The New Eastgate Swing by Chris Nickson Read Free Book Online

that secret Avro place in Yeadon.’
    ‘What Avro place?’ He’d never heard of it. Secret?
    ‘Just by the aerodrome. They made Lancaster and Ansons there. All very hush-hush, camouflaged and everything. They called it a shadow factory.’ He laughed. ‘They even drained the tarn out there to make it hard to spot, then put a false duck pond on the roof and fake cows that they’d move around every day or two. Fooled the Jerries, right enough.’
    ‘But they’re not making anything there any more.’
    ‘Not since the war. No need. I’ve no idea what they do now. It was a huge place, though. I was out there once, someone was nicking bits and pieces as they were dismantling the place. After I was demobbed.’
    ‘That still doesn’t help us find out more about de Vries, or whoever he was.’
    ‘We’ll get there,’ Baker said confidently. ‘I’ve had to deal with worse.’
    ‘And I’ll give Amanda Fox a ring. Tell her we’re in.’
    ‘Amanda is it now?’ Baker raised his eyebrows and smirked. ‘Better not let that lass of yours find out about her, Danny.’
    ***
    She asked him to come over to the Fox and Co. office to discuss the details. A winter wind scoured the Headrow, strong enough for him to hang on to his hat at times. He cut through to Great George Street, past the infirmary and up the hill to Woodhouse Square.
    It must have been a grand house at one time. These days, though, the building was all offices, and the exterior had an air of genteel decay. Not as wealthy as Park Square, with its solicitors, dentists, and doctors, but still for the moderately well-heeled. He pressed the bell and climbed a wide staircase when she buzzed him in.
    Shiny Burmantofts tiles in greens and browns lined the walls of the hall. The office door was open, an invitation. A two-room suite with a bow window that looked down over the city centre. It was intended to impress and it did the trick.
    Today Amanda Fox wore a dress in two shades of grey velvet that accented her figure. A knowing smile flickered across her lips. He settled next to her on a leather sofa. A manila file sat on the coffee table.
    ‘I’m so glad we’re going to be working together, Dan,’ she began. ‘I know Mark will be, too.’
    ‘Good.’ It seemed like the only answer he could offer. ‘How did he end up doing this kind of thing?’
    ‘Oh, he was SOE during the war.’ She said it lightly, as if it was of no consequence. But Markham knew better. During his National Service he’d heard tales about the agents of the Special Operations Executive. They were tough, deadly, working behind enemy lines half the time. If Mark Fox survived that and the aftermath when the war was over, he’d have come to know important people. He’d have value.
    ‘I’m interested in the details of the job,’ he told her, ‘and what you want from us.’
    She tapped red-painted nails on the folder.
    ‘That’s the bumf on five people who’ve come over from Germany to work around Leeds. There’s everything about each of them in there, including photographs.’ She paused a second. ‘When you were in Germany did you ever come across the Fragebogen ?’
    ‘Of course.’ It was the long questionnaire all Germans had to fill out to get the card proving they weren’t Nazis, the Entlastungsschien .He’d seen a few, dealt with a small number, trying to catch men out here and there. By and large he’d never paid much attention to them; it hadn’t been his real field.
    ‘They’re in there, too. I hope your German’s still good enough to read them.’
    He gave her a smile.
    ‘I’ll manage.’
    ‘We want you to do some background. Ask around about them,’ Amanda Fox told him. ‘Keep it all on the QT.’
    ‘All right,’ Markham agreed. ‘But why?’
    ‘Follow up,’ she explained. ‘Find out if they’re all being good boys and write me a little report on each one.’
    ‘Are you expecting a problem with any of them?’ He wasn’t about to mention de Vries.