I hope your teeth didn't fall out from how sweet the last chapter was. Minus the ending, of course.
Hochstetter couldn't help but smirk. The element of surprise was a powerful weapon indeed; Dressed in his cozy night clothes, Sergeant Carter looked positively gobsmacked at this blast from the past that had intruded upon his pathetic existence. His mouth opened as his lips flapped uselessly. And then, like lightning, recognition dawned, and Hochstetter watched as shock, confusion, anger, and fear all fought for space on his face.
Before Carter had a chance to collect himself, Hochstetter pulled out his luger and levelled it at him.
"Hands. Up," he ordered. Carter looked at him dumbly, then the gun, before slowly raising his hands. Hochstetter smiled and softened his tone as he continued. "Sergeant Carter," he said lightly as if greeting an old friend, "may I come in?" The sergeant had always been the polite one, and Hochstetter wondered if he would have complied with the request even without the gun to motivate him.
Carter looked stunned—either by the polite tone or the situation as a whole. His mouth hung open as if he couldn't quite process the request. Hochstetter sighed and held his gun up a little higher. That did the trick. Carter glared at him and motioned to someone behind him. "Suzy, go to your mom. Tell her to get—"
Hochstetter stepped forward, pressing his gun into Carter's chest as he pushed his way into the house. "No, stay here, Suzy," he said. Behind Carter, he could see a little girl standing stock still, clutching her doll as she watched him anxiously.
Carter's eyes flicked to her and then back to Hochstetter. "Hochstetter," he croaked, sounding as if he didn't quite believe he was saying the name after so many years, "let's go outside."
"Oh, I think not," Hochstetter said congenially. "We have too much to discuss and it's quite cold out there."
"No, I really think we need to go outside." The panic in his voice made Hochstetter smile. He had forgotten what easy marks civilians were. The soldiers of Stalag 13 had withstood all manner of interrogations without cracking. Even when Hochstetter had mercilessly beaten their comrades in front of them, they hadn't broken. But civilians? Civilians had families, and they were oh-so-fond of their children, which made them so very weak.
"Sergeant Carter," Hochstetter chuckled. "I am just here for a friendly chat. But if you would rather," he said as he ground the gun into his chest, "I'm sure at the right angle, the bullet will hit her once it passes through you."
Carter paled and licked his lips, his eyes darting to his daughter as if he was trying to tell her to run away. But she simply came closer, grabbing onto his pant leg. She stared up at Hochstetter with big blue eyes, her cherubic face framed with dark brown curls. An adorable girl, and so innocent, especially dressed in her pink nightdress and fuzzy bunny slippers. Perfect. A father would do anything to protect such a child.
"What do you want?" Carter asked.
"I have already said; I'm here for a friendly chat," Hochstetter said amiably. "Why don't we sit? Perhaps your wife can come and make us some coffee?"
That instantly made his face harden. "Go to hell."
Hochstetter tsked. "Oh Sergeant, that's not very polite. And I'm afraid you are in no position to give orders. Now, please, let's be reasonable and have a seat." Hochstetter jerked his head at the sitting room just to his left.
"Andy, who—"
A woman appeared in the hallway to his right, a baby in her arms. Perfect. One more reason for Sergeant Carter to cooperate. The woman stopped short when she caught sight of the scene.
"Ah, Frau Carter, I presume," Hochstetter greeted cordially. "How nice of you to join us."
"What's going on? Who is this?" Frau Carter asked. She nervously glanced at the gun before taking a step back, holding her baby closer. "I'm… I'm calling the police."
"There's no point, my dear," Hochstetter said. "I already cut the phone line. And besides, I would hate to make you a widow, Frau Carter. Or perhaps make your children orphans?"
"It's all right, Lucy," Carter said quickly. "Major Hochstetter is just here for a chat."
Hochstetter grinned. "I knew you would see reason."
"Major Hochstetter? Who… What is going on?!" Frau Carter demanded.
"Please, let's sit," Hochstetter suggested with a smile, even as he flicked the luger in that direction before aiming it back at Carter. "After you, Frau Carter. Just take your lovely little girl and have a seat." He pushed Carter back, nearly causing him to trip over the girl. Frau Carter hesitated, but after sharing a glance with her husband, she took her daughter's hand and slowly led her into the sitting room. She settled the girl beside the chair and pushed her down so that Hochstetter couldn't see her. But her head popped back up, just enough so that she could see over the armrest. Frau Carter snapped her fingers and the girl disappeared again. Then Frau Carter took a seat. The baby squawked, then cooed as he settled into his mother's arms.
"How sweet," Hochstetter said. "You must be a proud father. I'd hate for anything to happen to your children. So young." He turned a dangerous eye to Carter. "On the couch, Sergeant," he ordered. Carter slowly backed up until he was seated. Hochstetter stayed near the entrance and surveyed the room.
It amazed Hochstetter just how well even the poorest Americans lived. His research before coming had told him that the sergeant was nothing more than a school teacher, yet his home was comfortable and nicely furnished. But then again, America had seen an unprecedented amount of wealth after the war, being one of the few countries not left in economic ruin. The everyman here undoubtedly lived better than the King—or, rather, Queen—of England. They certainly lived better than anyone in Germany. There was even a television set, which Hochstetter ran his hand over as he passed. Nothing fancy of course- Hochstetter's own set was fair superior- but certainly still a luxury.
Keeping his gun trained on Carter, Hochstetter moved into the room. As he passed her, he easily dodged Frau Carter's attempt to trip him with her foot. He gave her a disapproving tsk, and paused momentarily to look down at the girl. He winked at her and she shied away closer to the wall.
He continued past them to the fireplace. On the mantel was a framed photo with five familiar men: Sergeant Carter, of course, Hogan, and the rest of his crew posing in front of their barracks. Hochstetter grabbed it and looked it over, feeling his rage well up at the sight of Hogan's smiling face. It was a pity the fire wasn't lit, or Hochstetter would have thrown it in.
After setting the picture back down, Hochstetter sat in the chair on the other side of the fireplace. Frau Carter sat on the other side of the fireplace to his left, while Carter sat to his right on the couch. As he settled into his chair, he shifted the aim of his gun to Frau Carter. Sergeant Carter jumped to his feet, but Hochstetter pegged him with a menacing look.
"Sit, Sergeant," he ordered, "and no one will get hurt."
Slowly, Carter sat back down, but his body was tense as if he were ready to fly across the room at a moment's notice.
"You want to talk, Hochstetter? Then let's talk," Carter said from between his teeth. "What are you doing here? How did you get here? What do you want?"
Hochstetter chuckled in amusement. "Hochstetter, Wolfgang. Major. NSDAP 90324, SS 43578." Carter turned red at the response, which made Hochstetter bark out another laugh. "Frustrating, no?"
"You came to me, Hochstetter," Carter seethed. "I think I'm entitled to ask a few questions. Namely, why are you here?"
"I want Colonel Hogan," Hochstetter answered simply.
The answer was obviously not what he had been expecting. Carter looked surprised, although he really shouldn't have. Why else would Hochstetter be here? Surely Carter didn't think he alone was important enough for Hochstetter to come out of hiding.
"The colonel? I don't know where he is." Carter's voice had lost its hard edge, instead, gaining the wide-eyed innocence that had incensed Hochstetter so many times before.
All of Hogan's men had handled their interrogations differently. Hogan's cheeky confidence, even in the direst of circumstances, had been insufferable, especially since Hochstetter had never managed to entirely break it. LeBeau's death glares had been amusing, although, if Hochstetter were honest, a little unnerving. Newkirk's caustic wit had been annoying but oh-so-very-typical of the British. Kinchloe's stoicism had been admirable. But Carter's "golly-gee-whiz" naivety had been downright infuriating. Reminiscent of kicking a puppy, it had simultaneously guilted and enraged Hochstetter. Worse still, it undermined Hochstetter's entire theory that Hogan was indeed the notorious Papa Bear because what kind of master spy would have a man like Sergeant Carter on his team?
"Come now, you must know how to contact him," Hochstetter pressed.
Carter shook his head. "I haven't talked to the colonel in… gosh, it must be three or four years now." He looked over to his wife for confirmation. "At Kinch's wedding, right?" Frau Carter nodded nervously. "Last I heard he was in Germany. Why don't you go there?"
"Unfortunately I can never go home again. There are people there who would recognize me, and I am not eager to fall victim to their idea of justice," Hochstetter explained.
"Gosh, it must be real hard to be a war criminal," Carter spat sarcastically.
"I only did what was necessary to protect my country," Hochstetter said with a wave of his hand. "You Americans have such noble ideas, but you are not above unleashing hell when it suits your purposes. Or did I imagine the firebombing in Dresden? Or the atomic bombs in Japan?"
"Those were… That's—What are you even still doing here?!" Carter cried, clearly frustrated at the truth in Hochstetter's statements. "I told you I don't know where the colonel is and I don't know how to contact him!"
"But I am sure he could find you if he wanted," Hochstetter said.
Carter furrowed his brow as if he were trying to read between the lines but couldn't quite grasp what Hochstetter was implying. "I suppose," he conceded suspiciously.
"Just as I thought. If I cannot go to Colonel Hogan, he must come to me, on my terms. And to ensure he does, I will have to give him some motivation." Hochstetter stood. "I would be delighted if you would come with me, Frau Carter," he said, motioning for her to stand with his gun. "You will be the perfect bait for Hogan. I'm sure your husband will do everything he can to contact him."
"No! No, don't!" Carter cried, quickly jumping to his feet. He took a step forward, but when Hochstetter looked at him, he paused and raised his hands slightly. "Don't. I'll go with you. I won't give you any trouble. Just leave my family alone."
"Certainly. I am not a monster," Hochstetter replied. In truth, he never had any intention of taking Carter's wife. He trusted she could find Hogan, or at least contact someone who could. But the threat would serve to make Carter all the more compliant.
Carter opened his mouth but then shut it, apparently unwilling to lose any ground with a snotty remark. Hochstetter pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and put it on the mantelpiece. "My instructions for when you contact Colonel Hogan, Frau Carter," he explained.
"Wait! This is crazy!" Frau Carter cried, getting to her feet. The baby in her arms awoke and started to wail. Her daughter left the safety of the chair and moved forward, but her mother blocked her, shielding her from the unfolding events. "You can't just take him. Andy, what… This is crazy! You're both crazy!"
Carter glanced at Hochstetter, then slowly crossed the room to his wife. He cupped his baby's head and stroked its hair. "Shhhh… Shhhh… You're okay." The baby stopped crying.
"Andy-"
Carter put his hand on his wife's cheek. "It's okay. I'll… I'll be okay." He gave her a weak smile before looking back to Hochstetter. "If I go with him, he'll leave you alone." He sounded confident, but there was a look in his eye that pleaded with Hochstetter. Hochstetter gave him a slight nod. His plan had worked; Carter, like so many civilians before him, wasn't willing to put his family in danger and would, therefore, come quietly.
"Besides," Carter continued, keeping his eyes on Hochstetter as a small smirk tugged at his lips, "the Major and I have been through this song and dance before. And he always came out the loser."
Hochstetter's blood boiled. He had been so polite thus far, and this was how he was repaid? Whatever goodwill he had extended towards Carter previously evaporated. "Not always," he growled. "And not this time. Let's go, Sergeant."
Carter hesitated and gently stroked his wife's cheek. Then he looked down at the terrified little girl who had reached out to grab the bottom of his shirt. "Suzy, you-"
"Now, Sergeant," Hochstetter growled. "Or I shoot her."
Carter immediately stepped away from his family. He turned and started towards the front door. Hochstetter motioned Frau Carter to step aside as he followed, his gun now aimed at Carter's back. He tipped his hat to her as he passed. Her face twisted with anger, but she had the good sense to keep her mouth shut.
"My car," Hochstetter said as he stepped out into the cold night behind Carter. He shepherded Carter towards the black Buick in the driveway, his boots crunching through the prints in the snow that Carter had made with his bare feet.
"Daddy! Daddy, wait! You need a coat! And boots!"
Hochstetter looked over his shoulder to see the little girl in the doorway, light pouring out into the night from behind her.
"I'll be fine!" Carter called back. "You just listen to your mother!"
"I am! She told me to… to…." She furrowed her brow and then turned back into the house. "What were you gonna do Mama?" she shouted.
Hochstetter rolled his eyes. No doubt her mother was trying to call the police and was stalling for time. But he hadn't been bluffing about cutting the phone lines. He had also taken the liberty of slashing the tires on the other car parked near the house. He would be well away before she could go for help, especially being so far from town.
Hochstetter pushed Carter towards the car. Fishing out his keys, he opened the trunk, carefully keeping his gun trained on Carter. "Get in," he said.
Carter looked at him skeptically, but Hochstetter just held the gun a little higher. The American grimaced but began to climb in. Without warning, Hochstetter brought the gun down on his head, once, then again. Carter went limp, and Hochstetter quickly stuffed him into the back. He grunted as he shifted Carter's slack form in order to handcuff his hands behind his back. Then he slammed the trunk shut, grabbed his keys from the lock, and hurried to the driver's door.
That had been easier than he thought. He was lucky it had been Carter. The others would have likely put up more than a fight. Or maybe not. No doubt they had families they wanted to protect as well.
Quickly, Hochstetter hopped into his seat and turned the engine.
The crack of a gunshot made him jump, and suddenly there was a hole in his back window. Startled, Hochstetter looked over his shoulder and peered through the cracked glass to see Frau Carter on the front step, a rifle in her hands. Another shot rang out, this time shattering the window completely. Another shot went straight through to the front windshield, planting a hole dangerously close to Hochstetter.
Hochstetter swore under his breath. Damn Americans and their damned guns.
Hochstetter ducked his head as he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The car sped forward just as another shot hit his side-view mirror. His heart raced as he tore down the long path to the main dirt road. He sighed in relief when the house became no more than a faint glow in the distance.
Hochstetter grimaced as he looked over the damage. Cracks stretched out from the bullet hole in the front windshield, threatening to shatter it completely. He doubted it would survive the entire trip. It probably wouldn't survive through the state. Either way, it would make for a frigid ride. And it would undoubtedly draw attention.
But that was a worry for another time. He had enough money that he could ditch this car and buy a dozen more if needed.
Hochstetter settled into his seat and turned on the radio, scrolling through the various stations to try to find something. Nothing but static. So it would be a cold, quiet ride. That suited him. His plan was in motion and the thoughts of revenge were enough to keep him warm.