In Klink's quarters, Carter remained at the connecting door, listening. Hilda, entering into the spirit of the enterprise, was watching at the window for the first sight of anyone approaching the main gate.
Elise had become very quiet and still. As long as she'd had something to do, as long as Newkirk was on hand to keep her steady, she had been able to suppress any thought of what might happen if it went wrong; now that her chief mainstay had gone, and nothing remained but to wait, the sheer improbability of Hogan's scheme was starting to get to her.
Carter was aware of it, but it was Hilda who spoke. "Don't worry," she said softly. "Just keep your head up, walk as if you know how good you look walking, and use your eyelashes."
A look of understanding passed between the two of them. They could have been from separate planets, so different had their lives been, but some things were always the same.
"Sergeant," added Hilda, a moment later. "There's someone on the road."
Carter moved over to the window, and peered out.
"Oh, boy," he muttered. "The colonel's not going to like that."
A minute later, the visitors reached the gate. From inside Klink's office, Hogan had a perfect view.
You gotta be kidding me, Bruno!
The man who was arguing with the sentry at the gate was the café owner Max, whose Underground code name was Mistral; the man Newkirk had gone to for help, the morning after the bombing raid. But it was Max's companion who had caught Hogan's attention. He had met him two days before, when he had visited the café on Newkirk's trail. There was no reason for that young man to be here, unless he was the witness Bruno had lined up.
It was too late to get out of it. The entire success of the operation now depended on whether two Gestapo officers and a Luftwaffe general could be fooled by a nine-year-old boy - Max's son, Rolf.
LeBeau had also spotted the new arrivals, as he left the barracks with Kinch. It shocked him briefly, but he hadn't time to waste on it; they were already immersed in the argument which was to distract the rest of the guards. It grew in acrimony as they crossed the yard, and by the time Corporal Langenscheidt stepped forward to intercept them, LeBeau had given up any pretence of speaking English, and was descending rapidly into the kind of French argot which would have earned him a clip across the ear if his mother had heard him.
"Halt!" barked Langenscheidt, in what he obviously hoped was a commanding tone.
LeBeau paid him no attention whatsoever, but Kinch glanced at him. "You know, Louis," he said thoughtfully, "Langenscheidt's just the man we want. He'll know, if anyone does."
The look of scorn on LeBeau's face suggested he had doubts, but at least he ceased his harangue. "If he does know, he won't tell us," he remarked.
"He might. He's not a bad guy, for a Kraut."
A curious expression, half flattered, half suspicious, crossed Langenscheidt's face.
LeBeau shrugged. "Ask him, then. I bet he doesn't know. Schultz wouldn't tell him."
The bait dangled enticingly in front of Langenscheidt. He hesitated, then swallowed it whole.
"Have you heard something about Sergeant Schultz?" he whispered.
Kinch lowered his voice confidentially. "Not exactly heard - but one of the guys in the barracks has this theory..."
With the first appearance of the distraction party, Carter had brought Elise and Hilda out of Klink's quarters. He sent Hilda to the far end of the building, nearest the gate she would be leaving by, and took Elise to wait at the opposite corner, where he had a full view of the main gate.
Elise was clutching his sleeve. They'd done all they could for her, and once Carter gave her the word, she would be on her own until she got out of the camp and safely to the rendezvous point where Bruno was waiting. Carter, sensing her tension, tried to think what Newkirk would say if he were here.
"You don't want to worry about those guys," he whispered. "They aren't so bright. I bet you they wouldn't even notice if it was me going out that gate instead of you."
Her hand relaxed its grip on his arm. "I don't think you have the legs for it," she replied. There was a brief pause, before she murmured, "I never told him."
Never told who? And what? The questions flew into Carter's consciousness, but he knew better than to ask.
"He'd be real proud of you, ma'am," he replied. Whether he was referring to her husband or Newkirk didn't matter; either way, he was sure it was true.
"Will you tell him...?" she began; but there wasn't time to go on. Max and his son were at the gate, explaining their presence to the sentries on duty. The rest of the guards had been drawn into the discussion taking place in front of Barracks 2, which now involved the entire population of that hut. Carter turned and waved towards Hilda, who started at once for Gate 3.
"Okay," he said. "Time to go. Good luck, ma'am."
Elise lifted her head, inhaled deeply, and set off towards the main gate, while Carter edged round the corner of the building and casually strolled in the direction of the other prisoners. He kept a surreptitious watch on her as she approached the sentry box. If anyone noticed something was amiss, the whole scheme would collapse. But Max was on top of the situation. As Elise reached the gate, he suddenly broke into passionate speech, drawing Rolf forward and pointing towards the Kommandant's office. The guards, their attention diverted, waved Elise straight through without more than a glance. She glanced back at Carter, not daring to smile or offer any gesture of farewell, but there was a message in that brief gaze. Tell him...
Carter didn't acknowledge it by so much as a nod, but he got the message. He slipped into the discussion group, where Beauchamp was holding forth. "I'm not saying they're the same person," he said, just as Carter came into earshot. "But just think about it - has anyone ever seen Schultz and Lord Beaverbrook together?"
Nobody could remember having done so, and a contemplative silence spread across the compound while they considered the possibility that Beauchamp might be on to something there.
Elise was soon out of sight. From Klink's office, Hogan had watched through the window, while Newkirk, not daring to look, kept the Germans occupied with the best display he'd ever given of active ignorance combined with wilful obstinacy. Rohmer looked about ready to explode, Burkhalter's patience was reaching its limit and Klink's nervousness was reaching stratospheric levels in consequence.
"Newkirk," he stuttered, "you are not helping yourself. If you do not start co-operating, then it's the cooler for you."
"Well, I'm doing my best, sir," replied Newkirk, with a shrug and a scowl. "But it's like I said, all I remember is him asking about that barmaid, and whether I knew his cousin in Stepney. I wasn't paying attention, anyway. I never know what he's going on about."
"That is understandable," remarked Burkhalter, with a disapproving look at Hochstetter. "However, we have yet to get to the bottom of this matter, and your attitude is not helpful."
"Maybe your memory would improve in other surroundings," interposed Rohmer. "General, I think a trip to Gestapo headquarters for this man - both these men - might be advisable."
As Burkhalter prepared to consider the suggestion, and Hogan to protest against it, a timid knock on the door interrupted the silence which had fallen. In response to Klink's almost hysterical "Herein!", Schultz pushed the door open and edged halfway into the room.
"Bitte, Herr Kommandant," he began hesitantly, "there is a man here who insists on speaking to General Burkhalter at once."
"Not now, Schultz," snapped Klink. "We're busy."
"I told him, Herr Kommandant, but he says it is urgent. He says it is about..." Schultz glanced around the room. His voice dropped away to a stage whisper. "About a lady someone in this room is interested in."
Hochstetter stiffened, and shot a look of pure hatred towards Hogan, whose expression was set imperturbably at mildly curious.
"I bet it's about that ruddy barmaid again," muttered Newkirk, and Hochstetter's hostile gaze shifted briefly towards him.
"Show him in," said Burkhalter, with a sideways glance at Hochstetter, and a glitter in his eyes.
It had already been uncomfortably crowded in the office, and the entrance of the man and boy only made things worse. Max cast a look around as he came in, stopping short at sight of the two Gestapo, while Rolf, very neat in what must be his best going-to-visit-Grandma outfit, shrank behind his father a little. He tugged Max's sleeve, and whispered in his ear, and Max nodded.
"General Burkhalter?" he said, clutching his hat between his hands and hunching his shoulders a little. "I was told by your staff I would find you here. My name is Beiersdorf."
No, it wasn't. He continued. "I work as a porter - I mean, I did work as a porter at the Hotel Alte Residenz." Also not true, but mention of the hotel certainly got everyone's attention.
Burkhalter shifted forward in his seat. "Interesting. What can I do for you, Herr Beiersdorf?"
Rolf pulled on his father's sleeve again, and Max held out one hand to silence him. He glanced uneasily at Hochstetter, before continuing. "Herr General, normally I would have gone straight to the relevant authority about this, but given what...I mean, I have been told you are a man of integrity, so I thought perhaps..." His voice trailed off into silence.
"Go on," said Burkhalter.
With an air of desperation, Max plunged into his story. "There have been enquiries made in Hammelburg, in relation to a guest of the hotel, a certain Frau Hochstetter."
"And you have information about this matter?" Rohmer put in. Burkhalter sent him a quelling glare, and he subsided.
"I never saw the lady in question," Max faltered. "But I was on the day shift on Friday afternoon, and my son met me at the hotel when I finished work. This is my son, Karl-Heinz."
He drew Rolf forward. The boy's eyes were wide, and he stuck close to his father's side. Burkhalter, recognising the natural trepidation of a child in the presence of intimidating grown-ups, adopted what for him passed for an avuncular manner, and got up from his chair.
"Well, young man," he said, approaching the boy with an ingratiating smile, "and what do you have to tell us?"
Rolf blinked, and his eyes turned to Hochstetter, then Rohmer. After a moment, he murmured, "There was a lady, in the foyer. A very pretty lady with blonde hair."
"And do you know who she was?" Burkhalter asked.
"I didn't know her. But the man who was with her called her Elise."
Burkhalter's eyebrows went up, and he turned his head towards Hochstetter. "You are sure that was the name?"
"Yes, Herr General. I remember because there's a girl at school called Elise." Rolf looked a little embarrassed. Apparently he liked that girl.
Rohmer started to speak, but fell silent at a glower from Burkhalter.
"And what about this man?" the general continued. "Can you tell us anything about him?"
Rolf flushed, and lowered his eyes.
"Answer the general, Karl-Heinz," said Max in an urgent, anxious voice.
Rolf's reply came almost in a whisper. "He was Gestapo."
A diversity of expressions appeared on the faces turning at this to stare at Hochstetter. Burkhalter was deeply amused, Rohmer triumphant, and Hogan utterly scandalised. Newkirk shook his head, and rolled his eyes.
Klink obviously couldn't believe his luck at being in the room for this. Unconsciously he crept from behind the desk to stand just behind Burkhalter, his countenance alive with joyous anticipation of what this disclosure would mean for Hochstetter.
The major himself was completely taken aback. He shook his head slowly, and looked again at Hogan. He was breathing fast, and had started to perspire.
Max put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Tell what you heard him say."
As Rolf hesitated, Burkhalter loomed over him. "You have a duty, my boy. Don't be afraid. Nobody in this room will be permitted to harm you, as long as you tell the truth."
Well, that'll encourage him, thought Hogan. So far, unless there really was a girl at his school called Elise, not one word Rolf had said had been true.
Rolf clasped his hands, and rushed into speech. "He was saying to her that she mustn't worry, that he'd see she was safe. And something about catching a train to Switzerland, and that he'd meet her there later, when the fuss died down. There was something about money in a bank account there, as well."
Klink pressed his knuckles against his lips, apparently unable by any other means to control his urge to burst out laughing. This was just too good.
"Anything else?" enquired Burkhalter genially. He was enjoying this almost as much as Klink.
Rolf looked up at his father, then lowered his voice. "He kissed her," he whispered, with all the malicious disapproval a pre-adolescent boy feels for any of that soppy stuff.
"Well!" uttered Hogan, in a tone shrill with outrage. "I'm shocked. What about you, Newkirk?"
"Oh, I'm shocked, all right, sir." Newkirk shook his head again. "But not surprised. They're all the same, these Gestapo. It's a scandal, what they get up to."
"Quiet!" snapped Burkhalter. Then, with a return to amiability, he went on. "This is very interesting, my boy. But let's make absolutely certain of who we are dealing with. You can identify this man?"
"Oh, yes, Herr General." Rolf spoke very earnestly, gazing at the general with wide blue eyes. His sincerity could not be doubted. Max was going to have trouble with this kid, when he got a little older.
"And would he be in this room at the moment?"
Rolf nodded, and gripped his fingers even tighter. This was it; the whole scheme would stand or fall by whether he could pull this one off.
"Young man, you have nothing to fear. You are under my protection now. Who was the man you saw at the hotel?"
With a timid glance around, Rolf raised his hand, and pointed. "It was that man there."
Blank amazement held everyone immobile for a second before Rohmer started forward with an incoherent snarl of rage. Rolf dropped the hand which had gestured towards him, and ducked behind his father.
To everyone's further astonishment, not least his own, it was Klink who intervened, stepping between Rohmer and the boy, with his hands held forward.
"Well, Captain Rohmer," said Hochstetter, cutting through the silence, "it seems you have some explaining to do."