Previously in the novel: Novice mercenary Leon fails in a kidnapping because of David, better known as Edward the Prince of Wales. Also in the spy world is socialite Wallis Spencer, who dumps first husband Winfield, kills Uncle Sol, has an affair with German Joachin Von Ribbentrop and marries Ernest. Each are on the Tanganyika Express to get their hands on the stolen Crown Jewels.Leon kills an agent to save Wallis.
Leon was a bit miffed. When he stabbed the German on the Tanganyika Express, the blood spurted all over his white linen suit. Leon took a detour through Cairo to buy a new one. He remembered Mrs. Ribbentrop years ago commenting on the high quality of Egyptian fabric. Even though he was quite pleased with the purchase, Leon mourned the passing of his first white linen suit.
Back home on Eleuthura, he ran down the dusty road to his hacienda. Jessamine bolted out of the gate and threw her arms around him. She did not comment on his new clothes which bothered him. If she truly loved him, he reasoned, she should have noticed and complimented him. Leon dismissed the thought as six-year-old Sidney raced to him and leapt into his arms.
“Papa! I’m so happy to see you! Let’s play!”
Leon swung him around and Sidney’s legs flew straight out. The boy giggled. Before Leon could toss the boy in the air, Jessamine grabbed her husband’s arm.
“Did everything go all right?” Her brow furrowed. “Pooka said something would go wrong.”
“Pooka always says something will go wrong.” Leon carried Sidney past her to their door.
She scurried behind him. “But something went wrong, didn’t it?”
“I didn’t get paid, if that’s what you mean.”
They entered through the garden to the front door. Leon looked down to see his mother Dorothy on her knees pruning the vegetables.
“Mama, get up.” He kept walking into the house.
“I like your new suit,” Dorothy called out as she struggled to her feet.
The next morning Leon arose early, put on an old ragged shirt and shorts and ate breakfast with Sidney, Jessamine and his mother Dorothy.
“You are a big boy now.” He tousled his son’s hair.
“Yes, I am.”
“When I was your age, my father took me out on his fishing boat. Do you think you would like to go out on a fishing boat?”
“Yes!”
“No, you will not!” Jessamine snapped.
“The boy needs to learn how to earn a living, dear.”
“We are wealthy,” she retorted. “He will not need to fish for a living.”
“Life is unfair.” Leon kept his eyes down as he bit into a scone. “Life is uncertain. What we have today can be gone tomorrow.”
Jessamine looked at Dorothy. “You can’t agree with Leon! Your own husband died on a fishing boat!”
The old woman put her fork down, pushed away her plate and turned to stare at her daughter-in-law.
“My husband was a good, honorable man. He lived for his family. He died for his family.”
“Well,” Jessamine huffed, “Sidney is too young. Leon was much older than six when he first went out on the boat.”
“No,” Dorothy was firm. “Jedidiah was a good man. He would have never let the child do anything that would hurt him, but a man must learn, build his body to provide for his family. Leon knows what he is doing. “
Jessamine pouted. “I shall have to talk to Pooka about his.”
Leon slammed his hand on the table. “You will tell Pooka nothing about our lives! That old witch knows too much about us as it is!” He stood, took Sidney’s hand and marched out the door.
Walking down the path to the Eleuthura dock, Leon waved to a fisherman on his boat. After he tossed the fellow a few coins, he lifted his son into the boat, jumped in and set sail.
“I like the water.” Sidney lifted his head and sniffed the breeze. “I think Mama’s trying to scare me.”
“But you’re not going to let her do that, are you?” Leon tugged on the line.
“No.”
“Do you want to help me cast the net to catch fish?” He smiled at his son.
“Yes!”
After hauling in a load of fish, Leon patted Sidney’s head. “Then you won’t mind working for the man who owns this boat, will you?”
Sidney’s eyes lit. “You mean, Jinglepockets?”
“His name is Nicholas.” Puzzled Leon asked, “Why do you call him Jinglepockets?”
“He’s always jingling coins in his pockets.”
Leon laughed. “That’s good. It’s always good to have coins to jingle in your pockets.” He paused. “Tomorrow you will start going out on Jinglepockets’ boat to learn to be a fisherman. The money you make, give to grandma. She’ll know what to do with it.”
“Does Mama know about this?”
Looking out to the horizon, he shrugged. “No, but don’t worry about it. I’ll tell her.”
“Oh, I’m not worried.”
“Good.”
They cast the net a couple more times and headed back to the dock.
“You know how grandpa died, don’t you?” Leon asked.
“A shark ate him.”
“Does that scare you?”
“Like you said, you do what you have to do to fill your family’s bellies. And everyone has to die. If you die for your family, all is good.”
Leon tossed the rope to Jinglepockets who tied the boat to the dock. The three of them unloaded the fish. Leon and Sidney began to walk away, but the boy stopped.
“What about the fish?”
“They belong to Jinglepockets.”
“Why?” Sidney wrinkled his brow. “We caught them.”
“But he owns the boat.”
“I saw you pay him, so the fish belong to us. Jinglepockets owes us money.”
“You’re a smart little boy, Sidney.” Leon put his arm around his son’s shoulders and guided him home. “Jinglepockets reminds me of Old Joe who taught me many things. He will be your Old Joe.”
The next day, as Leon and Sidney ate breakfast, Jessamine muttered her disapproval the entire time she tossed apples, cheese and bread into the tote bag for their lunch. They walked down to the dock. Leon lifted his son into the boat where Jinglepockets waited for them. When the fisherman cast off, Leon jumped into the boat with them. Sidney looked surprised.
“I thought I was working for Jinglepockets.”
“You are.” His father smiled. “I didn’t say I wasn’t coming along with you.”
They cast their nets as the sun rose in the sky. At noon, they paused to eat their lunch.
“Nicholas, do you know what the boys in town call you?” Leon asked.
“Jinglepockets,” he called out from across the boat. “Everyone calls me Jinglepockets but you.”
Leon leaned into his son. “Do the other boys pick on you?”
“No. One of the older ones wagged his finger in my face one time and called me a name. I grabbed his finger, bent it back and broke it. Nobody bothers me now.”
“Good for you.”
“You taught me that.” Sidney spoke around a chunk of cheese in his mouth. “Strike fast. Hurt them as much as you can.”
“Enough lunch!” Jinglepockets yelled. “Time to fish!”
When they docked that afternoon fish filled the boat. The three of them unloaded the fish from the boat onto the dock. Jinglepockets tossed a coin to Sidney. Leon took his hand and they walked down the road.
“Do you think you could kill a man?” Leon’s voice was soft and somber.
“You kill people, don’t you?”
“Not people. Just men.”
“Why not women? Don’t some women deserve to die?”
“Never.”
Sidney was quiet a moment. “I think I could kill a woman, if she was bad.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with being good or bad. Sometimes people will pay you a lot of money to kill men. Or steal jewels. Or kidnap old men.”
“That’s how come we have a nice big house, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Leon considered his thoughts. “Does it bother you?”
“No.” Sidney paused. “There’s a couple of boys I’d like to kill for free. Will you teach me the best places on the body to hit people to make them die fast?”
Leon glanced at the flower pot by the gate. Nothing was askew. “There will be time for that.”
“Papa.” Sidney stopped walking. “If I find something else I’d like to do to feed my family, it would be all right, wouldn’t it?”
“Of course, son. Family is most important.” Leon sighed. “I remember when I came home, you said, ‘Let’s play.’ I don’t think I’ve given you enough time to play.”
Sidney giggled. “Papa, anytime I spend with you is play.”

Previously in the novel: Novice mercenary Leon fails in a kidnapping because of David, better known as Edward the Prince of Wales. Also in the world of espionage is socialite Wallis Spencer, who dumps first husband Winfield, kills Uncle Sol, has an affair with German Joachin Von Ribbentrop and marries Ernest. Each are on the Tanganyika Express to get their hands on the stolen Crown Jewels.
Ernest Simpson was such a nice, decent and easy-going husband, Wallis thought as she boarded the Tanganyika Express in the heart of Africa amidst dreadful plains which seemed to go on forever. The sky was dark, like it was going to storm again soon. Her mind went back to her husband. It was a shame that she did not love him. He was reasonably good looking, an excellent dance, an understanding, giving lover, and not at all clinging or overly inquisitive. But when MI6 contacted her for a mission, she was required to go. For instance, when she was notified of her latest assignment she was in a fitting at her favorite London designer. A note was slipped into the bodice of her new gown.
“Noon. White Chapel. Queen Betty’s Fish and Chips.”
Wallis thought it humorous to rendezvous in the district known for its ladies of the night and Jack the Ripper. A waiter seated her in a booth in the back by the kitchen. Within a few minutes an old man sat opposite her.
“The crown jewels have been stolen.” He had a thick Cockney accent.
“Don’t look at me.” Wallis puffed on her cigarette. “If I want jewels I just sleep with a man and then he gives them to me.”
“We know who stole them.” The old man pushed an envelope across the table toward her. “Be on the Tanganyika Express. Walk by the designated compartment at midnight. A door will open. A hand will appear and will drop a velvet pouch in your purse. Immediately return here and give the pouch to me.” He tapped the envelope. “The tickets, everything you need to know, are in here.”
“I don’t get to kill anyone this time?”
“If you’re lucky. Maybe. Take your knife.”
That evening in their Bryanston Court apartment over a small supper comprised of soup, mashers and bangers, Wallis announced to Ernest she was leaving in the morning for Africa.
“One of my girlfriends told me of a witch doctor living in the wilds who claimed a cure for heart disease. I must dash off, obtain the herbal potion and rush to America to administer it to mother. After all, when we visited her recently she looked dreadful.”
“Didn’t she also inform you your brown dress looked dreadful?”
Her hard slit of a mouth turned up in a passing imitation of a smile. “Ernest, darling, you are way too sensitive. You must learn to live and let live. Forgive and forget.”
Ernest stood, picked up his dishes and those in front of Wallis to carry them to the kitchen. “I’ll write you a check before you leave tomorrow. You must always travel in comfort, even if you are on a mission of mercy.”
MI6 had issued all the funds she needed for the assignment, so she used the money Ernest gave her to drop in at Paris on her way. She had decided to take the route to Cairo, down the Nile and make the connecting trains to the Tanganyika Express. The Express had the reputation had a reputation of serving only the elite of European society. She wanted to fit in. In Paris shops she bought a black velvet hat with a brim so wide it dropped in front, covering both her eyes and nose. It revealed only her crimson lips. The crown concealed a giant pin to serve as a back-up weapon if she couldn’t get to her knife fast enough.
Her leopard skin coat had giant deep pockets in which to hide the crown jewels. A thought wafted through her brain that if the authorities did not have an exact count of missing diamonds she could sneak one away to squirrel into one of the dark crevices of her leopard coat pockets. They probably did count them, Wallis decided. Damned insufferable English efficiency. It was for the best anyway. They took only the small jewels and who wanted a small diamond even if it were part of the royal jewel collection?
The Nile proved tedious to Wallis. Just a bunch of dirt and mud buildings. Even the ones shaped like pyramids. All the good stuff had been taken out of them. She did catch up on her sleep. Wallis led a very active life and every now and then her body would beg for an extended sleep, which on this trip she has able to provide. When she reached the headwaters of the Nile she connected to a train which took her to the station where she could board the exotic Tanganyika Express.
Wallis’ dining experience on the Tanganyika Express was boring. No man offered to sit with her. Probably was the huge hat. Just as well. MI6 gave her strict orders not to be identified. The worst part of the evening was observing Mrs. Barnes, wife of the British ambassador. The middle-aged woman had not one socially redeeming quality—she was dumpy, her unattractive clothes did not hang well on her body, she wore too much makeup and her table manners were atrocious. She was a nymphomaniac which made her a prize above measure for men. At least three sat at Mrs. Barnes’ table during the meal. The first was a tall German gentleman with blond hair and impeccable manners. Wallis turned her head to eavesdrop on the conversation. She could not understand a word he said but she nearly swooned at the guttural tones emitting from his throat. A well-dressed young black man passed the table a couple of times. He wore a lovely white linen suit. Wallis could tell he was interested in talking to Mrs. Barnes but as long as the German sat there wooing her, he continued his exploration. Wallis felt it was an intelligent decision since interrupting the German could Start World War II in an inconvenient space.
After he seemed to give up the cause, the well-dressed black man left the dining car. Wallis could not help but follow his departure. Her attention quickly was drawn back to the Barnes table where she had shrieked something unintelligible, stood by table facing a sandy haired gentleman who had a slender frame. She decided the man had a certain élan which made him more fascinating than the German. Wallis was right. Within a few moments the German stalked away, allowing the remaining gentleman to sit, lean forward and begin whispering sweet nothings to the ambassador’s wife. Suddenly the thought struck her that Mrs. Barnes was the one with the diamonds. Who would be dumb enough to trust her with the stolen jewels? They parted and exited at opposite ends of the dining car. Wallis never saw the man’s face. All she could determine was that he carried himself as though he knew he was better than anyone around him and he was comfortable with that fact.
One of those three men would open Mrs. Barnes’ compartment door at midnight and drop a pouch of diamonds into her purse. Which one she did not know, nor cared. She looked at her watch. An hour before midnight. Wallis had time for a nightcap in the lounge car. When she entered she saw Ambassador Barnes in a corner with a group of men. Wallis sat close to them so she could hear their conversation.”
“This is my last one.” A man announced. “I am passed my bedtime.
“Oh God no,” Barnes slurred. “Please stay and be my excuse for returning late to my wife.”
“And why is that?” another man asked. “I thought your wife to be—“he paused awkwardly to come up with the right word “—sweet.”
“My God,” Barnes muttered, “that’s the bloody worst thing you could say about a woman. Heaven’s sake, she is. Sweet, that is. I want to wait until after midnight. Hopefully she will be asleep by then.”
That’s good. That way he won’t be in the middle of some messy political intrigue. She took her time sipping on two martinis until the clock neared midnight. As the hands of the clock were straight up, the Tanganyika rains returned. Sauntering out and into the sleeping car, she saw a compartment door open and a man’s arm, sans shirt, extended out with a small velvet pouch. As she walked by, she opened one of the wide pockets of her leopard skin coat and the pouch dropped in. She kept walking at an even pace and exited the sleeping car and, trying not to be pelted by rain, was about to enter the next when the door opened behind her and Wallis felt a power arm around her neck. Wind caught her broad brimmed black velvet hat and carried it out to the dark African countryside. The German looked around into her face and smiled.
“Herr Von Ribbentrop will be surprised to learn you were involved in this.”
Before he could say or do anything else, Wallis yanked her knife from her purse. The German went limp which gave Wallis a chance to twist around and cram the knife up under his ribcage. As the German fell, a crash of thunder accompanied a flash of lightning which revealed another knife was stuck in his temple. She quickly stepped aside and allowed the body to fall from the train and into the darkness. Wallis was surprised to see the black man in the nice white linen suit step forward. His right jacket sleeve was splattered by the German’s blood.
“I don’t believe in killing women,” he said in a Bahamian accent.
“I can take care of myself.” Wallis tried to figure out how to extract herself from the predicament without losing the diamonds.
“Don‘t worry. You can keep the jewels. I didn’t need the money from this job anyway.”
Wallis smiled and pursed her thin lips. “In that case, thank you.”

Previously in the novel: Novice mercenary Leon fails in kidnapping the Archbishop of Canterbury because of David, better known as Edward the Prince of Wales. Also in the world of espionage is socialite Wallis Spencer. Wallis, in quick succession, dumps first husband Winfield, kills Uncle Sol, has an affair with German Joachin Von Ribbentrop and marries Ernest.
Hitler wants Ribbentrop to steal the Crown Jewels.
David thought traveling was such a bore with his valet Tommy Lascelles hanging around like a snoopy younger brother—witnessing his social indiscretions and eagerly reporting back to Papa and Mama. Tommy believed in the old order of royalty, honorable without any hint of moral turpitude. He rarely smiled, obsessed with duty, stiff, and emotionless. Like a marble statue Tommy was unable to feel love, joy, anger or pain. An eternal life of nothing. It’s not like Tommy Lascelles had not experienced sexual pleasure—he had a wife and children. At some point, Tommy let down his proper British face to bask in wanton fleshly delights with his wife, both legally and morally his own.
Well, David told himself, Tommy’s private life was strictly his own and not open to criticism, even by the Prince of Wales. He had more a more pressing agenda—retrieving gems stolen from the Crown Jewels of England. David stopped before entering the dining car of the Tanganyika Express hurtling its way through the night to Dar Es Salaam during one November’s frequent short rainfalls. He regarded his reflection in the dark window pane. Every hair was in place. His tanned face was without flaw. He smiled. His teeth gleamed. Adjusting his shoulders, David made certain the center button in his hand-crafted dinner jacket was fastened. Last he made sure all the trouser buttons at his crotch were secure. His father often forgot to button after visiting the loo, creating an awkward situation at the palace.
He looked through the window into the dining car to spot the ambassador’s wife, Mrs. Edith Barnes—the lady who possessed a stash of gems from the crown jewels. The man who actually stole them from the Tower of London—her brother-in-law and assistant tower administrator—had been immediately apprehended. The thief wasted no time confessing Mrs. Barnes had seduced him into stealing the jewels. Now no one in the justice community cared about punishing wife of a British ambassador. All the British government wanted was the jewels back. They knew that Ambassador Barnes and his wife Edith took an ocean liner from Portsmouth to Leopoldville, rode a steamer up the Congo and then transferred on several trains to reach the capital of Tanganyika territory. The ambassador used most of his travel time in conference with African officials trying to iron out lingering details of land concessions made by Germany at the end of the Great War.
David noticed a gentleman had taken the seat opposite to Mrs. Barnes at her dining table. He sat with his back to David who felt comfortable making certain assumptions about the man. He was tall, and, from the way his jacket hung on his frame, he was athletic. His blond hair was closely cropped. And though he could not see the man’s face, David was sure he was handsome because of the glint in Mrs. Barnes’ eyes.
The prince made an unobtrusive entrance and slid into a chair at a table across the aisle from Mrs. Barnes. He had met her at several cocktail parties in the Mayfair district. Whether he had bedded her, he could not remember—probably did. She had not become close enough to be given the honor of using his family name of David instead of the royal Edward. Once her gaze drifted from the stranger’s eyes she would see him and immediately abandon her latest glittery toy. David slumped slightly in his chair, lit a cigarette and puffed away like he didn’t care. The man must have been more intriguing than David thought because he didn’t hear her shriek of recognition. Soon his attention was drawn to the fact a waiter had not appeared to offer him a glass of wine. He leaned a couple of inches toward Mrs. Barnes so he could hear the conversation. Her companion was speaking.
“My dear, never have I seen such beauty in one woman.”
He had a German accent but otherwise spoke clear and distinct English.
“Forgive me for my bluntness for I am a blunt man.” The German’s voice was deep and throaty.
David thought Mrs. Barnes was going to orgasm right there between the salad course and the entrée. There was no doubt this was the agent sent to retrieve the Crown Jewels from the ambassador’s wife. Was Hitler behind the plot? He shook his head. His imagination was running away with his good sense. But who else would want to steal the Crown Jewels? Who would be crazy enough to try? He tapped his long slender fingers on the table, trying to decide whether to hope if Mrs. Barnes would notice him on her own or should he introduce himself, before the German swept her off her feet and into her compartment.
Just as the stranger extended his large hand to touch hers, she glanced away and saw David. She sprang to her feet and gasped loud enough to be heard all the way in Rhodesia. “Oh my God! The Prince of Wales!” She attempted an elaborate curtsy which resulted in her right hand slapping the German’s face. “I had no idea your Highness was in Africa!”
The German melted into the background and eventually out the door. David could not help but notice however that he lingered outside, peering through the window.
With a weak smile, David said, “Have we met?”
“My dear Edward, we met at Upson Downs last season.”
“Oh yes. You were in the large blue hat.”
She giggled and gave him a playful slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand. “You naughty boy. You know we all were in blue for the races.”
“Hmm, your husband is in the diplomatic corps.” He crinkled his nose as in thought. “Barnes….that’s it. Mrs. Edith Barnes.”
“I would ask you to join me but I have a rather intense headache at the moment,” she whispered.
“My goodness.” An evil grin flitted across his thin lips. “You must remember how I can make headaches go away.” David glanced at the window in the door. The German was still there. “Perhaps your husband could join us.”
“Oh! He’s in conference two cars down. He’ll be involved with Tanganyikan officials until dawn.” She cocked her head. “I thought perhaps you were on the train to advise them in their deliberations.”
“No.” He puffed on his cigarette. “I’m on safari…hunting big game.”
“Fascinating. You must tell me all about it.”
“But I thought you had a headache.”
Her hand stroked his tanned cheek. “You’ve already made that go away.”
“In that case, please sit down and join me in a bottle of champagne.”
Mrs. Barnes sat and eventually succeeded in making David remember how they had made mad passionate love in a luxury hotel suite in the West End of London.
“Didn’t we see a play first?” David asked.
“Of course. It was written by Jerome Kern.”
He looked at the door and saw the German gone. He smiled, took her hand and kissed her fingers. “I think it’s time for an encore.”
She whispered her compartment number into his ear. “Meet me in fifteen minutes.”
When David glimpsed the door, this time he saw Tommy glaring at him. They returned to the prince’s compartment. After they entered and David latched the door, he sighed. “What’s happening now?”
“We’ve received a wire about your father.” Tommy was grim. “It’s not good.”
“Is he dead?” David tried not to sound too hopeful.
“No. But very close. He had another stoke. We must leave immediately for London.”
“Do you know the last thing he said to me?”
“No, sir. I do not.”
“He said, ‘You dress like a cad. You act like a cad. You are a cad. Go away.’”
Tommy looked down at a notepad. “A car will be waiting for us at the next stop. From there we will motor to the nearest airport where we will plane to Casablanca and embark on a naval ship to Portsmouth. You have less than thirty minutes to pack.”
“In thirty minutes I plan on bedding the wife of our ambassador.”
“Your father was right. You are a cad.”
David turned and, without a word, left the compartment and went directly to the next car where Mrs. Barnes was awaiting on him. As he passed between cars he noticed the rain had stopped. When David arrived Mrs. Barnes stood in her doorway talking to a black man dressed in a stylish white linen suit with a white straw hat in hand. Her left hand twirled her locks while she moistened her lips. As David walked up, she giggled like a shy school girl.
“My dear Mrs. Barnes,” David murmured, “I’m so glad you waited for me.”
“Hmm?” She glanced at him but returned her attention to the man in the white linen suit.
David glared at the man who stole the interest of his lady. He had the strange feeling he had seen this guy before; not only once, but many times even in that same suit. David pulled out his cigarette case, extracted one and smiled at the stranger. “Have you a light?”
“But of course.” He pulled out a silver lighter and lit the prince’s smoke.
“Have we met before?”
“Heavens no,” the stranger replied with a distinctive Bahamian accent. “You are a great gentleman, and I a mere colonial.”
“You look so familiar,” David pressed. “The man I met had one of those dreadful diseases. I hope it wasn’t you, and if it were, I hope it has cleared up.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Barnes’ eyes fluttered. She looked at both men, stepped inside her room and shut the door.
David smiled. “So sorry about that.”
“Think nothing of it.” The man bowed. “Such are the fortunes of romance.” He turned and sauntered away.
“Rapping on Mrs. Barnes’ door, David whispered, “Surely, my dear, you didn’t mean to turn me away as well.”