Chapter 17---A Taste of Metzger's Wrath
Schultz unlocked the cell door and held it open allowing Hogan and Newkirk to enter. He followed them inside as Hogan sat on the bunk and Newkirk sat on a nearby bench. Hogan crossed his legs and clasped his hands around his top leg. He looked at Schultz with raised eyebrows.
"You joining us, Schultz?" he asked innocently.
"To answer your question, Colonel Hogan, no. But as I was escorting General Metzger to the guest quarters he gave me some additional orders, and these." Schultz reached inside his coat pocket and removed two pairs of handcuffs. He looked apologetically at Hogan. "I hate to do this, Colonel Hogan," he said sadly. "But I need you to hold out your left arm."
Hogan and Newkirk exchanged concerned looks and Hogan knew Newkirk was thinking the same thing. Whatever Metzger was up to it probably wasn't going to bode well for one or both of them. Hogan did as Schultz asked and held out his left arm. Schultz clamped one cuff around Hogan's left wrist and then, looping the links between the cuffs around the bedframe clamped the other cuff on Hogan's right wrist. He then picked up the other set of handcuffs and eyed Newkirk.
"Newkirk, I need you to seat yourself on the opposite end of the bunk and hold out your right arm."
As Newkirk did as he was asked, he looked at Schultz as the fat guard clamped the handcuff around the Englander's right wrist and clamped the other end on the leg of the bunk.
"What's going on Schultzie?" Newkirk asked, shaking his right arm. He heard the cuffs clang against the leg of the bunk.
"I'm afraid I have no idea, Newkirk." Hogan and Newkirk then watched as Schultz dragged the bench over in front of both men as if using it for a table. "But I'm sure General Metzger will explain everything when he gets here. I'm sorry, but I have to leave now. Again, I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, Schultz," Hogan said jerking his arms hoping to be able to loosen the cuffs binding his wrists. "We don't blame you."
"Danke, Colonel Hogan." Schultz looked glumly at the two prisoners before leaving the cell and closing the door behind him. Both Hogan and Newkirk heard the key turn in the lock before hearing Schultz's retreating footsteps. Now alone, Hogan looked over his shoulder at Newkirk.
"What do you think this ruddy bastard is up to, Gov'nor?" asked Newkirk.
"I wish I knew, Newkirk," Hogan again jerking his arms. "But whatever it is, he's made certain I can't do anything to stop him. And considering both my wrists are handcuffed to this bedframe leads me to believe you're his target."
Their attention was suddenly drawn to the door of their cell being unlocked and exchanged worried looks with each other before their eyes turned back to their visitor.
Metzger stood in front of them with a smug grin on his face and hands clasped behind his back.
Kinch was in the radio room with Carter and LeBeau beside him. They had left Baker upstairs keeping watch at the barracks door.
Switching to the emergency frequency, Kinch put the headset on.
"Papa Bear to Goldilocks. Papa Bear to Goldilocks. Come in Goldilocks." There was no response. Kinch glanced at the others before trying again.
"Papa Bear to Goldilocks. Papa Bear to Goldilocks. Come in Goldilocks."
"This is Goldilocks, Papa Bear," a British voice responded. "What can we do for you Papa Bear? Why are you calling on this frequency?"
"We need to speak with General Butler, Goldilocks. It's urgent. Repeat....urgent."
"What is this in reference to, Papa Bear?" the voice asked.
Kinch became exasperated. "Look, I don't have time to explain. But General Butler is waiting for this call. So unless you want to have to answer to the General, I suggest you get him right away."
There was a long pause on the other end causing Kinch to momentarily think he had lost the contact. Then the person on the other end responded rather taut voice. "One moment Papa Bear."
Kinch covered the microphone with his hand, looking at his friends. "I'll probably hear it after this."
LeBeau playfully poked Kinch's arm. "I wouldn't worry, mon ami. The Colonel will understand as will the General."
"This is General Butler, Papa Bear. What can I do for you?"
"General, I have a message from Colonel Hogan."
"What is it? Is the Colonel all right?"
"Don't know, General. General Metzger arrived in camp a few hours ago and had the Colonel and one of his men brought to the cooler for supposed interrogation."
"That doesn't sound good, Papa Bear. What does Hogan want me to do?"
"The Colonel has a plan to buy some time until he can deal with Metzger. He wants you to have someone pretend to be contacting us from Switzerland regarding the art collection we actually sent to Amsterdam. He wants Metzger to believe the art collection was sent for safekeeping to Switerland and he is negotiating it's return to Metzger. He also wants this person to contact him on our regular frequency in case Metzger's monitoring our radio. Can you do it, General?""
"Can do, Papa Bear. Give me twenty-four hours to set everything up at this end. I'll contact you on the emergency frequency once everything's ready. Oh, and by the way, I was told by our radio operator you were rather abrupt with him."
"Sorry about that, General. It's just that...."
"Don't apologize. I have explained to this person that any call from now on from Papa Bear on the emergency frequency is to be considered top priority and given to me immediately and not to question you about it."
Kinch allowed a small smile to appear. "Thanks, General. I'll tell the Colonel we spoke and you'll get back to him in twenty-four hours. Papa Bear out." Kinch turned off the radio and removing the headset, tossed it on the table. He let out the deep breath he'd been holding the entire time.
"What do you want, Metzger?" Hogan asked coolly, jerking on the handcuffs trying to get free.
Metzger's eyes shifted from Hogan to Newkirk and back to Hogan. "You're not happy to see me, Hogan?" he asked with a smirk.
"I'd be happy to see the earth open up and swallow you alive," Hogan replied sweetly with a smirk of his own. God how he hated this man. "But since that's not gonna happen, I'll just have to dream about it."
Metzger chuckled as he approached the American officer. He cupped Hogan's jaw in a gloved hand and jerked his head upward so he could look into Hogan's eyes directly. "I told you I would be keeping tabs on you. I want to know what the status is regarding getting my art collection back. How soon? You're time is growing short, Hogan."
"I'm working on it," Hogan replied coolly.
"Not good enough. I want to know what you're doing and you're going to tell me now!"
Hogan glanced at Newkirk. Then turned his eyes back to Metzger. "I've been in contact with an operative in Switzerland about your collection. We sent the art collection there for safekeeping until after the war when it'll then be returned to the museum in France you stole it from."
Metzger released Hogan's jaw. He seemed to be thinking over what Hogan had said as he slowly approached Newkirk and stood in front of him, staring at him in a way that made both Hogan and Newkirk very uncomfortable and a bit scared. The General suddenly reached out and, grabbing Newkirk's left wrist roughly, stretched his arm out on the bench with Newkirk's hand lying flat, palm downward. Reaching inside his coat with his other hand, Metzger removed a small hammer. He grinned that smug grin at Hogan who's eyes widened in horror. He had an idea what Metzger was going to do to Newkirk. He jerked his arms with every ounch of stretch he had trying to free himself without success. He glared at the General.
"I told you I've been in contact with someone in Switzerland about your art collection. I'm negotiating with them to have it returned to you. You don't need to hurt Newkirk. Now let him go! You're dealing with me, not my men. They don't know anything about this. Leave them out of it!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Hogan. You see, I not only want you to see that I meant what I told you, but I also want your men to know that what I do to them is because of you." He raised the hammer high over his head and then, with all his strength, brought the hammer down on Newkirk's exposed hand atop the table. Newkirk screamed from the shooting agony in his hand and the proceeding fire of pain that radiated up his entire arm. Tears stung his eyes.
Hogan had squeezed his eyes shut as the hammer came down, unable to watch. But Newkirk's scream of agony continued to ring in his ears and would for a long time. Opening his eyes, he looked at Newkirk who was now doubled over from the pain. Hogan's eyes bore into Metzger. His hatred had grown beyond leaps and bounds when the hammer fell.
"Metzger, you're a dead man," Hogan said with a snarl. "Nobody hurts one of my men and lives to talk about it."
The General chuckled. Reaching in his pocket he removed a small set of keys and tossed them into Hogan's hands before walking towards the open cell door. "You can release yourself and your man and leave this cell. I think your man needs a doctor." Then, with an amused smirk on his face, Metzger walked out the cell, leaving the door open.
Hogan quickly freed himself and then turned his attention to the Englander. "Newkirk, I am so sorry. So sorry." He released Newkirk's handcuffed arm. "Can you move your hand at all?"
With tears staining his cheeks, Newkirk gently held his painful left arm in his right hand. He looked at his commanding officer. "I think it's broken, Colonel," he said. "I think he broke me hand."
"I am so, so sorry," Hogan repeated. He felt responsible for what happened to Newkirk and would never forgive himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He then noticed Newkirk looking at him.
"You've nothing to apologize for, Colonel. Nothing at all. I don't blame you at all. All I ask, sir, is that before you kill the bloody bastard you let me have a go at him. I owe him for this." He winced. "Blimey, me hand hurts like hell."
"C'mon, Newkirk. I have to get you back to the barracks and then send someone to fetch Wilson."