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The Princess, the Yacht and the Burner Phone(s)

How an Arabian princess, a French adventurer, a Finnish fitness instructor and a steady stream of emails, Instagram posts and WhatsApp messages, combined with a spiffy new spyware program invented by the Israelis, led to a spy story for the ages.

By Hamish AlexanderPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
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Image by Lukasz Dylka from Pixabay

Imagine, if you will, two great spy novelists agree to meet for lunch, say in Piccadilly Circus in central London. Say, John le Carré and Ian Fleming.

Neither are alive today, of course, but then imagine this meeting took place pre-Covid, and that the messy details are only spilling out now.

A few days ago, a massive data dump of some 50,000 phone numbers uncovered by a spyware program used to eavesdrop on targets ranging from heads of state and would-be whistleblowers to climate campaigners and journalists. The data dump, dubbed Pegasus, has lifted a veil of secrecy on international spycraft. The implications are profound and could take a long while to sort out.

For now, though, just burrow down on this one story. It might be fiction, it may be fact. That’s for you to decide.

One of our two great spy novelists meeting for lunch has happened on a dossier marked “Top Secret.” The dossier was secret, too, until the media got their hands on it, that is. And when the media get ahold of something … well.

Imagine if you will our two great spy novelists aren’t too fussed about being seen together in public, secret dossier or no secret dossier. And besides, most passerby wouldn’t be able to tell them from Kanye West and a Kardashian anyway (pick one), so why worry.

They’re meeting for lunch at The Keeper’s House at the Royal Academy, famous for its “reliable food in a civilized space.” With its own garden.

One of the novelists, it doesn’t matter which one, shows the other dossier and starts telling our story.

It’s a story about a Princess, a yacht and a burner phone. Well, two burner phones actually, but why muddy the plot with extraneous details?

The story begins in the glittering city of Emirati, on the Arabian Peninsular. Once upon a time the story would have begun in Vienna, or Berlin (when The Wall was there) but these are not those times.

A disenchanted Princess, looking to escape the clutches of her controlling father, the evil Sheikh, is sitting aboard a 100-foot yacht somewhere in the Indian Ocean, with her best friend, a fitness instructor from Scandinavia, and an “adventurer,” a former French spy she hired to spirit her to freedom. Emirati is growing further and further away with each tropical swell. Free at last, free at last! The Emerald City — ‘scuse us, make that the city of Emirati city — is fast becoming a distant if still glittering horizon.

The Princess misses her friends, though, and the life she left behind. Using a pair of secure, new pay-as-you-go burner phones, the Princess sends emails, posts on Instagram and chats with her old friends on WhatsApp.

Trouble is — and this is the part apt to pique the interest of any self-respecting spy novelist — a communications company in another country, a country that specializes in weapons-grade surveillance technology, has devised a new technology. This technology is supposed to be sold only to good governments in furtherance of the fight against terrorisms. In theory, the technology can break into mobile phones without the user knowing their mobile phone has been hacked. The technology is so good it can compromise a phone that hasn’t even been turned on. Among other fun features, it can take over control of the camera’s phone, and will work everything from an absurdly overpriced iPhone to a crummy, low-end burner.

Sadly, back in Emirati, the Princess’ dad, the Sheikh, isn’t too keen on the idea of one of his (several) daughters running around the world unsupervised, talking to the media, political rivals, human rights groups, Hollywood producers and who knows what else.

Family problems, as a rule, are supposed to stay in the family.

It doesn’t help, either, that the Sheikh is embroiled in a custody battle with one of his former wives, the sixth to be exact, over their two children. That case is still before the courts in London. What can we say? Life is complicated.

Meanwhile, back at sea, the French adventurer, who’s been tasked with whisking the Princess to freedom, all the while keeping the 100-foot yacht safe — these things don’t come cheap, you know — is no fool. He has taken precautions. He has turned off the yacht’s tracking device, and has made sure the two burner phones are equipped with brand new SIM cards. They’ve been four days at sea, now, with no sign of a tail. Free at last, free at last!

Image by Peter H. from Pixabay

On the fifth day, things change. The going gets weird.

The French adventurer notices a ship following the yacht — merde! — but it’s keeping its distance. He changes course. The ship follows. It’s like something out of Whale Wars, only in a warmer climate. Better weather for suntanning.

Hours later, there’s an annoying buzzing sound in the sky. Spotter planes. This time there is no mistake. They’re following the yacht. The yacht is under surveillance.

There’s another issue. After days at sea, the fuel is beginning to run low. If only they’d gone the route of that nerdy teenage climate activist from Sweden and gone with a high-speed catamaran instead of a 100-foot yacht guzzling fossil fuel like there’s no tomorrow, but there it is. In hindsight, everyone’s an expert.

The French adventurer had an idea to land in Sri Lanka, but now he’s decided to make for India instead. Why? Don’t ask.

Trouble is, they’ve now been picked up by the radar of the Indian coast guard. Strange how that happens. It’s almost as if a country, when it decides to commission a coast guard, actually expects that coast guard to guard the country’s coast.

By now the Sheikh has gotten wind of what’s going on (no pun intended). He’s asked India to help him out. That’s the theory, anyway, judging from the conclusions of no fewer than 17 media organizations and human rights groups who’ve pored over the data hack in recent days. The media initiative now has its own name — the Pegasus Project.

As with any good spy novel, as our spy novelists will tell you, spycraft often involves sifting through seemingly contradictory information and filling in the cracks, to the best of their knowledge. The burden of proof in spy fiction is lower than it is in a court of law.

So no one knows exactly what went through the Indian government’s mind when faced with a Princess, a rogue yacht and conflicting communications from a pair of burner phones just off its southwestern coast, but one thing does seem abundantly clear: India doesn’t want another problem. India has enough problems of its own without importing a new problem from the Middle East.

So, shortly before midnight on a sweltering spring night some 30 miles off the coast of India, roughly 15 Indian commandos “in full military gear” — that’s a direct quote! — storm the yacht and summarily let off stun grenades, smoke suddenly billowing from the yacht’s air vents. There is mayhem and, depending on which side you choose to believe, much cursing and swearing, and worse.

“I don’t know,” one of our spy novelists suddenly tells the other at this point. “Frankly, this is getting a little unbelievable. Do you think your publisher would go for this? I’m not sure mine would.”

“It’s a spy story,” the other replies. “Just go with it for now. Let’s just see where this takes us.”

Fast-forward three years. The Princess is safely back home. The Sheikh is happily on record as saying his daughter was the victim of a kidnapping, and that he conducted “a rescue mission.”

An Instagram post from May shows the Princess sitting in a shopping mall in the glittering city of Emirati. This is followed by a picture just last month of the Princess inside an airport in Spain, in a city where they have an airpot. All is well!

But then, suddenly, without warning, this data dump. It’s all over the news again. The London tabloids — this story keeps coming back to London — are once again flying reporters in from all over the world to learn what they can.

“I’m not sure this would make a good novel,” one of the spy novelists says, finally. “But it would make a great movie. I’m thinking Steven Seagal as the French guy, the adventurer trusted with a 100-foot yacht who runs low on fuel in the middle of the Indian Ocean, is chased by Emirati spooks, gets swarmed by Indian commandos, and all under the surveillance of this new spy — Israeli, is it? — software that no one quite knows how it works, just that it works.”

“I don’t know about Seagal,” the other novelist says. “I’m thinking more Liam Neeson.

“But can Neeson do French?”

Inquiring minds need to know.

Image by Adriano Gadini from Pixabay

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About the Creator

Hamish Alexander

Earth community. Visual storyteller. Digital nomad. Natural history + current events. Raconteur. Cultural anthropology.

I hope that somewhere in here I will talk about a creator who will intrigue + inspire you.

Twitter: @HamishAlexande6

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