I do not own any of the characters from the series Hogan's Heroes. However, I claim ownership of any original characters appearing in this story.

I wasn't planning to start posting this yet, but konarciq needs something to read.

Cover image: Henry Alexander (1860-1894) "In The Laboratory" (detail)

As usual, they waited until the middle of the night before telling her she was being moved to a new location, and they gave her just a quarter of an hour to pack.

Major Walther woke her from her sleep to deliver the news, which he did with his customary polite detachment. As always, he spoke in English, their tacitly accepted language of mutual convenience: "I regret the disturbance, Dr Lechay, but your security takes priority over all other matters."

He seemed indifferent to her state of deshabillé, but the door of her little room stood open to the curious eyes of the two soldiers standing outside, and Suzanne pulled the coverlet up to her chin. Nonetheless, her response rang with dignified hauteur: "I understand perfectly. It would be very inconvenient for your superiors if the Résistance were to discover where I am being held."

She had made a point, right from the start, of never addressing him by name. At first she had meant it as a show of defiance towards the authority he held over her, and of contempt for any representative of the hated German invaders who had dared to occupy her country. If he was aware of the intended slight, he had never shown it; but after so many months it had become a habit.

"You will be ready to leave in fifteen minutes," he said impassively. "Anything you have not packed by then will be left behind."

"May I ask where you are taking me this time?"

"I will tell you this much. It has been decided, for various reasons, that you are no longer to be allowed to stay in France. You are being transferred to a facility in Germany where you will continue your work. That is all you need to know at this time."

He left the room, closing the door behind him, but she knew his subordinates would wait outside for precisely fifteen minutes before bursting back in to escort her to whatever kind of transport had been provided. If she was not dressed and ready to go, they would take her as she was, barefoot and in her nightgown.

Since she had been in Major Walther's custody, she had learned to pick her battles with discretion. She muttered under her breath, but she threw back the coverlet and reached for her clothes.

A quarter of an hour later, with her little portmanteau in her hand and the two guards at her heels, she stepped out of the building. The lightweight, hip-length jacket she wore had been designed for strolling through the gardens of Paris in spring, but provided little protection from a cold and foggy November night; and the thin crimson scarf around her throat gave only a little extra comfort. Unfortunately the limitations of her wardrobe left her few options. For a woman in her situation, it was a minor irritation, but it stung all the more for its very paltriness.

Walther was waiting for her, standing beside a black, square-bodied, windowless delivery van, at sight of which Suzanne's lips thinned. "Really? This, again?"

"We cannot risk allowing you to be seen, madame," he replied coolly. "A little discomfort is a small price to pay to ensure your security."

He opened the rear door of the van, and offered her his hand, but she ignored the courtesy and climbed inside without his assistance. The interior of the vehicle had wooden benches running along each side, allowing for the transport of passengers instead of goods. Suzanne sat down at the far end. They never let her sit near the door.

Knowing how cold and uncomfortable this journey would be, she silently accepted a blanket and pillow from Walther, and settled down for what she expected to be a long night. He took his place beside her, with the other two Boche soldiers sitting opposite; the driver, who had been standing by, closed and latched the door, and a few moments later, a rumble from the engine signalled their departure.

It was not Walther's habit to make small talk during these removals. He sat in silence, allowing Suzanne to sleep if she chose. In fact, although she closed her eyes, the chaos in her mind made it impossible for her to even drowse.

How had they found out? Another two days, and she would have been free. Instead, she was on her way back to Germany, where her chances of escape would be almost non-existent. She could almost have wept with vexation, but for the presence of Walther and his men.

She had no way of measuring the passage of time, apart from the gradual cramping and stiffening of her limbs, and the tired, prickling ache between her eyelids. When at last she stumbled from the van, the grey light of early morning had dawned, allowing her to see where she was. The van had arrived in a small courtyard, surrounded by massive stone walls and overlooked by a high, square tower; apparently some kind of château or Residenz. Not an ideal location for a research laboratory, but as a prison, it appeared to have everything it needed.

Suzanne had thought her spirits could not get any lower, but her heart dropped with a thump at sight of the junior officer who was waiting for them. Detestable though her situation had been since her capture, at least she had the good luck to be in the custody of the regular army. Every branch of the Wehrmacht was interested in her work in synthetic fuel development, and some of them were harsher than others in their treatment of recalcitrant prisoners. The presence of an SS officer here could not possibly be a good omen.

Ignoring Suzanne, he greeted Walther with a Nazi salute. "Oberführer Scharf is expecting you," he said. "Follow me, please."

Walther gestured to Suzanne to precede him, and fell into step behind her as their guide conducted them through a long, echoing stone passage and up a wide flight of stairs to the second floor, where he knocked on a heavy panelled door before opening it.

"Herr Oberführer, Major Walther and the woman are here," he announced.

"Show them in, Müller, and wait outside."

Do not let them see you are afraid, Suzanne told herself fiercely. She stalked into the office, bracing herself to stare down any number of SS brutes. It was almost a disappointment to find only the officer in command, standing behind the desk at the far end of the room.

He was a big man, taller than Walther by half a head, and probably some ten years older. His uniform carried a substantial weight in decorations, including at his throat the Knight's Cross, with oakleaf cluster. Walther, who only wore a small display of combat medals and a silver Wound Badge, looked underdressed by comparison.

Oberführer Scharf returned Walther's salute, and favoured Suzanne with a slight bow which brought an angry flush to her cheeks. "It is a pleasure to welcome you, madame. I have heard a great deal about you, and I am sure your contribution to our work will be most valuable."

Suzanne did not reply, and after a moment, Walther intervened. "Dr Lechay has refused to learn our language, sir. She does, however, speak English."

"Which I do not. No matter. We will soon bring her to a more reasonable frame of mind, and in the meantime her co-workers will have no trouble communicating with her," said Scharf. Behind Suzanne's impassive countenance a spark of contempt flickered into life at such ignorance. Did he really believe a research chemist could achieve anything worthwhile unless she had a sound knowledge of the language in which so many scientific papers were published?

She glanced at Walther, noting the slightly perplexed crease between his eyebrows, which deepened as Scharf went on: "This is a great step forward, Major. Now that your superiors and mine have reached an agreement to pool our resources, I think we will see a much faster rate of progress. Before you leave for your next posting, I hope you will be able to take the time to bring us up to date on the latest developments within your project."

"Forgive me, sir, but I think there has been some kind of miscommunication," said Walther. "My understanding is that Dr Lechay is still assigned to the service of the army, and my orders are to remain with her as long as she is here

"An administrative oversight," grunted Scharf. "Nevertheless, if those are your orders...I will speak to your superior myself."

"General von Greifen is in Libya, on an inspection tour. However, I'm sure on his return he will be happy to discuss the matter with you."

Walther's manner could not have been more respectful, and Scharf let it pass. "Very well. Since you are staying here, you might as well make yourself useful by acting as interpreter. My aide will show you to the guest quarters, and conduct Dr Lechay to her accommodation. You may take a few minutes to refresh after your long trip, then he will bring you to the laboratory so our new colleague can make the acquaintance of her fellow scientists. Please inform her of this."

Without batting an eyelid, Walther turned to Suzanne, and spoke in English: "You will now be taken to your quarters, and then to the laboratory to meet the other researchers."

She glared at him. "Am I to be given a chance to make up for my lost night of sleep?"

"No."

"What did she say?" asked Scharf.

"She says she can hardly wait to start work," replied Walther.

Scharf regarded him with narrowed eyes, then uttered a short laugh, and walked to the door. "Then let us waste no further time. Müller!"

His underling, standing outside as ordered, came to attention: "Jawohl, Herr Oberführer!"

"Take Dr Lechay to her room, and show Major Walther to the guest quarters. When they have had a few minutes to freshen up, bring them to the laboratory. I will meet you there, Major. I fancy your charge will be quite impressed with the facilities."

"I have no doubt she will, sir," said Walther. "Madame, s'il vous plaît."

Suzanne swept past him with a swift comment, once again in English: "Your accent is terrible."

A gleam of amusement flickered across the SS lackey's face, but he quickly resumed his stolid demeanour. "This way, Major."

They followed him along another dimly-lit passage, went up another flight of stairs and turned into a long gallery which ran at right angles to the main range of the building. "All of our researchers sleep in this wing," Müller explained. "You will be quartered here, Major."

He opened a door, revealing a large chamber, elaborately panelled but furnished with Spartan simplicity. Walther stepped forward to make a cursory inspection. "It will do," he said. "Where is Madame Lechay to be accommodated?"

"She has been allocated a room at the other end of this passage. You are welcome to inspect, if you wish."

"It would be best." The major glanced at his charge. "She may look innocent enough, but you would be surprised at how ingenious she can be when it comes to finding and exploiting the slightest weakness in security. As I am still responsible for her pending further orders, I prefer to satisfy myself personally that her opportunities here will be limited."

Suzanne bridled at the curious look Müller gave her, but unless she was prepared to admit she had understood the entire conversation, she could not cut him down to size. In any case, he set off again, and she had no choice but to go along.

"By the way," said Walther, "the men of my company who came here with me - they are to return to France at once, to assist in closing down our facility there. I would be pleased if you could arrange for them to have a meal before they leave."

"Of course, Herr Major. As soon as I have shown you to the laboratory, I will direct them to the mess hall."

"I wonder if you could do so immediately. The sooner they have fed, the sooner they can be on their way. I will stay with her until you return."

They had arrived at the end of the gallery, and Müller stopped in front of the last door, regarding the major with a slight frown. "I believe Oberführer Scharf meant me to stay with Dr Lechay."

Walther gave a tight little smile. "I have kept this woman in safe custody for almost a year. I am quite sure I can manage to do so for another ten minutes. Please do as I have asked."

"Jawohl, Herr Major," muttered the SS man, after a few seconds. He unlocked the door and stood aside. Suzanne glanced at Walther, then stepped inside.

This room was even more sparsely furnished than the guest quarters. A plain single bed with a flat pillow and a thin duvet in a coarse cover; a wash-stand with a plain enamel basin and jug; and a row of little wooden pegs fixed to the wall. The bareness of the facilities, along with the lock on the door, confirmed what she had already deduced. Her new employers would be treating her with even less consideration than she was accustomed to.

"Very comfortable," observed Walther. Both his tone and his expression were entirely neutral, but Müller seemed aware of some underlying disapproval, and hastened to explain.

"The Oberführer believes privileges must be earned. Once she has demonstrated her willingness to co-operate fully, she will be rewarded with a few additional luxuries."

"I meant no criticism. The facilities seem entirely adequate. Thank you, that will be all for now."

Müller stood his ground for a few seconds, as if considering whether he should challenge the dismissal; but something in the major's demeanour discouraged any such liberties. With obvious reluctance, he saluted, turned on his heel, and left the room.

Suzanne sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the scarf from around her throat and holding it with both hands. She watched in silence while Walther made a brief inspection of the room, and only when he had finished did she speak: "He will certainly tell that pig of a Kommandant that he left us alone."

"Perhaps." Walther went to examine the narrow, barred window. "But I don't think we need concern ourselves about it."

Her hands clenched tightly on the soft fabric. "Do they already suspect something? Is that why I have been brought here?"

"If they had the slightest suspicion, I would already be under arrest. No, this is simply a matter of inter-service politics. The SS wanted you attached to their project, and they have achieved their aim, for now. Please, madame, do not allow your courage to fail. I admit, this is an unlucky turn of events, but it is not yet a complete disaster."

He walked back to the door, and opened it slightly, just enough to see if there was anyone there. "We may even be able to turn this to our advantage. I had concerns about dealing with the resistance in France. They were suspicious of me, and some of them seemed ready to question whether your co-operation with the Wehrmacht was really obtained under duress. I could not be certain you would be safe in their hands."

She lifted her chin. "Then I would have made my own escape, without their help."

"You would not have lasted more than a few days," replied Walther bluntly. "To survive you must have friends who are willing to hide you, and feed you, and keep you safe."

"It would not have been impossible. I still have friends in France, if I could have reached them. But now we are in Germany... "

"Even in Germany, there are some of us who oppose the Nazis." Walther closed the door, and stood with his back against it. "You had better make yourself ready to meet the other scientists. We need to keep up appearances, now more than ever."

Suzanne had to fight against an almost irresistible impulse to demand more information. She stood up, removed her coat and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall, leaving the scarf on the bed. The jug on the washstand was half-full of cold water; she poured a little into the basin, splashed her face and dried it on the rough-textured towel, then rummaged in her case for a comb and ran it through her hair. Having done so much, she turned to Walther, expectant and determined.

A faint smile crossed his lips; not the distant, cynical smile he used in public, but something a little kinder. "There is an Underground cell operating in this area. When the order came through last night for your removal, I made a call to one of my colleagues in Berlin, a man we can trust. He is going to contact the local people and ask for their help. I will telephone him as soon as I can, on the pretext of clarifying my orders. Once we know whether the Underground can help us, we will be able to make a new plan. But we must act quickly. I will not be able to extend my stay here beyond a few days."

He broke off, listening, then stepped aside, giving her a warning look. A few seconds later, the door opened and Müller came back in.

"Your men have been directed to the mess hall, Herr Major," he announced. "If Dr Lechay is ready, I will now take you to the laboratory, in accordance with Oberführer Scharf's orders."

"I'm sure we don't want to keep the Oberführer waiting," said Walther, resuming his air of polite detachment. "Madame, if you please..." He held out his hand as though intending to take Suzanne's arm, but she avoided it and walked out ahead of him. Müller locked the door behind them, and kept the key.

The laboratory, it transpired, was located below the central range of the building, in what must at one time have been the cellars; a cold, high-vaulted space, brought up to date with electric lighting and ventilators set high in the walls, and half-filled with a complex arrangement of distillation apparatus. Two or three assistants in white coats were at work, under the scrutiny of a pair of armed guards.

Scharf was already there, talking to a bespectacled, fleshy-looking man of middle years, with short-cropped hair and an overly ruddy complexion. It was this individual who stepped forward to greet Suzanne, speaking in heavily German-accented English: "Ah, Dr Lechay. It is a great pleasure to welcome you. My name is Kroehl, and I am in charge of this project."

Vaguely, Suzanne remembered seeing his name on some undistinguished research papers, years ago. From what she could recall, he was hardly one of the leading scientific minds of the day, but it didn't surprise her to find him in a position of authority. Under Nazi rule, compliance frequently took precedence over ability.

She didn't respond to his greeting, but her silence only made him more effusive: "I have followed your work with interest for years, especially your experiments with the Merbecke process. We already have on our staff one of your colleagues from those days. In fact, I believe he has been a friend of yours for a very long time."

He waved a pudgy hand towards another scientist working at a nearby bench. "Professor, if you please."

It took a few seconds for the man to turn around, and he seemed to do so reluctantly. Nevertheless he met Suzanne's astonished gaze without flinching. She even thought she saw a hint of disapproval in the lines of his gentle, intellectual countenance.

"I'm sure you remember Professor Henri Dubois," said Kroehl. "If I am not mistaken, he was your supervisor during your doctoral programme."

"Oh, yes. I remember Professor Dubois very well."

Suzanne's voice remained steady, but behind her cool facade, a turmoil of disbelief and anger had taken possession of her, so powerful she was sure everyone present must also feel it.

How could he do this? Of all people, how could he?

Notes:

Suzanne Lechay (Hogan And The Lady Doctor, season 2) and Henri Dubois (The Scientist, season 1) are both considered experts in the development of synthetic fuel. It seems reasonable to assume they might have worked together at some time in the past.