Page 84 of Whisper

“What the fuck did you say?” David, again, stepped closer. He started making his way around the table. Kris stopped him, one hand on his arm.

“Things are changing in Washington. This ‘buddy-buddy-with-the-terrorist’ bullshit isn’t flying. The president is not amused. Get ready. Your little Muslim friend is in for a world of hurt.”

Days later, an unmarked private jet landed on the runway outside Site Green. One passenger clambered off, adjusting his glasses. Paul strode up to a middle-aged man, professorial and lean in a tweed sport coat and holding a briefcase. They shook hands warmly.

Kris and David watched from an overhang, out of the way of the steadily falling rain. Monsoon season had come, and with it, torrents of water, like the world had turned upside down and the oceans were drenching the land. Puddles the size of buses covered the pavement. Leaks had sprung across the compound. The air they breathed was soaked.

They met the newcomer in the command center. Paul escorted the new arrival in like he was a guest of honor. “This is Dennis. He’s a psychologist who’s worked on the SERE program. He’s studied how to break recalcitrant detainees in interrogations. Washington has sent him to fix this situation.”

“Fix what? The interrogation is going great. Zahawi has given us years’ worth of information. Yesterday, he confirmed Mokhtar's identity,” Kris snapped.

Dennis peered at Kris. “He gave up Mokhtar? The guy who planned nine-eleven? I haven’t heard about this.”

“You’ve been flying. It’s brand new. We spent all day talking about his and Mokhtar's years-long friendship. They were both on the periphery of Bin Laden’s network. Associated with him, close to him, but not sworn to him.”

“Allies, you mean.”

“Of a sort. Mokhtar wouldn’t swear allegiance because he didn’t want to have to obey if Bin Laden called off the attacks.”

“Jesus Christ.” Dennis swore under his breath, shaking his head. “How does Zahawi fit into this?”

“He prayed every day for the attacks to succeed. He and Mokhtar dreamed about them together.”

“They’re close? Very close? Zahawi and the architect of nine-eleven.”

“Yes,” Kris said simply.

“Who is he?”

“Khalid Sheikh Mohammed.”

“The same guy who wanted to blow up flights from the Philippines five years ago? We’ve got an open case on Khalid. Jesus…” Dennis cursed again. “All the puzzle pieces were there to see this coming, weren’t they?”

Kris stayed silent, even as his soul shredded.

Paul, quiet through the exchange, finally spoke up. “All this time you’ve been best buddies with your little terrorist pal, and he hasn’t given up Mokhtar until now. Why the delay? Why was he holding back? What did you give him for this?”

“Nothing,” Kris hissed.

“If he held this back, what else is he holding back? This is just proof that he’s playing you.”

“We were going after critical plots against the homeland first,” Naveen said, jumping in. “We wanted to stop anything in the works before playing who’s who in al-Qaeda.”

“He’s giving you just enough to keep the sweet treatment going,” Paul sneered.

“Which is why I am here.” Dennis spoke before Kris could. “Like Paul said, Washington wants to change the nature of this interrogation.”

“Change it how?” David, at Kris’s elbow, frowned.

“Whoare you?” Dennis frowned back at David. “I don’t recall seeing you on the list of cleared personnel.”

“Him? He’s just the medic,” Paul said.

“And the medic is in the command center?” Dennis’s gaze bounced from David to Kris. He scowled.

Kris held his glare. Behind him, he felt David’s fury build, felt it grow and press on the walls, until the room was choked with his raw emotion.

“What’s the nature of this change?” Naveen asked Dennis, cracking the tension. “What exactly are you planning on doing here?”