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"When do we have to leave?" The bottle was half empty, they were still working on it.

"We fly out at eighteen hundred. Actor I want you to pack up anything you can think of that Chief and Goniff might need. Casino, two or three times the normal draw on rations. I'll do the same on the ammo, weapons and currency."

The confidence man's brows arched up in surprise and concern. "Won't the quartermaster question that?"

"The hell with his questions." The Warden's voice was bitter. It wasn't supposed to end like this, damn it! "I'm still signing off on the requisitions for this outfit!"

"So we're really moving out?"

Garrison took a long time to answer, and then he didn't meet their stares as they watched him. "Yeah."

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The supplies had been loaded and Goniff and Chief settled as comfortably as possible in the forward section of the plane, up near the pilot. Garrison had gone over the weather report, there was a large low level storm brewing, they'd probably be going pretty high to try and get over it. It would be warmer up near the pilot, and the ride would be smoother over the wing.

The Warden stepped forward to make sure Chief and Goniff were secure before they hit the edge of the storm. Goniff smiled up at him as he approached. "So what's our job, then?"

"Your job is to charm the underground into letting you stay." Garrison returned the man's smile, it was almost impossible not to. If anyone had a chance of earning acceptance it was the little cat burglar with his easy smile and eagerness to please. Too bad Wilhoitz seemed to be immune to him.

Chief wasn't so sure this was the right idea. He never wanted to be left behind by anybody, but especially this man. He'd make his way out of Europe if the Warden didn't get back over there to them, but he wouldn't be heading for the States he'd be tracking the Lieutenant down, where ever they sent him. "Think we're up to it?"

"Of course. You haven't let me down yet." And they hadn't, not really. But he felt he'd let them down... He'd let them down in a big way.

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The ride was getting rough as the pilot approached the storm. Actor got up as soon as Garrison got to his feet. "It's a good thing we will be landing on the ground over there this time. I don't think either one of them could handle a parachute jump, especially in this weather."

"We'll be climbing soon to get over it. It should smooth out higher up, but it's going to get pretty cold. We'd better breakout some extra blankets." Turning to the supplies stored along the fuselage over their heads he pulled down the wool blankets and handed them over to his second, watching as Actor made his way forward to give them to the men in front before he took two back into the tail where Casino had settled in. "Here. You're going to need this in a little bit." Handing the blanket down to the man huddled on the floor he dropped down beside him and draped his own around his shoulders.

The air was cold and thin. Casino was feeling it. It was making him a little light headed and dizzy. "Warden! You OK?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Casino watched has he tore at the buttons of the heavy jacket he was wearing and then jerked the collar of his shirt open. Seemed like he was trying too hard to pull in enough air. "Hey, babe, you don't look so good."

"It's just the altitude." But it was more than that. He shouldn't be up here, he couldn't breathe up here. But he couldn't risk getting the help he needed. The latest threat, the possibility of pulling him out of this group if he wasn't able to go out, and just sending them back to the States drove him now. He had to make it. They had to make it. "I'll be OK when we get over this storm."

But they were still climbing, the safe cracker could feel it, and only a few moments later he watched as Garrison slumped against his shoulder, unconscious. "Actor! Get back here!"

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"What's wrong with him?" They'd pulled Garrison up where Goniff and Chief were, up where the ride was a bit smoother and it was a little warmer.

"It's the altitude. There's not enough oxygen for him up here."

"But he ain't never had trouble before."

"He hasn't been this sick before." Actor shook his head to the other man's questioning glance. "I don't know. Walking pneumonia probably."

"'Walkin' pneumonia'! What'n the hell's that?"

"That's when you got pneumonia but you'r too stupid, or stubborn to lay down and enjoy it! We can't pull this job off. Not just the two of us." Casino backed away and slid down against one of the supply packs to sit on the floor. "What'r we gonna do?"

Actor considered it. They were still hours from their landing site and he'd gone over the weather reports with Garrison. The storm was a large one, covering thousands of square miles. They didn't carry enough fuel to go around it, or to drop down and fight their way through it. They hadn't reached the halfway point yet. "We have to turn back."

"Abort?"

"Yes." He looked at each man in turn. "You all know what that will probably mean?"

They were silent, and even over the storm and the roar of the engines they could hear the Warden's labored breathing. Chief was the first to speak, and he said what the others were thinking. "Do it."

"Casino, get the co-pilot back here."

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Garrison came to as the plane leveled out. His head felt as if he needed to wrap his arms over it to keep it from exploding, his chest burned and the knife-like pain was back between his ribs when he took a deep breath. When he found it, his voice was rough, his throat raw. "Where are we?" he asked the figure that swam into his vision and resolved itself into Actor.

"It's all right. We've just passed over the coast of England. We'll be landing soon."

"NO! We can't! You don't understand." He struggled to get up, to face them and make them see they had to get away, get over into Europe where they'd at least have a chance, even with the fighting. "He's pushing for the group to be disbanded, sent home"

"You mean sent back." Actor took him by the shoulder, "That's why you've been driving yourself so hard, isn't it? You've been trying to give him what he wants so that he'll leave us alone."

Chief stared at the Warden and shook his head. "S'not worth it, man. It's not worth killin' yourself over."

Garrison slumped back against the floor. They shouldn't have done it, he thought miserably. They shouldn't have given up their chance. It was only the altitude, he would've made it. "Yes it is." He closed his eyes as they watched him. "I've known that for a long time now." But it was too late, he could feel the planes change in attitude, feel his breathing ease as they came down into denser air. They were already headed in for a landing.

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The truck that met them at the air field took them in to the base hospital. As they feared it was Findlay who was there to greet them. After a cursory exam the men had been released to return to the mansion. Four hours later Rawlins pulled a jeep up to the steps that led to the entrance and the Warden climbed out and made his way inside.

"Well? What happened?" He'd joined them in their quarters after making the long slow climb to the top.

Garrison stood just inside the door. "You're all confined to the mansion pending an investigation."

"For turnin' around when there was no hope a pullin' that job off?" Casino rolled up off his cot and swung his feet over the side to sit staring at the Warden.

The Lieutenant shook his head. "For going against orders and aborting without permission."

"Permission?! How n'the Bloody Hell did they expect us to get 'permission' from anybody?"

"What about you?" Actor studied the Warden as he walked towards the fireplace, he didn't like the grim set of the man's jaw.

"I've got another mission."

Their shock was complete and they stared at him for several moments until Actor broke the silence. "You can't be serious."

"I refused."

"Good on you, mate!"

Garrison shook his head as he sank into a chair, dropping his jacket on the floor next to him. "No. He's bringing formal charges against me. As soon as they're filed they'll be out here to pick me up."

"Then it's all over." Casino stared around at the others. "We're done for."

"At least we'll finally get a chance to tell our side a things." Chief didn't have any faith in the system of rules and laws, but he did have faith in this man who applied them fairly and believed in them himself. But that faith was shaken by the look on the Warden's face.

Garrison sat frowning, staring through the window, not seeing the trees and lawns that lay on the other side of the glass. He'd been checked out by the doctor too and had a chance to get a look at his file when Findlay had been called out of the room. None of his recent complaints had been in there. Aside from being seen for a 'mild upper respiratory disorder' any one looking through the file would think he was in perfect shape. He didn't have to see the folders on the others to know they looked just the same. If,,, he corrected himself, when, this went to formal hearing they wouldn't have any records to back them up. He didn't believe the word of four cons would be taken seriously, not any more. And he didn't believe he'd be able to pull it off on just his testimony alone. He'd be alone too, Wilhoitz would see to that. Garrison knew he'd be sent a panel of three defenders to choose from who thought just like the Colonel. One summary challenge to remove one judge wouldn't tip the scales in their favor, there were still too many high ranking officers who still didn't understand the value of this group. This was a mess, and he was too tired to think of a way out of it.

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They'd waited. All that day and into the next, they'd waited for the MP's to show up, but no one came. The men slept late and relaxed under the guarantee of 'no pending mission', but Garrison paced the floor and worked on his ever present pile of reports. He was closeted in his office now, working through another stack the Sergeant had given him when he'd come downstairs.

Chief was in the library when he heard it, his head jerked up at the sound. Something got knocked over in the Lieutenant's office, something heavy. Within seconds he was at the door, he waited listening. Nothin'. Turning the knob he shoved the door open and glanced into the office. Leaning back he sent a piercing whistle down the hall and followed it with a shout. "Actor! Warden's down!" then moved across the room to drop down next to the man on the floor and took him by the shoulder. "You OK Warden?" He could feel the heat burning through the guys' uniform. Chief heard steps in the hallway and looked up as Actor moved through the door.

"What happened?"

"It's alright. I think I just got up too fast." Garrison's knees had buckled on him and he'd found himself on the floor leaning back against the side of his desk.

"I heard somethin' hit the floor and came in and found him." Chief followed the con man with a worried stare as he knelt on the carpet next to the Warden. "That fever's back again."

Actor reached out, brushed a hand across the Lieutenant's forehead, shook his head and said, "Come on. Let's get him up on the sofa." He helped Chief shift Garrison off the floor. The man was easier to move, the fevers had burned at least twenty pounds off him over the last few weeks. Turning back to the desk he pressed the button on the intercom unit that would ring down in the Sergeant Majors office. "Sergeant Major would you get a medic to the Lieutenant's office please."

"Who is this? Actor?! You get off this intercom! "'Ow many times do I 'ave to tell you this isn't a toy!" The NCOs voice sputtered tinnily through the speaker. Why'd they keep at it? Didn't they know how much trouble they were in?

Why could the man never do as he was asked? There was an acerbic edge to his voice when he spoke into the unit again. "The Lieutenant has just collapsed in his office, so unless you think we should just leave him for the cleaning people to find, I believe we should have some medical assistance,,, if you wouldn't mind!" Actor flipped the switch on the box before there was a response, forcing the Sergeant Major to come to them if he wanted to continue his tirade. It wasn't long before they heard the sound of the man marching up the hall and the door knocked back against the wall as the Brit moved through it.

"Now you listen 'ere…" He stopped talking and his jaws snapped shut. Some of the men on the detail, the regular ones who rotated around the grounds, but weren't part of the daily working of the unit housed here in the mansion, had been pestering him with questions about the fitness of the Lieutenant. He'd brushed them off, he worked with the man everyday and the Army officer was tired, he'd told him that himself, but they all were, and he'd been sick, but there wasn't anything seriously wrong with him. Garrison had assured him that he was fine and he'd allowed himself to be convinced but Rawlins took a good look now and was shocked. There was the flush of fever on his otherwise pale features and the shirt he wore gaped at the neck as if it was too large. The skin seemed to stretch too tightly across the bones of his face. He'd cinched his belt up too, Rawlins could see the worn area where it had hooked up, only a few weeks ago. The Sergeant Major strode across to the desk and picked up the phone. "We'll need the staff car Jenkins."

Rawlins didn't call for an ambulance or corpsman as Actor expected but arranged for the staff car to be brought around from the garage. He also asked the company clerk to present himself, and when the young man arrived brought everyone up short with his question. "You ever been in any trouble Jenkins?"

The young man stared back at the seasoned NCO for a moment before answering. "No, sir! Never!"

"Good man!" Rawlins beamed at the innocent who stood before him, "You're about to go AWOL."

Jenkins looked from his Sergeant, to his Lieutenant, nearly unconscious on the large sofa, to the men surrounding him, and back to his Sergeant. "Yes, sir!" His eager collaboration was followed by a whisper of doubt. "Why, sir?"

"Never mind that!" Rawlins barked as he tore a sheet of paper from the notebook on the Lieutenant's desk and scrawled an address across it. "You take this up to Bertie Simpel, at this address. You tell 'im I said you was drunk and busted up 'is place, and it all 'appened two hours ago." He reached up and turned the young man towards the door. "Steal one of the jeeps." He patted the boy on the shoulder absently, setting him off with a shove. "There's a good lad."

"Sergeant Major Rawlins, what are you up to?" Actor smelled a con coming but never expected the straight-laced, by-the-book British NCO would be the author.

"We're taking a little field trip up to London to recover an errant member of the detail is all." He hadn't known he was 'up to' anything. But when he'd gotten a good look at Lieutenant Garrison the plan had just fallen together in his mind. Rawlins gave his head a quick shake. He was spending too much time around this lot.

"But we're confined to the mansion."

He hadn't been restricted to the base like the men. And he hadn't been run into the ground like their commander. He had his contacts with the other teams too, with the NCOs that looked after them, and they'd been talking…Rawlins tipped his head towards the Lieutenant. "But ee's not. And 'ee's the one's got to 'ave 'elp right now."

"We better get outta here. As soon as Wilhoitz finds out about this he'll make his move on us." Casino glanced around at the others. They all knew that was true but none of them wanted to run out on the Warden.

"Don't you do any such thing!" Those new guards weren't part of the regular detail, didn't even take orders from him or the Lieutenant, and Gil shuddered to think what their orders might be. The men couldn't leave the grounds on their own, they had to follow his plan, or he feared they stood a good chance of getting themselves shot. "I already got all this worked out. You lot just 'ave to follow orders for a change." He paused and looked around at the men staring back at him. They'd always been adversaries before, would they accept him as an ally now? "…and trust me…"

"What have you got in mind?"

Sergeant Major Gilbert Rawlins fixed them with a conspiratorial smile, rubbed his hands together and laid out his plan.

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Chief was staring down into the cup he held in his hands. "I dunno about this."

"You just take your medicine like a good little Indian." Casino told him, but Chief noticed he made no move to follow his own advice.

Goniff was staring off towards the cabinet that held the brandy, wondering if it would make a better mix, or chaser, then he shrugged and rolled his eyes. He didn't trust his belly with either option.

Actor finally raised his glass to them. "Come on. Tutti per una buona causa." he toasted and drained it in one swallow. The others followed his lead with considerably less gusto.

"Where to you think they are, then?"

Checking the watch on his wrist the con man looked back at their second story man and answered with a smile. "I should imagine they have just arrived." Then he frowned and rested a hand over his belly. "And I think we should make that call."

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When they arrived at the base hospital it was a mad house. Men lined the halls in various positions of misery. Some rolled on gurneys, others groaned from wheel chairs and seats along the corridor, while the rest stared glumly at the ground as they leaned against the walls. Actor smiled in spite of the cramps. Most of the estates guard detail was here, but there were well over a dozen he didn't recognize, members of some of the other teams he assumed. It seemed the Sergeant Major had created quite a respectable little epidemic.

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Rawlins used the phone on the desk in the hall outside the examination room. "I need to speak to Lieutenant Deavers or Captain Moore. This is Sergeant Major Rawlins." He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited. "What's that? Well, then I suppose Colonel Wilhoitz will 'ave to do." It was another few moments of waiting. Rawlins hummed tunelessly, watching the activity in the hall.

"Colonel Wilhoitz, sir. Sergeant Major Rawlins, sir!" His voice carried the image of a salute as he rested comfortably against the counter. "I'm reporting in for Lieutenant Garrison, sir. No sir, 'ee can't get on the line 'imself, sir. That's what I've called to report. I've brought 'im to 'ospital, sir... No, sir. You see, sir, one of the men got into a bit of trouble up 'ere in London, sir, and… What's that, sir?.. No, sir." Rawlins said reassuringly. "To my knowledge they're all still there on the base, sir, just as you ordered, sir. But you see, sir, we 'ad to come up…. The company clerk sir, Jenkins. Well you see, sir, it seems 'ee got in 'is cups at a pub and broke the place up a bit, sir…. Yes, sir... NO, sir! The Lieutenant didn't get in the fight, sir. That was all over when we got up 'ere, sir. 'Ee's come over in a fever, sir….. No, sir. I don't think they'd allow that, sir. But we're already at the 'ospital, sir. The doctor's with 'im now, sir... Sir?... Colonel Wilhoitz, sir?" Sergeant Major Rawlins looked at the receiver he held in his hand for a moment before he placed it back on the phone with a grim smile. "Sod off,,,,, sir. You ruddy bugger."

Turning he walked back down to the exam room and stepped inside. Leaning against the door he watched the doctor examine and question his Lieutenant.

"How long have you been sick Lieutenant?" The man straightened by the bedside and looped his stethoscope back over his neck. He didn't like what he'd just heard, or the quiet, rasping voice of the soldier he had in front of him.

"I don't know sir. A few weeks I guess."

"Why didn't you report to your medical officer?"

"I did, sir. He never seemed to find too much wrong." Garrison closed his eyes for a moment and tried to remember exactly what he'd seen written in that medical file when he'd gotten a chance to look at it. 'Mild upper respiratory complaint.' That had been when they were trying to wear him down, keep him in the field until he couldn't continue to do his job. That was before he'd been told he'd be replaced if anything, even something minor happened and he couldn't go out, and he'd had to fight to stay on his feet, stay with his men. "He just said I had a cold and to take some aspirin and get a little rest is all."

The doctor's eyes went wide with amazement that anyone could miss on this kid. He was practically blue with his inability to process oxygen right now. "And what's this yahoo's name, Lieutenant?"

"Major James Findlay, sir." Garrison painted a puzzled frown on his face and threw a defensive note of support for 'his' doctor into his voice as he explained. "He takes care of all of us. He even left an order that if any of us ever needed anything he was to be called immediately. Didn't matter what time it was, or anything. Seems to be determined to see to us personally, sir"

"You sure he's a doctor?" This didn't just happen overnight! This guy had been sick a long time to get in this bad a shape. God help the other men this idiot had been responsible for, they'd all need to be checked over.

"That's what it says on his coat, sir."

Rawlins smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn't been sure the Lieutenant really understood what he was trying to get across to him in the car coming up. His fever was high and he was in pretty rough shape, but obviously the lad had gotten the message and was playing his part to perfection. Sick, amazed, innocently condemning the hack that had ignored his injuries and illness, and that of his men, with a voice that expressed misplaced confidence in him at the same time. Gil shook his head and felt a little glow of pride. No wonder this odd assortment of men could pull off all those nearly impossible assignments. He caught the Lieutenant's eye and smiled over the doctor's shoulder at him. In his opinion the Jerries didn't stand a chance,,, and neither did Colonel Wilhoitz.

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End, part one.

Thanks for reading! Please review,,, and if you're too shy to do that ;-) at least let me know if you were familiar with this show before you got here, and how you found the story. dale