Soo presented the final slide in the sequence. “Here, you can see that the wind is pushing the plume toward the southeast across the bay, toward the ocean.”
“Is it still heading out to sea?” asked China’s president. Fifty-six-year-old Chen Shen also served as Chairman of the Central Military Commission, General Secretary of the Communist Party and was the first ranked member of the Politburo Standing Committee. An inch over six feet with a husky build, Chen was the tallest in the room. He wore his profuse, jet-black hair long, hanging over his ears and brushing the collar of his suit jacket.
“Yes, sir. The breeze continues to flow toward the southeast.”
“Damage estimate?”
“That’s still underway but it appears minimal.” Admiral Soo clicked on a new slide, an oblique aerial view of Qingdao centering on Jiaozhou Bay. “This photo was recorded forty minutes ago by one of our naval reconnaissance aircraft. The bomb exploded in the water, not on shore.” He lased a portion of the bay halfway between the shoreline and the Jiaozhou Bay Bridge. “The bridge is the only nearby structure, about three kilometers away. It’s intact and appears to have only suffered minor thermal damage from the blast, mainly peeled paint.”
“What about casualties?” asked President Chen
“No fatalities so far. A couple of trucks were knocked over on the bridge and numerous automobile wrecks. Some of the accident victims also have retinal damage from the nuclear flash. The bridge was busy when it detonated but would have been packed within an hour.”
Another slide appeared. “This is a closeup of the blast zone. The crater is visible just beneath the water surface here.” He circled the brownish-white blemish of the emerald green waters with the laser pointer. “It’s about 160 meters in diameter. We don’t know the depth yet but expect it’s twenty to thirty meters deep.”
“What about radiation?” asked a PLA general sitting to the left of the president.
“Teams are currently taking measurements throughout the city, especially downwind from the blast. I’ll know more in an hour. However, measurements taken on the bridge by first responders reported whole-body radiation exposure readings of fifty to one hundred rem.”
“That’s high,” the same general said. “What about the residential areas in the fallout zone?” The PLA general’s parents lived in an apartment in the Badaxia Residential District of Qingdao. The home had a delightful view of the Yellow Sea.
“The entire area in the fallout zone is being evacuated. Everyone should be out by noon.”
“Good, thank you.”
Admiral Soo answered several additional questions and was about to sum up his presentation when President Chen pushed his chair away from the table a couple of inches. He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. His minions waited in silence as he lit up, accustomed to Chen’s addiction to nicotine. After taking a deep drag he said, “Well, Admiral, who the hell did this to us?”
* * * *
The Seattle-D.C. video conference ended five minutes earlier. Yuri was still seated at the conference table in the FBI Seattle field office along with the other three participants. Yuri was drained. Most of the questions from headquarters were directed to him.
Michaela Taylor took a swig from her water bottle and looked Yuri’s way. “I don’t know if it would have made much difference if we had been able to warn Beijing like you recommended. Other than radiation and water wave damage, the blast damage appears minimal, almost like it was a warning.”
“I don’t buy that,” Yuri said. “Somehow the weapon was moved. The Spetsnaz divers would not have had time to go to that location from where we locked out from the minisub.”
U.S. Navy Captain Bob Clark responded. “I agree with Yuri. Something’s off. We know the nuke at Pearl Harbor targeted the Roosevelt. And with the Chinese blaming us for what happened to their Yulin base, our reaction to the Pearl Harbor attack could have easily resulted in a tit for tat response, like nuking the Qingdao Naval Base.” Clark glanced at the navigation chart of Jiaozhou Bay laid out on the table. “From what Yuri told us, we know the Russians were behind the Yulin e-bomb attack and the attempt on Pearl Harbor. They also conducted espionage operations in Jiaozhou Bay, including the Qingdao Naval Base.” Clark pointed to the chart. “The bomb detonating in mudflats just doesn’t compute for me.”
CIA officer Steve Osberg commented next. “Maybe the Russians got cold feet after Yuri foiled the Pearl Harbor op. Decided to move the weapon out of harm’s way as a limited response. Something they think we might do for trying to take out Pearl—a very big warning shot across the PRC’s bow.”
“That does kind of make sense to me,” Michaela Taylor said. “The bomb planted in Hawaii did explode, but in deep water with minimal impact.” She smiled at Yuri. “The Chinese might take it as a warning like Steve suggested.”
Yuri suppressed a yawn, exhausted—the alcohol he’d consumed earlier didn’t help either. “I’m Russian. None of you are. What happened in Qingdao today was half-assed. That’s the term I think you use. The Kremlin does not operate like that. Either the Qingdao Naval Base would have been incinerated or the weapon would have been removed.”
“So, what happened?” Captain Clark asked.
“I don’t know…but something’s not right.”
Michaela took over, addressing Osberg. “Sounds like the CIA needs to do some research on what’s been going on in Qingdao. Maybe your analysts can figure out how the bomb was moved.” She placed a finger on the chart. “Yuri estimated the divers placed the device in this area of the base.” Michaela wavered as the new thought snapped into focus. “Hey, what about this—someone found the bomb, recognized what it was, and then transported it from the base so it would explode in the water. Like what Yuri did at Pearl Harbor.”
Before Yuri could respond, Captain Clark reacted. “If that were the case Michaela, they would have taken the bomb offshore into deep water, away from the city.” He used a pencil to trace the route on the nav chart. “The ocean is closer to the base than where it went off in the bay.”
“Damn,” muttered Michaela.
* * * *
Yuri Kirov was in the passenger seat of the Subaru Outback. FBI Special Agent Michaela Taylor was behind the wheel of her personal vehicle. They were eastbound on the I-90 floating bridge crossing Lake Washington. When the briefing concluded, Michaela offered to drive Yuri to his home in Sammamish; she lived in nearby Issaquah. It was 9:57 P.M.
Irritated, Yuri said. “I still don’t understand why Washington didn’t warn Beijing about the bomb threat.”
Michaela said, “The State Department was in the process of arranging a meeting with the Chinese ambassador when the Qingdao bomb went off.”
“All they had to do was make a phone call.”
“I know but certain protocols had to be followed for this situation.”
Yuri stared out the window in silence. The lights of Mercer Island were approaching.
After another mile, Michaela reengaged Yuri. “I know this has been a tough process for you and Laura, but I want you to know that we’re all truly grateful for what you did in Hawaii. You saved thousands.” She turned briefly toward Yuri. “I just wish you could be publicly honored.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need it. All Laura and I want is to be left alone.”
“I understand,” Michaela said as the Outback traveled eastward. She decided not to pursue the topic further. Yuri’s request for political asylum was in fast-track mode at the State Department. An order granting Laura Newman broad immunity for her actions involving Yuri’s espionage activities in the United States was also ready for the U.S. Attorney General’s signature. However, both matters were contingent on Yuri’s agreement to assist the American intelligence community for the next three years. He had not yet consented.
The Outback crossed into Bellevue, still on I-90. Y
uri broached a new subject. “When will you be removing the equipment from inside our home?”
“The techs are scheduled to come out on Friday.”
“Good. What time? I want to observe.”
“I’ll get that time for you.”
“Okay.”
While Yuri was on his special mission in East Asia—serving as an intelligence officer for the Russian Navy, the FBI had secretly installed video and audio devices inside the Sammamish home owned by Laura Newman. The surveillance was authorized by a federal court as part of an effort to trap Yuri. When he finally returned home, Laura told him about her run in with the FBI and her suspicions about cameras. Yuri had located three devices but suspected more were hidden inside the residence.
Yuri changed subjects. “How long have you been with the FBI?”
“Twelve years. Before that I was a detective with the Minneapolis PD. Investigated ID theft, ransomware stuff, bank hacks, digital forensics.”
“Computer crimes?”
“Yes, I have a degree in computer science—cyber security. I really enjoyed the work and that’s what helped me get into the FBI.”
Michaela made a lane change, preparing to exit the freeway in Issaquah to drive north to Sammamish. After revealing a smidgen of her history, she decided to probe further into Yuri’s background. “Does your dad still live in Moscow?”
“Yes, but we haven’t talked for a while.”
Special Agent Taylor had read Yuri’s CIA file on numerous occasions. Retired Russian Army Colonel Ivan Kirov resided in Moscow. An alcoholic, the senior Kirov lived alone in a one bedroom apartment on the southwest outskirts of the Russian capital. He and Yuri were not close. Yuri’s mother died when he was twelve years old. Colonel Kirov had avoided home, preferring a field assignment during the awful six months it took Irina to succumb to ovarian cancer.
Michaela said, “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you happen to join the navy?”
“My grandfather, my mother’s father, was in the Navy. After Mom died, I spent several summers with him in Saint Petersburg. We’d spend a lot of time at the naval facilities in the area. Early in his career he was a submarine officer. I loved to listen to his stories about the missions he went on.”
Unknown to Yuri, the CIA file had a section on his maternal grandfather Semyon Nikolayevich Fedorov who rose to the rank of Vice Admiral. Thanks to Fedorov’s position and Yuri’s aptitude, Yuri attended the Nakhimov secondary school in Saint Petersburg. He next entered the Higher Naval Submarine School located on the Saint Petersburg Naval Base campus for five years of officer training. Admiral Fedorov died during Yuri’s fourth year at the academy.
“I understand Saint Petersburg is quite beautiful,” Michaela said.
“It is. And much friendlier than Moscow.”
Twelve minutes later, Special Agent Taylor drove down the private drive and stopped in the parking court next to the Newman residence.
As Yuri opened the passenger door, he said, “Thanks for taking me home. I enjoyed our conversation.”
“My pleasure. Try to get some rest.”
“I plan to. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Michaela followed the driveway back to the public street. She admired Yuri Kirov but worried about his welfare. Headquarters pressed Michaela to bring him aboard. During the drive she’d been tempted to remind Yuri that he needed to make a decision. In the end, she decided to wait. He really had no choice in the matter. One way or other, Yuri Kirov was destined to spy for the U.S. government.
Chapter 5
Day 2—Thursday
Yuri Kirov sat at his office desk. None of the other two dozen employees at Northwest Subsea Dynamics had yet showed up for work. He slept poorly and woke early—residual stress from the previous evening’s meeting with the FBI. He left the house a few minutes after six o’clock. NSD was a fifteen minute drive away, situated in an office park in the city of Redmond.
The company designed and manufactured cutting edge autonomous underwater vehicles—AUVs. NSD employed the underwater robots to map the ocean depths, conduct geophysical surveys and monitor environmental conditions.
Yuri made a brief appearance at the office the day before, spending an hour with the staff during the afternoon. He’d been absent for a month and a half. Everyone at NSD knew he had been in Denmark, attending to his cancer plagued sister. It was a lie that he concocted and Laura perpetuated.
Using the alias of John Kirkwood, Yuri served as the general manager. Laura purchased controlling interest of the company as an investment. But she really acquired NSD for Yuri, knowing he could use his underwater engineering skills to help turn around the struggling business.
Yuri had just reviewed a company profit and loss report on his PC when he heard a door open in the hallway outside his office. Footsteps resonated on the tile flooring. Yuri recognized the gait.
A short and rotund individual entered the open doorway of Yuri’s office. He held a paper cup with a Starbucks logo. “Morning,” Bill Winters said.
“Have a seat.”
Winters settled into a chair fronting Yuri’s desk. He was forty-eight, the senior NSD employee. Winters was a co-founder of the company. The four original partners, all former NOAA engineers and scientists, created remarkable underwater robotic machines. But like so many startups, NSD burned through its cash reserves. After exhausting personal savings and repeatedly striking out with angel investors, NSD was about to fold when rescued.
Bill Winters kept his 25 percent interest while his partners cashed out. Laura appointed Yuri as general manager; Winters retained his chief engineer position.
Winters took a taste of his café mocha and said, “I’m sure glad you’re back. It’s been like a three-ring circus since you left. We’ve got a huge backlog of work.”
“I’m indebted to you for taking over for me.” Yuri gestured to the Dell monitor on his desk. “I’ve been reviewing the latest P and L report. It’s terrific, best ever. Laura is thrilled.”
Winters beamed while running a hand through his shaggy mop of graying blond hair. “Thanks. I really appreciate hearing that.”
They discussed company finances for ten minutes before moving on to Alaska.
“So,” Yuri said, “I gather it’s still a difficult situation in the Chukchi.”
“It is but there’s been some improvement since you left. It appears that most of the contaminated pack ice has melted, allowing recovery operations to proceed full throttle.”
NSD was under contract with the U.S. Coast Guard to monitor a mammoth oil spill in the Chukchi Sea offshore of Barrow, Alaska. An oil well blowout in nearby Russian territorial waters during the winter had contaminated large swaths of the Arctic with crude oil. For the past several months NSD’s autonomous underwater vehicles had kept track of the oil laden ice that reached Alaskan waters.
“That’s encouraging,” Yuri said. “Can they get it cleaned up before the freeze starts?”
“I doubt it. A lot of the oil has washed up on beaches. Hundreds of miles of shoreline are contaminated from Barrow to Kotzebue Sound. I don’t think enough time is left to clean it up. After the fall freeze up, the whole mess could start over again next spring.”
Yuri and Winters transitioned to NSD’s other Alaska operation.
“Deep Guardian is doing a bang-up job for the Aurora tract,” Winters reported. “It’s just as reliable as Deep Explorer, maybe even a little better.”
Deep Guardian and Deep Explorer were autonomous underwater vehicles. Deep Explorer was NSD’s flagship machine. It was the principal AUV assigned to monitor the Russian oil spill in the Chukchi Sea.
“That’s good to hear,” Yuri said. “If Deep Guardian works out for Aurora, I think the Canadians and Norwegians will be interested.”
Deep Guardian was NSD’s latest autonomous underwater vehic
le. It was currently surveying a huge bottom tract of the Chukchi Ridge north of Barrow. Still covered by pack ice, the 20,000-acre tract was leased from the U.S. government by a Houston based company. Preliminary geophysical surveys hinted that the Chukchi Plateau, located in deep waters near the limit of the United States’ Arctic Ocean continental shelf claim, held enormous hydrocarbon reserves. Deep Guardian’s innovative sonar and photographic systems coupled with its new geophysical testing equipment and extended under ice endurance capability were all well suited for surveying the site.
“I agree with you,” Winters said. “I’ve already had an inquiry from Equinor. Apparently, they’ve been following the Aurora work.”
“Wow, that’s encouraging.”
“It is and I’ve been thinking about our future a lot. The company does well with our survey work and we should focus on it.” Winters shifted in his chair. “But maybe we should consider branching out now.”
Yuri cocked his head, curious.
Bill Winters said, “I think we should create a manufacturing division and start selling individual units adapted for specific purposes: hydrographic, geophysical and environmental monitoring…plus, one other.”
“Military?” Yuri guessed.
“Yes, that alone has huge potential.” Winters grinned, clearly pumped. “I’ve run some preliminary numbers and . . .”
Yuri spent half an hour with Bill going over the expansion plan. What Winters recommended made logical business sense. The potential for exponential growth was legitimate, especially in the defense sector. But that aspect troubled Yuri.
How could he run a company that sells cutting-edge high-tech underwater equipment to the U.S. Department of Defense and function as a spy for the FBI and CIA at the same time?
Chapter 6
Day 3—Friday
The Vigilant Spy Page 3
