The Faithful Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

“Okay.”

  Dear God, I hope this works. Yuri counted on the tug’s underwater racket to shield the mini. Ten minutes passed. The P-815 in tandem with the harbor tug neared Pearl Harbor’s infamous Hospital Point. The main waterway to the U.S. Navy’s principal moorage facilities was just ahead on the right.

  Yuri could hardly believe what he was doing. Over three quarters of a century earlier, a Japanese midget submarine cruised into Pearl Harbor’s battleship row and launched torpedoes against the sitting ducks. Although Japan’s sneak air attack devastated the naval base, the minisub also created havoc inside the confined harbor waters.

  Nevsky made a new report. “Sir, the barrier to the main channel is approaching.”

  “I suspect that’s where this guy is headed.”

  Yuri eased off the throttle, allowing the P-815 to fall behind the tractor tug. The din from the tug receded as it turned eastward into the main channel of the naval base.

  Traveling at two knots and just three feet above the bottom, Yuri guided the P-815 northward into the Ford Island Channel. It was too risky to continue following the tractor tug. A floating barrier extending from Ford Island to the shoreline of the Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard prevented unauthorized surface craft from entry to the Pacific Fleet’s main moorage basin. Although the minisub could easily sail under the barrier, bottom sensors might detect the intrusion. Hugging the bottom, the P-815 crept northward as Yuri and Junior Lieutenant Nevsky tag teamed. Yuri steered the boat while his co-pilot called out sensor locations and monitored vertical control.

  After following the North Channel into the East Loch, Yuri eased back on the throttle and pumped water into the fore and aft ballast tanks. The P-815 settled onto the mud bottom in mid-channel, around half a mile from the northern end of Ford Island.

  Nevsky was about to comment on the unplanned maneuver when he was preempted. “Lieutenant,” Yuri said, “I need to check with Shtyrov. You have the conn. Keep monitoring. Any changes, let me know immediately.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Yuri pushed up his goggles. The mini’s interior lighting was amber—standard operating procedure for nighttime running conditions.

  He climbed out of the pilot’s station and headed aft. It was time for a confrontation.

  Chapter 81

  Yuri Kirov, Lieutenant Shtyrov, and Chief Dobrynin were inside the P-815’s accommodation’s compartment. Yuri closed the watertight bulkhead door when he entered, ensuring privacy.

  The OSNAZ operators used the compartment to assemble equipment and don their diving gear. Both men had already slipped into neoprene dry suits. Two rebreathers lay on one of the bunks, each unit charged with oxygen and the CO2 absorbent canisters filled. All batteries were charged and electronics calibrated.

  “We’re close to the departure point,” Yuri said. “But before we go any further I want to know what your mission is—everything!”

  “With respect, sir, I can’t reveal any mission details.” Shtyrov stood beside Yuri. Dobrynin sat on the edge of a bunk.

  “I know you’re not installing recording gear.” Yuri gestured to a black cylinder resting on the deck beside Shtyrov’s rubber dive boots. “What is that thing?” he demanded.

  “Ah, sir, you are out of order. I cannot—”

  “Bullshit. What is it for?”

  “It’s the same type of acoustic recorder we deployed at Qingdao. Once installed, it will record the acoustic signature of every vessel that enters and departs the base.”

  Yuri was ready for the expected response. “To do that, all you had to do was install it in the main entrance channel. There’s no need risking an incursion deep into the harbor like this.”

  He dropped to his knees next to the cylinder. It was the device he had checked earlier with a dosimeter.

  He looked back up Shtyrov. “I want you open it now and show me the backup isotope power system.”

  “That’s impossible. The unit’s sealed.”

  “Well, it’s time to unseal it.” Yuri grabbed a sheathed dive knife from another bunk stacked with gear and extracted the blade.

  He inserted the tip into a recessed joint near the steel canister’s midsection and was about to pry the two halves apart when everything went black.

  Dobrynin stood above the now prostrate Yuri, a spare two-kilo lead weight from the dive gear locker cupped in his hands. “I had no choice.”

  “Good job, Chief.” Shtyrov knelt next to Yuri. “Let’s tie this jackass up and then get going.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Chapter 82

  The dive team surfaced, their black-clad heads and shoulders nearly indistinguishable from the dark harbor waters. Their target loomed in the near distance. The USS Theodore Roosevelt was ablaze with self-illumination, its 1,092-foot long-hull moored to a massive concrete pier near the mouth of the Halawa Stream. Shtyrov extended his right gloved hand in a thumbs up. Dobrynin nodded his understanding. In unison, the special operators vented air from their buoyancy compensators and sank back into the murk.

  After locking out from the P-815 in Pearl Harbor’s East Loch, Shtyrov and Dobrynin had proceeded southeastward just below the surface, towed by individual diver propulsion vehicles. They passed under the east end of the Ford Island Bridge, avoiding the floating barrier that paralleled the north side of the bridge. The security barricade consisted of a floating fence designed to repel surface craft. Suspended from the floating barrier was a recently installed underwater anti-diver net. Extending to the bottom, the plastic mesh fabric contained sensors that could detect efforts to pass through the barrier or to cut the net. Pre-warned about the submerged web, the Russians emerged from the water and walked a dozen steps along the darkened coastline, then reentered the waterway on the south side of the floating barrier. They swam along the shore that housed the Pearl Harbor Visitor Center, passing under the bow of the USS Bowfin. Converted into a floating museum, the World War II submarine was one of Pearl Harbor’s most visited tourist attractions.

  At the southern end of the Visitor Center the divers powered across the mouth of the Halawa Stream to their destination—Naval Station Pearl Harbor’s Hotel Pier and the USS Theodore Roosevelt.

  After venting their BCs, the Russians sank to the harbor bottom just below the Roosevelt’s bow. Once the divers swam under the aircraft carrier, Lieutenant Shtyrov switched on his dive light, directing the beam downward. The colossal bulk of the overhead hull created a shadow that suppressed all shipboard and shoreside lighting, creating pitch-dark conditions on the bottom. The supercarrier drew nearly forty feet of water. The tide had just passed the daily low, leaving about five feet of clearance under the keel. The divers followed the keel line, running the DPVs at low power, which rendered the already minimal acoustic signature of the electric drives silent. Uncertain as to what dockside acoustic security measures might be used at Hotel Pier, the divers paced their breathing, taking measured breaths and slowly exhaling into the closed-circuit rebreathers. Shipboard-generated noise from machinery inside the hull radiated into the water, helping mask the divers’ incursion. Shtyrov and Dobrynin were prepared to suppress any marine mammal sentries that the U.S. Navy might deploy. Chief Dobrynin carried a hand-held laser. The device emitted an array of irritating light pulses designed to confuse and hopefully scare away any biologics.

  After reaching the approximate midpoint of the hull, the divers powered down the DPVs and settled onto the bottom. Lieutenant Shtyrov retrieved the package he had towed. Assisted by Chief Dobrynin, he armed the weapon.

  The yield of the nuclear device was eight kilotons—eight thousand tons of TNT. About half the explosive power of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, it was not a significant weapon in terms of modern nuclear warfare. Nevertheless, it would accomplish the mission. One of the United States’ most powerful warships would be vaporized in a heartbeat and the surrounding Pearl Harbor Naval Base rende
red impotent for years. The evidence planted by the SVR would point straight back to China—payback for the Yulin Naval Base attack.

  With the mission complete, the commandos retreated. But they would not be returning to the P-815 or the Novosibirsk. After retracing their path to near the Bowfin, Shtyrov and Dobrynin sank their DPVs and rebreathers. They swam to the nearby shore and climbed up the low bank. Still clad in dry suits, the pair walked in the dark to a waiting vehicle.

  An undercover FSB operative waited for the pair in a Ford SUV. She parked the Expedition in an unlit private lot sandwiched between the Pearl Harbor Visitor Center and the east landing of the Ford Island Bridge. She had waited the previous day from 10 P.M. to 6 A.M. She was prepared to come back the next three nights if needed.

  Shtyrov keyed the bomb’s timer for three hours, which set the detonation time as 6:52 A.M. It was his call; Moscow’s orders did not dictate timing. Waiting until noon would have incinerated legions more as droves of visitors flooded Pearl Harbor’s tourist sites. Limiting the carnage to military personnel helped ease Shtyrov’s dishonor.

  By zero time, both OSNAZ operators would be several hundred miles to the west, resting inside an executive jet. The charter would fly to Seoul, South Korea, and then on to Vladivostok.

  Chapter 83

  “Untie me, now!” Yuri shouted.

  “Shtyrov told us you tried to block their mission.” Nevsky squatted beside Yuri’s hog-tied frame. Nevsky had just yanked off the duct tape that had sealed Yuri’s mouth.

  Yuri struggled to right himself. With his hands tied behind his back and his hobbled ankles lashed to his wrists, he remained face down on the deck. “Dammit Nevsky, get these things off me.”

  Ordered by Shtyrov to keep Yuri tied up until he and Dobrynin returned, Nevsky eventually decided to question Yuri. “What did you do, sir?”

  “I confronted ’em. They’re not who they say they are.”

  Nevsky’s brow wrinkled.

  Yuri continued, “The package they took with them—it’s not an underwater recorder.”

  “What is it?”

  “A weapon.” Yuri made eye contact with the junior officer. “I suspect it’s a nuke.”

  The junior officer’s jaw dropped like the proverbial rock.

  “Now untie me. That’s a direct order!”

  Nevsky worked at the bindings. A minute later, Yuri stood up.

  He flexed his hands. “How long ago did they lockout?”

  Nevsky checked his wristwatch. “Over an ago. They should have been back by now.”

  “I don’t think they ever planned on returning. They probably have another way out.” Yuri reached behind his right ear. The scalp welt was sore to the touch. “Have you heard anything topside?”

  “No, sir. Very quiet.” Nevsky fidgeted. “Sir, just what do you think they’re doing?”

  “Earlier, I found a chart they used to plan the mission. Their dive route took them to a quay identified as Hotel Pier. It’s where the U.S. Navy moors aircraft carriers.”

  “The Roosevelt! They want to sink it?”

  “Obliterate it.”

  * * * *

  Yuri was suited up. He stood next to the open hatchway to the P-815’s lockout chamber. Lieutenant Nevsky was at his side.

  “All right, Lieutenant, as soon as I’m out, you turn this thing around and backtrack to the ocean as fast as you can. Push it hard—don’t worry about sensors. You’ll be out of the harbor before they can react. Once you reach the ocean, go deep and really gun it to get back to the Novosibirsk.” Yuri met Nevsky’s eyes. “Vassi, don’t worry about what happened earlier with the tug. That was just nerves. You’ll do fine now.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you. I’ve already programmed in the reciprocal course.”

  Nevsky understood Yuri’s order to leave Pearl Harbor. Detection was a huge concern, but what really motivated him was the prospect of a nuclear detonation.

  Yuri adjusted one of the rebreather backpack’s shoulder straps. “I’ll try to rendezvous with the Novosibirsk tonight as we discussed. But if I don’t show up in a small boat, don’t waste any more time waiting for me. Make sure you tell Captain Petrovich that.”

  “But how will you get home?”

  “I’ll figure out another way.”

  “Understood. Good luck, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Yuri had no plans to return to Russia. He would either remain in his newly adopted home or die trying.

  Chapter 84

  Yuri encountered the security barrier on the north side of the Ford Island Bridge near mid-channel. He had intended to swim under the floating fence when he discovered the submerged anti-swimmer net. Recognizing the net’s sensor-laden mesh, he diverted to the east, making landfall at the same location where Shtyrov and Dobrynin had exited the water earlier. When Yuri reentered the water, he discovered the OSNAZ commandos’ abandoned diving gear scattered on the bottom. The finding confirmed Yuri’s suspicion they had another way home.

  Spurred by the specter of imminent annihilation, Yuri gunned his DPV and powered southward to Hotel Pier.

  Surfacing near the bow of the USS Theodore Roosevelt, Yuri spun three-sixty, accessing tactical conditions. It was still dark, but light from the ship revealed its enormous size. He could hear the muted call from a shipboard intercom speaker issuing orders. Where did they plant the damn thing?

  Yuri was planning his next move when he heard the rumble. He peered westward into the gloom. Damn!

  The U.S. Navy patrol boat ghosted along the port side of the Theodore Roosevelt, its high-powered engines throttled back to minimum. The security vessel was just fifty yards from Yuri when a twenty-million candlepower spotlight flashed on. The beam scanned the harbor waters, working its way toward Yuri.

  Yuri vented his buoyancy compensator, and compressed air hissed from the valve. He’d barely submerged when the search beam crossed over his position. All that remained on the surface were residual bubbles from the BC. The searchlight locked onto the froth as the patrol boat advanced.

  By the time Yuri sank to the bottom, the security craft was overhead. The rumble of its idling outboard engines polluted the water column with noise. In the darkness he could see a partial silhouette of the thirty-foot-long craft. Refracted light from the searchlight highlighted the hull.

  Please God, don’t let them find me.

  After nearly five minutes, the patrol boat turned and headed westward. Thank you!

  Grounded in bottom muck, Yuri switched on his dive light. He aimed the beam at the narrow gap under the Theodore Roosevelt’s hull. Searching the bottom under the huge ship was going to be a daunting proposition.

  This is going to take forever!

  Yuri was about to start a grid search when he spotted a slight depression in the muddy bottom ten feet to the south; it appeared to extend southwestward under the hull. He swam to the dent and discovered additional bottom hollows running parallel to the first.

  And then it hit.

  These are trails.

  When Shtyrov and Dobrynin swam under the supercarrier’s hull, wake wash from their DPV propellers eroded silts from the top surface layer of the bottom. Yuri throttled up his DPV and followed the furrows.

  Chapter 85

  When the bottom track lines stopped, Yuri cut power to the DPV. He estimated that he had traveled half the length of the monster hull. He reached up with a gloved hand and touched the Roosevelt’s bottom. That’s when the revelation hit.

  Dammit—I’m probably under one of the reactors!

  As Yuri swept the light beam back and forth, probing the surrounding murk, another factor struck. While suspended in the five-foot gap between the barnacle-encrusted steel plates of the overhead hull and the muddy bottom, claustrophobia reared its ugly head. Experienced at diving in enclosed environments, Yuri suppressed his drea
d. He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled, allowing the oxygen-rich breathing gas to penetrate deep into his lungs.

  You can do this. Just focus on the mission.

  After several deep inhalations with repeated incantations, the terror passed.

  Yuri surveyed his surroundings with the handheld light. The silt-laden bottom had obviously been disturbed by the OSNAZ divers, but there was no sign of the bomb.

  Where is it?

  Yuri dipped a gloved hand into the soil. It had the consistency of thick pea soup. He extended his arm further into the mud, encountering mild resistance just past elbow length.

  Yuri made half a dozen additional random probes but came up empty-handed.

  They could have buried it anywhere around here. Now what?

  The inspiration came half a minute later when he inadvertently backed into his DPV. The diver propulsion vehicle had sunk about half way into the bottom.

  Yes, that could work!

  Yuri retrieved the DPV and turned it around, directing its propeller toward the bottom. After inverting his body and bracing his fin-tipped feet against the Roosevelt’s hull, he switched the unit on. The propeller engaged, and a jet of exhaust water blasted the bottom sediments. Within minutes, the propeller’s wash hydraulically dredged a hole two feet deep and nearly ten feet in diameter. Unable to see much because of the ensuing silt cloud, Yuri explored the depression with his hands. It didn’t take long.

  There you are!

  Yuri extracted the eighteen-inch-diameter cylinder from its burial pit, cradling it in his lap as he kneeled on the bottom. Just over two feet in length, the canister’s exterior black steel surface was glass-smooth with the exception of a recessed rectangular-shaped section at one end. Yuri pulled open the curved housing that covered the control panel. Govnó!

  The LED readout ticked off the seconds. The bomb’s timer indicated it would detonate in eighty-six minutes.

  He searched the panel for an “on-off” switch. No joy.