The Vigilant Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  After verifying that the Shing Long was positioned correctly, the officer in charge directed his team to engage the two metal straps that secured the AUV to the cradle. Next, the cradle was rolled back into the pressure chamber.

  The excessive diameter of the Shing Long prevented launching it from any of the Heilong’s eight torpedo tubes or dozen vertical missile cylinders, necessitating the external cargo container.

  Commander Yang walked to the open end of the pressure chamber, seeking a close-up view of the Shing Long. Standing beside the nose cone, he ran a hand across the curved surface. It was chilly to the touch. Like most weapons, the explosive was positioned in the forward end of the AUV.

  Yang moved aside as the installation team leader connected a pencil sized cable to a remote release external port on the AUV’s side near the nose cone. The opposite end of the cable connected to a through hull fitting in the top of the Heilong’s pressure casing. The cable supplied electrical power. It also contained multiple fiber-optic communication lines, which allowed remote monitoring and activation from the submarine’s attack center.

  The lieutenant wore a headset that was linked to the weapons console in the attack center via a hardwire connection port inside the chamber. He looked up, making eye contact with Yang. “Sir, the weapon’s officer verified that all systems for the Shing Long are within normal parameters.”

  “Very well, go ahead and complete the installation.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  It took ten minutes before the hefty hemisphere door to the containment chamber rotated to the closed position and sealed. Rated for a depth of three thousand feet of seawater, the cocoon housing the Shing Long exceeded the crush depth of the Heilong.

  Satisfied with the operation, Commander Yang dismissed the install crew. The men descended into the hull through the aft escape trunk hatch. Yang waited behind.

  It was eerily quiet inside the partially submerged cave this afternoon. The other three submarines moored inside the underground base were devoid of human activity on their exterior decks.

  The device now attached to the submarine was unlike any weapon Commander Yang had worked with in the past. The North Sea Fleet command provided Yang with minimal background on the Shing Long’s mission. Nonetheless, he had pieced together the mission profile.

  It has to be in response to Qingdao!

  The seaport city endured aftereffects from the nuclear detonation. The Badaxia and Taixi residential districts near the mouth of Jiaozhou Bay suffered the most from radioactive fallout. The peninsula northward from Tuandao to the borderline with the Yunnan neighborhood was evacuated. Decontamination crews worked three shifts a day to washdown every structure in the hot zone.

  Traffic in the already congested port city had evolved into nightmarish gridlock. The Jiaozhou Bay Bridge opened a week after the bomb blast but commuters shunned the crossing, knowing the structure was just a couple of miles from ground zero. The Qingdao Jiaozhou Bay tunnel system at the juncture of the bay and the Yellow Sea was not directly impacted by the detonation. However, a tanker truck filled with fifteen thousand gallons of concentrated decontamination fluid laced with nuclear isotopes overturned in the outbound tunnel. The tunnel was still closed.

  Tao is going to be okay!

  Knowing the Heilong would be departing soon, Yang Yu and Sun Tao rendezvoused the previous evening in a hotel room near Sun’s restaurant in Qingdao’s financial district.

  Yang’s lover had relocated his family from their Badaxia home to an apartment building in the Hushan Road Residential District in north Qingdao. Sun owned four units in the fifteen story building. He evicted the tenant in the best unit. The $20,000 bribe he paid to a local party official expedited the process. The hapless renter received $500 for relocation expenses.

  Sun Tao paid an additional $20,000 to another Communist party hack to have the Badaxia building his family resided in booted up to the top of the decontamination list. Even with that bribe it would be weeks before they could return. Other rich Qingdaoians had beat out Sun in the kickback race.

  At least I don’t have to worry about Mom and Dad for a while!

  Commander Yang’s parents resided in his hometown of Langfang, located thirty miles south of Beijing. His father, Yang Jin, recently lost his job after the company he had worked at for decades folded. A victim of Beijing’s decision to allow underperforming state-owned enterprises to fail, the company that manufactured knockoff replacement parts for American manufactured automobiles and trucks fired the entire staff of eight hundred and fifty.

  With their life in shambles and Jin out of a job, Commander Yang’s mother, Ling, had hinted strongly that they wanted to sell their home and move in with their son. Yang had a spacious two bedroom apartment with a water view, and he was often away at sea for months at a time.

  All along, Yang had planned to care for his parents and was prepared to make the transition. But Ling’s persistent talk about moving stopped abruptly after the bomb exploded. To help ease their transition into retirement, Commander Yang arranged for ten percent of his monthly pay to be sent to his parents.

  Yang took a last look at the sealed pressure chamber housing the Shing Long. It was time to return to the Heilong’s attack center. The submarine was scheduled to depart at 2200—10 P.M. In the interim, Yang and his crew had a host of pre-mission tasks to complete.

  Beijing wants blood and I’ve been ordered to hurl the spear.

  As Commander Yang approached the nearby open hatch, he couldn’t help but think about the unimaginable power of the weapon inside the Shing Long’s warhead compartment. Four times the yield of the weapon detonated at Qingdao, the atomic bomb would wipe the Russian submarine base at Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy off the chart.

  Chapter 41

  Day 28—Tuesday

  “I don’t like the idea of that guy coming aboard,” Commander Tom Bowman said. He stood beside a counter inside the USS Colorado’s wardroom, coffee pot in hand.

  “What do you know about him, skipper?” asked Jenae Mauk. Colorado’s executive officer clutched a coffee mug while sitting at the mess table. The pair were alone.

  “He’s some kind of a defector, a former Russian naval officer.” Bowman poured the brew into his mug.

  “Submariner?”

  “Fleet intelligence—GRU. Apparently, he was assigned to subs.”

  “Wow, a Russian naval spook. This should be interesting.”

  Colorado’s commanding officer returned to his seat at the table. Bowman took a swallow from the mug. “I don’t like it. Letting a spy aboard, even if he supposed to be working for us. Just doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Why is he part of the SEAL op?”

  Commander Bowman picked up a manila file stamped TOP SECRET. It contained Colorado’s orders from COMSUBPAC. Bowman paged through the document. “Says here he has local knowledge of the target area. Plus, he’s an expert with AUVs.”

  “Maybe he can enlighten us on what the Russians are up to with their underwater robotic gear?”

  “Maybe. But what I’d really like is some hard intel on what the PLAN has in the water around Hainan Island.” He returned the file to the table.

  Mauk said, “I expect it’s similar to what we encountered at Qingdao.”

  “That’s a minimum. But after what happened at Yulin, plus the nuke going off, the Chinese Navy has to be going nuts with boosting underwater defenses at all of their bases.”

  Bowman’s comment sparked a new thought for XO Mauk. She reached for the file. She remembered an item during her first reading of the ship’s orders. It took half a minute to find the citation. “This says that our guest is an expert diver who has conducted numerous underwater clandestine missions.” She found a separate comment in another section of the report. “Like you mentioned, he apparently also has local knowledge of the target area.” She looked up, meeting B
owman’s gaze. “How do you suppose that happened?”

  “Hmmm,” Bowman muttered as he processed Mauk’s question.

  “I wonder if this guy was somehow involved in what happened at Yulin.”

  Commander Bowman rubbed his temple. “That’s an interesting thought.” As the revelation gelled he offered, “Maybe the Russians are the ones that took out Yulin.”

  What occurred at the Yulin Naval Base was an enigma to most in the U.S. military. The rumors circulating around the Pentagon centered on the accidental detonation of a Chinese EMP weapon stored aboard one of the ships moored at the base. It was a rumor the White House encouraged. Alternative gossip blamed the Kremlin.

  Commander Mauk said, “If there was no accident, an attack from the sea makes sense to me. A sub delivers the assault team offshore. The divers sneak into Yulin. They deploy the EMP device and return to the sub.”

  Bowman nodded, his lips pressed together as he gauged his executive officer’s bombshell scenario.

  Commander Mauk located the eight by ten color photograph in the file. She turned the image of Yuri toward her boss. “If the Russians were behind the Yulin attack, then just maybe Captain Lieutenant Yuri Kirov was responsible. If so, he could have a treasure trove of info for us.”

  “Definitely.”

  * * * *

  Yuri Kirov and Jeff Chang were alone in the team meeting room at the U.S. Navy’s Yokosuka Naval Base. Lieutenant Commander Andrews and his SEAL operators were training elsewhere on the base.

  “I just received confirmation from Langley. We leave tonight. The weather forecast will help provide cover for us. A storm front will be moving through at that time,” Chang said.

  “Satellites?”

  “Yep. The Chinese and Russians both keep a close eye on Yokosuka. Our Navy likes to keep ’em guessing on our submarine movements, especially boats carrying external pods.”

  “What about SAR?” Yuri referred to satellites equipped with synthetic aperture radar. SAR penetrates clouds to create images of objects located on the earth’s surface, both land and sea.

  “We have a two hour interval at the departure time where no SAR equipped birds will be overhead. Once the sub is in Uraga channel, it will dive.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Yuri said. “What can you tell me about the boat we’ll be on?”

  “Her name is Colorado. One of our newer subs. Virginia class.”

  “What does the captain know about me?”

  “The basics, former Russian Navy intel officer. That you’re working with me as a technical advisor.”

  Yuri looked away from the table, studying the navigation chart taped to a nearby wall. It depicted the western Pacific Ocean from Japan to Vietnam.

  “How long will it take?”

  “The captain estimates the trip will be around five days.”

  While still eyeing the chart, Yuri unconsciously shook his head.

  Chang noticed. “What’s wrong?”

  Yuri said, “I’m just tired. Still not sleeping all that well.” That was true but Yuri neglected to mention his underlying trepidation. Nearly seven weeks earlier, he’d barely survived an incursion into Chinese territory. And now he was about to return to the same hostile waters.

  “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to rest up on the trip.”

  “Right.” But Yuri doubted he’d relax much. Submarines were unvaryingly crowded with equipment and people. Privacy was nearly nonexistent. And despite reassurances from Chang, Yuri expected his presence aboard the U.S. warship might not be welcomed by all aboard.

  The CIA officer grinned. “I’ve been told that the food is fantastic on the Colorado. Submarines have the best chefs in the Navy. I think you’ll like that.”

  “I look forward to it.” The fare aboard Russian submarines was adequate but nothing to write home about.

  Chang checked his watch. “We’ll get a chance to check it out in about an hour.”

  “What?”

  “The captain invited us for lunch. He wants to meet you.”

  * * * *

  The Rueben sandwiches were superlative. Served with delicious tossed green salads and chilled glasses of iced tea, the lunch was exceptional—just as Jeff Chang promised.

  Yuri was seated at the mess table in the Colorado’s officers’ wardroom with Chang and the submarine’s two senior officers.

  Yuri was aware that the U.S. Navy allowed females to serve aboard submarines. Still, it came as a surprise when he climbed down the hatchway and entered the sub’s accommodations compartment. XO Jenae Mauk welcomed Yuri and Chang aboard and directed them to the wardroom.

  During the meal, the conversation was casual. At first, Yuri detected a hint of hostility from Commander Tom Bowman. He was polite but reserved. Mauk in contrast was friendly and inquisitive. The tension in the wardroom unwound when Yuri, prompted by Mauk, described his experiences at the Russian Navy’s Higher Naval Submarine School at St. Petersburg. The school was similar to the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis but with a five-year curriculum directed toward training future submarine officers.

  Both Bowman and Mauk were graduates of Annapolis. Yuri and the two officers traded tales about their academy life. CIA operative Jeff Chang took it all in, pleased that the three sailors had something in common to share.

  Lunch was over. The two U.S. Navy officers drank coffee from mugs. Yuri and Chang worked on iced tea refills. Chang briefed Bowman and Mauk on the latest mission details.

  “John,” Bowman said, using Yuri’s alias, “I understand you have experience with Chinese underwater sensors in shallow waters, anti-sub and anti-diver modes. What can you tell us about them?”

  “High quality. They have access to the best hardware available. Cost isn’t a concern.”

  “European?”

  “Yes, that was our conclusion.”

  Mauk followed up with technical questions regarding sensor types, likely deployment strategies, and possible ways to defeat submerged detectors. Yuri provided his opinions.

  Bowman asked a couple of follow-up questions to Yuri’s response. Satisfied, Bowman said, “Our mission orders noted that you apparently have some local knowledge regarding the target area. Could you elaborate on that for us?”

  Yuri expected the question; Chang had already cleared Yuri to answer if the subject came up.

  Yuri said, “I was part of a naval Spetsnaz operation directed against the Yulin Naval Base on Hainan Island.”

  “Hmmm,” muttered Bowman as he made eye contact with Mauk.

  Yuri spent the next half hour reciting the details of the operation. Bowman and Mauk were skeptical at first but converts when Chang verified Yuri’s storyline. The kicker was how effective the directed energy weapon was, and that it had been deployed by divers.

  “So,” Bowman said, “the minisub was detected after your team locked out?”

  “Yes. We had no indication the P-815 was detected when we approached the island.”

  Commander Mauk asked, “Were drone boats patrolling in the area when you came in?”

  “We didn’t detect any surface vessels at that time.”

  “How stealthy are the drones?”

  “They’re not. High performance diesel engines. Noisy on the surface and below. You can hear them from quite a distance.”

  Bowman rejoined the discussion. “Any idea where the sensor was located that detected your mini?”

  “The P-815 is ultra-quiet,” Yuri said. “It must have been right over the sensor, probably in shallow water. Might have picked up the propeller.” The Russian minisub was powered by a bank of lithium-ion batteries. Its acoustic signature was virtually nil when operating in stealth mode.

  Commander Mauk said, “I assume you didn’t encounter any mines during your approach to Yulin.”

  “Correct. The mini didn’t det
ect any moored mines. Same for the Novosibirsk.” Yuri reflected further on the XO’s inquiry. “There’s a lot of recreational boat traffic in the area from the Yalong Bay resorts. Adding minefields around the bases would be a nightmare to manage.”

  “I agree.”

  Yuri turned toward Bowman. “If I might ask, Captain, just how close in are you planning to bring the Colorado?”

  “It hasn’t been decided yet but likely within five to six miles. The closer in the better it will be for the SEAL detachment.”

  “Hmmm, that’s close. During our excursion, the Novosibirsk remained in international waters—twelve nautical miles offshore in deeper water.”

  “We don’t have that limitation for this mission. Besides, the Colorado and her sister ships are designed to operate in shallow, nearshore waters.”

  “Impressive. Russian nuclear subs do not have that capability—yet.”

  The wardroom briefing ended ten minutes later when Commander Bowman announced that he had to leave for a shore meeting. After Bowman departed, Commander Mauk took Yuri and Chang for a tour of the ship.

  Yuri was able to see virtually every key system aboard the supersub, except the nuclear reactor. Awed by the marriage of technology and function, he concluded that the Colorado was at least one generation ahead—and perhaps two—of Russia’s latest nuclear submarine.

  After Yuri climbed an internal ladder and exited the hatch just behind the sail, he waited for Chang to emerge. The CIA operative lingered below chatting with Commander Mauk.

  Yuri peered aft, looking over the long smooth lines of the Colorado’s hull. The dry deck shelter was mounted over the logistic plug trunk about thirty feet away. Installed the previous day, the DDS looked like a giant wart on the otherwise sleek deck. It was nine feet wide, nine feet high and thirty-eight feet long. A portable awning covering the DDS shielded it from overhead spies.

  The U.S. Navy Shallow Water Combat Submersible was housed inside the DDS. The vehicle would transport Yuri, Chang and the Ghost Riders from the Colorado to Hainan Island.