Chapter 1

My trip across the pond(East not West) went about the way one expects when flying in a sardine tin; not very exciting and cramped when you are over 6 foot and 200 lbs.(Over 188 cm and 14 stone) That was bad enough but trying to tell a TSA Overseer that you had no luggage and were leaving the same day was enough to almost make me miss my meeting. I think the goddesses made a mistake when they gave out brains to those folks.(Oxymoron, like military intelligence)

Thank the goddesses a barrister(Lawyer) had sent his car for me or unless I learned to speak Pustin or Pakistani I might still be trapped in a taxi there. I guess just trying to sit back and relax was easier said than done. When we reached ‘Secure Legal Title’s’ rep at the Bank; I felt better. My uncle left me several things in the house and told me not to sell them. Getting them couriered out of the house, safely was more difficult and more costly than getting them out of the country. For some king’s ransom HSBC extracted the dozen or so items from the estate then arranged for shipment to the British Virgin Islands for me. Not until Inland Revenue and such sorts had a go at trying to add a tax or two on them.

About 4.5 hours and 1,000 signings or initials later Sheila from HSBC had come to rescue me and drive me back to Heath-row at least I had hoped that was it; but no. She stuck her hand out and handed me two plastic cards. “You will need this to claim those things we shipped to BVI for you. Everything requires a encoded password and a code-word. Then she handed me off with a wave to an ugly monster of a bodyguard and the driver for the trip to the airport. I ask you could anything be worse than than, she was a looker too. But everything was sold, signed, sealed and put into some bank account there paying 1%. I was never, until now that is, a believer in ‘Fate’, or ‘Destiny’ or the like. The old lady stumbling out of the car just in front of the one for me changed that. I stepped over, caught her before she hit the pavement and then spun her and myself around like in a dance.

“I can tell you are not from around here, are you?”(With an slight accent mind you)

“No Ma’am! A bit West I’d say! Unless you took the long way East.”

“A Shame it is, no one has done that to me since ... well it has been some time.”

“Peter ... Peter Chatsworth from the New York area.”

“Lady Penelope Wentworth, you may call me Penny or Pen for short.”

“You should call me Pete but never late to dine!” I laughed at my funny.”

That almost stuck in my throat as a vision of loveliness came out of the other side of the car saying...”Grand Ma Ma, are you injured? Do you require...”