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“Okay, you two,” Hogan said, glancing from LeBeau to Newkirk. “Klink and Schultz will be here any moment now—you two have got to make this look convincing. LeBeau, I need you to despise Newkirk like… like how Schultz claimed you did the day you met him.”
The two corporals glanced at each other, awkwardly.
“Well?” Hogan prompted.
“Oui, it is true,” LeBeau admitted. “We could not stand each other then, and I would have gladly fought with him if given permission to do so. But now…”
“It’s the definition of irony, it is,” Newkirk mused. “Who’d ‘ave thought we’d be best China in the end?”
“The last thing we need right now is for you two to get sentimental!” Hogan exclaimed.
“Fellas, come on,” Kinch added. “You know that this, just like everything else, is bigger than just us. We need to convince the Germans beyond a shadow of a doubt that Newkirk is selling out to Berlin Betty. The colonel isn’t supposed to know yet, I’m supposed to be the level-headed one, and Andrew here is too idealistic to fully accept the idea of Newkirk betraying us. But you, Louis, are the one who would react most strongly to it.”
“I know it’s one heck of an acting job—heck, it’s probably just as tough as one of my disguises,” Carter finished. “But it’s all on you two right now.”
There was a whistle across the compound from Olsen—Klink and Schultz were heading right for them.
And LeBeau glanced at Newkirk and nodded.
“For our homelands.”
“Too right, Chum.”
They took their positions, with Carter and Kinch holding them back.
“Apologies if my fist connects,” LeBeau said, quietly.
“Don’t worry about it, Little Mate. You could never ‘urt me.” He smirked. “Too ruddy short.”
That was all that was needed to get LeBeau into the fighting spirit.