Page 63 of Be Less Panda
‘He wouldn’t. Unless he’s not really a biologist.’
‘It all sounds far-fetched to me.’ Nancy tried to process it all. Could it be true? ‘Let’s just say your theory is correct, and Dieter is a spy. Who’s he spying for? The Russians?’
‘Christa says he has a Berlin accent. What if he’s from East Berlin?’
Nancy’s mind started racing. Dieter couldn’t be East German. He’d known Hans since they were children. Whenever they were together, they exchanged those sorts of knowing looks that you only shared if you’d been friends for years. Surely they couldn’t be faking that? Though they could have lived on what were now different sides of the wall. ‘Even if Dieter is a spy, it doesn’t mean Hans is as well. Let’s face it. He’s not getting any useful information from me. I haven’t got access to NATO secrets. Why didn’t he make a play for you if that’s what he and Dieter are after?’
‘I don’t fancy him. And I’ve always been in a relationship with Pierre since Hans gave up pursuing Christa’s affections. You might not have access to military secrets, but you’re very good at describing the men who frequent Madame Dubois’s private apartments.’
‘Why would Madame Dubois’s kinky clientele be of any use to the East Germans?’
‘We know at least one of them is a government minister. I can imagine the threat of exposing someone’s taste for beingtied up and whipped could make them give up some very useful secrets.’
Nancy was stunned. Hans always liked hearing about the men who visited the bookshop. He made a point of asking her most days what had happened and who had visited. Was that why he’d come into the bookshop the day she first met him? All these weeks, she’d been falling in love with him, and she thought he’d been falling for her too when really he was just pumping her for information. ‘So you think Hans is blackmailing them?’
‘Not necessarily Hans. In fact, it’s very unlikely to be Hans. I guess he feeds the information back to his East German handlers, and they do the rest.’
An image of the woman with the white streak in her hair floated into Nancy’s mind. Could she be his handler? ‘No! I refuse to believe it. You’ve read too many thrillers.’
‘You’re the one who reads spy stories. I prefer a good old-fashioned bodice ripper myself.’
As outlandish as Olivia’s idea was, it did make sense of a lot of things. Had Hans been using her? He was a bastard if he was.
‘Are you still going to his offices?’ Olivia asked.
‘Absolutely. I need to know what’s going on.’
Nancy and Ingrid had no trouble finding Fischer Exportations’ address. It was a single tatty black door next to a barber’s.
‘I can’t see a name plaque,’ Ingrid said.
‘No, it’s very nondescript,’ Nancy said.Just the sort of door a spy agency might hide behind.For god’s sake, even her inner voice had signed up to Olivia’s theory now. ‘Their offices must be upstairs. Let’s see, shall we.’ Nancy went up to thedoor and pressed the bell next to it. They waited for a minute, but no one answered.
‘Wouldn’t you have a warehouse if you were an exporter?’ Ingrid asked.
‘They might have one of those as well.’ Nancy pressed the bell again, holding it down this time.
‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ a frustrated voice yelled in French. ‘Does nobody have any patience any more?’ A man holding a broom opened the door. Nancy released the bell push. ‘We’re looking for Fischer Exportations.’
The man shrugged. ‘They’re not here any more. They moved out yesterday, and I’m having to clear up the mess. Bits of shredded paper everywhere.’ He went to shut the door, but Nancy was too quick for him. She put her hand out and held the door open.
‘Do you know a Hans Schmidt?’
‘No.’ He looked fed up.
‘Or a Dieter Lehrmann?’ Ingrid asked.
‘No.’
‘Did they leave a forwarding address?’
‘Unfortunately not. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’ He slammed the door in Nancy’s face.
‘What next?’ Ingrid asked.
‘I have absolutely no idea.’
Part Three