John Weisman - KBL: Kill Bin Laden

ILLUSTRATION OF ABBOTTABAD COMPOUND
Courtesy of the Department of Defense

FICTION

Direct Action

Jack in the Box

SOAR: A Black Ops Novel

Blood Cries

Watchdogs

Evidence

The Rogue Warrior Series
(with Richard Marcinko)

Detachment Bravo

Echo Platoon

Option Delta

SEAL Force Alpha

Designation Gold

Task Force Blue

Green Team

Red Cell

NONFICTION

Rogue Warrior
(with Richard Marcinko)

Shadow Warrior
(with Felix Rodriguez)

ANTHOLOGIES

Agents of Treachery
(edited by Otto Penzler)

The Best American Mystery Stories of 2003 (edited by Michael Connelly)

The Best American Mystery Stories of 1997 (edited by Robert B. Parker)

Unusual Suspects
(edited by James Grady)

A NOVEL BASED ON TRUE EVENTS

JOHN WEISMAN

This book is a work of fiction. Although based on actual events, all references to living people, establishments, organizations, or locales are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real.

KBL : KILL BIN LADEN . Copyright 2011 by John Weisman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

FIRST EDITION

ISBN 978-0-06-211951-3

Epub Edition OCTOBER 2011 ISBN: 9780062119537

11 12 13 14 15 DIX/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To the Warriors Past, Present & Future,
Both in and out of uniform,
Who let us sleep safe in our beds;

To all those Warriors, covert, overt, and K-9 too, who have
paid the ultimate price
To protect our Constitution and our Liberty;

To the memory of Lieutenant Commander (SEAL)
Roy Henry Boehm, USN (Ret.),
Who would have given his left you-know-what to be a part of
this operation;

And, to Deb, who keeps me whole.

The only easy day was yesterday.

U.S. Navy SEAL motto

I approached this work of fiction as I would any journalistic undertaking: researching using OSINT (open source intelligence) techniques, talking to people involved in the sorts of undertakings described herein, and fact-checking the tactical, political, and intelligence nuts and bolts by utilizing special operations sources who have performed scores if not hundreds of HVT missions in the past half decade in the AFPAK theater of operations, informants knowledgeable in the White House bureaucracy, and individuals familiar with how our intelligence community proceeded with the decade-long hunt for Usama Bin Laden. Any flaws or inaccuracies, however, are mine and not theirs.

The retired Airborne Ranger stepped up to the body bag on the plowed wheat field just as the two young SEALs were about to load it into the big enabler helo. He put his arm up like a traffic cop and shouted over the whine of the big twin idling Lycoming jet engines, Hey, dude, lemme see him quick.

For sure, bro. The SEALs lowered the bag back onto the deck, and the baby-faced one unzipped it from the top. The Ranger hit the button on his green-lensed Surefire and peered down. It was him, all right, even though the face was distorted. Bullets tend to do that. Especially Barnes 70-grain TSX fired at a distance of under fifteen feet.

One round had hit just above the left eye. His head must have been turned toward the shooter because it exited out behind the right ear, taking a fair amount of skull and brain matter with it. Between the green light and the Rangers night-vision equipment, the blood and brain goo registered black. But that wasnt all. The shock and kinetic energy had ballooned the head itself so it looked almost hydrocephalic.

Nasty stuff, those hand-loads.

Even in the green light the Ranger could see that the corpses unkempt scraggly beard and kinky hair had turned mostly gray. So the sonofabitch had dyed his hair to make all those videos. That brought a smile to the Rangers face. He thought, Wonder what it says in the Quran about using Just for Jihadis.

He reached down, which took some effort, and pulled the zipper to waist level.

Whoa, Crankshaftd taken a wholesome burst dead-center mass. Four, maybe five, maybe more rounds. Turned most of his chest cavity into squishy, bloody-colored jelly. Faint fecal scent told the Ranger maybe theyd even nicked the colon.

No way Washington was going to admit to any of that. The Ranger made himself a bet that the official report would read something to the effect of one round to the chest and one round to the head. After all, we wear the White Hats. Turning the architect of 9/11 into hamburger? That would be worse than politically incorrect. It would be... inhuman.

Still, the sight brought a smile to his face. The kids did good today. No embarrassing arm or leg wounds.

A clean kill.

The best kind. Next to a dirty kill, that is. The Ranger, he knew all about dirty kills.

He turned toward the young SEAL. Shouted above the jet whine, He say anything?

The kid shook his head. Not a word. Sank like a sack of you-know-what.

The other SEAL adjusted the sling on his suppressed short-barreled rifle as the Ranger hitched up his long, baggy trousers, trousers that covered a quarter-million-dollars worth of prosthetic legs. The SEAL pointed. Whered you lose em?

The Ranger pulled the Velcro tighter on the vest and body armor hed been given. It was way too big. Hed lost twenty, twenty-five pounds in the past half year. Iraq.

When?

Oh-four.

When?

The Ranger used his hands to reinforce the message. Zero-four!

The SEAL caught sight of the Rangers ruined hands. His expression showed respect. He pointed at the prosthetics. How they work?

Pretty good. Theyre low mileage, though. Tell you in about ten years and fifty thousand miles. The Ranger gestured toward the women and children, all flexicuffed and sitting against the compounds outer wall atop a clump of wild cannabis. What are they gonna do with them?

Leave em here for the Pakis.

The Ranger nodded his head approvingly. Way it should be.

He pivoted the flashlight to illuminate his way toward the choppers lowered ramp and half-turned.

Then turned back. Nice work, he told the SEALs. Bravo Zulu. Now, go put him on board.

Abbottabad, Pakistan
December 5, 2010, 0821 Hours Local Time

The beggar was nervous. You couldnt tell by looking, but he was. Still, he maintained his rounds. He wheeled himself onto the short street just off Narian Link Road right after morning prayers at the Sakoon Mosque. The shops were opening. He made his way up to the sidewalk tables in front of the tearoom, just the way he always did.