‘For the Wehrmacht — ja, I’ve heard all about it.’
‘Propolis is bought and made into varnish, and this is shipped at a modest profit which is donated to the SS, as a loyal member of the Förderndes Mitglied should.’
‘And the honey?’
‘Some of it is donated to the Secours National — the National Help — for the soup kitchens, where it is doled out to young children and nursing mothers.’
‘But not much of it, I’ll bet. And the rest?’
‘Is sold to beekeepers, to the black market, and also “bought” back from it and shipped to the Reich.’
‘Again at a very healthy profit.’
‘He’s a businessman and everything he does for the Palais d’Eiffel is done under that mandate, so what, please, is wrong with that?’
‘Nothing but the ten or twenty or fifty times profit the “creative” book-keeping allows.’
‘Nobody cares so long as the needs are met.’
‘And they’ll only become greater now, won’t they, with the defeat at Stalingrad?’
She shrugged and did so beautifully, thought Kohler. He’d take the cigarette from her now and would stub it out. ‘For my little tin,’ he said. ‘With us, nothing is wasted.’
‘Us?’ she asked.
‘My partner and me, and the two women I live with but seldom see.’
‘Look, I really must get going. Herr Schlacht-’
‘Wanted you to keep track of things here for him. De Bonnevies was a distinct threat — bitching about what was happening; going to the Kommandant von Gross-Paris with tales of robbed and butchered hives and diseased bees. Old Shatter Hand’s no fool, Frau Hillebrand. He’s not some dumb Detektiv Aufsichtsbeamter like me.’
‘Oskar didn’t kill this beekeeper.’
‘I didn’t say he had but we both know he’s in deep trouble, and not just with von Schaumburg.’
‘Trouble …? What trouble, please?’
‘Rumours — whispers — that there are slackers behind the lines. People in cushy jobs who are helping themselves and getting too greedy while others do the fighting for them.’
Sickened by the thought that the good times were about to end, Käthe tried to stop her eyes from smarting. Herr Kohler found another cigarette and lit it for her, and though she took it from him and said softly, ‘Danke,’ her fingers trembled and she knew he had noticed this. ‘Are there really rumours the Führer might shut us down?’ Oberg would be furious; Oskar in a panic …
‘They’re not just rumours. They’re serious. Oberg’s just asked for my help.’
Ah Jesus, sweet Jesus! ‘Oskar was very worried, yes. He … he didn’t want de Bonnevies to give that address his daughter gave this afternoon. It would ruin everything, would make things very difficult for him, as it will. Always word of such things is passed so quickly. He … he wanted him stopped, that’s all I know. I swear it is, but … but felt he couldn’t have him arrested.’
‘Too obvious, eh? Too blatant for the Kommandant von Gross-Paris to swallow. Besides, there was this other little matter of Frau Schlacht’s having one of his mistresses followed to a certain hotel. The beekeeper’s wife, to be precise.’
‘Frau Schlacht had purchased a bottle of Amaretto. Oskar, he … he watches constantly, or has others do the watching for him, so he knew Uma was up to something with that bottle, but … but didn’t know exactly what.’
‘Does he like the stuff?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then let me elaborate. Fearing the worst, he had me taken to that smelter of his and had his friends in the Milice try to pry the answer he wanted from me, but since the beekeeper had refused to help Frau Schlacht poison your boss, who added the nitrobenzene to that bottle?’
The cigarette was teased from her lips to be shared. Nervously she touched the base of her throat, then fiddled with her scarf. ‘Oskar learned of the poison from one of the other beekeepers — de Saussine, I think — but … but said it had to be done so as to make it appear as if Juliette had done it. She despised her husband and was very unhappy in her marriage. She knew where the poison was kept and had told Oskar of this. A tin on a shelf in the study, above the workbench. A skull and crossbones on its label … Oil of mirbane in bright lemon-yellow letters, mono … mono-nitrobenzene beneath this in brackets. Juliette was to suspect nothing. The daughter would be away …’
‘Did you do it for him, since you knew where it was kept?’
‘NO! I … Look, I didn’t, I swear it.’
‘But he asked you to?’
‘And I refused.’
‘Then what about the stepson?’ demanded Kohler.
He was so anxious now she would have to smile weakly at him, she told herself, and softly say, ‘Oflag 17A, you know of it, of how desperate Juliette was to get her son home? She would do anything Oskar wanted her to and went with many men in that place of his. Two … three at a time, if he wanted her to — prostitutes as well — what did it matter, so long as Oskar would buy the boy’s freedom?’
‘Did you watch them?’
‘Once. Oskar … Oskar thought it was funny. He throws dinner parties and then we … we all go back to that hotel of his to … to observe things.’
But that was more than once. ‘And did he buy the son’s freedom?’
‘To put her out of her misery — one of the French? What do you think?’
‘That he’d prefer to spend the money on a bit of sculpture for der Führer.’
‘Leda and the Swan, ah yes.’
‘No freedom, then?’
‘Not from Oskar. This I know.’
‘Good. Now let’s stop pissing about. Tell me where he’s keeping Oona.’
‘Oona? Who is this, please?’
Abruptly Kohler moved away from her to deeply thrust into the coals the long iron hoe that was used to pull clinkers from the firebox. ‘The candle factory, where is it?’ he demanded.
‘On the rue Championnet, across from the Omnibus Yards.’
‘How many employees?’
Would he threaten to burn her with that rod? ‘Thirty, I think.’
‘How many shifts?’
‘Two. Each of twelve hours, when … when there is sufficient wax.’
‘Any guards?’
‘Why should there be?’
‘Lorries?’ ‘Two.’
‘Gazogènes?’
‘Their roof tanks are filled at the Omnibus Yards. Oskar has a … a deal with the manager.’
‘Deals and deals, eh? So where do the Milice who keep an eye on that smelter of his hang out?’
‘Did they hurt you badly?’ she winced and heard him answer, ‘Not badly enough.’
‘The gymnasium on the rue Bonne Nouvelle. They … they have a room at the back and … and use the gym for parades and … and other things.’
‘Like beating people up and raping girls they’ve hauled in for questioning?’
‘When it’s necessary, yes.’
‘Since when were either necessary?’
‘You … you know what I meant.’
‘So, where is Oona?’
‘At the Hotel Titania. There’s a room Oskar uses for … for the girls he’s preparing.’
‘Guards?’
‘One or two.’
‘French?’
‘Of course.’
‘Gangsters?’
‘Yes.’
‘Anything else I need to know?’
‘Nothing! Will the Führer really shut us down?’
It took all types to make up the Occupier, but he’d best say something to calm her, thought Kohler, setting the rod aside to help her on with her coat. ‘Not if I can prevent it. That’s what the Höherer SS wants and we aim to deliver.’
‘We?’
‘My partner and I, though he doesn’t know about it yet, but don’t go telling your boss that we’ve had this little chat, not when Oberg agreed to let me question you.’
‘Did he really?’
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t even ask. Oh by the way, I’ll want to interview you again about your use of the name “Juliette” for Mme de Bonnevies, and your knowing all about that tin of … What did you call it?’
Verdamm!. ‘Oil of mirbane.’