Page 91 of Whisper

David’s words were bullets, fired on breathless gasps as he clung to Kris, like Kris was his anchor to the world. “I. Saw. My. Father. In. There. I saw my father on the ground. In the dirt. Covered in his own piss and shit, drowned, beaten. I sawhim. I didn’t see Zahawi.”

“David—”

“We came to America, and my mother said we’d never have to worry again. America was free. America was safe.” He pressed his soaked face into Kris’s chest. His hot breath burned through Kris’s clothes, scorched his skin. David’s confession was burning him alive, turning him to ash and dust. “But today, Isaw my father.”

Kris curled over David, wrapping his arms around him, holding him as tight as he could. “It will never happen again,” he choked out, each vowel, each consonant struggling to escape through Kris’s own tears. “Never, David. I swear.”

“Enhanced interrogation techniques will resume in thirty-six hours.”

Dennis and Paul squared off against Kris and Naveen in the command center. A single memo rested on the table between them. The rest of the intelligence, everything Kris and Naveen had built between them and with Zahawi’s help, was gone.

The memo from CIA Director Thatcher’s office started:

Resume EIT on subject after sufficient recovery period from incident reported in previous memo. All previous EIT techniques authorized.

“You’renotfucking torturing him again,” Kris growled. “You almost killed him.”

Dennis tapped the memo, the third paragraph. “Read on.”

Regarding subject’s disposition. All contingencies must be planned and prepared for, including the subject’s potential death while in custody. Regardless of future disposition, subject will be held incommunicado for the rest of his natural life.

“We will resume in thirty-six hours,” Dennis repeated. “He has information. And we’re going to get it. He will break. You’ll see. Especially after the last session. He’ll break when he sees the waterboarding table again. We’ll use what happened against him. He’ll break out of fear. I guarantee it.”

Naveen stepped back, away from the table, until he turned and walked out of the bunker.

“I am calling Langley,” Kris hissed. “I’m calling the president. I’m calling fucking everyone. You are not torturing him!”

Paul, quiet throughout the confrontation, finally spoke up. “Who do you think authorized us to continue? Why do you think anyone at all will care about this terrorist? When he dreamed about nine-eleven? When he was best friends with the architect of the plot? When he rejoiced and danced in the streets when he heard the towers had collapsed? Do you think anyone at all will give a fuck?” Paul peered at Kris. “Why do you? Maybe you should think about that.”

The only answer he could give Paul, after that, was a slap to the face. He restrained himself,just.

Following Naveen, Kris strode out of the command center, his mind whirling. He was going to call George, then Clint Williams. Work his way up the chain of command until he got to the director, then the White House. He’d make everyone see reason.

Naveen waited for him outside, leaning against one of the half walls and watching the rain. His face was twisted, like he’d seen something he’d wished he’d never, ever had. A duffel was by his feet.

“Caldera.” Naveen’s gaze flicked to him, then back to the rain. “I’m leaving.”

“No, we’ve got to stop this. I need your help. We can go together, to Langley and the FBI—”

“I already called FBI headquarters. Spoke to my director, right after…it…happened. My director called your director…” He trailed off. Squeezed his hands together. “The CIA isn’t changing their mind. They told Director Mueller to go fuck himself.” He shook his head. “I’ve got a choice. I either arrest them in there—” He jerked his head back, toward Dennis and Paul. “Or I leave. The FBI… It’s like Mueller said. We don’t do that. Ever. And we won’t be associated with anyone who does.”

It felt like a chasm had opened up between them, like a ravine had been rent into the earth. Naveen on one side, Kris, and all that he’d seen, all that he’d watched unfold before him as he stood silently, on the other. Kris, and the CIA, all the way up to Director Thatcher, and further, to the president.

“Why don’t you arrest them?” Kris finally said. His voice cracked.

Naveen blew out a long breath. “Arrest two Americans on a base that doesn’t exist, in a country that pretends we’re not here? While I’m surrounded by other CIA officers who support what those two jackasses are doing? I wouldn’t make it out alive.” Turning, Naveen grabbed his duffel, slung it over his shoulder. “Watch out, Caldera,” he said. He didn’t offer his hand to shake. “This isn’t right. And it’s all going to come out one day. It’s going to be a fucking mess when it does. Justice always comes.”

Turning, he headed for the vehicle bay, the concrete slab where they parked their four-wheelers. It was a grueling six-hour drive through the mud and the jungle to get to the nearest city. They were off the map, purposely. Off the edge of the world, in more ways than one.

“Wait. Wait.”

Naveen stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “I’m not staying, Caldera. Don’t try and stop me.”

“I’m not staying either. Can you fit two more in your jeep?”

Chapter 15

Islamabad, Pakistan