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.

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.
In the morning, the Duchess was all aflutter—Queen Elizabeth II was coming to tea, and one of the maids was missing. Sidney steeled himself when he saw her scurry toward him.
“Sidney, have you seen Aline?” she asked.
“Aline? I don’t know an Aline.”
Wallis shook her head. “No, no, I was thinking of someone else. Oh, what’s her name? Eileen—have you seen her this morning?”
“No.” His voice was flat.
“What shall we do without her?”
A smile flitted across his lips. “We shall survive, I think.
“I suppose you’re right.” She looked around. “Everyone is prepared. All that must be done now is picking up the Queen and her entourage—“
“I’ll take care of that, Madam.”
Wallis glanced up the stairs. The doctor is attending to David. Do you think I have time for a nice warm soak in the tub?”
“I think that would be a wise move on your part, Madam.”
“Thank you, Sidney.”
A couple of hours later at Orly Airport Sidney greeted the Queen and the others with the information that the Duke, due to his health, would have to receive them while seated in his upstairs sitting room.
Elizabeth said something to him, but Sidney glanced about the terminal at the growing crowd, knowing the possibility of one of the assassins being among them. Common sense told him an attempt at this juncture would preclude success in killing the Windsors. Yet, Sidney knew the organization was clever enough to try to eliminate himself early. Anything was possible.
Several women in the crowd screamed as a middle-aged man dressed in denim jeans and a blue shirt dashed by, grabbed the Queen’s purse and ran around a corner.
“Stop!” One of the royal security men shouted. He raised his revolver.
Sidney lowered the guard’s arm. “I’ll take care of this.” Then he disappeared around the corner just in time to see the man go into the men’s room.
Sidney arrived a bit later, slowed by the exit of several other men running out of the toilet facilities zipping their pants. Sidney spied the snatcher opening the purse, pull apart a capsule, drop it in the purse and snap it shut. Sidney jumped the man and wrestled him to the floor. With one hand, he grasped the man’s hair and with the other opened the purse.
Sidney rammed the man’s head into the purse just as yellow powder rose. Sidney’s eyes watered and he coughed deeply, scrunching his nose to avoid ingesting any more of the poison. Sidney struggled to keep the man’s head down until the assassin finally went limp. First Sidney snapped the purse shut, then dumped the body into an empty toilet stall.
When he returned, Sidney handed the purse to the head of the Queen’s security.
“The man escaped, leaving the purse behind. When I picked it up, I smelled something vile. I think you should have one of your men take it immediately to Le Surete to be examined for poison.”
The officer handed it off to another guard, whispering the instructions to him and sending him on his way. The officer then told the Queen the circumstances, and she nodded as though nothing was unusual.
Back at Bois de Burlogne, the butler greeted the guests at the door and took their coats.
“Psst! Psst!”
Hearing the hissing, Sidney saw Wallis at the top of the stairs waving at him to come up. She was dressed in a simple black, short sleeved dress adorned by a large bejeweled pin. Wallis was at her sartorial best, but her eyes were in a panic. Sidney dashed up the stairs to her. She leaned in to whisper.
“I think I’ve done something naughty.”
“What do you mean, Madam?”
“Follow me. I don’t want the Queen to know.” She led him into her bathroom which was a mess with water splashed all over the room. Also, there was a dead man submerged beneath the suds of Wallis’ bubble bath which was changing from pink to a dark red.
“I’d just settled in for a good soak when I heard the door open, and this strange man came in and stood at the top of my tub. His hands came down on me.” Wallis’ voice was calm. “I don’t know what made me do it, but I reached up and grabbed his arms and pulled him over top of me. I think I heard his head crack on the bottom of the tub. Anyway, I rose just enough to slide his head under my body and I sat on it. When he tried to struggle I hit him in the crotch. I kept doing it until his body went limp. I think before he died I farted in his face.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve used that word since my days in the Blue Ridge Mountains.” She touched Sidney’s sleeve. “What are we going to do? I killed him in self-defense, but still….”
“Don’t worry about it, Madam.” He smiled. “You go down stairs to greet your guests and I’ll let the water out of the tub. When he dries out, I’ll remove him from the property tonight. Oh, and I’ll give the tub a proper scrubbing so you can have your bath tomorrow without worrying about traces of his blood being left behind.”
“But why did I know do that?” Wallis persisted. “Wait, I just thought of something—Shanghai. I was in Shanghai as a young woman. What was I doing there?”
“Don’t worry about it now. You have the Queen waiting downstairs.”
“Oh yes.” She paused. “Now is that Elizabeth or Lillibet?”
“Lillibet, I believe,” Sidney replied.
“Oh good.” Wallis sighed. “If it were her mother, then I would have big problems.”

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.

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 breathing was becoming shallower. Her eyes stared at the ceiling.
“Please, just give me a clue about the identity of the new commander.”
“Red hair.”

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.”