The Faithful Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  “I know, sir. When on stealth mode, the sonar operates at an ultralow power level and mimics indigenous biological activity of the target waters. The software can cloak the signal with over a dozen species, ranging from whales to dolphins.”

  “The Germans are very clever.”

  “They sure are.” Lieutenant Tumanov turned toward Yuri. “Sir, how did we get this equipment, you know, with all of the sanctions?”

  “I have no idea. Did you ask Maranovich?”

  “He didn’t know either, only that Fleet had the equipment installed and we were ordered to test it.”

  “Well, that’s not for us to be concerned with. What counts is that the new sonar works exceptionally well and it might be the key factor to the success of our mission.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  After meeting with Tumanov, Yuri disembarked the P-815 and headed back to the main administration building. As he walked alone, he considered Lieutenant Tumanov’s inquiry about how the Russian Navy managed to obtain the cutting-edge German sonar system. Two scenarios came to mind—bribery or theft. The GRU or SVR paid off someone to get around the sanctions—that makes the most sense.

  He was right.

  Chapter 29

  “Subject exited from five twenty and is now southbound on East Lake Sammamish Parkway. ETA is seven minutes.”

  “Follow until she turns down the driveway. We’ll take it from there.”

  “Roger that.”

  After returning the radio handset to its receptacle, the seasoned professional sitting at a compact table in the cargo compartment of the Chevy van keyed her laptop. The command activated the street camera feed. It was 4:23 P.M.

  “She’s coming home early today,” announced FBI Special Agent Michaela Taylor. Nearing forty, Michaela retained her good looks with black hair that just brushed her shoulders, a pleasing smile, and generous curves that filled out her gray pantsuit. Divorced three years, she had custody of her two daughters.

  “Something must be going on.” Special Agent Todd Rossi sat opposite a console packed with electronic hardware. Built like a fireplug, he was a month shy of thirty and single.

  Both agents turned to eye the widescreen flat panel LCD video display mounted to the side wall of the van. There was no vehicle traffic on the narrow tree-lined asphalt paved roadway, but a couple of preteens on bicycles pedaled by the telephone pole that housed the surveillance camera. Disguised to simulate telephone equipment, the hi-def camera produced vivid imagery.

  Five minutes passed before the sedan appeared on the screen. “Here she comes,” Taylor announced.

  The silver BMW slowed and, with a signal flasher activated, turned onto the private driveway that led down the hillside.

  “That’s a nice ride she has,” Rossi said.

  “Indeed.”

  “She must be loaded.”

  “Yep, no doubt about that.” Sitting on the table at Agent Taylor’s side was a three-ring binder full of background data on the target. For the past several days, she had immersed herself in Laura Newman’s life. To say she was impressed with Newman was an understatement. Michaela was in awe of Laura’s accomplishments—summa cum laude computer engineering graduate of Caltech, chief operating officer of a world class IT company, board member of three philanthropic foundations, and mother of a one-year-old—all at the age of thirty-three.

  There were blemishes in the binder’s documents. Abused by her husband, Laura called it quits about a year earlier. The divorce decree indicated that Ken Newman never made any court appearances and his current whereabouts remained unknown. An attorney representing the family of a missing bodyguard assigned to protect Laura Newman had recently sent an inquiry to the Seattle Field Office. Sarah Compton had been missing for several months now. What was that about?

  Most disturbing of all was the impetus that convinced the United States Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court of Review in D.C. to issue a blanket FISA—Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act—warrant regarding the Newman residence, Cognition Consultants and Northwest Subsea Dynamics. Under the guise of national security, the FBI was authorized to surveil and obtain evidence regarding a Russian naval intelligence officer who managed a high-tech marine company owned by Laura Newman—and who also shared her bed. That made her a likely security risk. Laura’s name was added to the target list, along with the names of key personnel at Cognition and NSD picked up in the wire taps.

  FBI headquarters also issued a nationwide BOLO—Be On (the) Look Out—for Yuri Kirov. The notice included his Washington State driver’s license photo.

  The integrated FBI investigation of Yuri Kirov and Laura Newman was code named Red Rover.

  Agent Taylor again keyed her laptop. A new image appeared on the video screen. The BMW Seven Series drove into the center stall of the three-car garage and stopped.

  When Laura opened the trunk and removed a shopping bag, Michaela entered another command and the magnified image snapped into focus. “Looks like she went shopping.”

  “Yep,” Rossi replied, eyeing the same image.

  Michaela focused on the image of the bag Laura removed from the trunk. “Nordstrom. She must have visited Belle Square today.” She referred to the upscale shopping mall in downtown Bellevue near Laura’s office building.

  Agent Rossi checked his computer. “You’re right. She left the building at one thirty-seven on foot. Visited the mall for about thirty minutes and returned. Says here she purchased a pair of shoes. Sam Edelman three-inch Tia ankle strap pumps—whatever those are.”

  Nice, thought Michaela. She needed a new pair herself.

  Michaela again worked the laptop keyboard. The monitor split into eight equal-size view screens, one for each camera installed inside the residence.

  “The nanny and kid are still in the living room,” Rossi reported.

  Michaela watched as Laura walked through the kitchen, leaving her shopping bag on the counter. She entered the living room. Amanda sat on a sofa by the window wall. Madelyn played on the carpet beside the couch, cooing to a stuffed bear almost her size.

  “Turn the sound on,” Michaela ordered.

  “Got it.”

  Michaela watched as Laura scooped up Maddy. “Hi, sweet pea!” Laura said. “I missed you!”

  Special Agent Michaela Taylor shook her head, bewildered.

  Just who are you?

  Chapter 30

  Day 13—Friday

  Captain-Lieutenant Yuri Kirov stood in the narrow observation well atop the sail of the P-815 as it powered across Avacha Bay. Mount Koryasky towered in the background. The skies were clear today.

  The minisub’s operating crew was below. There was no need—or room—for the typical three to four watch standers to man the sail, scanning the surrounding waters with binoculars. Instead, the HD camera mounted on the mast that extended seven feet above Yuri’s head provided the P-815’s pilot with a sweeping 270-degree view of the approaching waters. The real-time images filled the main monitor of the pilot’s control panel. A second camera and monitor system viewed the aft deck of the submarine. Yuri wanted a breath of fresh air and ascended the fin’s internal hatchway. The P-815 headed toward its home berth at the Rybachiy submarine base. The training exercise had gone well. After departing from the harbor, the midget cruised eastward for six miles and descended to a depth of three hundred feet. It took just over three hours to sneak back into Avacha Bay, defeating the two antisubmarine warfare patrol craft assigned to guard the harbor entrance and an acoustic sensor planted on the bottom. The submersible’s stealth was excellent, but it was the decoy Yuri deployed that made the difference. Designed to mimic the acoustic sound print of a minisub, the decoy soon attracted the hunters’ attention. They locked onto the decoy’s scent and hounded it with sonar pings. The robot executed evasive measures, leading the ASW ships on the proverbial wild goose chase. All th
e while, the P-815 slipped into the harbor entrance without notice by the patrol craft. It also avoided triggering an intruder alert from the seabed acoustic monitoring device. So far so good.

  The decoy worked and the midget’s crew demonstrated competency. But is it enough?

  Defeating the patrol craft and sensors guarding the Chinese harbor facilities would require other measures. He’d been thinking about the problem since the briefing in Vladivostok. The brainstorm hit the previous evening, while he rested on the bed in his quarters. Before the test cruise, he made a couple of email inquiries to colleagues on the west coast of Russia.

  Yuri checked his wristwatch. 16:35 hours. It was still early in the morning at the St. Petersburg naval base. After the P-815 docked, he would check his secure email using the code room at the base. If there were no responses, he would start working the phone, using the scrambler unit in the code room. As the minisub turned and made its final approach to the Rybachiy base, Yuri sensed he was on the right track.

  Remoras and Crawlerbots—they just might be the key!

  Chapter 31

  It was early afternoon at the Ministry of National Defense headquarters building in western Beijing. The Central Military Commission meeting had started ten minutes earlier. The CMC was responsible for the command and control of the People’s Liberation Army. Twelve men and three women sat around the U-shaped table in the secure conference room. Just one participant occupied the center of the table. The others sat in flanking chairs. All but three attendees wore uniforms. An enormous flat panel screen occupied a wall opposite the open end of the table. A color map of China’s coastline filled the video display. Admiral Soo Xiao stood next to the screen. He served as Vice-Chairman of the CMC as well as Chief of Staff of the People’s Liberation Army-Navy. At fifty-eight, Soo was one of the oldest in the room. He maintained a trim build that reflected regular exercise, healthy eating habits, moderate drinking, and complete distain for cigarette smoke.

  “Mr. President,” Soo said, addressing the occupant of the center table, “as you directed we are now carefully and quietly pre-positioning our forces in preparation for the resumption of Operation Sea Dragon. The North Sea Fleet is replenishing at Qingdao after sea trials.” He used a handheld laser pointer to illuminate Qingdao. Bordering the Yellow Sea, Qingdao was the largest city in Shandong Province. Admiral Soo moved the pointer to the center of the map, identifying Ningbo. “Our East Sea Fleet continues to prepare for the scheduled war game.” Ningbo was on the coastline of northern Zhejiang Province. China’s top military officer pointed to the bottom of the map, highlighting Zhanjiang City and adjacent Hainan Island. “And lastly, our South Sea Fleet is standing by in Zhanjiang and Yulin, waiting for the go-code.” Zhanjiang served as the South Sea Fleet’s headquarters. Yulin was China’s newest naval base located at the southern tip of Hainan Island. The huge island bordered the South China Sea.

  “Admiral, you know the Americans are watching everything we do.” Chen Shen, the President of the People’s Republic of China, general secretary of the Communist Party, Chairman of the Central Military Commission, and First-ranked member of the Politburo Standing Committee, was fifty-six. A dark suit draped his trim, tall frame. He gestured at the video screen from the center of the table, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. “How will they not pick up the threat?”

  Soo rubbed an ear. “For certain, Mr. President, they are surveilling our military assets, surface vessels, and submarines, as well as land-based aircraft. That is to be expected.” Soo keyed the pointer, advancing to a new PowerPoint slide. An aerial photograph of Shanghai filled the screen. “What they will not be expecting is the conversion process for the commercial vessels.” He pointed the laser at the screen, identifying half a dozen hulls, each in excess of a thousand feet long. “The work is complete. Each vessel can accommodate 15,000 troops.”

  The president looked pleased with the deception. Two years earlier, China had announced to the shipbuilding world that it was embarking on a new policy to promote tourism for its citizenry. A dozen cruise ships, designed to meet the needs of China’s burgeoning middle class, would be constructed. The plan was to promote tourism within its own waters with its own floating palaces instead of relying on established international cruise lines. The plan was true to a point. However, prior to turning over the first six completed ships to the government-controlled agency sponsoring the project, the builders were required to give first dibs to the PLA.

  The admiral continued his presentation. “If authorized, Sea Dragon would commence at the conclusion of a pre-scheduled war game in the South China Sea, code named Stalking Tiger.”

  A new slide filled the screen featuring the 250-mile long by eighty-mile wide island of Taiwan—aka the Republic of China—and the coast of mainland China. Separating the rebellious enclave from its parent nation was the hundred-mile wide Taiwan Strait.

  Soo aimed the laser pointer at the center of the Taiwan Strait opposite Taipei. Serving as the ROC’s capital, Taipei was located at the northern end of Taiwan. “After completing Stalking Tiger, the North and East Sea Fleets will begin their return voyage to their homeports. Once the bulk of the ships arrive offshore of Taipei, Sea Dragon will commence with a lightning missile attack from our land bases in Nanjing and Guangzhou. Approximately 5,000 weapons will be released in the first hour.”

  The slide advanced to a gif video that depicted a barrage of missile arcs originating from mainland China and converging on targets from one end of Taiwan to the other. “After the missile strike, coordinated attacks by mainland-based aircraft and naval units from the North and East Sea Fleets will commence.”

  Calculated to obliterate airbases, surface-to-air defenses, and military command and control infrastructure, the initial sneak attack would be followed by targeted bombing of naval and army facilities. Coinciding with the bombing campaign, airborne forces, 20,000 strong, would parachute into key coastal areas to secure port and harbor facilities. Naval special operators inserted by submarine would support the paratroopers. Later the same day, the main force of 150,000, escorted by naval units from Stalking Tiger, would cross the strait aboard a flotilla of commercial vessels—container ships, break-bulk cargo carriers, and the commandeered troop-laden passenger liners. The South Sea Fleet would remain at sea in the South China Sea as a reserve force to support the invasion if needed. Its principal purpose, however, would be to intimidate the Americans should they rush to Taiwan’s defense. The invasion planners estimated it would take the People’s Liberation Army ten days to secure Taiwan, at last returning the rebel providence to the homeland. The CMC had reviewed the attack plan on numerous occasions before so there were few questions, all related to timing issues. President Chen thanked Soo and the admiral returned to his chair.

  Chen moved on, addressing one of the PLA officers. “General Sun, please provide us with your report.”

  Lieutenant General Sun Jin stood and faced President Chen. His uniform jacket bristled with ribbons. “Sir, I would like to introduce Colonel Eng.” The deputy chief of the GSD’s Second Department—military intelligence—gestured to the female sitting at his side. “She is responsible for Taiwan and with your permission will provide the Second Department’s report.”

  “Proceed,” Chen said.

  Sun returned to his seat and Colonel Eng Hu stood. Forty-six-years old, Eng was single—wedded lockstep to her career. She spoke five languages fluently. Her straight black hair just brushed the collar of her uniform jacket. At five-foot eleven with a rail frame, she was taller than most of the men in the room. The spectacles she wore hardly detracted from her lovely face.

  “Comrade President,” Eng said, meeting her leader’s eyes, “our operatives in Taipei have not detected any changes in military preparedness. The Air Force continues to run routine sorties over the ocean but avoids the Taiwan Strait. Patrol watercraft run surveillance operations near shore around the entire island.” />
  “What about the Americans?”

  “Nothing new from our last meeting. Routine visits from U.S. Navy ships, taking on fuel and supplies. Occasional aircraft landings, ferrying military personnel to and from the United States.”

  “Have your people observed any new equipment or troops on the island?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Hmmm.” President Chen directed his attention to the Deputy Director of Operations for the Ministry of State Security. “Guo, you are the one who sounded the alarm. What about Eng’s report? She says nothing is going on.”

  The plump and balding spymaster sat to the left of the president, several chairs away. The tan summer suit he wore contrasted sharply with the green and brown uniforms of the PLA general officers sitting on his sides. Prepared for the inquiry, Guo Wing said, “I think that’s good news, sir. They have not yet moved any weapons onto the island. That will make it simpler for us.”

  “We could be getting played here.”

  “It’s possible, but we now have another confirming source. I received the report last night from our embassy in Washington.”

  The president’s eyebrows furrowed at the news.

  Guo continued, “Our operative in the State Department reported that the deputy secretary for Asian Affairs met secretly with those Taipei dogs in Honolulu.”

  “When?”

  “Last week.”

  “What was the meeting’s purpose?”

  “Defense of Taiwan.”

  President Chen muttered a curse. “What about stationing of ships?”

  “That is unclear at this point. However, the meeting was held at the Pacific Fleet headquarters in Pearl Harbor.”

  “The swine—they must be preparing to stage American ships at their port facilities.”

  “That is a real possibility, Comrade President.”