8. What bloody man is that?

"And you're not a gentleman," said Newkirk, pointing at him with his purse.

"You let us pass, we're leaving," Carter took Newkirk by one elbow and helped him down the stairs. They got outside but they were not alone.

Spike again stepped on their way. "Dru was right! No like I doubt my girlfriend, but she has a short circuit in the noggin-"

"I'm sorry, young man, but we can't stay to chat with you," Newkirk pushed him aside gently.

"Oh, yes, it's too late and we have to go back home." Carter began to fear this man.

Spike allowed them to put several meters between them before reaching the corner. "Sorry, but we need to talk." He put one hand on Newkirk's chest. "Blimey! They looked so real!" He laughed.

"Bugger off!" Newkirk slapped his hand aside as the old lady's gentle voice made way for his raspy street tone. "Who the bloody blazes are you?"

"Hey, watch it! We're on the same side here, more or less," Spike stepped back. "We need to talk."

"Hey, you don't sound like a German." Carter frowned.

"Sod off, nitwit, this is between me and nan here." He jabbed Carter's chest with his finger.

Newkirk grabbed Spike by one sleeve and pulled his attention back to him. "Lay off me friend and answer the ruddy question. Who are you?"

Carter looked around to make sure no one was passing by.

"Got no time to answer questions." Spike tilted his head. "I'll be in town for a couple of days. Look for the newspapers, read the headlines, and I'll be back to see you later, Phantom." He smiled and turned to Carter. "See the little lady gets home safe and sound, old chap." He walked away backwards and blended with the darkness.

"Blimey!" Newkirk whispered.

"Shiver me timbers!" Carter shrugged to see Newkirk's frown. "I got caught in the cockney moment... He disappeared?" He made an attempt to walk towards the shadows but Newkirk stopped him.

"Carter, see how I'm dressed?" He struggled to bring his voice to a calmer level. "I don't know about you, but I don't wanna die in ruddy silk stockings. We've got to go back to the Stalag right now." He dragged him back to the road and they ran all the way to the Stalag.

()o()o()

Hogan stared at his watch, wishing for time to fly. It was never easy to send his men outside, anything could happen; and in fact, things happened quite too often. Their work was hard and dangerous; and tonight, it could be fatal. They still did not know if on top of everything, they were dealing with a serial killer now.

He looked up at the ladder, as though calling his troops back home by the power of his mind. Seconds later, LeBeau came down. He tried to smile but all he could do was shake his head and roll his eyes. Behind him, they heard Kinch giving instructions to the newcomer.

"Be careful, the steps are not even."

The man took out his notebook as soon his feet touched the ground. He walked slowly while glancing at every nook and cranny. "The walls?"

"Reinforced with concrete in some areas, quite sturdy," Kinch said patiently.

"And the ground?"

"Natural rock and soil, it works fine, no leaks or humidity whatsoever."

Hogan turned to LeBeau and frowned.

"It's been like this since we picked him up: the airstrip is too small, the trees too thick, the road to bumpy... Oulala, how long is he going to stay?" He talked in whispers.

"Colonel Hogan?" The man came closer, with an outstretched hand. "Martin Jones, special envoy. I hope London has briefed you on the purpose of my visit. Please, I don't want you to feel under any pressure, I'm here just as a neutral observer."

"Certainly, Mr. Jones. We'll try to make you feel at home." Hogan shook hands with him and smiled at his men.

"Quite an organization you have here. May I meet your men now? I'd like to know about their specific functions."

"Well, you met Sergeant Kinch, our communications operator, and Corporal LeBeau, he is in charge of sabotage and espionage. He's also a great cook and our tailor for disguises and uniforms."

Kinch and LeBeau stared at each other and smiled. So far, there was not much to dislike about this man. He was barely taller than LeBeau, and quite skinny. He wore thick glasses and a suit, hat and duster. He was the regular bureaucratic type, harmless and boring.

"So, how many men do you have for your operations?" Mr. Jones kept on writing.

"This is half the team. The other two are on the field right now."

"Oh, yes, Sergeant Carter and Corporal Newkirk." He wrote something more before looking up at Hogan. "Good, I need some details before I meet them in person."

LeBeau and Kinch were about to excuse themselves until the subject turned towards their friends. Then, they sat at the table. Hogan sat next to them and in front the man.

"What details do you need?"

"Nothing much, their status in the group, their skills... their mental state."

"What's this thing about their mental state?" Hogan was visibly upset. "My men are completely fit for the job and-"

"Please, Colonel, don't take it personally. The reports were specific about their performance under pressure. They implied that there were moments during their last mission when the life of the prisoner in custody was endangered by them more than by outside events."

Hogan glanced at Kinch and LeBeau and shrugged. "I suppose you're aware of the prisoner's identity and activities."

"I'm completely aware of them, Colonel. But there are regulations that must be observed at all times. The prisoner complained of physical abuse and two murder attempts. He mentioned Corporal Newkirk as the aggressor."

"Newkirk was badly injured! He couldn't-"

"LeBeau!" Hogan interrupted him. This was the kind of thing he wanted to avoid. Before he could scold him properly, Carter and Newkirk came down the ladder. They were involved in some sort of argument.

"What if it was him? What do you wanna do, Andrew? Go and tell Klink that we saw the killer in our little excursion into town?"

"But, Newkirk, we can't leave that man wandering around. He's gonna kill someone tonight."

"Well, good thing it was not us," he said turning to see the stranger sitting at the table. "Oi, hello."

"Newkirk, Carter, this is Martin Jones, the observer from London." Hogan was not sure how they would react to the situation. "He's going to take notes on our work."

"Well, glad to meet you, gov'nor," Newkirk took his hand and shook it vigorously. "How's the weather in Merry Ol' England?"

"Weather is fine, I suppose. I'm from New York, actually-"

Carter stepped forward with the same enthusiasm. "New York? I have cousins living in New Jersey, but they go to Central Park all the time and-"

"All right, boys. Why don't you go change?" Hogan wanted to push them away before Mr Jones began to ask questions.

"Oh, please, I'd like to know some facts before they leave." Jones sat down with his notebook. "Who's that killer you were talking about when you came in?"

Carter took a seat next to him. "Oh, that's the weirdest thing that has happened to me since I got here... Well, maybe the second, because the first time it was quite a shock to see all these tunnels and-"

Hogan clapped Carter's arm and smiled. "Tonight, Carter, what happened tonight?"

"Maybe we should talk to you alone first. These matters are always a little shocking and-" Newkirk quietly pleaded with Hogan.

"Oh, that's okay, Corporal Newkirk. That's precisely why I'm here." Mr. Jones smiled widely at Carter. "Who's that killer you were saying?"

"We were ready to come back when this man came directly to Newkirk and told him that they had to talk. The strange thing is that he spoke that English, you know Newkirk's English."

"That's not really important," Newkirk shrugged. "The man thought I was someone else-"

"Oh, but he called you Phantom, remember?"

"Isn't that Newkirk's code name?" LeBeau frowned.

Kinch and Hogan stared at each other and sighed. Newkirk shook his head and pulled off his wig.

Mr. Jones took more notes. "So, you stumbled upon a complete stranger that knows your code name?"

"We told you it was weird," said Carter with a shrug.

"Did he say anything else?" Hogan asked.

"Only that he wanted to talk to me, and then he left."

"He disappeared," Carter clarified. "That's when we decided to come and tell the colonel."

Hogan shut his eyes, anticipating Mr. Jones' reaction to that. The man stopped writing and took his glasses off. He looked at Carter, then Newkirk and smiled in a sympathetic manner.

"You actually saw the man vanishing into thin air?"

Carter laughed. "Sounds silly when you put it like that. Not that you are silly at all, sir. It' just that, it's hard to believe, even for me-"

"What Carter is trying to say is that yes, the man disappeared." Newkirk took off his lace gloves to light a cigarette. "It was dark, he might've gone anywhere. We didn't stay to find out. We'd got to come back here." The burns in his right hand had changed to a tanner hue, which made them more noticeable now. He could feel Mr. Jones staring at him with curiosity.

"Are you prone to accidents, Corporal Newkirk?"

Newkirk's eyes widened as he turned to Hogan for support. The colonel stepped behind the chair to lay his hands on Newkirk's shoulders.

"Newkirk was seriously wounded in his last mission. He's still healing and needs a lot of rest." He pushed him off the chair. "LeBeau, why don't you help him to change his clothes and then, you both go upstairs to bed."

The Frenchman could not wait to get out of there and almost left Newkirk behind. Both men were more than grateful for being dismissed at the same time. Kinch stared at Hogan for instructions.

"Wounded in action? I suppose that explains the considerable quantity of penicillin that was sent to you in the last six weeks." He checked something in his book and nodded.

"We don't get access to medical services for gunshots in this place. That would be terribly suspicious don't you think?" Kinch said with a shrug.

"Certainly," the man said. "Oh, well. I think that's enough for one night. We have plenty of time to catch up and clarify other facts." He stood up, stretched and yawned. "If I may go to my quarters."

Hogan's eyes grinned. "Well, we don't have facilities for guests but Kinch will take you to a storeroom where you can stay. I don't need to tell you that we're under a prison camp. You cannot go outside under any circumstances, or upstairs without supervision, is that clear?"

"Absolutely," the man smiled. "This is really exciting you know? It's my first prison camp."

Hogan saw Kinch take the man away and could finally breathe.

"Boy, what kind of inspector is that? I'd rather have dinner with Hochstetter," Carter whispered. "Is it me or he was more interested in Newkirk than anything else?"

Hogan sat down again. "Carter, I hate to tell you this, but that man came exclusively to watch you and Newkirk."

"Some inspection innit?" Newkirk came upstairs and jumped to his bed.

"Hey, you didn't fall!" LeBeau almost applauded. "Do you feel better?"

"I think so. That bloke Wilson gave me some pointers about what may be wrong with me. I think I can handle it now." He frowned in deep thought. "Blimey."

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?"

"I was thinking. What if I walk tonight in me dreams? With that chum from London noising about that would not help the gov'nor at all, would it?"

LeBeau stared at him for a moment until an idea came to his mind. "Give me your sewing kit." He took it from Newkirk and looked into the threads and needles. "Voici," said he showing Newkirk a ball of yarn. He cut a string that seemed long enough and tied one end to his ankle. "Now, you tie up the other end to your ankle. If you try to come down of your bunk, I'll be the first one to know." He smiled triumphantly.

"Brilliant, me wicked little mate," Newkirk said.

"You just go to sleep, nothing is going to happen tonight." LeBeau turned to one side and waited for Newkirk to do the same before he closed his eyes.

"That man, Colonel," said Carter shaking, his head. "We carried him around, putting ourselves between him and the Romani. Newkirk almost died for him." His hands clenched into fists. "I thought I had let it go... now I hate him more than ever. No matter if he goes to jail for life... if we flunk this test he wins."

Hogan nodded and tapped Carter's hand. "I know. But we won't flunk anything, Carter. We're doing a hell of a job here. This is not going to take us down."

"What about Newkirk? Are you going to tell him about this?"

"I'd rather not. He's not quite himself these days. He doesn't need to know, yet."

"All right, we'll keep him out of the loop, no problem." Carter got up and turned to Hogan before going to change. "Everything is going to be okay, boy... sir. We'll take care of it."

Hogan met Kinch in the ladder. "Business as usual?"

"Business as usual, sir. Mr. Jones is installed and everybody has gone to bed."

"Thank you Kinch, I'll be in my office. Please, you too go to sleep. If tonight is the prelude of what is yet to come, the next few days we're going to need a lot of energy."

They laughed and went upstairs.

()o()o()

"Come, my love, sit with me. Give me your worries... I'll sing to you while you sleep..."

Newkirk sat down on the floor next to her bed. He rested his head on her lap and closed his eyes.

"Here is an island in Slumber Sea ,Where the drollest things are done, And we will sail there if the winds are fair Just after the set of the sun. 'Tis the loveliest place in the whole wide world, Or anyway, so it seems, And the folks there play at the end of each day, In a curious show called Dreams..." *

He waited in the dark for the first peasant coming his way. He had everything planned. The attack would be fast and clean, but noticeable enough to fill next day's headlines. He loved being a headliner... The only regrettable thing was that they would not use his name... William the Bloody.

Steps interrupted his memories. His strained his ear told him that this was one man. Not too young, not too old. That was fine. He hated old blood, no taste at all. He saw the prey pass by. He would give him minutes of advantage, a fair head start; that was the only thing to do with such vulnerable game.

Grubber Wagner, the pharmacist walked down the street. He knew it was late, he knew he should have closed the store earlier. Everybody had warned him to do so. But he had to wait for Fraulein König to make her late evening shopping. Such a lovely lady, but a very slow shopper. When she finally left, the other shops on that street had closed. Everybody was home already. Everybody but Grubber Wagner.

Barking dogs interrupted the quiet night. No one dared to peer through their windows but everybody knew that something was out there. The actual attack took place in a matter of seconds. No screams, no struggle. Once bitten, the victim could only surrender to the inevitable. The night returned to its stillness. No one had seen the attack but the next day, all would read about it in the newspapers. Everybody would talk about the marks of the vampire of Hammelburg.

()o()o()

Carter woke up with a bad feeling. He heard the barrack door open and saw a light come in. Then, there was a whisper.

"Carter?"

"Schultz, is that you?" He shaded his eyes with one hand when the German sergeant aimed the flashlight on his face.

"It happened again."

Carter got up and checked Newkirk's bed. Empty. He sighed.

"LeBeau," he whispered as he jumped off his bed.

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" LeBeau had barely time to ask as Carter pulled involuntarily at his ankle, tied to the string of yarn. He fell heavily to the floor.

"Shh," Carter said.

"Hey! My ankle is tied to yours!" cried LeBeau, startled.

Kinch woke up and saw LeBeau still on the floor. "What happened?"

"Newkirk is gone again," the Frenchman untied his foot and got up.

"We've got to look for him." Carter put on his boots and looked for his coat.

"No need for that, I know where he is." Schultz sighed. "I need a couple of you to come and pick him up."

"You go, I'll talk to the colonel." Kinch got up and stretched. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, as Carter and LeBeau put on their coats and follow Schultz outside.

tbc

*THE DREAM TOWN SHOW (19th century)
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (excerpt)

Thank you, faithful readers, I hope you're having fun with this story ;)