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 years pass and the organization wants all three of them and the Royal family dead.
After cleaning up the mess in Wallis’ private bathroom, Sidney looked in the mirror, straightened his tie and went downstairs just as the doors opened to the dining room where Wallis was prepared to host a high tea. The front door had been left open. Sidney trotted over to close it when a cab come to a screeching halt in front of the house. A man with a camera jumped from the backseat, paid the driver and ran up the front walk. Sidney narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. The cab didn’t drive away.
“Please, sir!” The man shouted. “I’m running late! Is there any way I can get a picture of Prince Charles before he sees the Duke?”
Sidney blocked him at the door. “I’m afraid not. The guests are being seated for high tea at this moment.”
“Could you call him out for me? A picture of him at the front door would be swell.”
Swell? The organization had lowered its standards if it hired an assassin who’d use a word like swell.
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until after the visit and you can get all of the royals together?” Sidney tried to figure out the accent. It was certainly not French nor British. And Americans haven’t used swell in twenty years. He suspected a Russian trying to sounding like an American.
“No.” The photographer glanced around the grounds. “My editor specifically wanted a photo of Charles by himself. All the girls are dippy for him.”
Dippy? I must kill this man before he massacres any more of the English language.
Sidney looked at the way the photographer held his camera. Professional photojournalists held their cameras differently. He held his like it was a weapon. Sidney grabbed him by the elbow and bullied him back to the cab.
“Well, I can do this for you.”
Sidney snatched the camera, opened the cab door, shoved the camera into his chest and pushed the button which should have taken a picture. Instead it shot a bullet into the assassin’s heart. He fell back into the seat. Sidney shut the door.
Pulling out his wallet, he grabbed a large wad of bills and shoved them through the cabbie’s window.
“Use that money to drive as far as you can to a secluded setting where you can dump the body,” Sidney instructed. “Don’t even think about reporting this to the police. You don’t want to explain to Le Surete why you had an assassin in the back seat of your cab in the first place.” He paused to let the information sink in. “Do you understand?”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Good. Now go.”
As the cab sped away Sidney examined the front of his suit to make sure he didn’t see any blood splatter. He didn’t want to ruin Madam’s tea. He slipped into the dining room to find the guests having a pleasant time.
His mind was racing, however, over how this assassination plot was organized. The poisoned purse was intended to take out at least the Queen. Working independently, the others converged on the house with the purpose of murdering everyone else at approximately the same time—one to drown Wallis, another to kill Philip in the men’s room and another to shoot Charles with a deadly camera. Only the Duke was left. Sidney shuddered. An assassin might be by his bedside this very moment. After bowing and making his excuses to attend to the Duke, Sidney ran upstairs to the old man’s suite.
When he entered Sidney saw only the nurse, who had been attending the Duke for more than a year, moving him from a wheelchair to a comfortable tufted chair in his sitting room. The Duke had made it very clear he didn’t want the Royal family to see him in a hospital setting in his home bedroom.
Sidney asked, “What about your IV line, Your Highness?”
The old man smiled. “Oh, it will be hidden behind that curtain. It runs down my neck through my sleeve to my arm. Quite clever, don’t you think?”
“Yes, quite.” Sidney looked at the nurse. “Wasn’t the doctor here earlier?”
“Yes,” the Duke replied, “but I sent him away. Like I said, I don’t want the Royal family to see me with a doctor and nurse.” He glanced up at her. “It’s time for you to go too. Stop by the kitchen and get yourself a sandwich. I’m sure there are plenty left over from the high tea.”
Sidney looked behind the curtain to see the IV pole and the door to the Duke’s bedroom.
“Is there any other way into this room other than the door to the hall and your bedroom?”
“No,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” Sidney smiled at the nurse. “Come, my dear, let’s have some of those delicious sandwiches.”
As they left the sitting room, they saw the entourage come up the stairs from the main foyer. Sidney took her by the arm. “Let’s go down the back way.”
They turned a corner, and the nurse stopped. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“I distinctly heard a door close.”
“Are you sure?”
She arched an eyebrow. “I am a trained nurse. I know what I hear. I heard a door shut down this hall, and the only door down this hall is—“
“The Duke’s bedroom.”
Sidney rushed to the door and entered just in time to see a man slip into the sitting room. Making as little noise as possible, Sidney followed the intruder. In front of the curtain, the Royals were making polite conversation, unaware a man pulled a filled syringe out of his pocket and reached for the IV bag.
Before the assassin could insert the poison into the bag, Sidney rushed him, grabbing the syringe from him and throwing it on the floor. He took the IV line and wrapped it around the man’s throat. The struggle caused the line to ride up.
Sidney didn’t want the curtain to fall open revealing the life-and-death struggle. The Duke would be embarrassed, and after all these years of personal service the last thing Sidney desired was to cause discomfiture to his employer.
Just as the curtain began to teeter, the Duke of Windsor, with unsteady poise, tried to stand to kiss the Queen’s hand. Everyone on that other side of the curtain gasped for fear the old man would fall over. However, his standing provided a counter balance to the struggle on the back side of the curtain.
The assassin’s face turned a purplish red, saliva dribbled from his pursed lips and his eyes bulged as he took his last breath, releasing the tension on the IV line just as the Duke returned to his seat.
Sighing, Sidney caught the man as his body slid down. He heard guests making their good-byes. Returning the syringe to the assassin’s pocket, Sidney dragged the corpse through the bedroom door and rolled it under the Duke’s bed. He slipped out into the hall and down the back stairs so he could be with the other servants as they politely applauded the Queen’s departure.