Hochstetter gazed speculatively at the four men he had picked out of the assembly. He turned back to the SS private, and spoke a few words in an undertone. Then he looked directly at the colonel. "Do you speak German, Hogan?" he asked, in a tone of mild curiosity.
Hogan favoured him with a wounded look. "Do I speak...? Of course I do. Ein Bier, bitte," he added, with an air of pride, but without a single correct vowel. Hochstetter turned an inquiring look towards the witness Lehmann, who shook his head.
The major's contemptuous gaze moved to Newkirk, who wrinkled his brow apologetically. "Only what I learned from listening to ITMA, sir. 'This is Funf speaking.' That sort of thing, you know. Never had much of an ear for languages." His accent had broadened out to an barely comprehensible within-the-bells Cockney, and Lehmann blinked, and looked apologetically at his superior.
Abrahams, next to fall under Hochstetter's scrutiny, gave him a nervous smile. "Sauerkraut? Donner and Blitzen? That's all I got." And Beauchamp shrugged, before uttering a phrase so coarse that both prisoners and guards were struck dumb with astonished admiration, and Hochstetter became almost incandescent with fury.
"What?" protested Beauchamp. "Schultz says it all the time."
Everyone turned to look at Schultz, whose expression of outrage was a thing of beauty. "Major Hochstetter - Herr Kommandant - I have never...I would never...I don't even know that word."
"Well, there you go, Schultz," said Hogan. "You learned something new today."
Hochstetter spun back towards Lehmann. "Well?"
"Bitte, Herr Major," stammered the unfortunate man, "none of them sound quite..." He broke off, as Hochstetter uttered a low, menacing growl.
"You know, Major, you'll never sing treble again if you keep doing that," observed Hogan helpfully. "It's really hard on the voice."
The major fulminated briefly, then turned a scorching glare on Klink. "I will require the use of your office, Kommandant, while I question these men. Have these three placed in solitary confinement until I am ready for them."
Every so often, Klink made an attempt to stand up to Hochstetter. "May I remind you, Major Hochstetter, that as the Kommandant of this prison camp, I..." His voice broke off in an undignified squeak; hardly surprising, given the glare the major turned on him. The Iron Eagle collapsed like an overcooked noodle, and nodded feebly. "My office is your office, Major Hochstetter. Schultz, take these men to the cooler."
"And keep them separated," added Hochstetter. He was playing things with a very high hand, even more than usual. "The other prisoners will be confined to barracks. Colonel Hogan, if you please." He gestured towards the Kommandant's office.
There was no way to avoid it. Hogan sent a look towards Kinch, flickering his eyes in the direction of the barracks, and hoped Kinch would take the hint and warm up the coffee pot. He didn't dare risk any more obvious signal. Then he turned and strolled across the compound in Hochstetter's wake, followed by two of the SS; the other two had accompanied the men sent to the cooler.
"You two, stay here," Hochstetter said to his men, as they reached the steps of the Kommandantur. "Nobody is allowed inside." Entering the building, he turned his attention to Fräulein Hilda, Klink's secretary, and uttered one word: "Out."
Hilda's feet scarcely touched the floor as she fled the building.
Hogan, following the Gestapo major into Klink's office, took a seat in front of the desk, looking as if he was perfectly happy to spend the whole day in Hochstetter's company if he had to. The major went to the window, and gazed out over the compound. All the prisoners were now out of sight, and only the guards were to be seen, patrolling with a higher than usual degree of diligence.
Hochstetter was giving nothing away. Hogan, glancing surreptitiously at him, wondered what the man was thinking. If he had been able to read minds at that moment, the result would have rendered him, for once in his life, speechless.
What if I just told him the truth...?
Major Hochstetter almost laughed out loud as the thought came into his head. Tell that man anything...? It would be more than his life was worth. Hogan was too intelligent, too resourceful, too devious. Not a man to be trusted.
Lehmann had let him down. If only he could have picked out the man he had seen with Stefan's wife at the hotel, everything would be so much easier. Hochstetter could have concentrated on getting the result he wanted, without any risk of interference from that outsider, Captain Rohmer. Instead, there were going to be difficulties.
He turned abruptly from the window. "Colonel Hogan, where were you the day before yesterday?"
Hogan stared at him, with a perfectly formed expression of mild bewilderment. "Where was I? Where I always am, Major. Right here in camp."
A skeptical grunt was the only reply. Hogan immediately went on the defensive. "You can ask the Kommandant, if you don't believe me. Or Sergeant Schultz."
Hochstetter regarded him in silence for a moment, then strode to the door. "Klink!" he shrieked, at a volume that caused rabbits in the nearby woods to race for their burrows. The Kommandant looked as if he'd considered making for a bolt-hole, too, as he responded to the summons.
"Can you confirm Hogan was here at Stalag 13 on Saturday?" demanded Hochstetter.
Klink gaped at him. "Of course. He was in his barracks all day, in quarantine. Some of the prisoners were sick, and..."
"I'm not interested in trivia, Klink," Hochstetter interrupted. "Did you actually speak to him?"
"I certainly did, Major Hochstetter," replied Klink, attempting to remount his dignity. "Whenever something out of the ordinary happens here, I make sure I get to the..."
"Klink, shut up and listen to me. Did you also speak to the three men who are now in the cooler?"
The Kommandant shoulders slumped a little, and he drew his head down. "Not exactly."
"That's all I need from you. Get out."
As the door closed behind Klink, Hochstetter turned back to his adversary. He hadn't really believed Hogan was the man he was looking for. That wasn't the way the American operated. But one of his men - one of those three in the cooler - might well have been Elise's companion.
The English corporal was the key to this. Maybe he was the man in question, maybe not. But he was part of Hogan's operation, and an important part; Hochstetter had gathered enough intelligence to be sure of that. One way or another, he was certain to know all there was to know about the matter. And Hochstetter had the means to put some pressure on that one, at least. He wouldn't even have to get his hands dirty, which was desirable under the current circumstances. Even if it didn't achieve a result, he would have the satisfaction of paying off an old score or two.
"You can go back to your barracks, Hogan," he said. "Maybe we will have another talk later, after I have finished with your men."
Once again, he suppressed a laugh at the complacent expression on Hogan's face. The colonel was a master of dissimulation, but he must be worried.
In fact, Hogan was very worried indeed. It was unheard of for the Gestapo to cut an interrogation short after only one question. But no way was he letting Hochstetter see it. "I'll look forward to it, Major," he said cheerfully, as he got up and headed for the door, where he paused only to deliver the snappy salute which so effectively got up the Krauts' noses.
As he left the Kommandantur, he heard Hochstetter's voice behind him, issuing an order to his men: "Bring the next prisoner from the cooler. The Engländer. And fetch my briefcase from the car."
There was a note in his voice that Hogan didn't like. Hochstetter was too damned pleased with himself over something. Normally Hogan would put his money on Newkirk to come out best in any encounter, but this time it felt as if Hochstetter had something extra nasty up his sleeve. Hogan turned his collar up, and made for the barracks.
Kinch and LeBeau were in his office, hanging over the coffee pot which contained the speaker connected to the microphone in Klink's office. "Where's Carter?" demanded Hogan curtly.
"Down in the tunnel with Elise," said Kinch. They had all gone onto a first-name basis with their guest, to avoid using her married name; nobody felt quite comfortable with it. "He's got this idea that whenever Newkirk's not around, it's his job to look after her. Something Newkirk said back at the Weinkeller, apparently."
"Mon Colonel, that filthy boche Hochstetter is up to something." LeBeau looked up at Hogan with a deep, angry scowl.
"Yeah. " Hogan folded his arms, leaning back against the upper bunk.
"He couldn't have anything on Newkirk, could he?" asked Kinch.
Hogan considered the idea, started to speak, reconsidered, then shook his head. "Anything's possible. Whatever it is, he's pretty confident about it."
Newkirk got that impression, too, as he was escorted into the office. Hochstetter greeted him quite civilly, which was disturbing in itself, before proceeding to take notice of something Newkirk had hoped he would overlook.
"I see you are limping, Corporal. I trust you haven't been taking part in any unusually hazardous activities recently."
"Fell out of bed, sir," replied Newkirk, with apparent indifference.
"Really?" The major's polite incredulity was worthy of an award. "Sit down."
It was tempting; Newkirk's leg was aching badly again. But if he remained standing, he would keep the height advantage, which was preferable in any confrontation. He sighed unconsciously. "If you don't mind, I'd rather..."
"Sit down." The tone allowed no argument. Newkirk sat, composing his features into an expression of compliant ignorance. Whatever happened, Hochstetter wasn't getting anything from him.
Hochstetter leaned against the desk, regarding him intently. It was unnerving, but Newkirk had been questioned often enough to recognise it as an intimidation technique, and to disregard it. For two minutes, there was silence.
Finally Hochstetter spoke. "I believe you may be acquainted with a relative of mine."
Newkirk's brow furrowed. "Shouldn't think so. Unless you've got relations in Stepney? Come to think of it, there was this geezer living in the room above the greengrocer's - I think he was a gravedigger, or something like..."
"Not quite so distant a relative as that, Newkirk," interrupted Hochstetter caustically. "I'm talking about someone you met in Hammelburg, within the last few days."
That was an easy one to parry; Newkirk had been expecting it. He gave the major a wide-eyed look of astonishment, then laughed. "Major, I haven't been to Hammelburg since the last time I had to have a tooth pulled. This is a prison camp, you know. We're not allowed out on the town. The Kommandant would never stand for it."
"The Kommandant," replied Hochstetter judiciously, "is a complete idiot."
You got me there, mate, thought Newkirk.
The major waited for a reply, then sighed. "Very well, Newkirk. I am prepared to negotiate the matter. Are you familiar with the expression quid pro quo? No, of course you're not. So let me put it more simply. I'm willing to offer you an exchange of information."
He opened the briefcase which was lying on Klink's desk, and removed a slender dossier. "I have something here which might be of interest to you," he said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you know this woman." He laid an identity card on the desk in front of Newkirk, and stood back to watch the effect.
Newkirk didn't say a word. He almost stopped breathing, as he gazed at the photograph on the document. Hochstetter allowed him almost thirty seconds before he spoke again. "Her name is Gretel Weiss. You met her in Hammelburg, about six weeks ago, after you had escaped from Stalag 13. You were arrested in her apartment."
Major Hochstetter was a trained observer, but it would have taken an exceptionally perceptive witness to guess how much it cost Newkirk to keep his voice steady, as he replied: "Yes, I met her. Once."
Note: "This is Funf speaking." The German spy Funf was a character on the British radio programme It's That Man Again (commonly known as ITMA) which was extremely popular during the war years. Funf was voiced by Jack Train.