The Bin Laden Plot

4 CALVERTON, MARYLAND

Seated at a desk in his hotel room a block from the Capital Beltway, Lonnie Mixell studied the four surveillance videos on his laptop computer screen, searching for any indication that tonight’s endeavor had been tipped to the authorities. At first, the shipment to the Middle East had seemed straightforward — almost childishly simplistic — until he had discerned its contents. Given the sensitivity of the matter, he had taken precautions, installing surveillance cameras at the loadout location a few weeks ago, which he had monitored daily. Thus far, there was no indication anything was awry.

He had taken additional precautions, changing his appearance. His hair was dyed brown and he wore blue contact lenses. The changes wouldn’t fool computerized facial recognition algorithms, but it should prevent any law enforcement officials he happened to run into from recognizing him as one of the most wanted men by Interpol and America’s FBI. The man who, a few months ago, had almost enabled the destruction of the twenty largest cities in the United States and the assassination of the nation’s president.

A notification appeared on his computer display, indicating he had received an encrypted transmission. He clicked on the note, which launched a portal to a secure messaging site.

Looking for more work?

As a matter of fact, he was. The current job would wrap up sometime tomorrow, once the containers were loaded aboard the ship, and the ten-million-dollar payment would last only so long.

Mixell responded: “Activity?”

Snap a few pictures.

“How many?” Mixell typed, wondering how many pictures — assassinations — were being requested.

Five.

“Location?”

All in the United States. Four in the D.C. area. One on West Coast.

“Rate?”

$1M each.

“Due date?”

No hard dates, but ASAP.

Mixell pondered the request. A million each could be plenty or woefully inadequate, depending on the targets.

“Names and details?”

Five names scrolled down the screen, accompanied by a short description of each man’s current job and background. Three of the targets were retired Navy SEALs, and he knew each one. The other two were active-duty Navy: one officer and one enlisted, and he had never heard of either.

He typed: “What’s the connection?”

Their relationship is not your concern.

Mixell’s eyes went back to the names on the list. The fourth was the most problematic, while the fifth sparked Mixell’s curiosity.

The fourth man was Johnathon Patrick McNeil, a former Navy SEAL commander who had retired recently and was now working as a government protective agent, currently assigned to the secretary of the Navy. Additionally, it was specified that he be killed in her vicinity. Make it look like she was the target.

Mixell typed his response: “The scenario specified for the fourth man will cost you double. But the fifth man, I’ll do for free.”

You two have a history?

“You could call it that.”

We have a contract.

Mixell’s gaze returned to the last name on the computer display, then smiled at the irony.

Jake Edward Harrison was already on his list.