All eyes turned to Newkirk, whose eyes began to burn in anger. It was bad enough that the perpetrators had obviously invaded his own home. The fact that they were listening in on his closest friends and putting them in danger enraged him even more.

"If I ever catch the ruddy menace who did this, I'll—"

"Not now, Newkirk," Hogan said, motioning for them to follow the wire outside.

The wire had been cut, ending halfway down the corridor; whoever had been listening in had realized what their sudden silence had meant, and that the perpetrator had quickly cut the wire and escaped.

"We'll have to check with anyone downstairs and see if they saw anyone making a hasty exit," Hogan said. "Newkirk, how long has the carpet been like that?"

The corporal cleared his throat, going slightly red.

"About five weeks, Sir. I've been meaning to let the landlady know; in fact, I'll go do that right now…"

"Forget it; let's just look around for any other bugs."

The subsequent sweep of the apartment resulted in nothing. This seemed to suggest to Hogan that the listening device was a recent job.

"Somebody must have seen us with Marya at the reunion last night and slipped in to plant it," he said, inspecting the microphone. "There isn't a speck of dust on this thing. I think it was planted very recently."

"It couldn't have been during the night; the three of us were here," Carter said. "Either they were in and out before we returned from the reunion, or it happened this morning while we were out."

"Nobody came by between yesterday and today?" asked Kinch.

"Not a soul," Newkirk sighed.

"Non; there was someone who came by earlier this morning—a reporter," LeBeau said, recalling Miss Sandiego. "She had been at the reunion yesterday, as well."

"How long was she here for?" Hogan asked, his suspicions beginning to build.

"No more than a minute or two," said LeBeau. "She wanted to talk to Pierre, and left almost immediately after I told her he wasn't in."

"She never left your sight at all?" Hogan prompted.

"Only when I went to get her a glass of water," the Frenchman said. "And that would have been for only ten seconds."

"She'd have had to be a magician like Newkirk to slip that microphone in without you seeing it," Carter mused.

"Or it could be a coincidence; she did want to talk to me about what I experienced during the war," Newkirk said. "I told 'er she wouldn't get any interesting stories, but…" He shrugged. "Guess she couldn't resist me charms."

LeBeau gave him a look and shook his head.

"We'll have to keep an eye on her," Hogan said. "But that can wait until we get back from Heidelberg."

"You mean we're still going?" Carter asked, incredulously. "They heard every word; what if they follow us?"

"I'm going to gamble on reverse psychology," Hogan said. "They're probably expecting us to change our plans now that we know we were overheard. So the best way to throw them off might be to go through with our plans."

"Well, they ain't going to expect that," Newkirk mused. "I certainly didn't…"

"Even if they aren't expecting it, they'll probably keeping tabs on the Schroeder Corporation," Kinch realized. "They'd notice all five of us going in; I think we should keep that part of the mission to two or three people."

"Good point," Hogan agreed. "You and I can handle that part of the mission."

"And you want the three of us to go see Hochstetter?" Carter asked.

"No; I have a few questions for him myself," the colonel said. "Why don't you three visit another old friend in Heidelberg? I bet Schultz would love to see you again—and bring some strudel, if you can whip some up, LeBeau. There's a chance that he might have seen something—new or suspicious faces in town."

"Oui, Colonel; we can ask him."

"Good. We'll leave tonight, under the cover of darkness."

LeBeau spend the remainder of the day preparing dinner, along with the strudel that Hogan had suggested. The idea of making strudel for Schultz was something that the chef had almost forgotten in the two years since the war's end, and he was initially unsure if he would still be able to make a good strudel. But he was pleasantly surprised that the strudel came out perfectly—better, even, since he had access to a better cooking range here.

Newkirk, in the meantime, had been trying to convince Mavis that it wasn't safe for her to return to the apartment, even though he had to take an emergency trip. The baffled young woman didn't understand at all, and while Newkirk wanted nothing more than to tell her what was really going on, he knew that for everyone's sakes, he had to keep her in the dark.

A secret plane at Heathrow had been waiting for them to take them to Heidelberg. General Barton had booked hotel rooms for them in advance for the remainder of the night. The idea of arriving in the dead of night seemed to work; there was no sign of anyone following them.

When morning came, the team split up, leaving at two separate times to avoid attention. Hogan and Kinch soon arrived at the headquarters of Schroder Corporation.

"You have to admit, he's doing fairly well in post-war Germany," Kinch commented, seeing that the grounds and the building itself looked remarkably well-maintained.

"He earned a lot of money working for our side," Hogan said, as they approached his office. He cleared his throat. "Mr. von Schroeder?"

The company president turned, acknowledging them with a nod.

"Glad you could come, Herr Colonel," he said, handing one of two stacks of files to each of the men. "There is no sense in beating around the bush; you are here for the pictures of the suspects who were seen loitering outside—I am sure they are the ones who broke into my electronics department. Not all of them are communist agents—as far as I know. Those who are seem to be working with the free agents."

"Free agents are sometimes the worst," Hogan murmured, going over the photographs of the known communists. General Barton had already briefed him on some of these—not all of them were the sinister figures or femme fatales that one expected; the unassuming appearance of several of these agents was sobering. On the other hand, Hogan hoped that his own crew would pass as unassuming, as well.

"This one looks… interesting, to say the least," Kinch commented, as he went over the free agents' photographs. "He looks like a circus strongman with that build."

Hogan took a look at the picture, recognizing him from another intelligence report.

"He is a circus strongman, when he's not spying for hire," the colonel said. "He goes by the name of The Brute. We might have to try bribing him to our side…"

"Other than money, what do you bribe a strongman with?" Kinch wondered aloud.

"A strongwoman?" Hogan offered.

The staff sergeant chuckled, and even von Schroeder had to bite back a smirk.

"A lot of these faces are familiar," the colonel went on, after some time. "I don't suppose there's any way of confirming that they broke in?"

"I'm afraid not," said the CEO. "The theft itself is most perplexing. I have night watchmen patrolling the building and grounds to deter any potential thieves. The thieves didn't use a truck, and yet we have lost a truckload's worth of equipment. Either they somehow kept sneaking in here on foot night after night until we noticed, or that strongman came in here and managed in hauling all of it off in one night."

"What sort of equipment did they take?" Kinch asked.

"Mainly communication equipment," he said. "But some mechanical equipment has been taken as well."

"Sounds like they're setting up some communication stations—perhaps some sort of spying craft," Kinch concluded.

"So they're just getting started, too…" Hogan mused. "You said that you lost about a truckload's worth of equipment. Do you have an estimate as to the monetary loss?"

"My accountant should be finishing up that inventory," von Schroder said. His eyes glanced to a point behind the two Americans, towards the door of his office. "Ah, and here he is now…"

"Herr von Schroeder, I have here the reports…" a familiar voice began, but trailed off as the speaker apparently noticed the two Americans.

Hogan and Kinch turned back in disbelief, staring at the familiar bald head and monocle-covered eye.

"Hogan?" Klink asked, stunned enough to be knocked over with a feather. "And Kinchloe?"

"Ah, you know each other?" von Schroder observed.

"In a manner of speaking, Herr von Schroeder," Klink responded. "These two men…"

"We're old war buddies," Hogan finished for him, hiding his own surprise. He hadn't expected Klink to have bounced back with the Schroeder Corporation, but he supposed that von Schroeder had his reasons for hiring him. "Weren't we, Sir?"

Klink gave Hogan a long, blank stare. The last time he had seen the American was the day of Stalag 13's liberation, watching from afar as Hogan's men celebrated their newfound freedom. He had felt oddly happy for the men; the war would soon be over, and after all of their failed escape attempts, they were finally going home. But he had certainly never expected to see any of them again.

"Well, maybe war buddies was a stretch," Hogan went on, seeing Klink's blank stare. "Truth was, Klink here was our Kommadant during the war—"

"Hogan, are you getting involved in things again?" Klink asked, noticing the photographs that he and Kinch were looking over. Klink had had his suspicions towards the end, but with Hochstetter hovering around them constantly, he had not come forward with them.

Hogan paused, wondering exactly how much to tell him. It wasn't that Klink couldn't be trusted—especially since he was involved as an employee of the Schroeder Corporation, anyway. But, in any case, they were under orders to keep their missions as secret as possible.

"If I am, you can be sure that we're on the same side this time," he said, at last, with a good-natured shrug.

"'If,' Hogan?" Klink asked. "Do you mean to tell me that you came back to Germany just to visit myself or Schultz?"

"Well, we knew Schultz was here, but we didn't expect to see you," Hogan said, truthfully.

"And I suppose that you sent the rest of your men to try to get some information from Schultz regarding this new endeavor?" Klink asked.

"I can't answer that," Hogan said.

"Which, in short, means yes," the German colonel sighed. "Hogan…" He paused, trying to find the words he was looking for. "Try to stay out of trouble." It would be a terrible irony if anything happened to Hogan or any of his men after they managed to survive the war, depsite pulling off all of their hi-jinks.

"We'll try," Hogan said, understanding what Klink meant.

"And Schultz, too—he's trying to teach his oldest child the basics of running a toy company. Don't get him too involved; his daughter needs all the tutelage she can get."

"Daughter?" Kinch asked, his eyebrows arched. "You mean she's working at the Schatzi Toy Company?"

"Oh, yes," said Klink. "Quite a lovely girl she is, too; she somehow managed to keep off the… family weight."

"Oh, boy," Hogan mused. "And I sent Newkirk and LeBeau there; hope they still aren't going to be smitten by Frauleins…"

"Carter will keep them in line," Kinch said.

Von Schroeder had patiently waited for the chatter to subside, but now he cleared his throat to bring the conversation back to the business at hand. The others took his cue and soon returned to work.

The strudel-bearing trio, in the meantime, had arrived to the gift shop of the Schatzi Toy Company while the counter was unattended. A few shoppers were looking around the store with their wide-eyed children.

"Wonder where Schultzie is," Newkirk said, glancing around.

"And I wonder if he did notice anything out of the ordinary," the Frenchman added. "You know how he doesn't like getting involved…"

"Guess we'll have to wait until the cashier gets back and ask them where Schultz is," said Carter. "But why don't we have a look around?"

"Andrew, it's a toy shop," Newkirk said, with a roll of his eyes. "What's there to see?"

"Well, when you consider that Schultz was the one who made all of these, I think it's interesting," the American countered. "I mean, look at this." He took a toy soldier down from the shelf. "How many toy soldiers do you see carrying a dish full of strudel?"

"Quoi?" LeBeau asked, taking a look. He took a look at the toy soldier and laughed out loud. "And this one has a deck of cards!" he added, picking up another one.

"Oh, blimey…" Newkirk snarked, now amused. "The old bloke really misses us, doesn't 'e? Fine, maybe there is something worth seeing…"

The Englishman trailed off, staring as a beautiful, young woman took her place behind the counter.

"Now there's no 'maybe' about it," he mused. "Excuse me…"

"Just a minute!" LeBeau said, thrusting an arm to block the Englishman's path. "What makes you think you can just walk over while I'm standing here?"

"Easy, little mate—I just take a few steps forward, and voila, as they say in your language."

"And why am I not allowed to take a few steps over myself?" the Frenchman inquired.

"Because I doubt that Marya would approve," Newkirk said, smirking with satisfaction. If he could get LeBeau to realize that Marya was not a woman worth chasing after, so much the better.

"Come on, you two," said Carter, shaking his head. "Don't forget why we're here; we're trying to find Schultz!"

LeBeau was giving Newkirk a very dark look as the girl in question walked over to them.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear…" she said. "You are looking for the proprietor?"

"That's right, Ma'am," Carter said, with a friendly smile.

"If you wait for a moment, Papa will be here," she said, returning the smile. "He is on his way."

"Oh, good," said Carter. He took a moment to realize what she had said, and he and the two corporals stared at her.

"Papa?" they repeated, in unison.

"Ja, my name is Johanna Schultz," she said, still smiling. "You must be some of Papa's friends from the war."

LeBeau murmured something in his own tongue as Newkirk gave a nod.

She blinked as the corporals stared.

"Are they alright?" she asked Carter.

"Oh, they're fine, Ma'am; it's just that while Schultz always said he had five children, he never mentioned that one was a young and beautiful woman—"

"Andrew!" Newkirk chided.

Before Carter could come up with a reply, Schultz himself ambled into the gift shop.

"Ah, Johanna, are you…?" the big man paused, noticing the trio. "Ach du lieber! You three!"

"'Allo, Schultzie," Newkirk said, with a grin. "We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd drop in."

"You are welcome here anytime!" the big man insisted. "What brings you to Heidelberg?"

"Well, I had some extra strudel on hand," LeBeau said, taking out the strudel he had made. "I am afraid it has gotten a little cold—"

Schultz didn't seem to care, taking a piece and offering another to his daughter.

"So you three came all this way just because you had extra strudel?" he asked, after some time. "Not that I am complaining, but that seems most unlike you." He blinked. "There isn't any new monkey business going around?"

"Actually, we were kind of hoping you'd tell us if there was," said Carter.

"Don't you three remember? I know nothing, I hear nothing, and I see nothing… except for that odd Fraulein who came by here a few days ago." Schultz paused, taking note that the trio looked at him expectantly. He took another piece of strudel and went on talking.

"She wasn't German, but that wasn't what was odd; we have foreigners here all the time," he said. "She seemed less interested in the work I was doing, and wanted to ask me about what I did during the war. She said she was a reporter." He gave a shrug, but blinked as he saw the frown on LeBeau's face. "Something wrong?"

"She wasn't a Spanish lady, by any chance, was she?" the Frenchman asked, as Carter gave a sideways glance at Newkirk, who looked absolutely blank.

"Ja, I believe she was," Schultz said. "Why?"

"A Spanish bird's been asking me for an interview for a couple of days," Newkirk explained.

"Oui, and she might have been the one who put the microphone in Newkirk's apartment!" LeBeau said, angrily. "I bet you there is one here!"

"Who'd bug a toy company?" Carter asked, as LeBeau began to inspect the shelves.

"The same person who would bug the apartment of an East End magician!" LeBeau responded.

"Come off it, Louis!" said Newkirk. "Even if it was the bird who left the microphone because she saw us at the reunion, 'ow would she know enough about Schultzie, too—several days before the reunion?"

"I am not sure," LeBeau said. "But what happened at Stalag 13 is supposed to be a secret, and I have a feeling she already knows more than she should! Why else is she hovering around us? I didn't want to jump to conclusions before, but now I have my suspicions!"

"Louis, she's a reporter. It's 'er job to go around ferreting for juicy stories, and I reckon Stalag 13 'ad a bunch of rumors flying around about it. And if she was after information, she'd 'ave asked you for an interview, too."

"Good thing she didn't interview Hochstetter," Carter said, wryly. "He'd have told her all about his suspicions—"

"Quiet!" LeBeau hissed, still convinced there was a microphone hidden.

"Louis, you're crackers," Newkirk said, with a shake of his head. "It's like we all discussed yesterday—with us gone the evening of the reunion and the following morning, anyone could've put it there."

"Aha," Schultz said. "So you are involved in some new monkey business…!"

"You saw, heard, and knew nothing," Carter reminded him.

"Absolutely. But be careful."

"Oui, but I am hoping that nothing is exactly what you told that girl when she was asking for an interview," LeBeau said, still searching.

"That is exactly what I said," Schultz insisted. "All I told her was that I was a guard at a Luft Stalag; I didn't even tell her which one."

"Bon," LeBeau murmured. He sighed, taking a few steps back from the shelves.

"Find anything to report to Intelligence?" Newkirk asked, sardonically.

"Non, but I am still not convinced that your new lady friend is just an innocent bystander in all of this."

"Blimey, of all the—"

"Oh, no more fighting; I had thought you were past all of this!" Schultz said, with a shake of his head. "Come—I will show you around, ja? It will help keep your minds off of whatever it is your minds are on."

Refusing to take no for an answer, the big man ushered the trio inside to tour the company. His idea worked; the three men soon forgot about their argument, finally able to relax for a while before they would have to progress with their mission.

It would be a veritable calm before the storm.