Disclaimer: Hogan and his heroes as well as Sam and his friends all have one thing in common: none of them belong to me. And, as that is the case, I make no money from this publication. Thank you.
Chapter 5: Spies, Aliens and Crazies, Oh My!
" . . . something that I can work with," Klink's voice sounded tinny over the coffee pot's speaker, but Kinchloe had bigger concerns than sound quality. Insanity. The whole thing was insanity. But, insanity or not, it was obvious that this was much more than just Klink with a case of the crazies - this was big time. This was something that could very well spell the end of all of them. He finished writing the sentence on his note pad before looking to Baker and Carter. They wore similar shocked expressions on their faces which Kinchole was certain matched his own.
Carter spoke first. "I don't think we can let this wait, fellas."
Kinchole closed his note pad and stood. "I think you're right; the Colonel
would want to know about this as soon as possible." He was only thankful
that he hadn't been so incapacitated from what he'd heard that he couldn't
write it down. While he knew that Colonel Hogan had been the first to hear this
Klink imposter's strange conversation, he figured that this new conversation
would be easier to believe if he could read it himself.
But, who knew if the imposter was going to say something else? "Baker, you
man the coffee pot. Carter, come with me. Maybe we can get to the bottom of
this."
Not wasting anymore time, Kinchole, with Carter in tow, left Colonel Hogan's quarters in search of the man himself.
***
The man himself was currently down below Barracks 2. He had planned to send a
missive to London about his concerns before deciding that it would be best if
he waited until he had something more substantial to say than: "I saw the
Kommandant talking to himself . . . Is he just crazy or what?" Instead, he
had made certain that everything was still in place for the mission. That the
civilians clothes were ready; that the money was made; that the ink on the
paper work was dry - the sort of thing he usually checked over when he wanted
to take his mind off other things.
Now he was sitting in the chair by the radio equipment, thinking about the
conversation he'd had with Klink earlier. At the beginning of it, he had
thought that, maybe, he had worried about nothing. That the man he was talking
to was actually Klink and that he wasn't any crazier than normal (even though,
for some reason, he still hadn't been wearing his monocle). But then . . . the
way he'd been acting hadn't been right.
It was almost as if . . . as if the man in front of him hadn't been Klink at
all.
Hogan had looked for any sign of a mask or makeup or something to indicate that
he was looking at a disguise. There had been nothing to suggest that what he
was seeing wasn't what was actually there. Despite the out of character
actions, there didn't seem to be any way that the man could be anyone other
than he appeared. Hogan had seen too much of Colonel Klink over the years to be
fooled by a clever disguise.
But what if he had been fooled? Technology changed all the time. What if some
organization had come up with a way to disguise their faces with something more
realistic than makeup and masks? If that was the case and if someone had gone
to all this trouble to impersonate Klink . . . Unless Klink knew something of
value, which Hogan sincerely doubted, it seemed to Hogan that whoever these
people were who had gone to so much trouble, they wouldn't want any chance that
the original could be found. If the man in the Kommandant's office was an
imposter, would the real Klink still be alive?
Hogan was surprised but just how much this thought disturbed him. They were,
technically, on opposite sides of the war. And it wasn't as if Klink was a
friend of his - he was an annoying, underbearing, little man who irritated him
much of the time. Even so, Hogan had never hated the man. And he wasn't happy
with the idea that, maybe, he'd been killed.
Klink could be a real rat sometimes but that didn't mean he deserved to be
murdered.
Of course, if someone had gone to all this trouble to look like Klink, wouldn't
they have learned how to act like him too?
That was the main problem Hogan was having with the imposter hypothesis. It was
as if this imposter had been thrown into the role without preparation. The only
people who did things like that were amateurs and, if Klink was an imposter,
the disguise wasn't the work of amateurs. But if it wasn't an imposter, why was
the Kommandant acting so strangely?
The sound of the door opening above broke him from his thoughts and Hogan
looked at the new arrivals. Both Carter and Kinch looked tired and worried.
Considering the fact that he's told them to stay with the coffee pot, this was
not an inspiring combination. "What's going on? Have you heard
something?"
Kinch slipped a small notebook out of his pocket. "I think you should read
this, sir."
Hogan took the book from him and started reading Kinch's hasty script. There
wasn't much there, but there was enough there to tell Hogan that this was very
bad. An imposter in their midst - how long had he been here? - that somehow
knew about the operation. It didn't sound like he knew anything specific but it
was bad enough that he knew anything at all. Hogan also wondered what all this
business about Klink's death was about . . . the imposter spoke like it had
already happened but then he'd said it hadn't. It didn't make much sense.
Hogan wasn't sure what it all added up to but he was sure that he didn't like
it one bit. "Kinch, have you heard anything about this General Metziger
person?"
Kinch nodded. "Baker was on the phone tap this morning and he said
General Burkhalter had called to say that someone named Metziger would be
coming soon. Other than that, I don't know. If he's one of ours, he hasn't
gotten into contact with us yet." He waited for a moment, then asked,
"What do we do now, sir?"
Shaking his head, Hogan handed Kinch back his notebook. "I don't know.
Whoever this Klink imposter is, he knows a bit about our operation here. That
means got some leverage on us. But nothing here makes me think he's trying to
take us down - it almost sounds like he's trying to help Klink, though I'm not
sure why." He paused, collecting his thoughts and making some decisions.
"I want you to contact the underground. See if you can find some
information on these Ziggy and Al characters. And tell Baker to keep an ear on
the coffee pot - we'll need all the help we can get on this one."
Kinch saluted. "I'll get right on it, sir." Once Hogan returned his
salute, the radio man turned and left.
"As for you, Carter," Hogan said, turning his attention to the
remaining man, "I want you to get some guys together and clean Klink's
office. See if you can find what out imposter is using to contact his
buddies." Then he thought about the other matter that needed to be
attended to. "But, first, get me Newkirk; we can't let this imposter get
in the way of the mission."
Carter looked troubled and he opened his mouth as if he was going to say what
it was before changing his mind. "Okay, sir."
Hogan watched the younger man leave and allowed himself a sigh. Why was
nothing ever simple around here?
***
After telling Newkirk that Colonel wanted to see him, Carter slowly made his
way to Klink's office. He was confused - not that this in itself was so
unusual, Carter was often confused. At least this time, he figured that he had
a really good reason.
When Colonel Hogan had brought the whole "Klink Problem" to their
attention, he had said that Klink had been talking to himself. But when he,
Kinch and Baker had been listening to the coffee pot, there had been two
voices. One was unfamiliar - rough sounding and American - and one had been
Klink's . . . Klink had sounded strange too, now that he thought about it. To
his ears, it sounded like it wasn't really Klink's voice at all while, at the
same time, it was. It was very weird.
And that hadn't been the only weird thing. The other voice, Al maybe?, had
talked about things that Carter had never heard of before. Who was Barbra
Streisand? What was a computer? Then there was all that talk of the future.
They had talked about Klink's death and the discovery of the underground as if
those things had already happened but hadn't happened yet. What did it all
mean? Who was this imposter and how did he get here?
Carter was also concerned. Why was the Colonel still going forward with the
mission? Didn't Kinch write down the stuff about the people being found in the
tunnels? And why hadn't either of them mentioned the people who were going to
be killed when the operation was discovered? He'd almost asked before but he
didn't want the Colonel to think that he didn't trust his judgment . . . The
Colonel hadn't steered them wrong before.
But Carter couldn't shake the feeling that Colonel Hogan was making a terrible
mistake.
Arriving a the Kommandantur building, Carter walked inside, trying to push his
doubts aside so he could do what he came to do. Hilda was at her desk, filing
her nails. "Guten tag, Fraline," he said with a smile.
She winced at the bad accent but smiled back at him. "I suppose you came
to see the Kommandant."
He nodded.
Setting down her nail file, she stood and went to the door. She knocked twice
and waited for an answer.
"Yes?"
Hilda opened the door slightly, "Sergeant Carter is here to see you,
Kommandant."
There was a pause, then: "All right, Hilda, show him in."
Hilda shut the door and went back to her desk. "It sounds like you are in
luck, Sergeant. Tell Colonel Hogan hello for me, won't you?"
"Sure thing, ma'am." Carter gave her a small wave and went to the
door. This was it. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside
-
- and promptly forgot to breathe. Sitting in the Kommandant's chair, wearing
the Kommandant's clothes, was a man that Carter had never seen before. He was a
younger man with a gray stripe in his brown hair that spoke of either age or
stress. His green eyes were piercing but the laugh lines around his mouth said
that this man probably laughed a lot. But there was something strange about him
- more strange than his presence. He looked . . . fuzzy almost.
That was disturbing enough but what was more disturbing to Carter was the fact
that both Hilda and the Colonel had confused this man with the Kommandant -
it'd be one thing if he and the Kommandant had looked similar at all but this
guy didn't even look like he could be related to Klink. What was going on?
The man, Sam?, rose, his concern plain. "Are you all right?" The
voice coming out of Sam's mouth was the Kommandant's voice and it wasn't too.
Just like it had been on the coffee pot.
Carter nodded slowly. He wasn't quite over his shock, but he could breathe
again. "I'm fine, sir."
Sam sat down. "Why don't you take a seat?"
Sitting down in the chair across the desk, Carter tried to swallow his
nervousness. How could Hilda and Colonel Hogan think this guy was Klink?, he
asked himself again as Sam stared at him expectantly. Remembering why he was
here, he cleared his throat. "Colonel Hogan wanted me to see if you needed
your office cleaned."
Sam blinked. "My office cleaned?" He glanced down at the papers
littering the desk and floor. "You can tell Colonel Hogan that I appreciate
his . . . concern but it isn't necessary."
Carter stared at Sam closely, noticing as he did so, that sometimes the
stranger's face melted away and Klink's face was underneath for a short time
before the other face came back. The effect kind of made Carter feel dizzy. He
wondered what Sam was - there was no way he could be human.
He debated whether or not to let Sam know that he knew who he was - or, at
least, who he wasn't. Sam had sounded like he wanted to help them. Maybe, with
the Colonel helping too, Sam could do what it was that he'd come here to do. Of
course, Sam was an alien or something; who knew how he'd reacted if he knew
that Carter knew that he wasn't who he said he was? I should really talk to the
Colonel first, he thought, maybe he can tell me what I should do about this.
"Is that all you wanted?"
Of course, the Colonel was always saying how they should show some initiative.
And, if anything did go really wrong, Baker was listening in. Besides, Carter
doubted that the Colonel would take him seriously if he went back to Barracks 2
and told him that Klink was an alien. "Actually," he said, his
curiosity overcoming his doubts, "I want to ask you a question."
Sam looked wary but he shrugged. "What question would that be?"
"Is your name Sam?"