The Forever Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  “But we can’t be connected to it.”

  “That’s right. None of our legends will hold up.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Head to Port Townsend—slowly. I don’t want to call any undue attention to ourselves while the U.S. Navy is operating in this area. We can wait there until whatever they are doing is complete. Hopefully, it’s an exercise and has nothing to do with us—just our bad luck.”

  “That’s too much of a coincidence. They must have detected your machine.”

  “I warned you about this scenario.”

  “I know.” Wang was silent for half a minute before responding. “What about retrieving your craft?”

  “We’ll have to come back later—after dark. We can’t risk being seen during recovery.”

  “What will the AUV do if we aren’t at the coordinates when its survey is complete—you said it would return at sixteen hundred hours?”

  “If we’re not there at the end of its mission, Deep Adventurer will submerge. It will sit on the bottom and wait to be recalled.”

  “What about batteries—how long will they last?”

  “She has very long legs, at least a week.”

  “Good, then we’ll get it back.”

  “Damn right, I’ve got a fortune tied up in it. It’s going to be recovered, one way or the other.”

  “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  It was now 8:35 P.M. aboard the Ella Kay. The workboat was eastbound in the channel between Protection Island and Cape George on the mainland. Deep Adventurer reoccupied its cradle, hauled out of the water fifteen minutes earlier. Under a rack of overhead floodlights, Yuri stood on the cradle’s steel framing, leaning over the AUV’s cylindrical hull near its forward section. He’d just opened the main access hatch and reached inside.

  David Wang loitered nearby waiting for Yuri’s report.

  Yuri turned toward Wang. “Got it.” He held up a portable hard drive, extracted from Deep Adventurer’s CPU.

  Yuri climbed down from the cradle and stood on the desk beside Wang. “Everything should be on this drive. Let’s go check it out.”

  Yuri and Wang went inside the cabin and sat at the galley table. Yuri inserted the data cable from the two-terabyte portable hard drive into a USB port on his Dell laptop. They waited as a proprietary program analyzed the raw data.

  “How does this code work?” Wang asked.

  “It’s running a search for seabed rock formations that project above the bottom.”

  “Rocks—why?”

  “The device we planted in this area of the Strait was configured as a boulder, about two meters long and just under a meter in diameter—it barely fit through the escape hatch. It was made of fiberglass. Once outside the hull we attached lead weights to it and then used a water jet to embed it into the bottom about half its diameter. From a visual perspective, you’d never know it was fake.”

  “Clever.”

  Yuri studied the output summary on the laptop’s screen. He then faced Wang. “I was afraid of this. There are a hundred forty contacts in the search area, so this is going to take a while. I’m going to have to review every image.”

  “Fine.”

  Yuri opened up the photo file and began to study the color images, frame shots from the digital video stream.

  He was about half through the image file when he stopped. “Well, what do we have here?”

  Wang leaned forward and eyed the image. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a listening device, but it’s not one of ours.”

  Both men examined the mechanical apparatus. Constructed like a tripod, it jutted above the seabed about two meters. A large stainless-steel box was welded to its base plate. Greenish slime coated the entire device.

  “The American Navy?” Wang asked.

  “Yes. I’ve seen these before. This is a new one.”

  “Could it detect your robot?”

  “Absolutely. For Adventurer to record this image means it was just a few meters away.” Yuri paused. “Besides ASW aircraft, that naval air station on Whidbey Island is home to the U.S. Navy’s sonar surveillance group. It monitors the Pacific Northwest for submarine activity. This sensor is literally in its backyard. Probably has a direct cable connection to shore.”

  Wang swore in Mandarin. “What do we do now?”

  “Stay away from that damn thing.”

  “But how will you conduct the search?”

  “Can’t—not the way Adventurer is currently configured.” He pointed to the image on his laptop. “That thing will pick up everything it does. This might have triggered the P-eight air search.”

  Wang looked away, clearly disappointed. “Can you modify your machine to improve its stealth?”

  “Probably.”

  “How long would that take?”

  Yuri raised his hands. “I don’t know. A week or so.”

  “What?”

  “It would need to be disassembled and every mechanical system tested. That can only be done at our Redmond facility.”

  “That’s out of the question. We must proceed without the upgrade.”

  “No. That’s not going to happen—it’s too risky.”

  Wang stood up. Without further comment, he walked forward and passed through a hatch onto the main deck.

  Yuri smiled. It worked.

  In addition to the rock formations, Yuri had programmed Deep Adventurer to seek out the U.S. Navy underwater listening post. He’d found the same unit the year before during his spy mission. The Russian surveillance probe he had planted was twenty miles west of the American device and not within today’s survey grid for Deep Adventurer.

  CHAPTER 35

  DAY 22—MONDAY

  Yuri continued to insist they return Deep Adventurer to NSD’s Redmond facility to make the stealth upgrades. Wang argued for conducting the search without the modifications. In the end, they compromised, settling on Anacortes.

  Tim Dixon found the moorage facility. Located about seventy-five miles north of Seattle, Anacortes was famous for its commercial fishing heritage and for being the gateway to the San Juan Islands. Ella Kay currently occupied the seaward end of a heavy-duty floating pier that jutted over three hundred feet into Fidalgo Bay. Near Anacortes’ downtown core, the privately owned moorage facility provided the security that both Yuri and Wang required.

  They arrived in Anacortes early in the morning. After sleeping and having a late lunch ashore, Yuri and the others aboard rigged a plastic canvas awning over Deep Adventurer, sheltering it from the rain. Yuri then spent the afternoon dismantling and inspecting the AUV. Wang waited patiently.

  With the assessment now complete, Yuri addressed Wang. “There’s a problem with a bearing for the propeller shaft—some excessive wear that’s probably generating extra noise. I’ll need to replace it.”

  Yuri lied. The bearing was brand new, replaced before departing Redmond. Yuri shipped Adventurer’s original unit to Barrow as a replacement for Deep Explorer.

  Wang responded, “Have your people get it up here. It’s only a couple of hours’ drive.”

  “I know, but that’s not the problem. There are no spares in Redmond.” Yuri had taken the spare bearing along with other parts for Deep Adventurer but tossed it overboard on the run to Anacortes.

  A skeptic Wang frowned.

  “We shipped all of our spares to Alaska—to Barrow. We have a huge contract up there mapping the Arctic oil spill with our other AUV.”

  “Surely you can get a spare from the manufacturer.”

  “Yes, but it’s probably going to take a day or so. They’re located in Germany—Hamburg.”

  “Sh dàn!”—Shit.

  “I’ll have them ship it overnight via FedEx.”

  “This is taking too damn long, Kirov.”

  “While we’re waiting I can upgrade some other systems and then when the bearing gets here, she’ll be ready to go—with at least a fifty percent reduction in acoustic signature. That will reall
y help with avoiding detection.”

  “Just get it ordered.”

  “I will, but everything’s closed back there now, so I’ll call first thing tomorrow morning—Hamburg time.”

  Disgusted, Wang threw up his hands, turned, and walked forward. When he passed through the watertight door into the cabin, Yuri climbed over the workboat’s starboard bulwark and stepped onto the floating dock. He worked his way shoreward.

  After walking up the aluminum gangway Yuri stood in the parking area. Floodlights illuminated the uplands; dozens of large yachts were stored in the gravel yard, secured by chain-link fencing along the property lines. He checked his wristwatch: 5:26 P.M. He should be on his way home now.

  Yuri reached into a coat pocket and removed his cell. He hit the speed dial. After the third ring he heard, “Hello.”

  “Can you talk?”

  “Yes,” Nick Orlov said. He was sitting on a San Francisco cable car eastbound on California.

  Switching to Russian, Yuri said, “What have you got for me?”

  Yuri had checked in with Nick just prior to leaving Seattle for the voyage north.

  “You were right. She’s up to something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I made a couple of inquiries in Vancouver and Vladivostok. I confirmed she’s on some type of op concerning the Chinese, but none of my contacts had any details. That’s not surprising because everything’s compartmentalized regarding our so-called new alliance with the PRC.”

  “Then what she’s doing up here could be legit?”

  “That’s the issue. She shouldn’t be in Seattle. My Vancouver contact told me that when Elena left the trade mission she was supposed to head back to Vladivostok and then on to China for more trade talks. But she never showed up.”

  “She came here instead.”

  “So it seems.”

  “I don’t like this. Something’s off.”

  “I agree. So what are you doing?”

  “Trying to stall Wang, but he’s getting suspicious.” Yuri remembered something else. “What about Dixon, you find anything on him?”

  “Nothing under that name, even as a cover. But that’s not unusual if he’s operating in the States—he could have a very deep legend.”

  “Yeah, I thought so. He seems okay but I can’t trust him.”

  “How’s Laura?”

  “She’s fine. I talked with her earlier today. The bodyguard shadows her at all times, even while at work.”

  “That’s good.” Nick hesitated for an instant. “Maybe Elena’s op is real and she’s been ordered to pressure you into cooperating. You know how our system works.”

  “Maybe, but threatening Laura to get to me is too much.”

  “Yes, that is concerning . . .” Nick had a memory flash. “That reminds me. There’s been absolutely no chatter about you in our system. Nothing about you being spotted. You’re still officially listed as missing.”

  “Somebody high up must know, otherwise who would have authorized Elena’s op?”

  “True. Still I find it odd that there’s nothing in our system about it.”

  “Please keep digging, Nick. I don’t like Wang, and our so-called joint mission with PRC doesn’t feel right to me. And Elena—you know she and Laura didn’t get along. I think that might be affecting her judgment.”

  “I’m staying on it. We’re trying to track down Wang, and a colleague in Moscow is discreetly checking on Elena for me.”

  “Call me when you have something.”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  * * *

  When the cable car reached the end of the line, Nick Orlov stepped onto the street. As he made his way toward the ferry terminal, his discussion with Yuri remained fresh.

  Nick’s two-week fling with Elena Krestyanova the year before was something he was unlikely to forget. The sex was simply astounding; Elena was an accomplished lover, no doubt part of her training in the SVR.

  Nick had genuinely enjoyed Elena’s company but there was another side to her character that had vexed him. She followed orders explicitly with ruthless efficiency and no mercy. There was no question in Nick’s mind that if he had not intervened, Elena would have disposed of Laura as mandated by Moscow.

  Now, considering the current circumstances, Nick wondered if the orders from a year earlier had been reissued.

  CHAPTER 36

  “Why do you believe he’s stalling?” asked Kwan Chi.

  “He keeps delaying. I don’t trust him.”

  Kwan noticed the frustration in Commander Wang’s voice as he stood alone on the Yangzi’s port bridge wing. It was a brisk forty-two degrees Fahrenheit on the exterior deck. “He’s Russian. Of course you can’t trust him.”

  Both men employed portable encrypted satellite phones to communicate with each other. A team of cryptanalysts at the MSS’s Beijing Communications Bureau developed the encryption algorithms, which remained unbreakable so far.

  Kwan continued. “However, he did deploy his underwater machine and it located the American listening device. That’s certainly helpful.”

  “Yes, it is. But we’re no closer to recovering the monitoring pods. They are critical to our needs.” Wang remained in Anacortes.

  “When will you restart the survey?”

  “It will probably be at least two days, maybe three.”

  “Why so long?”

  “Kirov says it’s too risky to deploy the AUV without reducing its acoustic signature.”

  Wang spent the next couple of minutes repeating Yuri’s storyline.

  “Hamburg—can’t they get it from someplace closer?” Kwan asked.

  “He claims no. The propulsion unit is German-made, so I can see the need to use the same manufacturer for the bearing.”

  “Perhaps he’s just being cautious about the Americans. They did send out one of their patrol aircraft. The sensor must have detected the AUV.”

  “It’s possible, but I don’t think replacing the bearing is going to reduce its signature. My assistant told me the machine is already quite stealthy. He’s operated our own units and indicated Kirov’s vehicle is vastly superior. Besides, he also examined the propeller assembly and the bearing—they appeared undamaged to him.”

  “Can you operate the machine without his assistance?”

  “Not yet. My assistant needs more time with the unit to figure out its control and monitoring functions. Plus, Kirov has a proprietary program that he uses to analyze the data. That alone will take time to understand.”

  “All right. I’ll work on it from here.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “One more thing, Wang.”

  “Sir?”

  “Keep Kirov under surveillance. If he is up to something, I want to know about it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kwan Chi switched off the satphone and slipped it into his jacket pocket. It was late evening in Seattle. He peered forward into the shadows. A sentry manned the bow station, about twenty-five meters away.

  Standing next to the anchor capstan, the MSS operator monitored the adjacent floating pier for the occasional marina patron that hoofed down the pier to eye the Yangzi. He also watched the bay for any waterborne interlopers. Clipped to the left side of his belt was a .40-caliber semiautomatic pistol. A similarly armed guard occupied a post at the yacht’s stern.

  Kwan turned toward the south. The view of the Space Needle, bathed in floodlights, and Seattle’s mountain range of radiant high-rises was notable. But it was a mere sideshow compared to his hometown’s skyline. At night, Hong Kong’s core was ultra electric.

  Kwan pulled out a cigarette pack and lit up. Addicted as a teenager like millions of other Chinese mainlanders, he enjoyed smoking. It helped with stress. And this mission was particularly stressful.

  The report from Lieutenant Commander Wang ratcheted up Kwan’s anxiety another notch. Despite Wang’s youthful looks, he was a seasoned military intelligence office
r with an untarnished record of successful foreign operations. Because Wang worried the Russian naval officer might be playing them, Kwan now worried, too. But what should he do?

  When the cigarette’s smoldering tip neared the filter, Kwan made the decision. Yes, that should get his attention. He flipped the butt, watching it arc into the water.

  Kwan checked his wristwatch. They should be just about done by now. He returned to the bridge and stepped aft into another compartment that connected with the elevator.

  On the lower deck, he walked into the yacht’s garage. The aft compartment housed the yacht’s watercraft—jet skis, runabout, tender, and other toys. But this afternoon it took delivery of a massive timber crate from a harbor workboat.

  Several technicians milled around the open lid of the shipping box. Inside was a black steel cylinder three quarters of a meter in diameter and seven meters long. When it was airfreighted to Seattle from Shanghai two days earlier, the U.S. Customs and Border Patrol inspector approved entry of the high-pressure containment vessel with just a cursory examination. The bill of lading listed a refinery in Ferndale, Washington, as the recipient.

  Kwan approached the engineer in charge. “What’s the status?” he asked.

  “We ran a preliminary diagnostic check on the propulsion unit. It checks out. We’ll be making additional tests on the navigation and sensor units.”

  The engineer held a thick wad of papers.

  “That the manual?” Kwan asked.

  “Yes, sir.” He handed over the bound report. The text was in Cyrillic and there were dozens of diagrams.

  “You must be fluent in Russian?”

  “I am, sir.”

  Kwan returned the report.

  “The warhead is on its way. You’ll have it tomorrow morning.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “Carry on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The PLAN mission planners judged it too risky to ship the warhead with the unit. CBP sniffers might detect the explosives. Instead, it was sent to the PRC’s San Francisco consulate under diplomatic seal aboard an Air China charter. Two security officers were currently northbound on Interstate Five in a Ford van. A single crate four feet square occupied the cargo compartment.