Every twenty-four hours, the Remora would repeat same process, allowing the Russian Navy to track and spy on the Heilong for at least ten days.
Chapter 53
It was 7:35 A.M. in Sammamish, Washington. Laura Newman walked along the asphalt driveway, cooling down from her forty-minute run. She wore a Seahawks T-shirt, running shorts, and Nikes. The sky remained cloudless, portending another warm summer day.
Laura reached the parking court of her home. Amanda’s Honda Civic occupied one of the half dozen guest stalls. Amanda was up; Maddy still slept. Laura looked over her property, hands on her back as she stretched her spine. She wondered where the cameras were located.
They’re probably watching me right now.
As she scanned the landscaping and the forest of evergreens that screened the adjacent hillside homes, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. But Laura knew otherwise.
They must still have some cameras inside, too.
She had spent an hour the previous evening searching inside her home, looking for surveillance gear, but found nothing.
How long have they been watching us?
Orbiting the circular planting bed in the center of the parking court, Laura mulled over the timeframe. She had put it together last night while lying in bed. The surveillance must have started after Yuri left, otherwise they would have arrested him.
Laura speculated that Yuri was spotted at the Russian Consulate in Houston.
Nick probably knows, but he’s an impossible source now.
On several recent occasions Laura was tempted to contact Nicolai Orlov to check on Yuri but refrained. Yuri warned her that the FBI monitored the consulate and it also kept tabs on key personnel. Laura swiped sweat from her brow. The expected “high” from her run had not yet kicked in. She remained anxious.
When FBI Special Agent Michaela Taylor presented the photograph of Yuri, demanding his whereabouts and threatening her arrest, Laura had clammed up. She was pre-warned. Lying to a federal law enforcement official was a felony. Taylor eventually backed off after Laura linked up with her attorney, first by telephone and then Skype. Tim Reveley brokered the deal with Taylor during their impromptu video conference. Laura would submit to a formal interview at the FBI’s Seattle Office on Monday.
This afternoon Laura planned to meet with Tim and other attorneys at his Seattle office to strategize for the upcoming FBI interview. They could have arrested me right in my office but they didn’t—why?
Yesterday afternoon’s rude “outing” continued to traumatize Laura. But it was not unexpected.
Thank you again, Lord, for helping me to be prepared.
Reveley had engaged a specialty law firm in Washington, D.C. to assist with Yuri’s request for asylum. Two preliminary meetings had been held with key State Department staff. Yuri’s name was not disclosed; instead, he was described as an Eastern European high-level foreign intelligence operative seeking refuge in the United States. After conferring with the CIA and FBI, State had expressed interest in proceeding with the asylum process.
Tim Reveley planned to reveal the State Department connection when he and Laura met with the FBI next week. Laura hoped that revelation would tone down agent Taylor’s aggressive posture when she met separately for the formal interview. Tim might not be allowed to sit in during that interrogation.
As Laura walked toward the main entry to her home, ready for a shower and a cup of coffee, another matter nagged at her well-being. What about the Chinese? Are they really after me—again?
* * * *
Nicolai Orlov had the same questions as Laura Newman. The Chinese again—that must have been an MSS op!
Nick sat at his desk in the Houston consulate. He had just completed his daily review of overnight developments in the Western United States, compiled by the night staff. What caught his attention was a link to a news story broadcast the previous evening by a Seattle television station reporting an FBI shootout in Bellevue, Washington.
Nick clicked on the link for a second viewing. The image of a comely blonde holding a microphone in front of the entrance to a parking garage flashed onto to his PC. The reporter recited her spiel:
“Late this afternoon, a shootout took place in this downtown Bellevue parking garage. The FBI reports it tracked two individuals to the garage and prepared to take them into custody for questioning regarding a bank robbery when the men resisted. Gunfire erupted and the two men were killed. None of the FBI agents involved in the confrontation were injured nor were any bystanders.
“Witnesses using the garage at the time of the incident report hearing a barrage of gunfire. The deceased individuals have not been identified but the FBI reported the men were associated with an Asia-based gang suspected of having conducted several bank robberies in the Seattle area.
“There is no bank in this particular building. Its principal tenant is Cognition Consultants, a high-profile IT company. However, a bank is located in the adjacent tower.”
Nick turned away from the screen, dumbfounded. Cognition Consultants—that’s Laura’s company. That was no bank robbery—they were after Laura.
The FBI is hiding something!
Nick picked up the handset to his desk phone and dialed the consulate’s security officer. A minute later, Captain Oleg Babin walked into Nick’s office and took a seat.
“I just went over the daily report,” Nick announced. “There was an FBI-involved shooting in the Seattle area yesterday at Laura Newman’s company. I think the FBI has been watching her.”
“She was shot?”
“No, my gut tells me the FBI was probably trying to protect her.” Babin’s brow wrinkled, amplifying the shrapnel scar over his right eye. He was unsure where his boss was headed.
Nick spent the next five minutes connecting dots.
Babin assessed the situation and provided his opinion. “Maybe the MSS wanted to interrogate her to find out if she knows where Kirov is?”
“That’s possible but unlikely. After what Kirov uncovered, I suspect Beijing is trying to clean up loose ends. Laura Newman is one of them.”
“And Captain-Lieutenant Kirov is the other?”
“Yes, plus one other.”
“Sir?” Babin said.
“Me.”
“But why?”
“Revenge,” Nick said. “We collectively torpedoed Beijing’s plan to spark a war between Russia and the USA.”
Chapter 54
Day 28—Saturday
“We have new orders, gentlemen,” Captain Petrovich said, addressing Yuri Kirov and Mikhail Shtyrov. All three sat at the mess table in the officer’s wardroom. The Novosibirsk continued its southerly track, paralleling China’s coast.
Petrovich continued, “Fleet has directed us to bypass the East Sea Fleet and head straight for Hainan Island.”
“So Ningbo is no longer part of the mission?” Yuri asked.
“No. It’s still on. We’ll stop there on our way back, plus Zhanjiang.” Petrovich checked his notes. “Fleet reported the Liaoning carrier strike force is headed to Yulin. It’s behind us, steaming south at twenty knots.”
“What’s going on, sir?” asked Shtyrov.
“Apparently, the Chinese are massing a taskforce at the Yulin Naval Base on Hainan—prepping for their upcoming South China Sea war game. Fleet wants us to monitor that activity.”
“We’re still supposed to install recording equipment?” Yuri said.
“Correct, monitor the surface vessels.” Petrovich grinned. “And according to Fleet, there will be at least one missile boat moored at Yulin, so you’ll get another chance to install one of your bots.”
“Interesting,” Yuri commented.
“Captain,” Shtyrov said, “if the PLAN is assembling a taskforce, won’t that make it more difficult for us to install the equipment? With all that floating hardware, their ASW
forces will be in full mode.”
“That’s right, Lieutenant. Fleet indicated that we should expect a robust ASW environment. However, it will not necessarily be directed toward us.”
“Americans?” Shtyrov said.
“Yes. The U.S. Navy will have several subs in the area—one of which will likely be a Virginia class. Trying to track one of those devil boats will drive the Chinese Navy mad. Our mission will be to stay out of the way of the Americans and let the PLAN flail about as they try to find them. Should be good theatre.”
Yuri and Shtyrov chuckled. Petrovich recalled another factor. “Kirov, you’ll be interested to know that the Remora you left behind at Qingdao worked.”
“It reported in?”
“It did. The boat you targeted is headed south. Fleet speculates that it will screen the taskforce.”
“Has it been transmitting data on the boat?”
“It has. I don’t have any of the details, only that Fleet is pleased with our work.”
“That’s great news.”
“It is, Kirov. Well done.”
“Sir, the boys back in Peter who built the Remora units should get the credit, not me.”
“They will, but you deployed it. That counts a lot.”
“Thank you.”
The three officers spent the next hour planning for the Hainan Island operation and then dispersed.
* * * *
Eight hours later and over 300 nautical miles behind the Novosibirsk, the USS Colorado continued to stalk the Heilong. Captain Bowman stood beside the control room’s plotting table. It displayed a digital chart of the Chinese coastline. A red cursor configured as a submarine hull pulsed. Master One—the Heilong—was about sixty nautical miles offshore of Ningbo. A similar blue cursor represented the Colorado. It trailed the Heilong by nearly ten miles.
The Colorado’s executive officer walked aft from the pilot’s station to join Bowman.
“It’s not heading to port, is it?” asked Commander Jenae Mauk.
She had bundled her black hair into a ponytail today.
“No.” Bowman tapped the red icon on the glass display with a finger. “Looks like COMSUBPAC may be right about Master One. It’s bypassing Ningbo.” The port city served as the headquarters for China’s East Sea Fleet.
“It could still be heading to Zhanjiang or Hainan Island,” Mauk said. “That’s where their taskforce is assembling.”
“The Heilong is their best attack boat. I think it might be tasked with something else.” Bowman punched in a couple key strokes on the plotting table’s control panel. The screen snapped to a larger scale, which not only displayed the entire coastline of China but also included the South China Sea. Another blue icon, configured as a star, flashed about 500 miles southwest of Manila, in the Philippines.
“You think it’s headed for the Reagan Strike Group?” Mauk asked.
“I do.”
As part of the ongoing dispute between China and its neighbors over control of the South China Sea, the United States routinely moved naval and air assets across the 1.35 million square miles of the international waterway. Stretching from China to Indonesia and Vietnam to the Philippines, the South China Sea was one of the most traveled waterbodies in the world. Over half of all global marine commerce passed through it. The Sea also contained enormous natural resources ranging from subsea oil and gas deposits to vast ocean fisheries.
China, through its policy of incrementalism, was resolute in its ultimate goal to control the South China Sea—lock, stock, and barrel of crude. It blatantly bullied the other nations that bordered the sea, threatening the lesser powers with economic and military retaliation if they dared to challenge China’s self-initiated sovereignty. In direct opposition to China’s game plan, the United States remained steadfast in its right to transit the international waters and airspace of the South China Sea. Consequently, the U.S. Navy routinely operated throughout the Sea.
To curb China’s sea-grab, the Reagan Strike Group patrolled the South China Sea. The USS Ronald Reagan, CVN 76, was the centerpiece of the Strike Group. The U.S. Navy Nimitz-class nuclear powered aircraft carrier with its ninety fixed wing and rotary aircraft embodied the pinnacle of naval power. Surrounded by a dozen other American surface warfare ships and a submarine escort, the Reagan Strike Group was a clear demonstration of America’s roving sovereignty. And right now, it was in China’s backyard thumbing its nose at Beijing.
The Heilong was designed and equipped with one principal goal—sink American aircraft carriers. With its deadly ship hunting missiles, it represented a clear and present danger to the Reagan. Captain Bowman’s orders were unequivocal. Continually track the Heilong and if it threatens the Reagan, kill it.
Chapter 55
Day 30—Monday
Laura Newman was inside a conference room at the FBI’s field office in downtown Seattle. Sitting beside her was attorney Tim Reveley. Dressed in a tailored beige summer suit, Tim was in his early fifties, stood two inches over six feet, and had an agile build. His brunette hair was streaked with gray but remained full and thick. A magna cum laude graduate of the University of Washington’s School of Law, Tim was a name partner is one of Seattle’s larger law firms. Besides representing Cognition Consultants, Tim served as Laura’s personal attorney.
“Is it safe to talk in here?” Laura asked.
“It should be while we’re alone, but we still need to be cautious.”
Laura glanced at her wristwatch. It was 1:04 P.M. “How long do you think this will take?”
“Probably a couple of hours. We’ll be lucky to be out of here by three.”
“Will I still have to meet with them without you present?”
“That’s what they indicated, but that could change.”
Laura sulked.
Tim smiled. “When I explain what’s been happening, they may reconsider.”
“I hope so.”
“It’s going to be okay, Laura. Just tell what happened.”
“They won’t believe me.”
“Be yourself.”
At ten minutes past one o’clock, the door to the conference room opened and FBI Special Agent Michaela Taylor walked inside. She carried a two-inch-thick file folder.
“Good afternoon,” she said with a broad smile. She extended her hand to Laura. “Thanks for coming in today.”
Taylor and Reveley exchanged salutations.
Taylor took a seat on the opposite side of the table. She placed the folder on the table and opened it. She removed a typed document and studied it.
Taylor looked up, facing Reveley. “I understand you have a statement to make before we proceed with the formal interview.”
“Yes. My client is prepared to cooperate fully with your investigation, but there are some underlying facts that I believe are important that the FBI be made aware of first.”
Taylor clasped her hands, resting them in front of her. “What facts?”
Reveley scanned the conference room. He noted the ceiling mounted cameras in two corners. A tiny red light on each camera had switched on when Taylor entered the room.
“Is our conversation being video and audio recorded?”
“Yes.”
“And are others viewing the live feed of the cameras?”
“That’s correct.”
“Okay.” Tim intertwined his fingers. “First, on behalf of my client, I want to thank the FBI for intervening in the incident that occurred last week. Your efforts undoubtedly saved Ms. Newman from a second kidnapping and likely saved her life.”
“What do you mean second kidnapping?”
Tim held up a hand. “We’ll get to that.” He cleared his throat. “My client is aware that the FBI is investigating the status of an individual known as John Kirkwood. Ms. Newman is also aware that Kirkwood is an alias. His real name is Yuri
Ivanovich Kirov.”
Michaela Taylor chose not respond.
Reveley continued, “Kirov is a captain-lieutenant in the Russian Navy serving as an intelligence officer.”
“Where is Kirov?”
“We’ll get to that, too. But first you need to know that our law firm in conjunction with an affiliate firm in Washington, D.C., has been in discussion with the State Department concerning asylum for Mr. Kirov.”
Taylor glared at Reveley. “We’ve heard nothing about that.”
“Kirov was not yet named. He was simply identified as a high-level intelligence operative from an Eastern European nation.”
“That could fit dozens of individuals.”
“I will provide evidence that will it narrow down. But first, you need to hear the entire story, which started over a year ago. It will provide the context for your current investigation.”
“I’m listening.”
Reveley turned toward Laura. “Please tell them what happened—from the very beginning.”
Laura faced the FBI interrogator. “About a year and a half ago, Yuri broke into a waterfront house I was staying in at Point Roberts, Washington,” she began. “I rented the home to get away from my then-husband…”
Chapter 56
FBI Supervisory Special Agent Ava Diesen sat alone at a conference table on the sixth floor of the Hoover Building. It was half past six o’clock in the evening. She had already called home and informed her husband that would she be late—again. Ava stared at the massive wall-mounted screen at the far end of the video conference center. The digital image of Special Agent Michaela Taylor in the Seattle Field Office peered back. The two federal law enforcement officers connected via a secure link.
“I don’t know what to believe,” Diesen said. “Her story is so outlandish that it borders on the absurd.” Diesen had monitored the interrogation of Laura Newman via the video link.
The Faithful Spy Page 23