Bin Laden’s compound came into view: a three-story concrete structure surrounded by a stone wall. The lead helicopter, barely audible, slowed to a hover inside the compound walls and began its descent. Harrison watched from a distance what he had experienced firsthand — he’d been aboard the lead Black Hawk.
The helicopter got caught in a vortex ring state, an airflow condition that prevented the rotor downwash from diffusing. The pilot lost control of the helicopter and its tail grazed the compound wall, damaging the tail rotor. The helicopter tilted to one side and the pilot performed an emergency landing, burying the Black Hawk’s nose in the ground to prevent it from tipping over. Harrison recalled those perilous seconds as the helicopter’s main rotor churned into the dirt as the aircraft tilted. But the vehicle held together as the rotor ground to a halt.
McNeil’s helicopter landed nearby and the other SEALs joined those from the first Black Hawk, who had egressed from the damaged helicopter without injuries. After clearing the smaller building inside the compound, SEAL breachers — demolition experts — placed explosives on the main building’s doors, gaining access. McNeil entered the house after several SEAL fire teams entered the building, with each unit assigned to clear and control a specific floor.
The video moved through each level of the house, recording the greenish images. By the time the video reached the third floor, they had passed four motionless persons lying on the floor — three men and one woman — each with several bloodstains, plus several groups of women and children sequestered along the walls.
On the third floor was another group of women and children with a SEAL watching over them, and a tall man lying supine on the ground, with several gunshot wounds to his head and torso. His face was a bloody mess, making visual identification impossible.
Normal lighting flicked on, illuminating the room in yellow, incandescent light.
The video abruptly ended.
McFarland shifted her gaze to Harrison. “This video raises several questions. The first issue is that this video isn’t in our archives; there’s no record of it even being recorded. It appears that McNeil took it upon himself to record the raid, then never turned the video in.
“The second issue is — why did he want his wife to give this to you if something happened to him?” She stared at Harrison, waiting for a response.
“I don’t know. There isn’t anything on the video that I wasn’t already aware of, and I assume it’s the same for you.”
McFarland replied, “Correct. Which makes this a puzzling issue. What about McNeil’s note. Do you have it?”
Harrison pulled it from his back pocket and tossed the index card across the table to McFarland. She read the message aloud, confirming Harrison’s earlier report.
“3rd floor desk. Find him.”
McFarland picked the note up with tweezers and placed it into a small plastic bag she pulled from one of her folders. Then she rewound the video to when McNeil reached the third floor.
“Let’s take a look at the desk.”
The video began playing again, culminating with the view of Osama bin Laden’s body on the floor. The lights flicked on for a few seconds before the video ended.
“There it is,” McFarland said, backing the video up to just before it ended. Against the back wall of the room was a desk crowded with various items: a computer tower, display, keyboard, several thumb drives, a handheld radio-transceiver, a cup holding several pens and pencils, three stacks of manila folders, and a few books standing beside each other.
Harrison and the others stared at the image, trying to make sense of McNeil’s message.
Find who?
And how would the desk help them?
They spent several minutes staring at the desk’s contents, postulating what McNeil’s message meant. They made no appreciable headway until, while watching the video again, McFarland spotted something.
“There,” she said, pointing at the dark computer display. There’s a reflection on the screen.”
Harrison looked closer. It was an image of two men, visible for a few seconds before the video ended. The reflection was blurry due to the camera movement, making it difficult to determine who they were.
McFarland enhanced the image with an editing program on her computer. The two men came into focus. One was a SEAL, escorting a tall, hooded man with his hands tied behind him toward the stairs.
There was a tense silence in the room as Harrison waited for the inevitable question, which came from McFarland.
“Bin Laden was supposedly the only male on the third level. If that’s him on the floor, who’s the guy in the hood?”
25
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Christine O’Connor eyed Jake Harrison, seated at the other end of the conference table. He had not yet answered the question — Who was the man wearing the hood?
She had known Harrison for most of her life, and it was clear that he was evaluating how to respond. Finally, he answered.
“He was the senior al-Qaeda courier.”
McFarland looked at her computer display. “You’re saying that Abu Ahmed al-Kuwaiti, who was reportedly killed during the raid, was captured instead?”
“That’s my understanding,” Harrison replied. “I never saw the hooded man’s face. He was escorted from the compound and loaded aboard the Chinook with bin Laden’s body.”
Rolow interjected, “Why is there no record in our files about a prisoner? It was our operation, damn it!”
“That’s because JSOC,” Harrison replied, referring to the Joint Special Operations Command, which planned and conducted the mission, “took custody of the prisoner, and every member of the assault team was instructed to not mention him in our after-action reports.”
“Who gave this instruction?”
“John McNeil.”
“And now that McNeil is dead, we can’t ask who gave him the order. How convenient.”
McFarland resumed the questioning. “Why did JSOC take custody of the courier and keep that a secret from the CIA?”
“JSOC took custody because he was classified as an enemy combatant. As far as the secrecy, I suspect it was to prevent al-Qaeda from learning we had taken their lead courier prisoner, so they wouldn’t immediately change their communication protocols.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” McFarland replied. “The only way we would have benefited is if JSOC provided what they learned from the courier to us, so we could exploit it. To my knowledge, no information regarding al-Qaeda communication protocols was ever provided to the agency as a result of the Abbottabad raid. If they had the courier and extracted this information, what did they do with it?”
“I have a better question,” Rolow said. “Where is the courier?” He directed his gaze toward Harrison.
“I don’t know.”
Christine asked, “Why would McNeil want you to track down this courier?”
That really wasn’t the question she wanted to ask — she was working her way to it. She had always wondered why the goal of the Abbottabad raid was to kill bin Laden instead of apprehending him. He was the mastermind of al-Qaeda, a gold mine of information if captured. Of course, letting the world know you had bin Laden in custody would have been unwise, setting American citizens up for innumerable hostage situations until bin Laden was freed. There was only one logical conclusion.
“What if the man on the floor is the courier and the captured man is Osama bin Laden?”
There was a heavy silence in the conference room until Harrison spoke.