The Bin Laden Plot

She placed both hands on Mixell’s chest as she caught her breath, staring at the man who was once her childhood friend. A man who had turned into something pure evil, slaying Jake’s wife and maybe even Harrison and his daughter as well.

Her thoughts turned to Maddy and she hurried to the girl, checking for a pulse. She was unconscious and bleeding, but alive.

As she wondered how long it would take for help to arrive, she heard the faint sound of sirens growing steadily louder. It would take a while before they searched the barn, so she carried Maddy to the house through the heavy rain as paramedics and law enforcement arrived.

77 BREMERTON, WASHINGTON

The sound of conversation roused Christine from her slumber. She was curled on a couch in Jake Harrison’s room in Naval Hospital Bremerton, where he and Maddy had been taken the previous night. Two nurses were attending to Harrison, who had regained consciousness after his surgery. Technically, she wasn’t allowed in the intensive care unit, but an exception had been made for the CIA director.

She pushed herself upright, wincing as pain sliced through her left shoulder, where Mixell had driven his knife. The wound had been cleaned and bandaged, as had the injuries to her calf and thigh. But her physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain Harrison would endure once he became lucid and his thoughts turned to Angie.

Thankfully, Maddy had survived and was doing well. Mixell had fractured her skull, but brain scans had detected no swelling or damage beyond a severe concussion. She would remain in the hospital for a few more days, however, in case there were complications. Harrison’s parents were on their way; Harrison would be in no condition to care for Maddy following his hours-long surgery, repairing the damage from Mixell’s bullets.

The nurses left the room, and Christine stood and stopped beside Harrison’s bed. When his eyes focused on her, they had a strange look. She pushed the thought aside as she took his hand in hers.

“How are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, so she asked, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Harrison nodded. “How’s Maddy?” he asked weakly.

Christine explained what happened. Just as Mixell was about to kill Christine, Maddy had shown up in the barn, whacking him in the head with a shovel, saving Christine’s life. She chose not to mention Maddy’s fractured skull. She was going to be all right, and there was no need to alarm him.

“Mixell?”

“He’s dead.”

When she used the word dead, her thoughts went to Angie, and Harrison’s must have as well. His eyes clouded in pain, and he turned away as tears rolled down his cheeks. She held his hand as he worked through the emotion. When he turned back toward her, there was a hardness in his features, and he pulled his hand away from hers.

“It’s your fault,” he said. “If you hadn’t talked me into joining the agency, Angie would still be alive.”

Christine was momentarily at a loss for words. Technically, he was correct. But she couldn’t have foreseen last night’s outcome months ago. Enlisting Jake’s assistance had been the right thing to do. At least, that’s what she had told herself. In the deep recess of her mind, though, doubt crept in. Had she talked him into joining the CIA for the right reason?

“I’m done,” he said. “I’m done with the agency, and I’m done with you.”

“You don’t mean that, Jake.”

“I do,” he said. “I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again.”

He closed his eyes and ignored additional attempts at conversation.

After a while, Christine resolved herself to the situation, which was only temporary, she told herself. Jake would stop blaming her; it was only a matter of time.

She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then examined herself in the mirror. She wore no makeup and her face looked pale and drawn out, last night’s events seemingly adding years to her appearance.

As she stared at her image in the mirror, she couldn’t shake Harrison’s words, blaming her for Angie’s death. After contemplating his accusation for a while, she reluctantly agreed. If she hadn’t dragged him into the first Mixell case, resulting in Trish’s death, Angie would still be alive.

Harrison was right.

It was all her fault.

78 WASHINGTON, D.C.

It was unusually warm and stuffy in the West Wing basement, with the Situation Room packed with personnel gathered for this afternoon’s meeting. The president sat at the head of the table, joined by Kevin Hardison and Christine O’Connor, a host of other staff and cabinet members, plus the three individuals who would lead this afternoon’s briefs: Secretary of Defense Tom Glass, Secretary of State Marcy Perini, and FBI Director Bill Guisewhite.