An hour after lights-out, and Barracks 2 lay in darkness. Most of the prisoners, tired after the long day's work, were sleeping.
For the moment, the situation was under control. Kinch's party had made it back okay, and Staller and Weber were safely confined in the tunnel. The work party, too, had managed between them to befuddle the guards enough so they didn't question the substitution of Carter for Kinch, or spot the strip of gauze covering the stitches on Carter's forehead. But the crisis wasn't over yet.
Hogan came out of his quarters, where for the last hour he had been sitting alone, gradually putting together a picture of how Karl Weber had operated. No, not Weber. They had another name for him now, Lewis. Whether that was his real identity, or whether that, too, had been stolen, was yet to be worked out. For now, Hogan continued to think of him as Weber.
Right now, however, that wasn't important. What mattered was how much information Weber had managed to feed back to his handlers about the Düsseldorf network. To find that out, both Weber and Staller had to be questioned, which was something new for Hogan. Up till now the only part he'd ever taken in an interrogation was the central role.
He paused briefly on his way to the tunnel, to check on Mills. Wilson had done his best, with the limited materials on hand, to immobilize the injured shoulder, and had administered some pain suppressants, and the patient was well away. Kellet, too, was taking what he obviously considered a well-earned night's rest. If his own account of the day's outing was anything to go by, he'd single-handedly saved the day. Hogan took that with a grain of salt, but there was no doubt, when the chips were down, Kellet had come through.
Carter should have been sleeping as well, but his bunk was empty. Hogan had expected that.
He went on down to the radio room. "Any news?"
"Nothing, Colonel," replied Kinch, leaning back to stretch his spine. "Wilson's still with Staller, he says he's pretty weak from blood loss, but not in any danger."
"What about Weber?"
"We put him in the storage room off Tunnel Four, Newkirk's guarding him. Don't worry, Weber's not likely to say anything about Carter. I dropped a hint to him about what would happen to him if anyone found out what he did, and I think Mills might have said something to him, too."
"Just as well. We need him alive, at least until we can get him to tell us how much damage he's done. And after that, if possible, we need to get him back to England so they can go to work on him about the 182nd - how he managed to get assigned there, and who his contacts are." Hogan's eyes darkened slightly. "But we're going to have to question him first. Our part of it can't wait."
"Do you think we can get him to talk?"
"I don't know," admitted Hogan. "It's a first for us. I thought about calling in some outside help, maybe from our friends in Hammelburg. They've got a few people who are really good at extracting information. But..."
"Some of their methods are pretty dirty." Kinch finished the thought. They'd both witnessed the interrogation techniques occasionally employed by the Underground, and while they were less harsh than those used by the other side, it wasn't something they were keen to get mixed up in.
"Yeah." Hogan folded his arms. He was shocked at how little that aspect worried him. "Plus there's a risk he might end up spilling the beans about Carter, or that Staller will. If that's going to happen, it's better if I hear it, not the Hammelburg Underground."
He was silent for a few moments, as he considered what he was taking on. Then he took a deep breath, and without another word headed towards Tunnel Four.
He stopped at the entrance to the storage room. Weber, tied to a chair, looked up at him with brooding resentment in his eyes. With his swollen, bruised face, his collar and lapels streaked with blood, there wasn't much about him of the well-presented, pleasant young man Hogan had met two nights earlier.
"How's he behaving?" Hogan asked Newkirk, who was lounging on a second chair, watching the prisoner with deceptively lazy eyes.
"I think he's sulking," replied Newkirk. "Not a good loser, apparently."
Hogan tilted his head on one side, gazing at Weber, who glared back. His face gradually reddened at Hogan's steady scrutiny, and he was the first to look away. He was trying to hide it, but Hogan could tell he was scared. Whatever Kinch had said to him had really hit home. It would probably help, when the time came to question him, but that wasn't going to happen immediately.
Only once in his life had Hogan ever been as angry with any living person as he was right now. He couldn't trust himself to tackle Weber yet.
"Stay with him," he told Newkirk, and left the storeroom.
He found Carter loitering in the passage outside. "What are you doing here?" he said, quiet but stern.
Carter flushed, and looked at the floor. "I, uh...I just...I thought m-maybe I'd better check, in case it wasn't..." His voice died away.
"I think we can be pretty sure of who he is, Carter," replied Hogan. Carter was silent for a few seconds, then he gave a soft, bitter laugh.
"Kind of a raw deal, isn't it? I mean, first one of them turns up, then another. Who'd have seen that coming?"
"Yeah." Hogan regarded him keenly for a moment, then took his arm and drew him away from the storeroom. "You should be getting some rest," he went on.
Carter just gave a half-shrug, and a grimace.
"You got something else on your mind, Carter?" Hogan asked.
Carter didn't answer immediately. His eyebrows drew in, and he rubbed his forehead, flinching unconsciously as his fingers strayed close to his head wound. Finally he looked up. "There's something I don't get, Colonel. Why'd he shoot Staller?"
"I've been asking myself that," admitted Hogan. "Could be a case of thieves falling out. Or maybe our friend in there decided Staller was a liability."
"Staller said..." Carter broke off, hesitating.
"Go on."
"He said it was a mistake, and he didn't know. Course, I don't believe that," Carter said, his voice dropping in both volume and pitch. "He just lies about everything. It's all he ever does, is lie to people."
Hogan gave a non-committal grunt, and after a moment, Carter's eyes widened. "You don't think he's for real?"
"I'm not sure I want to call it either way yet, Carter," said Hogan slowly. "On the one hand, we know for sure he lied to us about Mason, and did some pretty fancy dodging around over Weber as well." He paused, unwilling to remind Carter of the blanket of untruth Staller must have woven to throw over what had happened at the 182nd, but it was strong in his own mind. Passing over that, he went on: "On the other hand, it would help to explain why Weber shot him."
He folded his arms, thinking it through. "I'd better start with Staller," he said at last. "You can turn in, Carter. That's an order," he added, to forestall the protest he could see hovering on Carter's lips. Even though he'd slept on and off in the back of the truck for most of the afternoon, he was still pretty worn out.
Carter shook his head. "I don't think I could sleep at all, Colonel. I just feel terrible...I mean, this is all my fault."
"How'd you figure that?" said Hogan.
"Well...well, because I...because he..." Carter's reply floundered and stalled, amidst a growing look of puzzled anxiety. Finally he started again: "If I hadn't been here..."
"If you hadn't been here," Hogan replied gravely, "we'd have accepted Staller at face value, we wouldn't have had any reason to approach Weber with caution, and by now, probably the Gestapo would have our whole operation wrapped up. It's only because you knew Staller for what he is that we've even got a fighting chance."
He put a hand on Carter's shoulder, and gave him a gentle shake. "Look, Carter, it's doing you no good hanging round down here. Go on up to the barracks, and try and get some rest. I don't want..."
"Excuse me, Colonel, can I have a word?"
The interruption came from Wilson, who had come into sight behind Carter. "Sorry, but Staller's awake, and he says he wants to talk," he went on
Hogan's lips tightened. "Okay, Wilson. I'll be right there. Carter, get going."
The medic spoke again before Carter could move. "Actually, Colonel, you might want him to stick around."
"Why?" asked Hogan, with a sudden gleam of suspicion.
Wilson sighed, and gave Carter an apologetic glance.
"Because you'll need him," he replied. "Staller's ready to talk, all right. But he says he'll only talk to Carter."