Operation Petrograd

by Nick Carter

  At what cost? he asked himself. If the operation were a success, the cost would be acceptable. If he failed, the cost would be far too great.

  Again he looked over at the charts spread out on the table. There had to be another way.

  Mioshi appeared at the door. "Carter-san — the Russians are here!" she said urgently.

  Carter spun around. "Have they boarded us?"

  "Not yet. But they are less than fifty meters off our port side."

  "We are simple fisherman," Carter snapped in perfect Japanese. "You may tell your father it is time for us to return home."

  Mioshi bowed deeply, turned, and hurried back up to the wheelhouse. Carter grabbed the carrying case and ran topside on the starboard side with it.

  The seas were very rough. He could hear the powerful diesels of the Russian ship even over the wind. Making sure the carrying case latches were open, he tossed it overboard. A wave caught the case, held it high for a moment, and then it tumbled end over end into the trough and sank.

  Carter climbed up to the wheelhouse just as Heido was throttling back to slow them down. The Russian gunboat was just off their port bow. The Soviet captain's voice was blaring over the radio, first in Russian and then in very poor Japanese, ordering them to identify themselves. Heido had the microphone.

  "Tell them a thousand pardons, but we thought we were still in international waters," Carter said.

  Heido keyed the mike and repeated Carter's message in rapid-fire Japanese.

  The radio was silent for a moment.

  "Tell them who we are," Carter said.

  Heido identified himself, again in rapid Japanese. Carter could just see the Soviet captain and his translator trying to understand the messages.

  "Stand by for a boarding party," the Russian radioed.

  Carter shook his head.

  "Begging your pardon, sir, but we cannot allow that, since we are clearly in international waters," Heido radioed.

  "You will comply!" the Soviet captain bellowed.

  Heido smiled. He reached up and flipped the channel selector to the international distress frequency. "Mioshi says you have gotten rid of the suitcase?"

  Carter nodded.

  Heido turned back to the microphone. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the Japanese fishing vessel Tiger Lily, in international waters, calling Mayday."

  Almost immediately the Japanese Coastal Safety Service came back: "Fishing vessel Tiger Lily, say your exact position and the nature of your emergency."

  The Soviet gunboat suddenly peeled off to the west where a couple of hundred yards away she stopped, her guns at the ready. It was clear §he meant simply to block any further progress.

  "Let's go back," Carter said.

  Heido was clearly relieved. "A very wise decision, Carter-san, considering the circumstances."

  "Tiger Lily, say again your position and the nature of your distress," the radio blared.

  Heido turned the wheel over to Mioshi, and as they headed back toward Hokkaido, he got on the radio and apologized to the Coastal Safety Service operator, thanking them for their vigilance but reporting that their flooding was now under control and for the moment they were in no need of assistance.

  Carter stepped out of the wheelhouse into the cold wind and looked back at the Soviet gunboat. These were international waters, and the Soviet captain did not want to risk an incident. Not here. It was the Russian's error, though. Had the captain let them get closer to the coast, he would have had a good case for boarding them.

  Svetlaya, at least by sea, was impossible, Carter thought. But there would be another way. There had to be. His only concern was time. Sooner or later all the Petrograd-class subs would have been deployed from Svetlaya. They would be at sea. By then it would be far too late to do anything about them.

  Heido came out on deck. Carter gave him a cigarette and they both smoked in silence for a while as the Russian gunboat faded into the distance.

  "You will not give this up, I suspect, Carter-san," Heido said.

  "No, it's too important."

  Heido nodded.

  Kazuka and the girls were waiting for them at the dock when they returned that evening just after dark. They had monitored the Soviet exercise broadcasts in the early morning and then the exchange between Heido and the Soviet gunboat captain.

  "What about the carrying case?" Kazuka asked when they were tied up.

  "It's gone. I tossed it overboard when we thought the Russians might board us. We're going back to Tokyo tonight."

  "Svetlaya is out?"

  "For the time being, and so are you," Carter said. They started back up to the house. Kazuka wasn't very happy with his decision.

  "Tokyo is still my station, Nicholas."

  "It's going to get a little hairy back there once I show up. Especially if the Russians spot me. I want you to go up to your uncle's house for a while. At least until things settle down."

  Kazuka stopped him. In the dim light she looked up into his eyes. "Your concern is touching, Nicholas. But I am an AXE chief of station. And Tokyo is my city."

  "They tortured you, for crissakes!"

  "And they broke your ribs," she flared. "Are you going back to Washington until you mend?"

  Heido came up behind them. He was laughing. "Carter-san is a Western man. He has not yet learned about the resiliency of women."

  Carter finally shook his head in defeat. Kazuka reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

  "That's better," she said.

  They walked up to the house, and while the girls went to get the car, Carter and Kazuka went into Heido's communications room, hidden across from the rock garden just off the central core of the house. Powerful receivers scanned several dozen Soviet military channels, while big tape decks recorded everything. Every twelve hours his daughters reviewed what was taped, calling to their father's attention anything that seemed important.

  He had a secure link with the AXE office in Tokyo, with an automatic link from there by satellite to Washington.

  It took only a minute or so for the connections to be made and for Hawk's telephone to ring. Kazuka left to speak with Heido and to pack their bags.

  "It's me," Carter said when Hawk came on the line.

  "Are you at Ishinomari's on Hokkaido?"

  "Yes, sir. We tried for Svetlaya last night."

  "Was anyone hurt?"

  "No, sir, nor was the mission compromised. But it won't be possible to get there from here."

  The line was silent for a long time.

  "Sir?" Carter prompted.

  "I spoke with the President again. The Japanese government has lodged a protest with us as well as with the Soviets. But listen to me, N3. We think that the Russians are getting set to move their Petrograd submarines out of Svetlaya in the very near future — probably within the next few days."

  "We have to get to them first. Once they're out, we'll never catch up with them."

  "Exactly, so we're going to have to move fast. How are you — still fit? There was some trouble at an airstrip, I understand."

  "Fit enough, sir," Carter said. It wasn't exactly a lie, but he was not going to be pulled off this assignment now. "What do you have in mind?"

  "I'm still working on it. When will you be back in Tokyo?"

  "By about six A.M. local, sir. And I was thinking that if it were possible to get me to Vladivostok, I might be able to make a try from there."

  "It's going to be more complicated than that, I'm afraid. This time it's out of my hands."

  "Sir?"

  "The CIA is going to be in on this," Hawk said tiredly. Carter could hear the strain in his voice.

  "No way around it?" Carter asked. He had a great deal of respect for the Central Intelligence Agency; it was just that their operations tended to be very large, very expensive, and often very messy. AXE operations, on the other hand, were almost always small, fast, and clean.

  "Sorry, Nick. President's orders."

  The Vice-President had bee
n a former CIA chief. The decision wasn't very surprising to Carter.

  "When you get back to Tokyo I want you to report to Arnold Scott. He's a good man."

  "Yes, sir. We've already met."

  "You're not working for him or the Company, Nick. But neither are they working for you. This is going to be a joint operation."

  "We'll be needing another carrying case."

  "Two others were made. They're on their way out to you, along with Tom Barber, another Company man who'll be tagging along."

  Carter was almost afraid to ask if there was more.

  "Miss Akiyama and our Tokyo office are going to have to act as bait for the Russians as well as the Japanese. You're dead. And that's the official line. So you're going to have to keep out of sight in Tokyo."

  "Yes, sir," Carter said glumly. It meant Kazuka was not only going to be exposed out in the open again, it also meant that all of Tokyo's AXE operations would be in jeopardy. The submarine's computer chip was extraordinarily important.

  "Get the chip, Nick," Hawk said. "You have to."

  "I'll do my best."

  Carter broke the connection and went back into the main section of the house as Heido and Kazuka were saying their good-byes.

  "Ah, Carter-san," Heido said. "You are ready to leave now?"

  Carter nodded. "Thank you for your help, Heido."

  "I am sorry it did not result in the ends you desired. But I believe you made a wise decision this morning."

  Carter brought his hands together and bowed deeply.

  * * *

  During the hour-and-a-half drive to the airport outside Haboro, Carter explained to Kazuka what Hawk had told him. She wasn't very happy about the situation, but she understood that her part in keeping the Russians and the Japanese busy and distracted would help ensure the ultimate success of the mission.

  Like Carter she was concerned that a joint operation would have a good chance of running into trouble, especially if it were big and noisy.

  It was well after midnight by the time they had made it to the airstrip, had the plane serviced and warmed up, and finally got airborne for the six-hundred-mile return trip.

  Despite the protests of the Japanese government, Carter suspected that the Russians would still be doing a good job covering Tokyo. An inbound flight of a Cessna 310 from the north at three or four in the morning would be unusual enough for someone to take notice. Instead they skirted Tokyo to the east, flying over Tokyo Bay and landing at Yokosuka, some thirty miles to the south.

  The first trains departed for Tokyo at around five, so they had plenty of time to arrange for the airplane to be stored and to take a cab over to the depot. They did not think it wise to travel together, so Kazuka took the first train.

  "Be careful, Nicholas," she said.

  "You too. All hell is going to break loose around here when we make the grab. They snatched you once; the next time they might kill you."

  She kissed him on the cheek. "Sayanora, Carter-san."

  Carter took the next train, which left eight minutes later. Already the station was starting to fill with people who commuted into Tokyo to work.

  Aboard the train, tea and coffee was served by pretty hostesses. Despite the crowding, everyone was polite and orderly.

  It was just a little after six-thirty when Carter got off the train in Tokyo's Hongo section. He found a public telephone and called Arnold Scott at the embassy residence. Carter's name was not mentioned in case the telephone was tapped.

  "We've been expecting you. Where are you?"

  "Same place you dropped me off."

  "Right," Scott said, and he broke the connection.

  Carter stepped away from the phone booth, walked across the street, and slipped into a quiet park. No one was there at that hour of the morning, though the area would soon begin to fill with students.

  Twenty minutes after his call, a blue windowless van turned the corner and cruised slowly up the street. Carter did not recognize the driver, but Arnold Scott was seated on the passenger side.

  Carter let the van pass and turn the corner; he held his position within the park. If Scott was any good at all, he would have made sure he was not being tailed — or had lost his tail — before showing up.

  Five minutes later no other vehicles had driven past the park and the blue van came down the block again. This time Carter stepped out from the park. The van pulled up, the side door slid open, and Carter jumped inside.

  "Were you being tailed?" Carter asked as he slid the door closed and they took off.

  "We were at the embassy but managed to ditch them down in Asakusa before we swung around up here," Scott said.

  "How have things been over the past thirty-six hours?"

  "Noisy," Scott said. "They found a couple of dead Russians floating in the river the other night. You didn't happen to have anything to do with that, did you?"

  "How are you and Major Rishiri getting along?"

  Scott just looked at Carter for a long time. He finally shook his head. "Not well. But you and I are going to have to work together on this one…"

  "I know. Has Tom Barber shown up yet?"

  Scott's eyes widened. "How did you find out about Tom?"

  Carter shrugged. "Has he shown up yet?"

  The driver, a rugged-looking man Carter guessed to be in his mid to late thirties, glanced up at the rearview mirror, then stuck a hand back over his shoulder.

  "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Carter. I've heard quite a bit about you."

  "Not bad," Carter said, smiling. He shook the man's hand. "When did you get in?"

  "A couple of hours ago. I brought something along for you."

  "The carrying cases?"

  "Two of them. I understand you ran into a little trouble."

  "I had to ditch the one I was carrying," Carter said. Barber looked fit enough. Carter hoped he would be up to the job.

  Seven

  The Russians were set up on the sixth floor of an office building half a block from the U.S. embassy. From their vantage point they could watch the comings and goings from the front and side entrances. Despite their perch and their sophisticated equipment, however, they could not detect the presence of someone in the back of a windowless van.

  Carter was given a chance to clean up in the embassy residence, and then he was brought up to the secure room where Scott, Barber, and several other men were waiting. The room was long and narrow, dominated by a highly polished conference table. Heavy wire mesh covering the windows provided electronic security from monitoring devices.

  Scott made the introductions.

  On the right beside Barber were Edward Forester, a Navy lieutenant commander who was an expert on shipboard computers, and Chuck Hansen, a Navy captain and an expert on the Soviet navy. Both men were in their thirties. Barber, who was ex-Navy himself, had handpicked these two for the mission.

  On the opposite side of the table were Bob Wilson, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a slight paunch, who was chief of security from Washington for the President's upcoming Tokyo visit. Next to him was Hans Fosse, deputy chief of consular affairs.

  Forester and Hansen, Carter could understand, though just barely. But the other two had no business being there and he said so.

  "I think we'll be the judge of that," Wilson said pompously.

  "How much have they been told?" Carter asked Scott.

  "Nothing, other than the fact that we're planning a Japanese-based mission against the Soviet Union."

  "Which is why we're here, Carter," Wilson snapped. "To get briefed."

  "Then I suggest they be asked to leave," Carter continued, looking at Scott.

  "See here…" Wilson sputtered.

  Carter turned to him. "Why are you here in Tokyo, Mr. Wilson?"

  Wilson's eyes narrowed. "To provide security for the President's visit."

  "Then I suggest you get on with it. What we are about to discuss here this morning has no bearing on the President's visit."

  Wilso
n smiled, the gesture not friendly. "I dare say that I outrank you, Mr. Carter."

  Carter, who had not yet sat down, nodded toward the telephone at the far end of the conference table. "Telephone him."

  "What?"

  "Telephone the President. Ask him if you should be included in this meeting," Carter said. He turned again to Scott. "He can get a secure circuit to Washington from this telephone, can't he?"

  Scott nodded.

  "I don't have to call anyone to know what my authority is."

  Carter came fast around the table, and Wilson shrank back. "Then I'll do it." Carter picked up the telephone. "Communications," he snapped.

  Wilson looked from Fosse — who had not said a word — to Scott and then back up at Carter.

  "I need an encrypted circuit to Washington. Code Red-four. The number is…" Carter gave the President's private number.

  Wilson recognized the number and stiffened. "Wait," he said quietly.

  Carter looked down at him.

  "Just a minute, Mr. Carter."

  "Hold on that circuit," Carter said into the telephone. He held his hand over the mouthpiece. "Now, Mr. Wilson, we have a lot of work to do. What you already know is classified Top Secret, Presidential Access. I suggest you say nothing about what you have seen or heard here… especially who you have seen here."

  Wilson got to his feet and scurried out of the room. Fosse also got to his feet. "I have my hands full with the President's visit. I had no business at this meeting in the first place. "He left.

  Carter cradled the receiver. Scott was looking at him.

  "You didn't even dial," Scott said.

  Carter smiled. "I guess I forgot." He lit a cigarette and sat down. "Now, my boss tells me that we're going to be working together."

  "Right," Hansen said. "You know us, but it wasn't made very clear just who you are."

  "I'll vouch for him," Barber interjected.

  "Wait a second, Tom. My life is going to be on the line here. I want to know who the hell this guy is."

  "Belay that, Captain," Barber snapped. "I said I would vouch for him."