Das Haus aus Wachs, chapter 2
Title: Das Haus aus Wachs, chapter 2: At the Museum
Author/Artist: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Hogan's Heroes
Claim: general series
Theme: 15A; Beneath the Smiles
Genre/s: Mystery/Suspense
Warnings: World War II-era fandom
Words: ~2900
Summary: The team heads to the wax museum, where nothing seems out of the ordinary... at first.
Disclaimer/Claimer: The characters are not mine (except for the OCs) and the story is
A/N: crossposted to http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7505118/2/
Hogan headed straight back to the barracks; he was still debating over whether or not he had made the right decision-and whether or not his team would go along with the idea at all; he couldn’t blame them if they refused.
“Schultz, thanks for visiting, but you need to leave,” he said, moving to guide the big man towards the door he had just entered through.
“But, Colonel Hogan-”
“Unless you’d like to sit in on one of our top-secret meetings,” the colonel continued. “Oh, I can just see it now, Schultz; you’ll be walking around with our secrets in your head, ready to be whisked off by whoever is curious enough to try to get the answers from you-”
Schultz practically flew out the door before Hogan had finished, prompting the men to ask questions. Hogan silently instructed Garlotti to watch the door and sent Thomas to get Baker from the radio room before turning to his assembled team.
“Klink, Hilda, and General Burkhalter-”
“-Are going to the ruddy wax museum with Schultz and Langenscheidt; ‘e told us as much,” Newkirk said, nodding his head towards the door where Schultz had left.
“Now let me tell you something you didn’t know,” Hogan said. “We’re going, too-on a work detail.”
As he expected, the men burst out in exclamations.
“Quoi?!”
“Wot?!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Boy! …Uh, Sir!”
“Colonel, I understand sending one man out in disguise,” Kinch said. “But all of us, in uniform? Not for nothing, but that’s tempting fate.”
“I’ve given this some thought,” Hogan said. “And if it is a trap, we’re more likely to come out of it alive if we’re there on legitimate business, under the watch of Schultz and Langenscheidt. If it’s not a trap, then it’ll be easier for whoever Nimrod is to contact us, if they’re coming as that transmission said. Schultz and Langenscheidt could just take one of us aside, and if it’s one of the others, they just need to show up a little early and speak with us. We stay there long enough for everyone to arrive; if we’re not approached by Nimrod, then we get Schultz and Langenscheidt to take us out of there and back here.”
“Yeah, but… what if Nimrod is there, but doesn’t contact us?” Carter asked. “We never answered the message they sent, so they might not want to risk making contact. And if they don’t, they might be in danger, like that second message said!”
“If that happens, then we’ll stage an escape here; that’ll bring Klink back, and chances are more than likely that Hilda will come back with him. With Burkhalter being there alone, we can have General Kinchmeyer or someone wish to see him right away-a creative story and a phone call will get him out of there.”
Hogan paused, watching as the men exchanged glances.
“This is all about minimizing risk-both to us and to Nimrod,” he continued. “But there is no way to eliminate all of the risk. This is still a dangerous ploy we’re trying, so I only want to take volunteers with me for this work detail.”
LeBeau and Newkirk looked determinedly away, though Carter raised his hand.
“Well, I guess since I volunteered for the original plan, I’ll volunteer for this one, too,” the tech sergeant offered. “Like you said, it is slightly safer…”
“I guess I’ll go along with it, too,” Kinch said.
“Me, too,” Olsen said.
“So that’s three,” Hogan said. “But three men aren’t enough for a work detail.”
All eyes now turned to the two corporals; Hogan knew that Newkirk would not be quick to agree unless LeBeau was in with them on the mission.
“LeBeau…” Hogan said. “I know you don’t have high hopes about this, but if it is true, it could mean that we could help more factions of the Underground-including the ones in France.”
France-one of the magic words that could convince LeBeau to be willing to put himself in danger, even if he was previously against the idea. Newkirk knew this; he looked in LeBeau’s direction as the Frenchman looked to the colonel.
“Oui,” he said, at last. “I will go on the work detail.”
“Cor blimey…” Newkirk muttered, slamming his hand down on the table. “Right-o, then, guess I’ll go along with it.”
“Your enthusiasm is appreciated,” Hogan said. “I think the five of you will be enough-any more than that, and it’ll be harder to watch our backs. I’ll be there to supervise the work detail, of course…”
He trailed off as Thomas and Baker came up from the radio room.
“Okay,” the colonel said, seeing them. “Thomas, Baker, Garlotti, and Wilson-you four are going to be holding the fort while we’re gone. Stay by the radio in case we need to send a message out to you, or if any other messages come in.”
“Is that all, Sir?” Thomas asked.
“No, there’s more,” Hogan said, steeling himself. “If you get the word to do so by any one of us, evacuate the camp. I also want you to evacuate the camp if you don’t hear from any of us by midnight.”
Silence responded him.
“Colonel, you don’t mean-” Baker began.
“I want everything to be covered should the worst happen,” Hogan said. “We’ll try to relay a message to you somehow so that we can keep you updated on what’s going on.”
Hogan now turned to his five volunteers-his core team, the ones who had been through thick and thin for their cause and for each other on more than one occasion. The colonel had wanted to tell them that, in the event of a trap, they were to make their escape, every man for himself. But he knew that it would be pointless to tell them that; they would never abandon each other-not even Newkirk, the self-confessed “natural coward.”
“Carter, I want you to grab one of those smokescreen charges of yours, just in case,” he said, at last, not even bringing up his previous thought.
“Right, Sir. I’ve been working on a new one that has three times the smoke in one half the-”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Hogan said. “Okay, that’s all I have to say for now; Klink wants us to fall in at his office. We may as well get moving.”
************************************
Das Haus aus Wachs, as the museum called itself, wasn’t an overly large building; it consisted of a ground floor, another floor, and an attic, which was also converted to become par to the museum. There were several rooms on each level, however, each with a different theme. The Heroes didn’t get a chance to look at them, though; the work detail was to concern itself with sweeping the floors and dusting the figures in the entrance hall and lobby, which consisted of figures of the German High Command.
If the Heroes had been hoping for either Schultz or Langenscheidt to step forward as Nimrod while they were working, they were disappointed; all they got was a “Please don’t make jokes like that” chiding from Schultz, who had overheard Newkirk and Carter discussing how they ought to stick “Kick Me” signs to the backs of the High Command figures. LeBeau agreed that it was no joking matter, and instead proposed a few other (highly unflattering) words to paste on the figures’ backs-words that, being in French, Schultz didn’t understand, but he got the gist of them all the same.
Though LeBeau had been serious, Newkirk and Carter’s discussion had been an attempt to slightly cut through the tangible tension among the team. In his nervousness, Olsen had accidentally almost dusted the proprietor of the museum, mistaking him for a figure. The proprietor had been most un-amused.
Hogan, in the meantime, had paced the lobby in circles as his men worked, keeping an eye on every shadow in his peripheral vision, lest there be an enemy concealing himself within. They were here early, he knew, but there could easily have been someone who had arrived even earlier. As the afternoon progressed without incident, Hogan did relax slightly, but was careful not to lower his guard.
The Nimrod situation didn’t get any better, though; Klink, Hilda, and Burkhalter eventually all arrived at the museum just as the work detail was finishing up. They looked around the lobby with approval.
“Herr General!” the proprietor of the museum said, crossing across the room to greet him. “You are rather early!”
“You can thank Colonel Klink for that, Herr…” the general began, trailing off. “It was Herr Wolfhelm, was it not?”
“Yes, that is correct,” Wolfhelm said. He turned to Colonel Klink to greet him. “I must thank you, Colonel, for the allowing your prisoners of war to help me get my museum in order. And greetings to you, as well, Fraulein.”
Hilda smiled politely as Wolfhelm kissed her hand in greeting.
“You are indeed earlier than I anticipated… But, perhaps, this could be an opportunity for me to give you a special tour of my museum before the other guests arrive?” Wolfhelm offered.
“Yes, I think a private tour would be most enjoyable,” Klink said. “Schultz, I want you make preparations to go back to the Stalag at once and take-”
“No one is going anywhere!” an all-too-familiar voice roared from the entrance. “Not until I am satisfied with the state of things here!
Hogan resisted the urge to slap his forehead; he should have known that all possible Nimrod suspects would be here. He and his men turned to see the well-known scowl on Major Hochstetter’s face.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Burkhalter demanded, none too pleased to see the disagreeable major-a man for whom he just barely withheld his public disdain.
“I have received reports of suspicious activity-that a meeting of…” Hochstetter trailed off, noticing Hogan and his men for the first time since entering. “What is this man doing here?!”
“They were here on a work detail, Major!” Klink said. “A work detail was requested by Herr Wolfhelm!”
“Oh?” Hochstetter asked, sneering at Wolfhelm. “And what are your credentials? Or are you really a member of the Underground.”
“Major, I can assure you, that you will find nothing connecting me to the Underground; I needed a group of men to clean up this lobby before I gave an invitation-only exhibition of my new wax museum.”
“Bah!” Hochstetter snarled. “The exhibition will have to be postponed; I will surround this museum with a ring of steel until I am through with my search!” He glared at Hogan. “I am sure that with Colonel Hogan on the premises, I will find something.”
“But, Major, these men haven’t even been beyond this room!” Wolfhelm said.
“That is true,” Schultz said, as Langenscheidt nodded in agreement. “Langenscheidt and I were watching them the entire time.”
“It would not be difficult to get past the two of you!” Hochstetter sneered.
“Hochstetter, this is utter nonsense!” Burkhalter hissed. “Like a mad dog, you are merely chasing your own tail. Someone undoubtedly called you up here to distract you from the real goings-on elsewhere!”
Klink took a step back away from the fray as Hochstetter took a step towards General Burkhalter.
“Are you insinuating, Herr General, that someone is trying to make a fool of me?!”
“It would not be very difficult!”
“Ah, my dear,” Klink said, turning to Hilda. “Why don’t you and I take that private tour of the museum while General Burkhalter and Major Hochstetter stay here to discuss the finer points of-”
“Where do you think you’re going, Klink?” Burkhalter demanded, causing the colonel to freeze in his tracks. “You are a part of this discussion, too!”
Hogan was now watching in amusement, his feelings of unease ebbing slightly. At any rate, with the Germans around, he had to make an effort to seem like his laid-back, easy-going self and not let on that something was concerning him.
“Which one is your money on, Sir?” Olsen asked, quietly.
“Don’t know,” he said. “But I hope Nimrod wins, whoever he is.”
“Fraulein, if you wish, you can take a look at the exhibits,” Herr Wolfhelm offered Hilda. He turned to the work detail. “I suppose you men can, as well, since you helped get this place in order-providing one of the guards goes with you.”
Langenscheidt volunteered, seemingly eager to get away from the squabbling officers. It wasn’t enough to declare him, Nimrod, of course; Schultz had tried to get away, as well, but Klink insisted he stay put-if Klink couldn’t escape from Burkhalter, neither could Schultz.
Hogan led his men out of the room as Hochstetter and Burkhalter snarled at each other, and as Klink weakly tried to maintain peace.
The next door opened into a hall of great German and Austrian cultural icons. A centerpiece in the middle of the room showed a scene from the Niebelungenlied. Goethe stood to the right of the room, a copy of Faust lying open in his wax hands. A few yards from Goethe, young Mozart was at his piano, deep in thought. A few yards from him, Johan Strauss was overlooking a window, out of which-actually painted on the wall-was the Danube River.
On the left side of the room, Bach was busily writing some sheet music, across the room from Goethe. A few yards from him, Beethoven was conducting an orchestra made up of well-dressed wax figures, with real instruments in their hands.
Hilda took a look around, shaking her head slightly as she headed on to the next room, leaving the men behind.
“What is this?” Newkirk asked, also unimpressed. “This is all one ruddy propaganda bit for them! In the entrance ‘all, they ‘ad their blooming ‘igh Command, and ‘ere, they ‘ave all these long-‘aired composers and writers?!”
“Newkirk, we’re at war-did you really expect them to have Shakespeare up here?” Hogan asked.
“No, but it would’ve been nice…”
LeBeau nodded furiously in agreement, looking at the obviously biased display with utter disdain. He muttered under his breath that Georges Bizet would have had a place in a real wax museum.
Hogan shrugged it off, silently stepping over the rope barrier that cut Beethoven off from the area where the public was allowed.
“Colonel Hogan…!” Langenscheidt protested. “Colonel Hogan, I really don’t think you should be there!”
“Just wanted to take a look at this snare drum,” Hogan mused, pulling the drum sticks from the wax hands of one of the drummers. It wouldn’t be enough for him to keep his unworried persona and hope that the Germans wouldn’t notice his underlying nervousness; he had to diffuse the noticeable tension among his men-and this was a surefire way to do it.
“You wouldn’t…” Carter said, his eyes widening.
The colonel began to tap out a rhythm.
“He would…” Kinch said, suppressing a smirk.
This soon prompted Schultz to come bustling in.
“Colonel Hogan!” he protested, prompting Hogan to take five. “What are you doing?!”
“Just having a little fun, Schultz,” the colonel said, putting on his cheeky grin. “Besides, it helps to drown out that racket out there.”
To prove his point, Hochstetter and Burkhalter’s voices could still be heard arguing outside. Klink had seemed to have just given up on trying to stop them; instead, he just folded his arms and watched with some amount of nervousness.
“Aww, be a chum, Schultzie,” Newkirk said. “Let the colonel play. Besides… you ‘ave to admit, those wax figures can’t ‘old a candle to ‘im, eh?”
Ba-dam-tssh!
“Thanks for that, Guv,” the Englishman grinned in response to the rimshot.
“Colonel Hogan, please!” Schultz pleaded. “You will get all of us into so much trouble if you are seen playing on those drums!”
“All right, Schultz,” Hogan said, placing the drumsticks back in the wax hands. He crossed back over the rope barrier as Hilda suddenly returned to the room that they were in, her eyes wide.
“Colonel Hogan!” she exclaimed. “You… you have to see this!”
The urgency in her voice did not go unnoticed; the colonel’s face sobered at once as he, the others, and the two guards headed to the next room. This was a room dedicated to soldiers throughout Germany’s history.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Look!” Hilda said, pointing to a figure in the far corner of the room.
“Holy smoke!” Carter exclaimed, a mix of excitement and surprise on his face.
“Blimey, it’s déjà vu, ain’t it?”
“I will say the French words, if you please…” LeBeau said, though he couldn’t hide his own amazement.
“Ach du lieber…!” Schultz gasped, as Langenscheidt just stared.
They all were amazed and bemused, and perhaps even a little amused, too, except for Hogan; his feeling of unease and suspicion were now back tenfold. The colonel’s eyes narrowed at the figure, his gut instinct telling him that something was very wrong.
The figure was of General von Siedelberg.
Author/Artist: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Hogan's Heroes
Claim: general series
Theme: 15A; Beneath the Smiles
Genre/s: Mystery/Suspense
Warnings: World War II-era fandom
Words: ~2900
Summary: The team heads to the wax museum, where nothing seems out of the ordinary... at first.
Disclaimer/Claimer: The characters are not mine (except for the OCs) and the story is
A/N: crossposted to http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7505118/2/
Hogan headed straight back to the barracks; he was still debating over whether or not he had made the right decision-and whether or not his team would go along with the idea at all; he couldn’t blame them if they refused.
“Schultz, thanks for visiting, but you need to leave,” he said, moving to guide the big man towards the door he had just entered through.
“But, Colonel Hogan-”
“Unless you’d like to sit in on one of our top-secret meetings,” the colonel continued. “Oh, I can just see it now, Schultz; you’ll be walking around with our secrets in your head, ready to be whisked off by whoever is curious enough to try to get the answers from you-”
Schultz practically flew out the door before Hogan had finished, prompting the men to ask questions. Hogan silently instructed Garlotti to watch the door and sent Thomas to get Baker from the radio room before turning to his assembled team.
“Klink, Hilda, and General Burkhalter-”
“-Are going to the ruddy wax museum with Schultz and Langenscheidt; ‘e told us as much,” Newkirk said, nodding his head towards the door where Schultz had left.
“Now let me tell you something you didn’t know,” Hogan said. “We’re going, too-on a work detail.”
As he expected, the men burst out in exclamations.
“Quoi?!”
“Wot?!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Boy! …Uh, Sir!”
“Colonel, I understand sending one man out in disguise,” Kinch said. “But all of us, in uniform? Not for nothing, but that’s tempting fate.”
“I’ve given this some thought,” Hogan said. “And if it is a trap, we’re more likely to come out of it alive if we’re there on legitimate business, under the watch of Schultz and Langenscheidt. If it’s not a trap, then it’ll be easier for whoever Nimrod is to contact us, if they’re coming as that transmission said. Schultz and Langenscheidt could just take one of us aside, and if it’s one of the others, they just need to show up a little early and speak with us. We stay there long enough for everyone to arrive; if we’re not approached by Nimrod, then we get Schultz and Langenscheidt to take us out of there and back here.”
“Yeah, but… what if Nimrod is there, but doesn’t contact us?” Carter asked. “We never answered the message they sent, so they might not want to risk making contact. And if they don’t, they might be in danger, like that second message said!”
“If that happens, then we’ll stage an escape here; that’ll bring Klink back, and chances are more than likely that Hilda will come back with him. With Burkhalter being there alone, we can have General Kinchmeyer or someone wish to see him right away-a creative story and a phone call will get him out of there.”
Hogan paused, watching as the men exchanged glances.
“This is all about minimizing risk-both to us and to Nimrod,” he continued. “But there is no way to eliminate all of the risk. This is still a dangerous ploy we’re trying, so I only want to take volunteers with me for this work detail.”
LeBeau and Newkirk looked determinedly away, though Carter raised his hand.
“Well, I guess since I volunteered for the original plan, I’ll volunteer for this one, too,” the tech sergeant offered. “Like you said, it is slightly safer…”
“I guess I’ll go along with it, too,” Kinch said.
“Me, too,” Olsen said.
“So that’s three,” Hogan said. “But three men aren’t enough for a work detail.”
All eyes now turned to the two corporals; Hogan knew that Newkirk would not be quick to agree unless LeBeau was in with them on the mission.
“LeBeau…” Hogan said. “I know you don’t have high hopes about this, but if it is true, it could mean that we could help more factions of the Underground-including the ones in France.”
France-one of the magic words that could convince LeBeau to be willing to put himself in danger, even if he was previously against the idea. Newkirk knew this; he looked in LeBeau’s direction as the Frenchman looked to the colonel.
“Oui,” he said, at last. “I will go on the work detail.”
“Cor blimey…” Newkirk muttered, slamming his hand down on the table. “Right-o, then, guess I’ll go along with it.”
“Your enthusiasm is appreciated,” Hogan said. “I think the five of you will be enough-any more than that, and it’ll be harder to watch our backs. I’ll be there to supervise the work detail, of course…”
He trailed off as Thomas and Baker came up from the radio room.
“Okay,” the colonel said, seeing them. “Thomas, Baker, Garlotti, and Wilson-you four are going to be holding the fort while we’re gone. Stay by the radio in case we need to send a message out to you, or if any other messages come in.”
“Is that all, Sir?” Thomas asked.
“No, there’s more,” Hogan said, steeling himself. “If you get the word to do so by any one of us, evacuate the camp. I also want you to evacuate the camp if you don’t hear from any of us by midnight.”
Silence responded him.
“Colonel, you don’t mean-” Baker began.
“I want everything to be covered should the worst happen,” Hogan said. “We’ll try to relay a message to you somehow so that we can keep you updated on what’s going on.”
Hogan now turned to his five volunteers-his core team, the ones who had been through thick and thin for their cause and for each other on more than one occasion. The colonel had wanted to tell them that, in the event of a trap, they were to make their escape, every man for himself. But he knew that it would be pointless to tell them that; they would never abandon each other-not even Newkirk, the self-confessed “natural coward.”
“Carter, I want you to grab one of those smokescreen charges of yours, just in case,” he said, at last, not even bringing up his previous thought.
“Right, Sir. I’ve been working on a new one that has three times the smoke in one half the-”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Hogan said. “Okay, that’s all I have to say for now; Klink wants us to fall in at his office. We may as well get moving.”
************************************
Das Haus aus Wachs, as the museum called itself, wasn’t an overly large building; it consisted of a ground floor, another floor, and an attic, which was also converted to become par to the museum. There were several rooms on each level, however, each with a different theme. The Heroes didn’t get a chance to look at them, though; the work detail was to concern itself with sweeping the floors and dusting the figures in the entrance hall and lobby, which consisted of figures of the German High Command.
If the Heroes had been hoping for either Schultz or Langenscheidt to step forward as Nimrod while they were working, they were disappointed; all they got was a “Please don’t make jokes like that” chiding from Schultz, who had overheard Newkirk and Carter discussing how they ought to stick “Kick Me” signs to the backs of the High Command figures. LeBeau agreed that it was no joking matter, and instead proposed a few other (highly unflattering) words to paste on the figures’ backs-words that, being in French, Schultz didn’t understand, but he got the gist of them all the same.
Though LeBeau had been serious, Newkirk and Carter’s discussion had been an attempt to slightly cut through the tangible tension among the team. In his nervousness, Olsen had accidentally almost dusted the proprietor of the museum, mistaking him for a figure. The proprietor had been most un-amused.
Hogan, in the meantime, had paced the lobby in circles as his men worked, keeping an eye on every shadow in his peripheral vision, lest there be an enemy concealing himself within. They were here early, he knew, but there could easily have been someone who had arrived even earlier. As the afternoon progressed without incident, Hogan did relax slightly, but was careful not to lower his guard.
The Nimrod situation didn’t get any better, though; Klink, Hilda, and Burkhalter eventually all arrived at the museum just as the work detail was finishing up. They looked around the lobby with approval.
“Herr General!” the proprietor of the museum said, crossing across the room to greet him. “You are rather early!”
“You can thank Colonel Klink for that, Herr…” the general began, trailing off. “It was Herr Wolfhelm, was it not?”
“Yes, that is correct,” Wolfhelm said. He turned to Colonel Klink to greet him. “I must thank you, Colonel, for the allowing your prisoners of war to help me get my museum in order. And greetings to you, as well, Fraulein.”
Hilda smiled politely as Wolfhelm kissed her hand in greeting.
“You are indeed earlier than I anticipated… But, perhaps, this could be an opportunity for me to give you a special tour of my museum before the other guests arrive?” Wolfhelm offered.
“Yes, I think a private tour would be most enjoyable,” Klink said. “Schultz, I want you make preparations to go back to the Stalag at once and take-”
“No one is going anywhere!” an all-too-familiar voice roared from the entrance. “Not until I am satisfied with the state of things here!
Hogan resisted the urge to slap his forehead; he should have known that all possible Nimrod suspects would be here. He and his men turned to see the well-known scowl on Major Hochstetter’s face.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Burkhalter demanded, none too pleased to see the disagreeable major-a man for whom he just barely withheld his public disdain.
“I have received reports of suspicious activity-that a meeting of…” Hochstetter trailed off, noticing Hogan and his men for the first time since entering. “What is this man doing here?!”
“They were here on a work detail, Major!” Klink said. “A work detail was requested by Herr Wolfhelm!”
“Oh?” Hochstetter asked, sneering at Wolfhelm. “And what are your credentials? Or are you really a member of the Underground.”
“Major, I can assure you, that you will find nothing connecting me to the Underground; I needed a group of men to clean up this lobby before I gave an invitation-only exhibition of my new wax museum.”
“Bah!” Hochstetter snarled. “The exhibition will have to be postponed; I will surround this museum with a ring of steel until I am through with my search!” He glared at Hogan. “I am sure that with Colonel Hogan on the premises, I will find something.”
“But, Major, these men haven’t even been beyond this room!” Wolfhelm said.
“That is true,” Schultz said, as Langenscheidt nodded in agreement. “Langenscheidt and I were watching them the entire time.”
“It would not be difficult to get past the two of you!” Hochstetter sneered.
“Hochstetter, this is utter nonsense!” Burkhalter hissed. “Like a mad dog, you are merely chasing your own tail. Someone undoubtedly called you up here to distract you from the real goings-on elsewhere!”
Klink took a step back away from the fray as Hochstetter took a step towards General Burkhalter.
“Are you insinuating, Herr General, that someone is trying to make a fool of me?!”
“It would not be very difficult!”
“Ah, my dear,” Klink said, turning to Hilda. “Why don’t you and I take that private tour of the museum while General Burkhalter and Major Hochstetter stay here to discuss the finer points of-”
“Where do you think you’re going, Klink?” Burkhalter demanded, causing the colonel to freeze in his tracks. “You are a part of this discussion, too!”
Hogan was now watching in amusement, his feelings of unease ebbing slightly. At any rate, with the Germans around, he had to make an effort to seem like his laid-back, easy-going self and not let on that something was concerning him.
“Which one is your money on, Sir?” Olsen asked, quietly.
“Don’t know,” he said. “But I hope Nimrod wins, whoever he is.”
“Fraulein, if you wish, you can take a look at the exhibits,” Herr Wolfhelm offered Hilda. He turned to the work detail. “I suppose you men can, as well, since you helped get this place in order-providing one of the guards goes with you.”
Langenscheidt volunteered, seemingly eager to get away from the squabbling officers. It wasn’t enough to declare him, Nimrod, of course; Schultz had tried to get away, as well, but Klink insisted he stay put-if Klink couldn’t escape from Burkhalter, neither could Schultz.
Hogan led his men out of the room as Hochstetter and Burkhalter snarled at each other, and as Klink weakly tried to maintain peace.
The next door opened into a hall of great German and Austrian cultural icons. A centerpiece in the middle of the room showed a scene from the Niebelungenlied. Goethe stood to the right of the room, a copy of Faust lying open in his wax hands. A few yards from Goethe, young Mozart was at his piano, deep in thought. A few yards from him, Johan Strauss was overlooking a window, out of which-actually painted on the wall-was the Danube River.
On the left side of the room, Bach was busily writing some sheet music, across the room from Goethe. A few yards from him, Beethoven was conducting an orchestra made up of well-dressed wax figures, with real instruments in their hands.
Hilda took a look around, shaking her head slightly as she headed on to the next room, leaving the men behind.
“What is this?” Newkirk asked, also unimpressed. “This is all one ruddy propaganda bit for them! In the entrance ‘all, they ‘ad their blooming ‘igh Command, and ‘ere, they ‘ave all these long-‘aired composers and writers?!”
“Newkirk, we’re at war-did you really expect them to have Shakespeare up here?” Hogan asked.
“No, but it would’ve been nice…”
LeBeau nodded furiously in agreement, looking at the obviously biased display with utter disdain. He muttered under his breath that Georges Bizet would have had a place in a real wax museum.
Hogan shrugged it off, silently stepping over the rope barrier that cut Beethoven off from the area where the public was allowed.
“Colonel Hogan…!” Langenscheidt protested. “Colonel Hogan, I really don’t think you should be there!”
“Just wanted to take a look at this snare drum,” Hogan mused, pulling the drum sticks from the wax hands of one of the drummers. It wouldn’t be enough for him to keep his unworried persona and hope that the Germans wouldn’t notice his underlying nervousness; he had to diffuse the noticeable tension among his men-and this was a surefire way to do it.
“You wouldn’t…” Carter said, his eyes widening.
The colonel began to tap out a rhythm.
“He would…” Kinch said, suppressing a smirk.
This soon prompted Schultz to come bustling in.
“Colonel Hogan!” he protested, prompting Hogan to take five. “What are you doing?!”
“Just having a little fun, Schultz,” the colonel said, putting on his cheeky grin. “Besides, it helps to drown out that racket out there.”
To prove his point, Hochstetter and Burkhalter’s voices could still be heard arguing outside. Klink had seemed to have just given up on trying to stop them; instead, he just folded his arms and watched with some amount of nervousness.
“Aww, be a chum, Schultzie,” Newkirk said. “Let the colonel play. Besides… you ‘ave to admit, those wax figures can’t ‘old a candle to ‘im, eh?”
Ba-dam-tssh!
“Thanks for that, Guv,” the Englishman grinned in response to the rimshot.
“Colonel Hogan, please!” Schultz pleaded. “You will get all of us into so much trouble if you are seen playing on those drums!”
“All right, Schultz,” Hogan said, placing the drumsticks back in the wax hands. He crossed back over the rope barrier as Hilda suddenly returned to the room that they were in, her eyes wide.
“Colonel Hogan!” she exclaimed. “You… you have to see this!”
The urgency in her voice did not go unnoticed; the colonel’s face sobered at once as he, the others, and the two guards headed to the next room. This was a room dedicated to soldiers throughout Germany’s history.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Look!” Hilda said, pointing to a figure in the far corner of the room.
“Holy smoke!” Carter exclaimed, a mix of excitement and surprise on his face.
“Blimey, it’s déjà vu, ain’t it?”
“I will say the French words, if you please…” LeBeau said, though he couldn’t hide his own amazement.
“Ach du lieber…!” Schultz gasped, as Langenscheidt just stared.
They all were amazed and bemused, and perhaps even a little amused, too, except for Hogan; his feeling of unease and suspicion were now back tenfold. The colonel’s eyes narrowed at the figure, his gut instinct telling him that something was very wrong.
The figure was of General von Siedelberg.