The Bin Laden Plot

They returned to the beam section of the gym, containing eight full-height beams, each four feet off the ground, plus several floor beams, which were only a few inches high and used as stepping stones to the normal-height beams when learning new, complex moves.

Christine had Maddy warm up on one of the floor beams.

54 WASHINGTON, D.C.

Lonnie Mixell stood on the wharf across the street from the Intercontinental, examining the twelve-story building, with its penthouse terrace and bar. He wore a light windbreaker, beneath which was a shoulder holster containing his SIG Sauer P226 with attached suppressor, plus a sheath containing a six-inch knife. As he prepared to step across the street, his mind went to a night a few months earlier, at a location not far away, just across the Potomac River. To the last time he saw Trish alive, with the coward Harrison holding her hostage, shielding himself with a woman.

He had waited months for this day as his wounds from his encounter with Harrison healed, lying awake at night as he imagined the various ways he might take from Harrison what his former best friend had taken from him. He even considered letting Harrison live, to spend the rest of his days with the memory of his wife dying in his arms.

But first, he needed to determine what room Harrison and Angie were in. The Intercontinental at the wharf, where the CIA booked rooms for their officers, wasn’t the kind of place that gave out that information. Any visitor or devious attempt to gain access, such as an individual posing as a food delivery guy, would be told to wait in the lobby while the resident was contacted, confirming it was okay to send him up. This wouldn’t do. He needed the element of surprise.

Mixell had a plan, of course, and he walked across the street and into the alley beside the hotel. There was a service door for personnel, which was shut, plus a loading dock entrance in the side of the building, and the metal roll-up door was also closed. He leaned against the wall not far from the service door and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, even though he didn’t smoke. He had planned ahead, stopping by a convenience store along the way.

He lit a cigarette and took a puff.

It was only a matter of time.

55 WASHINGTON, D.C.

After Jake handed Maddy off to Christine in the lobby, he headed back to his hotel room. After traipsing around D.C. all afternoon, followed by dinner at the Capital Grille, Angie had initially kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the bed. When he returned to the room, however, he realized she hadn’t wasted any time. She lay on the bed propped up against the headboard among the pillows, her body covered by a white bedsheet. The bottle of pinot noir he had ordered up to the room had been opened and two glasses poured, with one in Angie’s hand, and soft music was playing in the background. After verifying he had returned without Maddy, she pulled the sheet away, revealing her luscious body scantily clad in a black-lace teddy.

He took the glass of wine from her and leaned in for a kiss. She pulled him into bed, and he began exploring her body, his hands running slowly up her thighs. As his lips grazed her neck, he slid the straps of her teddy over her shoulders, then pulled it down over her breasts, the material catching for an instant on her hard nipples. She pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor, then moved her hands down the lean muscles in his back. He kissed her breasts, and she moaned softly as she tugged on his pants. He got the idea and kicked them off.

A sound penetrated the waves of pleasure, and it took Jake a second to realize it was his cell phone. He glanced at the screen and recognized the number. It was from Langley.

“I’ve got to take this,” he said.

Angie cursed under her breath as he retrieved his phone and answered the call.

“Harrison here.”

It was Khalila. “You might be taking the week off,” she said, “but I’m working the issue. That shipment from SI to Iran that McFarland mentioned this morning? Analysis tunneled into the Snyder Industry transportation logs and found a shipment that went to the Port of Baltimore in the middle of the night.”

“And?” Harrison said. “I imagine there are a lot of late-night shipments to the port.”

“There’s no record of the shipment arriving.” She paused, then added, “I think Mixell’s involved.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The timing. The shipment left a Snyder Industry dock in Maryland two days before he killed McNeil. He just happens to be in the area? Plus, he smuggled Russian weaponry into the Port of Baltimore a few months ago — he’s got contacts there. This has Mixell’s fingerprints all over it.”

Khalila had a point. A clandestine shipment to Iran certainly smelled of Mixell. “What next?”