“Repeat the signal.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Dr. Meng Park had warned Zhou about the recall issue. Once in attack mode, the Vipers were designed to ignore acoustic based countermeasures, which sometimes also included the recall signal. The Serpent operational code needed refinement to eliminate the glitch.
What are they doing? he wondered.
Three of the four Vipers were unaccounted for. The energy released by the underwater blast was consistent with just one unit.
Park would know what to do . . .
Zhou backed away from the technicians. Thankfully, the compact control room had minimal lighting, which enhanced viewing of the wide-screen displays. A solitary tear cascaded down his right cheek.
Sweet Park—I had no choice.
Zhou’s remorse was short-circuited by the chief Viper tech. “Wow, what was that?” he called out, removing his pair of headphones.
Zhou returned to the CPO’s side. “What have you got?”
“Another explosion, Captain, near the Nanchang but a hundred meters deep. It’s been reeling in the VDS towed body.”
“One of the Vipers attacked it?”
“I think so.”
“Dammit. We need to warn Nanchang now.”
* * * *
“Captain, sonar reports a submerged explosion four hundred meters from the stern.”
Everyone inside the Nanchang felt the underwater blast. The shockwave slapped the hull ten seconds earlier.
The destroyer’s commanding officer was about to request clarification when the CIC watch officer relayed another incoming report. “Captain, the deck winch crew reports zero tension on the VDS cable.”
“Bring the ship to general quarters, man battle stations.”
The lieutenant repeated the order and set about implementing it. Seconds later, the comms officer issued a new report. “Captain, the Lian is calling again. Captain Zhou needs to speak with you. Says it’s urgent.”
“Put him on the screen.”
Zhou’s video image materialized on the secure display. “Commander,” Zhou said, “your ship is in imminent danger of attack. Shut down your propulsion system and execute quiet ship conditions.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
The Nanchang’s CO repeated Zhou’s orders to the CIC watch officer. He turned back to address the video image of his boss. “Sir, what’s going on?”
“Some of the weapons we deployed may have gone rogue. They’re designed to—”
The transmission from the Lian was interrupted by a ferocious tremor that catapulted all seated CIC personnel from their chairs. Those standing were knocked to the deck, some with their lower leg bones snapping.
* * * *
“Captain, we just picked up another explosion. Similar magnitude but close to the Type 055.”
“How close?” asked Colorado’s commanding officer. Tom Bowman stood beside the sonar supervisor in the control room.
“Real close, possibly on the hull itself,” the sonar tech reported from his console. A pair of Bose headphones were draped around his neck.
“Very well, keep monitoring. Try to assess damage conditions.”
“Aye, sir.”
What the hell is going on? questioned Bowman.
The USS Colorado was sixteen nautical miles southeast of the PLAN destroyer. For the past hour, the submarine had hovered six hundred feet below the surface. It listened to everything going on in the water column.
Colorado’s executive officer was at Bowman’s side. “That makes three detonations. Something’s not right.”
“I know.”
“Misfire?”
“Maybe.” Bowman turned back to question the sonar supervisor. “Richey,” he called out.
Sonar supervisor Anderson swiveled in his chair, pulling his headphones down. “Sir.”
“Did you hear anything to indicate that the Type 055 was deploying weapons…torpedoes, depth charges, AUVs?”
“Negative, sir. Nothing but the VDS array.”
XO Mauk processed the tactical condition. “Skipper,” she said. “Maybe the research ship deployed some of those specials.”
“Hmmm.”
Bowman and Mauk stepped to the command workstation at the center of the control room. Bowman called up one of the satellite photos supplied by the CIA. The digital image of the Lian snapped into focus. He pointed to the deck near the stern. “They had six of those canisters aboard.” He turned to face Mauk. “I think you’re right, XO. They deployed the damn things.”
“They’re designed to operate deep. The first explosion—could it have targeted the submersible?”
Bowman scowled. “That must have been what happened.”
* * * *
Two hours had elapsed since the attack on the Nanchang. The Lian accompanied the destroyer as it limped back to Hainan Island. The Shendao Naval Base was five miles away. Captain Zhou Jun shut down the taskforce and ordered all surface craft to avoid the attack area. One of the Viperinas was unaccounted for; Zhou would delay commencing the search for the rogue weapon until its battery ran out of juice.
Chapter 79
Day 38—Friday
It was a quarter past midnight. The Xiu Shan surfaced two hours earlier. With the jettisoning of the emergency ballast, the plastic sphere rode about a foot higher out of the water than when it had launched the previous morning. The extra freeboard allowed the hatch to be opened without the worry of flooding. A breeze from the north kicked up whitecaps atop the long and slow swells that rolled in from the southwest.
Without the ballast, the submersible bobbed in response to the wave chop. Yuri was immune; Jeff tolerated the gyrations, just thankful to be alive. Meng Park suffered, heaving her guts out. Still bound to the starboard passenger seat, an open tool box rested in her lap. Yuri found the container behind the pilot’s seat. He removed the tools before providing Meng the makeshift barf-bucket.
Ten minutes earlier, after dumping Meng’s latest upchuck overboard, Yuri had checked the surrounding waters from the open hatchway. They were alone in this corner of the South China Sea. The ships, helicopters and planes that had hounded the trio were nowhere in sight.
Despite the lingering odor of vomit, Yuri and Jeff waited patiently, both currently seated inside the blacked-out pressure hull. The submersible’s batteries had flatlined twenty minutes after reaching the surface.
Yuri peered upward through the transparent orb. The nearly full moon floated overhead, the cloudless sky blossomed starry bright. Caressed by the sea rhythm, he settled into the seat; the adrenaline rush long gone, his weary body needed recharging.
Yuri started to snooze when Chang broke the silence. “What’s taking them so long?”
Yuri yawned as he stretched out his arms. “Relax, Jeff. They’ll get here when they can.”
“What happens if the sun comes up before they arrive. We’re sitting ducks out here. Someone will see us for sure.”
“Try to nap.”
Upon surfacing, Jeff had set up the SEAL satphone and called Langley. It took fifteen minutes to finally hookup with Steve Osberg at the Ops Center. Yuri managed to obtain a GPS fix from the Xiu Shan’s navigation module before the mini’s batteries petered out. Osberg promised he’d relay their location to Colorado but was not able to provide a rendezvous time.
Jeff ignored Yuri’s suggestion. “I think we should call Langley again.”
“You heard Osberg. They want us to stay off the air. Even though the PLAN can’t decrypt the call, that Signals unit at Lingshui might detect the transmission and get interested. There’s no other radio traffic out here now. We don’t want them coming back here to investigate.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Jeff muttered.
After a twenty minute catnap, Yuri woke. He checked the others. Jeff sno
red; Meng Park brooded. Yuri was about to stand and take a quick look topside when a familiar voice called out from above. “How’re you guys doing?”
Yuri looked upward.
Malibu Murph, outfitted in an ink-black wetsuit stared down from the open hatchway, a cheery grin breaking out across his bearded face. “Ready to go home?” he asked.
“Yes, Chief, we sure are.”
Chapter 80
Half a day behind China time, it was late afternoon at the White House. President Tyler Magnuson was in the Oval Office at his desk catching up on correspondence when his chief of staff opened the door. While standing in the threshold, he said, “Sorry to disturb you Mr. President, but Pete Brindle needs a couple of minutes of your time to brief you on the China operation.”
“He’s here?”
“In the reception.”
“Show him in, please.”
National Security Advisor Peter Brindle claimed a chair fronting POTUS. “Just heard from Langley,” he offered. “Colorado plucked our two wayward agents out of the South China Sea several hours ago.”
The President chortled, energized by the news. “Fantastic—are they okay?”
“Just fine.” Brindle beamed. “They had Dr. Meng with them, too, plus a treasure trove of data and actual hardware for the Serpent system.”
“That’s terrific.” The President stroked his temple, taking in the news. “Do we now have what’s needed to neutralize the threat?”
“With Meng, we have the crown jewels.”
The President leaned back in his chair, still processing the turn of events. “So, what do the Chinese know about all of this?”
“From radio traffic intercepts, Langley is of the opinion that Beijing believes their naval forces destroyed the submersible with all aboard.” Still astounded by the CIA briefing, Brindle continued the rundown. “Apparently, the PLAN actually deployed the Serpent system to attack the minisub.”
“They must have been desperate.”
“Indeed.” The National Security Advisor retrieved his handwritten notes from his discussion with the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. He spent the next ten minutes providing POTUS with a summary of the recent events in the South China Sea.
President Magnuson digested Brindle’s report. He focused on the last revelation. “Sinking the submersible and blowing it up on the seabed, what a clever idea.”
“It was. When the Chinese investigate, which they most certainly will, just as we would, they’ll find the minisub obliterated on the bottom. That should provide the closure they’ll need to believe they dodged a bullet.”
“What about bodies?”
“That sphere imploding at three thousand feet would shred human tissue into fish food.”
Magnuson sighed, relieved that he might not have to confront Beijing over the incident. President Chen Shen would have no proof to pursue a claim of espionage by the U.S. “Whose idea was it to blow up the submersible?” he asked.
“Our Russian asset, Yuri Kirov.”
“Once again he saves our bacon.”
“Definitely.” That provided an opportunity for Brindle to address a loose end. “Sir, about the device the Chinese planted at the Russian sub base in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy, the CIA believes that the timing might be right to . . .”
Chapter 81
Yuri Kirov and Jeff Chang had the Colorado’s radio room to themselves. Commander Tom Bowman ordered the communications officer and the on-duty technician to vacate the compartment—perhaps the most secure section of the ship. Bowman’s orders came directly from the White House, bypassing the normal chain of command. Jeff stood while Yuri sat at the satellite telephone console. It was 8:42 A.M. local time. They had been aboard the submarine for over seven hours. The ship hovered at periscope depth 164 nautical miles east of Sanya. The comms mast pierced the sea surface.
“Just give her the number,” Jeff said. “She’ll take care of it.” Jeff wore a pair of headphones that were wired into the encrypted satphone circuit orchestrated by Langley. Steve Osberg directed Jeff to listen in on the call. A Russian speaking CIA officer in the Ops Center was linked in too. Her job was to place the call and interpret in real time for Chang and Osberg.
“Okay,” Yuri said, “but I don’t know if this is a working number anymore. He moves around a lot.” Yuri checked the contact list on his personal cell phone. The recipient’s name and number were listed under the company name of one of Northwest Subsea Dynamics’ real clients. The individual’s name was legitimate but the cell number wasn’t. The subterfuge was designed to throw off the FBI if they decided to recheck Yuri’s phone.
Yuri held the handset to his right ear. He provided the number and soon heard a ring tone. The ringing persisted. Yuri’s forehead furrowed. He was about to hang up when he heard “Allo”—Hello in Russian.
“Hi Nick, it’s Yuri.” He also spoke in their native tongue.
Jeff Chang winked at Yuri, acknowledging the secure linkup.
“Where are you?” Nick Orlov asked.
“I’m in Alaska. You know, the oil spill project.”
“Oh, yeah. How’s that going?”
“Still a mess but better each day.” Before Nick could probe the lie, Yuri said, “So where are you these days?”
“Vancouver.”
“Permanent posting?”
“Not sure. But I’ll be here at least for the next couple of months.”
“That’s great. Maybe we can come up to visit you—discreetly, of course.”
“I’d like that.”
“Nick, the reason I’m calling is that before heading north I came across some intel that really bothered me. It concerns payback from China for an op the Kremlin ordered.”
“What?”
“The Chinese have planted some type of device on the bottom at the Rybachiy sub base.”
“Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of device?”
“Possibly a nuke. Supposedly tit for tat for what happened at Qingdao.”
“Qingdao—what do you mean?”
“The bomb. Moscow sanctioned it.”
Nick cursed. “How’d you get this?”
“I can’t reveal the source other than I judge it as highly reliable.”
Nick processed Yuri’s convoluted tale. “What else can you tell me?”
“I have coordinates. The bottom should be checked immediately to evaluate the threat.”
“Coordinates! How could you—”
“Don’t ask,” interrupted Yuri. “I can’t give you that information. You just need to take it on faith that I’m trying to watch out for the homeland. The threat is real. You’re my only link to Russia now. I’ve burnt all of my other bridges.”
“Read me the coordinates.”
Yuri complied. He subsequently said, “Nick, whoever you report this call to, let ’em know that I offered this information as a goodwill measure. All I want is to be left alone.”
“I will.”
After a few departing remarks, Yuri ended the call. He looked up at Chang,
“Perfect,” Jeff said.
* * * *
Nick set his cell phone on the desk. It was a few minutes before six o’clock. Most staff had already left. He stared at the window wall of his office—the same office that Elena had used. The landscaped park setting was still visible in the fading light.
Mesmerized by Yuri’s call, Nick rehashed their conversation
What’s he been doing?
One of Nick’s principal assignments at the Vancouver Trade Mission was to assess the damage resulting from Yuri’s rejection of the homeland. There was a price Yuri would have to pay to the USA for obtaining political amnesty; the Kremlin was desperate to know that cost.
Nick had failed to learn an
ything new about Yuri’s interaction with the American government. He struck out with Laura Newman; she refused all of Nick’s inquires. Even more troubling, deep cover SVR operatives in the Seattle area had not observed Yuri for several weeks.
He used a secure line! Nick thought.
Nick recognized the washed-out tone of Yuri’s voice and the minuscule time delay in his responses, both indicators of a relayed encrypted circuit.
Yuri lied about Alaska.
Nick had dispatched an SVR officer to Alaska to check up on Northwest Subsea Dynamics’s work on the oil spill cleanup operation. The agent was still in Barrow. Yuri was a no show.
We set off the bomb in Qingdao?
Yuri’s revelation stunned Nick at first but as he considered what had transpired in recent months, it clicked for him.
It’s our retribution!
Nick was aware of China’s scheme to pit Russia against the USA. And now China was about to escalate its treachery.
How could Yuri know such a thing?
The warning about a bomb at the Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy sub base puzzled Nick and then a new thought materialized.
He must have been there!
The revelation snapped into focus.
Yuri’s an underwater expert, operated out of Petro. That’s it. The American’s sent him to spy on Rybachiy and he found the Chinese bomb.
Nick checked his wristwatch and made the mental calculation for Moscow time.
He’s going to be pissed but I have to act on this now.
Nick headed to the Trade Mission’s code room.
* * * *
The director of the SVR was alone in the study of the lavish Kremlin apartment. It was 6:58 A.M. More than annoyed by Orlov’s urgent telephone call three hours earlier, Borya Smirnov had reluctantly phoned the chief of staff, requesting an immediate audience. President Pyotr Lebedev was an early riser but not that early. The one-on-one was set for seven o’clock.
Despite the telephone security measures in place at the Kremlin, Smirnov wanted facetime with Lebedev. Other than the president and Smirnov, the details of the subject matter were known to less than a dozen scattered between the FSB and SVR, the Kremlin and the Ministry of Defense.
The Vigilant Spy Page 36
