Two down, three to go.
10
USS MICHIGAN
“Helm, ahead two-thirds. Sonar, Conn. Commence sonar search, all sectors.”
Captain Murray Wilson stood on the Conn as Lieutenant Brittany Kern, the submarine’s Officer of the Deck, standing beside him, slowed Michigan from ahead flank to ten knots, extending the sonar’s search range. After departing NSA Bahrain, Michigan had headed east at maximum speed for the last fifteen hours and was now entering the UUV’s operating area.
Wilson had put the transit time to good use. Using the UUV information Verbeck’s aide had provided, Michigan’s crew had developed a sonar search plan based on the acoustic tonals the vehicle emitted, along with the various speeds and depths at which the submersible was programmed to operate. However, it would be a challenge to detect the small vehicle.
The UUV was battery powered with a direct-drive motor propulsion — no engine, spinning steam turbine, or reduction gears — also lacking any oil, hydraulic, or water pumps that were the acoustic bane of larger, manned submarines. The submersible was quiet indeed. If it weren’t for the small size of the UUV’s operating area, Michigan’s chance of detecting the vehicle would have been almost nil.
Wilson looked up at the red digital display of the submarine’s course, speed, and depth above the Quartermaster’s stand. Traveling at ahead flank, Michigan’s acoustic sensors had been blunted by the flow noise past the sonar hydrophones at high speed. But the submarine had coasted down to ten knots several minutes earlier, long enough for Sonar to complete its initial long-range search.
Lieutenant Kern called out to the microphone in the overhead, “Sonar, Conn. Report all contacts.”
“Conn, Sonar. Hold no contacts of interest. All contacts correlate to merchants.”
Wilson examined the contact solutions being generated on the nearest combat control console. Every contact was traveling at a relatively high speed — twenty knots or more.
Merchant ships weren’t high-speed vessels, but they usually didn’t dawdle as they traveled from port to port, typically transiting at twenty knots. The UUV, on the other hand, usually traveled slowly, just fast enough to maintain steerage and depth control as it traveled near the surface with an antenna lifted above the water to collect electromagnetic signals.
Wilson settled into the Captain’s chair on the Conn, waiting while Sonar continued its search.
The small UUV was going to be a challenge to find, indeed.
11
NATIONAL HARBOR, MARYLAND
Located along the Potomac River on 350 acres is the National Harbor waterfront complex, comprising over two hundred shops, forty restaurants, and eight hotels, along with multiple entertainment venues such as the MGM resort with Las Vegas — style gambling. A centerpiece of National Harbor is the Gaylord National Resort and Convention Center, which contains a nineteen-story, glass-encased lush garden atrium and over a half million square feet of event space, including several fifty-thousand-square-foot ballrooms.
The Gaylord is also home to the Navy League’s annual Sea-Air-Space Global Maritime Exposition, the world’s largest maritime and defense technology gathering, bringing together the key decision-makers in the U.S. defense industry and military for three days of exhibits, policy discussions, and speeches, along with fifteen thousand attendees. Traditional keynote speakers each year include the Chief of Naval Operations, Commandants of the U.S. Marine Corps and Coast Guard, high-ranking congressmen, and of course, the secretary of the Navy.
Across Waterfront Street from the Gaylord is the Hampton Inn, where several of the rooms on the southeast side of the building have a clear view of the side entrance to the Gaylord, which has a service loop used for dropping off and picking up dignitaries.
Seated beside an open window in his hotel room on the second floor, Mixell examined the weapon on the table before him: the Steyr SSG 69 rifle, outfitted this time with a ten-round box magazine and propped up by an integrated folding bipod. He placed the rifle against his shoulder and an eye against the attached scope, peering through the center crack of the room’s drawn curtains, studying the men and women entering and leaving the Gaylord’s side entrance.
According to the Sea-Air-Space Exposition schedule, the secretary of the Navy’s speech should be wrapping up any moment. In concert with his thoughts, a black Lincoln Navigator pulled into the service loop, stopping beside the entrance.
Mixell would have a small window of opportunity when Secretary Verbeck emerged from the Gaylord, accompanied by a pair of protective agents, McNeil being one of them. It was a short walk from the building to the vehicle — only about forty feet — leaving Mixell with scant time to identify his target, obtain a clear shot, and shoot. Plus, he needed to kill McNeil when he was less than a foot away from Verbeck, to make it look like the assassin had missed, accidentally killing her protective agent instead.
Additionally, he had only a fifty-fifty chance McNeil would be on Mixell’s side of the secretary as he escorted her from the building to the SUV. If he accompanied her on the other side, getting a clear shot would be notably more difficult.
The side doors opened and Secretary Verbeck emerged from the Gaylord, accompanied by McNeil and another agent. McNeil was on the secretary’s far side, walking directly beside her, and Mixell cursed his bad luck. He had no offset angle; Verbeck was squarely between Mixell and McNeil. The former SEAL was several inches taller than Verbeck, but Mixell could barely see the top of his head. If only Verbeck had worn shorter heels.
He followed their progression toward the SUV, with the crosshair centered on Verbeck, hoping for separation between the two. But McNeil remained steady by her side. With Verbeck in his scope, Mixell’s eye — and thoughts — were focused on the attractive and wealthy woman.
During his discussion with Chief Johnson a few days earlier, Mixell had learned that Johnson and Captain Hoskins were connected via the UUV program, and Mixell had concluded that Hoskins was either shielding Verbeck from the UUV issue or working as her minion. It hadn’t taken much research to determine it was the latter. It turned out that Verbeck’s maiden name was Snyder. She was Dan Snyder’s sister.
She was covering her brother’s tracks, ordering the deletion of the communications intercepted by the UUV and the elimination of the two men who knew about it. For some reason, Mixell’s thoughts shifted to his former soul mate, whom Harrison had killed. Technically, it was Mixell’s bullet that had done her in. But the cowardly Harrison had hidden behind Trish and pulled her in front of him when he fired. It was his fault she was dead.
Until today, he hadn’t thought about a replacement. But Brenda Verbeck — a beautiful, conniving, and ruthless woman — what more could a man want?
His thoughts returned to the task at hand. He was running out of time. Only ten more feet to go.
There was only one way this was going to work out. When Verbeck reached the SUV, one of the protective agents would move forward and open the door for her. Based on the orientation of the two men beside Verbeck, Mixell concluded it would be McNeil. If so, there would be a clear shot, but only for a second or two.
Mixell shifted the crosshair to just forward of Verbeck’s face. As they reached the vehicle, he let out a slow breath and increased his index finger’s pressure on the trigger.
One of the agents moved ahead to open the SUV door. It was McNeil.
Mixell took the shot.