Chapter 3:
Hours had gone by since LeBeau and Kalina's visit to Klink, and Baker had been assigned to build and test the new radio the minute the duo had returned from the city. By dinnertime the assistant radioman was climbing into the barracks with a grin on his face. He closed the tunnel entrance and approached Kinch and the others with a sheet of paper in his hand.
"All set and ready to go, boss," he said to the staff sergeant, handing him the sheet of paper. "Both London and the underground have acknowledged our new frequency, and General Berkman's currently investigating the unknown radio channel the call came in last night."
"How did you get it all done so fast?" Kinch asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
"I was a pit crew mechanic before joining the military. You learn to be quick with your fingers rather rapidly."
Kinch nodded, highly impressed with his assistant, then stuffed the notepad paper into his pocket as he continued. "Remind me to hire you when I get back to Detroit and open my car garage."
"Well now that the radio problem is behind us, how the bloody hell do we find this homicidal nut after the Gov'nor?" Newkirk asked, sitting beside Carter at the table absent-mindedly shuffling a deck of cards.
"Do we know anyone that might have a personal vendetta against the Colonel? Maybe a Kraut we sent to London that wants to get even," Baker suggested.
"Who would it be, though? Only guy I can think of is that Freitag guy, and he was killed by that revenge-seeking assistant of his," Kinch said, pursing his lips as his brain began to turn.
"But why would someone wanna kill Colonel Hogan?" Kalina asked, her heart breaking just thinking of the idea. "Colonel Hogan's nice and kind and caring and loyal. Warm and friendly and good...what has he done bad to anybody?"
"S' good question, little mate. 'Cause I can't think of a bloomin' thing the Gov'nor's done wrong," Newkirk answered, shaking his head. This whole thing disgusted him. Out of all the people in the world that deserved to die, Hogan was the absolute last person on that list. Him maybe. Maybe some of the drug addicts and convicts he knew back in London, but Hogan? That was like considering Hitler a saint in his eyes.
"Suspected of being a double agent," LeBeau grumbled to himself with disgust. "C'est carrément digne d'être appelé trahison." (1)
"What about that Biedenbender fellow? You know, the guy we framed for the Stuttheim refinery bombing," Carter said, looking up from the ball of yarn he was currently fumbling with. (2)
"No, London's got him locked up and currently awaiting trial for his crimes against the Allies. Under high security 24-7 and in a cell with no windows," Kinch answered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"What about Oberst Becker? We soiled his plans for taking over command of Stalag 13 when Papa got sent to Russia," Kalina suggested.
"Becker just got out of his trial," Kinch told her. "Sentenced to a British POW camp for the remainder of the war. He couldn't get access to a radio even if he tried."
Carter thought about possible suspects for a long while before a lightbulb went on in his head, and he snapped his fingers. "I got it!" He cried with glee.
"If it's your bloomin' theory about being a ghost, forget it," Newkirk remarked.
"That Schmidt guy. You know, the one who pretended to be Lieutenant Crandall and was stationed here to spy on us," the technical sergeant said, ignoring the Englishman completely. (3)
"Couldn't be him either," Baker said, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. "London thought he was too much of a threat, so they ordered the death penalty for him. Been dead for over a year now."
"Blimey, I thought I'd never say this, but we're runnin' out of Krauts, mates," Newkirk said, shaking his head in frustration.
"Don't tell General Burkhalter that," Kalina answered.
Before anyone could get another word in, the door to the barracks opened, and Hogan came in from his evening stroll around camp. He saw everyone gathered around the table and looked at all of them with both curiosity and concern. "What's going on here?" He asked.
"Just talking, Colonel. Nothing interesting here, Sir," Kinch reported, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets.
"Talking about what?" Hogan prodded.
"Uh...toast," Newkirk said.
Hogan's eyebrow rose in suspicion, his radar going off again. "Toast," he repeated, already not buying the act.
"Discussing our favorite ways to eat it at breakfast. I prefer peanut butter on mine." Kinch added.
"I like a light jam spread over mine," LeBeau said.
"I just like classic bread and butter," Carter answered, with a boyish grin.
Hogan watched them for a moment longer, scanning each of them for a hint, then narrowed his eyes. "This is about the thing you guys are hiding from me, isn't it," he said, already knowing the answer.
"Colonel, I'm offended by that accusation." Newkirk replied, inspecting his fingernails.
"We'd never hide something from you, Sir." Carter added.
"Now I know you guys are hiding something from me," the colonel said, crossing his arms. "So out with it. What is it?"
All of Hogan's team turned to look at each other with the same expression in their eyes. The same anxiety-ridden distressed expression that Hogan quickly picked up on. He was on to them, and they were panicking to find an explanation for their recent change in behavior.
Hogan turned to look at his littlest member, who quickly diverted her eyes downwards at the table, praying that he would not start interrogating her for answers. He then turned his gaze to Kinch, who exchanged looks with Baker before both looked back at their commander. Hogan then looked at the three before him. Newkirk casually looked down at his fingernails again, Carter fidgeted with his ball of yarn, and LeBeau was twirling a wooden spoon while turning his eyes slightly to the left of him. None of them were talking, and now it was time for Hogan to have a little fun. Make his friends a little rattled. Flustered. Nerve wracked.
"Not talking, huh?" He began, then shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, I'll just have to tell Klink you guys don't wanna get paid for that work detail anymore. Spend it on food and other goods we may need, no?"
Carter opened his mouth, ready to spill everything out of the bag, but slapped his hand over it to prevent himself from doing so. How he so wanted to tell Hogan everything right there and then. To just get it off their chest already and get the help and guidance they needed in order to protect the colonel from an untimely, probably gruesome death. But they had made a pact to leave Hogan out of it for his own safety and the safety of the operation. No one could break the pact, or Hogan's death would certainly be inevitable.
Seeing the hesitation on his sergeant's face, Hogan turned his gaze to Carter and decided to get out his stick and poke the young man. "Carter, you got something you wanna say?" He asked.
Carter shook his head, his hand still covering his mouth to keep him from talking.
Hogan turned to face Kalina, who was managing to avoid as much eye contact with him as possible. "Kalina," he began. "You got something you wanna talk about?"
The little Klink shook her head, her eyes never leaving the sight of the table. "Nein, Colonel Hogan. I don't have anything to say," she said, just barely audible.
Hogan let out a heavy breath of air, realizing no one was going to squeal. Whatever they were hiding had to be pretty big if they were all refusing to talk. Something probably about him. And that made him want to know just that much more. Unfortunately, tonight did not seem to be looking like that night. Another long day overseeing duties as Senior POW and a tiresome meeting with Klink regarding the upcoming work detail had worn all the energy out of him. His body ached, and he was not up to fighting the topic any further. All he did was give them a final warning glare.
"I don't know what it is you're so locked-jawed about, but mark my words. I'll find out what it is even if it kills me," he said threateningly. He saluted them 'goodnight' then turned on his heels and disappeared into his quarters.
Certain that he could no longer hear them, Newkirk shook his head depressingly. "I wouldn't say that currently if I were you, Gov'nor."
"We gotta find out who sent those orders and stop them before the Colonel finds out about this," Kinch said, crossing his arms.
"How?" Kalina asked.
"First, we'll have to wait and see what General Berkman finds out from his frequency trace. Maybe if we know where that call came from we'll have a better idea on who sent it." The staff sergeant explained.
"What's the second thing?" Carter asked, his interest piqued.
"We pray this guy doesn't take matters into his own hands before then."
(1) C'est carrément digne d'être appelé trahison - It's downright worthy of being called treason.
(2) Reference to the episode in season two called 'Hogan Gives a Birthday Party'.
(3) Reference to the episode in season two called 'Information Please'.