"I'm afraid it's out of the question."
Lieutenant Doyle, standing in front of the Kommandant's desk, gave his reply to General Burkhalter's request with calm condescension. It would have delighted Hogan, except that was how Doyle usually spoke to him, too. Still, it was the perfect attitude for the situation.
Hogan had found the opportunity, on the way to Klink's office, to give the lieutenant a few hurried words of instruction: "Don't agree to anything, until I negotiate terms." That was the general rule in these matters; the quickest way to arouse suspicion was to be too willing.
Of course, it was entirely possible Doyle would have dug his heels in anyway. There was plenty of evidence of his natural disinclination to give ground; the appalling state of incivility prevailing between Barracks 9 and 10 was proof enough. But Burkhalter already expected a refusal. He knew the rules of the game almost as well as Hogan did. He leaned back in Klink's chair, producing an ominous creaking sound.
"I am prepared to make it worth your while, Doyle," he said, regarding the lieutenant with a genial manner belied by the calculating look in his eyes. "What kind of inducement would it take for you to reconsider?"
"Try calling off the Blitz," murmured Doyle. The studied pleasantness dropped from his face, and an uncomfortable silence ensued.
It was time for Hogan to take a hand in the matter. "General, I have to protest. What you're asking amounts to collaboration with the enemy."
"Taking part in a concert for charitable purposes is hardly to be classed as collaboration, Hogan," observed Burkhalter dryly. "I would consider it an act of generosity. A helping hand extended to those less fortunate, who are facing a long, cold winter..."
"Yeah. I guess it's hard to imagine what that must be like, considering the luxury we're provided with," Hogan replied, tilting his head to one side and folding his arms. "You'll forgive us if we don't entirely sympathise."
"Hogan, you and your men have nothing to complain about," Klink put in. "You're comfortably housed, supplied with food at the expense of the German people..."
"Who are probably glad to be rid of it. There's so much sawdust in the bread, some of the men have got woodworm. And as for the barracks - you know, every time the wind blows from the east, Barracks 2 moves three feet closer to the coast. Which will be handy when we want to sail it across the Channel, we won't have so far to go, but..."
"Hogan! General, let me assure you..."
"Quiet, Klink." Burkhalter's eyes remained on Hogan, as he considered the state of play. "Hogan, if it were arranged to make the necessary repairs to the barracks, and to increase the prisoners' daily rations until the end of winter..."
Hogan held up one hand to discourage Doyle from rejecting the offer outright.
"Not enough, General," he said, after a moment of thought. "We also need extra blankets, a reliable supply of firewood, permission to cook in the barracks - "
"Denied."
"Granted."
Klink and Burkhalter spoke in the same breath. A moment later, Klink, with the air of a man forcing himself to swallow a dose of furniture polish, muttered, "Granted."
"I haven't finished," Hogan went on. He glanced at the Kommandant. "There's a couple of guys in the cooler. Dowland and Purcell. I want 'em out."
"Two of the men from Barracks 9, General," said Klink. "I had to take stern measures, they were singing...well, I'd rather not say what it was. But it was totally unacceptable, believe me."
Burkhalter turned a basilisk glare on him. "Singing what, Klink? Come now, we're all grown men here. Surely there is no need for this kind of prudishness."
Klink blinked, stammered, and baulked. Hogan decided to help him out.
"Wasn't it Hitler has only got one..."
"Hogan!"
Burkhalter frowned. "That is a very serious matter indeed, Hogan," he said repressively. "I'm afraid I must decline to..."
"Did you say Dowland and Purcell, Colonel?" interjected Doyle. He paused for a moment, a tiny crease between his eyebrows. "Must be a coincidence," he murmured at last. "General, those two men are absolutely essential to the men's choir. Without them the second tenors are far too weak."
"How many second tenors do you have?" asked Hogan curiously. He knew all about the men in question; they sang all right, but not the kind of material Doyle generally favoured.
"Two. Dowland and Purcell. Though I'm thinking of trying Byrd as well..." The little crease reappeared briefly. "You know, that is really quite odd," he added meditatively.
Burkhalter wasn't interested in oddities. "Klink, you will release those men at once. Well, Hogan, do we have an agreement?"
Hogan smirked. "Not up to me, General. This is Doyle's show."
Klink almost audibly ground his teeth, and Burkhalter pursed his lips. "Well, Lieutenant?"
"I'll have to look over the proposed programme, and you must allow me to reject any piece of music I consider unsuitable," replied Doyle after a period of thought. "And as for rehearsals..."
"I will make arrangements for you and your men to be taken to Hammelburg for two hours each afternoon until Saturday night, to rehearse with the Chorgemeinschaft. And in the meantime, I'm sure Colonel Klink will allow you to use the recreation hall."
"I'll need a piano, as well," added Doyle. "A decent one, if you don't mind."
Burkhalter regarded him with narrowed eyes for a moment. "Klink, arrange for a piano to be placed in the recreation hall immediately."
"But, General, where would I get...a piano, yes, right away, General." Klink's protest made a sharp turn in the direction of acquiescence at the look Burkhalter cast on him.
Doyle glanced at Hogan for permission before agreeing. "In that case, General, I'll see what I can do."
Hogan waited till they had been dismissed before he tackled Doyle on the second tenor question. "Dowland and Purcell? Seriously?"
"I never joke about music, sir," replied Doyle repressively.
"This is the same Purcell who taught the guards The Ballad of Oyster Nan? And wasn't it Dowland who wrote five new verses for The Maiden's Lament, and included your name in all of them?"
"Just because their repertoire is in doubtful taste, doesn't mean Beckett's lads can't sing. If I'm to expand my own ensemble, I'll need to work with what's available."
"Okay, Doyle. If you think you can handle 'em," sighed Hogan. "But I want some of my own guys in there as well."
"Not a problem, Colonel. Always happy to accommodate." Doyle slowed his steps, as he considered the potential offered. "Actually, I've been wanting Kinchloe for a while, a reliable bass is always useful. And you will let me have Carter, won't you? "
"Sure." Hogan had intended to send Kinch anyway. "If I want to include a couple of other guys…"
"Anyone at all from your barracks, Colonel. Yourself included."
Hogan grinned. "I'll pass, Doyle. Though I might come along for the ride. By the way, about that piano - you don't really need one, right?"
Doyle favoured him with precisely the same supercilious half-smile he'd used on Burkhalter. "My dear Colonel," he replied coolly, "every home needs a piano."
Hogan laughed quietly, and headed for the barracks, but turned back with one more question. "Why Carter, particularly?"
"Oh, come now, sir," responded Doyle with a gentle chuckle. "I'm sure I don't have to explain that to you."
He sauntered off towards his own barracks. Hogan looked around the compound before going into Barracks 2. Captain Baumann was still standing beside Burkhalter's car. But he wasn't alone. Claudia Valensizi had joined him there, and there was a striking intimacy about the way they were conversing, Baumann leaning slightly forward in an almost possessive manner, the soprano listening to him with a faint smile. As Hogan watched, she lifted one elegantly gloved hand to brush something from Baumann's shoulder.
It might be harmless. Valensizi flirted with everyone. But all the same, Hogan filed the image away in his mental dossier on the prima donna. This lady was going to need watching very closely. And as she glanced his way, he came to the conclusion that this piece of surveillance was one he was going to enjoy.