Previously: Mercenary Leon fails on a mission because of David, better known as Edward 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. On their honeymoon they derail a train. Now they’re on their way to kill Hitler.
Wallis stuck her cigarette in her mouth to keep from laughing at the two men who obviously had been crawling around under a giant miniature train display so they could pop their heads up through a hole in the middle of it. Nothing seemed as ludicrous as crawling on the floor for a former king of England and the absolute leader of the Third Reich right before a magnificent tea party in the German Alps.
David extended a hand to Hitler to help him stand. The Fuhrer ignored it. Wallis grabbed her husband’s elbow and directed him out of the room.
“Am I mistaken or was there murder in your eyes?” she whispered.
“If you had been one second later, I would have stomped his head in.”
“Now, now, you know that would have been much too messy.” She jerked him toward the reception hall where all of the finest people gathered to participate in an authentically replicated high English tea. Wallis pushed him toward a bosomy blonde looking merrily quaint in her dirndl. She was in that marvelous time of life when no one could tell if she were twenty-five or thirty-five nor really cared.
“I must introduce you to our hostess, fraulein Eva Braun.” Wallis leaned into his ear. “She’s Hitler’s version of Freda Ward.”
“Does she speak English?”
“God, how would I know? Just try not to stare at her bosom too much.”
As David walked over to Eva, Wallis puffed on her cigarette and tried not to stare at Eva too much herself. Some time had passed since she felt an urge from her other physiology. She enjoyed the dresses and makeup too much. And nothing matched the exhilaration of bringing a man to ecstasy through the infliction of delicious pain. Every now and again, a woman—usually a blonde—would remind her of the condition she was born with. Most of the time she ignored it. Such a revelation would shock Aunt Bessie, and she was such a naïve dear. And of course, once the word got out she would not be invited to those divine parties. And sometimes she felt like she wanted to punish the sweet little blondes for reminding Wallis of what she was—not what she chose to be nor what society allowed her to be. The last time she felt such an attraction was for KiKi Preston, the girl with the silver syringe. Wallis found KiKi alluring yet such a bane to the existence of the Royal Family, which she had pledged to defend and protect. Eva, on the other hand, looked like a lost child wandering down a posy-strewn path to hell. Wallis was relieved she only had to kill Hitler and not his mistress.
“Ach, duchess, you left before I had a chance to show you, as you so quaintly called them, my choo choos.”
Wallis made a quarter turn, then looked over her shoulder through the black fur of her fox wrap to flutter her eyes at the Fuhrer.
Hitler stopped, his mouth dropped and the words that managed to escape his lips made no sense at all.
Half-covering her face with her fur piece was a cheap trick but it worked every time. Wallis walked slowly to the Fuhrer and extended her hand to be kissed—the same hand, by the way, which wore the opal ring which contained the poison.
“I’m sorry, Herr Hitler, you must repeat your last question. My German, unfortunately, is very weak.”
“I was going to say you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life. The newsreels do you no justice. It is a shame we are both married. You to the former king of England—
“But I thought you were single.”
“—and I am married to my beloved Germany.” He bent to kiss her hand again.
“No no.” She withdrew her hand. “No time for seconds. You must introduce me to all these fascinating people.”
Hitler stuck by her side as they made their way around the room for introductions. She remembered none of their names. Wallis was grateful none of them wished for piss on earth. German women, in particular, had trouble pronouncing the English word peace which turned into “piss”. Hitler, however, kept running his fingers up and down her back. It repulsed her, but she knew she must continue to lead him into her trap. Occasionally, she looked around at him, fluttering her eyes through the black fox fur.
“After the reception is over,” he whispered, “when these people have left and before your limousine arrives to take you back to the train station, you must see my choo choo set, up close and personal.”
“Shall I bring the drinks or shall you?”
Hitler gulped. “I will. What do you want?”
“A Cuba libre.”
“Of course, I will free Cuba too, but it will take time.”
“You don’t know what a Cuba libre is, do you?”
“No.” His dark penetrating eyes searched her face. “This is the first time I’ve told the truth to anybody. What is this strange hold you have over me?”
“Meet me in the choo choo room, and I will show you.” She winked.
For the next hour Adolf Hitler could not remember anyone’s name or title. He kept his hands to himself, now that he had been promised more than he could have hoped for. Finally, a short woman wearing too many pearls promised Wallis piss on earth. Hitler was still in his delirium and was unable to correct her pronunciation. Eventually the crowd began to drift away leaving only a core of diehard sycophants—field Marshall Hermann Goering who was in deep conversation with David, obviously about the train display; Joachim Von Ribbentrop who could not keep his eyes off Wallis; and Eva Braun who still wandered around like a lost waif.
“You must excuse me, Herr Hitler. I must freshen up a bit, if you don’t mind.” Wallis peeked through her fox stole again.
“Of course.” Hitler cleared his throat. I’ll be waiting for you in the—well, you know where.”
“And I’ll bring the drinks.” Wallis went directly to the cloak room where she had left her overcoat. She recovered from an inside pocket the drab gray uniform she had absconded from dress factory days earlier. She slipped it on over her fitted suit with the fox collar. After taking a moment to cover the fur with the uniform collar, she left and went to the bar. Along the way she commandeered a white servant’s cap. Poor girl was so intimidated by working in Hitler’s private residence, she said nothing when a strange woman snatched the cap from her head. Wallis properly adjusted the headwear before going to the bar where she ordered one Cuba libre.
The bartender presented it to her on a small silver tray. She then assumed the subservient posture of a servant as she passed through the reception hall. Wallis didn’t think even David noticed her. Right before she went into the train display room, she quickly opened her opal ring, emptied its contents into the drink and then turned it around on her finger so it appeared to be a plain band. Hitler was already positioned in the center opening.
“How dare you!” he barked. “How many times have you people been told to knock before entering?”
Wallis said nothing but tossed off her cap, unbuttoned the gray uniform and shimmied until it began to fall from her thin shoulders. She deftly switched the tray from one hand to another to allow the dress to land on the floor.
“I thought you were bringing two drinks,” Hitler commented in a dull school-boy voice.
“I drank mine at the bar. A double.”
“You don’t mind joining me in control central, do you? You have to crawl.”
“I won’t spill a drop of your drink. I’m quite agile, you know.”
Hitler let out a slight moan.
Wallis paused only briefly as she crawled under the table. She noticed the Fuhrer had already removed his pressed black slacks. Remembering her pledge to MI6, she trudged onward. Once she entered the central opening, Wallis rose like a navy-blue hyacinth. She heard Hitler breathe in deeply.
“You are one of the most fascinating women in the world, or am I repeating myself?”
“No. Earlier you said I was the most beautiful woman in the world. To be beautiful and fascinating blend together well, I think.” Smiling, Wallis added, “David and I must be back in town for the 6 p.m. train, so let’s get this choo choo out of the station.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” He stepped closer. “I am developing a strategy I will call the blitzkrieg. The world will be astounded.”
“Well, before you astound me, please drink your Cuba libre. It may astound you.” Wallis lifted the tray.
The door swung open with a bang, and a wide-eyed Ribbentrop stood there like a frightened boy. “The duke is looking for the duchess, and is quite upset. They must leave now to make their 6 o’clock train.”
Wallis dropped the tray and glass to the floor before Hitler could drink it. The bastard couldn’t die now. The Germans would know for certain that she did it.
Wallis dropped to her knees. “I’m on my way.” She looked Hitler’s way. “The Fuhrer has a few things to put in order before he can join us.”
The Windsors were almost in the limousine when Hitler ran down the steps, smoothing out his trousers, reached for Wallis to pull her close for a kiss.
“You would have made a remarkable queen.”

Previously: Mercenary Leon fails on a mission because of David, better known as Edward 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. On their honeymoon they derail a train. Now they’re on their way to kill Hitler.
On the morning of their last day in Germany, David tried to relax in Adolf Hitler’s private train car on their way to the Fuhrer’s Wolf’s Lair in Berchtesgaden. He and Wallis would be guests of honor at an afternoon tea attended by every Nazi political leader in the German Alps. Perhaps the same dignitaries would be there who attended the military policy conference in January 1935 where David had secreted himself into the affair dressed as a waiter. He wearied of all the tours of the training schools for the elite death squads of the SS, the Berlin War Museum, the Pergamon Museum and finally a boring dinner at the home of field Marshal Hermann Goering who incessantly complained that the Fuhrer had stolen his model train set. Goering informed David that while he was attending the official tea, Hitler had restricted him from the train room. Goering wanted David–if he were invited to see the trains–to please report back to him on their condition.
All that was left to complete their mission was the most important task: to kill Adolf Hitler.
MI6 handed the assignment to Wallis, which nettled David. He could not understand how they could have passed over his plans for the murder for any method that the American woman devised. Sighing, David leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes to convince himself schwermut once again held him in its grip.
He wanted to complete this mission and go home, except he had no home to go to. If it were within his power he would return to his beloved Fort Belvedere and putter in its gardens, but the abdication made that wish impossible to come true. He didn’t even have family any more. George was always good for a laugh. Bertie could be sympathetic and supportive. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn about Harry. David was, for all intents and purposes, a non-entity. Most of all he missed his friend and confidante Louis Mountbatten. But his mother the queen ordered him and Wallis to be persona non grata.
Not that Wallis was not entirely unpleasant as companions went. She could always make him laugh, and didn’t all the experts on marriage say a good sense of humor was vital? And he liked the way she would slap his hand if he picked up a leaf of lettuce from a salad bowl on which to nibble. His own mother would have said not a thing, raised her eyebrow and made a note to his governess to lecture him on table manners the next morning. The occasional slap at the dinner table was all the exchange they had which could be interpreted as love.
Of course, David had to admit this love conundrum was his fault. His romantic habits began with the insistence that his paramours be another men’s wives. That way he would never be bothered by those pesky notions of love. The closest he had come to a deeper emotional connection was Thelma and Freda, but they were so far in the past they were hardly worth thinking about any more.
Wallis nudged him. “Wake up. It’s time to go kill us a Nazi madman.”
A rough elbow to the ribs. A terribly insensitive joke. Close enough to pass off as love for right now.
A chauffeur in a black Mercedes convertible greeted them at the station. All sorts of SS guards on motorcycles and cockroach automobiles with Nazi flags unfurled surrounded them.
“God, I hope this guy drives better than Dr. Ley,” Wallis whispered as they slid into the back seat. “On these mountain roads he could drive off a cliff.
“That wouldn’t be good,” David replied.
“Damn right. It would wrinkle my dress.”
David laughed the rest of the way up the mountain to Berchtesgaden and the Wolf’s Lair which was ten times more elegant than it was when he valeted there a couple of years ago. Hitler himself waited on the grand front steps for their limousine to pull up to a gentle stop and let the semi-royal couple alight. The Fuhrer looked dapper in brown Nazi Party jacket, black trousers and black shoes, which did not quite match Wallis’s tailored navy blue suit draped with a fox stole dyed black, David thought, but everything could not be perfect.
After a round of hearty handshakes and fake kisses to cheeks, Hitler led them into an entry hall and through doors to the large room where the previous conference was held. “Before our other guests arrive for the tea, I would like a private word with his majesty,” he requested in a voice quite different from his usual oratorical glory.
Wallis smiled and nodded in acquiescence. Hitler led David through a couple sets of doors until he arrived at his model train room. David took a moment to stop and consider the magnificence of a collection previously thought to belong in the world of little boys’ dreams.
“Follow me.” Hitler gracefully went down on all fours to crawl under the immense miniature world.
David, without a second thought, did the same—drop to his knees, crawl and stare at the Fuhrer’s butt for the next twenty seconds. Because he was well bred in the house of Windsor, David made no reference to the inconvenience but did pronounce the layout of tiny buildings, mountains and choo choos to be the most glorious he had ever seen in his life.
“Yes, I enjoy it very much,” Hitler replied trying to sound humble. “Ach, you should have seen it in the basement of Herr Goering’s house. He had built it for his children’s amusement.” He looked at David and shook his head. “Can you imagine such perfection being ruined with awkward children’s fingers all over it?”
“A sacrilege.” David considered himself a superb liar, but his years with Wallis had polished his skills so they shone with the brilliance of the diamonds in the crowns on display at the Tower of London.
“As you well surmised, I brought you here for more than just displaying the ‘New Europe’.” He paused as he often did when delivering an important message to world. “I want to assure you that Germany has only one enemy in the world at this point in time, the Soviet Union….”
David tuned out the rest of the diatribe. He had heard it many times over the radio, but one phrase used by the Fuhrer did catch his attention. He described his model train layout of the “New Europe.” David casually looked around the huge diorama and noticed red tape marked the boundary of Germany. That red boundary included sizable amounts of Austria. He felt rage rising from his abdomen.
“No, no, no.” His declaration was not issued loudly but with a determination that even Hitler could not overlook.
“I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness?”
“Umm.” His mind scrambled for an explanation. “Wallis and I just honeymooned in the Austrian Alps and the Austrian pine tree is not that exact shade of green. Not that bright. Not that garish. They are a darker hue, which is indicative of deep, strong roots.”
Hitler smiled. “You are well known for your attention to details. I didn’t know it went that far.” He guided David to another section. “Now over here you will not be able to pick out inconsistencies because it only exists in my imagination.”
A moment passed before David realized he beheld a new Berlin of marble and gold. Giant buildings and broad avenues. Stadia which could seat half a million people. Almost Roman or Greek except without the curved columns and recognizable symmetry. No. These giants sprang from architectural genius that created a new esthetic which bespoke massive strength and eternal domination.
“Isn’t it glorious?” Hitler whispered, entirely too close to David’s ear. “Our buildings will make more magnificent ruins than the Greeks.”
David stepped away. “Yes, think of the jobs they will bring to the lower classes. All German men will stand proud. Their families will never go hungry again.”
Like a well-trained border collie, Hitler herded David to one last niche of his “New Europe.” It was a replica of London. He had not changed it much. More open park space. David could not quite figure out which buildings were gone, but Buckingham Palace was still there. His eyes widened as he focused on the balcony where two figures in full royal regalia stood.
Himself and Wallis.
David was on the verge of twitching and he couldn’t figure out which emotion was overcoming him at the moment. “How wonderful. Thank you for showing it to me. I’m getting a bit claustrophobic in here. Perhaps we should rejoin Wallis for tea. She has such a ravenous appetite. For all things.” With that, David went to his knees and began crawling through the underground of “New Europe.”
“No, please,” Hitler stammered. “I must always lead.” He at once fell to his knees and scrambled to catch up.
By the time David made it through and stood, he could see Hitler’s head emerging. He fancied kicking the Fuhrer’s temple and as he rolled over moaning, David would stomp the leader’s throat with the heel of his shoe. David knew he would be instantly executed for assassination, but his schwermut told him “What the hell, life wasn’t worth living anyway.”
Wallis burst through the door right then. “There you are. We’ve been looking for you. Herr Goering thought you might be playing with your toy trains. David, you look so happy. I should buy you a choo choo for Christmas.”