After jointly lighting up, Wang said, “What about the woman, what’s to become of her?”
“Same as Kirov—she will be in the vehicle with him when the accident occurs.”
“Hmm, I see.”
“You disapprove?”
“No, sir. I was just wondering about how we would take care of . . .” Wang searched for the right words. “What the Americans call lost endings.” He struggled with his English.
“Loose ends,” Kwan corrected him, also in English.
“Yes, that’s it.”
* * *
Maddy wasn’t interested in nursing anymore; she was restless, squirming in her carrier. And Laura knew why. The odor emanating from the stinky diaper permeated the storage compartment.
Oh dear Lord, Laura thought.
* * *
Wang summed up the Kirov issue. “They need to be linked together to complete the deception. She will be viewed as a traitor, aiding and abetting a Russian spy. A clear path will be laid out that goes back to the Russian submarine incursions that occurred last year. The CIA and DIA analysts will conclude that the operation was planned well in advance of the current events. The data you collected from the recording pods will be linked to Kirov’s company, completing the chain of evidence.”
Wang nodded his understanding and then said, “And after the sinking, that will provide the justification for the war.”
“Correct. We’ll let the U.S. and Russia hammer on each other. The Americans will no doubt win, but it will cost them dearly.”
“And then we make our move.”
“Yes.”
Wang was about to ask a follow-up question when he heard a muffled cry. Kwan heard it, too. They both turned to the left, eyeing the nearby locker.
Commander Wang stood up and stepped to the locker. He squatted and pulled open a door. Startled at what he’d discovered, Wang said, “Well, Ms. Newman, I see that you and your lovely daughter have been busy this evening.”
CHAPTER 56
“She must have heard everything,” Kwan Chi said.
“I’m certain she did, but I doubt that she understood much.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Kwan and Wang were alone in the op center. Two guards had just escorted Laura and Madelyn back to the brig.
Kwan stood next to the locker where Laura had eavesdropped. As Wang watched, he kneeled and crawled inside the compartment, pulling the door shut. A whiff of the dirty diaper remained; it was a tight fit for his six-foot frame. He cracked open the locker door and peered outward. The bulkhead video display, now blacked out, was in his direct line of sight. He swore as he climbed out.
Now standing, Kwan faced Wang. “She may not have understood much, but she would have had an unrestricted view of everything on the screen.”
Commander Wang mulled over Kwan’s observation. “She would have certainly seen the photograph of Kirov.”
“No doubt.”
“And our entire command staff was displayed on the screen.”
“Yes.”
“I had all of those photos of the assembly of the Mark Twelve in the presentation—and photos of the Ohios.”
“She’s a smart woman,” Kwan said. “She may not know all the details, but she saw enough to be a severe risk to us. She should never have been able to get out of the compartment. It was purposely designed as a holding cell—in case we ever had a problem with any of the crew.”
“She’s an engineer and runs a large enterprise. I now see how capable she really is.”
Kwan walked the deck from port to starboard and back, considering his options.
While Kwan paced, Wang stood next to a desk, examining half a dozen eight-by-ten color photographs displayed on a desktop—surveillance photos taken at Laura Newman’s home and NSD’s office building. He picked up one of the photos.
Kwan completed his worry walk and stepped to Wang’s side. He pointed to a print of Laura Newman and said, “We can no longer risk returning her and the child to Kirov, even for a brief period.”
“I agree, but without them he will not complete the recovery of the second pod.” Kwan returned the photo of Sarah Compton to the desk, slipping it under a photograph of the house.
“Then we need to change the plan.”
“Sir?”
“With the recording information from the first pod, we now have everything needed to implement the next phase of Sea Dragon. The intel from the second pod is not vital to that mission—so as operation commander I can ignore that element.”
“I agree, sir. But if the other seabed pod has recordings of one or more submerged missile boats, that would be of immense value to our anti-submarine forces. That was why Admiral Soo pushed so hard during the briefing.”
“It’s that important?”
“We still have no defense against them.”
“Can you operate the underwater equipment to recover it without Kirov?”
“No, sir. We need his continued cooperation.”
“He won’t cooperate unless he gets Newman back . . . but if we do that she will tell him everything, and he’ll figure it out.”
Wang remained silent, unsure of Kwan’s direction.
“So the key to this situation is to keep Kirov engaged but without giving in to his demands.”
“I agree, sir, but at the very minimum he will demand proof of life again, which I don’t think should come from us.”
“Why?”
“Kirov must continue to believe this is a joint PRC Russian Federation operation. If he suspects otherwise, he could blow the entire operation.” Wang pointed to the photo of Yuri in his uniform. “Remember, sir, he’s still an officer in the Russian Navy. From everything I know about him he will not betray his brothers in arms.”
Kwan turned to leave. “I need to think about this for a while. I’ll be in my cabin.”
* * *
Laura was again in the holding cell but without Madelyn. Instead of the original chair restraints, she lay flat on her back on top of the bunk. Her arms and legs were spread-eagle with each limb shackled to the adjacent corner of the oak frame that supported the mattress. Stainless steel handcuffs instead of rope secured her limbs. Heavy-duty steel eyebolts screwed into the frame anchored the companion cuffs that ensnared her wrists and ankles.
Laura could shift her torso an inch or so, but that was it. The cuffs were chafing her skin, especially on her ankles. She stopped struggling, knowing escape was impossible.
Even if Laura managed to pull a Houdini, it would not have gained her anything. A guard occupied the chair by the door to keep her company. Even more alarming, the guard and the other watchers who had bound Laura to the bunk all neglected to wear their masks—an ominous sign. But most vexing of all, every person Laura encountered this evening was Asian. That’s when Laura realized she and Maddy were prisoners aboard a foreign vessel. It could be bound for just about anywhere.
Laura’s current watcher was a slim female in her early twenties with glossy black hair cut short. Laura tried to engage her in conversation but received no response, not even a glance. The woman busied herself by reading magazines, which from Laura’s limited vantage appeared to be in Chinese.
Laura looked upward at the unadorned overhead, her mind busy rehashing what she’d observed earlier in the evening.
* * *
The Chinese are up to something—but what?
How is Yuri involved?
What did they mean about “loose ends”?
Laura had been designated a “loose end” the year before. Yuri never mentioned it, but Laura feared she knew too much. To maintain operation security, the SVR had deemed Laura a liability. It had tasked Nick and Elena to eliminate that burden.
Fortunately for Laura—and Yuri—Nick refused to carry out the orders.
What about Elena? Laura wondered. Could this be payback for what happened last year?
Yuri had fretted about Elena’s recent contact and the threats from Moscow that she
’d relayed.
No, she’s just the messenger. There’s something else going on. Why are the Chinese involved?
Finally, her greatest worry of all. Where’s Maddy?
It was all too much. She closed her eyes, flushed her wondering thoughts, and relaxed her taut muscles.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, “thank you for watching over Yuri and Maddy and me. Please continue to protect Yuri, and please help Maddy and me. Amen.”
* * *
The guard looked up from an issue of Xinmin Weekly, trying to decipher what the American was muttering. Although she spoke passable English, nothing registered. A native of Shanghai and the daughter of a low-level Communist Party leader, she had never once prayed in her young life.
CHAPTER 57
DAY 29—MONDAY
Nick Orlov was asleep aboard his floating home when his cell phone announced its presence, transmitting from the nightstand next to his bed. He grudgingly reached to his side and picked it up. The display identified the caller.
“Hello, Fredek,” he said in Russian.
“Sir, sorry for the early call, but the target is on the move.”
Nick lowered the smartphone and glanced at the display: 5:48 A.M. “Where is she?”
“In her car, heading south.”
“South . . . where south?”
“We think she’s heading to the U.S. border.”
Nick was now standing. He slept in a T-shirt and a pair of briefs. “Is she alone?”
“We think so but aren’t sure. We’re following two hundred meters behind. If we get much closer she could make us.”
“Are you tracking her car with the GPS bug?”
“Yes.”
“Drop back to about half a kilometer, just far enough to keep a visual on her vehicle.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s your story for the U.S. border crossing?”
“We have a meeting in Seattle and then we’ll be returning to Vancouver.”
“What kind of meeting?”
“We’re interested in a real estate investment—an apartment house for sale.” Nick’s operative continued with real names and places, all generated from a Seattle commercial real estate broker’s website.
Creating a backup legend while on the go was standard protocol for SVR officers. Both men carried authentic Canadian passports expertly modified to include each man’s photograph and physical description. Even the rental car could be traced to the driver’s alias, paid for by a legitimate Visa card in his bogus name.
“Very good,” Nick said. “Once you’re through the border, keep the same distance behind but don’t let her out of your sight, even though you’re tracking her with a bug. She still might try to check for tails.”
“Got it.”
“I suspect she’s heading to Seattle. I want you to call me every half hour with a status report.”
“Every half hour—yes, sir.”
Nick relocated to the shower. As the sizzling water washed over his weary body, Elena remained on his mind. During dinner in Vancouver she had told him she would be leaving on this day for another trip to Vladivostok and then to Beijing.
What is she doing?
* * *
Yuri stood on the timber deck, leaning against the railing while sipping from a coffee mug. He was home—the only real home he’d ever known in his adult life.
Laura had purchased the 5,500-square-foot home for its view. She loved to rise early and wait for the sun to climb over the Cascades, transforming the lake surface from dull gray shadows to brilliant azure hues. The sunsets were equally dazzling. This morning the sky was clear, portending fair weather for the rest of the day.
Yuri arrived home just before one in the morning. The three shots of Stoli he’d downed at NSD took its toll. He’d sacked out in his office, laying on the couch for a quick snooze. He woke up nearly four hours later, still worn out but sober enough to drive.
Returning to the house was a burden, knowing strangers had invaded it and stolen his love and her child.
None of this would ever have happened if I’d just left her alone!
Yuri had needed an ally if he was going to have any chance of the saving the Neva’s remaining crew. His manipulation was subtle, the fabrications and half-truths designed to win Laura over.
I’m a fraud; I used her.
She risked everything to help me.
Humbled, Yuri closed his eyes and asked for guidance, a rite he had embraced as a youth but let languish for most of his adult life—until Laura.
* * *
Kwan Chi took the elevator from his stateroom to the lower deck where he proceeded aft, entering the sanitary white engine room. Both turbocharged diesels were silent; ditto for the twin generators. The Yangzi remained on shore power.
He walked past the portside exhaust manifold, its gleaming stainless steel collector mirroring his distorted image. Finally, he reached his destination, opening a watertight hatchway that led to the tender compartment—also known as the “garage.”
Located at the aft end of the lower deck, the huge compartment stored the Yangzi’s toys: a couple of paddleboards, four Kawasaki Jet Skis, a twenty-foot rigid-hulled inflatable, and a twenty-eight-foot Grady White tender.
This morning a steel cylinder occupied the deck space typically reserved for the tender. Seven meters long and a meter in diameter, the industrial black tube did not fit in with the other water toys in the superyacht’s garage.
Kwan walked to the midsection of the cylinder where Commander Wang squatted next to a hull opening. Both of his hands were inside the inspection port.
“Trouble?” asked Kwan, now kneeling beside Wang.
Wang turned. “There’s some kind of wiring fault. I ran a system test and the fault showed up. It can be bypassed, but I want to see if we can correct it first.”
“This won’t delay us?”
“No. We could launch right now, if we had to. I just want to get it back to one hundred percent.”
“The acoustic information—you’ve already added it in?”
“Correct. We transferred the digital data file of the submarine’s propulsion and propeller sound prints into the unit’s targeting computer. I already ran a full course of diagnostics. Everything is as it should be—no faults there.”
“Excellent.”
Kwan stood and took a few steps to the forward end of the cylinder. Death was inside the canister. The torpedo’s warhead housed inside the cylinder contained 250 kilograms of high explosives.
Kwan ran his hand aft over the black substance that covered the Mark 12’s skin when Commander Wang joined him. “What is this coating?” Kwan asked. “It feels like rubber.”
“It’s an anti-sonar coating. Minimizes acoustic reflections.”
“Hmm,” Kwan said, withdrawing his hand.
“Sir, what do you plan to do about Kirov?” Wang asked.
“The SVR contact will be here soon.”
“The woman?”
“Yes. I’m going to use her to deal with Kirov.”
Wang expected additional details, but Kwan offered nothing further. He moved on to his second inquiry.
“If we have the time, I would like to recover Kirov’s underwater device. It would be a real asset to the Fleet Intelligence Group.”
“Where is it now?”
“It should have completed its survey mission for the second listening device. I expect it is currently sitting on the bottom offshore of Whidbey Island, waiting for the recall signal to surface.”
“Do you have this recall code?”
“No, Kirov has it.”
Kwan wrinkled his brow, the pressure in his gut building. “I can’t promise anything at this time. The mission comes first—you know that.”
“Of course.”
“If we have time, I’ll consider it.”
“Very good, sir.
* * *
“Good morning, Chi,” Elena Krestyanova announced as she entered the re
ception section of Kwan’s personal suite. It was 9:20 A.M. Elena wore a knee-length navy blue pleated skirt with a matching jacket and a beige silk blouse underneath. She had substituted a pair of deck shoes for her usual three-inch heels.
Kwan rose from the leather couch, always delighted to take in the Russian’s spectacular looks. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I know you were scheduled to leave for Vladivostok today.”
“No problem. I delayed my flight.”
Kwan gestured toward the private dining cupola a dozen steps aft. “I have coffee and a light breakfast, if you are hungry. Please join me.”
“Wonderful.”
Kwan and Elena sat side by side at a round hardwood table that could have easily accommodated a dozen. The southerly view took in downtown Seattle’s skyscrapers. The silhouette of towering Mount Rainier was visible in the haze.
Kwan drank coffee while Elena munched on a fruit plate. He rarely ate breakfast.
Kwan waited until his personal steward refilled the coffee cups and departed. He then provided Elena with the basics.
After taking in Kwan’s report, Elena picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. “Kirov is not going to like the change in plans,” she said.
“He’s the one who changed the plan. All along, he was tasked with retrieving both underwater recording pods. It’s vital that he finish the assignment. We need the acoustic data from the second unit.”
“But didn’t you say he wouldn’t do anything else until Newman and the child are released?”
“Yes, that’s what he told Wang yesterday.”
“He’s stubborn, believe me.”
“That’s why I asked you to come here. I need you to convince him to complete his work and then we’ll release his woman and the baby.”
“They are still aboard?”
“Yes.”
“And where is Kirov?”
“At his home.”
“Under surveillance?”
“Yes.”
“And the workboat that he and Wang have been using, where is it right now?”
Kwan said, “Anna . . . Anna-something.”
“Anacortes?”
“Yes, that’s the place.”
Elena looked away as she rehashed Kwan’s request. The idea jelled half a minute later. She turned back to face Kwan. “Okay, here’s what I think.”
The Forever Spy Page 20