“Thank you,” George said. “You have given me much food for thought.”
Upon Admiral Stone’s return from Pakistan, he convened the board at his office in London. He explained that he no longer saw London as “out of bounds,” but reluctantly agreed that meetings could alternate between London and Brussels.
Sir Cedric had returned a day earlier, and was also eager to report.
Anne and Martin found themselves in an impasse—on one hand, Anne was dying for Martin to initiate the renewal of their relationship, as she was physically unable to take that step. On the other hand, Martin was so upset by Anne’s past and present behavior toward him that he deliberately avoided all contact with her.
After reporting on the conditions he found in Pakistan, the admiral focused on Al Qaeda.
“I managed to get a little information on Al Qaeda,” he said. “I have many acquaintances from my official job years ago. I also flaunted my rank quite openly, which opened the doors to many formal events with high-ranking officials. I didn’t learn much, I’m afraid. It seems that Al Qaeda troops train near the Afghanistani border, just east of Kabul. True, this is only a small portion of the two-thousand-kilometer border with Afghanistan, but it is still a few hundred kilometers long. And we have no specific location pinpointed in this area. So, we’ll need to fill in the missing information from official intelligence sources here. If I find anything up-to-date and relevant, I could probably make use of what I learned in Pakistan and get a plan ready.”
“So it wasn’t a total waste of time, then,” Anne said.
“No, I believe not. I got a feeling for the country, and if I get my hands on intelligence files, I shall probably be able to make a lot of sense of them. Cedric, your turn now.”
“Thank you, Patrick,” Sir Cedric said. “I visited three South American countries: Peru, Columbia, and Venezuela. They are trying to form a kind of coalition with Cuba and other South American countries against the US.”
“Have you concluded anything regarding our involvement there?” Anne asked.
“Nothing is urgent at the moment, so there’s no need to go into details. We just need to be alert, as developments may occur suddenly and without warning. Anyway, the Venezuelan leader just loves to give public speeches, and I think we’re pretty well prepared to handle that aspect.”
“Martin?” the admiral said.
“I examined the yacht that the admiral recommended. It’s beautiful and it’s suitable. There’ll be extra expenses to combine three of the cabins, and also to install a crane on deck for loading and unloading the UAV—probably a few hundred thousand pounds.”
Martin went on to describe the properties of the UAV, including the issue of detachable wings, jet engine addition, and launching ramp.
“We were advised by UAV-Suisse to shoot the UAV scenes close to shore so that we could retrieve the aircraft by landing it on land.”
“That won’t do at all,” Sir Cedric said. “Land here means enemy territory, and there’ll be stuff on that plane that we don’t want to fall into anybody’s hands, let alone the enemy.”
“UAV-Suisse offered us a vertical take-off and landing aircraft—an unmanned helicopter. George and I went over all the specifications. Yes, we could launch it from the yacht and get it to land there, too—but it will be slow and would not get very far before being shot down.”
“Couldn’t we have the UAV open a parachute as it approached the yacht?” Anne asked. “It would not need a long runway then.”
“Interesting,” the admiral said, “but impractical, I’m afraid. Remember that using a parachute is actually a slowed down free fall. Even a live parachutist would find it almost impossible to land exactly on the right spot on a rolling yacht. A parachute’s descent is pretty fast. We could never get an unmanned device to be that accurate.”
“Well,” Martin said, “at the moment it looks like we’re going to have to crash the UAV into the ocean on its return from the mission.”
It was also resolved that the purchase of the yacht, and its modifications, would begin at once—John Carmichael would be assigned to that task. The modified UAV was also authorized, and George Graham would be given the green light to close the deal.
“We’ll need to test the entire maritime exercise,” the admiral said. “I can see us having the yacht and the UAV ready in about a month’s time. By then, Martin, I hope the ship’s mechanic will be recruited and indoctrinated. The entire team will then take an ocean voyage for a few days to get an idea of what the real mission would feel like—the actual voyage will take about two months, there and back. We’ll test the UAV launching from the yacht, but unless we have an alternative solution, we’ll perform that test close to shore, and land it there.”
“Well, here’s an idea for an alternative solution,” Anne said. “It occurred to me when Martin mentioned crashing the plane into the sea.” She looked at him, but he did not turn toward her. “I thought, why crash it? Lots of planes manage to land on water because they’re equipped with those water-ski things instead of wheels. Why couldn’t our UAV thing have them, too? It would be unharmed, and we could use it again.”
Sir Cedric and the admiral gaped at her. Martin began to smile.
“You know, Anne,” the admiral said with a broad grin, “the disadvantage of working with you is that sometimes you make me feel so stupid! Yes, of course—a seaplane. Or a sea UAV, in our case. It takes care of the launching as well—no need for a ramp or a jet booster. Just unload it into the water with the crane, and there you are!”
“Chapeau, Anne!” Sir Cedric said. “That was brilliant. Wasn’t it, Martin?”
Anne felt herself blushing, and she looked sideways at Martin. He wasn’t facing her, but she could see his smile and the nodding of his head.
“Oh, quite,” he said, and the tone of his voice indicated that he meant it.
“I believe that is all,” the admiral said. “I’ll call you for our next meeting. Meanwhile there is a lot of work to be done. I want to draw up an initial checklist of everything we have to do. Then build a timetable with dates and hours. We need to time our cruising speed, the time to assemble the UAV’s wings, lower it into the sea, test the range and speed of the UAV, and practice landing it close to the yacht. And probably a million things more. Martin, please, stay a bit and help me out with this.”
SEVENTY-ONE
Martin had three urgent tasks to complete. First, and most urgent, was the purchase of the UAV, so that work on the necessary modifications could begin. Second was the acquisition of the yacht, which also needed internal changes. And third, the recruitment of Olaf Gunnarson, the candidate for ship’s mechanic, who should have returned by now from his vacation in his homeland of Norway.
Martin joined George when he next met with the UAV-Suisse agent. Martin was presented as the president of the movie company IFP.
“So good to meet you,” Martin said amicably. “Let me say right away that if we can overcome the technical modifications we require of the UAV, I intend to finalize the deal at this meeting.”
Four hours later, they seemed to have come to an understanding.
“Here is a rundown of your requirements and our undertaking,” the agent said. “Correct me where I’m wrong. You want our model UAV-III to be converted into a hydroplane, or seaplane as you called it. If I may add a personal note, I think it’s an excellent idea and I shall recommend adding it to our catalog. Floats on struts will be installed alongside the current wheel undercarriage—thus enabling sea and land launching and landing. Furthermore, you require the wings to be detachable. Am I right?”
“I believe you are,” Martin said. “Now, we’re running a very tight schedule. How long will these modifications take?”
“Once you have purchased the vehicle, and paid an advance on the modifications, I would say two weeks would do it. Three, tops.”
“I can assure you that the formalities will be over within the next fifteen minutes. May I request that t
he finished product be shipped in a container to the yacht marina in Nice, France? We’ll pay for the shipping, of course.”
“Done!” The agent opened his briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “I took the liberty of preparing the documents ahead of time. All we need to do is fill in the blanks.”
Buying the yacht was a far easier process, and John handled it without a hitch. A certified check changed hands, and the Mimosa, flying a Panamanian flag, became the property of International Film Promoters. Now, it had to be sailed from Brighton to Nice, where not only would it pick up the UAV but also have the internal alterations made. But first, the ship’s mechanic needed to be recruited. Martin set up an appointment with him for that afternoon.
Olaf Gunnarson was forty-five, short, and tanned. His face was lined with the outcome of twenty years of seafaring, and an unlit meerschaum never left his mouth. His three last jobs were as ship’s mechanic on millionaires’ yachts, and they were the easiest of his career. The downside was that these jobs were short-lived—either the owners gave up the idea of luxury cruises or they went bankrupt. This was what had happened to his last employer a month ago, and Olaf was very eager to get this job.
Over beers in one of Chelsea’s pubs, Martin began provoking Olaf’s political leaning, which he already knew to be anti-dictatorial. This time, Martin adopted the role of a “leave the East to solve their problems—we have enough of our own” sympathizer. He wondered how far Olaf could be goaded before his need for a job overcame his ideology. To Martin’s surprise, Olaf didn’t budge an inch.
“I don’t know where you’re headed, Mr. Cooper, sir,” Olaf said, “but I believe I would find it very difficult to work alongside someone holding your views of the international situation. I’ve turned down job offers based on these grounds before and, reluctant as I am, I’m prepared to do so again.”
“Let me tell you where I’m headed, Olaf,” Martin said. “I bought the Mimosa to have a good life and a good time. I intend to make friends with world leaders like Ahmadinejad and others, because I seek the glory of the limelight. I shall need your expertise in keeping the boat ship-shape so that my guests will have the smoothest sails of their lives. And I shall pay you more than you usually earn, I can promise that.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Cooper, sir,” Olaf said, getting up. “I shall have to decline your offer, with all due respect. I feel it would be an offense to my upbringing, and I would not wish to be in a position where I could possibly offend anyone else, mainly my employer.”
“Sit down, Olaf, please,” Martin said with a huge grin.
The recruitment process was short and decisive. Olaf was thrilled at the opportunity of joining the association’s enterprise. So Nice was the first destination? Fine, he knew the Côte d’Azur like the back of his hand. When do we leave?
“Hold on, Olaf,” Martin laughed. “Not so fast. Let’s discuss your wages. And let’s arrange our means of communication.”
The team had begun the waiting period. The shipments to Pyongyang via Seoul had arrived and had been distributed. The same held for Tehran. Their first operational target was set: North Korea, during the revolution day ceremonies, about three months away.
The North Korean reports presented to the world gave contradicting statements almost every week. Sometimes they complied with “Western pressure” and were “planning to dismantle” their nuclear installations. At other times the reports told of abandoning their agreements with the West and proceeding with their nuclear development “as planned.” As a result, it was proposed that the operation in North Korea be postponed.
Martin did not take part in the next board meeting in Brussels. He was far too busy with the logistics of the preparations for D-day. However, in his absence, the proposal was strongly opposed.
“Never!” the admiral stated flatly. “That North Korean bastard wants some breathing space. There is no doubt in my mind, and I believe this is shared by most political and military analysts, that he is continuing nuclear development regardless of what appears in the press. That nuclear plant in Syria—you don’t suppose that was one of the items he intended to shut down, if the Israelis hadn’t bombed it, do you? You can bet your life that if he succeeds in calming down international fears, he will use the time to finish the making of the bomb. The operation must proceed as planned! Take him down a couple of notches. Get him where he’ll be personally humiliated! Make him really change his strategy!”
Three weeks later, the UAV was ready. UAV-Suisse’s headquarters and main assembly plants were in Zug, conveniently located near Lake Zug. Now, in the presence of the vice-president of the company, the engineering department was proudly showing off their product to the “executives” of International Film Promoters. Even the London representative had arrived for the occasion.
While still on the lake’s shore, the UAV-Suisse engineers demonstrated the techniques of removing and assembling the wings. Then, with the aircraft fully assembled, it was lowered on a ramp into the water. The two floats held the UAV afloat, bobbing slightly on the ripples of the lake.
One of the technicians approached Martin and George.
“My name is Caspar,” he said. “Please follow me.”
He led them to the rear of a van, in which the operating console was located. It resembled a computer, with a flat monitor, keyboard, and joystick. A short antenna rose from the van’s roof. George sat beside the technician in the van, while Martin observed closely from outside.
Where’s the mouse? George wondered.
“We turn on the console thus,” Caspar said. He pressed a button and the monitor lit up with an array of menus and commands. “Now, we start up the motor.” He pointed at a command on the screen with his finger. Thirty meters away, on the lake, the UAV’s motor hummed into life.
One by one, Caspar demonstrated the gamut of functions the UAV could do. George found that flying the UAV was even simpler than flying a real plane. He learned the use of the simulated throttle by dragging a finger on the touch screen, and control of pitch, roll, and yaw by using the joystick. He learned to taxi the aircraft on the water, take off, climb, bank, dive, and touch down again on the water. Everything the UAV’s controls sensed appeared on windows on the screen. This included anything observed by two onboard video cameras, which could be pointed in all directions around the aircraft.
“You’re very good,” Caspar grinned at George. “However, just in case you need it—or get bored—the operator’s manual is in the drawer under the console.”
Caspar and George eventually landed the UAV on the lake and had it roll on its wheels onto shore. There they cut the motor.
There was a lot of handshaking and backslapping. Martin and George were genuinely pleased. The vice-president invited them back to UAV-Suisse headquarters in Zug. The financial transaction was closed, papers signed, ownership transferred, and the aircraft company promised to ship the UAV to Nice immediately.
Martin and George flew back to London.
The admiral took over the handling of the yacht, and they set out on their initial familiarization cruise from Brighton to Nice. He was delighted with Olaf Gunnarson, who proved to be an excellent seaman and mechanic. The other crewmembers consisted of Patricia, John, Philip, Spencer, and Bernard. George would join them later, as he had to fly the executive jet, with Excalibur on it, to Nice.
They sailed at an unhurried pace, allowing the inexperienced landlubbers to acquaint themselves with life on the open sea. They passed through the Straits of Gibraltar, and moored at the Quai Papacino, in Nice, three days after they had set out.
The next week was dedicated to the yacht’s modifications, which were carried out by the dockyard’s building and maintenance crew. Admiral Stone was a strict taskmaster and would tolerate no dillydallying, which the workers soon learned to appreciate. He knew the exact dimensions he wanted, and how the deck needed to be opened in order for the UAV to be placed inside the yacht and taken out of it. The crane was fitted outside the dec
k opening and tested for its reach, both deep into the newly created storage for the UAV, and over the side to deposit it into—and later collect it from—the water.
Back in London, Martin put the finishing touches to the preparations. Communications with the yacht would be kept open at all times to the IFP number at the “cowshed.” Martin hired a manpower company who supplied three office temps to man the telephone in continuous shifts. Their job was to take messages and deliver them verbatim to Martin when he inquired from time to time. If the caller indicated there was an emergency, they were to alert Martin immediately. Naturally, all conversations were to refer strictly to the movie industry. Mission success would be declared by the media—mission failure would be met with silence. Only on the way back would the yacht’s position and condition be reported in.
George prepared the executive jet, with Excalibur still installed, for the flight to Nice.
The UAV arrived from Zug the day after work began on the yacht. The next day, George flew the jet into the Nice airport. With the help of the ground crew, he transferred Excalibur into a rented van. Upon joining his comrades in the yacht, he quickly got their assistance in transferring Excalibur into the UAV. Using the user manual, George switched the wiring of one of the video cameras to Excalibur, enabling him to operate the irradiation beam from the UAV’s console.
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