Page 29 of Whisper

“General, may I introduce you toaghaGeorge andaghaRyan?” Kris used the deferential title to delineate the authority of George and Ryan over him. “We are CIA officers, here to help the Shura Nazar.”

George held out his gloved hand and pumped Khan’s once. Ryan followed suit with a firm handshake. Khan frowned. He stepped back.

“General, we have much to discuss.” As George spoke, Fazl translated the English to Dari for Khan. Kris listened. “We need to coordinate with the Shura Nazar and prepare the battlefield for the US’s invasion—”

“First, we will eat.” Khan spread his hands to the feast Ghasi had laid out on the sheet in the yard. Boiled meat, dates, almonds, fresh yogurt, sliced tomatoes, fresh-baked flatbread, and watermelon. “Come. We will eat together.”

Kris heard George’s teeth grind, but they followed Khan to the blanket and crouched down, sitting on the faded, lumpy cushions. Khan invited his men to join them. He was relaxed, jovial on the surface, but Kris watched him watching George and Ryan with an intensity that rivaled a hawk’s.

No one accidentally became a general in the Shura Nazar. Khan was not a young man. He’d been a warrior his whole life. Out of the mix and pull of rival generals in the fractious and bitter conglomeration that was the Shura Nazar, how had Khan become the heir apparent to Massoud?

Kris leaned into Khan’s shoulder and asked.

Khan leaned back into Kris, smiling as he answered. He gestured wildly, great sweeps of his arms that matched how loudly and vibrantly he spoke. “After the assassination by those Bin Laden dogs, there was anarchy. Fazl was there.” He gestured to Fazl, sitting opposite George. “He was injured in the bomb blast.” Khan pointed to Fazl’s head, to the scabs and burns healing down his face and neck. “No one knew what to do. Everyone was frozen. Massoud had been their general for their entire lives. Almost like a father.” Khan’s expression pinched. “They needed leadership. Strength, like Massoud.Iprovided it.”

“General Khan arranged for the helicopter that evacuated General Massoud. We thought he might survive if he got to Dushanbe, but…” Fazl said in English, until his voice faltered. He looked down. One of the Shura Nazar soldiers wrapped an arm around him, squeezed his shoulders.

“I told them to say nothing. Not a word. We kept his death secret until I could radio all the commanders in the Shura Nazar. I told the other generals personally what had happened, and then asked for their pledge. I said we would avenge Massoud together. They wanted to be a part of that.”

Stunned, Kris turned to George, translating quickly. George stared back at him, silent. Without Khan, the entire Shura Nazar could have fallen into fractious infighting, blood feuds and rivalries that could have allowed the Taliban to seize the entirety of Afghanistan in a matter of days. If the Shura Nazar had turned inward, fighting each other, there would have been nothing to stand against the Taliban, or against Bin Laden.

“And, after what happened. The attacks in America.” Khan shrugged, switching to stilted English. “We knew the Americans would be coming.”

“We are glad for your assistance.” George smiled, full of teeth.

Khan’s gaze turned sharp. He set down his cup of tea. “So. Tell me. What is it the Americans want in Afghanistan?”

Fazl struggled to keep up with the translation as George launched into his pitch, eagerly pushing the CIA’s mission. They were there to establish a base of operations in the Panjshir, setting the stage for the US military’s invasion force. They were also there to beef up the Shura Nazar, so they and the US military could work together to topple and crush the Taliban—and Bin Laden.

“So when will you leave?” Khan interrupted George’s flood of words, his promises of support and cash, in his clipped, heavily accented English

“We’re staying until the job is complete and the Taliban are gone. Until Afghanistan is safe again, and no longer a haven for terrorism.”

Khan’s glare seemed etched in stone as Fazl finished his translation.

“We have a gift for you, in fact. A show of good faith.” George reached behind him. The double-wrapped plastic bag of $1 million rested in the dirt behind his back. He held it out to Khan. “One million dollars, General. To outfit your men. To buy weapons, ammunition, and clothing. Think of this as a down payment.”

Fazl spoke softly as he translated. He stared down at the blanket. Khan gazed right past the cash, past George’s outstretched hands. He acted as if it wasn’t even there, like George hadn’t even spoken.

The cash, and George, hung in the silence, waiting. And waiting.

Kris plucked the cash from George’s hands and set it down, off to his side. He ignored it, and George’s glare. “We plan on airlifting humanitarian aid to the valley as well, General,” he said smoothly in Dari.

Khan finally smiled. He reached for Kris’s hand. “Our people suffer. This feast is the nicest I have eaten in a year.” The soldiers next to him looked scrawny in their Russian camouflage, and they’d picked clean the meal Ghasi had prepared. Every dish was empty. “The people need help. Food, clothing, water.”

“We will provide that, and more.” George spoke as soon as Kris translated. “General, we also want to set up a joint intelligence cell. Share intelligence between the Shura Nazar and the CIA.”

“This intelligence will go both ways? You will share what you discover? Or will this just be my men giving you what you do not know?”

George faltered, hesitating after Kris relayed Khan’s words.

Kris jumped back in, before Ryan could blunder the conversation. He’d been blessedly silent thus far. “We will share our intelligence with you, General Khan. There is much we don’t know about Afghanistan, and we need your expertise to understand.”

“Gul Bahar,youseem to understand a great deal.” Khan’s hand landed on Kris’s knee, squeezing.

George stared at Khan’s hand. Kris could feel the weight of his gaze, the heavy judgment.

“Our first mission, General, is to create a clear and precise map of the battlefield.” Ryan leaned forward, around George. Kris sighed. Ryan just couldn’t stay silent. “We need to understand precisely where the front lines are. Yours, and the Taliban’s.”