"How long do we have to keep him busy?" mumbled Carter.

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Until Colonel Hogan gets back. And at the rate Schultz is going, we may run out of fritters before then. This is the last batch." He glowered at Schultz, who, oblivious to the conversation over the frying pan, sat at the table where an almost empty platter gave witness to his healthy appetite.

"What are we gonna do?"

"You'll have to distract him," replied LeBeau.

"Me?"

"Oui, you. Just until the others get back from moving all those bottles of Schnaps, then Newkirk will take over."

"Well, how am I supposed to..." Carter squeaked. LeBeau hushed him with a single glare, and he moderated his volume. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Talk to him. Tell him about your last letter from home, or ask him who he thinks is responsible for the mess on the Eastern Front. Or show him a card trick," suggested LeBeau. "That usually works."

"I only know one card trick," said Carter, his brow puckering into anxiety.

"Then give it a try." LeBeau nodded towards Schultz, who was just popping the last available fritter into his mouth.

Carter sighed. "Boy, I wish Mills had never come here," he muttered. Then he pinned on a smile, and went to provide the necessary diversion.

A deck of cards was lying on the table. Carter picked them up, and started shuffling.

"Say, Schultz," he said brightly, "you ever play fifty-two pickup?"

In the cooler, all was quiet, as Hogan assessed the news he'd just been given. If there really was a Gestapo mole in camp, it was a serious matter. It also went some way towards explaining Mills' attitude.

"I guess there's not much point in me telling you I'm not the traitor," said Hogan at last. "That's what you'd expect a Gestapo informant to say. I think it's in the rules, or something. But my guess is, you don't really think it's me, otherwise you wouldn't be telling me about it."

He folded his arms, and leaned his shoulder against the bars, frowning. "How'd you find out?" he asked.

Mills uttered a soft, jerky laugh. "They told me." His voice grated, and he had to stop for a few seconds, to pull himself together. "They didn't want me talking once I got here. So before they handed me over, they said someone would be watching me, and if I said a word to anyone, their guy would make sure I paid for it." Once again he broke off, biting his lower lip.

"And you've got no idea who it is?" said Hogan. Receiving no reply, he went on. "Okay, let me see if I can work it out. Whoever it is, he can't be sure of who you're talking to, unless he's in a position to watch you pretty well around the clock. And that's not so easy in a prison camp. All the prisoners are confined to barracks at night, and anyone who sneaked off to see what you were up to would be missed by his bunkmates. So that only leaves the men in your own barracks. I'm right, aren't I?"

A flash of emotion had briefly kindled in Mills' eyes. "I can't be sure. But the first night I was here..." He hesitated, then finished, in a very low voice, "I spoke to Lieutenant Jeffries."

"What did you tell him?" asked Hogan sharply.

"Just that much, that they had an informer somewhere in Stalag 13. He brushed it off, said he didn't believe it. Next day, the other guys started looking sideways at me." Mills' color rose, and he looked away.

"I can guess why," said Hogan. "By that time, there was talk going round. The kind of talk which, in a place like this, could make things very uncomfortable."

"I couldn't exactly deny it," Mills mumbled. "Once it's out there..."

Hogan nodded. It hadn't escaped him that Mills still wasn't denying the rumor, but right now that wasn't his concern. "Did anyone else hear what you said to Jeffries?" he asked.

"We were in his quarters. I don't think they could hear us, but they all knew I was in there."

"So either Jeffries is our man, or someone else worked out why you wanted to talk to your barracks chief in private. Whoever it is, he was smart. He knew that once the rumor got round camp, it wouldn't take long for some of the other prisoners to decide having you around the place was a bad idea, and to make sure you knew about it. So you'd be punished for talking after you'd been warned, and he wouldn't need to lift a finger, unless he felt like having some fun. As well as that, he probably thought it was a safe bet that that even if you tried again, you'd have trouble finding anyone in camp who'd be willing to listen to you. Two birds, one stone. I'd almost be prepared to admire it, if it wasn't so despicable."

Mills glanced at him, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows. Clearly, Hogan's attitude wasn't what he expected, but from the look of it he wasn't yet prepared to drop his guard.

"Okay, now we know we've got a Gestapo mole, we can make sure he's dealt with," said Hogan. "So let's leave that for now. There's something else I need to ask you about, and I think you know what I'm talking about." Then, as Mills still didn't say anything, he went on. "Listen to me, Mills. I'm not interested in hearsay, and right now, I don't give a damn about your personal life. All that matters to me is getting this business sorted out. I'm asking you to trust me, and I'm offering to do the same by you. Tell me what the Gestapo wanted from you, and I'll do everything I can to help you. You've got my word on it."

"I don't see any way you can help me," mumbled Mills.

"Let me be the judge of that."

Mills clearly wanted to, but he still held back. "Thing is, it's not just about...I mean, it's a long story."

"Then you'd better make a start. My boys can only keep Schultz busy for so long before he remembers he's supposed to be guarding them." There was a chair standing in a corner of the passage. Hogan brought it up to the bars, and made himself comfortable. "Start at the beginning. You told Carter you were shot down over Saarbrücken. Was that the start of it?"

"Yeah. But some of what I said wasn't...I mean, I wasn't completely honest with him." Mills sat on the edge of the bed, very tense. "We caught some flak on approach - had to abort, turned for home with no navigation and the number three engine burning. Ended up way off course. I'm not even sure where we were when she went down."

He stopped abruptly. Hogan waited for a few seconds before he spoke, in an even, neutral tone. "You told me most of the crew didn't get out."

"No. Lieutenant Smith - the bombardier - he bailed out first. I was second. She went into a dive before anyone else could..." Once again, Mills' voice failed.

There was nothing to be gained by dragging him through the details of the crash. Later, if he got the chance, Mills might get some benefit in talking it through with whoever was willing to listen, but it was unlikely he was ready to confide in anyone yet, and anyway this wasn't the time or place for it. Hogan moved on. "So what happened then? You were picked up by the Krauts..."

"Not right away." Mills flushed. "It just seemed easier to tell Carter that."

"You evaded?"

"For a while. I came down in some woods, miles from anywhere. The chute got caught in a tree, and I thought for sure someone would find me hanging there, but nobody showed up before I got loose. So I found somewhere to hole up till it got dark, and then I started walking. I figured my best chance was to try to reach the coast, seeing as I had no idea where in Germany I was."

"What about the other guy?" Hogan interrupted. "Lieutenant Smith, the bombardier. You didn't see where he came down?"

"No, I lost sight of him. Before I left the area, I tried to scout round where I thought he'd have landed. Couldn't find any trace of him, so I had to let it go. But he got down safe all right. I found that out later." There was a hard edge in Mills' voice as he replied, and his expression turned dark.

"What did he do?" said Hogan.

Mills drew a deep breath. "Nothing much, Colonel. He just got us caught by the Gestapo. And then he sold me out."