As this story is now continuing past its original end point, a few alterations have been made to Chapter 1. The man in charge of the recruiting office is now Major Pintz ("The Swing Shift", Season 2).
The prisoners were already lined up for morning roll-call. Carter, breathless after racing through the tunnel and scrambling into uniform, sneaked out of the barracks and scuttled to his place in line, next to Kinch. From just in front, Colonel Hogan turned his head and gave him one look, and he shrank back, aware that he was in big trouble.
Nothing would be said until after they fell out, so at least he had a few minutes to get his thoughts in order, before he had to defend himself. It wasn't going to be fun, that was for sure.
Schultz came along the line, treading with great firmness as he counted: "...elf, zwölf, dreizehn, vierzehn, fünfzehn." Then, relieved that nothing was out of the ordinary for once, he beamed. "Colonel Hogan," he chortled, "everyone is here."
"Only just," said Kinch quietly, with a sideways glance at Carter that was almost as severe as Hogan's. Schultz either didn't hear, or chose to ignore him. He turned, ready to make his report to the Kommandant.
It had turned bitterly cold as morning approached, and Colonel Klink was not predisposed to linger. "Dismissed," he said curtly, and swung round to return to the relative warmth of his office.
The prisoners headed for the barracks. Hogan, coming in last, looked around till he found Carter. "My office," he said. "Now."
Oh, boy! thought Carter apprehensively.
As he hesitated, Newkirk muttered, "Don't keep him waiting, Andrew. He's not very happy. And when he's done with you, I want a word as well."
"Moi aussi," growled LeBeau. Kinch didn't say anything, but his expression would have made a hanging judge tremble. Trouble on all sides, then. Carter took a deep breath, and went to meet his fate.
"Well?" said Hogan, as soon as the door was closed.
Carter flinched at the anger in his voice. "Sorry, sir." His voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat, and murmured again, "Sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it, Carter. What the hell were you thinking? You were out all night. You were this close to missing roll-call. We had no idea what might have happened to you, or where to start looking."
"Well, you told me to move the girl on, Colonel, so I did."
"And just where did you move her to? Cleveland? Carter, we were on a mission last night. Our instructions were to make contact with the commandos and pass on the information they needed to complete their operation, not to go for a moonlight stroll. Do you have any idea how much trouble you could have gotten into? Or how much trouble you're in right now?"
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
"Damn right it won't. Now get out of here. And don't think this is over, because it's not."
The conversation had not gone well. Carter wavered, unsure whether he should try to explain further. He was scared of the colonel in this mood, and instinct was telling him to let the matter drop. Still, even though he hadn't exactly promised, he had given Sabine to believe that he would at least try to fix things, and he knew he couldn't do it alone. He was going to have to ask for help.
"Uh, Colonel?" he faltered.
"What?" The reply, and the look that accompanied it, were not encouraging, and Carter's nerve failed.
"Nothing, sir," he murmured, turning to leave.
"Carter." Hogan's tone was less sharp, and Carter stopped, with his hand on the door, and looked back. "If you've got any excuse, or there's anything about last night you feel I ought to know, I'd rather hear it now than later."
"It's not an excuse, exactly, Colonel," replied Carter timidly. "Only there's something I probably should tell you. I kind of...well, I gave my word."
The explanation took some time. Because Carter was so nervous, it wasn't long before he started getting muddled, and the more aware of it he was, the worse it got. Hogan gave him no help, but just leaned against the desk, arms folded, listening. He remained silent for a couple of minutes after Carter's story had stumbled to its conclusion. Carter didn't dare look at him; he knew he had not made his case at all well.
Finally, Hogan spoke. "Carter, you know what we're here for, don't you? We assist escaping Allied servicemen, we obtain information, and we carry out acts of sabotage. We do whatever is necessary to hamper the German war effort. What we don't do is social work."
"No, sir. I know, sir."
"And you can't start feeling guilty every time one of our operations makes life difficult for someone. You know the score. People get hurt. People get killed. It's part of the cost, Carter. If you start counting it, you'll go crazy."
Carter nodded, momentarily unable to speak. That was the part he never thought about, if he could avoid it. Sabine's story was just one drop in a whole ocean of consequences, the extent of which he couldn't even imagine. He cleared his throat again. "I understand, Colonel. Just forget it. It doesn't matter."
He turned back to the door.
"We're not finished, Carter," said Hogan. "You've given me the story. But you haven't given me the analysis. Is there anything in this whole mess that makes it worth our while to follow it up?"
Carter tried to work out what Hogan was getting at, but he was so rattled he couldn't think straight. "I don't think so, Colonel," he said at length.
"You're not looking hard enough. There's at least two likely payoffs in it." Hogan began pacing, as he usually did when thinking. "Okay, I'm not saying that the local recruiting office is important enough for us to make disrupting it a priority, but it would still mess them around enough to be worth the effort. Besides, apart from last night's outing, it's been a slow week, and the men are getting bored. They need something to keep them occupied, and this could be just what they want. And if you're right about the girl's father, he could be useful as an inside man at any number of technical sites. So let's not write the whole thing off yet."
He pushed past Carter and opened the door. "Kinch, get in here."
Newkirk and LeBeau started forward as well. The disciplinary interview had gone on long enough to make them uneasy. They both stopped dead, recognising the danger signals still evident in Hogan's face, but then he nodded. "Okay, you two, as well. I need to speak to you anyway, Newkirk."
Carter had retreated to the window, so that the colonel was between him and the others. He was pretty sure that Hogan, while still angry, was no longer completely furious with him, but one glance confirmed that he could still expect a scrupulously detailed dressing-down from either LeBeau or Kinch, or more likely both at once; and he had to suppress a shudder when he met the glare Newkirk sent in his direction. Hogan had been right. It wasn't over yet. Not even close.
"Newkirk, remember when you got drafted into the German army?" Hogan began. "The Kraut in charge of the induction centre - what was his name?"
Newkirk looked startled. He had not slept well, between anxiety over Carter and the ongoing symptoms of his head cold, and the question seemed to come out of nowhere. Finally he pulled himself together. "I can't remember, sir. It was a while ago, and I had other things on my mind. Like trying not to get myself posted here as a guard, for a start."
"Was it Pintz?"
"Doesn't ring a bell, but it could have been," said Newkirk.
"Never mind," said Hogan. "Major Pintz is the man we're interested in. Kinch, I want you to find out everything you can about him. Including his private affairs. Especially his private affairs."
"That's a pretty tall order, Colonel," murmured Kinch doubtfully.
"That's why I'm asking you to do it. At least I've got one person around here who gets the job done right." Hogan did not look at Carter as he spoke, but Carter understood the remark to be aimed at him, and he lowered his head. LeBeau and Newkirk looked slightly conscious, as well.
"I'll get right on it," said Kinch. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, ask someone we trust in Hammelburg to start looking into a possible new contact. Tell them to make all the usual checks, and put out a few feelers, see what they can come up with. Carter, what's the man's name?"
"I don't know," Carter stammered, suddenly aware of how little prepared he had been for his story to be taken seriously.
"That's going to make it difficult, Carter," said Kinch.
"I know where he lives," Carter added quickly. "He lives in..." He came to a stop. He didn't know that part of Hammelburg very well, and he wasn't sure of the name of the street.
Hogan drew a deep breath, visibly repressing his resurgent temper. "Could you find it on a map?" he asked.
"Colonel, Carter couldn't find his own bunk on a map of the barracks," said Newkirk.
Carter sent him a reproachful look, which Newkirk stonewalled with that exasperated glower that long practice had polished to near perfection. Realising that he was going to have to come up with something, Carter closed his eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate. He had seen a street sign, but hadn't really been paying attention to it. Now he tried to bring it back from the wilderness of memory. And suddenly it was there, quite clear in his mind. "Gärtnerstraße," he said, as surprised as anyone. "At the far end, close to the canal."
"Well, that's a start," murmured Kinch. "Any other clues?"
"He was a shift foreman at the hydro-electric plant - probably the day shift, he wasn't on duty when we blew it up," Carter went on. "And he has a daughter named Sabine. She works at the Hotel Hammelburg, in reception."
LeBeau and Newkirk exchanged glances. "Works fast when he wants to, doesn't he?" observed Newkirk dryly.
"And he knows how to get the important stuff," added LeBeau, but he was looking a little less censorious, and his dimple was showing.
"It's not like that at all," said Carter. "Colonel..."
"Okay, Carter. Guys, lay off about the girl. She's off limits," said Hogan.
"Excuse me, Colonel, but are we allowed to know what this is all about?" asked Kinch. "It's not like you to keep us in the dark."
Hogan gave it some thought before replying. "We're going to see what we can do to make life difficult for the head of the recruitment office. Partly because I think it'll keep you guys out of mischief, and partly because it never hurts to derail military business when we get a chance." He paused, glancing at Carter enquiringly, then went on. "But mostly because Major Pintz needs to be sent packing. Our information suggests that he uses his position to blackmail young women. And not for money."
For several seconds, nobody spoke. LeBeau recovered first. "Salopard!" he spat.
"Can't argue with that," said Newkirk softly. "Are we going to sort him out?"
"That's the plan," Hogan replied. "But we don't have a lot of time. This girl turned him down, and as a result her father is likely to be called up within the next week. Once that happens, he's no use to us. Kinch, start making calls. Newkirk, we'll probably need you on this one, so see if you can shake off that cold. LeBeau, make him some chicken soup. And Carter..." Hogan turned to the one who had started all this, and raised one eyebrow. "Okay, you're off the hook. For now. You just better hope this works out."
"I will, sir," said Carter. "I sure will."
