The Bin Laden Plot

18 ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The morning’s dark clouds to the west had moved over the city, and a light rain was falling from an overcast sky as a sentry waved Khalila’s car into Arlington National Cemetery. He saluted Harrison as he passed by, since the former SEAL was now wearing a Service Dress Blue uniform. Following their trip to Nagle’s murder scene, Khalila had stopped by Harrison’s room at the Intercontinental in D.C., waiting in the car while he changed into his Navy uniform for this afternoon’s funeral. Khalila had stopped by her town house as well, also changing into something more appropriate: a black business suit paired with a white blouse.

Khalila was continuing down Eisenhower Drive past the Tomb of the Unknowns, headed toward McNeil’s burial site, when Harrison spotted a black SUV in the distance and a woman standing among the grave sites not far away. Based on the location, Harrison had a fair idea of who it was, and since they were thirty minutes early, he decided to swing by.

“Take a left up there,” he said to Khalila. He pointed to the SUV. “I think that’s Christine.”

“On a first-name basis with the director?” Khalila asked. “It’s obvious there’s something going on with you two. What’s the deal?”

Harrison considered filling Khalila in, but it was a long backstory and he decided otherwise, repeating Khalila’s earlier response when he had asked about her name.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Khalila smiled. “Fair enough.”

She turned left on Patton Drive as directed, then stopped behind the SUV. The woman standing among the graves was definitely Christine.

As Harrison opened the car door, Khalila retrieved an umbrella from the side pocket of her door. “Take this.”

It was Harrison’s turn to smile. “I’m a former SEAL. A little rain isn’t going to bother me.”

Harrison headed across the wet grass toward Christine, who stood before headstone 1851. DANIEL O’CONNOR was engraved on the front, and Harrison didn’t look, but he knew TATYANA O’CONNOR was inscribed on the back. He had still been dating Christine when her mother died and had been with her at Tatyana’s funeral.

That Christine had grown up without a father had always been a sensitive subject, and he wondered if her tomboy persona as a kid was compensation for the lack of a male influence at home. Her father had been killed in action while Tatyana was pregnant, and Tatyana had never remarried, dying from cancer when Christine was in her early twenties. In accordance with policy at Arlington National Cemetery, she’d been buried atop Daniel in the same grave, her name inscribed on the back of the headstone.

Harrison stopped beside Christine, and with neither saying a word, she instinctively moved closer and placed her umbrella over both of them. There was something natural about being with Christine. He wanted to put his arm around her, pulling her close to comfort her, but didn’t want to send the wrong signal. He knew she was still in love with him. It had become apparent aboard USS Michigan, when she had asked him a simple question.

How’s home?

He had seen the disappointment in her eyes when he’d replied, It’s good.

It had been a truthful answer. He loved Angie and wasn’t about to leave her. Christine had let her opportunity slip by — they had dated for over a decade when he had finally given up and moved on to Angie. A month after he proposed to Angie, Christine had called, letting him know she was ready to settle down. She hadn’t heard the news.

However, he wondered what his decision would have been if Christine had called before he’d proposed. He would never admit it to Angie, but he shared a bond with Christine, one that would probably never be broken.

“I thought you might be here early,” Harrison said. “Do you stop by often?”

“Not as often as I should.”

“Your parents would have been proud of you. It’s a shame neither one lived to see what you’ve accomplished.”

“I wonder sometimes. Professionally, yes. I’m sure they’d be proud. But my personal life leaves a lot to be desired. I’m in my forties, unmarried, no kids — ”

Harrison cut her off. “You could have almost any man you want. You’re beautiful, intelligent, accomplished. If you made yourself available, there’d be men lining up to date you.”

“You know how it is, Jake. I never seem to make time in my life for men. There’s always something more important. I kept you waiting too long, and then my marriage to Dave didn’t last, which was primarily my fault. Marriage takes work, and my heart wasn’t in it.”

“It’s a different time in your life now, Chris. Make it a priority.”

“That’s what Joan keeps telling me. You remember Joan, from college?”

Harrison nodded. Joan was on Christine’s gymnastics team and a political science major as well.

She continued, “Joan ended up in D.C. too. Only she’s married with kids.”

“It’s not too late,” Harrison said. “You just need to decide what you want.”

“I know what I want,” Christine said tersely. “The problem is, I can’t have it.”

An awkward silence followed. This was the most direct Christine had been concerning her feelings toward him since they had reconnected a few years ago. Assuming, of course, he was interpreting things correctly.

Christine seemed to regret her words. She looked down quickly, then checked her watch. “We should probably get going.”

Harrison accompanied Christine to the road, where she said, “Thanks for stopping by,” before heading toward her SUV.

Harrison returned to Khalila’s car, and they were soon at McNeil and Nagle’s burial site. After parking beside the curb, they made their way to the grave site, where Harrison greeted several active duty and retired SEALs who had gathered for the funeral. Christine arrived shortly thereafter, taking a seat in the family and dignitary section, covered by a canopy protecting them from the rain. As the ceremony time drew near, Harrison stood beside Khalila, beneath her umbrella, along one side of the graves.

While they waited for the funeral to begin, Christine’s gaze eventually settled on Harrison for a few seconds before flitting to Khalila. He felt Khalila move closer, pressing her body against his as her umbrella shielded them from the rain. He caught a flicker of jealousy in Christine’s eyes before she turned away.

He wondered about the timing of Khalila’s movement. He turned to his partner, who was looking at him. Then she smirked.

“Stop it,” Harrison whispered.

“So touchy,” Khalila replied softly. “I just wanted to get a bead on this thing between you and the director. Now I know.” She pressed her body more firmly against him. “But don’t confuse my curiosity for affection. As you’ve noted, I don’t get attached to my partners.”

She eased up, returning to a normal stance beside him.

A movement in the distance caught Harrison’s attention. A horse-drawn limber and caisson carrying two flag-draped caskets was working its way toward the grave site. Following closely behind was a procession of cars carrying McNeil’s and Nagle’s families.

The limber and caisson pulled to a halt beside a twelve-member honor guard serving as the casket teams, and McNeil’s and Nagle’s families emerged from their sedans and stood alongside the road as the caskets were removed from the caisson. The chaplain led the procession to the grave site, where the caskets were placed atop metal supports above the graves while the family members took their seats beneath the canopy alongside the grave site.

The casket teams lifted the American flags from both coffins and held them stretched taut above each casket as the chaplain began the committal service. After the chaplain read the scripture, the Officer-in-Charge of the ceremony signaled the firing detail, and military personnel saluted as a seven-member rifle team fired three volleys. After the last round, a bugler sounded taps.

As the final note faded, the chaplain offered the benediction, then the casket team folded the American flags they had held over each casket, which were presented to the widows. Gretchen McNeil accepted the flag with tears streaming down her cheeks, as did Nagle’s widow.

The SEALs in attendance approached the graves and pounded their metal warfare insignias into the top of each coffin. After they stepped back, visitors formed a line, offering their condolences to the widows and their families. Harrison waited, since Gretchen had mentioned during their short phone conversation that she wanted to talk with him afterward.

The line of mourners wound down, and when there was no one left, he approached the grieving families, offering condolences first to Nagle’s widow, then to Gretchen. John McNeil’s wife stood and hugged him tightly, holding him close for a moment.

“John truly respected you, Jake. I know he felt fortunate to have you under his command.” She stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes, then reached for her purse. “The day he was killed, he knew something bad was going to happen. He found out the night before that Nagle had been killed. He spent most of the night going through storage boxes.”

Gretchen pulled an envelope from her purse. “When he left the next morning, he handed this to me on the way out the door. He said to give it to you if anything happened to him.”

She handed Harrison the sealed envelope, which had JAKE scribbled on the front. Gretchen hugged him again, whispering into his ear this time.

“Find whoever did this, and make him pay.”

She stepped back and joined the rest of her family as they departed the grave site.

After everyone except Harrison and Khalila had departed, he opened the envelope. Inside was a computer flash drive, plus an index card with a short note written on the back.

3rd floor desk. Find him.

“Do you have a laptop with you?” Harrison asked Khalila.

“I do, but we need to have the flash drive screened for viruses first.”

“How long will that take?”

“Depends on the priority.”

“This is high priority. I’d like to see what’s on the drive now.”

Khalila hesitated a moment, then replied, “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

After they returned to her car, Khalila reached behind her seat and pulled a laptop from its case. After turning it on and gaining access with her fingerprint, she inserted the flash drive and examined its contents: a single file containing several gigabytes of data. When Khalila tried to open the file, a display popped up, asking for the password.

“It’s encrypted,” she said. “I’ll have Analysis break it.”