a/n: Once again, thank you for your comments. I'm glad you all are enjoying this one!
Characters from Hogan's Heroes do not belong to me.


The Thrilling Adventures of a Boy Spy

:: Part, the Ninth ::

I looked over across the table and it suddenly hit me. Yup, they were all looking at me. So this is what it felt like to be Papa Bear.

Somehow the paper in the middle of the table rustled and I snapped out of my mode. "Oh, yes." I pointed to the map. "Bridge 14." The six people's heads turned down, like clockwork. All except Mama, who was looking at me. I'd not told her Hogan's special plan because Max came in in the middle and I had to tell him to fetch certain people. I'd just got as far as my encounter with Newkirk when the rest of them came, I had to jump in and tell them the plan.

So I continued.

"Uh, Bridge 14. It's close enough to make a racket at the stalag, so Klein—" I had to get used to calling Uncle that. "—would take notice and stop hassling Hogan." They looked up at me. Wrong word? "Uh, anyway, the explosion would bring Klein over to the area. I mean, it's so close and since he's looking for a saboteur already—"

"And what happens if he sends someone else to the scene?" asked a certain tall man in the group, his foreign voice a little obvious in this business. Well, maybe he had some other tricks up his sleeve.

"I have first-hand proof Klein is not that sort of fellow," I responded, very grown-up-like. In fact, Hogan had told me that Papa knew Klein always wanted to see things first-hand. And even if he wasn't that sort of fellow, who wouldn't want to check out the commotion we'd sure be setting off? It would be like a hungry kid not going to a basket of candy that fell over.

Anyway, I continued. "After you set off the explosives, you set yourself here at Point A—" I pointed to a spot on the map between the stalag and the bridge. "—and wait for Klein to go by. Then you grab him. After that, you take him to the farm house here—" Another pointing. "—And use the phone to call the back phone of Max's store. I'll answer it. Now you'll be addressing me as Papa Bear and I'll be vocal enough for Klein to hear – at least enough to know somebody's here and you're not just talking to nobody. You know what I'm talking about?"

The heads nodded.

"And after we set that up, I'll tell you to call the prison camp leader—" What was his name again? "Klink." That was it. "And give him ransom information for Klein. You'll mention a location you're supposed to be heading to. This spot." I pointed again and took a breath to catch myself. Boy, this was getting complicated, but the fellows seemed to be taking it quicker than I did back at Hogan's. "Then, you set it up so Klein can escape."

"Ah!" The tall one raised his finger. "This is brilliant."

"You know what's suppose to happen?" I asked. I wasn't finished yet!

"Oui, but pardon me. Carry on."

I puckered my mouth. "Well, I guess after Klein escapes, he'll run back to the stalag and get some of his friends to the barn you're supposed to be in. You won't be there, of course, but you'd leave some papers and stuff just to keep them busy. Maybe some fresh hot chocolate or something, making like you just left." Big breath again. "And now for the details." I thought through the lists of data and numbers.

You don't have to remember exactly everything, Hogan had said. The Underground will help me there.

So I trusted him. It felt like it was going to be a long afternoon planning. I had already given them the places, which was most important. The details we'd work out now.

:: ::

Thirty minutes later, everything was set. You should have heard us talk, everybody over each other for a minute or so. (Yes, I know I could have let you hear them talk, but it got boring really quick, since we were just talking about details and stuff like that.)

At around ten minutes after three, two of the fellows followed Max into the back of the store to change into disguises to look like Uncle. Those two were going out to the bridge. Another two snuck out to the road between the bridge and the prison.

Now obviously I wasn't quite grown up to be a spy like the rest of them yet, since I obviously wan't part of the group sneaking up the bridge or down the road. I'll skip over the boring stretches where I sat with Mama, alternating between awkward silences, admonitions over doing such a "downright foolish thing!" and happy hugging over Papa's soon-to-be safety.

I imagined what happened out there, because you know I have to fill in this most exciting part of the story with some sort of description.

So the tall one and his friend met the black ones at the bridge. They screamed their false identities and demanded inspection (this is what we discussed). They'd wander around the place, look important, and drift down near the water. From under their ridiculously heavy coats, they'd take out the bomb stuff and plant it at the base of the bridge. About half of the stuff was just for show, something like fireworks, I guess.

I looked at the clock. Three-forty.

So about now, they're walking away, maybe making some excuse to the black coats to follow them a while before—

Boom!

—they scram out of sight in the confusion. I jumped off my seat and looked out the window, Mama beating me to it. The colorful flames water-fountained into the blue, blue sky. She grabbed my shoulders.

Now to the next phase of the operation, which might take a bit longer. I wished I was back at the stalag right now, to see what Uncle was doing. Was he strutting back and forth? Was he asking Hogan questions? No, maybe he was looking out at the fences and pointing out a crinkle in the wood when the red and yellow fountains caught his eye.

"That's Papa Bear!" he'd say and rush into his car to catch him.

No, I couldn't tell what he was doing. And all I could do was wait for the phone call and rehearse my speech. Mama went back to her seat and I took up my place on a little table which the phone was on.

Three-forty-five.

There wasn't any point in their hurrying, really. Certainly not in five or ten minutes. I mean, it takes a while for a fellow to grab somebody.

Three-fifty-five.

It's not like grabbing a kid in the backyard, you know, where you can stash him up a tree or in the tool shed or something, and he doesn't really mind because he knows that you know that the both of you got to get back come suppertime. No, sir! This was not like that.

Four-o'clock.

And from the look of Uncle's face when I saw him mad once, he certainly was not one to give in so easily.

Four-and-five.

Hmm.

Four-and-eight.

My hand was itching towards the phone. Mama looked up, eyes sparkling with what must have been worry. "The mission's nearly done!" I offered.

Four-and-twelve.

Maybe they were chugging him to the farm house. Was he tied up or blindfolded, like in the films? I wondered if his cape was all wrinkled up now. I decided it was. There was a big crease right on the left corner, which looked so spiffy sweeping behind him before. And what about Hogan? Was he sitting back, in the dark corner of the cell, looking like the world was his oyster?

Four-and-fourteen.

Ja, that's probably what was happening. And Papa? Oh, Papa. He would be straightening his clothing, maybe combing his hair. I wonder if they gave him a brush. Probably not. He combed it with his hands. He'd be imagining what I was doing. I straightened. I better do a really good job.

Four-and-sixteen.

And then Hogan would be calming him, telling him I would do just fine, because he trusted me. Somehow. And maybe Schultz would come in and wiggle his finger at Hogan, because he had this notion he really knows who Hogan is.

Four-and-seventeen.

And Mama, her eyes staring at the phone, my hand upon it. It was like I could feel the vibrations of its future ring. Was I psychic? It was just creepy.

Then it rang. Mama jumped. I blinked. After two jangles, I picked it up.

"Hello."