Fürst was not dead yet. Possibly he had not been fatally injured. Hogan didn't care.

Stella was hurt. The sleeve over her left inside forearm was torn, revealing a long shallow cut extending from elbow to an inch below the wrist.

"Anything else?" Hogan asked, examining the damage.

"I don't think so." Her voice was husky with exhaustion.

Kinch strode to the desk and fetched back the white fabric cover that had lain over the weapons in their case. He tried to wipe the blood from Stella's arm, but Hogan took the cloth from him and started winding it firmly around the wounded limb.

"Kinch, are you okay?" he asked

"Just bruises, Colonel. Newkirk's hand is really bad." Kinch sounded subdued, and he didn't take his eyes off Stella.

"I don't think I did meself any favours just now," added Newkirk. He was holding the German rifle in his left hand, awkwardly, and he looked sick. That last effort had cost him.

Hogan shook his head. "I take my eyes off you for ten minutes...Kinch, take that gun off Newkirk before he drops it." He finished the makeshift bandage. "Okay, let's go. I don't know how much time we have. Kinch, you take care of Stella, and whatever happens, don't fall behind."

"Colonel, what about them?" said Newkirk, indicating the guards with a jerk of the head.

"We don't have time," replied Hogan brusquely, "and right now, I don't give a damn what happens to them."

With the explosion possibly imminent, he was not prepared to let caution take precedence over speed, and he chose the most direct path back to the tunnel, the same course that the other three had followed, a couple of hours earlier. He was deeply anxious about Stella; he thought she had had about as much as she could take. Kinch had steadied, but Newkirk appeared to be close to his limit as well. Something was worrying him.

"Colonel," he murmured, "that trap-door. We couldn't get it open again."

Hogan looked at him. "Is that what went wrong? Good thing we didn't close it then."

There seemed an unusual amount of bustle in the narrow outer corridors. They heard it - running footsteps, agitated voices - but managed to keep out of sight until they were approaching the tunnel room. Within yards of the door, Hogan saw two darkly-dressed figures appear further along the passage. His arm snapped up, taking aim; then he relaxed.

"What are you two still doing here?" he demanded.

If ever two men had looked guilty, Carter and LeBeau did at that moment, and neither of them seemed willing to answer. Hogan looked from one to the other.

"Never mind," he said, in a voice that promised trouble later. "We better get out of here before the Krauts turn up."

"Uh...Colonel, I don't think they will," said Carter diffidently. "They seem kind of busy."

There was a pause; then Hogan pushed open the door of the tunnel room. "Inside," he ordered. "No, not you two."

He allowed Kinch and Stella to go past; Newkirk followed them, but lingered in the doorway.

"Now," said Hogan," what the hell did you do?"

Carter and LeBeau, like children caught in mischief, exchanged furtive glances. "Alors, mon Colonel," LeBeau said reluctantly, "we came back the long way, past the stables..."

"...and I had some extra stuff with me," Carter added, "you know, just a few smoke bombs and things, nothing much..."

"...and we saw the cars parked there, and it seemed a shame to waste the chance, but I swear, mon Colonel, we didn't know they were storing petrol there..."

"...so we sort of...kind of...well, sort of..."

"...we set fire to the stables," LeBeau finished.

Newkirk, propped up against the doorframe, was shaking with laughter. Hogan regarded his bad boys in silence; then shook his head, and smiled.

"I wish I'd thought of that," he said.

LeBeau and Carter relaxed. Apparently they were not in trouble this time.

"Okay," Hogan went on, "everyone into the tunnel, before this place goes up. LeBeau, you go in front. Carter, stick with Newkirk. Kinch..." He broke off.

"Colonel?"

"Kinch," said Hogan, in a last-straw voice, " where the hell are Stella's shoes?"

Carter was starting to get agitated, as they reached the junction of the supply tunnel and the drain. "LeBeau," he called, "can't we go any faster?"

LeBeau glanced at Newkirk, whose exhaustion was visible, and then at Stella, who in spite of the icy stone floor was managing, with Kinch's support, on her own bare feet.

"I don't think so, Carter," LeBeau replied. He didn't dare ask how much time was still available.

Hogan had heard them. "Kinch," he said quietly, "go tell LeBeau to get moving. We'll keep up."

He put his arm around Stella's shoulders. "Stella, I think we'll get on faster if you stop being so damn brave, and let me give you a lift."

She looked up at him in the dim uneven light, almost as if she suspected his motives. There was nothing in his face but affectionate respect, deep and unreserved. He had seen her in action now, and he knew her worth. He also knew that she had outrun her strength.

"If you insist, sir," she said.

He got her uninjured arm around his shoulders and lifted her in his arms.

Kinch was hesitating at the junction; the others had gone ahead. "It's okay, Kinch," Hogan said. "I've got her."

The first faint touch of outside air was an unimaginable relief, and the open sky was the most beautiful thing Hogan had ever seen.

LeBeau was already out of the ditch, and Carter was giving Newkirk a boost while the Frenchman helped from above. A few moments, and everyone was on dry land.

They could see the Schloss. A flickering glow was visible from the interior. "Is that...?" asked Hogan.

"That's the stable fire," replied Carter. He was tense, waiting for the results of his work; a true artist.

Then came a sudden deep resonant expansion of sound, and the wavering light was obscured by a bloom of dust and smoke.

"That was ours," said Carter. But he seemed dissatisfied.

"What's wrong?" asked Hogan.

Carter sighed. "I thought it would be bigger than that. I guess one of them didn't go off."

And a second massive wave of sound reached them. Carter's expression cleared.

"There it is," he said. "Gosh, I really need to work on my timing."

"Can I ask you something?" said Colonel Hogan.

Stella gave him a sideways glance. "I don't promise to answer."

She would be leaving them shortly. Hogan was taking her to the rendezvous himself, before meeting the rescheduled supply drop. They were alone in the tunnel, waiting till it was time to go.

"When you challenged Fürst," he went on, "were you just buying time? You knew we were coming. Were you trying to keep him distracted so we could complete the mission?"

She thought about that. "No. That never occurred to me."

He waited for more, but she didn't continue. Hogan, running over in his mind the outlines of the story that he'd had from Newkirk, came to a conclusion.

"Was it Kinch?" he said at last.

"That man was going to have him shot." There was a dark, brooding look in her eyes.

Hogan sighed. He had held off for a couple of days on sending her home, partly to give the Kommandant time to lose faith in the extra patrols, and call them off, but mostly because she needed some recovery time before tackling the journey.

"I wish I could say we were sending you back in as-received condition, Stella. London won't let us borrow stuff any more if we don't look after it."

He got a smile out of her, and a lightening of the mood. "It's nothing," she said, looking at her bandaged arm. "I'll have something to show for it, at least. Colonel, I want to ask something as well."

"Fire away."

"That's not the end, is it? They will set up their laboratories somewhere else, and do it all again."

"Yeah. Every time we put something out of action, sooner or later there's something else to take its place. At least it keeps us occupied. And we will beat them, one day, if everyone does their part. I guess for you, that's taking over where your brother left off."

"Something to aim for, then," said Stella.

Kinch came down the ladder from the barracks. "It's almost time, Colonel," he said.

Hogan looked at his watch. "I'll give you three minutes," he said. "I'll be waiting at the exit." He gave them a nod, and went.

Neither of them spoke for almost a minute, then Kinch put his hands either side of Stella's face, very gently.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," he said in a low voice. "I thought..."

She put her hands over his, and drew them away. "I'm sorry," she replied.

"I've been thinking about what I said before," he went on. "I know it's impossible, I know it can't be done, I know it's too hard, but I don't think I can let you go. Not after what happened."

"Then don't. Yes, I know," she added, before he could speak, "it will be hard. It will be very hard. But I've been thinking, too, since long before I came here. And I've come to understand that some things in this world are unfair, and will go on being unfair, unless someone challenges them. But it's not even that. I want you, Kinch. I need to be with you. That's all."

"And if it doesn't work out?"

"At least we'll be able to say we tried."

He tried to answer, hesitated, then nodded. "I'll see you, then. Some time."

"Some time. In some other place."

It was a promise. She moved away, towards the exit tunnel, turned back and gave him a last smile. Then she was gone.

Kinch, feeling as if he'd lost something and found it again, went back up to the barracks.

"They gone then?" asked Newkirk. His tone and manner were as light as usual, but Kinch read sympathy in his glance. He nodded.

"She was a nice girl," said Carter. "A real lady."

LeBeau indicated his agreement. "Une femme courageuse. I will miss her."

"So will I, Louis," said Kinch. "So will I."