I had no choice but to turn her in—but was I wrong?
Nick spent the next few minutes mulling over the revelation, planning multiple moves ahead. Hazards littered the chessboard he played. Yuri remained unapproachable, still on his secret mission aimed at China. He needed to know about Elena’s change in status, but Nick was powerless to sound the alarm.
Laura Newman was under investigation by the FBI, but Nick could not warn her. He too was hounded by federal agents along with others in the consulate. He had picked up on another tail this morning during his commute. And use of his cell or even a burner was risky. The Americans were capable of intercepting any electronic communications directed to Laura Newman.
Nick had no choice but to back off and wait for the heat to abate. In the interim, Laura would have to fend for herself.
* * * *
“Hello, Amanda,” Laura said as she walked from the kitchen into the living room. It was 5:50 P.M.
“Hi, Laura.”
Amanda and Madelyn were on the rug next to the coffee table. As toddler Maddy propped herself against the table, she inspected the stable of toy horses she just finished lining up on the tabletop.
Laura knelt next to her daughter. “Hello, sweet pea,” she said beaming. Maddy’s face brightened into her trademark dimpled smile. Laura caressed Madelyn’s angel-soft ash-blond hair. “Are you having fun with your horseys?” Maddy cooed a response as Laura kissed her forehead.
“We had lots of fun today,” Amanda said as she moved from the rug to a nearby sofa. She launched into her review, something she did every day when Laura returned from work. “We went to the park this afternoon. The weather was perfect. Maddy had fun on the swing and then…”
Laura listened, asking for an occasional detail or clarification. So far, she was pleased with Amanda, who was always unpretentious and dutiful concerning Maddy when around Laura. The anxious mom hoped Amanda acted the same when she was at work. Laura had yet to install the nanny-cam she had purchased earlier in the week. She remained ambivalent as to whether she should spy on Amanda. It would have been so much easier if Yuri were around. He would know what to do.
Laura relocated to the kitchen carrying Madelyn on her right hip. “What would you like for dinner tonight?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator door. She removed a Tupperware container filled with organic vegetables she’d pureed the previous evening—carrots, sweet potatoes, and green peas.
After placing Maddy in her highchair, Laura warmed the blended vegetables in the microwave and took a test bite to make sure they weren’t too hot.
“Here you go, Munchkin,” Laura said as she held the baby spoon to Maddy’s lips.
Madelyn turned her head to the side with sealed lips.
“Come on, honey. This is good for you.”
Amanda walked into the kitchen and observed the standoff. “I fed her a bottle about half an hour before you arrived.”
“Well, then, maybe we’ll try this a little later.” Noticing the windbreaker Amanda wore and the handbag she carried, Laura asked, “Taking off?”
“I’m meeting Tom at the Red Robin and then we’re going to a movie.”
“Great. Have fun.”
“We will.”
Laura relocated to the deck. She traded in her Armani pantsuit for a sleeveless blouse and a pair of Chaser lounge shorts. Maddy sat inside her playpen next to Laura’s deckchair, busy with her horses.
As Laura watched the sun sink in the western sky, her thoughts turned to Yuri. Over two weeks had passed and not one word from Yuri. Where are you?
* * * *
“How much longer do you think we’re going to have to babysit her?”
“I have no idea. Taylor doesn’t share anything about this case.”
The two male FBI agents sat inside the surveillance van three blocks from the Newman residence. It was dark outside; the sun had set half an hour earlier. The nondescript van moved to a new location every couple of hours. The video monitor displayed the feed from the camera in the living room. Laura Newman sat cross-legged in a sofa typing on her laptop.
“She goes to work. Comes home. Watches the kid for an hour or so before putting her to bed. She then works for another hour and goes bed. Boring. Boring. Boring.”
“Hey man, this babe is one smart cookie. You see how nice this place is?”
“Yeah, I know she’s loaded. I read the background report, just like you.”
“So, what’s your problem?”
“She’s rich. She should be out there—enjoying herself. Like the other fat cats do.”
“She’s not like that.”
“No kidding.”
Chapter 38
Day 19—Thursday
Yuri knocked on the door. He was on the fourth floor of an apartment building in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, a dozen blocks away from the north shore of Avacha Bay. It was late afternoon. Hearing footsteps on hardwood flooring, he braced for what was to come. The door opened.
“Hello, Alma,” Yuri said with a glowing smile.
The twenty-six-year-old redhead remained frozen in place for a couple of seconds before a hand raced to her mouth. “Yuri!” she said, plainly stunned.
“Do you have a little time to talk?”
“Of course, please come in.”
They sat at the kitchen table. The one-bedroom overlooked a forested area. Alma had just brewed a fresh pot of tea.
“Thank you,” Yuri said after she filled his mug.
Alma topped off her mug and set the pot on the table. Recovered from the shock of the unannounced visit, she said, “How long have you been at Rybachiy?”
“About two weeks.”
Yuri did not volunteer anything further, and Alma chose not to probe. As the widow of a submariner who’d assisted Yuri in highly classified underwater intelligence gathering operations, Alma accepted the secret world her husband had embraced.
Yuri took a quick look around the neat and clean modestly furnished apartment. In a corner of the adjoining living room on the top of a small table was a color photograph of Senior Warrant Officer Viktor Skirski. Mounted on the wall near the official Russian Navy portrait was a simple cross. Viktor’s determined expression, encouraged by the photographer, did little to diminish his boyish good looks. Yuri’s heart fluttered as he recalled the last time he spoke with his friend and submate.
Yuri looked back at Alma. “Where’s your son?”
“Napping.”
“How old is he now?”
“Alek will be two next month.”
The revelation hit Yuri with the impact of a Mack truck. Maddy—her birthday was last week!
Yuri recovered. “He must keep you busy.”
Alma smiled. “He’s a delight, a real chatterbox. ”
Yuri listened as Alma went on about her son. He asked questions that eventually led to Alma’s job.
“I’m a clerk at the base,” she volunteered. “I guess the base commander took pity on me. Anyway, I help with keeping track of supplies and deliveries for the commissary.” She ran a hand through her hair. “What really helps is I can leave Alek at the base daycare center while I’m working.”
Alma’s parents remained in Moscow. Viktor’s mother, a widow, resided in St. Petersburg.
“Did the Navy provide you with any benefits from…” Yuri couldn’t finish the question.
Alma heaved a sigh. “No death benefit but I do receive a modest pension based on Viktor’s service. With that and my job, we’re doing okay.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Yuri had worried that Alma and Alek might end up on the breadline. She’d married Viktor at eighteen and because of his frequent changes in duty stations, Alma never had the opportunity to attend college. She was exceptionally sharp with mathematics and during secondary school expressed interest in becoming an engineer
.
Yuri continued, “I don’t know what the Navy told you happened but—”
Alma cut him off. “They told us nothing—only that there was an accident and over half the crew was lost.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Most of the wives were able to bury their husbands. But not me. All I have is a letter—a stinking letter from an admiral in Vladivostok saying Viktor died in the service of Russia. Died for what?”
“I’m sorry, Alma. Sometimes our government is coldhearted.” Yuri rubbed his chin. “I wanted you to know that Viktor gave his life trying to save the survivors of the accident. He was incredibly brave.”
“He was?”
“Yes—truly.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“It was a rescue dive, very deep and extremely dangerous. There was an equipment failure—with his breathing gear.”
“Oh, dear God.”
“He went peacefully.”
“You’re sure he didn’t suffer?” Her eyes teared again.
“It was like falling asleep.”
“You were with him?”
“He went first—braver than anyone else. I followed and found him.”
“His body—what happened to it?”
“We had a service at sea to honor his remains.”
“Where?”
Yuri wanted to tell the truth but could not reveal mission details. “All I can say is that it was in the North Pacific Ocean.”
Alma asked a silent prayer before meeting Yuri’s eyes. “Thank you for telling me, Yuri.” She wiped a droplet from her cheek. “You have helped me find a little more closure. I’m grateful.”
* * * *
Yuri returned to the Rybachiy base. It was 8:55 P.M. Alma insisted he stay for dinner, which allowed him to meet Alek.
Yuri sat in a well-used chair beside the window of his room. He held his iPhone. The BOQ building was equipped with Wi-Fi. Ready to tap the screen and launch the transpacific call, he hesitated. A moment later, he switched off the cell. “Too risky,” he muttered.
It was his last opportunity to call home yet it would have been a grave security breach. The GRU monitored all communications at the base. Yuri’s orders prohibited any personal international calls, texts, or emails.
She’s asleep anyway. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning in the Seattle region.
Yuri set the cell on a side table and peered out the window. The frugal quarter’s one distinguishing feature was its third-floor view of Avacha Bay. As the sun retreated, he could still see the Novosibirsk moored at its berth several hundred yards away. Attached to the casing behind the sail was the minisub P-185.
The mating process had proceeded in textbook fashion during the morning. While Yuri observed from P-815’s control center, Lieutenant Tumanov and his crew maneuvered the midget over Novosibirsk’s partially submerged aft deck. They centered the mini’s mating collar over the submarine’s diver module hatch while simultaneously lining up key hull points with the steel cradle welded to Novosibirsk’s deck. Divers checked the automatic locking clamps, verifying the mini was secured to the attack sub’s casing.
After coupling with the midget sub was completed, Captain Petrovich ordered the Novosibirsk to the deepest section of Avacha Bay where the P-815 and its host submerged. Like a baby humpback whale huddling with its mother, they dove into the deep.
The Novosibirsk conducted two test dives in the bay and then left the harbor. It conducted half a dozen deep water dives in the Pacific offshore of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy. Satisfied with the mating arrangement, Petrovich guided the Novosibirsk back to its berth.
When Yuri returned to the base after visiting Alma, he learned that the transport jet carrying the equipment he had requested from Peter was late. It was due to land just before midnight. The two special operators Captain Petrovich mentioned were also aboard the air freighter. The Novosibirsk would still depart at 2 A.M. Yuri had already packed his gear and planned to board at one o’clock.
The presence of the new players worried Yuri. Naval Spetsnaz—why are they here? Yuri questioned Tumanov on the subject but learned little. The P-185’s crew had trained with special operators in the past but never participated in any real missions.
Yuri’s thoughts shifted again to Alma and her son. He could see Viktor’s likeness emerging in Alek, broad forehead, angular jaw, and brunette hair. It reminded Yuri how Maddy favored her mother. She’ll be just as beautiful.
Yuri pictured Laura’s dazzling face, heard her cheery laughter. I miss you so much!
Still reclining in the chair, Yuri watched as the last vestiges of sunlight faded. Base lighting already illuminated the quays and floating docks of the sub base. A new thought reemerged, one he’d purposely suppressed.
I had no choice—I had to do it.
Four months earlier while aboard Kwan’s superyacht the Yangzi, Yuri fired twice, both rounds striking the target. It was a split-second decision—kill or be killed.
Yuri’s foe fired first but missed him; instead, the errant round plowed into Elena’s Krestyanova’s shoulder.
The awful truth that Yuri took another human being’s life weighed profoundly on him.
Yuri stood. The officers’ club remained open until eleven o’clock.
He needed a nightcap, maybe two.
Chapter 39
Day 20—Friday
Underway for seven hours, the Novosibirsk with the P-815 riding piggyback was 660 feet below the surface heading south at twenty knots. The hydraulically efficient teardrop geometry of the minisub’s hull resulted in minimal drag, allowing the combination to slip silently through the abyss. The towed sonar array stretched 1,000 feet behind the rudder, its sensors tuned to identify telltale sounds of other submerged submarines. The acoustic sensors in the bow-mounted spherical dome and running along each side of the hull also listened. The Novosibirsk’s chief sonar technician reported to Captain Petrovich that they were alone in this stretch of the North Pacific Ocean.
While the executive officer commanded the Novosibirsk from the attack center, Petrovich held a mission meeting in the officers’ wardroom. It was 9:05 A.M.. Attending were Yuri, Lieutenant Tumanov, and the two new arrivals. Tea was served. The men sat around the mess table. The special operators from St. Petersburg were in their late twenties, confident and all business.
“Captain Petrovich, how close to the target area can you ferry the mini?” asked Lieutenant Mikhail Shtyrov. He was in charge of the two-man Spetsnaz detail. Average height with a barrel chest, muscled arms, and thick neck, his physique telegraphed wrestler.
“It depends on the defensive posture of the Chinese. If the approach is lightly patrolled, we’ll probably drop the mini off ten to twelve kilometers away.” Petrovich wore a one-piece cobalt-blue jumpsuit that stretched from neck to ankle and a pair of sneakers—the standard issue uniform while aboard the Novosibirsk. Yuri and the others in the meeting wore the same apparel.
Petrovich continued, “If the approach is hot, we’ll have to turn you loose further out, maybe even beyond the territorial limits.”
Shtyrov turned to face Tumanov. “If we encounter submarine nets, how will you counter them?”
“Sonar should detect their presence. We’ll then use our video system to swim over or around any nets or other obstructions.”
“But let’s say your sensors don’t pick up the netting and you run into it, what then?”
“Send out a diver and cut our way through. We carry cable cutters and other gear.”
Chief Petty Officer Vladimir Dobrynin spoke next. “Lieutenant, does your vehicle have the ability to hover close to the bottom, say two meters above it?” With a slim build, Dobrynin was a few inches taller than Shtyrov. His close-cut russet hair accented his handsome facial features—strong jaw, Roman nose, and trimmed eyebrows.
“Yes, of course. It’s
not a problem. Why do you ask?”
“It’ll be easier for us to move our equipment if we can let it drop to the bottom and then assemble the parts.”
Yuri decided to join in. “Your gear, I’d like to know more about it. What kind of recording equipment is it?” Prior to departing Rybachiy, he watched as the naval Spetsnaz operators loaded their gear aboard the minisub. They did the work themselves, declining assistance from P-815’s crew.
“Routine acoustic monitoring gear, sir,” responded Shtyrov. “But new improved models. Built into the casing is a mini buoy antenna system. On a preset schedule, every week or longer, the buoy is released—during the night. It pops to the surface and broadcasts an encrypted signal to an overhead satellite, providing a summary of what it picked up during the monitoring period. After the transmission, the buoy is reeled back into the pod to repeat the process.”
“How long will your pod remain operational—using the buoy system?”
“Easily a year, assuming weekly transmissions. Maybe a little longer.” Shtyrov said. “If the transmission schedule could be increased to every ten days or so, we might get another six months. The buoy retrieval system uses a lot of power.”
Yuri was aware that the system described was under development prior to his last official mission.
Petrovich weighed in. “That should work well for our needs, Lieutenant.” He next addressed Yuri. “What about the gear you’re going to install?”
“I’ll lock out and use the DPV to get in position to release the package.”
“How far?”
“Each site is different and depends on harbor defenses. On average, I’m planning on a ten- to twelve-kilometer round trip.”
“That’s quite a way underwater.”
“I know. But in order to have best chance for success, the closer I can get to the quays, the better it will be.”
“These devices—how do they work?” the captain asked.
“They burrow into the bottom and—”
“How deep into the bottom?’ interrupted Petrovich.
The Faithful Spy Page 15