Page 130 of The Words Beneath the Noise

“They said it was for reconnaissance only.” Peter's voice was desperate, cracking. “Just to confirm location for future reference. They said no one would get hurt, it was just intelligence gathering?—”

“And you believed them.”

The words hung in the frozen air. Peter flinched like I'd struck him.

“You believed enemy intelligence handlers when they promised the information you sold would be harmless.” I shook my head slowly. “Let me tell you something about war, Rowe. About the lies we tell ourselves to survive. I've killed more men than I can count. Some of them deserved it. Some of them were just boys in the wrong uniform, following orders they didn't understand. And every single time, I told myself it mattered. That it meant something. That the next death would be the one that finally made a difference.”

“Hale—”

“I was lying. We're all lying. The difference is, my lies only kill the enemy. Yours kill your own people.” I took another step forward. “Now drop the fucking lantern and get on your knees.”

He dropped it. The lantern thudded into the snow, dark and harmless now, and for a moment I thought it was over. Thought he'd surrendered.

Then his hand came out of his pocket with a knife.

Not military issue. Something small, sharp, the kind of blade you'd use for opening packages or cutting rope. Desperate weapon for a desperate man.

He lunged.

I sidestepped, let the blade pass close enough to feel the air move, and brought my rifle stock around in a short, brutal arc. Caught him in the ribs. Heard the crack of bone, the wheeze of air leaving his lungs.

Peter staggered but didn't go down. Came at me again, knife slashing wildly, no technique but plenty of fear. I blocked with my forearm, felt the blade slice through my coat sleeve and into flesh. Pain bloomed hot and immediate.

Dropped the rifle. No room for it in close quarters. Grabbed his knife hand with my left, twisted hard. Bones ground against each other. He screamed, dropped the blade, but his other fist was already swinging toward my face.

Took the hit. Let it land. Used the momentum to pull him off balance and drive my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, retching, and I brought my elbow down on the back of his neck.

He went down. Face-first into the snow, gasping, trying to crawl away.

I kicked the knife out of reach. Drew my sidearm. Stood over him with the barrel pointed at the back of his head.

“Stay down.”

“Please.” He was crying now, tears freezing on his cheeks. “Please, Hale. My sister. She needs me. I can't die here. I can't?—”

“You should have thought of that before you became a traitor.”

“I'm not a traitor!” The words tore out of him, raw and bleeding. “I'm just trying to survive! The government doesn't care about people like us. We're nothing to them. Numbers on a page. Acceptable losses.” He rolled onto his back, staring up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Do you know what it's like? Watching your whole world burn and knowing no one's coming to help? Knowing that every day you go to work for people who'd let your sister starve if it served their purposes?”

“I know exactly what it's like.” I crouched down, bringing my face close to his. “I grew up in the same streets you did. Same poverty. Same feeling of being invisible. But I didn't sell out the people standing next to me. I didn't trade their lives for money.”

“You don't understand?—”

“I understand perfectly.” My voice was quiet now, which was worse than shouting. I knew it was worse. “You convinced yourself that the information was harmless. That no one would really get hurt. That you were just taking a little back from a system that never gave you anything.” I pressed the gun barrel against his forehead. “But here's the truth, Rowe. The truth you've been running from since you made your first drop. Every piece of intelligence you sold has blood on it. Every schedule, every patrol route, every scrap of information. Men died because of what you did. Men are going to die because of what you're doing right now.”

“I didn't know?—”

“Yes, you did.” I held his gaze, made sure he saw every word. “Some part of you knew exactly what would happen. And you did it anyway because it was easier than facing the alternative. Because taking their money made you feel like you had power over something in a world that had taken everything else away.”

He was sobbing now. Ugly, broken sounds that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Desperation isn't an excuse,” I said. “It's an explanation. And explanations don't bring back the dead.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to hand you over to Finch. He's going to interrogate you. Get everything you know about your handlers, your contacts, the raid they're planning.” I stood, keeping the gun trained on him. “And then you're going to spend the rest of your life in a cell, knowing that every breath you take is borrowed time. Time you bought with other people's lives.”

“They'll execute me.”