Readers! This is the last chapter. Please, let a review, it's never too late :)

27. When the battle's lost and won

Schultz was so happy with the turn of events that he did not even feel the road. He whistled while he drove, told some jokes and even sang old Bavarian songs. The kommandant was also happy and relaxed as he had not been in years. He had had the time of his life, although he did not remember more than bits of the trip. He was in such a good mood that he did not mind giving Mr. Jones a ride to Hammelburg. Mr. Jones was very grateful for not having to endure another trip inside the staff car trunk.

"I don't want to know who that man is," said Klink to Hogan when Mr. Jones got down in the city. "Only answer this. Is he a spy?"

"Not really," Hogan shrugged.

"Hogan, this is the last time will talk about this. I don't need to know why or how you got involved in all this mess but it's over. Right?" Klink stared at him warily. "No more vampires, witches or cursed soul holders?"

"Colonel Klink, you have my word. I can't wait to go back to our good old routine in Stalag thirteen." Hogan grinned to give the colonel some peace of mind.

Schultz did not say anything when Newkirk helped Mr. Jones to get into the trunk. After what they had been through together, he had some kind of affection for the little man.

The last kilometers were a little long for Newkirk and Hogan. After this brief encounter with the unknown worlds, sabotage and espionage missions would feel like a walk in the park. And Klink promised never to mention Nuremberg, or anything related to Koshchei's soul again in his life. They just wanted to go back to camp without any further incident.

The welcoming was brief. LeBeau picked up the car to take it to the motor pool and put Mr. Jones safely underground. Carter and Kinch had to wait in the barracks as Captain Grubber had stipulated at roll call. The minute he entered, Hogan knew that something else was wrong.

"We have problems. Remember the submarine? We received a report that they haven't been able to pick up the agents yet. There has been an increase of patrols in the area. They haven't been spotted, but the agents are surrounded at the security house, two miles from the rendezvous point," Kinch said.

"Oh, that's tough," Newkirk frowned.

"Yeah, all those people stranded because of this beautiful weather." Carter sighed. "It's usually the other way around."

"Well, if they try to stroll in the mountains with this moonlight, they'll be more vulnerable than sitting ducks," Kinch said.

"Let's go downstairs and see what else we can do for them." Hogan headed to the tunnel trap door with Kinch.

Newkirk and Carter were about to follow them when LeBeau came in with Schultz.

"He followed me here," the Frenchman said, taking a seat at the table.

"What is it, Schultzie? You want to make sure we're all still here?" Carter smiled.

"I know you're here. I just want to talk with Newkirk. Outside," he said.

"Sure, what can I do you for, Schultz?" Newkirk closed the door behind him.

"Newkirk, where's Koshchei's soul?"

"Is this a tricky question? You're playing games now, aren't you?" Newkirk grinned. "I'd say in the egg, where else would it be?"

"And where's the egg now?" Schultz stared at Newkirk's look of innocence and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Englander. I know you put it in my coat when I hugged you at the mausoleum."

"What? You couldn't feel it, could you?" Newkirk frowned. Was he losing his touch after all that adventure?

"No, I didn't feel it but that's how you work all the time." Schultz was visibly upset. "I felt the thing in my pocket when we got to the manor. I didn't check because I didn't want to know."

"No surprises there."

"Then, I didn't feel it anymore. You took it, Newkirk! Where is it?"

"I didn't take anything, all right?" Newkirk shrugged. "It wasn't there, was it? Did you see it at any time? No, why? Because it wasn't there at all. It was a trick, all right?" He lowered his tone. "But if it was there at anytime, I assure you that now it's where it is supposed to be. No more, no less. Trust me on this one, all right?"

Schultz could see sincerity in Newkirk's eyes. The young man would not disappoint him. "I trust you with my life, Newkirk, and the rest of the world's."

Those words weighed heavily on Newkirk. Still, he managed to smile. "See you later, Schultzie." He patted the sergeant's arm and went back to the barrack.

()o()o()

The wind blew from the north. The branches moaned and cried. Newkirk adjusted the collar of his coat as he walked through the forest. He had been very careful to come out without being noticed. Hogan and Kinch were too busy monitoring the submarine situation and the others were fast asleep. As he reached a clearing in the forest, he heard steps behind him and coming closer. He took his knife, the only weapon he had taken with him, and waited behind some bushes.

"He came this way," LeBeau said.

"But I saw his footprints going that way," Carter insisted. "I've been a pathfinder before, Louie, my instinct never fails."

"Ah oui? Did you hear him leaving the barrack? Or going down the tunnel? No? Because you were snoring!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. More of that and he would have to invite the patrols to come along too. He walked behind them.

"Gentlemen, may I know why you are following me?"

"Ha! I told you he was coming this way." LeBeau smiled triumphantly.

"Newkirk! Are you sleepwalking again? At midnight?"

"I'm not sleepwalking, and if I was, I couldn't tell you, could I? I've got things to do and can't do them in broad daylight." Newkirk resumed his walk. "This way, please."

"Aren't you going to ask us to get back?" Carter frowned. "He must be dreaming. LeBeau, grab his arm-"

Newkirk pushed them aside. "Bugger off, what's the idea?" He composed himself. "I've got to go this way."

They walked with him for a while. "Aren't you going to go away?" LeBeau asked this time.

"No need, you'd follow me anyways." He made a turn. "It doesn't matter, actually. Soon, I'll lost you."

"What are you talking about? We're right here with you-" Carter's voice turned off abruptly.

As Newkirk had predicted, after a couple of turns, he was alone again. He kept walking until the hut with chicken legs appeared before his eyes. His heart pounded harder than the first time because now he knew that this was not a dream.

He allowed the hut to dance around for another minute. Then, he remembered the stories he had been reading back in the manor and breathed deeply.

"Hut, oh Hut... turn your back to the woods and your front to me!" He said.

Immediately, the hut retracted its legs and settled down on the ground. One door formed in front and opened. One window opened on the left.

"Were you sent to me or do you come of your own free will?" the voice came from everywhere.

Newkirk lowered his head. "I come of my own free will, please, let me speak."

The laments and moaning reached high pitch levels as the path to the house lighted up at the entrance of the witch. This time, the woman walked towards him. Leaves whirled around and spirits began to take shape on each side of the place. Newkirk had to set his feet firmly on the ground to stop his body from shaking. He could not help the cold fear him that gripped inside as he saw the witch for the first time as she really was.

She was ugly. Books and stories did not do justice to her ugliness. Her nose was long and curved and her body was as thin as a corpse. No one would have said that she fed on human flesh. As she got closer, Newkirk's shaking became more noticeable. That witch was much taller than the small little lady he had seen the first time.

"You stole Koshchei's soul. You fought for it. You earned it, now it's yours... I don't have more to do in the matter." She did not move her lips but her eyes looked angry.

Newkirk took the pack of blue rose tea and offered it to her. "I brought you a present, Babushka.*"

She stopped an inch from Newkirk's face. He could smell vanilla and cinnamon, as though the witch had been baking a cake. He also saw her smiling. Not a nice sight at all. Toothless and with lynx eyes, her face could not transmit real heartwarming emotions. But the present was priceless and she was happy. With all her power, she could not stop herself from aging years every time she asked a question. Newkirk had read about that and how the blue rose tea reversed that effect. Spike was right: with that present, he had made the witch his friend.

"Now I can ask as many questions as I like without aging a day." She stared at him. "Tell, me my vnuk,* is Koshchei's soul in a good place? Is it safe night and day from wrong and evil?"

"That, Babushka, is something only you can answer." Newkirk smiled as he reached into his pocket for a small bundle.

Baba Yaga took the handkerchief and unwrapped the egg. This was a beautiful piece of jewelry made in bloodstone, the martyr's gem. It had scales of gold with a beautiful swan on top of it. Certainly, a piece that would have paid a lot in the black market, Newkirk thought. Although the surprise this Faberge egg carried was too much for anyone to handle.

"I searched for the best place and the best person to guard it, and found no one but you, my lady. It's in your hands now."

The witch put the egg in her ragged apron pocket. She seemed to hesitate before asking the next question. "What can I give you, my vnuk? What do you want in exchange? Ask and I'll give you anything..." her eyes shone with curiosity. "Do you want gold or silver? Maybe a new life... I can show you your future or... maybe you want to know how this war is going to end."

Newkirk was overwhelmed by the wish list. He wanted everything... or nothing. But the last offer was extremely tempting. What soldier would not like to know about the future of the war? He almost rushed to accept but then, he stopped. What if they were about to lose?... Would he quit fighting? How would he convince the others of the uselessness of their crusade? What if they were about to win?... Would he quit fighting?... Why should they go on risking their lives if the victory was already at hand?...

Did he actually want to know about the future? If he had known what was waiting for him at Nuremberg, he might not have gone at all. Then, everything would have been so different.

"No, thanks," he respectfully declined. "I think that things are the way they have to be right now."

"There must be something you need but you can't see yet." She reached up to touch his forehead. "Go home, vnuk. Have a prosperous life. Our paths might not cross again with such a cheerful ending."

()o()o()

Newkirk found Carter and LeBeau still arguing about the road that he had taken. To them, time had moved more slowly; it had not been but a couple of minutes.

"Stop playing around, Newkirk. Where are you going at this hour?" Carter began to feel frustrated.

"Andrew, everything is completely well, I tell you." He smiled widely.

"But you keep running from us, Newkirk. What's wrong?" LeBeau echoed Carter's resentment. They were supposed to be Newkirk's best friends.

"LeBeau, Carter," the Englishman said, placing himself between them to put his arms around both of them, "I'll tell you a story. But you have to promise not to ask questions until I finish."

"Why not?"

"Carter, me friend, asking so many questions takes years from your life..."

()o()o()

They entered through the emergency exit, thinking to find Hogan, Mr Jones and Kinch still at the radio. It was empty. They came upstairs. The colonel and the sergeant had opened one of LeBeau's bottles of wine.

"Where have you three been? Mushroom picking is not until Friday," Hogan scolded them.

"We went to the forest for a walk," Carter said with a grin.

Newkirk sat quietly, avoiding eye contact with Hogan. LeBeau brought to the table a loaf of fresh bread that he had been baking for the reunion. He sat at the table and poured some wine.

"What are we celebrating?" he asked.

"The latest on the submarine." Kinch smiled. "Right after we talked to them, they called us back. Some thick mist covered the mountains and the security house. The group could come out undetected and went down to the coast. They are in the submarine and on their way to London as we speak."

"Marvelous news, isn't it?" Mr. Jones said, busily writing on his notebook.

Carter and LeBeau cheered. Newkirk frowned.

"When did that happen?"

"A few minutes ago. It was a miracle. That change in the weather was completely unexpected." Kinch drank to that.

"A miracle indeed," Hogan said. He stared at Newkirk warily. "But weirder things have been happening around, right, Newkirk? Like the mysterious disappearance of that egg."

"Indeed, sir... Mysterious." He smiled. Baba Yaga had finally found the way to reciprocate the favor. Than you, Babushka.

"How do you feel, Corporal Newkirk?"

Mr. Jones' question took him out of base. He tilted his head. "Right as rain, why?"

"A personal question, I'm not taking my report that far." Mr. Jones smiled. "I think that you, gentlemen are doing an amazing job so far. Do you take cases like this often?"

"Not in a million years," Hogan chuckled.

"But the egg situation?" Carter asked. "Don't you have to report on that?"

"I'm classifying the information. Who would believe the truth, anyway? I'll just say that the lead was false or something like that. Easy fix."

"But you keep writing on that bloody notebook."

"Oh, these are notes for my novel."

"A novel?" LeBeau narrowed his eyes warily.

"Sure, once the war is over, I'll declassify the case and publish a book. Fiction novel." He laughed at their stares. "Don't worry, I'll change names and some of the events. Maybe there'll be a movie following up."

"A movie?" Carter smiled widely.

"Before Carter starts asking for James Stewart to play his role, what are you going to do with the other case?" Hogan asked. "Newkirk's situation is still uncertain."

"What? What situation?" Newkirk stared at Hogan and then at Mr. Jones.

The inspector smiled and shook his head. "It's already forgotten. This young man is an extraordinary element in your team. There's nothing wrong with him." He picked up his notebook and pen. "If you excuse me, I'd like to read a little before going to bed. Gentlemen," he bowed.

"Nothing wrong with me? Was there something wrong with me before? What is he talking about?" Newkirk saw the man going downstairs. "Colonel!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Newkirk. You're out of the hook, anyway." Kinch poured some wine and passed him the glass.

"Out of what ruddy hook?" Newkirk sighed and had a sip.

"So, what happened with the egg?" LeBeau asked as an attempt to change the subject.

"It vanished," Hogan shrugged. "Right, Enchanter of Delusion?"

Newkirk felt the wine taking the wrong turn into his nose. He coughed. "Right, sir," he mumbled avoiding the colonel's eyes.

"Although I don't mind not having that thing in my hands at all. It would be good to know that it's in the right hands." Hogan tasted the two-day old wine. "Taking care of it must be a huge responsibility for an ordinary man."

"Oh, yeah... certainly." Newkirk felt a load lifting slowly off his shoulders. "I'm sure it got to the right hands, sir."

"Why do you say it's a responsibility?" Kinch asked. "What could that little thing do?"

Hogan took the diary out of his pocket. "Otto Eichenholz discovered the egg and its story while traveling around the country. He studied the problem from different angles and concluded that it was not a good idea to share so much power with any living creature. That's why he kept it concealed as much as he could. After his death, the secret passed down to his brother who shortly before dying put it inside the wall of his church. He didn't reckon that, years later, one bomb would fall on the building leaving the chamber exposed. Although Otto didn't write about the power of the object, he quoted from an ancient book something that describes pretty much the range of damage that little thing could do." Hogan opened the book on the first page and read aloud:

I am death, the mighty destroyer of the world, out to destroy. Even without your participation all the warriors standing arrayed in the opposing armies shall cease to exist.*

The end

*Babushka: grandmother

*vnuk: grandson

*Bhagavad Gita: chapter 11, 32 (J. Robert Oppenheimer quote part of it right after watching the effects of the first test of the atomic bomb.)

A little note: Thank you for keeping coming to read this story. I was a little long and maybe tiring in some ways. But for the reviews, I suppose you enjoyed it. I'm not stepping back from the writing yet. There is a story that I'm co-writing with Marie1964, Layers of Reality. Give it a try, maybe you'll like it too. ;)