“No. They will dine elsewhere.”

“And the ladies?”

“I have arranged a buffet for them here in the salon.” He added, “After dinner perhaps we can all gather here for some… relaxation.”

Petrov nodded as his eyes scanned the long salon, trying to work out the details of shooting the prostitutes in the large room. Perhaps he would leave that to Gorsky, who he noticed was also interested in the room.

He and Gorsky had studied the deck plans of The Hana and he was certain they both knew the layout of the large ship well enough to finish their business before anyone could sound the alarm or try to abandon ship or offer armed resistance.

On that subject, Petrov’s next question had to be asked in a way that did not seem too inquisitive or unusual. He looked at the prince and said, “I am assuming you have security onboard.”

The prince made eye contact with Petrov, then replied, “Captain Wells has a rifle and a handgun, though he keeps them locked and hidden.” He added, “We are better armed when we sail in pirate-infested waters, but guns are a problem with American Customs if they come aboard.”

Petrov commented, “There are three hundred million guns in America, so I never understood why an honest man could not bring a few more into the country for protection.”

The prince had no reply to that, but offered, “One of my stewards, Karim—the one in traditional dress—is my personal bodyguard.” He added, “For when we are ashore.” He smiled. “I hope I don’t need a bodyguard here.”

Petrov returned the smile and considered his next inquiry, then said, “I hope my large group did not put an undue burden on your staff and crew.”

The prince assured him, “I have seven hardworking Somali stewards, and my French chef, André, has four good kitchen staff who are all Eastern European and they are used to long hours and hard work.” He smiled. “The Saudis, I am afraid, have gotten soft and lazy.”

As has His Highness, Petrov thought. He observed, “You have a veritable United Nations onboard.” He pointed out, “A British captain, a…”

“An Irish first mate, and two Italian officers—the engineer and the navigator.” The prince added, “And seven deckhands from all over the world.”

Those numbers agreed with the information that Petrov had been given, and he commented, “A Tower of Babel.”

The prince assured his guests, “The common language—the language of the sea—is English. So you will have no difficulties in communicating with anyone.” He added, “All crew and staff are sworn to secrecy.” He joked, “What happens aboard The Hana, stays aboard The Hana.”

“Indeed,” said Petrov as he tallied the number of guests, staff, and crew whom he and Gorsky needed to locate and eliminate.

Petrov and the prince made small talk for a few minutes, while Gorsky and Urmanov stayed silent and sipped their water.

The prince cleared his throat and said, “As for the ladies…”

Petrov assured him, “They are compliant, professional, and discreet.” He suggested, “Your Highness should choose his companion first. Or perhaps two companions. Then we should let nature take its course.”

The prince nodded, and his eyes moved toward the three overnight bags.

Petrov further assured him, “We have brought something for every taste.”

Again, the prince nodded, then informed his guests, “We will soon stop the ship and spend the night at anchor, then in the morning perhaps you three gentlemen will join me in my stateroom for breakfast and conversation as we set sail for New York.” He inquired, “Will that suit you?”

“That is a good plan,” Petrov replied, though he had a better one. He asked, “Will we have any difficulties or delays getting into New York Harbor?” He explained, “I have a lunch engagement in the city.”

The prince assured him, “We were cleared at Ambrose Buoy when we first arrived on Saturday, and when Captain Wells requested permission for an overnight cruise this morning, he stated that we were not leaving American waters, so there will be no further security check at Ambrose when we return. Captain Wells also assures me he can navigate to Pier 11 without waiting for a harbor pilot. So it will go quickly.” He added, “And most likely there will not be another Customs boarding when we re-dock at Pier 11.”

“Good,” said Petrov, though it would not be Captain Wells who would be steering The Hana. And The Hana would not be docking at Pier 11.

The important thing, Petrov knew, was that The Hana had been previously cleared at Ambrose Buoy to enter the harbor and would not be subject to another security check. Also, The Hana was logged into the Coast Guard’s Automatic Identification System and would not be challenged to identify itself. This practice of extending some courtesies of the sea to private pleasure craft, especially those from friendly countries, was an American security lapse and also an opportunity that the SVR had discovered and exploited.

So this was all going as planned, Petrov thought, though the prince didn’t know that he had aided the plan by taking Petrov’s suggestion that they rendezvous in Southampton, away from New York City and the embassy watchers. Now getting back into New York Harbor would not present any problems for The Hana—only for the City of New York.

The prince said to Petrov, “I assume everyone’s papers are in order so that you and your female companions can disembark and pass through Immigration and Customs.”

Petrov replied, “Of course.” He joked, “The ladies, too, have diplomatic passports.”

The prince smiled, but Petrov saw that his highness seemed concerned about twelve scantily clad prostitutes leaving his yacht at Pier 11. Plus, of course, neither the ladies nor the three Russian men had been on The Hana’s original manifest. And in truth, this could be a problem, except that The Hana would turn into a nuclear fireball as it lay at anchor in the harbor, which eliminated the prince’s problem.

The prince was looking at Petrov, and Petrov assured him, “We will be met at the pier by a high-ranking consulate officer of the Russian Federation.” He added, “There will be no difficulties.”

The prince nodded, then suggested, “Perhaps you would like to freshen up.” He stood and his guests did as well. The prince said, “The steward will show you to your staterooms.” He glanced at his watch, which Petrov noticed was a diamond-encrusted Rolex, and informed his guests, “We will have cocktails in the dining room in half an hour.” He further advised his guests, “Dress is casual. Come as you are.”

As the prince turned to leave, Petrov made a half bow, as did Urmanov, but Gorsky did not, and he watched the prince leave, then said, to no one in particular, “The world will be a better place without him.”

Petrov admonished, “Be a good guest, Viktor. It is no fault of his that he was born royal, rich, and Muslim.”

Gorsky smiled. “At least our oligarchs work hard to steal their money.”

Petrov smiled, too, then looked at Dr. Urmanov, who was not smiling, and wondered if he knew he was a dead man.

Moscow’s plan had been to deliver Dr. Urmanov to The Hana via the Russian fishing trawler along with Captain Gleb and the nuclear device. But Petrov had insisted that Urmanov be under his control in New York, so that he, Petrov, could evaluate the man and reject him if there seemed to be a question of his willingness to arm the device. Well, Petrov thought, Dr. Urmanov was willing, or he wouldn’t have come this far. Also, the promised two million Swiss francs was a good incentive. Siberian exile was an even better incentive.

Petrov recalled that Moscow had been concerned about slipping Urmanov into America under an alias as a U.N. diplomat. But it had been done before, always successfully, and the SVR assured the Kremlin that no one in the American State Department Intelligence office would discover the true identity of this obscure retired physicist during the diplomatic vetting process.