Yuri made a quick check of the RIB’s GPS location. “Hold it,” he said. He pointed to the screen. “I need a close-up right there.”
“Okay.”
Yuri examined the image—a steel shackle assembly.
“Is that the connection you were looking for?” Laura asked.
“Yes. All I need to do is remove the bolt from the shackle and it will float to the surface.”
Laura leaned closer to the screen. Digital parameters were displayed at the bottom—camera heading, water temperature, and water depth. “That shackle is a hundred and ninety feet deep,” she announced.
“Good, that should work.”
“That’s still a long way down.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be a piece of cake.”
But she would worry.
CHAPTER 86
“Is it still there?” Wang asked his observer.
“Yes, sir. It continues to patrol the same route.”
“Very well. Let me know the instant it departs from the routine.”
“I will, sir.”
Commander Wang Park terminated the cell phone call. His observer was on foot at a public park at the north end of Whidbey Island. For the past two hours, the MSS operative had monitored the Yangzi as it orbited offshore of Deception Pass.
Wang was inside the cargo compartment of a heavy-duty Ford van parked at the Anacortes airport. The driver and another commando were in the front seat. The third team member sat next to Wang. Chockfull of zhongdui equipment, the van was the same vehicle used to kidnap Laura Newman.
Located near Anacortes’ western boundary, the public airport occupied the flattened crest of a hill. Residential subdivisions surrounded much of its perimeter.
The sun was in full retreat with complete darkness less than half an hour away.
Soon! Wang thought.
He speed-dialed another number. When his call was answered on the first ring, Wang demanded, “Give me a status report.”
“Sir, it continues northward, with its escorts.”
“What’s the ETA?”
“At its present speed and heading, thirty minutes.”
“Very well. Continue to track and call me at once if there are changes.”
“Yes, sir.”
The second observer stood on the ruins of a coast artillery mount at the Fort Casey State Park on Whidbey Island near Coupeville. He had an unobstructed view of Admiralty Inlet. Through binoculars, he observed the USS Kentucky and its entourage head northwestward in the outbound shipping lane.
Wang dialed once again. Again receiving a response on the first ring, Wang issued new orders. “Proceed to the target area, but do not approach until I give the order.”
“Understood, Commander.”
Wang terminated the call with the PLAN officer who had assisted him aboard the Ella Kay. The lieutenant remained aboard the workboat. He was accompanied by the chief petty officer who’d served as the workboat’s helmsman and four fresh MSS special operators rushed from the Vancouver consulate. The Ella Kay proceeded westward down Guemes Channel at ten knots.
With Kirov in control of the Yangzi instead of American authorities, Wang adapted. Operation Sea Dragon was in play again. After the Mark 12 sent the Kentucky to the bottom, Wang and crew would attack the yacht. He would personally kill Kirov.
* * *
Laura kept her eyes on the marker, maneuvering the runabout to within thirty feet of the float. Five minutes before starting his dive, Yuri deployed the guideline.
To mark the approximate bottom position of the Mark 12 Viper, Yuri used the RIB’s Danforth anchor and its 100 feet of Dacron line combined with another 150 feet of line borrowed from the Yangzi. The anchor line connected to an air-filled boat fender that bobbed on the sea surface. Laura used the float as a marker.
Worried about Yuri, Laura waited anxiously for his return. He had assured her he would return within ten minutes. Twelve had already passed.
Come on, honey, where are you?
* * *
The shackle’s bolt would not budge.
Yuri was over 190 feet below the surface hanging on to the steel cable that anchored the aft end of the Mark 12 to the seabed another 20 feet down. In near darkness due to the retreating sun and the infestation of particulate matter in the water column, Yuri used his dive light for illumination. The torpedo mine loomed above. Housed inside the thirty-inch diameter by a 23-foot-long cylinder, the weapon hung vertically with its still closed launch hatch aimed at the surface. It angled northward a few degrees, pushed by the ebb tide.
Yuri checked the dive watch strapped his left wrist. He had been under for almost fifteen minutes. Govnó!
Yuri pulled on the screwdriver once again, trying to unscrew the pin. He’d inserted the shaft of the driver into the hole at the rounded head of the shackle’s bolt.
The pin did not budge.
This isn’t working! I’ve got to try something else.
Reluctantly, Yuri descended.
* * *
Laura failed to notice the approaching armada until it was about a mile away. In the fading light of the receding sun, she used a pair of binoculars to examine the collection of vessels headed her way.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. “It’s the sub!”
* * *
On the sandy bottom with his knees clamped to the concrete anchor block, Yuri examined the shackle that connected the mine’s mooring cable to the eyebolt embedded in the block. Apprehensive that the nitrogen in the compressed air he breathed had impaired his judgment, Yuri reminded himself of the task ahead—three times.
Insert the screwdriver and rotate it counterclockwise.
Yuri yanked on the driver. No movement.
Yuri again attacked the shackle, leveraging the screwdriver with everything he had.
This time it moved.
Fantastic!
Yuri unscrewed the shackle’s bolt from the threaded fitting but the mine remained glued to the bottom. Tension in the anchor cable from the buoyant casing prevented complete withdrawal of the bolt. The bolt’s shaft was jammed halfway out, pinned by the pull of the cable.
With one hand clamped to the concrete anchor block and the other grasping the steel cable, Yuri pulled. Nothing.
Yuri rested, preparing for another try, when he heard the muted whine of an electric motor. He looked up, aiming his light at the Mark 12 Gadjúka.
Oh God, no!
The launch tube hatch had rotated open.
Although Yuri had not yet heard the drone of the approaching vessels, the torpedo mine’s acoustic package had been tracking them for ten minutes. The weapon’s computer detected the unique suppressed sound print of the Kentucky’s propeller, now just a thousand meters away. It ignored the racket from the two barricade workboats that straddled the submarine. The Mark 12 was seconds from launching as its onboard sensors homed in on the target.
With his gloved left hand grasping the concrete anchor block, Yuri yarded on the cable with his right. He gained half a foot of slack, which caused the shackle bolt to slide away from its housing and drop onto the seafloor.
What happened? Yuri wondered, puzzled at the ease with which the cable had moved. Then he put it together. With the hatch open, the casing flooded, reducing buoyancy, which relieved tension in the anchor cable.
Yuri released the anchor cable. Still vertical in the water column, the mine crept upward. Its velocity was about one-third of Yuri’s bubble trail.
The remaining flotation inside the flooded casing was designed to provide enough residual buoyancy to initiate a vertical launch.
It’s going to launch any second now!
* * *
Laura’s gaze alternated between the marker buoy and the advancing flotilla. Yuri had not briefed her on this scenario. Unsure of what to do if confronted by the security forces escorting the USS Kentucky, Laura prayed for guidance.
* * *
Yuri raced upward to the bottom end of the free-floating Mark 12 casing. With his right
hand, he grasped the shackle that he had not been able to open earlier. With his other hand, he reached down and yanked the buoyancy compensator’s twin ripcords. Thirty pounds of lead raced to the seabed.
Yuri opened the inflation valve on his BC. He heard the rush of compressed air and felt the fabric in the backpack expand around his neck and the flanks of his abdomen.
By releasing the weights and inflating the compensator while hanging on to the casing, he added extra buoyancy to the lower end of the mine. His goal was to rotate the axis of the Mark 12 from a vertical orientation to a horizontal position.
A nano accelerometer in the torpedo mine’s arming mechanism—the same type used in tablets and cell phones to sense screen direction—would interrupt the launch sequence if the mine was seventy degrees or more from vertical. It was designed to prevent an accidental launch from the mine’s deployment vehicle—a ship or an airplane.
Ignoring the need to make a decompression stop as both he and the Mark 12 ascended, Yuri hung on to the shackle.
* * *
Where are you? Laura wondered to herself as she scanned the waters around the RIB.
She had her answer a minute later.
The Mark 12 Viper broke the water surface about a hundred feet to the south. It was barely awash. Laura spotted a shadowy mass at the far end of the casing. Yuri’s black hood and face mask were nearly invisible in the receding light.
* * *
Nick Orlov’s cell chimed while he stood solo watch in the Yangzi’s wheelhouse. It was 6:05 P.M. and twilight offshore of Deception Pass.
He answered the call; it was Laura.
“We’ve got it, we’re heading north now,” she reported.
“Outstanding! How’s Yuri?”
“He’s on oxygen.”
“And the cargo?”
“We’re towing the damn thing—it’s behind us.”
“Great, we’ll meet you halfway.”
“Nick, there was a submarine. It just went by us. It’s headed westward down the Strait of Juan de Fuca.”
“What?”
“It’s crazy, I know. But Yuri did it—just in time.”
“Incredible.”
CHAPTER 87
Yuri and Laura were inside the Yangzi’s garage. Yuri had just activated the gantry system to retrieve the Mark 12. The torpedo mine sat on its shipboard cradle.
“What are you doing now?” Laura asked.
“I need to disarm it.”
Still in his wetsuit, Yuri was on his knees next to the weapon’s control compartment working with a screwdriver. He removed the last screw and opened the inspection port. He reached inside and flipped a pair of switches.
He looked up at Laura. “Done.”
“Is it safe?”
“Yes. I disabled the detonator and the guidance system. It’s not going anywhere.”
“Good. Let’s dump this awful thing overboard—it’s still dangerous.”
“No, we need it,” he said, standing up.
“What?”
Yuri explained. He then reached inside his wetsuit jacket. He retrieved his cell phone and began taking photos of the Russian weapon.
CHAPTER 88
Commander Wang Park squatted in the aft compartment of the King Air 90. The twin-engine Beechcraft lifted off from the Anacortes airport. It soon cruised eight thousand feet above the black waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Wang was horrified that the Mark 12 had failed to launch. The Kentucky and its escorts were churning westward toward the Pacific, oblivious to the threat. Wang was more determined than ever to complete the other element of his mission.
Although the King Air’s passenger seats were removed in Seattle before heading north, the space was still an awkward fit for Wang and his three companions. Outfitted to the hilt, they wore black combat fatigues, Kevlar helmets, and jump boots. Strapped to their backs were ram-air parachutes with companion reserve chutes. Clipped to chest harness D rings were suppressed submachine guns. Each man also carried a nine-millimeter pistol, extra magazines, and grenades—fragmentation, white phosphorus, and smoke.
Night vision devices were mounted to their helmets. In the blacked-out cabin, Wang kept his eyes on the target as the plane orbited. They had removed the cabin door in Anacortes. Through its opening Wang’s infrared optics detected varying shades of white emitted from the Yangzi.
Observing the superyacht, Wang spoke into the microphone mounted inside his helmet. The PLAN lieutenant was on the other end of the encrypted radio signal aboard the Ella Kay.
“I can’t tell what they’re doing,” Wang commented. “It looks like they might be trying to retrieve something. The RIB is moored alongside the starboard garage door.”
“We can’t make out any details from our position. Should we advance?”
“Negative. The ship’s radar will detect your approach. Wait for us.”
“Understood. We’ll maintain separation until we hear from you.”
“Very well, we’re going airborne now.”
Wang switched frequencies, hailing the MSS pilot.
“We’re exiting now. Return to Anacortes and wait for further orders.”
“Aye, aye, Commander.”
Twenty seconds later, the zhongduis jumped from the aircraft. Wang went first, followed by his cohorts. Within the blink of an eye, the ink-black night sky swallowed them.
CHAPTER 89
Yuri knelt on the deck of the rigid inflatable boat. He adjusted the controls of the portable device with his right hand. The stainless steel container from Yuri’s company was about the size of a toolbox. A black cable from the box dangled over the RIB’s starboard side. Thirty feet underwater, the cable connected with another stainless steel gadget that was roughly the size of a gallon milk carton.
Yuri adjusted the controls as the RIB bobbed next to an opening in the Yangzi’s side. The overhead doors on both sides of the garage remained open, extending seaward from the hull like a pair of stubby wings. The Strait of Juan de Fuca remained calm as the yacht drifted westward with the waning ebbing current.
The Yangzi was a mile southwest of Smith Island. About five miles to the east in the darkness lay Whidbey Island. A rotating high-intensity strobe light from the northeast marked the airport tower at NAS Whidbey Island. The EA-18 Growlers practicing touch-and-go landings at the base broadcast thunder into the night air.
Satisfied with the adjustments, Yuri pressed the transmit key on the NSD hydrophone. A pulse of acoustic energy radiated from the underwater speaker.
Two hundred and sixty-six feet below, Deep Adventurer woke up. After resting on the bottom in hibernation mode for four days, the AUV reenergized itself. Within just a minute, compressed air discharged into the buoyancy tanks, expelling seawater ballast. The onboard computer engaged the propeller. She began the ascent.
* * *
Wang adjusted a halyard, angling the parafoil a couple of degrees to the left. Descending through the thousand-meter mark, he kept his NVD glued to the target. To his right the infrared strobe lights marked his companions.
At their current descent rate, the zhongdui operators would reach the target in three minutes.
CHAPTER 90
“How much longer?” Laura asked. She stood on the garage deck next to the RIB.
“Soon—I hope.” Yuri was still inside the runabout, leaning against the starboard gunwale. He peered seaward, using his dive light to illuminate the nearby water surface.
“Couldn’t this have waited?” she asked.
“I want the Deep Adventurer out of here. There’s too much risk for NSD if the American authorities discover what it was doing.” Yuri also had another incentive—he’d promised Bill Winters that he would ship the AUV to Barrow.
“How long will it take to reprogram it?”
“Ten minutes maybe.” Once Yuri verified the remaining power supply, he would program the submersible to head north to Anacortes. He planned to park the AUV on the bottom in Fidalgo Bay and reco
ver it later.
Laura peered into the gloom. “Nick’s anxious to get going. I think he’s right.”
“Hang on. I should know soon if this is going to work.”
With Nick’s blessing, Yuri intended to deliver the Yangzi to the U.S. Navy—on the proverbial silver platter. After passing through the Hood Canal floating bridge’s drawspan opening in the wee hours of the coming morning, Yuri planned to anchor the yacht in Thorndyke Bay. After Yuri and company departed in the RIB, Fredek would make an anonymous cell phone call to Naval Base Kitsap. Using an app on his phone to disguise his voice, he would report that a yacht filled with foreign terrorists was bent on attacking Bangor.
Within minutes, a quick-response detachment of U.S. Marines and sailors would descend on the anchored yacht by air and sea. It would not take long before the boarding party discovered the Mark 12, Kwan Chi, and the remaining boatload of PLAN crew members.
The real payoff would occur later when the attorneys representing Yuri and Laura negotiated with the Department of Justice. The bargaining chip would be the hard drive Yuri planned to liberate from the Yangzi’s op center. Although the incriminating evidence was encrypted, Yuri expected that experts from the FBI, NSA, and/or CIA would recover the full details of the PRC’s Operation Sea Dragon.
Similar efforts would also take place in Russia. Nick had shipped the op center’s backup hard drive to the San Francisco consulate in care of the SVR officer who’d escorted Elena. Also accompanying the agent was a duffel bag filled with cell phones, laptops, and other personal electronic devices looted from the Yangzi’s crew.
But not everything was shipped to California. Yuri searched Kwan’s stateroom alone. He found Elena’s and Kwan’s cells along with Kwan’s satphone. He sealed them inside a ziplock bag and stuffed it inside the vest of his wetsuit.
“Extra insurance,” he explained to Laura.
* * *
Laura spotted it first. “What’s that?” she shouted, pointing.
Yuri aimed his dive light, capturing the canary yellow bow of Deep Adventurer as it crawled out of the murk with the strobe on top of its hull flashing once a second.
The Forever Spy Page 32