The Bin Laden Plot

Wortman suddenly realized his proximity to the ship was a threat to his survival. Once the stern completely slipped into the water, its submergence would supposedly create a swirling vortex, sucking any nearby debris — and sailors — deep beneath the surface. It was occasionally a topic of debate among shipmates, whether the vortex pulling sailors to their doom was fact or fiction, but he figured it was better to not take the chance.

He started swimming away, deciding to keep going until he no longer heard the sounds of Stethem’s demise. While he swam, pain shot through his right leg with each kick, but he slowly pulled away from the stern.

As he kept swimming, his arms and legs began to chill. He was losing too much blood. He felt light-headed and stopped to catch his breath. He scanned the area for other crew members, and more important, a flotation device of some sort — anything to hang on to until a rescue effort arrived. He spotted nothing.

While he treaded water, his arms and legs tired, and he soon had difficulty keeping his head above the waves. He called for help, but his shouts were weak and he received no response.

The metallic groans from the sinking stern faded and a calm returned to the sea, punctured only by the sporadic voices of shipmates in the distance. After discerning which sound was closest, he swam toward it. But his muscles were already fatigued, and he didn’t get far before he stopped. The choppy waves began to pass over his head, and he struggled to keep his face above water.

When the next wave passed, he didn’t resurface. He stroked upward, but his kick and arm stroke didn’t have much power. He spotted the white, wavering moon on the water’s surface, and it seemed to be getting smaller. Panic set in and he redoubled his efforts. The size of the moon stabilized. But it wasn’t getting any bigger, and he was running out of oxygen.

Despite his best efforts, the moon began shrinking again. Terror tore through his mind as he stroked furiously upward, hoping by some miracle he’d make it back to the surface. But then the movement of his arms and legs slowed as his muscles tired even further. As he stared at the surface, a darkness slowly converged on the glittering moon, and a peaceful warmth and calm spread throughout his body.

For some reason, his thoughts drifted to the day he told his parents he was joining the Navy, continuing his family’s proud heritage of naval service, dating all the way back to World War II. As his thoughts faded away, the last image in Wortman’s mind was the proud look on his father’s face as he congratulated his son.

2 WASHINGTON, D.C.

It was just after 4 p.m. when a black Lincoln Navigator turned onto West Executive Avenue, headed toward the White House. In the back seat, CIA director Christine O’Connor contemplated the information contained in a folder inside the black leather satchel on her lap. She’d been the director for only a few months and was still learning about the myriad programs the CIA was involved in. The agency had tentacles in almost every facet of the U.S. government.

The district’s buildings glided past her window until the SUV stopped in front of black steel bars blocking the entrance to the White House. After the gate guards checked her driver’s identification and completed a security sweep of the vehicle, the gate slid aside and the vehicle pulled forward, grinding to a halt beneath the curved overhang of the West Wing portico.

Standing at the entrance between two Marines in dress blues was Kevin Hardison, the president’s chief of staff, whom Christine had worked with when she was the president’s national security advisor.

He greeted her, then asked, “Are you up to speed on the program?”

“I am. But I know only half of the story.”

“That’s fine. SecNav will have the lead during this afternoon’s briefing, considering the situation and its complexities. Everyone’s assembling in the Situation Room. We’ll begin when the SecNav and CNO arrive.” He cast a glance toward the street. Another black SUV was approaching the White House.

Christine left Hardison at the West Wing entrance and entered the White House, proceeding past her former corner office and down toward the Situation Room in the basement. She left her cell phone outside the room and entered to find the expected collection of White House staff and cabinet members seated around the table: Secretary of Defense Tom Glass, Secretary of State Marcy Perini, Captain Glen McGlothin — the president’s senior military advisor — and finally, Christine’s successor in the White House — Thom Parham — the president’s national security advisor.