Your tenure with the CIA has been a failure. Your lack of personal discipline has deprived the agency of substantial intellect and potential brilliance in field operations. But, the agency has found a niche for you as a drop tester. You've been relegated to testing the effectiveness of new methods for communicating dead-drop coordinates. Even you know that the agency won't put up with much more from you...
All you know about the dead-drop is that it is somewhere near the shore of the Magothy. You decide to pose as a fisherman trolling lazily in a belly boat. A little fishing and time spent in the land of pleasant living is all part of the test, right?
Some time later...
You're unconscious and severely sun-burnt. There is a 4 foot yellow nylon rope tied to your belly boat. At the end of the rope floats a styrofoam cooler containing some luke-warm water and a pair of empty plastic 6-pack rings. Your fishing pole and listening device have settled in the mud 20 feet below you.
Whilst you float in oblivion, Langley's contact at Potomac TRACON maneuvers 4 special targets into your proximity and triggers "mode select" UF11 interrogations on 1030MHz. Your listening device was tuned to 1090MHz and would have recorded the DF11 replies had you not gone, "ahem", so deep under cover.
Some time later you wake and realize you've missed the opportunity to recover the information needed to locate the drop. You go quickly back to your vehicle on shore, praying that your backup receiver recorded the needed information and that it is still valid after this delay. "Could my career finally come to a miserable end because of 12 Natty Bohs?" you ask yourself with horror and misdirected blame.
Back in your vehicle you look at your receiver and see only this:
101001001000001011001000 101010000111011101000001
101010100100110010101100 101000011001110100000100
Is it enough to save your career? It's not much to go on...
FTF can claim an un-activated Golden Ammo Can Geocoin!
You can validate your puzzle solution with certitude.