Page 85 of Whisper
“We’re going to force him into submission. Send him the message that we know he’s been playing games. We know his little tricks. His pretense. He needs to know that his games are over and we’re not going to indulge him any longer.”
“But he’s been cooperating!” Kris shouted.
“He doesn’t know what cooperation is. He sees you as a tool, someone to manipulate, and he’s been successful so far. He’s got a comfy bed, blankets, food. Why should he do anything differently when he’s in the best space he’s ever been in?” Dennis glared at them both, but most especially at Kris.
“He’s fucking miserable! He’s away from his brothers, he’s been captured by his worst enemy. He sobs at night when he thinks we aren’t watching on the cameras. You think he’s fucking happy?”
“He’s doing a hell of a lot better here than he would be in some cave in Afghanistan. Of course he’s happy.” Dennis seemed shocked Kris had talked back to him, challenged him.
“He’d give anything to go back. Be with his brothers. You’re so fucking ignorant. You have no idea what the hell you’re saying.”
Dennis scoffed. “Well. He’s certainly convincedyouof his little act, Mr. Caldera. But that ends. Now.”
“What do you really know of Zahawi?”
“I’ve read the reports.”
“That’s all?”
Dennis stayed silent.
“Why don’t you try to understand him first, spend a moment actually listening to him, before you tell me what he’s like. I’ve been by his side every day for two months now!”
“And that’s the problem. You’ve gotten too close.” Dennis shook his head, like he was shaking Kris off. “We’re changing his world. He needs to earn his comfort, his care. He needs to understand that weownhim. Wecontrolhim. When he’s good, he gets rewarded. But when he’s bad, and when he doesn’t cooperate, he gets punished.”
“He’s not a fucking dog!” David shouted. “He’s not a fucking animal or a slave! He’s a human being!”
“He’s a terrorist! He’d kill you if you gave him a knife! Slit your fucking throat! Didn’t you see what happened to that journalist in Pakistan? You think Zahawi would think twice about beheading you?”
“Do you have any experience with Islamic extremists? With ideologically driven hatred? With anyone incarcerated in the third world or in repressive regimes?” Kris groaned, clenching his hands. “He’s prepared himself for all of that and more. He’s expecting to be tortured, to be beaten, to be sodomized, for his family to be attacked and killed in front of him. He’s ready to die for his cause! What can you possibly do that will break that resolve? He came apart when I was kind to him. That was unexpected to him.”
“It’s human nature,” Dennis said simply. “He’ll collapse. They always do.”
“You are going to reinforce what he expects. You will harden him.”
“Caldera, listen,” Paul interrupted, spreading his hands sanctimoniously, a smug look on his face. “Washington has made the call. This isn’t your show anymore. Dennis is in charge.”
Dennis took a breath, visibly trying for calm. His cheeks were red, his eyes bright. “Tomorrow, Zahawi’s interrogation changes. Caldera, you’re staying here because we need your knowledge base on Zahawi. But you’re not going in there again. His friendship with you is over.”
“It wasn’t friendship—”
“Boyfriends, then?” Paul quipped. “Looked like you two were having a hell of a time together.”
David burst around the table, charging Paul and shoving him against the wall. Pictures of Zahawi crumpled behind Paul’s back. David fisted Paul’s shirt, grabbing him with both hands until his knuckles went white.
“Whoa, whoa!” Paul held up his hands, disgust crawling over his face. He glared at David. “What the fuck?”
Naveen, at the end of the table, had his hand on his hip like he was reaching for his weapon. He wasn’t armed, though. Not at the CIA site. He froze, his eyes darting from David to Kris and back.
“Understand this,” Kris hissed, his voice, his body, shaking. “I will do whatever it takes. Anything at all. To prevent another attack. I will never, ever watch our people die again. Not while I can do something, anything to prevent it. So, if I have to joke with Zahawi? If I have to sit at his bedside? If I have to hold his fucking hand, be the one human being he thinks understands him? I willfuckingdo it. I will do it every Goddamn day!”
Silence.
Kris felt Naveen’s stare, the burn of his eyes into the side of his face. Once, months ago, Naveen had spit fury at Kris, blaming him for the attacks. He’d been right, of course. It had been Kris’s fault.
But it never would be again.
Paul shoved David back. “Get the fuck off me,” he growled. “And get the fuck out of the command center. You shouldn’t even be in here.”
