The Forever Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  The Norwegian pilot turned to face the customer’s representative, who occupied the observer’s seat behind the cockpit. “We’re ready. Permission to start flowing?” he asked in English, the crew’s common tongue.

  “Yes, proceed,” answered the Russian petroleum engineer.

  The pilot nodded to the copilot-navigator sitting to his right, who typed a series of commands onto a laptop keyboard.

  “We’re flowing,” announced the copilot.

  “How long before we see anything?” asked the observer.

  “Hard to know,” the pilot said. “According to our engineers, the model tests suggest that the hydrates should start precipitating once the temperature drops eighty degrees below ambient.”

  “I don’t know about this. The flow out of the bore may be too high for this to work.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  The plan to shut in the runaway well was a long shot, implemented the same day the Americans announced the discovery of the blowout. It was Russia’s only option. In theory, the liquid nitrogen circulating within the coil of tubes wrapped around the exterior and interior of the exposed steel casing would freeze the wall surface of the pipe, dropping the steel’s temperature to at least minus one hundred fifty degrees Fahrenheit. The reduced temperature coupled with the hydrostatic pressure of the water depth would then encourage the formation of methane clathrate in the escaping fluid. Crystals of methane and water within the escaping flow would form. The ice-like crystals would adhere to the interior pipe wall surface and the cryo-tubing placed inside the bore. As the crystals grew, they would eventually choke off the flow and hopefully seal the well.

  Everyone aboard the Norsk Voyager recognized that the risk of failure was sky-high. Such a procedure had never been attempted. But it was the only method available. It would be months before the ice melted enough to allow a drilling rig to return to the site. And then it would take another couple of months to drill deep below the seabed to intercept the well’s casing and plug it with cement.

  As expected, the exterior surface of the exposed pipe casing froze into a rock-solid block of ice about a foot thick. The liquid nitrogen circulating from the cryogenic plant in the submersible’s cargo hold to the copper tubing in the well bore readily froze the seawater surrounding the pipe casing.

  The copilot noticed the change. “It looks like something’s happening,” he said, pointing to the video monitor in the center of the cockpit display. Trained on the open end of the pipe, the camera revealed that the steady stream of fluids pouring from the pipe opening had evolved into spurts and pulses.

  “I see it,” said the pilot. “Looks like the flow is slowing. Maybe it’s starting to work.” There was hope in his voice.

  The Russian observer said a silent prayer.

  The crew continued to watch the battle. As the hydrate crystals grew inside the pipe casing, they partially choked the flow, which increased the fluid velocity. The higher speed eroded the crystals, peeling chunks of the hydrates away, which reduced the flow velocity, allowing the crystals to again reform. The seesaw action persisted for nearly an hour until finally the expanding hydrate formation choked the flow to a dribble. Ten minutes later, the flow stopped completely.

  “Fantastic—it worked!” the pilot cheered.

  “I just knew it would work,” the copilot echoed.

  “Thank you, God,” whispered the Russian engineer.

  CHAPTER 24

  DAY 14—SUNDAY

  The CNN broadcast of the White House speech had just concluded. Normally, Yuri would not have bothered to watch the live presentation while at work. He preferred to catch up at home with the evening news. But the Kremlin’s bombshell announcement earlier in the morning that the runaway oil well in the Chukchi Sea had been shut in was the subject of the president’s presentation.

  Yuri was at NSD in his office. He leaned back in his chair, reflecting on the eight-minute speech. He expected a chilly reception from the Kremlin to the president’s offer to put aside their differences to concentrate on the cleanup. The president also repeated that the United States had nothing to do with sabotaging the oil well and would cooperate fully with the Russian government to determine the cause of the accident.

  Yuri wanted to believe the American president. However, Deep Explorer provided proof that an explosion had destroyed the Russian subsea well. Color screenshots from the AUV’s digital videos littered his desktop. The bottom debris cited by the Russian government as components from a U.S. Navy torpedo was visible in the recordings. The evidence was damning. Still, Yuri could not bring himself to believe the USA had destroyed the well. What advantage would there be with such action?

  Yuri dismissed his misgivings, knowing it would be up to others to determine what had happened. Besides, he had other concerns to address. Another glitch had developed, requiring his attention. He picked up his desktop phone and dialed.

  “Hi, Bill,” he said, connecting with Bill Winters in Barrow.

  “Did you get the bearing?” Winters asked.

  “It’s on the way. Tom came in and helped me remove it from Deep Adventurer this morning. He’s on his way to Alaska Air Cargo as we speak. You should have it by noon tomorrow.”

  “Terrific, that’ll work out fine.”

  “How’s the rest of the unit look?” Yuri asked.

  “Remarkably good. The worn bearing was the only issue.” Winters had called Yuri at home earlier in the morning. Bill and crew had removed Deep Explorer from the ice and ferried it back to Barrow for routine maintenance.

  Yuri said, “I just listened to the president’s speech about the blowout. What’s your take on the U.S. and Russia working together to clean up the spill?”

  “Ain’t gonna happen. They blame us.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  * * *

  The Yangzi had arrived in Seattle the previous day. Moored at the Elliott Bay Marina’s guest dock, the superyacht dwarfed the other boats in the marina. Located in Seattle’s Magnolia District, the spectacular marina provided premium moorage facilities for over a thousand boats and splendid views of downtown skyscrapers.

  Kwan Chi always enjoyed his visits to Seattle. With a thriving economy, magnificent scenic surroundings, and ample open space, Seattle was a city he could envision calling one of his homes. Maybe someday, he thought. But for now, it was business as usual.

  It was early evening. Kwan was in the yacht’s operations center, phone to his ear, waiting for the conference call to start. The Minister of State Security overseer and his counterpart at the Military Intelligence Department requested his participation. The two intelligence chiefs, each in their own Beijing office complex, were currently conferring on a separate line. While Kwan waited, he wondered who else might be listening. He preferred videoconferences where all of the participants were visible. But today it was audio only.

  “Kwan, you still there?” The voice was flat, almost monotone. It was the result of the encryption process.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, we’re ready to proceed,” the MSS deputy minister of operations said. “I assume you heard that the Russians capped the oil well.”

  “I did.”

  “As you can imagine this was a surprise to all of us. Our technical people assured us that the well could not be sealed until the summer.”

  Kwan was privy to key elements of Operation Sea Dragon. Critical to the venture was the continual release of oil for months. “A festering boil that would antagonize both parties,” his boss had told him during an earlier briefing.

  “Because the Americans are holding out an olive branch to the Russians, requesting that they jointly work together to clean up the oil spill, we must now advance the schedule.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The second phase will commence soon. We’re still working out the details but expect to authorize action in the next day or so. We will then follow up with the third phase.”

  “The
schedule has really accelerated.”

  “Yes, due to the premature plugging of the well,” the MSS chief said. “That brings us to your part. We are intrigued with what you reported about this Russian naval officer and believe what you suggested has merit. How soon will you know if that approach will be a viable option?”

  “Within the next forty-eight hours.”

  “Very well. I need to know, one way or the other, by that time.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “You are excused, Kwan. The general and I have other business.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kwan said, and the line went dead.

  Kwan understood the need for the change in plans. Nevertheless, his worry quotient just ratcheted up another notch. Always a careful planner, he was not a fan of last-minute alterations. His angst expanded when he thought about the minister’s final comments.

  They’re seriously considering my suggestion about the Russian officer. But if that doesn’t work out, what then?

  CHAPTER 25

  DAY 15—MONDAY

  It was mid-afternoon at Northwest Subsea Dynamics. Yuri sat at his desk and dialed Bill Winters’s cell.

  “Did you get it?” asked Yuri.

  “We did, and it’s already installed.”

  “Great.”

  “Thanks for the quick turnaround. We should be good for the time being, but I’d sure like to have another bearing for backup.”

  “We’re on it. We ordered three spares today. Should arrive in a couple of days. I’ll ship two of ’em to you when they arrive.”

  “Perfect.”

  Yuri swiveled his chair, glancing at a printout of the project schedule taped to the wall behind his desk. “Are you still on schedule?” he asked.

  “Yep, we relaunch tomorrow morning.”

  Bill and Yuri spoke for a few more minutes before hanging up.

  Yuri was thinking of heading home when the intercom speaker on his office phone activated. It was the receptionist. “John, you have a visitor in the lobby—an old friend.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Elena . . . from Vancouver.”

  Yuri’s spine stiffened. He muttered, “Tvoyú mat”—Dammit.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be out there in a couple minutes. Please show her to the conference room.”

  “Okay.”

  It can’t be!

  Yuri remained seated in his chair, half-paralyzed.

  Elena, shit! I knew this would happen. What the hell is she doing here?

  Yuri stood and walked out of his office.

  Calm down. Don’t let her get to you!

  Yuri opened the conference room door.

  Elena Krestyanova stood beside the conference table, her back to the door. She spun around and with a beaming smile walked toward him with her right hand extended. “Nice to see you, John,” she said. Adorned in a tight knee-length black leather skirt with matching coat, she appeared dazzling as ever.

  Yuri shook her hand. “Good to see you,” he reciprocated. He shut the door and gestured for her to sit down.

  “Alë, garázh!” she said. Hello, citizen.

  “Please, English only.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Elena, what are you doing here?”

  “I should be the one asking that question.”

  “What?”

  She cracked a weak smile. “Yuri, everyone back home thinks you’re dead—from the bends or whatever that nasty condition was called.”

  “I survived.”

  “Obviously.” She scanned the conference room. Displayed on the wall were several photos of Deep Explorer and a couple of other NSD vehicles. “I see you are still working with underwater machines. Very impressive.”

  Yuri did not respond, unsure what this she-devil was up to.

  “How’s Laura?”

  Shit! “She’s fine.”

  “So she bought this company . . . for you, correct?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I don’t want anything. I’m just the messenger.”

  I bet. “So what’s the message?”

  “You’re wanted back home.”

  “I have a new life here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re still officially in the Navy.”

  “I’ll resign my commission.”

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “Just tell them I’m fine and I have no plans to return to Russia. The United States is now my home.”

  “So, you’re going to marry her and live happily ever after, especially with all of her money?”

  Yuri bristled but refused the bait. “I know you want something, so tell me.”

  “There is a request. Again, I’m just the messenger. It comes from the Defense Ministry, not the SVR or FSB.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s about your mission from last year.”

  “What about it?”

  “The Navy would like you to retrieve the monitoring pods that you planted.”

  “They don’t need me for that. They can do it themselves.”

  Elena cocked her head to her side, eyes narrowed. “Sorry, but no, they can’t. After what happened with the Neva, it is now impossible for our submarines to return.”

  “Then the Americans probably found the pods.”

  “We don’t think so. Our agents in the Pentagon have not reported anything remotely close to that scenario.” She shifted position in her chair. “We certainly want the data, but it is paramount that the pods be removed before they are discovered. As you know, there is much tension between Russia and America now. The Kremlin fears that if the recording pods are discovered, the U.S. will use it as an excuse to retaliate.”

  “I don’t think so. Their subs spy on the homeland ten times as much as we do on theirs.”

  “Again, I’m just repeating what I was told to tell you.”

  Yuri glared. “I’m not interested.”

  “Okay. I’ll let them know. However, there will be consequences—but not just for you.”

  Yuri’s stomach flip-flopped.

  “Should you decide not to cooperate,” continued Elena, “I was instructed to tell you that a file will be delivered to the FBI detailing Laura Newman’s involvement with the Neva.”

  Yuri turned away, engulfed by a wave of nausea. He waited for nearly half a minute before turning back to face Elena. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  Elena laid it all out for him.

  “If I do this,” Yuri asked after she finished, “what assurances do I have that you’re not going to continue to blackmail me?”

  “Remember, it’s not me—”

  “Yeah, yeah you’re just the messenger. I get that but you know what I mean.”

  “With the monitoring equipment removed, there will no longer be any need for your services. You can stay here or if you wish return home. Your choice.”

  “You’ve dumped a lot on me. I need some time to think about this.”

  “I need an answer no later than twenty-four hours from now.”

  “How do I contact you?”

  * * *

  After Elena left, Yuri returned to his office. With the office lights switched off, he sat in the dark.

  That damn video—I should have never gone to Alaska.

  No, it was bound to happen sometime.

  Laura. Once again, I’ve put her in jeopardy.

  I’ve got no choice!

  CHAPTER 26

  Laura was later than usual. It was 8:35 P.M. when she walked into the kitchen, carrying Maddy. Laura noted that the table in the nook had been set for two. The aroma of salmon baking in the oven caught her attention. Fantastic, he’s such a great cook.

  She walked into the darkened living room; a single table lamp glowed in a corner. “Oh, there you are,” she announced.

  Yuri smiled as he sat in his favorite chair by the lake windows.

  Laura noticed the vodka bottle on the coffee table. She walked f
orward, sitting in the chair next to his, catching a whiff of booze.

  Yuri held a shot glass in his right hand. “Dobryj veer!” he said just before tossing back the slug of chilled vodka.

  “Good evening to you, too.” By now, Laura had picked up basic Russian greetings.

  “How’s sweet pea?” Yuri said, leaning forward to make eye contact, displaying his goofy grin. Maddy instantly responded with her beaming smile and a tiny chuckle.

  Yuri cooed and Madelyn reciprocated.

  The interplay warmed Laura’s heart. “She’s hungry and probably needs a diaper change.”

  Yuri settled back into his chair. He said, “So, how was your day?”

  “Long, too many meetings. I’m worn out. And you?”

  “Same old stuff.”

  Something’s wrong. She sensed it when she first walked into the living room. Yuri would occasionally crack open a bottle of vodka but typically preferred a single beer before dinner. This was the second evening this week she had come home to find him tossing back vodka shots. Acutely aware of the warning signs from her addicted ex, Laura’s angst skyrocketed.

  “Where did you get the salmon?” she asked.

  “One of the engineers at work gave me two fat fillets. Apparently, someone told him that I love salmon. He also handed out some to a couple of others. He caught ’em last fall and has a freezer full at home.”

  “That was certainly nice of him.”

  “It was. He’s new and wants to fit in.”

  Laura ran a hand through Maddy’s hair. She wanted to find out what was bothering Yuri but decided to hold off. If she probed too early, he would clam up. “When will it be ready?”

  Yuri consulted his wristwatch. “Fifteen minutes.”

  “Great, I’m going to feed Maddy.”

  “Okay, I’ll have a plate ready for you.” Yuri stood and headed for the kitchen. He left the vodka bottle behind.

  Good, Laura thought as she headed to the nursery.

  * * *

  Garnished with vegetables, the salmon was scrumptious, as was the green salad Yuri had cobbled together. Yuri had also returned the vodka bottle to the fridge, saying he’d had enough. Thank you, God, Laura said to herself.