Hochstetter finally put in an appearance shortly before noon on the following day.
"He's late," observed Colonel Hogan, leaning against the barracks wall and watching the arrival of the staff car with a disapproving expression.
LeBeau made a scornful noise. "The later, the better," he muttered, and drew his finger across his throat. Enough time had passed for him to come to the conclusion that most of the blame for Newkirk's recent adventure rested squarely on Hochstetter's shoulders, and he was consequently in a dangerously hostile mood.
"That's not nice, LeBeau. Let's not get carried away." Hogan nodded towards the volleyball game in progress. "Go and take Carter's place. I'd rather he kept out of sight."
Carter seemed a little put out at the substitution; he was playing well today. "What's up, Colonel?" he asked.
"Just being careful, Carter." It wasn't likely Hochstetter would connect the gawky American with Colonel Tauber. He had never once shown any sign of recognising Carter, even though he must by now have an extensive file on him. Still, Hogan was taking no chances. "Go inside and let Newkirk know we've got visitors. And then stay out of sight."
Although the quarantine had been brought to a close, the food poisoning story was a convenient excuse for keeping Newkirk off his feet for a couple of days. He was making use of the time to get Elise's travelling outfit ready, so she could leave at a moment's notice.
The car swept through the gate, and came to a stop in front of the Kommandantur. Hochstetter was accompanied only by a party of SS guards; the captain in charge of the case was not with him. The major stood a moment by the car, staring across the compound at Hogan. There was an intensity about the major's gaze, a degree of resentful hostility several notches higher than usual.
Kommandant Klink scurried out of his office. "Major Hochstetter, what a surprise." He didn't look as if it was a surprise he welcomed. "I had no idea..."
"Of course you didn't, Klink." Hochstetter didn't even turn his head to reply
"Of course I didn't," agreed the Kommandant, with a slightly hysterical giggle. "Why should I? You don't have to account for your movements to me, Major. Would you care to step into my office?"
"Later," Hochstetter growled, and strode across the yard towards Barracks 2. He made no effort to walk around the volleyball game, and the men stepped back as he passed; all except LeBeau, who stood his ground with a lift of the chin and the light of battle showing in his eyes.
"Get out of the way," said Hochstetter.
LeBeau shook his head. "I was here first," he replied.
"Get out of the way," repeated the major coldly, "or I will have you shot."
LeBeau had no intention of backing down, and the standoff might have ended badly for him, if Hogan had not stepped forward to defuse the situation. "You know, Major, it's never a good idea to cross the volleyball court during a game," he remarked. "That's how accidents happen."
Hochstetter turned on him, but whatever he might have been about to say was forgotten, as the ball went flying past his ear. He spun around, but the men behind him were all looking innocent.
"Told you so," said Hogan. He had taken the opportunity, while Hochstetter's back was turned, to send LeBeau a glare which brought the Frenchman to his senses. LeBeau went scarlet, and scampered off to retrieve the ball.
With a visible effort, Hochstetter suppressed his fury. "Spare me a minute of your time, Hogan," he said. His voice sounded as if he'd just choked on a lemon.
"Well, it's my busy day, Major. The escape committee are having their annual fundraiser. But you know me - anything to oblige. Carry on, men."
"In private," Hochstetter added. "Shall we go into the barracks?"
With Newkirk and Carter in there, not to speak of Elise, the barracks was the last place Hogan wanted him to go, but he knew Hochstetter. Any direct attempt to divert him would arouse immediate suspicion. It required a bit of strategy; a double layer of deception.
"If you insist, Major," said Hogan, suppressing the beginnings of a smirk. He glanced at LeBeau, who had just returned with the volleyball, and quirked his eyebrows, with a tiny nod towards the barracks.
The ploy worked; Hochstetter turned a searching gaze on LeBeau, who immediately adopted an angelic expression which in a court of law would have got him sent down for life. The major hesitated, glanced over his shoulder towards the four SS men still waiting by the car, then gave in to the voice of distrust within his own mind. "No. We will talk out here. As long as we can't be overheard."
"Scout's honour," replied Hogan. "Back to the game, LeBeau. They're waiting for you."
He led Hochstetter towards the end of the barracks. "What's on your mind, Major?"
Hochstetter regarded him with narrowed eyes and a dark, brooding scowl. "Hogan, let's not play games. You may have covered it up very cleverly the last time I was here, but we both know there are certain activities going on in this camp."
"Well, of course there are," replied Hogan, in the tone of voice he usually reserved for humouring lunatics. "There's a basket-weaving class this afternoon, for a start."
Hochstetter shook his head slowly. "I didn't expect you to admit it, Hogan. But sooner or later, you or one of your men will make a mistake. One of them did, not so long ago, didn't he? The English corporal - what was his name again?"
Hogan sighed patiently. Not for one moment would he allow Hochstetter to think that shot had hit the target. "Major, there are a lot of Englishmen here. Could you be more specific?"
"You know which one I mean," replied Hochstetter.
There was silence between them for a short time, then Hochstetter said abruptly, "A person of interest to the Gestapo disappeared from the Hotel Alte Residenz in Hammelburg two nights ago. A young woman. I'm very anxious to find her."
I bet you are, thought Hogan. He didn't say a word, just gazed at Hochstetter with an interested, slightly vacuous smile.
Seeing he didn't intend to reply, Hochstetter went on. "She was seen leaving the hotel with a Luftwaffe captain, shortly after midnight. I'm also very interested in that man. Can you guess why, Colonel Hogan?"
"You're looking for a date for the annual Gestapo dinner dance?" hazarded Hogan.
Hochstetter issued a contemptuous snort. "No, Hogan. I'm interested because our information suggests the man was not a native German speaker. Now, where do you suppose we might start looking for him?"
In the back of Hogan's mind, a discordant note had sounded. Something was amiss with what Hochstetter had just told him; he wasn't yet certain what, but some detail there didn't fit the picture as he understood it. He couldn't stop to analyse it now, but he was going to have to go through the story with Newkirk again, and see if anything had been left out.
For now, he answered Hochstetter's question: "Have you tried Russia? There's a lot of foreign accents there, I'm told."
"Always with the jokes, Hogan," growled Hochstetter. "One day soon you will find yourself in a situation that isn't so funny. It will save you and your men a lot of trouble if you just tell me where she is."
"Major, you know there's nothing I'd like better than to help you out," said Hogan, "but how should I know? I haven't been outside camp for weeks, and they don't let girls in. Which is a shame, when you think about it."
"Very well, Hogan. Have it your way." Hochstetter turned and gestured to his men who were still waiting by the car. The volleyball game broke up in confusion as they briskly obeyed his summons. Klink, who had been loitering anxiously, followed them at an undignified scuttle, with Schultz plodding dutifully two steps behind.
"Have the prisoners line up, and check the barracks. Just Barracks 2," ordered Hochstetter. "It's always your barracks, Hogan," he added, with a significant waggle of his head.
Hogan knew an appeal to Klink would have no chance of success, but he tried anyway. "Kommandant, tell the major he can't do that. The men are entitled to their recreation period, and the game's not finished yet."
Klink looked at him reproachfully, then turned to the major. "Hogan is right, Major Hochstetter," he began, in the nervous whine which he always developed whenever the Gestapo descended on Stalag 13. "In any case, questioning of the prisoners is...I am not interested, Hogan." Hochstetter had lifted his head, with the threatening sneer which invariably sent Klink's bowels into free fall. "Do as Major Hochstetter says, or there will be consequences."
There were likely to be consequences anyway, but the Krauts were already showing signs of being quite prepared to start shooting. It was clearly an occasion for giving way, though not graciously. "Okay," said Hogan, "but under protest."
Two of Hochstetter's men had gone into the barracks. They returned with Newkirk and Carter, and pushed them into line. Carter, his face a mask of perplexed anxiety, stepped back into his usual place beside Kinch, and Hogan took up his position next to Newkirk.
"Where's our guest?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off Hochstetter.
"Safe down below," replied Newkirk in the same low tone.
As soon as the prisoners were assembled, Hochstetter turned and beckoned to one of his men. "Take your time, Lehmann," he said. The man nodded, and went to the far end of the line, inspecting each of the men in turn.
From directly to his left, Hogan heard a muttered exclamation. He couldn't make out the words, but the tone was profoundly unparliamentary. He shot a sideways look at Newkirk.
"Something you didn't tell me?" murmured Hogan.
"Something I forgot about. When we left the hotel, there was a man on guard in the kitchen..."
Newkirk broke off, as Hochstetter became aware of the exchange and glanced in his direction. But the rest of the story was clear, and Hogan could have sworn aloud at what it meant. The detail which had jarred with him a couple of minutes earlier, when Hochstetter had spoken of a Luftwaffe captain, now made sense. Blackbird had sold them out, all right; but he'd never seen Newkirk with Elise, or wearing the identifiable uniform top-coat. The witness who had provided that information was the SS private who was now carefully scrutinising Abrahams, and who would reach Newkirk in a few seconds.
There was no time to come up with anything. The man bypassed the diminutive LeBeau with no more than a fleeting look, and stopped in front of Newkirk, who adopted a blank expression which would have done Carter credit. The examination seemed to last for an eternity, before Lehmann passed on to give Hogan the same level of attention. Then he moved on to the second row. Kinch didn't even rate a glance, and Carter only a cursory once-over, but there was another long pause in front of Beauchamp.
He's not certain, thought Hogan suddenly. Hochstetter was unlikely to give up if his witness failed him, but if he couldn't definitely pin it on Newkirk, that was something, at least.
Lehmann got to the end of the line, and with an embarrassed air reported back to Hochstetter. They were just too far away for Hogan to make out what they were saying, but he watched them closely. Lehmann spoke quickly and nervously, glancing along the row of prisoners once or twice. Hochstetter's expression lowered, and he uttered a few words, and jerked his head slightly; whether at Hogan or Newkirk was impossible to say. Either way it didn't matter, as the witness gave a tiny shrug, and shook his head.
Hochstetter scowled as he meditated on the outcome, then came to a decision. He cast a look along the rows of prisoners, then pointed towards Newkirk. "Step forward," he said.
With an apprehensive glance at Hogan, Newkirk obeyed. But Hochstetter hadn't finished. The finger moved towards Abrahams, and then to Beauchamp. "Those two men as well. And you, Hogan."
One hundred and eighty centimetres, dark hair, foreign accent. Hochstetter had picked out the four inmates of Barracks 2 who most closely matched the description he had been given.
He might not have the clear identification he was hoping for, but the major had enough information to start making a few uncomfortably close guesses.