The Bin Laden Plot

He heard the slap of the round as it impacted McNeil’s head, dropping him instantly. The other agent shoved Verbeck into the SUV and jumped in after her, then the vehicle peeled away, doing a one-eighty around the service loop before speeding toward the National Harbor exit. The scene outside the Gaylord was pandemonium, as those nearby either ran to McNeil’s aid or scattered in various directions.

Mixell left the rifle behind. He hadn’t bothered wearing gloves and was certain that DNA evidence would link him to the crime. But that’s what he wanted; he was leaving his calling card. He stepped from his hotel room and headed to the attached parking garage, where his car was parked near the exit.

12 LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

Christine O’Connor stepped from the elevator on the ground floor of the CIA headquarters in Langley, accompanied by two protective agents as she headed to her awaiting car. After she slid into the back seat and the SUV pulled away, she mulled the stunning news, which had filled the country’s television and radio broadcasts — yesterday’s assassination attempt against Secretary of the Navy Brenda Verbeck.

What the public didn’t know was that the likely perpetrator had been identified. Lonnie Mixell had been spotted on a surveillance camera exiting one of the National Harbor parking garages moments after the assassination attempt. Clearly, the former Navy SEAL had not been killed a few months ago.

Jake Harrison had put three bullets into Mixell that night, the third being a suspected fatal shot that sent Mixell slumping onto the side of his boat before slipping beneath the dark surface of the Potomac River. Although Mixell’s body hadn’t been recovered, that hadn’t been surprising considering the Potomac was the fourth-largest river on the East Coast, with thousands of small bays and coves along its banks as it emptied into the Chesapeake Bay. Painfully obvious this morning, the CIA’s conclusion regarding Mixell’s fate had been overly optimistic.

Her thoughts remained on Mixell, a childhood playmate and one of her two best friends growing up, the other being Jake Harrison, whom she had dated for a decade beginning in high school. As kids, the three of them had been almost inseparable. Even in high school, they had stuck together, with Mixell’s various girlfriends tagging along as fourth wheels.

As Christine’s SUV pulled onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway, her thoughts shifted to the pending White House meeting, where the CIA would most likely assist the FBI’s search for Mixell, due to the agency’s previous success tracking him down and thwarting his attacks on the country’s largest cities and the president himself. She would have egg on her face this morning, though. The CIA’s erroneous conclusion that Mixell had been killed would call into question the veracity of previous and future CIA analyses.

Christine was the last to arrive at the White House for the meeting and stopped outside the Situation Room, where she pulled a laptop computer from her satchel for inspection by security personnel, who verified it had no camera or wireless capability. Once cleared, she entered the conference room and took one of two empty seats at the table, leaving the chair at one end for the president, then connected her laptop to the audiovisual cable on the conference room table.

Once her presentation was ready to display, she took note of the attendance, which included Secretary of Homeland Security Nova Conover, FBI Director Bill Guisewhite, Director of National Intelligence John Rodgaard, and Thom Parham, the president’s national security advisor. Given Mixell’s previous ties to al-Qaeda and its international implications, Secretary of State Marcy Perini was also present.

Hardison contacted the president’s secretary, informing her they were ready for the president, who arrived a moment later. All stood as he entered, returning to their seats after the president settled into his chair.

“What’s the status?” he asked.

Hardison replied, “Director Guisewhite has the lead on the investigation and will brief you on what we know.”

After the president nodded his concurrence, Guisewhite began.

“Good morning, Mr. President. As you’re aware, there was an attempt on Secretary Verbeck’s life yesterday following her keynote speech at the Sea-Air-Space Exposition at National Harbor, with the attempt occurring as she exited the Gaylord convention center. A sniper was positioned in a hotel room across from the Gaylord, but the bullet missed Verbeck, killing one of her protective agents instead. John McNeil was his name, a recently retired Navy SEAL.”

Christine looked up suddenly from her computer. John McNeil had been the commanding officer of the SEAL detachment aboard USS Michigan, a man she had worked with several times. She’d been so focused on the news that Mixell had survived that she hadn’t bothered to ask the name of the slain agent.

“How is Brenda doing?” the president asked.