“I understand.”
“Are they still aboard?”
“Yes.”
Elena checked her watch. It was a few minutes before nine o’clock. “I could try to reach him tonight and set something up for, say, two days from now. Would that work?”
“Yes.”
Elena met Chi’s eyes. “I do not wish to pester you, but upon the successful exchange of Laura Newman and her child for the information Kirov is holding, my commitment to you will be fulfilled.”
“Yes, my dear, it will. The funds have already been set aside. One call from me and they will be transferred to your account.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
“I’ve got something interesting here,” Nick called out.
“What?” Yuri asked. They were in his hotel room. Yuri sat cross-legged on the bed examining a waterproof bag he’d purchased earlier.
“The boat—Yangzi—that’s not her original name.” Nick sat at the desk, hovering over his laptop. He had spent the last half hour searching the Web for anything he could find on the superyacht.
“What was the name?”
“Columbia, I guess after the river.”
“Have you checked that name?”
“Working on it now—there are a zillion boats named Columbia.”
Nick clicked his way through numerous sites and then muttered, “Son of a bitch.”
Yuri looked up from his packing. “What?”
“It was owned by some Southern California real estate developer. He went bankrupt and the boat was sold at auction. It cost a hundred sixty-five million dollars to build, but the guy that owns it now picked it up for ninety-five mil.”
“He got a great deal.”
Nick clicked on a new link. “Wow,” he called out.
“What?” Yuri asked.
Nick turned in his chair, a grin breaking out. “When the Columbia was launched, there was tons of press on it—apparently the original owner loved showing it off. I found a write-up in the online archives of one of the magazines that featured the boat. It’s loaded with good stuff.”
Yuri stood beside Nick, peering down at the LCD screen. “This is fantastic,” he said as Nick clicked his way through the gallery of high-quality color photographs of the Columbia’s interior and exterior spaces. Key features of the yacht were revealed on each of the six decks ranging from the twin thirty-five-hundred-horsepower Cats on the bilge deck to the top deck’s endless pool and bar.
Nick completed the tour and said, “There’s more.” He clicked another file. “Take a look at this.” He stood up, allowing Yuri to sit in the chair.
Yuri studied the image, eyes wide.
Nick said, “There’s a naval architect’s plan for each deck level. You can blow up the images. They get a little fuzzy, but they still give you a good idea of the layout.”
“Incredible,” Yuri said.
“This will help, won’t it?”
“This is a huge help. I won’t be going in blind now.”
Yuri scrolled from one deck level to the next while Nick stood by silent. Finally, Yuri settled on the plan view of the second-level deck, identified on the plan as the lower deck. He pointed to the yacht’s bow on the laptop’s screen and said, “See these cabins here?”
“Yeah. Compared to the other ones they look small.”
“They are. I’m sure they’re for the crew.”
“Okay but what’s—”
“That’s where I would confine someone, low down in the hull. The smaller the cabin, the easier to keep watch.”
Nick squinted at the screen. “There must be a dozen or more.”
“Fourteen. Most are doubles with bunk beds.”
“You think that might be where she is?”
“That’s where I’m going to try first.”
Nick again examined the screen. “How do you get to that section of the boat?”
Yuri summarized his plan of attack.
“There’s still something that bothers me,” Nick added.
“What?”
“Even though you’re coming from the water, how are you going to get on that thing without being seen? I’m sure those guards we saw today will be on the lookout at night, too, maybe even more so.”
“I’ll need a diversion—something to distract them while I slip aboard.”
“That’s what I thought,” Nick said.
“You have something in mind?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Nick and Yuri were discussing the op when Nick’s cell rang. He checked the display. “It’s my guys.”
Nick received the report and repeated it to Yuri. “Elena just boarded the boat. She was accompanied by an Asian male. My men think he might be the owner, Kwan Chi. It was dark but they got a couple of good shots with an infrared camera.”
Yuri processed the news. Elena again! “This doesn’t change anything. I’m going aboard tonight.”
CHAPTER 70
Laura dozed off just as half a dozen sharp knocks to the cabin door jolted her back to reality. She peered at the doorway. The watcher was already on her feet. She punched in the new code to the door’s electronic lock and it swung inward.
Commander Wang stood in the entryway. He ordered the guard to exit, and the twenty-two-year PLAN sailor obeyed. Wang stepped aside, allowing Elena Krestyanova to walk in, holding Madelyn.
“Hello, Laura,” Elena said with a smile.
“Why do you have my daughter?”
“She’s such a sweet thing. The women watching her say she’s a delight.”
“What do you want?”
Elena approached the bunk. “I know you’re pissed off, but it’s almost over now.”
She rested a hip on the side of the bunk. “Yuri’s cooperating again. You know how bullheaded he can be. We almost had it worked out the other day, but it fell apart because of a technical glitch. The good news is that the issue has been resolved and we are moving forward again.”
“When are we going to be released?”
“Possibly tomorrow but no later than forty-eight hours from now.”
Laura wanted to scream—two more days in this hole? Instead, she said, “My lower back is killing me—can you get me some ibuprofen?”
“I’m sure they have it aboard. What’s wrong?”
“What do you think? I’ve been chained to this stinking bed forever. I can’t turn over.”
Elena turned around to face Wang. “Can you get it?”
Wang relayed the request to the guard who stood by in the corridor.
“They’ll get something for you right away.” Elena eyed the bunk. “I can see how this might be uncomfortable. I will ask for a better arrangement, perhaps a chair instead of the bed.”
“Thank you.”
“Laura, I want you to know that involving you was not my doing. The FSB—your FBI equivalent—is running the operation. I don’t like any of what’s happened.”
Laura turned away.
* * *
Yuri, too, woke from a nap to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He sat up on the hotel bed, peering into the darkness.
“Yuri . . . it’s Nick, open the door.”
As soon as Yuri let his friend in, Nick grabbed the remote to switch on the TV. He scrolled through the channels until he found the all-news cable channel. The banner running diagonally across the upper left corner of the screen read BREAKING NEWS. The curvy blond correspondent from Fairbanks was in the middle of a briefing, her image and voice transmitted to New York City via satellite. Visible in the background were a dozen parked pickup trucks and SUVs, most with flashing lights. Portable lighting lit the night sky around the vehicles and snow covered the ground. The reporter continued with her account, addressing an off-screen network anchor:
“John, the amount of oil spilled is unknown at this time, but from reports of bystanders who are on scene, it appears to be a major incident. Two witnesses I spoke with reported hearing multiple explosions several hours earlier. Althou
gh we are about half a mile from the pipeline, there is a distinct odor of crude oil in the air. Alyeska is in the process of mobilizing spill-response units from Fairbanks who are expected to be helicoptered soon to the spill sites, which we understand include four separate locations. A state trooper I spoke with would not confirm that this is the work of terrorists, but did acknowledge that the FBI and Homeland Security have been contacted.”
Nick muted the TV. “That’s bullshit about not knowing if it was a terrorist incident. Multiple explosions and four separate spill sites—give me a break.”
Yuri’s brow wrinkled. “Alaska again—and oil. Could it be retaliation?”
“Maybe. Someone sabotaged our well in the Arctic and then Sakhalin.”
Yuri said, “This is beyond serious—it’s going to lead to a war.”
“No shit.”
Nick and Yuri spent the next few minutes listening to the news report, when Yuri’s cell phone rattled on the nightstand next to the bed. He picked it and checked the display. There was no ID.
“Hello,” he said.
“Dobryj veer!”—Good evening. It was Elena.
Yuri engaged the speakerphone option on his phone and said, “What do you want, Elena?”
Nick perked up when he heard Elena’s name. He reached into his pants pocket and removed his smartphone. He engaged an app that turned the cell into a recorder.
“Someone wants to say hello.”
A voice came through. “Honey, it’s me.”
Jubilant to hear Laura’s voice, Yuri smiled—the first of his protracted day. “Are you okay?”
“Worn out, but I’m all right. Same with Maddy.”
“Have they hurt you?”
“No, but being confined is not easy.”
Yuri was about to ask another question when Elena took over. “As you just heard, Laura and Madelyn are fine. And they’ll remain fine. This should all be over in the next day or two.”
“How so?”
“The exchange will take place the day after tomorrow but not at the airport—that will not work.”
“No, I don’t trust the FSB or whoever you are working with.”
“I’m just the courier, Yuri. Remember that.”
“But what about the Chinese players? This whole op seems to be directed by Wang.”
“As I’ve explained before, this is a joint Russian PRC operation.”
Yuri turned Nick and mouthed, “You getting this?”
Nick held up his phone.
“I don’t want to wait. Let’s do it now. Where do you want to meet—downtown Seattle, the Eastside, Everett, Tacoma? I don’t care as long as it’s a public place.”
“We’re not ready. I will phone you tomorrow with a time and place.”
“When will you call?”
There was a slight delay before Elena responded. “I’ll call you at noon.”
“All right, but I want to speak to Laura again. Give her your phone.”
Laura said, “Yuri?”
“We’re close now, sweetie. Just take care of yourself and Maddy. It will be over soon.”
“Please be careful.”
“I will, don’t worry about me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The call terminated and Yuri turned to Nick. “Did you get that?”
“Every word.”
CHAPTER 71
At 10:00 P.M. Wang was in the Yangzi’s op center with Kwan Chi. Wang had just completed a one-on-one encrypted telephone conversation with his commanding officer in Shanghai. “Sir, it’s time for me to leave,” Wang said.
“You must be expecting deployment soon,” Kwan said.
“We are. With the successful execution of the Alaska pipeline operation, Beijing expects the Americans will increase their defense status, which will likely mean ordering all available submarines to sea.”
“Then the plan proceeds as designed.”
“It does, sir.”
Kwan asked, “What did they decide about Kirov?”
“I’ve been ordered to wrap up that element of the operation.”
“His company?”
“Yes. I’m driving back tonight. My team is waiting.” He held up a thumb drive, given to him earlier in the day by the Vancouver consulate’s senior MSS officer.
Kwan said, “What about the other underwater recording information he’s been offering?”
“I’ve been directed to abandon it. Beijing decided the risk of prolonging the mission for the hope of obtaining the extra data is no longer warranted.”
“Good. We’ve been fortunate so far; I never liked that anyway—pushing so hard.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Newman and the child?”
“It’s your discretion.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“Very good, sir.”
Commander Wang left, returning to his cabin to assemble his personal gear. A car and driver—one of his zhongdui team members—waited in a nearby parking garage.
Alone in the operations center, Kwan considered Wang’s assignment. The PLAN special operators would return to Washington State tonight using fraudulent Canadian passports—like the Russians employed. On the way south, they would first stop in Anacortes. The workboat remained moored to a dock on Fidalgo Bay. Wang would install the software on the ship’s navigation computer. Although the system was password protected, skilled forensic IT specialists at the FBI or NSA would break the encryption and discover the Russian military program. Designed to aid in the deployment of subsea mines, the software would link Yuri Kirov with the pending attack.
Wang’s next stop would occur in Redmond. Kirov had yet to surface. Private security continued to watch over Northwest Subsea Dynamics and Laura Newman’s residence.
Undeterred, Wang’s team devised a plan to evade the watchers and gain entry to the NSD office building. The operative would tape the thumb drive Wang used to implant the damning code on the workboat to the underside of a locked desk drawer in Kirov’s office.
Wang’s final task was the elimination of Yuri Kirov.
Kwan Chi also received orders from Beijing.
The Yangzi would depart for Hong Kong after his phase of Sea Dragon was implemented. A fresh crew would arrive tomorrow afternoon to make the 5,800-nautical-mile voyage. Most of the ship’s crew members disembarked upon arrival in Vancouver. Many had been aboard for months and were due home leave. Just a handful remained aboard now.
During the first leg of the transpacific voyage to Hawaii, Kwan would carry out the MSS’s first mandate. Laura Newman would be deep-sixed in the middle of the night.
Upon arriving in Honolulu, and as requested by Kwan and approved by the MSS, baby Madelyn would be surreptitiously dropped off at a local fire station. Kwan was then permitted to return home the rest of the way aboard his Gulfstream.
Beijing’s final order presented a greater challenge. Elena Krestyanova had already turned down Kwan’s offer to accompany him on the trip to Hawaii due to pressing business elsewhere. Besides, he had grown fond of the Russian turncoat. If the choice were left to Kwan, he preferred to keep Elena on the payroll. The intelligence she provided was exceptional. Beijing, however, did not see it his way.
Kwan was not yet ready to carry out the directive. It could wait. Right now, he had personal business with Elena back in his quarters.
CHAPTER 72
DAY 31—WEDNESDAY
The president of the United States sat at the head of the conference table. A dozen others joined him in the basement of the West Wing. His national security advisor sat to his left with the director of national intelligence to his side; the secretary of the Department of Homeland Security sat on the president’s right along with the FBI director. Deputies and aides filled in the remaining chairs. Also participating via a secure video link was the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and his boss, the Defense Department secretary. Both men sat in a conference room inside the National M
ilitary Command Center located deep underneath the Pentagon. Video cameras and outsized flat-panel television screens at both venues allowed the parties to see each other in high definition.
It was 3:35 A.M. in the White House Situation Room. Instead of his usual suit and tie, President Magnuson wore an open-collar shirt and a pair of blue jeans. The other men in the room sported suits and ties, the three women stylish dresses.
The DHS secretary completed his briefing and the president responded, “So there is no question it was sabotage?”
“Correct, sir. There were four separate charges, all placed in similar locations along the pipeline route over a length of about five miles. Each bomb was detonated in a valley or low spot so that the oil stored in the pipe would drain out through the ruptures.”
“Even when the pumps stopped, it would all drain out because of the holes?”
“Yes, sir. The locations were selected to inflict maximum spillage. The pipeline’s leak detection systems worked well. As soon as the line pressure drop was detected, the computers shut down the pumps and triggered the block valves. But with so many deliberate breaches, the oil inside the pipe just drained out.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Somewhere around fifty thousand barrels—just over two million gallons.”
“That’s not as much as the tanker that sank.”
“Correct, the Alaskan Star had one point three million barrels aboard. About half that spilled.”
“What about cleanup?”
“Alyeska’s already on it. Their spill-response system is first rate. We’ll know more during daylight, but so far the spilled oil hasn’t entered into any streams or rivers, which is good news.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
President Magnuson faced the FBI director. “Bob, has anyone claimed responsibility?”
“Not yet, sir. But we suspect it might be anarchists.”
“They’re in Alaska now!” the president said, rolling his eyes.
“Probably a splinter group.”
“Where’d this come from?”
“One of our informants in Portland—Oregon. She claimed to have heard something big was being planned for Alaska.”
“Well, at least it isn’t the damn Russians again.”
The Forever Spy Page 26
