The Faithful Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  Chen turned to face Admiral Soo. “What about nuclear weapons? Would they dare bring them in on their ships?”

  “They could do that, especially aboard submarines and aircraft carriers.”

  Guo Wing rejoined the conversation, “Sir, we still don’t know for sure if the Americans will make such a bold move. They know what our reaction will be.”

  “Guo, how solid are your sources about what the Americans are up to?”

  “We have two independent agents reporting new contact between Washington and the scoundrels in Taipei. One is an SVR officer who is in our employ; the other is an American collaborator who has been working for the U.S. State Department for eighteen years. We rate both agents as highly creditable.”

  President Chen considered Guo’s comments. He rolled his chair back a few inches from the table and lit another cigarette. After taking a puff, he said, “We now have two separate sources that confirm the Americans and those Taipei dogs are meeting secretly. The nuclear weapons issue could be a bluff, but I can’t afford to take that chance.”

  Chen again addressed Admiral Soo. “Admiral, how soon can you implement Sea Dragon?”

  Soo scanned a document on the table. “We will need three weeks once we receive the proceed order.”

  “Consider this your authorization to proceed.”

  Chapter 32

  “Please summarize what you’ve found so far,” said Supervisory Special Agent Ava Diesen. She spoke into the speakerphone on her desk while seated in her office at FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C. It was sizzling outside this afternoon—upper nineties with ninety percent humidity.

  “Routine. She arrives at her office between eight thirty and nine and returns to her residence between six and seven.” Special Agent Michaela Taylor was calling in from her Seattle office. It was late morning in her time zone. Rain pelted the window next to her cubicle as a summer front raced through the Puget Sound region.

  “Has she had any contact with the subject Kirov?”

  “None. No phone calls, cell or land lines. No emails, texts, or social media messages.” Taylor coordinated the entire surveillance operation, even pulling occasional van duty at the Newman residence. Her own home was a short drive away in Issaquah.

  “How about her business—what’s it called?” asked Diesen.

  “Cognition Consultants. Nothing from his alias John Kirkwood or anything remotely linked to him.”

  “What does Cognition Consultants do?”

  Taylor checked her notes. “It’s a software company that specializes in analyzing Big Data. Uses artificial intelligence as part of its work. Makes a ton of money working for oil and gas exploration companies and recently branched out to assist power companies—something to do with electrical grids. Company headquarters are in Bellevue, Washington—near Seattle with a couple of branch offices.”

  “What does Newman do?”

  “She’s Senior VP of Operations—runs the technical stuff. Owns thirty-five percent of the company. Makes a couple mill a year.”

  “Public company?”

  “No, it’s private, but that might be changing. We’ve uncovered some internal email correspondence that suggests the company might go public. Cognition also has had several suitors trying to acquire the company.”

  “Michaela, what the heck is she doing with this Russian?”

  “I don’t know. Just doesn’t compute for me.”

  Diesen moved on. “What about the company Kirov works for…the underwater survey outfit? What’s the latest there?”

  “A number of incoming phone calls asking for Kirkwood but nothing from him. Also, a fair amount of incoming email traffic. All calls and emails are directed to someone named Bill Winters. He is NSD’s chief engineer.”

  “When a caller asks for Kirkwood, what are they told?

  “The receptionist’s standard line is something like this: ‘Mr. Kirkwood is out of the country on a family emergency and will be away several weeks. May I refer you to Bill Winters?’” Agent Taylor hesitated. “When a caller is directed to Winters, he repeats pretty much the same thing but when pressed admits that Kirkwood is in Denmark—his sister is ill.”

  “Well, that’s certainly BS. He’s not in Denmark, more like Moscow.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Diesen mulled over Taylor’s surveillance report on Laura Newman. “What about the house? Any interesting visitors?”

  “The nanny leaves in the early evening—she has a boyfriend who works at Microsoft. He has an apartment in Redmond. She spends a lot of time with the guy but manages to make it back to the Newman residence before seven o’clock in the morning.”

  “You check ’em out?”

  “Yep. They’re both legit.”

  Ava picked up a document from her desk. “I reread your contact report with the locals about the missing bodyguard…” Ava turned a page. “…Sarah Compton. Anything new about her?”

  “Nothing since I talked with the detective handling the case.”

  “Missing for four months now—she must be dead.”

  “I agree. Everything points to it.”

  “Why did Newman need a bodyguard?”

  “As best we can determine, there was a threat and Kirov arranged for her protection.”

  Diesen was perplexed at the report. “Newman claims she and her daughter were kidnapped and that this Kirkwood guy, aka Russian intelligence officer Yuri Kirov, paid the ransom without involving the police.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “That’s preposterous.”

  “It’s out there, all right.”

  “Okay, Taylor, thanks for the update. Keep monitoring. This case is high priority.”

  “Understood, ma’am, and will do.”

  * * * *

  “Sir, do you have a moment?”

  Nicolai Orlov looked up from his desk; he was in the middle of composing a report on his PC. Army Captain Oleg Babin stood in the doorway.

  “Come on in,” Nick said.

  The consulate’s security officer took a seat. It was late afternoon in Houston. Nick liked Babin. Confident but humble, the intelligence officer carried out his work with diligence and expedience.

  “What’s up?” Nick asked.

  “Ah, sir, something’s come up on the FBI issue.” The GRU officer squirmed in his seat, not at ease with the news he was about to divulge. “Moscow reports that the FBI is running a covert operation codenamed Red Rover.”

  Nick’s right eyebrow wrinkled but he remained silent.

  “As you suspected, the target of the operation is Captain-Lieutenant Kirov.”

  “Govnó,” Nick uttered.

  Babin continued, “One of our people in Homeland Security made the report.” Despite Washington’s Herculean efforts to weed out spies and turncoats, the American intelligence agencies remained infected.

  “What do they know?”

  “There’s a nationwide alert for him issued by the FBI.”

  “What about the mission Kirov is on now?”

  “The General Staff analyst who sent me the notice today indicated that at this point there is no reason to believe the FBI or other U.S. intelligence organizations know that Kirov has returned to Russia. It appears they believe he’s somewhere in the United States conducting a covert operation.”

  “Have they traced him here—to the consulate?”

  “We don’t know. The alert is all we have at this time.” The skin above the scar on Babin’s forehead involuntarily twitched. “The FBI might be monitoring to see if Kirov returns to the consulate. That assumes he was spotted here. Of course, we don’t know if that happened or not.”

  “Just assume they’ve been watching us twenty-four-seven—and the guest house, too.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nick reflected. “
Kirov might have been surveilled at the airport when he arrived here.”

  “That’s possible.”

  Nick turned away, peering out the office windows. Traffic on Interstate 610 crawled as commuters headed home. Babin waited for orders.

  Nick had kept Babin in the dark about Yuri’s previous activities in the Pacific Northwest but decided it was time bring him aboard.

  He turned back. “Captain, we need to find out just how far the FBI has managed to probe into Kirov’s activities while he was here.” Nick turned to his right to access the electronic file safe bolted to the floor behind his desk. After keying in the combination and pulling open the door, he retrieved a file folder and placed it on the desk.

  Nick opened the file and removed a color photograph. He held it up to Babin. “Her name is Laura Newman, and she lives in a suburb east of Seattle. Check with Moscow to see if she’s mentioned in Operation Red Rover. I need to know if she’s also on the FBI’s radar.”

  Babin studied the photo and was about to ask a question when Nick read his mind.

  “She’s Kirov’s lover—and someone who has helped us in the past.”

  “Obaldét”—Wow.

  Chapter 33

  Day 14—Saturday

  Elena Krestyanova was in the code room at the Vancouver trade mission. The compartment contained the latest communication equipment that provided secure comms with the homeland. The video image of her boss, SVR chief Borya Smirnov, filled the widescreen monitor mounted to a wall near the conference table. A high-definition camera adjacent to the screen transmitted Elena’s image and voice to a similar setup at Smirnov’s residence in Moscow.

  Elena briefed the SVR director on her interaction with Kwan Chi. “He clearly suffered severe injuries. Burns on his arms and a fractured leg. The burns are healing but remain painful. He uses a cane when walking.” Elena maintained digital eye contact with Smirnov. “He’s taking narcotics—oxytocin in particular.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I found the bottle in his bathroom.”

  “Continue, please.”

  “He’s back working at his real estate company. But I’m sure he’s not full-time.”

  “What about Kirov—did Kwan mention him?”

  “Only in passing, wondering if I’d heard anything.” Elena clasped her hands. “As you instructed, sir, I told him I had no information on Kirov.”

  “What about Orlov, was he mentioned?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And what about you? Have you had contact with Orlov since you left Moscow?”

  “No. Is there a problem?”

  Nick Orlov and Elena were past lovers; Nick turned in Elena to the SVR, accusing her of treason. Elena did not fault Nick for his actions, knowing he had no choice given the circumstances.

  “We have reason to believe Kwan may seek revenge against both Kirov and Orlov.”

  Elena chose not to respond. The spymaster moved on. “How did Kwan respond to the American situation?”

  “He was clearly agitated when I mentioned the meeting between the U.S. State Department and Taiwan. I believe it stunned him.”

  “Anything else?”

  “When the Spratly Islands came up that really upset him.”

  “The Americans ordering a warship to sail close to one of China’s artificial islands no doubt pissed ’em off again.”

  “I’m sure it did. There was a lot of media coverage about it when I was in Hong Kong. Mainland China considers Washington a meddler and wants the U.S. Navy out of East Asia.”

  “We are of the same opinion, but for different reasons.”

  “Of course, sir, I understand.”

  Smirnov quizzed Elena for several more minutes regarding her activities in Hong Kong before moving on to her stay in Vladivostok.

  Elena said, “I spent a couple of days reestablishing contacts with the trade office. Routine work.”

  “Was that all?”

  Elena’s heart fast-tracked, her mind raced. What’s that mean? And then she put it together. “I went out with a man I’d dated before.”

  “The naval officer?”

  How does he know that? “Ah, yes, Captain Seriyev.”

  There was no follow up question regarding the submarine squadron commander. Instead, Smirnov switched direction. “How have you been received in Vancouver?”

  Sensing risk, Elena ignored the question and backtracked. “Sir, there was one thing I overheard in Vladivostok that was surprising.”

  “Go on.”

  “I heard Captain Seriyev speaking on the phone in his apartment to someone I presume from his base. In the course of that conversation he mentioned the name Kirov.”

  “Captain-Lieutenant Yuri Kirov?”

  “I don’t know.” Elena’s response was truthful. During drinks with Seriyev at the officers’ club, she had made a subtle inquiry about Kirov but learned nothing.

  Elena remained fixated on the video screen. Smirnov stared back. Adrenaline surged into her bloodstream. She feared a trap.

  Director Smirnov said, “Kirov has defected to the United States.”

  Taken aback, Elena retained her poker face as Smirnov continued. “He disappeared a couple of weeks ago. He’s being interrogated by the FBI and CIA in Washington, D.C.”

  Elena unconsciously massaged her left shoulder as the bombshell reverberated. Kirov will burn me—my cover will be destroyed. “Sir, how much damage can he inflict on us?”

  “We’re assessing it now, but it’s likely to be severe.”

  The video conference concluded a minute later. Elena remained seated at the table, still reeling. Kirov defected—damn!

  She again kneaded the scar on her shoulder, thinking of the time bomb just under the skin. Stress fed the ache.

  They’re never going to let me go.

  SVR chief Smirnov ordered Elena to resume her activities in Vancouver. He offered no praise or criticism for her work with Kwan Chi. With her options narrowing by the day, Elena sensed impending doom.

  It’s just a matter of time and then they’ll get rid of me.

  * * * *

  After speaking with Elena, Borya Smirnov again reviewed the daily digital summaries of her whereabouts for the past week. Fear worked wonders. The tracking system duly reported Elena’s GPS coordinates. The radio frequency identification chip embedded in her clavicle responded to hourly inquiries from the special cell phone she carried around the clock. Elena followed all protocols requiring advance notice of air travel or other excursions beyond her assigned areas of operation that might interfere with the hourly updates that kept her alive.

  But it was bogus. There was no vial of poison attached to the stainless-steel plate pinning her collarbone together. The item Smirnov pointed to on her X-rays when perpetuating the hoax contained the RFID tag but nothing else.

  So far, Elena Krestyanova had toed the line. And she passed the Kirov test.

  The voice-activated “bug” in Captain Seriyev’s apartment recorded Elena’s post-sex breakfast talk with Seriyev in its entirety, including his one-way telephone conversation with the sub base commander when Kirov’s name was mentioned.

  Elena’s verbal briefing matched the surveillance recording. Had she not voluntarily mentioned overhearing Kirov’s name, Smirnov was prepared to address the issue directly. The SVR director typed a command on his desktop PC, opening a Windows folder. He clicked on a file name. A color image of the official Russian Navy photograph of Yuri Kirov filled his LCD monitor.

  Smirnov stared at the image. Soon, he thought.

  Kirov was part of his grand plan. The rumor was already in the works. An SVR plant assigned to the Indian embassy in Singapore started the ball rolling the previous day. During a diplomatic reception at the embassy, she casually mentioned to her PRC counterpart the buzz about a Russian d
efection to the USA. No names were mentioned, only that the party involved was a submarine officer.

  Beijing must know by now.

  A turncoat Russian naval officer was big news in the diplomatic world. The rumor that the officer in question was a submariner would jolt the intelligence community. Submarine espionage represented the pinnacle of naval intelligence operations.

  They will contact Kwan soon.

  As in his own country, the SVR chief expected the defection news would pass instantly from diplomatic channels to the senior military echelon. Seeking confirmation, the People’s Liberation Army-Navy would utilize its intelligence assets to mount an investigation. Eventually, those efforts would involve the MSS and Kwan Chi.

  He will put it together.

  A Russian naval officer assigned to submarines who defected to the USA—there was only one possibility for Kwan.

  Kirov will be the trigger.

  SVR Director Smirnov speculated that Kwan loathed Yuri Kirov for thwarting the PRC’s plan to generate a war between Russia and the United States. If the Americans believed defector Kirov’s account, China’s treachery would soon be on full display to the world. Without a shot fired, weapons of ridicule, disdain and revulsion would eviscerate China’s prestige and prowess, rendering it an international pariah. It might take a decade of reconciliation and kowtowing to recover its once-robust economy and budding superpower status.

  Smirnov knew it was a decade the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China could not afford to lose. A rollback of China’s growth could trigger rebellion. With about half of its 1.4 billion living a marginal or subsistence lifestyle and the rising specter that a majority of those on the other side of poverty equation might roll back into that abyss, civil unrest on an untold scale was just around the corner. It was a scenario China’s Communist Party could never survive. Kwan will reach out to Elena.

  Elena Krestyanova had originally injected Yuri Kirov into Beijing’s plan to spark a war between Russia and the United States. Director Smirnov now expected Kwan would contact Elena, seeking confirmation of Kirov’s defection.

  He will believe her.