The Vigilant Spy

by Jeffrey Layton

  “Offer to help search for it.”

  POTUS smirked. “That’s rich.”

  “Russia and China are gaming each other, feigning their alliance.”

  “Well, they’re joined at the hip in one cause—screw us over however they can.”

  “Agreed. And that brings me to the next item.” Brindle cleared his voice. “One of our subs tracked a Chinese boat to Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy. It released an autonomous underwater vehicle that penetrated the harbor and swam to the Rybachiy submarine base.”

  “Some kind of a spy device for recording Russian subs?” Magnuson asked.

  “That was the original speculation but CIA is backing off, based on input from DIA.” Brindle removed an enlarged photograph from a file folder he carried. He slid the print from the Defense Intelligence Agency across the desk.

  Magnuson picked up the photo. The black and white image revealed a gray cylinder partially embedded in mud. “What am I looking at?”

  “The Chinese probe. Our sub, the Mississippi, launched an autonomous underwater vehicle that followed it into the harbor. This is one of the infrared photos recorded before it returned to the Mississippi.”

  “I have the feeling you’re going to tell me that it’s not a spy gadget.”

  “I’m afraid so. DIA is of the opinion that it’s a weapon.”

  “What kind?”

  “Some type of sea mine but its unlike anything we know about in the Chinese arsenal.”

  “They want to sink another submarine…this time right at a base?”

  “That’s possible. But based on what happened at Qingdao, both CIA and DIA now believe, and I concur, that the probe likely contains a nuclear device.”

  Magnuson slumped in his chair. “Revenge?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “When is this nightmare going to end?”

  * * * *

  Nick Orlov lay on his side in the hotel bed staring at the television. It was a few minutes past five in the morning. He was in Vancouver but his body clock was stuck on Hong Kong time.

  Unable to sleep any longer, Nick had turned on the television. The top of the hour news summary was underway. A thirty something perky blonde recited the newsflash: “Breaking news this morning from Vladivostok, Russia. The Russian Pacific Fleet reports that one of its submarines is missing and presumed to have sunk. The submarine Novosibirsk was based in Vladivostok. It was on patrol in the South China Sea near the Philippines but contact was lost two days ago. The Russian Navy is mounting a search but no trace of the 120 meter submarine has been detected so far. Ninety men were aboard. The Novosibirsk was…”

  Nick focused on the television screen. A file image of a submarine filled the screen. That’s the sub Yuri was on!

  Nick knew Yuri was aboard the Novosibirsk during its spy missions in Yulin and Qingdao but had no details on his ops.

  This is too much to be a coincidence.

  SVR director Borya Smirnov pressured Nick for an update on Yuri Kirov’s whereabouts. After Nick completed his assignment in Hong Kong, he had expected to return to Moscow. Instead, Smirnov sent him back to Vancouver.

  Laura Newman did not respond to his texts or leave a response on the Gmail account they shared.

  I’ve got to get her attention—somehow. Russia’s still not done with Yuri!

  * * * *

  “So, what’s next?” asked Chen Wu Mei.

  President Chen Shen keyed ‘mute’ on the TV remote. Facing his wife, he said, “We continue as planned.”

  The couple were in the entertainment room of their Zhongnanhai residence. They had just watched the evening news broadcast, which featured the loss of the Russian submarine Novosibirsk. Wu Mei sat on a futon across from her husband. She wore a casual floral frock that displayed her comely legs. President Chen was stretched out in his favorite La-Z-Boy Recliner; he wore a robe. Blossom leaned against the chair. Chen massaged the golden retriever’s ears with a hand.

  “Do you still plan to warn the Americans?” Wu Mei asked.

  “On Monday, the Foreign Ministry will issue a general notice, announcing the new policy regarding navigation and air routes within the Cows Tongue. All vessels and aircraft must seek advance permission to pass.”

  “No advance notice to Washington…regarding submarines?”

  “It’s no longer necessary.”

  “The Novosibirsk?”

  “Yes.”

  Wu Mei processed the news, elated at the success of the Serpent program and her husband’s decision to expel the U.S. Navy from China’s home waters. China was rising, soon to take its rightful place as the world’s dominant superpower. Still, the national lesion festered. “What about Qingdao?” she asked. “Sinking one of their submarines doesn’t atone for what they did.”

  “That is to be determined.”

  “You must act soon; the people will demand revenge.”

  Chen Shen nodded as he triggered the remote, restoring the TV audio. The newsreader was in the middle of the sports segment.

  Irritated, Wu Mei snatched a fashion magazine from a side table and began paging through it.

  President Chen pretended interest in the latest soccer scores but his thoughts were elsewhere. What should I do?

  The nuclear weapon sitting on the bottom of the Russian harbor listened for the acoustic command signal. The Politburo Standing Committee deferred to Chen. Admiral Soo at the Central Military Commission was ready to execute upon receiving Chen’s orders. An MSS spy at the Rybachiy sub base stood by, ready to deploy a hydrophone into the harbor waters.

  Lebedev is a sneaky rat. He does not fear us like the Americans do.

  The Qingdao response option favored by the PSC was the invasion of Siberia and the confiscation of its vast mineral, oil and gas resources.

  The Kremlin would never tolerate the loss of Russian soil.

  Remembering Hitler’s failed invasion of the USSR in World War Two, Chen put the kibosh on invasion talk.

  But how will Lebedev respond to losing his submarine base? Risk all out nuclear war with us—or will he accept that consequence?

  President Chen banked on Lebedev’s reluctance to escalate, accepting the quid pro quo: Rybachiy for Qingdao.

  But what if I’m wrong?

  Russia’s titanic nuclear arsenal could send China back to the aftermath of the Mongol’s annihilation of the Jin and Song dynasties, the Dali Kingdom and Western Xia.

  Everything we’ve built for the past seventy years could be lost. We’d have to start over.

  Chen dismissed the negative thoughts, falling back on the grand plan.

  China’s secret scheme to retain its rightful place as the supreme world power commenced in 1949 with the founding of the People’s Republic of China. The undisclosed strategy called for China to achieve world dominance by the PRC’s hundredth anniversary. Through a series of long-term measured phases that employed deception, obfuscation and manipulation, the PRC’s goal was to surpass the United States in all key superpower factors: economic, cultural and military.

  With implementation of Serpent the final goal might be obtained decades earlier than planned.

  Serpent is the key to everything. Once we evict the Americans from our home waters, the final elements of the plan will fall into place!

  President Chen engaged the recliner’s side lever and stood.

  Wu Mei looked up. “Where are you going?”

  “You know.”

  China's first lady rolled her eyes.

  “Come on Blossom, let’s go.”

  After a short walk, Chen was in the garden behind the residence. He lit up his fourteenth Marlboro for the day while Blossom made her rounds, sniffing plants and inspecting stone tiles. As President Chen took in a deep drag, he decided—sort of.

  There’s no hurry. Soo says it can stay
on the bottom for months…I can even recall the underwater machine that has the bomb, allowing it to sink onto the ocean floor far from Russian territory. Lebedev would never know.

  * * * *

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Laura Newman said as she stared at the television in the kitchen. It was half past seven in the morning. She had just returned from working out in the condominium building’s gym. She was in her sweats, sipping a glass of orange juice beside a counter. Amanda was in Maddy’s room, dressing her for the day.

  The network news broadcast announced the loss of a Russian submarine in the South China Sea.

  “Novosibirsk! That’s the boat Yuri was on.” Yuri had told Laura bits and pieces of his last mission.

  Unexpectedly chilled with dread, Laura’s thoughts leapfrogged. Where are you? What do they have you doing? When are you coming home?

  Chapter 63

  Day 37—Thursday

  With rucksacks strapped to their backs, Yuri Kirov and Jeff Chang were on the move at 12:25 A.M. The sticky night air hovered around ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Across the navigation channel to the north, the Phoenix Island Resort towers glistened. The beat of live rock and roll with Mandarin lyrics—Chengdu Rock—flowed across the waterway. A cruise ship from Shanghai had docked at the Phoenix Island terminal in the late afternoon. An outdoor shipboard party was underway on the aft deck.

  As expected, the pier mooring the Lian was not approachable from the shore. Its squad of pole mounted floodlights lit up the pier deck. The main pier ran parallel to the shore for 620 feet. Two trestles, each about 230 feet long, were located near the east and west ends of the main pier. The trestles provided access from the shore to the main pier.

  Yuri located a work float tied up to a bulkhead east of the pier. The eight-foot-wide by twenty-foot-long raft had a timber deck and frame. Foam filled plastic pontoons supported the deck.

  Yuri and Jeff kneeled on the float with Yuri at the lead. Each held an eight foot stick of lumber swiped from a pile on the uplands. About the size of a standard two-by-four, they used the boards as paddles. Once under the eastern trestle, they had worked their way seaward between the clusters of steel pipe pilings that supported the concrete superstructure. The tide was low, which provided just enough room to pass under the trestle’s lateral reinforced concrete beams—pile caps—that rested on top of piles.

  Light from the pier’s floodlights spilled under the dock, allowing Yuri and Jeff to see. After paddling the length of the trestle, they traveled westward under the main pier. When they neared the middle of the pier, Yuri turned around and said, “I think we’re close.” He spoke with a whisper. “Are you ready?”

  Jeff tapped the Taser riding in a holster on his right hip—part of his spy gear. “Yep, all set.” Canary yellow and about the size of a pistol, the electroshock stun weapon was a standard police issue. Jeff also carried a Beretta in a shoulder holster that he’d been issued, as did Yuri. But gunfire was a last resort. Their immediate mission was a quick in and out. The Taser was their first line of defense.

  Yuri set his paddle on the float deck. Jeff followed. Yuri pushed against a pile, propelling the raft from under the overhead pier. The float drifted next to the stern of the Lian. After standing, Yuri cautiously peered over the ship’s transom. The Viperina canisters were thirty feet away.

  * * * *

  The BMW drove onto the pier and parked adjacent to a gangway. The aluminum ramp provided pedestrian access to the Lian. While still in the front passenger seat, Meng Park embraced Captain Zhou Jun—one last time. “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said.

  “My pleasure.”

  They had just driven from Zhou’s apartment. After a late dinner out, they had returned to the naval captain’s quarters for a nightcap and sex.

  Park opened her door and slipped a leg out. Just before exiting, Zhou said, “Good luck with your mission, and please keep me posted on your progress.”

  “Thank you, and I will.”

  Meng Park exited and the BMW drove forward, leaving the pier via the west trestle. Before heading up the gangway, Park took time to scan the Lian’s aft deck. The Viperina canisters were as she remembered, stored under the A-frame hoist.

  Where’s the guard? she wondered.

  Meng eventually located the sentry. He was on an upper deck that overlooked the stern. The PLAN sentry wore civilian attire but he carried an assault rifle. Park waved; the sailor returned the greeting.

  Dr. Meng boarded the ship, bound for her cabin. Jun had wanted her to stay until morning, reminding Park that most of the crew also avoided the ship. Homeported in Sanya, the Lian’s twenty-two person military crew all lived in or near the city. Just three elected to spend their last night of shore leave aboard the ship—all bachelors. Park chose not to push her luck. So far, she had managed to conceal her affair with the S5 commander. She could only imagine the shipboard gossip should their secret be exposed.

  Sated from drink and sex, all Park sought now was a hot shower and sleep.

  * * * *

  “Damn!” whispered Jeff Chang as he watched Meng Park board the ship. “It’s her.”

  Yuri muttered a Russian expletive. He and the CIA officer squatted beside an eight foot high stainless steel cannister. When the BMW drove onto the pier, the sentry they’d been watching walked to the port side of the ship to investigate. That’s when Yuri and Jeff scurried over the transom and made their way to the collection of steel drums.

  Jeff Chang surveyed their surroundings. The sentry leaned against a bulkhead in the shadows. He had just lit up. The tip of the cigarette glowed as he inhaled, marking his position.

  Jeff whispered to Yuri. “We need to take out the guard first and then snatch her, like we talked about with the SEALs.”

  “No way. We’re not ready to deal with her. We should stick to the plan. Knock out the guard and crack open one of these things.” Yuri pointed to the nearest barrel. “Photograph the guts, take what we can, and get out.”

  Jeff ignored Yuri. He crawled forward along the steel deck, using the Viperina canisters as cover. Exasperated, Yuri followed.

  * * * *

  The sentry was blindsided. One moment he was strolling on the upper deck and then he found himself flat on his face, his teeth clutched vise tight and his body on electric fire from a 1,200 volt jolt.

  Jeff Chang handed the Taser gun to Yuri and rushed forward. He injected the incapacitated sailor with a knockout drug. The dose of ketamine would render the twenty-four-year-old comatose for several hours.

  After binding the sentry’s wrists behind his back, Jeff and Yuri dragged the sailor down a companionway to the aft deck. They hauled the guard into a cargo container box, dumping him behind boxes of spare parts.

  “Let’s go find Meng now,” Jeff said.

  “No, not yet,” Yuri ordered. He held the sentry’s rifle. “We open one of those damn drums first. Get what we can, and then…only if we haven’t been compromised, we try to find her.”

  Jeff Chang reluctantly agreed.

  Chapter 64

  “Doctor Meng, please open the door.” The Lian’s engineering officer rapped his right hand knuckles on the cabin door. He repeated his request, but louder.

  “Who’s there?”

  “I’m the ship’s chief engineer. There’s an emergency call for you on the bridge.”

  Meng Park cracked open the door. Her damp hair was wrapped with a towel; a white cotton bathrobe concealed her torso. “Who’s calling me?”

  Yuri Kirov yanked the engineer back into the passageway as Jeff Chang jammed his right foot in the door opening while simultaneously grasping for Meng Park’s arm.

  Meng lurched backward, screaming. Jeff managed to snag the robe. They ended up on the bunk with Jeff on top. During the ensuing struggle, Meng’s robe tore open, exposing her breasts. With his legs locked around her hips, Jeff held
a dive knife to Dr. Meng’s throat. “Stop struggling,” he ordered in Mandarin.

  * * * *

  The Lian’s chief engineer ambled into the cabin, the barrel of a nine-millimeter pistol pressed against the back of his skull. Yuri followed, glued to his captive.

  “You okay?” Yuri asked.

  Entangled with Meng Park, Jeff Chang ignored Yuri, addressing the PLAN scientist instead. “Don’t move,” he commanded, again using Mandarin. He withdrew the knife and unraveled himself from his captive. He slipped the blade into its scabbard on his belt.

  Jeff faced Yuri. Switching to English, he said, “I’m all right. She fought me like a banshee.” He reached up to caress his left cheek.

  That’s when Yuri noticed the parallel welts from Meng’s fingernails.

  “We need to get going.” Yuri shoved the engineer forward, signaling him to sit on the bed beside Meng. They had captured the PLAN officer in the galley raiding a refrigerator for a snack.

  Meng managed to close her robe. She homed in on Yuri and in flawless English said, “Who are you?” During the initial encounter, she had feared rape but now suspected something worse.

  Jeff responded. “Dr. Meng, you’re wanted back home for espionage.”

  “You’re Americans!” Park shouted, stunned—terrified.

  “That’s right and you’re coming with us.”

  * * * *

  Jeff and Yuri were inside the Lian’s bridge, both leaning against the chart table. Dr. Meng was in a corner with knees bent and wrists bound behind her back with plastic cable ties—another goodie from Jeff Chang’s spy kit. She wore a white cotton blouse, jeans and sneakers. The ship’s engineer was perched on the captain’s pedestal chair next to the helm, his hands similarly lashed behind his back. Lighting inside the compartment was set for night conditions—scarlet. A minuscule tremor vibrated in the deck, transmitted by the ship’s idling diesels.

  Yuri pointed to the chart of Sanya harbor and the adjacent South China Sea. “We depart here. We’ll have a direct route to Da Nang.”

  “How far away?”