan made a face. "Even if he realizes this fact one day, he won't give up. He'd rather send every single human being who is able to move an arm to the front instead of quitting." He cocked his head. "Is Germany really running out of soldiers?"

"Of course," Will scoffed. "Why do you think they're sending now 17 and 60-year-old boys and men into battle? Just ask your mentor how many German POWs are already kept in camps within France, Belgium, and maybe even Russia. Our people are large at number, but many men are dead or taken prisoner by now. Only the bubble beard won't see it."

Robert grinned shortly as he heard the silly nickname Klink had created for Germany's first man. "Hitler has no beard, Will; only a tiny moustache."

"Beard is beard. In German, it's a common word for all face hairs around the mouth despite its form," Klink explained.

Aha, another difference in their language. Even someone who spoke German this well like Hogan could learn a thing or two more. Then he turned serious again. "I hope you're right. It really would be sheer horror for those people who had been liberated only to fall back again into the Nazis' hands."

Klink nodded slowly, then he hesitated as he saw a short, grim expression in his beloved's eyes. A wrath that was untypical for him. "What is it?" he asked quietly, assuming that he didn't want to know at all.

"What do you mean?" Robert replied.

"There was something in your eyes as you spoke of the liberated people – and in your voice. Has something happened that I don't know?"

Hogan stared at him. God dammit, Will knew him really very, very well. There hadn't been a fitting chance to tell Wilhelm about Auschwitz – a topic that still weighed heavily on Robert's soul. He knew that Will would take the terror of this 'camp' to heart and would be completely horrified. After everything the older man had been emotionally through within the last two weeks, Hogan hadn't found the strength to speak with him of what Butler told him, but deep down he knew that there never would be a 'fitting chance'. And it was better if Will learned from him the truth instead through a pedestrian report.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Something happened. Something bad. But…I don't think this is the right time and place to tell you about it."

Klink sighed and gave him a glance full of warmth and love. "Robert, I will not melt, and I'm not fragile."

"I know," the American nodded. "But, trust me; this is something you rather want to learn of in private and not in the middle of your office where every minute someone can burst in."

Watching his beloved carefully, Klink saw that Hogan was serious and accepted it with a nod. "Okay, this evening in my quarters?"

Robert groaned. "My men are going to get second thoughts when I'm going to your quarters this evening again. I swear, they already think I'm nuts."

"As long as they stay loyal to you, no damage is done. And this here seems to be very serious, so no fooling around." He rubbed his butt. "To tell the truth, even if I love our nights, I wouldn't be up to anything intense this evening."

"Tell me about it," Rob grimaced with a chuckle. "You really are a storm of passion and lust, Wilhelm Klink."

"The same goes for you, Robert Hogan," Will grinned back, then he returned to his desk. "This evening, seven o'clock?"

"I'm there," Robert nodded and placed his cap back on the head. "Have a good afternoon."

"Dismissed, honey," Will answered, and the abstract difference between the military order and pet name made Hogan laugh out.

"If someone of the Brass would hear us now, they would faint."

"Yours and my Brass," the Oberst agreed with a chuckle before he pointed at the door. "Out with you – and remind London to be careful where they let their bombs fall."

Hogan saluted. "Aye, aye, sir." He vanished and closed the door behind him. Winking at Hilda, he left the building, while inside his office Klink sighed. "If he would always be this obedient, it would spare my nerves."

*** HH *** HH ***

At four o'clock in the afternoon, Hilda bid her boss goodbye and went home. She and Klink had agreed that she left the office half an hour early than usual to be there for Manfred. In compensation, her midday break was half an hour shorter. An arrangement both could live with.

A quarter hour later, she arrived home, unlocked the front door, and stepped into the house kicking her boots off. "I'm home!" She called, but got no answer.

"Mutti? Vati?" (endearment form of mother, father)

Her father appeared in the door that led to the kitchen, using his crutch. He was pale – too pale. "Hilda," he said quietly. "Please come over."

Simply knowing that something bad must have happened, Hilda hurried towards her father. "What is it, Papa?"

He wordlessly turned around and entered the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table, Manfred was asleep in his cradle near the oven. Frau Schneider was white like a tablecloth and looked shortly at a letter in front of her before she whispered, "This message came in early afternoon. It's a conscription order. You have two days to report to the next recruiting office for the Volkssturm, otherwise you're recruited by force."

"WHAT?" Hilda almost ran to the table and took the letter, reading it through. "But…this cannot be," she croaked, while she let the letter sink. "They said recruitment of women is on a voluntary base, and that mothers and otherwise needed women are left out."

"Maybe they changed this part of Himmler's orders – or the recruitment office doesn't know that you have a foster child," her father said quietly. "The letter seems to be the real thing."

Yes, it wore the stamp and the headlines of the Waffen-SS, but…

"One moment." Not hesitating a second longer, Hilda turned around and hurried into the large hallway where the telephone was. Picking up the receiver, she demanded to be linked to the Gestapo-Headquarters and Oberleutnant Schmidt. If someone could help her, it was him.

*** HH ***

Schmidt had just ended his call to another Gestapo Headquarters in Berlin. The links had finally been restored, and he had spoken with the registration office there, demanding information about the four men who had manned the telephone exchange at the People's Court on February 3rd.

He had stated that he needed to speak with them because some Underground members had wanted to try to intervene with a trial that should take place at Monday the 5th, and he attempted to track them down. Even if this was nonsense, by now the most Gestapo members were paranoid enough to believe everything as soon as they heard the word 'Underground'.

The man in Berlin had promised him to inform him about the current location of the four men and how to contact them, but it would need a few hours…certainly until tomorrow. Schmidt could wait. He wasn't in a hurry; he only wanted to find out the truth.

He was about to rise from his chair, when the telephone rang a second time, and the woman in the telephone exchange said that Fräulein Schneider was on the line for him.

Somehow Schmidt instantly knew that something was wrong. Hilda had never called him in the HQ before, so something had to be off. "Put her through, please," he said, sitting back again.

"Horst?" Came the beloved voice through the speaker.

"Yes, it's me. Has something happened?" he asked, concerned.

"Horst, I…I need your help," Hilda answered, her voice trembled.

Adrenaline shot through his whole being while he stiffened. "Anytime, sweetheart. What happened?" In the next minute he listened and finally asked her to read the letter to him. The formulation sounded official and in the typical demanding style of the Waffen-SS, yet this all here couldn't be right. He hadn't been informed that women were recruited by force now and of nothing else spoke this letter.

"Darling, calm down," he said, not aware of the endearments he used. "This is certainly only a big misunderstanding. I'm coming over to have a closer look at the document. Maybe it's fake, and this is only a bad joke." He smiled as he heard the relief in her voice and added, "Just like I said, I'm coming over to your house. Don't do anything rash, I'm on my way, okay?" He took a deep breath. "Don't fear, I will not allow that you're put into danger. I promise. See you soon." He placed the receiver back on the phone and rose.

He would help Hilda. And if it means to smuggle her, Manfred, and her parents out of Germany, he would do it. Eventually he really had to confront Hogan with his assumptions regarding the colonel's double life and simply beg him to bring Hilda to safety, guaranteeing his silence in return. Yes, it would be treason, but he didn't care. He loved Hilda too much not to go to the utmost to keep her safe.

With large steps, he crossed the room and opened the door. One of the privates headed towards him, hands full of papers. "The reports and daily announcements for you, sir," he said. "The postman only brought them now."

"Lay them on my desk. I will look through them when I come back," he ordered, flipping his thumb backwards towards his desk.

"An official warning from Munich in form of a telegram is among them," the man pointed out. "It's marked with 'urgent'."

That caught Schmidt's attention. Sighing, he returned to his office, gestured to the man to put the pile of papers on his desk, and fished out the telegram. While the man left, Horst opened the envelop and began to read – and went pale.

'Ex Major Wolfgang Hochstetter, former SS + Gestapo, escaped working camp – STOP – Killed a sergeant + took his identity as Kurt Vogel – STOP – Is on the run – STOP – Escapee is armed and dangerous – STOP – Increased alertness – STOP – German wide search is ordered' – signed by Oberkriminalrat…

Schmidt didn't read further, but let the paper sink onto the desk. "Sweet Lord," he whispered. Hochstetter had escaped, killing a sergeant in the process and took his identity. And he was armed – certainly with the sergeant's weapon. And Schmidt had the nagging feeling that Hochstetter wouldn't use his regained freedom to disappear and leave Germany. He remembered very well the bottomless hate the man had displayed towards Burkhalter, Klink, and him – Horst Schmidt – during and after the trial in Berlin. Even if it would be insane trying to get some revenge on the Oberst, there was still the chance that Hochstetter would attempt it at least.

Feeling his belly clenching, Schmidt quickly gripped the telephone receiver. "Stalag 13, Oberst Klink. Quick, please," he said, and waited for the connection.

A few seconds later, it clicked, and the familiar voice with the Saxonian accent was to hear, "Stalag 13, Oberst Klink is speaking."

"Herr Oberst? It's me, Schmidt."

The Kommandant's voice became instantly less stern. "Good evening, young friend. What can I do for you?"

Horst took a deep breath. "Herr Oberst, I'm calling because I have to warn you. Hochstetter escaped the working camp he was sentenced to and is on the run."

"WHAT?" Klink's voice got a high tone.

"I just got a telegram from Munich warning of Hochstetter's escape. He wears the uniform of an SS-sergeant he killed, is armed, and no one knows where he is off to."

For a moment, there was silence before Klink said slowly, "Two possibilities: He'll try to leave Germany – or he is on his way to Hammelburg to get revenge on Ro…Hogan and me." He added softly, "And on you."

"Maybe," Schmidt admitted, only realizing at the sidelines that the Oberst had almost referred to his senior POW officer by the American's given name. "Just be careful and double the guards, okay? I'm on my way to Hilda. She has a problem she needs my help with and…"

"Do you really want to leave the safety of HQ now, my friend? Hochstetter could waylay you somewhere."

"Yes, he could, but he escaped only last night and given the lessened traffic possibilities in the moment, I don't think he could reach Hammelburg within this short range of time. I'll be careful, but please be the same. And…maybe you should warn Hogan, too. If Hochstetter really chooses the way of revenge instead of flight, then he is after the colonel, too."

Something like a smile was to hear in the Oberst's voice. "I'll warn him, be sure of it. Thank you for your call, Herr Oberleutnant – and please, take care of yourself. A special young lady and a sweet imp need you."

Despite the serious situation, Horst had to smile. "I'll be careful, I promise. Have a nice evening, Herr Oberst."

"The same for you, Schmidt – and don't turn my secretary's head more than you already did. I caught her daydreaming a few times with a certain smile on her lips." His voice sounded light hearted, and Schmidt had to chuckle.

"Sorry, Herr Oberst, that is a promise I can't make."

Laughter was the answer, and then another greeting before the line went dead. The seriousness of the situation crashed down on Schmidt again, and with rising dread, he put the receiver back on the telephone before he went to the window and looked outside. Dawn was rising in the east, and wind rushed through the streets, tearing at the branches and the bushes. Klink was right. The chance that Hochstetter could be somewhere outside waiting for him was indeed possible. But not so soon after his escape. And Hilda waited for him. She needed his help, and he wouldn't stop because a madman could be nearby.

Determined, he went to the door, switched off the light, and walked down the hallway to his room. Five minutes later, he left the building wearing his thick coat and a scarf, while he headed towards his car – not aware of the pair of eyes which watched him from a window at the first level.

*** HH ***

Von Neuhaus watched his superior walking to his car and driving away. So, Fräulein Hilda had gotten the letter and had, like expected, phoned Schmidt for help. One call to a friend who worked at the recruiting office had done the trick, and von Neuhaus congratulated himself for the idea. Everything went like planned!

Of course it was a low trick, but on the other hand, the young lady had turned him down and was flirting with Schmidt. Maybe after Schmidt got arrested, she would realize her mistake in choosing the whelp over him – especially when he took care that she wouldn't be recruited by force.

Smiling, he left his own office he had returned to half an hour ago to set the next steps of his plan into motion. Hochstetter was in the trunk of his car, covered with blankets and certainly freezing, but they had to be careful, and they needed the correct point of time to start 'Operation Vengeance'.

Von Neuhaus had heard how one of the employees mentioned a 'warning from Munich' from the Gestapo leading headquarters, and he had a good idea of what this warning was. Slipping into Schmidt's office, he quickly found the telegram and read through the message.

His assumption turned out to be true. It was a warning about Hochstetter's escape. As crazy as it sounded, this letter came very handy for von Neuhaus. He laid the message open on the desk, the envelop and the paperknife beside it as if Schmidt had quickly read through it, but abandoned it. He rather had his private affairs in mind than doing his duty and calling Stalag 13 to warn Oberst Klink. This letter was another nail for Schmidt's coffin – or so von Neuhaus thought.

Satisfied, the Leutnant left the office – not aware of the pair of eyes which watched him from the other end of the hallway.

Sergeant Heinz Fuhrmann frowned as he saw the Leutnant coming from Schmidt's office, knowing that the Oberleutnant had driven away only a few minutes earlier. Well aware of the rivalry between the two officers and liking Schmidt, Fuhrmann went carefully to his superior's office, entered it, and switched on the light. Warily, he looked around and saw nothing out of order. Whatever the reason for von Neuhaus' presence in this room had been, it seemed to be nothing off with it. Maybe the Leutnant had brought some papers – Schmidt's desk was full of them.

Shrugging, he switched off the light and left the office again, closing the door behind him.

In the meantime, von Neuhaus hurried to Schmidt's chamber that was located at the raised ground floor. Opening the window, he scattered some soil and mud on the floor before he stepped onto it and walked towards the door, making certain that it looked like someone had come through the window and used the Oberleutnant's chamber to intrude the building.

After his arrival and before he had returned to his office half an hour ago, he had walked into the garden and rounded the building to Schmidt's window, leaving the same footprints there. Given the fact that Hochstetter and he wore the SS standard boots, no one could get the idea that the footprints could be of someone else than those of the former major.

Wiping his boots clean afterwards and hiding the cloth in the pocket of his coat, he quickly headed to the evidence room, got one of the paper boxes form the shelves, and put the radio transmitter in it they had found last Saturday on the hunt for the Underground agents. Yes, he could have taken it with him as he picked up Hochstetter in Schweinfurt, but the risk that the transmitter was missed by someone in the meantime had been too big. He only took it with him now – when he really needed it.

Since Schmidt's departure and von Neuhaus' walk to his car, ten minutes had passed. Placing the box with the radio transmitter on the backseat, he rounded the car and opened the trunk.

"Are you okay, sir?" He asked into the semi-darkness.

"Yes, despite of being cold, I'm okay," came the answer.

Bending into the trunk, von Neuhaus whispered, "This is maybe the last time we will speak with each other. I want to tell you that it was an honor to serve with you and that I'm going to miss you. You have my highest respect that you're ready to sacrifice yourself to stop our country's enemies."

Hochstetter looked up at the younger man, and for a short moment, regret woke in him. He really had taken a liking to the Leutnant, and he would have loved to watch him unfold his full potential, but what shouldn't be couldn't be. "Thank you for your loyalty and friendship, Stephan. It's up to you now to fulfill my job, and I'll die with the knowledge that a worthy successor will sit at my desk. Everything managed for the whelp's downfall?"

"Yes, Herr Major. Your success will be his failure." He took a deep breath. "For the Führer and Fatherland!"

"For the Führer and Fatherland, my friend. Farewell," Hochstetter answered, and as the trunk was closed, he felt the thrill of hunting racing through him mingling with the flames of raging hate. His hand curled around the pistol von Neuhaus had given him while he felt the rifle poking in his back. Not long now, and he would get his revenge…

TBC…

Yes, von Neuhaus really would have been Hochstetter's true successor. He is as mean and tricky as the former major is. It doesn't look good for our two boys, Schmidt and even Hilda, even if they are more or less warned. But the devil travels fast, so to say, and the two colonels and Schmidt are mistaken if they think, Hochstetter is still away from Hammelburg.

In the next chapter (I'll publish during the week), Hochstetter will strike, and in his insanity and bottomless hate he is incalculable. Additional to this, he knows Stalag 13 very well and makes full use of it. So, be anxious what comes next.

I hope, you liked the new chapter and, of course, I'd love to learn what you think about it.

Have a nice rest of Sunday

Love

Yours Starflight