The Bin Laden Plot

73 BANGOR, WASHINGTON ONE MONTH LATER

Christine’s SUV coasted to a halt beside USS Michigan, moored to the Delta Pier at Naval Base Kitsap. Waiting at the submarine’s brow was Lieutenant Commander Tom Montgomery, who greeted Christine and escorted her onto the submarine and down a hatch into the Operations Compartment, arriving at Captain Wilson’s stateroom.

After Michigan sank the merchant carrying the gas centrifuges to Iran, the guided missile submarine had returned to its home port for refit and crew change-out. Inside the black leather satchel Christine carried was a citation and medal. She’d be presenting Wilson with the CIA Intelligence Star for his effort in sinking the merchant, plus the numerous other issues he’d helped with over the years.

A private meeting with Wilson had been arranged, avoiding the sensitive nature of awarding the submarine’s Captain, but not each crew member whose support was vital, the CIA medal. For the Navy’s part, however, each member of Michigan’s BLUE crew was being recognized with a Navy Meritorious Unit Commendation. Wilson was unaware, however, of the pending CIA honor.

Wilson rose from his desk to greet Christine, then gestured to a small table as he closed his stateroom door.

They engaged in small talk, eventually segueing to Michigan’s mission in the Persian Gulf and the crew’s excellent performance. They had sunk the merchant while preventing the inadvertent attack against all four Russian surface warships, which would have compounded the problem created when Jimmy Carter sank the Russian submarine.

Now that the subject had turned to Michigan sinking the merchant ship, Christine reached into her satchel and retrieved a palm-sized medal case, which she placed on the table along with a certificate folder.

“I believe standing at attention during an award presentation is proper protocol.”

Wilson eyed the contents on the table, then smiled. “It is.”

Both rose from their seats, then Christine opened the folder and read the citation, handing it to Wilson afterward. The CIA Intelligence Star was one in a group of medals referred to within the agency as jock strap medals, since they were often awarded secretly due to the classified nature of the respective operation and subsequently couldn’t be displayed or even acknowledged publicly. In Wilson’s case, however, the medal could be worn proudly with his others, since his involvement in sinking the merchant ship carrying the gas centrifuges was public knowledge.

Christine opened the small case and retrieved the medal, then pinned it to Wilson’s uniform as was customary in the Navy. She congratulated Wilson, but instead of shaking his hand, she gave him a hug. They had been through a lot together, and Wilson had come through for her every time.

Christine bade Wilson farewell and was escorted from the submarine, climbing topside as twilight began creeping across the Pacific Northwest. As she approached her SUV, her thoughts turned to Khalila.

How to handle her would be a delicate matter. Part of that management involved Jake Harrison, whom she had arranged to meet later today at his house in Silverdale, not far away. Inside her satchel was another folder, this one containing a nondisclosure agreement involving Khalila’s true identity; Harrison’s agreement was the only one outstanding.

Mixell’s trail had gone cold, and Harrison had headed home for a week to spend time with Angie and Maddy. Although Christine sensed tension in Angie’s presence, she looked forward to seeing Maddy, checking up on how her back flips on the beam were going and how she had done at the gymnastics meet a few weeks earlier.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Harrison.