Page 50 of Whisper

George and Ryan railed at Langley on the satellite, almost every hour. George had Kris on the calls, too, since he was still the main liaison with General Khan. “The Shura Nazar expect our bombs to raze the earth, Clint! They expect the sun to be blocked by the number of our bombers!”

“They are going to have to adjust their expectations, perhaps permanently.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Look, the Russians, the Pakistanis, and the Iranians are making noise about the Shura Nazar taking over Kabul. They think General Khan and his fighters are going to slaughter the Pashtun minority once they’re in power. Your Shura Nazar forces are mostly ethnic Tajiks. You ready to put a different ethnic tribe in power? History shows what happens next.”

“General Khan has absolutelynoplans to engage in ethnic cleansing.” Kris’s voice shook as he spoke up. “The Tajiks and Pashtuns have existed together for centuries. The Pakistanis just don’t want to lose their influence in Kabul. ISI in Pakistan props up the Taliban, you know that!” Oh, the twisted web of international relations: Pakistan was America’s ally today, the Taliban’s yesterday. Maybe their ally still.

“The president is working to ensure the UN takes control of Kabul. You have to get your Shura Nazar forces to stayoutsideof the city. We won’t move forward unless they agree to stop advancing on Kabul.”

Kris’s stomach sank. Khan would be furious. More than furious, he would bebetrayed. His entire life had been forged around securing Kabul, on saving his country and his people. The team, Kris, and by extension the Americans, were there to help him do just that.

There was no way he could tell Khan that he wasn’t allowed to take Kabul. That men in briefing rooms on the other side of the world were changing his fate, curtailing his destiny. Kris shook his head at George, not saying a word.

“We’ll discuss that here, Clint. That’s a big fucking ask, though. For someone we’ve spent Goddamn weeks convincing we’re his allies that he can trust.”

“We can find another warlord, George. There are dozens. He’s a tool, a means to an end. We can find a new tool.”

Kris walked away, frustration building in him until he wanted to lash out, cut Williams down, kick a chair, scream about the trickle-down effect of constant American lies and a foreign policy of duplicity and double-talk, of changing sides when it suited their mercurial mission.This is why the world hates us. This is why Khan is waiting for our betrayal.

George growled something and ended the call. “Kris…”

“Wecan’tturn on General Khan. We just can’t.”

“I know.” For a moment, George looked like he’d been stabbed, like he was facing the worst possible decision in his life. “I think I have another way.”

Panjshir Valley, Afghanistan

October 20, 2001

Snow flurries blasted Kris’s face as Derek spun up their helo. He squinted. David shifted, sliding the bulk of his shoulder in front of Kris, as if he could block the onslaught. As Derek lifted off, David and Kris sat with their legs dangling out of the open cargo door, the wind and the snow blitzing past them. David’s arm wrapped around Kris’s waist, out of sight and hidden beneath Kris’s jacket.

Afghanistan’s weather had turned, shifting from the chill of autumn to a frigid winter that locked the country in an icy stalemate. Snow fell in the Panjshir, storms that left inches on the ground and turned the dirt to sucking, ice-filled mud. In the mountains, blanketed peaks closed the pass to Tajikistan by land and by air.

As they flew to the Shomali, descending in altitude, the snows grew lighter. At the front, the snow had softened the harsh mountains and craggy hillsides, blunted the bare, desiccated earth. From the air, it almost looked serene, peaceful.

Derek dropped them near Khan’s compound. Khan wasn’t there to meet them. One of his deputies, a major who spoke only Russian, guided them to a jeep that bounced and slid down the snowy track to the front. The snow slowly vanished, stretching until it turned to frozen dust.

Khan was in a forward-fighting position between two of his soldiers, peering across the Shomali Plain through a pair of binoculars. “Gul Bahar,” he called, not looking back. “Do you see what I see?”

“I see the Taliban, General.”

“Exactly!” Khan twisted, glaring at him and David. “They are all there, hundreds of Taliban positions and foreign fighters, al-Qaeda embedded within them! Your bombs have hit nothing! The Taliban laugh every morning when they wake and nothing has been damaged.”

He climbed out of the fighting position and strode right up to Kris. “Gul Bahar… My men are ready. I am ready. We can take Kabul as soon as you break the Taliban lines. My men, they will not last another winter in these snows, in these mountains.” He looked up and down his lines at his fighters. “If your country does not fulfill your promise, we will attack the Taliban. We will not wait. We cannot wait, not any longer.”

Kris swallowed. David shifted, pressing into his side, silent support. “General, that will be suicide.”

“What choice do I have? Your country has abandoned me and my men.”

“No, we haven’t. We have a plan to help.” Kris squared his shoulders. “We need to start laser-targeting the Taliban positions, General.”

Khan frowned.

“We’re here with a laser-guided targeting system that communicates directly with our pilots. We can paint each target with this laser, and then—” He smiled, patting the backpack David held. “The bombs will go exactly where they are supposed to go.”

A new light glittered in Khan’s gaze. “How soon can we begin?”