“How in God’s name did he end up staying on? He should be shacked up in bloody Lisbon right now playing footsies with his Nazi mates with that Simpson bint…!”
“Words from the wise, old chap…” Nick cut in with a soft but firm voice, suddenly very serious for a moment as the others noted the change in his demeanour. “No harm done here in front of any of us, but I shouldn’t make a remark like that ever again within earshot of anyone else: words like that are tantamount to treason and that’s quite literally a hanging offence these days.” He continued on a lighter note, providing something of a brief explanation. “We know that the New Eagles have been here at least that long is simple…Wallis Simpson’s death in a car accident in June of 1934 left the King a very different man: a man whom I’ve had the honour of meeting numerous times since my arrival here.”
“‘Car accident’…?” Thorne’s incredulous repetition of those words echoed the surprise in everyone’s minds.
“London Coroner concluded that the death was a result of losing control due to a combination excess speed and excess of alcohol while travelling through London’s Rotherhithe Tunnel very early on the morning of June the Tenth. The Rolls Royce Phantom they were travelling in lost control and veered onto the wrong side of the road inside the tunnel, colliding head on with a large coal truck heading in the opposite direction. All passengers in the Rolls were killed instantly including Simpson.”
“So you’re telling us,” Eileen began, her eyes narrowing as she thought over what she’d just heard, “that the woman was killed in a car accident in a tunnel as a result of high speed and alcohol? She was nae bein’ chased by the paparazzi at the time as well, by any chance?”
“Does sound rather familiar, doesn’t it?” Nick conceded with a sombre expression. “Of course, I instigated some investigations of my own upon my arrival but it was five years after by that stage and many leads had gone cold. Scotland Yard weren’t happy about revisiting such a sensitive case, but once they re-opened it and dug a little deeper they discovered some interesting facts about the accident…”
“Such as…?” Kowalski inquired with keen interest.
“That the driver of the coal truck that the Rolls supposedly hit head-on, who was the only survivor or the accident and escaped unscathed, had disappeared from the face of the Earth. There were no records of him existing until about three months prior to the accident and he disappeared about two months after the case was closed…hanging about just long enough so as not to arouse suspicion while the investigations were going on. As there were no other witnesses to the event, well before dawn as it was, the driver’s testimony was all the coroner’s court had to go on apart from forensic evidence that was rather basic and poorly-collected by our standards. Guests staying at the same boarding house the fellow had lived in at the time also recalled him having visitors on occasion who spoke with a distinctly German accent…”
“Fuck me!” Thorne shook his head as the enormity of what Nick was implying. “You’re saying the Krauts pulled a ‘Diana’ and assassinated the Prince of Wales’ mistress?”
“That’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Why…?” Extra words couldn’t hope to sum up the simple question as effectively as Davies had just put it.
“Actually makes sense…” Thorne conceded almost immediately, giving a shrug. “The Nazi Hierarchy of the Thirties were of the strong opinion — whether rightly or wrongly — that Edward as king wouldn’t oppose Germany and they hoped to build close ties with Britain rather than go to war with them over the Nazis’ plans for invasion of Continental Europe. In Realtime, Edward’s abdication made the whole thing academic, but there are a number of historians who believe at the very least that he was sympathetic to the Nazis and to Hitler.
“Even after he stepped down from the throne and became the Duke of Windsor, there were unsubstantiated rumours that he’d leaked Belgian defence plans to the Krauts, or at least that Simpson may have. There was certainly some suggestion that she had some Nazi friends and they moved in some very ‘diverse circles’ in Spain and Portugal at the beginning of the war before Churchill bit the bullet and ordered him off to the Bahamas under threat of a court martial.” Thorne stopped and took a deep breath, then a sip of champagne before continuing.
“Edward’s involvement with Wallis Simpson was considered a scandal and a constant source of embarrassment for the Palace at the time: even after he became king following the death of his father in ‘Thirty-Six, he maintained his intention to marry Simpson, a twice-divorced American, and this created a constitutional crisis within the British Parliament that was only solved by his abdication.” Thorne shrugged once more and paused for a moment to think. “I can see how any Nazi armed with knowledge of history might well think it worth the effort to try to retain Edward as the British Monarch, and it’d be obvious that the best chance of accomplishing that would be to take Wallis Simpson out of the picture.”
“Might’ve worked too, except they weren’t counting on someone from MI6 sticking their nose in with a little ‘inside information’ of his own…” Alpert added with a thin but self-satisfied smile.
“That canna been an easy conversation to have with the man,” Eileen observed after a moment’s silence.
“Fortunately not one I personally had to take care off, but I can’t imagine it was pleasant, “Nick conceded. “Whatever else can be said about the man, there’s no denying he was utterly in love with Simpson and he was devastated when she died. The five years between her death and my arrival and subsequent re-opening of the case were by all accounts quite a dark time for the King and his Country.”
“How’d he take the suggestion that the love of his life was assassinated by the Nazis?”
“Not well, Robert…not well at all…”
“I suspect he accepted it in the end though, yes?” There was a knowing look in Hal Markowicz’ eyes as he asked that question.
“We gave him someone to ‘blame’.” Thorne caught exactly what the old man was getting at. “Rightly or wrongly, the suggestion that there was someone actually responsible for his mistress’ death — someone else being the unspoken part of that equation — would be a very persuasive idea. Its human nature to want a scapegoat…the Nazi propaganda that the Jews and the Communists were to blame for the First World War and for the ‘stab in the back’ at Versailles basically brainwashed an entire nation and swept them into power. People want someone to blame for their misfortunes: telling someone they don’t have a job because they’re lazy or just because ‘shit happens’ will never win votes, but tell them it’s someone else’s fault they’re out of a job and have no hope and they’ll follow along like rats behind the Pied Piper.”
Nick Alpert nodded slowly and stifled a yawn as he glanced around at the rest of the faces in the room and noted the unequivocal excitement and interest the conversation was generating. He was tired — dead tired — but he also understood how much adrenalin would be coursing through the veins of rest of the people there, having arrived in similar circumstances on his own just a year before. He’d recount as much of what had happened in that world as he could… he owed them that much just for turning up. The conversation and the associated questions and answers would continue on until dawn and beyond