"It's not legally necessary for them to report the injuries. Unless someone's keeping good enough track of their inventory to remark on the amount of medical supplies they go through, no one's likely to come looking." Methos frowned down at his box, then stood and paced back to the first aid kits they'd discovered earlier. They weren't weapons, but they would come in handy, and he held out hope of trading some of the supplies for something a little more useful.

"I doubt it's got anything to do with the Nazis." He paused to inspect a roll of bandages, considering remarking on the decades gone by since the regime had been in power, then dismissing it as an argument for a later day. "I've not heard anything but American accents from the staff. If this is a government-run facility, it's probably under the control of one of the American bureaus. Or the Canadians. They sound nearly the same, and I always did think there was something up with those people."

He shut the restocked kit and stood, eying the broken door. He still couldn't imagine it being repaired by daybreak. Not unless it was the only damage done, and that seemed unlikely in light of how many people were desperate to find anything to help them escape. "Done. You know, there is one other possibility that comes to mind."