Page 183 of Whisper
He placed Behroze’s prayer rug beside his. He bought Behroze a djellaba, the same as the one he wore, day in and day out.
Behroze slept beside him, still a frightened boy in the middle of the night. When mortars fell, or jets screamed over the city, he wailed, terror seizing hold of him as he clung to Dawood, senseless cries of horror as he replayed memories of the mountain burning, of the sky falling.
It took a year for him to sleep on his own.
Kandahar City
Two Years Before
The day Abu Dujana arrived was a normal one for Kandahar City. Gunshots rang outside the city walls. Military helicopters swirled around the sky. Spies walked the streets, slinking out to report back to the NATO military base nearby. The Belgium forces were in command at Kandahar Air Base, and they left Kandahar City alone, for the most part. Heat and hatred swirled in the air, resentment turned outward from the city walls, against anything and everything that threatened their lives.
“I hear you have a new imam,” Abu Dujana said to Ihsan, after greeting him, sharing the bonds of brotherhood. “And that he came from the mountains of Bajaur.”
“Brother Dawood, yes.” Ihsan beckoned Dawood to join them. “Brother Dawood is a blessing from Allah. Our paths were meant to cross.”
Abu Dujana’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me. What do you know of a stranger brought to the mountains, years ago, by brother Al Jabal?”
“He’s dead. He died in the mountains.” Dawood’s heart pounded, palms slicking. ’Bu Adnan had said the mountains were Al Jabal’s biggest secret. That he would never, ever, risk his family. Dawood was supposed to be a ghost after Al Jabal died.
“Brother Jabal was my closest friend. He confided everything in me.Everything.” Abu Dujana stepped closer, frowning. “Your accent, brother, is strange. Where are you from?”
“Libya.”
“The stranger in the mountains was from Libya as well.”
“Brother Dujana, what is this?” Ihsan interrupted, shaking his head. “What are you saying? What stranger?”
“You remember when Brother Jabal and Sheikh Zawahiri conspired with Brother Hamid to strike the CIA at their base, years ago? You remember the spy Brother Jabal captured?”
“The spy was tried and executed.”
“No, Ihsan. The spylived. Brother Jabal took him to the mountains. He hid him with his father, and he told me he’d go back one day. That after the dust settled and the CIA had forgotten about their spy, he would drag him back out and begin the real trial.” Abu Dujana lifted his chin, smiled. There was something predatory in that smile, a wolf that had cornered its prey.
“Brother Dawood?” Ihsan’s trembling voice, his confusion, spanned years, his gaze wavering over the knife blade of uncertainty, of betrayal, of a thousand questions that had no answers.
“I told you,” Dawood whispered. “He is dead.Maa shaa Allah, everything that he was, Allah remade. The stranger—to Allah, to the brothers—no longer exists. I swear it.”
Ihsan hissed, inhaling like he’d been stabbed through the back. Like his world had been flipped upside down. “You—”
“Everythingof me is for Allah now.In shaa Allah, I exist only for Him. He knows the length of my life, the weight of my heart. My sins. And I have given everything to Him to judge. It is in Allah that my heart now finds rest.”
Ihsan swallowed. He looked down. Exhaled, his breath shaking.
Abu Dujana gripped his shoulder. “Brother Dawood. Allah calls you now. There are things that onlyyoucan do. Knowledge that onlyyouhave. Will you help us, brother? It is Allah’s will.”
You must follow the path Allah has laid out for you.He held Abu Dujana’s gaze. Black fire burned in the depths of his eyes. Black fire that reflected the anguish of the mountains, the distilled agony of a Muslim soul. That promisedchange.
Something inside Dawood awoke.
“What would you have me do?”
Kandahar Province
Afghanistan
Dawood rose from his prostration and sat on his knees. “Allah, forgive me,” he whispered. “Have mercy on me. Strengthen me. Pardon me.” His breath faltered, his whispers dying on Afghanistan’s harsh wind.
Abu Dujana kneeled beside Ihsan, whispering his own prayers. Soon, they would move out, cross the border again, head to Peshawar. Ihsan and Abu Dujana were about to embark on their mission.
