"There were a couple of guys called Smith, back when I was at the 182nd." Carter's forehead crinkled, as he searched his memory. "I didn't get to know either of them real well, but I guess one of them might have been Mills' pal."
"Some pal," muttered LeBeau, cleaving a potato with a single stroke which showed his anger as eloquently as the low growl in his voice. "What kind of a man stabs one of his crewmates in the back like that?"
Hogan grunted. "It's not that simple. From what Mills told me, Smith was in no condition to stand up to whatever kind of pressure the Gestapo might have put him under. It's no wonder if he cracked."
"He seems to have told them a lot more about Mills than he needed to," remarked Newkirk. He was leaning against the end of the bunk he shared with Carter, but anyone who assumed he was relaxed would have been badly mistaken.
"I'm not excusing him for that, and I'm damned sure Mills won't," replied the colonel. "But allowance has to be made for his state of mind. Okay, Carter, don't worry about it. I would have liked to know for sure that Lieutenant Smith actually exists, because we've only got Mills' word for any of this, but I didn't hold much hope."
His men exchanged glances, and Newkirk spoke for all of them: "You believe it, don't you, Colonel?"
"Yes, I do. That doesn't mean I'm not going to check it out from any possible angle. But we've been trying to figure Mills out ever since he arrived, and this is the first time I've felt like he makes sense," said Hogan.
"I don't suppose there's any chance we can track Smith down?"
"Not a hope. You know how many guys called Smith there are in POW camps? And that's assuming he's still alive." Hogan paused for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "Anyway, wherever he is, Smith's not our problem right now. We've got more urgent business to take care of."
"You mean, getting Mills out of the Gestapo's sights," said Kinch.
"Him, and the people who helped him, the people he's trying to protect," confirmed Hogan, his brow lowering. "He's pretty determined not to give them away. Even after he decided I could be trusted, he absolutely refused to give me any names. But he did let slip one clue, without realising it. He mentioned the location of the safe house he was headed for. Apparently it's in Mendelburg."
He paused, giving his men a few moments to make the connection. Kinch got there first: "We've got Underground contacts in Mendelburg."
"Exactly. And you can bet your last dollar some of the people who helped Mills are also in the Underground. If he talks, and the Gestapo start picking those people up, sooner or later the trail will lead directly to Stalag 13, and us."
His men picked up the grim note in his voice, and Kinch's tone grew troubled. "You think he can hold out, if the Gestapo go to work on him again?"
"I think he'll hold out as long as he can," said Hogan. "But I don't intend to let it come to that."
He started pacing back and forth, as he analyzed the situation. "Mills expects this Gestapo creep to turn up here any day now. It may take longer than he thinks, because the guy has to get round Burkhalter first."
"And that's not easy," added LeBeau. "In more ways than one."
A chuckle went round the barracks, and even Hogan smiled, but he got serious almost at once. "Before he arrives, it'd be a good idea if we could find out who he is. Kinch, get on to the Underground, tell them to make some enquiries. Start with Burkhalter, we know he's got a feud on with the guy."
"Yeah, and with half the other Gestapo men in Germany," observed Kinch.
"That's true, but we only want to know about the ones he's had recent dealings with. That aide of his - the one who drinks at the Hofbrau - he gets talkative once he's had a few, and he might let something slip while he's trying to impress the barmaid. Worth a shot, anyway. You'd better get word to our people at Mendelburg to lie low and prepare for the worst."
"Maybe they know something about him," said Newkirk. "He's been sniffing round their area, so they've probably got a bit on him, like we do on our local Gestapo."
Hogan nodded. "Good point. See if they can tell us anything, Kinch."
As the radio man descended into the tunnel, LeBeau straightened up, ready for action. "What about the rest of us, mon Colonel? What are we to do?"
"The rest of you can take another look at Mills' barracks mates," said Hogan. "If he's on the level, then one of them is a Gestapo informant. Do a little digging, get some of them talking, and see if you can track down who it was who started the rumors, and who's been talking it up the most. But play it safe, okay? If the informer figures out that Mills has talked, things could get ugly."
"It'd be easier if we could just have a heart to heart with young Adams," Newkirk pointed out. "I mean, he's the one who came for help, when things got sticky, Colonel. Why would he do that, if he was working for the Gestapo?"
Hogan's voice was completely level as he answered: "Because the Gestapo don't want Mills dead, and the best way to make sure that doesn't happen is to get the senior POW officer involved. Adams might be on the level, or he might be doing his best to make sure Mills is still alive when they come for him."
"Never thought of that," said Newkirk. "All right, then, how do we go asking questions without tipping our hand?"
"Play on their prejudice," replied Hogan. "I brought Mills over here without consulting any of you. It wouldn't surprise any of them if you objected. Tell them you want him out, but you need to get the facts so you can convince me to take the necessary steps."
Newkirk shrugged. "Well, it's plausible. They probably think we're no happier about Mills than they were," he said, glancing at Carter, who looked unusually grave, but didn't seem to have taken the colonel's suggestion as a personal rebuke. "And it wouldn't have taken long for them to work out you're a stubborn so... I mean, once you've made up your mind about something, you're not easily swayed ...sir."
Hogan's eyes narrowed with laughter. Knowing Newkirk, when he got to discussing his commanding officer with the men of Barracks 18, stubborn sod would be one of the milder epithets he'd use, and LeBeau wouldn't be far behind him. "Okay, you know what to do. Get going."
Newkirk and Carter went on the word, but LeBeau took a moment to stir the contents of the big pot standing on the stove. As a result, he collided with Schultz in the doorway, and had to step back and let the big guard past.
"Mmm, what's cooking?" asked the big sergeant, raising his shoulders to inhale as much of the aroma as possible.
"Beef Stroganoff," said LeBeau over his shoulder as he hastened away. "You should try it, Schultzie. The way this war is going, you'll be seeing a lot more of it."
"Jolly joker," Schultz growled after him. "Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant wants to talk to you."
Hogan gave an exasperated sigh. "Again? Can't he run the place on his own without wanting my advice every five minutes?"
"I think he wants to talk to you about Mills," said Schultz. "We found the missing Schnaps, right where he said it was."
"All right, Schultz, I'm coming." Hogan stepped around Schultz's substantial girth, and left the barracks.
Fräulein Hilda, still at her post behind the typewriter in the Kommandant's reception room, greeted him with reproachful blue eyes. "You haven't spoken to me all day," she murmured.
"Sorry, Hilda. It's been one of those days," said Hogan, pausing for long enough to drop a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll get back to the important stuff soon, I promise." The warm smile he added promised even more, but Hilda had seen it often enough to know what it was worth, and she returned to her work with a decidedly pettish air.
Hogan tapped lightly on the door, hardly waiting for a response before going in. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, Hogan. As you can see, the contraband has been retrieved." Klink, smirking like a cat who had just devoured the pet canary, pointed to the row of bottles standing on his desk. "It was under the floor of the unfinished barracks, just as you said."
"You mean, just as Mills said," Hogan pointed out. "Well, at least now it's all been cleared up, so..."
"Not so fast, Hogan. There's still the little matter of Mills' accomplices." Klink rose from his chair, and leaned forward with his hands on the desk. "Until they have been identified and punished, this incident is not over."
Hogan adopted an air of bemusement. "Gee, Kommandant, I don't know. Mills said nobody else was involved, and he was awfully convincing. Maybe he really did do it on his own."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Hogan. How could one man carry all those bottles all the way across the compound without making any sound?"
"Maybe he made several trips."
Klink flapped an irritable hand at him. "Hogan, you're not going to sidetrack this time. I warn you, I will be relentless in my pursuit of the truth, and I won't let anything distract my attention from... Oh, for heaven's sake, Fräulein Hilda, what do you want?"
"Bitte, Herr Kommandant, I have General Burkhalter's aide on the telephone. Major Falke. He says it's urgent." Hilda's voice trembled almost imperceptibly, and Hogan gave her a sharp look. Something had obviously shocked her, but she retreated quickly without saying anything more.
Klink gave an exaggerated sigh, and reached for the phone. "It's a miracle I get anything done...Major Falke, how nice to hear from you. I trust General Burkhalter is in his usual good health...Donnerwetter! When? How?...And where is he now?...Yes, of course, I'll leave at once."
He hung up the phone. "Hogan, I have to go into Hammelburg. Dismissed."
"Is something wrong, sir?" asked Hogan, as the Kommandant hastily donned his topcoat and cap.
"Nothing to do with you. Dismissed." Klink flung the door open. "Fräulein Hilda, I'm going into Hammelburg for an urgent briefing. If any calls come in, direct them to Captain Gruber."
"I finish work in half an hour," Hilda protested, but Klink was already halfway out of the building, calling for Schultz at the top of his voice.
Hogan, left standing, turned to Hilda. "What's the big panic?"
"It's General Burkhalter," replied Hilda in a low voice. "His staff car ran off the road. The driver was killed, and the general was badly hurt. He's in the hospital in Hammelburg."
Hogan almost swore aloud. Any other time, Burkhalter's wellbeing would have been a matter of indifference to him, but now the general was the only thing standing between Mills and the Gestapo. The timing couldn't have been worse. "How did it happen?" he asked
"Major Falke didn't say."
Hogan's expression turned grim as he considered the likely causes. He gave Hilda another, rather distracted kiss, and walked out of the office.
It could just be a coincidence that, with the Gestapo expected at any moment, Mills' unlikeliest defender, and his most effective, had been neutralized. But Hogan didn't put much faith in coincidence. He knew the chances of proving it were almost nonexistent, but he was quite sure the accident to Burkhalter's staff car was not an accident at all.