Dead Man's Gamble


Lieutenant Craig Garrison paused outside the door of General Phillips' office. Glancing down at the papers he held in his hand, he wondered at the people who came up with these missions. This had to be the weirdest one yet.

The mission was considered relatively simple, in command's eyes, and would have him and his men spending a few months States-side. A fact that General Phillips seemed to think would make the rest of the assignment attractive to Garrison's men.

Garrison knew that while his men would appreciate the time home, they would not like the idea of being used as bait to trap fellow criminals; even if they were behind a spate of bank robberies and murders that had taken place in Washington and its surrounding area. The army involvement was due to the uneasy knowledge that the robberies had been performed with military precision and that, while the leaders had remained the same, the three members of the gang had changed on each occasion. Intensive police investigation had finally led to an army training camp seventy miles outside of the capital city. There the police had reluctantly passed over the investigation to the army, and it would seem that the army had passed the matter on to Garrison and his cons.

Unwillingly his mind drifted back to that fateful day when his mother had died. He could clearly see her smiling face as she stood at the bank's counter, waiting for the man behind the desk to finalise the opening of her son's account. Realising with a start that he had been standing there for a while and was attracting the attention of the general's aide, Garrison folded the paper in his hands and swiftly left.

As he drove back to the mansion that they used as their headquarters, he considered his options and began to realise that he had relatively few. Reaching up, he absently rubbed at the still healing chest wound; the occasional flare of pain telling him that he was not always lucky in this war.

With a sudden burst of frustration, he slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. He could not really explain his anger; maybe it was the way the army still seemed to regard his men as common criminals, when they had proven themselves, on several occasions, to be just as effective, if not better, than any commando unit. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that he might have to fight his men every step of the way to get them to agree to the mission. Normally he could bear bait them into it, using their patriotism and common dislike of the enemy, but this mission was not a strike against the Nazis, this was an embarrassing internal problem the army wanted sorted as quickly and as quietly as possible before the public found out, and to do that his men would have to spend six weeks as raw recruits on an army training course in a boot camp. Or maybe it was the memory of his mother's arching, body as she was struck by the bullets of the murderers who had chosen that day to rob the bank and steal for ever the loving embrace of his mother's touch from Garrison's life.

***

The manor was in darkness when he reached it. Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was well after midnight and once again cursed the need for driving without headlights, which slowed his travelling time down considerably and made even the shortest journey after dark difficult.

Climbing wearily from the car, he slowly made his way to his office. He was certain that his men were not in their rooms... could almost guarantee that they were entrenched down at the Dove, involved in some after hours drinking. He considered sending for them, but decided against it as they were not due to leave until the next evening.

He spent the next few hours going over the orders he had been given and reading through his mission briefing. It gave him a brief history of the army personnel who were assigned to the camp.

When he had finished, he opened a drawer by his elbow and drew out the faded photo of a smiling woman. To him she would always be beautiful, her golden blonde hair falling as a shower about her shoulders. In her arms was a little boy, his hair as blond as his mother's. Reaching out a shaking hand, he gently drew a finger over her fading photo, tracing the outline of her face, knowing that he would never touch her again. Remembering the last time he had touched her face, the blood that was smeared down one side, her eyes sightless and staring past the crying child who tried vainly to wake her.

With a start, he realised that he could hear voices coming along the corridor. Standing quickly, he swayed and caught at the side of the desk, his still healing body protesting at the strenuous demands he was placing upon it. He took a deep controlling breath and moved firmly towards the door.

As he opened it, he saw the four men slipping further along the darkened corridor. None of them were walking steadily, and Goniff was tentatively supporting Casino. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice loud enough to make all of them jump and turn in his direction.

"Warden," Actor exclaimed with a steady smile and a convincing lie already upon his lips. "We thought you would not be back tonight," he continued, by way of explaining their exceptionally late night out.

"Forget that now," Garrison said with a slight frown, which immediately put the others on alert. "We've got a mission." As he spoke, he turned and headed towards the room they used to plan their operations.

The four men looked at each other. Casino shrugged, his unsteadiness of a few moments before fading in the face of a mission. "Great... just like that... another damn..." he griped as he followed Chief after Garrison.

"Give it a rest, man," snapped the Indian, not liking the idea of another mission any more than Casino, but sensible enough to know that they had no say in the matter.

"Take a seat, gentlemen," Garrison advised as he ushered them into the room.

Actor was the last to enter, and he gave Garrison an intense scan as he passed the man. He noted the pale complexion and taut skin over hollow cheeks; he had not replaced the flesh he had lost during his recent illness. Nor could the handsome conman miss the signs of exhaustion that played about the other's eyes.

"A mission so soon..." he ventured, not having to enlarge upon his words. All knew that he was referring to Garrison's recent injury.

"Don't look so worried, Actor," Garrison replied sweetly, the sarcasm almost dripping from his tongue. "I'm sure I'll survive this one." Turning from the raised eyebrow his comments earned him, he began to explain the mission...

"Six weeks in an army training camp," Casino snarled, pushing back his chair. "I signed on to fight the Germans... not some penpusher in a boot camp."

"You signed up to do whatever I tell you to do," snapped Garrison, turning an angry look upon the hapless Casino, who wilted under the glare.

"Do we know who we are going after?" Actor asked, defusing the situation between the other two men.

With an effort Garrison pulled himself back to the mission. Taking a breath, he continued, "The police were able to track some of the stolen money back to the local town... it was marked," he explained, "and from there to the base, but they haven't been able to pinpoint who is involved. Important people are very nervous about this; if the truth behind these robberies ever got out, it would be disaster to the war effort and endanger the reputation of every army base in the country."

"That's a little bit tough ain't it, Warden?" Chief asked. "The army ain't responsible if a man goes bad."

"Yes it is, Chief. This mission is directly from the Pentagon; this is the kind of situation the Germans would love to exploit. How can we, the army, be expected to protect the world against injustice if we can't even stop our own men from killing innocent people." He was quoting General Phillips, but paused as he saw the baffled expression this drew to their faces. With a sigh, he continued, "Operations have given us the names of some army personnel who might fit the profile." He looked at each of his men in turn before adding, "We need proof."

"So we go in and get the evidence?" Goniff stated, then added, his expression cold, "That sounds a bit like squealing to me, Warden."

"Three people have been murdered during these robberies." He stopped, his own memory tearing into his soul as he added, "One was a young mother." Again he looked at them, but this time they refused to meet his glance. "It's not squealing, Goniff," he returned with equal coldness. "If the leader or persons responsible are stationed at that camp, and they are using raw recruits to do these jobs before they are posted overseas, then they've got to be stopped."

"Honour of the army?" queried Chief, toying with his knife, his lips turned into a slight snarl. "Why us, Warden?"

"Because the army is not equipped to handle this kind of situation... we are."

"That simple?" Actor asked from his seat, as he stubbed out a cigarette in the ashtray near his arm. He had heard the raw emotion in Garrison's voice, but could not place its origins; nor could he understand the tension he saw in the man before him. "Use a thief to catch a thief?"

Garrison turned and looked at the conman, then nodded, conceding the point. "Something like that." He paused, licking suddenly dry lips before he continued, "You're professionals, these men are amateurs - dangerous amateurs - and the army wants them stopped."

"When do we leave?" Actor asked, looking at the others and seeing no more questions.

Garrison looked at his watch, it was nearly dawn. "Later tonight... you had better get some rest."

He stood and waited until the others had left before slowly gathering his papers. As he did so, he saw Actor standing behind him by the door. "Actor?" he questioned.

"You should take your own advice and get some rest," Actor accused.

Garrison smiled at the obvious concern. "Don't worry, I'm heading that way right now," he said. Seeing the conman hesitate, he allowed, "I promise."

Actor smiled at his words, then nodding, he said, "See you later."

As Garrison finished gathering his papers, the photo slipped out and he realised that he must have gathered it up by mistake. With a sigh he slowly sat down, the memories once more playing over in his mind; the shouts, screams, chaos that had caused the robbers to start firing, the falling body, the blood. He closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip until it bled. His chest hurt from the pain of holding his sorrow inside, but he could not allow it to interfere with this mission. Another little boy had been left motherless and, unlike his own mother, he was determined that these murderers would be brought to justice, no matter what the cost.

***

The flight into Washington was uneventful. They had been given priority clearance, and their rendezvous with their contact, Major Alexander, and their subsequent infiltration into the camp as new recruits had gone without a hitch.

Now all five stood with another twenty new recruits in the main square after collecting their uniforms, survival kits, guns, and having just had their heads shaved.

"Warden forgot to mention this. What I'm going to do to him when I get hold of him..." Casino hissed at Goniff, as he swiped at the itching loose hair that had got caught between his collar and skin. The little thief, having the same problem, agreed with zeal.

"Did you enjoy your little trip to the barbers, boys?" yelled the tall, brutal looking sergeant who stood before them. A murmur of disagreement filled the air. "The colour of the uniform suit you?" he queried, showing a slight hint of disdain for the men now under his control. Nobody bothered to answer, although most were shifting, trying to get comfortable with the stiff itchy material, the weight of their kits, rifle and the new haircut.

"Well, just so you know... you're here to learn how to fight, not to contend for the soldier of the year fashion award." As he spoke, his eyes caught and held Actor's stunning good looks in the uniform. He suppressed a sigh as he realised that this particular recruit might just win such an award, if it existed. "Although the next six weeks are going to feel like hell, they are not, but they are going to prepare you for the real hell that's going on in Europe." He paused to allow his words to sink in.

As he continued, he began to walk along the rank of men. He faced twenty in all, of mixed age, a sign that Uncle Sam was still attracting volunteers. "What you learn here might just save your lives over there. So I'm going to be pushing you hard, and I expect you to learn well." He paused again, coming upon the handsome blond man, who met his look with a steady gaze. The sergeant noted that he too wore the uniform with casual ease. "What's your name?" he snapped.

"Garrison, Sir." Garrison said, his attention fixed straight ahead of him, his expression one of total neutrality.

"It's Private Garrison now, and by the time I'm finished with you, you'll feel like you've earned the right to wear that uniform."

A young boy further down the line sniggered; it was a nervous reaction, but the sergeant spun upon him like a striking snake. "You find that funny, son? You think Uncle Sam's uniform is something to laugh at?" As he spoke his voice rose, and by the time he had finished he was leaning over the cowering youth. "Well?" he cried into the boy's face.

"No sir," came the faint reply.

Stepping back, the sergeant yelled to the group in general, "Well?"

"No, Sir," came back the shouted reply from the new recruits.

"You," he snapped, pointing to the young boy who had laughed. "Fifty laps of the training field, full kit and gun... Now." All watched as the youth began his punishment. Turning, Sergeant Jordan caught Garrison's look and realised that the man before him did not approve of his punishment. "Private Garrison, you don't like me sending that lad on a fifteen mile run, do you?" It was a loaded question and Actor closed his eyes knowing what his commander would say.

"No sir," came the expected, truthful reply.

Jordan smiled sweetly and said, "Why don't you join him, Private Garrison." It was not a request.

Without a word, Garrison gathered his kit and rifle and fell out of line to trot after the younger man.

***

The next few hours were spent dealing with hut and bunk allocation. Actor was quick-thinking enough to ensure that the two men out on punishment would be assigned to their section of the hut, and placed his kit on the bunk between his own and Chief's to guarantee Garrison's place within their group.

Dusk began to fall and still no sign of the other two men. The call to the mess had passed, and the new recruits had returned to their quarters to 'spit and polish it' as ordered by the sergeant.

The door opened and Garrison staggered in, helping the younger man, who was leaning heavily upon him for support. A few of the men nearest the door jumped up and helped them further into the room. The Gorillas were among them, guiding them along the hut until they had reached the beds assigned to them. Actor helped Garrison take his pack off, and noted with concern the too-pale face and the grimace of pain as the pack was lifted off his injured side. "I'm alright," Garrison assured, seeing the look, then added, "Get some water for McCann; he's not used to this." His tone of voice indicated his feeling towards the sergeant that had meted out such harsh punishment to a new recruit.

"Let me just check..." Actor began, wanting to see if the strenuous activity had damaged the healing wound.

Garrison reached up and prevented the other man from opening his shirt. "Actor... Just leave it."

"Glad to see you make it back before lights out, McCann, Garrison." The voice cut through the activity in the room, and the group about the two seated men slowly parted to show Sergeant Jordan standing by the entrance of the hut, a riding crop clutched tightly in his hands. "Now, did you people learn anything from their experience? Or will another demonstration be in order?"

"It served its purpose, sir," Garrison said, looking up and meeting the other's cold look.

"Did it?" Jordan questioned, with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes sir," Garrison shot back, rising to his feet, not even realising that his action was shielding the still panting youth from the other man's vision.

Silence ruled for a few tense moments, before Jordan reluctantly broke Garrison's eye contact. Moving slowly down the hut, he inspected the group who stood before him. He did a complete circuit, pausing to look down at McCann, who refused to look up. This drew a smile of satisfaction from Jordan, who continued his tour until finally he reached the door. "06.00 tomorrow morning, ladies, full kit, main square." He smiled as he rested his hand upon the handle. "Two mile run before breakfast," he finished before he was gone.

"Bastard," snarled Chief, turning back to Garrison.

"He's just doing his job," Garrison commented tiredly, resuming his seat upon his bed. "Making sure we know who's in charge."

"And with such enthusiasm," Actor commented dryly.

Garrison smiled up at him, then turning, he looked across to McCann. "How're you feeling?" he asked, genuine concern in his tone.

The boy glanced up from the shaking glass of water he was busily gulping down. "Tired," he said with feeling. "And my feet hurt."

Garrison smiled with total empathy. "I second that." He glanced up as a glass of water was held out towards him. "Thanks." Then seeing that they were still the centre of attention, he raised his voice and snapped, "The show's over."

Slowly the group about them dispersed. Casino and Goniff along with it. As agreed beforehand, they would act as if they had only just met. Garrison looked up at Actor and Chief and saw from their expressions that they had decided to play mother hens on this assignment, while he was still recovering. Resigning himself to that fact, he held out his hand to the conman. "Name's Craig Garrison."

The tall handsome Italian smiled and countered, "Actor, and this is... Chief."

The Indian stepped forward and shook the offered hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said with a large smile.

"Bud McCann," the youth said, not bothering to look up from the inspection of his now un-socked feet. He did not see the amused looks this action earned him.

"Where you from, Bud?" Actor asked, as if the boy's accent didn't give him away.

"Camden, Kentucky," came the proud reply.

"And what made you join the Army?" Garrison enquired.

McCann shot a look at the older man and answered honestly, "It was the right thing to do."

Garrison was taken aback by the boy's response. It had been a long time and many months of war since he had been confronted with such honesty. Swallowing hard, he agreed. "Yes... Yes, I guess it was." Suddenly realising that he was revealing too much in front of his men, he took a deep steadying breath and informed the others, "Well, I'm going to get some sleep."

Most of the men had already settled for the night, and within a few minutes darkness spread across the hut.

Garrison lay on his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling, listening to the men settle into their new situation. Some snored, a few grunted, one kept twisting and turning as sleep eluded him, but he was further down the hut, near the door, and did not really disturb Garrison.

"Are you alright, Warden?" Chief whispered from his bed next to Garrison.

Turning on his side, Garrison answered, his tone low, "Yeah, just a bit tired, but I'll cope." He paused, then added sarcastically, "I've done this before."

"You got shot in the chest before you entered West Point?" Chief questioned innocently.

"Good night, Chief," came the slightly irritated reply.

The Indian had to strain to hear the last words, but they put a smile upon his lips. The Gorillas had made their point.

***

Garrison awoke the next morning with Actor gently shaking him. "It's 5.30, Warden."

"Right," came the confused, tired reply, as he pulled the sheets down to squint at the man who leant over him. "The others?" he asked.

"Chief's already up and about, Goniff and Casino are in the washroom... so, for that matter, is our young friend, Bud." Actor paused then commented drily, "That was not a very wise thing you did yesterday."

Garrison knew that he would have to suffer his men's concern, but he did not necessarily have to like it. Purposefully pushing back the blankets, he swung his legs over the side and sat up, roughly pushing his hands through his hair. "Lay off, Actor," he said, not meeting the other's eyes.

Actor looked at the bent head and suppressed his sharp retort. Instead, he continued, "Sergeant Jordan was paying particular attention to four or five of the men yesterday; Casino was one of them. I've told him to play along and include Goniff... our sergeant isn't too keen on our native American or myself." He stopped and waited until Garrison glanced up. "I don't think you're in his good books either," he finished drily.

"Don't worry, Actor, I'll watch my step. I've got no wish to do another fifteen miles in full gear." As he spoke, he reached up and unconsciously touched his wounded chest.

Actor, seeing his opening, dropped his cigarette on the floor and ground it out under his heel. "Let me have a look at it." It was not a request.

Garrison was about to protest when he saw the determined look in Actor's eyes and knew that he would not win this particular argument. Shooting a look about the hut, he realised that they were alone. He slowly pulled his T-shirt up and over his head, sucking in a sharp breath of pain as he did so.

Actor felt his lips tightening at the raw wound he saw. He reached out and gently probed the rough edges. Garrison winced and shied away. "Still painful?" Actor asked.

"A bit. The run last night didn't do me any favours," Garrison confessed, looking down at the wound.

"It looks sore."

"Actor," Garrison growled.

"Hurts like hell, doesn't it?" Actor accused.

"It is," Garrison said, a tight look upon his features as he glanced at Actor.

"If you're not careful, you could do permanent damage," Actor advised.

Garrison felt his anger swell. "I was passed fit for duty, Actor, and they wouldn't have passed me if they didn't consider me fit." Even as he spoke, he remembered the lies he had told the doctor. He hated his men to go on missions without him, and he had heard a rumour that General Phillips was considering doing just that. So he had taken matters into his own hands and, after considerable conning on his part, had been allowed to return to light duties.

"No, you were passed fit for light duties," Actor contradicted, his tone hard. "Running round in full battle gear is not considered light duties, Warden," he finished.

Garrison quickly pulled his T-shirt down over his head as some men wandered back into the barracks. Actor moved to assist him, but Garrison waved him away, then he stood and gathered his wash things together. "We are here to do a job, Actor; let's just do it," he stated firmly before storming from the hut.

On his way out Garrison passed Chief, who made as if to question him, but Garrison totally ignored him. The Indian shot a quick glance at Actor who shrugged.

As the Indian approached, he asked, "Well?"

Actor shrugged, then repeated Garrison's words, his tone nearly that of the Warden. "We've got a job to do."

This was not the answer Chief expected, so he patiently waited. Finally Actor concluded, "He's not going to listen; as far as he's concerned he was passed fit for duty and that's the end of the matter."

"But he..." Chief began to protest, but Actor cut him off.

"I know, but he is not going to listen to us, so we will just have to make sure that we do our job and keep him from killing himself."

"Is that all?" concluded the other man with a slight smile.

***

Casino slipped and fell into the large muddy hole of water that was hidden behind the large wall on the assault course they were attempting to run. Standing, he shook his wet hands and then looked down at his soaked uniform. "I'm gonna kill him. When this is over, I'm gonna kill him," he muttered under his breath.

"Get a move on," yelled Corporal Benson from the side of the water trench. "This isn't a holiday camp."

"All right, all right," Casino snarled, climbing out of the trench and trotting along the pathway once more. As he moved, he felt someone fall in beside him. Glancing sideways he saw Goniff. "I'm gonna kill the Warden when this is over," he told the small thief.

The little cockney pulled a face. "This place might just do it for you." He tilted his head, indicating behind him. Casino turned quickly to see Actor and Chief helping a soaking Garrison rise from the water trench that he had just fallen in. Casino winced with sympathy as he saw the Warden double over when a racking cough caught him, nearly sending him to his knees again.

Corporal Benson moved to Garrison's side, heedless of his own wet trousers. "You," he said, pointing at Actor, "take him to the infirmary."

Garrison's head snapped up and he straightened with an effort. "No... no, I'm fine." His voice sounded rough, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. "I just swallowed some water."

Benson pulled a face which clearly showed that he did not believe the man who stood swaying before him. He was just about to confirm his order when Sergeant Jordan came up behind him.

"What's going on here?"

"Garrison tripped, sir," Benson said, then added, his tone one of concern, "He's not looking too good, sir."

"I just swallowed some water, sir," Garrison insisted, still coughing as he moved away from Actor and Chief's silent support. "I'll finish the course."

Jordan scanned the dirty, pale face before him. He had been pushing the man hard and could see the lines of exhaustion in his features and the brightness of fever in his eyes. Smiling slightly with satisfaction, Jordan pointed his riding crop along the pathway. "Be my guest, Garrison."

"But, sir..." Benson began to protest.

"As you were, Corporal," snapped Jordan, his eyes slitting as he glared at the other man.

"Yes sir." Benson fell back a pace and saluted.

Garrison, meanwhile, began to trot along the muddy track, Actor and Chief beside him. In the three weeks they had been undercover, they had not discovered any evidence linking any of the base personnel to the robberies. Although Jordan was showing a keen interest in some of the men, notably Casino and Goniff, he was too cautious to let anyone in on his reasons. He only hinted that he was looking for some people for a special project, but they had not been able to get past his wall of silence.

The Gorillas main concern was the deterioration of Garrison's health; not helped by Jordan constantly finding fault with the man, nor Garrison's own determination to totally ignore his failing body. Actor was sure that he was being driven by a deeper motive than just capturing the criminals for the army. To Actor it almost seemed personal, but he had not been able to discover why.

"Why didn't you do as the corporal wanted?" asked Chief, easily keeping pace with Garrison. "You need to see someone about that cough."

Garrison stopped and spun upon the Indian. "Because if I go to the infirmary, they will want to examine me and how do I explain this?" He pointed to his wounded chest. "It would be about the camp in half an hour... and blow our cover."

"Our cover," Actor said, then followed as Garrison began to move again. "Some cover; we've been here three weeks and all we've learnt is how to play at being soldiers."

"You need the practice, Actor," Garrison snapped, then added, his voice hoarse from the influenza, "They're going to have to make their move soon."

"What if we are no nearer to them at the end of the six weeks?" Actor asked, seeing the end of the course in sight and sending a silent thanks to the gods.

Garrison threw Actor a dirty look, but didn't bother to answer as he conserved his strength to finished the run.

Later, when they were back in the barracks alone, Actor raised the question again.

"Then we leave and the army finds someone else to send in."

"Let's hope you last that long," Chief mumbled under his breath, but Garrison caught his words.

Leaping up, he turned the full force of his anger upon the man. "If I hear one more snide comment about my ability to complete this mission, I will personally show you just what I'm capable of." The threat was clear in his tone.

Neither man said anything, and Garrison slumped back on his bed. After a few strained moments, he apologised. "Look, I know you're concerned, but we don't have time for this. Believe me, I will survive, and anyway, catching these bastards is more important."

Actor leapt upon his words. "Why? Why is it so important that we get these men?"

"Because it is," Garrison snapped, closing his eyes, willing himself not to see again the mental picture of his mother's body.

"Not good enough," shot back Actor. "You've been riding this from the beginning, pushing both us and yourself."

"I have my orders," Garrison began.

Actor shook his head. "No... this isn't just about orders, Warden, this is deeper... personal. I can feel it."

Garrison took a deep breath, pushing the nightmarish image away and spoke slowly, as if to a dim-witted child, "What you feel is of no concern to me. My only consideration here is to see that this mission is completed successfully."

"Like hell it is," Actor finally snapped, unable to contain his rising anger at Garrison. "I know a con when I see one, Warden, and you've been lying to us from the start."

"I haven't lied."

"Haven't you?"

"No," came the determined reply.

Actor rocked back on his heels as if Garrison had struck him. Slowly he turned away, gathering his temper, suppressing it before he replied, his voice sounding defeated, "I don't believe you."

Garrison's head shot up and he looked at the back of the man who had confronted him. During all their scams together, all the fights, cons, and escapades, he could never remember Actor not believing him. He suddenly realised that this declaration of mistrust hurt. He glanced at Chief and saw a guarded expression upon his face. It was an expression he had not seen since their first few missions. He realised with a ripple of shock that he was losing their trust; a trust he had spent many months fighting to gain.

"Look," he began, licking his dry lips. "I know that I've been a little off centre on this mission, and you're right, Actor, maybe it is personal." He stopped as the conman turned back to confront him, yet his face showed only a willingness to listen... to understand. "It has nothing to do with this mission, really, but I can't seem to get the picture... the memory out of my mind, and every time I see Jordan, see his viciousness toward the men, I keep thinking he might have been the one to pull the trigger." He stopped, obviously upset. He reached up and rested his head in his hands. "All I can see is the blood."

Actor looked down at the bent head, confusion clouding his eyes. He could not comprehend what Garrison was talking about. Glancing at Chief, he saw an equally baffled expression upon his face. "What picture..." he ventured, moving to sit beside Garrison. "Whose blood?" His voice was calm, tempered not to upset the man beside him, his tone expressing his genuine concern.

Garrison glanced up and the expression in his eyes ripped into Actor, who was unable to suppress the gasp that escaped him.

"My mother's," Garrison finally mumbled. "My mother's blood." At these words, he seemed to collapse into himself. Actor reached out and held him close in a tight embrace.

"Chief, the whiskey," Actor hissed, fearing that the strain of the last year had finally caught up with Garrison and he now held a broken man in his arms.

The Indian moved swiftly and soon was pouring a healthy amount of the amber liquid into a tin cup. Actor snatched the offered cup and forced Garrison to drink the burning brew. The man coughed and wiped at the spilt droplets that dribbled down his chin. "I'm alright," he reassured them unsteadily, moving stiffly out of Actor's embrace. Slowly, quietly, he began to recount the painful tale.

"When I was eight, I was given a rather large sum of money for my birthday. My father thought it was time I had my own bank account, so my mother took me to the bank to open an account for me." He paused, wiping a hand over his face. As he spoke, he seemed to grow calmer. "I never saw them come in, they just seemed to appear; three of them, carrying guns and shouting for everybody to get down. I froze. I can't understand why they started to shoot... what caused them to.... My mother made a grab for me." He stopped, unable to say the words but needing to finish now that he had started. "She was hit; it was like it happened in slow motion. I saw the bullets strike... there was so much blood."

He looked at Actor, then up at Chief. "Then they were gone. They didn't even get the money they had killed for.... The police never caught them. To this day I don't know who killed her." He stopped, struggling for control, the strain causing his muscles to clench. His voice forced from between betraying lips as he continued, "Then this came up, with the young mother who was killed...." He raised his hand and struck his forehead as if beating the mental image away. "All I can see is my mother falling against that damned counter and sliding down, like a puppet that's had its strings cut. All I can think about is that other little boy." He had not realised that he was shaking, did not know that his pain was almost a tangible cloak that lay across the room.

Actor was stunned by the disclosure; the emotion that Garrison was displaying frightened him. Never before had he seen the brave man before him speak with such agony. He had seen him face death without blinking, fight against the odds and risk his life for them on dozens of occasions, yet never had he seen him shake with such turmoil as he was before him now. Part of him realised that Garrison's weakened health was eroding his ability to react with coherence, but the raw display of emotion before him frightened Actor more than he liked to admit.

Reaching out, he poured another large dose of whiskey into the cup and pressed it into Garrison's hands, forcing him to swallow its contents. If he thought he could solve the Warden's problem by getting him drunk, Actor would have willingly done so. But he knew that only by finding the people behind the senseless killing of this innocent woman could they help Garrison come to terms with his own loss.

Suddenly the strength that Garrison had been running on drained and he sagged, nearly tipping off the bed. Actor and Chief made a grab for him, ignoring his feeble attempts to push them away as they shifted him so that he was laying flat upon his bed. Unable to fight them, his fever-racked body, or the alcohol any longer, he slipped into an uneasy unconsciousness.

Actor reached over to his own bed and removed the blanket, which he placed over the oblivious body. All the time he was considering what Garrison had told them. He'd personally never known his own mother, so could not really say that he had any deep feelings for her. Yet Garrison's revelation had shaken him to the core and, from the look on Chief's equally pale features, it had also affected him.

"We're going to get these bastards," the Indian said, the promise clear in his tone. He would walk into hell itself for Garrison, that Actor knew, and with frightening revelation, he realised that he would too.

Reaching for the bottle of whiskey, he poured a healthy amount into the cup which he handed to Chief, before downing a good draught from the bottle to steady his own nerves.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Chief asked, downing the drink in one gulp.

"We're going to get these people."

"How?" Chief stated.

Actor gave the matter some thought before he finally said, "We'll have to speak to the others, tell them what's happened." He glanced back at Garrison.

"And the Warden?" Chief said, looking down at the pale complexion of the man whom he considered more a brother to him than his own flesh.

Actor shook his head. "He shouldn't have been on this mission in the first place." Seeing the anger flash in the other's eyes at what appeared to be criticism of the sick man, Actor conceded, "I know, this isn't the time or the place. Look, go see if you can find Casino and Goniff. We really need to talk about this." As the Indian left, he called out, "And see if you can find Bud; I want someone to stay with The Warden."

***

Casino sat back and whistled slowly before confirming, "So, the Warden's mother was shot during a bank robbery?"

"It's a wonder he ever agreed to have anything to do with us," Goniff stated, rubbing a hand through his tangled hair. "I mean, losing your mum like that...." He shuddered as he pictured his own mother in a similar situation.

"Yes, he is a remarkable man, but," Actor continued, "what with his recent injury, and now this damned cough, I don't think Jordan is going to let him survive the week... and The Warden won't go into the infirmary because it would blow our cover."

"So, we're caught in the middle," Casino confirmed, pulling a face. "What's new?"

"What's new is that we need whoever is behind these robberies to reveal themselves sooner rather than later," Actor snapped, looking at the three men before him.

"And how are we going to do that?" Casino asked, leaning back in his chair. "Just put a notice up beside the daily menu?" he added, pointing at the board in question. They had commandeered a corner of the mess hut, and each was nursing a cold cup of coffee. If anyone thought it strange to see these four men acting so friendly together, nobody commented upon it. Neither did they try to join the group, not after Chief had discouraged some other soldiers who wanted to use the end of the table.

Actor glanced down at the cigarette packet he held in his hand, then he offered them about. After thanking Goniff for the light, he pulled a long drag of smoke deep into his lungs, then he explained, his tone low, "Major Alexander wants us to rob a bank."

"What!" exclaimed Chief and Goniff together, nearly leaping from their seats.

"You're joking," Casino stated, the shocked expression on his face causing Actor to smile.

"Not at all, gentlemen." He fumbled with his coffee cup, this action showing the others how much he personally disliked the idea. "I contacted him in the hope that he might remove The Warden to hospital, but he is insistent that it would blow our cover." He glanced up at the others. "But he is in agreement that something has to be done to bring this matter to a head."

"So we rob a bank?" Chief asked, his tone showing his opinion of Major Alexander.

"Apparently the top brass are not too happy with our slow progress, and there is a lot of outside pressure from the Washington police force to have this matter settled. The plan was agreed between them and himself; they will supply the bank, and he will let us know where and when."

"And do you think that will bring the slime out of the woodwork?" Casino asked. It was obvious from his words that he did not hold much hope of it working.

"The major's argument is that Sergeant Jordan is definitely involved, so we are to let slip in his direction what we are planning. He argues that they cannot just sit back and let us take over their business."

"And they're supposed to stop us in the act?" Goniff asked, scratching at his thick mop of hair, a frown upon his face.

"Something like that." Actor stubbed out his cigarette. "In the meantime, I'm going to get the doctor to have a look at Garrison."

"But I thought The Warden said our cover would be blown if he went into the infirmary?" Goniff asked.

"I've got a few ideas in that area, and will hopefully just get him confined to barracks for a few days. Give him a chance to rest up and recover."

"I would like to see that," Chief said, pushing his chair back and smiling at the older man, knowing how hard Garrison was to keep down once he felt even slightly better. "Need any help?" he offered.

Actor smiled and shook his head. Leaning over, he rested an arm across Goniff's shoulder, saying, "No, we have more experience with drainpipes than you, and this particular scam requires a roof man."

Goniff looked at the arm draped over his shoulder, then into the smiling eyes of Actor. He suppressed a gulp and smiled weakly at the others.

***

Doctor Saunders removed his stethoscope from about his neck and looked at the handsome man who was laying in the bed. Standing slowly, he ordered, "I would recommend bedrest for at least two to three days."

Jordan stepped forward, his anger flaring. "Why can't you take him to the infirmary?"

Saunders shot a glance at the other men who were standing by the bed before he said, "There are no beds in the infirmary at the moment, Sergeant Jordan, due to the water pipe bursting. It will take days to make the place habitable again." He shot a look at Jordan, his tone clear as he advised sternly, "But if you allow him to rest up for a few days, he should be as right as rain by the weekend."

Jordan felt his lips thin at the implication that he would prevent the patient from resting. "This is an army barracks, Doctor, not a hospital. My men will be coming and going all day - hardly the kind of environment for a sick man," he protested snippily.

"That's enough, Jordan. Just do as the doctor says and keep your men out of here as much as possible over the next few days," Lieutenant Howlett snapped, annoyed at the man's attitude towards the doctor.

Dr Saunders sighed; he did not like the idea of leaving a sick man in the barracks either, but the sudden flooding of the infirmary had led to the place being evacuated while it dried out. The man shook his head: he still could not imagine how the pipe had burst, and then the holes in the roof appearing as if overnight, allowing the water to drip dangerously close to the generator.... He shuddered as he recalled again the sight of the half-filled buckets scattered about his little hospital. Bravely he continued, "Sergeant Jordan, I really have no choice in the matter. As I have said, the infirmary is out of bounds for a few days, and Garrison should be on his feet by then." He paused, then added, "If not... then I will consider sending him there, all right?" He stood and began to place his instruments back in his bag.

Jordan, realising that there was nothing he could do - especially against the direct orders of both the doctor and Lt. Howlett - slapped his riding crop against his leg. "Will you be supplying a nurse to attend to him?" he asked, pointing at the sick man.

Dr Saunders looked up. He had not considered the matter as he only had four nurses, and they were needed elsewhere.

"Perhaps I could help," Actor said, stepping up and advising, "I've had some experience with sick people." Seeing the strange looks this earned him, he continued, "My father was a doctor."

Dr Saunders looked towards Lt. Howlett, who nodded briefly before agreeing, "You'll have to catch up with your training at some point - but then, so will Garrison, so I guess it will be alright."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, and I'm sure there will be others willing to assist, during the evening and such," Actor stated, thinking of the other Gorillas.

Jordan growled under his breath, then saluting the officers, he turned and strolled from the room, his displeasure at the situation clear to all present.

Saunders relaxed slightly after the man had gone, then turning to Actor he held out a bottle of tablets. "He'll need to take these four times a day. Give him plenty of fluids and make sure he rests." He stopped and looked at the door Jordan had gone through. "If you have any problems, let me know."

Actor smiled at the man and shook the offered hand. The doctor had been so good about the circumstances that Actor actually felt slightly guilty about flooding his infirmary.

As the doctor left with Lt. Howlett in tow, Garrison commented, his throat husky from the cold, "That was a pretty sneaky thing to do, Actor."

The conman smiled, showing most of his teeth. "Yes. Now, you really should try and get some rest." Glancing at his watch, he saw that the lunch period was over. "I've got to get us some lunch before the mess closes."

"Actor, you'll have to contact Major Alexander and tell him I don't like the robbery idea." Garrison was struggling to sit up and Actor quickly sat down on the bed, pushing the man back so he was lying flat.

"Warden," he hissed. "The doctor just told you to rest, and here you are doing the opposite - besides, I've tried talking to your Major and he's just as stubborn as you are."

Laying back down, Garrison grabbed at Actor's arm. "Then I want in on the robbery."

The conman sat back, surprise filling his features. "Warden, I don't think that would be a good idea." The memory of Garrison's confession was still fresh in his mind.

"Actor," stressed Garrison, "if it's going ahead, then I need to be there."

Actor gently disengaged his arm from Garrison's grip. "Let's just see how you go." He knew that he was being a coward by not saying no and then meaning it, but he also knew that Garrison would spend the next four days fretting if he did.

Glancing at his watch again, he said, anxious to change the subject, "Look, I've really got to go if you want your dinner."

"Dinner in bed," Garrison joked. "I could get used to this."

"Wait until you see what's on the menu first," Actor shot back.

Garrison laughed and then coughed, a dry rasping sound that tore at his chest. He lay back, exhausted, his eyes drifting closed. Actor watched him for a few moments before he rose and left the barracks.

***

Now that a plan had been decided upon, the team was able to combine their efforts once more, with Casino and Goniff being given the task of baiting the trap for Jordan.

Major Alexander, their contact outside the camp, had come back to Actor and confirmed the details of the bank they were going to supposedly rob, and the event was set for late that Friday afternoon.

The barracks was in silence, most of the recruits at lunch, while the Gorillas gathered about Garrison's bed. With Chief standing watch near enough to hear the conversation, Actor went over the final details of the plan.

"I don't like it," Garrison complained from his bed. "There's too much that could go wrong."

Actor was well aware of Garrison's reservations about the method of capturing the bank robbers and, while he agreed with him, he also knew that Garrison was under Major Alexander's orders more so than the rest of them.

"They won't have a choice, they will have to try and stop us... their 'credibility' depends on it," he stated, using the major's own words, as he folded up the plans of the bank.

"When do you think they will hit us?" Casino asked, shooting a look between the two men.

During the days of Garrison's illness there had been a subtle shift of authority between Garrison and Actor, which became even more apparent as Actor gave the question some consideration before answering, "If it was me, I would do it after the robbery, once we have the cash."

"Or during it," Garrison added, his tone solemn. He too had felt the slipping of control towards the other man, noting the way the others turned to Actor first for comments. Yet he found it hard to be annoyed with the other man, who had so attentively nursed him during his illness of the past few days, and he truly believed that Actor was not purposefully undermining his authority. In his eyes, he was trying to protect Garrison, but Craig was feeling better now - not in need of such protection - and he knew that he would have to take that authority back, and do it soon.

"During?" Actor repeated, surprise colouring his tone.

"There will be too much confusion after the robbery, they could easily lose us. No... if I wanted to maintain my 'credibility'..." he shot Actor a smile as he repeated the word, "then I would want to make an example of the men who were trying to horn in on my turf." Garrison's voice was stronger; he had recovered considerably during his few days of confined bed rest, the hacking cough no longer tore at his healing wounds. He was now well enough to return to light duties the next day, and Jordan had taken great delight in informing him that he was expected on the assault course at dawn the next morning. Garrison looked at his Gorillas as they stood about him and suppressed a sigh. He had every intention of taking part in the robbery, even against the express wishes of his men.

"Do you think Jordan understood when we will be pulling off the job?" Chief asked from his position as guard.

"We've got forty-eight hours leave starting Friday morning, so he knows that it's going to be done during that time. The banks close for the weekend at 3.30pm; that was the time when the other jobs were pulled, so it's only natural that we would choose that time as well," Actor said, knowing that Garrison still wanted to meet with Major Alexander to discuss the mission with him first hand in a last-ditch effort to get the plan abandoned.

"The more I hear about this, the less I like it," Garrison said, his eyes revealing his concern for his men. "Too much is left to them supposing, what ifs, and maybes. What if we're totally wrong and Jordan's not even involved?"

Actor pushed down the slight annoyance that Garrison's words caused. They had taken great pains to ensure that Jordan was not the innocent bystander Garrison kept seeing him as. He continued, "Goniff made sure that Jordan knows what going on... didn't you?" He shot the inquiry at the little blond thief.

The man in question smiled, revealing his even white teeth. "Jordan's in it, all right, Warden. When I let slip about the bank robbery, he kept my glass filled and asking questions until he had heard everything he wanted."

"You didn't let too much slip?" Actor questioned sharply, knowing what the thief was like when he got drunk.

Goniff glared at him, "Course I didn't... what do you take me for? I told him exactly what I was supposed to: he knows who's in our gang." He shot a look towards Garrison. "He was surprised when I told him you were in on it, though."

Actor opened his mouth to snap at Goniff again, but Garrison intervened before the argument got out of hand. Alright, alright... I guess if you've set it up with Jordan, then we have to go through with it and just hope that whoever is behind him takes the bait."

Casino smiled at the tone in Garrison's voice and advised sagely, "People as greedy as Jordan and his pals won't let us get away with it, Warden. I heard Goniff telling Jordan that we were going to use the same method as the other five jobs and I saw his face." He smiled again with growing confidence. "It was pure indignation. No... he's not going to let us raw recruits get away with pulling this job."

"Now all we have to do is make sure that Jordan gets a look at the bank plans and our final draft of the robbery," Actor concluded, standing and placing the papers in question in his jacket pocket.

"And you're sure that there will be no civilians in the bank?" Garrison asked, a frown marring his handsome features.

Actor shot a look at the others. Although he had told them of Garrison's confession about his mother, he was uncertain how the Warden would react to the others knowing. Pushing that concern aside, he spoke only to put Garrison's fears at rest, "Major Alexander has assured me that it has all been arranged." Seeing the raised eyebrow he hastened to add, "No civilians will be there except us. The cashiers, guards and the public will be police and army personnel." Actor was not aware that his tone had changed slightly; it had become more subtle, almost as if he were preparing a mark for the sting, or telling a child not to worry.

Garrison's head snapped up and he glared at Actor, who suddenly realised his error. "Warden..." he began, wanting to cover his slip.

"These men aren't fools, Actor," Garrison snarled, his eyes indicating that neither was he. "And they've already proven just how ruthless they can be." He paused, considering his options. As usual his concern for his men came to the fore. "I want you to stay together. Jordan and his pals might just decide to take out the opposition before Friday."

"I can look out for myself, Warden," Chief stated, slipping his ever-present knife from its hiding place and running his finger lovingly along its length. He had felt the atmosphere alter slightly, but could not place its origin. He knew only that it lay between Garrison and Actor, and he - as usual - was supporting the Warden.

Garrison relaxed and smiled at the threatening tone, but confirmed, "In pairs." He waited until he got four nods of agreement before he continued firmly, "Actor, I'll take the plans." He paused, meeting the startled look of the conman. "I'll make sure that Jordan gets a chance to look at them." He held out his hands and saw the other man hesitate. "Actor?" he questioned, knowing the time had come to take the reins of command back.

"Do you think that's wise, Warden?" Goniff finally asked, looking from Actor back to Garrison. "I mean...." He paused, not sure how to continue. Something was going on between the two men, and he was not sure what.

Actor blinked a few times, as if judging the situation and realising what was happening. He smiled over-brightly as he reached for the plans and handed them across. Swallowing down the knot of unease, he cautioned, "As you said, Warden, these people have proven themselves to be totally ruthless."

Garrison accepted the plans and rested them beside him on the bed. "That is why I want you and Chief backing me up tomorrow when I do my penance around the assault course."

"You think he'll jump you?" Chief asked, his eyes suddenly blazing.

Actor wiped at a non-existent speck on his uniform. "If I was Jordan... I would want to confirm Goniff's drunken boasting."

Garrison nodded in agreement. "But I don't think it's Jordan who will want to check out Goniff's story." He paused, his eyes intense in their observation of the others.

"Why?" Goniff asked, his confusion evident upon his face.

"We're still only assuming that Jordan is involved, and that the robberies have all been committed with perfect military precision. The murders were..." Garrison paused, "just a diversion to cause maximum confusion. Jordan doesn't have the mental capacity to pull off that kind of caper. He's more of the 'beat them up outside a bar and mug them' type."

"What makes you think they will pick on you, Warden?" Goniff asked, still totally at sea.

Garrison smiled at Goniff before he answered, "Because I am your weakest link."

Goniff felt his jaw drop and gasped, "You?" His expression was totally incredulous.

Garrison didn't answer straight away, instead he lifted his hand to his chest and coughed pitifully a few times. "Yes," he gasped in a pain-filled voice that didn't sit well with the smile on his face. Then he grew serious. "Now get out of here and let me get some rest."

As the others filed out, Actor hesitated then waited until they were alone before he spoke. "Warden... I didn't mean.... I was just concerned...."

Garrison brushed aside the other man's words. "Actor, you're the best, but in the future I would appreciate it if you didn't try to run a con on me." He said the words lightly, but the meaning behind them was clear: he was in charge of the Gorillas. "Anyway," he finished, "it's nice to know you're there when I need you."

"Are you sure you want me as your backup tomorrow?" Actor enquired, quite prepared to allow one of the others to act in his usual place of second in command.

Garrison considered the request before he answered, "I wouldn't want anyone else, Actor. Hell," he confessed, "I would've lost these guys months ago without your cool logic to sheep dog them." He held out his hand and was pleased when the conman gripped it warmly. He knew that Actor was only acting out of concern for his welfare, but he was a lieutenant in the United States army and could not afford to have his position or his ability questioned by the men under him... no matter who they were.

***

Casino allowed Goniff to close the door behind him and pulled up the collar of his jacket. The evening had brought the cold with it.

"Did you understand what was going on between the Warden and Actor?" Goniff asked, moving to stand between the New Yorker and the Indian.

Casino looked at his friend and smiled brightly before he confided, "I think Garrison was just reminding Actor that we're his Gorillas..."

"And," Chief cut in with a matching smile, "the Warden's no monkey."

"Here... leave that out," Goniff snapped, suddenly realising what had been happening. "Actor's only concerned for the Warden's health," he defended the conman.

Chief waved the smaller man off, as if admitting he was the stronger foe. "I know... I know."

Silence fell between them as the man in question left the barracks. Moving to stand beside them, Actor commented, "It's pretty cold out here tonight." He rubbed his hands together as he spoke and, copying Casino's action of earlier, he pulled his jacket tighter about his body.

"Do you think the Warden will be alright?" Chief asked, genuine concern reflected in his voice.

"Of course he will," Actor said with more bravado than he felt. "You know the Warden, he's only happy when he's on a scam.... He's a bigger conman than I am."

"Come on," Casino said, tilting the conversation away from the robbery and possible mention of Actor's slap down. "Let's get some coffee before they close the mess hall."

"I think I'll just stay here," Chief said, his eyes turning towards the barracks, not liking the idea of leaving Garrison unprotected.

Goniff shot a look back at the Indian. "The Warden said we were to stay together." Seeing the look this earned him, he shrugged, "Think I'll pass on the coffee as well."

Casino glanced back at them, then shrugged. "Actor?" he questioned.

"The Warden said 'together'," Actor stated firmly, "so if you want your coffee then I guess I'm going." He raised an eyebrow, defying anyone to mention the authority he spoke with. He was still the selected second in command, and the others confirmed it by not arguing.

"Thanks," Casino said, moving off towards the mess hut. Sometimes he was really confused by the other Gorillas actions, but one thing he was sure about at all times: they were a close-knit team and they stood together. "Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Joseph and his monkey?" he started as they walked.

Chief, hearing the start of Casino's conversation, smiled, remembering the story. Under his breath, he murmured, "One of these days, Casino... one of these days."

***

Garrison settled his rifle more comfortably across his back and pushed his helmet back, allowing the soft breeze to cool his forehead. As he did so, he inspected the track before him. He had completed most of the course, but still had to negotiate the man-made forest and river... he estimated about another two miles. If Jordan was going to make his move, he knew that it would have to be during this section of the course, when Garrison would be out of sight of the main compound.

He began to trot forward again, moving with an easy lope that allowed him to continually check the surrounding area. He felt the coolness of the shade as he slipped into the wooded region and concentrated on the path in front of him.

A few minutes later he slowed to a walk, the hairs on the back of his neck informing him that he was being watched. He wondered briefly if it could be Chief, but discounted the idea: the Indian had tracked him many times and he had never felt this unease. His instinct proved correct when, a little further down the trail, Corporal Benson stepped out into his path, his rifle held casually in his hands. Although the barrel was pointing downwards, it was ready for use and needed only to be pointed to kill.

"Hold it, Garrison," he said, his tone brittle, matching the unfriendly smile that crossed his features.

"Corporal Benson," Garrison said, not reacting to the threat of the gun. "Sergeant Jordan ordered me to run the course before breakfast," he continued, not sure if Benson was the man he was expecting or just an innocent bystander who wanted to know what he was doing on the course so early.

"I know... he told me," he stated, moving forward and motioning for Garrison to drop his weapon. "Drop it before I drop you," he added as an incentive.

Garrison took a step back, licking his lips. "I don't understand Corporal?" he stammered, allowing a look of confusion to slip across his face as he did what he was told. His weapon hardly made a noise as it hit the soft dirt.

"We know about the job,Garrison, so let's not act like idiots.... A man could get killed acting like that."

"We?" Garrison demanded, dropping his pretence of not understanding. "You and Jordan?"

"Ain't no never-mind," Benson shot back, his accent coming to the fore with his agitation. "You want to die, Garrison?"

Garrison swayed back at the implied threat and changed his tactics. "Listen, Benson, I'm not here to step on toes. The others asked if I was interested in earning some money before we got shipped overseas, that's all." He swallowed hard and let a pleading look enter his eyes. "Are you going to tell the police?" he asked, his apparent fear becoming more tangible by the moment.

Benson relaxed slightly as he watched the man in front of him. The look of alarm upon the other's face assured him that he had chosen the right person. He let a smile cross his face as he answered, "Hell... no, I'm not going to tell the police." He allowed his voice to go hard. "Least ways, not if you do as you're told."

Garrison frowned at that, saying with uncertainty, "As I'm told?"

Moving forward, Benson nodded. "Sure." He paused, then added, "Look, we know that you guys are planning to do a heist on Friday, and that suits us fine." He didn't take his eyes from Garrison's face and noted with pleasure the shocked look that crossed it as he finished, "'Cos we were planning on doing one as well."

"You're going to rob a bank?" Garrison asked, unable to hide his confusion.

Benson smiled again; it was a toothy grin that emphasised his youthful looks. "No," he said, pulling out his pistol. He moved over and leant into Garrison's side, placing the muzzle at his chest. "We're going to rob you," he laughed, tapping gently with each word.

***

Hiding in the trees nearby, Chief had spent the morning waiting for Garrison to appear along the track. Off to his left stood Actor, his own weapon ready. They had agreed with Garrison the night before that this stretch of path was the most likely place for an ambush.

The Indian had straightened when Benson slipped out of the forest to confront Garrison, had seen the Warden drop his gun and stand back from it. He was too far away to hear what was being said, but his unease grew when Benson advanced upon the other man before pulling his pistol, which he pointed at Garrison. Moving silently, Chief edged forward but was unable to get a clear line of fire. Cursing under his breath, he shot a look towards Actor, but he had advanced too far forward to see him. Then he caught sight of the conman, slinking towards him. He prayed that Actor had a better view and aim at the man holding the gun on Garrison.

***

Garrison jumped as Benson placed an arm about his shoulders and said quietly, "Why don't you ask your friend to join us."

"My friend?" Garrison feigned ignorance and Benson patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, I saw the Indian heading this way earlier.... Do it now, friend." Benson's tone had lost its humour.

Looking into the face a hair's breadth away from his own, Garrison knew that this man was nervous enough to kill him. "Chief," he called out. "Get down here."

The man in question started, then slowly made his way down to stand a few feet in front of the two men.

"Throw the gun away, Indian," Benson said, a satisfied smile upon his lips. It had been by pure chance that he had seen the other man slip into the forest that morning before Garrison's run and his knowledge had paid off. He giggled at his own superiority. "See, Garrison, that was real easy. You might even get good at obeying orders... if you live long enough."

"What the hell do you want with us?" Garrison snarled, still aware of the gun.

"You're gonna help us rob your partners," Benson said with growing assuredness. When the plan had first been explained to him the corporal had been unsure of its merits, but his success with these men this morning was building his own confidence.

"And why would we do that?" Chief asked, his tone even, his eyes ablaze.

Benson tilted his head to one side. "Because you like breathing, Indian."

"What's in it for us... apart from breathing?" Garrison questioned, wanting to get down to details. He knew that time was passing and soon the course would be in use.

Benson, as if reading Garrison's thoughts, stated, "You get a cut of the loot and a safe passage overseas."

"We already had that," Chief said, not moving a muscle.

"You had." Seeing the cold looks this earned him, Benson continued, trying now to persuade them to his point of view, "We've done this kind of robbery before. Have you?" It was a loaded question and both Garrison and Chief looked at each other, then as one shook their heads. "Well, we have... me and...." He stopped suddenly, realising what he had been about to say. He swiftly altered his words. "We've done this before. "

"And if we don't go along with you?" Garrison asked.

"Then you die, here and now."

"What if we agree and then double-cross you?" Chief looked at Garrison, surprised. He would never have rocked the boat by asking such a question.

"I never took you for a fool, Garrison. You cross us and you're both dead. This thing is bigger than you would believe, take my word for it. You would never know where the bullet came from."

Garrison thought about Benson's words, then slowly nodded his agreement. "Alright, what do you want us to do?"

Benson relaxed but didn't loosen his hold on the gun. "We need to know the details; time, name and plans of the bank."

"That's all?" Garrison asked sarcastically.

Benson smiled. He spoke with confidence now, knowing that he had the men before him trapped... it was an unusual feeling for the younger man. Playing it to the hilt, he continued, his tone dismissive, "For now." He stood back and removed the gun. "I'll contact you later and arrange somewhere more private to continue this talk." He looked back along the track. "You act as if nothing has happened, but get the plans of the bank and don't worry about your pals: you might be going to go in with them..." he smiled again, a sly look entering his eyes, "but they won't be coming out with you."

"You're going to kill them?" Chief asked sharply.

"They mean something to you, Indian?" Benson shot back.

Garrison glared at him and Chief shook his head. "Nah... just so that I know where I stand."

Benson smiled. "You've got potential, red-man, now keep your mouth shut." He shot another glance about then, backing up, slowly he faded back into the forest.

"What now?" Chief asked, moving to stand beside Garrison, who was bending down, retrieving his gun.

Garrison said nothing for a few moments, considering the conversation that they had just had with Benson. "He's only the errand boy, so..." he said as he hoisted his rifle over his shoulder and pushed his helmet back again, "I guess I get to finish the course and wait for them to contact me." He hesitated, then asked quietly, "Actor?"

Without looking in the direction, Chief said, "Behind me... about twenty yards."

"Alright. I'd better finish the course; you get back to the others - let them know what's happening."

"And if Benson sees me?"

Garrison looked at the Indian and smiled; it was the first real smile Chief had seen in a few days. "He saw you entering the forest this morning, Chief, but didn't comment upon it. I don't think Benson's that bright, and he did say to act as if nothing's changed. You would normally speak to the others," he shrugged, "so act as if nothing's changed."

***

Garrison was unable to meet up with the other four members of his team until later that afternoon. Jordan was going out of his way to give Garrison long tasks as retribution for his time off training, and he gave no indication to them at all during the day that he was aware of their conversation with Benson that morning. He still treated Garrison, Actor and Chief with the same contempt as he had before.

Taking his jacket off and letting his kit fall slowly to the floor, Garrison sat upon his bed and rubbed his hands though his hair. What he wouldn't give to just relax in a warm bath for half a day.

Actor approached him and sat down on the bed opposite. "Chief told us about this morning. You had me worried there for a while, Warden." He frowned as he spoke, remembering his sudden fear as the gun was trained upon Garrison.

The man in question looked up and smiled back. "I had you worried, too, huh?!!!"

"So, what happens now that they know about the job on Friday?" Actor said, leaning forward, his tone hushed.

Garrison considered the question: he had spent most of the day reviewing the events of the past four weeks. "They wanted confirmation about the job and, as we suspected, they are going to take us down during it."

Actor nodded. "Yes, Chief informed us about that part of it with great relish," he commented, unable to forget the amused gleam in the other's eyes as he explained that the plan entailed killing them.

"This is getting too complicated. I need to contact Major Alexander and let him know what's going on. Did Chief tell you that Benson is going to get in touch with me?" He reached under his mattress and pulled out the plans of the bank. "That's when he wants to see these." He glanced up. "Actor, I'm going to ask Alexander to cancel the job."

Actor pulled a face. "Warden... I tried, but your major is adamant: it would appear that the people above him are desperate to get this matter sorted."

Garrison shrugged. "I know, but there is no way that we can totally guarantee that they will even try to take us down - at the moment it's all talk. And say some innocent person walks in...." He let his concern rest, knowing that Actor would know what his real fear was behind the proposed bank hold-up. With a sigh, Garrison reached up and rubbed at the dull ache in his neck.

"Are you alright?" Actor asked, noting the strained and tired face before him.

Garrison looked up, then smiled at the concerned question. "Will you stop asking that?" He paused, then reaching over, he patted Actor's shoulder. "I'm fine, the few days' bed-rest did wonders for me." He looked up again and sighed. "I think I preferred it better when we were fighting the Germans; least you know who your enemies are."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Actor said, his smooth rich voice full of irony.

"Arrange that meeting with Alexander for me, Actor... and make it soon," Garrison asked, knowing that he was right to be concerned about the plan, but not liking the idea of taking on Major Alexander, who was a stickler for the rules and following orders, no matter what.

***

Meanwhile, across the camp, two men stood hidden in the shadowed shelter of another hut, their presence indicated only by the flaring end of the large cigar one of them was smoking.

"I don't think we can trust them," Benson finished as he looked about, his actions revealing his unease.

"We can't," confirmed his companion with total certainty.

"Then why the hell are we wasting our time with this? Why don't we just take them out and finish the whole damned thing?"

"Your problem is, Benson, you think short term; that's why you will always be a corporal," snapped the other man, before taking a long drag on his cigar.

"Right, and you're such a genius," growled Benson, his face distorting with dislike.

"That's right... if not for me you'd still be nothing more than a poor army plebe," snapped the smoker, his eyes glinting in the shadowed light. "Whereas now you're a rich army plebe."

Benson, hearing the tone in the other's voice, swallowed hard and pushed his own anger from him. He had seen this man cold-bloodedly cut down innocent bystanders just to cause a diversion. There was a deadliness about his leader that he feared and the other man, knowing this, used it against him constantly. "So what are we going to do?" he finally asked.

The smoker inhaled a few deep breaths of smoke and smiled, his teeth showing eerily in the near darkness. "We're going to use them as examples, Benson; teach them a lesson that will warn others off."

"I thought we'd agreed to take their money," the corporal said, a frown marring his features.

"We will, we will, and then we'll kill them... kill them all." Although the voice appeared devoid of any real emotion, Benson could just hear the ripple of pleasure the thought of killing gave this man. He wanted out of the deal, now; the death of the young woman during their last raid had appalled and sickened him, but he knew that if he ever gave this man reason to doubt him, then he would dispose of Benson without a second thought.

"What... Garrison and the Indian too?" Benson asked, suddenly realising the implication of the other's words.

"Nobody plays my war games without permission." The tone was ice and the corporal knew that the man before him was warming to the idea of killing five men in cold blood. "I don't give a damn about the money, but I've spent years setting this little scam up and I'm not about to let some two bit raw recruits take it away from me." He paused, out of breath, his blood boiling at the anger he felt whenever he considered the men wanting to take over his idea. "Make your rendezvous with Garrison," he snarled. "Let me know what happens. I'll speak to the others and make sure they know what they have to do." The smoker dropped his cigar and brutally crushed it out.

"Benson," he continued, stepping forward and grabbing the front of Benson's shirt. Pulling him close, he breathed the words into the ear of the shaking man. "If you cross me... I will make it six." Then, shoving Benson back against the wall, he turned and was gone, fading into the darkness with the skill of one trained to blend.

***

Garrison felt a tug on his arm and turned to see Benson standing behind him. "Have you got it?" he asked.

Shooting a look towards the others, Garrison saw that they were occupied with stripping down their rifles under Jordan's keen eyes. He patted his jacket pocket and mumbled, "Yeah... right here."

"Good. Come on..." Corporal Benson started off across the compound, leading Garrison away from the firing range. Again Garrison shot a look towards his men and saw that they were watching him as he was led away. He shook his head slightly and knew that they would make no attempt to follow him.

"Corporal Benson," Jordan's voice ripped across the ground, bringing the man in question up short. "I haven't finished yet with Private Garrison."

Benson spun and, coming to attention, returned, "Sir... Dr Saunders has requested an interview with him... sir."

Jordan weighed up the other's words and finally conceded. "I want him to make up the lost time, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," snapped Benson, before he turned and continued across the compound, his long stride eating up the ground before him as he headed towards the large stone-built repository where the recruits had first received their uniforms. The small warehouse beyond was quiet this time of day, and Benson led Garrison into the little office that was built at the back of the building. Once there, he turned and held out his hand.

Without a word Garrison handed over the plans of the bank they were to rob, and held his breath as Benson made a note of its name and address. Glancing up, Benson questioned, "How long have you given yourselves?"

"Seven minutes... max. The police station is about three miles away and, with rush hour traffic, it will take them that long to get there if any alarms are set off."

"You're not going for the main vault?"

Garrison shot a look at the plans. "No," he said, beginning to repeat the itinerary that Actor had explained to him. "We won't have time. The smaller one is already open and remains unlocked until the bank closes... they store the day's taking there before transferring it to the main vault after the bank shuts."

"That's it there?" Benson asked, pointing to the plans and taking more notes of the position and layout. "What about the guards?"

"Two near the door, a third behind the cashiers near the small vault."

"You've done a dry run?" Benson asked. Getting a nod of confirmation, he continued, "Good." As he spoke, he folded the map and handed it back to Garrison. "What time are you going in?"

"Three fifteen."

"Just before the bank shuts," Benson said, his attention still on the drawings before him. "The guard near the vault will be your main problem; you'll have to take him out pretty damned quick."

Garrison nodded. "Casino and myself are going in as customers. We'll be positioned near the cashiers and guard - when the others come in, we'll take them out."

"Kill them?" Benson asked, looking up sharply at the other man.

Garrison blinked, then answered slowly, with care, "If the need arises."

"But you'd rather it didn't," Benson probed, his own feelings on the matter of killing innocents fading under the anticipation of money.

"We'll do what we have to do," Garrison shot back.

"Alright... alright... just asking. I need to be sure that you're not a bunch of amateurs who are going to panic at the first sign of blood."

Snatching up the plans, Garrison placed them back into his jacket and snapped, "We'll do what we have to do.... Now... what's your plan... and who's in it with you?"

Benson took a step back, his hand falling casually to his gun. "That's need to know, Garrison... and you don't need to know." The threat was clear.

"But..." Garrison began, but Benson interrupted him sharply.

"Just make sure that you and your Indian are not near the door when our raid goes down." Benson made to slip past Garrison, his hand still hovering over his weapon.

With lightning speed Garrison reached out and grabbed at his arm, pulling him back, preventing him from reaching his gun. "That's not good enough," he said, his voice harsh.

Benson looked at the hand gripping his jacket, his eyes cold as flint. "You'll get your share, and that's all you need to know." He didn't move, but his body had tensed and he was ready for action.

Garrison could feel the muscles tighten and knew that he could not protest too much without damaging the plan. Reluctantly he released the other man. "Sorry," he apologised, "but we're risking more than you... a hell of a lot more. If the others find out..." he paused, letting the words hang. He knew that Benson realised what would happen to Chief and himself if the other members of the gang found out about the double-cross.

Benson smiled, saying reassuringly, "I promise not to tell them." He sniggered at his own joke.

"That's real decent of you," Garrison shot back before he turned to leave the room.

His mind back on business, Benson advised, "Dr Saunders really wants to see you, Garrison. I wouldn't keep him waiting if I was you."

Benson watched the other man go, waiting until he was sure that his own leaving would not be noticed, then he too left the small office, a smile upon his face as he envisioned Garrison falling dead under a hail of bullets. That man's death would be one he wouldn't mind seeing.

***

Dr Saunders looked up from his notes and watched the man before him replace his jacket. "Don't let Sergeant Jordan push you too hard. You've still got some congestion on your lungs, so no strenuous activity - light duties until I pass you totally fit... understand?"

Garrison nodded and stood at attention before the desk, looking directly over the doctor's head.

"Oh, sit down, man, you make the room look untidy," snapped Saunders, an air of annoyance about him, which evaporated when he realised that he had raised his voice. He smiled and offered again, his tone gentler, "Please sit."

Garrison did as he was requested, pleased that he had managed to get through the examination without taking his T-shirt off, and therefore not exposing his wound. It had been a close call, but some double talking about the chill in the air had seemed to satisfy the doctor.

"I saw you running the assault course yesterday," commented Saunders, looking over the brim of his glasses, his accusation clear.

"Only the easy bits, sir," Garrison assured the man. "More like a walk in the park, really."

"Really," Saunders said, his disbelief plain, before he added firmly, "Make sure Jordan doesn't try to make you go in full kit again, until I say so."

"I will, sir."

"You've got 48 hours' leave, starting tomorrow," the doctor said, lifting a page of Garrison's notes and reading the information. Shooting a glance at the man before him, he continued, "Don't over-do it. A cough with mild pleurisy is one thing, but nursing a recently healed chest wound like that is something else entirely."

"Sir?" Garrison croaked, his mouth suddenly going dry.

Saunders twiddled his pen between his fingers and continued, almost in a conversational tone, "I've been a doctor for twenty-three years, Private Garrison; an army doctor for eighteen of those. I should, after all that time, recognise the signs, don't you think?" He held up his hand, preventing the answer he saw rise to the other's lips. "I also know that you got that wound in Europe." He paused, this time looking up and meeting the steady gaze of the man seated before him. "I contacted army intelligence. They were most put out, but finally put me in touch with a Major Alexander."

"Does anyone else know?" Garrison demanded, dropping his 'new recruit' persona.

"No...." Saunders paused. "Major Alexander didn't want to tell me anything, but I can be quite persuasive, and he didn't like the idea of my going to General Piers for answers."

"And he told you what I'm doing here?" Garrision could not decide whether he was more annoyed at Alexander or the doctor.

"Some of it. Oh, don't get me wrong, he didn't give any names, only that he had some men in the camp undercover. I just put two and two together; your recent illness, general lack of health, and I could also see that you have been recently injured... and the only place to sustain an injury of that nature is in Europe."

Garrison thought the words over and knew that if Dr Saunders had not gone to General Piers but to Army Intelligence he must have his reasons. "Have you noticed anything unusual happening about the camp?"

"No... well, nothing I can put my finger on, although there's been some rumours... not much, but enough to tell me that all is not right here." He stopped and then said, his tone low, "Six months ago a recruit died... training accident." The way he spoke informed Garrison that the doctor did not consider it an accident. "General Piers hushed it up, didn't want the camp to be disgraced... more like didn't want it to tarnish his political chances." The distaste in the man's tone was obvious. "I don't like losing men under my care, Garrison, and if Army Intelligence sent you in to check this place out, then I will give you all the assistance I can."

Garrison had spent most of his army career weighing people up in split seconds, deciding whether he could trust them or not, knowing that in many cases his life depended upon his gut feelings. His gut told him that he could trust this man. "Why don't you tell me more about this boy's death? It's obvious that you don't consider it an accident."

"I don't," snapped the man. "I can accept that men die through faulty equipment... I don't necessarily like it, but I can accept it," he added. "But this... particular 'accident' was all wrong: from the position of the body, to the faulty gun they produced as the weapon that killed him."

"If you felt that strongly, why didn't you take it up with Command?" Garrison asked.

Dr Saunders sighed and sat back, forcing his body to relax as he began to explain, "I tried, but General Piers met me at every turn, until he finally ordered me off the case. The boy's parents wanted him home for burial...." He splayed his hands, showing his helplessness. "I had hoped that you were here because of the fuss I kicked up with Command?"

Garrison, realising that he would have to tread carefully here, nodded. "Partly, can you let me have some more details?"

"I have them in my file," Dr Saunders said, standing and beginning to rout about in his archaic filing system. As he did so, he commented, "Now that I know about you, why don't you let me give you a proper examination?"

Garrison was about to protest when he saw the look in the doctor's eyes. "Before or after we've talked?" he asked, admitting defeat.

Yanking a file out of the depths, the doctor smiled. "After, if you like."

***

Later that evening, Garrison gathered his men together and found a quiet spot to talk. First he explained what Benson had told him, then he went on to tell them of his interview and Dr Saunders' revelations.

"Do you think we can trust him?" Actor asked. Although he was pleased that Garrison's wound had been checked and cleared as healing nicely by the doctor, he was still concerned about their cover being damaged.

"I think so. He could have gone straight to General Piers about us, but he went instead to Army Intelligence." He shot a look at Actor, then added, "I want to check his story out: if what Dr Saunders said is true about Private Cooper's death, then he might have been chosen to do a job and then decided not to go through with it. If so, there might be a record of who trained him, who his friends were.... Have you arranged the meeting with Major Alexander for me, Actor?"

The conman nodded. "He wants to see you early tomorrow about the final arrangements."

"So the heist is still going ahead," Chief put in. Although he was listening to the others, his attention was finely tuned for any person approaching.

"I don't know," Garrison conceded. Noting Actor's sharp look, he continued, "I still don't like it; too many things could go wrong and we've no real reason to expect to see Benson and his cohorts at the bank. It's just too damned shaky."

"So why are the army and police co-operating in this sting, then?" Goniff added. "That isn't like the screws."

"They don't have a choice," Actor said, knowing that Garrison was of the same persuasion as Goniff, but they had not had the meetings with Major Alexander that he had. "Major Alexander says he's just the messanger boy, it's 'High-Up' that's pushing this. Apparently, both the police and the army want these men stopped before it becomes public knowledge."

"Damned politics," snarled Casino. "We're going to get our heads blown off because some general doesn't like the idea of army-trained personnel ruining their public image."

"And killing civilians," snapped Garrison, his pale eyes flaring with barely hidden anger.

Casino paled and replied, "I didn't mean..."

Garrison held out his hand. "Sorry, Casino. That was uncalled for, and in a way I agree with you: the army is doing this for the wrong reason... but we don't have much choice."

"We could always tell them we won't do it," Goniff suggested, looking hopefully from one to the other.

"Duration and six months," Actor commented drily.

"You're starting to sound like me," Garrison joked, and held up a hand to ward off the dirty look that Actor threw his way.

"I don't think any of us like this situation," Actor said, looking at each of them in turn, his glance lingering on Garrison as he finished, "but the alternative is worse."

Garrison, finally agreeing with Actor, pulled out the plans of the bank once more. "Now," Garrison observed, "just in case I can't talk some sense into Major Alexander, let's go over the plan one more time."

He silenced the groans with one look and pointed to Goniff, who began to recite his part in the sting. Casino carried on where the little thief left off.

They went through the scenario twice more before Garrison was satisfied. Folding up the plans of the bank, he said with false bravado, "If this goes well, we could be back in Europe fighting the Germans by next weekend." He had said it out of malice, and smiled at the looks his words earned him. "Alright," he replied to their silent glares. "Two weeks."

"At least there you know who your enemies are," Goniff griped as they made their way back to their barracks.

***

A short while later Garrison lay upon his bunk, listening to the nocturnal sounds of the barracks as the men slept, and let his mind wander back over the events of the day. Dr Saunders' revelation had surprised him, and he was almost convinced that Cooper's death was in some way connected with the robbers. He'd made a note of the two other recruits who had been with Benson when the 'accident' had occurred: a Devereux and Lackie. They had been shipped out to Europe shortly after the death, which had been just after the first bank job. He felt a ripple of shock filter through him... he had not really considered the timeline between Cooper's death and the first raid. Now that he had, it was too much of a coincidence to ignore, and it only served to further his belief that the luckless Private Cooper had been included in the group, and then murdered because of his cold feet. Garrison filed that information away, and knew that he would use it as more ammunition against the planned bank robbery.

His mind drifted on to the plan of the robbery and he frowned; he didn't like the idea of staging a bank robbery to capture these men - it was just too dangerous, too much was left to chance, and they might not net the entire gang. He knew that Command would argue that to get one would allow them to capture the rest, but he did not have as much confidence in that plan as Major Alexander had and, anyway, if what he thought about Devereux and Lackie were true, then they were two ex-gang members the army could lean on.

He tried to think back, to see in his mind's eye the people he had seen talking to Benson. Jordan was obvious, as he was Benson's direct superior. Lt. Howlett was in charge of two barracks; he was well-placed but hadn't shown any particular interest in the corporal other than what was normal. And why had General Piers covered up the death of the young man six months ago? Dr Saunders had been most insistent that he had not been happy with the final verdict, but had been overruled by General Piers. Was the general involved? Garrison knew that the man came from a very well-connected family; he had fought well in the First World War and was planning to go into politics. He had not been one of the robbers... his age was against him. Had he only covered up the 'accident' because of his political ambitions? Had he been advised that the scandal would do him no good? If so, who had advised him? Could that person be involved? Garrison turned over, suppressing a sigh. There were still too many questions, and he was no nearer to the truth now than when he had first received his orders.

His mind turned back to Benson, his only real lead. Tomorrow was to be the new recruits' first taste of freedom since they had joined the camp, yet Benson had been army personnel for a lot longer and had reaped the privileges that this allowed; he had been off-camp four times since Garrison and his men had joined. Had he met the other members of his gang outside the camp? Garrison did not believe that the gang was made up of civilians. The robberies had been too well co-ordinated, their precision too military, and the murders... the murders had been too cold-blooded. Only someone used to killing could commit such cold callous crimes.

Turning over, he pulled the covers back over him. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep, forcibly pushing the image of his mother from his mind. He could not allow that memory to hinder his actions tomorrow; it could cost him the life of another person he was unwilling to lose.

***

The next morning came too early for Garrison, who groaned and tried to shut out the sounds of people rousing. A gentle hand upon his arm refused to let him slip back into the slumber his body demanded. Opening his eyes, he squinted at Actor. Memory returned, and he pulled down the sheets.

"Actor," he said, his tone urgent. "Tell Major Alexander to cancel the bank job today."

The look upon the conman's face was worth the words, and a smile appeared on Actor's face. "Nice joke, Warden," he said, beginning to move away.

Garrison reached out and grabbed his arm. "Actor, I'm serious."

The conman turned and looked at Garrison, seeing the intent look upon his face. "Why?" he asked, his tone shocked and drawing the attention of Chief, who had just arrived back from the washroom.

"What's up?" he asked sharply. He could feel the tension between the two men: it was like a breath held before a knife was thrown.

"Just do it, Actor," Garrison snapped, pushing back his covers and climbing out of bed. Seeing the look upon the other's face, he allowed, "These people are too damned clever to fall for this and I think I've got another way, without endangering civilians."

"But Benson..." protested Actor, fighting to keep his voice calm and low.

Glancing up, Garrison informed them, "Benson is small fry." Then he conceded, "Look, I can't explain it, but I just know that this will not work."

Actor, as if suddenly realising that he was dealing with an insane person who had to be appeased, threw up his hands and finally agreed. "Alright, but the major's not going to like it."

"And find out as much as you can about Private Cooper - you know, the lad that died here six months ago." Garrison was intense as he spoke, totally ignoring Actor's last words. "That's the key to all this..." he waved a hand about, indicating the whole camp. "Not waiting for them to come after us as we rob a bank. That's stupid - stupid and dangerous - and, besides, they have no real reason to do that: they're not showmen, this isn't some ego trip for these people... they're in it for the money, pure and simple." It had suddenly come to him during the early hours as he had tossed and turned, and he had cursed himself. Major Alexander and his superiors had been thinking that they were dealing with criminals who were trained as soliders, Garrison now saw how wrong they were: these men were soldiers who had decided to become criminals. To some it might only seem a mix-up of words, but to Garrison - an army-trained fighter - it made a warped kind of logic.

"What will Benson say when we don't go through with it?" Chief asked, watching Actor storm out of the door.

Garrison set about gathering his things. Glancing at his watch, he saw that he only had fifteen minutes until breakfast ended. "I'll get to Benson this morning and tell him it's off: a technical hitch, something... anything...." He looked about for his socks and continued, as he pulled them on, "I'll tell him that we're going to do it just before we are shipped out, that our chances of not getting caught are better if we're sent abroad just after the job."

Casino and Goniff entered the barracks. From their expressions, Garrison could tell that Actor had informed them of what he had said. Holding up a hand, he prevented them from saying anything as they approached him. "Later," he snapped, moving away from them. His step seemed lighter now: it was as if he had finally got a hold on the person who was behind the murders; as if he had suddenly thrown off his own ghost and was now able to concentrate on the real issue.

"What do you think?" Goniff asked, looking at the other two who stood watching Garrison leave.

"He's finally flipped, man," Casino informed them. "One mission too many," he said, sitting down on the bed Garrison had so recently vacated. "Actor was not pleased, you know."

"That's because he's spent most of his time trying to persuade Major Alexander not to do the robbery, and now the Warden's knocked his nose out of joint by implying that he didn't do a good enough job," Chief said, not taking his eyes from the Warden as he disappeared out the door. "Actor will get over it."

"Yeah, well, the army's not going to like this one bit, and it might take them longer to get over it," Goniff put in.

Chief rounded on him. "Since when has the army's likes and dislikes bothered us?"

Goniff held up a hand and backed off, stating, "I was only saying..."

"Well, don't. If the Warden says it don't feel right, then it don't feel right."

Goniff traded a look with Casino, who just shrugged. Both men fell silent, knowing that Chief's loyalty to Garrison - ever since he had saved the Indian's life - was beyond reproach.

"Well," Casino finally said, laying back and clasping his hands behind his head. "I only hope Major Alexander sees it that way."

***

Craig Garrison looked about the smoke-filled room and spotted Major James Alexander sitting in a booth at the back of the bar. They had arrived in Washington earlier that afternoon for their forty-eight hours leave.

The interview with Benson concerning the cancellation of the robbery had not been pleasant, but Garrison had not been in the mood to discuss the issue and had finally stormed away from the man. He knew that he was pushing Benson, but he was not going to allow the robbery to take place. Now he was facing an equally unpleasant interview with Major Alexander.

Garrison glanced back at Chief, who was sitting on a stool by the entrance to the bar. He had insisted on coming, and they had left the other three entrenched in the hotel room with Actor's little black book and the conman's hand reaching for the phone.

Major James Alexander watched Garrison, his stony expression informing the other man that he was not too pleased with the turn of events. As Garrison sat down opposite him, Alexander snapped, "The plan was set, Craig, and you had no damned reason for cancelling it with Benson." Although his voice was low, his anger was clear to his old West Point friend. "God knows what the top brass are going to say about this... this...." He paused, searching for the right words. "Shambles." Then, realising that his words were not having any effect on the man before him, he swallowed his anger. "So... what did Benson say when you told him?"

Garrison paused as the waitress wandered up and he gave her his order. As he did so, he reached for his cigarette packet, offering one to Alexander who refused. He shook one out, lit it and took a deep drag, allowing for the woman to leave. As the smoke filled his lungs, Garrison explained, "He wasn't too impressed, but then, there really wasn't a lot he could do." He paused, his tone implying that Major Alexander was basically in the same boat. "He threatened to blow my brains all over the camp." He smiled at that, remembering the way the corporal had reacted to the news. "But I told him that word had just come in about extra guards being on because of some last minute gold shipment or other."

"And he bought it?" Although it was a question, Garrison could hear the disbelief in his tone.

"Like I said, he didn't have much choice."

"I sure hope you know what you're doing, Craig," James began, then stopped as the waitress appeared and dropped a drink in front of Garrison, who smiled at her and held up a bill, which disappeared into the front of her skimpy uniform. "General Whitman is out for blood, and I only stopped him getting yours because you're still undercover." Alexander's unease began to show itself as he tapped upon the table, his fingers beating a tuneless tattoo.

"Jim, I know what I'm doing," Garrison said, allowing a few seconds to pass before he reached across and placed his hand upon the tapping fingers, the noise annoying him, his eyes sharp as he continued, "The plan was all ifs and buts, and you know it. These people are not going to be threatened by us. They're not in this for their macho image - it's purely the money that attracts them."

Alexander leant back in his chair, pulling his hand free, and let a sick smile cross his features. "Yeah, I know," he finally conceded. "I told them it was a bad deal, but they wanted results... still do." He shrugged, then looking directly at Garrison, he asked, "And now?"

Garrison met his look: he did not really want to explain his theories just yet, so instead he asked, "What did you find out about the recruit who was killed six months ago?"

James Alexander had known Garrison for a long while, and knew that he would not get any information from him unless Craig was willing to give it. Reaching down, he pulled a dossier from his briefcase. Opening it, he began to read, "Sam Cooper, twenty years old, from the mid-west. Accidental death." He glanced up. "Gun backfired in his face."

"Any witnesses?"

"Corporal Benson..." a slight pause while Alexander looked for the names. "Privates Devereux and Lackie... they were new recruits as well, got shipped out about a month later."

"I bet if you match their descriptions with the ones from the first bank robbed, you'll find a striking similarity," Garrison said, considering the information he had been given.

"You're certain this wasn't an accident?" Alexander questioned, a frown playing about his features.

"Dr Saunders is."

"And you trust him?"

Garrison paused to stub out his cigarette. "Yes. Now, tell me more about the enquiry."

"It was pretty much an open-and-shut case as far as General Piers was concerned. The gun was defective, three witnesses.... It was kept quiet because Piers considered that it would be detrimental to the war effort." Alexander was quoting from the report in front of him.

"Detrimental to the war effort?" Garrison repeated.

The major smiled and indicated the folder before him. "That's what it says here."

"Who signed the release papers?"

Alexander looked back down and lifted a few sheets before he answered, "General Piers... and, before you ask, there was no autopsy."

"Why not.... Scrap that," he said, realising that the evidence of the gun and three witnesses, along with the persuasion of the local general would have greased the paperwork and dealt with any problems. "What kind of record does General Piers have?"

"Exemplary. He was involved in the First World War, got a few medals, stayed in the army after it was over. He's from an old family, looking to head into politics after this one is over."

Garrison nodded. "And he doesn't want any unexplained deaths on his camp to soil its records."

Alexander rested the file on the table, trying to use the dull light in the booth to read it. "To be fair to the general, there was no reason to suspect that it was anything other than accidental, and," he finished, looking up and meeting the other's look, "you've not proven otherwise."

"Yet.... Just give me the time and I will."

Major Alexander sighed. "You've got two weeks. Two weeks before you get pulled out." He could not hide his feelings from Garrison. He knew why the other man was so set against the robbery, knew about his mother's death. They had been friends for a long while, but he could not understand why his friend was risking his career on such a stupid move. Alexander saw only that he should have stayed out of the robbery if he was not able to handle the situation. His men could have dealt with it, and Garrison's recent illness would have been sufficient to clear his absence with General Whitman. "After that, with no results, it could be a review hearing.... Whitman could push your disobeying that order, Craig."

Garrison ignored the threat, asking instead, "What about Corporal Benson?"

James reached out and pulled another file from his case. "Here, see for yourself," he said as he threw it across the table.

Garrison spent the next few minutes going over Benson's file. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the man: he had gained his promotion as a matter of course and been assigned to the camp just over a year ago. He had kept his nose clean - the incident with Cooper was the only real item of note on his file. He was not expected to rise above his present rank. Closing the file, he stated, "Yet we know that he's involved with the murders and bank robberies."

"So we pull him in and make him talk," Alexander stated.

"Wouldn't work; he's definitely more afraid of the other gang members than he is of us." Garrison had considered the idea himself, but realised that if they removed Benson, then the real mastermind behind the outfit would just disappear and they would never find out who was behind it. "What about Jordan?"

"No... he's pure Army, life and soul. He's really into survival training - takes groups of men into the forest and teaches them the techniques. He has alibis for every robbery and, besides, he called us to check you out."

"Great, another one," Garrison said in disgust, then added, "But he did tell Benson about us."

"Bar room gossip, Craig. From what I can gather, your man Goniff was pretty loose-lipped that night," Alexander said, taking a sip from his own glass and waving the hovering waitress away.

"He was doing his job," Garrison said. Then, taking a different tack, he asked, "Can you get hold of Devereux and Lackie? Let them know that we're aware that Cooper's death was no accident and that we're looking for scapegoats? Their distance from the other gang members will leave them weak, and they might be willing to trade information for leniency."

Alexander considered Garrison's request. "Alright," he stated, making some notes on the pad. "But what are you going to be doing? You've blown your chances with Benson. After all, what you've just done isn't exactly normal for hardened criminals."

Garrison considered the question, then answered slowly, "I've told him we've put it off, that's all. The job is still on, but for our next leave. It's lame, but," he paused as a thought struck him, "you did arrange for those extra guards at the bank this afternoon, didn't you?"

James Alexander smiled and nodded. "Yes, and I've also organised a fake gold delivery to make the need for extra guards look legitimate."

Garrison smiled at his friend. "Then the next move will have to be theirs."

"What makes you think they will make that move, Craig?"

"They've got to. We're loose ends, and they don't like loose ends... Cooper's death proves that."

"And you called my plan weak," Alexander shot back snidely.

"At least my plan won't risk anyone but us," snapped Garrison.

"Craig, if you're wrong, you know that General Whitman will have your guts for this?" Alexander sat back in his chair. "You've not got many friends in high places, Craig. Don't give them a chance to take you out."

Garrison looked at the man opposite and knew that, for all Alexander's anger and posturing, he was a true friend. At least he had six he could count upon. "I might not have friends in high places, James, but I've got them where it counts."

James Alexander let out a bark of laughter and, packing away the files in his briefcase, agreed, "Alright, Craig, I'll run interference. But," he paused, his tone serious once more, "remember the reason why you're doing this, and don't let the past rule you on this one."

Both knew that Alexander was referring to Garrison's mother's death. Swallowing hard, Craig replied, "I know you think I'm wrong about this, James, but I do know what I'm doing." He paused, then added, his tone quiet, "And I'm not about to let any civilians die just to bring these guys down... it's not worth it."

Leaning on the table, James replied, his tone low, "Make sure it's not yourself, either, or one of those crazies you mix with."

Garrison shot a look back across the room towards Chief, and noted that the Indian was watching them in the enormous mirror that hung over the bar. "My men are too good to let that happen, James."

"Yeah, right," Major Alexander said as he gathered his things together and pulled on his coat. He was not in uniform and looked more like a banker than a soldier. As he moved past Garrison, Craig shot his hand out and caught at the other man, causing him to stop.

"Thanks." Alexander nodded and moved away from him.

Chief waited a few minutes after Alexander had left before he slipped from his seat and headed towards the booth. As he took the seat the major had just left, he asked, "Well?" His tone was not really belligerent, but he was nervous - this was a strange town for him and he didn't like it.

Garrison lifted his drink and took a deep swallow of the now-warm beer. "We're doing it my way," he said as he put the glass down.

"Figures," Chief said, a wide smile filling his face. "So what are we gonna do now?"

Garrison finished his drink and considered the question. "Well, seeing as we're on forty-eight hours' leave and we've wasted," he glanced at his watch, "eleven already, I suggest we gather the others together and enjoy the rest of it."

Chief looked at Garrison and refrained from telling him that when they had left, Actor had been calling up old girlfriends and arranging a party in the hotel room.

***

The return to the camp on Sunday afternoon was a miserable affair. Casino supported two black eyes from an encounter with an enraged husband and his friends, and Chief had one, due to his coming to Casino's aid. Goniff was limping, and Garrison didn't even want to know how he had sustained his injury. Only Actor and himself were unscathed from their forty-eight hours' leave.

Jordan was there to meet the bus as it pulled into the camp and they, along with the other recruits returning from leave, were dragged from the bus and left to stew in their assigned huts with orders to be in the main square by 06.30 hours the next morning.

"What do you think, Warden?" Actor asked, taking a cigarette from his mouth and blowing the smoke over their heads.

Garrison threw a look of disgust at the men in the hut; most of them were in various stages of suffering hangovers. He knew that Jordan had realised that most of them would return in that state, and he would not expect them to be of any use until the following morning. Looking about him again, he guessed that a few of them would not even be fit by then. "Sit and wait. As far as they are concerned the robbery is still on, this weekend was just a technical hitch," he said. He had already had this discussion with Actor and was surprised that he had asked again - but he knew that the conman did not like the situation, and this constant questioning was his way of letting Garrison know his feelings.

Benson wandered in and strolled to Garrison's bed. "I want a word with you," he said, motioning for Garrison to follow him.

"Have a heart, Benson," snapped Garrison, playing the role of a man with a hangover. "I've just..." He never got any further as Benson pulled him roughly to his feet.

"That's Corporal Benson to you."

Garrison could feel his men tensing behind him and knew that they would act if he did not defuse the situation quickly. Standing up straighter, he surrendered, "Alright... alright." He moved towards the door and, as he reached it, he motioned Benson to precede him while he held it open. As he did so, he looked at Actor and nodded his head. Over the weekend they had discussed a situation such as this arising, and they were all aware that to lose contact with one of them could mean that person's death. Actor would hopefully take the appropriate action so that Garrison's back was covered.

Benson rounded on him as soon as they were out of the door and far enough away from the hut not to be heard. "You annoyed some very important people on Friday, you know that?"

Garrison gave the man before him a sharp look. "I didn't have a choice... they had an extra shipment and guards. We only found out that morning from our contact at the...." Garrison paused; he did not want to give too much information away without being forced to do so.

Benson slowly smiled and replied, his tone low, "I know... we checked it out." He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Luckily for you, the others agreed."

As they spoke, Benson had been leading them across the compound. Garrison stopped. "My life is now complete," he shot back sarcastically.

Benson spun about to face him, his features twisted, eyes blazing. "You could still end up eating a bullet," he snarled.

Garrison took a step back; this was not the Benson he had left on Friday. This man was unstable, his every emotion written across his face. To Garrison he had the look of a man who had spent too long under fire, and he wondered briefly if Benson's 'boss' would consider him a liability, like Garrison would if he was one of his team. Taking a deep breath, Garrison decided to back off a few paces. "Look," he began. "This hasn't exactly been a good weekend for me, either. I wanted this sorted out on Friday." He paused, then asked, "Your, er... people... checked out the bank?"

"On Friday," Benson stated, casting a look about, almost refusing to meet Garrison's look.

"So... what did they think... about the plan?"

"The plan..." Benson repeated, then shrugged his shoulders. "They reckon it's got potential." He stopped again. "Crude, but possible," he quoted, then from nowhere he stated firmly, "But they don't trust you, Garrison.... You or your people."

Garrison looked at the man who stood before him, gauging his manner. It was dangerous - a cat stalking a mouse... that meant he was confident, which in turn meant that he was covered. Glancing about, Garrison tried to see where the attack might come from. They had walked away from the main compound, heading slowly towards the stores. The ground was still too open for a personal attack, but a bullet could travel over great distances. Swallowing, he began to improvise, a trait that he had had many opportunities to hone during his time with the Gorillas. "We never asked for you to interfere."

"Why did you choose this camp, Garrison?"

"I didn't, the army did, remember? I just signed up and got sent here."

"And you expect us to believe that you just happened to use our plan to rob a bank while stationed in our camp?" Benson shot back, his eyes flaring with anger.

"We never knew you were here, didn't even suspect you until you pulled me out." Garrison paused, pulling his story together before he went on. "Look, Actor has been planning a heist for a while and knew about the recent robberies, but with his and Casino's record," he paused again for effect, "he thought that if they pulled the job just before they got sent abroad, then no one would connect it to them. Chief and I got pulled in after two of his men dropped out." Garrison lifted his hand. "He did say something once about them being sent to a different camp."

Benson rocked back on his heels, he was still unsure. "How did he arrange for himself and the others to get sent to this particular camp?"

Garrison shook his head. "I don't know, all I know is that shortly after I got here they started feeling me out. I've never had much money and this seemed like a good idea, but we had no knowledge that you were operating from here." Garrison looked frantically about him, his entire body begging to be believed. He could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

"Okay," Benson said, backing off. After all, if the police or military knew about them, they would have been arrested long since.

"So, what happens now?" Garrison asked, his tone showing his supposed relief.

Benson considered the question, then answered, "Just act normal. I need to meet with the others and see what they say."

"Would it help if I talked to them?" Garrison asked, his tone one of eager helpfulness.

Benson rounded on him and, poking his finger into the other man's chest, he forced him back. "You ever find out who I'm with and you're dead... get it?"

Garrison stumbled back. "Sure... sure, I was only trying to be helpful."

"Being too helpful can get you dead," spat Benson, wiping a shaking hand over his mouth. Reaching out, he pushed Garrison back again. "Get out of here, I'll contact you later."

Garrison stood for a few moments, watching Benson walking into the darkness. He was very conscious of his vulnerability, just standing there.

Finally he turned and made his way slowly back to the barracks. As he entered, he saw the others were waiting for him. He shook his head in warning. His talk with Benson had made his uneasy; the mastermind behind the operation was still masking himself.

A few hours later Garrison found himself sitting with his men in a quiet part of the mess hall. Most of the other recruits had retired for the evening, many still recovering from their forty-eight hours' leave.

"Do you think they really believe it to be just coincidence that we arrived here and planned this job?" Actor asked. It was clear from his tone that he would have found it hard to believe if he had been the mastermind behind these robberies.

"Nobody has made a move against them; the running has been totally down to them, so far," Garrison stated. "I truly believe that Benson acted on his own when he first contacted us, then informed his 'boss'."

"How do you mean, Warden?" Goniff asked.

Garrison reached up and rubbed at his eyes; he was tired - the forty-eight hours' leave had not really given him time to rest. "The police and the army are assuming that these men would come after us from some twisted sense of revenge for daring to steal their idea. Yet, during all the robberies, they never put a foot out of place... even the killings were planned." He stumbled to a halt as his memory supplied the picture of the woman falling to the ground.

"Warden?" Actor asked, concerned as the silence continued.

Garrison blinked a few times as the present flooded back towards him. "Sorry," he mumbled, then, reaching up, he wiped at his eyes. "Look, whoever planned these jobs isn't going to act on impulse. He's already proven that he's prepared to wait... he has to until the right people come into the camp for him to use. No... Benson was acting on his own when he contacted us."

"So, how does that help us?" Casino asked, his eyes reflecting his confusion.

"It might not help us at all, Casino, but one thing it does tell us is that whoever is leading this group doesn't live on the base permanently, otherwise they could have spoken to him the first night, after Benson had heard Goniff talking about the robbery."

"Do you want me to get Major Alexander to check who was admitted on to the camp over the last week?" Actor asked, drawing out a pen and paper. Garrison's hand upon his arm stopped him.

"Just ask, don't make any notes," Garrison said, his tone grim.

"Why?" Actor began to ask, but then stopped as he remembered the excuse Garrison had used to Benson that evening. "Logically, I should be the next one questioned," he stated, putting the notebook and pencil away.

"I don't like this, Actor," Garrison said, "but it has to end, and whoever is behind this just might want to question you in person. After all, Benson has been taking very confusing information back to him from me." He smiled as he said that, remembering the fear he had tried to portray that evening.

"I say we get Benson alone and beat the answer out of him," Casino snapped, shaking out a cigarette and grabbing the lighter Goniff offered.

Garrison resisted snapping back at the man; he was used to Casino's flashes of temper during missions and knew that they mainly stemmed from his concern for his friends. "Like I told Major Alexander, Benson is more afraid of his 'boss' than the army. Hopefully he will have better luck with Devereux and Lackie."

"If they're still alive," Actor put in. "After all, they've been fighting the war for nearly six months now." He took the offered cigarette from Casino and accepted the lighter with a slight nod of his head.

Garrison sighed and, reaching up, rubbed at the throbbing pain behind his forehead. "It's all we have," he stated firmly. "They're toying with the bait. The next move is up to them, but they might go after you, Actor. So far they've only questioned me, but to get the real information - to get to the reason why Actor chose this particular camp and that particular way of robbing the bank - they've got to go to him." He shot Actor a look of apology.

The conman caught the look and smiled in return. "I'm used to being in the limelight, Warden. It's more fun than waiting in the wings, anyway."

"Yeah, well, just remember these guys won't be throwing bad tomatoes if they don't like your act," Garrison snapped. "I'm sorry, Actor," he finished, then reaching out, he continued, "Take care."

"Always," Actor returned, with more confidence than he felt.

"Okay," Garrison began, his attention returning to the mission at hand. "Actor is to be covered at all time. Casino and Goniff - you've already set your cover, so you'll not be expected to be taking such an interest in us... that will leave you free to do the background cover. Chief and I will be the visible cover." He paused, stubbing out his cigarette. "I've got another appointment with Dr Saunders in the morning. Major Alexander said he would pass along any information to him."

"I think I prefer fighting the Jerries," mumbled Goniff. "At least you know why they're trying to kill you."

Garrison smiled at the little thief's words. "Come on, let's get back. It'll soon be lights-out."

"It's like being back in stir," groused Casino as he followed the others out of the mess hall. "Lights-out at ten, woken up at six.... Next time, let it be a bunch of whores robbing the bank - at least then we get to stay in a whore-house."

***

The next two days passed with the stagnatingly normal activity of a training camp. All five men went about the business of learning how to kill and defend themselves and, under other circumstances, Garrison would have been grateful for the training his men were receiving. But this time... this time he was unable to shake the feeling of unease that kept gripping him. The entire mission was causing all his internal alarms to go off, and he was left in a continual state of nervousness.

Garrison looked up from his half-eaten food and checked the time. With a sharp intake of breath, he realised that he was late for his appointment with the doctor. Scooping up the remainder of his meal, he rose from the table saying, "I should have been with Dr Saunders five minutes ago."

As he dropped off his dirty plate, he turned, surprised to see Chief standing directly behind him. "What?" Garrison asked, concerned to see him there.

"Thought I would walk over with you," the Indian answered, his tone casual, but it brooked no arguments.

Garrison smiled, seeing through the thinly-disguised concern. "I think I can make it across the compound on my own, Chief."

"Humour us."

Garrison opened his mouth to comment, then - seeing the other three men watching them intently - he snapped it shut, giving them a short wave instead, before he motioned Chief out of the door ahead of him.

***

The interview with Dr Saunders was relatively simple; the doctor was insisting on checking Garrison's healing wound every other day and, although he was satisfied with Garrison's progress, he was not entirely happy about the lingering, persistent cough that would catch Garrison unaware, doubling him up with pain as the muscle spasms tore at his chest.

"You may get dressed now," Dr Saunders said, moving away from Garrison and placing his stethoscope in his top drawer. "Whoever passed you fit for this mission needs his head examined," he continued, sitting down behind his desk and writing in the report book he had opened.

Garrison looked up from buttoning his shirt and replied with a slight smile, "I can be pretty convincing."

Dr Saunders paused in his writing. Glancing up, he commented drily, "Not with me, you're not."

Garrison glanced up and saw that the doctor was deadly serious. "No obstacle courses, I promise," he said, holding up a hand to ward off the other man's anger.

Saunders let out a snort of disbelief before he turned back to his writing. "Once this is all over, I'm ordering you off duty for at least a month." Hearing the intake of breath, he knew that he was about to face an argument. Looking up again, he stated, "I'm sure the war will survive your absence for one month, and that chest wound is not to be taken lightly. Also, that cough is affecting your body's ability to heal properly."

"It's not the war I'm worried about, Doctor," Garrison replied quietly, a frown playing about his handsome face.

Dr Saunders knew that Garrison was referring to the members of his unit. "Garrison," the doctor began, "I can't begin to imagine what it must be like fighting in Europe, or to have the responsibilities that you have to face on a daily basis, or the knowledge that those men's lives are totally in your hands, but I do know that you're pushing yourself too hard. You're only human, and the way you're behaving isn't about to keep them alive one moment longer. In fact, it just might work against you."

Garrison slowly finished straightening his clothes, giving serious consideration to the doctor's words. He could not deny that he was keenly aware that his men had not volunteered for their present situation, nor was he unable to get away from the guilt he sometimes felt about press-ganging them into the more dangerous assignments.

Saunders, suddenly realising from the stricken look upon Garrison's features that he was adding to the man's anguish, sought to take his mind off his harsh words. "Look, I didn't mean to add to your worries, I just want you to consider your options before you rush back to England. Take the break I'm offering; get some proper rest and give your body time to recover fully before you head back into war. I'll back any decision you make."

Garrison raised a slightly shaking hand and rubbed absently at his forehead, feeling the start of a nagging headache. He had been suffering from them a lot lately. Finally he conceded, "I'll give it some serious thought, Doctor."

Dr Saunders was wise enough to know that this was a concession on Garrison's part - his willingness to even consider the option - and decided to let the matter drop for the present. "Alright," he continued, "I want you to keep taking those tablets. I'll see you again on Thursday, same time, and remember - don't let Jordan push you. If you have any problems... tell me."

With a nod of agreement, Garrison smartly saluted the doctor, before turning and swiftly walking from the room.

Chief leapt up as Garrison left the doctor's office; he had been idly scanning a magazine in the hallway outside the office while Garrison was undergoing his check-up. He noted the distracted look on the other's face and felt his stomach tighten. Had the doctor given him bad news about his injury? The Indian opened his mouth to ask, but closed it sharply as the other man strolled past him without stopping.

Evening had arrived while they were in the small hospital unit, and the army base had taken on a cloak of shadows. The coming storm only added to the feeling of depression that was beginning to crowd about Garrison as they made their way back to the barracks and the others.

Dr Saunders' words kept repeating in his mind, reaffirming his belief that he had lost his edge and was becoming unable to lead the men he had come to look upon as friends.

The attack came out of the darkness with the speed of a striking snake. Neither man was prepared, but both reacted with the ability of men used to living under such threats. A sharp blow to the back of Garrison's head sent him spinning onto the concrete. He fought valiantly to wrestle his way up, but was staggered by another brutal attack that left him gasping as his senses whirled.

Chief, meanwhile, had fared better, his knife instantly striking out and cutting the man nearest him with deadly ease. The man yelped and staggered back, clutching at his sliced arm. Even as he moved, another assailant took his place, but he fared no better as he gasped and fell back under the vicious attack that Chief put up in defence of his life.

A single shot rang out, rebounding in the shadows of evening, and the Indian folded to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Garrison, witnessing this, cried out and began to fight with a strength born of desperation - but it was a useless battle with four men now surrounding him, besides the two injured ones, and he was swiftly pounded into unconsciousness, totally unaware that he was carried from the scene as the sound of the shot attracted the swift attention of the soldiers on guard duty.

***

Actor was laying on his bed, reading the local paper that he had acquired that day from the beautiful young civilian receptionist he had befriended, a cigarette resting between his fingers as he idly turned the pages. He shot a glance at the other two members of the Gorillas; they were seated upon Casino's bed playing cards and, from the frown upon Goniff's handsome face, Actor could tell that Casino was winning, which probably meant that he was cheating again. Actor suppressed a sigh: soon they would be arguing, and he only hoped that Garrison would return before it got totally out of hand.

Suddenly the door flew open and a young recruit burst into the room, stumbling to a stop at the end of Actor's bed. The entrance of the young man caused all three men to sit up. "What?" the conman snapped, as the youngster gasped for breath before beginning.

"Dr Saunders... wants to see you," the boy gasped. "Your friend... the Indian... he's been shot." The other three were gone before he had finished.

The hospital unit was a blaze of light as they entered. Dr Saunders was nowhere to be found, but Lt. Howlett motioned them over and informed them in a hushed tone, "The doctor is with the private at the moment." He stopped and glanced along at the two MPs who were stationed outside a door further down the hallway. "This is gonna cause quite a stir," he said, almost speaking to himself. "General Piers has ordered the camp closed until this mess is sorted out."

"Where is Private Garrison?" Actor asked, looking anxiously about and not seeing the Warden.

"Garrison?" Howlett asked. "The Indian was the only one brought in." He paused, then asked, "Was Garrison with him?"

"Yes," Actor began, an ice cold fear beginning to claw at his gut. "Chief accompanied him over to see Dr Saunders earlier this evening." Again the conman scanned the hallway. "He would not have left Chief, unless... unless he was unable to prevent it."

"Chief was the only casualty found," Howlett explained, "and only one shot was heard by the guards."

"The Warden wouldn't have left Chiefy... not if he was injured.... No way," butted in Casino, his eyes ablaze with anger.

"The Warden?" Howlett questioned the nickname, only to be cut off by Actor, who glared at Casino, who wilted under the gaze.

"What my friend is trying to say, Lt. Howlett, is that Private Garrison would not have left voluntarily if his friend had been injured."

"You think he might have been taken?" Howlett asked, considering the implication of such an act with some surprise. "Why?"

"Garrison would not have left Chief in his injured state, and he would most certainly be here now if he was able to."

Howlett raised his hand and wiped at the sweat forming upon his top lip. "I'll get a full search of the camp started; he could be injured and unable to call for assistance, I suppose."

"That might be a good idea," Actor said, his tone steady, almost mentally pushing the man out the door and on his way.

Howlett turned and headed for the main door. As he reached it, he turned and ordered, "I want you three to stay here. Corporal Johnson," he called to one of the MPs, "make sure they're here when I get back."

"Sir," Johnson answered with a salute, before he returned to his at-ease stance, his glance now taking in the other men.

"Where the hell is the Warden?" Casino asked as they sat down on the hard wooden bench that rested along one wall.

"I don't know," Actor snapped, his mind working furiously as he tried to sort out the events that had led up to this moment.

"Warden said it would be you they'd go after," Goniff added for good measure, his tone indicating that he would have preferred it that way.

"I say we should tear this place apart until we find him," Casino continued, totally ignoring the others' words and the two MPs who stood menacingly further down the hall.

"Casino," snapped Actor in his best command voice. The safe-cracker stopped and shot him a surprised look. "There is nothing we can do for the moment..." He paused, not liking the idea of doing nothing any more than Casino. "Except wait here until Dr Saunders is finished. If Garrison is on the camp, then Lt. Howlett will find him. Until then, I don't think it would do anyone any good if we get ourselves into more trouble."

Casino looked slightly shame-faced as he nodded his understanding. "It's just that I don't like feeling this damned helpless," he muttered by way of his defence.

Reaching out, Actor rested a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. "I know... I feel the same way, too."

The silence between the seated men grew as time slowly passed. Twenty-five minutes later, Dr Saunders came out of the room where the MPs were stationed. Seeing the three men waiting, he nodded to the MPs and headed towards the waiting cons.

As he came even with them, he began, "Your friend is a very lucky young man, and he's got a very hard head." Pausing slightly, he finished with total seriousness, "An inch to the right and I would be signing a death certificate." He stopped again, seeing the effect his words had upon the three men. "Come into my office," he said, opening the door and waiting until they had all entered. He motioned them towards some seats.

"Garrison's missing," Actor stated, before the doctor could ask.

"How?" Dr Saunders asked, but Actor interrupted.

"He would be here if he was able." The conman let the words hang.

Saunders slumped back in his chair, considering the implications of the other's words. Then, realising that they were watching him intently, he said, "The bullet caught Chief a glancing blow to his temple. I was a bit worried there for a while, but the X-rays were good... although I'll be happier when he wakes up."

"Can we see him?" Goniff asked, his voice filled with the hesitancy it always held when he was talking to someone who had some direct control of his life. Casino would tease him by calling it his parole board voice. Goniff didn't like the term, but was unable to hide the tremor his voice always got when talking to people of importance.

Saunders looked at him, then slowly shook his head. "I would prefer you not to. I'm sure he's going to be fine, but I really don't want to disturb him, and it would be better if he woke up in his own time." Seeing the look of agreement upon the other three faces, he changed the subject and asked, "What about Garrison, did you tell Lt Howlett?"

"Yes," Actor supplied. "He's arranging a search of the camp." He stopped, then added, "He ordered us to remain here."

"This is a mess, a real mess," Saunders stated. Standing up and moving to a cupboard, he gathered up four glasses and a bottle of bourbon. He poured a healthy dose into each glass and handed them out. "General Piers is off camp at the moment, but Lt Howlett has contacted him. I suppose you know the camp is closed?"

Actor nodded, then asked, "Will the local police be called in?" Seeing the confused look this earned him, he continued, "I mean, this can hardly be classed as an accident and Garrison is missing."

"I really hadn't thought about it," Saunders said, returning to his seat. "I mean, this is the first time.... General Piers is on his way back; I guess we'll have to wait until then." He paused, then added, his tone serious, "Or until Garrison is found."

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. "Enter," Saunders called. The door opened and Sergeant Jordan stood there.

"Sir, " Jordan began, then stopped when he saw the other three men.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Saunders asked.

Jordan hesitated a moment before he continued, "Begging your pardon, sir, but Lt Howlett has discovered a body and he would like you to see it before it's moved, sir."

Saunders shot a look at the others and saw various degrees of shock. "Wait for me outside, I'll be right with you." As the door closed, he said, "I think it might be best if you wait here...." He got no further as Actor interrupted him.

"No, we will come with you." Actor's tone was firm.

"You're not leaving us here, baby.... you can forget that," Casino snapped, half-rising from his seat.

"The Warden's dead," Goniff said, his tone that of a small child confronted with an impossibility. Actor reached over and gripped his arm; the biting pain caused him to look at the conman.

"We don't know that yet."

"No..." Goniff agreed, then in a stronger voice he repeated, "No... the Warden's got more lives than a cat." It was said to lighten the mood; it failed.

Saunders considered his options, but realised that he stood little chance of getting out of the hospital without these men, so he conceded, "Alright."

Once in the hallway, he moved to speak to the MPs, explaining where he was going, saying that he was taking the other three men with him to Lt Howlett, and that he didn't want anyone to enter Chief's room until he returned. Johnson shot the three men a look of interest, but didn't comment upon a superior officer's orders.

The short ride across the camp's assault course to the body was completed in deathly silence, the jeep bumping over the uneven ground causing the men within to hold tight for fear of being thrown out.

The area surrounding the body was now bathed in light. All could see the crumpled form in an army uniform, laying lifeless in an inhuman huddle, looking small and lost among the people surrounding it.

Lt Howlett met them as the jeep skidded to a stop. Saluting the doctor, he spared a glare for the three conmen. "I asked them to come," Dr Saunders stated, seeing the look Howlett shot their way. "What happened?" he continued as he made his way across the slippery ground towards the body. The rain that had been threatening was beginning to drizzle.

"Gunshot to the head," Howlett stated. "Not a pretty sight," he finished, glancing away as the doctor knelt beside the body and began a quick examination, lifting the coat that had been placed over the head of the victim.

Actor swallowed the sharp bile he felt rise as he looked upon the bloody mess. The wound to the head made it impossible to tell if it was Garrison who lay dead at his feet. He heard a gagging noise behind him, and turning he saw Goniff stagger away, one hand over his mouth and another across his middle. Casino was beside him in an instant, offering support as the other lost control of his stomach.

"I've had a few men do that tonight," Howlett commented drily, looking towards Goniff. "How they expect them to survive in Europe when they can't even look at a dead body is beyond me," he continued, bitterness tainting his tone.

Actor shot him a look of pure dislike. He would have liked to tell the lieutenant that Goniff had seen bodies in worse shape than this, and that it was only the knowledge that it might be a friend that caused him to show this sign of weakness.

Dr Saunders glanced up from his examination of the body. He ignored Howlett and looked directly into Actor's eyes. "It's not Garrison, it's Corporal Benson."

Actor felt the air spring from his lungs; he hadn't even realised that he was holding it. He swallowed hard again and nodded his thanks. Sparing the body one more glance, he turned and made his way over the slippery ground towards Goniff and Casino, knowing that they were too far away to have heard the doctor's words.

"It's not Garrison," he said, letting his relief show as he approached them. Reaching out a hand, he gently rubbed Goniff's back, noting the pale face and bright eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Yeah... of course," Goniff said, wiping at his mouth, trying to brush his moment of weakness aside. "I've been feeling queer all day, must have been something I ate."

"Yeah... I thought you were looking a bit pale earlier," Casino said, his tone rough, indicating that he had been holding his own emotions in check while he attended his friend. "Do we know who it is?"

Actor looked at them for a moment, not seeing them, totally lost in thought. "Actor?" Casino asked, his tone filled with concern.

"Sorry... I was just thinking...." He stopped, then began, "Dr Saunders said it was Benson."

"Benson?" Goniff repeated, his colour looking slightly better than it had a few moments ago. "Then where's Garrison?"

"I don't know, Goniff... I don't know." Actor turned and watched Dr Saunders as he continued the examination of the body.

***

The light hurt. He tried to lift his hands to cover his eyes, but found that they wouldn't move. He tried again. It was no good, his arms were held firm, tied behind his back, and the light was directly in front of him, shining into his eyes. He blinked a few times then gave up, sitting with his eyes tightly closed, wishing that the pain would allow him to slip back into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

As he sat there, he slowly, excruciatingly, tried to piece together the events that had led to his present position. At first he thought that the germans had caught him and were waiting to ask him questions about his latest mission, but the sound of an american voice on a nearby radio discounted that idea: Garrison didn't think the germans would broadcast an american news programme.

Like a wave breaking upon a deserted beach, memory returned and, with it, a torment that far outweighed the throbbing behind his eyes. He heard again the shot and saw Chief fall, spinning to the ground a lifeless hulk. Garrison found it hard to imagine that the Indian was gone, but the range had been too close, the falling of the body too final, for it to have been anything other than death that had stopped Chief.

"Lt Garrison?" a voice asked, causing the captive to jerk back as warm breath brushed against his cheek. He had not even realised that someone was there. "I know you're awake." Garrison flinched back again as a hand gently touched his face.

He gasped and then gritted his teeth. He slowly opened his eyes, fighting to see beyond the intense light. The scene before him waved in and out of focus for a few seconds, then settled as a man leant into view, holding a cup. "Here, drink this," he commanded, "it will help."

Garrison didn't want to swallow, but he had no choice as the cup was thrust against his lips and the contents flooded into his mouth. The liquor burned its pathway down his throat, causing him to cough, almost choking upon the liquid. "That's better," the voice continued, a hint of laughter within its depths.

"Who are you?" he rasped, his throat still protesting the forced drink.

"You disappoint me, Garrison," the voice said, moving away, then returning with a chair which was placed in front of Garrison. As the man sat down, he blocked some of the light and the injured man was able to see that he was only a youth, in his early twenties; a strikingly handsome blond-haired man, who would have looked more at home playing in some college football team than torturing an army lieutenant. "I had expected you to ask where you were."

"Where am I?" Garrison asked sharply, prepared to humour this man.

The man before him sighed deeply before he looked away, clearly disappointed. "I had considered you to be a worthy opponent. I've heard so much about your missions, your derring-do attitude, but now I see that you're no different from the others."

"You know who I am?" As Garrison spoke, he felt his world tilt and realised that it was only the ropes that bound him to the chair, that kept him from slumping to the floor.

"I'm sorry that you were hit so hard... my friends are a little enthusiastic." The voice droned on, but Garrison was unable to maintain his attention as the world still kept filtering in and out. "Please pay attention," the voice snapped, a hand gripping Garrison's jaw and forcing his head up. "Damn it, Hans, he's no good to us like this," he snapped, and Garrison knew that the words were directed to the person who stood just outside his line of vision, still hidden behind the bright light that was becoming the centre of his universe.

A hand reached out and tilted the light away from him and he was left mourning its loss; he had been using it to keep a hold of his consciousness. He pondered its loss for a few more moments before he realised that he was alone. Had he passed out? He could not remember the man standing or leaving. He wanted to shake his head but fought down the desire, knowing from experience that it would cost him dearly.

Instead, he considered his options. He had to admit they were few. He was held captive by people he did not know, in a place he knew not where. He had no idea of how long he had been unconscious, and one of his men was dead. He gasped again; this time it was more of a choked-off sob. Dr Saunders had been right: his own stupidity had caused Chief's death. He realised that he would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life, and it was small comfort to realise that it might not be that long.

Time passed. Garrison began to revive and take an inventory of his situation. He knew that it was bleak, and was surprised at how hard it was to concentrate. He didn't put it down to the injuries he had sustained - the blows to his head that had rained down on him - he placed the blame firmly upon the fact that he had gotten one of his men killed. The scene of Chief's death kept playing over and over in his mind, like a looped film that refused to end, until his one burning thought was to make the men responsible for it pay.

The light clicked on again and the voice was back. This time Garrison was prepared. "Who the hell are you?" he rasped, straining at his ropes.

"That's better." The boy was pleased at his recovery. Sitting again in the chair in front of Garrison, he spent a few moments settling himself before he began, "My name is Simon Piers." Garrison was unable to keep the flinch of shock the name caused from reaching his face. "I see you've heard of my father," Simon continued. "That's good, that's very good... it will make this so much easier."

"Why are you doing this?" Garrison was totally stunned at the revelation of the name. He considered briefly that the man in front of him was lying, but dismissed it, as it answered too many of his unanswerable questions. This man would have had access to the base, and the flexibility to move about and case the banks before the robberies, and he was obviously a very intelligent person.

"Well, that's not so easy to explain unless you know the whole story," Simon began, his tone one of smug superiority.

"We don't have time for this," a more mature voice snapped from behind the protection of the light.

"Hans?" Garrison wondered out loud, while acknowledging the definite German tinge to the voice.

"Hans." Simon confirmed the other's name, then continued, "I'm conducting this interrogation and I'll do it my way." The tone, while soft, brooked no argument.

"Just get on with it," Hans snapped, moving uneasily from one foot to the other.

Simon turned back towards Garrison. "You won't know this, but I spent five years of my childhood in Germany," he spoke as if explaining his movements to a friend at a coffee bar, rather than to a tied, beaten-up army lieutenant. "My mother was German, she was so beautiful. I loved my mother very much, Garrison, but then... so did you." The smile had returned to the tone.

Garrison winced as the memory of his mother's last minutes flashed through his mind.

"That's why you were chosen, you know," Simon continued, reaching out and patting Garrison on the chest. "We know all about you... you and that pack of criminals... but that's getting off the point...." He stopped again as he removed the packet of cigarettes from the prisoner's chest pocket and lit one, taking a deep drag before he pushed on with his explanation. "I've always considered my German heritage to be very important, so when the good old US of A decided - wrongly I might add - to fight alongside the British, I didn't agree with it... so I decided to do my own bit for the fatherland."

"You're a spy then?" Garrison asked, hoping that this man's ramblings might give him some vital information he could use.

Simon twisted in his chair, snarling at the man hidden behind the light, "See... see, I told you he wasn't as intelligent as you seem to think." His tone was full of disgust. Turning back, he continued, his manner that of teaching a backward child a simple sum, "No, Lt Garrison, I'm not a spy. Any idiot can give secrets away. No... I'm going to destroy the american people's faith in their beloved army."

"What?" Garrison squinted at the young man, convinced that he was some deranged child who had been let loose to play in a real war.

Leaping up, Simon continued to rant. "The robberies, you imbecile. Think about it... they were all committed by American soldiers." He paused and tapped a finger upon his pursed lips. "But you knew that, that's why your tamed pack of criminals was sent in... wasn't it?" Simon leant into Garrison's face and breathed, almost whispering, "But what you didn't know is that your arrival and your own bank robbery were all part of the same plot."

"Piers," snapped Hans, reaching out to pull the boy away from Garrison. "This is madness... to tell him everything...."

Garrison could tell that Simon's revelations were causing the other man great concern, but he could also sense that Hans had little or no control over Simon, who was obviously vital for the German's missions.

"I want to tell him," snapped Simon. "I've been working on this plan for nearly a year now, and nobody... nobody appreciates the complexity of it."

"I don't understand." Garrison spoke, filling the silence that grew between the two men, hoping that his words would cause the younger man to continue his rantings.

"Oh, for God's sake, Garrison... are you really that much of an idiot?" shot back Simon, totally forgetting Hans as he pulled his chair round and sat down again, resting his arms across its back. "General Whitman's orders for you to come to America and the arranged bank robbery last Friday were all my idea."

"General Whitman?" Garrison questioned, his stomach twisting with the knowledge that a German sympathiser could hold such a high position in the american army.

"It's simple, really, and it's that which will make it work." Simon, seeing the shadow of shock still spreading across Garrison's face, went on, holding out his hands as he explained slowly, "Look, if you had gone ahead with the robbery last Friday - like you were supposed to - this would have all been settled." A slight pause, then Simon sniggered, "You and your men would have been dead, and I would have been on my way to Germany... a hero." There came a frustrated sigh. "You were supposed to have been caught in the act of robbing that bank. You would, of course, have been killed - an unfortunate occurrence, but necessary... because then the world would have known that the army had hired you and your pet criminals, but you had gone out of control and were robbing and killing innocent civilians. The other robberies would have come to light, from a hidden source of course, and the army would have been totally discredited." Simon leant back, rocking the chair on two legs, his face losing some of its humour as he continued, "But you had to go and spoil it." He sat for a few more moments contemplating his words, before he stated slowly, as if regretting his future actions, "Now I'm going to have to rob that bank tomorrow and leave your body as evidence of your involvement in the crime. It won't have the same mass media effect as killing your whole unit, but then again it might be better if they were brought to trial for the murder of all those people."

"What people?" Garrison asked, a frown marring his handsome face as he tried to recall the people who had died during the robberies.

Simon leant forward, a smile of pure evil upon his handsome face, and offered in total confidence, "Why, all those innocent people we're going to kill tomorrow."

As the full implications of the plot crashed in upon Garrison, he began to struggle against his bonds, wanting only to get his hands about the throat of the man who could plan such a disgusting crime.

Simon chuckled and leapt up, swinging the chair away. He leant down to tap Garrison's face, pleased as the captive man reacted violently to the touch. He toyed with him for a few more moments, touching first one cheek then the other, until finally Garrison refused to react, sitting still and not moving a muscle, merely glaring at Simon as he laughed. After a short while Simon grew tired of the game.

"What about Major Alexander?" Garrison questioned from behind clenched teeth. "Is he one of your cohorts, too?" Craig found it hard to believe that his old West Point friend could be caught up in such a crime.

Simon pulled the chair back and slumped down, prepared to answer Garrison's questions. "No," he acknowledged, "but he is going to meet with a nasty mishap. General Whitman is going to order him to be at the bank tomorrow." Simon paused, then added with total concern, "But don't worry, he will die a real honest-to-God hero."

"And your father?" Garrison was now certain that he would not live. Simon was giving the information too freely and Hans had made no further attempt at stopping him.

"That old wind bag... please! He's so wrapped up in his little game of politics... he doesn't even realise there's a real war going on." Simon stopped, his eyes widening, as if the thought of his father reminded him that he was saying too much. "I think that's enough for now... we really ought to let you rest." Standing, he continued, his tone one of genuine concern, "After all, we do want you fresh and recovered for tomorrow, don't we?"

Garrison listened as they left the room. This time they didn't bother to turn out the light. Although it was no longer shining directly in his face, it was still bright enough to allow him no comfort, even if he closed his eyes.

***

The trip back to the hospital barracks was made in silence. The people that followed the truck carrying the mutilated body of Corporal Benson were each caught up in their own disturbed thoughts. A few of them were used to seeing sudden and violent death, yet the brutality of Benson's death had caused a shadow to slip over the camp.

"The police will have to be informed," Lt Howlett was saying to Dr Saunders as Actor and the others entered the hospital. "General Piers will not be happy," he finished, eyeing the three men who stopped a short distance away from him.

"He's on his way back to camp?" Saunders asked, knowing that Lt Howlett would suffer later on for calling the general back into such a mess.

"He was at a dinner engagement in Washington," Howlett supplied, his tone dry. "How is the private?" he suddenly asked, remembering the incident that had begun that evening's events.

"The bullet grazed his forehead. It's a nasty gash, but he should be fine once the headache wears off," Saunders said, turning slightly to include the other three men in their conversation.

"And still no sign of Private Garrison," Howlett stated, his jaw tightening with annoyance. Suddenly, his brow cleared and he asked, "Could he have shot Chief and Benson?"

"No," Actor said with authority. Then, realising that he had spoken out of place, he added quickly, "He didn't have a gun."

Saunders interrupted smoothly, "The knife wounds on Benson tie in with the knife that, according to Actor, Chief always carried." He paused, thinking before he voiced his opinion. "I would guess that Benson was injured by Chief during the fight." He then added, his tone confused, "But the knife wounds were in no way life-threatening, I doubt they would have even slowed Benson down."

"Why would anyone want to attack Chief or Garrison?" Howlett questioned, his own confusion clear. "And why kill Benson?" He turned and looked towards the door at the end of the hall, as if expecting the answer to appear. Realising that it wasn't about to, he continued, "I'd better go and wait for General Piers at the main gate." Glancing at his watch, he finished, "Damn, this is going to cause a major incident." He nodded towards the doctor, spared a look at the others, then left.

Silence reigned for a few moments before Saunders commented, "It might be time to mention your real reason for being here." He spoke to Actor, knowing that during Garrison's absence this man seemed to take command.

"No... that might place Garrison's life in danger." Although Actor's tone was soft, the iron will behind the words was not. He was not about to endanger the Warden's life without good cause. "Besides, we don't know who is involved." He shot a glance towards the door that Lt Howlett had left by, his insinuation clear.

Saunders gave him another steady look before he said, "I just hope you know what you're doing."

***

The rest of the night passed slowly. Actor had been unable to contact Major Alexander: the man had apparently left his hotel room early the previous evening and had not yet returned.

Actor did manage to persuade Dr Saunders to allow them to sit with the still unconscious Indian, but only on the understanding that they were very quiet and did not disturb the sleeping man.

Dr Saunders disappeared shortly after the arrival of General Piers, and the others had no way of knowing what was happening. Though they were aware that a search of the camp continued, they personally held little hope of Garrison being found within its confines.

"Ward... Warden," gasped Chief, twisting his bandaged head upon the pillow. "Don't... look out...." He awoke with a strangled cry, and would have leapt from the bed if Casino had not reacted faster and laid a heavy arm across his chest, preventing him from moving and injuring himself further.

"Hey baby... it's alright..." Casino assured, his grip loosening as Chief relaxed at the familiar voice.

"Chief?" Actor queried, his voice gentle as he motioned Goniff to stand by the door to listen for anyone's approach. "Can you remember what happened?" His tone was coloured with urgency; he knew that he would have to get the answers quickly, before Dr Saunders decided to check up on his patient and they were barred from the room while the army questioned the injured man.

"Got jumped," the Indian stated, his tone slurred. He blinked a few times, unable to focus properly on the man leaning over him. "Warden got hit..." he continued after licking dry lips, "but I caught one of them before they...." He paused again, a flash of panic sweeping across his features as he was unable to remember the exact circumstances of the attack.

"You got shot," Actor informed the confused man. "The bullet grazed your head."

"Not serious though," Casino added with a smile, pleased to see his friend awake. "But then, we always knew your head was the hardest part of your body."

"Where's the Warden?" Chief suddenly asked, totally ignoring Casino's words. Seeing the concerned look the others traded above him, he tried to sit up again. Both Actor and Casino moved to prevent him, but it proved unnecessary as Chief slumped weakly back onto the pillow, his mind swirling at the attempt to move.

"He was taken... but don't worry, we will find him," Actor assured with more confidence than he felt.

"Benson... get to him.... He must know... where... took him," Chief said, his eyes slipping closed as fatigue swept over him.

"Chief?" Actor snapped, seeing that the injured man was slipping away from them.

"What?" the Indian asked, his tone one of slurred query.

Actor stopped and, with a sigh, he realised that Chief was in no condition to be questioned. Reaching out a hand, he gently squeezed the other's shoulder in reassurance. "Nothing... just rest now. Don't worry, we'll see to everything."

"Can't... got to find... the Warden... my fault." Chief's face was twisted with torment as the words tumbled from him, his anguish at Garrison's loss evident in his voice.

Actor was just about to deny Chief's words when he realised that the Indian had slipped back into unconsciousness. He slumped down into the chair beside the bed and began to ferociously chew his bottom lip. It was a bad habit that he had forced himself out of as a child, but unfortunately it would return in times of stress.

"What do we do now?" Casino asked, also sinking back into his chair.

"I guess we wait," Actor said, then seeing the flash of rejection that fled across Casino's face, he hurried on, "There's nothing we can do at the moment. We have to sit and think this through, and try to contact Major Alexander."

"What about Lt. Howlett and General Piers?" Goniff asked, moving back to resume his seat by the bed. "They're bound to want answers. I mean... the Warden's gone... Chief's been shot, and Benson's dead."

Actor considered their options carefully, then replied, crossing his legs slowly as he spoke, his tone one of injured innocence, "We don't know why anyone would want to kidnap Private Garrison, or murder Benson.... We're just as confused as anyone else by what's happened."

"And you think they're going to buy that?" Casino put in, his tone indicating just what he would make of such an alibi.

"They have no reason not to buy it, Casino... not unless they have more to hide than us," Actor replied. Withdrawing his pipe from a breast pocket, he settled back and began to run over the events that had led to this moment.

***

The night had long since passed into day, and the camp continued its normal routine under a cloud of shock, suspicion and fear as the news of Benson's brutal murder travelled about the compound.

Actor, Casino and Goniff made no pretence of returning to their normal training duties, and nobody came to order them to do so. Actor was starting to become concerned about his inability to contact Major Alexander, but he kept his anxiety to himself. Alexander was their only contact with the Army, and with him missing as well, the chances of them all ending up back in prison was starting to look more probable with Garrison's continued absence.

On his return to Chief's room, he found Dr Saunders leaning over his patient, examining the now-awake Indian. Chief had been drifting in and out of consciousness since his first awakening during the night. Each period of wakefulness showed a definite improvement.

"So when can I get out of here?" Chief was asking, accepting Goniff's help to sit up in the bed. The little thief was making a grand show of fluffing up the pillows and making sure the other was comfortable, until Chief swatted him away as he would an annoying fly.

"In my professional opinion," Saunders stated firmly, "you should stay in that bed for at least another three days."

"Three days!" Chief gasped, sitting up straighter in the bed. "Not while the Warden's missing," he finished, slumping back.

"Chief," Actor reprimanded, before moving further into the room. "You should rest and do as the doctor says; a bullet to the head is not to be taken lightly."

The Indian shot Actor a look of pure dislike, and the conman acknowledged that he would have to tread carefully. Chief's loyalty to Garrison was beyond reproach, but his temperament became volatile when he felt that he was being betrayed of expressing that loyalty. He did not consider being wounded an excuse for his failure to protect Garrison.

"I will rest when the Warden's safe," Chief stated from behind clenched teeth, this time refusing to meet the other's look.

"Look," Dr Saunders began. "I think you ought to know that Benson's knife wound wouldn't have slowed the kidnappers' escape down. The injury Chief gave him was only superficial; it bled quite a bit, but was in no way inhibiting." He paused before he finished slowly, his own shock coming to the fore, "It was murder, cold-blooded murder for no other reason than to take a life."

"Benson was killed so that he couldn't identify the other members of the gang?" Goniff asked, unable to hide the frown that played about his features.

"Once they've finished with the Warden, he's a dead man," Casino chipped in, his face hardening at his own words. "Why those dirty stinking..."

"Casino!" Actor barked. "We don't have time for this," he continued, wanting to stop their ramblings before they were lost to him. "We have to try and figure out why they took Garrison... what use is he to them? I mean, you don't just walk onto an army camp and kidnap someone, not unless it's vital to their plans."

"He was Benson's contact... maybe they thought Benson was going to betray them and took Garrison to find out how much he knew?" Chief supplied, closing his eyes as guilt climbed over him. With an effort he pushed it back. "I shouldn't have let them take him. I should have stopped them."

"And what was you supposed to do, man?" Casino shot back. "You had a slug in your head. Get real. Why, the Warden has more reason to think that you're dead." He stopped as soon as he said the words, then reaching over, he apologised, "I'm sorry... that was a stupid thing to say."

Actor watched the two men look at each other, saw the apology and the acceptance flash between them. "Chief," he suddenly asked, causing the other man to look at him. "Did you recognise any of the men who attacked you, anything that might help us identify them?"

Chief frowned as he concentrated back to the fight, then slowly shook his head, the disappointment clearly written across his face. "I can't even remember the fight properly," he finally admitted.

"That's not uncommon," Dr Saunders put in. "Some head injuries can cause a certain amount of memory loss."

Actor sat down and dejectedly looked at the others. With their one contact to the group of bank robbers dead, they now had no way of finding them. "Why take Garrison?" he asked again, then answered before they could say anything. "If they were concerned about his being Benson's contact, then we would have found two bodies instead of one." He stood up again as the effort of sitting became too much for his tightly-sprung body. "No, they specifically needed Garrison alive, but why?"

The others watched as he began to pace the room, his bottom lip caught firmly between even white teeth, the frown that played across his forehead deepening as he roamed back over recent events, chasing down every avenue, trying to find a pathway through the confusion that would lead them to their missing friend.

Dr Saunders stood for a few minutes watching this strange group of men, seeing for the first time just how much of a close-knit unit they really were. Their concern for Garrison was obvious, and he felt that the people who had taken him would suffer severely, if they were ever caught. He realised that the other three were content to just wait in total silence until Actor had finished his contemplations. Standing, Saunders caught Casino's eye, nodded towards the door, and quietly left the room. He, unlike the others, still had duties to perform, and another meeting with General Peirs that he was not looking forward to.

Actor moved over to stand by the window and watched the activity of the outside world. He could hear the drill sergeant as he called out his orders, and the returning yell from across the compound as another sergeant put more soldiers through their paces. He saw and heard it all, but he did not register it. Later, if necessary, he could play the memory over again and retrieve the bits of information that were important to him, but not now... now he was deeply engrossed sorting the facts, placing them in their proper pockets and categorising their importance. It was a method of survival he had learned as a child; it allowed him to be one of the best confidence men in the business.

"They are going to rob the bank," he finally stated, his tone firm and his stance upright. Turning, he slowly met the look of surprise the others threw at him and, with a raised eyebrow, he continued, "It's the perfect plan." Seeing that they were not convinced at his words, he went on, explaining as best he could the trail he had seen that led to this opinion. Ultimately he finished, "So this is going to be their last job and they need a scapegoat; Garrison is to provide that."

"Yeah, but that don't make sense," Casino said, rubbing his head in confusion. "I mean... the Warden's only got to tell the cops who he is and...." He stopped as the realisation of what Actor was really saying swept down upon him. Jumping up, he continued, "I'll get us a jeep."

"We won't be able to get off the camp," Goniff shot back as he started to gather his gear together.

Actor considered Goniff's words for a few moments then, smiling, he commented, "There are two policemen guarding Benson, and they brought a van to transport his body back to town for the coroner. I think it's time we acquired their uniforms and transport." He nodded to Casino, who shot him one of the brightest smiles he had ever seen the man produce.

"It'll be a pleasure, Actor," he said in a tone of pure evil, then... "Goniff, here's your chance to steal something really worthwhile."

Even as they moved towards the door, Actor turned to prevent Chief from climbing out of bed. "And where do you think you are going?" he demanded.

"With you," retorted the Indian, determined not to let anyone stop him. Then, seeing the stern look upon Actor's face, he pleaded, "I've got to go, man, it's my fault... don't you see that?"

Actor opened his mouth, quite prepared to order Chief back to bed. Then he realised that the man would not listen anyway, and would only try to follow them if they refused to take him. Looking about, he saw that Chief had no clothes, and muttered under his breath, "I hope one of their uniforms fits you, because you'd look very silly in my clothes." As he spoke, he helped the Indian sit up further and swing his legs over the side of the bed.

The Indian shot him a look of pure gratitude and then bit his lip as the world spun slowly. "I'm alright," he said, as the world slowly slid to a halt.

Within minutes the other two were back, dragging the unconscious police officers with them. As the bustle of changing clothes began to fill the room, Actor walked towards the door saying, "I'm going to try and contact Major Alexander again. If we can get word to him, he might be able to have the bank notified of our concerns." Glancing at his watch, he noted the passing time and knew that the bank would be robbed just before it closed. "Just in case we can't get there in time ourselves."

Casino looked up from buttoning the borrowed police uniform jacket as Actor walked back into the room. Goniff was helping Chief into the safecracker's old army uniform, as neither police officer had been his size.

Casino, seeing the frown of concern on Actor's face, asked, "What's up?"

"I've just spoken to Major Alexander," Actor replied. The way he spoke caused the other men to stop and give him their full attention. He considered his words before he continued, "We've been ordered to remain here."

"Stay here?" Goniff retorted, looking down at the still unconscious policemen. "Not bloody likely."

"General Whitman has told the major that we are no longer on the mission..." he paused, before adding in a quieter tone, "now that Garrison has gone missing, and that we are to do nothing."

"Since when have we ever listened to anyone?" Casino snapped, then added with a slight smile, "Apart from the Warden, that is. Who the hell is this Whitman, anyway?"

"General Whitman is the superior officer in charge of this mission," Actor explained, then asked with a frown, "How did they know Garrison was missing?"

"General Piers must have told him," Chief stated, removing the bandage that covered his head.

"This mission is supposed to be a secret one," Actor shot back. "Nobody on this camp has any knowledge of the real reason why we are here, not even Dr Saunders."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Actor?" Casino asked, knowing that the conman could always confuse him with words unless he got him to explain before he got too far into the story.

"Major Alexander has already been ordered by General Whitman to be at the bank this afternoon," Actor answered, choosing his words with care.

"So what does that mean?" Casino demanded. He hated having to drag the answers from Actor; it made him feel slow-witted that the conman could see the whole picture, and that he needed to have it explained to him.

"What reason is there for Major Alexander to attend the bank this afternoon?" Actor questioned, moving over and once more looking out of the window, as if seeking inspiration again.

"You think Major Alexander is part of the gang?" Goniff asked, seeing that Casino was starting to lose his temper at having to keep asking the questions.

Suddenly pulling himself together, Actor shook his head. "I really don't know," he confided, "but we have been ordered not to leave the camp this afternoon."

Casino stopped tugging at the ill-fitting police uniform and glared at the handsome conman. He shot a look towards the others, and knew that they were as surprised as he was.

Actor spared a few moments to savour their shocked expressions before he continued, "But like Goniff just said, we only take orders from the Warden, and his last orders were to watch out for each other."

Standing, Chief said firmly, "Then we had best be going."

Actor nodded his agreement, before adding, "And you, Chief, are going to have to be Benson."

"Me?" the Indian almost squeaked in surprise.

"The guards at the gate might want to see a body, and you're pale enough to pass for a corpse," Actor shot back with a slight smile.

Chief opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. If he was honest, the world was swirling slightly and he might be better able to face the long journey laying down.

Goniff disappeared, only to arrive back pushing a hospital trolley with a stretcher on top. Slapping the surface, he smirked, "Custom made for you, this one is, Chiefy."

Seeing that the unit was still intact, Actor quickly changed into the stolen uniform and, within minutes, they had conned their way past the sentries on duty at the main gate and were speeding towards the city of Washington.

***

Garrison had lost track of time. The blinding white light had long since robbed him of his ability to think straight, and he no longer paid any attention to the nagging torments of thirst and hunger, as the pain from his injuries and tied hands refused to allow him any rest.

Suddenly the door was thrown open and two men strolled in. Garrison blinked as they switched off the light, the darkness blinding him almost as much as the light had. The ropes holding him were cut and he was roughly pulled to his feet. He felt his knees buckle, but they didn't give him a chance to recover, just grabbed him under his arms and dragged him unceremoniously from the room.

He was manhandled out of the house and into the back of a large car. He slumped in the seat, biting back the gasp of pain the returning blood caused as it rushed through his veins. Looking about, he noticed that another car was parked behind with four men already sitting in it, waiting for his vehicle to pull away.

The door opened and Piers climbed in beside him, jabbing a gun into Garrison's side. "Don't even dream of leaving the car without me, Garrison," he said with a large smile.

"You won't get away with this," Garrison shot back, glaring at the handsome young man who was seated beside him in full army uniform.

"Oh, Garrison, you army types are so predicable," Piers commented drily as he got more comfortable. "Now why don't you just sit back and relax, we've quite a drive before us."

As he spoke, Piers pulled out a canteen and offered it to Garrison, who briefly considered refusing it, then realised that he would need all his strength if he was to sabotage the planned bank robbery. He accepted it with shaking hands and drank avidly as the lukewarm water bit at his thirst.

When he had finished, Garrison wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before he handed back the canteen. Piers smiled and accepted it with a slight nod of his head, before he passed it over to the man sitting beside Hans. He then turned his head to look at the passing countryside.

Garrison also turned his thoughts inwards. The rocking motion of the car refused to allow him rest, even though his body was shaking with its demand. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the bullet strike Chief, saw the Indian go spinning to the ground to lay still... Garrison felt a sharp pain bite at his chest as he realised that his friend was more than likely dead. His eyes snapped open as he jerked up with a gasp.

Piers shot him a startled look, his gun coming up to cover the injured man, then - realising that Garrison most have dozed - he commented drily, "Something bothering you, Garrison?"

The captive man shot Piers a look of pure hatred before turning back to gaze morosely out of the window. After a few miles, Garrison asked, "Why did you kill Cooper?"

Piers considered the question for a few moments before he answered, "He had to die." His tone was cold, final: killing the young man had meant no more to him than kicking a stone out of his path.

"He was one of you, though?" Garrison asked, fighting to keep his own voice even as he flexed his wrists and ankles, trying to get some circulation back into them so that he would be able to move without pain once they reached Washington.

Piers waved his hand across his face as if trying to swat away an annoyance. "He wasn't one of us," he sneered. "He was playing a dead man's gamble, Garrison. He wanted to be a hero."

Garrison frowned and repeated slowly, "Dead man's gamble?" It was the first time he had heard the term, but he recognised it for what it was: the young man had taken a gamble to break the ring of spies and had paid with his life.

Sitting up straighter, Piers snapped at Hans, who was driving, "How much further?"

"About half an hour," the german said, glancing from the road to his watch.

Piers looked at his own watch, then relaxed back into his seat. "Good... good. We should get there just before the bank closes."

Silence once again fell between the occupants of the car. Suddenly Piers continued, as if no time had passed since Garrison had last spoken. "Cooper was a fool; he actually thought it would be fun to rob a bank, but then he overheard Benson and I talking and realised what we were really doing." He paused, fumbling for a cigarette. After he had lit it, he went on, breathing out the smoke, "He contacted Army Intelligence... got right up to General Whitman." He stopped, enjoying the cigarette for a few minutes. "It's because of him and his interference that General Whitman insisted on bringing you in on it. He thought that if he had control over you and your actions, then we could plan the mission better." He paused again. "It's funny really, Cooper actually made this part of our job easier."

Garrison didn't find it funny. He was sickened to think that the young man had nearly broken the ring before it even started. Cooper had done the right thing by reporting it; the only problem was, the report had reached the wrong person. "So Whitman told you about Cooper, and you had him killed."

Exhaling the smoke, Piers agreed, "Dead man's gamble, Garrison. Cooper gambled on being a hero, and it cost him his life." Again the telling pause before he continued, pointing the cigarette at Garrison, "A little bit like you really, wouldn't you say?" Piers watched the other's expression for a few moments, then - realising that Garrison wasn't going to rise to the bait - he sighed and once more turned to look out at the passing countryside.

The rest of the trip passed in silence, and Garrison spent the time recovering his strength. By the time they reached the outskirts of Washington, he had recovered enough to form the beginning of a plan. It was dangerous, and almost certainly would cost his own life, but he considered it worth the price.

The streets were crowded with civilians as they went about their daily business, totally unaware of the drama about to unfold within their city. The bank came into view and Garrison sat up straighter, then shot Piers a quick glance when he felt the gentle pressure of the gun in his side.

"Don't be in such a hurry to die, Garrison," Piers said, the college-boy look gone, replaced by the veneer of a battle-hardened warrior, and Garrison saw for the first time the strong mental ability of the man who was planning to rock the foundation of the American people's faith in their own army.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Garrison accused, seeing the gleam of sick pleasure that entered Piers eyes as they pulled to a halt outside the bank.

Piers gave him a bright smile, before his attention was drawn to a beautiful woman carrying a young blond-haired boy into the bank. "Wait..." Piers ordered Hans as he glanced back at Garrison, who had fixed his eyes upon the woman and child. "Let them go into the bank first. I'm sure this is going to bring back some interesting memories for you, Garrison."

"I'm going to kill you, Piers," Garrison snarled, not taking his eyes off the child until he disappeared into the bank.

"No... that's my line," Piers shot back, then added, "Come on, and don't try to be a hero, Garrison, or I'll kill the mother first."

Garrison felt his mouth go dry as his own tormented memory ripped into his mind's eye. He knew that Piers meant what he said, and the only chance that woman had to survive was if Garrison could make his own plan work before the men with him could begin their killing spree.

His door was pulled open and he was helped out by two of the men who had travelled in the car behind them. They kept their grip on him as they walked towards the bank. He relaxed his arms and allowed them to lead him, trying to give the impression that he was still not fully recovered from his injuries. He stumbled once for effect and was jerked upright.

He paused just outside the main door and took a deep breath. Suddenly the memory of Chief's death washed into his mind, and he knew that he could pull this last job off. Piers stepped back to replace one of the robbers and jabbed Garrison hard in the ribs with his concealed gun. "I'll kill you now and my men will open fire. Go along with the robbery and you never know... the police might just arrive in time to save some of these people."

Garrison knew that Piers had no intention of letting any of these innocent people survive; he had seen the machine guns the others carried - now hidden from view - but he was willing to go along with Piers' plan until he had the opportunity to act. "Alright," he muttered, letting fear enter his voice, knowing that Piers expected it. "Just don't hurt the mother or boy."

Piers smiled; it was purely predatory, and Garrison fought back the urge to wipe the smug look from his face. The other man raised an eyebrow at his glare, before he motioned him forward with a slight tilt of his head. Garrison swallowed and entered the bank.

From just inside the door he could see that the bank was a quiet hum of activity. There were a few people milling about the large ornate room, some writing at the standing desks, others queuing for the tellers as the hour of closing approached. The guards, Garrison noted, were standing idle by their allocated positions, their backs towards him. He knew that they were totally unprepared for the events that were about to unfold within their bank. With a start he thought he recognised one of them, then dismissed it: for an instant he had thought it was Chief.

Garrison acted from pure instinct as they moved further into the bank and the opportunity arose for him to attack. Spinning, he gave Hans a hard shove that sent him sprawling to the floor, his gun clattering from his hands. Before the others could react, Garrison followed the german down and felt the discharge from Piers' gun go off near his head, then a blinding pain in his side as a bullet ploughed across him. He spun away, attempting to grab up Hans' fallen weapon, his hearing affected by the closeness of the gun's report.

It happened so quickly that the rest of the patrons of the bank did not react to the commotion at the doorway until the gun was fired, then people started to scream and fall to the floor for protection. Piers lost interest in trying to kill Garrison as he turned the gun on the crowd. Others of his group were also starting to draw their weapons.

The bank became a cauldron of noise and confusion as the guards, and most of the patrons, reacted and started to shoot at the robbers, who seemed to be the only people still on their feet. Two fell under a hail of bullets before they could draw their weapons enough to fire.

Garrison found his attempts to retrieve the german's fallen gun hampered by Hans himself, who had recovered enough to counter-attack, but the german was more of a spy than a fighter and Garrison was in no mood to waste his time with the man. He brought his knee up and caught Hans a vicious blow to the groin. The german let out a strangled yelp and fell back, clutching at his injury. Garrison finally grabbed up the gun and sent a bullet into the man's forehead, killing him instantly.

Turning back to the fight, Garrison was momentarily shocked to see Goniff and Casino in bank guard's uniforms firing upon the would-be robbers. His shock was forced from his mind as the wood next to his head splintered as a hail of bullets tore into it. He scrambled as best he could into the cover of a large supporting pillar.

Ducking his head out, he saw that the battle had now turned into a pitched fight, with the gunmen having sought safer locations, and their intent to murder as many people as possible was forgotten under their own threat of death. He raised his gun and fired at one of the spies, who was lining up on Goniff as the little thief was trying to shield a couple of young women who lay screaming on the floor, their hands over their heads. The man arched up and clutched feebly at the wound to his side, then fell to the floor, his gun sliding across to land at the feet of a cowering man, who quickly picked it up and began firing at the robbers.

Then Garrison saw Major Alexander. The man was laying upon the floor, using his own weapon to good effect as another gunman slipped to the ground, clutching his elbow. Following the line of the body, he saw that Piers was making his way determinedly across the floor of the bank in a crab-like motion. Continuing his route, Garrison saw that he was heading towards the woman who had entered the bank with the child.

Garrison never heard the animal-like cry that rose from his throat, nor considered the consequences of his mad rush across the battle zone, as he rose and chased after the younger man.

Piers knew that his plans were in total disarray and that he had failed. His one intent now was to kill the woman and child before he fell under a hail of bullets. He knew that the bank had been a trap, and that his men were falling fast under the bullets from Garrison's men. He didn't know how they had managed to be there, but he was determined that they were going to lose their commander - if not to death, then to guilt.

The woman screamed as she witnessed his approach, reading his intentions in his demented glare. Moving forward, she pushed her screaming child behind her, trying to protect him with her own body. He clung to her neck, crying all the harder, not understanding his mother's rough treatment.

Garrison saw the woman's actions and cried out, "No!" His voice echoed about the large room as he lifted his gun and fired; the bullet went wild and Garrison cursed his shaking hands. Stopping in full view of the other gunmen, he lifted his other hand to hold the gun in a two-handed grip and, taking careful aim, he fired. As he did so, he saw a gunman take aim at him from the corner of his right eye, then a gun went off to his left and the man spun down to his death.

The bullet caught Piers high in the shoulder, the force of the shot causing him to spin round so that he was facing Garrison. He opened his mouth to curse, but felt blood bubble from his lungs. With dying strength, he raised his weapon to fire at Garrison. The action was never completed, as five shots rang out in unison and he was tossed back like a broken doll to land on the woman he had been intending to murder. She began to scream hysterically, hugging her frightened son to her with an unbreakable grip.

Garrison stood rooted to the spot, totally uncaring of the other guns that could be training on him, his attention fixed firmly upon the child who was trying unsuccessfully to comfort his mother. Garrison closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to push down the bile that rose up. As he did so, he began to shake uncontrollably, his own harsh breathing the only sound he could hear; that, and the child clutching at his mother, seemed to be the centre of his universe.

A solid hand upon his arm snapped him from his daze and he spun round, ready to meet the new attack from instinct. He froze as his eyes met Chief's. The Indian was standing before him: a bloody red gash lay across his forehead, but his eyes were clear and his expression was one of concern as Garrison opened his mouth, tried to speak, but was unable to utter a sound. Then all colour washed from Garrison's face as he folded into the Indian's grip, his body weight dragging the other man down to the ground with him.

Chief cradled the Warden's unconscious form and shot a look of fear towards Actor. The conman had been stationed behind one of the tills and was now leaping over the counter to join him, as the two remaining gunmen threw down their weapons, holding up their hands in surrender upon the death of their leader.

As Actor knelt beside Chief, he reached out a hand and gently brushed back a lock of hair from Garrison's forehead.

"What's wrong with him?" Chief asked, his tone one of concerned confusion.

"I don't know," Actor admitted as the others joined him, but as he spoke he turned and looked towards the still hysterical woman.

***

Reality came back like waves upon a beach. Garrison opened his eyes and saw the concerned looks of his men. He blinked a few times, pushing the confusion from his own mind. He could hear a woman crying and tried to sit up.

A firm hand upon his chest prevented him from moving. He glanced up at Actor, a sharp retort upon his lips. It died when he saw the handsome Indian kneeling beside the conman. "You're alive," he gasped, surprised at how weak his own voice sounded.

Chief frowned at the words, then it cleared as he lifted a hand up to touch his wounded forehead. "Yeah, it'll take more than a Jerry bullet to get rid of me."

Garrison licked at dry lips and croaked, "I thought they had killed you." He seemed to be caught between relief that the Indian was alive, and the belief that his senses were playing a wicked trick on him and he would awaken anew to find the man dead.

"No," Chief answered firmly. He didn't bother with long words or in-depth explanations of how lucky he had been when the bullet had struck, instead he reached out and gripped the other man's arm, showing that he was flesh and blood in that one contact.

Garrison let out the breath he had been holding and nodded, his relief evident to the four men knelt about him. They traded looks that once more reaffirmed their decision to place their trust in the man before them.

"How's Garrison?" Major Alexander asked, coming to stand over the small group. He had just finished dealing with the last of the gunmen, who were now standing handcuffed between four soldiers who were dressed as civilians.

"You knew?" Garrison accused, once more fighting to sit up, but once again he was prevented. With a sigh, he gave up and let his head lay back upon the rolled-up jacket that had been placed under his head.

Alexander looked slightly sheepish, but nodded. "It was Cooper..."

Garrison started as he remembered the other member of the spy ring. "General Whitman," he interrupted, "he's a traitor. He had Cooper killed... him and...."

Alexander, seeing that Garrison was about to struggle up again, quickly knelt down and reached out his own hand to prevent his action. "I know. He was taken into custody this morning, after I received my..." he paused, then added with slight distaste, "orders."

"How?" Garrison questioned, still confused by the recent events, his mind still spinning for some strange reason, his eyes fighting to stay open.

"Cooper," Alexander said, looking back towards the door and wondering what was keeping the medical assistance. "I didn't place it until you asked me to look into his death. It struck a chord... a memory, so I dug back in the files and found that he had contacted General Whitman a few days before he died. It started the old brain turning, and then you went missing and, well... I guess I just put two and two together and decided to take a gamble."

Garrison's eyes snapped up to catch Alexander's at the word 'gamble', his conversation with Piers in the car returning with full force. "Dead men's gambles do sometimes pay off," he mumbled, as he tilted his head and looked over towards the fallen body of the master spy and shuddered. Seeing the woman still clutching her child, his shudder turned into a shake that refused to leave him.

Actor, seeing this, quickly slipped off his jacket and laid it over the other man, clutching both his arms as if to channel some of his own strength into Garrison and prevent him from shaking.

"Where the hell is the ambulance?" Casino asked, looking towards the door, willing the medics to enter.

"I'm alright," Garrison tried to reassure his men, but his tone was breathless and his complexion as white as snow. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all," he continued, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself.

"You just rest there then, Craig," Alexander said, rising slowly to his feet. "I'm going to see what's keeping those damned medics."

"I don't need medics," Garrison began, his tone becoming stronger at the thought of being taken to hospital. He tried to push the jacket off, knowing that, if he was standing, he would have a better chance of not being made to go.

"Warden," Actor said, his tone stern. Eight hands reached out and prevented him from moving.

Garrison glared at them for a few seconds, then gave up as the effort became too much. He slumped back and hissed out a breath, intending to argue with them. Before he could begin, a feminine voice broke into his concentration.

"Sir...." Glancing up, he saw the mother whose life he had saved. She was standing just outside the group, her stance uncertain, hand still clutching tightly to that of her son, who was - in turn - still clinging at her leg. "I just wanted to say..." She paused and glanced at each of the men in turn before she continued, licking her dry lips, near to tears again, "thank you for... saving our lives." She swallowed again. "I just wanted to... thank you.... That's all." She bit at her bottom lip to prevent it from trembling more. One of the other women who had been comforting her stepped forward and, nodding towards them, led the mother and child toward a chair across the room.

Garrison took a deep breath and winced at the pain that flared up from his wounded side. He suppressed a groan as he realised that he had been injured. He had not realised, up until then, that he had actually been shot.

Actor, seeing his expression, smiled and commented drily, "With the luck we've been having lately, you'll more than likely be allowed to convalesce in Berlin - at least that way you'd get some rest."

Garrison smiled at the other's words, then settled back on his makeshift pillow as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He gave up fighting, as he knew that his men would not allow him to move until he had been checked out by the medics, who had arrived but were dealing with the more seriously injured people. He didn't mind; the mission had been successful and he was now content to wait. Giving the others a sceptical look, he said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but what the hell are you all doing here?"

"Actor here put it together after you went missing," Casino said, clasping the shoulder of the man in question.

The conman looked up at the safecracker and smiled, trying to hide his embarrassment. "It was pure luck that we got it right, Warden," he hastened to add.

"Yeah, with luck like that, Actor, you could take up gambling as a full time hobby," Goniff put in, his smile as bright at his thatch of hair.

Garrison shot a look at Chief, who was still kneeling beside him; saw once more the bullet strike the handsome face and the body falling. Reaching out, he gripped the Indian's forearm, as if reassuring himself once more of his presence. "I'm just glad it wasn't a dead man's gamble," he mumbled, before he gave up his fight to stay awake.

The other four men exchanged puzzled looks above him. Actor opened his mouth to question the Warden's choice of words, but paused when he saw that Garrison had closed his eyes, his grip upon Chief relaxing as the much needed sleep claimed him.

THE END


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