Hogan's Heroes: The Monthly Library Book

[what_we_dream]

Title: The Monthly Library Book
Series: Hogan's Heroes
Pairing: None
Rating: G

Summary: To complete a complicated explosive, Carter needs a few days without supervision. Hogan has an idea of how to get them

“Carter? How’s it going?” Hogan followed the chemist towards the tunnel entrance, Newkirk and LeBeau behind him, on their way up for dinner.

“Well Colonel, a lot slower than it would go without all these interruptions. I mean, with two roll calls, three meals, exercise and spot inspections to turn up for every day, I’m hardly getting anything done. It’s real fiddly work, sir, needs a lot of concentration.”

Hogan crossed his arms and nodded. “Alright, just do your best.”

“Yes, sir.” Carter turned back to the ladder, Hogan following him. From down the tunnel came the sound of running feet on soft ground.

“Colonel!” Kinch turned the corner, blue radio form in his hand. “Sir, I just had a communication from the Underground. They say there’s been a change of plans, and they’ll need the bomb by the day after tomorrow by 8pm.”

“That’s impossible!” burst out Carter, and then shrank back when Hogan spun to face him. “Sorry, sir, but it is! There’s no way I can have it done before next week. Not if I can’t work uninterrupted.” Carter shrugged apologetically, thumbs hooked in his pockets.

“And with our schedule as it is there’s no way he can work uninterrupted,” said LeBeau, looking up at the tunnel ceiling. “They won’t just wave him from roll call to give him time to cook up a bomb.”

“Maybe if we asked nicely?” suggested Carter, earning dirty looks. “Or maybe not.”

“How about the cooler,” mused Kinch.

Hogan shook his head. “No good, too many spot checks.”

“He could always ‘escape,’ sir,” said Newkirk. “Stay down here ‘til he’s finished, then turn up.”

“Yeah, and with all the guards Klink would let loose in the woods we’d have no chance of delivering it to the Underground. No, that plan won’t fly. He’s gotta be excused officially, and the only reason anyone gets leave not to attend daily routines is being in the infirmary.”

“He can fake an illness!” said LeBeau enthusiastically.

“Nope.” Kinch crossed his arms. “All sick men are inspected by the city doctor to make sure they’re not faking to get out of roll call and exercise, and we still haven’t been able to get a sympathiser in the job.”

“We could break something he doesn’t need to work. How’s a leg sound, Carter?” Newkirk grabbed a shovel from where it was leaning up against the tunnel wall and hefted it like a bat.

“Hey, now, let’s not be hasty…” Carter backed away, tripped, and stumbled sideways into one of the dark alcoves kept empty for men needing quick access to or exists from the barracks. There was a soft thud as he landed, and then a yelp. Carter came scrambling back out, head low, gloved hands wrapped around the back of his neck. “There’s something in there! Something’s moving!”

Hogan grabbed a flashlight from a nearby table and shone it into the dark space. In its dim light, several sets of small wings batting around were barely visible.

“Bats,” moaned Carter. “What if they’re vampire bats? Did they bite me?” He hurried over to Newkirk and turned to show him his back, dragged down the back of his collar to better expose his neck. The corporal rolled his eyes and pushed him away.

“What are ‘vampire bats’?” whispered LeBeau.

“Figments of Andrew’s imagination,” returned Newkirk.

“They’re not!” Carter straightened and fixed his collar. “They really exist! I read a book about them once! They suck blood out of things like mice and squirrels and things! Just like vampires!”

“And which one are you Carter?” asked the Brit. “Mouse or squirrel?”

Before he could respond, the colonel cut in. “Say now. That’s not a bad idea, Carter.”

“Of course it isn’t Colonel!” Carter swelled up, then deflated again. “Wait, what idea?”

“Vampires! Didn’t any of you notice Klink’s monthly library book?”

“I stopped checking after Wagner’s biography,” muttered LeBeau.

Newkirk shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “It was Goethe for me. You know he just takes them out to impress the librarian.”

“Yeah, well, if you guys had paid attention, you’d have noticed that this month is Bram Stoker’s Dracula.” Hogan looked around impressively. His men’s expressions went through a range of recognition, suspicion, and then outright horror, except for Carter who just looked puzzled. They all spoke up simultaneously, like clockwork.

“You can’t be serious, Colonel. Everyone knows it’s just a story!

“Even ol’ Blood ‘n Guts must know it’s just a fairy tale!”

“You can’t expect this to really work, sir!”

“Of course it will,” shouted Hogan, killing the protests. “You all know how superstitious Klink can be, when we put him in the right mind frame.”

“I don’t get it,” said Carter. “What will work?”

“Well, Carter, how do you feel about an unusual role?”

----------------------------------------

---

“I still don’t understand,” protested Carter sitting on his bunk as Newkirk pushed the younger man’s head to the side and carefully painted two red marks on his exposed throat with a thin make-up brush. His face, throat and hands had already been powdered to a ghastly level of pallor. Beside him sat Stiller, the camp medic, with a half-full syringe in his hands. “Why do you have to drug me?”

Around him the men were still lying in their bunks, trying to ignore the antics of their chief and catch a few more minutes of sleep.

Hogan, fully dressed and seated on a stool near the stove, took a sip of his coffee. “We’ll try to convince him not to, but it’s possible Klink could call in a physician, and there’s gotta be something wrong with you if he does. Besides, it’ll lend verisimilitude to the whole thing. You’ll stay out for an hour or two, long enough to fool the doctor if he’s called in, and then you’ll have two whole days and a night free to finish your work in the infirmary. Klink’ll have to keep you in there until we’re sure you’re safe.”

“Well, if you say so, sir.”

“I do.”

Newkirk pulled away and let the sergeant pull his head back to the proper angle. “How’s he look, sir?”

Hogan nodded, inspecting both face and hands. “Perfect, wonderfully corpse-like.”

“Hey!”

“It’s a complement, mate!” Newkirk gave him a slap on the shoulder, and then leapt into his own bunk and pulled his blankets over himself. “It’s a nice job, if I do say so meself.”

Hogan put down his cup and stood. “Alright, Stiller, give him the shot. Carter, we’ll have your stuff waiting for you under your bed in the infirmary.”

“Yes, sir. Remember not to jolt it! And remember, I need both the red and the yellow box. Oh, and my little leather bag too, sir, it’s got all … my … tools…” he faded out into silence as the drug took effect, Stiller lowering him into his bed and pulling the blankets over him.

Hogan nodded to the medic. “Good work. Back into your barracks now.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned, dragged the long-suffering Brown out of the tunnel’s bunk, and disappeared down into the darkness.

Now the only one standing, Hogan gave one last glance around the dark room, nodded again, and returned to his quarters.

-------------------------------------------------

“Roll call! Roll call! Everyone one out! Raus, raus! Schnell! Everyone out!” Schultz fought his way into the barracks through the tide of men flowing out into the cold morning, shouted again, and then let himself be swept back out.

He took up his place in front of the assembled prisoners just as Colonel Klink appeared on the deck of the Kommandantur behind him, coat wrapped tight around him, and shouted for a report.

Schultz walked along the line, counting. Reached Hogan at the end, and paused. Behind him, spot 15 was empty.

“Colonel Hogan, where’s Carter? Don’t tell me he’s escaped, Colonel Hogan!”

Hogan glanced behind him, surprised. “Carter? He should be here. He didn’t say anything about taking a vacation.” He looked down the line. “Any of you guys know where Carter is?”

“He was in his bed when I left, sir,” volunteered Newkirk. “Want me to go check?”

“No!” protested Schultz immediately. “I will go and check on him! Wait here!”

“Schultz!”

The Sergeant turned as Klink strutted down from his porch and across the frosty dirt. “What’s the matter? Report!”

“Herr Kommandant, one man is missing. Newkirk says he is still inside.”

“Then turn him out! All men must report for every roll call you know that.”

Schultz saluted. “Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!” As he hurried back into the barracks he could hear Klink behind him complaining to Colonel Hogan.

The inside of the barracks was empty, blankets hanging from bunks, footlockers left open in the hurry to dress and get outside without wasting a moment of sleep. All the beds were messily unmade, except for the one closest to the door, which was still occupied. Carter was lying with his back to the room, blanket tucked up high over his shoulder. Schultz strode over and dropped his rifle butt heavily against the ground beside the head of the bunk.

“Sergeant Carter, it is time to wake up! Roll call! Carter!”

There was no movement from the bed. Eyebrows furrowing, Schultz leant in. “Carter? Are you alright? Carter?” He reached out and turned Carter to lie on his back. As he did so the blanket fell away, exposing a horribly pale face. “Carter! What’s wrong?” Schultz reached out and shook the man, then pressed two heavy fingers against his throat and sighed.

Gun left leaning against the bunk, Schultz hurried out into the bright early-morning daylight.

“Herr Kommandant, Carter is sick, very sick! He won’t wake up, and his face, it is terribly pale!”

Disorder broke out immediately among the prisoners, several turning and hurrying back towards the barracks, others gathering in chatting pools. Someone shouted something about fetching the medic, someone else about the infirmary.

“Silence!” bellowed Klink. “Silence! Everyone back to his position! You, Cockroach, fetch Corporal Stiller immediately!”

LeBeau looked about to protest, but at a nod from Hogan did as he was told and took off running across the compound towards barracks 10.

“Hogan, you come with me. The rest of you will remain here!” Klink strode past, Hogan falling into position as he went. Schultz hurried along behind.

In the barracks it was colder now, the door having been left open. Klink paused, uncertain of the bunk, and Hogan took over.

“Carter? Carter, can you hear me?” Hogan shook the limp man gently, then like Schultz pressed his fingers against the pale neck. “His pulse is slow and weak, but –” Hogan drew his fingers away, and paused. Then he turned to glance up at the light behind him. “Schultz, could you turn on that light?”

Schultz did as he was asked, the electric light flickering on with a few quiet pops and illuminating the room. Hogan shifted to be out of its way. “Take a look at that, Colonel. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Klink leaned in as requested, then gasped in surprise. Schultz, leaning in around him, saw two bloody red marks on Carter’s throat, right over the big artery.

“Looks like some kind of bite, or something,” continued Hogan in a curious tone. “Sir?”

Schultz looked to Klink, who was backing away from the bunk, stunned. As he watched the man walked right back into the stove and stumbled, straightening instantly and looking around fearfully.

“Sir, what is it?” Hogan stood, and looked around too. Schultz, following suit, saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“You say his pulse is slow, Hogan?”

“Yes, sir, and weak.”

It hadn’t seemed that weak to Schultz, but he was no doctor, and Hogan seemed very earnest.

“As if, perhaps, he had… lost some blood?”

“Well, sir, I suppose that could be, but those don’t look like any kind of syringe marks I’ve ever seen. Besides, no one would be stupid enough to put it in his neck!”

“It can’t be,” muttered Klink to himself, still glancing around. Then, eyes falling on Hogan, “Have your men reported anything strange recently? Any… strangers, perhaps, in the camp?”

“Strangers here, sir? How would they get in?”

“They haven’t, then,” said Klink, ignoring the question. Hogan appeared to think about it.

“I never asked, sir. I suppose maybe they did. Do you want me to ask them?”

“No, I can ask them myself!” Klink stepped towards the door, and was nearly run over when it burst open to admit LeBeau, Stiller and a pair of compound guards.

“See to Carter,” ordered Klink, gesturing. “I want a report as soon as you have an idea what might be wrong with him.”

Stiller glanced up at Hogan, who nodded, and nodded himself. “Okay, sir. LeBeau, hand me my stethoscope.” The man leant over Carter and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Klink watched for a minute, then straightened and marched outside. Hogan followed, as did Schultz.

Outside, Klink took up his usual position in front of the assembled POWs.

“Alright! It seems that Sergeant Carter is ill, due to a currently unknown cause.”

There was a muttering, accompanied by dark looks at the Kommandant.

“Silence!” bellowed Klink. “This is a very serious matter! I want any man who knows anything to tell it immediately!”

“Maybe it was the food,” shouted someone.

“Too many delousings,” suggested another.

“This is no laughing matter! Your comrade is very sick! Now I want any man who saw something suspicious to come forward! Any unusual movements, or associations, anything!”

There was a long silence, the surly men looking at each other and glaring at the Kommandant. Finally Kinch stepped forward. “I might’ve saw something, sir. I figured it was just a dream, but with Carter sick now…”

“Go on,” prompted Klink.

“Well sir, last night I woke up. I don’t know when, maybe a little before dawn? It was still dark outside, and I know because the window was open. Someone had opened the shutter and the window, and I could see the sky. Maybe it was the cold coming in that woke me up. Anyway, I looked across the room and I saw something – someone – bending over Carter. All dressed in black, long, old-fashioned clothes.”

Klink reared back, hissing apprehensively.

Hogan waved a dismissive hand. “C’mon, Kinch, don’t be silly. How could someone like that get in the camp? It’s ridiculous. You were obviously dreaming!” Hogan laughed. “Don’t believe it, Kommandant. How could that be true? Kinch was just dreaming, weren’t you Kinch?”

The sergeant shrugged, looking uncertain. “Maybe, sir,” he offered quietly. Klink winced.

Behind the rows of prisoners the barracks door flew open, and Stiller hurried out, medical bag in hand. He jogged over to Klink, looking puzzled.

“Well?” hissed Klink out of the side of his mouth, turning so as not to be facing the prisoners.

“Sir, it’s the strangest thing,” began Stiller in a normal tone. Klink hushed him immediately and the medic quieted, looking around, confused. “Uh, Carter seems to be suffering from blood loss. I don’t know how, there are no marks on him except for those little wounds on his neck and they look more like a bite than anything else.”

“A bite?” asked Klink, quivering.

“Yes, sir, some kind of animal, maybe, although from the space between them it’d have to have a pretty big mouth. Almost human-sized, really.”

Klink made a quiet sound in his throat.

“Anyway, whatever it is, I’d recommend he be moved to the infirmary for a day or two. It’s too cold for a sick man here, and he needs to be excused from the regular routine until he’s recovered.

“Of course, take him out immediately. I will stop by later to see about securing the building.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, sir, Carter’s in no condition to try to get out.”

“That’s not what I meant,” moaned Klink, turning away. “Colonel Hogan, follow me. Sergeant, see that Carter is moved to the infirmary and place a guard on the entrance.

“Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!” Schultz saluted, spun heavily, and marched back into the barracks.

----------------------------------------------

“Hogan, have you read this book?”

Hogan, standing in front of the Colonel’s desk, watched with amusement in his eyes as the man pulled a worn volume from the end of his small collection of books; the monthly library book. He handed it over, and even in German the title and author were plain enough.

“Dracula, sir? Sure, classic horror. Big bad blood-sucking monsters stalking pretty young – wait a minute, sir.” Hogan paused for a minute, then looked up. “You’re not suggesting…”

“Uh huh, uh huh, and if I am, Hogan?” Klink leant forward across the desk, all seriousness. “Think about it. It all fits. A figure in black coming in and leaving through the window, Carter with a bite mark on his neck suffering from severe blood loss…”

“Sir, Kinch probably just dreamed that up! And who knows what bit Carter – there are all kinds of pests in those barracks, which by the way is an issue I’d like to raise with you because frankly it’s disgusting, the way that –”

“Not now, Hogan, this is more important! Even if Corporal Kinch ‘dreamed up’ that man and some sort of… of rat, or something, bit Carter, how do you explain that blood loss?”

“Well, sir…” Hogan rubbed a hand across his jaw, eyes narrowed in obvious thought. “Well, maybe…”

“Ah hah, you don’t know, do you? You see, nothing else makes sense! Clearly, this is the work of a, a vampire!”

“It does fit,” admitted Hogan grudgingly. “But what do we do about it? If it’s after Carter we can’t let him return to the barracks; he’ll be a sitting duck!”

“Ah, I am ahead of you as always, Hogan! I know precisely what to do!” Klink pulled the book back and opened it, flipped through the creased pages. “Here, here, it says precisely what to put on the windows to keep vampires out!” Klink turned the page for Hogan to see; he made a show of squinting at it while trying not to roll his eyes. “Sir, I can’t read that.”

“What?” Klink turned it back, “Oh, yes, of course. Garlic, Hogan, garlic! We must simply nail some above the windows, and the creature will be unable to enter!”

“Wow, sir. I would never have thought of that.”

“Well, we cannot all be geniuses, Hogan,” said Klink, puffing out his chest like a strutting pigeon.

“That’s so true, sir. And, by the way, it would probably be best if no one disturbed Carter while he’s recovering. You never know, maybe one of them could be … uh, controlled, by the vampire.”

Klink nodded. “Yes, yes, that is true. I will see to it. His meals will be delivered to the door.”

Hogan straightened, and gave a relieved sigh. “Thanks sir. You know, it’s a good thing you were reading this book.”

Klink smiled, “Yes, a marvellous coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, sir. A real marvellous coincidence.”

----------------------------------------------------

The bomb was duly completed, and handed off to the Underground through the tunnel the next night. They heard the echo of the demolition even in the camp around midnight, prisoners smiling to each other as they climbed into their bunks for the night.

The next day they discovered they had a problem.

“He won’t let me leave, sir! Says it’s for my protection!” Carter was sitting on the infirmary bunk, talking to Hogan’s head, rising up from the tunnel-entrance near the bedside table. “He’s afraid the vampire will get me!”

“Well, it’s not everyday you get a break with a nice bed and good food. Enjoy it, Carter.”

“Yes, sir,” said the young chemist miserably. “By the way, sir, can I wash off this make-up yet?” he gestured at the bite marks, now somewhat faded. “It’s real troublesome to keep from smudging them; I have to keep checking.”

“It’s not like you have any visitors, Carter.”

“Yeah, sir, but I keep expecting someone to burst in. Force of habit, I guess.”

Hogan sighed. “Alright, Carter. I’ll get you sprung. Somehow.”

“Thanks, sir.”

-------------------------------------------------------

“Colonel Hogan, how can you be so heartless? Returning your man to his barracks will simply expose him to the same danger as before. These creatures pick a victim and stick to her – or him – until they drain all the blood. I am doing Carter a favour.”

“I know that, sir, but he doesn’t really see it the same way. I think he’s going a bit stir crazy, to tell you the truth. He has been in there for three days, now,” pointed out Hogan, in a mildly cajoling tone.

“Until we have proof that the thing is dead, I am afraid it will be impossible to release Carter. This is for his own safety.”

Hogan sighed. “Understood, sir.”

“Very well. Dismissed.” The colonel saluted absently and returned to his readings. Hogan followed suit, and slipped out of his office.

Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk were waiting for him outside.

“Well, sir?” asked Kinch, as they turned to head back to the barracks.

“No go. Klink is determined to keep Carter safe from Dracula. I’d thank the guy, but it’s getting a bit tedious. Now that we’ve invented him, how do we stake the count?”

The men glanced at each other, and back at him. “Don’t tell me none of you read it? It’s a classic!”

“Sorry, sir, fiction was never my style.” Kinch shrugged.

“Too busy brushing up on me technique,” said Newkirk, producing a pack of cards from nowhere and shuffling them.

“I spent all my time in the kitchen,” added LeBeau.

“Well, you guys aren’t much help!” Hogan slammed into the barracks, and walked over to the tunnel entrance.

“But you read it, sir. You can just tell us.”

“Me? Don’t be ridiculous. Why do you think I’m going to radio London about it?” He hopped onto the ladder, and descended into the tunnel.

-------------------------------------------------

“Throat cut, heart stabbed while in coffin,” read Hogan from the blue scrap of paper before slamming it back onto the radio table. “Well, that’s just fine and dandy. Where are we gonna get a volunteer for that?”

“Maybe we could use a dummy, sir?” suggested Newkirk, and then raised his hands when the suggestion was greeted with a round of glares. “Alright, alright, if Andrew’s not here someone’s got to make the stupid suggestions.”

LeBeau pounded a fist into his open hand with an exclamation. “I have it! What if we changed the target? Say, someone in Hammelburg? Got news to Klink – he’d think the vampire had gone off Carter and let him out!” He smiled widely, and Newkirk patted him on the back.

“Yeah, and then Klink’d rush right down there and lock them up in their house with garlic nailed over the doors and windows,” said Kinch morosely. LeBeau and Newkirk deflated. On the counter something beeped twice softly, and Kinch looked at his watch. “It’s almost time for lunch, sir.”

“Right.” Hogan stepped out into the main tunnel corridor and headed for the entrance. “We’ll keep thinking. There’s gotta be some way to convince Klink that Carter’s safe from the big bad vampire.” He paused at the foot of the tunnel. “After all, we can’t have him spending the rest of his life in indigence while we’re stuck out here.” He turned to mount the ladder, tripped on some loose dirt, and stumbled slightly to the side towards the empty alcove. Newkirk reached out and caught him automatically, but even after he’d straightened Hogan remained staring into the darkness. “Say,” he said. “In the book, Dracula turns into a bat, right?”

There was a general atmosphere of ignorance, carried off by coughs and glances at the ceiling. “Alright, alright, none of us read it. But I definitely remember than from high school lit. So why can’t we use them?”

Newkirk looked into the darkness “Sir?”

Hogan turned back, smiling. “I know how we’re gonna get Carter out.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Klink was just straightening his papers for the night when Hogan burst in, forgoing knocking as usual, and carrying a tennis racket in his hand.

“Hogan! What is it at this hour?”

“Sir, it’s Carter,” began Hogan. Klink waved him into silence.

“I told you already, until we know the thing is no longer after him –”

“I know sir, but he really wants to talk to you. You know how much he looks up to you – you’re just like a father to him! And right now he feels like he’s been grounded for no reason. Couldn’t you go and explain it to him? He doesn’t believe me when I tell him you’re doing it for his own good. He thinks you’re punishing him.”

“Punishing him?”

“Yes, sir. He’s in there all alone with no one to talk to, convinced that everyone out here’s angry with him. Frankly, sir, I’m worried about him. But if he knew you were really doing it for his sake, he’d be so relieved – I’m sure he’d stay there however long you felt was necessary without complaint!” Hogan’s face was all honesty and concern. Klink nodded, slowly.

“It is unfortunate for him, of course. And if he could be convinced to accept this confinement… Very well, Hogan, I will speak to him.”

“Thank you, sir! He’ll really appreciate it!” Hogan turned for the door.

“Hogan?”

The man paused and turned back. “Yes, sir?”

“Why are you carrying a tennis racked?”

Hogan looked down at it, then back up again. “Oh, this? I just came from rec. hour; we’re trying to play squash in the rec. room. We don’t have any squash rackets, so we just have to make do the best we can. Poor Barring got stuck with the badminton racket this time; you should’ve seen his score.”

Klink shook his head in disgust as he rose. “Never mind. Just come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

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The infirmary building was as he had left it, Corporal Mueller on guard duty under several garlic plants, hardly visible in the darkness. The man straightened as he approached, and saluted.

“Herr Kommandant, ist –”

There was a shout from inside the building, and the sound of furniture crashing. Mueller’s eyes widened and he spun around; Hogan pressed past him and grappled with the doorknob.

“Carter? Carter, are you alright?”

“Colonel, help! Help, he’s in here! Stay away, stay away!” More crashing, and the sound of glass breaking.

“The door’s locked,” shouted Hogan, turning to Mueller. The corporal already had the keys in his hand, and turned the lock. They fell into the room together, Klink inching in behind them.

On the other side of the room, Carter was pressed into an empty corner, eyes wide and face white. All throughout the room tables and counters had been overturned, spewing medical instruments here and there. Against one wall lay a pile of broken glass surrounding a crushed lampshade.

“He’s in here,” hissed Carter, looking around. “He came in through that window!” He pointed to a window, still open to the cold night air.

“Where, Carter?” demanded Klink, looking around and wishing he had brought his service revolver.

“Don’t know, sir. As soon as you started pounding at the door he turned into a bat and – there, sir, there!”

A tiny black creature flew out from a dark corner and made sharp, desperate circles under the wooden ceiling. Hogan ran in and swatted at it with the tennis racket.

“I’ll teach you, you damn blood-sucker! Try sucking on my men, will ya? Take this! And this!” He chased the bat steadily across the room towards the open window. Just as he reached it he gave a triumphant yell, and stopped. “Got you! Let’s see you get up after that one! Come look, sir!” Hogan spun around, triumphantly flushed. Klink hurried over, Carter drawing closer as well, considerably more cautiously.

“Did you really get him, Colonel?” the sergeant asked, creeping over.

Klink looked out the window and saw the garlic lying in a pile on the ground beneath the window. On top of it a tiny black body was spread, immobile. “Ha! Good work, Colonel! Mueller, have that body burnt immediately!”

The man saluted and ran out. A minute later he was around the corner, pulling a lighter out from his pocket and setting fire to the tips of the dried garlic stalks. They took fire gleefully, flames licking up towards the black figure in the centre. It didn’t move once as the fire engulfed it. Next to him, Carter sighed loudly and wiped his forehead.

“Whew. I guess I can stop worrying now, huh sir? Thanks, Colonel.”

Hogan turned. “Oh, don’t thank me, Carter. Thank Colonel Klink. That’s what we came here to tell you, this was all for your safety. He was just worried about you all along.”

Carter’s face lit up. “Gee, really? Wow, sir. Thanks, I don’t know what to say!”

“You don’t have to say anything, Carter,” replied Klink magnanimously. “It is my duty to see you are kept safe.”

“Well, sir, I won’t forget it! Next time anyone calls you a heartless pencil-pusher I’ll tell them where to stick it!” He saluted and walked out, boots crunching on broken glass.

“A heartless pencil-pusher? Who calls me that?”

“Oh, no one sir, no one. I guess I’ll just be going now…” Hogan sidled away.

“Hogan! Just a minute! Who will be cleaning up this mess?”

“Well, sir, since it was kind of due to your orders – I mean, Carter’d never have been in here otherwise, I really think your guards should clean it up.”

“Nonsense. Your man made the mess, and your men will clean it up.”

“But sir –”

“No, that is my final word, Colonel! I expect it to be cleaned up by lunch tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. You – never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing sir. Just remembered Carter’s words.” He saluted and left.

“Carter’s… Hogan!”