The Windsor Protocol

by Peter MacAlan

  Conroy was shocked into action, recovering his senses completely. He grabbed for his fallen automatic and went diving for cover behind the rocks near the stairway.

  Maria Soriano had lost all sense of her surroundings for she had rushed to her husband’s side, screaming and wailing over his prostrate form.

  Serafini was now in a crouching position and returning fire with slow deliberation.

  The Duke and Duchess were sheltering by the cabin of the launch with Magda, while Drake was trying desperately to untie the stern line.

  Lise was keeping up sporadic automatic fire from her position, making sure that Serafini’s attention was fully engaged. The Mafia boss fought coldly, silently, until a lucky burst of fire struck at his upper leg. He gave a grunt of agony and fell clutching his thigh. He rolled about the jetty whimpering softly.

  Conroy saw that Drake, having freed the stern line, was now attempting to release the bow mooring of the boat. Conroy rose to his feet and began to race forward towards the vessel with his automatic levelled.

  “Drake!” Conroy yelled. “Give it up! There’s nowhere to run to.”

  Drake turned. The bodyguard, undeterred by the threat of Conroy’s weapon, began to swing his own automatic up. Conroy pressed his trigger. There was a click.

  It took a split second to register that the hammer of the Smith and Wesson had come down on an empty chamber. The clip had been exhausted.

  Drake hesitated a moment in surprise and his broad face broke into a grin of tired triumph. He continued to bring his gun up, this time more slowly, more deliberately.

  The stutter of automatic fire came to Conroy’s ears an almost immeasurable fraction after he felt the bullets hiss by. Drake was knocked back across the boat, his weapon was flung out of his outstretched hand, landing with a splash! into the water beyond.

  Conroy was moving forward like an automaton. He reached for a fresh clip of ammunition, ejecting the empty clip, inserting the new.

  He swung round quickly. His flickering eyes counted his opposition. Serafini was still lying on the ground, moaning at the pain of his wound. Maria was oblivious to anything, crying and beating at her forehead with clenched fists over the obviously dead body of her husband, Luis Soriano.

  In the launch the Duke and Duchess were staring towards him with faces devoid of expression. Behind them, Magda stood white faced and shaking with fear.

  Drake’s dead body lay where it had fallen.

  “No one move!” ordered Conroy. Then, more loudly: “Lise? Are you all right?”

  “Okay, Jimmy!” came the reply from the girl in her shelter of rocks.

  “Keep everyone covered.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Conroy moved across to Drake’s body and, kneeling, felt the pulse in the neck of the Canadian.

  He knew almost before he touched him that the man was dead.

  He inserted a hand into the dead man’s inside pocket and plucked out his wallet.

  He had already guessed what he would find.

  There were documents identifying the man as Rolf Drake, a Canadian citizen. With them, Conroy picked out a small identity card, carrying a photograph, showing him to be SS Brigadefuhrer Rudi Olbricht. Conroy pursed his lips. How easy it was to be led by coincidence. So this was Rudi Olbricht. He would have to make a formal apology to the shade of Roger Albright. What was in a name, after all?

  He left the documents identifying the man as Drake in the dead man’s jacket and pocketed the SS identification. He knew how Dunnett would want him to play it. Nothing must be left which would place the Duke and Duchess in a position that would leave them with awkward questions to answer. And how a Canadian whom the Duke claimed to have known as working on his ranch, one of his personal bodyguards, could turn out to be a German SS officer, would be more than awkward.

  His search of the dead Nazi agent completed, Conroy rose and walked to where the Duke and Duchess stood waiting for him.

  He was aware of the angry mask of the Duchess’ face as she stood watching him through lowered lids. He turned to the Duke, staring a long while into the fathomless eyes of the man, trying to read something in the inscrutable face, wondering what this man must be thinking.

  High treason had been committed here. The crime of breach of duty of allegiance to the Crown. Conroy knew the definition of treason. But there would be no way any treason trial would result from this event.

  He became conscious that the man he was staring at, eye to eye, was the former King of England. He came to a position of attention and inclined his head from the neck, in a short bow.

  “My name is Major James Conroy, sir, of British Military Intelligence.”

  The Duke sighed slowly, his face expressionless.

  “What is it you wish us to do?”

  The voice was flat, acquiescent.

  “Accompany me back to the villa, sir. I am sure that His Majesty and His Government will be delighted to learn that this attempt to abduct you and Her Grace has failed.”

  For a moment the eyes of the Duke came up and met his, stung by the sarcasm in Conroy’s voice. There was a defiant animation in them as they held Conroy’s gaze. Then the eyes faltered and dropped.

  “Congratulations, Major, on the success of your operation.”

  “Would you precede me, sir?” invited Conroy. “HMS Snark should be here soon to escort you back to Nassau.”

  The Duke was about to move when the sound of a marine engine came out of the darkness. It was approaching the pier.

  Conroy stiffened.

  “Lise!” he cried in warning.

  “I hear it,” replied the girl.

  Out of the darkness appeared the white bows of a motor yacht, cutting through the sea and slowing to edge towards the jetty.

  “Need any help?” came Adams’ mocking voice.

  Conroy relaxed and smiled as he recognised the graceful lines of the Eleuthera.

  “You are just a little late,” he called back.

  “We got tied up with a U-Boat,” replied Adams, as he and Jessie made their yacht fast.

  “So that was it?” Conroy started in amazement. “We heard an explosion. What happened?”

  “Well, we must be the only civilian motor yacht that’s sent a U-Boat to the bottom. No survivors, I’m afraid.”

  Adams paused and stared around at the scene of carnage on the landing stage and whistled softly.

  “Looks like you have been busy here yourselves.”

  “Not single-handed, though,” confessed Conroy. “Lise is hidden up in the rocks behind us with an automatic. I wouldn’t have made it without her.”

  Jessie grinned.

  “Who says a woman’s place is in the home?” Then she frowned. “Your head’s cut.”

  Conroy reached up a hand to where Drake’s first bullet had nicked him.

  “It’s only a scratch. I’ll see to it later.”

  “May we return to the house now, Major?” cut in the Duke coldly. He and the Duchess had been waiting patiently during the exchange.

  “You may indeed, sir,” replied Conroy with equal unemotional civility. “Lise! Escort His Royal Highness and Her Grace back to the villa. We’ll round up the rest.”

  “What happens now?” asked Adams.

  “Did you get through to Colonel White?”

  “He’ll be here shortly and so will the Royal Navy.”

  “Then we’ll settle down to wait for them to come.”

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  Friday, August 30, 1940

  Lise escorted the Duke and Duchess to their room with firm courtesy. The maid and valet, who had little idea of what was taking place, were released from their rooms and sent to attend to them. Conroy brusquely told Magda and Maria, who had been calmed down a little, to look after the wounded Serafini and Guido, who had been brought in from the front of the villa where he had been left trussed. They were locked in a bedroom. Turi was found peacefully napping at his post, oblivious to everything that had been happening
and presented no trouble at all when captured and imprisoned in one of the storerooms. The dead were left as they had fallen.

  Jessie, having treated Conroy’s head wound, decided to find the kitchen.

  “We could all do with some coffee while we’re waiting.”

  “Maybe we can find something stronger,” Adams replied, turning to Serafini’s drinks cabinet. “It’s been quite a strenuous ten days.”

  Conroy sprawled on the velvet upholstered sofa which had been so recently vacated by the Windsors.

  “Ten days? Is that all it’s been? It seems like years. Well, maybe they’ll let me go home now to the peace and quiet of the air-raids in London and the war in Europe.”

  Lise Fennell took a couple of whiskies which Adams had poured and went to perch on the arm of the sofa, handing one of the glasses to Conroy.

  “Do you have to go back to England now, Jimmy?” she asked.

  He impulsively reached for her hand. It was an automatic gesture. She did not withdraw her hand from his but returned his searching look.

  “I’m under orders, Lise. Like you.”

  Her face clouded.

  “We were only after Serafini on a Treasury rap. We had no idea he was working for the Nazis.” She paused, remembering. “Poor Roger.”

  “I was a numbskull about that,” Conroy confessed. “If I hadn’t been so damned convinced that Rudi Olbricht and Roger Albright were one and the same person I might have been able to have seen things a little more clearly. Anyway, Lise…I guess you’ll be off to Washington to report?”

  “Maybe on your way back to England…” she smiled hesitantly, blushing almost shyly, “…maybe you’ll be able to find time to spend a day or two. It would be nice to get to know you this time…properly.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “I’ll make a point of it.”

  Harry Adams peered into the darkness across the patio. They could hear the sound of an approaching marine engines.

  “The Royal Navy’s here,” he grunted.

  “I think I’ll go and help Jess with that coffee.” Lise said. “We’ll have quite a few guests soon.”

  The launch from HMS Snark arrived at Devil’s Point landing stage with twenty armed sailors under an incredulous sub-lieutenant. It took Conroy some while to persuade the youngster to let him speak to the skipper of the sloop which was standing about a mile off the point. On the r/t set Conroy was brief. All the Navy need know was that an attempt had been made to kidnap the Governor-General and his wife and it had been foiled. The skipper was persuaded to allow the Duke and Duchess, with their servants, to go aboard the sloop to await further orders.

  Just before dawn the ship’s Martlet fighter arrived from Nassau bearing a grim-faced Colonel White cramped with the Naval pilot in a cockpit originally intended for one person. The ship’s launch brought him to the villa at Devil’s Point.

  The captain of the Snark himself came with him and White gave instructions that the badly wounded Serafini and his companions were to be taken to the ship’s brig and held incommunicado. The bodies of Salvatore, Lord Skenfrith, Luis Soriano and the man who called himself Drake were also taken away with the minimum of fuss.

  Colonel White looked strained and tired as he made the arrangements. Eventually he was able to take Conroy to one side away from the others. He spoke quietly.

  “Before I came away, I spoke directly with Baker Street. Dunnett briefed me fully. Publicly, this didn’t happen at all. We will have to fudge things in Nassau to maintain that the Governor-General and his wife have continued to play their role there. For the official record the story is that Serafini attempted to kidnap His Royal Highness and his wife. Can we support that?”

  “It depends on the Duke and Duchess. Will they be persuaded to remain quiet?”

  “Once the alternatives have been placed before them, I am sure that they’ll go along with that,” replied White grimly.

  “What about the others? Serafini and his women?”

  “They won’t have a chance to do otherwise. As soon as Snark had put the Governor-General and his wife ashore in Nassau, the skipper has orders to sail directly for Plymouth with his prisoners. They’ll be state prisoners. But we do want to be clear on the story. There must be no loose ends. No loose ends at all. This could have a devastating effect on morale in England. Perhaps it could lead to something worse.”

  “We can support the story,” agreed Conroy. “It is easy to show that Serafini was employed by the Germans. Soriano was his right-hand man.”

  “How about the Canadian…Drake?”

  The colonel’s face was expressionless as he asked.

  “He was a Canadian who had worked on the Duke’s ranch there,” Conroy replied without hesitation. “He must have been bribed by Serafini.”

  Conroy had already burnt Brigadefuhrer Olbricht’s identity papers in the fire.

  “So,” White sighed softly. “You believe that there are no loose ends to worry about? No way that the story of what really happened here, nor word of any Royal involvement, can be leaked out?”

  Conroy smiled tightly and shook his head.

  “The Duke and Duchess can therefore return to their public duties without anyone asking any pertinent questions? That is what London is most concerned about.”

  “So far as I am concerned, this did not happen. I do not foresee the Nazis making another attempt just yet. And the Duke might have learnt a lesson.”

  “That was not what I meant, Conroy. I meant…”

  “I know what you meant, colonel,” interrupted Conroy. “There is a lot of speculation about the Duke’s allegiances. That speculation will continue, of course, all the while His Royal Highness feeds it. But for the moment…” he shrugged “…you can inform London that the Royal chestnuts are out of the fire.”

  “Very well. At least the U-Boat was destroyed. We found a few bodies…two officers and a few ratings who were on deck…but most of the crew must have been trapped in her when the explosions sent her to the bottom. She’s laying in about three hundred feet of water, so we can forget her. I’ve ordered the bodies that we found to be taken to a remote cay and disposed of. It’s better that way.”

  There was no sentiment in his voice.

  The Colonel allowed a long pause before giving Conroy a searching look.

  “Security on this must be absolutely watertight.”

  He sounded worried about something.

  “Jessie and Harry Adams work for intelligence,” replied Conroy. “They are not a security risk if that’s what you mean.”

  “I meant, what about the American girl?”

  Conroy frowned as he tried to follow the man’s thoughts.

  “Lise Fennell? But she’s an American Government Treasury agent whose brief was to get incriminating evidence on Serafini. Her job’s over.”

  White chewed his lip thoughtfully.

  “America being a neutral country, any leak about this situation could be disastrous,” he said slowly. “There is a strong pro-Nazi lobby there. There are a lot of prominent US citizens who would be happy to see Germany either win the war or force Britain into a negotiated peace. And don’t forget Roosevelt is coming up for re-election in two months’ time. The deal he did the other week in swapping fifty destroyers for bases on British territory, including a base here in the Bahamas, on Eleuthera to be precise, has caused a great deal of unpopularity among Americans. Let even a whisper of this affair get out and…”

  White raised a shoulder eloquently and let it fall.

  “There is a lot of doubt at the moment whether Roosevelt can win a third term. It’s highly unusual and it might be a close run thing. The Republican, Wendell Wilkie, is energetic and attractive to a great many voters because they see Roosevelt’s policies leading them into war, no matter how much he maintains that he will not. There’s even a growing split among the Democrats over the matter. The US ambassador to London, Kennedy, is known to be very unhappy about Roosevelt’s policies. Just think wh
at Wilkie could do if the Republicans knew what happened here? And what lengths the Duke was prepared to go to in support of his views?”

  Conroy looked startled.

  “What are you saying?” he demanded coldly.

  “How far can you trust this Miss Fennell?”

  “All the way! Good Lord, Colonel, she’s a US Government agent,” repeated Conroy.

  “But you don’t even know whether she is a Republican or Democrat or whether she is an Isolationist or Interventionist.”

  Conroy shrugged helplessly. White continued coldly.

  “And if Roosevelt loses the presidency in this election, who knows which way the US Government might jump? A neutral today, an enemy tomorrow. Look at the pressure inside the US to support not just isolationism but to achieve a peace on German terms. Alfred Sloan, the chairman of General Motors is known for his Nazi sympathies and we know that his European chief, James Mooney, is actually in touch with Goring. Look at the political and financial power General Motors wield. They are just one of the major companies that take a pro-German attitude. And the US is full of such people.”

  Conroy hesitated and cleared his throat. He spoke deliberately.

  “I have a personal relationship with Miss Fennell, sir. I am sure that she will not mention any suspicion of the willingness of the Duke to place himself at the disposal off the Nazis.”

  White was silent for a long time. He studied Conroy’s stubborn expression. Then he sighed.

  “This affair is like treading through a mine field, Conroy. You’ve done a good job here. I’ve been asked to tell you to get back to London as soon as possible. You can accompany the prisoners on the Snark. She is about to sail so you’d better join her immediately.”

  His eyes narrowed as Conroy shook his head emphatically.

  “I need a few days to clear up some things.”

  White bit his lip and opened his mouth as if to press the matter but abruptly shrugged.

  “Very well. There’s a convoy out of Halifax in ten days’ time. I’ll arrange clearance for you to join one of the ships of the destroyer screen.”