"How far were you going to let them go, Jeffries?" asked Hogan.
He had opened one of the shutters to let the moon shine into the lieutenant's quarters. By its cold light he was able to study the young barracks chief, who was sitting on the lower bunk. Jeffries' discomfiture showed clearly in the stiffness of his posture, and in the way he avoided meeting Hogan's eyes.
"How the hell was I supposed to stop them?" he muttered, after a few moments of silence. "If I told them to lay off, they'd just wait till my back was turned and start in again. Anyway, you can't make them get along if they've got differences. It's better to let 'em sort it out now, fair and square."
"One man against half a dozen? That's not exactly fair and square. Give 'em a length of rope, and you've got all the elements of a lynching party. Which brings me back to my previous question. How much rope were you prepared to give them?"
"It wouldn't have gotten that far." Jeffries' skin glistened in the silvery light. "Look, you don't understand, Colonel. There's something wrong about the guy. Maybe you haven't heard..."
"Rumors? I've heard them."
"Well, in that case, you already know how it is. Guys like that, they can't be trusted. You can't blame the other men for giving him a rough time. And there's something shifty about Mills. He may even have already sold out to the Krauts."
"What makes you say that?"
"He tried to leave the barracks last night after lights out, and he wouldn't say where he was going. He hasn't admitted anything, but he acts like he's got something to hide. You know how those guys are. They don't have what it takes to stand up to pressure. All the Gestapo would have to do is lean on him a bit, and he'd snap like a twig. Seems to me the best thing to do is make sure he's more scared of us than of them."
For a few seconds, Hogan didn't reply. "You may be right about Mills," he said at last. "But you haven't been here long, so you don't know how it works. You've got to handle problems of this kind discreetly, otherwise they can get complicated. As the officer in charge of the barracks, if things get out of hand, you could find yourself in a whole lot of trouble over it." He paused, as if assessing the best way to handle the situation. "Okay, Jeffries. You and your men here have done as much as can be expected of you, but it's best if I take it from here."
"What do you mean, sir?" said Jeffries uncertainly.
"I mean it's no longer your responsibility. If you're right, then it's not enough just to intimidate the guy. There may be other steps that have to be taken." Hogan gazed out of the window, as detached as if they were talking about the weather. "Steps that are above your authority, lieutenant. As the senior prisoner-of-war officer, I'm the one who has to decide how to deal with any bad apples amongst the prisoners. That way, if there are any consequences, I'm in a position to take care of them."
He turned away from the window. "I'll arrange for Mills to be transferred to Barracks 2, so I can keep him under my own supervision. Now, that could take a day or so, but with feeling running so high among your men, they may decide they don't want to wait that long. So we'd better get him out of here right away. Officially, he's still one of yours, but I'll take him with me now."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Jeffries broke out.
"Unless you've got a reason for wanting him here." Hogan smiled slightly. "Do you have a reason, lieutenant?"
"No, sir. But if you want my advice, don't let him put one over on you. I'm telling you, Colonel, he can't be trusted. He'll say anything to get out of trouble."
Hogan almost laughed aloud, but he held it back. No point in antagonizing Jeffries now, when he'd almost gotten him convinced they were both on the same wavelength. "Don't worry, Jeffries. Anything he says, I'll be looking at it very closely."
He went back out to the common area, where Kinch was still standing guard. Mills hadn't moved, except to lean a little more heavily against the bunk. Hogan regarded him keenly, but it was too dark to make out any details.
"Get your kit together," he said quietly.
"Why?" Mills' answer was no louder, but it resonated with hostility.
"Because I told you to. Lieutenant Jeffries has told me all about you. You're already in plenty of trouble, soldier. Don't make things worse for yourself." That was for the benefit of the other prisoners, including Jeffries who had followed Hogan out of his quarters. It also had the merit of being true. Hogan didn't know how yet, but he felt certain Mills was in trouble, and sinking fast.
There was no way of knowing how much of this Mills understood. But he pushed himself upright, then stooped, with an involuntary, half-suppressed gasp, and pulled a kit bag from under his bunk.
"Is that all?" asked Hogan. He had sensed Kinch's disquiet at this development. As a matter of fact he shared it. It wasn't a good night on which to bring an untested character into Barracks 2.
"Just my boots," muttered Mills, glancing at Jeffries, who went back into his cubicle. He returned a few seconds later, and tossed the boots on the floor at Mills' feet. Why Jeffries even had them, Hogan didn't want to know.
"All right, Jeffries. You can leave it in my hands," he said. "Mills, you're coming with me. Bring him along, Kinch. The rest of you, get some sleep, and try not to start another ruckus before morning." Leaving this as a final order, Hogan slipped out of the hut, and followed the other two in their furtive passage between the buildings, until they reached the safety of Barracks 2.
The men here were just as far from sleep as those in the new barracks, but the atmosphere held none of the menace Hogan had just stepped out of. He drew a deep breath. "My office," he said to Kinch. "And then go and get the medic. One of you others, watch the door."
He went on through to close the window shutter in his quarters, before switching on the desk lamp, which was less likely to be seen from outside than the ceiling light. Then he took stock of their new, unofficial barracks resident. Kinch had set Mills down on the lower bunk. He sat at a slight lean, one arm pressed across his ribs.
"You're hurt," said Hogan. Mills shook his head and straightened up, but the movement ended in a sharp intake of breath.
"It's nothing," he muttered, meeting Hogan's eyes, his own guarded but unflinching.
"Yeah, that's how it looks," replied Hogan dispassionately. "I think we'll let the medic make that call."
"There's no need. I'm fine. Sir."
"Maybe, but it can't hurt to make sure. It's not up for discussion." At the first sign of renewed protest, Hogan's tone sharpened, and Mills fell silent. For a few minutes neither of them spoke, but Hogan, watching closely, noted how Mills' eyelids were drooping, and how every so often he swayed forward a little, then jerked awake again.
Presently, Kinch came back in. "I've got Sergeant Wilson, colonel," he said, with a glance at Mills.
Hogan, who was leaning against the desk, straightened up. "Thanks, Kinch," he murmured, and went out into the darkness of the main barracks.
Wilson, although not an inmate of Barracks 2, was a trusted man, and Hogan had no hesitation in speaking to him. "Wilson, we've got a problem. One of the new prisoners, Mills, is in my quarters. He's been in a fight with some of the others, and it wasn't safe to leave him there."
"Badly hurt?" asked Wilson, getting straight down to business.
"I don't think so, but it gives us an excuse to check him over. According to Schultz, he already had bruises when he arrived, so he may have been worked over at Dulag Luft."
"Okay, I'll have a look." Wilson went into the office, and a moment later Kinch came out.
"Colonel, I don't like this," he said. "We still haven't cleared Mills. What happens if he's still awake when the boys get back from Braunfeld?"
"I doubt he'll last that long. I've been watching him, and he can hardly keep his eyes open," replied Hogan. "In any case, I couldn't leave him there. If we're going to win his trust, he has to be convinced we're on his side. Besides, MacNeill and his pals wouldn't have waited two minutes."
"Well, how are we going to manage it?" asked Kinch.
Hogan thought for a moment. "You'd better go back down to the tunnel now, while Wilson's keeping him occupied. When the boys get back, warn them to keep the noise down before you let them come up. Mills will be sleeping in my quarters, so he won't see anything."
"You don't think we should give him a couple of those knockout pills we use for the Krauts?"
"I don't think he'd take them," said Hogan, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not from me, anyway. Maybe from Wilson. But I don't want to start him getting all paranoid again, just when... I'll figure something out."
"Okay, Colonel," murmured Kinch, and after a few moments, he headed to the tunnel entrance.
Hogan leaned against one of the spare bunks, his arms folded, eyes half closed. His hand had been forced tonight, and tomorrow he faced the major hurdle of making Mills' transfer official. But maybe this was the break they needed.
If Mills would only accept that Hogan was trying to help him, it would be a start towards getting to the truth.