New Cover For Wall Street Swastika:
Dora and Edward are trysting at the Waldorf Astoria while Edward is on leave from British Mid East Headquarters in October of 1929. Suddenly on October 29 on Black Tuesday they notice a commotion on the streets. All the action is on Wall Street. They find their friend and compatriot Winston Churchill sadly watching as people leap out window and his own American investments plummet.
Even worse from their own point of view Winston shows them a note. German spies are demanding the Lawrence maps, key to world domination, which Edward is hiding up his sleeve. On their way back to Britain Hitler doesn’t waste any time. He sends all sorts of signs and warnings of impending disaster including a skiff at sea that crashes into their ocean liner.
The Prince of Wales is aboard. So are the von Wessels, Hitler’s spies. His Highness is sympathetic to the Nazis and Hitler wants to hit him to help finance his rise to power in the face of the great world wide depression brought on by the failure of capitalism. It is up to Edward, Dora, and Winston to stop him as the clock ticks on. If they don’t separate the Prince of Wales from Hitler before they reach Europe, nothing will stop his rise to ultimate power.
Leave a reply
EU Should Reinstitute Border Checks:
One of the dangers is that the EU thinks that it is modeling itself on America. It calls itself the United States of Europe. It is implementing new rules and laws that are dangerously inappropriate. My aunt told me that she was on a train coming from Italy to Munich, Germany that went through the Alps. The train stopped in Innsbruck. I think this was in the very early 1970’s. Everybody had to get off the train in the station. Not only did the “putsfraus” or cleaning ladies go aboard to clean everything, the authorities insisted on looking at everybody’s documentation after crossing a border.
If the authorities had checked papers when the rioters entered Hamburg by train, they might have been stopped before they could riot and loot. Instead they marched freely through the train station where we parked 5 years ago looking for the Best Western St. Raphael Hotel nearby. They were carrying a huge sign in front of them saying something like the “war starts here”. It couldn’t have been more obvious what was going on. They were announcing themselves. They should have been arrested before they set any cars afire or looted any shops and told the shop owners that the needed to pay them protection money.
The EU should reinstitute border checks. That is what I am saying.
Hamburg is the setting for several Edward Ware Thrillers at War novels including Map Plot, Wall Street Swastika, and the Cherusci Plot. Germany itself in one of the main settings and themes of the whole series from Cherusci Plot on to Captive at the Berghof, Unlocking Trinity, and other World War 2 and World War 1 novels such as Dark Horse, Salisbury Plot, Map Plot, and Key to Lawrence Special Edition.
The photo published with this blog is one that the authors took in Hamburg at the train station in 2012. It is the place that the protestors used as a port of entry.
Leave a reply
The British Museum In Edward Ware Thrillers:
The British Museum figures in the Edward Ware Thrillers at War Series on more than one occasion. It appears as a mysterious place, full of atmosphere and intrigue, and not as a very prim and proper and boring British institution where school kids visit on field trips. The series begins in 1914 when archaeologist Leonard Woolley is conducting a Hittite dig at Carchemish in Turkey. His assistant is a young man by the name of T.E. Lawrence. Edward Ware’s father, Sir Adolphus Ware, is an amateur archaeologist/car magnate and is helping to fund the dig. Edward first becomes enmeshed by the wiles of the spy who was later to become Helga von Wessel during this dig in 1914. She is searching for the Lawrence maps for the Kaiser.
Leonard Woolley helps Edward hide the Lawrence maps in the British Museum near the Rosetta Stone in the historical thriller Map Plot. Later still Dora and Edward return to the famed museum in the thriller Wall Street Swastika. The silent mummies and Greek statues watch them as they slink through the museum at night undetected by human eyes. It is all what helps to make the British Museum part of the Edward Ware Thriller Series.
Leave a reply
Hope you enjoyed the selection of blog posts about the upcoming historical thriller title Wall Street Swastika about the Wall Street Crash of 1929 and its effect on Hitler and his Nazi Movement in Germany. How do Colonel Sir Edward Ware, Dora, Mrs. Byrne, and Winston Churchill — along with their spy Putlitz who works in the German Embassy in London — thwart Hitler and his attempts to finance his growing movement? What do they do about the Prince of Wales who has taken a liking to Hitler and his ways as Hitler starts by attempting to take over Thuringia? Find out when Cheops Books LLC publishes the book. It is coming soon to Amazon Kindle.
Leave a reply
Chapter 22: Wall Street Swastika: Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner
“My word!” the art director exclaimed. “What the times are coming to!” he shook his head as he continued forward up the stairs towards Dora’s cabin. “First you have the stock market crash in New York. Then everything else starts falling apart like a domino effect. It seems like the social order is breaking down if you ask me.”
The art director did not know how close he was to putting his finger on what was really going on. Adolf Hitler who was sailing aboard this ship was definitely a sign of the decline and fall of the social order. She, Edward, and Churchill were trying to set it right again sometimes all by themselves.
The art director carrying the painting knocked on the door of the suite. Immediately Edward opened it. He saw Dora and grabbed her into his arms and shut the door. The art director knocked again. Churchill took the painting and quickly thanked the man.
Dora whispered to Churchill to say something to the director to get rid of him. Churchill forced a smile onto his face and spat, “It is definitely NOT a Monet.”
“I thought not!” the art director said.
They slammed the door for the final time that night. They ordered room service and did not go down to the dining room while Churchill put the unwanted painting aside in a closet.
“Did you shoot the thugs?” Dora asked Edward horrified.
Edward nodded. “We had to let them know we meant business. They were after you, weren’t they?”
After all, Edward, Colonel Sir Edward Ware, was a crack shot. He had been so since his days in the Great War serving under Lawrence of Arabia in the Middle East.
She nodded. “They already threw me in an empty cabin. It was beginning to remind me of the Lusitania all over again. But I threw my purse at the thug and escaped. They followed me to the ship’s art gallery. I had to think of something so I bought the painting.”
Churchill nodded. “We got your notes. That alerted us to figure out what was going on.”
“One of them was carrying a knife,” Edward said. “They were following you upstairs. Who knows what they would have done? So I shot them in self-defense.”
The next evening which was the last night of the voyage to Hamburg, Churchill, Dora, and Edward occupied their table in the dining room by the window to make a statement and show Hitler that they were not easily cowed. Hitler was seated opposite them in the center of the dining room gaily greeting waiters and waving at guests. Lots of people stopped by to shake his hand and meet the up and coming star of the National Socialist Party in Germany.
“So goes the British upper class!” groaned Churchill, shaking his head in disapproval.
Of course the real attention-getter was the Prince of Wales sitting at the same table next to the gaudily adorned Helga von Wessel and her husband in tuxedo, Herr von Wessel. The Prince was gazing intently into Frau von Wessel’s eyes as she used her hands and talked, describing the wonders of National Socialism and what it could do for Germany in the next few years. She was dressed in a black sequined gown all the way down to her ankles. The dress featured black puffy sleeves made of lace and a lace sheath that covered the rest of the dress.
But suddenly the Prince caught sight of Dora seated there near the window in the gown she had bought at such a cost yesterday in the shop on the ship. He waved at her, smiled, and rose from his seat.
Frau von Wessel grabbed for his arm. “Your Highness, you don’t want anything to do with Mrs. Byrne. She is an American divorcee or about to be one! That would never do. And besides, she doesn’t see things the way we do.”
“Nonsense!” His Majesty proclaimed. “It doesn’t matter. I have always admired Americans and divorcees are a more independent thinking kind of woman. I admire that, too.” He headed towards their table by the window.
Frau von Wessel scowled at Dora in envy that the Prince of Wales, the new benefactor of the Nazi Party, should think anything about Mrs. Byrne was interesting at all.
Dora was scandalized. She looked towards Churchill, then Edward, pleading with them to help her. But apparently neither of them could do anything at all about the actions of the Prince of Wales as he plopped down in a chair at the same table right beside them. He moved his chair closer to Dora who was so flabbergasted she did not know what to do except to gape at His Majesty.
“So you are the heiress from America!” the Prince exclaimed. “At least that is what Frau and Herr von Wessel tell me.”
He glanced back at his other recently met friends. The von Wessels plastered artificlal smiles on their faces. Hitler himself broke off his conversation to wave.
Dora nodded woodenly. She swallowed hard. She had to sit here and listen to this.
“You and your millions could make the biggest difference to Herr Hitler and his friends and associates,” the Prince expounded.
Hitler again flashed them a winning smile.
Winston glared at the upstart.
Edward motioned to Dora to go on. She had to answer the Prince.
Dora wet her lips. “I am sure lots of people like charity, Your Highness, but I am inclined to keep charity at home which means the United States and not give it out to dangerous foreign types. That is what my father taught me.”
The Prince pointed at her and wagged his finger. “My parents the King and Queen of England taught me much the same thing. But I have learned to think for myself.”
Winston rolled his eyes. He leaned toward Edward and hissed, “That is the understatement of the year.”
“Your Highness,” Winston broke in. “Your parents the King and Queen would be much grieved to see you handing money to foreigners with whom they have no diplomatic relations.”
“Well, they should, and I intend to be the first to say so!” the Prince said stubbornly. “He is better than the Weimar government any day.”
Dora thought he sounded like a spoiled twelve year old, but a dangerous spoiled twelve year old.
After a few more minutes of unendurable behavior, the shadow of Frau von Wessel loomed over the table. She took the Prince’s arm. “Enough fun for now, Your Majesty,” she urged him to go, “it is time for Herr Hitler to practice one of his speeches. He is going to introduce you to the crowd at Nuremberg, remember? Don’t you want to hear what he is going to say?”
The Prince of Wales leaped up. “I certainly don’t want to miss one of Herr Hitler’s speeches even if he is only practicing. Would you like to come, too, Mrs. Byrne?” he asked Dora.
Edward rose and took Dora’s arm. “Sorry, Your Highness, but Mrs. Byrne would not be attending a Herr Hitler speech if it were the last available entertainment aboard this ship.”
With that rejoinder Edward led Dora away out the entrance to the restaurant and up the stairs to their cabin just as Frau von Wessel led the Prince of Wales away. Dora hoped never to have to confront him again this side of Hamburg.
Leave a reply
Chapter 21: Wall Street Swastika: Lawrence Maps Or Your Life:
The German spies were getting so close Dora wanted to scream. But at the last moment they stopped and started to gaze at the portrait on the wall next to the one that resembled Monet’s Woman With A Parasol. It was another portrait of some undistinguished person that the painter must have known. Obviously the goons had deliberately moved physically closer so that they could keep up with what Dora was doing and so they could hear better what she said.
Dora knew this was a dangerous game that she, Churchill, and Edward were playing. It had not improved over the years either. It reminded her of when she took her first transatlantic crossing on the last voyage of the Lusitania in May of 1915. A goon hired by the Kaiser called Ali had followed her aboard, kidnapped her, and tied her ultimately to a pillar in the engine room with her future husband, Michael Byrne. They had barely escaped when the ship was torpedoed and the second mysterious explosion had occurred when Ali had set off his chemical bomb. Since she had not handed over the first Lawrence maps even then, she had been forced to row ashore with her father and mother. They had also been aboard the doomed ocean liner. In those days she had not even known what a Lawrence map was, though Ali had interrogated her about it. She was soon to find out, though, as soon as she got to Queenstown, Ireland and ran into the future Colonel Sir Edward Ware as a young man about to ship off for Gallipoli. He had told her all about the maps. Before the war was over he was to send them to her to keep in Pittsburgh. Then when she showed up in Paris for the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, Lawrence of Arabia himself, author of the maps, key to world domination, handed her a box of maps to keep with her when she returned to America. Lawrence thought they would be safer there than in Europe where greedy Germans even after the war were looking everywhere for them.
No one had made a better prediction. Here the Germans were crowding her out on the lower level of deck 3. It was ten years later, and they were seeking the same maps.
“M’lady, I should take a moment to wait on these gentlemen,” the art director tried to excuse himself, “while we wait for your art collector friends to arrive.”
“No matter what my friends say, I want to buy this painting. Don’t your have forms to fill out?” she pressed. She ran her hand up and down her arm.
The art director got out his bell and again rang for his assistant. “Will you please wait on the patient gentlemen over there while I wait on the lady?” he asked her.
Dora hovered over the art director protectively while he filled out form after form. She knew that he was all that shielded her from instant capture and being taken forcibly from this room at gunpoint with the butt of the pistol pointed toward her back especially when she no longer had her own gun to defend herself. It would be worse than the Lusitania. On the Lusitania there was just Ali. Here were two thugs who could jump her at once.
The art director asked Dora her name and address as well as her phone number. As she was reciting numbers, she noticed that the thugs had dismissed the assistant to the art director. They of course were not really interested in the paintings at all. Now they were slipping gloves over their hands. She swallowed hard. Did they intend to attack her anyways?
Then it came to her as if they had hit her with a mallet. She had summoned Edward and Churchill. They must have guessed that. They were not moving in on her because they were more interested in the menfolk. They would make a juicier capture than an American heiress. Neither had been present on the Lusitania or Ali himself might have preferred them to her or even Michael Byrne.
She tried keep her wits about her. She had to get out of here.
“Let’s —- let’s take the painting up to my cabin,” she suggested to the art director. “My friends are taking too long to arrive.” She had to reach Edward and Winston Churchill. She had to warn them what the rogues were planning. Certainly she should not be left alone like this while the clock was ticking and danger appeared at every turn.
She signed to put the cost of the painting on her final room tab to be paid at the end of the voyage to the purser’s desk.
The goons were trailing them as they left the shop. She hoped they did not intend to surprise them in a darkened hallway. She glanced over her shoulder. They were leaving the shop, too. They were only a few steps behind them. They did not want her to warn her confederates.
Suddenly she heard gunfire from one of the balcony’s above in the grand lobby. Women shrieked all around. She heard screams from behind her. The two thugs had collapsed on the floor of the lobby lying on oriental rugs looking blankly up at the chandeliers with vacant eyes. They were dead.
Leave a reply
Chapter 20: Wall Street Swastika: The Lawrence Maps:
The goon pressed his revolver against Dora’s shoulder. “I have orders to shoot you dead if you don’t cooperate, Mrs. Byrne.” He spoke with a German accent. “If I were you, I would hand over those maps, or you might just find yourself not here anymore.”
She scowled at him. This kind of complication was all she needed right about now. She was trying to hurry to meet Edward and Churchill for afternoon tea in the Queen’s Room on deck 3. How was she going to communicate with them now?
“Here,” she had the presence of mind to click open the top of her handbag. “I keep the maps here all in a row all neatly filed,” she lied.
He had not been expecting that answer. His eyebrows rose suddenly and with great interest. Good.
Dora threw the handbag at him. He caught it with both hands, naturally not wanting to drop it. She took advantage of the distraction to shove around him out of the cabin and race down the hallway. She headed towards the art gallery. It was the first place she caught sight of. It was not very crowded right now. She headed immediately to the desk. The gentleman in attendance stood up. She threw herself at him, pointing at the first painting she saw. “Is that a Monet?” she pressed. It was the first thing that popped into her head.
“I don’t think so. We don’t have any Monets here,” the man begged off. “But we do feature some younger painters who aren’t as famous but who we think are very talented and will do well in the future. We encourage all our guests to buy what pleases them. In the future the paintings will always be worth more and more than what you paid for them.
“But that painting looks so much like Woman With a Parasol,” Dora insisted as she saw the goon and a helper appear at the door to the art gallery. He was carrying her handbag that she had thrown at him. It seemed to be empty. No doubt he had cleaned it out looking for the Lawrence maps. Of course he had not found them. Edward had them up his sleeve as usual..
Dora moved even closer to the art gallery attendant. She figured they would not grab at her or try to snatch her again as long as she stuck to this man as if he were her long lost brother.
“Look at the sheen of the sunlight on her dress and the reflection in the water,” Dora said.
“Well, occasionally paintings do get mislabeled,” he hemmed and hawed. “I do remember the art gallery owner —- we are stationed in London, you know —- going to an exhibtion of Monets in Paris several months ago. I don’t imagine that he bought one, but you never know for sure.”
He reached for a catalog of paintings in the exhibition on the ship. He went down column after column. He apparently did not find anything. So he could out another catalog and searched for that.
“I am sailing with an art expert,” Dora volunteered all too eagerly when she noticed that Hitler’s thugs had advanced into the gallery and were pretending to admire the paintings exhibited on the walls and on each side of each porthole. Really they were obviously just trying to get closer to her by the desk. “If you will send for him, he can judge the painting and see what he thinks.”
“I am sure I would be glad to entertain your fellow art collectors,” the attendant exclaimed and rang a bell for a lady assistant who instantly appeared from a back room.
Dora thought, Good! The more people I can summon the better. I don’t want to be alone with those freaks.
“You should take the lady’s notes to her friends. They are art collectors too,” the man gave his assistant a significant glance.
Dora measured the distance the spies had to move to reach her behind the desk. “Do hurry!” she told the lady. “One of my friends is in cabin 4118 and the other occupies 4116,” she instructed the assistant. “It is only one floor up from here. They would be so happy to see this painting.”
Hurry down to the art gallery on deck 3 lower level. I am there alone right now with the gallery attendant. Hitler’s hired guns are closing in on me by the minute. I have already escaped once. I don’t know if I can manage again. Right now I am holding them at bay by talking to the gallery attendant about a painting which I said reminds me of Monet. The gunmen have my handbag which I had to throw at them minutes before to escape. So I don’t even have my gun with me.”
She folded the note and handed it over and then hurriedly scribbled another to Winston saying pretty much the same thing. She added:
Hitler has not come to England just to get funding for his elections in Germany and to use the von Wessels to snag the Prince of Wales. No! He is after the maps. The thugs thought I had them and tried to kidnap me after I left the dress shop. I had to throw my purse at them and run. Now I am in the art gallery. But they have found me. I need immediate assistance.
She heard the trampling of feet and looked up. The men were only about two yards away. They were headed straight for her. Should she scream? She had only seconds to decide.
Leave a reply
Chapter 18: Wall Street Swastika: The Prince Assaults Dora:
Edward, Dora, and Churchill scurried about the Ocean Terminal in Southampton looking to buy tickets on the cruise to Hamburg across the English Channel and across the North Sea. Dora did not have any luggage with her. The little she had brought across the Atlantic had been sent ahead to Ware Hall. And now it did not look as if she were going there. And there was nothing to buy in the terminal building.
Dora promised herself she would hit the shops in the lobby as soon as she boarded the ship to find a change of clothes and a nightgown at the very least. She could not let the wastrel Prince interfere with her whole routine and her life, too.
They tried to stay clear of the German party and the Prince, and of course the Prince of Wales was attracting all sorts of attention particularly from the ladies who were crowding around him asking for his autograph. Dora did not even bother to see their cabin first. She dashed over to her favorite dress shop that also sold handbags, scarves, and jewelry. She began trying outfits on in the spare dressing room area that was squeezed in between two shops on this deck. She usually wore only Elsa Shaparelli originals. But this time she was going to have to compromise. Otherwise she would have to wear her old clothes the whole voyage and she had already worn them across the Atlantic.
Not long after she started to try on a white chiffon dress with folds in the lower skirt half and a white net attached to the casual straw hat, than she heard shrieks of laughter. She peered out at crack in the curtain of her stall. To her horror she could not help but notice Frau von Wessel squeezing her her into own dressing stall right next to her.
Even worse, Dora heard a male voice, too. She could not believe that she looked out of the stall to observe the Prince of Wales.
“You should get the low-backed gown with the flower prints,” the Prince insisted.
“Way too expensive!” Frau von Wessel exclaimed. “My budget won’t allow it.”
“I could never permit such an injustice! Since I am devoting my fortune to Herr Hitler the least I can do is to make certain that his assistants dress properly.”
“But I couldn’t impose on you!” Frau von Wessel leaned out of the dressing room in the most provocative, flirtatious way imaginable. She poked the Prince in the nose as if they were already on intimate terms.
Dora was more than horrified. She would have to remember what was going on and who said what to whom to report back to Edward and Winston Churchill as soon as she could get out of here and reach her cabin and safety. The Prince and Frau von Wessel should not see her. That would not be proper. Winston and Edward certainly would not like it.
The shop assistant bustled back and forth handing clothes to Frau von Wessel to try on and handing clothes to Dora. Dora silently tried to warn the lady off. She shook her head and tried to discourage her.
“We want you to dress right. Herr Hitler deserves to have his representatives look like they are in the pink of fashion. The workers should vote for him and sweep away that corrupt Weimar government!” The Prince asserted as he waited outside in the hallway where he must be squeezed because there was not much room at all. He must be bumping into the assistant on all occasions.
“You are so kind, Prince!” Helga gushed. “If only we had other supporters like you. Herr Hitler’s path towards saving Germany and its workers would not be so long and hard.”
“I will do everything I can to help and more!” the Prince promised.
Dora clapped her hands over her mouth and gasped. The Prince was reaching into her dressing room and grabbing hold of her instead of Frau von Wessel. She was being catapulted out of the stall and into the Prince’s arms. Before Dora could stop him, his lips landed on her own. Dora felt the shriek rising from the bowels of her being. Then she screamed and screamed and screamed.
Leave a reply
Chapter 17: Wall Street Swastika: The Prince Offers Helga The Crown Jewels:
“I am charmed by your interest, Your Highness,” Frau von Wessel trilled with her deep alto voice.
“I would be delighted to learn everything I could about your important venture into German politics,” the Prince said to Frau von Wessel, laughing jovially.
“My wife and I will escort you over to the Embassy right now,” Herr von Wessel spoke up. “We have certain pamphlets and posters there that you would like to see.”
“We even have a film or two,” Frau von Wessel added. “You can see Herr Hitler here in action. He has been filmed. And believe me it is a magnificent performance. It is what is starting to captivate all of Germany.”
“Let’s get going then,” the Prince sounded enthusiastic. “I can hardly wait.”
Dora could imagine the Prince giving Frau von Wessel his arm.
“I am sorry that I canno accompany you,” Hitler spoke up through his interpreter. “But I have a speech to make in two days in Germany. I have to hurry back to tend to my duties.”
“i wish I could go with you,” the Prince sighed. “My own duties and appearances here are onerous by comparison.”
They all left in a sudden rush, talking all at once and heading for the doors at the Savoy Hotel.
Now they could talk aloud without fear of being overheard. Churchill glanced down at his pocket watch. “We must hurry back to the Embassy,” he declared. “Evidently the Prince and the von Wessels are headed there this minute.”
“But what are we to do if we find them there?” Edward asked. “It is one thing to follow them. It is quite another to prevent any harm.”
Winston winced. “At first I did not want to involve the Palace. But what authority do I have to control the actions of the Prince of Wales? He must be recalled and sent somewhere else right now, and he must be kept busy so he does not dilly dally with the von Wessels and Herr Hitler.” He was obviously thinking aloud.
Dora said, “That is why we don’t have a Prince of Wales in America. Our own politicians would be afraid to hang around publicly with a man who is a would be dictator. It would harm their reputations. Instead this man inherited his position and doesn’t have to work for a living. No wonder he gets in trouble!”
It was not the first time she had contrasted the goings on in England with Pittsburgh in an unfavorable fashion. But this was Europe!
“Dora, I have told you a million times that Europe isn’t America, or I wouldn’t get called away so often from my duties at Mid-East Headquarters in Cairo to go after that dastardly Hitler. If this were America I suppose we could just have him arrested, and that would be that,” Edward hissed.
“You already had him arrested, and he escaped or whatever. And it didn’t do any good,” Dora complained.
“Well then, in America he would be jailed for life!” Edward proclaimed.
“You had better believe he would!” Dora fumed.
She got tired of these endless escapades every time she was supposed to be alone with Edward. And it was always the same bad guy, Adolf Hitler.
Edward escorted her to a cab. They grabbed the first one they could find. Winston had already rushed off to the Palace to talk to the King.
But as soon as they got to Prussia House, the German Embassy in London, they found the place deserted. Everyone had gone home for the day. The Prince and the von Wessels had obviously not gone there.
They found the first available red phone booth and called Winston. Winston answered on the first ring though they expected to get his secretary at Morpeth Mansions instead because he had gone to the Palace.
“I forgot that their Majesties are in Scotland right now. I could not talk to the King as much as we need to,” Winston sighed. “We will have to manage with our own ingenuity.
“But they are not at the Embassy!” Edward declared. “We were just there.”
“They have deceived us again. They suspect they are being followed and are trying to elude us,” Winston concluded. He told them to wait while he called around London. He could not get any answers. They met at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese near Fleet Street while they tried to figure out what to do next. The oppressive dark atmosphere of the place that was like a cellar restaurant without real windows but only tiny slits at the tops of the walls was enough to drive Dora mad. Samuel Johnson did not provide any answers as he stared down at them from his portrait on the wall.
The waiter brought a phone to Winston. “What! They are at Southampton? Thank you.”
Winston signaled and they all rushed for a taxi. Dora had to pay the taxi driver to zoom all the way to the south of England to catch the vagabonds embarking on a cruise ship with Herr Hitler at this very minute.
An attendant of the Prince rushed up to his master and thrust a wad of bills at him. “Here is what I could get without more authorization, sir.”
“Damn the authorization!” the Prince wriggled his nose. “It is as if I have to have the PM sign every time I want to give a tip to the toilet attendant.”
“Here,” Frau von Wessel gushed as she took the money from him, “I will keep it in my wallet. You don’t have any other place to put it right now.”
The Prince smiled down at her. “I would trust you with the Crown Jewels if I could lay my hands on them right now.”
Helga beamed and patted his hand with one of those fingers that could wear a King’s ransom.
Leave a reply
Chapter 16: Wall Street Swastika: The Prince Kisses A Nazi:
“I would be delighted to attend your rally in Nuremberg,” the Prince smiled. “Lately things are getting rather boring here in Whitehall.”
Dora could see him yawn. She realized she was still holding the curtain dividing the two dining rooms. She was aghast and let go. She did not want to be caught doing something so conspicuous. But even after she let go she could hear the Prince yawn again.
“Good!” the interpreter translated Hitler’s words. “We will make you our honored guest. Frick will be attending the rally of course. I will introduce you to him. Also I have some other candidates who might want to run for office. I would be honored to introduce them to you.”
“I should also be honored,” the Prince replied. “It sounds far more interesting and productive than when I have to attend a party here in London to meet the new Prime Minister or the Minister of this or that or God forbid! the new party candidates for Parliament. They all look alike, sound alike, and have the same repetitious, stupid ideas.” He sighed. “If you told them they had to create a new political party from scratch with brand new ideas suited for the time period and all this unemployment and lack of job opportunity, they would be appalled. They would probably go running for the moors and never be seen in London again.”
Hitler could be heard laughing. His translator joined in positively guffawing.
Winston’s jaw dropped. He scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. He scribbled so hard he was tearing the paper. “We cannot allow this trip. We must prevent this for the good of the British people. Their Majesties would be appalled.”
Edward wrote back, “How are we going to proceed? We can hardly walk up to a Royal and tell him he is a naughty boy and must go to his room. In fact, I have never been introduced. I don’t think I by any existing protocol could speak to him at all.”
“I know him,” Churchill wrote back. “I have spoken to him often on from the time he was a boy. In fact, when I was younger he used to be a neighbor of mine of sorts. He was always getting into trouble about protocol. But that is the Prince of Wales for you. If I know the man, we have to create a distraction.”
Dora thought, A neighbor of the Prince of Wales? I wonder what Winston could mean? She directed her questioning look at Edward.
He got her meaning right away. While Winston was busy looking at his pocket watch, drinking his wine, and consulting a pocket guide of what looked like train schedules, Edward wrote a note to Dora. “Winston is the grandson of the Duke of Marlborough. He is almost a British royal himself. That side of him is not well known especially among foreigners. He was born at Blenheim Palace in 1874, you know, and Blenheim Palace is one of the most splendid castles in the realm.”
“How are we going to distract a Prince?” Edward wrote.
Winston wrote back, “That is the question of the hour. It could save the Kingdom for us.”
The party next door seemed to be breaking up. Hitler seemed to be rising from his seat along with his interpreter. “We will send details of the event to you through our embassy in London. I want to introduce you to Frau and Herr von Wessel, the commercial attache here in London.”
To Dora’s horror the couple walked unexpectedly into the next room and shook the Prince’s hand.
“We will be delighted to invite you to dinner at the Embassy next week, Prince Edward,” Frau von Wessel seemed to purr at His Majesty. “We would have invited you there today except there was some what we might call unexpected interference.”
Dora felt a chill go down her spine. No doubt Frau von Wessel meant them. They switched locales at the last moment and had Hitler appear at the Savoy Hotel dining room instead.
“There is nothing I would rather do, but why wait for next week?” the Prince responded. “I am eager to learn everything about your German project that I can as soon as I can and what I can do to help finance it. After all, I have an excessive allowance. I don’t need all the money that Whitehall throws at me.” He laughed.
The Germans chortled. Hitler laughed the loudest of all.
Churchill paled. He wrote furiously, “We can’t have a scandal of such proportions. The Prince will give away government money to a criminal party in Germany? Impossible!”
“Very well,” Frau von Wessel spoke in her alto voice, “How about tomorrow night at our place?”
“Yes indeed!” Herr von Wessel seconded his wife.
“Certainly I would go anywhere for such a lovely teacher!” the Prince exclaimed about Frau von Wessel.
“The von Wessels will attend our rally in Nuremberg,” Hitler replied through his interpreter.
“I would rather go with no one else!”
Winston madly scribbled. “This is the worst possible development. The Prince is besotted with ladies and mistresses. He is one of the worst ladies’ men since Henry VIII!”
Dora could not imagine it. But she heard the sound of the Prince kissing Frau von Wessel’s hand.
Beautiful young woman retro portrait
Leave a reply