"Hogan, I don't know yet what kind of game you are playing, but I will find out."

Hochstetter, standing toe-to-toe with the man he considered his arch enemy, held up one forefinger to emphasise his warning. It was a wasted gesture; Hogan never seemed to understand when he was being threatened, and he appeared more apologetic than intimidated.

"There's no games yet, Major," he said, "The games can't start till the guest of honour gets here. But I can promise you, they'll be worth the wait. In the meantime, can I interest you in some canapés?"

"Canapés? What nonsense is this?" snarled Hochstetter.

"Can't have a party without snacks. Okay, so they're just K-ration biscuits topped with canned cheese and Spam out of our Red Cross packages, but Addison spent all afternoon making them. LeBeau was busy with the birthday cake. And actually, they're not bad."

"Never mind that," said Klink, pushing his way in front of Hochstetter. "Hogan, just now a gun was fired in this barracks. Hand it over at once, and no monkey business."

"A gun?" Hogan immediately donned a beautifully convincing air of ingenuous bewilderment. "You're kidding, right, Kommandant? What would we be doing with a gun?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Hogan. I heard the shot from outside."

"Oh, that? Did you think it was a gunshot?" said Hogan, chuckling as enlightenment dawned. "Sorry, sir, but it's kind of funny, when you think about it."

"I fail to see anything to laugh at in this, Hogan."

"Oh, you will, sir. You see, it was just an accident. One of the men..."

"It was my fault, Kommandant," put in Kinch. "I didn't know it was there, until I stepped on it, and..."

"But let's be honest, nobody really thought it sounded like a gun going off, did they?" Hogan finished, with a twinkling glance at Hochstetter as he expected the Gestapo to share the joke. Receiving no encouragement, he gave an embarrassed cough, and went on. "Well, anyway, Kommandant, I can assure you, it won't happen again..."

As if on cue came a sharp bang from the other end of the barracks. Klink ducked for cover, taking refuge behind Hogan, and Hochstetter, uttering a furious exclamation, swung round to confront this new threat.

Hogan put his hands on his hips, and glared at the perpetrator. "And there goes another one. Can't you guys be a little more careful?"

With a hangdog air, Carter picked up the remnants of his weapon from the floor, and twisted it between his fingers. "Sorry, Colonel," he mumbled.

"So you should be. At this rate we'll have no balloons left." Hogan strode forward and tweaked the torn scrap of blue rubber from Carter's hand. "And you frightened Colonel Klink half to death."

"I wasn't frightened," asserted Klink loudly, drawing himself upright and gathering the shreds of his dignity around him. "I knew all along what it was."

Hochstetter's eyes glittered. "So, Hogan, this is all a misunderstanding. There was no gunfire, it was just a bursting balloon. And there is nothing suspicious going on. You are just having a birthday party."

"That's right, Major. Just like I told you," replied Hogan.

"Just like you told us. And I know you are a man of your word, Hogan," said Hochstetter. "So we will leave you to enjoy your party. That is, after we have searched the barracks."

A chorus of objections broke out among the prisoners, with Hogan's voice rising above the others in plaintive descant: "Aw, gee, Major, you're gonna spoil everything."

"That's his job, Hogan," snapped Klink. "Schultz, begin the search - what are you doing?" His voice turned shrill, as he noticed Schultz had retreated to the corner where Addison was standing guard over his contribution to the proceedings.

The sergeant of the guard turned, a suspicious bulge in his cheek. "Bitte, Herr Kommandant," he mumbled as soon as he was able, "I have already begun the search, and I can report that the canapés are harmless, and very tasty."

"Schultz!" Klink's face darkened to an apoplectic red, which caused the target of his rage to swallow hastily, wipe his fingers on his coat, retrieve his rifle from Addison, and rush into action.

The other guards, and Hochstetter's pair of heavies, had already set to work, stripping the bunks, emptying the lockers and clearing the improvised shelves and cabinets; while the prisoners, for whom this was a familiar occurrence, watched with varying signs of bored resignation. Only when the search approached the birthday cake did any resistance arise, as LeBeau placed himself firmly in front of the bigger of Hochstetter's goons and prepared to defend his handiwork.

The SS man stared down at this chest-high menace as if wondering whether to shoot it or swat it aside. LeBeau, head tilted back, silently dared him to try either course. And Klink, almost paralysed with outrage at the Frenchman's effrontery, somehow managed to utter something between an order and a plea: "Get out of the way, cockroach."

"Take it easy, guys," said Hogan. "I mean, it's just a cake." LeBeau turned a blistering glare on him, and he made a rapid qualification: "A beautiful cake, in fact a work of art. But it's not a matter of life or death."

LeBeau appeared ready to refute this assertion; but Hochstetter got in first. "We'll see about that," he growled. "Stand aside."

"And if I do not?" LeBeau shot back.

Before Hochstetter could respond, Hogan intervened again. "Okay, let's all keep calm. LeBeau, let them search the cake. We'll still be able to eat it afterwards."

"But it's Newkirk's birthday cake, Colonel," protested Carter. "We can't cut it if he's not here."

"Oh, don't hold back on my account, chaps."

Every head in the barracks turned towards the door, or rather towards the bunk nearest to it. Newkirk, unfazed, continued to lean against the corner post, a cool smirk on his lips.

"How long have you been there, Newkirk?" demanded Klink.

"Couple of minutes, sir, but I didn't like to speak up, as you all looked so busy," replied Newkirk. "You know how I hate being the centre of attention. So, what's all this then?"

"Just a little get-together, in honour of your birthday," said Hogan, with a grin. "I bet you never knew you were so popular. Even the Gestapo turned up."

"And very nice of them it is, too, sir." Newkirk met Hochstetter's fulminating glower with unimpaired good humour.

"Bah!" Hochstetter turned on his heel, and gestured towards the cake. "Break it open!"

Pushing LeBeau out of his path, the SS man took out a knife, and soon reduced the cake to a mass of rubble resembling the aftermath of one of Carter's specials.

"Herr Major, there is nothing suspicious here," he reported.

Hochstetter made a low grumbling noise. "Keep looking."

"Yes. Keep looking," echoed Klink. "Schultz, go and search Hogan's quarters."

With a long-suffering sigh, Schultz trundled into the office. He emerged a minute later bearing a large, covered platter. "I have found something, Herr Kommandant," he said.

Carter sniggered. "Hey, Schultz found the bangers!"

The reaction was all anyone could have hoped for, and more. "Bangers?" screeched Klink. "Get rid of it, Schultz. Quickly, before it goes off!"

"But, Herr Kommandant, it is only..." Schultz got no further. Hochstetter barked an order, and retreated towards the far end of the room, while one of his men, with admirable presence of mind, snatched the dish from Schultz's hands and raced out of the barracks to plunge it into the brimming water barrel standing by the door.

LeBeau burst into shrill expostulations, and had to be forcibly restrained by Kinch and Carter from launching an attack on the brute. Newkirk fell into helpless laughter, as remonstrations poured forth from the rest of the men.

"Okay, pipe down," bellowed Hogan, and the tumult died down almost at once into a tense silence, which was broken after a few seconds by the mournful voice of Sergeant Schultz:

"Ach, du lieber. Now the sausages will be spoiled."

Midnight had come and gone before Hochstetter finally accepted that there was nothing to be found in Barracks 2, and even as he stormed off back to town, he remained convinced of the existence of an even deeper plot, and determined to get to the bottom of it, sooner or later. Klink retired to his quarters, to spend the rest of the night in the company of his own doubts and uncertainties; Schultz, grieving over the fate of the Bratwurst, took himself off as well.

Had he known that LeBeau had been prudent enough to keep a reserve supply in the tunnel, he might have hung around. As it was, he took the rest of Addison's canapés with him, as a kind of solace.

Now, in the early hours of the morning, Hogan and his team were gathered in his office, awaiting news from Hammelburg. The shattered remains of the birthday cake lay on the desk; it was messy, but still tasted fine.

"Credit where it's due, LeBeau," remarked Newkirk, scraping up a spoonful of cake and icing. "That dinner wasn't half bad, and I do like a nice bit of Madeira cake."

"That was a génoise," said LeBeau, his brow lowering.

"Oh." Newkirk didn't say any more, but he laid down the spoon, and his expression spoke of vague disappointment.

"What's the difference, anyway?" asked Carter.

"They're spelt differently," replied Hogan, with a soft laugh. "Well, Kinch? What's the news?"

Kinch had come into the office. "Clarke and May made the rendezvous, Colonel. By tomorrow they should be halfway to the coast."

"Another pair of satisfied customers." Hogan stood up and stretched his shoulders. "Okay, I think we can call it a night."

"Couldn't agree more, Colonel," said Newkirk. "I'm just about ready for bed. But before I go, I'd just like to say, even though the Gestapo did their best to spoil it, it was a lovely party, and I really enjoyed myself."

"It was kind of fun," remarked Carter. "Say, maybe we can do it again some time. Has anyone else got a birthday coming up?"

LeBeau groaned softly, and Kinch shook his head. But Hogan smiled.

"I don't know, Carter," he said. "But next time, I think we'll make it easy on ourselves and go out to dinner instead. Planning a party is too much hard work."