Oh shit, Nick thought.
Chapter 14
Yuri Kirov arrived at the naval base at half past ten in the morning. The helicopter flight from Paine Field to Bangor took fifteen minutes. FBI Special Agent Michaela Taylor accompanied Yuri on the cross-sound flight. The pilots were U.S. Navy officers but both wore civilian clothing. The helicopter was a rental.
After landing, another officer assigned to Naval Base Kitsap-Bangor escorted Yuri and Michaela to the meeting locale—a conference room inside a massive building located on a forested hillside above Hood Canal. The building served as the command headquarters for the submarine base. Stretching along two nautical miles of waterfront, the 7,000 acre facility and its collection of piers and wharves served as the homeport for eight Ohio class ballistic missiles submarines, two guided missiles subs, and a Seawolf class attack submarine. The base also contained a modern-day underground storage complex that stored 1,300 nuclear warheads. Downtown Seattle was just 20 miles away.
Yuri and Michaela were currently alone sitting at a conference table. Both enjoyed coffee provided by an aide.
“This must seem a bit odd for you,” Michaela said.
“That’s for sure. Never in my wildest thoughts did I imagine I’d set foot in this place.”
Michaela grinned. “I expect the folks you’ll be meeting will have a similar reaction to your presence.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Don’t be. They’re the ones that requested the meeting.”
“Hmmm,” Yuri muttered, not convinced.
The conference room door opened and two U.S. Navy officers in service khaki uniforms entered.
“Good morning,” greeted the older officer. Early forties, heavyset, ruddy complexion. The insignia pin on his shirt collar identified his rank as a captain. “I’m the base CO.” He gestured to his companion. “The commander here is my deputy.”
The three striper was half a head taller than his boss, rail thin and prematurely gray.
Yuri and Michaela exchanged greetings with the officers. Yuri used his cover name: John Kirkwood.
After taking a seat, the captain turned toward Yuri and said, “Mr. Kirkwood, I expect you are wondering why we requested this meeting.”
Yuri nodded.
“I was briefed by Captain Bob Clark, who I understand both of you know.”
“That’s correct,” Michaela said. Clark had served on the team that interrogated Yuri.
The base commander addressed Yuri. “First, I wanted to thank you for what you did at Pearl. I have countless friends at the base and aboard the Roosevelt. Thank you.”
Stunned at the senior officer’s appreciativeness, Yuri again tilted his head forward.
The captain cleared his throat. “Now, what we’d like to talk to you about today is your past excursions into our waters…here in the Pacific Northwest.”
“I assume you’re referring to my activities aboard the Russian attack submarine Neva.”
“Yes—how the heck did you manage to evade our sonar sensors in the Strait of Juan de Fuca?”
Yuri clutched his hands, distraught by the secrets he was about to give up. “We followed a pre-surveyed path that was designated Backdoor. The underwater route . . .”
* * * *
Nineteen hundred miles east of the Puget Sound region, SVR rezident Nicolai Orlov walked into the office of the Consulate-General of Russia. It was late afternoon in Houston.
“You wanted to see me, sir,” Nick said.
The late fifties diplomat with thinning gray hair and a plump belly sat behind his desk. He gestured for Nick to sit. Nick picked the guest chair on the right.
“I’ve got bad news,” announced the CG. Nick crossed his arms, unsure what was to come. “I just spoke with the Ambassador. The Americans have ordered us to close the consulate.”
“Dammit,” Nick mumbled.
“We have forty-eight hours to shut down operations and vacate the premises.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything here, my residence plus the guest quarters in Piney Point.”
“Why now, what’s changed?”
“The State Department said Magnuson ordered the closure because of the oil spill in the Arctic—our refusal to participate in the clean-up of the oil that reached Alaska.”
“Magnuson didn’t mention that in his speech last night.”
“I know. The State Department told the Ambassador the closure is not related to Hawaii…just a coincidence of timing.”
Nick reflected on the news. “What about our staff?”
The CG scowled. “Everyone here has been designated persona non grata. We have to be out of the States in forty-eight hours.”
“We can’t even relocate to the Washington embassy?”
“No, besides me and my deputy, you were named personally for expulsion.”
Nick sank into his chair. “This screws up everything I have going.”
“I get it, Orlov. I know this is the second American consulate you’ve had to vacate.”
Nick said, “I just received a priority assignment from Moscow that must be completed before leaving, but it means that I need to travel to Seattle to take care of it.”
“That’s going to be problematic. The State Department order absolutely prohibits any staff travel outside of the consulate. We are only permitted to return to our personal residences but that’s it. The Ambassador said we should expect extreme surveillance by the FBI and the State Department’s Diplomatic Security Service.”
“He’s probably right,” Nick said.
Nick dreaded the ramifications of the Ambassador’s warning. He was already surveilled twenty-four seven by the FBI. His plan to take a charter flight to Seattle was predicated on his ability to shake the followers. But with the expected increased scrutiny, it was unlikely he would be able to evade the Americans.
Dammit, how am I going to reach Yuri?
Nick had already tried to contact his friend and colleague by digital means but failed. Yuri did not answer or respond to the voicemail messages Nick left on the burner phone he’d provided Yuri. And neither Yuri or Laura responded to the draft email message he left in the anonymous Gmail account that all three shared.
Something’s happened to them—I’m certain of it. But what?
“So how are we supposed to leave?” Nick asked.
“The embassy is arranging for a charter flight to take everyone back to Moscow—all staff and family members.”
“How about me, I’d like to go to Mexico City and work out of the consulate.”
“Sorry Orlov, the State Department orders require everyone to board the flight. No exceptions.”
“Govnó!”
* * * *
It was a date night for Yuri and Laura. They were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the downtown Bellevue restaurant. It was half past seven. Amanda was at home with Madelyn.
Tonight, Yuri relinquished his usual beer and instead shared a bottle of a Columbia Valley merlot with Laura. They were served a few minutes earlier. Yuri worked on a sizzling filet mignon; Laura enjoyed prime rib.
Laura just finished briefing Yuri on her workday. Laura and her partners were currently in preliminary discussions with a Silicon Valley IT giant regarding the acquisition of Cognition Consultants. Cognition was a software company specializing in the analysis of ‘Big Data’ by employing Artificial Intelligence. Cognition’s innovative work already led the pack with huge potential ahead.
“That’s an unbelievable payout for you and your partners,” Yuri said. If the sale occurred, Laura’s share would be nine hundred million dollars and change.
Laura smiled. “It’s what every startup hopes for…build up the value of the business and cash out while still on top.”
“But?” Yuri said.
>
“I don’t know if I’m ready.” Laura was still in her early thirties; her partners were knocking on the door of fifty.
“How long would you have to stay with the company after the acquisition?”
“Just a year.”
“That’s not bad.”
“No, but each of us would have to sign a noncompete agreement that would run for five years after that.”
“Not surprising, plus you wouldn’t need to work.”
“Yuri, you know me. I’d be bored stiff.”
He beamed. “I know what you should do!”
“Let me guess, set up a foundation and run that?”
“No. You should take over management of NSD. With your business skills and Bill Winters engineering innovations, you could really help grow the company.” Yuri continued his pitch, reciting Northwest Subsea Dynamics’ chief engineer’s plan to pursue the lucrative market of developing underwater craft and subsea systems for military applications.
Yuri and Laura discussed the idea for the rest of the meal. She was lukewarm. Yuri was happy that she didn’t outright reject it.
Over dessert, caramel covered vanilla ice cream—Laura’s favorite—and decaf coffee, Yuri recounted his trip to Naval Base Kitsap-Bangor earlier in the day.
“That must have been quite an experience for you,” Laura commented.
“It was. I can still hardly believe it.” He swallowed a spoonful of ice cream. “That base is impressive, much more sophisticated than anything Russia has. They even showed me their training facilities. Incredible stuff.”
“Did you get to see any of the submarines?”
“I did. They drove us out to a quay. Delta Pier. One of the Trident subs was moored to it.” Yuri sighed. “I spent much of my career trying to find those behemoths. To see it in person, up close, was overwhelming.”
“Did they take you aboard?”
“No. I think that might have been pushing things.”
Laura sipped her coffee while considering Yuri’s story. “Was it the one we were involved with?”
“The one I saw was called the Louisiana. I didn’t ask about the Kentucky.”
“So, they didn’t bring that up?”
“No, I’m not sure they knew about it and Michaela didn’t mention it. Our discussions centered on the Neva’s activities.”
Laura wiped her lips with a napkin. “Sounds like it was a courtesy visit. The U.S. Navy has plans for you.”
“I think you’re right.”
* * * *
After leaving the restaurant, Yuri and Laura drove home in Yuri’s Highlander, like they did most weekdays. This morning he had delivered Laura to her office at 7:45 A.M. and then drove to Everett to catch the helicopter flight to Bangor.
The Toyota’s radio was on. The news summary just aired, leaving both Yuri and Laura astounded. The announcement from the State Department ordering the closure of the Houston Consulate was released in the late afternoon. Neither Yuri or Laura had heard about it until the radio broadcast.
“What’s Nick going to do?” Laura said.
“The report said they’re expelling the staff so he’s probably going back to Moscow.”
“Why now?”
“The news said it was about the oil spill in the Chukchi Sea but I suspect there’s more to it than that—a lot more.”
“Pearl Harbor?”
“Yep.”
“Hmmm,” Laura mumbled. “I wonder what Nick will do next?”
“He’ll be fine. He’s one of the SVR’s stars.”
Still, Yuri worried about the well-being of his colleague and friend. Once Russia determined that Yuri had defected to the United States, Nick Orlov might be tainted by their relationship.
Yuri was forced to break off all unauthorized communications with Russia as part of his agreement with the U.S. government, which meant he could no longer contact Nick. He disposed of the burner phone that Nick had provided him and avoided accessing the common Gmail account he shared with Nick.
As Yuri and Laura drove east on SR-520, heading downhill from the Microsoft campus into the Sammamish River valley, they each contemplated Nick’s welfare.
Laura prayed. Lord, please watch over and protect Nick.
Yuri thought of his friend. Nick’s going to be in trouble because of me. How can I help him?
Chapter 15
Day 8—Wednesday
Yu Ling spent the previous day and most of the current morning going over her case file in detail—three times! Nothing new, no new leads.
Why are they pushing so hard? I located the workboat and I identified the man who operated it. What else do they need?
When Yu had arrived for work on Tuesday, her supervisor took her aside. He showed her the directive from Beijing. The Ministry of State Security ordered the Qingdao bureau of the MPS to conduct a top to bottom review of its work regarding the nuclear detonation. No explanation was provided with the directive but Yu’s supervisor took it as a rebuke.
Yu Ling had expected praise for her work on the case; instead, her boss ordered her to check everything and start over fresh. His tone was not friendly.
Yu massaged her temple. The headache was in its infancy. She stared at the PC monitor on her desk. The Windows folder contained everything she had assembled on the case. As she started to review each individual digital file for the fourth time, she muttered to herself, “What did I miss?”
The revelation materialized a couple of minutes later. She had just clicked on a file that contained video images of the workboat Yi Jie in Qingdao’s Middle Harbour. The boat—I never followed up on why it was in the harbor before the blast.
She observed the video on fast forward as the workboat repeatedly patrolled up and down the waterway. The last segment of the surveillance camera video showed the Yi Jie as it cruised past construction equipment. What’s this?
Yu Ling played back the video at normal speed and clicked on ‘pause’ just as the workboat passed the crane barge. She studied the image. That’s a dredge!
She checked another file, verifying that the Yi Jie was owned by a company that conducted marine surveys.
Maybe I had all of this wrong!
Yu now suspected that the Yi Jie was somehow associated with the dredging project in the Middle Harbour.
What if it was conducting a dredging survey for the port?
Yu’s stomach flip-flopped as her theory that Uyghur dissidents were involved with the bomb began to unravel.
But why did it speed off to the north part of the bay?
Maybe they saw something and went over to investigate.
Yes, that’s got to be it!
Yu Ling called up a digital telephone directory for the Port of Qingdao. After finding the number for the Port’s maintenance division, she picked up her desk phone and placed the call.
Chapter 16
The People’s Liberation Army-Navy building on Hainan Island in southern China was located five miles southeast of the resort city of Sanya. Notched into the hillside above the shoreline, the 65,000 square foot three story structure had commanding views of the South China Sea. Construction of the building was completed four months earlier.
Just west of the building was a massive reinforced concrete pier. With a width of 400 feet, the wharf jutted into the harbor for nearly half a mile. Three offshore artificial breakwaters provided shelter for the pier. Designed to moor China’s largest military vessels, the pier was part of the naval base. It served as the homeport for the South Sea Fleet’s aircraft carrier.
Immediately south of the building and the pier was a recreational complex for Navy personnel. It consisted of basketball courts, a track and field complex with a four hundred meter track and a regulation size soccer field.
The sign at the entrance to the PLAN building identified it as the Shend
ao Fleet Logistics and Support Center. The building included a warehouse on the ground floor, training facilities on the second level and offices and meeting rooms on the top floor. A partial basement was located at the building’s southern end. The twenty-foot square subterranean chamber provided access to a tunnel.
The three hundred and thirty-foot-long tunnel stretched into the adjacent hillside where it connected with an auxiliary complex. Constructed within a cavern carved from rock, the two level 30,000 square foot facility housed one of the PLAN’s most secret installations: South Sea Sound Surveillance System, aka S5.
S5 served as the hub for China’s vast network of underwater listening posts in the South China Sea. For the past three years, China covertly installed the system, utilizing an armada of non-military vessels ranging from innocuous fishing boats to research ships operated by the Chinese Academy of Sciences. In all cases, the vessels involved in the installation work were staffed with PLAN crews who wore civilian clothing.
Ships installed tsunami and weather monitoring buoy stations, workboats lowered research instruments into the water column for biological sampling and water quality testing, and fishing boats deployed deep-sea lines and nets in search of anything that swam. Working as civilian craft, the secret operation was designed to dupe satellite reconnaissance and to avoid raising “red flags” to the multitudes of foreign ships that sailed across the 1.35 million square mile sea.
The parabolic antennae nested on the roof of the Shendao Fleet Logistics and Support Center building intercepted a constant stream of encrypted acoustic data from PLA satellites linked to the underwater monitoring system. Fiberoptic cables transmitted the raw data to supercomputers housed on the lower level of S5. Programmed with China’s latest artificial intelligence algorithms, the computers searched for manmade sounds; U.S. submarines in particular.
PLAN officers and enlisted techs on S5’s upper level analyzed the flood of data generated by the computers. Hamstrung with flaws in AI coding, manual interpretation of the computed results was still needed. The ocean depths were filled with a smorgasbord of natural acoustic energy, ranging from the songs of humpback whales and the clatter of mating shrimp to plate tectonics and subsea volcanic eruptions. Attempting to decipher the suppressed sound prints of submarines, especially those of the U.S. Navy, was a daunting and frustrating process for the S5 staff.
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