Cyberclipper Page 5

  “Sir, please look at the signal strength on this monitor,” continued the Frenchman. “It is the same in all three communications modes. And we’re using a frequency that is rarely used by the gendarme so we will not alert anybody to our transmission. And, if we do, by the time our mission is over, we’ll be long gone, and this vehicle will no longer exist.”

  “Excellent,” responded the Prince. Now please demonstrate the link over our Desertstar satellite,” asked the Prince.

  “Of course, Sir,” responded the responsive employee. “We’ve put an antenna in the window, and this line connects to the display.” At that time, Monsieur Malreau typed a message on a keyboard which only a receiver on the other end of the Desertstar link would understand. A text message came back and was displayed on a monitor: “Confirm receipt of all data. Good Day.”

  The Prince studied the message and said:” This is a very good day. Have you done dry-runs of the route from here to the Casino Monte-Carlo?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” “Here is the videotape of our last run,” replied Malreau as his female partner looked on. “As you can see, the M6007 highway runs directly into the D6007 in Monaco for the seven-mile trip,” responded the Frenchman as the vehicle-mounted camera showed the route. “And with sirens blaring, if necessary, we should experience minimal traffic on a holiday Monday morning, Your Highness.”

  At this point, the Prince got up and stepped down out of the vehicle. He then shook Jacque’s hand and nodded to his partner as he said: “Good job, my friend. Please await my signal. It will come via our secure link embedded in our garbled text. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the Frenchman. “You pay us handsomely, and we will be ready when you call.”

  “Thank you and Good Bye,” was the Prince’s short reply as he turned and left the building. An hour later, the Prince’s Gulfstream was over the Strait of Gibraltar headed for New York City.

  Five hours later the Prince’s jet landed at the Newark International Airport in New Jersey and taxied to the commercial aviation hangar. A limousine than whisked him to a warehouse in Fort Hamilton south of Brooklyn, New York. As the limousine pulled up to the building, Steven Goldman, a long-time friend of the Prince’s from college days, walked out and shook His Highness’s hand as he escorted him into the garage. The conversation started about the good old days but quickly turned to business as the Prince approached a red and white ambulance. Mr. Goldman then beckoned the Prince to climb inside for the demonstration of communications links and throughput rates. After witnessing the same structured demonstration as in Nice, the Prince remarked: “Steven, you’ve done it. It performs per specification in both directions to and from Dubai. Your efforts are truly appreciated, my friend,” continued the Prince. “How is the drive from here to lower Manhatten?”

  “It’s easy, Sir,” replied Mr. Goldman. “We simply go north on Route 278 to 478 through the Hugh Carey tunnel to FDR Drive east to Broad Street which goes directly to our target. It’s also convenient because we can turn on Maiden Lane and go directly to Pier 15 River Esplanade.” “Would you like to see the video, Sir?” asked the New Yorker.

  “No, that won’t be necessary, Steven,” replied the Prince. “I trust you and your wife, Audrey. Please give her my regards.” “Please wait for my signal to proceed.” With that the Prince of Dubai left the building and motored back to the airport. An hour later, his jet was at 30,000 feet headed to San Francisco.

  The Prince’s whirlwind journey took another five hours to get to San Francisco’s International Airport due to strong headwinds. The Prince called ahead to confirm the readiness for his visit. He wasn’t disappointed.

  Fifteen minutes after landing, the Prince’s limousine pulled up to a single story warehouse on Cargo Way, just east of 3rd Street in the Hunter’s Point section of South San Francisco. As the limo pulled up, out came another trusted friend of Prince Latif, Nathan Kalish, a 39-year old Porsche salesman from Redondo Beach, California. The two men recalled a couple happy moments while attending UCLA as they walked up to an ambulance. Kalish’s demonstration was just like the previous two. It proved the two-way, redundant, secure communications link between the ambulance and Pier 3 of the Embarcadero as well as via satellite relay to Dubai. Mr. Kalish also convinced the Prince that the 3rd street location was perfect for access into the Financial District. The Prince asked his friend to wait for his coded text signal and parted with an invitation to Dubai “when our little adventure is over.” Mr. Kalish eagerly accepted the offer.

  Only two hours later, the Prince’s Gulfstream was airborne, this time headed south to Cabo San Lucas in Mexico to inspect a marina and take a few days to meet Ms. Katie Flynn, the 32-year old Marina Manager/Harbormaster who made a global reputation by sailing solo from Cabo to Indonesia. As the plane turned south, just over the Golden Gate Bridge, the Prince put his head back on a pillow, and a sly smile came over his face.

  10

  CABO SAN LUCAS

  As the Prince’s jet circled over the end of Mexico’s Baja California Peninsula, the famous landmark of the sea arch called El Arco de Cabo San Lucas could be seen. The harbor was bustling with pleasure boats, wind surfers, fishing boats and cruise ships. The plane landed at the Los Cabos International Airport where the Prince found his transportation for the 6-mile trip to the Hotel Riu Palace Cabo San Lucas, a stunning structure on the ocean drive of Camino Viejo a San Jose.

  It was early afternoon when the Prince called Ms. Flynn to arrange a visit that afternoon at 4:00 PM. The Harbormaster had been alerted of the Prince’s visit via email from Dubai. Promptly at 4:00, the Prince, splendid in a pure while linen Kaftan, knocked on the Harbormaster’s door. Katie Flynn, a trim, 32-year old fitness instructor with a bronzed body and wide smile, welcomed His Highness to Cabo.

  “Your Highness, I’ve eagerly awaited your arrival,” said Katie. “Your assistant, Ms. Samira, emailed that you need a pier for your vessel.”

  “That’s right, Ms. Flynn,” replied the Prince. “Indeed, the craft, the Blue Clipper II, is on its way to this marina as we speak.”

  “What is the size or class of your vessel, Your Highness,” inquired Ms. Flynn.

  “Well, it’s very large, 315 feet by 88 feet. From what I can see, I would need the external position on your N Pier,’ replied the Prince.

  “Oh, I see.” “and how long would your need it?” asked the Harbormaster.

  “Starting next Sunday, I would need it for a month. We would be here for a week, then depart for three days and return for another three weeks,” responded the Prince. “Is the N Pier available?” he asked.

  Ms. Flynn accessed her tablet and moments later confirmed its availability.

  “Would you like to inspect it now?” she asked the Prince.

  Yes, I would if it’s not an inconvenience for you,” replied the Prince.

  Katie locked the office door, and the two hopped in a golf cart and headed down the pier.

  “Your Highness, Sir, at 315 feet your yacht is a small ocean liner. It must be quite a sight and pleasure to be aboard,” stated Ms. Flynn with an inquiring mind.

  “Well, it’s brand new, and I’ve hardly stepped foot aboard, much less taken a cruise,” replied the Prince.

  Katie parked the golf cart in the middle of the N pier and explained the hook-ups—water, power, cable television and pump-out services available. “And, Your Highness, our fee is by length with very few extra charges or taxes,” assured the Harbormaster.

  “That’s agreeable to me under one condition,” replied the Prince.

  “What’s that, Sir?” May I ask?” inquired the youthful, albeit seasoned mariner.

  “That you be my quest for dinner this evening and moral support at the Players Casino afterwards,” said the Prince expecting a positive response to his invitation.

  “Well tonight is my night off, and I’d be honored, Your Highn
ess,” replied Ms. Flynn.

  “Oh, and I have another favor,” replied the Prince.

  “What’s that, Your Highness?” asked Katie.

  “That in private your please address me as Yousif,” replied the Prince.

  “Well, Sir…I mean Yousif..I’ll try to remember to do so,” responded Katie with a broad grin.

  “Please do try,” replied the Prince.

  As they took the golf cart back to the office, the Prince said: “Ms. Flynn please have the papers ready for me to sign this evening. My car will pick you up here at 7:30, if that’s agreeable with you?” asked the Prince.

  “Yes, Sir, Your Highness…I mean Yousif,” “I’ll be ready with the papers at 7:30,” replied Katie with real excitement in her voice. As they parted ways, Katie was sure that the one-month slip fee would go a long way toward balancing her budget.

  Prince Latif was waiting in the Hotel lobby when Katie arrived. She looked like a bronze Goddess in her spaghetti strap red sequin dress showing only a modest amount of cleavage. She walked with confidence in her red high heels as she reached out to shake the Prince’s hand and politely bowed her head.

  The Prince was quick to respond: “I’ve been around the world, but you’re the prettiest Harbormaster I’ve ever seen.”

  Katie blushed at the complement.

  Only moments later the couple was sitting by the window in the main dining room bathed by glow of the setting sun. Prince Latif took a quick look at the Contract document and asked: ”Are there any ugly penalty clauses of which I should be aware?”

  “No, Yousif, it’s very straight-forward if the payments are made on time but with a standard grace period,” replied the Harbormaster.

  “Very well,” said the Prince as he pulled out his Montblanc pen and signed the document. He then attached a business card and asked that a copy be faxed to the Dubai address on the card.

  Over a lobster dinner, the Prince found out a lot about the young lady as she recalled her ocean voyages and corporate experiences. He found many of the same qualities in Katie that he had experienced in Nikki Villefranche. After a light lime flan dessert, the Prince asked Katie if she were still willing to accompany him to the small casino on Paseo de la Marina.

  “Sure, it sounds fun, but I warn you, my limit is only to bet twenty dollars an evening,” replied Katie.

  “Ha-Ha, “replied the Prince. “That’s quite ok. I think you’ll bring me good luck.”

  The Prince was right. As Katie stood by his side at the Blackjack table, his chips were piled up in neat stacks. Once, when the Prince hit a big jackpot, Katie put her arm around thePrince’s waist as they jumped for joy. She quickly pulled back her arm and apologized for the outburst.

  “Opps, Sorry, Sir,” she said. The Prince patted her on the shoulder and smiled. After only one hour, the casino manager was relieved to see the couple go out the front door to an awaiting black limousine. Only a few minutes later, the car pulled up to the Marina’s gate.

  “Katie,” said the Prince. “I’ve decided to stay until Sunday in order to see the Blue Clipper arrive. And I’d love to give you a tour of her.”

  ‘Yousif, that’s really good news. I’d love to get a tour. And since you’re here another day, I’d love to take you out on my tender to show you the Arco, our famous tourist attraction,” said Katie.

  “That’s an offer I can’t refuse,’ Said the Prince. “Are you sure you can take the time off to do so?” asked the Prince.

  “Sure, I’ve got a lot of overtime leave due me, and I need a break,” replied Katie.

  “Just let me know when, and I’ll bring a picnic lunch,” replied Yousif as he leaned over and gently patted Katie on the side of her head.

  At noon on Friday, Katie’s 16-foot go-fast tender pulled up to the dock at the Hotel Riu Palace. She helped Yousif board the boat and place the picnic cooler under a seat. She adroitly backed-up the boat, turned around and pushed the throttle forward. In no time the boat was speeding along at 35 knots. They would occasionally hit a wake of another go-fast boat when the Prince enjoyed Katie’s bounding breasts hardly covered by a bright orange bikini top. After circling around the famous Arco arch, the Prince took a couple photos with his cell phone and took care to include Katie in the field of view.

  As they rounded the southern-most point of the Baja peninsula, Katie slowed the craft and anchored a few feet from a sandy beach.

  “You’ll never guess the name of this beach,” as she tempted Yousif for an answer.

  “I give up,” replied the Arab gentleman.

  “Divorce Beach,” replied Katie as she giggled.

  “Oh,” replied Yousif. “And I suppose there’s a Marriage Beach somewhere around here.”

  “No, smartie,” replied Katie, “but around the cove is “Lover’s Beach.”

  They both laughed as Yousif took off his trousers revealing a very athletic set of legs earned by many polo matches. The couple jumped in the water with the plastic cooler floating between them as they waded ashore.

  Only a few other couples were on the beach, all separated for privacy. Yousif and Katie found a quiet grotto, laid out a blanket and enjoyed a champagne lunch. Several times the couple walked along the shallow surf when at one point the Prince held out his hand to hold Katie’s hand. Hand-in-hand they searched for small shells and minnows. At times, they ribbed suntan oil on each other. After three hours, they “wondered where the time went” and pulled the anchor to head back to the hotel. As the Prince stepped onto the pier, he said: “Katie you’re really special. I had a great time! I would be honored to treat you to dinner, perhaps a tiki bar of your choosing.”

  “Well, Yousif, you beat me to the punch as we Americans say,” responded Katie. “I was going to ask you to be my guest at the Cabo Wabo Cantina.”

  “Sounds fun. That’s right downtown near the casino, isn’t it?” asked the Prince, who had obviously done his homework.

  “Yes. I’ll reserve a table for 7:00 PM, and please Yousif be casual,” replied Katie. Both looked forward to the dinner date. Yousif stood on the pier to watch Katie speed away.

  On Sunday in the warm afternoon sun, you would have thought the people tending their vessels in the marina were witnessing a tsunami wave as the enormous Blue Clipper II entered the harbor. It was like a cruise ship, but alas it was a private megayacht with its shiny dark blue hull and yellow topside. As it slowly bow-thrusted toward the pier, the golf cart carrying Katie and the Prince arrived. Prince Latif waved to Captain Caselli who was leaning over the bridge docking platform.

  “Wow,” exclaimed Katie. “I knew it would be huge the way you described it, Prince, but I had no idea it would be THIS large!” “What is the size of the crew?”

  “Only seventeen,” replied the Prince with real pride. “We’ve automated many functions.” The pair waited for the gangplank to be lowered and then were greeted by the Captain as they stepped aboard.

  “How was your trip?” asked the Prince.

  “Your Highness, it performed flawlessly and is a true pleasure to pilot,” responded Captain Caselli.

  “Excellent,” replied the Prince as he introduced Katie as the Harbormaster.

  “Welcome aboard, Miss.” “We’ll try to be good tenants for about a month,” said the Captain.

  “I’m going to give her a tour topside,” said the Prince. “And maybe even convince her to stay for dinner,” said the Prince.

  Katie followed the Prince to the spiral staircase and was motioned by him to take the lead climbing the steps inlaid with crystal chips. Halfway up to the bridge, she stopped and turned around to say: “Your Highness, I think I’m getting altitude sickness!” They both laughed as they made it to the bridge with its long row of instruments and 180- degree wrap-around panoramic view. Captain Caselli then explained the purpose of many of the instruments and was delighted by the keen questio
ning by the Harbormaster. He complemented her on her knowledge as the Prince beckoned her to continue the tour.

  “Skipper, please plan to join us for dinner at 7:30,” said the Prince, as the couple descended the staircase.

  “Of course, Sir.” “We’ll have something special for our guest,” answered the Captain.

  On the middle deck the couple walked down the teakwood central hallway past a series of staterooms into the grand salon. With a baby grand piano in the corner and several leather sofas forming conversation areas, the guest could hardly believe her eyes. She had seen rooms like this in Show Boat magazines, but this was for real. She inspected the galley with all of its stainless steel appliances. She was impressed by the 12-foot dining table with its center formed by a backlit slab of onyx. The combination of the dark woods and the light fabrics bathed in light by the large windows also impressed the Harbormaster. Then the Prince led his guest into his Dubai bedroom suite, complete with double bathrooms and office. On the king size bed lay an orange bikini. He motioned for Katie to come over and examine it.

  “It’s mine!” she exclaimed.

  “No, it isn’t but the same size, model and color,” replied the Prince in a reassuring tone.

  “I thought we could go for a swim prior to dinner,” the Prince continued. The pool and hot tub are on the upper bridge deck, complete with a swim-up minibar.”

  “Well, you certainly have a flair for entertaining, Yousif,” responded Katie with a twinkle in her eye.

  They both put on their bathing suits and climbed the staircase up to the top of the megacraft. After a couple minutes of splashing each other like kids, they climbed out of the pool and stepped down into the hot tub. As the water jets melted away pain, Katie thought to herself: “I could really fit into this lifestyle.” As they dried themselves, a steward approached them for a drink order. Katie ordered a Pina Colada and the Prince said: “Make that two, please.” For an hour they swam, chatted, enjoyed cocktails and watched the sun slip below the horizon.