"No. That can't be right." Carter propped himself up on his elbow, staring at Mills as if he were speaking in a foreign language. "I blew up the lab. I had the stuff right there.." He trailed off in a confused murmur.
Hogan waited, silencing Newkirk's visible impatience with a glance. LeBeau's eyes moved from Carter to Mills, and back again, his expression darkening as he started to reconsider the lab explosion from a new perspective.
After half a minute of silence, Hogan leaned forward. "Carter, try and think for a minute. What do you remember?"
Carter didn't answer at once. "I...uh, I had the stuff on the bench..." Once again he broke off, the crease deepening between his eyes. "It must have blown up when I added the other mixture," he said at last.
"Mills?" asked Hogan.
Mills bit his bottom lip as he thought it through, then slowly shook his head. "Wouldn't it have gone off pretty well instantly? Carter, you weren't even in the lab when it exploded. You came out to talk to me."
Carter's forehead puckered. "I don't remember that," he mumbled after a few seconds.
"Well, you did. So it doesn't make any sense. How could you blow up the lab if you weren't even there?"
"I...well, maybe I..." Carter stammered into silence again, completely bewildered.
"Okay, so let's assume Mills is right," said Hogan. "And if he is, then we can start looking for some other cause."
"Mon colonel, what are you trying to say?" asked LeBeau.
"The lab didn't blow up all by itself," added Newkirk. "You saying there's something dodgy going on?"
"It's starting to look like it," replied Hogan. "What's the most likely scenario, Mills?"
"Some kind of delayed action set-up," said Mills, after consideration.
"So it didn't happen by accident. Someone else had to be involved."
Carter's eyes went from Hogan to Mills, and back again. "Wait a minute. You're saying there was a bomb in the lab? But...but who'd do something like that? For crying out loud, they could have brought the whole tunnel down. Someone could have gotten hurt."
"Someone did get hurt, Carter. As for who's responsible, that's what we've got to work out," said Hogan.
LeBeau's lips tightened. "Kellet was in the tunnel when he shouldn't have been. Did he do something?"
"I don't think Kellet's our man," said Hogan quietly. "Sure, he's a nasty little son of a bitch, and I wouldn't put much past him. But unless there's something going on we don't know about, he's got no motive. He hasn't got anything against Carter. In any case, he'd hardly be dumb enough to set up an explosion, then hang around to get caught in it. I think he bears watching, I'm not prepared to take any chances on my being wrong about this. But my money's on someone else."
He glanced at Mills, then at Carter. "It looks like we're gonna have to let these two in on some of what went on at 182 Squadron," he added.
There was the slightest of movements, as every muscle in Carter's body tensed. He didn't take his eyes from Hogan's face, but he drew back almost imperceptibly.
Just trust me, Carter, was the message in Hogan's eyes.
"Colonel..." murmured Mills.
Hogan held up his hand to silence him. "I know. Some of it's still confidential. But if I'm right, someone tried to kill Carter tonight. And I don't think it was any of our guys."
"You think it was Staller."
"It's possible," replied Hogan grimly. "He was at the 182nd - he had a counterintelligence operation going there, trying to locate a Nazi infiltrator. Now he's handling the Düsseldorf network, and surprise, they've been infiltrated as well. Anyone see a pattern starting to develop here?"
There was a long silence, then Newkirk straightened abruptly, and made for the door.
"Hold it." Hogan didn't need to raise his voice. "Let's not lose our heads. If Staller is a double agent - and that's not certain yet - we have to handle this right, because he won't be working alone. The mole in Düsseldorf's been operating for some time, and Staller's been in Germany for less than a week."
Newkirk had stopped, his hand already on the door. He turned back, slowly, and without a word went back to the desk
LeBeau uttered a savage, low-voiced curse. "To think I have allowed that salopard to eat our food, and live in our tunnel, and never once suspected...Did you know, mon Colonel?"
"I've had doubts about him," admitted Hogan.
"But why? How?"
"That's the part I can't tell you." Hogan met his eyes fair and square. "His operation at the 182nd is still classified - I don't even know the whole story myself." He turned to Carter, who had dropped back onto the mattress. "But what I do know is that he had one of his own men attached to one of the air crews - a Lieutenant Mason. Carter, you knew Mason when you were there, right? Would you recognize him, if you saw him again?"
"Mason's dead, Colonel," replied Carter wearily. "He got shot down, remember?"
"I know. Just humor me a little here. Would you know him?"
"Well, sure I would. He wasn't the kind you'd forget. They called him Big Red."
"Ginger?"
"Yeah, real ginger, and real big, six foot four." Carter blinked, and shook his head to clear it. The painkillers were starting to work.
Hogan sighed. "Well, that eliminates Karl Weber, anyway."
"Weber? The little chap we met in Hammelburg tonight?" asked Newkirk. "You think he might be the rotten apple in Düsseldorf?"
"Just checking. If he'd come back to camp with us tonight, Carter might have seen him. The last thing Staller would want is for a supposedly dead agent to meet someone who could identify him, so there's a motive right away. But Weber doesn't fit the description, and in any case he was operating as an agent in Germany while Mason was still at the 182nd."
"And you think this Mason's still alive?"
"It seems unlikely," admitted Hogan. "We made enquiries with London. But if he was, Staller would be likely to use him again when he took over Düsseldorf. Intelligence men like working with the same people from one operation to the next, that way they don't have to keep checking up on new ones."
He paused, thinking. "Weber mentioned seeing one of their operatives in Hammelburg tonight - a guy called Josef Pitz. I'd be interested in knowing what he looks like."
Newkirk, still too angry to keep still, took a couple of steps towards the window. "Well, what's the plan, Colonel?" he asked. "How are we getting rid of the bastard?"
"We're not," replied Hogan, pushing his chair back slightly. "Okay, keep it down," he added, as both Newkirk and LeBeau protested. "I know what you're thinking. But I want him where we can keep a twenty-four hour watch on him. If we play it right, we might just be able to get him to lead us to the Düsseldorf mole."
"What, you mean we go on as if..."
"As if we don't suspect a thing. Until we clear this up, we don't change our behavior in any way as far as Staller's concerned. We act as if we think the blast was Carter's doing." Hogan glanced at Carter, noting the fluttering of his eyelids, as he tried to stay conscious, had ceased. "As far as Staller knows, he got away with it this time. And we make sure he doesn't get a second chance. From now on, we watch every move he makes."
He stood up, and went to lean over the bunk, his eyes on Carter's face. "He's out," he murmured. "Okay, let's leave it at that for now. Newkirk, LeBeau, from tomorrow you take it in turns to watch Staller. Mills, as soon as it's safe, if you're up to it, get down to the lab and have a look round, see if you can figure out what happened."
"It's a hell of a mess down there, Colonel," said Mills hesitantly. "Whatever caused it, I doubt there's anything left of it."
"Try anyway." Hogan was still bending over Carter. "I want to know exactly how it went down. Because if Staller did plant something down there, there's no way I'm letting Carter take the blame."
He didn't say any more, but Mills, at least, knew what he was thinking. Not this time, Staller. You got to him once. You're not doing it again.