Page 232 of Whisper
Dawood inhaled.
I am ready.
CTC
Langley, Virginia
2300 hours
“I need FBI tactical teams to assemble at the command centerimmediately,” George barked into his phone. “We have a hot lead on Dawood Haddad, and possible accomplices, and we’re going in. We have to move, now!”
He’d taken over CTC in Dan’s absence, trying to coordinate a response while down two of his best men. Panic simmered beneath the surface of his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch.Dan, Ryan, where are you guys?
Don’t let this be true. Don’t let any of this be true.
George swallowed hard. It was easier, far easier, to think Haddad was the bad guy, to pour all his anxieties, all his nerves, all his fear and his hate and his terror, into the specter of Dawood Haddad.
Do you trust me?Kris had asked.
I don’t know, he should have said.I’ve never known. Half the time, I don’t know what I’m doing. I just try to hold on as tight as I can and close my eyes before we all crash face-first into the brick wall.
“Sir!” Shannon jogged to him, a Bluetooth earpiece in her hand. “The FBI, they’ve found Ryan!”
He snatched the earpiece out of her hands, shoved it into his ear. “Talk to me. Where is Ryan?”
“Sir? What thefuck?” Ryan, pissed as hell and loaded for bear, growled over the connection. “I was taking afuckingnap and an entire squad of FBI agents turned the fucking cot over, dumped me out. They’re circling me with flashlights and their weapons drawn, and I need to know what thefuckis going on, rightGoddamnnow!”
George blinked. His eyes slipped closed.
No. Please, no.
It’s supposed to be Haddad.
“Ryan. Did Dan call you today about tracing a phone number Caldera uncovered?”
“Dan? I haven’t talked to him since yesterday.”
Deanwood
Washington DC
2300 hours
Feet crunched over gravel, over the broken glass of the warehouse’s shattered windows. Two years of agonizing waiting, trying to string clues out of breadcrumbs, trying to track a ghost whispering through Kandahar City, trying to find out who was slitting the throat of the CIA from within. Once he knew about the mole, he couldn’t leave Kandahar City, not until he could prove, beyond all doubt, who it was. Not until he could dosomethingabout it, stop the killings, the betrayal.
He would finally have his answers.
True patience comes from complete trust in you, Oh Allah, when the trials and calamities are at the highest.
Footsteps, closer, closer.
There is no God but God.
Dawood rose, slowly. One hand reached behind his back, gripping the handle of a pistol he’d bought from a twelve-year-old in Brentwood the first day he’d arrived back in the States. It had been easy to acquire weapons in Afghanistan. Easier still in the United States.
The mole thought he was on their side. He had the element of surprise.
Kris. Ya rouhi, my love. Forever.
