Dietrich stood at attention in a room that was much less luxurious than Major Richten's office. Meant for functionality, not ease and entertainment, this room was markedly different from Richten's, even though he'd only had to walk down a few doors to get to it. While Major Richten was an officer living comfortably, out of the line of danger, the man using this office was often directly in the line of fire, constantly risking his life for Germany.

Hands clasped behind his back, he waited for the man in front of him to look up from his work. He was not being kept waiting as a frustration or intimidation tactic, unlike something he might expect from Richten. If Field Marshall Rommel hadn't found time for him yet, there was good reason for that.

Finally, the older officer looked up.

"Dietrich," he said, and waved his hand. "At ease."

Dietrich relaxed his stance slightly.

"The preparations for this meeting are endless; they're beginning to drag off into infinity. It will be a miracle if we even get to the conference room tomorrow with all of Major Richten's delays." Rommel rubbed his eyes and pushed some papers away from the center of his desk. "I couldn't see you sooner – Major Richten did not even tell me you were coming."

"I wasn't called here for the meeting, sir," Dietrich said. He and Rommel had a professional relationship, one that could even be friendly at times, but it was in everyone's best interests to maintain a formality about the meeting. Especially since he'd come to ask something of a favour.

Rommel's raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I was wondering, sir, if Major Richten told you anything about the British sergeant that defected over to our side a few days ago. A member of the Rat Patrol." Rommel shook his head, his expression interested. Dietrich had thought as much. Rommel had ties to Berlin, was a personal friend of Hitler, and Richten was almost certainly worried that Rommel would steal whatever glory he hoped to gain. His secrecy and greed were endangering the Reich.

"According to Major Richten, Sergeant Moffitt is in full cooperation with our war effort. Willing to give us whatever information he has, along with his desert skills. Money is his objective, as much as we can give him." As he said the words, Dietrich felt the same disbelief and alarm rising inside him that he'd experienced upon first hearing Richten's news.

"To have a member of the desert patrol could be invaluable," Rommel said. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, just like the famed mind that had outwitted countless Allied soldiers over the years. "You sense a problem." It was a statement, not a question.

"The man cannot be trusted," he continued. "I know how he thinks, to some degree, and he would never admit defeat, come over to us no matter what. And certainly not for any amount of money. Sergeant Moffitt is one of the loyalist members of the patrol. I speak from personal experience and contact."

In this, he, Sergeant Moffitt, and Rommel were all alike. And although he was inherently distrustful of the sergeant, he also had to admit a measure of respect. There were too many traitors these days. Rommel was loyal to Germany, as was he, and Moffitt was loyal to the Allies. Of that he had no doubt.

Rommel sighed. "Have you spoken to Major Richten about this?"

"He refuses to listen. I suspect it has something to do with the possible promotion that could come from all this."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Sir, it's hardly my place to-"

Rommel stood up and placed a hand on Dietrich's shoulder for a moment. "Your opinion is something I value, Dietrich. You've always had a clear mind when it comes to matters like this, and if this sergeant is a spy, what will you need done to prove it?"

Dietrich paused for a moment and thought. "The only thing to do at the moment, sir, is watch him," he finally said.

"The Britisher or Major Richten?"

He'd meant Moffitt, but if Richten tried to pull any tricks to secure his position that, from all reports, could crumble in another month or so, he needed to know. "Both," he said, looking for Rommel's reaction. Rommel merely nodded and sat back down. "Report whatever you find to me," he said. "I won't be here for more than a couple of days, since the Führer has ordered me back to Berlin. You can still contact me if you have anything to report."

"Yes, sir."

"Anything else?"

Dietrich shook his head, saluted, and left.

As he walked back down the hall to the room that Richten had assigned to his use, his mind was busy. Once he proved Moffitt to be a traitor – there was no 'if' about it – he would get word to Rommel, along with whatever evidence he found, and let Berlin handle it from there. Richten's career would fall to pieces if he continued to protect the traitor, and while Dietrich didn't care about that, he was worried that Richten would share information – unconsciously or even purposely – that would lengthen, or even doom, the Afrika campaign.

But he was only a captain, Richten was a major, so for the moment the only thing he could do was watch and wait.