a/n: Thank you for your comments everyone! I really appreciate every one.
Characters from Hogan's Heroes do not belong to me.
The Thrilling Adventures of a Boy Spy
:: Part, the Second ::
So, like I said, this is where the spy stuff happens. It took me a while to get to the prison camp, but between the walking and the hitching rides, it really didn't take too long. The last ride was a truck filled with barking dogs. It brought me right up to the place, and – my oh my – right into it! Luckily, I hitched the ride surreptitiously. (I hope I spelled that right; I just learned that word recently! From a man named Peter, but I'll have to tell you about him later. All in order, you know.) So anyway, I rode on top of this truck of dogs. And, guess what! This truck was not full of dogs, but people! And the driver was letting them get out and sneak into a hole in the ground. The trapdoor was shaped like a dog house. And all this setup was in a dog pen. Amazing. So I figured this was a perfect place to learn about spying.
To try some on myself, I jumped off the top of the truck and tried to get in line with the crowd. Like a good spy, I copied the masses and hunched my shoulders, bent down, and hurried towards the doghouse. Apparently, I needed more training, because the little man holding up the doghouse stared at me forever with his mouth hanging open, then squealed under his breath. I think it was supposed to be a gasp.
I slipped on by him, but before I could jump down the ladder, he grabbed me.
"Merde!" he exclaimed.
"Excuse me?" I broke free of his arm.
"Just get in the tunnel." He pushed me into the hole in the ground.
Poof, I thought. My cover had been blown.
Inside, there was the most incredible underground interior I've ever seen. Of course, I've never seen one before. But it was clean. I guess that's how those locals my parents had met had kept so neat-looking. This wasn't bad. There were burning oil lamps and braces on the walls, even tables and chairs, and a big setup in one corner.
No one had seen me drop in; there was too much commotion with the people who'd come in the truck. So I figured I'd build my cover again and hide out in a nice dark corner. I figured I should think about my situation, about whose side these fellows were on. After all, spies are always working for one side or the other.
That's when I realized I still wasn't so up and up about the international situation to be able to figure this thing out. So here was I, in the middle of the greatest spy undertaking of my life, and I didn't know what to do. But so you won't think I'm such a dummkoph, I did have a plan. And that was to listen. After all, spies don't know everything. That's what they're spies for.
So I listened.
That's when I realized all the people who'd come in the truck were actually the local townsfolk my parents had been visiting with before. My, the plot thickens, I thought. Maybe it's all not too difficult to understand.
The townspeople had a sort of leader figure, a tall man with a mustache, who went and talked with what looked like the leader figure of this underground bunch.
"This all of you?" said the latter man, as he crossed his arms.
"Oui," said the former. "How soon will you be able to get us all out?"
"That's going to be a problem."
"Why?"
"Well, first of all, you gave us zero notice-"
"But we had to keep radio silence. He would have-"
"I understand. That's not the main thing. Major Klein is here. And, yes, I think he was expecting you. He's going to wait until we make a move – then arrest us all."
"So you can't get us out, then?"
"Not yet. Not until we get Klein out anyway."
Suddenly, the man with the red scarf appeared to my right. "Who are you?" he whispered to me.
"I'm a spy," I whispered back, intentionally irritated.
He looked terribly upset. "What made you come here?"
I considered whether I should answer that.
"Do you know where you are?"
"A prison camp," I answered cautiously.
The little man scooped me up in his arms and placed me in the middle of the room. "Colonel, look who came through with the truck."
A bunch of questioning eyes peered down at me. I felt like crying. But spies don't cry. "I'm a spy!" I said, closing my eyes so as not to see the glares.
Someone kneeled down to my level and held my shoulders. I opened my eyes. It was the leader of the underground people. He was wearing a neat cap and a soft brown jacket like Papa used to wear on picnics in the field. In fact, he looked a little like Papa, at least the dark hair anyway. I calmed down a bit and smiled.
"How did you get here?" he asked. "What's your name?"
I wondered if a spy should give his name. I had yet to figure out what side these people were on. I thought about Papa's letter and the secret trip and wondered how spies can bear all the confusion.
"Are you a spy?" I asked.
He set me down on his knee. "Listen, sonny, I'll answer that question if you can answer one for me. Now, who are your parents?"
I scrunched my face. I didn't want to tell. Do spies tell? Then I looked into his big brown eyes and smiled. "Papa looks just like you!" Papa. Oops, I forgot to find him. I jumped off his knee. "I forgot about Papa! I've got to tell him I'm here." I looked around for the ladder I came up from.
"Now, just calm down, kid," the man who looked like Papa said, scooping me up. "Where is your dad?"
I felt like crying again. Mama was probably worried about me – with no word from Papa about me. I thought about Emil and knew he'd never do such a thing to his mama. "I've been a bad boy," I shrieked. "Papa's up there somewhere with Uncle Klein."
The man almost dropped me. I held on tight.
"Uh, who did you say was your uncle?" His big brown eyes looked into mine, a grown-up-ness crowding into them.
"Well, he's not really my uncle. Papa just works for him."
I think that kind of scared the poor guy.
