Previously: Mercenary Leon fails on a mission because of David, better known as the Prince of Wales. Socialite Wallis Spencer, also a spy, has an affair with German Joachim Von Ribbentrop and marries Ernest. David becomes king. Wallis divorces, David abdicates and they marry. They fail to kill Hitler. The Windsors escape oncoming Nazis. Leon shadows their every move.
Leon took a small inexpensive room down the street from the Ritz where the Windsors had checked in the night before. The mercenary had not worn his white linen suit on this mission. He would not be dining in expensive restaurants nor frequenting any glamorous casinos. The organization told him his task was to keep the Duke and Duchess of Windsor from harm. They were to have safe passage to wherever the British government wished to send them. Leon’s job was to make sure they were not harmed or detained in anyway.
The best method to meet this goal, Leon decided, was to intercept any messages being received or sent by Spanish officials to Germany. He ambled down the street, trying to figure out the best method to achieve his goal. As he searched the store fronts, he saw a familiar figure among the pedestrians. The man’s picture had been on the Madrid morning newspaper.
German ambassador to Spain Ebehart Von Stohrer made a speech praising the Spanish government for not following the lead of England and France in their indefensible oppression of freedom-loving Germany. Leon took particular notice of Stohrer’s face, trying to find a glimmer of reasoning behind his sincerely made idiotic statements.
Leon slowed to stare into the front window of a haberdashery. He always appreciated the latest styles in men’s apparel. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the German go into a cablegram office which puzzled Leon. Most embassies were equipped with their own cable equipment. Why would Stohrer avoid using the embassy apparatus and instead go to an out-of-the-way privately owned establishment? His message must be highly secret and extremely delicate in nature. Only the Duke and Duchess of Windsor would warrant such treatment.
After Stohrer left the cablegram office, Leon lingered by the office until a young man appeared with a broom to push dirt out of the office on the stoop and then out on the street. Leon walked over to him and looked up and down the street to make sure no one was watching.
“Buenos dias, chico,” Leon greeted him.
The servant grunted.
Leon slid a knife out of his jacket pocket and stuck it in the lad’s side just deep enough to catch his attention.
“Vamanos,” he whispered. “Go inside, throw your broom down and tell your boss you’ve had enough of this lousy job.”
“But he’s my uncle, senor.”
“That makes it more likely he’ll forgive you walking in next week begging for your job back.”
Leon pushed harder on the knife until he felt the tip puncture the boy’s skin. Without a word the servant walked inside. Leon heard the broom hit the floor and then a lot of angry shouting. Eventually the boy stormed out and stomped down the street, his arm pressing close against his injured side. Leon walked the other direction until he reached a small café where he ordered a demitasse of strong coffee. An hour later he walked back to the cablegram office, walked in and removed his cap.
“Por favor, senor. I missed my boat this morning. I was a mere swabby—swabby, you know? With the mop and a broom. I need job. Hungry. I am very hungry.”
The office manager lifted an eyebrow and pointed at the floor. “There’s the broom. Sweep.”
When the manager left the office for lunch, Leon quickly sifted through the telegrams until he found the one sent by Stohrer. Even though Leon’s German was rudimentary but he still made out that Stohrer wanted instructions from Joachim Von Ribbentrop in Berlin on how to proceed on the Windsor project. Leon’s advance information was correct. He immediately went into the back store room where he began a grand mess of dusting and mopping so when he manager returned he would not suspect his new assistant had rifled through the private cablegrams.
The next day when the manager went to lunch Leon walked to the basket which held the messages received but not yet delivered. On top was a communication from Ribbentrop to Stohrer.
“Delay their visas as long as possible, hopefully two weeks. That would give me time to arrange a holiday to Madrid and accidentally run into the duchess. I’m sure I can convince Wallis to lure the duke into staying in Spain for the duration of the war.”
If Ribbentrop came to Madrid, Leon swore to himself Ribbentrop would be dead within twenty-four hours.
After work, Leon stood outside the Ritz in the shadows, just in case the Windsors went out for the evening. By happenstance, Leon had special skills to re-invent himself as a waiter or a busboy as the occasion arose. Also he had slightly bucked teeth which most times he successfully hid, but when the situation called for it, he could allow them to explode from his lips, changing his facial appearance drastically.
That particular night the American ambassador Alexander Weddell hosted the duke and duchess to an evening at one of the glitzier eating establishments of Madrid. With a few pesetas and the point of his very sharp knife, Leon was able to become a busboy for the night. He also commandeered the glasses with thick lenses of the frightened servant. His disguise was complete. What he overheard surprised him.
“The stories the French troops would not fight were not true,” the duke began speaking in his casual manner to the American. “They had fought magnificently, but the organization behind them was totally inadequate.”
Weddell’s mouth went agape. “Well, this comes as a surprise.”
Wallis joined in. “France had lost because it was internally diseased and a country which was not in condition to fight a war should not have declared war.”
The duke leaned into the ambassador. “This applies not merely to Europe but to the United States also.”
The rest of the dinner went quietly except for the occasional comment on the quality of the food, until the duke decided to add, “I am convinced if I had remained on the throne war would have been avoided. I am a firm supporter of a peaceful arrangement with Germany. I definitely believe continued severe bombing will make England ready for peace.”
It was at this time Ambassador Weddell announced he just remembered an important meeting back at the embassy and he must leave immediately. He told them not to worry. He had already made arrangements with the restaurant to pay the bill. The Windsors seemed unruffled and ordered rum raisin ice cream.
Leon, on the other hand, made his way back to the kitchen where he returned the jacket and glasses to the busboy and resumed his life-long habit of hiding his buck teeth. He did not understand why the Windsors would make such inflammatory statements in front of the American ambassador. He walked out the door and felt the warm Spanish breeze in his face. Perhaps they were creating an image, just as he created images for himself. Then his mind went back many years when an agent for the organization warned him about becoming emotionally involved with the subjects of his missions. It could prove dangerous. Leon had always laughed off the advice, but on this warm night in Madrid he gave it a serious second thought.

Previously: Mercenary Leon fails on a mission because of David, better known as the Prince of Wales. Socialite Wallis Spencer, also a spy, has an affair with German Joachim Von Ribbentrop and marries Ernest. David becomes king. Wallis divorces, David abdicates and they marry. They fail to kill Hitler. David and Wallis volunteer to help France. Leon receives orders to go to France. The Windsors escape oncoming Nazis.
David and Wallis slept late the next morning in their suite at the most luxurious hotel in Barcelona. They felt as if they had earned it. He dressed and left Wallis munching on toast and sipping coffee as he went downstairs to send a cable to the British Foreign Office to inform officials they had arrived safely. They would move on to Madrid where they planned to pretend to be interested in Spanish pleas that they stay there. He was confident the message would be passed on to MI6.
When he returned to the suite, David found Wallis snuggled under the covers. Her half-eaten toast was back on a small plate by her coffee cup on the nightstand. She stirred a bit when he shut the door and opened her eyes only long enough to growl a command.
“Don’t you dare wake me up. I plan to sleep until I have completely forgotten that dreadful drive in the rain.”
With that she rolled over, exposing her boney derriere in her silk night gown. David smiled and poured himself another cup of coffee before settling into a comfortable padded chair. Briefly he watched Wallis to consider what kind of God’s creature was she. No one would ever call her beautiful, but everyone flocked to her when she arrived at a party. She knew all the rules of etiquette and knew when she could break them. She seemed frail and vulnerable, but was capable of abominable violence. Wallis was the opposite of every woman he had ever seduced, and yet he found himself falling in love with her, which was against all the rules of civilized espionage.
After he finished his coffee, David changed back into his pajamas to slip into the bed next to Wallis. He began to feel the toll of the last twenty-four hours. David didn’t know for sure if he could sleep, but he did feel comfortable in the bed next to her. He felt her body warmth. He heard her soft breathing. He smelled her heady expensive perfume. It was though they were married in spirit as well as in law, and they were truly in love. What a comforting sensation, he thought. Soon he was deep asleep.
Two days later they settled into their suite at the Ritz in Madrid. That night they celebrated David’s forty-sixth birthday with petite broiled steaks, fresh blanched peas drizzled with olive oil and baked potatoes. They were on their second bottle of champagne. Wallis lifted her glass.
“Here’s to your entering middle-age.” She had a wicked smile.
“Thank you for reminding me.” His tone was less than enthusiastic.
“Don’t worry about it.” The wickedness disappeared from her lips. “You’re Peter Pan. You’ll never grow up.”
“And how about you?” David looked down to cut his steak. “You’re only a few years younger than I.”
“That’s why I’m having such a good time now. I’ll be an old wreck, but I’ll be happy I went on the ride.”
The Windsors had just started their rum raisin ice cream when a courier presented a cable to the duke.
“Oh damn,” Wallis muttered. “I was enjoying myself until that thing arrived.” She paused as David read it. “Well, don’t leave me hanging. What is it?”
“We’ll be staying in Madrid a little longer,” he replied. “My brother Harry is due to arrive in Lisbon to commemorate Portugal’s 800th independence anniversary.”
“That means we have longer to experience this Spanish cuisine. I’ve heard of this marvelous dish called paella. It’s supposed to be peasant food, but it’s chocked full of pork, chicken, shrimp and sometimes squid.” She paused to consider the sullen darkness which had fallen over him. “What’s with the long face?”
David shrugged. “Oh, it just means more interminable meetings with Spanish officials trying to talk me into staying here for the duration of the war.”
“Is that all? You’re not really upset about not seeing your stolid brother Harry, are you? He’s so boring he puts me to sleep.” Wallis laughed until she noticed David was still glum. She leaned forward. “I’m your chum. You can tell me. I know you really adore George, but I didn’t think you care a hill of beans for the rest of them. Or do you?”
“If you’re my chum, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
When the Windsors arrived back in their suite, they found an envelope on their bed. David opened it to find two tickets to the afternoon bull fights at the Plaza Toros Las Ventas.
“We’ve been invited to watch little men in fancy costumes kill animals, my dear,” he announced.
“By whom?”
“Who knows?”
“Obviously by someone with no sense of true entertainment,” she replied. “Back home in Maryland if we wanted to kill a cow we’d just walk out to the field and blow its head off with a shotgun.”
The next afternoon they chose their clothing carefully. Their usual Paris high fashion would stand out even in a stadium filled with 25,000 peasants. Eventually they walked out on the street and hailed a local couple about their age, height and weight to offer them stunning clothing in exchange for their common street wear. The Spaniards were apprehensive at first, of course, but David with his down-to-earth personality and inadequate use of the Spanish language charmed them into venturing in the most expensive suite at the Ritz.
Once the exchange was made, the Windsors had to rush to be at the Plaza Toros Las Ventas in time for the opening ceremonies. As they walked to their seats the municipal band Espana Cani played pasadoble tunes.
“Thank God our seats are in the shade.”
“They‘re more expensive.”
“I don’t care.” Settling in, Wallis looked at David and smiled. “You make a handsome peasant.”
He glanced her way. “So do you.” After a pause he added, “Don’t look at me that way. I’m becoming aroused.”
“Don’t do that, old boy,” a voice interjected from behind them. “Don’t look around. It’s just your kindly old general.”
They both sighed in relief. They didn’t really want to stay to see the killing of a bull.
“You will be exchanging cablegrams over the next few weeks with Churchill over what your assignment will be during the war,” Trotter began. “First you’ll be insulted that you were not brought home for a more active role. Wallis, you must demand that someone sneak into the Riviera to retrieve your green bathing suit from La Croe.”
“That ugly old thing?” She seemed shocked. “I hope nobody does it.”
“Probably not,” Trotter replied, “but it will make a good headline.” He put his hand on David’s shoulder. “You’re going to be the governor of the Bahamas.”
“Hmm, I’ll need a whole new wardrobe,” Wallis murmured. “Nothing in green.”
“And what will our mission be?” David asked.
“An Australian chap by the name of Harry Oates practically runs Nassau. He has ties to the Germans, the American Mafia and who knows who else. You become close to him, see what he knows and if he knows too much—kill him.”