The Bin Laden Plot

Mixell laughed. “Oh, no, Chris. I’m going to hurt Jake the same way he hurt me. I’m going to take away something important from him.” He turned to Harrison. “But I’m a compassionate man, so I’ll let you choose who dies. Your daughter.” He pointed the knife toward Maddy’s neck, then slowly toward Angie. “Or your wife.”

Maddy burst into tears, no longer able to hold back her fear, her body trembling as sobs escaped between deep breaths.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Angie said. “Dad’s not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Shut up!” Mixell yelled. He placed the knife against Maddy’s neck, his focus still on Harrison. “You’ve got five seconds to decide or your daughter dies.”

“Let her go!” Harrison shouted.

“Is that your decision?”

Harrison’s eyes met Angie’s. It was an impossible decision to make, choosing between the two persons he loved more than anyone else in the world.

“It’s okay, Jake,” Angie said, her voice quavering. “Just kill this son of a bitch and take care of Maddy.”

“It appears we’ve reached a decision,” Mixell announced. “Of course, it was made by Maddy’s mom instead of her cowardly father.”

He pushed his chair back and stood with Maddy before him, a firm grip on her left arm and his knife hand resting on her shoulder. After guiding her a few feet, he stopped behind Angie’s chair, where he released the girl. She ran to Harrison as Mixell placed his hands on Angie’s shoulders, the knife still in his right hand.

“Maddy, go to your room,” Mixell said, “and don’t come downstairs until morning. If you happen to have a phone upstairs, don’t call anyone until tomorrow. If you do, I’ll kill your mom and dad, and it’ll be your fault.”

Maddy stood behind her father, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, the side of her face buried into his back. She was sobbing hysterically now, and Harrison felt her tears soak into his shirt.

“I’m not as heartless as you think,” Mixell said.

“Go upstairs,” Harrison said gently but firmly, “and wait until your mom or I come for you. Understand?”

He felt Maddy nod as she slowly released her grip around his waist. Then she ran upstairs, crying the whole way until her bedroom door slammed shut.

Mixell grinned and slid the flat side of the blade across Angie’s throat. Her tears broke free and streamed down her cheeks. “Jake…”

Mixell looked down at Angie, then quickly back to Harrison. “After all these years, she’s still quite beautiful. I have to admit that I was jealous. And angry. For the second time, you took the woman I wanted. First Chris, then Angie. Although both are attractive, their personalities are different. Angie is more” — he paused as he searched for the right words, moving the knife in little circles only an inch from her neck — “emotional. So animated and full of life.”

“Let her go, Lonnie. Angie has nothing to do with this.”

“You still don’t get it,” Mixell snarled. “She has everything to do with this. You brought her into this the moment Trish died.”

Harrison had always thought Mixell’s revenge was focused on him, payback for reporting him to their superiors and for testifying against him at his court-martial. But things had changed when Trish was killed, after Harrison stood behind her with a pistol to her head. It was Mixell’s bullet that had done the deed, but that didn’t matter to him.

Mixell had crafted a similar situation tonight, standing behind Angie with a knife to her neck. If he had his way, Angie would end up dead on the floor, just like Trish.

Searching for a way to save Angie’s life, Harrison considered charging Mixell, hoping to surprise him. But he concluded it wouldn’t work. Mixell would slice her neck open the instant he charged.

His only option was to talk Mixell out of his plan, refocus his anger.

“I’m the one you want,” he said. “I’m the one who sent you to prison, not Angie.”

“You’re clearly not listening,” Mixell replied. “So, we’ll move on.” His grip tightened around Angie, and Harrison could see the rage building in his face.

“Do you understand what you took from me?” he screamed, his face turning red.

The knife danced in rhythm to his words, never straying far from Angie’s throat.

Harrison searched for words that would defuse Mixell’s anger. “I had a job to do. It was nothing personal.”

Mixell stared at Harrison for a long moment. When he replied, his voice dropped low and ominous.

“Well, it’s personal now.”

He pulled Angie up from her chair and held her tight against his body, his left arm wrapped around her waist. The tip of his knife pierced her neck, drawing blood.

“Don’t!” Harrison’s heart pounded in his chest. “You don’t have to do this!”

“You’re right,” Mixell said. “I don’t. You’re going to make me.”

As Harrison wondered what he meant, Mixell moved his knife to his left hand, then retrieved his pistol from its shoulder harness. He placed the weapon on the table, then took two steps back, pulling Angie with him.

“I’m giving you an opportunity. Go for it.”