At eleven o'clock the night of Zolle's visit to Stalag 13, Klink heard the crackle of the radio in his quarters and nearly cried. "Whyyyyy," he moaned, shuffling across the carpet to the closet where the radio was hidden. "I've been through so much today. I was almost caught by the Gestapo. I haven't even gotten a chance to get milk or blow up that bridge for London yet! What do they want now?!" He pulled the wireless set out of the closet and put it down on the couch. "I hope you fellows haven't forgotten the time difference between old Blighty and Germany," he said, yawning. "It's rather after hours."

"Sorry, Nimrod," Mama Bear replied. "But this is urgent. It's about Janis Schäfer, codename 'Little Boy Blue.'"

"The agent Hoc- I mean, I helped spring from Gestapo headquarters?"

"Just the one. You see…" Mama Bear sounded vaguely frustrated. "...Schäfer has decided not to leave Germany, despite the danger."

"What?!" Klink was already scared to death on this man's behalf. "That's crazy! The Gestapo is everywhere!"

"We tried explaining that. But it appears not to have worked. Schäfer demanded we set up a meeting with you."

Klink frowned. "Why?"

"Schäfer wants to start operating with the Underground in Hammelburg," Mama Bear said. "We really did try to make a convincing argument for a trip to Switzerland, but no dice. Local agents can be so bull-headed, you know. It doesn't seem like there's anything we can do about that, so we might as well help any way we can."

"Sounds reasonable enough - " Klink paused. "Hold on a tic. Doesn't that mean that one of the most wanted fugitives in Germany is going to be coming to Hammelburg? To meet with me?!"

"Well, yes," Mama Bear said, "it is a bit of a risk. But you've built up quite the reputation for yourself. You've been pulling off so many missions lately it's like you're doing the work of four people."

"But I definitely am one person," Klink said, a little too loudly.

"Exactly. HQ believes you're one of the best agents we have in the field right now. If it were anyone else, we wouldn't have asked. But we're confident you can handle it."

"Brilliant," Klink muttered gloomily.

"We knew we could count on you," Mama Bear said. "Little Boy Blue will be meeting up with you tomorrow night at the Hammelburg Hofbräu. Look for a blue hat. You'll ask, 'Have you got a light? The dog ate all my matches.' The response should be 'No, that dumb dog ate my matches, too.'"

Klink didn't really bother commenting on Mama Bear's strange identification codes anymore. "Right-o," he said. "I'll report back once the meeting's over. If I haven't been caught by the Gestapo and strung up by my toenails."

"That's the spirit," Mama Bear said. "Over and out."

Klink placed the radio back in the closet, then shuffled back into his bedroom and flopped onto the bed. He turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He was already starting to panic. But if he called Burkhalter or Hochstetter this late at night, they'd murder him. And talking to Schultz would probably make him panic more. He supposed he'd just have to wait until morning.

But now he doubted he was going to get any sleep.

- - Berlin, 8 Prinz-Albrecht Straße, 3:00 a.m. - -

Hochstetter stifled a yawn, then grimaced. In an interrogation, the suspect was supposed to be the one who was sleep-deprived.

The man across the table from him sat with his arms folded defiantly. He hadn't moved in four hours. Seeing Hochstetter's tiredness caused the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards in a half-smirk.

Hochstetter tapped his fingers on the table to wake himself up. He'd been pulling extreme overtime at Headquarters since the jailbreak yesterday. The escaped Janis Schäfer had been Zolle's prisoner, so Division A2 was going to be blamed for the whole mess if they didn't fix things quickly. Understandably, Bösemann had been frantic to recapture Schäfer and bring in the Berlin underground members who pulled off the break. Having been ordered into running all over the goddamn city like a maniac, Hochstetter was fairly certain Schäfer and three of the rescuers had gotten away. The others hadn't been quite so lucky. One was shot resisting arrest, another was being interrogated by Bösemann personally, and the final man, Erwin Meier, was sitting in front of him now.

Zolle, for his part, had managed to miss the entire fiasco thanks to his trip to Stalag 13. Hochstetter wanted more than anything to see his face when he got back and had this steaming pile dumped on his head.

Meier scowled at him. "What's so funny?"

Hochstetter hadn't realised he'd been smiling. He guessed he'd have to stop thinking about Zolle's impending doom until after the interrogation. He slammed his hands on the table. "I ask the questions here!" he snapped. "You were caught with a detailed map of this place. Where did you get it?"

Meier didn't flinch. "I don't know," he said.

Hochstetter leaned over the table. "We also captured your friend, Karl Lieberman," he said. "Do you think he knows?"

"He doesn't know, either," Meier said, anger flashing in his eyes.

Hochstetter faced a dilemma. Both Meier and Lieberman were members of the underground, not professional spies. They were likely to crack eventually. If they had any information that implicated him … that could be bad. He'd have to be a little cruel to find out. He looked straight into Meier's eyes. "You really must tell me the truth," he said.

The change in tone surprised Meier. "...Why should I?"

"For the sake of others," Hochstetter said. "Your wife Marta, and little Sofia, for example."

Meier blanched. "What will you do to them?"

"Anything we want," Hochstetter answered, drawing even closer. "Use your imagination."

"No," Meier said, with a hitch in his voice. "Please don't. My family has nothing to do with this!"

"Who gave you the map?" Hochstetter asked again, forcefully.

"I really don't know!" Meier cried. "We were receiving instructions from London. They told us where to find it! ...They did say it was from an agent called Nimrod, but that was all. None of us knew where it came from."

Hochstetter was silent, studying the man's face. Then he leaned back. "Alright," he said, "we're done for now." He stood up from his chair and started to leave the room, then turned around to look at Meier over his shoulder. "Sorry about that."

Meier glared at him. Despite his best efforts, there were tears welling up in his eyes. "You bastard," he spat.

Hochstetter froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, with a shudder, he turned and walked out of the room.

- - Hammelburg, General Burkhalter's HQ, 7:00 a.m. - -

Burkhalter sat down behind his desk and allowed himself a quiet smile. The past couple of days had been miraculously Klink-free. And Hochstetter had been occupied by something in Berlin. Which meant that he had gotten a much-deserved rest. He'd even taken a day off to travel to Hamburg with his wife. Now he was back at work, and so far nothing had happened to disturb him.

Of course, the moment he had that thought, the phone rang. Burkhalter frowned. Over the years, he'd developed a sort of sixth sense when it came to idiots. He was sure one was now calling him up on the phone.

With appropriate trepidation, he picked up the receiver.

"GeneralBurkhalterit'sKlinkyouhavetohelpmeLondonishavingmemeetupwithaspythatescapedfromGestapoheadquartersandwhentheyfindoutI'mgonnadieIdon'tknowwhattodocanyoupleasecomeoverhererightaway-"

Burkhalter hung up. For the next couple of minutes, he stared at the phone angrily. "...I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

- - Stalag 13 - -

"...and so Mama Bear told me to meet up with this Schäfer person at the Hofbräu tonight," Klink yammered, pouring out a glass of cognac from his crystal decanter and handing it to Burkhalter. "But the Gestapo is searching for him all over Germany! If I'm seen with him - "

"Klink," Burkhalter said, "don't worry about the Gestapo. We always have Hochstetter to fall back on if we get ourselves into any real trouble." He took a large sip of the cognac. "Besides, you're exaggerating. The Gestapo is not searching this far away from Berlin. Not actively, anyway. The local chapter is full of layabouts and incompetents who spend most of their time skulking around in trench coats and taking the best seats at the Hammelburg movie theatre. How else do you think we keep getting away with all our missions despite your constant bungling?"

Klink snapped his fingers. "That's why I couldn't get in to see Der Blaue Engel!"

Burkhalter finished the cognac, then let out a sigh and rose from his seat. "If that's all, then I'll be going."

There was a knock at the office door, and a young woman with twin blonde braids and bright blue eyes poked her head inside. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said upon noticing Burkhalter. "I didn't mean to disturb you." She started to close the door.

"Wait," Burkhalter said, aware that he'd said it a little insistently. "Please, come in. You're already better company than Klink here."

Klink just nodded stupidly, a big dumb grin plastered on his face.

The girl smiled and nodded, then stepped back into the room. "Thank you, Herr General."

"So," Burkhalter said, taking a step closer to her, "what brings a nice Fräulein like yourself to Stalag 13?"

The girl smiled up at him. "Oh, I'm Hilda Hirtenstab. The new secretary."

"New secretary?" Burkhalter turned to Klink. "What happened to the other girl?"

"You had her transferred to Stalag 5, sir," Klink said, still grinning like an idiot.

Burkhalter blinked. "I did?" He didn't remember transferring any secretaries.

Hilda blushed shyly. "I'm so grateful to you, Herr General," she said, "for giving me this opportunity. I want to help our country however I can."

"An admirable goal," Burkhalter said. "Hopefully you can help Klink as well. He doesn't seem to be able to pull his head out of his own arse."

Klink laughed. "Oh, General Burkhalter is such a kidder."

Burkhalter shot him an unamused look. Hilda giggled.

The door flew open, and Hogan swept into the office. "Kommandant, I've come to make a complaint - oh, hi General." He winked at Hilda. "Fräulein."

Hilda looked away from him, blushing. Klink noticed and became angry. "Hogan, get out!"

"Aw, come on, Kommandant!" Hogan said. "I'm here on behalf of my men! The conditions in this camp are just - "

"OUT!" Klink cried, shaking his fist.

"Fine, fine," Hogan said, backing out the door. Before leaving, he saluted, though the gesture seemed to be directed more towards Hilda than to Klink.

Hilda's eyes followed him until the office door closed. "Who was that?"

Klink was clearly extremely peeved, which was always amusing to Burkhalter. "That was Colonel Robert Hogan," he said, "the senior POW here. He's quite a presence in this camp."

"He's a presence, alright," Klink muttered, folding his arms huffily.

Hilda smiled. "And how."

Klink's pouty irritation was quickly becoming too much for Burkhalter to bear with a straight face. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep either of you from your duties," he said, heading for the door. "Klink. Fräulein Hilda."

As he left the Kommandantur and climbed back into his staff car, he realised he'd forgotten all about the meeting with the escaped Underground agent Klink had called him there to discuss.

He shrugged. It was probably fine.

- - 7:30 p.m. - -

Klink toyed with his pen, gazing despondently at the paperwork in front of him. He hadn't gotten much of it done; most of his work day had been spent alternately worrying about tonight's meeting and daydreaming about Hilda. Though she already seemed to be smitten with Hogan, that didn't necessarily preclude him from having a chance, right? Right?

He stood up from his desk and put on his coat, then headed into the outer office to wait for his staff car to be brought round. It was a cold night, and he wanted to spend as little time outside as possible.

While he waited, he watched Fräulein Hilda gather her things. "Are you, ah, heading home for the evening?" he asked.

"Oh, no," Hilda said, giving him a smile. She shrugged on a pastel blue coat, then put on a matching hat. "I'm going to the Hammelburg Hofbräu to meet a friend."

Klink grinned. "Why, what a coincidence! I'm headed there, as well!" He inched towards her. "Perhaps I could give you a ride in my staff car?"

"Ah…" Hilda shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Well, that's very kind of you, Herr Kommandant, but I wouldn't want to impose..."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" Klink said. "Besides, you wouldn't want to walk in such cold weather!"

"Well, I - "

"Really now, I insist!" Klink smiled. "I'd be in trouble if our new secretary froze to death on her first day."

Hilda seemed to roll her eyes. "It's not that cold." She was silent for a while, thinking it over. Finally, she relented. "If you insist, Herr Kommandant."

"Please," Klink said, waggling his eyebrows seductively, "call me 'Wilhelm.'"

Hilda smiled up at him innocently. "Alright, Kommandant Wilhelm."

There was a flash of headlights through the window, and the rumble of a car engine. Klink held open the door for Hilda, then followed her out onto the porch of the Kommandantur. He was slightly disappointed to see that Schultz would be his driver this evening, but then again it might not be a bad idea to have him along. If there was any trouble, both he and Hilda could hide behind him as a shield.

The drive into Hammelburg passed slowly. Every time Klink tried to initiate a conversation with Hilda, she answered him with a pleasant one or two word answer. Then Schultz would butt in and spend several minutes talking to himself, since no one in the back was listening. Despite his worry about meeting Schäfer, Klink was ultimately relieved when the car reached the Hammelburg Hofbräu.

After the two of them entered, Hilda turned to Klink. "Thank you for the ride," she said. "I'm going to go look for my friend."

"So am I," Klink said, doffing his cap. "Er, I mean, I'll look for my friend. Not your friend. Heh heh heh."

Hilda, though still smiling, was looking at him strangely. He was starting to get nervous. "I'll be at the bar," he said. "See you in the morning!"

Hilda returned the sentiment, then the two parted ways. Klink caught a glimpse of her pastel-blue coat weaving through the crowd as he sat down at the bar. "Schnapps, please," he said to the bartender, then began to look in earnest for Little Boy Blue. He scanned the heads of the men, but didn't see any blue hats. He tapped his fingers on the counter. Maybe Schäfer wouldn't show up.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, he was about to call it quits when Hilda sat down on the barstool next to him with a sigh. He glanced at her in surprise. "Didn't you find your friend?"

"No," Hilda said, sounding faintly disappointed. She took off her pastel-blue hat and placed it on the counter. "I thought he might not come. Still, I had hoped…" She held her purse in her lap and fished out a cigarette and a long thin holder, which she placed in her mouth.

"Oh, allow me!" Klink said, patting his jacket pockets. After coming up empty, he remembered why he couldn't offer anyone a light. "Oops, I forgot, I don't have any matches," he said with a sheepish laugh. He couldn't think up any better excuse at the moment, so he said, "The dog ate them."

Hilda smiled and put the cigarette holder back in her purse. "If you can believe it," she said, "the dog ate my matches, too."

The two of them shared a chuckle, then lapsed into silence. A few seconds passed. Then they both turned to look at each other with wide eyes. Klink was the first to speak. "Don't tell me … you're Little Boy Blue?!"

"You're Nimrod?!" Hilda looked incredulous. "No way…"

"Little Boy Blue?!" Klink repeated dumbly. "Really? Little BOY Blue?!"

Hilda glanced around. "Maybe we should find somewhere more private," she said, lowering her voice. "Follow me." She nodded to the bartender, who walked out from behind the bar and opened a door leading to the back of the restaurant.

Hilda pulled Klink into an empty private room, closed the door, and turned the lock. She studied his face, her gaze now sharp and critical. "...You're good," she said at last. "You're really good."

"...Well, thank you," Klink said, feeling proud of himself despite not quite knowing what she was talking about.

"The whole 'gormless idiot' thing," Hilda continued. "You have that act down pat." She shook her head. "I should've known the real Nimrod would be just as amazing as everyone said."

Klink decided to just take that as a compliment. "So … you're Janis Schäfer?"

"That's one of my names," Hilda said, her smile showing a wry intelligence. "But now that I'm here, call me Hilda." She laughed. "You know, I asked for this meeting because I wanted to work with you. Now I find out I've been doing that all day! What are the odds?"

Klink's brow furrowed. "Wait a minute … General Burkhalter didn't really assign you to Stalag 13, did he?"

"Of course not," Hilda said, then looked up at him sweetly. "But a bat of the eyelashes was enough to convince him not to sweat the details, wasn't it?" She dropped the smile and stood with her hand on her hip. "I thought if I got myself inside the office of the local POW camp Kommandant, I'd have access to some pretty juicy info. But I guess that's all moot now."

Klink nodded along, then paused. "Wait a minute … you said you wanted to work with me. That means you're going to be staying here?"

"Obviously."

"Ah…" Klink gulped. "W- Well, not to be rude, but you're kind of … a wanted fugitive right now. With the Gestapo looking for you everywhere, don't you think it might be a little bit … dangerous?" He wilted under Hilda's gaze, which had suddenly turned very hard and angry. "I- I- I just mean … well, Switzerland's nice this time of year … What makes you want to stay in Germany so badly, anyway?"

Hilda seethed. "I can't believe this! You're just like those tea-sipping pansies in London! Did they tell you to convince me to run? Well, it's not gonna work!" She pointed at him accusingly. "You British spies will never understand! Germany is my home! And if anyone wants me to leave they're going to have to drag away my cold, dead body!"

Klink held up his hands. "No, no, I understand!" he babbled. "I understand completely! I mean, maybe I wouldn't go quite as far as the dead body bit, but I feel that way, too!"

Hilda blinked. "You're German?"

"Yes!"

"Oh." Hilda smiled. "Why didn't you say so? Where are you from?"

"Leipzig," Klink said, "although I spent my school years in Düsseldorf."

"Then you might know my friend Erwin Meier," Hilda said. "He's from Leipzig." Her expression became sad. "Though I don't know where he is now…"

"Ah. Well," Klink said, remembering a bit of information he'd learned from Hochstetter. "I'm sad to say, but he's being held by the Gestapo in Berlin." He reached out towards her, intending to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You have my sympathieEEEEE!"

There was a gun in his face. Oh God, there was a gun in his face. And Hilda's finger was wrapped around the trigger. "Nimrod is a British spy," she said. "He's from Ipswich. Mama Bear told me himself. And only someone who was working with the Gestapo would know where Erwin's being held." She grimaced. "God, I've been so stupid! I should've known this was a setup!" She waved the gun in his face. "Alright, how many of your goons are waiting for us outside? How'd you get Nimrod's recognition code?"

"Y- You're making a mistake!" Klink stammered. He tried to back away from the gun but found himself pressed against the wall. "I really am Nimrod! I got the recognition code from Mama Bear! The only goon waiting outside is Schultz!"

"Oh, come on," Hilda said, shoving the gun barrel even closer to his face. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" A thought seemed to occur to her. "Actually, I checked your calendar this morning. You were sitting in Stalag 13 the day Nimrod gave my friends in Berlin the map of Gestapo HQ!"

"But that's because…!" Klink gulped. "...That's because I'm not the only Nimrod," he admitted weakly.

Hilda frowned. "What do you mean?"

Klink fidgeted. He supposed he had no choice now but to tell her the truth. "London thinks that Nimrod is one person," he said, "but that person … sustained an injury. Myself and two others started carrying out Nimrod's missions. We've been doing it for years now."

Hilda was quiet for a few moments, processing this information. "Alright," she said eventually. "Show me these other Nimrods, and I'll decide if I believe you."

"Er, since one of them is in Berlin, that might be difficult …"

"More difficult than getting shot in the face?"

"No difficulty at all!" Klink said, laughing nervously. "Ah, perhaps if we could go back to my office … I have to make a few phone calls…"

"Fine," Hilda said, lowering the gun and shoving it into her jacket pocket. "But if you're thinking of trying anything, just remember that I'm very quick on the draw."

Klink stared at the bulging coat pocket. He didn't think that was something he'd be able to forget anytime soon.