North Africa was hot on any day of the year, but today it seemed especially burdensome on Captain Dietrich. He moped his sweaty brow once with a kerchief and surveyed the documents in front of him, and then the sweaty, miserable, but grinning Gestapo man sitting across his desk. He looked too pleased with himself for his peace of mind, and the young man standing at perfect attention between two much larger and meaner-looking soldiers seemed like he was wilting in the heat.

He was used to the heat, and he refrained from offering refreshments in the hope that it would convince the Gestapo agent to leave sooner, which meant that despite the heat, he couldn't reach for his own drink.

"Hauptmann Dietrich," Captain Lang looked too pleased with himself still as he surveyed the files he'd been handed not long ago. "I think you will find that Corporal Macgyver will be a model soldier and perfect for your operations."

"An American in the Deutsche Afrika Korps?" Dietrich mused, still eyeing the American and wondering what the young man was doing in their desert tans instead of his own armies.

"An American in the Wehrmacht," Captain Lang corrected, "Corporal Macgyver has been with us for three years; he has served Germany well." The unholy, sick light of glee in his eyes was enough to put Dietrich off his lunch. "He will serve you well, Captain. His skills will be put to good use."

"I see." He closed the file and faced Corporal Macgyver, addressing him for the first time. "I presume that you speak German?"

"Yes, sir." He was staring over his right shoulder, pointedly not making eye contact.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you," he ordered, keeping his voice level, and he watched his Adam's apple bob before stunningly blue eyes flickered over and made the barest minimum of contact. "Collect your kit from the quartermaster and find Corporal Buser to direct you to quarters. Dismissed"

"Yes, sir." He saluted, and to his surprise, the Gestapo agents remained.

Captain Lang dismissed the two agents quickly, and he watched the man as he lit a cigarette and leaned back in her chair. "You sent him away rather quickly," Lang said, eyes narrowing.

"He has served for three years and has been sent away many times, reassigned from Poland, Denmark, France, Germany, and nowhere. Why?"

"Do not concern yourself with the why, Captain Dietrich," Lang chuckled, despite the fact that he was sweating pathetically. "What you must concern yourself is with his obedience ." The man was certainly putting on a lot of air for just a captain who had probably never tangled directly with an enemy. "Any sign he disobeys an order or looks as if he might return to the Americans, you are directed to report any infraction."

"As I would do with any of my men," Dietrich replied, the file was deliberately bare and full to brimming with minor and petty infractions that Dietrich could deduce was less of a fact of that Macgyver had actually committed them but had been dealing with officers who ought not to have been officers. There was an interesting story sitting here, and potentially deadly if something went wrong.

"Corporal Macgyver has a peculiar way of fixing things or rigging them," the man continued, "it can be useful, but he continuously breaks protocol, and this is what you should be looking for." He leaned across the desk in what he probably thought was a conspiratorial wink. "There are other reasons he was sent to you, Dietrich." His eyes narrowed at the too forward ease in which he spoke. Dietrich felt something dark and furious coil in his stomach. "You see, the American will do anything you ask."

"I see," he said slowly, and he did. "And has Corporal Macgyver served this... purpose before?" There was a smirk on the man's face that made his eyes narrow. "I see."

"He is American," Captain Lang smirked, still dripping sweat. "You have faced this Rat Patrol many times, have you not? Certainly, you deserve some retribution?"

"Is there anything else," he demanded, and Captain Lang looked a little surprised by her words. "I should be aware of regarding Corporal Macgyver?"

"Keep him close," the man suggested, "and on a short leash. Since you are facing four insane Americans, the decision to give you one of your own may help with your rat infestation."

"Perhaps," Diettrich mused, wondering just how willing Macgyver would really be."

"He does not use guns."

"He is a soldier who does not use a gun? He is an American who does not use a gun?"

"It is in his file, Herr Hauptmann. I believe you will find it...most interesting."

As soon as he was gone, Dietrich pulled the water from the drawer and sipped at it carefully, and as Corporal Buser ducked into his office, he gestured for him to sit. "Have you directed Corporal Macgyver to his quarters?"

"Yes, sir," Buser reported, looking confused. "Sir...he is not German. His words are accented."

"He is not," he agreed, seeing no reason to deny the fact. "He will be in our unit. Inform Corporal Macgyver that I wish to speak with him after the evening meal." He thought about the pages missing from his file. "And inform him of how I run this outfit."

"Yes, sir," He was a good clerk, loyal and dependable, and he trusted him completely to a point at which he wasn't sure he deserved.

"Keep close to Macgyver, but do not make it obvious." He was a friendly, enthusiastic young man; he would keep Macgyver from getting too suspicious.

"Yes, sir!" He looked thrilled at the assignment.

"Dismissed," he said, and when he left, his nerves were so rattled that he pulled another cigarette out despite his self-imposed rationing.