The Vigilant Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  Jeff Chang pulled out a monocular night vision device from a waterproof pouch. He peered at the beach. Yuri noted that Halgren had deployed his own NVD goggles.

  Chang gave Yuri his scope and pointed to the right of Halgren’s position.

  Yuri homed in on the target. A twenty-four-foot fiberglass speedboat with huge twin outboards bobbed just beyond the surf zone, held by an anchor line that extended offshore. Beyond the watercraft, the glow from a roaring campfire on the beach illuminated the silhouettes of targets. Yuri counted at least nine—bikini clad females and bare chested males in swim trunks. Some danced, others staggered about holding beer bottles, a few lay prone on the sand, embracing.

  Yuri assessed the situation in a heartbeat: Drunken teenagers from one of the resorts throwing a late night beach party. Now what do we do?

  Halgren backtracked to the team. “Kids partying,” he whispered. “We need to relocate two hundred meters to the southwest. Gear up and follow me.”

  After swimming to the alternate landing site and verifying the beach was clear of partygoers and other interlopers, the four men emerged from the ocean. They crossed the beach and assembled in the uplands. Murph used one of his dive fins to brush away the footprints they left on dry sand.

  Hidden by thick clumps of brush, Halgren briefed the team, his voice a whisper. “The ravine is about eighty meters to the north.” He held a GPS receiver. “We need to bury our dive gear here first.” He pressed a key on the machine, registering the earth coordinates. He next made eye contact with Yuri and Chang. “Look around and become familiar with this location. Your lives might depend on it. You can’t rely on GPS alone.”

  Murph removed a digital tablet from a watertight pack he carried. He called up an aerial photo of the site. After entering the GPS coordinates, he pointed to the screen. “We’re right here. The partygoers over here. The ravine is up here.”

  “What about that building?” Yuri said, noting a structure several hundred feet west of their location.

  Halgren answered. “Supposed to be abandoned but don’t count on it. We’re going to give it a wide berth.”

  “Got it,” Yuri said.

  “All right. Let’s get out of our dive gear.”

  The men unstrapped their rebreathers and the other apparatus they had carried ashore. They next shed their dry suits, each thankful to be rid of the covering due to the warm conditions. Underneath the dive garments, the men wore long sleeved shirts, tactical camo pants and socks. Lightweight camo jackets and jungle boots carried ashore in watertight backpacks completed their attire.

  The team spent the next ten minutes digging a three-foot deep pit in the sandy soil, using collapsible spades they carried. Each man’s diving gear including dry suit was encased in plastic bags and backfilled with excavated soil. Clumps of brush were cut and placed over the work zone.

  Satisfied with the concealment, Halgren said. “Okay guys, let’s proceed to the objective.”

  Chapter 49

  “Captain, this is Security. Dr. Meng has arrived.”

  “Grant her entry and have an escort bring her to my office.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Meng arrived five minutes later. “Any problems?” Zhou asked.

  “No. It all went as you planned.” Before taking the cab ride she had changed to casual garb, fitting for the early hour of the morning. Meng took a chair fronting Zhou’s desk. “What’s the latest?” she asked.

  “I’ve reviewed the hydrophone data. It’s definitely a Russian boat, Yasen class. We suspect it’s the Novosibirsk. Satellite imagery confirmed that the Severodvinsk is in Petropavlovsk but the Novosibirsk is no longer in Vladivostok.”

  “When did it leave port?”

  “Our last satellite data suggests it departed a week ago.”

  “Plenty of time to get here.”

  “I agree.”

  “So, what’s it up to?”

  “It’s current heading suggests that it’s bound for Singapore.”

  “Speed?”

  “Still running at twenty knots.”

  Dr. Meng digested the info. “So, he’s either foolish or the Russians don’t know our tracking capabilities.”

  “I expect the latter.”

  The S5 surveillance network was a work in progress. The hydrophone array in the Luzon Strait that detected the Russian submarine had been operational for just a couple of weeks.

  Captain Zhou continued the rundown. “We’re lucky to have picked the boat up. We’re right on the edge with our sensors. If he’d dropped his speed to fifteen, sixteen knots, it’s unlikely we would have heard him.”

  “They’re that quiet?”

  “Yes, the Yasen are at least as quiet as the American Los Angeles class.”

  “What are your orders?”

  “Continue tracking, prepare for possible interdiction.”

  “With Serpent?”

  “The CMC has not made a decision. We’re on alert for possible air attack as well as Serpent. I have a Y-8 on alert at Lingshui if an aerial attack is ordered.

  “Where is the sub now?” Meng asked.

  Zhou rotated the monitor on his desk. She eyed the screen and said, “It’s headed toward Station Six.”

  “That’s right. It’s a perfect set up.”

  Meng frowned. “But why would Beijing want to take out a Russian boat? They’re supposed to be our ally.”

  Captain Zhou had the same thoughts. “I don’t know. There’s a lot more to this than either of us will probably ever know.”

  * * * *

  The trek to S5 was only a mile long but it turned into a slog. The brush under the tropical forest canopy was exceptionally thick, requiring frequent diversions to the pre-planned GPS route. Halgren and Murphy took turns on point, both on constant lookout for possible ground sensors that might alert security forces to the team’s presence. Wildlife was another issue. Hainan Island was home to several species of venomous snakes, including cobras and pit vipers. Wasp nests were also a hazard. But the biggest hassle was the swarms of mosquitos. They plagued everyone.

  At half past three in the morning, Halgren confirmed with his GPS unit that the team had arrived at their destination. Perched on the slope of a hillside overlooking the breakwater protected harbor, the observation post was about eight hundred feet upslope from the Shendao Fleet Logistics and Support Center building. Sparse interior lighting from the PLAN facility suggested it was currently not in use.

  Seaward of the logistics building, the huge aircraft carrier quay jutted into the harbor. The pier’s platoon of pole mounted floodlights lit up the reinforced concrete deck with more than enough light to play pro soccer.

  Near the center of the quay was a long and narrow office building. Stationed on the north side of the pier opposite the building was a track mounted traveling crane with a towering derrick. Several pickup trucks scurried about the 2,300-foot-long pier. Parked near the center of the 400-foot-wide deck was a fleet of semi-trailer trucks. Other than a small workboat tied up on the south side of the monster pier near the shoreline, no other vessels were moored to the structure.

  “What do you think they’re up to?” Murphy whispered to Halgren. The SEALs peered downslope, using the lush vegetation as cover.

  “Looks like they’re getting ready for something.”

  Yuri peered over Murphy’s shoulder. “I suspect they’re planning to bring one or both of the carriers over from the Yulin base.”

  “I think you might be right,” Halgren said.

  “So, what does that mean for us?” asked Jeff Chang.

  Master Chief Halgren faced the CIA officer. “Probably a lot more activity on the pier, maybe also with the logistics building. Around the clock work on the ship is likely, too.” He pointed toward the pier. “See all of the truck trailers lined up near the building. They’re ther
e for a reason.”

  Jeff nodded without commenting but Murphy added his two cents. “If they’re anything like what we do when a carrier’s in port, security will be up the wazoo. That means we’ve got be really careful not to call attention to ourselves.”

  CPO Murphy’s observation resurrected a memory for Yuri. “Something else to be aware of guys,” Yuri said. “If the carriers do show up here, the drone patrol boats will likely be swarming around the harbor. If we have to abort from our planned out, just remember that getting out through the harbor will be a bitch with those things around.”

  “Can they detect the Mark Eleven?” Murphy asked.

  “Count on it. They’re equipped with cutting edge sonar designed for anti-sub and anti-diver ops. They use both active and passive sensors. They also carry depth charges and torpedoes plus a deck mounted gun.”

  Malibu Murph cursed. “How are they controlled?”

  “They’re autonomous, that’s what makes them so dangerous. Three of those bastards executed a coordinated attack on their own against the mini we used at Yulin. It was just luck they didn’t sink it.”

  Halgren said, “Thanks for the heads up.” He turned to Murphy. “Let’s get comms set up. I need to let Andrews know we’re operational.”

  “Okay boss.”

  Halgren directed his attention to Yuri and Chang. “The sun will be coming up in a couple of hours. I suggest you guys catch a little sleep.”

  They took advantage of Wild Bill’s offer. Jeff lay on his left side atop a plastic ground cloth. Mosquito netting shielded his head. Two applications of bug repellent covered his hands, face and neck. Somehow, he managed to fall asleep.

  Yuri was beside Chang with his spine propped against a tree trunk. Also lathered with anti-insect goop, he was wide awake. Despite the successful infiltration, trepidation contaminated his well-being.

  What the hell am I doing here?

  * * * *

  The Novosibirsk proceeded southwest across the South China Sea. Luzon Island was eighty nautical miles to the east. The submarine navigated through the abyss nearly a thousand feet below the surface. The bottom under the keel was over two miles deep.

  Captain Petrovich was seated in his command chair inside the submarine’s central command post. He sipped from a mug of tepid tea while reviewing daily department reports on his digital tablet. It was boring work but part of his duties as commanding officer. He finished the Engineering Department report and was about to start on Weapons when he was interrupted.

  “Captain, I have a recommendation regarding our speed.” First officer Captain Third Rank Fredek Yermakov viewed the plot table a couple of meters away from Petrovich. Thickset with a wrestler’s bearing, the thirty-seven-year-old father of twin daughters had red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across his forehead and cheeks, which during his tenure as a cadet at the naval academy had earned him the moniker of “Red.”

  Petrovich set the tablet aside and joined the XO. A digital chart of the South China Sea filled the wide-screen display. A flashing red submarine icon marked Novosibirsk’s current position. “What’ve you got, Fredek?”

  “As you’ll recall, yesterday Fleet sent us an updated intel report on PLAN ops in the South China Sea.”

  “Yes, and our projected route was clear.”

  “Correct, but I read the report again. There haven’t been any Chinese naval operations but an oceanographic research vessel was in the area that we’re now approaching.”

  “When?”

  “Three days ago.” Yermakov keyed in a command on the keyboard that operated the horizontal digital chart table. A color satellite image of the northern half of the South China Sea appeared on the display. It matched the scale of the underlying chart. A white circle was superimposed on the image. He pointed to the ring. “Fleet marked the ship’s location here.” Yermakov worked the keyboard again. The resolution of the digital image expanded until the hull of the ship materialized. Several personnel standing on the stern deck of the ninety-four-meter-long research ship were visible.

  “What is that ship?” asked Petrovich.

  “Fleet identified it as the Lian. Operated by the Chinese Academy of Sciences.”

  “So, what was it doing?”

  “Unknown, sir. But there’s a seamount nearby. The summit is only a couple hundred meters below the surface.”

  Petrovich connected the dots. “Perfect place to install a hydrophone array.”

  “Yes. The PLAN might be using that ship as cover to install bottom sensors. That’s why I think it would be a good idea to reduce speed.”

  “By how much?”

  “Cut it in half…to ten knots. At that speed we’re a hole in the water.”

  Petrovich considered Yermakov’s recommendation. The Novosibirsk was already behind schedule, due in part to the precautions Petrovich had taken to navigate through the Korea Strait and the East China Sea.

  “I’ll go with reducing our speed to twelve knots. Once we’re past that seamount we’ll pick it back up.”

  “Very good, sir. Permission to execute the speed reduction.”

  “Granted.”

  * * * *

  “Hey, it just rounded the point.”

  “Wow, it’s a big sucker.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not even close to one of ours.”

  Yuri woke to the banter between Murphy and Halgren. He checked his wristwatch: 7:23 A.M. Amazed that he managed to sleep for several hours, he joined the SEALs. Both men peered toward the southwest with field glasses. Jeff Chang hovered beside the sailors. He also had a pair of binoculars.

  “What’s up?” Yuri asked.

  Jeff turned toward Yuri, lowering the binocs. “You were right. Take a look.” He handed the glasses to Yuri and then pointed with an outstretched arm.

  Yuri spotted the ship as it rounded the distant headland that defined the southern boundary of the Shendao harbor. He pulled up the binoculars for a close-in view of the People’s Republic of China aircraft carrier. “I think that’s the Shandong,” Yuri announced.

  “I count five tugs,” Halgren said. “Three on the bow and two astern.”

  “It must be dead in the water all right,” Murphy added.

  “Right, I don’t see any smoke coming out of its stack.” Halgren faced Yuri. “Your people sure did a number on that thing”

  “Yes.”

  Yuri was tempted to remind the SEALs that he was not responsible for detonating the Yulin e-bomb but refrained. Regardless of what Yuri said, the U.S. Navy’s special operators would forever link him to the mission that took out half of the PRC’s South Sea Fleet with a gaggle of supercharged microwaves.

  While the rest of the team watched as the 1,000-foot-long ship approached the entrance to the harbor between two breakwaters, Yuri turned his attention to the nearby pier. He noted that additional semi-trailer trucks had parked on the massive concrete deck while he slept. Two mobile cranes had also arrived, one positioned on each side of the pier near the midpoint.

  No longer sparsely populated, the pier was a beehive of activity. Dozens of workers in civilian attire scurried across the twenty-one acres of concrete deck. The pier was so vast that some of the men rode bicycles to get around. Uniformed sailors and the occasional officer were also observed moving about. But it was the armed sentries that captured Yuri’s attention. He counted twenty-four guards, spaced evenly along the north, west and south sides of the pier. Each man wore camouflaged fatigues and carried an assault rifle.

  After scanning the nearby downslope Shendao Fleet Logistics and Support Center building and its adjacent parking lot, Yuri returned the field glasses to Chang. “Anything happening with our target area?”

  “It’s been quiet. Staff coming and going, appears routine.”

  Yuri turned his attention to Halgren. “Thanks for letting me sleep.”
r />   “No problem.”

  “What’s the plan for today?”

  “Me and Murph are going exploring.” He grinned. “We’re going to check out the ventilation shafts.”

  “During daylight?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be easier for us to spot sensors and other surprises the PLAN might have placed around the vents. I don’t want to try the initial recon in the dark.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  “You and Chang will hold the fort here. We’ll maintain contact with our field comms.” He referred to the encrypted shortrange radio headsets that each team member carried with their gear.

  “Okay.” The reference to comms sparked a new question. “What’s the latest from Andrews?”

  Halgren eyed his wristwatch. “Checked in with Colorado about an hour ago. They gave us the heads up on the carrier. It was already on the move. The skipper decided to bugout to deeper water. Too much activity in the area.”

  “Thanks for the update.”

  Yuri returned to where he had bedded down. After sitting on the tarp he’d placed on the ground before sleeping, he opened his backpack and searched for the food packet. As he breakfasted on the energy bar, another wave of apprehension hit. With the crippled pride of the South Sea Fleet about to arrive at its homeport, the Shendao fleet logistics complex would be under increased monitoring by PLAN security forces. How are we ever going to pull this off?

  Colorado’s retreat amplified Yuri’s concern. If the team were forced to abort—or worse was discovered, the submarine was their only way out.

  Nothing ever goes as planned.

  What’s going to go wrong next?

  * * * *

  Four hundred and fifty feet down the hillside and over two hundred feet underground from Yuri’s position, Captain Zhou Jun and Dr. Meng Park monitored a wide-screen display in the Serpent Operations Center of S5’s lower level. The home theater sized screen presented an overview of the Serpent antisubmarine network for the northern half of the South China Sea.

  “Jun, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ming Park said. “We don’t know where that sub is now.”