It was very quiet in the radio room.

Hogan had told LeBeau and Carter to go to the barracks, and to try to get some rest. Carter, however, begged to be allowed to wait for news, while LeBeau gave no indication of even hearing the order. There was no way either of them could have slept, anyway. Hogan let them stay.

Not that there seemed to be any point. Blackbird had no further information for them. Kinch remained at his post, trying every so often to reach the other main radio contact in Hammelburg, but Mistral was not responding. As he was north of the river, in the danger zone, perhaps Mistral was gone, as well as Newkirk.

The meeting had been scheduled for eleven-thirty. Information received put the bombing at one-fifteen. Newkirk should have been well away from the hotel before the bombs started falling. He should have been back at Stalag 13 before the news reached them. But every assignment carried the risk of unexpected delays, and the same thought was in everyone's mind: if he had got away in plenty of time, then where the hell was he?

After yet another failed attempt, Kinch took off the headset. "Colonel, it's getting close to roll-call," he murmured. "We're going to have to think of something."

Hogan didn't reply at first. He closed his eyes briefly, head bowed and eyebrows drawn together as he put aside the emotional content of the situation, and tried to focus on the practicalities.

"We can't cover for him," he said at last. "Thanks to that last escapade of his, he's the second person Klink looks for at roll-call, once he's checked I'm there. And we've got to face it, there's a good chance...It looks like we'll have to go to the permanent escape plan."

He met Kinch's gaze unflinchingly; glanced at Carter who was staring at him in stunned disbelief; but couldn't bring himself to look at LeBeau.

"Colonel..." Kinch began, but Hogan cut him off.

"We don't have a choice. LeBeau, you know what to do." Then, as LeBeau didn't answer him, he spoke more sharply: "LeBeau, do you know what to do?"

Several more seconds passed before LeBeau replied, in a low monotone. "I go out through the emergency tunnel, hide out somewhere for twenty-four hours, then give myself up. My story is, I hid in the garbage truck with...with Newkirk, we separated after we got out, and I don't know which way he went."

"Colonel, you can't." Carter couldn't contain himself. "We don't know yet. Maybe he just got held up somewhere. He could be still trying to get back." Then, seeing Hogan's expression didn't change, he added, "I never thought you'd give up on any of us, Colonel. I know you're still mad at him, but Newkirk doesn't deserve that."

"That's enough, Carter."

Hogan didn't speak loudly, but the tone was sufficient to stop Carter cold. He caught his breath, and said, in a tightly controlled voice, "Don't make Louis do it. Let me go instead."

"No," said LeBeau. "Not you, Carter. I'll go."

Kinch was fidgeting, clearly uneasy about the plan. "Excuse me, Colonel," he put in, "but I think Carter might have a point. Say Newkirk's just been delayed on his way back. Things are probably pretty chaotic in Hammelburg right now, he might have been caught up. If we set the Krauts looking for him, he's likely to run into a search party before he gets here."

"In which case they'll just bring him back, and he gets time in the cooler," replied Hogan.

"It's not quite as simple as that, Colonel," Kinch pointed out. "They find him in a Luftwaffe uniform, carrying forged papers, they're going to ask some difficult questions."

Hogan had forgotten about the uniform. It was more than just an added complication; it was the sort of detail that could get Newkirk shot. He started pacing, trying to think. "Okay. Then we need a good reason why he isn't at roll-call."

"Can we tell them he's sick?" said Carter.

Hogan dismissed the suggestion. "No, they'll just come to the barracks looking for him, and when they don't find him, we're back to square one." He came to a standstill, as the idea filtered through to another layer. "But maybe, if nobody turned out...LeBeau, Carter, get up to the barracks. I want at least four sick men up there - five, including Newkirk. Get someone into his bunk, someone who could pass for Newkirk if his back's turned and the blanket's over his ears. Tell him he's to pretend to be sleeping, and not to wake up, no matter what happens. And the others are to be as sick as possible. Make it something really nasty. Nobody is to leave the barracks. Got it? Get going, we don't have much time. Kinch, you stay here, and keep trying to reach Mistral."

"What if the goons do a head count?"

"We're already one short, might as well be two. They won't, if we play it right."

"Colonel," Kinch said quietly, as Hogan turned to follow the others. "Carter didn't mean that."

Hogan didn't turn back. "Yeah, he did, Kinch," he answered, almost inaudibly.

He stopped for a moment in the tunnel, out of Kinch's line of sight, and leaned against one of the roof props, breathing deeply. They had always known this was likely to happen one day. That was why they had the permanent escape plan in reserve, so a missing man who was never coming back could be accounted for. Nor was it the first time Hogan had faced the death of a comrade. Bomber squadrons tended to have a high mortality rate. But it never got easier, and the circumstances of the Stalag 13 set-up meant this group of men had got unusually close. And it had to be the one he'd been so damned angry with, didn't it?

He had to stop this. There wasn't time for personal reflection. Carter had caught him by surprise, but the unexpected reproach had got his thoughts back on track. As long as there was any chance Newkirk might still come home, they had to try to keep the way clear for him. Hogan straightened up, braced himself and headed up to the barracks.

The men had got the idea, and some of them were already back in bed. Abrahams had thrown Newkirk's long nightshirt over his own clothes. "You guys ever tell anyone you saw me wearing this, and I'll come looking for you after the war," he warned, as he clambered up into Newkirk's bunk.

"Okay, there isn't time to tell you all exactly how to play this," said Hogan. "But whatever else happens, the guards can't find out that's Abrahams and not Newkirk. If they start showing too much interest in him, someone will have to distract them. Did we pick a disease yet?"

"Gastric upset," replied LeBeau, who was standing beside the stove, waiting for a pan of water to heat up. He had been badly shaken by the news, and was still on edge, but the move away from the permanent escape plan had steadied him, and he seemed resolved to do whatever it took to carry this off. "We didn't want anything too specific. But if Klink decides to get a doctor..."

Hogan cut him off. "We'll just have to make sure he doesn't." He glanced at Carter, standing next to the bunk now occupied by Abrahams, but Carter avoided his eye, and turned to help Abrahams get settled.

The warning came: "Schultz is coming."

Abrahams disappeared under the blanket, while the other victims of the unspecified malady settled into attitudes of affliction. Hogan went and stood over one of them, adopting an expression of deep concern.

"Not now, Schultz," he said over his shoulder, as the sergeant of the guard came into the barracks. "Can't you see we're busy?"

Schultz paid no attention to him. "Roll-call. Everybody out of the barracks. Raus."

"Sorry, Schultz. We've got some very sick men here. We're going to have to skip roll-call. Okay, Saunders, don't try to get up."

"Out of the way, Schultz," said LeBeau, bustling past on his way to another patient, bearing a cup of hot water.

Schultz followed him, bemused. "What are you doing, LeBeau?"

"Bartoli has a pain in his stomach." LeBeau stared at Schultz as if wondering how anyone could be so ignorant. "He's been sick all night. I'm giving him some hot water, to settle the nausea."

"You have two men sick?"

"No, Schultz," replied Hogan. "We've got five men sick, and it's spreading fast. Whatever it is, it's contagious."

Schultz, who had been peering at Bartoli, backed away with surprising speed. He could move, all right, when he had sufficient incentive. "But they were all perfectly well yesterday," he objected.

"It came on in the night," said LeBeau over his shoulder, as he held the cup to Bartoli's lips. "There, now, mon ami, that's better, no?" Bartoli nodded, then winced and caught his breath, as if moving his head was painful. "It's the sick spells, Colonel. They've worn him out."

"Yeah, at least nobody's got the runs yet. That'll really take it out of them. I don't want to be inhospitable, Schultz," Hogan added, "but these men need rest and quiet."

"Colonel Hogan, even if the sick men stay in the barracks, the rest of you should turn out at once. Please, Colonel Hogan. The Kommandant will be furious." Schultz voice was starting to modulate into a whimper. "He is already on the edge. They bombed Hammelburg last night, everyone is in a terrible state about it."

"Look, Schultz, we don't know what we're dealing with here," Hogan pointed out. "If it is contagious, we could all be infected, and we'd end up spreading it right through the camp. It's better to keep it contained. Klink'll just have to put up with it."

Schultz sighed, and headed for the door. "This is no way to start the day."

"Come on, look on the bright side," said Hogan. "At least it can't get any worse."

"That's easy for you to say," grumbled Schultz. "You don't have to tell the Kommandant."

As the door closed behind him, Hogan relaxed. "Someone watch the door. Okay, so far, so good. The next part - convincing Klink - is going to be tough."

He broke off, as a tapping noise was heard from below the tunnel entrance. As the lower bunk ascended, Kinch emerged. "I've got news, Colonel," he said.

There was a subdued murmur from around the barracks, which died away as Hogan held up his hand. "From Mistral?"

"No, from Blackbird. Remember that girl Christina? She's just arrived on his doorstep."

"Christina? She's the one who works in the Postamt," said LeBeau.

"That's her. Lives in an apartment right across the square from the Alte Residenz."

"So she got away safely. Well, that's something," observed Hogan.

"Yeah, maybe it wasn't as bad as we thought," added Carter, brightening.

Kinch shook his head. "Actually, it could be worse than we thought. She left home around midnight, well before the bombing raid. She got out of there when the Gestapo turned up and sealed off the hotel."

Nobody spoke for several seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan saw LeBeau put his hand to his forehead, shielding his face from view.

At last, Carter said hesitantly, "Do you think they got him?"

"I don't know," replied Hogan slowly. "If they did...well, at least that'd mean he's still alive. But..."

He broke off, at a call from the man at the door: "Klink!"

There wasn't time to dwell on what might have happened. "Everyone back in position," Hogan ordered. "We'll play it out as planned."

Abrahams flung the blanket over his head, and lay still, as Kommandant Klink stalked into the barracks. "Colonel Hogan, your men are not at roll-call."

"That's because they're in here, Kommandant," replied Hogan. "And can you keep your voice down? Addison's just managed to get to sleep at last."

Addison, who hadn't been warned he was supposed to be sleeping, managed to get his eyes closed before the Kommandant's eye fell on him. Klink regarded him suspiciously for a moment. "He's very flushed," he observed slowly.

"It's the fever," said Hogan. "But we've got it down to a hundred and one, so hopefully the worst is over. For him."

Klink continued to stare at Addison for a moment. "Which other men are sick?" he asked.

"Bartoli, Saunders, Newkirk and Beauchamp," replied Hogan. Then, as Klink turned his attention towards Newkirk's bunk, he added, "And I'm not sure about Carter. He doesn't look quite right."

The distraction worked; Klink immediately focused on Carter, who tried to appear unwell. "Carter never looks quite right," said Klink impatiently. But he continued his scrutiny, much to Carter's discomfiture.

Finally he turned to Hogan. "I'm not at all satisfied," he said. "We must have a doctor to these men at once."

Hogan greeted this with great enthusiasm. "Excellent idea, sir. See, guys? And you all thought the Kommandant wouldn't take the risk."

Klink gazed at him anxiously. "Risk?" he murmured, almost to himself.

"You know how it is, when these things start, Kommandant. Questions get asked. I mean, nobody really thinks your management is at fault when infectious diseases get into the place, but I can't help remembering what happened to Colonel Bruckner at Stalag 19."

"What happened to Bruckner?" stammered Klink.

"Applied for a transfer to active service. Voluntary, of course; Burkhalter insisted on it. And his prisoners only had impetigo. With something like this, they're liable to close the whole camp down, to be on the safe side. Kommandant, you're a brave man. We'll always remember you as a real humanitarian."

The real humanitarian had gone quite pale. "Well, let's not be hasty," he said. "It might be difficult to get any doctor today, after the air raid last night. But I'll be watching you, Hogan," he added, with an attempt to regain his authority. "And if this is just another escape plan, the punishment will be severe."

He turned away, and his eye fell on the occupant of Newkirk's bunk. For a few seconds, he stared at the top of Abrahams' head, the only visible part of the man. An expression of doubt crossed his face, and he took a step forward. Hogan prepared to intervene.

Carter, still standing next to the bunk, beat him to it. Without warning, he pitched forward in a very convincing faint, straight into the Kommandant's arms. Hogan felt like applauding, but he restrained the urge, and rushed to help Kinch lift Carter off Klink's chest.

"I'm okay, Colonel," said Carter weakly. "Just felt dizzy for a second. I'm fine." He freed himself from their grip, and stood upright, and Klink caught him again as he went over a second time. Kinch and Hogan got him up again, and sat him down on his bunk.

"Okay, just take it easy," said Hogan, stooping over him. "You'd better lie down, Carter."

"I think he's feverish, Colonel," said Kinch. "Isn't that how it starts?"

Hogan confirmed it. "Yep, first the dizziness, then the fever. Damn it, that's another man down. I've never seen anything spread so fast. Must be airborne."

Klink was unconsciously attempting to brush off any germs which might have been transferred to him from Carter; at these words, he cast a look around as if he could spot the floating pathogens lurking about, waiting for the chance to tackle him from behind. He started backing towards the door, in a series of tiny shuffles.

"So, does that mean no doctor, then?" Hogan said over his shoulder.

"Maybe later," muttered Klink.

A hush fell throughout the barracks, as the door closed behind him; then a collective sigh, as every man started breathing again.

"I can't believe he bought it," said Kinch.

"Boy, I really do feel sick, thinking about it," added Carter.

Hogan straightened up. "Okay, we bought some time. Kinch, there's still no word from Mistral?"

"Nothing, Colonel. Blackbird hasn't heard from him, either."

Hogan folded his arms, as he went through the possibilities. Finally he turned to LeBeau. "We'll need German army uniforms, including a colonel."

"We've got them. Newkirk spent the last few weeks getting everything in order," said LeBeau, very quietly

"Good. And it wouldn't hurt if we had some Abwehr documentation, just to stir things up if we need to."

"He got those up to date, as well," replied Kinch. "He's had a lot of time on his hands just lately."

Carter looked up. He was subdued, but not ready to let go just yet. "Are we going to get him, Colonel?"

"We're going to see what we can find out," Hogan replied. "But we'd better be prepared. There are three possibilities, as far as I can see. One, Newkirk got away before the Gestapo got there, or just after, and for some reason he hasn't been able to get back here. Second - the Gestapo have him, and if so, we have to get him out. And the third..."

He fell silent, but after a few seconds, Kinch took up the thought. "The third is, he never left the hotel."

Hogan nodded. He was graver than his men had ever seen him. "Or he did, but got caught by the bombing outside. And if that's the case... " He didn't finish the sentence, but from the silence around him, he knew they all understood. It was hard to accept, and some of them wouldn't accept it without a fight; but most of them knew there was a chance Newkirk wasn't coming back.