Carter took a deep breath, and let it out again. "What do we do now?" he asked.
"I guess we go back up to the barracks, and don't let on that we've worked out how the explosion happened," replied Mills, after a few moments of thought. "At least, till the colonel gets back." He glanced sideways at Carter. "You okay?"
"Fine," said Carter tersely. Then, after a few seconds, he amended it. "I don't know. I still don't get it. I mean, he tried to kill me, for Pete's sakes. What's that about?"
Mills shook his head. "No idea. But he took a real big risk, so - "
He broke off, and both of them turned towards the entrance. Then without a word, they both moved back, one on each side of the doorway. Carter was still gripping the length of scorched wood he'd picked up, and he raised it to his shoulder, as if it were a baseball bat. Mills switched off the flashlight, but kept it in his hand.
For several seconds they heard no further noise. Then there came a clatter of falling timbers, and a low-pitched exclamation, and both men relaxed slightly. Mills moved forward, turning the flashlight on. "Wilson?" he called softly.
The medic came into view. "Jesus, this place is a mess," he observed sourly. "Can't see a damn thing, tripped over a stack of planks and nearly went ass over ears."
"Well, nobody told you to come down here," said Carter.
Wilson grunted. "Mills, you said you'd bring him right back up."
"Yeah, we got distracted," replied Mills, with a quick glance around. "Did you leave Staller alone in the barracks?"
"Well, no, as it happens, I didn't," said Wilson. "You got any particular reason why I shouldn't?"
Carter and Mills exchanged glances. Neither of them wanted to put the idea into words. "Staller's a problem," said Mills at last. "Hogan thinks he might be a double agent."
"You're kidding." Wilson looked from one to the other. "You're not kidding."
"He planted a bomb down here," Carter snapped back. "You think I'd kid about something like that?"
"Easy, Carter." Mills held up one hand. "Look, Wilson, there's a whole lot of stuff we can't really talk about. But this isn't the first time Staller's been running an undercover operation that's gone bad. And as far as anyone can work out, he's the only common factor."
"And you're saying he's responsible for the mess down here?" Wilson gazed around the lab, taking in the destruction for the first time. "What was he trying to do, wreck the whole operation?"
"No, he...wait, I don't think anyone thought of that," said Mills slowly. "We all just assumed he was out to get Carter."
"Why'd he want to do that?" Wilson gazed from one man to the other.
"Who knows? He was at the same air base as Carter back in England, there was something going on there, some intelligence operation Staller was in charge of. It went wrong." Mills broke off, glancing at Carter uncertainly. "Can't tell you the details, Wilson. But..."
"Stuff happened," Carter put in abruptly. "Staller covered it up." He pinched his lips together, breathing hard.
"Hogan thinks he was passing information to the Germans back then, and that he's got an informant inside the Düsseldorf Underground doing the same now," Mills finished up.
"And there's no other link?" asked Wilson, frowning.
Mills grimaced. "I was stationed there, but not till later. Other than that, there's nothing we know about. Staller had an inside man at the 182nd, but he's dead, so whoever he's got at Düsseldorf, it's someone else."
He broke off, as Carter twitched, and uttered a soft murmur. "Carter, you better get back up to the barracks, you look done in," he said after a quick glance. "I'll be up in a minute. I want to have another look round."
"Uh-huh," murmured Carter. He was gazing past Mills towards the tunnel, his forehead drawn into a worried pucker.
"I'll see to him," said Wilson. "Be careful, Mills. Don't do anything to make that shoulder worse."
He gestured to Carter, who went slowly, and with great reluctance. He didn't say a word as they traversed the tunnel.
"Can you manage the ladder okay?" asked Wilson.
"I got down, didn't I?" Carter's tone was decidedly peevish. "Why's everyone got to make such a fuss?"
Wilson raised his eyebrows, regarding him with exasperation. "Well, at any rate, you can put that stick down before you try." He removed the piece of wood from Carter's hand, and dropped it behind the ladder. "Take it slow," he added.
The warning was unnecessary. Carter had almost forgotten his injuries in his distress and anger over the destruction of his lab, but as soon as he started up the ladder, he remembered. Every movement tore at his bruised muscles, and by the time he reached the top he was sweating, and his limbs trembling from the effort.
He stumbled over the edge of the bunk, and leaned against one of the bedposts, getting his breath back, waiting for Wilson to follow. He avoided looking at the man sitting at the table. He didn't want anything more to do with Staller now than could be helped.
"What the hell...?" Wilson's voice, just behind him. Carter turned, alerted by something in the medic's tone.
It wasn't Staller sitting there. It was Kellet, staring at the two of them with disapproval. Of all the men to leave in charge of a possible Nazi agent, probably the worst choice, although as Carter quickly realized, Wilson couldn't be blamed for not knowing that.
"Where's Staller?" Wilson demanded, taking a couple of steps forward.
Kellet looked at him as if he were insane. "He went down there," he said, with a nod towards the tunnel entrance. "Just after you did."
"Oh, jeez!" muttered Carter. His grip tightened on the post. "Oh, jeez, Mills is still down there."
Before Wilson could stop him, he swung himself over the bunk frame and back into the tunnel. Wilson followed within seconds. Kellet stared after them, open-mouthed with astonishment. "What the fuck's going on?" he muttered.
He started towards the tunnel. Then he turned back, hobbling with surprising speed to the chair at the far end of the table. Hidden under the seat was a pistol, kept loaded and in working order for emergencies. Kellet grabbed the gun, slammed the seat back down again and headed for the tunnel.
Carter had already reached the bottom of the ladder. He snatched up the blackened, splintered length of wood Wilson had left there, and raced back towards the lab.
Mills couldn't have said what it was he hoped to find, as he surveyed the lab one last time. Sure in his own mind that Carter's assessment of the blast was accurate, and confident Hogan would agree, yet he knew it wasn't proof. Staller was probably smart enough to argue his way out of it, and to know exactly where to direct his counter-attack. And Carter had been through enough at the major's hands already.
It seemed as if there was nothing more to be learned here. Mills ran the flashlight beam across the floor, trying to locate the rest of the workbench, but it was impossible. He was about to give up, when something caught his eye at the edge of the light. He stared at it for a few seconds, then went over and picked it up.
"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered. "How the hell did that survive?"
Blackened and twisted by the force and heat of the blast, yet he still recognized what it had once been. He turned it over, examining it with care. It wasn't absolute evidence of sabotage, but it came close, and Hogan would want to see it.
He wrapped it in his handkerchief and slipped it into his jacket pocket for safe keeping, then started back towards the radio room. But he didn't get far before he stopped, turning his head to listen. Then he set off again. Just past the next turn of the tunnel, he paused before slipping quietly into a small side passage.
He wasn't certain, but he thought he had heard someone following him.
There was nothing now, and he began to think he'd imagined it. Maybe his nerve was going, after the tunnel collapse. This narrow passage was unlit, and the darkness and silence, and the smell of the earth, made him feel slightly dizzy. He'd better get up to the barracks before he started getting scared.
He stepped back into the main tunnel. A startled exclamation from just behind him gave him warning, but before he could turn, a heavy body crashed into him, jerking his injured shoulder into instant pain. Instinctively, he swung round, trying to come to grips with his assailant, at the cost of another sharp white-hot jolt. Somehow he managed to stay focused, but he knew he was in trouble. For a start, there was just enough light for him to see that his attacker was Staller, and that the major was armed.
Fighting against a further wave of pain, Mills flung his body weight forward, gripping Staller's wrist with both hands. He recognized instinctively that he had one advantage, Staller appeared to have virtually no hand combat skills. Mills at least knew how to handle himself in a free fight, if only he could keep from passing out.
"Staller!" Carter's voice echoed along the tunnel. Mills, in the heat of the moment, scarcely noticed, but Staller almost jumped out of his skin, losing his balance and both men went over. The shock of impact finished Mills' endurance. He released his hold, and Staller scrambled free and fled.
Carter started after him, but Mills managed to grab his ankle as he went past. "Carter, no!" he gasped. "He's got a knife."
Wilson dropped beside him. "You hurt?"
"Just my shoulder," Mills got out, punctuating the reply with a hissing inward breath as Carter tried to pull away.
"Mills, will you let go?" he jerked out. "We gotta stop him, now."
"What's up?" Kellet came into sight, moving with an awkward but rapid half-hobble, the pistol clutched firmly in his hand. "Pretty boy been getting fresh with someone?"
"Oh, for the love of..." muttered Wilson. "Mills, your hand's bleeding. Looks like he got you, after all. You better let go of Carter so I can have a look. Carter, don't you move one step. Kellet, Major Staller went that way. See if you can find him. And be careful, he pulled a knife on Mills."
Kellet's eyes widened with astonishment. A snide retort seemed to hover on his lips for a second, but then he braced, and set off in pursuit, while the medic turned his attention back to his patient.
Carter, released from Mills' restraining grip on his leg, stumbled to the other side of the tunnel. He sent a desperate look at Mills. The same thought was in both men's minds.
It was looking bad for Staller. But neither of them trusted Kellet, either. Mills thought rapidly, then nodded. "Watch yourself," he murmured, and before Wilson could interfere, Carter was off.
"Are you out of your mind, Mills?" demanded Wilson. "You're getting as bad as the rest of them. Absolutely crazy."
Mills didn't answer him, but as he gazed down the tunnel after Carter, he started to think maybe Wilson was right.
It seemed a very long time, but was in fact just minutes, before Carter and Kellet reappeared.
"He made the emergency exit," growled Kellet. "I could have gotten a shot at him, but Carter wouldn't let me."
"You could have brought the roof down," Carter protested. "It's still pretty unstable, any loud noise..."
"And whose fault is that, pal?"
"Actually, it was Staller's," said Mills. "I found this in the lab." With a stifled grunt he put his hand into his pocket and brought out what was in there.
The other three stared at it "Is that..?" Wilson began after a few seconds.
"It's an alarm clock." Carter leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the shattered dial and blistered shell. "One of those cheap ones we get in Hammelburg. We use them as timers on demolition packs, we got half a dozen in the workshop. He must have found that, as well as the dynamite."
Kellet turned a bright, suspicious glare on him. "Wait a minute. You're saying...what are you saying, anyway?"
"Someone planted a bomb in the lab," replied Mills tersely. He was watching Kellet closely, but saw only astonishment, which gradually gave way to outrage. It was pretty obvious, he hadn't had a clue about what was going on, unless he was a lot smarter, or a much better actor, than they thought.
"Staller?" he demanded. "You mean he's the son of a bitch who - Jesus, he could have killed me."
"Don't take it personally, Kellet," observed Wilson dryly. "Doesn't seem likely he had you in mind."
Kellet wasn't listening. An ugly scowl settled on his brow, as he took in this new scenario.
"Carter," he said at last, "you should have let me shoot the fucker."