To Catch a King (20 page)

“Are you trying to tell me these chaps are going to do something similar?”

The line of men advanced to meet the bull. Jose Borges challenged the beast, supremely arrogant, head thrown back, hands on hips, offering himself as a target.

As the bull charged, the Duchess cried out in alarm, but at the last moment, Borges flung himself on the animal's head, grabbed its horns, and did a hand spring, leaping from its back as it thundered on. He turned, hands on hips again, and bowed to the royal party, who applauded.

Two of his companions repeated the trick and finally Borges performed again, standing on the bull's back after his somersault this time, and staying there for a full minute while it cantered around the ring.

When he jumped down, the gates of the
torril
were reopened and the oxen driven in to fetch the bull.

“What happens to him now?” the Duchess asked their host, De Oliveira, who had joined them again.

“Sometimes he is slaughtered, or if he is brave, he is returned to the pastures and kept for breeding. A bull may never be put into the arena twice. Once he has learned the ropes, so to speak, he would be too dangerous.”

“So I can imagine.”

“If I might present some of the
toureiros
to Your Royal Highness now. A moment only. It would be a great honor for them.”

“Most certainly,” the Duke said. “I'd particularly like to meet the chappie with the eye patch. Remarkable performance. Quite astonishing.”

Luncheon was served on the wide terrace at the rear of the ranch house under the spreading branches of a eucalyptus tree, its perfume scenting the air. De Oliveira had deliberately kept the meal traditional. Cold
gaspacho,
a soup of bread soaked in water and vinegar with chopped raw vegetables, salty smoked sausages, crisp salads, and fresh ewe cheese.

The one sophisticated concession to the occasion was the plentiful supply of champagne: Dom Perignon in silver buckets of ice heavily emblazoned with the De Oliveira coat of arms.

The Duke smiled lazily at the Duchess. “Enjoyed it, Wallis?”

“Oh, yes, David, the most wonderful day we've had in ages.”

“Just thinking that myself. Still, time to be getting back now.”

Primo de Rivera seemed about to say something, but at that moment Fernandes da Cunha approached across the lawn.

“Ready for the off, Colonel, I think,” the Duke said.

Da Cunha saluted. “If Your Royal Highness would be so kind as to spare me a few minutes in private. A question of security.”

“Certainly.” The Duke smiled at the others. “Do excuse me. Shan't be long, I'm sure.”

He walked across the lawn smoking a cigarette, Da Cunha keeping pace with him. “Now look here, Colonel,” he said. “I don't know what sort of wild rumors you've heard, but when I leave here ten minutes from now, my car will be pointing in the general direction of Lisbon. I have no intention, no matter what some people seem to think, of making a dash for the Spanish border.”

“Earlier today, Your Royal Highness avoided, by a hairsbreadth, a situation that would have given you no choice in the matter.”

They were crossing the courtyard and had reached the small stone chapel which served the estate.

The Duke paused and said, “Good God, Colonel, what on earth are you talking about?”

Colonel da Cunha opened the chapel door and removed his cap. “If Your Royal Highness would care to step inside, there is someone waiting who will be able to explain the situation far better than I ever could.”

It was a tiny, simple chapel with a stone floor and whitewashed walls. There was a statue of the Virgin at one side, candles flickering before it, the plainest of altars, with a carved wooden crucifix.

Two peasants, a man and a woman, were sitting on one of the rough wooden benches toward the front of the chapel. At the sound of the door opening, they turned and stood up and the Duke saw that the woman was young and rather pretty, in black peasant dress and scarf. When she started to speak and it became apparent that she was American, he was quite astonished.

Afterward, they sat there on the bench, the three of them together, Da Cunha standing close at hand.

“It really is the most extraordinary business I ever heard of in my life,” the Duke said.

“But true, sir, every word,” Hannah told him.

“Oh, I believe you, my dear, never fear. Colonel da Cunha's account of the near miss at Rosario this morning confirms it.” He turned to Da Cunha. “You say General Schellenberg told you there was no question of abduction in his mind?”

“Yes, sir, he assured me that as far as he was concerned, the choice of what action to take in this affair was entirely up to Your Royal Highness.”

“And you believe him?”

“Yes, sir, I do. There can be no doubt whatever that Sturmbannführer Kleiber and his man were acting on their own initiative in the matter. As Senhorita Winter's story has indicated, General Schellenberg
is
a rather unusual man in many respects.”

“Indeed he is.” The Duke sat there, frowning, then looked up at Da Cunha intently. “Colonel—can I rely on your good offices?”

“Sir, President Salazar has made me personally responsible for your safety while you are on the soil of Portugal, with my life, if necessary.”

“I can trust you? Your word on it as an officer and a gentleman?”

“As a man, sir. My father was a peasant farmer from Oporto.”

The Duke smiled faintly. “Yes, of course. And General Schellenberg and his friends?”

“Delicate, sir. There is a political understanding between my country and Germany at the moment which puts us in a most unusual situation. The Germans are the masters of Europe, and if we were to expel General Schellenberg and Kleiber and this other fellow …”

“No—that wouldn't be the right way to tackle it at all.” The Duke turned to Joe Jackson. “And you, Mr. Jackson? We often speak of the special relationship between our two countries. In my own case, more true than it is of most Englishmen. May I also rely on you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good.” The Duke turned to Hannah and took her hands. “As for you, my dear, how can I ask for more when you have done so very much already?”

She was almost crying, fought to control the tears, and his hands tightened on hers for a moment. Then he released her.

“May I inquire as to Your Royal Highness' plans?” Da Cunha asked.

“Easily answered, Colonel. I intend to leave on the
Excalibur
the day after tomorrow. In spite of all the speculation, I shall take up my appointment in the Bahamas as requested by Mr. Churchill.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Back to Estoril. May I ask, Colonel, if you will be at the villa later in the day?”

“I shall make the lodge at the main gate my headquarters,” Fernandes da Cunha told him. “From where I shall be available to Your Royal Highness at any time of the night or day.”

“Excellent.” The Duke was frowning slightly. “I may need you later on. There's something stirring at the back of my mind. I'm not sure what yet, but it will surface. It usually does. And now, I think, I'd really better be getting back to the others.”

Later that day at a special meeting held in the Chancellery for only the most important members of his government, Hitler announced that he was issuing Directive Number 17, the official order for Goering to make preparations for the air attack on England that was to be the preliminary to invasion. He then outlined, in finest detail, Sea Lion, the plan of campaign that would culminate in his own triumphal drive into London.

Afterward, as they were all leaving, he ordered Ribbentrop to remain. The Reichsminister was closeted with him for a most uncomfortable five minutes. When he finally left, he found Himmler waiting.

“You don't look too happy, Reichsminister.”

“The Windsor affair,” Ribbentrop said. “The Duke is more essential to our plans than ever now that Sea Lion has been finalized.”

“But will he see things our way?”

“The Führer is no longer interested in whether he will or not. He has given me instructions to order the Duke's immediate abduction.”

“Then you'd better get in touch with Schellenberg as soon as possible, hadn't you?” Himmler said.

Ribbentrop was angry and a little frightened. “Damn the man. I haven't heard from him once since he's been in Portugal. Not once.”

He walked away quickly. Himmler watched him go, his face calm, then he left himself, went down the steps of the Reich Chancellery to his car, and was driven back to Prinz Albrechtstrasse.

At the Legation, Schellenberg was standing at the window of his office drinking coffee when the door opened abruptly and Kleiber entered. His face was contorted with anger and he was waving a message in one hand.

“You received this an hour ago.”

Schellenberg took the message from him and read it quickly. It was a copy of Ribbentrop's signal.

“My goodness, Kleiber, you certainly must have influence. I congratulate you. This was supposed to be confidential and for my eyes only.”

“It's a direct order from the Führer to abduct the Duke of Windsor. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“I'll let you know, if and when I think it necessary. On the way out, I'd prefer you to close the door behind you without slamming it.”

Kleiber returned to the anteroom where Sindermann waited. “Nothing!” he raged. “Nothing, Gunterr

He made his decision, turned, and hurried along to the communications room. He asked the duty officer for a signal pad and wrote on it with difficulty because of his right arm still in the sling:

General Schellenberg shows no serious intention of completing mission as instructed. Please confirm with the Ambassador my powers to take over in this matter.

Signed
Kleiber

He handed it to the duty officer. “Encode that now. Priority One. Most immediate and for the eyes of the Reichsführer Himmler only.”

Himmler was writing away at his desk when one of his aides entered. “Signal from Lisbon, Reichsführer. Sturmbannführer Kleiber.

Himmler read it then said, “Send a reply at once, not to Kleiber, but to Ambassador Huene.”

He started to dictate in dry precise tones, his voice like leaves rustling in a wood at evening.

As dusk was falling that same evening the Duchess went into the garden in search of the Duke. She found him sitting on the edge of the fountain, smoking his pipe, gazing into the water pensively.

“There you are,” she said. “I've been looking everywhere. There's a letter for you from Sir Walford. The messenger didn't stay. He said his instructions were that no answer was required.”

“Thank you, my dear.” He opened it and read the contents quickly. He smiled as he passed it across to her. “Walter Monckton's due in by plane some time tomorrow.”

“How nice,” she said, “to see Walter again, but why?”

“Oh, Winston making sure nothing goes wrong at the last moment. Walter, after all, has always been the Government's general purpose man where I am concerned. You are right, though. It will be nice to see him again. A friendly face to wave good-bye from the dock as we sail away into oblivion because, God help me, Wallis, that's the only way I can see it.”

“Saint Helena, nineteen-forty,” she said. “Now I know how Napoleon must have felt.”

“I wanted to do something in this war, something useful, but they won't let me, you see?” He laughed softly. “Rather ironic, when you come to think of it, but the only people who do seem to want me are the Nazis.”

And suddenly, he was no longer smiling, his face tense and excited. “My God, I wonder?”

“Wonder what, David? What are you talking about?”

“How far they'd be willing to go. If they want me badly enough, that is.”

“David.” There was total shock in her voice. “You couldn't.”

“No, you don't understand, my dear. What I'm talking about is a possibility, a faint one only perhaps, that I might be able to extract something of value from this situation. Not to me, you understand, but to Britain.” He seized her hands. “My God, Wallis, wouldn't it be marvelous if I could play these bastards at their own game and beat them?”

She hadn't seen him so alive in years. “Oh, David,” she said. “It could be so dangerous. I'm frightened.”

“I'm not. To be perfectly honest, I think I'm rather beginning to enjoy this. The person I need now is Colonel da Cunha, so let's go and find him.”

Five minutes later, in response to an urgent phone call to the lodge, Da Cunha hurried up to the house, where he found them waiting for him in the library.

“Your Royal Highness sent for me?”

“I did indeed, Colonel. Earlier today I asked if I could rely on your good offices. You were kind enough to say yes.”

“If there is any way I can be of service, I will, sir.”

“Then this is what I want you to do. Go and see the German Ambassador, Baron von Hoyningen-Huene, now, this evening. Tell him I wish to speak with General Schellenberg.”

Da Cunha was unable to conceal his surprise. “When would you wish this meeting to take place?”

“Well, I rather thought it might be fun to repeat, to a certain degree, his own exercise of last night. You heard what Mr. Jackson and Miss Winter had to say about events in the garden. I'll be having my usual cigar in the summerhouse. You could bring him to me. You think he'll come?”

“I shouldn't think there would be much doubt of it, sir.” “Another thing. I'd appreciate it if you could get Mr. Jackson to repeat his role of last night. A man of considerable resource. It would make the Duchess feel rather easier in her mind to know that he was watching my back. Do you think he would do that for me?”

“Yes, sir. Would you wish me to be present?”

“Yes, but I think you might find the subject matter of our conversation rather embarrassing. For your own sake, I suggest that you stand a little way off.”

Da Cunha hesitated. “Sir, forgive me for any impertinence, but does this mean that you contemplate a move to Spain after all?”

“Now what would you think, Colonel?”

“Why, sir, I think you will sail on the
Excalibur
the day after tomorrow. It also occurs to me that Your Royal Highness is placing himself in a position of extreme danger. I only hope you are fully aware of the consequences of the course of action you contemplate, sir.”