Page 144 of Whisper
Hamid must be shown the utmost respect, he wrote.Hamid is to be treated as an honored guest.
“This ishorseshit!” Carl, the leader of the SAD team assigned to Kris’s debrief, Operation Pendulum, shouted at Kris. “This is the stupidest fucking piece of garbage I’ve ever seen! Have you ever been in a war zone?”
“I’ve been in war zones for the past seven years straight!” Kris bellowed. “I’ve managed war zones! I managed the Saqqaf operation! I killed Saqqaf! Don’t fucking talk to me that way!”
“You want to bring an al-Qaeda agent onto our base without searching him? ‘Treat him like an honored guest’? This is bullshit! I’m not putting my men on the ground with this plan!”
“Yes, you are! This agent is undercover. He’s working for us. He came to us with this intelligence. He’s sacrificing a hell of a lot to help us with this. We can show him the smallest bit of respect, not treat him like a terrorist!”
“They’re all fucking terrorists!” Carl hollered. “Every fucking one of those towel-headed fuckers! They all want to kill you! Can’t you get that through your skull?” Carl snorted, shaking his head. “Or are you too concerned about how he’ll feel? Don’t want to get his feelings hurt?”
“You are way out of line,” Kris hissed. “The vast majority of Arabs and Muslims are not terrorists. Your attitude is exactly what keeps this war going.”
Carl held up his trigger finger and squeezed. “The war keeps going because I keep killing hajis.”
“Do you even fucking know that ‘haji’ is a term of respect? It’s for someone who’s made the pilgrimage. It’s a title of deep respect for the faithful.”
Carl spat. A thick wad of dip-tainted spit stained the dirt outside the command center.
“This is the plan. And I am in charge. Your men will provide operational support. Or I will ship your asses back to DC on the very next flight.”
“Not this plan.” Carl tossed the stapled sheets at Kris’s feet. They blew against Kris’s boots, skittered in the dust. “You want to make him think you’re about to suck his cock, fine, be my guest. He can think he’s about to get some sweet American ass all the way into the base. But as soon as he steps out of the car, my men are searching him.”
“You are not to treat him harshly. He is not a suspect, and not a terrorist. You have no idea of the intelligence that he has supplied!”
“He’s a fucking terrorist until I say he’s not!” Carl glared at Kris. “And there’s way too many fucking people on this op. This isn’t a Goddamn parade, or a zoo. No one is worth all this.”
“He is. You just don’t fucking know.” Kris snatched his plan, Top Secret, Eyes Only, before it blew way. “If you harm the asset in any way. Leave any bruises. Bend a single hair on his head. I will make your life hell, I swear to God.”
Carl laughed. “Seven years, you said? You’ve drunk the Kool-Aid. You think everyone just wants peace and cupcakes. You just don’t get it. Every one of them wants to kill us.”
“Just do your job. And when it’s done, you’re gone. I want you off my base.”
“Suits me just fine. Camp Cocksucker isn’t for me anyway.”
Chapter 22
Afghanistan-Pakistan Border
Afghanistan
December, 2008
David tapped his toes against the footwell of his car, waiting. He wore a thick salwar kameez, heavy robes, and a flat Afghan wool cap. Still, he was chilled. A mass of humanity crowded on the Pakistan side of the border, waiting their turn to be waved into Afghanistan. Pakistani guards had their rifles pointed toward Afghanistan. The Afghanistan guards sat around a fire and drank tea.
Thoughts of Kris helped console him. They’d stayed up almost the entire night, completely unable to sleep. Talk of Hamid and the operation turned to talk of what could be. What would it mean if they really did get Bin Laden?
“Would it be over after that? For us, I mean?” David had held Kris’s hand, resting his chin on Kris’s chest. “Do you think we could walk away from this war? If he’s gone, maybe that would be the end for us?”
Kris had stroked his hair. “I think so,” he’d finally said. “We started this hunt for him. Seeking to end what he’d begun. Bring him to justice and make him answer for what he did. We’ve got everyone else. Zahawi. Saqqaf. If we can get Zawahiri and Bin Laden…” Kris gave him a tiny smile. “It would be nice to go home,” he’d whispered. “To our house. Live a quiet life.”
“What would you do?”
“Maybe stay at the CIA. Maybe not. Something that gives me as much time with you as possible. I’ve given the CIA a decade. I want to give you the rest of all my decades.”
David had kissed him, slowly. “I want to find peace,” he’d breathed. “I know my peace is inside of you. I want to spend the rest of my life just being with you.”
Their whispers turned to making love, languid and serene, until Kris came with a shout, practically crying as he trembled apart in David’s arms. David tumbled after him, trying to combine their souls, trying to crawl inside Kris’s body and fuse together, never to be parted.
