With a range of 3,800 nautical miles, the yacht provided the perfect way to tour the Mediterranean. A major retrofit had been completed, including engine room upgrades, exterior paint from bow to stern, and an interior with a distinctly Middle Eastern flair. Shayhidi had overseen every detail of the interior work himself.
Evening Breeze's large main salon offered intimate seating areas with panoramic views of the sea. Three full-width master staterooms boasted their own sitting rooms with bath and Jacuzzi. Four other staterooms with enclosed bathrooms offered passengers splendid living quarters.
A galley truly fit for a king and a Swedish chef who trained at the prestigious Culinary Institute of America ensured that the meals were on a par with the finest restaurants in the world.
Formal dining in a separate dining salon was complemented by imported china and crystal from Hong Kong and London. The shaded top deck was ideal for informal outdoor luncheons, while the aft deck on the main level was a charming alcove in which to have breakfast. Evening Breeze was truly a floating palace by anyone's standards.
Loitering directly over Monte Carlo at 64,000 feet, a sister ship of the Global Hawk that had followed Saeed Shayhidi's Boeing Business Jet now stalked his prized yacht. Evening Breezes departure from Monaco was being monitored by the UAV while the stylish yacht sailed southwest, off the coast of the French Riviera. The reconnaissance data was updated on a regular basis and relayed to President Macklin on board the aerial command post somewhere over the Atlantic.
An hour after the sun had set over the Mediterranean, Evening Breeze was thirty-one miles due south of the resort city of Cannes. Flying low, an unlighted helicopter approached the yacht and landed on the helo pad. The owner was now on board. Global Hawk recorded the arrival and the departure of the helicopter and transmitted every detail to Washington.
Forty-five minutes later, the same helicopter delivered budding French movie starlet Danielle Pelletier to the yacht. It took five minutes to unload her stacks of luggage. An inch short of six feet tall, the dazzling blond actress was an occasional companion to Shayhidi. Global Hawk again recorded the event and transmitted the images to Washington.
Four marine corps F-18C Hornets from the Thunderbolts of VMFA-251 had just relieved four air force F-16s. Based at MCAS Beaufort, South Carolina, the Hornets had recently refueled from an air force KC-135 and would continue to rotate to the tanker.
President Cord Macklin was receiving an up-to-the-minute brief on the nuclear power plant disasters when the information about Shayhidi's yacht reached him. He, Prost, Adair, and Chalmers retired to the privacy of the E-4BS conference room and took their seats. To a person, they were excited about the possibility of eliminating Shayhidi, although no one showed any outward signs of emotion.
The president remained quiet for a few moments whiie everyone read the most recent brief. "Gentlemen, we're going into uncharted waters, no pun intended."
Macklin slid his briefing folder to the side of the table. "I want to send a loud signal, a graphic example to Shayhidi, his lieutenants, and his followers."
It was imperceptible, but Prost frowned and nervously rubbed his ear lobe. "Mr. President, if we sink the yacht with the wrong person on board… I don't have to tell you about the political consequences. They'll burn you at the stake."
Considering the consequences, both political and moral, President Macklin looked at Adair and then Chalmers. "Les, is it possible that Shayhidi isn't aboard?"
General Chalmers hesitated. "Anything is possible. There is no way to be absolutely certain who got off the helicopter. It is Shayhidi's yacht and there are passengers aboard."
"I think we have to assume Shayhidi is on board," the president said decisively. "Why else would a helicopter arrive and depart at night with no lights showing? It just makes sense. I think we have to take the shot."
"I would have to agree," Chalmers said. "Toledo has identified the target during daylight and is closely tracking it. We have a 99.99 percent chance of getting the job done with no witnesses and no foul-ups."
Pete Adair closed his briefing folder. "If we do this, the sub can't surface for any reason, even if there are survivors in the water."
"Agree," Macklin said. "Any questions, suggestions?"
"Let s do this at night," Adair said. "This night."
"Toledo is in position off the yachts stern," Chalmers said, without any visible emotion. "Mr. President?"
Macklin reached for his pipe. "Give the order."
From the time they rendezvoused with Evening Breeze, Commander Allen Nettleton and his executive officer, Lieutenant Commander David Saddler, had had second thoughts. They didnt normally stalk civilian yachts, even large ones, with their attack submarine. Although both officers felt some degree of trepidation about their mission, there was no doubt about their final order. It had come straight from the flying Oval Office.
They were in a perfect position to attack the brightly lighted yacht. The closest vessel to their position was nine miles away. The weapon was ready. Nettleton decided to use only one 3,400-pound Mark 48 Advanced Capability (ADCAP) torpedo, since the target was truly a sitting duck. No one would be firing back and they didnt have to concern themselves with depth charges.
Nettleton stepped to the raised platform in the middle of the Control Room/Attack Center for one last look through the Mark 18 search periscope. The scope had a low-light operating mode and a 70mm camera. He snapped three more pictures.
The torpedo tube was flooded and the outer door was open. Looking through the periscope, Nettleton spoke in a firm, clear voice. "Firing point procedures."
The skipper waited a few seconds. "Match bearings and shoot." The weapons officer manning the BSY-1 (Busy One) launch control panel pressed the firing button. Trailing a guidance wire behind it, the Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo was on its way to the target at 60-plus knots. The torpedos seeker head/computer instantly tracked the yacht, negating the use of the guidance wire.
Everyone in the Control Room silently counted the seconds before impact. Peering through the search scope, Commander Nettleton began snapping photos while he waited for the fireworks to begin.
Saeed Shayhidi and Danielle Pelletier had finished a late meal in the dining salon and were preparing for bed in his aft master stateroom. When his valet left the suite, Shayhidi was adorned in silk pajamas he had purchased on a recent trip to Hong Kong. He never wore nightclothes more than once, so the valet kept at least three dozen new sets of pajamas on board the yacht at all times.
The doe-eyed actress was wearing a fetching negligee from one of her favorite Paris boutiques. Shayhidi poured champagne for them and they stretched out on his king-size bed, staring at their images in the mirror on the overhead. Shayhidi felt relaxed and safe.
He had successfully eluded the treacherous Americans. Now it was time to enjoy a serene cruise around the Mediterranean while his pursuers searched in vain. This was the good life, complete with a sultry movie star all to himself. Shayhidi would embark his wealthy friends at three ports of call over the next few days. He would make the cruise a vacation to be remembered.
He turned off the main lights and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling in the semidarkness. Enthralled by the scent of her perfume, Shayhidi reached for Danielle.