The Bin Laden Plot

A moment later, Sonar reported, “Conn, Sonar. Surface warships are classified Russian Admiral Grigorovich and Admiral Gorshkov class, two of each.”

Wilson acknowledged the report, then studied the sonar display on the Conn. The merchant and Russian warship bearings were clumped closely together, which indicated they were a fair distance away. It would take time for the combat control system algorithms to discern their range. In the meantime, Wilson needed to be sure that Master one was indeed the merchant, by examining her navigation and deck lighting arrangement through the periscope.

“Rig Control for black.”

The lights flicked off, enveloping the Control Room watchstanders in darkness, aside from the faint illuminations of their displays and control panel indications. Not long thereafter, Wilson received the report he’d been hoping for.

“Conn, Sonar. Have a new contact designated Sierra three-seven, bearing zero-eight-five, classified submerged. Analyzing.”

They had found the Russian submarine, which was out in front of the merchant and surface warship convoy. He now knew which area to avoid.

Wilson announced, “Designate Sierra three-seven as Master six. Track Master six.”

“Conn, Sonar. Jimmy Carter is increasing speed.”

It seemed Gallagher’s crew had also detected the Russian submarine and were moving out to distract their adversary. It was time for Michigan to engage.

Wilson twisted the periscope ring above his head, then announced, “Raising number two scope.” As it rose from its well, he flipped the handles down and adjusted the optics for his eye prescription.

“All stations, Conn. Proceeding to periscope depth. Dive, make your depth eight-zero feet.”

The Diving Officer complied, and Michigan tilted upward.

67 FAIRFAX, VIRGINIA

As Christine and Rolow mapped the way ahead regarding Khalila, Christine heard Rolow’s front door open and close, followed by footsteps on the stairs. Christine turned to confront Khalila once she arrived with Harrison, but another woman appeared instead. Secretary of the Navy Brenda Verbeck stopped in the study’s doorway.

The two women locked eyes for a moment before Brenda turned to Rolow.

“What’s the plan?”

McFarland’s revelation that Rolow had dated Brenda for five years flashed in Christine’s mind, and she suddenly realized that their relationship had endured in some capacity. A capacity that didn’t bode well for her tonight.

The realization must have been evident on her face, because Brenda said, “So, you finally get it now. This was never going to turn out the way you imagined, Christine. You live in an imaginary world of right and wrong, good and bad, innocent and guilty. A world where I go to jail and you live.”

From a nearby table drawer, Rolow pulled a pistol with an attached suppressor, then leveled it at Christine.

“I misinterpreted the reason for your visit,” he said. “I figured you had come across definitive proof that Brenda was involved in the death of her aide and Pentagon supervisor or that she had deliberately misled Captain Wilson regarding the UUV. That being the case, and with you being the only person who knew all the elements of the plan — you were the only one at the agency who had talked with Wilson — we figured it was time you were removed from the equation.”

“This is unfortunate,” Brenda said. “I’ve tried to keep those affected to the minimum, and I hate to see a woman as accomplished as you meet her demise, but I really don’t have a choice. The others — Bryant, McFarland, and your two field officers — have incomplete information and can be managed, and whatever Wilson has discovered can be concealed with the right security classifications and nondisclosure agreements.

“Plus, there’s nothing linking me to the murders of my aide and the Pentagon chief.” Brenda moved beside Rolow and draped an arm on his shoulder. “PJ was kind enough to make the arrangements.

“Unfortunately,” Brenda said, “you have the necessary information to put it all together. That’s something we can’t allow.”

68 USS MICHIGAN

“Passing one-five-zero feet,” the Diving Officer announced.

Through the periscope, the moon’s blue-white reflection became visible, wavering on the water’s surface, growing slowly larger as Michigan rose from the ocean depths.

“Eight-zero feet.”

When the scope optics broke the surface, Wilson began rotating the periscope, scanning the darkness for nearby ships.

“No close contacts!”

There were several white lights in the distance to the east, and Wilson steadied up on the contacts, shifting the periscope to high power, then squeezing the doubler on the periscope handle. There were five ships headed north, based on Wilson seeing their port running lights. Four were warships, evident by their clean navigation profile — a red port running light and single white masthead light — while the fifth ship, in the middle of the four warships, was a merchant, its deck lights partially energized.