A meticulous record keeper, Frankel kept a cluttered desk. At the desk behind Frankel's sat Oberschütze Spitz, doing more paperwork still. Near at hand on a table were vials, syringes, and other supplies used in blood work and in dealing with delirium. As Hi, with Dorsch close behind, walked to Frankel's desk with his box of seedlings, he noted the row of barred cells extending into the darkness beyond the desk area's lamplight.

"Schütze Hickenlooper," Frankel greeted him.

"Oberschütze," Hi said, correcting him.

Frankel, misunderstanding, looked offended. "He is the Oberschütze," Frankel said, referring to Spitz. "I am Oberführer Frankel."

"No, I'm an Oberschütze," Hi said. "You called me Schütze."

"You are an Oberschütze?"

"Yes."

"Already?"

"Where do you want your Dracaena palm?"

"My what?"

"I'm delivering plants."

Hi was startled to hear a captive wail loudly, deliriously, in one of the far cells in the dark. Spitz promptly got up and took a vial and syringe from the table. Frankel tiredly rose too, picking up his flashlight, as Spitz headed toward the cell while the wailing continued.

"I hate this place," Dorsch said with disgust. "Take Hickenlooper to the Weinkellar next," he told Frankel, who was about to follow Spitz with the light, "then direct him to Munitions."

"Very good, sir."

"I'm going over there now to pick up some--munitions." Hi wondered what for. Frankel was already on his way to help Spitz deal with the delirious captive.

"I hate this place," Dorsch said as he left.

Hi found himself alone at the desks, and quickly made the most of it. Setting his seedlings on Frankel's desk, Hi grabbed a syringe and a vial from the table, slipping them into a pocket. Seeing two empty vials in Spitz's wastebasket, Hi retrieved them and pocketed them too.

He glanced around and saw nothing else that was useful. He then began walking curiously, sadly along the cell block, the noise continuing toward the far end. Through the bars he could dimly make out a fitfully sleeping Amazonas Indian, a hapless caboclo with a vacant stare, and . . . Hi couldn't believe his straining eyes. On his bunk in the darkness lay an acquaintance and rival, John Crowley, weak and bearded, head raised with effort, staring back at him.

"Crowley," Hi whispered.

"Hickenlooper." Crowley's eyes gleamed with hope, but then Crowley suddenly looked anxious, he wanted something understood. "We beat you to it," he said. "We found this place first."

"Hang on, pal," Hi said encouragingly. "I'm going to have all of you out of here in about ninety days. Can you make it?"

Crowley's head fell back onto the bunk. "I'll be a ninety-day wonder if I do."

"You can make it. I'm getting you out, that's a promise."

The wailing had stopped, and Frankel and his aide returned. After placing one of the seedlings on the supply table, Frankel escorted Hi into the Weinkellar. There Müller was capping the second of two bottles of blood at a receiving counter, where pipes through the wall brought in extracted blood from the Weinberg.

"Obersturmbannführer," Frankel said, as Müller took the bottles from the counter, "our Yankee friend has a plant for you."

"A plant?" Müller asked with disinterest, glancing at Hi's seedlings, as Frankel helpfully took one of the bottles.

"The dragon's palm," Hi said brightly, "the house plant of vampires." Müller and Frankel took the bottles to the refrigerator, which Frankel opened. The gasoline generator powering the refrigerator could be heard running by the outside wall. "Where would you like me to put it?" Hi's eyes followed the bottles of blood as he spoke.

Müller turned to Hi after the bottles had been put into the refrigerator, Frankel closing it. Müller nodded toward a counter by the fridge. "There, I suppose."

Hi took his box to the counter. "You're really going to love your Dracaena," he said, taking a seedling from the box. "When it's bigger you'll see. It's a beautiful palm." Hi sat it proudly on the counter.

"I can't wait to see it," Müller said dryly.

Müller gazed at the seedling as the Sturmbannführer escorted Hi out. Müller stepped to the counter for a close, careful look. Müller was suspicious by nature. And he suspected something here.

If he only knew what to suspect.