Page 151 of Whisper
Ryan passed Kris a headset. On-screen, the Special Forces quick reaction force was locked and loaded in the belly of their chopper and heading for the border. Kris felt the roar and rumble of the helos pass directly over the command center. A thousand bullet holes in the steel walls made thewhooshand grumble of the rotors echo, as if the helo were inside his bones or carving him up as he stood before it.
Alizai wasn’t far over the border. North by north east, near Parachinar, the lawless city of the northwest frontier, and the White Mountains, the infamous Tora Bora. Once, he’d worried David would die in Tora Bora. But David had lived, at least in 2001. Was he destined to die there still? Was fate a cruel, cruel mistress?
Or was this, all of this, from the very first moment, all Kris’s fault?
Ryan kept up a steady conversation with the QRF team as Kris struggled to stand. Every breath felt like fire ripping through him. His legs shook. His hands were clammy, cold, and sliding off the back of the metal folding chair he clung to. He could feel each heartbeat, each thunderingboom, from the back of his eyes to the soles of his feet.
“Alizai in sight. ETA to DZ, two minutes.”
“We need the identity of the uploader or the delivery man, whoever brought that video message to the café.” Ryan crossed his arms and glared at the screen. Live video feed from the soldiers streamed back via satellite, grainy and glitching out in places. “Make this fast, gentlemen. We have exactly no time, and we have no cover for this op.”
They saw the helo move into a hover over a squat building with a bright-colored sign hanging from its roof. Ropes being tossed over the side, and soldiers looking over the edge, calling outgood to go.
The soldiers slid down the ropes quickly, hitting the dusty ground in the center of a wind tunnel on all sides of the internet café and setting up a perimeter in two seconds.
Civilians scattered, racing away from the chopper and the soldiers, clad all in black and swooping out of the sky. In moments, the street was deserted.
“Breaching now.” The team leader’s video feed showed him and his soldiers stacking beside the front door. Two deep breaths, and then they burst in.
“Down, down, down! Everybody down!”
“Hands in the air! Hands in the air!”
“Do not move!”
Shouts, screams. The guttural bellow of the soldiers, the high-pitched, frantic cry of civilians. There were young men in the shop, a handful of teenagers.
“Where is the owner? Where is the owner?”
Meekly, one man raised his timid hand. He was middle-aged and slender. He wore a dark blue turban and had a long beard. The beard made Kris curse. Was he possibly Taliban? Or al-Qaeda? The Americans didn’t have many sympathizers in the tribal territories on either side of the border. Would he help them at all?
“A video was uploaded from this location to the internet minutes ago. A jihadist video. Who uploaded that video?” The team leader was right up in the owner’s face, barking questions.
“I-I-I do not know,” the owner stammered.
“A video was uploaded from this café fifteen minutes ago! An American hostage was shown on the video! Who uploaded the video?”
The owner trembled, shrinking in the face of the team leader’s fury. “Please…”
“Who uploaded the video? Who brought the video to you?”
Shaking, the owner whispered, “Farrohk.”
“Who the fuck is Farrohk?”
The owner’s eyes squeezed closed. “He is with al-Qaeda. They are here. They are everywhere. Please, my family—”
“Where is Farrohk in this village? Where is al-Qaeda? How many are there?”
“A dozen, maybe. They are in the mosque. The mosque! Please, please, my family! My son!”
The team leader turned away, calling back to Ryan. “Be advised, target is reported to be in the village mosque. Request permission to proceed to mosque.”
“Permission granted,” Ryan responded. On-screen, the team leader radioed for his men to rally around him and pull out of the shop.
“He’s probably going to be killed, you know,” Kris croaked. “The shop owner. For talking to us.”
Ryan didn’t answer. He didn’t blink. “Let’s get them intel on the mosque. How far are they from it?”
