The Bin Laden Plot

The SEALs in attendance approached the graves and pounded their metal warfare insignias into the top of each coffin. After they stepped back, visitors formed a line, offering their condolences to the widows and their families. Harrison waited, since Gretchen had mentioned during their short phone conversation that she wanted to talk with him afterward.

The line of mourners wound down, and when there was no one left, he approached the grieving families, offering condolences first to Nagle’s widow, then to Gretchen. John McNeil’s wife stood and hugged him tightly, holding him close for a moment.

“John truly respected you, Jake. I know he felt fortunate to have you under his command.” She stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes, then reached for her purse. “The day he was killed, he knew something bad was going to happen. He found out the night before that Nagle had been killed. He spent most of the night going through storage boxes.”

Gretchen pulled an envelope from her purse. “When he left the next morning, he handed this to me on the way out the door. He said to give it to you if anything happened to him.”

She handed Harrison the sealed envelope, which had JAKE scribbled on the front. Gretchen hugged him again, whispering into his ear this time.

“Find whoever did this, and make him pay.”

She stepped back and joined the rest of her family as they departed the grave site.

After everyone except Harrison and Khalila had departed, he opened the envelope. Inside was a computer flash drive, plus an index card with a short note written on the back.

3rd floor desk. Find him.

“Do you have a laptop with you?” Harrison asked Khalila.

“I do, but we need to have the flash drive screened for viruses first.”

“How long will that take?”

“Depends on the priority.”

“This is high priority. I’d like to see what’s on the drive now.”

Khalila hesitated a moment, then replied, “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

After they returned to her car, Khalila reached behind her seat and pulled a laptop from its case. After turning it on and gaining access with her fingerprint, she inserted the flash drive and examined its contents: a single file containing several gigabytes of data. When Khalila tried to open the file, a display popped up, asking for the password.

“It’s encrypted,” she said. “I’ll have Analysis break it.”

19 POTOMAC, MARYLAND

Dusk was giving way to darkness, streetlights flickering on, as a silver Ford Mustang followed a blue Prius as it turned onto Highland Farm Road in Potomac, Maryland, in an affluent neighborhood of twenty-thousand-square-foot mansions. A few houses after the turn, the Prius pulled into the driveway of an eight-bedroom house brightly lit in the distance, stopping at the closed metal gate. The Mustang passed by as Captain Andy Hoskins lowered the window of his Prius and spoke into the intercom box, announcing his presence. The gate slid slowly aside and the Prius pulled up the driveway as the Mustang disappeared around the bend.

Mixell drove on for a while, pulling his Mustang to the side of the road near a break in the trees where there was a clear view of Hoskins’s destination: Secretary of the Navy Brenda Verbeck’s estate. The Prius stopped beneath a portico, where Hoskins, carrying a briefcase, was met at the door by a servant, and the front door closed after he stepped inside the mansion.

A light flicked on in an upstairs room, which Hoskins entered while Brenda Verbeck waited by the doorway. He placed his briefcase on a conference table, then stopped beside Verbeck, placing his hands on her waist as he gently kissed her neck. They disappeared from view, and a moment later, a faint light lit the master bedroom at the back corner of the house.

A twisted scenario indeed, Mixell thought.

Verbeck was having an affair with the man she had contracted to kill. But perhaps he had gotten it wrong and someone else had targeted the Pentagon Navy chief and captain. After considering the possible scenarios, Mixell’s conviction returned; his assessment was likely correct. What he’d gotten wrong was underestimating how conniving and ruthless Verbeck was. A woman truly to be admired.

With his eyes on the bedroom widows, Mixell reviewed the relevant details he had gleaned thus far. Hoskins had been divorced for about a year, with custody of his daughter on weekends. Verbeck, on the other hand, was a married woman, whose husband worked and lived in San Diego. Whether Brenda and her husband were estranged or she was simply taking advantage of their separation, Mixell didn’t know.

It looked like there was no more to learn tonight about Hoskins’s travels, so Mixell started his car and headed down the road.

* * *

Shortly after Mixell returned to his hotel room, his phone vibrated, followed by a notification sliding onto the screen.

An encrypted message.

He launched the application and typed in his password followed by his thumbprint, and a message appeared on screen.