Bold, witty, and cheerfully insolent, Lang told himself over and over, silently repeating Kinch's description of Colonel Hogan. The night they ate dinner in Klink's office, Lang's drugged state had not allowed him to take many useful notes. And at that point, why would he have wanted to?
Now he stood partially paralyzed at the entrance to Hogan's small office. Always making fun of us, cracking jokes. How am I supposed to crack jokes? I told a joke two years ago, and the way it went over, I've never done it again. This isn't going to work. His feet refused to carry him through the office door. He stiffened as Kinch gave him a firm nudge.
"Whatever you do, don't panic," the American hissed quietly, his patience slipping away to reveal nervousness while he waited.
"A little late for that, I might tell you," Lang replied. "A Gestapo officer? I hate Gestapo…"
"Same here, but hating him isn't gonna make him disappear. Now lose some of that German military posture," Kinch pushed the major's shoulders forward to a less rigid position and began propelling him to the barracks door. "Look relaxed. Why can't you Germans just look relaxed?"
"I am trying, it just does not feel natural," Lang protested. Bold, witty, and cheerfully insolent, How does one be cheerfully insolent? Hogan isn't insolent; he's insane. I wonder what he's doing?
"Six feet under isn't gonna feel too natural either," Kinch broke into his thoughts with a sobering statement. He pulled the wild eyed German to a stop before stepping out and reached up to tilt Hogan's cap at an angle. That's another thing, Lang ruefully observed. Caps are supposed to be straight. "Don't say too much too fast," Kinch warned him seriously. "We're watching, so no funny business. Don't act nervous or afraid. The Colonel's never afraid-always confident. Oh, and don't antagonize Hochstetter too badly. He's not as easy-going as Klink. Don't say anything to prolong his visit."
Why do you think I would want him to stay?
"Got it all?"
No. "Yes."
Kinch glanced outside; Schultz was lumbering across the prison yard, cutting right through the intense soccer game. He saw Lebeau angle the ball off Schultz's big stomach and heard the Frenchman's team roar approval as the ball went between the posts. The guard paused to fuss at the laughing group.
They both waited in uncomfortable silence, neither looking at the other's eyes. Lang forced several deep breaths, which came much easier in the baggy bomber jacket. Kinch stared down at his shoes. The moment of reckoning was almost upon them, and it had come suddenly and without warning.
It came in the form of the normally jolly Schultz, who appeared to be very relieved to see the two men. His eyes went instantly to "Colonel Hogan" and he brightened. "Ah, Colonel Hogan, there you are! Major Hochstetter is here in camp, and he wants to talk to you right away! He's very hot under the collar," Schultz wiped sweat from his forehead, a strange thing in such pleasant weather.
Lang cut off any second thoughts. There is no other way. Not yet. "I'm coming Sergeant- I mean- Schultz." He tried to imitate Hogan's carefree swagger as he walked outside, but he paused at the threshold of the door and turned around, staring hard at Kinch. "They had better not kill him."
Curiously, Schultz glanced at the quiet prisoner. "What did he mean by that? No wait, maybe I shouldn't… I don't want to know, I know nothing…" He fled after Lang as fast as he could waddle. Kinch crossed his fingers, sighed, and moved back to Hogan's office.
"Time to make some coffee," he informed the empty bed. I hope you're having more fun than we are, Colonel, wherever you are.
ooooooooooooooooo
Try not to act nervous was an impossible request; Lang realized it the minute he stepped into the outer room of Klink's office. When his own life, Rommel's life, and the lives of all the men in this camp depended solely on his acting skills, he felt entitled to a little nervousness. To tell the truth, he felt a hint of faintness as he walked by the row of tall filing cabinets. The beautiful secretary looked up and dazzled him with a radiant smile. However, her smile died away and she hurried around her desk to take his arm.
"Are you all right, Colonel? You look pale." A bit overly-friendly with the prisoners, isn't she? "Colonel Hogan?"
"Oh, ja-just, I mean, just a small headache," he smiled back, and inwardly kicked himself. English, speak English, dummkopf. "Um, yes, yeah, how are you?" She chuckled at his question and moved gracefully back to her chair without answering.
"Colonel Klink and Major Hochstetter are inside waiting. Go on in."
"Thanks." It was hard to sound so informal, but he was trying, and trying had to count for something, right? He cautiously pushed the door open and leaned in to find the Kommandant and a Gestapo major engaged in a heated argument. Surprised, Lang was content to watch as long as possible.
"I assure you, Major Hochstetter, what a ridiculous idea this is," Klink sputtered indignantly.
"It's my idea," Hochstetter roared. "What do you mean, 'ridiculous'?"
"Oh, did I say ridiculous?" Klink went pale, smiled weakly. "I meant fantastic. It's a brilliant plan, but how could such a thing be possible? This is a prison camp. There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13-"
"Until now, Klink! Something fishy is going on here, and I intend to find out what!" Hochstetter slammed his fist on the table and Klink jumped. "This whole camp stinks of foul play!"
The colonel spotted Lang hovering in the doorway. "Ah, Colonel Hogan."
Witty, think of something witty, now! "Um, am I interrupting? I could always come back later." He had to admit, the idea had merit. Much later. He started to turn around.
"Ho-o-o-gan!" Klink marched past him and slammed the door shut. "You're staying right here."
"Klink is right," Hochstetter growled, slapping a glove into his hand. If he was trying to look intimidating, he was succeeding. "We have much to discuss, Colonel. The question is, are we willing to talk here, or must we go over to my office for a friendly chat?"
We can talk here, Major, no need to waste gas," Lang now knew why Schultz had been sweating. Though it seemed strange, he wished for the solid presence of Sergeant Kinchloe. Somehow, his enemies were friendlier then his allies.
"Hogan, I'm in no mood for your insolence today," Hochstetter began circling him like a hungry shark. "You've always managed to escape me, or even make me look like a fool, but not this time. This time, I have a feeling you're going to be short a man, and an explanation," he chuckled triumphantly.
"I am?" Lang's mind froze up, and he couldn't think of a single witty thing to say. His grasp of the English language almost left him completely. He felt himself sinking into an office chair as Hochstetter hovered above him, staring him down. This is why I hate Gestapo. They make you feel like a cornered animal. Klink's surprised and faintly puzzled expression escaped the attentions of the two opponents. I'm supposed to be on his side. Do I even want to be on his side?
"I'm pretty sure you are, Hogan," Hochstetter claimed. "Just a few minutes ago, at my headquarters, I took the liberty of looking through your camp records. I came across the name of one Sergeant Andrew Carter, precisely as I suspected," he sauntered over to Klink's desk and sat down, exuding confidence. His hands folded themselves on top of the shiny dark wood, and he leaned forward to eye his staunchest foe. Rather, what he thought was his staunchest foe. "You do have a Sergeant Carter here, don't you?"
"I-I think so." Inside, Lang was panicking. If Hochstetter knew about the missing prisoner, did he know the truth about Hogan too? Was he only playing with them, while Hogan and Carter lay dead in some ditch, their plot exposed? Then a worse thought struck him. Could Hogan have gone out fighting, and could he have taken Rommel with him? No, please no.
"What's the matter with you, Hogan?" Klink paced over from the window. "Of course we have a Sergeant Carter here…" he trailed off, pondering, and came to a shocking conclusion. "Are you saying, Major Hochstetter, that Carter is the unidentified soldier traveling with the Feldmarschall?" He scratched his bald head in bewilderment.
"That Klink, is the most thinking I have ever seen you do," Hochstetter snarled.
"But that's impossible!"
"Most of the time it is, Klink."
"No, no, not that. The prisoner Carter is here at Stalag 13. I had him put in the cooler for disobeying orders," Klink protested, still glancing desperately at "Hogan." Lang caught the idea that he was to somehow help, but he didn't know what to do any more than Klink.
He'd give it a shot though. "As a matter of fact, I talked to him this morning, Kommandant. He had a minor complaint about the room service…" I hope that was right. Until I can be assured of the field marshal's safety, I've got to play along.
"The cooler does not have room service!" Klink threw up his hands, noticed Hochstetter pulling on his gloves to leave. "May I get you anything, Major?"
"No! I'm going to investigate this myself. I'm going to see this Carter in his cell, and if I don't…You won't be dying of extreme Russian cold, Klink, you'll be dying by the hard bullets of a firing squad!" Hochstetter practically screamed his threat as he stormed out of the room.
"But I'm certain you'll find everything as it should be." Klink gathered up his hat and coat and scurried after him. The whole situation was out of Lang's hands, if it was ever in them to begin with. The whole plan would soon be discovered. Hochstetter would see the empty cell. Carter would be arrested, maybe Hogan too. The Americans might put up a fight. One thing was certain; somebody was going to get hurt.
oooooooooooooooooo
Kinch slammed the coffee maker into its drawer and glanced at Lebeau and Newkirk, who had gathered around the coffee pot with him the minute Lang disappeared into Klink's headquarters. Lebeau was still breathing hard from the fiercely competitive game, and it took him a second to get his words out.
"He is going to find out that Carter is missing! What are we going to do?" Lebeau asked. "I wish Colonel Hogan were here."
"So do I, but he's not, and Hochstetter's about to have us all on meat hooks," Kinch paced out into the main room. "He's onto us. Newkirk, I need you to get down in the tunnel and come up in the cooler. You're now Andrew Carter."
"Blimey, that's gonna be a sticky wicket! What about Klink?"
"We'll distract him. Get going." Newkirk nodded and clambered down the tunnel in the bunk bed while Kinch hurried outside to find Schultz. The amiable guard stood on the sidelines of the still-going game, cheering the teams on. "Schultz! Schultz! Psst, hey Schultz, got important news. A prisoner just escaped!"
"Jolly joker," he rumbled, intensifying his attention on the game.
"No, really! You need to report him, Schultz." Kinch watched Klink's headquarters. Anytime now…There! Hochstetter emerged from the building, shouting his trademark "bah" at the unfortunate Klink. The Kommandant followed him down the short steps, and Lang brought up the rear, radiating confusion and desperation. They all stopped for a minute to argue. "If he gets away while you were on duty, it'll be the Russian front for you."
"Another one?" Schultz gave up trying to ignore his pleas. "First Carter escapes and you don't want me to report him, then another one escapes and you do want me to report him."
"Carter's long gone for now, but if you report this one, you can still get him back before he goes far." Kinch saw the small group begin to walk on. He critically observed Lang. No, less rigid. Bounce a little, don't march. You look like a German. Well, he is a German.
You're right." Beside him, Schultz waved his arms and took off to flag the Kommandant down. "Herr Kommandant! Herr Kommandant! Please wait, Herr Kommandant." Klink waited, albeit impatiently, as Schultz arrived, chuffing like a steam engine.
"What is it now, Schultz?" he cried.
The guard saluted. "I beg to report, but a prisoner is missing, Herr Kommandant."
Klink looked horrified. "What? Now? Release the dogs! Get the search parties out! Bring up my motorcar!" The quiet camp exploded into action, men and dogs tearing off in every direction in their haste to find the missing man. If they hadn't been in such dire straits, Kinch would have laughed. As it was, he was pleased to see Klink taking the bait. With Klink out of the way, the Heroes had a much better chance of success. "Major, if you will excuse me, I must recapture my wayward prisoner. Perhaps we can do this another time?" Klink smiled hopefully.
"Your prisoners seem to be fleeing this camp like rats from a sinking ship," Hochstetter observed. "Perhaps it would be wise for you to follow their example, Klink. Go after your prisoner; I am going to have a look at that empty cell!" He spun on his heel and strode away.
"Schultz! Escort the major to Sergeant Carter's cell," Klink ordered. "I have a prisoner to catch."
"Sergeant Carter's cell?" It was Schultz's turn to be horrified. As far as he knew, but didn't want to, Carter had been missing for some time already. "But-but-but…" He stopped arguing, the glare from Klink becoming too much. "Yes, Herr Kommandant," he sighed and trudged after Hochstetter; he couldn't help thinking, This is going to be worth my life, and Kommandant Klink's, too.
Kinch sent Lang a silent message with his eyes, to follow Schultz and the Gestapo major. He nodded reassuringly at the concerned German, and Lang obeyed without comment. But Kinch had seen the desperate gleam in the major's eye. He hoped Lang wasn't going to try anything. I bet he thinks we're crazy.
oooooooooooooo
They are crazy. They are just letting this Hochstetter discover the truth. Once he sees that cell, we are doomed. Lang padded down the long hallway, his tortured gaze burning into Hochstetter's back. I can't let him see an empty cell. Then he will attempt to arrest Carter, and Hogan will still be in a position to kidnap Feldmarschall Rommel, or kill him. Or Hogan will try to save Carter and end up killing everyone. Or Carter will talk under pressure and this whole camp will be caught, and then Hogan will retaliate. There are too many problems with this. Hochstetter cannot just act on part of the story. He has got to know the whole situation. A brief thought ran through his head, Perhaps Sergeant Kinch can help-no, he was taken by surprise just as much as I was. Rommel's aide recalled one of the Field Marshal's favorite sayings for times like these; mortal danger is an effective antidote for fixed ideas.
Yes, I determined to go along with the prisoners' plans, but the danger is becoming too great. It was crucial that I not speak, or Rommel might be killed. But now, if I don't speak, he is in even greater danger. Please try to understand, Sergeant Kinchloe, but your loyalty to your Colonel Hogan does not transcend my loyalty to my Field Marshal. Not even my own life matters right now. I must do what I believe is right. This could be his only chance to save his superior's life. Now was as good a time as any for it. In the small hallway of the cooler it seemed unlikely that there were any microphones, and he was temporarily alone with two fellow Germans.
"Major Hochstetter?"
"What now, Hogan?"
Sorry for the long time, no update again. In the course of all the episodes I've seen, I've never really seen Hochstetter meet any of the lesser Hogan's Heroes, thus making him not familiar with their faces and personalities. Anyway, that's what the gang is hoping for. Tell me what you think.
Oh, and many thanks to Tirathon for looking this chapter over and showing me the mistakes in it.