Page 234 of Whisper

Allah, what am I supposed to do? I thought this was your path.

Endure patiently, the Quran said.With beautiful patience.

Endure.

His heart folded inward, collapsed on itself like a star surrendering to the last shudders of its inevitable descent into darkness. Shame pulsed from him, waves and waves of shame thrown off like a dying star shedding its corona. Shame warred with rage, wrestled with the sting of failure, of self-recrimination. Self-wrath. He hadn’t done enough, he hadn’t. Not if this was the end. Not if Kris was still in danger.

Dan was right about one thing.

He did not fear death.

He welcomed it. Welcomed the release, the shedding of this terrible life.

Every moment that passes from this one is dedicated to stopping you. To ending you. I am already dead. I only await my reunion with Allah.

His soul settled heavy around his heart, squeezing like chains against the broken shards he’d cobbled together, had tried to coax life out of. But it was impossible. He’d died that day, ten years ago, the moment he’d realized he wouldn’t see Kris again. He’d died, the best part of his existence carved out of him, and nothing could replace that.

He breathed for one purpose, now.

One purpose alone.

Dawood stared into Dan’s gaze. “What have you planned?”

Dan finally lowered his weapon. He glared at Haddad. “You know, you were supposed to be my golden goose. The gift that keeps on giving. A perfect patsy. A perfect fall guy. Whowouldn’tbelieve that David Haddad, lost to time and Afghanistan,wouldn’tcome back to America bitter, enraged, and hostile? After ten years with al-Qaeda?”

“You knew it was me? For two years?”

“Of course I knew it was you. As soon as Abu Dujana bragged about ‘the stranger from Khorasan’ who used to know everything about the CIA and was al-Qaeda’s secret weapon. Of course I knew it was you.”

“And you never told Kris?”

Dan laughed, his head tipping back. “Why would I do that? I finally had him right where I wanted him for so long. In my bed. In my arms.”

Dawood flinched.

Dan grinned. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Seeing the man you love in the arms of someone else? You have no idea how much joy I got making love to him, knowing you were living on dust and the trash of American bombs in the wastes of Afghanistan.”

“You weren’t like this before, Dan. Something changed in you.” Dawood ached for Kris, for the love Kris had thought he’d had.Kris, ya rouhi, I wanted it to beanyoneelse. I wanted you to have an ever after.“What happened? Why are you doing this?”

“Sixteen years of war changed me!” Dan bellowed. “Made me into this! Sixteen years of facing your kind, and your hate, and your fucked-up God! Sixteen years of staring into the worst of humanity, fighting them every tooth and fucking nail.” He grinned. It was a dark thing, like a knife glinting in moonlight. “But I broke them, all of your brothers before you. I broke Zahawi after you left Site Green.”

“What?”

Dan snorted, shaking his head. “You know, Kris could have been something amazing if he hadn’t been tied to you. You fucked up his mind, filled him full of bullshit, until he didn’t know who the enemy was anymore. You fucked him for life when he pulled out of the Zahawi interrogation. You fucked his whole career. He and I could be running the CIA now, if it weren’t for you.”

“You didn’t stop the Zahawi interrogation…” God, Kris had clung to that, to the knowledge that he’d left Zahawi in the hands of his trusted friend. That Dan had picked up where he’d left off, doing what was right, what was just. That Dan had been a good man in a miasma of moral failings.

“Of course I didn’t. I took over. Paul was a heavy-handed oaf. He didn’t know what he was doing. Idid. I broke Zahawi in twenty days.”

“Ryan—”

“Ryan couldn’t stomach it. He always thought he was some big badass, but when it came down to the wire, he bailed. He’s had to live with his shame, knowing how weak a man he really is. I kept his secret. How he couldn’t take it, couldn’t watch the interrogations. Couldn’t watch me.”

“You’re a monster,” Dawood breathed. “You’ve become a monster.”

“Look in the mirror!” Dan shouted. “You’re talking about yourself!I hunted the monsters! For years!Iam the one who built the detainee program!Iam the one who built Guantanamo! Who trainedeveryoneat Abu Ghraib!Iwas the nightmare to your brothers, your jihadi fucks!Iwas the end of the line for the real monsters, the animals likeyou.” He inhaled, a ragged breath. “Until the world started to forget. And lost its nerve. Andlookwhat happened. The monsters hid in their rat holes and regrouped.ISIS,” he snarled. “Left to your own devices, you and your kind willalwayschoose barbarism. It’s in your nature.”

Dizzy, he was dizzy, the world was spinning, upending. Everything he and Kris thought they knew was wrong. The knowledge they’d built their world on, their reality. That Dan was a good man. That he’d stopped the torture, had worked in the grinding bureaucracy to put an end to dark things, to evil.