The Bin Laden Plot

“How deep is the water where he was buried?” Christine asked.

McFarland looked up USS Carl Vinson’s reported location at the time of bin Laden’s burial, then pulled up a bathymetric chart of the Arabian Sea. “Just over nine thousand feet.”

“Does the agency have a deep-submergence vessel that can go that deep?” Christine asked.

Rolow shook his head.

“Then we’re going to need assistance, which complicates things. We’ll need to disguise the reason we need a DSV, or at least minimize the number of people who know. If we’re truly dealing with a bin-Laden-is-alive scenario, we’ll need to prevent the organization responsible from being alerted. They’ve already proven they’re willing to take draconian measures to cover their tracks, and we need to ensure agency personnel don’t become additional casualties.”

“Agreed,” McFarland replied. “I’ll ensure our DSV requests are for an innocuous reason.”

“What’s the second method to figure out which bin Laden scenario we’re dealing with?” Christine asked.

“The other approach is to prove bin Laden is alive. To do that, we need to track down the prisoner taken from the third floor. The only lead we have takes us to Kuwait, so we should start there.”

“I agree,” Rolow said. “I recommend we send Harrison and Khalila to Kuwait, to see if they can ferret out where the prisoner is located.”

Christine nodded her agreement. “Start fleshing out the details, and let’s reconvene tomorrow. Anything else we need to discuss tonight?”

No comments were offered, so Christine said, “I think we know what we need to do: if Osama is dead, verify the body we buried is his. If he’s alive, find him.”

* * *

Christine departed the conference room, as did the others except for Bryant and Rolow.

Once they were alone, Bryant turned to Rolow. “Assigning Khalila to this mission is a mistake. You should reconsider.”

“Her contacts in the region are already the best in the agency,” Rolow replied. “If we manage this issue properly, we can improve those contacts dramatically.”

“I agree with you on that. It’s the contacts she’ll need to engage that I’m worried about — they’re too dangerous. Khalila is a crown jewel for both sides, and getting her involved in this issue puts her too much at risk. If they get their hooks into her, we might not get her back.”

“We were always going to have to risk her at some point,” Rolow replied. “This is it.”

28 USS MICHIGAN

Lieutenant Karen Bass leaned over the navigation table in the Control Room, studying Michigan’s operating area outlined on the electronic chart, deciding where to search next. They were approaching shallow water and needed to turn either north or south. Inside the Sonar Room, the sonar technicians were likewise studying their displays, searching for a sign of either the UUV or the mother ship that had retrieved it two days ago.

Captain Wilson’s trip to periscope depth for a videocon with the secretary of the Navy had been swift, but the mother ship and its UUV, operating beneath the thermocline, had vanished by the time Michigan’s acoustic sensors had dipped below the layer of warm water. They had spent the last two days scouring the surrounding area, focused primarily on the mother ship, since it emitted significantly louder tonals than the UUV. When they detected either contact, Michigan’s crew would be ready.

Torpedoes were loaded in all four tubes, with the outer doors open. Wilson had decided to keep Michigan in a ready-to-shoot posture, avoiding the noise transients caused by opening the torpedo tube muzzle and outer hull doors. The first sound the UUV or mother ship could detect would be the launch itself and not the torpedo doors opening.

“Conn, Sonar.” The Sonar Supervisor’s voice came across the Conn speakers. “Hold a new contact on the towed array, designated Sierra three-four, ambiguous bearings two-four-two and two-nine-eight. Analyzing.”

Bass glanced at the navigation display. Whatever they had detected was behind them, in either the port or starboard quarter. That was okay for the moment. She would keep Michigan steady on course until the contact’s bearing rate had been determined, which would feed the necessary information to the algorithms in the submarine’s combat control system.

A few minutes later, after sufficient data had been accumulated, Bass decided to turn south, to a course that put both bearings on the starboard side. The maneuver would resolve which of the two bearings was the real one and which was the false, mirror image.

“Helm, right twenty degrees rudder, steady course one-eight-zero.”

The former ballistic missile submarine, almost two football fields long, turned slowly to the south.

The Helmsman steadied the submarine on its new course, and the towed array eventually stopped snaking back and forth behind them, stretching back out into a straight line.

“Conn, Sonar. Bearing ambiguity has been resolved. Sierra three-four bears three-zero-one.”