Evening roll call was over, and the prisoners had returned to the barracks. For once there was no mission to call Hogan's men out of camp, and most of them took advantage of the opportunity to write letters, play cards or just relax. Kinch headed below to the radio room as normal, and Carter to the laboratory, to put together the smoke bombs that would be needed for the "fire" in Klink's quarters. But they were the only ones down there, apart from Major Staller
Both Newkirk and LeBeau had offered to come to the lab and help, but Carter had turned them down. He had always preferred working alone, he didn't like distractions when he was messing with chemicals. There had been a period, a few weeks ago, when Hogan had issued an order requiring Carter to have someone with him at all times, for his own safety. It had tried everyone's patience, and since it had been lifted, Carter had tried to keep his workshop to himself.
Staller was hanging around at the foot of the ladder. "I've been having a look around," he said.
Of course you have, thought Kinch. It was usual, most visitors explored a little when things got dull down here. There was no reason to assume Staller was up to anything. But Kinch made a mental note to mention it to Hogan as soon as he had the chance.
"You've got some set-up," Staller went on. "I've got to take my hat off to Hogan. I thought some of my people were ingenious, but this is fantastic. Tell me, how'd you manage to set up a chemistry workshop down here?"
"You've been in the lab?" Carter, already on his way there, turned back.
Staller's complacency faded. "I just glanced in there. It looked pretty serious, so I thought I should stay out."
"Yeah. You better do that...sir." Carter gave him a long, hostile look, before he headed off.
"Oops. Looks like I stepped on some toes there," murmured Staller.
"He's got some pretty volatile stuff down there," Kinch replied, civil but distant. "He just doesn't want anyone messing around and maybe getting hurt. Same probably applies to some of the other areas down here, too. With respect, Major, maybe you should stick to the guest quarters when you're on your own. You don't want to get lost and find yourself coming up in the wrong part of camp, or something."
Staller flushed, and looked away, then gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Very tactful, Sergeant. It's not often I've been reprimanded so politely. And I haven't been put in my place by an NCO since I made lieutenant. Now it's happened twice in under a minute. That must be some kind of record."
Kinch said nothing, but his gaze didn't falter.
"Tell me something," Staller went on. "Isn't it a bit risky keeping all that stuff underground? What if something goes wrong? I mean, I'm virtually living down here, and I'm starting to wonder if it's safe."
"We got it covered," replied Kinch. "I spend a lot of my time down here, too, so I made sure of it. It's ventilated - there's an air shaft comes up behind the delousing station to clear any fumes that might escape in there. And that whole part of the tunnel has extra support. We've had a couple of little explosions, but it's never collapsed. And it won't."
Staller glanced sideways at him. "Little explosions..."
"Yeah. You can't make your own explosives without an occasional accident. Carter knows what he's doing." Kinch leaned back slightly, meeting the major's eyes fair and square.
He could tell Staller was disconcerted, and it gave him a curious feeling of malicious satisfaction. The major obviously had reservations. Well, so did Kinch, but he wasn't about to say so. Carter might not always be the brightest guy around, but on his own ground there was nobody better. No matter how messed up he might be - and Staller had played a big part in that. Kinch was never going to forget, nor forgive him for it.
The silence that followed lasted long enough to get awkward. Staller, not sure whether to hold his ground or retreat, hesitated uncertainly by the ladder. Kinch picked up the headset, and turned his attention to his work. But both of them were aware of the tension, and both unconsciously drew a sigh of relief when LeBeau descended from above, a basket slung around his shoulder on a piece of string.
"Dinner," he said cheerfully, oblivious to the atmosphere. He dumped the basket on the radio desk.
"Careful, LeBeau," said Kinch.
"Sorry." LeBeau unpacked the basket, and a rich, appetizing aroma filled the air as he removed the lid from a casserole dish, and started ladling out the contents onto tin plates. "You should eat it while it's hot. Major - "
He passed a plate and a fork to Staller, who stood looking at the meal with an air of bemusement.
"Better take it to your quarters, Major," said Kinch. "It's liable to get busy round here." He wasn't really expecting it, not tonight, but Staller grasped the excuse, and made himself scarce.
"What's his problem?" asked LeBeau, jerking his head in the direction Staller had gone.
Kinch didn't answer the question, turning the conversation instead. "You got some for Carter as well? He's already gone down to the lab."
LeBeau shrugged. "I'll leave it here then, he can have it when he's finished."
"Why don't you take it down there for once?" suggested Kinch thoughtfully. "Like you said, probably better while it's hot."
"Are you kidding? He's likely to spill something on it, eat it without thinking, poison himself - and I'll get the blame," replied LeBeau. He was kidding, of course, but he made no move towards delivering the meal. If Carter was already at work, he wouldn't be pleased at the interruption. He'd come when he was ready.
Kinch knew it, and he conceded. "Leave it over there somewhere. I'll see he gets it."
"Okay. You need anything else? Then I'll get back to the barracks. There's a thunderstorm brewing, Newkirk's taking bets on where the first leak in the roof will start." LeBeau grinned, and scurried back up the ladder.
An hour passed, with no activity in the radio room. Carter was still in the lab, and the meal LeBeau had brought for him had cooled and congealed. Nor did Staller show his face again.
Kinch was drowsing, but he woke as Hogan came down the ladder, with a question on his lips: "Any news?"
"No messages, Colonel." Kinch stifled a yawn. "I don't remember the last time it's been this quiet at night. That's for Carter, if he ever surfaces," he added, as Hogan turned a quizzical eye on the dish of cold stew. "It doesn't look too good, does it?"
"No. I don't think he's going to care for it." Hogan's eyebrows drew in. "How long has he been down there?"
"About an hour. He won't be done yet." As Hogan made a move in the direction of the lab, Kinch spoke up again, hurriedly. "He's probably a bit edgy, Colonel. When we got down here..."
The rest of the sentence was forgotten, as a sudden rumbling concussion erupted from the tunnel, bringing down a shower of dirt and debris from above. Both men ducked instinctively. But Hogan was up again within seconds. "Carter..."
He took off at a run towards the lab, with Kinch just behind him. They were met by a haze of smoke and an acrid smell which stung their eyes. A few moments later, Carter emerged, coughing and blinking.
"You okay?" demanded Hogan sharply.
"Sure, Colonel," replied Carter. He leaned against the wall, panting slightly.
"What happened?"
Carter shook his head, as if to clear it. "I, uh...I, well, I kind of..." He trailed off in confusion.
"Carter, you're supposed to be making smoke bombs. How the hell...?"
"What was that?" The interruption came from Staller, as he arrived, breathless and clearly alarmed.
Kinch intercepted the query. "Like I told you, Major, occasionally there's a little explosion down here. Nothing to worry about."
"Nothing to...you gotta be kidding, right?" Staller's eyes went from Kinch to Hogan, and then to Carter. "You telling me this pathetic excuse for a soldier is allowed to..."
"That's enough, Staller." Hogan didn't even turn his head. "You can go back to your quarters, there's nothing to see here. Kinch..." He jerked his head towards the lab.
Before Kinch could take the hint, Carter stammered into speech. "It's okay, Colonel. Everything's safe down there. I just..." He broke off, glancing uncertainly at Staller. "I forgot what I was doing for a second."
Staller snorted. "How often does that happen? You're a mess, Carter. If Hogan didn't feel sorry for you..."
"Staller, did you hear what I said?" Hogan broke in sharply, and this time he did turn.
Staller raised his head slightly, glaring back at him. "Yes, sir," he muttered. He held his ground for a few seconds, but Hogan, after that one scorching look, turned back to Carter.
"Colonel, I better get back and finish the job," said Carter hesitantly. "I'm gonna have to start again, and..."
"No, leave it for now, Carter," replied Hogan. "You're obviously not on the ball tonight." He paused, with a quick glance at Staller, who was still within earshot. "Maybe we should let Mills handle this one."
Carter stared at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. "I can do it, Colonel," he said after a few seconds. "I fouled up once, it won't happen again. It's just smoke bombs, for crying out loud, I can make those in my sleep."
"And apparently that's exactly how you're doing them, Carter." Hogan tilted his head to one side, regarding Carter keenly. After a few seconds of thought, he went on. "Go up to the barracks, get some rest. Tomorrow night, you can have another crack at it - if you're ready to give all your attention to it by then."
"Colonel..."
Carter clearly meant to continue his protest, but broke off as a flurry of footsteps heralded the arrival of Newkirk and LeBeau.
"Blimey, what the hell was that?"
"Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"
"It's under control, guys," muttered Kinch. "Just a little mishap in the lab. Nothing serious."
Newkirk drew a deep breath, as much from annoyance as relief. "Carter, one of these days..."
"Okay, let it alone, Newkirk." Hogan cut in quickly. "Did the guards hear anything?"
"There's so much noise outside from the storm, they wouldn't notice a thing," replied LeBeau. "But..."
"Then there's no harm done." Hogan turned back to Carter. "I mean it, Carter. Get going."
"Yes, sir," mumbled Carter, and edged past the others to head for the barracks.
Hogan gazed after him. "LeBeau, go with him, make sure he's not hurt. Kinch, you and Newkirk check the tunnel for damage."
He left them to it, and followed LeBeau. As he reached the radio room, he saw Staller loitering at the entrance to the guest quarters, studying the tunnel roof with a thoughtful frown. At sight of Hogan, he withdrew quickly.
The incident appeared to have unnerved the major. Hogan didn't care about that. But he was aware he'd allowed Staller's presence to influence his own response to Carter's lapse. He wasn't even sure how he would have dealt with the matter if Staller hadn't been there - whether he'd have passed it over as Carter's usual form, or taken firmer measures to ensure there was no repeat performance
One sentence from the outsider kept coming back into his mind: If Hogan didn't feel sorry for you...
He was in danger of letting this get too personal. And for everyone's sake - not just Carter's - he had to stay objective. If he was allowing pity to cloud his judgement, then he had to make sure it stopped, right now.