The Faithful Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

Instead of Elena initiating the contact, Kwan’s expected call would provide the confirmation of Kirov’s defection.

  Operation Fall Harvest—SVR director Smirnov’s brainchild—was now nearing its culmination. Soon they will pay!

  * * * *

  Laura Newman sat at her home office desk, holding Madelyn in her lap. A chocolate cake with a single candle occupied a corner of the table. It was half past one in the afternoon.

  Laura peered into the desktop monitor at the Skype image of her adoptive mother. “I wish you could be here too, Mom.”

  “When I heal up, I’ll be able to travel again.” Margaret—Maggie—Wilson was in her mid-sixties but didn’t look it. She retained her honey blond hair and just a few folds marred the fair complexion of her striking face.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mom. Come up whenever you can.”

  A widow, Maggie lived in Santa Barbara, California. Recovery from hip replacement surgery was taking longer than expected. She had planned to attend Madelyn’s first birthday. “Well, I sure miss seeing you and Maddy—she’s such a cutie.”

  “She sure is!”

  Mother and daughter chatted for another five minutes and then signed off.

  Laura and Maddy relocated to the living room. Maddy was in her playpen, lining up her toy horses while chatting to herself.

  Laura sat in her favorite chair by the windows. The lake sparkled in the background. Laura rattled the ice cubes in her iced tea, thinking of her mother.

  I’m so blessed to have Mom.

  Adopted as an infant, Laura was forever grateful to William and Maggie Wilson. They doted on Laura as if she were their biological daughter. Will, an MD, provided well for the family, allowing Laura to have a carefree childhood.

  They rescued me!

  The cards are often stacked against biracial children born into poverty. The Wilsons saved Laura from that uncertainty.

  I should take Maddy to visit Mom. We could also see Tom.

  Laura’s brother—Maggie and Will’s biological son—was ten years older. Tom also lived in Santa Barbara with his wife and three daughters. Following in his late father’s footsteps, Tom was a physician specializing in neurosurgery.

  Laura finished her drink. Her thoughts switched to Yuri, knowing he too wanted to be home for Maddy’s first birthday.

  Where are you, honey? And when will you come home?

  Chapter 34

  Day 16—Monday

  It was late afternoon in Hong Kong. Kwan Chi sat in a high-backed leather chair beside a magnificent black marble desk. The office was just a few blocks from his residence. The fifty-eighth floor of the Kowloon Tower offered commanding views of Victoria Harbour and the connecting waterways to the distant South China Sea. Kwan held a telephone handset to his right ear; he reacted to the bombshell news. “That bastard—how long has he been gone?”

  “About two weeks,” Guo Wing said. “We know he flew to Houston but then disappeared.” The MSS Deputy Minister of Operations was in his Beijing office. Smog obscured the view from his mid-rise building.

  “Where is he now?”

  “We suspect that the FBI and CIA have him sequestered in a safe house somewhere in the Washington, D.C. area.”

  Kwan cursed.

  Guo Wing continued, “From your prior contact with him, what are the implications for us?”

  Kwan flexed his injured leg, reacting to a twinge. “Nothing absolute, only his word about what happened.”

  “They will believe him—eventually.”

  “Yes,” Kwan agreed. “Sir, how did we did get this information?”

  “Our ambassador to Singapore heard a rumor at a reception. We followed up with one of our agents in Washington. The FBI has an ongoing investigation regarding Kirov. There’s an active alert looking for him but we believe he’s already in custody.”

  “You’re certain he was turned by the Americans?”

  “That’s what was reported—and it makes perfect sense for him. He obviously wants to remain in the United States because of his lover. Working for the CIA is the price he has to pay.”

  “Then my cover’s blown.”

  “Yes. That means you can’t take the chance of entering U.S. territory.”

  “I wasn’t planning on any trips there. I can manage the American real estate holdings from here. I’ll send one of my staff if a face to face is required in the U.S.”

  “That’s acceptable.”

  Kwan reached down with his free hand and rubbed the ache in his lower leg. “Sir, if all of this is true, we can expect severe repercussions from the Americans.”

  “I agree, as does the president. However, we haven’t detected anything yet.”

  “It will come—you can count on it.”

  “We are and we will be prepared.”

  “What about Sea Dragon?”

  “That’s the other reason I called. Sea Dragon has been advanced.”

  Surprised, Kwan asked, “Because of Kirov?”

  “No, another matter, which I can’t reveal at this time. Nevertheless, the Kirov issue complicates the situation.”

  “How can I help?”

  “The SVR officer who made contact with you recently, where is she now?”

  “Probably back in Vancouver. She said she had a stop in Vladivostok first.”

  “I want you to contact her and ask her to quietly check to see if the SVR or FSB are aware that Kirov has defected.”

  “Okay.” Kwan wavered as a new thought jelled. “What if the Russians don’t know Kirov defected?”

  “It’s possible the Americans might be planning to use him as a double and return him to Russia to spy for them.”

  “The Russians must know.”

  “Probably, I just need confirmation.”

  Kwan switched gears. “What about Laura Newman? She knows just as much about what happened as Kirov.”

  “We’ve decided it’s time to remove that contingent threat.”

  “When?”

  “Soon. It’s in progress.”

  “And Kirov?”

  “When we find him.”

  “Excellent!”

  * * * *

  Nick Orlov stood at the water’s edge, gazing at the two-acre pond. It was 6:32 P.M. He was in a city park near the apartment that the consulate rented for him. Located inland, Houston lacked the water amenities Nick had grown accustomed to in San Francisco.

  Nick reached into his coat pocket and removed a pack of Winstons. He lit up. As he inhaled, he took the opportunity to eye the woman sitting on a park bench forty feet away. He first spotted the attractive thirty-something brunette when he entered the park. Attired in blue jeans and a short-sleeved blouse, she fit in with other park goers enjoying a warm summer evening. But Nick suspected otherwise. Another Feebie, he thought, using the slang term for an FBI special agent.

  This was the third tail he’d spotted during the past month. As SVR rezident for the consulate, Nick was under increasing security by U.S. counterintelligence agencies. The escalating tension between Russia and the USA sparked the harassment. It was now becoming a nuisance.

  Nick finished his smoke and walked west along the path for five minutes, finding a vacant bench. After sitting he retrieved his iPhone and called up the national news on SFGate—a digital version of the San Francisco Chronicle.

  He glanced at the headline but ignored the article. Instead, out of the corner of his eye he watched the brunette meander along the walkway. She strolled past Nick. Just before she passed out of view, Nick watched as she removed a cell phone from a hip pocket.

  Calling in your report on me—is that what you’re up to, honey? Nick settled into the seat and began reading the sports section.

  You’re not going to record anything hot tonight Ms. FBI—just the latest on the 49ers.

 
After racing through the article on his favorite team, Nick returned his phone to a trouser pocket. He crossed his arms and closed eyes. He thought back to earlier in the afternoon when his aide, Captain Oleg Babin, provided an update on the Kirov situation.

  Dammit—the FBI knows about Laura.

  The SVR’s mole in the FBI confirmed that Laura Newman was a target in Operation Red Rover.

  She doesn’t have a clue.

  With Yuri incommunicado, Laura remained in the cold. I’ve got to warn her. But how?

  * * * *

  Elena Krestyanova relaxed in her Vancouver apartment, listening to Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps while finishing a plate of Thai takeout. It was early evening. She was thinking of going for a run when her cell chimed.

  She checked the phone’s caller ID and smiled. “Hello, Chi,” Elena said, her voice warm and welcoming.

  “How was your trip home?” Kwan asked.

  “Fine. It was long but no problems. And how are you feeling?”

  “I manage, you know, a little stronger each day.”

  “Good.”

  “Elena, I need your help.”

  “Of course—what can I do?”

  “I need you to check your schedule to see if you can attend another meeting here later this month. We are interested in exploring the possibility of investing in the real estate venture in Vladivostok you mentioned at our last conference—the hotel property.”

  “Oh, excellent. When is the meeting?”

  Kwan provided the date and time.

  Kwan and Elena used code; it was part of their previous arrangements to thwart surveillance by the Americans and Russians—and, because Elena had returned to Vancouver, the Canadians. Tonight’s operative word was “hotel.”

  “I think I can make it. I’ll need to check a few things at the office tomorrow and then I’ll email you confirmation.”

  “Excellent, thank you.”

  Elena jogged after the call. She was halfway along her normal route when she diverted from the waterfront boardwalk to a cyber café. She ordered a decaf and sat down at a vacant rental computer. After logging in to the anonymous Outlook email account, she checked the drafts folder. There was a new entry with an attached file. She downloaded the encrypted document to a flash drive she carried in a pocket.

  Elena arrived back at her apartment half an hour later. She showered, changed into pajamas, and relocated to the living room. She sat sofa cross-legged on a sofa cradling her laptop. Elena inserted the thumb drive into a USB port, clicked on to the encrypted Word document from Kwan, and keyed in the password.

  The message followed SVR director Smirnov’s prediction with frightening accuracy. Elena would wait 48 hours before posting a new draft email in the Outlook account she shared with Kwan, confirming Yuri Kirov’s defection to the United Sates.

  Elena would request $10,000 for the information.

  Chapter 35

  Day 17—Tuesday

  Commander Tom Bowman was in the Colorado’s control room. He stood beside the sonar section, responding to a summons by the senior technician. “What’ve you got, Richey?”

  “Captain, Master One is slowing. Down to eight knots now.”

  “She may be preparing to surface. Let me know if they start blowing tanks.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  After radioing COMSUBPAC (Commander, Submarine Force, U.S. Pacific Fleet) regarding the chance encounter with the Chinese submarine, the rear admiral ordered Colorado to shadow the boat. The Type 095 nuclear powered attack submarine loitered offshore of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy for forty-eight hours before heading south. For the past six days, SSN 788 tailed Master One to its homeport on the Chinese mainland. Bowman stepped away from sonar, joining his executive officer at the plot table. “What’s your take, XO?”

  Commander Jenae Mauk looked up; she had listened to sonar’s report. “Continue to shadow, Captain. Once Master One passes the twelve-mile limit, break off surveillance.”

  Bowman rubbed his chin. “If I were to decide to continue on, what would you recommend?”

  “One moment, sir.” Mauk studied the electronic chart and scanned an adjacent computer monitor. She looked back at Bowman. “We still have several hours before sunrise, and traffic in and out of the port is minimal. We could make a quick probe into the main harbor area, take infrared photos and then head back out before sunup.” She consulted the chart again. “But we’ll have to be extra careful—the harbor is shallow, even for us.”

  “Good plan, Jenae. Let’s implement it. You have the conn.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  With a quiet but resolute voice, Commander Mauk issued orders to the Colorado’s control room crew. Mauk was aware her current assignment was a test, and she welcomed it.

  Two hours and ten minutes passed. Colorado penetrated deep into harbor, its keel just twenty feet above the bottom. Bowman and Mauk eyed the control room’s main video display. Unlike older U.S. submarines, the Virginia class boats were not equipped with an optical periscope. Instead, photonic sensors were used. The camera mounted on Colorado’s photonics mast transmitted high-definition video images of the harbor. A southerly breeze propelled three-foot-high waves past the mast.

  “Captain,” Mauk said, “I think we’ve pushed our luck far enough. I recommend that we head back out. Sunrise will be on us within an hour.”

  Bowman peered at the image of the distant, blurry shoreline. “I’d sure like to take a look inside that sub base. We’ve never had anyone in there.”

  “Send a probe—from here?”

  “Yeah, what do you think?”

  “I don’t recommend that. We don’t have time.”

  “I think we do.” He smiled. “Nice job bringing her in. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Mauk keyed the bridge intercom mic, “Captain has the conn.”

  Colorado loitered for nearly half an hour, preparing an AUV for launch from a torpedo tube. Concerned about the delay, Captain Bowman called the torpedo room and connected with the senior AUV technician. “How much longer, Chief?” he asked, using a hand microphone.

  “Another five minutes, Captain.”

  “What’s taking so long?”

  “We had a system error. Ran a diagnostic and found the problem. It’s been corrected but I had to reboot the program, which is ongoing.”

  “Very well.”

  Captain Bowman turned to face his XO. “Damn electronics—just can’t trust ’em.”

  Commander Mauk checked her watch. “Skipper, the sun’s coming up now. I recommend that we depart and try later. The water’s so shallow in here the hull could be seen by aircraft.”

  “Duly noted.” Bowman turned to the officer of deck. “Raise the mast.”

  The OOD repeated the order.

  Bowman turned back to Mauk. “I want to peek topside and then decide.”

  The main display flashed on as the photonics mast rose above the water surface. The eastern horizon glowed orange as the sun rose.

  “Sun’s coming up, Captain,” Mauk reported. Bowman was about to respond when the chief sonar tech’s voice broadcast over the control room intercom. “Conn, sonar. I have high-speed propeller cavitation approaching from the west. Estimate speed forty plus knots.”

  Bowman stepped to the sonar console, with Mauk in his wake. “Where exactly is it headed?’

  “Straight for us.”

  “Shit!” muttered Captain Bowman.

  Chapter 36

  It was 8:25 A. M. at the Kremlin. The two men sat in baroque chairs facing each other across a table extension that projected from a colossal mahogany desk. The president of the Russian Federation preferred the seating arrangement for one-on-one visits to his office. It allowed Pyotr Lebedev to make intimate eye contact with those seeking an audience.

&nb
sp; Today SVR director Borya Smirnov occupied the hot seat.

  “Where are you with your special project?” asked the Russian leader. Lebedev had a husky build for his five-foot-eight height. Although he was in his mid-fifties, his brown hair remained full with just a trace of gray.

  “The first phase of Operation Fall Harvest is nearly complete. The Chinese have swallowed the bait and we’ve set the hook.”

  President Lebedev smirked. An avid fisherman, he embraced Smirnov’s metaphor. The SVR chief continued the briefing. “We’ve already detected an increase in military activities—subtle movement of army units to pre-positioned staging areas, a spike in training drills at key missile bases, and increased air sorties with practice bombing and air-to-air combat missions.”

  “What about naval units?”

  “Minimal changes to date, as we expected. Both aircraft carriers remain in port as well as most surface combatants. That will change, of course, when their scheduled war gaming exercise commences.”

  “When?”

  “About three weeks. They confirmed the exercise two days ago by issuing an international notice to mariners that its naval and air forces will be conducting training operations in the South China Sea. The notice did not specify the actual operating area.”

  The president cupped his hands with his elbows planted on the desk extension. “How are the Americans reacting?”

  “Washington remains silent on the war game but asserts that its Navy will continue to operate in the South China Sea regardless of what China does.”

  “And Taiwan?”

  “Taipei is nervous, which is consistent with China’s past naval war games. As you probably know, the GRU detected an increase in communication chatter between various defense units on the island. In reality, however, all they can do is watch, knowing they’ll be squashed if the mainland decides to put an end to their independence experiment.”

  “But Beijing may think otherwise now,” the president said with a sneer.

  “Yes, sir. I believe they are now spooked.”

  “Excellent news,” President Lebedev said, pleased with the SVR’s disinformation campaign. Both the Chinese and the Americans remained in the dark regarding Operation Fall Harvest. The operation had commenced a month earlier. While Russia continued to embrace mainland China as its new economic and military partner, the SVR in cooperation with the GRU utilized Russia’s vast network of operatives in Beijing and Washington to sow the seeds of doubt and mistrust. Experts at manipulating foreign governments for decades, Russian intelligence agencies salted truth with fabrication, expecting that the recipients would connect the dots on their own.