The Bin Laden Plot

47 FAILAKA ISLAND, KUWAIT

The two RHIBs headed toward shore, with Harrison’s boat in the lead. As he scanned the dark horizon, the beach appeared in the distance. Keller identified their insertion point — a dark strip of sand — and adjusted course.

The SEALs in both RHIBs, along with Harrison, had shed their swim gear and donned bullet-resistant tactical vests, plus helmets with built-in communications and attached night vision goggles, arming themselves with MP7s with attached suppressors. Khalila had also shed her swim gear, but instead of donning tactical gear, she wore the same pants, shirt, and headscarf she had worn when she boarded Michigan, but with soft armor beneath her blouse.

After the mission brief aboard Michigan earlier, Harrison and Khalila had joined the squad of SEALs in the Battle Management Center while the submarine moved into position, devising a plan incorporating Harrison’s and Khalila’s participation. While reviewing the reconnaissance in more detail, it had become evident that although the east side of the island was unpopulated aside from the facility in question, a half dozen or so bright yellow lights had appeared on the beach each night.

Zooming in on the satellite imagery had revealed the details — groups of men and women gathered around bonfires, partying, most likely consuming drugs, alcohol, or both. Technically, drinking alcohol wasn’t illegal in Kuwait, but buying, selling, or carrying alcohol, or being drunk in public, was, which made consuming alcohol a challenge. Drugs, on the other hand, were strictly forbidden, but they were still prevalent among the younger population.

Taking into account the presence of these small groups along the shoreline, the SEALs had selected a long stretch of beach devoid of any visitors. Additionally, Khalila had proposed a plan to infiltrate the facility, which the SEALs had accepted.

The plan required the SEALs to get their hands on tonight’s supply van, without peppering it with bullet holes. Although Hacker spoke Arabic, providing an opportunity to engage the van driver once the vehicle was stopped, Khalila had suggested she pose as a drugged or intoxicated woman walking along the road, supposedly from one of the nearby parties. Hopefully, the driver would stop to inquire with less suspicion than if a man approached, which would provide Khalila an opportunity to neutralize the driver without damage to the van. If anything went wrong, the SEALs would be positioned nearby to intervene.

Just before reaching shore, the RHIB drivers shifted the engines to neutral, and the boats coasted to a halt as they grounded onto the beach. The SEALs hauled the boats across the beach and hid them in the foliage. Noviello then led the squad into the island interior.

The two fire teams spread out, remaining within visual distance of each other, with Noviello leading one team and Senior Chief Burkhardt the other. After a half-mile trek, they reached the road leading to the facility.

The two teams took positions on opposite sides of the road, hidden in the brush. They waited for thirty-five minutes, until Narehood announced, “Movement.”

Harrison examined the road through his night vision goggles. Approaching in the distance was a van containing only the driver; no passenger. When the vehicle’s headlights became visible, Khalila moved onto the road and started walking, pretending to be in a doped-up stupor, toward the van. Once her figure was illuminated by the van’s headlights, the vehicle slowed, stopping a few feet before her.

Khalila continued toward the van, babbling as the driver lowered his window. When she reached the driver’s door, she pulled her pistol from the small of her back and aimed it at the man’s head.

She opened the door, then pulled the man from the van, where he was met by Meyer and Narehood, who searched him for weapons and any special access cards that might assist with gaining entry to the facility. They found none. After Khalila checked his wallet for his name, Narehood zip-tied his hands behind his back and gagged his mouth. Khalila explained the plan to the man: he would wait in the bushes by the road until morning, then head to the beach.

The van’s rear doors were opened, revealing several pallets of food and other items, which were unloaded to make room for all eight SEALs and Harrison. The SEALs and Harrison climbed into the back of the van while Khalila hopped into the driver’s seat. Kuwait was one of the least restrictive Muslim countries when it came to gender, with women being allowed to drive since 1979, so the team had decided that Khalila should be the driver, since her mastery of the region’s languages was superior to Hacker’s.

They were also concerned that the same driver, or set of drivers, made the facility’s nightly supply run, and a strange Caucasian driver would cast suspicion. An attractive Arab woman would have better odds of talking her way into the facility without raising suspicion.

Once the SEALs were inside the van and the rear doors closed, Khalila put the vehicle in gear and started down the road.

In the distance, the van’s headlights illuminated the road sloping down toward the facility entrance, guarded by two men, one on each side of the road. As Khalila approached, the man to the left stepped from the guardhouse and waited. An uneasy feeling settled over her as she examined both men. It was the way they carried their weapons. These men weren’t paramilitary professionals. They were run-of-the-mill thugs for hire. Not what she was expecting.

She stopped the van beside the man.

“Who are you?” he asked in Arabic.

“Khalila,” she said, “Omar’s girlfriend. He couldn’t make it tonight, so he asked me to make the run.”

The man pulled a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on, examining Khalila’s face. The van was a commercial vehicle with the front sealed off from the back, so none of the SEALs or Harrison were visible. If the man checked the back, he’d be in for a surprise, but Khalila hoped that surprise would be delayed until they gained access. Otherwise, they’d have to blast their way in, giving away the element of surprise.

The man shone the light in Khalila’s face again. “Omar’s married.”

Khalila shielded her eyes from the light with her left hand, moving her right hand down to within easy reach of her pistol, which was slid inside the waistband of her pants behind her back again.

“Well,” she said, “let’s not tell Omar’s wife.”

The man grinned and turned off the flashlight, then stepped back into the guardhouse. He made a call, informing someone that tonight’s supply van had arrived, then the entrance doors opened with a rumble, pulling slowly apart.

Once the doors opened wide enough, Khalila pulled forward into a loading dock illuminated by bright white lights, containing several pallets of boxes that would almost fill the entire van. It looked like the nightly van run didn’t just drop off supplies; it picked up material as well. She parked the vehicle as the entrance doors closed behind her.

No one else was present in the loading dock, so Khalila tapped the metal partition behind her, providing the all-clear signal. The SEALs and Harrison emerged from the back of the van and moved forward as a metal roll-up door in the middle of the far wall began rising. The SEALs reached the wall just in time, taking position on each side of the door as four men armed with submachine guns appeared in the opening.

Khalila stepped from the van, hoping the keep the men’s eyes on her and not on the periphery as they entered the loading dock. The SEALs on both sides, weapons aimed at the men, surged forward as Hacker shouted in Arabic to drop their weapons. Khalila drew her pistol as well. Faced with ten armed opponents, the four men wisely dropped their firearms.

Their hands and feet were quickly tie-wrapped, and Khalila stopped beside them, probing them for information. When all four men refused to answer, she put a bullet in the head of the nearest man.

The other three started talking.

There were six other armed men in the facility, but all were off duty and sleeping, and the locations of their rooms were provided. When Khalila asked where the prisoners were held, she got blank looks. There were no prisoners or detainees in the facility, they said, only workers.

She relayed the information to the SEALs, then stopped by Harrison. “Something’s not right.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m getting the same feeling.”

Noviello also seemed concerned, but decided to press on, leaving Meyer behind to guard the men and their exit route.

The rest of the team continued in single file, passing a small cafeteria and kitchen, then entered a large common area with several long tables, each lined on both sides with men and women wearing white surgical gowns, face masks, and gloves, processing a white powdery substance on the table. Interspersed throughout were several unarmed supervisors overseeing the work.

When eight armed men in tactical gear and Khalila burst into the room, activity stopped as the men and women stared at them. It was silent in the room as the supervisors slowly raised their hands.

A quick search of the area produced no weapons, and Khalila and Hacker interrogated the supervisors while four of the SEALs rounded up the six off-duty armed men.

When queried about the location of prisoners or detainees, there were more blank stares. However, one of the supervisors said there was a section in the facility containing cells, but they were empty. The entire facility had been abandoned by its previous owners five years ago, taken over by its current occupants due to its isolated and secure location.

Noviello sent several SEALs to search the entire facility, confirming what the supervisor stated. There were no prisoners or detainees, only empty cells and interrogation rooms.

It soon became clear that the men and women were processing cocaine, preparing and packaging it for shipment to the mainland. The facility where the prisoner from Abbottabad had been sent was now nothing more than a drug lab.