The Good Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  “What about with the radio buoy hatches, they’re open?”

  “There might be some return echoes from the pressure casing. It’s not coated inside.”

  “Give me your best estimate of the vessel type.”

  “It could be a fishing boat or some kind of workboat.”

  “How about a patrol craft?”

  “Maybe a small one, probably under thirty meters.”

  “Chyort!” Damn. “Who the hell’s up there?”

  * * *

  Nick Orlov climbed up the interior companionway stairs and entered the wheelhouse.

  “Are they ready yet?” asked Captain Miller. He sat on his pedestal chair in the pilothouse of the Hercules. His right hand rested on the helm.

  “I think they’re close,” Orlov said.

  “Well, I hope they’re careful with Little Mack. It’s deep out here and there’s bound to be current, which could make it tough to control with so much tether.”

  “I see how that could be a problem all right.”

  * * *

  “Are you set?” Laura asked Yuri. They stood on the main deck ten feet aft of the cabin superstructure. Little Mack, the remotely operated vehicle, was at their feet.

  “Yes. You can go.”

  Laura headed to the wheelhouse.

  Yuri removed his makeshift device from a plastic container parked next to the ROV. He stepped to the starboard bulwark and lowered the hybrid “woofer in a pressure cooker” hydrophone overboard, suspending it five feet below the hull with an extension cord. He triggered the broadcast switch three times, transmitting the “Here I Am” signal.

  About a minute later, the Neva’s radio antenna bobbed twenty meters to the south.

  Under Laura’s direction, Captain Miller backed the workboat until the stern closed to within a meter of the buoy. Yuri captured it with a boat-hook and rigged up the telephone link. Captain Borodin waited on the other end of the cable. Yuri explained the mission and disconnected.

  Yuri peered forward. Laura remained on the deck adjacent to the wheelhouse, monitoring the Herc’s position relative to the buoy. He shouted, “Pull ahead twenty meters and hold.”

  She raised her right arm and relayed the order to Miller.

  Yuri used the boat’s hydraulic crane to raise Little Mack from the deck; the ROV dangled over the starboard side, suspended three feet above the water by a wire rope.

  Yuri backed off the crane’s clutch and allowed Little Mack to reel into the water, stopping with the upper frame awash.

  Laura rejoined Yuri. She sat in a plastic lawn chair beside Little Mack’s control unit; the fiberglass box was perched on a wood crate next to the deck crane. After running diagnostic tests, she turned and met Yuri’s eyes. “All systems are go.”

  “Release the cable?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Yuri triggered the remote cable lock, releasing the hydraulic clamp that connected the steel lifting cable to Little Mack. The ROV submerged a few feet and headed aft, running parallel to the Hercules. The yellow pencil diameter tether that supplied electrical power and communications to the ROV spooled off its deck-mounted reel.

  Laura guided Little Mack toward the Neva’s radio buoy, still bobbing about sixty feet to the south. Yuri watched the glow of the underwater craft’s dual searchlights.

  * * *

  “What are they doing?” asked Captain Miller. He stood on the starboard observation deck just outside the wheelhouse. He looked aft, over Nick Orlov’s left shoulder.

  Nick spun around. “Captain, please return to the wheelhouse. You know the rules.”

  “Where’d that buoy come from?”

  Nick pushed Miller toward the open doorway. “Let’s go back inside.”

  “Get your hands off me!”

  Nick jerked his hands away. “Please, Captain, back inside.”

  Miller stepped into the pilothouse, Nick right behind.

  Miller stood next to the helm but he ignored the wheel; the Herc’s GPS-linked autopilot headed the boat into the ebb current. The ship’s engine spun the propeller with just enough thrust to match the tidal flow. The bow and stern thrusters also kicked in automatically when needed.

  “Just what are you people up to?” Miller demanded.

  “Captain, this is not your business. All we want you to do is drive the boat. Nothing else is your concern.”

  “Well, if I wrap the screw around that buoy cable, it’ll become everyone’s concern real damn quick.”

  “Those two know what they’re doing; they won’t let your propeller get fouled. That would mess up the whole plan for sure.”

  “Just what are you trying to recover down there anyway—can you at least tell me that?”

  “Some lost cargo.”

  “That’s what Laura said but all of this secrecy stuff just isn’t right. What are you hiding?”

  “Like we’ve told you before, we don’t want to advertise what we’re doing until we know for certain that we have the right target. That’s why we’re working at night.”

  “Well, this whole operation makes me nervous. I don’t like working in a vacuum; it’s not worth the risk to the Herc.”

  Nick homed in on Miller’s anger. “Captain, we can’t reveal what we’re after until we know it’s there for sure. If we manage a recovery, I’ll see that you get a sizable bonus. But only if you continue to help and keep it confidential.”

  “What kind of bonus are we talking about?”

  Bingo! He had him now. “Twenty thousand.”

  That took the wind out of Miller’s sails. “That’s in addition to the charter fee?”

  “Of course.”

  “All I have to do is drive the Herc, no hanky-panky?”

  Miller’s idiom was unknown to Nick but he guessed its meaning. “That’s right.”

  Captain Miller cocked his head to the side while raising an eyebrow. “How can I trust you? I don’t know you from Jack.”

  Nick knew he’d hooked Miller. “If we’re successful tonight—that we’ve found what we’re looking for, tomorrow I’ll have a down payment of ten thousand wired to any account you want anywhere in the world.”

  “I want cash.”

  Nick said, “All right, we can swing that but it’ll have to be in the late afternoon.”

  “Four o’clock. If you don’t have it by then, the Herc sails back to Seattle.”

  “Okay.”

  Miller wasn’t done. “Regardless of recovery, I want the balance on Sunday, no later than noon.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Little Mack wasn’t as easy to maneuver as Laura remembered. The ROV’s sluggish response to her joystick adjustments compounded her queasiness. She would have attributed her upset stomach to seasickness but now suspected otherwise.

  Yuri read her facial tension: beads of sweat on the brow and a clenched jaw.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s hard to control—feels slow compared to the other day.”

  “Could it be fouled on the buoy cable?”

  “No. I’ve stayed down current.”

  “Then it must be the current dragging on the tether.”

  Laura faced Yuri. “I think you’re right.”

  “Can you do this?”

  “The current keeps trying to push Mack away from the cable but if I can keep it in sight, we should be okay.” She returned to the monitor.

  Yuri leaned closer to the screen. The VLF radio cable remained centered, illuminated by Little Mack’s dual lights. He also noted the digital readouts on the upper portion of the display. He focused on the depth reading. “You’ve only got about fifty meters to go.”

  “Good.”

  Several minutes passed and Yuri issued a warning: “You’re close, so get ready.”

  “I am.”

  Within seconds, the afterdeck of the Neva materialized in the video screen. The open buoy hatch doors, hinged on each side of the opening, loomed in the murk.

  Laura stared at the
display, dazzled at the image of the Neva’s hull. She glanced up at Yuri. “What should I do?”

  “Head forward, toward the bow.”

  Little Mack scooted along the starboard hull and slowed to a crawl.

  “Turn it to the left—that’s it,” Yuri said. “Hold it right there.” He peered at the digital image of a circular opening.

  “Is that the torpedo tube?” Laura asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Little Mack will never fit in there.”

  “Not as configured, but if we remove the frame I think it’ll pass.”

  “What’s the diameter of the tube?”

  “Six hundred fifty millimeters.”

  Laura made a quick conversion: about two feet. “Yeah, that might actually work.”

  “Bring it closer, I need to look down the bore to make sure it’s clear.”

  “Okay.”

  Little Mack’s forward protective frame pressed hard against the exterior surface of the torpedo tube. The lights mounted above the camera penetrated deep into the pipe-like interior.

  Yuri stared at the video display. Confusing at first, the image registered. He cursed.

  “What’s wrong?” Laura asked.

  “The tube’s obstructed halfway in.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Let me think.”

  “Okay—sorry.”

  Half a minute elapsed. “Just how much thrust can the ROV generate?” Yuri asked.

  “Under full power, I’m not sure but I’d guess forty to fifty pounds of horizontal thrust. But what good will that do if the tube’s blocked?”

  “If we’re lucky, maybe we can push it out of the way.”

  “Push what out of the way?”

  “Viktor’s body.”

  CHAPTER 50

  DAY 13—SATURDAY

  At 3:25 A.M., Captain Dan Miller peered through the wheelhouse windshield into pea soup–thick fog. “Still can’t see shit,” he mumbled.

  While Laura and her associates tinkered with Little Mack on the main deck, preparing for the second dive, Miller piloted the Herc in a slow orbit two miles east of the first dive location. Wary of the developing fog bank, Miller wanted plenty of separation from the nearby northbound shipping lanes. He worried about colliding with another vessel, especially one of the Asian behemoths calling on Vancouver.

  Miller kept a close eye on the radar but he also had another thought that would improve safety.

  Maybe I should turn AIS back on.

  Before departing from the marina at Point Roberts, he had switched off the AIS transponder. The Hercules was equipped with a GPS-linked automatic identification system that provided the real time location of the vessel. AIS’s main purpose is to avoid collisions. However, it also allows anyone on the Internet to track the vessel.

  Miller made a decision. No way. That sucker remains off. I don’t want anyone monitoring what we’re doing out here!

  If questioned over the VHF radio by the Coast Guard or the Vessel Traffic System, he would report a malfunction.

  Miller checked the radar display again. Good, all clear.

  He wondered about his passengers.

  Miller’s babysitter—Nick—had headed below thirty minutes earlier. At that time, Miller stepped outside onto the starboard bridge wing for a quick peek aft. Laura and the other guy had been crouched over Little Mack, removing parts. They were still at it, now assisted by the babysitter.

  Why are they taking Mack apart?

  * * *

  “Yuri, I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Laura said, kneeling next to the ROV.

  “We don’t have any choice. It will never penetrate the tube with the full frame intact.” Yuri squatted on the opposite side of Little Mack, a socket wrench in his left hand. He was removing the fourth of six stainless steel bolts that connected the ROV’s protective frame to a ballast tank.

  “But the buoyancy chamber might not have sufficient support.”

  “I’ll reinforce it—don’t worry.”

  Nick stood behind Yuri, eyeing the transformation of Little Mack. He knew nothing about the operation of the underwater machine but did share Laura’s concerns. Yuri had stripped away most of the ROV’s upper frame, exposing the camera and light systems. To Nick’s eyes, it looked vulnerable to impact damage. But what did he know?

  While Yuri worked on the next bolt, Laura stood up. She stretched her lower back and looked around. That’s when she noticed. “Wow, it’s even foggier now. I hope Captain Miller knows where we are.”

  Nick answered, “I don’t think you need to worry about that—the radar cuts right through this stuff.” To amuse himself while babysitting Miller he’d monitored the radar display.

  Laura dropped back to her knees and adjusted the ballast tank. When complete, she caught Yuri’s eyes. “You know, I think we should ask Captain Miller for some advice on how to check Mack’s center of gravity after we make these changes. If anyone knows, it should be him.”

  Yuri stopped working the wrench. “That’s a good idea.”

  “You want me to go get him?” asked Nick.

  “Yes,” Yuri said.

  * * *

  Dan Miller eyed the remnants of Little Mack, appalled. “What the hell are you doing with the framework?” he said, addressing the trio standing beside him.

  Yuri replied, “It’s too bulky to make the penetration we need so I’ve removed the upper pipe frame and remounted the camera and lights on top of the buoyancy chambers.”

  “You try to send it down like that, and it’ll be all over the frigging place. The center of gravity is screwed up royally.”

  “Captain,” Laura said, joining the conversation, “we have no choice but to jury-rig Little Mack. What we’d like—and what I’d personally appreciate—is your advice. We know that we need to compensate for the changes we’ve made, and anything you can offer us now will save us a ton of trial and error adjustments later on.” She chose her next words carefully. “I know how much you care for Little Mack, and believe me, I was not in favor of tinkering with the design, but it’s just too big to do what we need.”

  Laura’s flattery worked. “Well, I suppose there are a few things you could do.”

  “Great, please explain.”

  “In a moment.” Miller challenged Nick. “I know that you’ve found your stuff so I still get my bonus, regardless of whether or not Little Mack gets the job done—right?”

  Nick smiled. “That’s right, Captain.”

  “Okay then.” Miller squatted down beside the ROV’s port side and pointed with his right index finger. “I’d remount the camera back in this area instead of . . .”

  CHAPTER 51

  “Where is it?” asked Captain Borodin.

  “Amidships, port, sir,” reported the sonar tech. “It’s close in—a few meters at most.”

  Borodin took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He’d been on the edge for the last ten minutes.

  Even in its degraded state, the Neva’s passive sonar detected the high-pitched whine of the ROV’s thrusters as it struggled on its return voyage to the submarine. The flooding current taxed its propulsion system.

  Borodin faced the sonar watch stander.

  “Is it still heading toward the bow?”

  “Yes, sir. Coming up on it right now.”

  “Xoróšij!” Good.

  * * *

  “Okay, what do you want me to do now?” asked Laura as she stared at the video display.

  “Ascend three meters,” Yuri said.

  It was 6:37 A.M. The ROV redeployed twenty minutes earlier. During a previous attempt, after modifying Little Mack, the camera had broadcast static only. It took over an hour to locate the corroded cable connector.

  “Three meters—ten feet, okay.” Laura eased back on the joystick while keeping her eyes on the hazy video image of the underside of the Neva’s rounded bow.

  “Better slow up,” Yuri warned as the tip of the bow approached.

  �
��Right.” Laura backed off the control and Little Mack hovered.

  “Can you bring it in a little closer?”

  “I think so but the current’s still a problem.”

  “You’re almost there.”

  “I can see it.”

  Laura maneuvered the ROV opposite torpedo tube five.

  “That’s it, perfect!” Yuri said.

  “I’m just about maxed out here with the current. I have to do it right now.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Laura rotated her right wrist and Little Mack crabbed into the current. Two seconds later, she backed off one thruster, letting the current swing the camera end of the ROV into alignment. She powered up all thrusters and Little Mack squirted into the torpedo tube.

  “We’re in!” Laura shouted while backing off the power.

  Little Mack hovered inside the opening of the 25.5-inch-diameter cylinder. The outer bow cover or shutter had sheared away from its mount. The torpedo tube’s muzzle door that normally would have sealed the tube from the sea had also disappeared.

  Both Yuri and Laura stared at the video display. The camera and its supporting lights probed deep into the tube.

  Laura commented, “I see him.”

  A pair of black fins and dry suit–encased lower legs filled the camera’s view.

  Yuri didn’t respond. He’d had several hours to prepare but remained distressed. Warrant Officer Viktor Skirski had been his diving partner and friend.

  Laura faced Yuri. “What should I do?”

  “Let me do this.”

  Laura stood and stepped to the side, allowing Yuri to take her place.

  “I want to see what happens if we push forward.” His right hand rested on the joystick.

  “Let me help you,” Laura said. She placed her hand over his and rotated the joystick forward.

  Little Mack crawled down the tube until the modified pipe frame guarding the camera lens was about a foot away from the right fin.

  “I’ve got him,” he said.

  Laura took her hand away.

  Yuri added thrust and the camera slipped past the fin, riding up onto the leg. The lights above the camera scraped against the metallic lining of the tube.