Chapter 4 -- The Truth Leaks Out
"So what do we have so far," said Kinch, pen in hand, after he finished writing notes on a sheet of paper. "One, we know that Colonel Hogan received a message from and met with someone with the code name of the Snowman who said they were with the underground. Two, we now know that the underground doesn't have anybody with that code name."
"Three," Newkirk pointed out, pacing the floor, holding a lit cigarette in his fingers. "When the Gov'nor returned from his meeting, he was shaking and flexing his right hand like something was wrong with it."
"And four…." chimed in LeBeau, "The Colonel had a dizzy spell and looked like he was going to pass out."
"And five…" Carter added, finally. "The Colonel was suddenly exhausted when he wasn't before."
Kinch looked over the short list. He sighed wearily. "It's not much to go on," he commented. "It isn't even enough to prove somebody harmed Colonel Hogan on purpose. But it's all we have."
Newkirk puffed on his cigarette. He appeared lost in thought for a long moment while still pacing. Suddenly he stopped, turned, and faced the others. "Y'know, if I didn't know any better, and mind me, I'm guessing here. But it sounds almost as if the Colonel had been drugged. I mean, he was fine when he left, and suddenly had problems when he came back. Now, I don't know about you blokes, but I think it's entirely possible he was slipped some kind of drug."
The other three looked at him. "You could be right, Newkirk," Kinch replied. "But there's no way to prove that without either an autopsy or talking with the person who drugged the Colonel."
"And we don't have either," said Carter, getting up and pouring himself half a cup of coffee. He sat down again. "Just how are we gonna prove that someone killed Colonel Hogan anyway?"
LeBeau smirked. "What do you mean someone?" Folding his arms, he leaned forward on the table. "We all know it had to have been the Snowman who harmed the Colonel."
"That's my guess to," Kinch remarked. "I mean, the Colonel would've told us if he ran into anyone else before or after his scheduled meeting."
"What about one of those Kraut patrols that were out there that night?" asked Carter. "I mean, could he have been maybe caught by one of them and then drugged?"
"Nah, that's not possible," Kinch remarked. "If one of the Kraut patrols had caught the Colonel, they wouldn't have let him come back to camp. He would have been arrested on the spot."
"Kinch?" Carter asked after a moment. "Just what did they do with the Colonel's remains after they were removed from here?"
Kinch shrugged. "After the German military ambulance came and removed the Colonel, I heard Klink tell Schultz he would be taken to the local hospital to determine the cause of death. And unless I'm mistaken, according to the Geneva Convention, Part five, Article 76, all prisoners of war who have died in captivity are honorably buried, and that their graves are treated with respect. Now, unless my eyesight's failing, I don't see any grave either here in camp or outside the fence. Do you?" Kinch suddenly paused, eyes narrowed as a thought suddenly occurred to him.
"What is it, Kinch?" Newkirk said, sitting beside the radioman. "You thought of something?"
"Yeah. That same article also mentions something about documents relative to certification of death. Maybe the hospital sent Klink a copy of the Colonel's death certificate to put in his file. We need to see a copy of that death certificate and see what it shows the cause of death to be."
The others became a bit hopeful at this point of possibly solving one mystery.
Newkirk slapped Kinch on the back. "Kinch, my friend, you are a ruddy genius, you are." He then looked at the Frenchman. "LeBeau, after Klink goes to bed tonight, you and I will pay a little visit to the Kommandant's office and have a look in the files. And bring your camera. We'll need a picture of that death certificate."
"Oui. But this raises another troubling question."
"Which is?" asked Kinch.
"If Colonel Hogan's remains aren't buried here in camp, and are not buried outside the fence. Then what did they do with them? Where are they?" LeBeau's eyes were bright with unshed tears at the thoughts he was having.
After LeBeau's words, the mood changed back to depression.
"We'll find him, Louie. Don't worry." Newkirk commented softly, his own thoughts mirroring the Frenchman's. "We won't stop until we find the Colonel and give him the decent burial he deserves."
Major Hans Teppel of the Abwehr, which engaged in intelligence gathering for the German High Command, was seated behind his desk in his office pretending to be going over some paperwork. But he was distracted. Had been all day. Teppel's real name was Robert J. Morrison, a German American born in Milwaukee. Today, of all days, Morrison was reminiscing. He recalled the day the Allies ordered him to give up his American citizenship so that the Germans would take him into their army. It was as his friend, Colonel Robert Hogan, had commented to Morrison when they first met, that Morrison had been 'ordered to become a traitor.' Morrison smiled grimly. That was the day he needed Hogan's help with an important mission.
Morrison had been working with the underground during his ten years with the Abwehr and had been both stunned and saddened at hearing of the death of Robert Hogan. Perhaps that was the reason behind all the reminiscing Morrison thought to himself sadly. He had liked Hogan and his men immediately. Yet, there was a nagging suspicion in the back of Morrison's mind that Hogan had not simply 'died' as he had heard. Hogan had made enemies of the people he sent to England. Had one of these people escaped, or maybe gotten word somehow to someone in Germany? He believed Hogan had been murdered. Morrison had secretly sent a message to Hogan's men, through the underground, advising them that if there was any proof Hogan had been murdered, they could count on his help finding and punishing the guilty party.
Giving up on the paperwork, Morrison sighed. He needed to get out and get some air. The news about Hogan had rattled him more than he thought. He picked up the telephone to alert his secretary he would be gone for awhile. But before he said anything, he overheard two men talking. One of the voices he recognized as belonging to Major Frolichman. The other he didn't recognize. Morrison was about to apologize for cutting in on their private conversation when something caught his attention.
"Did Colonel Hogan give you any trouble, Captain?" asked Frolichman.
"Not really, sir. At first he refused to let Doctor Erlichman administer the drug. Even the threat of being shot did not make him budge. I was forced to strike him with my gun. It was while in his dazed state the injection was given. He is now completely unconscious."
"Very good. But I suggest you keep in mind, Captain Heinman, to try and refrain from damaging Colonel Hogan any more. He is of no use to us dead or damaged. And they will not trade our operative for him if he is. Do I make myself clear?"
Morrison was stunned. Hogan's alive! My God, he's alive! And he's being held here? He covered the mouthpiece and continued to listen.
"Jawohl, Major. I understand."
"Excellent. And remember, Heinman, nobody must know about the prisoner in cell 21. Keep me advised. Heil Hitler!"
Jawohl, Major. Heil Hitler!" The phone then went dead, telling Morrison the call had been disconnected. He hung up his own phone. His mind was racing as he tried digesting what he had overheard.
Hogan's alive. Frolichman referred to the other voice as Captain Heinman. That has to be his aide, Erik Heinman. Who is Hogan being traded to? Who is this operative Frolichman referred to? And why Hogan?
Morrison had to think. He knew he had to be careful. Frolichman had a reputation of being a cruel and twisted man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. And the thought of Hogan being the prisoner of this maniac made Morrison shudder. He knew Frolichman wouldn't hesitate to kill Hogan if he thought there was no chance of this trade going through. He also had a nagging fear that he may not have a lot of time to work with. This exchange could take place at any time, day or night. Morrison felt if Hogan was exchanged for this unknown operative, and depending with whom Frolichman was negotiating, there was the possibility Hogan would never be seen or heard from again.
There were other questions nagging at Morrison. But right now he had to gain access to cell 21 and see Hogan himself and see what condition he was in.
Newkirk quietly opened the window to Klink's office about one hour after they had seen the Kommandant leave and enter his quarters. He then quietly slipped inside with LeBeau following. Then, they made their way to Klink's filing cabinet. LeBeau held the flashlight while Newkirk, opening the file cabinet where they knew Klink kept his files on all the prisoners, went through the folders before pulling out the one they wanted. He put the folder on Klink's desk and opened it. A copy of Hogan's death certificate was the first document they saw. Giving the flashlight to Newkirk, LeBeau removed a small camera from his pocket and took a picture of the document.
"Put it back and let's get out of here," LeBeau whispered.
However, Newkirk was thumbing through the other documents in the folder.
"What are you looking for?" LeBeau asked. "We got what we came for."
"I just remembered something. Remember about a month ago we all had to undergo medical exams?"
"Oui. So?"
"I want a copy of the results of the Colonel's medical exam. If he had any problems it would show up in the examination. And here it is. LeBeau, get a picture."
LeBeau did as he was told. "Now, let's get out of here before somebody catches us!"
"Right behind you, mate," Newkirk replied as he returned the file to the cabinet. Then, he and the Frenchman disappeared back out the window.