AN: Thanks to dpenguin for reviewing

Ginger came around slowly, his head throbbing mercilessly. Whatever he had been given was strong and unforgiving. As he opened his eyes, all he could see was black. The sickening stench of despair and desperation hung in the air. Where was he?

He heard a gasp, and the familiar figure of Tom came rushing up to kneel beside him. He was in the basement prison. His head throbbed incessantly and there were still voices in his head.

"Do stop talking, you're doing my head in,"

"I'm not saying anything," replied Tom a little unnerved.

"There's voices. I can hear them. They say they're the dead. They talk too much. Can you hear them?" Ginger asked breathlessly, he didn't seem to be grasping reality and rather was in some dark and twisted world.

"No, I can't. What happened?"

"It's in the water in A3, they gave it to me. A drug of some sort."

"Alright, that's all I need to know, just sleep it off. You'll be fine." Tom said with more confidence than he felt.

He allowed Ginger to sleep and racked his brains for a way out of the situation. He seemed fine in every way except for the drug so he concluded that Ginger must have been one of the 'suicides' but something had gone wrong, like in Archer's case . What was the aim? To kill officers in 'freak accidents' or was it targeted at certain officers? There seemed to be no point in killing Archer though, he was just one of many, insignificant among the other officers. What was the point in all of this?

He was torn from his thoughts as the door to the basement crashed open. A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway. Tom recognised the figure as that of the officer who had come raging in half an hour ago. He strode down the steps and stood in front of the bars, taking in the two men before him.

"You," he said curtly pointing at Tom "Is he alive?"

"Yes, he's just sleeping," answered Tom timidly.

"Good," He turned to leave but stopped and turned back to Tom.

"Why are you here? I only wanted him in here." He remarked gesturing towards Ginger's prone form.

"An officer wants to interrogate me for some reason," answered Tom lugubriously.

Von Stalhein arched an unseen eyebrow and left the basement cell. He found the officer he knew Tom was referring to. He had a history of being overzealous with his punishments.

"Zeigel!" he rapped.

The other officer whipped around, surprised at the sudden intrusion. "Ja, mein Herr?"

"Why is Talbot in the basement cell?"

"Because he was being uncooperative and attempted to escape,"

"It was my clever little ploy; you should know that by now. It only really warrants a weeks' worth of solitary confinement, don't you think?"

"I feel like he is too inquisitive, he's hiding something, I can just tell," lied Zeigel.

"Well, if you feel he's hiding something, then for God's sake stop this bullshit and get it out of him!" he raged, "Oh and don't think I didn't notice that you ordered for Talbot to sample our 'services'. It just so happens that the two fools you ordered to do it took my charge, God save you if it had worked out as you planned." He continued quietly.

Zeigel turned pale and turned back to his coffee inwardly cursing himself for his idiotic actions, this officer just seemed to know everything, he really was infallible, like the rumours said.

'Fuck!' thought Zeigel, 'How does he know?'

"I know everything that goes on around here, and if I don't, then I ensure I find out," he smirked maliciously, in answer to the unspoken question, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. With the parting remark, he left to the sanctity of his office, how he loved (loathed) paperwork.

Unseen under the cover of night, a Bristol Fighter glided down slowly, circling the large field that was their prearranged landing ground. Sure enough, a small white dot showed the position of their contact, telling them that it was ok to land.

The Bristol bumped to a halt, and a slim figure clad in flying kit darted in the direction of the light. The hum of the aircraft engine rose to a crescendo and the plane floated away into the darkness.

"X21?" enquired the breathless flyer.

"Yes, you are Bigglesworth?" came the answer.

"Yes, now have you seen anyone like who I told you about?"

"Once, they took him into a hut, but I do not know what happened. There is a notorious officer there, I am not sure of his name, but he is rumoured to be merciless and some say he is the Devil himself,"

"I get the feeling I've met him, and if I find he's done anything to Ginger, I will kill him." Promised Biggles.

Nothing more was said as they began the slow journey towards the Offizierlager at Koln.

They had flown over the lines at Verdun and flown North towards Koln. In 2 days, the pilot would be flying over to pick him up Ginger or no Ginger. If he wasn't there, then he would have to make his way back across the lines himself, using contacts provided by X21. He did not relish the idea but understood that the Bristol squadron could not afford to send a machine almost 150 miles over the lines, on the off chance that Biggles would be there. He had confined his mission solely to the officers that needed to know as he didn't think that Major Raymond and all of the brass hats would appreciate him going over the lines to find Hebblethwaite. It wouldn't be an "effective use of their time and resources," as they would put it.

As they neared the camp X21 briefed him on the best way, he had found, to get in.

Biggles bade farewell to X21 and waited for the guard to pass. Time slowed down tangibly as the hobnailed boots came ever nearer. But there were 2 sets, unlike the single sentry he was told there would be. He saw the 2 sentries approaching each other from opposite ends of the compound. He nestled lower in the bush he was using to conceal himself. The sentries came to a halt a few yards from where he lay hardly able to breathe lest he gave himself away. Lazily, the Germans began to engage in small talk as they stood together smoking. Biggles was close enough to hear them and was glad for his efforts in learning the German language during his short stay at Zabala.

"Karl, you know that new officer, he scares the crap out of me, I heard him shouting at Zeigel about some Englander that wasn't meant to be in the basement."

"I thought the one in the basement was meant to be in there upon pain of death,"

"Ja, the Ginger one was, but they meant to kill the other one. Helmut and Hans fucked up and took Der Hauptmann's plaything instead of him. Zeigel just put him down there to exert his German superiority."

"I did not want to be Helmut when Der Hauptmann was castrating them after that incident. I guess that other Englischer schweinhund was lucky then, huh."

"Ja, I'll be seeing you."

They ground out their cigarettes and returned to patrolling the wire.

The conversation had brought him some startling information that shook him to the core. As he understood it, Ginger was in the basement, and whoever was with him was meant to be dead. Von Stalhein was likely to be the Hauptmann of which they spoke. He concluded that he would have an even bigger job on his hands, as he now felt that it was his moral duty to find out why the other officer was meant to be dead.

Biggles breathed again and, after making sure the sentries were out of earshot, darted towards the wire and began to climb. He dropped easily to the other side. He located hut A3 with little difficulty and slipped inside, it was deserted. Or so he thought…

Bristol Fighter- A 2 seater biplane introduced on the Western Front in March 1917

Koln- Cologne, Germany

Englischer schweinhund-Derogatory term for the British- Directly translates to English pigdog