I'm glad to see there's so many Kinchloe fans. He seems to pop up in a lot of my fics a lot more often than I would have thought. I've always thought of him as one of the strongest of them, even though he was not as active outside of camp as the others.

Thank you so much for the reviews. I was surprised to not see any guesses to Kinch's plan! Well, no worries, because now you'll find out what it is.

Chapter 8

In the damp tunnel, Kinch had hooked up their phone lines and checked their extensive notes to find the schedule he needed. As the other two caught up, he was putting his headphones on and plugging the lines in. He grinned at them before holding up a finger. Listening to the line, he lightened his voice to a whiny tenor. "Hello? Yes I need General Burkhalter at once! This is Kommandant Klink speaking! Yes, I'll hold! Hmmmph!"

LeBeau suddenly grinned in understanding. "We have someone higher in rank!"

Olson joined them in smiles. "Kinch, you're a genius. But why not ask Klink to call Burkhalter?"

Kinch's smile became sly. "Why worry Klink over details? I'm sure he'd say yes. This way we get what we want without bothering Klink about whether he'd have gone along with us." His eyes went distant as a voice spoke in his ear again and his voice altered to Klink's quavering German. "Jawohl, herr General Burkhalter sir! It is so good to hear from you, herr General! What? Yes, get to the point, sir. A Heer Major-General was here this past week, General Burkhalter sir, and he removed one of my prisoners, sir." Kinch paused while the general questioned him. "Yes General Burkhalter but... but, you see I tried to stop him but he outranks me, sir and... what? Of course not, sir, he did not have any authorization at all. I told him he was not allowed to brutalize the POWs but he did not listen, sir."

Carter popped up behind Olson and LeBeau looking worried until he saw Kinch. He whispered to the two quietly. "Gee I thought we were sunk for a minute. Kinch is really good at sounding like Klink."

LeBeau nodded. "I still think they're related." Olson snickered at that while Carter merely nodded in reply. LeBeau leaned in closer to Carter. "Kinch is trying to get Burkhalter to help bring Newkirk back."

Carter's face lit up and he started to exclaim loudly but Olson's hand clamped over his mouth. "Mmmph." Olson pointed at Kinch still whining on the phone in Klink's voice and put a finger over his lips. Carter nodded and waited for Olson to remove his hand. "That's a great idea."

Both Olson and LeBeau agreed and all three waited while Kinch finished up the call with a string of boot-licking that was interrupted by Burkhalter hanging up on him. As Kinch sighed heavily and wiped sweat off his brow, he smiled at the three. "I think we're in. Burkhalter was really angry. I think I made it clear the insult was as much to him and all of the Luftwaffe as it was to Klink, so he said he would 'look into it personally'. I got the impression that heads are gonna roll."

LeBeau bounced on his heels. "Oui! That is wonderful! As long as Newkirk's head isn't one of the heads rolling!"

Carter wrung his hands, his eager expression turning to worry at LeBeau's quip. "I hope he's okay. General Burkhalter will find him right away, right?"

Kinch sobered up and reached to put a steadying hand on Carter. "From what he said, he'll be checking right away but he is a member of the High Command Staff too, so it might take him some time. We just have to hope that Hendrich is somewhere easy to find and that he hasn't hurt Newkirk too much before Burkhalter can get to him."

Olson grunted, his good mood evaporating. "Yeah, and that Burkhalter doesn't end up shooting Newkirk for being in the wrong place, just so he doesn't have to deal with any of it."

Looking grimly determined, Carter straightened up. "Well, he can't do that. He has to bring Newkirk back here. There's rules and stuff." He stalked off down the tunnel towards his lab. "I'm almost finished with the smoke bombs."

Kinch looked at the remaining two. "At least Hogan will be back soon. I don't know exactly what I'll tell him when he gets back and finds this huge mess though."

LeBeau straightened himself up as tall as he was able and gave Kinch a cheeky grin full of bravado. "Simple. We'll let Newkirk explain all of it. After all, he is the elected official Man of Confidence and he'll be back by then." He walked off towards the tunnel entrance.

"Oh to have his confidence. How does he stay so positive?" Olson started down the same tunnel himself.

Kinch shut down the radio equipment before following. "He doesn't. He and Newkirk both pretend nothing will go wrong in hopes that it won't. That's why they insult each other all the time. Life won't kill either of them with bad words said between them."

"Do you really believe that?" Olson paused at the base of the ladder.

"They're both still here, aren't they?"

Olson gave him a long look. "No. Newkirk's not." He climbed up into the barracks leaving Kinch alone in the dimly lit tunnel feeling cold at heart suddenly.

Newkirk lay on his side on the carpet of a hotel room and concentrated on breathing. Each breath in was slow and even and hurt like needles were sticking into his ribs. He would hold it for two seconds and then let it out just as slowly. His arms were cuffed behind him and the position didn't help his breathing at all. Blood dripped from his nose and ran along his upper lip before trailing across his cheek into his ear. The little trickles were annoying him but right now he just wanted to lie still and revel in the feeling of the soft carpet under his throbbing head.

Hendrich was proving to be extremely good at beating people. Newkirk wasn't certain how good he was at whatever his official Nazi job was. But he was stellar at beating POWs. Especially mouthy British airmen. His underling Otto was a quick study as well. So far Jager had been regulated to guarding doors and driving the car and such, but right now, Newkirk would bet that he wasn't too shabby at beating British airmen either.

After a few long moments, Newkirk cracked open his eyes and blinked to clear them as best he could. The room was quiet and completely empty of Nazis. He watched the carpet getting stained with blood for another moment before beginning to shift himself around. Otto had left his hands cuffed behind his back after his latest humiliation. The regular routine was that anytime Hendrich wanted to beat his prisoner or... or do other things, he took the precaution of cuffing Newkirk first.

Newkirk really tried to take that as a compliment of some sort. Even though he was outnumbered three-to-one, even though he'd been beaten and starved the entire time since they'd left camp however long ago that had been, even though Newkirk was forbidden by regulations to defend himself in any way against his captors and even though Hendrich had hobbled him most effectively simply by the threat against his mates back at camp if Newkirk did anything out of line... he still felt the need to restrain one lone RAF airman in order to beat him.

Sitting up took a lot of his energy and he simply sat there, legs stretched out in front of himself, leaned forward trying to find a position that didn't feel like it was crushing the broken rib any more than necessary. The blood that had been following the trail across his face now decided to drip across his lips and patter down onto his right pants' leg. Staring at the expanding pattern it was making distracted him for a bit. Then he began the laborious process of getting the tiny lockpick out of his mouth. The thin bit of metal was wedged between his upper teeth and cheek and had cut the inside of his mouth a few times when Hendrich or Otto punched him in the wrong spot. He spat it onto the carpet and inched around until he could pluck it up with his cuffed hands.

Despite his battered condition, unlocking the simple cuff only took a moment. He didn't bother to unlock both cuffs. It would take less time to get back into them anyway. He laughed softly to himself. "Wouldn't want to get caught out of me cuffs." he croaked. "Might get beaten up for that."

Still chuckling to himself, he managed to lever himself to his feet and started roaming about the room checking things. He tucked his precious lockpick back into his cheek. The window opened onto a four story drop into an open courtyard. No way out of there, even if he could risk escaping. The more he walked about the room, the more his head cleared. Going to the desk, he looked at the scattered papers for a few seconds before the soft pat-pat noise alerted him to his blood dripping on the polished wood.

Suddenly he realized he was leaving traces of blood all over the room and panicked. Finding a discarded cleaning cloth in the small rubbish bin, he carefully wiped away the evidence and checked around the rest of the room. Pressing the cloth to his nose carefully, he lifted the room's window open a crack and then went back to rummaging through the papers for anything interesting. He really didn't have any reason to do so, but it was better than simply laying on the floor like a useless git.

The papers were all routine junk or things that didn't make any sense to Newkirk. Moving to the door, he pressed his ear up against the wood and heard Hendrich's voice. Listening to him for a few minutes let him know he was talking to some other Nazi associate that they were meeting soon at the hotel. Suddenly he froze and closed his eyes to listen harder to the German being spoken in the next room.

"Ja ja... it has been some time but we shall have some fun. Ja, like old times. This time I shall bring the toy." Another pause before Hendrich spoke again. "Ja, bring him along, I'm certain he will enjoy it as well."

There was a pause and then a deep laugh. "Nein, not French, I found a Englander for us to enjoy."

Newkirk stepped away from the door. A wash of cold rippled over his skin leaving him feeling chilled. He went directly to the window and stared out of it, wondering if that four story drop was really so bad. It would probably kill him. At least he'd break bones. Was that really a huge risk compared to staying here to wait for what Hendrich was happily planning in the next room?

A crisp clear memory surfaced of Hendrich speaking directly to his face while Otto held him securely by the slightly too long hair on top of his head.

"Just remember, my dear corporal, that we are not so very far away that I can not send Otto to pick up your friends to take your place. So feel free to escape, if you like. I'm certain that the American and the Frenchman will prove just as entertaining as you."

Newkirk blinked slowly and reached for the window. Pushing the blood-soaked cleaning rag out, he let it fall into the courtyard to blow into some hedges. Then he slid the window shut carefully so no one could hear the soft click.

Returning to the rug, he settled down onto it and reached behind himself to refasten the cuff onto his free wrist.

It wasn't so bad. After all, he'd known signing up for His Majesty's Royal Air Force might lead to his own death. He'd been lucky to survive so long anyway.

Besides, there was always the chance of the Colonel showing up to save the day. He had a knack of doing that whenever all hope was lost. Plus, there was always the Underground. They might help him.

Laying himself back down on his side, he listened to the soft snap of the cuff locking around his wrist and closed his eyes to wait.

End Chapter