The café was quiet when Hogan, Carter and LeBeau walked in; the door was unlocked, but there were no lights inside, and no immediate signs of life. Then the owner, hearing their arrival, appeared in the doorway behind the bar. "We're closed - oh, Colonel Hogan, it's you," he said.

"Is Newkirk here, Max?" Anxiety brought Hogan straight to the point.

"Not now. He was here this morning. He said he'd come back, but I haven't heard from him."

Hogan regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Maybe the Gestapo arriving on his doorstep distracted him. We've just come from Sonnenstraße. Who else knew he was there?"

Max stared at him, horrified. "Did they find him? Gott im Himmel, he knows everything about us."

"As far as we know they don't have him, yet. You didn't answer my question. Who else knew?"

"Apart from yourself, only my son - he took the message to Blackbird." Max's voice dropped, as he started to understand why Hogan had asked. "You don't think I told them?"

"At the moment, I don't know what I think," Hogan said. "All I know is, they got there first. Where's your radio?"

"In the cellar."

"Go and have a look at it, Carter. LeBeau, check the phone."

"It's dead, mon Colonel," said LeBeau.

Max, white with fury, watched silently as Carter went to find the cellar. He came back in less than a minute. "The radio's there, all right, but I can't get near it. It's flooded down there."

Hogan, meeting Max's furious gaze, held up his hands. "Okay, Max. Sorry, but we had to check. Can I have a word with your son?"

For a few seconds it looked like Max would refuse; then he went to the door. "Rolf, come here."

The boy stopped in the doorway at sight of the uniforms, and his eyes widened with apprehension. "It's okay, Rolf," said his father. "This is Papa Bear." He sent a hostile glance at Hogan, daring him to suspect Rolf of anything. Hogan returned the look without any change of expression. Nobody was above suspicion; but he hadn't anticipated having to question a child.

"Rolf," he said quietly, "I want to know about the message you took across the river this morning. You had to pass it to Blackbird, is that right?"

"Jawohl, mein Herr."

"Did you go straight there?" Hogan went on.

Rolf looked at his father, then answered in a low voice, "I had to go the long way. The bridge is gone. But I went as fast as I could."

"I'm sure you did. One more thing. Did you speak to anyone else on the way?"

"There were soldiers. I didn't tell them anything."

"So you only spoke to Blackbird?"

"Ja."

"That's what I was afraid of." Hogan leaned back, and folded his arms. "Either the Gestapo picked up the radio transmission, or Blackbird's compromised."

That came as a shock to Max, who stared at him in astonishment. "Blackbird? No, it can't be. He's one of our best."

"I know, but it wouldn't be the first time they've managed to get to someone inside the Underground," replied Hogan. "The Gestapo knew where Newkirk was, right down to the street number."

"Colonel, there's no way that can be right. Blackbird's been working for us forever," protested Carter. "He was in before I was. And he did pass on Newkirk's message, and Christina's too."

"Didn't want to blow his cover," muttered LeBeau. His face had the look of intensity that usually meant trouble for someone.

Hogan nodded. "Right. So he put Newkirk's message through as normal, then as soon as he had a chance, he passed it to Gestapo HQ."

Max's anger had started to cool, as he considered the implications of this. He shook his head slowly. "I can't believe he would, but....Colonel Hogan, when Peter was here this morning, he spoke of trying to reach Blackbird. If he's had to leave Sonnenstraße, it's likely that's where he's headed."

"I still don't get it," said Carter. "Why doesn't Newkirk just head for home?"

"I don't know if it's significant," Max replied, "but he told me he wasn't sure of the woman."

"What woman?" The question came simultaneously from Hogan and LeBeau.

"He didn't say. Only that he wasn't alone, and he wasn't sure of her, so he wouldn't bring her here."

"So, Bayreuth is a woman," murmured Hogan. "Figures." He glanced at LeBeau, who nodded. They both knew now why Newkirk was being so cautious, and why he hadn't brought the informant back to camp. Carter had worked it out too, but as he started to speak, LeBeau nudged him. Newkirk's indiscretion had never been mentioned outside Stalag 13, and there was no need to let the cat out of the bag now.

"If Blackbird is working for the other side, the last thing we want is for Newkirk to get in touch with him," Hogan went on. "Blackbird's got nothing on us. We've never had a reason to tell him about the whole Stalag 13 setup. But Newkirk's a different matter."

"He'd never talk," interjected LeBeau fiercely.

"Maybe not, but Hochstetter would know him on sight, which is all he'd need. And anyway, I'll be damned if I let them get their hands on him," said Hogan.

He folded his arms, frowning in thought. "The main bridge over the river is down. Where's the nearest alternative crossing point? Rolf, which way did you go?"

The boy went red, as everyone turned to look at him. "Die Neue Brücke," he stammered.

"The new bridge, down the river, a little over half a mile," explained his father. "If Peter tried the main bridge first, he'd be certain to keep going the same way rather than backtrack."

"There were Polizei there," Rolf added. "They were checking everyone's papers."

Hogan frowned. "Newkirk had his documents in order when he left Stalag 13, but God knows what's happened since then."

"He'd think of something," said Carter.

"That's what worries me. If he gets across the river, and makes it to Blackbird...What was the traffic like, Rolf? Can we get there quickly by car?"

Rolf shook his head. "There were trucks, and soldiers, and some streets are blocked."

"Okay, we'll detour around the old town." Hogan straightened decisively. "Max, you'll have to lie low till we find out what the story is with Blackbird. Get your family out of town, if you can."

"My family are going, but I will stay," replied Max. "Some of our people may try to get in touch, or Peter may come back."

"If he does, tell him to head back to camp," said Hogan. "And he's to take the lady with him. LeBeau, Carter - " He glanced towards the door, and as they took the hint, he turned back to the café owner. "Look, Max, for what it's worth - and I know it's not much right now - we're not happy about last night, either."

"I know. You'd better go and find him. Let me know."

"We'll be in touch." Hogan gave him a nod in farewell, and followed his men to the car.

The strategy of avoiding the congested streets in the centre of Hammelburg might have worked out, if Carter hadn't been so worried that he allowed his concentration to waver. All it took was one wrong turn.

"Not here, Carter," said Hogan sharply, just too late. The car was already halfway around the corner.

Carter slammed on the brakes as soon as he realised what he'd done. The street in front was chaotic; narrow, scattered with debris and almost completely obstructed by other vehicles.

"Damn it, Carter, what were you thinking?" Hogan leaned forward, gazing at the confusion ahead with dismay.

"Sorry, Colonel," stammered Carter. He put the vehicle into reverse, but a lorry had followed them around the corner, and now blocked the intersection.

LeBeau turned on him, uttering a few choice phrases in his own language, to which Carter responded with unusual heat. "Okay, I made a mistake. Just shut up, LeBeau." He inched the car forward, trying to figure out a way past the trucks which took up almost the entire width of the street.

"Go around on the right," said Hogan. "I don't think you'll get booked for going on the footpath today."

"There's no way," muttered Carter, as he swung the wheel and prepared to mount the kerb. It would be a close fit, between a freestanding stone wall on one side, and an army truck on the other, and he was already rattled by his error. The car crept forward a few feet, stopped, moved on a little further, then stopped again.

"Pour l'amour de Dieu! " LeBeau flung the door open and scurried around the front of the car to the driver's side. "Move over," he said curtly.

"I suppose you think you can do better?" Carter snapped back, scrambling out of his way.

"Carter, I've driven in Paris, during a general strike, when the Métro wasn't running," replied LeBeau scornfully. "This will be a picnic compared to that."

Carter gave a contemptuous sniff and folded his arms. The long sleepless night and the continuing uncertainty about Newkirk's well-being and whereabouts were playing badly on everyone's nerves; there was likely to be one hell of a dust-up between these two before long, if they didn't find their missing man. For the time being, LeBeau worked off his ill temper by showing them how to fit a large object through a small space, doing so much too fast for safety, and leaving some paint behind on the stonework.

"Oh, that was real clever," remarked Carter.

"Who cares? It's only Klink's staff car."

"Doesn't mean you have to wreck it, does it?"

"If it gets us out of the mess you just got us into, I don't care what I do to it."

"Okay, you two, that'll do." Hogan's voice cut through the promising squabble. "LeBeau, take the next right. That should bring us to Kaiserplatz, and from there we can get out of here."

"Isn't Kaiserplatz where the hotel is?" Carter said hesitantly.

Hogan didn't reply. As the car passed along the end of the square, he looked out at the shattered remains of the Alte Residenz.

"That's not just from the bombing," he murmured.

"No." Carter's expert eye was assessing the destruction. "They hit the building off-centre. Most of that is fire damage." He fell silent, then added, in a low, troubled voice, "Must have been bad for anyone inside."

"He got out, Carter."

"I know." Carter didn't say any more; there was no point in dwelling on it. Soon it was out of sight.

Time was lost escaping the disorder of the town centre, even though LeBeau drove in a manner calculated to shorten lives. Hogan began to wonder if they'd have been better off to get out and walk. But finally the chaos around them lessened, and they began to pick up speed.

It had taken too long to get this far. If Newkirk was heading for Blackbird's place, he had a long lead.

The Polizei were still on duty when they reached the bridge. LeBeau was in just the mood to crash the barrier, but he restrained his impatience at a word from Hogan, and brought the car to a halt. The man in charge approached the car with something of a swagger, and tapped on the driver's window. He appeared to be one of those little tyrants whose sole purpose was to make life a misery for the local citizens. "Ausweis, bitte."

LeBeau gave him a smouldering glare, but before he could tear into the man, Hogan spoke. "One moment, please." He got out of the car, and gave the policeman a bored look, as he held out his Abwehr pass. The change in the man's attitude was almost ludicrous.

"I beg your pardon, Herr Oberst," he faltered. "I didn't know..."

"Of course you didn't," replied Hogan. "Your name?"

"Schadt, mein Herr."

"You're doing an excellent job," Hogan observed, with a cynical smile. "Perhaps you can help me. I'm looking for a man who may have passed this way - a Captain Bachmann, Luftwaffe."

Schadt, recovering some of his self-importance, frowned as he consulted his notebook. "A Luftwaffe officer passed here at exactly 12.28. He was not in uniform," he said at length. "His papers were in order, but I thought he looked suspicious - a bit shady, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, he's shady, all right," replied Hogan. "Was he alone?"

"There was a woman with him."

That would be Bayreuth. Hogan was starting to feel curious about her. "What did she look like?"

"I didn't notice her particularly. Average height, fair colouring, nothing special."

"Did you see which way they went?"

"No, Herr Oberst. Once they are across the river, they're not my responsibility."

And that's the attitude that's going to lose you guys the war, thought Hogan.

"Good work," he said. "Carry on."

"We're more than an hour behind him," observed LeBeau, as he set the car in motion. "He'll be there by now."

"Then we better get moving."

The traffic on the south side of the river was sufficiently busy to require LeBeau's full attention. He was unprepared for the sudden frenzied grip on his arm, or the half-choked cry from Carter. "Stop the car!"

LeBeau reacted by reflex, and the car jerked to a halt, then juddered forward again at the rear-end impact from the vehicle behind. Hogan swore. "Carter, what the hell...?" he began, but Carter was out of the car, racing back along the street in the direction they had just come from.

"There!" exclaimed LeBeau, and the next moment he was away, too.

Carter had already caught up with the man he had spotted as they had driven past. He grabbed him by the arm. "Newkirk, we've been looking everywhere for you," he stuttered, almost incoherent with relief. "Where have you been?"