Page 220 of Whisper
“I didn’t know,” Dawood whispered. “And I didn’t find anything on your laptop. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something to me? Why did you insist on doing this alone?”
“Once I found out you were alive, I freaked. For two years, I’ve been solely dedicated to this path. To finding the mole. Taking him out. But you… You derailed everything. At the end of the path, you were supposed to be there. We were supposed to be reunited in Paradise. That’s what kept me going. It was okay if I died stopping the mole, if this was my end. Exposing him and preventing this attack. Because I’d be with you again. But—” He shuddered. “Here you are. And you look at me with so much hate in your eyes…”
“Whose fault is that?”
Dawood looked down. “I don’t know if I would do anything differently,” he whispered. “Because I believe I am on this path to stop the mole. To save lives. I am following Allah’s path, I know I am. But I’ve lost you, again.” A sob broke through his voice, shattered his words.
“What proof do you have that this, this story, any of what you’re saying, is true?”
“Just these texts. But if I can get into the CT database, I can check the mission logs. I can find out who was in charge of those operations. Who had the knowledge, the intel, to pass on to—” He came up short, not saying the jihadi’s name.
Kris rolled his eyes. “You want me to believe this, but you won’t say the name of your jihadist buddy?”
“In a way, they became brothers to me,” Dawood breathed. “Can you blame me for not wanting to sign their death warrants? I’ve seen too many drone strikes. I’ve buried too many of my brothers.”
“You sound just like them.”
“I’m not. I swear to Allah, I swear on us, I’m not.”
Kris paced away from Dawood, shaking his head. He was going to be sick. He was going to vomit until he threw up his heart, his soul. “What exactly is it that you want from me?”
“You wanted me to tell you the truth? That’s what I’m doing. I’m trusting you. I’m asking for your help. I’m asking for you to help me find this mole. Help me search the CT mission logs—”
“Jesus, Dawood, you want me to give you classified information now? You want me to become the mole, become the traitor!”
“No! I want to stop him! My heart is broken over what this mole has done. I’m sick—”
“We all are,” Kris snapped. “You don’t have the monopoly on suffering. You don’t own pain.”
“Who would have access? Who has access to the drone program? To the Afghanistan clandestine operations? To mission intelligence and to military operations?”
It was only a handful of people. Director Edwards, obviously. The deputy director, George. The director of operations, Ryan. The director of CTC, Dan. The head of SAD, Wallace. The Afghanistan station chief. A few others, analysts and deputy directors who crossed agency lines, liaised with the military.
Who of all of them had also known Dawood had been in Kris’s apartment, hadn’t kept his ‘head down’?
“I can’t get you that information. I’m not in CT anymore. And, thanks to your little stunt with my laptop, I’m banned from the building without an armed escort.”
Dawood wilted. His spine seemed to crack in half, his entire soul drooping as he pitched forward.
“But there might be another way.”
University Park, Maryland
September 10
1140 hours
Kris led Dawood to Dan’s house, cursing himself and his fucking stupidity the whole drive.
Dawood parked down the street, well out of sight, and walked casually to Dan’s, meeting Kris at the front door. He eyeballed the key in Kris’s hand. “You have a key?”
Kris glared. “I don’t think you have any business questioning my personal life.”
“The other night, he was at your place—”
“And my actions hurt him very badly.” Kris turned the key in the lock, shoved Dan’s door open. “I shouldn’t have slept with you again.”
