Heir to a Title Chapter 33.

Characters.
Ellie. (Eleanor) The prime Character.
Bill (William) her father, (obviously) Callie (Callista) Ellie’s only daughter. Initially Callum - a transgendered son.
Charlotte. (Nana) Ellie’s Paternal Grandmother
Sandie (Sandra) Ellie’s Older Aunt
Rosie (Rose) Ellie’s Younger Aunt
Henry Ellie’s boyfriend and husband. (Second son of the Duke of Denton)
Molly Duchess of Denton. Henry’s mother.
Bev (Beverly) Ellie’s aunt (Previously Uncle Bernard and brother to her dad.)
Jennifer. (Jennie) Beverly's older adopted daughter.
Beatrice (Bea) Beverly's younger adopted daughter.
Lucy, Henry’s oldest niece, Callum’s cousin.
Eleanor, Henry’s middle niece Callum’s cousin. Same name as Ellie.
Virginia Henry’s youngest niece Callum’s cousin
Julie Ellie’s sister-in-law.
Angela(Angie) Beverly’s wife (kidnapped by pirates and rescued.)
Megan Beverly’s only blood daughter by Angela.
Margaret Arnold.(Maggie) Callie's best female friend. (Eventually to become wife.)
Jane Arnold, Maggie's mother.
James Denton (The Ferrety Denton) Callie's ambitious, uncle.
Uncle Phillip Arnold American Relation (CIA)

Heir to a Title 33

“How many!!!!!?” Callie gasped.

“Three hundred and fifty! At least.” Ellie replied glancing nervously towards her mother in law Molly Denton, the Grand Dowager Duchess of Denton.

“I don't belieeve it!” Maggie squawked in 'Victor Meldrew' style.

“That'll fill half the hotels from here to Harrogate” Callie protested. “Are you agreeable to this?” she asked Jane Arnold - Maggie's mother.

“Well I am somewhat shocked but your great Aunt Beverly insists. She's got all her family from down Dorset way plus a host of business associates that she and your mother Ellie feel should be invited.

“Yes but the cost!” Maggie almost shrieked.

“Yes!!!” Callie agreed, “Where can both families find that sort of money, at a hundred quid a plate that's thirty-five-grand just for the wedding breakfast. God knows what all the other stuff will cost. Are we paying for the hotel bills?”

“Well your maths degree serves you well then,” a familiar voice replied as it's owner arrived to join the discussion.

Callie turned to meet and then leap forward to hug her great Aunt Beverly.

“I wasn't expecting you Auntie Bev.”

She continued hugging her great Aunt whilst turning to Ellie. Did you know Mummy?”

“Yes, she told me she was in Hull on business so I invited her over. Tell her Aunty.”

After completing the greetings and accepting a cup of coffee, Beverly explained.

“Well if you and Maggie don't object to me interfering with the most important day of your lives, I'm in the fortunate position to stand the cost of the food and entertainment by calling the wedding a business conference purely for tax purposes. I'd like to invite about a couple of dozen close business associates and their wives then the rest of the guest list is down to Jane and Ellie, your respective mothers. Besides, Ellie knows most of them and counts them amongst her friends anyway. She meets them regularly in Hull, Dublin, Belfast, Rotterdam, Hamburg, Tangiers, Oporto and Poole in her capacity as my girl Friday with the shipping business.”

“And the county will be well represented by mine and Molly's friends,” Jane Arnold explained.

“They will all be expecting invites and Auntie Beverly has agreed.” The Grand Duchess Molly added.

Callie and Maggie exchanged excited glances as the dawning pierced through their reservations. Then Callie's parsimony forced it's way to the surface.

“So what about the hotel bills?”

Beverly explained further to her concerned great niece.

“The shipping representatives will claim hotel expenses on their respective expense accounts and most of the Yorkshire county people will only have to make a day visit of it. They account for the bulk of the guests.

Only Maggie's American cousins and your Dorset relations will stay over at Denton Hall which can accommodate about forty or fifty at a push. My guess is that only about hundred other guests will need hotels. I've organised a deal with the hotel I use regularly on my shipping company account. We're looking at about five or six grand for the one night. That's about fifty quid a night which includes bed and breakfast, all en-suite. They were more than pleased because the booking is in May which is still pretty much the low season.”

Maggie and Callie breathed a collective sigh of relief as they began to see light at the end of the financial tunnel.
“So now it remains for the brides and the mothers of the brides to get down to the organisation.” Maggie concluded as she slumped into one of the comfy armchairs.

“Well thank goodness there's two brides and two mothers!” Jane Arnold chuckled.

This remark raised the level of gaiety and Beverly silently hugged herself that her generous offer had been well received. As mothers and brides started to toss ideas across the room, she and the Grand Duchess Molly Denton retired to a 'snug' and reminisced while also swapping ideas.

“Are there any special rules or conventions that need to be address when a Duke gets wed?” Beverly asked. Molly.

“That's an interesting one,” Molly confessed, “and I have to say I've no idea how Callie's arms will be displayed. Maggie has no nobility so fortunately the children will only share Callie's arms. However, I've no idea how her gender issues might affect any later developments but for now, her arms remain the same. Of course the marriage has to be registered in the heraldic record and that's going to be an interesting first what with both of them being brides. I'm secretly relieved that Callie has decided to delay her op until Maggie gives her at least two children. It completely puts the kibosh to the Ferret's ambitions. More coffee?”

For long moments the pair stared into the cosy flames of the only real fire in the whole house and they were actually snoozing when Callie found them.

“Gosh Granny, Auntie! No wonder they call this place the snug. Are you sure you're warm enough?” She grinned sarcastically.

“Very comfortable thank darling, what d'you want?”

“Just a few pointers about old family traditions. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue; all that sort of stuff, you know - traditional bouquets, which carriages if any, which horses and so on. You know what the county set are like, half of them will probably turn up on bloody horses anyway, - and blowing hunting horns or something daft.”

“Well join us in here,” Molly instructed them, “it's far more convivial.”

Taking the 'olds' at their word, the snug became 'snugger' as six females squeezed together in the tiny room and finalised the initial wedding plans. Naturally some things would need re-arranging later but the bare bones of the event were set. The next item was the date and naturally, this fell to Maggie. Then the venues were discussed and both 'olds' were deferred to in their wish to have the couple 'churched'. Neither Maggie nor Callie were bothered by this for both were indifferent to religion, but if it pleased the 'olds' then 'let it be' was the byword. In any case, the local village church was deemed to be 'picture-postcard' scene and an excellent photographic backdrop.

Four weeks later, invitations were sent out for the wedding and soon, all telephones were red hot. The following May, Some ten months later, the day was set.

~ooo000ooo~

“That's their plane isn't it?” Maggie wondered aloud.

“Air Canada, yes, that's probably the one, it's right on time so that'll be the Canadian branch. United's plane arrives at eleven thirty, so we've got a couple of hours. It'll be dead boring just hanging around the airport so why don't you take them into town then I'll follow with the Yanks and we can meet up at King's Cross before going north.”

“Auntie Beverly's Doresetshire gang are also catching the two o'clock so we will all meet up though Bev's coming up later on Thursday by car. She'll be bringing Grandpa Bill.”

“Well, two hours on the train will give them all a chance for everybody to get to know each other.. It won't be boring and we've reserved seats on the fourth coach. We'll probably have the whole coach to ourselves.”

With the arrangements made and not a little mobile chatter, three groups met on the crowded, noisy concourse of King's Cross station. Luggage and passengers were eventually loaded and full introductions were completed in the calm of the coach. Callie did not wish to be way-laid by Dr Phillip Arnold, the CIA agent so she perambulated up and down the coach making introductions as and where she thought fit. There were several instances where the younger children embarrassed their parents by asking Callie if she was really a boy or a girl. Thus proving to Callie that the issue was still a cause for discussion in some parts of the family. Her response was simply to smile before explaining that she was transgendered. It worked whilst also serving to break a lot of ice as she explained what 'transgendered' meant to the children – and some adults.

It being May and therefore the end of spring and start of summer it, was inevitably raining when the train glided into York. Eventually the sun chose to make an appearance as the convoy of minibuses skirted Denton moor. As a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds it illuminated Denton Hall just as the convoy arrived at the estate.

“Is that auspicious or what?” One of the American mothers asked as ooohs and aaahs emanated from the various vehicles.

“Gosh girl, you're darned lucky to be marrying into all this!” Another guest remarked to Maggie.

“It's not all a bowl of roses,” Maggie replied, “I've seen how hard Callie works to keep the estate viable. When she took over, things were going to rack and ruin. There's still a lot to do. After the wedding, the house re-opens to the public even while we're on our honeymoon.”

A thoughtful silence descended on the visitors in Maggie's minibus until it scrunched to a halt beside the others at the main entrance. Then the hubbub and commotion of organising rooms took over as several of the regular house guides pitched in to show people to their rooms. As they were led away, Callie made it her personal business to give each family an envelope with information about meal times and general organisation around the house. Amidst all the turmoil the caterers were busying themselves with decorating the house and getting the food ready.

For this, the main kitchens, that had not been used since the old duke had died, were brought to life for the weekend. Fortunately their modernisation, in preparation for opening the house to visitors, had recently been completed and the wedding was the baptism of fire. By dinner time the house was ringing to chatter and merriment as house guests explored both house, gardens and estate.

Then, at precisely seven pm, the ancient estate work bell was rung above the stable block to call everybody in for dinner. At seven thirty over sixty guests, all family members of Callie or Maggie, were sat down to enjoy the first round of hospitality. Once seated, Callie explained the itinerary for the weekend and pointed to a large temporary notice board that was to be located in the entrance hall.
“This will be positioned by the front door so everybody can look at it. I think you'll be aware by now that this is a large event with over three hundred guests arriving on Saturday and it will take some organising. Any changes in that organisation will be posted on this board by the front door. The catering manager or one of her go-fors, will be on hand all Saturday in the hall by the front door, to help people. Right everybody, tuck in.”
The next morning was Friday and the marquee was set up on the main lawn. Meal places were set and it was the last part Maggie or Callie would have to play in organising the wedding. The caterers took over that afternoon. That evening a large party was organised for family guests staying at the house and the main ball-room rang to the sound of music and chatter. At midnight by pre-arrangement, all festivities ceased. Saturday was to be a big day and the brides needed their sleep. Callie and Jane Arnold saw Maggie safely to bed then Callie scuttled barefoot along the cold marble floor to her own main bedroom.
As she pattered softly around the corner she thought she saw a figure just disappearing down the long corridor and rounding the corner where the main corridor turned down the West wing of the house. She thought little of it however for the house was full of people finding their way to their designated bedrooms. She even bumped into great Auntie Beverly just as she was entering her bedroom.
“Excited?” Beverly asked.

Callie nodded and smiled. “Is there anything I should be asking you Auntie Bev, what with you being like me?”

“Bit late for that now darling, all I can suggest is that you get a good night's sleep. You've got a diamond in that girl so you make sure you look after her.”

As an affectionate 'thank you', Callie stretched her neck and pursed her lips expectantly so Beverly gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Aaww! I was hoping for a bit more than that.” Callie pouted.

“Lips are for lovers darling, remember that.” She then wrapped her arms tightly around her young great niece and added. “Hugs are for friendship so there.”

Callie returned the hug and whispered. “Thanks Auntie Bev, good night.”

When she entered her bedroom she noticed that the corner gorbal door was closed and she was sure she had left it ajar. This was because when the wind blew across the moor and around the house, the eddies around the protruding gorbal window caused the door to rattle as air-pressure changed with the draughts. The door either slammed shut then rattled in its door frame or it banged against its hinges so the trick was always to wedge the door about six inches open and the draughts could breath freely without disturbing the door.

She looked down to push the wedge under the door but it was not in it's usual place. It had been moved, probably kicked, into the corner under her little computer desk. Now she knew somebody had been in her bedroom and the shadowy figure in the corridor took on a more sinister portent. That night for the first time, she locked her bedroom door. The very idea that there might be somebody snooping around her house made her angry for she had a good idea who it might be.
“Do I really have to install a security camera in my own bedroom?” She wondered as she slid between the cool sheets and 'star fished' for what might well be the last time. The idea of sharing her bed pleased her and she hugged the pillow as a substitute for the real thing.
An urgent knocking on the bedroom door disturbed her morning ablutions and she called out to the culprit to wait. Finally she unlocked the door to find her mother, Ellie standing with a impatient smile and arms full of silk.
“Why did you lock the door? You've never done that before!”
Callie ushered her in and whispered, “ Shhh, there was a visitor in here last evening while we were partying.”
Ellie's eyes widened, she didn't like secrets in the house, even a house as large as Denton Hall
“Who?”
“That's the million dollar question.” Callie replied. “While I'm on holiday I'd like you to keep my room, our room, that is Mine and Maggie's room locked at all times. I've got a good idea who it is but for the moment, 'no - names - no - pack – drill'.”

“Okay, but I'm afraid we cant do anything about it now young lady, we've got a bride to prepare.”

“Really. Did you think I'd forgotten mummy?”

“Don't get sarky with me young lady, just remember, I'm the mother of the bride.”

“So is Auntie Jane.”

“Yes, that's one heck of a break with tradition.”

“What about the other tradition?”

“What's that?” Ellie frowned.

“The one about the spouse seeing the bridal dress before the ceremony.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves, that's one superstition too far.” No, you're not seeing Maggie's dress before the wedding. Best you arrive at the church first then Maggie can do the bridal march. Give her that pleasure at least.”

“That's what we've agreed anyway. Though I know what dress she's wearing it's virtually identical to mine.”

“Yes, but you've not seen it on her and that's the superstition part. Just make sure you leave before her from the west door and she can leave from the main door.”

“Ha! I'm the duke of Denton Hall and I have to leave by the side door of my own home. That's another fine kettle of fish I've gotten myself into.” She flicked the ribbon of her nightie in a typical 'Laurel and Hardy' gesture. Ellie giggled and told her to calm down.

“Come on, lets get you to the hair-dresser she's downstairs.”

“Won't Maggie be there?”

“You can see each other in your petty coats it's the dresses that the superstition affects.”

“Huh, that's your interpretation. I'll wait until Callie's done, besides I don't want to spoil the sexy underwear bit on our honeymoon night.”

“As you wish. So I suggest you go and bathe. Maggie's been up since six and it's now half past seven.”
Callie flipped off her nightie without a thought about nudity in front of her mum and trotted into the shower. Ellie smiled as she saw all Callie's appendages bouncing incongruously.

“Only a mother could love a daughter like her,” Ellie told herself as she turned to unpack the underwear and sexy basque. “She'll be glad to get these off tonight,” Ellie grinned as she held them against herself and savoured ancient memories.

As she realised the garments would actually fit her she grinned again.

“You've still got it Ellie Denton.” She told herself.

By ten o'clock both brides were ready and the carriages were respectively lined up at the appropriate doors to arrive at the little village church by eleven. The Moment Callie and her Auntie Bev had cleared the main gates Maggie started up the drive accompanied by her dad. Both coachmen were under instructions to remain out of sight of each other and the preparations went reasonably smoothly. Callie was 'given away' by her Great Aunt Beverly because she was deemed the nearest thing to a father having once been one, while of course Maggie did the full traditional thing with her real dad. The alter scene presented a somewhat unusual assembly to any conventional church-goers but the celebratory mood put paid to any reservations that some of them might have had. The rest of the wedding proceeded in the full traditional style as the newly wedded pair thanked their good fortune that the day had stayed sunny until the wedding breakfast commenced. The meals and indoor festivities remained unaffected by the evening showers and by midnight, the festivities were over.

Callie and Maggie spent their honeymoon night in the master suite at Denton hall and only departed for the holiday on Sunday morning. The wisdom of this decision was made clear when they arrived bright-eyed and bushy tailed at the airport.

Back at Denton Hall, the family guests were availing themselves of the facilities offered by the house and the county of Yorkshire but Phillip Arnold, the CIA uncle was chagrined to learn that the master bedroom door in Denton Hall was firmly locked. Furthermore, Callie had left her vitally secret discs and lap-top in a secret location, far from Denton Hall. Uncle Phillip Arnold, Maggie's CIA relative was left to stew throughout the newly-wed's extended holiday.
There are however, many different types and ways to conduct surveillance and the CIA are masters of most of them. Most but not all. Working on secondment to GCHQ, Phillip Arnold was using every asset available to him to try and break into Callie's computers. Eventually he felt he had penetrated deeply enough to lay some virus born probes that would be enacted when Callie returned from her honeymoon to switch her computers on.
With the help of agents working at their embassy, the CIA even managed to embed some sophisticated phone taps on the various phone lines connecting the hall to the outside world.

When she returned home to take up her new roll as manager of the Denton estate, the instant she booted up her computers, the authorities in the USA and GCHQ were alerted and surveillance started in earnest. The traffic they monitored served to confirm that Miss Denton was certainly monitoring security activity in Saudi Arabia but her encrypted devices were proving impossible to crack. After a month of intensive observation Doctor Arnold was forced to concede to his British counterparts.
“She's using encryption devices that we are having trouble unscrambling. Have you guys any idea where she's getting her equipment?”
“Are you monitoring her online purchasing accounts?” 'Q' suggested. “They might give some inkling as to where she's sourcing her hardware. And by the way, we received another warning this morning, usual route but sourced in Iran this time thence to South Africa thence via Morocco to us in Cheltenham.”
“Is it plausible, does it ring true.”
“It's got the same password, as all the others. An encrypted version of the entire Koran with some exquisite deviations that vary with every warning. We invariably have to wait several days before the sender delivers the key. A sentence that has been deliberately altered so it would then be considered blasphemous by any standard and we have to locate the correct version in the Koran.”
“Does that mean you have to employ Koranic scholars to locate the key quickly?”
“It means more than that, we have to employ Koranic Scholars who have a good understanding of the 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin', and even theirs is not perfect.”

Dr Arnold frowned as he contemplated the implications.

“Do you have such translators or scholars, are they loyal?”

'Q' made a wry expression as she explained.

“We only give them a few specific sentences so as not to compromise our unknown source. If they knew that we have a source that has a better understanding of 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' than they. That information would get back to Saudi faster than light. Even now, they are curious as to what it's all about. Believe me Phillip, only you and I and a couple of my most trusted cryptographers are a party to this business and even now, none of us know for certain if 'you-know-who' is the mole.”

Dr Arnold pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Her security devices work on so many levels. She's a clever bitch.”

“Yeah, let's just be thankful she's our bitch – and by that I include you in 'our'.

“Well tomorrow, we are bringing in some more powerful computers and we should hopefully have tapped into her messages. Then it's matter of what languages she's using.”

“I don't think she'll be receiving any important stuff down her own phones.”

“The following morning, GCHQ and the CIA got their first tiny breakthrough.
Their new, more powerful phone-tap had proved itself operational when a brief message was intercepted. Unfortunately it was in an encrypted form of 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin'. 'Q' cursed softly when she realised that they would need a virtual 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' dictionary and a comprehensive knowledge of the grammar to de-crypt it. 'Q' explained to her colleague.

“All we know for certain is that this information came originally from Fortress Saud.”

“And we dare'nt approach them for any information about 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' because they would immediately smell a rat.”

Dr Arnold replied as he cursed with frustration.

“Was there no other comprehensive source for this language?” He pressed.

“Not that we know of. Though it seems that Mr or Ms Mole got to the Sanaa library before the Saudi's destroyed it, He or she might have the only copy now though where it's stored is anybody's guess. The worst of it is that the grammar and stuff probably exists in the oral tradition.”

“Well, we're working on hacking into her computers but it's going to be slow.” Dr Arnold conceded. “And if she's smart, she'll probably have any information about 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' locked away on a stand-alone computer.”

“She's smart.” 'Q' confirmed. “She'll have all her source material and contact stuff well away from the internet. What intrigues me is who's her contact inside Fortress Saudi?”

“She may not have one, she might have located a portal.”

“Well if she has, there must be an electronic trail.”

“There is,” Phillip Arnold confirmed, “but it's like trying to track a single gazelle's tracks at the water-hole after herds of wildebeest, zebras, buffalo and elephants have trampled over it. Maybe one hoof-print in fifty acres of muddy spoor.”

Frustrated by the lack of progress the pair retired to the canteen for coffee. Whilst they were drinking, the tiny breakthrough occurred.

Deep inside Fortress Saudi a tired operative accidentally released some vital information to a friend's computer in Riyadh University without realising what he'd done. The friend, not realising the importance of the information, messaged another friend who was a victim of the harsh Saudi Sharia laws. This friend was secretly a Shia Muslim who detested the Saudi Sunni regime so he immediately despatched it, unencrypted to some friends in Tehran. The original message contained a reference to 'Abdul', Callie's attacker, so inevitably a copy of the message was picked up by Callie's infiltration system inside Fortress Saudi.

The message was also picked up by an American spy satellite for it contained trigger words. Information in the message clearly alluded to a terrorist attack but dates, locations and instigators were vague, not however, too vague to be useless. The American spying network was directed to monitor the message and it's sources for some vital computer code clearly sourced the message originally from inside Fortress Saudi.

For a week, nothing came of it until another terrorist warning duly arrived on 'Q's desk with precise details of the same attack. The fact that the second message contained lots more information and because a part of the two messages contained part of the same source code, told 'Q' and Phillip Arnold that the friendly mole had definitely penetrated Fortress Saudi's innermost defences which neither the CIA, nor GCHQ nor indeed any other agency had come near to doing.

Phillip Arnold's respect for the mole grew exponentially as did his determination to emulate her – for he was now convinced it was a 'her'.

The terrorist attack, planned for a festival in Germany, was duly intercepted and averted. A truck bomb with some fifteen tons of high grade military explosive had been found while the source and financing of the explosives was traced..

This time, thanks to the earlier slip-up inside Fortress Saudi and the satellite interception, the Americans were able to confront the Saudis with Prima Fascia evidence of financial involvement and support.

That same Arab-American confrontation was detected by Callie's electronic sources and duly relayed via 'Vetus iter lingua Bedouin' to her computers. Callie was chagrined to learn that the American protest amounted to little more than a 'slap-on-the-wrist'. It seemed that the USA was quite prepared to continue with friendship to a state that was becoming daily more murderous than Genghis Khan.

“So much for the price of oil.” She told herself as she contemplated the ghastly truth that the USA considered her alliance with Saudi Arabia to be more valuable than an unknown number of innocent German party-goers. Her interceptions of the follow-up communications gave her details of the Anglo-American estimate of approximately one hundred to two hundred possible deaths based on the truck bomb's proximity to the festival crowds whilst the estimates for injured ranged from four hundred to a thousand.

Three weeks later, -( Callie was nothing if not patient )– a letter arrived on 'Q's desk. It advised her that because insufficient action had been taken against the instigators of the attack, the author of the note was writing to say that no further information or assistance would be forthcoming to GCHQ or the CIA.

Three months later, another truck bomb exploded at a religious festival on the river Ganges where over a million Hindu worshippers were gathering to bathe. It killed over a thousand people and injured thousands more. Callie was so angry about the Saudi-American alliance that she prepared another long letter to 'Q' describing details of the attack that only an insider could know. The letter once again served to idenify and indeed locate the bombers but 'Q' knew in her heart that had things been right with the unknown mole, the whole atrocity could have been averted. That fact alone served to emphasise what GCHQ and the CIA had lost.