The Bin Laden Plot

“Yes, I go by Khalila now. For the time being.”

“I assume you’re responsible for the incident at the Seif tonight?” Rashidi asked.

“I am.”

“Why would you do such a thing? Kill five of my men?”

“Iqbal was about to kill me. I had no choice.”

“That’s absurd. Iqbal would never harm you.”

“He said there was an edict that required my elimination. It had to do with a question I asked.”

“What was that?”

“About a prisoner the Americans handed over to Kuwaiti officials several years ago.”

“Can you be more specific about this prisoner?”

“The man from bin Laden’s Abbottabad compound.”

Rashidi’s eyes widened, finally understanding what this was about. He looked at the two men behind her. “Wait outside.”

The two agents departed, closing the study door.

Rashidi began pacing back and forth. “This edict was handed down years ago, before you started working for the Americans. It was not crafted with you in mind. If Basim had called me, I would have clarified that you are exempt.”

“It would have been helpful if you had done so earlier.”

Rashidi stopped pacing and faced her, clearly agitated. “Why now? After all these years, why is this question asked?”

Khalila wasn’t sure how much she could reveal to Rashidi. But considering how she expected things to play out tonight, she figured it was okay to divulge whatever was necessary.

“Are you aware that the existence of this prisoner was kept secret from the CIA?”

Rashidi started pacing again. Khalila could tell his mind was racing through various scenarios; what information could be divulged, where it would lead, and what the repercussions might be. But he hadn’t answered her question, so she repeated it.

“Malik, are you aware that the existence of this prisoner was kept secret from the CIA?”

“Yes!” he hissed as he spun toward her. “It was kept secret from everyone! That was the reason for the edict. No one was to learn the truth.”

“What truth was that?”

“You already know. That the Americans took a prisoner from Abbottabad.”

She had finally brought Rashid to the point where she could ask the question that really mattered.

“Who was the prisoner?”

“I don’t know. I never saw him, and I didn’t dare ask who he was. Not that they would have told me.”

Khalila pondered whether Rashidi was telling the truth. Her gut told her he was. But what else did he know?

“Where was the prisoner sent?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Khalila heard the faint sound of several suppressed MP7 shots, followed by two thuds in the hallway outside the study. Rashidi’s eyes went to the door as a questioning look formed on his face, but Khalila continued.

“Actually, you should tell me,” she said. “There are nine dead men on your estate tonight. Let’s not make it ten.”

“What?”

The study door burst open, revealing Harrison wielding his MP7, which he quickly brought to bear on Rashidi.

“As I was saying,” Khalila said, “let’s not make it ten dead men on your estate tonight. Where is the prisoner?”

Rashidi eyed Harrison, then the two agents lying on the floor outside the study. Rashidi’s facial expression said it all; his resolve crumbled.

“He was sent to Failaka Island,” he said. “There’s a hidden detention facility on the eastern side, built and run by the Americans after 9/11.”

“Is it still active?”

“I don’t know. The Abbottabad prisoner was the last man we sent there. All others went elsewhere after that.”

“Was there any paperwork for this arrangement?”

“Nothing. All verbal.”

“One last question,” Khalila said. “Who directed you to keep this a secret from the CIA?”

“I don’t know who the men were. I hadn’t interfaced with them before, but they knew the code words.”

Khalila approached Rashidi and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Malik. I know how difficult this was for you.”

Then she lowered her other arm and flexed her wrist, ejecting a knife into her hand.

She jammed the knife into Rashidi’s right kidney, inflicting an excruciating stab wound. His legs went weak from the pain and he dropped to his knees. Then she slit his throat.

He fell to the ground, clamping his hands around his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Blood pulsed through his fingers until his body went still.

“What the hell, Khalila. Why did you kill him?”

“Because the moment we left tonight, he would have made a call, letting whoever orchestrated this cover-up know what we’d been told. We can’t get to Failaka Island tonight, and I don’t want whoever’s there warned so they can pack up and scurry away. If whoever was taken from Abbottabad is still at that facility, I don’t want him to slip through our fingers.”

39 LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

PJ Rolow was furious.

Sitting beside Christine, the DDO’s face had turned flush, his skin taking on a red hue. But Christine didn’t have to look at him to know he was upset. He was doing an excellent job expressing it.