Act Three

Scene Two

Introduction

Theater of War: Act Three – "I Have Played the Fool" – The First Book of Samuel – is set in the Hogan's Heroes' universe. It was originally published as a digest-sized zine in 1998. This is an amateur publication for the enjoyment of fans. This copyright covers only original material and in no way intends to infringe upon the privileges of the holders of copyrights, trademarks or other legal rights for the Hogan's Heroes universe.

The conclusion of Act Three.

– One –

It was a cold, bleak day. Everyone was dragging — the guards, the prisoners, everyone. The reason, as usual, was the war news. To the prisoners, it meant the end was still not here. To the Germans, it was as if Germany was slowly hemorrhaging to death and nothing was being done to stop it. It was only a matter of time. But the waiting was hard on everyone. Only Klink seemed immune.

Captain Fritz Gruber. Hogan saw him crossing the compound to the front gate. He seemed to have accepted the terms of his uneasy truce with the Kommandant. He acted no differently than he had before the day he held that gun on Klink. According to Schultz, Gruber made no attempt to talk to any of the Germans in the camp, and he rarely left his quarters when he was off duty.

Hogan turned the corner of the barracks and halted. A car was coming through the gate. Only one man was in it. The car drove to Klink's office and stopped. The man got out.

Schutzstaffel — SS

Hogan's eye caught those of his men. They hurried back into the barracks. Hurriedly, they set up the listening device.

"SS," muttered Newkirk. "What does he want?"

Kommandant Wilhelm Klink was wondering the same thing as he greeted Sturmbannführer(1) Sigfrid Reiner.

"Just a courtesy call, Kommandant," Reiner was saying as Klink sat behind his desk. "My family home is south of here. I am on my way there before returning to the front."

"Is that safe, Herr Sturmbannführer?" Klink asked. "We have been hearing rumors about resistance raids on SS personnel."

A thin smile. "They will find that I am not that easy to kill or capture." The major walked over to the rear window. "An interesting camp, Kommandant. You are to be commended. I understand that you have never had a successful escape."

A pleased smile. "Yes, that is true."

"I have never been to a Luftwaffe camp before, Kommandant. However, I have been to some of the other prison camps. This seems to be a little different. What is that?"

"What is what?" Klink rose and went to stand beside Reiner at the window.

"What is that?" Reiner pointed.

"Oh. That is the prisoners' recreation hall."

"Recreation hall?" Reiner sounded amused. "How quaint. Perhaps that is why you have never had an escape, Colonel."

A smile. "We try to make things as comfortable as possible. It encourages them to stay here."

"Apparently, it works," Reiner said. "Though many think it a waste of time to coddle prisoners. Wolfgang did."

"Wolfgang?"

"Wolfgang Hochstetter. Gestapo Major Hochstetter," Reiner said. "I understand you knew him."

"Yes. We had met numerous times in the past." Klink sounded appropriately sad. "Such a tragic loss to the Third Reich."

"Very. Apparently, he was close to discovering the identity of a notorious resistance leader," Reiner continued. "One who had evaded capture for over ten years. One wonders if he had discovered the identity of the man before his death. Possibly that discovery caused his death.

"And," Reiner pointed out the window, changing the subject, "what is?"

"The delousing station," Klink said in an almost bored voice.

"As I was saying," Reiner continued. "Poor Wolfgang. I hope he died happy knowing the identity of the man who had bested him for so many years.

"He spoke of you often, Colonel. You and the other man. I wonder if he ever guessed the truth before everything fell apart for him. I doubt it. He hated too strongly to think clearly."

"Major, this is all very interesting. But I . . . " Klink broke off, stunned.

"Very good, Colonel," Reiner said in a voice almost too low for Hogan to hear. "Your control is really excellent. You make no sudden moves, no instinctive reactions that might cause severe damage."

"What's he talking about?" Carter, listening in the Hogan's roon, asked in a puzzled voice.

"What do you want?" Klink's voice changed to that quiet tone that Hogan and his men had come to know.

"You, Colonel Klink." Reiner's voice was chillingly soft. "Or perhaps I should say Stage?"

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau cried. "He knows!"

"Who?" Klink asked politely.

Reiner laughed. "Of course. I really do not expect you to admit anything, Colonel. That would be too easy.

"Now, Colonel, I do not know if you have any safety measures to protect you here. But I would suggest no rash actions while that knife is embedded in your side."

Hogan, who had been ready to rush to Klink's office, stopped, frozen with shock.

"The blade is razor sharp," Reiner continued. "And very thin as you can feel. I chose a spot that will cause you no permanent harm. There are no vital organs in the way, no arteries. There are, of course, nerves. But the way the knife is inserted now, it is merely annoying. Unless, of course, I press so."

Klink's eyes closed as pain shot through him.

"Excellent, Colonel, excellent," Reiner said. "I have sent men to their knees with that move. You will be a worthy opponent."

Klink's eyes opened and he looked at Reiner. "What do you want, Reiner?"

"As I said before, Colonel, you. Do you hunt, Colonel?" Reiner asked.

Klink stayed silent, his eyes on Reiner's face.

"It is an exhilarating sport. I have hunted all kinds of game. The more dangerous the game, the more thrilling the hunt. But of all the animals in the world, the most enjoyable, the most challenging to hunt is man."

"You are mad." Klink's calm voice echoed the thoughts of the listening men as he turned back to the window.

Reiner's expression turned ugly. The knife pressed.

Klink gasped as the pain tore through him, his fingers turning white as they grasped the windowsill tightly to keep from falling.

"It is not wise to anger me, Colonel. Not wise at all." Reiner's voice lost some of its smoothness. "I can cause you a great deal of unpleasant pain right now. And I really do not want to damage you unnecessarily."

Hogan's insides twisted as he heard Klink's gasp and Reiner's threat. Klink was at the mercy of that madman and there was nothing they could do.

"Colonel, we've got to do something!" Baker said.

"Right now, we're helpless," Hogan said in disgust. "Until we find out what he's up to."

Reiner watched as the pain slowly ebbed from Klink's face.

"As I said, Colonel, the most exciting game of all is man. And I have chosen you to be my final prize. A fitting end for a man who has outwitted all of Germany's security forces for the past ten years."

"It is?" Klink's voice was soft with irony.

"But of course," Reiner said happily. "Oh, it will be fair; you will be allowed to fight back. You might even get lucky and kill me. That is always the risk the hunter takes. It will be just the two of us, matching wits. It will be glorious."

"He's a bloody lunatic," muttered Newkirk.

"And what if I choose not to play your game, Reiner? Will you kill me now?" Klink asked softly. "Or forcibly remove me from the camp?"

"What?" Reiner was outraged. "Where is the sport in that, Colonel? No, I will not kill you now. Nor kidnap you. I want you to come to me of your own free will. Once our discussion is concluded, I will walk out of this camp and return home." Reiner took an envelope from his coat pocket and tossed it on Klink's desk. "That contains the directions on how to find my estate. I will expect you there tomorrow morning at dawn."

"And why should I play your little game, Reiner?" Klink asked curiously.

"Because, my dear Colonel, you are already dying."

Klink turned to look at him, cold sweat breaking out on his palms.

"You see, Colonel," Reiner explained in a matter-of-fact voice as an ashen Hogan and his men listened. "The blade was dipped in a little known poison. In my travels through Africa, I encountered a number of exotic poisons. This one is particularly interesting. It is odorless, colorless, tasteless. It enters the victim's body by a cut or a scratch. It allows him to function normally for a number of days before the pain strikes. Then the victim's last remaining hours are spent in unending agony. There is an antidote that works as long as the victim has not slipped into an irreversible coma. And the only way for you to get that antidote, Colonel, is to play my game."

Klink still watched him unflinchingly.

"Perhaps you are thinking of escaping to Switzerland or London. That is your choice. I will not stop you. But I assure you, you will have died in excruciating pain before the doctors can begin to find out what is wrong. The poison is virtually undetectable unless one knows exactly what to look for. The only hope you have of living is to come to the estate, kill me and get the antidote. So, Colonel, you only have two choices. Die very unpleasantly. Or participate in the hunt."

"And your choices," Klink said softly in a voice Hogan could not hear, "are limited only by your imagination."

Reiner smiled.

Klink's eyes turned to the scene outside the window.

"You have time to decide, Colonel," Reiner said. "I am patient. But do not wait too long. In forty-eight hours or so, the pain will begin. Your tolerance for pain is quite high but, in time, the pain will become unbearable and cloud your mind. And you will not have much more than another twelve hours after that before you lapse into the coma. Please, choose wisely, Colonel.

"And do not think you can attack me on the way to the estate. I do not have the antidote with me. And I promise you an attack on the estate or me will accomplish nothing other than your certain death. The only way for you to obtain the antidote is to participate in the hunt.

"Goodbye, Colonel Klink," Reiner concluded. "For your sake, I do hope we meet again. Oh, and one other minor detail." Reiner smiled. "To ensure time for me to get out of this camp easily, I am leaving you a little present. I do regret the discomfort this will cause, but as long as the blade is removed quickly, there will be no permanent damage. I would strongly advise you not to move, Colonel, until the blade is removed."

The listening men started as they heard Klink's strangled cry and then Reiner's voice.

"Still conscious, Colonel?" Reiner laughed. "Yes, this will be a most challenging hunt. Until tomorrow, Colonel."

They heard the door close.

Hogan, guessing what had happened, was already at the door. "Get the medical kit!" he ordered tightly. "That damn sadist just broke the blade off inside Klink's body!"

Hogan was out of the barracks at a run. "Schultz!" he yelled at the rotund Sergeant and motioned him toward Klink's office.

The alarmed Sergeant headed quickly toward the office. Reiner's car was nearly at the gate. Captain Gruber, who had glanced after Reiner and the car in puzzlement, was walking up the stairs to Klink's office. He had his hand on the door when he was swept aside by Hogan and Schultz. Indignant, he started to object. But by then, the door had opened.

Kommandant Klink was slumped against the wall under the window. Gruber stared at him in surprise.

Hogan had already reached Klink and knelt beside him.

Klink looked at Hogan numbly, pain in his eyes, drenched with sweat.

"All right," Hogan said gently. "Don't move. Let me do all the work." Carefully, Hogan unbuttoned Klink's jacket. "Schultz!"

The big Sergeant knelt beside his Kommandant. He wet his dry lips. "Yes, Colonel Hogan."

"Hold the jacket out of the way," Hogan said. "Carefully! Don't jar him."

Schultz did as he was told. The tiny gash in Klink's shirt, barely tinted with blood, was scarcely noticeable.

"I need scissors or a knife," Hogan said urgently.

Gruber, still not knowing what was going on, reacted to the order and walked over to Klink's desk. He took a pair of scissors from the desk drawer and handed it to Hogan. Gruber watched as Hogan, very carefully, cut away Klink's shirt. Gruber swallowed nervously. There was a bleeding wound in Klink's side; a small jagged bit of metal protruded from the wound. Where did it come from? And how did Hogan know about it? Gruber glanced at Hogan's men as they crowded the door. What was going on in this camp?

Hogan expelled a nervous breath. This was going to be tricky. To avoid hurting Klink and possibly causing a serious injury, he had to pull it straight out. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

"Do it," Klink said in a toneless voice. "Quickly!"

After slipping on one of Klink's gloves to protect his fingers from the sharp metal and the poison, Hogan gently but firmly grasped the end of the knife. He pulled it straight out with a smooth, even pressure. Then he held up the thin stiletto.

Gruber went white. Who had done that to the Kommandant? No one had come into the office except that SS major.

The SS major.

"You can breathe again," Hogan said in a soft voice.

Klink nodded and closed his eyes.

Carter came over with the medical kit. As Hogan, the knife in his hand, stood, Schultz expertly bandaged the small wound.

Hogan dropped the knife on the desk and walked over to the cabinet. He poured brandy into a glass and went back to Klink. He stooped down and handed Klink the brandy.

Klink downed the brandy in one gulp. "Help me up, please," he said in a quiet voice.

Schultz helped Klink rise and led him over to his desk.

Klink sat down wearily and wiped his wet face with the handkerchief Schultz gave him. Then he looked at Hogan. The American's face was grave, no hint of humor in his expression.

"You heard," Klink stated.

"Every word." Hogan suddenly felt overwhelmed. "I . . . I don't know what to say. Or do."

A humorless smile. "There is nothing to say. As for what to do . . . " Klink's voice trailed off.

There was a long silence in the room. Schultz and Gruber were puzzled but afraid of intruding.

Klink picked up the knife on the desk and stared at it, his face impassive. Finally, he spoke, "I would like you to leave. There are some things that I must do. Alone." His eyes lifted to Hogan. "Come to my quarters tonight at seven. All of you. We will talk then." He seemed to notice Gruber for the first time. "Hauptmann Gruber. Yes, it is fitting that you are here. Well, Hauptmann, your struggle with your conscience may end very soon."

Klink's eyes swung to Schultz. "And you, my friend, don't know what has happened. Colonel Hogan will explain."

His gaze fell on the knife again. Klink dropped it, revulsion flashing across his face. "I would appreciate it if you requested the cook to prepare something special for dinner, Sergeant."

"Kommandant," LeBeau said in a tightly emotional voice, "I would be honored if you allowed me to prepare dinner for you."

Slowly, Klink's eyes lifted to the small corporal's face. And he smiled. LeBeau felt like crying as Klink said, "I would deem it an honor, my small friend." The smile disappeared and his gaze dropped back to the knife. "Go! Quickly!" Klink whispered, his voice too rigidly controlled.

One by one, the despondent men left the room.

Hogan was the last. He stared at the man who had become his friend long before he was willing to admit it. There was so much he wanted to say. But not now. Klink had to come to terms with the horrible fate before him.

Hogan closed the door quietly as he left the office.

At seven o'clock, they entered the Kommandant's quarters. Klink, in a black sweater and pants, his monocle missing, waited for them in the living room. He was pouring cognac into glasses from an old bottle.

The waiting, silent men were solemn.

Schultz's eyes were red, his face tightly controlled. When Hogan told him what had happened, the normally good-natured Sergeant exploded with rage, using language none of them had thought he even knew. Then he broke down.

Gruber. Gruber didn't know what to think or say. The whole thing seemed insane to him. Hogan had told him only the bare facts about what had happened. The American gave no details on how he knew about the events in Klink's office. And Gruber asked for none. He believed the story only because he had to. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to know anything else.

"Sergeant Carter," Klink said in a quiet voice, "please pass the cognac around."

Carter took the tray with the glasses on it and walked around the room.

Klink went over to the desk and took a thick packet from the middle drawer. He walked over to the table and leaned the packet against a vase. "There are letters here for everyone," he said quietly. "My mother, brothers, Therese, Dieter and others. Also," his eyes met theirs, "letters for each of you.

"Hauptmann Gruber, there is also a letter for General Burkhalter. It will explain what has happened here in the camp for the past four years and absolves you of all complicity in my actions."

Gruber swallowed nervously as he nodded.

Klink went over to a chair; a small black bag was on it. He pulled a Luger out of the satchel, examined it and returned it to the bag.

"You are to give me until midnight of the third day," Klink said quietly. "If I am not back by then," his eyes found Hogan, "you are to leave.

"Hans." Schultz started. "You are then to make the same telephone call you made the last time." Their eyes met. "This time, my friend, you will obey orders and leave," Klink said softly.

Tears in his eyes, Schultz could only nod.

"The packet, I entrust to you. Please see that everyone receives the letters."

Again, a silent nod. This time, a tear slid down Schultz's cheek.

"Robert." It was the first time that Klink had called him by name in the presence of others. "This time, you, too, are to leave. I," his eyes met Hogan's, "I do not wish to make it an order. Please, honor it as the last request of a friend."

Hogan nodded, too choked to say anything.

Klink smiled. He picked up the last glass on the tray and held it high. "To the end of the war."

The others echoed his toast and drank.

Klink then moved around the room.

Hogan couldn't hear what Klink said. But with each man, he shared a comment and a toast. Each man was visibly shaken by the goodbye. With Schultz, Klink shared an embrace. And Gruber, to Hogan's surprise, saluted.

Finally, it was Hogan's turn.

Klink smiled. "To our symbiotic relationship, Robert."

Hogan found it difficult to return the smile.

Their glasses clinked.

Hogan drained his glass without tasting the cognac.

Klink slowly held up his hand as in the cave. Hogan, a painful tightness in his throat, grasped Klink's hand, his eyes clinging to Klink's.

"I am sorry it will not be to the end, Robert," Klink said softly.

Hogan swallowed, his grip tightening on Klink's hand. Then Hogan broke the grip and embraced the man before him.

As they broke apart, Hogan's voice was filled with desperation. "Wilhelm, if . . . " He swallowed hard and tried again. "If you survive, don't come back. Try to get word to us, but don't come back."

Klink smiled. "If I survive, I will consider it."

Then he stepped away from Hogan and drained his glass. He broke the stem with his fingers, letting the pieces drop to the rug. Then he walked over to the chair and picked up the bag. His eyes swept over them one last time. And he turned to go.

Schultz's voice broke the silence. "Achtung!"

The men in the room snapped to attention and saluted.

Klink was surprised, and pleased. He returned their salute and was gone.

Gruber broke the long despairing silence. "He . . . He doesn't expect to live." There was wonder and puzzlement in his voice.

Schultz walked as if in a daze closer to the door. Then he dropped into a chair and began sobbing loudly. LeBeau, his eyes grave, hesitantly walked over to Schultz and laid a hand on his quaking shoulder.

Hogan stared at the door, still unable to believe what had happened. Then finally, as if he were in a dream, he stirred. "Kinch," he said in a pale imitation of his normal voice. "Call our friend in Berlin. At least, we can protect his back. In case . . . "

"Yes, sir." Kinch walked over to the telephone and made the call.

With more than a little surprise, Gruber watched the American sergeant make a call to Berlin, to Abwehr, to a Major Hans Teppel.(2)

Hogan took the telephone from the sergeant. After a few, and to Gruber incomprehensible, sentences, Hogan began talking. "Major, we've got bad trouble here . . . No, we're fine for the moment. But we need a favor . . . Keep Burkhalter away from here for at least eighty-four hours. No calls, no telegrams and especially no visits. Do you think you can manage that? . . . Thanks . . . Yeah, we'll let you know what happened later. Goodbye."

Hogan replaced the receiver and stared at it. Then he picked up his glass.

"To our symbiotic relationship, Robert . . . I am sorry it will not be to the end . . . "

To the end.

You and . . .

Hogan hurled the glass against the wall. It shattered loudly.

Blindly, Hogan ran out of the room. The door slammed loudly behind him.

1 The SS equivalent of major.

2 "Bad Day at Berlin"