Chapter Three
Hogan rolled his eyes as Newkirk whispered to Kinch, "If she's Nimrod, I'll eat my hat."
"I didn't want to startle you by coming in unexpectedly," Marya explained.
"Your being anywhere near startles me," Hogan replied testily as she pulled pictures out of a small purse.
She pretended not to hear. "I need your help. First, only certain people in England know who I am."
Newkirk turned his head and covered his eyes. "Please, not that. Not even Louis could make a hat taste good."
She placed the photos on the table for the prisoners to inspect as LeBeau protested, "I could make anything taste appealing with enough sauce. That's why Americans will eat some of what they do smothered in ketchup."
"That is my father and me with one of his cousins," Marya said, pointing to one of the photos.
Newkirk finally dared to look. "Blimey, he was King of England back when I was a lad."
"Look, lady, what are you trying to pull?" Hogan asked impatiently.
"I am telling you, I am the daughter of the late Czar Nicholas Romanov, the one who they say escaped when the Czar and his family were killed," Marya emphasized. "I need to get out of Germany so I can be used to sneak back in and do my best to serve as an agent against the Reds."
"Incredible; I have been kissed by a princess!" LeBeau said, swooning like a lovestruck teen.
Carter chuckled. "You know, Colonel, it makes sense she'd say that. I always thought Marya seemed a lot like the King and the Duke."
Newkirk turned confoundedly toward Carter, staring as if Carter had just spoken in Martian. "What king and what duke? You're not making any sense."
"I think he's talking about 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,'" Kinch said evenly.
Newkirk clearly had no idea what that was.
"You've never read Huckleberry Finn? You don't know what you're missing. See, he's first introduced…" Carter began.
"Save the literature lesson for later," Hogan said in a tone that ended the discussion. He turned to Marya. "Look, not only do we have no way to confirm your story, soon a bunch of people are going to be fingered as a top British agent, while we try to locate the real one to send some important information to London because we can't use the radio!"
"Nimrod? I can tell you who that is. But, you must promise to help me."
Hogan fretted, pulling his elbows in as far as they would go. "Are you crazy? What's next, asking us to help you restore your crown?"
Marya sighed. "Alas, I would be barred by Salic Law."
"What do I care? I will gladly be your Prince Charming," LeBeau pledged.
"Why not have her come with me, she'd make a great circus act with that claim," Newkirk cracked.
"Look, if you need us to get you to England we can try, just stay out of…" Hogan stopped himself. "Wait, I'd better ask. Please tell me you're not Nimrod!"
"Very well, I am not," she said decisively.
Newkirk saw LeBeau inspecting his hat near the stove. "Give it back," he said as he swiped it.
"But, if we work together, I can make your life much easier," Marya promised.
Hogan grimaced. "All right, just go back in the tunnel and wait while we talk." He sighed. Once she left, he remarked, "Well, I figured she wasn't, she was nowhere near, to my knowledge, and couldn't have gotten those plans into camp with that message."
"I know we go over this a lot," Baker said, "but who do you think it is?"
"I'm not sure." Hogan knew it was quite possible one of the men was Nimrod—indeed, they hadn't targeted Klink's secretary yet, and she was also possible. Some of the higher-ups had direct access to put the plans in that box that time, and it was just possible that their recent visitor had known about their use of Nimrod because he was nearby. However, at least if one of those they'd fingered was Nimrod, they'd also thrown the Germans off the trail with lots of diversions. "I only know one thing; I'm glad it's not her."
Marya lounged on the bunk in the radio room, adjusting her fur coat so that it lay suggestively across her body. She didn't know how long the conversation upstairs would go on, but she would be ready when they returned. It was rather cute. Hogan and his men always spent so much time debating whether to do things her way, before giving in to the inevitable. They were, after all, just men. And convincing men to dance to her tune was as natural to her as breathing.
Lighting a cigar, Marya did her best to wait patiently—a necessary skill in her line of work. The harder task was trying to ignore the austere and depressing environment that surrounded her; she hoped that 'military tunnel' never came into vogue. She did her best work surrounded by opulence, a trait that Stalag 13 would never possess.
Then, just when she was in danger of getting bored, she heard footsteps. Looking up, she grinned. Hogan was walking toward her. Alone.
Hogan, however, was still not happy to see her. And he stopped, arms crossed a couple of meters away from her. "Do I understand your deal correctly, we get you out of Germany and you give us Nimrod?"
"Exactly. I give you a name then I leave on your little submarine. No problem. Now come here, kiss me, hold me." Marya opened her arms wide. She intended to make the best of the all too short time they had left together.
"No submarines. No planes from London. The escape route has been shut down. Orders from the top."
Marya lowered her arms. That news was unfortunate; her plan depended on Hogan getting her out of the country. But one look at the American officer told her that he wasn't done talking and that he was enjoying believing that he was now in control. Smiling, she said, "I trust that you won't let a little difficulty like that stop you."
"I can help. But this time, we do things my way. First, I need you to disappear."
Placing a hand over her heart, Marya gasped. "Hogan, I'm hurt. We work so wonderfully together. Why would you send me away?"
"Only for a couple of days. I need time for my plans for Hochstetter to play out. Then once everyone is busy chasing false leads, I want you to return to camp with the real Nimrod. I think that Stalag 13 would be the perfect place for an influential Nazi official to hide out at before fleeing with his new love to Argentina."
Putting out her cigar, Marya rose. She had to admit that was a plan she could work with. After all, it simply required her to use her best talents. To show her appreciation she wrapped her arms around Hogan. "I knew it! We work so well together. Tell me that you'll miss me." She leaned in close.
Hogan held up a hand between their lips. "Wait. Aren't you forgetting something? I need the name of Nimrod."
"And ruin the surprise? Hogan, darling, trust me. When I return to camp, it will be with the real Nimrod at my side." Then before he could say another word, their lips were pressed together in a passionate embrace.
Even Hogan, for all his protests, could never resist her.
Marya wrinkled her nose as she crept into the hiding place. Pushing aside a friendly German shepherd who was trying to lick her face, she addressed the other human occupant of the dog kennel.
"It is arranged! Hogan will help both of us."
The person known as Nimrod regarded her with suspicion. "Both of us? He knows I'm a British agent, but why would he help you?"
Marya sighed. "Why shouldn't he? Have I not helped him in the past?"
"From what I have heard, with help like yours it's amazing that Hogan survived, let alone continued with his operation."
"Ah, but you do not know me! We have only recently met, so I can forgive you for your unkind mistrust."
"We may only have just met, but I know a great deal about you," Nimrod said grimly. "And that's another thing! How did you find out who I am, and where I've been hiding? Schnitzer's been kind enough to hide me, but even he doesn't know my real identity."
Marya tossed her head, dislodging her extravagant fur hat onto the floor of the kennel. One of the dogs sniffed at it, and with a sidelong glance at the Russian woman, picked it up and carried it out of the kennel. A muted sound of digging ensued, but Marya took no notice.
"It is safer for Schnitzer that way, darling," she said. "And the poor man was more than happy to look the other way when I arrived. I forgive him, as I forgive you."
"You didn't answer my question, did you? How did you find out about me?"
"Darling! I do not reveal all my secrets. Is it so difficult to imagine that I discovered a few stray bits of information, and was able to put the pieces together?"
"Never mind, it doesn't matter." Nimrod grimaced, shifting position on the hard wooden floor. "What does matter is that I have vital information that must be delivered to London as soon as possible. In person."
"No offense, darling, but why did you not turn to Hogan in the first place, if this is so important?"
Her companion sighed. "I feared that he would not believe that I am Nimrod, in view of our past encounters. And the forced evacuations of so many POW camps make Stalag 13 not quite the secure place it used to be. How could he help me at a time like this?"
"Never fear, darling. No one has been evacuated from Stalag 13...yet." She smiled, remembering. "And Hogan will come up with a plan to help both of us. He has never failed me yet!"
"I wish I had your confidence. Hochstetter is hot on the trail of Nimrod, and at this point in the war he has nothing to lose. He'll be especially vengeful once he realizes that he's met me before under a different identity."
Sensing a need for comfort, one of the dogs snuggled up to the British agent, whining softly. Nimrod glanced down at the dog with a sigh and automatically began to stroke its fur.
Marya spoke again, this time with a bracing tone that made all of the dogs prick up their ears. "You have no faith in my Hogan! At this very moment he is arranging for multiple Nimrods to be discovered at Stalag 13; in the confusion Hochstetter will never know that we have made our escape."
"Multiple Nimrods? How—" The British agent stopped abruptly. "Never mind; it's probably better that I don't know what Hogan is up to, as long as he can help me—us—get to London."
"Exactly, darling!"
Nimrod gave an unwilling chuckle, adding: "I can just imagine the chaos, though. It almost makes me feel sorry for Hochstetter."