"Look, you gotta get me out of here. You know what'll happen to me if the other prisoners find out about our deal?"

Cooper's voice, as it came through the coffee-pot speaker, held a raw note of desperation. But Graf's cool detachment didn't falter.

"There is no reason they should find out, as long as you remain calm," he said.

"That's all you know," Cooper snapped back. "Some of them already think there's something funny going on. I never signed on for getting myself strung up by my own side. You said all I had to do was watch Mills and keep him from spilling the beans, and that's what I did. Now I want out, before some son of a bitch cuts my throat. I've got a wife and kids, they need me to get home alive."

In the barracks, Hogan and Kinch exchanged glances. "Well, it's pretty clear how Graf got to him," said Kinch.

Hogan's mouth set into a grim line as he listened to Graf's reply: "Your concern for your dependents is admirable. Once again, let me reassure you that as soon as my business with Sergeant Mills has been concluded, your internment will come to an end."

"I bet it will," muttered Hogan. "Cooper's a dead man, and doesn't even know it yet."

"Now you will return to your barracks," Graf went on. "If the other prisoners are curious, you will tell them I questioned you about your last mission. As you are not the only man to be interrogated, this should be enough to divert suspicion. Be patient, and I will arrange for you to be removed from this place within a few days."

There was a long silence before Cooper spoke, in a subdued tone: "All right. But if you're trying to put one over on me..."

"You have my word of honor. And, let me remind you, you no longer have an alternative," said Graf.

Another pause followed, before the sound of the office door opening and then closing indicated that the interview was over.

"Okay, time to move," said Hogan. "Kinch, you stay here and listen while Graf's questioning MacNeill. He'll probably get the same script as Jeffries did, but I just want to make sure. As soon as he's finished with MacNeill, get down to the switchboard. I'll meet you there and tell you what to do."

He strode out of the office and across the barracks, hit the release mechanism on the frame of the bunk over the tunnel, and barely waited till the entrance was fully open before swinging himself onto the ladder.

Newkirk was waiting below. "What's the plan, Colonel?" he asked.

"I haven't got it all worked out yet," replied Hogan. "But the first step is to take care of Graf, before he can go to work on Mills again. That's your job, and we don't have much time. I want you and the others to get a car from the motor pool - yeah, I know, it's short notice. Tell Sergeant Krause we'll pay extra for the inconvenience, that should keep him happy. Go out to the Hofberg road, set up a roadblock, and wait. When Graf gets there, you stop him, and hold him and his men until some of the Underground can take over. I'll have Kinch send a message to Kurt to get there as fast as possible."

"What makes you think this Graf bloke is going to Hofberg?" said Newkirk.

"Let me worry about that. You just make sure that you intercept him and put him on ice."

Newkirk raised the barrel of his rifle slightly, and quirked his eyebrows, but Hogan answered the unspoken question without hesitation. "Only if you have to. I can't guarantee he won't have Mills with him when he leaves here, and I don't want him getting shot by accident."

"Fair enough. How long do we have to hang around if the beggar doesn't show up?"

"He'll show up," said Hogan curtly. "All clear? Good, get going."

Knowing he could safely leave Newkirk to follow orders, he continued on down the tunnel to the telephone exchange through which all calls, incoming and outgoing, could be diverted at the flick of a switch. He didn't have to wait long before Kinch joined him.

"Saunders is listening in through the coffee pot, in case anything important comes up," he said. "You were right. MacNeill got asked the same questions as Jeffries. Not only did he refuse to answer, he went on to tell Graf that there was no way he'd play ball with any lousy Kraut son of a bitch, and any square-headed prick who thought otherwise...well, you get the idea. I think it's safe to assume MacNeill's not a traitor."

"Just a loose cannon," replied Hogan. "How'd Graf take it?"

"Didn't seem to care. He just sent him back to his barracks. I guess Mills got the rough treatment because with him, it was personal."

Hogan gave a soft, angry mutter. "What happened after that?"

"Graf sent for Klink. So I guess he's about ready to leave. And once he does..."

"Then we lose him, and probably Mills with him, unless we can cut him off. To do that, we have to make sure he takes the road we want him to - the Hofberg Road, where our boys are waiting for him. And this is how we're gonna do it." Hogan folded his arms. "Warm up your Burkhalter voice, Kinch. Herr Graf's about to get overruled."

"Believe me, Herr Graf, I would be most happy to help you if I could," said Colonel Klink. "But you have to understand my position. As the Kommandant of Stalag 13, I'm responsible for each and every prisoner under my authority. I can't just let you take one of them away. At least, not without the appropriate paperwork." He finished with a conciliatory simper, which faded slightly under Graf's impersonal grey gaze.

Graf allowed himself a small, detached smile. "As I have explained, the required authorization will be forthcoming. I would have made the necessary arrangements in advance, but General Burkhalter's unfortunate accident means that I must go through other channels."

"Of course, I understand. But..." Klink's reply faltered, as he tried to find some way out. His instinct for self-preservation warned him that no good would come of this. Sooner or later, someone was going to notice that he was a prisoner short, and Graf's promise to provide the necessary documentation after the fact didn't inspire any degree of confidence. Besides, even though the Kommandant wasn't above using the Gestapo as a threat to keep Hogan and his men in line, he knew he'd never actually go that far. The spark of human decency within him, small and feeble as it was, yet had enough influence to make him shrink from the idea. He cleared his throat, and went on: "Couldn't you wait until the order actually comes through?"

"And how long will that take? General Burkhalter may not recover for weeks, if ever. His temporary replacement, General Radermacher, is even now returning to his duties on the Eastern Front," said Graf. "My business with the prisoner Mills will not wait. Every day we lose to his intransigence is an opportunity for our enemies to strike against us. Are you prepared to accept the responsibility, Kommandant?"

"Well, I must confess...if you put it that way...naturally, I don't want to stand in the way of a Gestapo investigation. Under the circumstances, I can hardly refuse..."

The shrill peal of the telephone cut across his capitulation, and he snatched at it, grateful for the interruption. "Colonel Klink speaking."

Immediately he regretted it, as his eardrum resonated to the sound of the last voice he expected to hear: "Klink! What took you so long to answer?"

"General Burkhalter - but I thought..."

"Did I give you permission to think?"

"No, General."

"Then don't."

Graf had stiffened on hearing the general's name. For the first time, his cool composure wavered. He directed a searching glare at Klink, effectively depriving the Kommandant of whatever shreds of self-assurance he had left.

"Yes, General - I mean, no, General - I mean - how are you feeling now, General?" he stammered.

"Better than you think. No doubt you have heard rumors of my imminent demise."

"I never listen to rumors, General, and let me just say how very delighted I am to hear that they are completely..."

"Klink - shut up. I have something very important to discuss with you. Listen carefully. I have evidence which proves that the accident to my staff car was in fact an attempted assassination."

"Incredible!" Klink's eyes widened, and his monocle fell onto the floor. "Why would anyone want to assassinate you, General? I can't believe it. Yet you say you have proof?"

"That is correct, but I do not want to disclose any details over the phone. One never knows who might be listening. I will explain everything to you when I see you in person."

"Of course, General. I can come to the hospital right away. If I had known you were well enough to have visitors, I would have..."

"I am not at the hospital, Klink."

"You're not?"

"No. For my own safety I have moved to a more secure location. I have a small property, a chalet in this area..."

"Ah, yes, your little hideaway at Hofberg. You want me to meet you there..."

"And lead my enemies right to me? Fool! Don't you know they will be following you? In the next few days, I will come to Stalag 13, incognito. At that time, I will entrust you with a full report of this attempt on my life, which you will deliver personally to Reichsmarschall Goering."

"To Goering? Personally?" squeaked Klink. Then he drew himself up. "General, I consider it an honor that you would trust me with such an important..."

"I am trusting you because there is nobody else available, Klink. Now, there is one other matter. I understand that during my absence from duty, General Radermacher has authorized you to make all important decisions regarding the administration of the camp. Effective immediately, that order is cancelled. You will make no decisions without my personal authority. In particular, no prisoners are to be transferred from Stalag 13, under any circumstances."

"No prisoner transfers..." Klink sent an uneasy glance at the Gestapo officer.

"None, Klink."

"Not even if the Gestapo..."

"Especially not to the Gestapo. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, General. Perfectly clear."

"Good. I will be in touch with you shortly, Klink. And remember - not a word to anyone of this. And no prisoner transfers."

With a sharp click, the line went dead. Klink slowly put the receiver down. Then he took a deep breath, and turned a bright, terrified smile on his visitor.

"Well, Herr Graf," he said nervously, "it seems we have a little problem..."

Kinch hung up his headset, and turned to Hogan with a smile. "You think that'll do it?"

"I think you just gave the performance of the war," replied Hogan, his eyes gleaming with approval. "If we're lucky, that should be enough to convince Graf that his most urgent priority now is to finish the job on Burkhalter, before Burkhalter's evidence finishes him. And thanks to Klink's habit of repeating everything he hears on the phone, Graf thinks he knows exactly where he can find his target. The boys should be out there waiting for him."

"Let's just hope he takes the bait."

"And that he doesn't take Mills," Hogan added. "My office, let's go."

A couple of minutes later they burst into the office, where Saunders remained listening spellbound to the drama coming in through the coffee pot.

"Boy, Colonel, this is good," he broke out. "That Gestapo guy is really leaning on Klink, but Klink won't budge."

"...unless General Burkhalter gives the order." Rendered scratchy either by the speaker or by his state of nerves, Klink's voice continued the story. "That is his - I mean, my final word on the matter."

"In that case, I must take my request to the general," said Graf. "I am sure this matter can be resolved without difficulty. If I go at once, I should be able to have an answer before the day is out. I believe it is not far to his chalet at Hofberg."

"Not far at all, Herr Graf...but how did you know he was there? He told me in confidence..."

"We in the Gestapo have our sources, Kommandant," replied Graf in silky tones. "I will take my leave now, but you may be sure I will return."

"You know, it's kind of a shame Burkhalter isn't actually there," said Hogan. "I hate to send the Gestapo off on a wild goose chase."

"What happens if our boys don't get out there in time to intercept him?" asked Kinch.

Hogan sighed. "You had to bring that up, didn't you?"

He unplugged the coffee pot, his eyes darkening as he considered the possibility. Finally he squared his shoulders, and pushed his cap back on his head.

"They'll get there," he said at last. "They'd better. Otherwise, we're in real trouble."