The Bin Laden Plot

37 SALMIYA, KUWAIT

“This mess isn’t going to be easy to clean up,” Asad Durrani said.

Harrison and Khalila were sitting around a table with their case management officer in a CIA safe house in Salmiya, a city several miles southeast of Kuwait City. They were on the fourth level of a nondescript, eight-story building owned in its entirety by the CIA, in a flat that had been transformed into the safe house headquarters: the living room was missing the typical furnishings, filled instead with several men at computer workstations, monitoring displays mounted on the walls. Joining them at the table was Marzouq Ashour, a specialized skills officer responsible for managing the CIA safe house. Also at the table was their driver, Nizar Mussan.

An hour earlier, Harrison and Khalila had scaled the outer wall of the Seif Palace, rather than risk heading out through the entrance manned by security personnel, and had been picked up by Mussan. They had swung by their hotel and collected their belongings, then hastily departed. The Kuwait Security Service would quickly deduce who had killed their five compatriots and would undoubtedly determine where they were staying, so new accommodations were required. For the time being, the CIA safe house in Salmiya would suffice. How to deal with tonight’s event was the current topic of discussion.

“The seventh floor at Langley is going to have to handle this,” Ashour said. “This isn’t something I can resolve.”

“That’s understandable,” Khalila replied. “Does the DDO know yet?”

Ashour shook his head. “Not from us, at least. We got your call shortly after we picked up the chatter about something going down at the palace, so I decided to wait until you arrived and we had all the details.”

He glanced at the notes he had taken moments earlier. Khalila had taken the lead explaining what happened, although Harrison noted that she had left out several details: the question that had triggered the elimination edict and the part about her being untouchable. Actually, the entire story Khalila had fed Ashour had been a complete fabrication.

“We need to get to Rashidi,” Khalila said. “What paramilitary resources do you have available tonight?”

“Hold on a minute,” Ashour said. “You two are in hot water and about to be flayed by headquarters for killing five Kuwaiti agents on government grounds. And now you want to go after the head of the Kuwait Security Service?”

“We need to move fast,” Khalila said. “It’s doubtful he’ll realize we’re going after him next, but the longer we wait, the more likely he’ll make the connection and beef up his security.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashour said. “The political fallout of an operation against Rashidi would be extreme. Unless the seventh floor authorizes it, I can’t help you with this.”

Khalila folded her arms across her chest, contemplating the matter. She turned to Harrison, searching for ideas.

Harrison asked Ashour, “What kind of assistance can you provide unofficially? For example, could we borrow a few items from your armory?”

Ashour nodded. “I can provide equipment. Just no personnel.”

“What about recon? Can we get a look at the security at Rashidi’s residence?”

“We have satellite images you can examine. Nothing at ground level at the moment.”

“Satellite should be fine,” Harrison said.

Ashour had one of the technicians pull up satellite imagery of the area on a wall-mounted display and zoom in to Rashidi’s residence, a narrow beachfront estate in Sabah Al-Salem, a city a few miles to the south. Rashidi’s house was nestled against Kuwait Bay, protected by a wall that ran across the front of the estate, then down both sides into the bay. Four men could be seen patrolling the perimeter, one in the vicinity of each corner of the estate, plus a fifth stationed at the entrance gate.

“Does he have additional security inside the house?”

“Unlikely. He has a five-man security detail, and those five are accounted for outside the house, as you can see.”

Harrison studied the scenario, quickly devising an ingress plan. The fourth side opened to Kuwait Bay. The perfect entry point for a former SEAL. He looked at Khalila.

“Care to go for a swim with me?” He pointed to the back of Rashidi’s estate.

“Not necessary,” Khalila said. “I’ll be entering through the front door.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Leave that to me. But getting into his house is the easy part. Getting out is where you come in.”

To Ashour, she said, “As I mentioned, we need to do this tonight, before Rashidi figures things out and increases his security. Can you provide whatever Jake needs for his waterfront entry?”

“Depends on what he needs.”

Harrison wrote out a list, which Ashour reviewed.

“I’ll have what you need in two hours.”