Chapter 22

LeBeau, having had no trouble getting to the cooler area once he left the barracks, now stood waiting patiently holding the tray while Schultz unlocked the cell door. While waiting, he glanced inside and noticed Newkirk seemingly asleep on the bunk inside. Schultz held the door open, but before the Frenchman could enter, he put a large hand on LeBeau's chest, stopping him. He then lifted up one corner of the napkin covering the plate and leaning over, deeply inhaled the aroma of the delicious meal.

"It smells so good," he moaned with desire, a look of hunger appearing in his eyes. He started to reach for the fork, but LeBeau quickly slapped the guard's hand causing him to drop the corner of the napkin.

"This is Pierre's dinner, Schultzie," he said, annoyed. "And it is getting cold."

"Jolly joker. Make it quick. You shouldn't even be in here," Schultz muttered as he straightened and stood aside, waiting as the little Frenchman entered the drab-looking room. Grabbing a stool near the foot of the bunk, he put it in front of the bed and sat the tray on it.

"Bon appetite," LeBeau remarked with a smile when he saw his friend open his eyes and look up at him. He then remembered the Colonel's message. "The Colonel sent you his remaining cigarettes. He said you could have them."

"Thanks, mate," Newkirk remarked sitting up. He sniffed the air. "Smells good for a change so it can't be that ruddy fish stew of yours."

"It is not fish stew!" LeBeau complained indignantly. "It is bouillabaisse. You English have no taste for French gourmet cooking. Besides, this is not bouillabaisse."

"Don't go gettin' your knickers all twisted up," Newkirk said with a grin. "It's just that me mum always taught me never to eat anything that moves on me plate while I'm eatin'. Besides, I was just funnin' with you. So, what exactly is this?"

"Chicken cordon bleu with a baked potato," LeBeau announced somewhat indignant. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Schultz watching him nervously before turning back to see Newkirk remove the napkin and put it in his lap. "I suppose even the French can't do much damage to a bloody chicken." The Englander took a sip of his coffee. "Thanks, little mate. Tell everybody I said hello, and thank the Gov'nor for me, will you?"

"Oui. I will tell them. Is there anything else you need before I go?"

Newkirk only shook his head 'no' because his mouth was full of chicken. He quickly gave LeBeau the 'A-okay' sign with his hand as he continued eating.

"LeBeau!" Schultz shouted nervously, worried that the Kommandant might show up at any moment and discover he was allowing visitors to see the Englander other than Colonel Hogan.

"Enjoy," LeBeau said with a smile before turning and walking away. He saw Schultz's face and frowned. "All right, all right, I'm leaving. Satisfied?"

"No!" Schultz practically shouted at the little Frenchman; Then, his face softened. "But I could be if you have any more chicken and baked potatoes." There was a look of hopeful desire on his fat face that didn't escape LeBeau's observant eyes. He poked Schultz playfully in his large stomach.

"Stop by the barracks later, Schultzie. I will prepare a plate for you."

"Danke. You're such a good little cockroach," Schultz replied, a twinkle in his eyes and a large smile on his face. "Now beat it! Back to the barracks! Back. Back. Back." He said gruffly, then smiled. "I will stop by in a few minutes for dinner."

LeBeau rolled his eyes towards the heavens and shook his head, murmuring something in French. He glanced back for a last glimpse at his British friend before heading out and back to the barracks escorted by the rotund guard.

The minute LeBeau walked inside the barracks, he found Hogan number one and the others still seated around the table sipping coffee. He quickly prepared a plate of food and covered it with a napkin. Then, cracking open the door, he handed the plate to Schultz who's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Enjoy, Schultzie," LeBeau said with a smile.

"Danke," was the reply as the obese guard took his plate and went to find a quiet place where he could eat his meal in peace.

With a roll of his eyes, LeBeau then refilled the coffee cups of those who wanted more coffee before pouring himself a cup before sitting down with the others at the table. He smirked as he took a drink of coffee. "I had to rescue Pierre's dinner from Schultz," he finally said tiredly.

"We figured as much when we saw you preparing a plate," remarked Kinch with an amused grin. "You know our favorite blimp loves your cooking."

"Oh yeah?" replied LeBeau. "From the size of him I'd say he enjoys everybody's cooking besides mine. Except maybe his wife's." The other men, including Hogan, all shared a laugh at the Frenchman's comments. Then, Hogan became serious.

"All right. All right," he replied seriously. Glancing over his shoulder at the closed door of the smaller room, Hogan then turned back to Kinch, LeBeau, and Olsen, and repeated what Carter had told him.

"Scare chats!" LeBeau uttered in a voice just above a whisper. "We cannot let him send Kinch, Baker, Newkirk and any others he wants out of this camp, Colonel. He must be stopped."

"And he will be," Hogan promised.

Kinch shook his head sadly. "That phony's gonna take all the fun out of prison life here if he takes over." He took a sip of coffee and then looked at his commanding officer. "Colonel, how are we gonna keep our friend occupied so he won't realize we're creating a diversion."

Hogan rubbed his chin. "That's gonna be tricky because we're gonna have to be careful about what we do. I learned from one of the men that our friend has been asking questions about Schnitzer." Hogan saw the men all exchange concerned looks for the elderly vet who was a dear friend of theirs as well as a loyal member of the underground. Sensing their agitation, Hogan held up a hand. "Schnitzer was cleared by Hochstetter himself and declared to be a loyal German. But just to be safe, we should warn him anyway. After lights out tonight, Newkirk can slip out of the cooler and leave through the emergency tunnel. Kinch, make sure to have a car waiting in the woods. Olsen, you'll go with Newkirk as back-up. Dress as Luftwaffe; you'll be a Sergeant, and Newkirk a Corporal. That way neither of you will attract any attention. Use the tunnel entrance under the dog house to reach the cooler. After you warn Schnitzer come directly back here. I want no side-trips anywhere. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Olsen replied. "But what about the phony?"

But before Hogan could respond, LeBeau had a question. "Colonel, why can't we just drop a sleeping pill in a cup of coffee and have him drink it? That way Olsen could use the tunnel here instead."

Hogan held up a hand. "Because once he suspects he's been drugged he'll realize it was done because there's something in this barracks we didn't want him to see, and if he starts looking around, he may just find our tunnel and uncover our entire operation. No, we'll have to do it this way. But as far as the phony is concerned….." Hogan looked over his shoulder and spotted Garlotti sitting up on his bunk in boxers and a tee-shirt, legs dangling over the edge and gestured for him to join them. The man quickly jumped off his upper bunk and padded across the floor in his bare feet, and stood before his commanding officer. "You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked.

Hogan smiled. "Corporal, how would you like to be a traitor for a few hours tomorrow?"

Garlotti arched both eyebrows in confusion. "Sir?"

"I need you to distract our friend long enough so he doesn't notice Carter and Olsen creating the diversion we need."

"Whatever you need, Colonel," Garlotti replied, still confused. "What do you want me to do exactly?"

Hogan exhaled deeply. "I want you to tell him you've spoken with Carter, and you're beginning to have doubts yourself. Let him believe you're just not sure how you feel, and that you'd like to talk to him about his views. The rec hall's padlocked until further notice, so, go to the gym to talk or behind one of the other barracks. Let him think you're afraid of being seen talking to him out in the open. And above all, when the diversion takes place, act surprised and afraid at the same time. Think you can pull it off, Corporal?"

Garlotti smiled. "Yes, sir. No problem. It'll be my pleasure."

"Good man," Hogan said with a smile. He looked at his watch. "Schultz will be here in a few minutes to inform us it's time for lights out. Olsen, wait five minutes after Schultz leaves, then you go and good luck."

Olsen had no trouble making his way in the dark to the dog pen. He had kept to the sides of the buildings and stuck to the shadows. Only once did he come close to being caught by the searchlight as it scanned the compound, but he managed to duck behind a water barrel seconds before he would have been spotted. When he finally reached the dog pen, Olsen looked around warily making sure nobody was looking before he opened the latch and slipped quietly inside, securing the latch again by sticking his fingers through the wire. Immediately, Heidi jumped up on the man and began licking his face playfully. Chuckling, Olsen stroked the dog's head playfully.

"Get down, Heidi," he said. "I haven't time to play with you now. Get down. Later." He watched the dog drop down and walk away, seemingly disappointed. Olsen then shooed another dog out of the doghouse before he could lift the doghouse up to reveal a secret tunnel entrance. Quickly climbing down the ladder, he lowered the doghouse over the tunnel opening. He quickly made his way through the tunnel, stopping only to pick up the inflated dummy dressed in a makeshift RAF uniform to replace Newkirk in the cooler should anybody check. He then hurried to the cooler and, hearing no sounds, slowly pushed the cement block out from its space, and crawled through the opening dragging the dummy behind him. He quickly went to the cell door and glanced through the bars to see Schultz sound asleep in a chair beside the cell with clasped hands over his large belly, and smiled before returning to the Englander who was sleeping.

"Newkirk?" Olsen whispered covering his friend's mouth with his hand knowing how the Englander was when startled. But instead of Newkirk suddenly waking up, startled, what Olsen saw alarmed him.

Newkirk's eyes were barely open, and he was sweating profusely, drool rolling down his chin from the corner of his mouth. He also had both arms wrapped around his stomach and appeared to be in discomfort. The Englander's body was also trembling. Olsen put a hand on his friend's shoulder as Newkirk slowly turned onto his side facing the other man.

"You don't look well at all," Olsen said softly, worried.

"No…fooling…" was Newkirk's reply. "When I…feel better…I'm gonna…give LeBeau…a piece of…me mind."

Olsen sighed worriedly. "The Colonel wanted you and me to dress as Luftwaffe and drive out to Schnitzer's and warn him. Seems our phony has been asking questions about him and the Colonel's worried. But you're in no condition to go anywhere."

"I can make it," Newkirk hissed as he struggled to sit up. "I might need a bit of help though, mate," he said weakly as he tried pushing himself up on one elbow.

"You sure?" asked Olsen. He saw the Englander nod.

"Blimey, it's like a bleedin' oven in here," Newkirk replied wiping his brow with the back of his other hand. "And me stomach's not doing too well, so I wouldn't stand too close if I was you." He reached out a hand toward Olsen. "Help me up, mate," he said.

Grabbing the Englander by the outstretched arm, Olsen managed to get him to his feet, but not for long. Newkirk immediately became dizzy, swayed on his feet, and sat back down onto the bunk, one hand rubbing his forehead. "I feel bloody awful," he muttered.

Olsen gently pushed Newkirk back down onto the bed. "That's it. You're in no condition to go anywhere."

But Newkirk, determined, struggled to sit up again. "I'm all right. Just got a mite dizzy is all." He suddenly doubled over as a cramp struck his abdomen and fell sideways onto the bed, moaning. Now becoming scared, Olsen quickly shoved the inflated dummy back through the hole and pushed the cement block back into place. He then ran to the cell door and started making noise.

"Schultz! Schultz, wake up! Schultz!"

"Wha…was ist los?" asked the large guard sleepily as he rubbed his tired eyes. "What's with all the racket?" He then noticed Olsen and his eyes widened in shock. "You! How did you get in there? No. Never mind. I don't want to know."

"Never mind me, Schultz," Olsen explained. "Get Colonel Hogan and Sergeant Wilson right away. Something's wrong with Newkirk. He's sick."

"This is a trick to get me to release the Englander and I cannot do that. It would mean my life. The Kommandant clearly stated….."

"Dammit, Schultz, look at him! Does Newkirk look like he's faking? Check him yourself!"

Schultz unlocked the cell door and entered. "Hold this," he said handing Olsen his rifle before he approached Newkirk and bent over the prisoner to get a closer look. Seeing the beads of sweat on the Englander's face, and hearing his groans of pain as he clutched his stomach was all he needed to see. He remembered the promise he had made to Colonel Hogan. Turning, he hurried back to where Olsen stood and took back his rifle. "You wait here. I will get Colonel Hogan." He waddled away as fast as his large bulk would allow while Olsen approached the bunk again and knelt down beside Newkirk, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Peter, can you understand me?" he asked.

"I can…hear you, mate," Newkirk's voice was shaky. He winced. "Me stomach and head hurt something awful." A weak smile appeared. "Leave it to LeBeau…to ruin a chicken."

"I don't get it," Olsen said to the open air. "We all had the same food as you, and we're all fine. Did you have anything else?"

Newkirk swallowed hard and his body trembled as if from a chill. "Just some coffee and two smokes."

It was then Olsen noticed the pack of cigarettes on the floor with several loose cigarettes scattered about nearby. He picked up one of the cigarettes and examined it closely, puzzled. There was nothing unusual about it; in fact, it looked like any other cigarette. Hearing a noise he looked around to see Colonel Hogan number one, followed closely by Schultz, hurrying inside the cell.

"Langenscheidt's bringing Wilson," Hogan said as he knelt down beside Olsen and pressed two fingers against Newkirk's throat. "His heart's beating awfully fast," he replied. "What happened?" he asked in a low voice looking at Olsen, mindful Schultz was standing a few feet away. He gently eased Newkirk onto his back.

"I have no idea, sir. I came here to get him and found him like this. He's been complaining of nausea, dizziness, stomach cramps, a headache, and he appears a bit disoriented."

Just then Langenscheidt appeared with the camp medic behind him. He stood in the entrance of the cell as Wilson hurried forward and knelt beside the others.

"What are his symptoms?" Wilson asked opening his medical bag and removing his stethoscope. He nodded as Olsen repeated what he had told Hogan.

"He had the same food and coffee that we had," Olsen added. "And none of us are sick like this. He did say he smoked two cigarettes afterward." Olsen handed the cigarette he had picked up to Wilson who examined it closely seeing nothing unusual about it. He sniffed the tobacco and his eyes narrowed; then, he touched the tip of his tongue to the tobacco in the filter and immediately a look of horror crossed his face. He tucked the cigarette into his jacket pocket and reached into his bag.

"Get me a glass of water and a bucket, quickly," he ordered, rummaging through his bag until he found the jar he was looking for. Hogan, meanwhile, had emptied out the remaining coffee, rinsed out the cup, and filled it with cool water while Olsen grabbed the wooden bucket near the sink. They watched as Wilson measured out some of the grayish-colored contents of the jar into the coffee cup before stirring it with a spoon.

"What is that?" asked Olsen.

"Activated charcoal," Wilson said. "Colonel, hold Newkirk's head up so he can drink this." Hogan did as he was told. The minute some of the mixture passed Newkirk's lips, the Englander made a horrible face. (1)

"That taste bloody awful! Take it away!"

"Sorry," Wilson explained pressing the cup against his mouth again. "But you have to drink it all and now. It's important. Just drink it quickly." It took some effort, but Wilson managed to get the bulk of the cup's content's down Newkirk's throat. Once done, he rolled Newkirk onto his side, moving the bucket close to where Newkirk's head rested at the same time. "I suggest you both stand back," he recommended.

No sooner had both men complied with Wilson's request, then Newkirk emptied the contents of his stomach into the bucket twice before collapsing onto his back, exhausted. The medic, reaching inside his pocket, removed a handkerchief and handed it to Olsen. "Wet this in cold water," he ordered. Moments later, Wilson took the wet cloth and placed it on Newkirk's forehead. The men noticed the Englander seemed to be a bit better after vomiting. Wilson again checked the man's heart. "It's still fast but not racing as it was previously. He should be all right. But I'll need to check on him again in a few hours."

Hogan, arms wrapped around himself, looked directly into Wilson's face. "Joe, what is it? What's wrong with Newkirk? He was fine earlier when I visited him."

Wilson handed Hogan the cigarette he had gotten from Olsen. "Smell the tobacco in the filter," he said.

Hogan sniffed the filter and his eyes narrowed. "It's very subtle but you can still smell it," he said. He touched a finger to the tip of the filter. He saw Olsen's puzzled expression. " This tobacco is slightly damp which tells me something was mixed into the tobacco of these cigarettes."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Colonel," said Olsen.

"It's simple. I suspect Newkirk is suffering from nicotine poisoning."

"Nicotine poisoning?" asked a puzzled Olsen looking at both his commanding officer, and then Wilson. "I don't understand. How could that have happened?"

Hogan held up the cigarette in front of him. "Somebody probably treated the cigarettes in my footlocker with liquid nicotine so that whoever smoked them would receive a massive dose of the normal amount of nicotine." His eyes darkened dangerously. "And I have a pretty good idea who's responsible."

(1) Activated charcoal was first used in the 19th century in France and is used to induce vomiting when certain poisons were ingested.