chair he’d borrowed back. He led Natalie towards his desk.
“What did he mean another one?”
“What? Oh I’ve no idea,” Dennis replied quickly, avoiding the question.
“You look nice.”
“Thank you,” Natalie replied.
“Who let you in?”
“A new girl. I don’t know her name. Pretty. Brunette.”
“Oh her.”
“Very short skirt.”
“Has she? I didn’t notice.”
“She seems nice,” Natalie said smiling as he pulled up a chair for her.
“I don’t really have much to do with her,” he replied. Then his eyes grew wide at his waste bin. The most recent post it note was on top of the rubbish. The kiss plainly visible. Dennis nudged the bin in under his desk and out of sight.
“Peter you’re acting very strange.”
“Am I? Oh no! Just got a lot on at the moment.” He gestured at the paper bag. “What did you get me?”
“What you asked for. Chicken salad.”
“Thanks babe,” he said, unwrapping his baguette. Natalie bit into her sandwich then dabbed at the corners of her mouth.
“Yes she’s very pretty. I’m surprised you’ve never mentioned her. What does she do here?”
“Her? Not a lot.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Um. Becky I think. Something like that,” Dennis replied taking another bite.
“I’ll bet all the boys in the office like her.”
“Yeah I expect so.”
“Including you.”
Dennis ignored her and took another mouthful.
“Peter.”
“What?”
“I said, including you.”
“Not really.”
“Oh come on. She is gorgeous.”
“I suppose she is. I don’t have much contact with her,” Dennis lied, “She’s Rogerson’s p.a.”
“Great legs,” Natalie said, watching Becky strutt around the office, “I love those shoes.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Red stilleto’s. Four inch heels.”
Dennis peered over the partition of his desk.
“Oh yeah.”
“And you’re telling me you’ve never noticed her before.”
“Not really.”
“You’re lying.”
Dennis had to stop himself from choking.
“Well you can look but no touching. They are lovely shoes.”
Dennis rolled his eyes and reached into his jeans back pocket, took out his wallet, took out his credit card and handed it to her.
“You know the pin number.”
“What’s this for?”
“Get yourself some new shoes. My treat.”
Natalie’s face lit up.
“Thanks darling. I’ve seen a pair I like in Harrods.”
His smile vanished.
“Ouch.”
“You’ll love them. They’re very high heels.”
“Yeah and a very high price too I suspect. While you’re there why don’t you pick some wine for tonight.”
“Good idea.”
Natalie finished her sandwich and coffee and got up to put her coat on.
“Are you off.”
“Yes I’ve got a few things to do. Thanks for the shoes.”
Dennis showed her out. On the stairs they passed a man in a brown suit who nodded in friendly fashion at them as they passed.
“Gruss Gott!”
Taken by surprise Dennis managed a quick, “Good afternoon.”
He and Natalie stopped to look back at the lone figure who rounded the bend in the stairs and disappeared from sight.
“What was that? German?” she asked.
“No I think it’s a more common general greeting in Austria. Though I believe most Germans have adopted it.”
“Peter I’ve got a strange feeling about this.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. He wouldn’t have gotten past security. I expect he’s probably an Austrian journalist reporting on Friday’s events.”
“I know. You’re right. I just….after what happened to us before….I would quite happily never hear an accent like that again.”
They reached the ground floor where the security desk was.
“Hey George,” Dennis called out to the guard behind the desk, “Who was that guy in the brown suit?”
“I don’t know man,” George replied in his heavy West Indian accent, “I’ve just come back from my break. Gus checked him in.”
“What’s it say on the log?”
“Well it looks like Gus didn’t bother to enter a name. Should I go after him.”
Dennis thought about it. Gus, the other security guard, had been employed by the publishers for seventeen years and as far as Dennis knew, the man was sound.
“No leave it. He must have been given clearance. I’ll ask Gus if I see him.”
“Sure thing man.”
Dennis led Natalie outside. They talked for a minute and then he kissed her goodbye. She turned back once and he watched until he couldn’t see her anymore. Lost in amongst the other pedestrians. Dennis returned to the office and sat next to Dixon again.
“Sorry James. Where were we?”
Rogerson’s door flew open.
“Pete come in here please.”
“For fuck’s sake. Now what!”
As Dennis got closer to his editor’s office he saw the man in the brown suit rise out of a chair. The stranger waited until Rogerson closed the door before he extended his hand.
“Mr Dennis I am inspector Thomas Bauer of the Austrian Criminal Intelligence Service or if you wish Interpol. I am an Austrian police officer based in Vienna where I work and report to