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. In their later years, the Windsors learn the pleasures of cuddling.
When Sidney knocked on David’s door the next morning he was disquieted when the Duke didn’t call out to him to enter. After receiving no response after a second rap, Sidney cracked the door and whispered, “Sir?”
Still no answer. He decided to make a discreet check to the loo for his highness before tapping at the connection door to the Duchess’s bedroom. She rose much later in the morning than her husband and could be found irritable if aroused too early. The loo was empty. Sidney was at a loss, until he felt a pat on his shoulder.
“Oh dear,” David said in a chipper voice, “I’m afraid I gave you a fright not being in my usual location this morning. He opened the medicine cabinet door to remove his tooth brush, paste, razor, shaving soap and brush. “Tell the cook I’ll have my usual breakfast—coffee, toast plum jam. No. Not jam. Orange marmalade. It reminds me of the Riviera.”
“Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes, Sidney. Best sleep in years. Oh. Don’t bother the Duchess. She’s still asleep.”
Within a few days, Sidney packed their luggage and accompanied them on an ocean liner back to Paris where Wallis at once started on her memoirs which she decided to call “The Heart Has Its Reasons.” She even invited Sidney to read chapters from her typewriter, after David had read them.
Sidney did not expect mention of their years with MI6, and, of course, he was right. Wallis described many of the places where missions occurred but not the missions themselves. He was rather surprised the five years they spent with Jimmy and Jessie Donohue were deleted, but as Sidney observed David lean over her shoulder as she typed and the tender caresses as they passed the pages, he began to understand.
Even at the parties they hosted, Sidney noticed the couple often glanced at each other. The look in David’s eyes belonged to a young man freshly and completely enamored. In Wallis’s eyes showed her concern David’s every need was met, and if he were in conversation she could tell the moment he became bored. She rushed in to distract him to another guest. And their behavior made him wonder why he bothered to notice.
The years passed quickly. Wallis’ memoirs were an international success, and were followed by a film documentary of David’s biography. Much of it was filmed in their garden at Bois de Boulogne in Paris. Sidney stood behind the cameraman to watch the couple continue a love affair which he had not seen between them when he came into their employ in the Bahamas. Sidney was impressed with the quality of the production. Orson Welles narrated it.
His own life settled into a pleasant routine, and Sidney sometimes forgot that he was a mercenary and not just the valet to the Duke of Windsor. Letters from the Bahamas reminded him of his other job. Inside the envelope addressed by Gertie(Jimbo had yet to catch on to how to write) was another sealed envelope which contained his payment from the organization to protect the Windsors. Sidney felt guilty about accepting the money, after all, he had not witnessed the least bit of aggression against the couple since Jimmy Donohue kicked Wallis in the shin. Gertie also enclosed a brief note saying his presence was needed to resolve some business matters.
Since the end of the war Sidney had begun an enterprise of growing the number of fishing boats. Old Jinglepockets retired, and Sidney wanted to make sure he had no worries in his final years. He figured the old man was not the type to quit, become melancholic and die in his sleep all in one fell swoop. By now Sidney had twenty boats. Jimbo recruited young men, taught them to fish and oversaw their progress. Gertie handled the books. They rarely needed Sidney’s presence so when they asked for it, he knew he must be there immediately.
He informed the Windsors he would be leaving for a few days in the Bahamas to attend to business.
“Of course,” David replied with a smile. “No problem at all.”
Wallis beamed. “I can’t believe how many boats you have acquired. We are both so proud of you. I’m so glad we were able to help get your business started.”
David jerked his head toward Sidney who smiled and gave a hint of a nod.
“Of course,” he replied. “I will always appreciate you.” Sidney knew the Windsors had done no such thing, but if the delusion made Wallis happy then he was willing to go along with it.
In two days Sidney had flown to the Bahamas, taken one of his fishing fleet boats to Eleuthera where he sat in the living room of his hacienda playing with the two sons of Jimbo and Gertie.
“Mr. Sidney, everythin’ is going fine. After supper I can go over the bank statements with you. Jimbo is good with the young fishermen. None of us will ever have to worry about fillin’ our bellies, that’s for sure.”
“Gertie, you don’t have to call me Mr. Sidney.”
“Oh yes I do,” she interrupted. “You are the boss and nobody’s goin’ to forget about it while I’m around.”
“But—“
“And how are those babies there goin’ to learn the right way to talk to you if they don’t hear it first from me?”
“You better give up.” Jimbo put his beefy arms around Gertie’s waist. “Gertie knows best.”
“And there’s somethin’ else, Mr. Sidney,” Gertie continued. “There’s this strange, skinny man with a nose like a hawk came snoopin’ around here. He said he had some business matter to discuss with you. That’s why I wrote you that letter. He gave me the extra envelope too.”
“I know who it is, Gertie.” Sidney kept looking at the boys as they wrestled in the floor. “Did he say when he wanted to meet?”
“At three o’clock down on the beach behind the house.” She paused. “If he’s up to trouble, then let out a holler and Jimbo will run out and beat him up for you.”
Sidney smiled. “I know who it is. There won’t be no problems.”
Wearing a casual top and slouch pants, Sidney sat on the beach at three watching a yacht on the horizon. A small motorboat sped his way. The man ran it up on the beach, got out and walked Sidney’s way.
He recognized him immediately. It was Alfred de Merigny. The years had not been good to him. Harry Oakes’ daughter Nancy divorced him a year after her father’s death. Cuba kicked him out as an undesirable and the only country who would accept him was some hell hole in Central America. It was 1966, and the world had forgotten he once had been suspected of murder. At least Merigny still had his money.
“The commander has a new mission for you.” Merigny eased down on the sand. Sidney assumed his bones were too brittle for a plop. “You will kill Jimmy Donohue this weekend in his apartment on Fifth Avenue. Make it look like a drug overdose.”
“I have a question for you.” Sidney continued staring at the waves. “How much longer can this organization continue? Am I the only agent left? It seems like it sometimes.”
“Remember, don’t ask questions.” Merigny took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. “But you’re right. We offered to kill Kennedy three years ago, and they didn’t even reply.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “The commander is very old, likely to die soon. I expect to take over, and I will go in a new direction. Petty thievery and murder are beneath us.” He glanced at Sidney. “But you and your father did it very well.”
“I have another question.”
“What is it?”
“Why am I still being paid to protect the Windsors?”
“It’s the commander’s wish.”
That night Sidney took a boat to Miami, and the next morning he boarded a plane for New York. By next evening Sidney checked into a Harlem hotel. For his disguise, he selected a black tuxedo, black ruffled shirt, black shoes; and purple nail polish, eye shadow and lipstick. A black slouch hat dipped down over one eye. Sidney approved when he saw himself in the bedroom mirror. Over the years of the friendship between the Windsors and Jimmy, Sidney had observed Jimmy’s choice of midnight escorts. This appearance would certainly lure him.
Sidney left the hotel and walked down the street until he found a gang huddled in shadows down a side street. He went straight to them. Opening his jacket, Sidney revealed a high-powered revolver in a holster and then ordered heroin and a syringe with such conviction the gang nodded and produced the goods at once. After he handed over a stack of bills, Sidney walked swiftly away.
Next he took a taxi to Manhattan. On the street he saw a young man dressed almost as well as he was. However, the man on the street looked like he was waiting to be picked up. Sidney handed him some bills and asked the name of nearby clubs where wealthy men went to meet pretty boys with nothing else to do. The boy nodded and pointed down several dark alleys. After dropping in on a couple of the clubs he found Jimmy in the darkest of them all. Jimmy talked too loudly, touched the men who surrounded in inappropriate places and ordered another round of drinks for the house.
God, he looked fat and old. How old must he be now? This was 1966 and the last time I saw him was in 1954. He must be pushing fifty. It would be mercy to put him out of his misery.
Sidney took a table for one in a far corner and ordered a Cuba libre. He took his time sipping it. As Sidney suspected, Jimmy left his friends behind and walked straight to him. Jimmy’s face was absolutely aglow.
“May I join you?” Jimmy asked.
Sidney looked straight ahead. “This table is for one.”
“I can get us a table for two.”
“I don’t want to move.”
“I’ll pull up a chair.”
“Suit yourself.”
Jimmy dragged up a chair, sat and leaned into Sidney face. “You look great in purple.”
“I look good in anything.”
“I bet you do.”
“Or nothing.”
“Even better.”
“Are your friends going to get lonely?”
“I don’t care. I just met them ten minutes ago.”
“Tell me.” Sidney sipped his drink. “Do you get a kick from heroin?”
“I thought you were going to say cocaine,” Jimmy replied, almost out of breath.
“Cocaine is for sissies. So let’s get out of here.”
“Your place or mine?”
God, his chitchat is tiresome. I’m bored. I want to kill this guy now.
“Your place. I’m sure it’s much nicer than mine.”
“Eight Thirty-Four Fifth Avenue, baby.”
“That’ll do.” Sidney stood. “Pay the barkeep and let’s get out of here.”
Jimmy’s limousine was waiting just outside the door. They were driving into the parking garage within a few minutes. Sidney noticed the driver kept his eyes straight ahead. In the darkness Sidney had become the invisible man.
Jimmy led the way to the elevator and tried to grope Sidney but he pushed him away.
“Not now, sugar.”
Jimmy explained he shared the apartment with his mother but the suite was large enough that sometimes they didn’t see each other for weeks. He unlocked a side door and led Sidney to his bedroom. Once inside, he turned on the lights. Jimmy began to take his clothes off.
This game had lasted too long. Sidney slipped the syringe, already filled with heroin, from his inside jacket pocket. He paused a moment when he observed the room. The only furniture was an ordinary bed, but on the walls were thirteen framed photographs of Wallis.
When Jimmy bent over to take off his underwear, Sidney empty the entire syringe of heroin into his left buttock. Jimmy didn’t let out a sound but collapsed on the bed.
Sidney quickly left the apartment, went down the elevator to the basement, walked onto the street and disappeared into the night.

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. Wallis eases the pain of Ribbentrop’s hanging.
David didn’t know how many more parties he could host serving beans and hamburger. Wallis appeared to revel in the menu, as though it was some private joke. Golf was the only pastime that pleased him.
His ennui didn’t last too long because he and Wallis soon received invitations from old friends both in Europe and in America. With the host paying, of course. David kept strict books and knew he had enough of his inheritance left to last his lifetime, but his unsettled situation made him insecure about his finances. Opportunities for others pay for his lodging, food and drink soothed his anxieties for a while.
In late 1947, while the Windsors visited Lord and Lady Dudley in London, someone stole Wallis’s suitcase of jewelry. She accused Lady Dudley’s personal maid, which upset her ladyship. Sidney offered to survey the snowy grounds of the Dudley estate for the missing gems. He found the empty case and retrieved a few diamonds in the snow but nothing else. David couldn’t care less about the burglary, but he loved the free holiday.
The Windsors didn’t get invited to Princess Elizabeth’s wedding. David always liked Lillibet when she was a child so he was a bit miffed at the snub. He and Wallis found wealthy friends in Palm Springs, Florida, to assuage their hurt feelings. Often they were in the company of the Donohues. David could tell Wallis enjoyed the extraordinary dancing skills of Jimmy, which made David happy. He had to endure endless dances with Jimmy’s mother Jessie who talked incessantly about their family wealth. After one particular party Wallis noticed Jessie wore a necklace which looked like the one stolen in London. David said it was just her imagination.
As they bounced around Europe and America, David’s weltschmerz didn’t abate. Wallis suggested he write his autobiography—omitting the parts about MI6—and call it “A King’s Story.” The project took a year for him to write, but the book was a bestseller around the world, which solidified his already substantial income.
Also in in the late forties they decided to give up their lease on La Croe because of growing tensions with the Soviet Union. They didn’t want a repeat of their narrow escape in 1940.
By 1950, the Windsors found themselves more and more often being invited to spend time with the Donohues. Jimmy amused Wallis, and the visits was free.
Even though David had enough money to live in royal style the rest of his life, he couldn’t control his fear he would wind up, in the words of Mark Twain, both a prince and a paper. So when Jessie and Jimmy invited them to join them on their private yacht for a fun cruise in the Mediterranean, he didn’t see any harm in saying yes.
David’s interest in parties and dancing waned, but Wallis was insatiable for good times. While Jimmy and the Duchess danced the night way, David was content to sit with Jessie, smoke and pretend to listen to her prattle. This had been his forte as the Prince of Wales, and he was proud of his ability to feign interest.
During the day while Wallis and Jimmy toured the town, David played a round of golf. Jessie said she had a date for a game of bridge, but David suspected she napped instead.
When they returned to New York, David relented to Jessie’s demands they join the Donohues for the winter season in Palm Beach. Their group was smaller than expected—Wooly married and spent most of his time with his wife’s family.
On New Year’s Eve at midnight when the band played in 1952, Jessie grabbed David and was going in for a big kiss when the duke deftly turned his head. Her heavily rouged lips landed on his sallow cheek.
“Well, you’re chintzy with those kisses.” Jessie was in a huff.
David observed Jimmy planting a long buss on Wallis’ snake-like thin lips. David tried to pretend he didn’t care, but he did care, which upset his world in a most uncomfortable way.
Deciding they needed a respite from the Donohues, David lured Wallis onto renting a house in the Bois de Boulogne in Paris. Wallis hugged him around the neck and delved into remodeling it, which took her mind off the tall, slender blond man who shared her interest in dancing and gay repartee.
David’s brother Bertie the king died unexpectantly of lung cancer. The family invited him to the funeral, of course, but Wallis was left to her own devices which David suspected included Jimmy. He and his last surviving bother Harry marched in the funeral cortege behind Bertie’s casket. David could not help but wonder how the rest of his life would play out.
When he returned to Paris, David found the Donohues were visiting Bois de Boulogne. He swore Wallis’s cheeks flushed and her eyes twinkled, which disconcerted him. He hadn’t seen her so happy since those days in the Bahamas when they shared Aline. David observed Jimmy looked happy also. Within a few days Jessie talked Wallis into throwing a Valentine’s ball. The Woolworth heiress wore a glittering red gown cut low to reveal a bosom that should have never been exposed to the public in the first place. Wallis, on the other hand, wore a stylish high-neck creation from Schiaparelli.
Worse than that, David found himself in the awkward position of receiving dance lessons from the dowager widow.
“No, no,” Jessie lectured. “Extend your left foot. I thought a king of England would have known that.”
And then she pinched his butt.
Pulling away, David nodded to a group of men in the corner. “Excuse me, Jessie, but I think I see some people I haven’t met yet.”
He withdrew and with admirable speed introduced himself to the men who were engaged in smoking cigars and sipping whiskey. Within a few moments he realized he was within ear shot of Jimmy, who was regaling a young set of gentlemen. The dashing Donohue waved at Sidney who was carrying a silver tray of champagne glasses. One of Jimmy’s friends looked over at Wallis, smirked and whispered into Jimmy’s ear. David didn’t catch the question, but Jimmy roared his answer.
“Oh, my dears, it was like sleeping with an old sailor.”
As the young men laughed, Sidney stumbled and spilt the entire tray of champagne on Jimmy, who took the incident with good humor.
“Now, my dears, I suppose I must remove all my wet clothing right here in front of you!”
David didn’t know how much more attention he could take from Jessie or Jimmy. He soon found excuses to play golf instead of attending to his house guests. He sighed in relief when he heard in 1953 his mother was dying. He took the long flight back to London to be by her bedside. Once again he made the dutiful walk down the street behind her casket.
Evidently Jessie caught the hint David wasn’t going to be her lover and politely spent her time between Palm Beach and New York sans royalty.
Finally in 1954, while sharing a private dinner with Wallis and Jimmy in their favorite suite in a New York Hotel, David had enough of the crass American. The incident began innocuously enough when Jimmy lifted a lettuce leaf from Wallis’s salad plate and ate it.
“Don’t do that! It’s very rude!” She slapped Jimmy’s hand.
David thought nothing of it at first because Wallis had slapped his hand several times at the dinner table, and he found it amusing.
Jimmy did not. He kicked Wallis hard in the shin. She fell to the floor crying.
“We’ve had quite enough of you, Jimmy!” David barked.
Young Donohue knew when to make a quick exit. David helped Wallis to the sofa next to the dining table. Examining the wound, he saw that the kick had drawn blood. His fingers trembling, he reached up her dress to pull down the stocking. He dipped her napkin into her water glass from the table and daubed the blood away.
“How could he do such a thing?” Her voice whimpered.
“Because we let him,” David whispered. After a moment he added, “Do you think you can walk to your bedroom?”
“Of course, I can. He didn’t really hurt my leg. It was my pride that he hurt.”
“What a scoundrel.” David helped her to her feet. “I’ll take you to your bedroom. Put on your laciest nightgown and crawl into bed. And I’ll join you wearing my silk pajamas. And we’ll make love.”
Wallis wrinkled her brow as she limped to her bedroom. “But, David, we’ve never—I can’t.”
“No, no. I don’t mean in the crass, modern American way, but the way people made love when we were young. Soft, gentle, with tender words.”
She caressed his cheek. “I wish we had done this sooner.”
David sat her on the bed, nestled close to her, and whispered, “We shall hold each other in our arms, and pretend we made mad passionate love in all the exotic places in the world. Then we’ll giggle at our lies, until we fall into a deep slumber, made warm by all the love we’ve always had for each other.

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 Windsors go on their last mission to steal Nazi documents.
The war was finally over, but the battle with the Royal Family continued. Wallis knew David loved his family though he claimed many times he did not. One of the reasons Wallis sneaked away to New York to kill Kiki Preston was the pain Kiki inflicted on Prince George. When George died in the plane crash David was devastated and the only way Wallis could think of to comfort him was to push the girl with the silver syringe out of a New York hotel window.
David’s mother caused him the most grief. The Queen Mother demanded David never live in England if he were still married to Wallis. On trips to visit his mother, David sneaked away once to see if Fort Belvedere had survived war damage. Except for normal neglect, Belvedere looked the same.
“You know,” David told Wallis when he returned, “Fort Belvedere was the only place I had bought myself, and the only place I considered my own.”
“I can’t very well push the old broad out of a Buckingham Palace window,” Wallis often thought.
David’s brother Bertie, who had replaced him as king, refused to let him have any job in the Commonwealth. Even Prince Henry became governor of Australia but for David nothing. One of the tweedy types in the Home Office suggested the Windsors could continue to wander around the world doing good deeds of charity. Now that they were retired from espionage, MI6 could not and would not interfere in anyway.
When they left the Bahamas in May 1945, David and Wallis asked Sidney if he wished to work for the Duke as his valet, wherever that might take them. Wallis noticed the beam on Sidney’s face and wondered why he would be so eager to leave his own home and friends on Eletheura. She put those thoughts out of her head when she realized how happy it made David when his valet said yes.
They spent a few months in New York enjoying its café society before returning briefly to their Paris house on Boulevard Suchet, which also had escaped damage during the war, but soon their landlord announced he had rented it to someone else and they had to move by fall. David shrugged and told Wallis he preferred life on the Riviera. The war left La Croe untouched as well.
Soon Wallis had the estate in its former glory, and they had a glorious time hosting parties and basically doing nothing. Despite the desperate conditions for ordinary folks, the Windsors still lived well. David had money inherited from his father, and both David and Wallis had generous pensions from MI6, even though the typical agents had to live on much less. One obstacle to their party life was the food rationing by the French government. Wallis worked her way around that inconvenience by shipping in foodstuffs from the United States, such as canned ham, hot dogs, and canned vegetables. At one particular party, where high society guests dressed in formal attire, servants brought in a large bowl of baked beans and on a silver tray meat loaf.
When her guests looked surprised, Wallis said, “Y’all understand that my menus have suffered a bit!”
During this transition time, the Windsors kept up with the news of post-war Europe. Many former Nazi leaders killed themselves rather to submit to the indignities of capture and imprisonment. Among others who were nabbed trying to leave the continent was Joachim Von Ribbentrop.
“They caught Joachim the other day,” Wallis announced over breakfast, trying not to sound like she cared.
“Oh really?” David bit into his toast. “Do you think they can make him talk about us?”
She kept her face covered by the newspaper. “I thought you’d know more about the Germans than that, since you are part German. They never tell on their own kind. Much like our American crime families.” She paused searching her mind for a suitable change of topic for breakfast conversation.
“Isn’t it wonderful Monsieur Valat and his son could come work for us again? Jean has grown into quite a handsome young man. And he seems to have outgrown some of his more annoying tics, don’t you think?”
“Yes, quite.”
When David did not pursue the conversation about Ribbentrop, Wallis sighed. As the months went by she did keep up with the news about Ribbentrop and the others. By late summer of 1947 the Allied powers had moved the most powerful of the German prisoners to Nuremberg where a trial was set with an international panel of judges appointed. She tried not to bring up the latest developments while they sat reading the newspapers.
“Did you see this?” David said one day. “Joachim is the first to be tried.”
“Do you think we could go shopping in Paris soon?” she asked. “I haven’t had a new piece of jewelry since you bought me those things with the code boxes hidden in them.”
“They’re bringing up the nastiest charges about him.”
Damn, he’s not letting me change the conversation.
“He was right in the middle of all that terrible business with the Jews and the Gypsies. He also ordered all down Allied pilots to be shot on the spot.”
“He didn’t seem all that ruthless in the 30s at the German embassy parties in London.” Wallis winced a bit. She should have been able to come up with a better response.
A week or two passed without any other word about Ribbentrop, to Wallis’s relief. He was the enemy, of course, and there was no excuse for the barbaric treatment of the Jews and others, but Wallis couldn’t forget how she met him in Paris in the 30s. He was so dashing and romantic. He actually helped her with her divorce from her first husband Win. The carnations through the years….
As the trial news continued, Wallis covertly found a maid on their staff at La Croe who spoke German and paid her to help improve her own use of the Teutonic tongue. She sat at her dressing table for hours practicing how to apply makeup to her face the way Annalies Ribbentrop did. She scoured little shops to find dresses which suited the woman’s taste. Eventually she filled a small suitcase with makeup and disguises, attire and one other thing, a small bag of ground leaves from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Within days David announced over breakfast he was planning a London visit to see his mother.
“I don’t know why I bother. We talk but she never looks me in the eyes.” He paused. “I suppose I’m still a little boy seeking mummy’s attention.” He flipped a page in the newspaper. “I see Von Ribbentrop is scheduled to be hanged Oct. 16. Hmm, isn’t that odd? I’ll be chatting with mummy that day. What a coincidence. So sorry to be leaving you alone.”
When he lowered his newspaper, David had a smile on his face. Wallis swallowed hard and tried to smile back.
“Oh, I’ll think of something to amuse myself.”
On the day of his departure, Wallis walked David to the limousine awaiting him. She patted his back and wished him a safe journey. He looked into her eyes.
“I can’t control what you do when I’m away but…” He bit his lower lip. “Whatever you do, be careful.” David kissed her lips, held her tight then whispered, “I really do love you, you know.”
Wallis took several moments to regain her composure as she watched the limousine drive away. She immediately went to her bedroom, changed into a drab traveling suit she had found in one of the local shops and pulled out her packed suitcase. The maid who had tutored her in German drove her to the station where she boarded the next train to Nuremberg, Germany.
On her way, she rehearsed her speech in German. “I am Annalies Von Ribbentrop. I wish to say good bye to my husband.”
She also composed what she would say to Ribbentrop on his way to the gallows. She’d hand him a white carnation and whisper, “After you say your last words, eat the flower quickly. First you’ll lose your ability to speak, next you’ll become numb all over and by the time they pull the trap door, you’ll feel nothing.”
After the train arrived in Nuremburg, Wallis, in her Annalies makeup and clothing, stepped from the train and took a cab to a hostel where she checked in. She bought a local newspaper and read the time of the execution the next morning. She looked out the hotel window to see a large mob already forming in front of the fortress where Ribbentrop was held.
Wallis decided she could not risk waiting until morning to join them. She went out on the street and found a flower vendor to buy a white carnation. She stuck the flower into her coat pocket which held the ground herb from the Blue Ridge Mountains. After she was sure the bloom was covered with the herb, she pulled it out and began her solemn walk to the prison.
In good German she said to those around her. “Please let me pass. I am Mrs. Von Ribbentrop.”
Murmurs began to flow ahead of her, and the crowd parted. Soon she was at the front gate. She repeated it to the guard. He widened his eyes and let her in.
No one questioned her word but took her to the commandant.
“You speak English?” Wallis created a German dialect on the spot.
“Yes, ma’am,” the Allied commandant replied. “What can I do for you?”
“I am Annalies Von Ribbentrop. I wish to say good-bye to my husband.” She held up the carnation. “I have brought a flower to brighten his final moments.”
The commandant smirked. “Annalies Von Ribbentrop? I thought they had you locked up in the prisoner of war camp in Dachau.”
“I was. The camp commandant took pity on me and allowed me to come here. I have two plainclothes guards waiting for me in the crowd. To be seen with guards in their uniforms would have too humiliating.” She paused to pretend to hold back tears. “After my visit, they will take me back to Dachau. Please don’t turn me away after I have traveled such a long distance.” Wallis made her lips quiver.
She looked him in the eyes. It was an expression Wallis had perfected in her youth to get her own way. The commandant asked no further questions but instead picked up a glass of water to give her.
“Put the flower in this. It will make it last.” He looked at the guard standing behind her. “Take Mrs. Ribbentrop to her husband’s cell.”
“Yes, it’s my wish he hold the flower to the very end.”
“Of course, madam.”