Page 194 of Whisper

Dawood had slipped into the neighborhood, setting up in a run-down motel. The neon sign buzzed, five of the lights busted and one half-sputtering at night. A pool once full was now only algae green, a swamp of refuse and beer cans. Prostitutes brought men to the rooms and gave the owner a cut of their earnings. He heard banging headboards as he made his daily prayers, heard loud moans and cries of orgasm.

His prayers were scattered, his mind a mess. Kris wasalive. He hadn’t believed the news reports, the lists of the dead he’d finally drummed the courage to search for online.Camp Carson Base Commander, Sole Survivor of al-Qaeda Triple Agent Suicide Bombing.

How many nights had he lain awake, convincing himself he’d seen Kris’s dead body? That Kris had died in the attack?

Fear had kept him imprisoned for years. Fear of finding Kris dead. Fear of losing what he’d found on the mountain. Fear of his sandcastle tumbling down, again.

How many choices had been made because of the certainty of his fear, his desperation?

How many steps along the path taken with false knowledge?

You must follow the path Allah has laid out for you.

Allah, you knew. You knew he was alive. And yet, this is the path you laid.

He prostrated, his forehead digging into his prayer rug.Trust, trust. “Oh, Allah, I have put my trust into you,” he prayed. “Whosoever puts his trust into Allah, He will suffice him.”

A moan sounded through the wall. Dawood breathed out. A headboard slammed, and slammed again.

You must follow the path Allah has laid out for you.

Trust in Allah, the Prophet Muhammad,salla Allahu alayhi wa sallam, said.But tie your camel.

He stood, rolling up his prayer rug and hiding it. If anyone came into his motel room, they’d find nothing but a backpack, some chewing gum, and a few changes of clothes, bought with cash from a Walmart. A bottle of water, a toothbrush and toothpaste. He was nobody. He was nothing.

He pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket. It had been waiting for him when he arrived, waiting in an envelope at the lockers on the wharf, just as promised. Ten days at sea on a cargo ship and then another six with a smuggler, moving through international waters and dodging the US Coast Guard until they slipped into the Chesapeake and rode right up to the waters of DC.

He texted the one number programmed into the phone.When do we meet?

[ Soon. Your partner is on his way. Wait, and don’t draw attention to yourself. In shaa Allah, this will succeed. ]

He rubbed his thumb over the screen, over the message.In shaa Allah.

In shaa Allah, if onlyeverythinghad been different. If only he’dknown.

But that wasn’t the path. That wasn’t the path Allah had set for him.

You must follow the path Allah has laid out for you.

Grabbing his money and his motel key, Dawood headed out.

Crystal City, Virginia

September 8

1920 hours

Kris trudged down the hallway to his door. How had everything gone so wrong? How had everything ended up upside down, backward instead of forward?

Where did he go from here?

Dan wanted him to get help. What did he tell a psychologist? That he’d seen his dead husband, had kissed him. But David had shoved him away and disappeared, and he had no proof, none at all, that it had ever happened?

Maybe he should get tapes from the bar. Get a statement from the bartender. Surely, he’d remember last night. It wasn’t every day a man came apart like Kris had, all over the bathroom floor.

If he told anyone David was back, without proof, he’d be locked away for evaluation.

How did he find David?