Hogan and Kinch eventually finished their meeting with von Schroeder and Klink and came to the toy company, where Schultz warmly greeted them as he had the trio. While allowing them to stay for a little while longer, Hogan expressed his regret that they would need to get back to London as soon as possible—and they would need to talk to Hochstetter before that.
Schultz was disappointed to see them go, but cheered up at the promise of more visits (and strudel from LeBeau).
"Nice to see old Schultzie's got a good job and everything for 'imself…" Newkirk commented, as they headed towards the prison. "And you say Klink actually got that bookkeeping job 'e was nattering on about?"
"Odd as it is, he did," Hogan commented.
"I'd say that with him in that job and Schultz getting his toy company up and running," everyone's where they should be," Carter said. He blinked as they approached the prison and added, "Oh, yeah—add Hochstetter being locked up to that list."
"Speaking of Hochstetter, how much does he know about us?" Kinch asked, as Hogan spoke briefly with the men in charge of the prison to grant them access to the prisoner. "He always had his suspicions…"
"Thankfully, that's all he has," Hogan replied, as he led them down a few corridors. "Everyone has been very careful about keeping Hochstetter in the dark as to what really happened at Stalag 13."
The colonel then indicted for them to be quiet as they approached the cells with the convicted war criminals. Several sets of angry eyes leered at them from behind the bars of cells, but it was one pair in particular that issued the greatest amount of contempt.
"Colonel Hogan…" Hochstetter spat. "So, you have arrived with your loyal team of saboteurs."
"Oh, come on, Hochstetter; you aren't still convinced that we were running any sort of operation like that in Stalag 13, are you?" Hogan asked.
"We were just having a little reunion," Carter said. "See, there was a—"
Newkirk shut him up again with his usual standby of clapping his hand over the American's mouth.
"I know why you are here, Hogan," Hochstetter said, ignoring Carter. "You are clearly involved in your country's struggle against the Communists. That's why you have gathered your entourage together again—you will be carrying out the same acts of espionage on them that you did to us."
"Skip it, Hochstetter, you're way off base anyway," Hogan retorted. "And it's our turn to do the interrogating. We've heard that we're not your only visitors; you've been speaking with Communist agents that have come through here."
The cruel man smirked.
"So?" he asked. "What business is it of yours as to who my visitors are?"
"You don't even agree with the Communist agenda," Hogan said, folding his arms.
"There is one thing we do agree on," Hochstetter said. "We all agree that Papa Bear is our enemy."
"And you still think I'm Papa Bear?" the colonel asked, with an air of amusement.
"I don't think, Hogan; I know you are Papa Bear, and these men here are your loyal followers," Hochstetter snarled. "You may have been able to fool Klink and even General Burkhalter, but I knew it was you. I regret that I was never able to prove it and have your head."
"So that's what it is—a vendetta based on mere speculation?" Hogan said, shaking his head. "Hochstetter, I'm surprised at you; I always took you for a man of some thought…"
"Speculation? Bah!" Hochstetter snarled. "Do you think it escaped me that it was always the same men going missing—the same men getting caught on alleged escape attempts?" He glared at the others. "But you had plans of your own, didn't you? Every time I decided to arrest you all without bothering to get the evidence, I found myself caught in red tape that you had somehow set up! You were able to manipulate Klink and even Burkhalter himself into working against me!"
He glared at Newkirk next, which startled the Englishman.
"Gretel was right about you; I was wise to trust her again now," he said. "I should never have believed that General von Siedelberg—whoever he was."
"You never did find out who he was, did you?" Hogan asked, with a smirk.
"No, but he must be someone close enough to you to be willing to risk his neck to save you. It would take a man of superior intellect to pass as a general who doesn't even exist. Someday, I will find that man."
It was a good thing that Newkirk still had his hand over Carter's mouth, because the sergeant failed in biting back a triumphant smirk.
"Well, Hochstetter, I'm sorry to say that you're mistakenly convinced that we did anything worth mentioning during the war," Hogan said.
"Do not think you will have the last laugh, Hogan—you or your men," Hochstetter vowed.
The men found Hochstetter's bitter rants laughable, but it was Hogan who took the threats at face value, concerned. What the others took as empty threats from a defeated foe, the colonel saw as a promise to escape. With Communists working with Hochstetter in exchange for as much information the major could offer, it wasn't too far-fetched to believe that he had a deal in the works that would lead to his escape.
The men sensed Hogan's mood, and the smiles were quickly wiped from their faces.
"That will be all," Hogan said, to a nearby guard, also instructing him to increase the guard on Hochstetter's cell. Without saying another word to Hochstetter, he led his men out.
"Sir, you don't really think…?" Newkirk began, already knowing the answer.
"Hochstetter told the Communists everything he suspected about us?" Hogan finished. "I'm afraid so. Why else would your apartment have been bugged?"
"And why else would that reporter show up at your flat and Schultz's toy factory?" LeBeau asked.
"Oh, leave off on 'er, already…" Newkirk said. "You 'eard what 'ochstetter said back there—that 'e was wise to trust Gretel again now? That probably means that she is in London right now—and likely the one who bugged the place."
"Do you honestly think that Gretel can just waltz right into England and start spying on us just like that?" LeBeau asked.
"It's far-fetched, but not impossible," Hogan said, after pondering over the idea. "After all, we know who General von Siedelberg really is. Who's to say that Gretel isn't in disguise, herself? We got people out of Germany; she could have had people get her into England."
"Then all she'd have to do is find a position where she could keep tabs on Newkirk," Kinch concluded.
"Well, what about that magician, the Great Pandora?" Carter asked, after thinking it over. "Remember how I was saying that it was weird that he would choose a girl's name? Maybe he really is a girl! After all, Frau Newkirkberger was really a man!"
"I could've done without that blooming reminder…"
"Sorry," Carter said. "But you were the one who said that Pandora apparently showed up in the middle of the war. That was right after I discredited Gretel."
"She was in Paris for some time afterwards, working with Colonel Backsheider; I saw 'er when I was looking for Louis that one time," Newkirk said. "But maybe she did later go to London as a spy. But the idea of Gretel in disguise as Pandora? I don't know, Andrew; it's true I've never actually spoken to Pandora or bothered to stick around for one of 'is shows, but I think the others would've noticed if 'e was really a she."
"No one ever found you out," Carter reminded him. "And for a spy to know where you live, they'd have to be pretty close to you."
"Oh, blimey. You and Louis are both letting your imaginations run away with you."
"I'm not so sure they are," said Hogan. "Hochstetter practically admitted that Gretel's involved. And while it might be a coincidence that your reporter friend showed up at the reunion and your apartment, you have to admit that it is suspicious."
The Englishman sighed. He understood why everyone was suspicious of the situation, of course, but he didn't want to admit to himself the possibility that Gretel had deceived him for a second time. As for Miss Sandiego… well… Maybe he could stand to be a little more cautious, but there was no need for LeBeau to know that and subsequently think he had won their little argument.
"Right," he said aloud. "We can check up on Pandora when we get back to London. And if we find out that Gretel is involved…" He trailed off. If she was, it would be a chance for revenge—a chance he never thought he'd get.
"Maybe we can unnerve her with General von Siedelberg again," LeBeau mused.
Carter chuckled to himself, pleased that he had created such a stir that had never been fully resolved.
"Actually, you'd be surprised at how reverently von Siedelberg is referred to among the brass," Hogan said. "They still don't know who he is."
"You didn't tell them?" Kinch asked.
"No, just in case we needed him again," the colonel replied. "It's always good to have a general in stock."
"Even if he is just a sergeant," Carter grinned.
The discussion continued on, the men mainly talking about how much Hochstetter could have said, and thinking about possible consequences of it. It was a relief that Hochstetter did not know enough about their methods to label them as predictable. But they also agreed that they would have to be cautious in the event that the Communists would try to find out about their methods in other ways.
The team's return to London was orchestrated to occur during the cover of night, leaving Newkirk to remind Carter and LeBeau to mind the carpet when they returned to his apartment at one in the morning, much to their annoyance.
"I would think you would see to fixing it after the incident with the bug," LeBeau muttered.
He was exhausted, practically collapsing onto the sofabed, which prompted Newkirk to make a comment about a fainting couch. The Frenchman was not amused; he turned over on his side and shut his eyes.
"Hey, he has a point, you know," Carter said. "We don't even know if whoever left the bug here before put in another one while we were away."
LeBeau's eyes snapped open, turning back; he and Newkirk stared at the American, silently cursing him for the new wave of paranoia.
"I think it's a safe bet that we can write off sleep tonight," Newkirk muttered, beginning to look around the nooks and crannies of the room for wires or microphones.
LeBeau and Carter followed suit, but a sweep of the entire apartment yielded nothing. Needless to say, the corporals were still somewhat irked at the sergeant when they did awake from their all-too-brief slumber.
LeBeau started on breakfast as Newkirk looked at the calendar.
"Today's Tuesday," he announced. "Means that Pandora does a show tonight; the Guv'nor might want to 'ave a good look at 'im and see if there is anything to be suspicious about."
"I also think we should try taking a look around his—or her—dressing room," Carter said. "We can find all sorts of stuff there."
"Pandora also 'as a large storage room backstage we could look 'round," Newkirk informed him. "That's where all of the large equipment is kept—the box for sawing the bird in 'alf, the vanishing box, the Table of Death, though that's actually Sergeant Flood's…"
"Table of what?" Carter asked, somewhat disturbed that the same man who once stuffed him in a footlocker and fled owned something with that name.
Even LeBeau peered out from the kitchen, his eyebrows arched.
"It's an escape trick; I've seen Flood do it a thousand times," Newkirk explained. "You shackle the escapee to that table, and there's a suspended bed of spikes 'eld up by a rope right over it. You set a candle up under the rope so that the escapee only 'as a limited amount of time to escape the shackles before the spikes come falling down."
"Oh, that sounds lovely," LeBeau said, sardonically, heading back to the kitchen.
"I don't know what you two are so concerned about; you're not the one doing the trick," Newkirk said, with a roll of his eyes. "And old Flood knows exactly what 'e's doing."
"Getting back to Flood," Carter said. "Since he keeps that Table of Doom— or whatever it's called—in that storage place where Pandora keeps his—or her—things, maybe he's had a chance to see if anything seems wrong with Pandora. Do you know if Flood will be there tonight, too?"
"Maybe," Newkirk said. "The escapology acts are usually on the matinee performances on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Flood might stick around for the evening shows if there's nothing better to do. We'll 'ave a better chance of catching 'im if we try to meet 'im right after the show."
"Does he do that Table of Death trick for the matinee audiences, as well?" LeBeau inquired.
"I believe so. Why? You want to shut your eyes in case there's any blood?" Newkirk cracked.
"Non, imbécile; it gives us an excuse to go into the store room!" the Frenchman shot back, throwing a dish towel in the Englishman's direction. "It also gives Kinch and le colonel an excuse, as well."
Newkirk dodged the towel with a tilt of his head.
"Point taken," he admitted. "I'll call the Guv'nor and tell 'im and Kinch to meet us there after lunch. We can 'elp set up Flood's next show, which will be our cover."
"Okay, but I'm not going anywhere near that Table of… Whatever," Carter insisted, suppressing a shudder.
Newkirk rolled his eyes, deciding to change the subject.
"The Guv'nor really seems convinced that 'ochstetter is going to escape."
"I hate to say it, but if we could escape from German guards that easily, Hochstetter might, too," Carter said.
"I, for one, cannot believe that he is willing to go along with the Communist agenda just to get his revenge on us," LeBeau said. "He must really be insane!"
"Well, between the Guv'nor's plans, Kinch impersonating his superior, Andrew 'ere being General von Siedelberg, Baker dousing 'im with gallons of water, you getting 'im arrested for dancing with you, and me own little Nimrod ploy, you've got to admit that we all but pushed him to it…" Newkirk said. "Mind you, I ain't saying I'm sorry we did it; ruddy fool got what was coming to 'im."
LeBeau and Carter both agreed to his sentiments.
"And breakfast is ready," LeBeau announced, filling the plates with croissants and scrambled eggs.
"I can assume that it ain't a full English breakfast…" Newkirk teased, carrying on their game of which cuisine was the better one. The truth was, of course, that he owed a great deal of his health and well-being during the five years of his time in Stalag 13 to LeBeau's cooking, despite his numerous claims that he did not enjoy French cuisine. English pride, naturally, forbade him from ever admitting this to his friend.
They were well into their breakfast, Newkirk feeling too hungry to criticize the "un-Englishness" of the meal, when a frantic knocking on the apartment door caught their attention.
"Peter!" Roger's voice yelled from the other side. "Oi, Peter, open up!"
"Now what's gotten into him?" the corporal muttered, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "If this is another plea for borrowing money…"
It was no plea, as Newkirk soon found out. He opened the door to see a very wide-eyed Roger clutching a copy of the morning newspaper.
"What's gotten into you?" the corporal asked, blinking at the look on his face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Peter, what were you doing last night?" Roger asked, after he took a few minutes to try to string his words together.
Newkirk blinked. Telling Roger the truth about Heidelberg would be out of the question.
"I was with Louis and Andrew last night," he said, at last. "What's this all about?"
"You sure they were with you the entire night?" Roger asked. "Because it's not like you—it really ain't. We didn't want to believe it."
"Believe what?" Newkirk asked, as LeBeau and Carter got up from the table as they exchanged glances, walking over to where the two Englishmen were.
"There was another attack last night by the new Springheel Jack," said Roger. "A man was robbed and beaten by his attacker, who jumped over another wall to make his escape, just like that lady said a few nights ago."
"Oh, is that all?" Newkirk asked, more annoyed than concerned. "The ruddy fool got drunk again and did some more midnight pinching. So what?"
"Because… well…" Roger said, looking uncomfortable. "James and Philip don't believe it for a moment—neither do I, of course. It never was your style at all to 'urt anyone you were stealing from."
"What are you trying to say?" Newkirk asked, his eyes narrowing. He liked this less and less.
"The police compiled this sketch of the Springheel Jack II from the man's report," Roger said, handing the paper over to him. "He saw his face briefly under a streetlight."
The trio stared, open-mouthed, at the sketch. The sketch of the attacker's face was that of Newkirk's.
Author's Note: Newkirk's referencing several episodes in that one paragraph; if anyone isn't sure of which ones they are, just ask. Also, re: the unsigned reviewer-I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else; I never had surgery-it's student teaching that's eating my writing time... but thanks for the concern, anyway.