The Vigilant Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

“About 150 nautical miles.”

  Jeff ran the math. “That’s still a long time. Once they figure out what’s going on, they’ll be all over us.”

  “I know. That’s why we need to go now so we have time to prepare.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  * * * *

  Meng Park studied the thugs. The muscular Caucasian with short dark hair and a developing beard obviously knew his way around ships. He had just taken command. Back in her cabin, the skinny Asian with the scraggly beard was in charge.

  The engineer—what a jellyfish, thought Ming.

  Jeff Chang had interrogated the Lian’s engineer in Meng’s cabin. With the threat of the knife tip probing his groin, the mid thirties, pig nosed and broomstick thin lieutenant commander revealed everything—the number of personnel aboard and their location, the ship’s scheduled sailing time, required time for off duty crew to return to the ship, the ship’s maximum speed, procedures to start the engines and a host of critical shipboard operations.

  Meng had remained bound and gagged in her cabin while the two intruders, accompanied by the submissive engineer, secured the ship. The Asian-American subsequently collected Meng, forcing her to walk to the bridge.

  Meng had not seen the other two crew members who slept aboard or the guard. She feared the Americans had murdered the men.

  They’re after the Vipers—and me!

  She’d heard them talking.

  Vietnam—no way is that going to happen!

  When the first crew members showed up at the dock around six o’clock in the morning, less than four hours away, the alarm would be issued.

  Jun will come looking for me.

  Knowing the Lian’s maximum speed of eighteen knots, Meng estimated PLAN helicopters would intercept the ship several hours before it could reach Da Nang.

  Jun will make the scum pay—with their lives.

  * * * *

  “Change of plans, boss,” Jeff Chang said, speaking into the handset of the SEAL satphone. He was outside on the port bridge wing. It was his first opportunity to call since boarding the Lian.

  “What change?” Steve Osberg asked from his office at CIA headquarters in Langley.

  “We’re on the ship and guess who we found aboard?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dr. Meng Park, we have her.”

  Stunned, Osberg said, “Jeff, this changes everything.”

  Chapter 65

  “All lines are released,” Yuri announced as he reentered the Lian’s bridge from an aft passageway. He had spent the past ten minutes jettisoning the ship’s mooring lines, allowing the hawsers to dangle from the pier’s bollards and cleats.

  “Great,” Jeff Chang said. He had stayed behind to monitor radio traffic and keep an eye on Meng Park and the Lian’s engineer.

  “Hear anything?” Yuri asked.

  “Just some chatter between what sounded like a couple of fishing boats working offshore.”

  “Okay, time for us to go.”

  Yuri, Jeff and the ship’s engineer assembled beside the Lian’s maneuvering console, which was adjacent to the helm.

  Yuri pointed to a dial like knob control on the panel. There was no nameplate under the knob. “I don’t trust this guy. Ask him to again verify that this really is the bow thruster. Impress him with what will happen if he’s lying.”

  Jeff withdrew the knife from his belt scabbard and placed the tip of the blade under the engineer’s chin. He applied pressure. The engineer stood on the tips of his toes.

  Jeff repeated Yuri’s question in Mandarin. The engineer responded, his voice stressed.

  With the knife still in place, Jeff said, “He claims it’s the bow thruster.”

  “We’ll see if he’s lying.” Yuri rotated the dial a quarter turn. There was no response at first but after half a minute the bow began to pivot away from the pier.

  “It’s working,” Yuri said.

  Jeff withdrew the knife. The engineer let out an audible sigh.

  “Put him back in the chair,” Yuri said.

  “Got it.”

  Yuri set the dual throttles to ten percent and dialed in a course on the autopilot control.

  At 2:55 A.M., the Lian eased away from the pier and headed toward the open waters of the South China Sea.

  While Yuri steered the ship, Jeff Chang grabbed his rucksack. He needed to provide Langley with an update. Just as he pulled back the sliding door to the port bridge wing, he spotted a pickup truck drive onto the pier. The ship was only a hundred feet away from the dock.

  Jeff watched as the passenger door flew open and a male raced to the edge of the pier, waving his hands wildly. He could hear the man’s shrill voice over the shipboard noise.

  “Oh shit!” Jeff muttered.

  Jeff Chang rejoined Yuri on the bridge. He whispered to Yuri, “An early arrival just showed up on the dock, one of the crew yelled for the boat to come back and pick him up.”

  Yuri glanced at the engineer, still planted in the captain’s chair. “He said they wouldn’t show up until six. That bastard lied to us.”

  “I know but what’s done is done. If we’re lucky, there’ll be some confusion for half an hour or so before they figure it out.”

  “Damn! All we needed was a couple hours head start.”

  “That’s gone now.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Let me think.”

  * * * *

  “We’re on our way,” Jeff Chang said, speaking into the handset of the satphone from the port bridge wing.

  “Where are you now?” Steve Osberg asked. After Jeff’s first call, Osberg had transferred to the CIA’s National Clandestine Service’s operations center in Langley. He used a speakerphone to take the call. A dozen other CIA officers and analysts supported Osberg in one of the center’s super-secret ops rooms; they all listened to Osberg’s conversation with their colleague in China. Multiple flat-panel screens filled the wall at the front of the room. The screens depicted maps, charts and aerial photos of Hainan Island, Sanya and the South China Sea.

  “We left the dock a few minutes ago. Heading southwest.”

  Osberg gestured to a nearby technician. The woman raised both hands, presenting ten digits. “We’re ten minutes away from having live satellite video coverage. How many are aboard?”

  “Besides the two of us, we’ve got Meng, the ship’s engineer, and two crew plus a guard.”

  “What are you doing with them?”

  “Meng and the engineer are on the bridge with us, secure. The others are locked up in a shipping container near the stern.”

  “What about the weapon system? Can you get access to it?”

  “We opened one of the drums. Looks like a giant snake coiled up inside. Thing’s about a foot in diameter. Kirov said it will take major surgery to get inside it. Has some kind of flexible exterior armor.”

  “We need you to try your best to get the control module.”

  “I did take photos and I’ll upload them to you.”

  “Jeff, the photos are welcome but we need hardware.”

  “I read you, boss. Kirov said he’s going to give it a try after he works on our new out.”

  “What new out?’”

  “We were spotted just as we pulled away from the dock. Kirov thinks they’ll be on us within an hour.”

  “Dammit, Jeff! Can’t you switch to the RIB right now and make a run for it?”

  The original escape plan called for using the Lian to clear the harbor. Once in the open sea the ship’s autopilot would be set on a false heading. While the Lian charged southeastward toward the Philippines at flank, Yuri and Jeff with Dr. Meng would make a speed run to Da Nang aboard the ship’s tender. At thirty knots, the twenty-four foot rigid-hulled inflatable boat could comple
te the crossing in just under five hours.

  “The RIB’s still a possibility but Kirov thinks we’d be too vulnerable, even with its speed. The PLA will throw everything it has to get Meng back.”

  “Aircraft?”

  “Right, they won’t bother to send patrol boats or ships.”

  Osberg understood the threat. The PLA airbase at Fenghuang near Sanya had a squadron of fighters and helicopters. The PLA-Navy airbase at Lingshui on southern Hainan Island served as the headquarters for a fleet of naval patrol craft.

  Chang said, “Without the head start, Kirov says there won’t be enough time in the RIB to make it to shore. A chopper or jet will find us first. That’s why he’s opting for Plan B, and I agree with him.”

  “Plan B—explain.”

  Jeff spent the next few minutes doing so.

  * * * *

  Once again, Meng Park had observed the pirates’ ruthlessness. Terrorizing the engineer and gaining control of the ship was bad enough. But it was the equipment the Asian accessed that now horrified Meng.

  They know what they’re doing.

  After the ship was underway, the Asian brute relocated to a bridge wing, hauling his backpack. The other thug stayed behind, monitoring the ship’s progress. Through a tempered glass panel in the bridge door, Meng watched the Asian remove the compact portable satellite phone. After deploying the antenna, he aimed it skyward and dialed the handset.

  The communications device was far more sophisticated than the run of the mill commercially produced satphone.

  They must be military!

  Meng Park closed her eyes and bowed her head. She prayed to the Buddhist divinity Guanyin—the goddess of mercy. Twenty miles west of the Lian’s position, along Hainan Island’s southern shore, a spectacular 354 foot tall statue of the idol overlooked the South China Sea.

  Park pleaded for rescue by Zhou Jun before the devils could complete their criminal work.

  Chapter 66

  Yuri Kirov was in the pilot’s seat inside the six foot diameter transparent sphere. He was more than impressed with the submersible. The Xiu Shan’s construction was top notch and it appeared to be equipped with the latest navigation, sonar and communications equipment. His principle concern centered on the gauges and instruments; all of the cockpit nameplates were marked with Mandarin characters. The actual numerical readouts, however, were in standard English digital format. So far, he had identified the depth and speed gauges as well as the air supply and battery life readouts. He currently searched for the ballast controls but no joy yet.

  Yuri checked his watch: 3:35 A.M. He decided to deal with the controls when Chang was available to translate.

  Yuri exited the acrylic pressure hull through the top hatch and climbed down to the Lian’s deck. The submersible was parked inside a hangar located forward of the stern deck. The hangar was large enough to house two minisubs but the Xiu Shan was alone. It rested on its launching cradle over the starboard set of tracks. Earlier, Yuri had spotted the sub through the open hangar door.

  Yuri examined the parallel tracks that extended aft to the ship’s stern. Steel wheels from the Xiu Shan’s cradle rode atop twin recessed rails.

  It took a minute to locate the hangar control panel. After a brief trial and error process, Yuri found the right controls to the cradle’s electric drive system. He backed the submersible out of the hangar, stopping the Xiu Shan next to the Viperina canisters. Yuri looked up, studying the overhead A-frame hoist system.

  Okay, now how do I get this thing in the water?

  * * * *

  After planting a mine at its third target, the Colorado was on its way to the next subsea Viper station when the radio room received a bell ringer ELF (extremely low frequency) radio message. The submarine ascended to a shallower depth where it deployed a floating wire antenna that intercepted a VLF (very low frequency) radio message from Pearl Harbor.

  The orders were delivered to Commander Bowman. He was in the wardroom with executive officer Jenae Mauk. They were alone.

  After speeding through a printed copy of the dispatch from COMSUBPAC, Bowman turned toward the XO. “We need to return to Hainan at best possible speed.”

  Commander Mauk cast a questioning gaze.

  Bowman said, “The two ‘guests’ we left behind have been busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Sounds like they jumped into the proverbial briar patch. And now they need us to pull ’em out.”

  * * * *

  “What do you mean it’s gone?” demanded Captain Zhou from his apartment bedroom. He was in bed with his cell phone pasted to an ear, irritated at the unexpected wake-up call from the S5 duty officer.

  “One of the crew arrived at the pier an hour ago. He said he wanted to board early. But the boat was sailing away with all of the mooring lines left hanging from the dock.”

  Zhou checked the clock of the stand next to the bed: 3:55 A.M. “The ship isn’t supposed to depart until ten hundred.”

  “I understand, sir. The crewman thought he had the departure time wrong. He ended up calling his supervisor who was still at his home, like most of the crew. That’s when they knew something was wrong. Eventually, the supervisor called the ship’s captain. He called the Shendao base where his call was finally routed to me.”

  “They left the mooring lines?” Normal procedure called for the lines to be hauled aboard and stowed on the ship.

  “Affirmative, dangling from the dock.”

  “Call Fenghuang. I want a helo on the pad fully crewed, fueled and armed, ready to go in thirty minutes.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  As Zhou walked to the bathroom for a quick shower, one thought dominated. It’s the Americans—they’re after Serpent.

  And then a new horror struck. Park!

  Chapter 67

  Yuri and Jeff were on the Lian’s aft deck adjacent to the Viperina canisters. The ship tracked southward at eighteen knots. After engaging the autopilot and checking radar for vessel traffic, Yuri accessed the ship’s master electrical panel. He switched off all exterior and interior lighting, including navigation lights. Yuri and Jeff relied on flashlights discovered in a bridge locker.

  Yuri turned and peered over the stern. Sanya glowed in the distance. “We don’t have much time left. They’ll be coming soon.”

  CIA officer Chang trained his light on the nearest canister. “I’ve got to at least try to get a piece of the damn thing.”

  “Five minutes and that’s it.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  Using a portable aluminum ladder found earlier inside the submersible hangar, Yuri and Jeff climbed onto the lids of the eight-foot-tall canisters. The closely spaced twin parallel rows of steel drums housed Vipers 1 to 6. Yuri carried a canvas bag stuffed with tools liberated from the ship’s workshop.

  The lid from one of the containers was already open from their first inspection. They knelt on the unopened drums next to it. Jeff reached inside and grabbed the exposed end of Viper 2 with both hands. He extracted several feet of the one-foot diameter tube.

  Yuri aimed his flashlight at the exposed section―the first coil of the eighty-two-foot-long weapon. He noted what appeared to be a cover plate within the first foot. “Looks like that might be an access panel.”

  “Right, this end probably has the computer in it.”

  Yuri reached forward and touched the main tube beyond the head. The exterior surface consisted of a transparent waterproof membrane that covered the cylindrical pressure casing. The casing consisted of inner connected metallic rings, each about two inches long. “Incredible,” Yuri said. “It’s metal but all of those joints make it flexible.”

  Jeff took a closer look. “Are the rings made of steel?”

  “Maybe. But if I had to guess, I’d say titanium. Stronger than steel but lighter. And titanium
is less magnetic than steel, which makes it harder to detect.”

  Jeff rotated the tube exposing the underside. “What do you think this is for?” he said gesturing to a two inch wide by one inch high bulge that appeared to run the length of the tube.

  Yuri homed in on the appendage, noting the continuous rows of metallic spikes laying flush inside the housing, like talons from a bird of prey. “Clever,” he said. “I think it’s a retractable grapple device. The tube wraps itself around a target and those spikes extend outward and grab hold.”

  “The gouges in the Tucson’s sail!”

  “Exactly.”

  “Wicked,” Jeff said.

  Yuri pointed his light into the interior of the five foot diameter barrel. The coils extended to the bottom. He looked back at Jeff. “I don’t see any indication of where the explosive charges are located.”

  “They must be inside the thing.”

  “That’s my assessment and that’s a problem for us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if we’re going to take a sample and we happen to cut the explosive by accident that could be very bad.”

  “I see your point, but Langley still needs a sample.”

  Yuri massaged the stubble on his chin. “Just the head only.”

  “Works for me.”

  Yuri reached into the tool bag and pulled out a hacksaw.

  * * * *

  Meng Park sat on the diamond plated steel deck. Her spine was propped against the shipping cradle that housed the replacement module for Viper Station 6.

  The Lian pulsed with energy. Moving at flank speed, the deck vibrated under Park’s buttocks with the frenzy of a washing machine on the spin cycle. The drone of the engines racing at peak output deep inside the hull masked sea sounds and the chatter between her captors. The two Americans were on top of the canisters, just above Meng.

  What are those devils doing now? she wondered.

  Dr. Meng’s wrists remained cabled behind her back. The Asian had also hobbled her ankles. And to prevent her from bunny hopping across the deck and leaping overboard in a suicide escape, the Asian-American had looped a rope around her waist and one of the cradle’s steel beams. He’d cinched it tight—too tight.