The Forever Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  “Great, I’ll let the Coast Guard’s spill coordinator know. In the meantime I think the Explorer can work double duty.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  Winters changed course again. “How have your test trials been going?”

  “Fine.”

  “Do we have a new customer?”

  “Hard to tell. I went over some test results today with the PM. He was closemouthed.” Yuri improvised on the spot, knowing NSD’s gossip mill remained on full alert. “Deep Adventurer has performed to their standards so far.”

  “Still can’t give me a hint about who this mysterious client is?”

  “Soon, Bill, soon. Once the testing is complete.”

  “Okay, good luck then.”

  “Same to you.”

  The conversation ended. Yuri stood and walked to a four-drawer file cabinet in the corner of his office. He used a key to open it. Stored in the top drawer along with dozens of confidential company personnel files was a plain cardboard box. Yuri opened the box and removed the bottle.

  He returned to his desk and filled his empty coffee mug with a generous shot of Stoli. He swigged it down and followed with a second. He preferred his vodka chilled but dared not store the bottle in the company’s refrigerator.

  Yuri detested lying; it rasped against his moral grain. He wanted Bill to know the truth, so he could seek his advice and his technical skills. But Yuri could not risk it, especially now. Laura and Maddy’s freedom might be just hours away. He would do nothing to jeopardize their release.

  Yuri swigged down a third shot of vodka.

  The day after Elena showed up at the office he had purchased the bottle and after helping himself to an inaugural triple shot, he hid it in the cabinet. Later, when the anonymous package arrived at his office with the photos of Laura aboard the Hercules, he had tapped it again—certain that Elena had served up that mini–heart attack.

  Drinking alone at his place of employment was taboo. But tonight the fire in Yuri’s belly helped quiet his rage.

  Just let it go. All that counts is getting Laura and Maddy back.

  CHAPTER 54

  It was early evening aboard the Yangzi. The superyacht remained at its berth in the Seattle marina. Madelyn slept in her carrier on top of the bunk. Laura knelt next to the cabin door, working on the lock. It was an electronic mechanism with a ten-digit keypad. On the opposite side of the door in the interior passageway was a duplicate keypad. With the right code, the dual mini keyboards allowed access into and out of the compartment.

  About every six hours, one of her watchers would enter the cabin to check on her and Madelyn and bring meals and supplies. Each time a guard departed, Laura zeroed in on the keypad as they punched in the code. Usually, the person’s torso blocked Laura’s view but not the last time. When the female sentry had left half an hour earlier, Laura had memorized five of the six digits of the authorization code. Unfortunately, she missed the final number when the guard had shifted her stance in anticipation of pulling open the door.

  Laura started with 0 and had just keyed in 7 when the electromagnet inside the lock mechanism released with a muted metallic click.

  Gotcha!

  Before opening the door, Laura reached to her right and switched off the brig’s overhead light, plunging the compartment into blackness. She’d already examined the cabin for a monitoring camera but found nothing. Laura rotated the handle. She opened the door about an inch. A slash of light erupted around the door frame. She pulled open the door, stepped into the passage, and assessed the situation.

  Good. No guards.

  Now, how do we get off this damn thing?

  * * *

  Kwan Chi and Wang Park sat across from each other at the head of the twelve-seat rosewood dining table on the upper deck. They were alone, the waitstaff dismissed after serving bowls of noodle soup and platters mounded with spicy Kung Pao chicken, char siu—barbecue pork—and fried rice.

  Both stuffed, the two men sipped tea. Kwan listened as PLA Navy Lieutenant Commander Wang completed his briefing.

  “Kirov was able to isolate the signature of the submarine both departing and arriving.”

  “You’re certain it is the same vessel?”

  “Yes, the time line of the recordings matched our own tracking data.”

  An MSS deep cover operative planted years earlier resided in a waterfront residence that overlooked the mouth of Hood Canal from a bluff. The agent’s principal task was to monitor submarine traffic into and out of the waterway. The HD video camera he maintained monitored the drawspan section of the Hood Canal Floating Bridge twenty-four/seven. During night or low-light conditions, the camera automatically shifted to infrared mode.

  The floating bridge spanned the mile-and-a-half-wide Hood Canal, linking Kitsap and Jefferson Counties. A dozen miles to the south was the U.S. Navy’s most highly prized Pacific Coast installation—the Naval Base Kitsap-Bangor. Every ballistic missile–laden submarine homeported at the base navigated through the movable section of the bridge. Located near the center of the bridge, dual sections of the drawspan retracted to create a six-hundred-foot-wide opening. The elaborate maze of underwater cables anchoring the bridge to the bottom impeded submerged crossings by the subs.

  “When is it scheduled to depart?” Kwan asked.

  “We believe soon. Our agent reports that supplies are now arriving at the wharf and are being loaded aboard.”

  A civilian contractor responsible for coordinating the delivery of foodstuffs to Bangor routinely provided a female MSS deep cover operative with a summary of his work. Hired for just $500 a month cash, he believed the spy’s storyline that she was trying to get a “leg up” on her competitor, who currently had the main supply contract with the Navy base.

  “We don’t have much time left,” Kwan said.

  “No, sir.”

  Kwan took another sip of tea. “When will you know if Kirov’s machine has found the second recording device?”

  “Maybe tomorrow. We will need to take the workboat out to the Strait of Juan de Fuca and recover the AUV.”

  “Let’s assume it located the Russian device. How long will it take to recover it and then analyze the data?”

  “Even with Kirov cooperating, I expect it will take a couple more days.”

  “We can’t wait that long. I want you to set aside the second recording pod and proceed with your primary mission. With this new acoustic information our chances of success have skyrocketed—we cannot jeopardize that gift.” Kwan hesitated. “If we have time later, I’ll consider the other pod.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kwan shifted in his chair. “Can you analyze the data from the second pod without Kirov’s assistance?”

  “Sir?”

  “He’s become too much of a liability—we may not be able to count on him.”

  “I see.” Wang considered the change of events and said, “I’ll need access to the software he uses. Otherwise, our people will have to reinvent the code. That could be time consuming.”

  “Where is this software?”

  “It’s a proprietary program owned by his company.”

  “Can you get it?”

  “Yes, with access to Kirov’s company offices I expect we can locate the code and copy it.”

  “Do it.”

  * * *

  Laura made it to the yacht’s main deck without detection. She was stunned at the immense size of the Yangzi and its opulent furnishings. Maddy continued to sleep in the baby carrier.

  After following an interior passageway on the lower deck that led through the crew quarters, she encountered an elegant staircase with Persian carpeting, which she ascended. She walked through another doorway onto an exterior side deck. Hugging the shadows, she surveyed her surroundings. Illuminated by hundreds of dock lights, a sea of sailboats and power yachts stretched to the west as far she could see in the dimness. What marina is this?

  Laura scanned the shoreline. There’s the Palisades. The wat
erfront restaurant was one of Laura’s favorites. This must be the Elliott Bay Marina!

  The Yangzi remained moored to the guest float at the marina. The floating pier extended nearly a thousand feet to the shore. The landing platform of the yacht’s gangway was a couple of steps aft of Laura’s position. The portable aluminum ramp sloped downward to the floating dock.

  I need to get down that thing and then run like mad!

  Laura had continued aft, stepping softly, when she spotted the sentry. She froze. The guard was just below her perch with his back to Laura. He stood on the floating pier next to the gangway landing enjoying a cigarette. Smoke wafted upward to Laura.

  Dammit, now what?

  Laura retreated, taking cover by the doorway.

  No way can I get past him without being seen.

  A new idea coalesced.

  I’ll just fake it—we’ll walk past him, give him a smile, say “good night,” and head to shore. Yes, that could work.

  But Laura promptly dismissed that thought.

  He’s probably one of the guards who’ve been watching me.

  Laura switched to plan B. She needed to find a phone to call for help and find a place to hide.

  Laura reentered the main deck’s superstructure, passing through a passageway that opened into the galley space. A female crew person stood next to the grill, her back to Laura.

  Laura backed up and turned to her right. She headed forward, following another interior passage. With Maddy’s carrier gripped in her left hand, Laura pulled open a massive mahogany door with the depiction of a dragon carved onto its surface.

  She stepped inside. What is this place?

  Laura surveyed the spacious compartment, looking for a phone. Filled with electronic equipment, several desks, various consoles, file cabinets, a conference table, and other gear, the room extended the full beam of the ship—almost forty-five feet.

  There must be a phone in here someplace!

  Laura was about to pull open a desk drawer when she noted a collection of documents on the desktop, including several color photos. She retrieved the image that caught her eye.

  It was Yuri in his uniform—a captain lieutenant in the Russian Navy.

  Taken aback, Laura examined the other papers, when she heard voices from outside the compartment.

  Someone’s coming!

  Trapped, Laura frantically searched for a hiding place.

  Maddy began to fuss.

  Lord, help us!

  CHAPTER 55

  Kwan Chi pulled open the door to the operations center and stepped inside. Commander Wang followed. They continued chatting in Mandarin.

  “Who do you expect to be attending?” asked Wang.

  “Most will be from the Second Department plus Guo and his aides. I also expect that Admiral Soo will be attending, so don’t be shocked if you see him. This is his brainstorm.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  Kwan sat at a console near the center of the compartment. Wang took a seat on his right side. Kwan typed at the keyboard. A mammoth deck-to-overhead LCD display flashed to life on the forward bulkhead. The twelve-foot-long by eight-foot-tall screen displayed the flag of the People’s Republic of China—an outsized golden star in the upper left corner framed by four smaller stars to its right, all on a crimson field.

  Both men waited as the yacht’s transceiver antenna synchronized with a People’s Liberation Army satellite parked in a geostationary orbit over the North Pacific Ocean. The satellite communication system was housed inside two massive fiberglass white spheres mounted side by side halfway up the ship’s radar mast.

  The imposing array of communication equipment nested onto the Yangzi’s mast fit the stature of the vessel and its owner. But what was not normal—even for a billionaire—was the military grade of the gear. Disguised to appear as top-of-the-line civilian hardware, the yacht’s comms system was the same used on the PLA Navy’s most modern warships.

  A new image materialized on the screen.

  Kwan and Wang stared at a conference room with a dozen individuals seated around a semicircle table. All but two wore military uniforms.

  It was nine o’clock in the evening in Seattle; noon the next day in Beijing.

  Kwan said, “Good day to all.”

  “And to you,” replied the nearly bald and portly fifty-two-year-old man in civilian clothes seated at the center of the table. Guo Wing was the deputy minister of operations for the Ministry of State Security and Kwan’s boss. To his right sat a major general in the PLA’s General Staff Department, also known as the Second Department (Er Bu). A year older and nearly half a foot taller than his MSS counterpart, General Sun Jin had retained his hair but kept it close cut. His uniform displayed his trim, athletic build.

  “With your permission, sir,” Kwan said, “we are ready to proceed with the briefing.”

  “Proceed.”

  Kwan typed in a new command on the keyboard and the screen split into thirds: the live feed from Beijing to the left, a nautical chart of the Strait of Juan de Fuca in the center, and a color photograph of Yuri Kirov in uniform to the right.

  “Sir, I am pleased to announce that we have been successful in obtaining acoustic recordings of an American Ohio-class submarine under way in its home waters. The information was obtained from a Russian naval officer.”

  * * *

  Laura Newman nearly screamed when Yuri’s likeness blinked onto the screen. On her hands and knees with Maddy in the carrier just ahead, she crouched inside an empty storage locker to the left of Kwan and Wang. After climbing in and pulling the door shut, she remained motionless, barely even breathing. Maddy was awake but content. When Laura heard a new foreign tongue respond to Kwan, she pushed the locker door open a bit. That’s when she saw the split video screen image of her lover.

  Laura could not understand a word of the conversation, but the brilliantly clear images of those assembled at the other end of the video link filled her with dread.

  Dear God, what are these people up to?

  * * *

  “How accurate are these recordings?” asked the naval officer sitting to the left of the MSS deputy director. At fifty-eight, Admiral Soo Xiao was the oldest in the room and the highest rank of all the military in attendance. Although balding, he maintained a trim build that reflected regular exercise, healthy eating habits, moderate drinking, and complete disdain for cigarette smoke. None of the assembled dared light up in his presence, including Kwan and Wang.

  Kwan Chi turned to face Wang. “Commander Wang will respond.”

  “Ah, Admiral Soo, the recordings are of excellent quality. We were able to filter out all extraneous noise including the barricade vessels.” He hesitated. “Even operating on the surface, the Ohio-class submarines are ultra-quiet. There is minimal propeller cavitation and the hydrodynamic hull flow noise is suppressed.”

  “But can it be tracked for this condition?”

  “Yes, sir. Even as quiet as it is, there are enough markers to isolate it as a unique target.”

  “Can the Mark Twelve lock in on that signature?”

  “It should, sir. The water in the target area is shallow, only fifty to eighty meters deep. That will help preserve the signal.”

  “What about the escorts?”

  “Those acoustic signatures are markedly different from the Ohio’s. The Mark Twelve should have no trouble distinguishing the target with multiple escorts.”

  “Excellent,” the admiral said.

  * * *

  Madelyn was squirming—one of her signals for hunger pangs. Laura had seconds to act before Maddy erupted into a full-scale verbal assault.

  With just enough light seeping in from the partially opened locker, she rotated the carrier 180 degrees. Laura unzipped the front of the jumpsuit she wore and leaned over Maddy, offering a breast.

  * * *

  The technical Q&A with Beijing continued for ten minutes and then Kwan summarized the presentation.

  “As Comm
ander Wang has discussed, we are now ready to implement the next phase of Sea Dragon. We expect the target will depart from its homeport in the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours. If it meets with your collective approval, we will deploy and prime the weapon for release.”

  Kwan and Wang waited for a response as Director Guo, General Sun, and Admiral Soo conferred with their microphones muted.

  About a minute later Admiral Soo spoke. “What is your estimate on obtaining the intel from the second recording pod?”

  Wang responded. “Sir, we are hoping to recover the unit tomorrow or the following day. I will then pressure Kirov to process the data into a usable form.”

  “If there is the slightest chance that it contains a recording of a submerged Ohio, I want you to recover it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kwan Chi reengaged, “But Admiral, the primary mission still takes precedence.”

  “Correct. However, we may never get a chance like this again. It has now become paramount that if at all possible, the second recording device should be recovered if it does not interfere with Sea Dragon.”

  “I understand.”

  General Sun spoke next. “What about the backstory regarding this Russian officer—is it fully in place now?”

  “Yes, sir. When the Americans investigate, they will find a trail leading back to Yuri Kirov and Northwest Subsea Dynamics.”

  “And what will be the final disposition of this particular individual?”

  “He will be disposed of in a manner that will not be traceable to our operation. It will be consistent with his position as a Russian intelligence officer operating under deep cover carrying out the orders of his government.”

  The three key players again conferred offline.

  Spymaster Guo said, “Kwan, you are authorized to proceed. Notify command when the target is under way.”

  “Yes, sir, we will comply.”

  The video blinked to a blue screen as the feed from Beijing terminated.

  Kwan sighed, thankful the conference was over. He reached into a coat pocket and removed a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Wang.