The Good Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  * * *

  Clad in orange coveralls, Ken Newman sat shackled to a chair inside a holding cell at the Whatcom County Courthouse.

  After waiting in the Point Roberts holding cell all day Sunday, Ken and his tattooed cellmate were transported Monday afternoon by a U.S. Coast Guard launch to Blaine and then by a sheriff’s van to Bellingham. The two prisoners separated upon arrival at the Whatcom County jail. Ken had not seen the man since.

  Ken’s mid-morning bail hearing just finished. Had his case been a simple DUI, he would have been able to post bail with the cash he had on hand. But the judge did not take kindly to the battery charge, especially since the victim with the fractured jaw wore a deputy sheriff’s badge.

  The judge set the bail at one hundred thousand dollars with the trial in three weeks.

  A bail bondsman would charge a 10 percent premium upfront plus Ken would have to provide collateral for the balance of the bond. Without Laura’s income, he barely kept his head above water. It had been a tough year for commercial real estate.

  How would he ever make bail? And how would he ever get back to Bellevue in time? He had a must-attend luncheon with his boss and a new client the following day.

  * * *

  It had been a dicey thirty-two hours for the Barrakuda. Both aircraft and surface vessels prowled the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The submarine eluded the pursuers by following the reverse course of Backdoor.

  Well beyond American and Canadian territorial waters, the Barrakuda crossed the continental shelf. The deep waters of the North Pacific lay ahead.

  Captain Antipov had no alternative but to retreat. An hour after the Ava Jane’s crew sighted the periscope, the Barrakuda’s sonar unit detected the drone of a low-flying aircraft circling overhead. Suspecting a P-3C Orion from nearby NAS Whidbey, Antipov took evasive action. Confirmation came ten minutes later when sonar detected the telltale entry splash of the first of ten sonobuoys. The underwater microphones could listen for submarines and radio their findings back to the aircraft for analysis.

  Moscow’s orders were clear: If detected, abort the rescue mission and exit hostile waters.

  The Barrakuda would head west for two hundred kilometers. Antipov would then send a burst radio transmission to Petropavlovsk reporting the incident and requesting new orders.

  CHAPTER 32

  DAY 10—WEDNESDAY

  “That’s fantastic news, Stephan,” Yuri said, speaking into the telephone handset. “Thank Yakov for me. What an excellent idea.”

  “I will.”

  Yuri sat in the captain’s chair of the Sea Ray, which was moored to the Neva’s VLF buoy. Laura stood at his side. It was a few minutes before one o’clock in the morning.

  Engineer Yakov’s hybrid plumbing worked. The extra flotation elevated the hull a few inches within the muck that gripped the outer casing. In that critical boundary layer near the starboard reactor’s main seawater intake, uncontaminated water flowed into the heat exchangers. Already, power output had increased by 20 percent and heat finally returned to the interior. To the crew, it was near miraculous.

  “Can you pump some more air into number two?” Yuri asked, winking at Laura in the process.

  “We tried that but there was no change.”

  “Must be surging through the opening.”

  “That’s our conclusion, too.”

  “What are your compressed air reserves like?”

  “We still have about forty percent.”

  “I wouldn’t release any more gas. You’re going to need it later.”

  “I concur.”

  “You know,” Yuri said, “if we could somehow seal up Compartment Two, we might be able to evacuate it.”

  “But we have no access.”

  “I know, but if it’s just an open bulkhead door, maybe we could figure out how to secure it.”

  By a process of elimination, Borodin and Kirov had speculated that the most probable route for the flooding of Compartment Two was either a rupture in the bulkhead that separated the first and second compartments or an open bulkhead door.

  Borodin replied, “For all we know the door could have been blown off its hinges.”

  “Yes, that’s probably what happened.” Still, Yuri had doubts.

  “What’s the latest on the rescue?”

  “I have no details yet.”

  “What’s taking so long?”

  “I expect Moscow is having trouble moving equipment and personnel into the area. This place I’m at—Point Roberts—it has its own border station. There are American federal agents just a couple of kilometers from where I’m hiding.”

  “Chyort!” Damn. Borodin said, “What about Vancouver?”

  “I either talk with them on the phone, but that’s limited because of security issues, or they come here and we meet.”

  “When are you supposed to hear from them?”

  “I’ll call Major Orlov later this morning. I should have more information for you tomorrow.”

  “Yuri, even with the improved power situation we’re still critical here. We’ve got to get our men off this boat—soon!”

  “I understand. I won’t let you down.”

  * * *

  The Sea Ray headed back to Point Roberts. Yuri had the helm; Laura remained at his side. He told her the news. “They used a heating vent to pump compressed air into the second compartment. It expanded a leftover gas bubble, which made the boat slightly more buoyant.”

  “And that raised the intake out of the mud?”

  “Yes, it wasn’t much, just ten to twenty centimeters, but that was enough to improve flow to the heat exchangers.”

  “That’s fantastic!”

  “Yes, it helps. They can now power up the ship’s heating system; they’ve been freezing. And with the extra power, they can make oxygen and water, too.”

  “That must be a huge relief,” Laura said.

  “It is but it’s not enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The improved life support systems will help, but the men are still depressed. They’re slowly going crazy.”

  “What can you do to help?”

  “Without equipment and support, I can’t do anything.”

  Laura glanced through the windscreen. The distant blinking red light marked the marina’s breakwater. She faced Yuri. “Just what kind of equipment do you need?”

  “To help the crew?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right now, I’d just settle for some remotely operated gear that would allow me to check over the damaged area of the hull.”

  “Be more specific, exactly what type of equipment?”

  He spent the next two minutes being specific.

  “Where would one find that kind of system?” Laura asked as she peered forward, monitoring the approaching marking light.

  “Gulf of Mexico for sure.”

  “How about the Northwest, Seattle, maybe even Vancouver?”

  “I don’t know—I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Who would we need to call to find out?”

  Yuri turned to his left. Just enough reflected light from the instrument panel revealed the gleam in her eyes. “Laura, what do you have in mind?”

  * * *

  Nick Orlov and Elena Krestyanova sat at the conference table inside the Trade Mission’s code room. It was mid-morning. With white walls, no windows, and just one steel door with rubber seals on all edges, the room presented a sterile surgical environment. Embedded within the walls, floor and ceiling, were grids of copper. When electrified the mesh defeated eavesdropping devices. The speakerphone centered on the tabletop linked the operatives via secure military satellite to their boss.

  “I want you to bring him out now,” ordered the chief of the SVR from his Moscow office. His flat monotone voice resulted from the encryption system used to make the secure satellite phone call.

  “But, sir, I don’t think he’ll come.” Orlov paused. “He’s fiercely loyal to his crewmates.”
<
br />   “I don’t care. It’s far too dangerous for him to remain there any longer. If he’s picked up by the Americans, who knows what he might reveal?”

  “Sir,” Elena said, “I agree with Major Orlov. Kirov will not leave voluntarily. He’s expecting help from the Navy and has made it quite clear to us that until his men are rescued, he’s staying put.”

  The chief of foreign intelligence operations replied, “There will be no help from the Navy or from any other source.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nick said. “We were told that there had been a change in plans but that a rescue mission was still under way and I so informed Kirov when we last talked.”

  “I can’t give you the details, but the rescue mission has been terminated.”

  “But what about the survivors?” Elena asked.

  “The decision has been made at the highest level that the crew is expendable.”

  Nicolai and Elena sat in stunned silence.

  Nick finally said, “Sir, what are we supposed to do if Kirov refuses to leave?”

  “That’s your problem. I want him out of there immediately. Do you understand?”

  Elena and Nick met each other’s eyes and collectively answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  A squelch of static erupted from the speaker. Elena reached forward and switched it off.

  Nick muttered, “Duráks.” Fools.

  “There must be something else going on,” Elena offered.

  Nick continued his rant. “They’re just a pile of “kakáshkas.” Turds.

  * * *

  The SVR chief had similar thoughts to those of Orlov and Krestyanova. Yet, like his two field officers in Vancouver, he had to follow orders, as disgusting as they were.

  The decision came from the top. The president and the prime minister were too preoccupied with the crisis in the Southern Kurils to worry about the Neva’s crew.

  The Project Vega analysts speculated that if the United States discovered another Russian spy submarine deep inside its territorial waters after having just chased out the Barrakuda, it would provide the excuse for the Americans to transform the Deep Blue war game into a full-scale invasion of the Southern Kurils.

  The executive decision process had excluded input from the Navy. Failure of the Barrakuda’s mission provided the excuse for Russia’s intelligence services to reinstate control of the “rescue” mission. The Pacific Fleet received orders to stand down. Operatives within the FSB’s military spy group kept close tabs on the Navy to make sure it complied.

  CHAPTER 33

  “How difficult is it to operate?” asked Laura. This was her fifth call. The lead came from Craigslist.com.

  “That’s right,” Laura continued. “The depth is around seven hundred feet.

  “I’m not sure, hang on a minute.” Laura looked at Yuri. “They want to know the maximum current it will have to operate in.”

  Yuri sat at the opposite end of the kitchen table. “Three knots.”

  Laura spoke into her cell, “Max of three knots.

  “Good, so how do I rent one?”

  Laura listened for half a minute and said, “You mean we have to have your people operate the system?”

  Yuri shook his head. Laura signaled her understanding.

  “No, we can’t do that. But what if we came to your office and hired you to certify us for its use, would that work?”

  As Laura listened to the reply, she pursed her lips.

  “Okay, I see where you’re coming from. Because of the nature of our project we just can’t do that.”

  Yuri slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling . Another dead end!

  “So if we can’t rent it for solo use, how much if we buy it?”

  That captured Yuri’s attention. She had not asked that question before.

  “That’s right, the whole system, cable, monitor, controls—the works.

  “Hmm, that is expensive.” She ran a hand through her hair while thinking ahead. “You’re sure it’s available right now, not sitting on some dock in Hong Kong?

  “Yes, that’s right; we’d come down and pick it up.”

  Yuri now stood, waving his arms, trying to get Laura’s attention. She ignored him.

  “Okay, for that price I’m definitely interested, providing you give us personal instruction on its use.

  “In the water? Yes, of course.

  “That’s right; we won’t buy it unless you show us how it works. You pick somewhere down there but it has to be realistic.

  “Electronic transfer of the funds, yes, I can do that.

  “Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow morning by one. So just how do I get there?”

  Laura ended the call and addressed Yuri: “Great news! They have a small one. It’s used but reconditioned. They used it to inspect underwater pipelines. Has a maximum operating depth of a thousand feet. They won’t rent it but they will sell it. Forty thousand for everything: the unit itself, fifteen hundred feet of cable on a reel, plus a video monitor and a recorder.”

  “It’s in Seattle?”

  “Yeah, some place on the Duwamish River.” She glanced down at her notes. “South of downtown. It shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

  “How do we get it?”

  “You don’t, I do—unless you want to risk the border crossings.”

  “But how will I learn to use it? This equipment is complicated, even a small one.”

  “I’ll learn. Part of the deal. The owner’s going to take the unit out on a boat and provide me with half a day of instructions. Then I’ll teach you.”

  “But the price!” Yuri clenched his jaw. “It’s such an enormous amount—how will you do that?”

  Laura grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

  Yuri moved to her side of the table, dragging his left leg. He steadied himself and dropped onto his knees.

  Laura’s forehead wrinkled. “Yuri, what are you—”

  He embraced her right hand with his own hands and said, “Laura Newman, you are truly an amazing person. On behalf of the crew of the Neva and myself, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  He kissed the back of her hand.

  CHAPTER 34

  Elena Krestyanova and Nicolai Orlov sat inside the Suburban. They were parked in a lot on the western shore of the marina in Point Roberts.

  “Where is Yuri?” Elena asked in Russian. She occupied the driver’s seat. “It’s been half an hour.”

  “This is where he said to meet.”

  “Something’s wrong. Call him again.”

  Nick was reaching for his cell phone when another vehicle pulled next to the Suburban on his side and stopped. Its driver was an eye-catching young woman.

  He spotted Kirov in the front passenger seat. “It’s him,” he announced.

  Yuri extracted himself from the sedan. The BMW backed up and exited the parking lot.

  Nick rolled down his window and said, “Dobryj den’!” Good afternoon.

  “Privet!”

  “Who was that?” Nick asked, continuing in Russian.

  “A local I met; she gave me a ride.” He opened the right rear passenger door and hauled himself inside the SUV. The interior reeked of cigarette smoke.

  Elena and Nick turned in their seats to face him.

  “We were wondering if you’d ever show up,” Nick commented.

  “I had some business to take care of.”

  Nick frowned. “Where do you want to go for coffee?”

  “I don’t. Let’s just talk here.”

  “Fine.”

  “Is your leg any better?” Elena asked.

  “About the same,” Yuri said. “So, are we going to get any help or not?”

  “Moscow continues to work on the problem.” Nick followed the script that he and Elena had crafted. “Apparently, they’re in the process of mobilizing the equipment and personnel that you requested. However, we have not yet been provided any time frames.”

  “This i
s taking too long. A team should be here already.”

  “I agree but you know how our system works. I can hardly scratch my butt here without getting permission from home.”

  Yuri did know. The Kremlin loved “red tape.” He slumped back into the seat.

  “How’s the crew?” Elena asked.

  “Better. They were able to adjust ballast and free up one of the intakes. They have more power now. That allows use of the heaters plus the oxygen and water generators.”

  “That’s great news!”

  “Yes, but they’re still not going anywhere.”

  Nick said, “With the improved life support systems, how long can they last?”

  “A week or so, if the reactor remains online and the intake doesn’t plug up again. But that all could change in minutes.”

  “How?” Elena said.

  “If the bilge pumps stop working, the boat will fill up with seawater from the leaks. If a bulkhead door seal goes, it’ll be over in seconds.” Yuri scowled. “And a fire—I don’t want to even think about that.”

  Elena was about to ask another question when Nick preempted her. “Your friend, the woman we just saw, how much does she know about what’s going on?”

  “Nothing; she thinks I’m a treasure hunter, looking for a wreck offshore of Point Roberts.”

  “That’s a good cover.”

  Elena reengaged, “What about security? We can’t have her involved with this.”

  “She’s involved, so just accept it. If she hadn’t helped, I would never have made it this far.”

  “But she’s an American. One call to the border station here and we’ve had it!”

  “Don’t worry. She doesn’t have any idea what we’re really doing.”

  Elena turned away, briefly eyeing Nick. She suspected Yuri was sleeping with the woman, and guessed that Nick thought the same.

  “Where did she go?” asked Nick.

  By now, Yuri expected that Laura had passed through the Canadian checkpoint at Point Roberts and was on her way back to the U.S. border crossing at Blaine. “She went to the town next to this place. I don’t remember the name.”

  “Tsawwassen,” Elena offered.

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “What’s she doing there?” Nick said.