Page 136 of Whisper
George sighed, comically loudly.
There was a handwritten note, signed by George, at the bottom of the orders.*Assign CALDERA and HADDAD joint living space. CALDERA and HADDAD in committed civil partnership, attested to the CIA on this day.
Conspicuously absent was the wordmarried.
It was a start, though. More than what he had that morning, less than what he wanted. Way, way less.
There’d be time to fight for more. He’d chip away at this, until he and David were recognized. Until their marriage was recognized.
With the grace of a princess, he closed the folder and nodded to the director. “This is acceptable,” he said. “Barelyacceptable.”
Director Edwards asked for the folder and countersigned George’s note. “We’ll get these sent to Kabul station right away. Now, let’s talk about your mission.”
Chapter 21
Camp Carson
Afghanistan-Pakistan Border
Afghanistan
Autumn 2008
Seven years after Kris had left Afghanistan, the country looked worse than it had before the invasion of 2001.
The Taliban had surged and faced off against US forces in pockets all around the country, controlling large swathes of territory and subjecting Afghan citizens to their same repressive fundamentalism mixed with tribalism. Women had gone back under the burqa, and girls were forbidden from going to school.
Bands of warlords had poured out of the lawless tribal areas, each snatching a section of the border region for their brutal gangs. They ran weapons and drugs, terrorized locals on both sides of the border, and stood against the United States, the struggling Afghan government, and Pakistan. Scattered border crossings straddled the main roads that passed between the two countries, but goat paths and footpaths crisscrossed the border, smuggling routes for anything and everything. And everyone.
Al-Qaeda, whose fighters and leaders had fled the firebombing of their homes and camps in late 2001, returned, staging a Hollywood-worthy comeback story in the mountainous border region and tribal belt.
As the United States poured men, money, and myopic attention into Iraq, al-Qaeda fighters regrouped, returned and resettled. New commanders were promoted, bloodthirsty and hungry to strike back for every moment following September 11, every death of their brothers and comrades.
Al-Qaeda, Kris wrote in his monthly summary cable to Langley,remains highly organized, highly motivated, and extremely capable of carrying out large-scale terror attacks within Afghanistan, Pakistan, and abroad. Their abilities at the present time meet or exceed their abilities from before 11 September 2001.
In so many ways, on so many levels, Iraq had derailedeverything. National security. The hunt for Bin Laden. The destruction of al-Qaeda. The lives of thousands of American soldiers. The lives of hundreds of thousands, millions, of Iraqis, and so many more in the Middle East. The lives and hearts of a billion Muslims around the world.
Seven years after the invasion, and here he was, trying to pick up the broken pieces of Afghanistan and destroy al-Qaedaagain. But this time the enemy was stronger, more enraged, and had seven years of experience striking back at the United States, the US military, and the CIA.
But Kris had new weapons, too. Back in 2001, drone warfare had been in its infancy. Only a handful had circled the skies over Afghanistan then. Now, hundreds of Predator drones swung in lazy orbits over the skies.
Director Edwards had given him the orders straight from the mouth of the new president: the gloves were off.
The drones were unleashed.Destroy their safe houses, their training camps, their communication networks, and their commanders, wherever you find them, as quickly as you can.
It was the evolution of the former vice president’s decree.Find them, stop them.
But nowstopping themmeantkilling them, anywhere in the world.
If there was a chance that terrorists were planning the worst attack imaginable, then the US had to proceed like that wasfact. All of the United States’ strategic and tactical decisions stemmed from the vice president’s orders, given shortly after September 11, 2001.
Kris fell asleep, finally, after staying up and reading the day’s collected phone intercepts from Langley, Kabul, and Pakistan. Every cell phone call in the region was vacuumed up and analyzed by an array of computer servers and then a horde of analysts at the NSA and CIA. Several names had repeatedly popped up around vague references to malls, football stadiums, and bus stops in America. Phrases that sounded like veiled conversations about practice runs and surveillance.
“Find them, Caldera,” Ryan had barked over the phone from Kabul. “And kill them.”
The two named men were several rungs down the ladder of al-Qaeda from Bin Laden, but they were big fish in the organization’s rising phoenix. Salim and Suleyman, both on the FBI and CIA’s Most Wanted list. Salim had been a part of the 1998 embassy bombings in Africa and had made his way back to Afghanistan to help with al-Qaeda’s post-September 11 savagery. After the fall of Afghanistan, Suleyman had been promoted up the ranks until he was in charge of all terror operations in Pakistan and Afghanistan. He’d planned the assassination of the Pakistani prime minister and had organized a multi-year reign of carnage on both sides of the border. His largest attack was the bombing of the Islamabad Marriott Hotel.
For the past week, Kris had been following them with his drones until he finally found their headquarters, their safe house, deep in the tribal belt in an abandoned village. Only Salim was there, for the moment. Suleyman had disappeared. But he’d be back.
