"I don't know how you managed that, but I'm sure I can find out," said Hochstetter.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Major," replied Hogan.

"Hogan, I could have LeBeau in my own interrogation room in Hammelburg within an hour on the basis of what happened in here," Hochstetter went on. "I could take Carter as well. I know it was him I saw in Hammelburg two nights ago. Do you think I couldn't break one or the other, in time? To say nothing of your man Newkirk, when he recovers. If he recovers."

Hogan let the last part of that fall dead. It had hit home, but he knew it was a shot in the dark. Hochstetter was bluffing about Newkirk, but LeBeau and Carter were another matter. With an effort - he was close to exhaustion, and reaction was setting in - Hogan set his obstruction strategy in motion.

"Carter was in town?" he asked. "I'm appalled. I can promise you, I'll be having a word with him. He knows he's to be home before dark on school nights."

"Don't play games with me, Hogan."

"Well, I'm sorry, Major, but it's a ridiculous suggestion. Carter hasn't been out of camp since the work detail. Ask the Kommandant, if you don't believe me. Or Sergeant Schultz."

Hochstetter snorted. "Schultz wouldn't notice if all the prisoners went to Paris for the weekend," he remarked.

"Of course he would. We'd send him a postcard," said Hogan. Then, forestalling Hochstetter's reply, he added quickly. "Major, I've already explained about LeBeau. And as for Carter, even if your suspicion had any grounds at all - which it doesn't - what about common gratitude? It's down to him that you're still alive, and you know it."

Hochstetter scowled. "We don't allow ourselves luxuries like gratitude in the Gestapo, Hogan." But he considered the point, then went on, with obvious reluctance. "I will leave your men this time. It won't be long before I have another opportunity. You take too many risks. You may go."

Hogan turned, and prepared to leave. "Oh, by the way, Major Hochstetter," he said, over his shoulder. "Were you planning to take that man Lessing back to Hammelburg for interrogation? You're not going to question him here, are you?"

"Of course I will take him to Hammelburg," said Hochstetter; then, deeply distrustful, "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, no reason," murmured Hogan, looking smug. "No reason at all." He gave the major a grin, and strolled out. With any luck, Hochstetter would become suspicious, and interrogate Lessing at Stalag 13 before transferring him to Hammelburg. Then the Underground could set about rescuing Lessing as agreed, without undermining the case against Lindemann. Hogan was determined to make that stick, whatever else happened.

He returned to the barracks, trying to remember the last time he'd felt this weary. Inside it was quiet. Unexpectedly, LeBeau, who should have been resting, was walking back and forth, obviously in quite a lot of pain but too agitated to keep still. He was clearly upset, and Carter, sitting at the table, looked completely distraught. Hogan stopped dead.

It took a few seconds for him to find his voice. "Where's Kinch?" he asked, very quietly.

LeBeau nodded towards the tunnel entrance. "He's calling the hospital."

Carter took a deep breath. "He's gone," he said. "Newkirk's gone. He's not here any more. Colonel, he's gone."

Hogan couldn't say a word. He looked at LeBeau, who threw up his hand in a gesture of despair, and shook his head.

Carter was still speaking. "He was here. When we got back, he was here, and he showed me...I don't know how, but he let me see what was happening to Louis. Then he was gone. And I just had to run, because there was no time, but I knew he was gone."

"He showed you?" Hogan said.

"It was like he got inside my head, and I saw what he saw. Just for a second. But then..." Carter trailed off.

Hogan felt dazed. This couldn't happen, not now. Damn it, he thought. He never even spoke to me!

The silence was broken by the rattle of the bunk going up. Hogan turned around, slowly. For a moment - just for a moment - he didn't want to know.

Then Kinch appeared. He was breathless, and almost speechless. But he was smiling. For the third time, he was the bearer of good news.

It took him a couple of seconds to get the words out, and relief made his voice two whole tones lower than usual. "He's awake. He started showing signs early this morning, and he came round while we were taking care of Lindemann. The doctors are still with him, that's why it took me so long to get anything from them. Colonel, he's woken up."

Nobody moved for several seconds. Then Carter's head went down onto his folded arms. LeBeau's eyes were shining; he fell, rather than sat, on the nearest bunk. "He made it," he whispered. "He made it, mon Colonel."

Hogan nodded. His feelings went too deep for him to speak. But he met Kinch's eye, and smiled, and he knew that the guys would understand.

Newkirk was coming home. Well, coming back to Stalag 13, anyway. The doctors, and the Gestapo, had finally cleared him for release, and Schultz had been sent to fetch him.

"I wonder if he remembers anything," said Kinch.

"I guess we'll find out, when he gets here," Hogan replied. "If he doesn't...well, let's not stir things up, for now."

The four of them - Hogan, Kinch, LeBeau and Carter - were loitering outside the barracks. LeBeau was recovering well, even allowing for the setback caused by the collision with Hochstetter. He had just taken up his culinary duties again, and was even starting to pressure Hogan to let him go out and meet the next lot of escapees.

They hadn't talked much about Newkirk's part in recent events. There was a kind of embarrassment, a sense that the whole uncanny situation, now that it was over, was best left alone. Hogan had explained the possession incident to LeBeau, and he was pretty sure LeBeau had told Carter, to set his mind at rest over his own similar experience. But that was all.

Lessing was already in Geneva, and no doubt would soon be putting his book-keeping skills to use in banking circles. That aspect of the case still troubled Hogan, but he didn't lose sleep over it. Lessing would get his comeuppance, sooner or later. His kind always did.

They had not been able to find out Lindemann's fate, once he'd been removed to Berlin.

"There they are," said Carter. "Boy, Klink sent the good car for him and everything."

"Great. He'll be expecting it all the time from now on," Hogan replied.

As Newkirk got out of the car, the Kommandant came out of his office. He regarded his returned prisoner with an almost benevolent eye. "Corporal Newkirk," he said. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir," said Newkirk. He was thin, and pale, but spoke with his usual cockiness. "Feels like I've hardly been away."

Hogan, coming up in time to hear this, regarded him thoughtfully, but Newkirk's expression seemed perfectly transparent.

"I trust you are fully recovered," the Kommandant went on. "Because there will be no special treatment. You may have had it soft while you've been in hospital, but you're back under my discipline now."

"Absolutely right, Kommandant," said Hogan. "And I'll be happy to explain it to the Red Cross, when they start asking questions."

Klink hesitated. "Why should the Red Cross be interested?"

"I'm sure I don't know," replied Hogan. "Just because Newkirk was seriously injured, due to the criminal action of one of the Gestapo, while on a work detail which you ordered...seems perfectly normal to me. But they can be a bit fussy, you know. And he doesn't look well. You don't, you know, Newkirk."

"Just a bit of a headache, Colonel. It comes and goes," said Newkirk. "Matter of fact, it's coming on now, sir. It's the sunlight. It's so bright." He put his hand up to shade his eyes, and put on an expression of meek suffering.

Hogan put his hand on Newkirk's shoulder, as if to support him. "Don't overdo it," he murmured.

Klink wavered, then gestured impatiently. "Oh, take him away, Hogan. He's excused all work activities for one week. Dismissed." He turned, and went back inside.

"You're all heart, Kommandant," said Hogan. "Good to have you back, Newkirk," he added quietly.

"Never thought I'd say this, sir," Newkirk admitted, "but it's good to be back. I don't know what it is - the atmosphere, or the home comforts, or the moonlight shining on the barbed wire - but I missed the place."

The others came to greet them as they walked back to the barracks. LeBeau welcomed Newkirk boisterously; Kinch, as always, was quieter but unmistakeably sincere. Carter held back, almost seeming a little shy.

"Okay, keep it down," said Hogan, once they were inside. "LeBeau, enough."

Newkirk took a seat, and looked around. "You didn't end up redecorating, then."

"No, we couldn't agree on a colour scheme." Hogan leaned back against one of the bunks. Kinch joined him, while LeBeau, too excited to settle down, began rummaging in his store cupboard.

"Anything you want for dinner tonight, Newkirk, I will make it," he promised. That was enough to set off a heated discussion on the relative merits of French and English cuisine. It seemed unlikely that common ground would be reached.

"What do you think, Colonel?" Kinch murmured. "Does he know?"

Hogan tilted his head a little. "Not sure."

"Okay, LeBeau, just make whatever you want to. You always do, anyway," Newkirk was saying. "Just don't put too much garlic in, is all I ask." He turned to Carter, who was still lingering by the door, looking at once happy and slightly anxious. "You're not saying much, Andrew. Thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"I am," said Carter. "Really. It's only..." He broke off, and looked at Hogan as if seeking enlightenment on what he should and shouldn't say.

Newkirk regarded him affectionately. "Carter, come here. Have a seat. Now, you look as if you've got something on your mind. Let's have it."

The anxiety deepened in Carter's eyes. He hesitated, glanced at Hogan again, then murmured, "I haven't got anything on my mind, Newkirk. It's just really good to see you."

"And it's good to see you, too. I've been thinking about you, while I was away," Newkirk went on, "and it occurred to me that, if I hadn't pulled through - well, Andrew, in case anything ever happens again, there's a bit of brotherly advice that I'd like to pass on to you, and I want you to remember it, because it'll be very useful."

"Okay," said Carter uncertainly.

"Two things, Andrew." Newkirk put an arm around Carter's shoulders, and spoke sincerely. "First, when I tell you someone's got a knife in his pocket, you listen to me. And second, don't you ever sleep in my bunk again."

Newkirk glanced towards Hogan, and winked. LeBeau was giggling helplessly; Kinch's shoulders shook, and a slow smile dawned on Carter's face. Hogan was smiling, too, and his eyes met Newkirk's, in complete understanding.

He had his team back. Properly this time.