EDITOR’S NOTE:I am over my winter sinus crud and back to writing. I’m repeating the last chapter printed to set up the action in the new installment. Also included is the usual synopsis for any new readers.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO
Previously: Mercenary Leon meets MI6 spies David, the Prince of Wales, and socialite Wallis Spencer. David abdicates the throne to marry Wallis. He becomes Bahamas governor. Leon dies and his son Sidney turns mercenary. David hires him as his valet. The organization wants playboy Jimmy Donohue dead.
The commander of the organization was dying, and Count Alfred de Merigny was glad. He felt he was destined to become the next leader of the most secret crime cabal in the world. He shook with pride in how he eliminated Sir Harry Oakes in 1945. His international cache was being a playboy who participated in prestigious yachting regattas in the world’s most exotic locales. He had the opportunity to give hands-on supervision so lacking in the current commander.
Merigny’s confidence grew when the commander met with him face to face right after the Harry Oakes affair and recommended he relocate his base of operations to Central America. Few people knew the leader’s identity, and he was one of them. Merigny reasoned he could have conferences with his top lieutenants in Central America’s jungles.
In November 1971, Merigny received a telephone call requesting his presence at Eight Thirty Four Fifth Avenue in New York City. The commander was within days of death. His presence was requested.
The next morning after a long overnight flight, Merigny knocked at the hotel suite’s door. A servant opened it and led him to the bedroom of the commander. When the servant opened the door Merigny saw an emaciated Jessie Donohue who seemed lost among her satin sheets. A withered hand with a huge diamond ring on one of her boney fingers pointed to a chair next to the bed.
“Sit, Alfie.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t talk loudly.”
“I understand, Madame Commander.” He sat and leaned in.
“Not anymore.” She stared at Merigny. “My last order was the death of my son.”
“May I ask why?”
“He ruined my chances with the Duke of Windsor.”
Merigny frowned. “Huh?”
“All Jimmy had to do was keep Wallis amused and I could make David love me.”
The woman was dying. I will not argue with her.
Jessie coughed, spitting up phlegm. “Too late for love now. David and I are both dying. The new commander wants David and Wallis dead.”
“The new commander? I thought I was going to be the new commander?”
“Never. You are just a courier. Shut up and listen. The organization sold for more money than you can imagine. I didn’t care about the money, but if I sold it for a pittance, the new commander wouldn’t have respected me. I demand respect, at least for my father, Mr. Woolworth. He founded the organization to perform small but elite missions around the world. My father had stores everywhere back then. But the new commander wants more than my father could even dream of. The organization wants to rule the world—run companies, dictate to nations, tell people what to think.”
“Then why kill two old people?”
“The Allies found files missing at the end of World War II. The new commander is afraid in their last days the Windsors might implicate him.”
“Who could they tell, a doctor, a couple of nurses?”
“I have it on good sources that Queen Elizabeth and her entourage will visit the duke. The commander wants the Queen, Prince Phillip, and Prince Charles killed too.”
She paused to cough again. “The new commander even wants Sidney, our best mercenary of all, killed. He questions Sidney’s loyalty.”
Merigny’s mind raced. She didn’t order him to her deathbed to tell him all this.
“Why am I here?” The words came slowly.
“As far as the new commander knows, you are happy being the top courier. After I die he will contact you to commission six assassins.” Her old hand reached out to him. “Because I trust you, I want you to send a letter with a symbol only Sidney will understand, and he will save my precious Windsors.”
What could that be? I know. I remember when Sidney killed Harry Oakes. He used something only the natives of the Bahamas would understand. He will realize danger is coming.
“The new commander will continue to use you. When he sends you a message for a mission, do what you can to fumble it.” Jessie shook her head causing her jowls to flap. “To murder for jewels, that is one thing. To take over the world, that is intolerable.” She stared at him as though trying to find his soul. “You do agree with me, don’t you, Alfie? Please don’t tell me you agree with the new commander?”
Merigny thought about it.
Petty crime can only exist in relative freedom. And he had spent his life luxuriating in irrelevance. Perhaps immorality and world domination could co-exist, but why take the chance?
“Yes, my dear Jessie, I agree with you.”
Her head collapsed on the pillow. “Thank you, Alfie. You have made me very happy.”
Merigny could tell her breath was shallower. Her eyes stared at the ceiling.
“Please, just give me a clue about the identity of the new commander.”
“Red hair.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE
Sidney had the unpleasant duty of observing the decline in health of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. For a while, he thought they might live forever, giving television interviews, and hosting parties. They took yearly holidays to America, traveling along the Atlantic Coast from Miami to New York. They would not age nor lose their health, the valet decided, but merely grow thinner and thinner until one day—poof, they would disappear into pixies, providing the essence of sparkling champagne served at galas around the world.
First the Duke suffered from macular degeneration and had several operations to regain his eyesight. Then the Duchess came down with arteriosclerosis which began the long road down to dementia. The final setback for the Duke was the diagnosis of cancer of the larynx brought on by years of smoking. He endured cobalt treatment so that he could at least present an illusion of health at social appearances. Doctors predicted he would not survive Spring of 1972.
Sidney decided when the Duke passed, he would retire to his home on Eleuthera. He had been employed to be the Duke’s valet, and that position was no longer necessary. With the Duchess’s decline, Sidney felt she would soon forget him. Besides, he himself was growing old. He was in his late forties and still considered middle-aged, but he could feel his strength and quickness fade. He wanted his debility to transpire in his own home surrounded by beloved friends.
He was in the Duke’s bedroom—which had been turned into his hospital suite—one day in early May when his doctor informed the Duke Queen Elizabeth II would visit him on May 18 while in Paris on state business. She would be accompanied by her husband Prince Phillip and her son Prince Charles. Sidney could see a light go on in the Duke’s eyes, and his frail thin body rustled about as though it had been shot with electricity.
“I don’t want them to see me like this, he said in a raspy voice. “I want to be fully clothed and seated in my favorite chair in my sitting room next door.”
“But what about your IV line?” his doctor asked. “You can’t do without it—“
“Hide it behind a curtain placed behind my chair. Run it down my sleeve. I don’t want them to see it.”
The doctor shook his head. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“And when they arrive, I shall have a nice tea prepared for them,” Wallis interjected, her voice filled with anticipation.
Sidney knew her mind was going. In her full faculties she would have never become this excited by a royal visit. He decided the Duchess had become what she pretended to be all those years ago.
“We can have a nice little chat before I send them upstairs to see you. It will be quite charming,” Wallis assured her husband.
As he left the room, Sidney’s first thought was about the organization. He didn’t know if it still even existed and if it did would it use this opportunity to assassinate many of its enemies at one time. Himself included.
The next morning a letter arrived at the Bois de Boulogne addressed to him. No return address was on it. The envelope was typed. No handwriting could be detected. Sidney normally pocketed private correspondence and did not open it until the end of the day in his room, but his instincts urged him to open it now.
Inside were six white feathers. Sidney immediately thought of the native religion Obeah and how he had scattered white feathers over the bloody body of Harry Oakes. His mind raced. Only one person knew the significance, Alfred de Merigny.
He’s trying to warn me about something, but what? It was no coincidence that the letter arrived one day after the royal visit was announced. Six feathers. How many visitors would there be? The Queen, Prince of Edinburg and the Prince of Wales. That was only three. Who in the house would the organization want dead? The Duke and Duchess of Windsor. That’s five. Who else? Me.
“You look deep in thought, Sidney. What is it?”
The female voice shook him back to reality.
“Nothing, Eileen.” He smiled as he looked at the young blond maid. She had been hired about a month ago and endeared herself to Sidney by being so eager to ask him about royal protocol.
Eileen. Aline. Endearing. Perhaps not so much of a coincidence.
She grabbed the envelope from his hand. “What is it?” She pulled out the feathers and smiled. “Why the feathers?”
Sidney took back the envelope and feathers and crushed them. “It’s a family joke. Too long a story to tell.”
The staff worked hard to have the house immaculate by the night before the royal visit. Eileen came up behind Sidney and put her arms around his waist. “We did it! Everything’s done! We should celebrate! Why don’t we go dancing tonight? I bet you’re a good dancer.”
Sidney narrowed his eyes as he appraised her. “Yes, that sounds like fun. I know a little place on the Left Bank where Madam used to go dancing with a friend of hers.”
“Oh no! We’re young! I know a place where they play nothing but jazz!”
Sidney said nothing but just smiled. After he attended to the Duke that night he changed into casual black slacks and a black silk shirt. He left the top buttons undone and hung a gold chain around his neck. He finished with a slender cut dinner jacket. He met Eileen outside the Bois de Boulogne. A bus pulled up, and they got on. It was standing room only.
“I’ll tell you when we get there,” she said.
Only six blocks later, Sidney gripped her shoulders and pushed her off the bus.
“What are you doing? You’re hurting me.”
“You said you wanted to go someplace exciting. Well, I’m taking you to the most exciting place in Paris.” He continued to push her until they were deep down a dark alley. “It’s only a little further.”
Several yards more into the alley, he stopped behind a collection of tall garbage cans in total darkness.
“Sidney! I had a big surprise for you at the other place!”
He placed his hands on her cheeks. “But I have a surprise for you here.” He paused before uttering one word, “Organization.”
Sidney detected a slight gasp in her voice. With that, he placed his arm around her head and twisted violently.
Eileen—or whatever her real name was—slumped against his chest. Sidney lifted her body and deposited it in one of the trash cans. Putting the lid back on, he walked with nonchalance back to the Bois de Boulogne so he could get a good night’s sleep.
After all, tomorrow was going to be a busy day.