"This way," murmured LeBeau, setting off across the lawn, towards the bath house which stood silent, though a gleam of light showed from within. Beyond, hidden by a row of overgrown rhododendrons, a high brick wall marked the boundary of the hotel grounds, with an ornate iron gate giving access to the road outside.

Newkirk was standing just inside the gate, still in his waiter's garb. "All clear, Colonel. Carter's got him properly wound up."

"Good. I'll go and finish the job. Stay out of sight, all of you, till you hear my signal." Hogan straightened his tie, and stepped through the gate.

On the edge of the road stood one of the army trucks from Stalag 13. If Kleinstiefel, drooping in the grasp of the two phoney SS men, thought it was an odd choice of vehicle for a Gestapo officer, he was too thoroughly cowed to say so.

Carter, pacing up and down in the middle of the road, stopped in his tracks as Hogan appeared. He seemed a little anxious, as well he might be. The rest of the operation had been more or less predetermined, once Hogan had got Marya to pass on his instructions to his team. This part of the plan, however, was the kind of occasion which Hogan usually described as Eliza crossing the ice. He wasn't sure himself which way it would go. It would depend entirely on Kleinstiefel. If Hogan had read him right, it might just work out. If not…

Deliberately, he adopted a relaxed gait as he walked to meet Carter. "Follow my lead," he said, softly enough so only Carter heard him. Then they both turned to look at the hapless Kleinstiefel.

It'll work, Hogan thought. He nodded to Addison and Walters, and they released their grip on Kleinstiefel and stepped back, still staying close enough to make him uncomfortable.

Hogan gave the young man a grin. "Boy, are you ever in trouble," he observed cheerfully.

Kleinstiefel made a feeble attempt to recapture his lost dignity. He straightened his shoulders and tried to look down his nose. All the same, he couldn't keep the quaver out of his voice: "Major Heidelberger, this is all a terrible mistake."

"Well, you gotta admit, it doesn't look good," said Hogan. "I mean, consider the evidence. They've got a dead body, a murder weapon and a room full of respectable witnesses prepared to say under oath that you're the man who pulled the trigger. Open and shut case, if you ask me."

"But I didn't do it. I swear, I'm innocent."

"Oh, I believe you."

"You do?"

"Sure I do. It takes a special kind of ruthlessness to carry out a hit like this one, and frankly, Kleinstiefel, I don't think you've got it in you." He turned to Carter. "Don't you agree?"

"He certainly doesn't look like a killer," conceded Carter, after a brief but intense period of consideration.

"On the other hand, the murderer did make a pretty bad blunder. He shot the wrong man. And let's face it, fouling things up is probably more Kleinstiefel's style."

"Oh, yes. Definitely his style."

"On the other hand, why would he want to kill von Gromitz, who's been like a father to him? A pretty mean kind of father, but all the same, it doesn't make much sense."

"No. No sense at all."

"On the other hand, who knows? Maybe it was a contract killing. Someone paid him to bump off the general."

"That's possible."

"On the other hand…How many hands is that?"

Carter gave him a reproachful look. "I don't know, I wasn't keeping count."

"Well, never mind," said Hogan. "The point is, I don't think he's our assassin. You know, Kleinstiefel, you really should have told them from the start that they had the wrong man. The thing is," Hogan went on, cutting off Kleinstiefel's objection, "what's the best thing to do about it?"

He looked expectantly at Carter, and Carter didn't let him down: "Couldn't he just confess, even if he's not guilty? It would save a lot of paperwork."

Kleinstiefel stared at him. "But they'll hang me."

"They might not," replied Carter in a bracing tone. "There's always the chance of a firing squad."

"I think that's asking a bit much," Hogan put in.

Carter shrugged. "Well, we have to do something with him. General von Gromitz is a pretty big cheese. He could cause a real stink if he finds out we let his assassin go."

"For the last time, I'm not…" Kleinstiefel broke out; but Hogan waved him into silence.

"Let's just go over it again. We seem to be in agreement, he's not the killer. Right, Kleinstiefel?"

"Yes," replied Kleinstiefel. "I mean, no. I mean, that's right."

"And you weren't planning to assassinate General von Gromitz?"

"Why would I do such a thing? He's one of Germany's greatest military heroes. And he knows my mother."

"So I've heard," said Hogan, sotto voce.

It went straight past Kleinstiefel. "I don't understand how he could believe this of me. I've always been his most loyal aide, by his side through thick and thin. I would have thought he would stand up for me."

"And instead, he's written you off." Hogan shook his head, slowly and sadly. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Kleinstiefel, but I think your army career is over."

That was likely the least of Kleinstiefel's worries. He stared past Hogan for a few seconds, then drew a deep sigh. "What am I to do now?" he asked.

Hogan considered, tilting his head to one side. "Well, there's only one way out of this mess, as far as I can see. It's a bit unconventional, and some people might not approve, but if you're willing..."

A wave of colour flooded across Kleinstiefel's face, as he grasped at this frail straw of hope: "I'll do anything. Anything at all. What do I have to do?"

Hogan gave him a beaming smile. "You'll just have to defect. That'll fix everything."

For a few seconds, Kleinstiefel just stared at him. At last, he spluttered into speech: "Is this a joke?"

"No joke. The Allies will be happy to give you a safe home. All you'll need to do in return is tell them all about the strategy von Gromitz is working on."

The young man looked ready to burst a blood vessel. "I can't do that. It would be treason."

"You just said you'd do anything," Carter put in. "Make up your mind."

"Have I gone mad? Or is this some kind of a trick?" Kleinstiefel's hands clenched, and his voice grew shriller. "A Gestapo plot, is that it?"

Hogan gave a soft chuckle. "You're half right. It's all a plot, but nothing to do with the Gestapo. Listen, Kleinstiefel. If you agree to go along with it, we can get you to England, where you'll sit out the war in a nice safe prison camp. Or we can leave you to explain yourself to von Gromitz and the real Gestapo. It's your choice."

Kleinstiefel stared at him. "Who are you?"

"Let's just say I'm a real character," said Hogan. "What's your answer?"

For a few moments it hung in the balance. Then Kleinstiefel's shoulders slumped. "What choice do I have? I'll go to England."

"Smart choice. But you won't have to go alone." Hogan gave a soft, rising whistle, and Kleinstiefel's eyes opened even wider as he saw Newkirk emerge from the gate, followed by Hase and LeBeau.

"But – but that's -" He stammered off into silence.

"The late Theodore Hase," Hogan finished for him. "Better keep on his good side. He'll be writing a book about this one day, and if you play your cards right, he might write in a nice little romantic interest for you."

It seemed, however, that this final twist had left Kleinstiefel too dazed to protest any further. Leaving him to figure it out, Hogan spoke quietly to his team: "Get them back to Stalag 13. Keep an eye on Kleinstiefel, but I don't think he'll give you much trouble. I'll come home with Klink tomorrow."

Newkirk and Carter went on the word, but LeBeau lingered: "You don't think I should stay, in case anyone's looking for Doctor Ernst?"

"Or for a lovesick Frenchman? Get going," said Hogan.

He watched the truck as it trundled off, then went back through the gate. As he approached the terrace, he found himself smiling. "How'd you get rid of Klink?" he asked.

Marya flung her arms around him. "I sent him to find me some sal volatile, and he didn't come back. I think he's hiding in his room. All is well, no?"

"All is well, yes. As far as anyone knows, Dodo's as dead as…" He broke off, and laughed. "And we got Kleinstiefel to agree to defect, which means London will get the inside story of whatever von Gromitz is working on. So that's a bonus. They're on their way to Stalag 13 now, and we'll send them on as soon as we can."

"You didn't go with them?" she murmured

Hogan sighed. "Unfortunately, I arrived with Klink, so I'll have to go back with him. Which means I'm stuck here overnight. What's a guy supposed to do in a place like this, once the bar is closed?"

She responded with a low chuckle. "Have you forgotten the bath house is open?" Her mirth, not so much heard as felt, was contagious.

Only an hour or so ago, Sitzer had commented that working with Marya would be an adventure. He doesn't know the half of it, thought Hogan. But this might just be an adventure too far, for now.

"You know what?" said Hogan. "Let's pass on that for now. After all, we have to save something for the sequel."