Laura beamed. “Thank you, Lord, for saving all of us.”
“Amen to that!”
Propped against the center console, Yuri leaned forward to allow Laura to check her daughter, still cocooned inside the immersion suit. Maddy was awake. She broke into a beaming smile when she spotted her mother.
“How are you, sweetie?”
Yuri used the hydrophone to recall Deep Adventurer, expecting it had been turned loose when the Yangzi took off. The underwater acoustic signal would reactivate the strobe light on the top of the hull. But there was no sign of the AUV.
“Maybe they took it aboard?” Nick suggested.
“Or they scuttled it,” Yuri said. He sat in the captain’s chair.
“Hmmm, that’s too bad. I know it’s valuable.”
“Doesn’t matter. What counts is that we’re all okay.” Yuri massaged his left calf with both hands.
With Maddy in her arms, Laura zeroed in on Yuri’s discomfort.
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
“I’m half-frozen, it’s stiff.”
“Are you sure? That could be the bends again.”
“I just need a hot shower.”
“And a triple shot of Stoli,” Nick added.
“Hear! Hear!” agreed Fredek.
Laura grinned. “Let’s go home, boys.”
CHAPTER 95
DAY 32—THURSDAY
Kwan Chi and Commander Wang were in the Yangzi’s main deck salon, sipping tea while seated in luxurious leather chairs. It was early afternoon. The yacht was fifty miles offshore of the Washington coast. The seas were mild and the sky clear. They had the spacious and unscathed compartment to themselves as they discussed the mission debrief.
“When will you scuttle the workboat?” Kwan asked. The Ella Kay trailed a mile behind.
“Tonight, once we’re clear of other vessels.”
“What about the mine, can we get rid of it, too?”
“Yes, we’ll dispose of it at the same time.”
“Good,” Kwan said, taking another sip from his cup.
“We’ve been lucky. If Kirov had contacted the American authorities . . .”
“He couldn’t do that. We had the ultimate leverage over him.”
“His woman?”
“Yes.”
Wang asked, “What happened to Elena?”
Kwan sighed heavily. “The Russians took her ashore. She was in bad shape.”
“They’ll interrogate her.”
“She knows nothing about the mission. Her only connection was Kirov.”
“That will help. But the missing backup hard drive—”
“We can only hope that the encryption software works.”
“Do we know where they took it?”
“Probably to their consulate in San Francisco.”
“Do you think we can get it back?”
“I’m sure Beijing is looking into that.”
They sipped in silence for a time. Wang said, “Are you leaving the ship in Ensenada?”
“Yes, my plane will be there.” Kwan hesitated. “Would you like to accompany me to Hong Kong?”
“I would, sir, and if it’s possible I’d like my other two team members to come along. We’ve all been recalled—we’re too hot to remain in North America.”
“Fine, there’s plenty of room.”
“Thank you.”
Wang checked his watch. He drained his cup and stood up. “I’ve got some work to do, sir, if you’ll excuse me.”
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going to run some diagnostic tests on Kirov’s robotic submersible. I want to see if it located the other Russian pod. We might have gotten lucky with the recordings.”
“That would certainly be good news.”
“Yes, sir.” Wang hesitated. “Would you like to observe?”
“No, you go ahead. I’m going to relax in my cabin. I’m worn out.”
“Very good, sir.”
CHAPTER 96
As the RIB raced into Elliott Bay, Yuri’s symptoms worsened. The extra depth and extended bottom time, combined with Yuri’s unconventional ascent, reignited his previous bouts with decompression sickness.
Laura hailed a cab at the Bell Street Marina and rushed Yuri to the hospital, leaving Nick and Fredek to fend for themselves. In the emergency room, Yuri was examined and admitted. Within an hour, he was in the chamber compressed with air to an equivalent pressure of 165 feet of seawater. The six-hour session in the hyperbaric chamber cost a bundle without insurance, but Laura gladly handed over her AMEX card.
After Yuri recouped in a hospital room for the remainder of the morning, the attending physician ordered a second treatment at a lower pressure. After spending another two hours in the chamber, the numbness in his lower left leg diminished to almost nothing.
To pass the time he read magazines and watched television. The RN accompanying Yuri in the chamber tuned the flat panel TV on the opposite wall to a local station. Yuri ignored the talk show as he perused a two-month-old issue of Popular Science magazine.
That changed when a “Breaking News” banner flashed onto the screen. The announcer reported the story:
“We have breaking news exclusive to our station. There has been a massive explosion aboard a yacht off the Washington coast near the Oregon border. A commercial fishing boat reported witnessing the explosion and took these cell phone videos of the incident, which are only available from our station. As you can see, the boat is . . .”
Yuri stared at the screen. The video was poor quality but he recognized the Yangzi. The aft end of the ship was gone and the remaining forward section was fully ablaze. The carnage was far worse than he’d expected from Deep Adventurer’s “surprise” package.
My God, the Mark Twelve—it must have detonated, too.
The reporter continued:
“The crew of the fishing boat report that the yacht sank minutes after they recorded the video. There’s no sign of survivors so far. The U.S. Coast Guard is investigating. Stay tuned for updates on this disaster.”
Yuri experienced neither jubilation nor remorse. It’s over—at least for now.
He sat quietly for the remainder of the session. A few minutes before six o’clock, Yuri walked out of the chamber.
Laura was waiting. Maddy was in a new baby carrier parked in a chair beside her.
Yuri wondered if she’d heard the news.
Laura stood as he approached, her infectious smile breaking out. “Your limp—it’s gone.”
She doesn’t know—I’ll tell her later.
Yuri stretched his left leg and rotated his ankle.
“Good as new. Thank you, honey.”
Standing on the tips of her toes, Laura leaned forward and kissed him—a lingering, delicious kiss.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Mike McCarter for his review of the manuscript. His insightful suggestions and comments were of great value to me.
I wish to thank Cody Hulsey for helping me navigate as an author through the “uncharted waters” of social media.
Thanks again to Todd Wyatt of Carson Noel for his assistance with negotiating the contract with Kensington Books for The Good Spy and The Forever Spy.
I would like to take this opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to Michaela Hamilton, executive editor at Kensington, for her critical review of The Forever Spy. Michaela is a remarkable editor who worked with me to improve the story, just as she did for The Good Spy. Michaela and her talented team at Kensington are a pleasure to work with.
Finally, I’d like to thank my family for continuing to encourage me with my writing career.
In case you missed the first exciting Yuri Kirov thriller,
THE GOOD SPY—keep reading to enjoy an excerpt . . .
CHAPTER 1
DAY 2—TUESDAY
Kirov plowed into the gloom. The firestorm deep inside his right shoulder raged but he hung on. He’d lost all sensation below the left knee�
��it was just dead meat. If the unfeeling crept into his other limbs he was doomed for sure.
He focused on the captain’s orders: “Get to shore. Call for help and then coordinate the rescue. Don’t get caught!”
He was the crew’s only hope. If he failed, they would all perish.
The diver propulsion vehicle surged against the aggressive tidal current. As he gripped the DPV’s control handles with both gloved hands, his body trailed prone on the sea surface. Hours earlier he’d exhausted the mixed gas supply, which forced him topside, where he used a snorkel to breathe.
The chilled seawater defeated his synthetic rubber armor. His teeth chattered against the snorkel’s mouthpiece. He clamped his jaws to maintain the watertight seal.
Shore lights shimmered through his face mask but he remained miles from his destination. The DPV’s battery gauge kissed the warning range. When it eventually petered out, he would have to transit the passage on his own, somehow swimming the expanse in the dark while combating the current.
Two grueling hours passed. He abandoned the spent DPV, opening the flood valve and allowing it to sink. He butted the tidal flow until it turned. The flooding current carried him northward.
He swam facedown while still breathing through the snorkel. As he pumped his lower limbs, his good leg overpowered its anesthetized twin, forcing him off course. He soon learned to compensate with his left arm, synchronizing its strokes with his right leg.
The joint pain expanded to include both shoulders and elbows. The frigid sea sapped his vigor to near exhaustion.
While staring downward into the pitch-black abyss, he tried not to dwell on his injuries or his weariness—or the absolute isolation, knowing he could do nothing to mitigate them. Instead, his thoughts converged on the mission. They’re counting on me. Don’t give up. I can do this; just keep moving.
He continued swimming, monitoring his course with the compass strapped to his right wrist. An evolving mantle of fog doused the shore lights he’d been using as a homing beacon. For all he knew, the current could be shoving him into deeper waters.
Maybe at dawn he would be able to get his bearings. Until then, he would plod along.
I wonder where the blackfish are now.
During a rest with fins down and a fresh bubble of air in his buoyancy compensator, he had heard dozens of watery eruptions breach the night air as a pod of Orcinus orcas made its approach. Sounding like a chorus of steam engines, the mammals cleared blowholes and sucked air into their mammoth lungs. The sea beasts ghosted by at ten knots. Their slick coal-black hulls spotted with white smears passed just a few meters away from his stationary position.
The killer whales had ignored him. They had a mission of their own: pursuing the plump inbound silver and chum salmon that loitered near the tip of the approaching peninsula. At first light, the orcas would gorge themselves.
There was no time to be afraid; instead, he marveled at the close encounter. Oddly, the whales’ brief presence calmed him. He was not alone in these alien waters after all.
Time for another check.
He stopped kicking and raised his head. He peered forward.
Dammit!
Still no lights and the fog bank oozed even closer.
Where is it?
He allowed his legs to sink as he mulled his options. His right fin struck something.
He swam ahead for half a minute and repeated the sounding.
I made it!
The Forever Spy Page 34