"See, Carter? As good as new."
LeBeau had practically dragged Carter down to the lab, talking volubly all the while. It was the first time in almost a month that anyone had managed to even get Carter down there. In every other way, he seemed okay, better in fact than he had been for some time, and Hogan had started letting him take part in most aspects of the operation. But he didn't go to the lab. Instead he had set himself up in one of the side tunnels, a low, cramped, unventilated space with poor lighting and a constant presence of moisture on the walls. It was not an ideal working environment.
Finally, his buddies decided enough was enough, and they set about cleaning up the mess in the lab themselves. Once they'd gotten it into order, LeBeau went to bring him along, while Mills gave the floor a final sweep, Kinch went round one more time to inspect the new roof supports, and Newkirk dusted the jars of chemicals they'd smuggled in to replace what had been destroyed. Then they waited to see how he'd react.
They'd done a good job of it, too. It wasn't quite the same as it had been, but it looked like a working chemistry lab.
"Gee," he said, stopping dead in the entrance. Then, unable to think of anything else, he said it again.
"See, now you don't have to make do with that little hole off Tunnel 6," Newkirk pointed out. "It's not healthy down there. This is much better."
"Yeah. It sure is," mumbled Carter. He looked dazed, as if the surprise was too much for him.
"We had to replace the workbench," added Kinch. "It just wasn't fixable. But this one's nearly the same."
"What do you think, André? Do you like it?" LeBeau looked up at him, a slight, anxious frown on his face as he took in Carter's lack of response.
"Sure." Carter looked around slowly. "Sure. It's just great. Boy, I was feeling sick about it, I thought I'd never get it straight. Thanks. Thanks heaps."
He turned his head, as Hogan came into the lab. "Did you see what the guys did, Colonel?"
"I did," replied Hogan, with a grin. "I had a hand in it. See that shelf that's not quite straight? I put that one up." He finished with an air of innocent pride which cracked up the entire team.
"We weren't quite sure how you like your stuff organized," Kinch put in. "So if you want us to rearrange everything..."
"No, that's okay. I can do that," said Carter quickly. "I know how I want it."
It was clear he wanted to do it right away, and they left him to it, gradually drifting away to other duties, until finally he was alone, pottering about in his lab. The guys meant well, but nothing was where it belonged. The sooner he fixed it, the sooner he could forget it had ever been wrecked, and from there it wouldn't be long before he could start pretending the whole thing - Staller, Weber, everything - had never happened.
They had buried Staller in a corner of the woods, not far from Stalag 13. Dieter was there, too, in spite of the part he must have played in Weber's escape. Whatever that had been would never be known, and Hogan had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. His friends from Düsseldorf had reached England safely, and Weber was in the hands of the intelligence service. He might talk, eventually, but Hogan and his men would hear nothing of that. Carter didn't even want to think about it. Somehow, Weber didn't matter so much any more. He was just a dirty Kraut, as rotten as any of them. Staller was a different matter, and Carter was still struggling to reconcile what he'd done on that night with everything that had gone before. In a way, he almost resented Staller's final act of heroism. He didn't want to owe that guy anything.
It didn't take long to get the jars of chemicals, all labelled in Kinch's neat hand, organized to his satisfaction. The equipment - flasks, beakers, retorts, and his collection of spirit burners - took longer. Somehow, no matter how he arranged them, he always ended up with a couple of stray items and no shelf space for them. Finally he managed to get everything packed in, save for a single crucible, blackened, cracked and with a couple of deep chips in the rim.
He stood holding it, a slight frown on his face. There were a couple of new crucibles amongst the other kit, which his buddies had obtained from goodness only knew where. This one had to be one of the old ones, maybe the only breakable thing which had survived the explosion.
Carter sat down on the new stool the guys had provided, studying his find. From a practical point of view, it had too much damage to be of any use, but the weight of it felt familiar in his hand, like an old, trusted friend.
"Nearly finished?"
He looked up, startled. Hogan was standing in the entrance, regarding him with a smile, and a hint of anxiety in his eyes.
"Just about," said Carter, putting the crucible down. "I guess the fellers must have found this when they started cleaning up. Probably should have just thrown it away with everything else. It's cracked right through, it might just break in half any time, so it's not good for much any more."
"I wouldn't say that." Hogan came in and half-sat on the workbench. He picked up the little bowl, and turned it round. "It looks okay to me. A little knocked about, maybe, but that just gives it character, right?"
Carter peered up at him, slightly perplexed. "Well, if you can think of a use for it, Colonel, you go ahead and keep it."
"I might just do that." Hogan glanced around. "Happy with the renovation job?"
"Yeah, it's okay." Too late, Carter realized how offhand that sounded, and tried to qualify his response. "I mean, it's perfect. I mean, it's not just exactly the same as it was..."
"You're telling me," said Hogan, shifting his position slightly. "Didn't the old worktable have rounded corners?"
Carter ploughed on regardless. "...but just because it's different, doesn't mean I don't like it. You know the old saying, a change is as good as a holiday. I mean..well, that's not what I mean, but...but..."
"Okay, Carter, I get it," interrupted Hogan, to save him from further embarrassment. "It's not your old lab. But you'll get used to it."
Carter nodded, and ran his hand across the unfamiliar surface of the new workbench. "I guess so."
For a minute or so, neither of them spoke.
"What's on your mind, Carter?" said Hogan at last.
"Nothing." But Carter reddened, and didn't meet his eyes. After a moment, he added vehemently, "Boy, I must be about the meanest guy around."
Hogan turned a startled gaze on him. "Since when?"
Carter scowled, and kicked the leg of the new workbench. "It's just not fair. All that stuff Staller did, and blowing up the lab, and...and everything, and then just because he went and got himself killed, I have to forget about it? Well, I just can't, that's all." He finished abruptly, and fell silent, twisting his fingers together.
"Carter, nobody expects you to forget about it," said Hogan. "Staller put you through the wringer, and one good deed doesn't cancel that out. And if you're still bitter about it, well, I don't think anyone's going to think the worse of you for it."
"Except for me," mumbled Carter.
Hogan shrugged. "Well, that's something you'll have to square up with your own conscience. Or let it go. After all, it can't make a difference to Staller now. The only person it matters to is you." He let Carter think about it for a moment, then clapped him on the shoulder. "What say we throw a bit of a lab-warming party?"
"How do you mean, Colonel?" Carter gazed at him, relieved at the change of subject, but puzzled by the new idea.
"We've got a new assignment from London," explained Hogan. "They're dropping in a team of commandos to take out the heavy armaments factory west of Hammelburg. What they need is a diversion to draw off the SS troops guarding the place. Now, there's a power plant, half a mile up the road from the factory. If there happened to be an explosion there, I reckon that'd do the job. You think you can come up with something that'll make a big flash, and plenty of noise and smoke?"
Carter didn't answer at once. He looked around at the rows of jars, his imagination already forming compounds and assessing reactions. This was what he did, what he was here for. It wasn't the same as the old lab, but it would do. As for Staller, well, maybe one day he'd be able to forgive the guy. But he wouldn't worry about that for now.
Hogan was waiting for an answer. And Carter, with a gleam of anticipation, was ready to tell him what he wanted to hear: "You bet I can, Colonel."