Foreign City Sirens, ch 2 by rose_of_pollux [Hogan's Heroes, rubato]
Title: Foreign City Sirens, chapter 2: No Backward Glances
Author: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Theme: 11; Rubato
Fandom: Hogan's Heroes
Warnings: PG13
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (except for the OCs), and the story is
Summary/Comments: Unexpected hiccups arrive, and LeBeau makes contact with the head collaborator.
Cross-posted to other comms and fanfiction.net
LeBeau spent the next half hour getting ready; he had the civilian jacket that Newkirk had made, and he had put together a set of false identity papers. The others came down into the tunnels to see him off and wish him good luck. Newkirk was oddly quiet, something that both LeBeau and Hogan saw as a red flag; Newkirk had been acting in a similar, quiet way the time that LeBeau had been transferred to Stalag 6, and it had taken one nightmare to convince him to try to disobey Hogan’s orders of staying out of it while the Underground alone helped LeBeau. Newkirk would never want to disobey orders just to be rebellious, and Hogan knew that Newkirk would try to obey until something-either news or a premonition-made him snap. And all bets would be off after that.
There was no point in telling him to obey the colonel, LeBeau realized, as he headed out of the tree stump opening and crept into the night. Newkirk wasn’t going to listen to him-when did he ever? No, LeBeau would just have to trust that the colonel would find a way to ease Newkirk’s fears.
Though, LeBeau wouldn’t have minded having him around as backup. The idea of facing all of those Vichy collaborators was daunting, and having his cherished friend with him would have been comforting. But, even without Newkirk there, the adrenaline was pumping through the Frenchman-here was a chance to fight for the freedom of France, something he had been yearning to do ever since he had been captured in 1940.
At last, he could do something.
Back in the tunnels, Newkirk was leaning against the ladder that led up to the tree stump, his fingers gripping a hip flask.
“Newkirk,” Hogan said, deciding to stop another Stalag 6 fiasco before it started. “I know you’re concerned for LeBeau-”
He was cut off as the radio suddenly crackled to life.
“Tiger to Papa Bear. Come in, Papa Bear!” a familiar voice called. Her voice was laced with unmistakable concern.
“Oh, no…” Hogan murmured, sensing the urgency in Tiger’s voice. “Hold that thought, Newkirk; we might be needing you after all.”
Far from being pleased, the Englishman felt as though someone had just punched him in the stomach.
“This is Papa Bear; reading you loud and clear, Tiger,” Hogan said. “Big Bad Wolf just left the den barely five minutes ago. Do we need to intercept?”
“Perhaps not, but it would not be a bad idea,” Tiger replied. “We just received word that the Ghouls which Big Bad Wolf is going to meet have a Woodsman in their grasp; he was captured by two of the Ghouls while they were heading to Hammelburg. He must be freed, and if Big Bad Wolf is aware, perhaps he can manage it.”
“Woodsman…” DuBois muttered. “That is code for a Free French Sous-lieutenant-judging by Tiger’s tone, it seems that he has a lot of information that the Germans could extract by torture if they get so much as a chance. I shall alert my unit; they will see to it that no harm comes to him, but it would be best if he was to be out of the grip of those collaborators before we attack.”
“I agree; it’s too risky to let him get caught in the crossfire,” Hogan said. He pondered for a moment, and then picked up the radio transmitter again. “I’ll be sending Phantom and Little Deer to recover the Woodsman.”
“Affirmative, Papa Bear,” Tiger said, sounding slightly relieved. “We will leave it in your hands. Over and out.”
Hogan gave the transmitter to DuBois to allow him to get in touch with his men as he turned to Newkirk and Carter.
“You’re sending us out to ‘elp Louis free that Sous-lieutenant, Sir?” Newkirk asked, scarcely believing the way that events were unfolding.
“No,” Hogan said, firmly. “LeBeau can’t be connected in any way to the freeing of the Sous-lieutenant-if they even suspect that LeBeau might have something to do with it, it’s over for him. Neither of you can make any sort of contact with LeBeau; in fact, it’s probably a good idea if you try not to let him see you.”
Newkirk swallowed hard, but nodded.
“But… won’t they be suspicious of Louis if Peter and I go and spring their prisoner?” Carter inquired. “I don’t see how that would benefit poor Louis if they suspect him of what we’re going to do.”
“That’s why you’re going to make sure that you’re seen by some members of the cell,” Hogan said. “Just long enough for them to realize that intelligence led you to there to free the Sous-lieutenant.”
“That could work,” DuBois agreed, after finishing his transmission. “They are very well aware of how we, the Underground, have them under close surveillance. If anything, they will be expecting us to intervene in the freeing of the Sous-lieutenant.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Hogan said. “Make sure they see you-preferably after you have the Sous-lieutenant in your custody.”
“Will do, Sir,” Newkirk said. “But, in the event that we ‘ave the chance, could we possibly-?”
“I already said that you can’t make contact with LeBeau, but you can check up on his status if-and only if-you just happen to find an opening to do it. Remember, you need to be spotted by the others, but not captured.”
“Right, Sir,” Newkirk said.
“And this goes without saying, but don’t let them see your faces,” the colonel added. “We don’t want you getting recognized later.”
“So you want them to see us, but not our faces?” Carter asked.
“Exactly.”
“You wouldn’t ‘appen to ‘ave a couple of masks laying around, would you?” Newkirk asked, dryly.
The colonel smirked, pulling out a box of various odds and ends, among which included masks and various other parts of costumes and disguises.
“Ask a silly question…” Carter chuckled.
*********************************
LeBeau was soon forced to keep his worries about Newkirk’s behavior aside as he arrived at the Hausnerhof. Over the course of their missions, he and the others had been here several times. Coming here usually was a part of some of the nicer field missions-if they were especially lucky, they might have a chance to lie in a real bed for a change-albeit if only for a few minutes.
The corporal knew that there was every chance in the world that he might be staying here overnight-perhaps longer. And he also knew that he would not be able to get so much as a wink of sleep.
He sighed, looking for the room number that DuBois had given him; he was to report to a Sébastien Belloq, the head financier of the collaborators and the go-between them and the German officials. At last, he found the room. He swallowed hard before knocking on the door, ready for one of the greatest performances of his life.
However, he had not been expecting the young lady opening the door. LeBeau stared at her for a moment before taking another look at the number on the door.
“Excuse me, but I am looking for Sébastien Belloq,” he said, in his own tongue. “I am Henri Gravois.” He sighed, delivering the recognition code that DuBois had informed him of beforehand.
“Ah, Monsieur Gravois!” the young lady exclaimed, with a grin. She admitted him inside after he gave the recognition code. “Father will see you soon; he has been waiting for your arrival for a long time!”
“Yes, I, too, have been looking forward to speaking to him, as well…” LeBeau trailed off, taking a moment to register her words. “Your father? I was not aware that… That is to say, I had not expected you to be here, as well.”
He was willing himself not to sweat in his nervousness; he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to know of her or not.
She looked surprised at his words, but also flattered.
“You know of me?”
“Well, I had heard that Monsieur Belloq had a beautiful daughter,” the corporal said, putting on one of those winning smiles that usually worked when Hogan wanted to charm the ladies. “But I had no idea as to how beautiful.”
The lady smiled.
“You are too kind, Monsieur Gravois,” she said. “Normally, people who have heard of my father have only heard of his son-my late brother, René.”
LeBeau bit his lip, trying to recall where on earth he had heard that name before, for it was vaguely familiar. Suddenly, it came to him-his grandfather had mentioned about an archaeologist named Belloq who had disappeared after claiming to have found the Ark of the Covenant.
“Ah, yes, that was a most bizarre occurrence,” LeBeau said, now finally grateful for all of the Egyptology information that his grandfather had given him-the information that LeBeau had always dismissed as dull and irrelevant, but was now helping him on his mission. “There has been no sign of him?”
The lady shook her head, sadly.
“An American claimed that my brother had died a horrible death,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “I am suspicious-he probably murdered my brother just because he was working for the Germans. I expect that if that American saboteur-Papa Bear-knew that my father was here, he would try to kill my father like how that other American killed my brother.”
LeBeau’s eyebrows arched.
“And you are here in Hammelburg to see the capture of Papa Bear, because capturing him will be like avenging your brother’s death?”
Mademoiselle Belloq looked to LeBeau with hopeful eyes.
“You understand,” she said. “Monsieur Gravois, please tell me that you have found information that will lead to the capture of Papa Bear. I want to see Papa Bear lying at my feet, begging for mercy, and being denied that mercy! I want to see my father get our revenge for René by being the one to hand Papa Bear to Major Becker!”
LeBeau had to work hard to keep his face expressionless-rage was building after hearing the lady’s wanton hatred for a man she had never met and knew nothing about, just for the sake of revenge.
“Please, Monsieur Gravois, can you tell me about Papa Bear?” she asked.
“I am sorry, but my instructions were very clear-I must report to your father first as to the information that I have found out,” LeBeau said, his voice much calmer than he felt. “I am sure you will find out soon enough.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, understanding. “Major Hochstetter is convinced that Papa Bear is an American colonel being held in the Luft Stalag outside town-the one where you were spying on.”
LeBeau could tell that she wanted to know if the stories were true, but knew that he wasn’t at liberty to tell her yet.
He was spared from saying anything else by the arrival of a well-groomed, older man, who greeted the young lady.
“Who is this, Margot?”
“Father, this is Monsieur Gravois- he has given the proper recognition code. He has brought you the information he obtained while spying here-perhaps even information on Papa Bear! He said he had orders to report only to you.”
“Yes, that is what we agreed upon. Monsieur Gravois, good evening; I hope you can forgive me for my lateness.”
He shook LeBeau’s hand, and the Frenchman concealed his displeasure, feeling as though his hand was now tainted.
“I understand,” he said. “Hammelburg is not exactly the safest place to be these days.”
“Yes, Paris is safer, I assume. I do regret having to drag you away from your home and your work, Monsieur Gravois,” the older man said, now pouring a glass of wine for the three of them.
LeBeau gave a shrug.
“I will return to Paris soon enough, and when I do, it will be in triumph,” he said, and this time, he wasn’t acting.
“Indeed, you can be proud of all you have done here,” Sébastien said, unaware of the true meaning of the corporal’s words. “Incidentally, how long has it been since you spoke to Colonel Backsheider?”
“Backsheider?” LeBeau asked, not expecting the head of the Parisian wing of the Secret Police to be brought into the conversation. He had met the man once when he had held Tiger captive, but had passed himself off as a man named Marcel Chalet at the time. In hindsight, he probably should have expected the real Gravois to be on friendly terms with Backsheider. As it was, he would have to gamble.
“I have not had the opportunity to speak with him in quite a while,” he said, injecting a wonderfully fabricated air of regret into his voice.
“Then the rumors are true,” Sébastien mused. “He was rumored to have been disgraced by an American after being tricked into releasing a captured Underground leader. He rarely speaks to anyone anymore-only his Russian fortune-teller, whenever she returns to town on the odd occasion. Her name escapes me…”
“Marya…” LeBeau mused, a dreamy look flickering in his eyes for a split-second before returning back to his disguise.
Sébastien seemed amused.
“Do not be ashamed; she has turned my head several times, as well.”
Margot let out a slight harrumph, clearly unimpressed by all the sudden fuss over Marya.
“Monsieur Gravois is here to discuss information, Father, not women!”
“Though I would not mind talking about the women, too,” LeBeau joked, trying to break the ice further. It worked-for Sébastien, anyway; Margot still looked unimpressed, folding her arms and rolling her eyes.
“Ah, my daughter does have a point though,” Sébastien said. “We have more pressing matters at hand; that is why I was so late. Again, Monsieur Gravois, I apologize for not being here to greet you.”
“It is no matter; I assume you had to be careful; the Underground is at work, I am sure,” LeBeau said, taking out the paper with the false information. “Here is the information I found during my stay here.”
“Ah, thank you, my friend; we will discuss this in great detail once the other key members convene tomorrow morning with Major Becker,” Sébastien said, pocketing the information. “And you happen to be correct-both the French Underground and the local Hammelburg Underground-led by that infernal Papa Bear, no doubt-are after us. They seem to be aware of our latest maneuver.”
“You mean the Underground knows of our meeting here?” LeBeau asked.
“No; as far as I can tell, the Underground does not know that you are here. And tomorrow, this information you gave will help us destroy them once and for all. But, until then, they are after us, for we took a Free French Sous-lieutenant captive. He is in the next room.”
LeBeau looked at Sébastien blankly. The captive was a new angle to him, and all righteousness told him that he had to find a way to free the poor man, completely unaware of how Hogan had already planned for Newkirk and Carter to free him.
“I was not aware,” LeBeau. “But I suppose that will be a feather in your cap.”
“If we hand him over to Major Becker for interrogation without the Underground stealing him from us, it will be,” Sébastien said. “He is from Paris; perhaps you have seen him? I understand that you are very meticulous in remembering faces; perhaps you can tell us if you have seen him anywhere in Paris; that could be a clue that will help us find some Underground strongholds.”
“I suppose it is possible that I have seen him someplace before,” LeBeau said, shrugging his shoulders. “However, I cannot be sure until I see him.”
“Ah, but of course. This way,” Sébastien said, as he and Margot led LeBeau out of the room. “He is currently drugged, but shall be coming out of it very soon. It is about time he awoke; when Major Becker arrives in the morning, we want him to be alert and refreshed for his interrogation.”
LeBeau was about to say something when the words died in his throat as the Belloqs opened the door. The corporal knew that there was a chance that he might have known their captive from somewhere, but he had never expected it to be the man who was now tied to a chair-the man’s head was slumped forward in his unconsciousness, but there was no mistaking his identity.
“Here is his identity disc,” Margot said, handing it to LeBeau.
The corporal looked at the disc, but he hadn’t needed to. He knew exactly who it was, and could only hide the sinking feeling in his stomach as he stared at the name on the Sous-lieutenant’s identity disc.
Jean-Philippe LeBeau
The collaborators had captured his elder brother.
*********************************
Author’s Note: Surprise, surprise! I know there was an episode where LeBeau mentioned his siblings, and though nothing else was said of them, it stands to reason that at least one of them might have been in the Free French forces, and since I’d mentioned in previous fics that LeBeau had an elder brother named Jean-Philippe, I decided to expand on that. As for the Belloqs, well… all Indiana Jones references were intentional.
Author: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Theme: 11; Rubato
Fandom: Hogan's Heroes
Warnings: PG13
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (except for the OCs), and the story is
Summary/Comments: Unexpected hiccups arrive, and LeBeau makes contact with the head collaborator.
Cross-posted to other comms and fanfiction.net
LeBeau spent the next half hour getting ready; he had the civilian jacket that Newkirk had made, and he had put together a set of false identity papers. The others came down into the tunnels to see him off and wish him good luck. Newkirk was oddly quiet, something that both LeBeau and Hogan saw as a red flag; Newkirk had been acting in a similar, quiet way the time that LeBeau had been transferred to Stalag 6, and it had taken one nightmare to convince him to try to disobey Hogan’s orders of staying out of it while the Underground alone helped LeBeau. Newkirk would never want to disobey orders just to be rebellious, and Hogan knew that Newkirk would try to obey until something-either news or a premonition-made him snap. And all bets would be off after that.
There was no point in telling him to obey the colonel, LeBeau realized, as he headed out of the tree stump opening and crept into the night. Newkirk wasn’t going to listen to him-when did he ever? No, LeBeau would just have to trust that the colonel would find a way to ease Newkirk’s fears.
Though, LeBeau wouldn’t have minded having him around as backup. The idea of facing all of those Vichy collaborators was daunting, and having his cherished friend with him would have been comforting. But, even without Newkirk there, the adrenaline was pumping through the Frenchman-here was a chance to fight for the freedom of France, something he had been yearning to do ever since he had been captured in 1940.
At last, he could do something.
Back in the tunnels, Newkirk was leaning against the ladder that led up to the tree stump, his fingers gripping a hip flask.
“Newkirk,” Hogan said, deciding to stop another Stalag 6 fiasco before it started. “I know you’re concerned for LeBeau-”
He was cut off as the radio suddenly crackled to life.
“Tiger to Papa Bear. Come in, Papa Bear!” a familiar voice called. Her voice was laced with unmistakable concern.
“Oh, no…” Hogan murmured, sensing the urgency in Tiger’s voice. “Hold that thought, Newkirk; we might be needing you after all.”
Far from being pleased, the Englishman felt as though someone had just punched him in the stomach.
“This is Papa Bear; reading you loud and clear, Tiger,” Hogan said. “Big Bad Wolf just left the den barely five minutes ago. Do we need to intercept?”
“Perhaps not, but it would not be a bad idea,” Tiger replied. “We just received word that the Ghouls which Big Bad Wolf is going to meet have a Woodsman in their grasp; he was captured by two of the Ghouls while they were heading to Hammelburg. He must be freed, and if Big Bad Wolf is aware, perhaps he can manage it.”
“Woodsman…” DuBois muttered. “That is code for a Free French Sous-lieutenant-judging by Tiger’s tone, it seems that he has a lot of information that the Germans could extract by torture if they get so much as a chance. I shall alert my unit; they will see to it that no harm comes to him, but it would be best if he was to be out of the grip of those collaborators before we attack.”
“I agree; it’s too risky to let him get caught in the crossfire,” Hogan said. He pondered for a moment, and then picked up the radio transmitter again. “I’ll be sending Phantom and Little Deer to recover the Woodsman.”
“Affirmative, Papa Bear,” Tiger said, sounding slightly relieved. “We will leave it in your hands. Over and out.”
Hogan gave the transmitter to DuBois to allow him to get in touch with his men as he turned to Newkirk and Carter.
“You’re sending us out to ‘elp Louis free that Sous-lieutenant, Sir?” Newkirk asked, scarcely believing the way that events were unfolding.
“No,” Hogan said, firmly. “LeBeau can’t be connected in any way to the freeing of the Sous-lieutenant-if they even suspect that LeBeau might have something to do with it, it’s over for him. Neither of you can make any sort of contact with LeBeau; in fact, it’s probably a good idea if you try not to let him see you.”
Newkirk swallowed hard, but nodded.
“But… won’t they be suspicious of Louis if Peter and I go and spring their prisoner?” Carter inquired. “I don’t see how that would benefit poor Louis if they suspect him of what we’re going to do.”
“That’s why you’re going to make sure that you’re seen by some members of the cell,” Hogan said. “Just long enough for them to realize that intelligence led you to there to free the Sous-lieutenant.”
“That could work,” DuBois agreed, after finishing his transmission. “They are very well aware of how we, the Underground, have them under close surveillance. If anything, they will be expecting us to intervene in the freeing of the Sous-lieutenant.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Hogan said. “Make sure they see you-preferably after you have the Sous-lieutenant in your custody.”
“Will do, Sir,” Newkirk said. “But, in the event that we ‘ave the chance, could we possibly-?”
“I already said that you can’t make contact with LeBeau, but you can check up on his status if-and only if-you just happen to find an opening to do it. Remember, you need to be spotted by the others, but not captured.”
“Right, Sir,” Newkirk said.
“And this goes without saying, but don’t let them see your faces,” the colonel added. “We don’t want you getting recognized later.”
“So you want them to see us, but not our faces?” Carter asked.
“Exactly.”
“You wouldn’t ‘appen to ‘ave a couple of masks laying around, would you?” Newkirk asked, dryly.
The colonel smirked, pulling out a box of various odds and ends, among which included masks and various other parts of costumes and disguises.
“Ask a silly question…” Carter chuckled.
*********************************
LeBeau was soon forced to keep his worries about Newkirk’s behavior aside as he arrived at the Hausnerhof. Over the course of their missions, he and the others had been here several times. Coming here usually was a part of some of the nicer field missions-if they were especially lucky, they might have a chance to lie in a real bed for a change-albeit if only for a few minutes.
The corporal knew that there was every chance in the world that he might be staying here overnight-perhaps longer. And he also knew that he would not be able to get so much as a wink of sleep.
He sighed, looking for the room number that DuBois had given him; he was to report to a Sébastien Belloq, the head financier of the collaborators and the go-between them and the German officials. At last, he found the room. He swallowed hard before knocking on the door, ready for one of the greatest performances of his life.
However, he had not been expecting the young lady opening the door. LeBeau stared at her for a moment before taking another look at the number on the door.
“Excuse me, but I am looking for Sébastien Belloq,” he said, in his own tongue. “I am Henri Gravois.” He sighed, delivering the recognition code that DuBois had informed him of beforehand.
“Ah, Monsieur Gravois!” the young lady exclaimed, with a grin. She admitted him inside after he gave the recognition code. “Father will see you soon; he has been waiting for your arrival for a long time!”
“Yes, I, too, have been looking forward to speaking to him, as well…” LeBeau trailed off, taking a moment to register her words. “Your father? I was not aware that… That is to say, I had not expected you to be here, as well.”
He was willing himself not to sweat in his nervousness; he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to know of her or not.
She looked surprised at his words, but also flattered.
“You know of me?”
“Well, I had heard that Monsieur Belloq had a beautiful daughter,” the corporal said, putting on one of those winning smiles that usually worked when Hogan wanted to charm the ladies. “But I had no idea as to how beautiful.”
The lady smiled.
“You are too kind, Monsieur Gravois,” she said. “Normally, people who have heard of my father have only heard of his son-my late brother, René.”
LeBeau bit his lip, trying to recall where on earth he had heard that name before, for it was vaguely familiar. Suddenly, it came to him-his grandfather had mentioned about an archaeologist named Belloq who had disappeared after claiming to have found the Ark of the Covenant.
“Ah, yes, that was a most bizarre occurrence,” LeBeau said, now finally grateful for all of the Egyptology information that his grandfather had given him-the information that LeBeau had always dismissed as dull and irrelevant, but was now helping him on his mission. “There has been no sign of him?”
The lady shook her head, sadly.
“An American claimed that my brother had died a horrible death,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “I am suspicious-he probably murdered my brother just because he was working for the Germans. I expect that if that American saboteur-Papa Bear-knew that my father was here, he would try to kill my father like how that other American killed my brother.”
LeBeau’s eyebrows arched.
“And you are here in Hammelburg to see the capture of Papa Bear, because capturing him will be like avenging your brother’s death?”
Mademoiselle Belloq looked to LeBeau with hopeful eyes.
“You understand,” she said. “Monsieur Gravois, please tell me that you have found information that will lead to the capture of Papa Bear. I want to see Papa Bear lying at my feet, begging for mercy, and being denied that mercy! I want to see my father get our revenge for René by being the one to hand Papa Bear to Major Becker!”
LeBeau had to work hard to keep his face expressionless-rage was building after hearing the lady’s wanton hatred for a man she had never met and knew nothing about, just for the sake of revenge.
“Please, Monsieur Gravois, can you tell me about Papa Bear?” she asked.
“I am sorry, but my instructions were very clear-I must report to your father first as to the information that I have found out,” LeBeau said, his voice much calmer than he felt. “I am sure you will find out soon enough.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, understanding. “Major Hochstetter is convinced that Papa Bear is an American colonel being held in the Luft Stalag outside town-the one where you were spying on.”
LeBeau could tell that she wanted to know if the stories were true, but knew that he wasn’t at liberty to tell her yet.
He was spared from saying anything else by the arrival of a well-groomed, older man, who greeted the young lady.
“Who is this, Margot?”
“Father, this is Monsieur Gravois- he has given the proper recognition code. He has brought you the information he obtained while spying here-perhaps even information on Papa Bear! He said he had orders to report only to you.”
“Yes, that is what we agreed upon. Monsieur Gravois, good evening; I hope you can forgive me for my lateness.”
He shook LeBeau’s hand, and the Frenchman concealed his displeasure, feeling as though his hand was now tainted.
“I understand,” he said. “Hammelburg is not exactly the safest place to be these days.”
“Yes, Paris is safer, I assume. I do regret having to drag you away from your home and your work, Monsieur Gravois,” the older man said, now pouring a glass of wine for the three of them.
LeBeau gave a shrug.
“I will return to Paris soon enough, and when I do, it will be in triumph,” he said, and this time, he wasn’t acting.
“Indeed, you can be proud of all you have done here,” Sébastien said, unaware of the true meaning of the corporal’s words. “Incidentally, how long has it been since you spoke to Colonel Backsheider?”
“Backsheider?” LeBeau asked, not expecting the head of the Parisian wing of the Secret Police to be brought into the conversation. He had met the man once when he had held Tiger captive, but had passed himself off as a man named Marcel Chalet at the time. In hindsight, he probably should have expected the real Gravois to be on friendly terms with Backsheider. As it was, he would have to gamble.
“I have not had the opportunity to speak with him in quite a while,” he said, injecting a wonderfully fabricated air of regret into his voice.
“Then the rumors are true,” Sébastien mused. “He was rumored to have been disgraced by an American after being tricked into releasing a captured Underground leader. He rarely speaks to anyone anymore-only his Russian fortune-teller, whenever she returns to town on the odd occasion. Her name escapes me…”
“Marya…” LeBeau mused, a dreamy look flickering in his eyes for a split-second before returning back to his disguise.
Sébastien seemed amused.
“Do not be ashamed; she has turned my head several times, as well.”
Margot let out a slight harrumph, clearly unimpressed by all the sudden fuss over Marya.
“Monsieur Gravois is here to discuss information, Father, not women!”
“Though I would not mind talking about the women, too,” LeBeau joked, trying to break the ice further. It worked-for Sébastien, anyway; Margot still looked unimpressed, folding her arms and rolling her eyes.
“Ah, my daughter does have a point though,” Sébastien said. “We have more pressing matters at hand; that is why I was so late. Again, Monsieur Gravois, I apologize for not being here to greet you.”
“It is no matter; I assume you had to be careful; the Underground is at work, I am sure,” LeBeau said, taking out the paper with the false information. “Here is the information I found during my stay here.”
“Ah, thank you, my friend; we will discuss this in great detail once the other key members convene tomorrow morning with Major Becker,” Sébastien said, pocketing the information. “And you happen to be correct-both the French Underground and the local Hammelburg Underground-led by that infernal Papa Bear, no doubt-are after us. They seem to be aware of our latest maneuver.”
“You mean the Underground knows of our meeting here?” LeBeau asked.
“No; as far as I can tell, the Underground does not know that you are here. And tomorrow, this information you gave will help us destroy them once and for all. But, until then, they are after us, for we took a Free French Sous-lieutenant captive. He is in the next room.”
LeBeau looked at Sébastien blankly. The captive was a new angle to him, and all righteousness told him that he had to find a way to free the poor man, completely unaware of how Hogan had already planned for Newkirk and Carter to free him.
“I was not aware,” LeBeau. “But I suppose that will be a feather in your cap.”
“If we hand him over to Major Becker for interrogation without the Underground stealing him from us, it will be,” Sébastien said. “He is from Paris; perhaps you have seen him? I understand that you are very meticulous in remembering faces; perhaps you can tell us if you have seen him anywhere in Paris; that could be a clue that will help us find some Underground strongholds.”
“I suppose it is possible that I have seen him someplace before,” LeBeau said, shrugging his shoulders. “However, I cannot be sure until I see him.”
“Ah, but of course. This way,” Sébastien said, as he and Margot led LeBeau out of the room. “He is currently drugged, but shall be coming out of it very soon. It is about time he awoke; when Major Becker arrives in the morning, we want him to be alert and refreshed for his interrogation.”
LeBeau was about to say something when the words died in his throat as the Belloqs opened the door. The corporal knew that there was a chance that he might have known their captive from somewhere, but he had never expected it to be the man who was now tied to a chair-the man’s head was slumped forward in his unconsciousness, but there was no mistaking his identity.
“Here is his identity disc,” Margot said, handing it to LeBeau.
The corporal looked at the disc, but he hadn’t needed to. He knew exactly who it was, and could only hide the sinking feeling in his stomach as he stared at the name on the Sous-lieutenant’s identity disc.
Jean-Philippe LeBeau
The collaborators had captured his elder brother.
*********************************
Author’s Note: Surprise, surprise! I know there was an episode where LeBeau mentioned his siblings, and though nothing else was said of them, it stands to reason that at least one of them might have been in the Free French forces, and since I’d mentioned in previous fics that LeBeau had an elder brother named Jean-Philippe, I decided to expand on that. As for the Belloqs, well… all Indiana Jones references were intentional.