"Oh, man," said Kinch at last, breaking the astonished silence in the barracks. "She's a class act, all right."
"I never saw her put it there." LeBeau's eyes were fixed in admiring wonder on the pretty little metal cylinder in his hand. "I was right next to her, and I didn't see a thing. I didn't even notice it was in there when she gave it to me." He held it out to Hogan, then quickly closed his hand over it, and shoved it back into his pocket.
"Colonel Hogan." Schultz had come into the barracks. "The Kommandant sent me to fetch Carter."
Every man tensed. Newkirk took a step forward, but stopped at a gesture from Hogan.
"What does Klink want with him now, Schultz?" Hogan kept his voice calm.
"Klink doesn't want anything with him," replied Schultz. "I'm to take him to the hospital in Hammelburg, to have his hand looked at." Registering the disbelief in the faces around him, he added, "I think it was the lady's idea."
That made sense. "Okay, Carter," said Hogan. "Go with Schultz."
"Oh, gee, Colonel, can't I leave it till tomorrow?" Carter rubbed his undamaged hand across his eyes. "I just want to hit the sack. I'm done in."
"No, better not give Klink time to change his mind." Hogan considered briefly. "Newkirk, you go with him." Hopefully by the time they got back, Newkirk would have cooled down.
"Wait a minute, Colonel Hogan," Schultz put in. "The Kommandant said Carter could go to the hospital. He didn't say anyone else could go."
"But he didn't say they couldn't, right? Right. Now, don't keep them out late, Schultz. No going to the Hofbrau afterwards."
Newkirk took Carter's elbow and pulled him to his feet. "Right, Andrew, let's get you sorted," he said. "After you, Schultz."
As soon as the door closed behind them, LeBeau placed the lipstick case on the table. Hogan picked it up, examining it with care. "Kinch, get the magnifying glass."
He studied the pretty little thing closely. The end was ornamented with three small rings. Hogan slid his thumbnail under the first of them, and the base of the cylinder came away with a barely audible snick. There was something inside the narrow cavity thus exposed. Carefully, with the tip of his little finger, Hogan eased it out.
"One microfilm, as promised," he murmured.
"So now what?" said Kinch "We send it on by the usual route?"
Hogan nodded. "The next through traveller will deliver it to London." He slipped the film back into its hiding place, put the case back on the table, and folded his arms, frowning.
"Colonel, what are you thinking?" asked Kinch.
"I'm thinking maybe we should send Carter with it," Hogan replied. Then, after a pause, "I'm thinking maybe we should even send Klink with it. Staremberg believes in getting even, and he's got them both marked down. I want Carter out of it. And Klink did save his life, so I guess we owe him."
"You'll never get Carter to go without the rest of us," Kinch pointed out. "And as for Klink..."
Hogan grimaced in agreement, and started pacing. "I'm going to have to sleep on this one," he said at last. He started towards his quarters, then turned back. "Kinch, there's a grenade in Newkirk's mattress. Put it somewhere else before he finds out about it. Let's not have any more trouble tonight."
Hogan may have got some sleep that night. Klink didn't.
Even if Marie hadn't stayed, it was unlikely he would have got any rest. As it was, he didn't have the chance to brood over the way things had turned out. There was too much to talk about. By the early hours of the morning, he knew all about her childhood years, her marriage and life in France, and she'd explored his military career, showing no sign of disappointment at where it had ended up. And when Marie had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, he had covered her with a blanket, and had retired to his bed, to lie awake until dawn.
He rose unrested, to find Marie already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. "Oeufs en cocotte," she said. "That nice little man isn't the only one who can cook."
She was right; the eggs were excellent, if only Klink had had the appetite to enjoy them. He watched with a touch of wonder as Marie put away a surprising quantity of food. She seemed much less distressed about the previous evening's events than her brother was.
"You worry too much, Willi," she said. "It does you no good to starve yourself, you need to keep your strength up. It will all work out, you'll see. Now finish your toast before it gets cold."
He couldn't share her optimism, but he felt oddly reassured by it, and obediently ate his toast.
The Citroën was ready to go by ten o'clock. Langenscheidt brought it up from the motor pool, and parked it in front of the office. Hogan's men - the usual ones, of course - bustled around, cleaning parts of the bodywork which were already spotless.
"You could stay for lunch," said Klink, as he accompanied her down the steps. He sounded petulant, although he didn't mean to.
"Willi, I'd love to, but I can't. I have to be in Felsbrunnen by midday. Don't pout," she added severely. "I will be coming back. You told me I could talk stories with that young man." She smiled at Carter, who with his right arm in a sling was attempting left-handed to add an additional shine to a gleaming fender.
Hogan strolled up. "Morning, ma'am. Kommandant." He nodded to Klink with his usual insouciance. He didn't seem worried either; but then, when did Hogan ever take anything seriously?
Marie offered him her hand. "It's been a pleasure, Colonel Hogan. Well, not entirely. But I'm sure the company will be better the next time."
Klink couldn't bring himself to remind her that there might not be a next time, if Staremberg had any say in it.
"Hello," murmured Hogan, whose attention had been distracted. A large staff car - Burkhalter's - had just rolled through the front gate. "It's early for him to be out of bed, isn't it?" he added.
Now what? thought Klink. As if things weren't bad enough. He excused himself and went to assist the general as he grunted his way out of the car.
"The old blob of lard looks pretty pleased with himself," remarked Hogan, as the extraction process came to a successful end.
"He does, doesn't he?" agreed Madame. "Is that General Burkhalter? Well, that's a good sign. I wonder..."
She was watching Klink, with an affectionate smile. Then she looked up at Hogan, and the smile turned slightly wicked. "You know, Colonel Hogan, it's just possible that something I did some time ago might have just produced an unexpected side benefit."
"Something to do with our friend from last night?" said Hogan.
She shook her head. "I don't want to say too much, not here. But when you have a few minutes to spare, you might ask yourself why any decent woman would have anything to do with a man like Staremberg. It wasn't for his personality, I can assure you of that."
Burkhalter's approach prevented Hogan from asking for more information. The general certainly gave the impression of being well satisfied over something; he nodded quite pleasantly at Hogan, and regarded Madame Rochaud with approval, although she wasn't young enough to attract more personal attention from the old reprobate. "You have a visitor, Klink?" he asked.
"Yes, Herr General. Marie, this is General Burkhalter. Madame Rochaud is my - a friend of mine."
Burkhalter bowed. "Charmed, madame. Please excuse me, I have a matter of some urgency to discuss with the Kommandant. Klink, I will wait in your office."
As he disappeared into the Kommandantur, Klink turned to Marie. "Well..." he began.
"I know, Willi. Duty calls." She put a hand on his arm. "I'll call you soon. I have to go to Heidelberg for a few days, but perhaps on the way back...Colonel Hogan, so pleased to have met you."
Langenscheidt opened the door of the Citroën for her, and the prisoners moved aside as the little car set off. Klink stood quite still, watching as she drove through the gate and out of sight.
Then he sighed, and without a word to Hogan, went into his office.
"Kinch," said Hogan, "I think we could use some coffee."
"Coming right up, Colonel."
The conversation in Klink's office was already in progress by the time the receiver in Hogan's quarters was connected.
"...most unfortunate for Staremberg," said Burkhalter. "It seems when he returned to his headquarters last night, he was met by the Gestapo, and they were not pleased at having been made to wait for him."
"The Gestapo?" Klink's voice wobbled slightly.
"Yes. Apparently our people in counter-intelligence have discovered that certain information was leaked to British intelligence about four months ago. And the information in question can only have come from General Staremberg."
"So that's what she was getting at," murmured Hogan. "She got close to Staremberg to get information."
Burkhalter was speaking again. "Of course, Klink, this means there is now no question of Staremberg's plan coming into effect. He will be far too busy for the foreseeable future. However short that may be. It's most regrettable - for him. For us, of course, it is very fortunate indeed."
"General Staremberg a traitor! I can't believe it," said Klink, in a low, dazed voice.
"A traitor, or a fool, it doesn't matter which. As your American prisoners would say, his goose is cooked," concluded Burkhalter. "Under the circumstances, Klink, I think we may consider the matter closed."
Hogan unplugged the coffee pot. "Looks like it's closed for us, too. I guess we won't be needing that grenade after all."
"So let me get this straight," said Newkirk. "Madame cosies up to Staremberg, picks up some nice bit of intelligence and passes it to London."
"Yep. And a couple of months later, German counter-intelligence find out about the leak, just in time to get Staremberg off our backs." Hogan gave a short laugh. "I guess for once, blind luck was helping out."
"She told Klink she'd be back," observed Kinch. "What do you think that's all about?"
"I doubt it's anything, Kinch," said Hogan, with a grin. "Just part of the act. He won't hear from her again."
Klink had no such doubts. But the following day passed, and there was no call from Marie, nor the day after that. He remained hopeful at first, but when a week had gone by, he fell into despondency. From there it was a small step to a state of cantankerousness which found expression in unusually harsh treatment of everyone under his command. Protests from Hogan, pleading from Schultz, even the reproachful looks cast on him by his secretary, made no impression.
And then the sun came out again, when he got a note in the mail.
Dear Willi, I was called away unexpectedly, and I won't be able to make that return visit for a while. But I'll see you some time soon. Ever your loving sister, Marie.
Folded inside the note was a small, fragile pressed flower.
Klink stared at it for a long while, then carefully folded the note and put it away. In one sense, it was a disappointment, but he couldn't feel sad about it. Somewhere out there, he had a sister who loved him. If he didn't see her again for months - for years - it didn't matter. He knew she was there; that was enough for now.
He put aside his other correspondence, and went out for a stroll across the compound. Some of the prisoners were on litter patrol, and he gave them a smile. "You missed a bit," he said genially. "Here, allow me." And he picked up a stray piece of paper from the ground and held it out to a flabbergasted LeBeau. Then, with another all-encompassing beam, he went on his way.
"Well, I'll be buggered," said Newkirk.
"Make that unanimous." Hogan had joined them, gazing at the Kommandant as he disappeared from view behind the recreation hall. "He seems to have cheered up some, anyway." He folded his arms, a thoughtful frown crossing his brow. "I don't like it. He's up to something," he murmured. "I wonder what's gotten into him."
That, for Hogan, was to remain one of the great mysteries of the war. He never did find out.