Carter regained consciousness and found himself under a blanket and on the car floor, wedged uncomfortably between the front and back seat. He tried to move, but his wrist was shackled to his ankle and his other leg was more than useless. With a grunt, he used his free hand to push off the blanket.

"Awake, are you?" Hochstetter's voice came from the front of the car.

Ignoring him, Carter grunted again as he grabbed the back seat with his free hand and tried to pull himself up. He stopped short as his knee vehemently protested the movement.

"And what do you think you're going to accomplish?" Hochstetter asked, sounding amused. "Get back down and enjoy the ride."

Carter took a deep breath and tried to pull himself onto the seat again. "What was it you said to me once?" he said, panting through the pain and effort. "I was too dumb to know what was good for me?"

Hochstetter snorted. "Yes, I seem to recall that."

Sweat dampened Carter's brow as he attempted to climb onto the seat. He wasn't even sure it was possible in his condition, but he had to try. Maybe then he could flag a passing car down. Or open the door and roll out of the car. Or maybe he would try to strangle Hochstetter with his free hand.

"You know, you could simply confess to Hogan's crimes now and save yourself a lot of trouble," Hochstetter said. "I would drop you off somewhere and you could go back to your family."

Closing his eyes, Carter let out a sigh and allowed himself to sink back onto the car floor. He put his free arm over his eyes and took a few breaths, trying to stop his head from spinning. He had to admit, it would have been a tempting offer if Hochstetter was capable of even an ounce of sincerity. "Didn't you just murdered a civilian for no reason? Why should I believe you?"

Hochstetter was quiet for a long moment. "They were… unfortunate casualties."

"They?" Carter's heart sank. More than one dead, then. And for what? It had been ten years. The war was over. If Hochstetter wanted to know the truth about Papa Bear, why shouldn't Carter just tell him? Was the secret, and the oath he had made to keep it, worth another innocent life?

But, then again, Carter knew he couldn't trust Hochstetter. The moment he told the truth was the moment he would likely get a bullet in the brain. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to get home. His family needed him. What would happen to them if he died?

He would have to stall his execution as long as possible in hopes that Hogan did come for him. Because he would, wouldn't he? The colonel always had a plan; he always saved the day. Carter just had to wait.

"Unfortunate casualties? Of what? The war's over, Hochstetter. It's been over for a long time."

"Perhaps. But my war will not be over until Hogan is brought to justice. So, why don't you just tell me what I want to know now?"

"Go pound sand."

"You were much more polite during the war."

It was Carter's turn to snort. "Yeah, well, I was a soldier back then. And soldiers kind of expect interrogations. I mean, we didn't really do anything to deserve being questioned by you considering we were POWs and all—and not even recent POWs with any up-to-date information—but we had all that training and stuff, so we could get through it all right. I don't know how that made me polite, but I guess I just didn't seem to see the point of being rude. But right now, I'm just a little miffed that I was pretty comfortable being a civilian and you just showed up from out of nowhere and pulled me away from my family for no reason. I mean, how many times have you asked me about… What was that name you were always bringing up, again? Brother Bear?"

"Papa Bear, as you well know," Hochstetter growled.

"Right, yeah, Papa Bear. From Goldilocks and the Three Bears? What was he? Some underground operative, right? Gosh, I wish I knew who Papa Bear was. Then maybe I could have escaped Stalag 13. Klink was a monster, you know. The Iron Ea-"

"Stop, just stop!" Hochstetter hit the horn. "You and I both know those are lies. At the very least what you say of Klink is a lie."

Carter's lips flickered with a small smile. "Oh gosh, no. He really was the Iron Eagle," he insisted. He knew it would rile Hochstetter up. He knew he was probably in for a good punch in the nose if he continued. But the script for dealing with Hochstetter had been written many years ago. "Not one escape. The only Kommandant with a perfect record. At least, that's what he always told us. You know, I never really understood that because he wasn't exactly the smartest monster out there, was he? The colonel was way more clever but he never could seem to pull one over on Klink. One step ahead of us. So I guess maybe he just acted dumb but was really smart. That must have been it, huh? Hmmm, maybe the Gestapo should have put Klink in charge of catching Papa Bear instead of you. I bet he would have caught him."

The car swerved violently to the right and screeched to a halt. Carter took a breath and braced himself as Hochstetter slammed the driver's door and tore open the back door. He bit back a cry when Hochstetter grabbed his leg and jerked him from the car and sent him to the ground. A swift kick to the face was enough to knock him out.

Rader Stockyard, Near Minneapolis, Minnesota

The sun skirted the horizon and the small amount of warmth offered by the day waned as Hochstetter drove down the long driveway. The old car he was forced to travel in had made the journey so much longer than it should have been. It had not done well on the older, dirt roads he had used to bypass the larger towns. It hadn't been so terrible once he returned to the number ten highway which led him through Minnesota to his final destination.

The biggest problem with the car was that it didn't have a trunk. That left Sergeant Carter free to move about behind Hochstetter. The American had made a valiant effort to pull himself from the floor onto the back seat, before giving up. Hochstetter wasn't sure what he had thought he would accomplish, but the movements and insults were annoying. More than once Hochstetter had been forced to pull to the side of the road to beat his prisoner senseless. Carter had been quiet for quite some time now and Hochstetter wondered if the last beating had actually killed him.

A pity.

Ah well. He would not have been the first man Hochstetter had unintentionally killed with an excessive use of force.

Still, there was something sitting in the bottom of Hochstetter's stomach that just didn't feel right. He couldn't quite pinpoint it though. Perhaps he was simply disappointed that he wouldn't be able to interrogate Carter. He would have liked to have confirmation that he was indeed a spy before he faced Hogan.

The smell of cattle permeated through the car and Hochstetter scrunched his nose in disgust. Though his wife's family was deeply invested in the cattle industry, it was something Hochstetter avoided. He didn't know why his friend had chosen it for his new occupation. Although, it was probably just convenient. Karl's twin brother, a coward through and through, had fled Germany long before the war. And then, after the war, Karl, finding himself in need of a new place to live (and hide), had prevailed upon his brother to host him. It didn't take long for Karl's brother to vanish, leaving him to take his place without anyone being the wiser.

And, Hochstetter supposed the role of butcher suited him. It was something of a lateral move, after all, considering his role during the war.

After passing multiple pens and sheds full of animals, Hochstetter finally made it to the farmhouse. Karl must have been waiting for him, because almost as soon as Hochstetter stopped the car, he stepped out the front door and made his way over. Hochstetter opened his door but stayed seated.

"You have a new car, I see," Karl said by way of greeting.

"I borrowed it," Hochstetter replied. "My cargo is in the back." Hochstetter got out of the car and then opened the back door. He pulled back the blanket that covered Carter.

"Is he dead?" Karl asked.

"Is that a problem?" Hochstetter replied.

Karl shook his head. "No. I'll move him to the compost pile. Oh, wait. He's breathing. Look." Sure enough, Hochstetter saw the shallow rise and fall of Carter's chest. "We can still put him there if you want," Karl said with a shrug.

"No. I want to talk to him."

"Then I'll put him in my shed."

"Will your workers have access?" Hochstetter asked.

Karl shook his head. "It's my own private shed. There is no reason for anyone to go in there. And I will keep it locked."

"Good." Hochstetter slammed the door shut. He checked his watch. Just past nineteen-hundred. Wolfie might still be up. "I'm going into the house." He handed Karl the keys to the car. Karl took them and slid into the driver's seat. Hochstetter watched him drive off behind the house before he smoothed down his jacket and jogged up the front steps.

He hesitated as he tried to shake the feeling in his stomach that hadn't gone away, despite knowing that Carter was alive. With a frustrated grunt he decided he was probably just hungry, and pushed open the door, heading inside.

"¡PAPA!"

Hochstetter had barely set one foot in before he was tackled. The force caused him to take a step back and let out a puff of air as Wolfie flung his arms around Hochstetter's hips and bashed his head into his stomach.

Hochstetter regained his composure and grabbed his son, prying himself loose before tossing him up into the air and catching him. "Wolfie!"

"Finally," Elsa said from the couch where she was reading a paper. "All day all I have heard is 'When will Papa return?'; 'Papa is already back?'; 'Mama, I cannot wait to tell Papa that I pet a cow!'—I nearly lost my mind!" Elsa set her paper to the side and stood up. She made her way to Hochstetter and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh! Your nose!"

Hochstetter gingerly touched his nose. "Ah, yes. I… slipped on some ice. It's nothing, I assure you."

"¡Papa!" Wolfie cried, pulling back to look at his face. He squished Hochstetter's cheeks between his hands. "¡Tu nariz!"

"Yes, yes. And, remember, Wolfie. Speak German. Or at least English!"

"And what is wrong with Spanish?" Elsa asked, hands on her hips.

"Other than the fact that it's inferior and I do not know it well?" Hochstetter replied with a shrug. "Nothing. It is why we talk to each other in English, is it not? My Spanish is bad as is your German. But at least I have an excuse!"

Elsa frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. "My German is not bad. Well, not that bad. Now, do you need ice for your nose?"

Hochstetter shook his head. "I think I have had quite enough of it!" he chuckled. "It will be fine in a few days."

"Oh, bueno," Wolfie said before returning to his death-grip hug. "Oh, good!"

"Did you finish your business?" Elsa asked.

Hochstetter tried to shake his head, but found it difficult with Wolfie's arms tight around his neck. "Not yet. But I made an important transaction."

"I hope it finishes soon," Elsa said. "I want to visit the Grand Canyon. And the Statue of Liberty. And I want to go to Hollywood. And—"

Hochstetter laughed. "All in good time, my love. And I think you are forgetting how big America is!"

Elsa just scrunched her nose at him playfully. "I am not forgetting, which is why I want to start touring sooner rather than later! Already, Bertha took me into Minneapolis to see what was there, including the Basilica of St. Mary. I am tired of seeing only cows here. To see those, I could have stayed home!"

"Sí, we can see the cows of Abuelo!" Wolfie added, finally releasing his grip and pulling back to give his father a stern look. Or what passed for a stern look on a six-year-old's face.

"Yes, yes. True enough," Hochstetter admitted. He patted Wolfie's bottom and set him down, giving him the opportunity to finally shuck off his heavy winter coat. "I promise, as soon as my business is concluded, we will see everything America has to offer," he said as he hung the coat up by the door.

Elsa and Wolfie looked satisfied. Then Elsa's eyes grew wide. "Wolfie! Wolfie, what is this?" She grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer before kneeling down. "¿Lodo? ¡No, es sangre!"

Wolfie tried to look over his shoulder and spun around. "¿Dónde?"

Hochstetter looked over his shoulder and saw a smear of blood on the back of Wolfie's shirt. Then he looked down and clenched his gloved hand, watching as flecks of dry blood broke off in the creases. Had it come from Sergeant Carter? Or, perhaps…

"¡Te dije que te alejaras del matadero! ¡No es lugar para ti!" Elsa scolded.

"Pero, Mama…"

"¡Ai! ¡Ve a tu habitación y cámbiate de camisa!"

Wolfie put his hands on his hips and stomped his foot before marching off.

Elsa sighed and stood, throwing her hands up. "He is your son!" she said with mock exasperation before she laughed. But her laughter fizzled as her expression turned to concern. "Wolfgang? Are you all right?"

Hochstetter relaxed his hand and quickly peeled off his gloves. He jammed them into his coat pocket and checked to make sure his hands were clean before whirling around to face his wife. "Perfectly. And, Elsa, speak to him in German."

"If you wish it."

Wolfie re-entered the room a moment later. "Me cambié la camisa, mamá."

"Gut. Gut. Jetzt können Sie Ihren Pyjama anziehen und sich zum Schlafengehen fertig machen," Elsa informed him in her choppy German. "Ich werde bald da sein."

"¡Pero, Mama!"

"'Aber Mama.' Jetzt geh."

Wolfie grunted and again stomped his foot. But he quickly skittered away when the front door opened. Hochstetter looked over his shoulder to see Karl coming in. Elsa gave him a nod before returning to her paper.

"Come, Wolfgang. There's dinner ready for you," Karl said, clapping Hochstetter on the shoulder and leading him into the kitchen. Karl's wife, Bertha, had the table already set for him with a large plateful of food and wine out.

Karl sat down beside him and poured himself some wine. "I still do not understand why you brought your family. On a mission such as this?"

Hochstetter cut into his steak and watched the bloody juice leak from it and flow to his potato. He cut it again and popped a piece into his mouth. "We may never get another chance to come to America and Elsa desperately wants to see it." He didn't want to admit that he was also curious to see his enemy's country. There had to be something about America that made Americans the way they were. Already he could understand some of the Sergeant's more eccentric characteristics. His state of North Dakota was desolate and people were few and far between. So, in Hochstetter's mind, it made sense that, whenever Sergeant Carter did encounter someone, he was compelled to talk and talk and talk because another chance might not occur for some time.

"I think it's foolish," Karl continued. "This whole endeavour is foolish. What makes you think you will meet this Colonel Hogan? And that he will not bring the entire American army with him?"

Hochstetter stabbed his potato with his fork and tore off a piece. With it, he mopped up the meat's juice, turning the fluffy white inside a pink. "You do not know him as well as I do. He will want to resolve this matter himself. It is a matter of pride."

Karl raised an eyebrow. "Ah. You two must have much in common," he remarked as he took another sip of wine. Hochstetter glowered at him but said nothing. Karl leaned back in his seat, swirling his wine around its glass. "Funny, your choice of wife," he continued amiably.

"What do you mean?" Hochstetter asked between mouthfuls.

"Well, she's not exactly Aryan, is she?"

Hochstetter looked over at Elsa, who was intently studying her paper. It was true. Elsa's dusky complexion, dark eyes and hair betrayed the native blood that soiled her otherwise impeccable German ancestry. But there was far more to her than that. And anyway, she was far superior to some of the companions Karl had kept. "At least I never had a Jew in my bed."

Karl was silent for a moment, but then threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, the perks of the job. You would be surprised what a woman would do to stay alive for five minutes longer."

"I'm aware," Hochstetter said. He had used his position as head of the Gestapo in Hammelburg to convince more than a few women to entertain him. "All I can say is in a place such as Argentina, one takes what he can get. And she's German enough."

"Or at least rich enough to make up for it?"

"I suppose," Hochstetter said, wanting to end the conversation. He pushed away his plate and stood. "I think I will read Wolfie a story."

"Oh, come, Wolfgang!" Karl called after him as Hochstetter made his way to the room he was sharing with Elsa and Wolfie. Ignoring him, Hochstetter pushed into the room and found Wolfie lying on the bed. He had a stuffed animal resting on his feet as he pumped his legs. When Hochstetter came in, Wolfie turned his head to look at him and smiled before shooting his feet up, sending the stuffy flying into the air. Hochstetter reached over and swiped it before it could fall onto the bed. Hochstetter studied it for a moment and smiled as he sat on the bed.

"Must I go to bed, Papa?" Wolfie asked in English.

"I'm afraid so, son. Would you like me to tell you a story?"

"Oh, yes," Wolfie said. "About the wolf who saved the village from the bear?"

"Of course," Hochstetter said. He took the stuffed wolf and shook it into Wolfie's face. "Kkkkeeeeee." Wolfie giggled and then grabbed the wolf and hugged it. "All right, get under the blankets. Good. Now, once upon a time, there was a brave wolf and a terrible, big, bad bear…"

Elsa Hoffmann kept her eyes on her paper as her husband spoke with his friend at the table. She strained her ears to eavesdrop on the conversation and frowned. They were speaking in German, quickly as native speakers tended to do, and Elsa couldn't quite piece together what they were saying. But her husband didn't look too pleased and it wasn't long before he had marched off. Elsa looked up as he passed her and then glanced at Karl, who caught her eye and winked. Elsa quickly turned her attention back to her paper.

She didn't like Karl Rader. And she wasn't terribly fond of his wife, either, although she was more tolerable. There was no concrete reason for it. He was handsome and perfectly amiable, but in an unnerving sort of way. His too-wide smile seemed to hide a joke that he couldn't share, but desperately wanted to—a kind of vulgar joke that was only meant to offend.

As for Bertha, she was a humourless, bitter sort of woman. She had been kind enough to take Elsa into Minneapolis, but she spent the whole time comparing the city to Berlin. It was obvious she wished she was still in Germany and resented that she had to move to America and leave her lavish lifestyle behind.

"I had everything in Germany," Bertha had lamented. "A villa, servants, money. And now what am I? A butcher's wife. If only we had been able to take our treasures with us."

Elsa didn't know the particulars of their move to America, but she wasn't naive. She had read about the atrocities Germany had committed during the war and it was not hard to imagine that the Raders had somehow been involved. And she suspected that it was better to leave Germany than to risk prosecution for crimes they may have committed.

She also wasn't naive enough to believe that her husband's war record was spotless, either. There was a reason he, and many other Germans, had moved to Argentina right after the war. And yet, she had never felt the need to pry. What was in the past, was in the past. Wolfgang and the other German immigrants had moved there to start a new life and they deserved the chance. It was quite possible that many, if not all of them, were completely innocent of any crimes. It was possible they had simply moved to avoid the chaos of a post-war Europe.

As for Elsa, her family had moved to South America generations ago. In fact, they had immigrated long before Germany was even a unified country. Her great-great grandparents had left Hesse with their young family to settle in Chile. Near the turn of the century, her grandparents had been persuaded to leave Chile for Argentina and had established a cattle ranch which became very successful. They had later branched out into other ventures, including politics, making them one of the leading families in the region.

As a child, she had attended a special German school, where she learned the language, just in case she was ever to 'return home'. She always thought that was such a silly notion. How could a country she had only seen in books be her true home? She very much considered herself Argentinian, and only distantly German. She was far more comfortable speaking Spanish than German. She even preferred English, which her father had insisted she learn as well so that she could entertain traveling businessmen from America. This attitude sometimes put her at odds with her schoolmates, whose families had immigrated much later than her own. Well that, and the fact that her mother was native to Argentina didn't help either. But she never let them bother her. She was too confident in herself, and too rich to care what others thought anyway.

Her father's status made him a prominent figure in town and, as his only child, she was in charge of hosting many parties. One such party was for the influx of new German immigrants some time after the war. That was where she had met Wolfgang Hoffmann. He had been dark and brooding, with an underlying hint of danger in his mannerisms. Though not particularly handsome and twenty years her senior, there was something about him that intrigued her. He had a fire in his eyes that spoke of passion that had never been quenched. She sensed he was a man of action who had been robbed of his purpose and was determined to find a new one.

Like the good hostess she was, Elsa had tried to pry him from his shell to be sociable with the other guests. He had rebuffed her.

She should have been offended. But Wolfgang had some sort of magnetism that drew her in and his rejection had simply set the lure. She became determined to break through his gruff exterior. He was a beast and she was just the beauty needed to turn him into a prince. If he needed a new purpose, she would provide one. She would help him forget the loss of his country, and whatever he had left behind there, and help him build a better future for himself. She would make him happy.

After that first encounter, she insisted her father invite him to another party. And then to dinner. And then she made her own invitations for picnics and ski trips. She then made herself indispensable to him, acting as a guide to his new surroundings and using her connections to help him establish himself. Of course, he had come to Argentina with a great deal of his own wealth, but fitting in required more than that. What he needed was a polished woman to smooth out the rough edges that were so painfully obvious when he tried to interact with others on his own.

And, slowly, ever so slowly, he softened, at least towards her. She had ever so carefully led him to the conclusion that he needed her, and once he realized it, a whirlwind romance ensued. Within six months, they were married.

Despite her charms, Wolfgang had never quite lost his edge. But while he growled and snarled at others, he was putty in her hands. Others might have been afraid of him and might wonder how a woman like her could ever love a man like him. But she knew he would never hurt her. She had tamed him and it made Elsa feel powerful to have such a man under her control.

Peeking out from behind her paper, she once more found Karl's eyes on her. Calmly, she set the paper down, stood, and breezed out of the room, paying him no more attention. She gently pushed open the door to her room.

"The Bear had been very clever. He fooled the people into thinking he was their friend, and now he had stolen all the porridge from those poor, foolish villagers," Wolfgang was saying. Elsa smiled. Another tale of the Wolf and the Bear. He did love those stories. Quietly, Elsa joined her family on the bed. Wolfgang paused his story to look at her and smile before continuing. "The villagers had always been afraid of the wolf, but they didn't know that he was the one who had been protecting them from the bear the whole time. They realized their mistake and went to the wolf to beg for his forgiveness.

"'I am not angry with you,' the wolf said. 'Mine is a thankless job. But now you see how important it was. I will find the bear and return your porridge to you.'"

"Did he find the bear, Papa?" Wolfie asked.

"Of course. The bear was clever, but the wolf more so."

"And when he found the bear, he ripped off his fur and poked out his eyes?" Wolfie exclaimed eagerly.

"Yes. And it was no less than the bear deserved!"

"And he brought the porridge back to the villagers?" Elsa asked.

"Of course," Wolfgang said with a nod. "Proving that he was not a monster to be feared. And from then on, the villagers treated the wolf as he was always meant to be treated."

"Hurray for the wolf!" Wolfie cried.

"And then he found a beautiful she-wolf and they had a sweet baby wolf?" Elsa asked.

"Oh yes! He did, didn't he, Papa?"

Wolfgang smiled. "He did. And with the bear defeated for good, he and his family lived happily ever after."

Satisfied with the story, Wolfie curled up into a ball and hugged his toy wolf tightly. Elsa tugged the blankets out from under him and covered him completely. He giggled and poked his head out. Elsa tucked the blankets up around his neck and patted him. "Will you be a good boy and go to sleep nicely tonight, Wolfie."

"Hmmmm…"

"Yes, you will," Wolfgang said with a stern look. "There will be no funny business, understand."

Wolfie rolled his eyes. "Oooookay," he drawled. "But you'll stay with me?"

"Oooookay," Wolfgang replied.

"And you too, Mama?"

"Oooookay."

Elsa got up and turned out the light. Then she turned on the lamp and settled into the bed beside Wolfie, with Wolfgang on the other side. Wolfie tossed and turned dramatically, pretending to snore.

"Wolfie," Wolfgang warned.

Wolfie grumbled to himself as he settled down. Elsa looked over at her husband and sighed, shaking her head. Wolfgang responded by rolling his eyes and shrugging. Eventually, genuine snores filled the air as Wolfie fell asleep. Elsa yawned and stretched. "Ai. It's so early. Why am I so tired?"

"I suppose you had a busy day," Wolfgang replied.

"I suppose," Elsa replied.

"You sleep. I have to attend to some business," he said as he stood. Elsa reached out for him, wriggling her fingers as she stretched.

"What business? Come, snuggle with me."

Wolfgang furrowed his brow and frowned. "I have business."

"You said that," Elsa replied. "But is it more important than me? I have not seen you for days!"

Wolfgang grunted in defeat. "You win, my love. I'll admit I am tired too after a long day of driving." Elsa grinned and shoved Wolfie to the other side of the bed. Then she scooted into the middle. Wolfgang came around and crawled into bed beside her. He held her tightly and nuzzled the back on her neck. "It has waited this long. I suppose it can wait until morning."

Elsa sighed contentedly and held her husband's hands. "Just what is this business of yours, again? You never said," she asked sleepily.

"Old business. Nothing to worry yourself over," Wolfgang replied. "It will be resolved soon enough." Elsa hummed in response and closed her eyes. Before she drifted off to sleep she heard him say, "And then the wolf will finally live happily ever after."