by Tal Bauer
“Sirs!” One of the FBI techs shouted, waving her flashlight. “I’ve found something!”
George, Ryan, and the FBI deputy director jogged to her, clustering around her outstretched gloved hand.
A cell phone lay in the center of her palm. “It’s on,” she said. “It’s still making a call.”
“To who?”
She swiped through the screen, pulling up the number. “To itself, sir.”
“Oh my fucking God. Voicemail. It’s recording everything.” Ryan hung up the phone, jabbing his gloved finger on the button to end the call. “How long has it been going?”
The battery indicator flashed. It was low on juice. “Almost two hours, sir.”
“Let me see it.” George gently took the phone from her. His gloved fingers swiped to the home screen, then to the messages. The phone was a burner, a knock-off smart phone that looked fancy but was no more powerful than a cheap calculator.
The message inbox loaded. One message was on top, unread.
The phone’s owner had sent it to himself. He clicked the message icon.
To whoever finds this phone. This is the record of CIA officer Dawood Haddad meeting with an unknown CIA officer who has been passing intelligence and information to al-Qaeda for over two years. Please turn this phone immediately over to the FBI and CIA. A recording of the meeting will be lodged within this phone’s voicemail. Make sure this gets to the right people. Make sure justice is done.
“Holy shit,” Ryan breathed. “Someone get a phone charger! Now! We have to listen to this.”
“Haddad…” George’s throat clenched. “Well done.”
Chapter 35
September 11
0740 hours
Sunlight stabbed into Kris’s brain, bleached out his eyeballs, even through his eyelids. He groaned, trying to roll away from the light.
His head felt like a gong had been struck in the center of his brain, like his skull was a watermelon that had been split in two. He pressed his face against the cushion, smelled carpet cleaner and car upholstery—
Voices out of context, words without meaning.
Habibi!
You don’t understand what’s happening here.
It’s him.
Shut up! Suspects don’t get to speak!
I am so sorry.
Habibi.
I will pull this fucking trigger if you move one single muscle!
He blinked, struggling to make sense of the flutter of images whirling through his mind. Driving, a dark warehouse. Dawood on his knees. A prick of pain, his body going heavy. Dan…
He tried to sit up. His body ached, like he’d gone ten rounds with an entire frat house, or had spent the night in a cement mixer.
He couldn’t move his hands. He tried again, tried to pull his wrists out from behind his back.
He was cuffed. Why?
“You awake?” Dan spun in the front seat of his car, slowing as he braked. Morning sunlight streamed through the windshield. Dust rose around the car, like they were driving off-road, deep into the woods on a rocky, dry track. “How are you feeling, Kris?”
“Why am I cuffed?” Kris rose slowly, slumping against Dan’s back seat. His eyes darted around the car, outside the window. Trees surrounded them. Where were they? Where were they going?
“I didn’t know how you’d be when you woke up. Do you need some water? How’s your head?” His concerned gaze bored into Kris.
Kris groaned, squeezing his eyes closed. He shook his head, more fragments of memories going off like fireworks.
Shut the fuck up! You’ve spread enough lies!
You walked in on something that can’t be understood.
Habibi… It’s him.
“What do you mean, how I’d be when I woke up?” Kris stared at Dan. “What happened?”
“What do you remember?”
Dan. Freeze, you son of a bitch!
He blinked. Licked his lips. Looked at the trees, the dirt track they were deep into. “I was coming to help Dawood,” he said slowly. “Against the mole.”
Dan nodded. “You found him. But you walked in on something you didn’t fully understand.”
Kris stayed still. Silent.
“I found Haddad, too. I was trying to negotiate with him. Get him to turn himself in. Work with us. I offered him immunity if he’d just come in and reveal what he knew about the mole.”
You’re confused, Kris. You don’t know what you’re seeing. You walked in on something that can’t be understood.
“What happened?”
Dan twisted in the seat, all the way around, and showed Kris his black eye, his swollen jaw. “Haddad said no.”
Kris threw his head back against the seat. Closed his eyes. Tried to stop the pounding in his head, the train barreling through his mind.
The car started moving again, rolling forward. Dirt and rocks crunched beneath the tires.
“Kris… the plot about the mole. It was all a lie. It was all just a smoke screen. Haddad was playing you.” Dan reached into the passenger seat and grabbed a torn sheet of paper. He tossed it behind him, into Kris’s lap. “He left a confession.”
Habibi… It’s him.
The words swam on the page, Dawood’s slanted handwriting staring him in the face. He squinted, tried to focus as the car lurched.
Ya rouhi –
Forgive me, for what I am about to do. Everything that happens now happens because of me. Because of my choices.
If I set my heart on anything but you
let fire burn me from inside.
Oh Beloved,
take away what I want.
Take away what I do.
Take away what I need.
Take away everything
that takes me from you.
La ilaha illah Allah wa-Muhammad rasul Allah
Allahu Akbar.
Kris shuddered, reading the words. There is no God but God, and Muhammad is his messenger. God is Great. “Where are we?” he choked out.
“Just getting away for a while. I’ve got to keep you safe. They’re still trying to find Haddad. But it’s September eleventh. I have to get you out of here, in case he’s trying to hurt you.”
He stared at the back of Dan’s head, lines from Dawood’s poem repeating in his memories, from a different time. “I know what I saw last night, Dan.”
Dan sighed. “No, you don’t, Kris. You were confused. You walked in on the middle of something, and I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“I know what I saw. What the fuck did you do to me?”
“Damn it, no you don’t!” Dan slammed his palm on his steering wheel. The car leaped forward, accelerating. “I’m trying to save you!”
“Dawood was right. About everything.” He shifted. “About the mole.”
Dan cursed. “Is that what you believe?”
“I believe the truth.”
“The truth is staring you in the face!” Dan shouted. “Haddad confessed! He said everything that happens is because of him! And that he’s doing this for the God he loves, his Islam! His brothers! Christ, you are obsessed with him, so obsessed!”
Kris laughed. “This confession? This is a love letter. Our marriage vows are in this, you dumb piece of shit! Dawood is telling me he’s doing whatever he’s doing for me. That he’d do anything for me. Even something he was forced to do, something abhorrent. Something the mole was making him do against his will.”
In the rearview mirror, Kris watched Dan’s gaze darken, his face tighten. Watched him mutter curses as he gripped the steering wheel.
“I should have believed Dawood from the first moment. I should have gone with him, helped him with everything. I should never have listened to you!”
“I’m not the one who fucked a terrorist! I’m the Goddamn patriot here! I am helping the country! I am waking everyone up again!”
“You’re a monster, you sick fuck!” Kris kicked the back of Dan’s seat, both feet slamming hard, once, twice, three times.
Dan reached behind the seat, punching at his legs. “You told me once you wanted to blow open the entire detainee program. Call the newspapers, be a whistleblower. You remember I asked you if you thought you were willing to be the one person to make that call? Make choices for the world, the whole government, decide what is and isn’t worth it? For everyone?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’ve been thinking about that moment for years,” Dan hissed. “And I am the one who can make that call. Who can make the sacrifice. Who can make the hard decisions, for the right reasons. I always have been. That’s why I succeeded where you failed, Kris. That’s why I have the job you should have had. I could do things no one else could! And that’s why I’m doing this. I’m saving everyone!”
“You want to murder thousands and thousands of people. You disgust me!”
“I’m a hero! You should fucking worship me! One day, everyone will thank me!”
“You’re fucking delusional! Everyone is hunting for you, you fucking terrorist! I called George! Before I came for Dawood. I fucking called George!”
“What?” Dan’s gaze flicked to his in the mirror.
“I called George. I had to know if you’d briefed him. At first, I thought Ryan had got to you. That he was exactly the asshole I thought he was. You covered your tracks well. But, you can’t hide from the truth. It’s you. You are the mole, Dan. You’ve been betraying the CIA for two years. And now everyone knows!”
Dan’s gaze burned through the mirror, sudden, pure hatred flowing from him.
“You’ve known Dawood was alive for two years. You looked me in the eyes and you knew!”
“What the fuck did you expect I would do? Tell you the love of your life was alive? Fuck no! We were finally together! Haddad wasn’t going to fuck that up!”
“We were never together, Dan! I fucked you, like I fucked a lot of men! But only one man has ever had my love!”
“Fuck you!” Dan roared. “What the fuck did you tell George?”
“Panicking?” Kris shifted, sliding across the seat, moving his legs. “Worried your lies are about to be exposed? Worried that everyone is going to know it was you?”
“What the fuck did you tell George?” Dan bellowed. Gone was the controlled, rational man Kris had known for years. Dan punched the steering wheel again, seething as he glowered at Kris in the rearview mirror. The car jumped ahead again, rocking over the uneven ground.
“He geotracked the phone you used to text Dawood to the warehouse. “I was closest, but the entire FBI was swooping in. Did they make you run and hide? Did you panic and flee? Is that what this is about? You on the run?”
“The FBI never showed up,” Dan spat. “No one showed up.” His hands clenched on the steering wheel, leather squeaking, groaning. “You’re lying. You didn’t call him.”
“I did. How do you think I knew where to go, asshole?”
“What the fuck did you tell him?”
“Enough that he knows the mole was meeting Dawood at that location, in the warehouse.” He kicked the back of Dan’s seat again, shifting quickly. “And who did Dawood meet? You. The game’s up! Everyone knows you’re the traitor!”
“No…” Dan’s lips thinned. “No, only you know. Only you were there.”
“You’re so fucked, Dan. Betraying your country. Giving intel to al-Qaeda. You’re going into a black hole so deep, no one will ever fucking see you again. You’re going to disappear. I almost hope they fucking waterboard you, you son of a bitch. For what you’ve done.”
“You know,” Dan growled, reaching into the passenger seat again. “I thought it would be hard, blowing your fucking brains out. I did love you, you know.” He gripped his gun as he slammed on the brakes. “But it’s not going to be hard at all.” He twisted, gun in hand, aiming for Kris—
Kris lunged, throwing his cuffed hands over Dan’s seat back and around Dan’s neck, yanking hard. He’d slipped his handcuffs around his legs while Dan wasn’t looking, bringing his arms in front of him.
Dan squawked, gasping, gagging as he tried to grab Kris’s handcuff chain and shoot at the same time. He fired, aiming wildly, and two bullets shot holes in the roof of the car. Another shot. The back window exploded.
Kris yanked harder, digging the chain into Dan’s throat. Dan thrashed. Dropped his gun, both hands rising to the handcuffs. He gagged, mouth open as he struggled to breathe. In the rearview mirror, Kris saw panic race through his eyes. Saw his face twist, grimacing, desperate.
“I hope you burn in hell,” Kris hissed. “I hope you suffer a fraction of the anguish I suffered! I hope you feel one tenth of what I felt, losing the love of my life!”
Dan’s hands scrabbled at Kris’s face, fingers trying to gouge his eyes, grab his hair. The car fishtailed, veering left and right.
Grunting, Kris heaved, jerking his handcuffs back and up, trying to snap Dan’s neck, collapse his trachea. Kill him, destroy him.
Dan’s foot slammed on the gas as he grabbed Kris’s hair and yanked, tried to haul him off, throw him sideways.
Kris screamed through clenched teeth, his arms shaking as he pulled and he pulled, and he felt Dan’s bones crunching, the delicate cartilage in his neck bending, snapping. Felt Dan’s body tremble and seize, watched his mouth gape open and close.
The car accelerated, weaving across the dirt track and heading for an open space, a break in the trees. Kris saw a sign flash by. They were headed for a ravine, a drop off the track, a hundred feet down to the bottom of a wooded gully, coming up fast.
“Shit!” Unhooking his hands from around Dan’s neck, Kris threw himself into the rear passenger seat. He grabbed his seat belt in both hands and yanked, rolling into it.
Dan gasped, a ragged, choking inhale. His hands flew forward—
The car raced off the edge of the track, hanging for a split second before tilting, twisting, tumbling in midair as it plunged toward the ravine.
Crunch. The bone-shuddering crash of impact, the car slamming into tree trunks as it careened downhill. Airbags deployed with a bang. Glass shattered, showering Kris in a million tiny fragments.
They tumbled, rolling end over end, jerking left and right, ricocheting and skidding through underbrush and dirt.
A long creak and a slow slide gave way to the bottom of the ravine, a gully tangled with vines and dead branches and a trickle of runoff in the bottom of a creek bed. The car groaned, wheels spinning as it lay on its roof.
Kris let go of his death grip on the seat belt he’d wrapped himself in. He fell to the roof, landing on his side in a puddle of broken windshield shards. Winded, wincing, he tried to breathe, tried to stop the shaking in his arms. Tried to make sense of the images, the voices, the whispers, roiling through his mind.
It all coalesced into sudden, startling clarity as he spotted Dan’s gun lying in a mess of dirt and shattered glass.
He lunged, scooping the gun up in both hands, and twisted, landing on his side as he aimed for Dan’s head.
Dan hung upside down in the driver’s seat, motionless, arms limp over his head. Blood dripped from his temple, the ends of his hair, pooling rapidly.
Kris scrambled out of the car, sliding feet first through the busted passenger window, keeping his eyes on Dan. He crawled through the dead leaves and the debris of the gully, getting away from the car, and then rolled, pointing his gun at Dan.
Nothing. No movement. Dan’s head hung at an angle, twisted unnaturally to the left.
Kris swallowed. He breathed in. His hands shook, trembled.
He could hear everything. The sound of leaves settling, the tumble of rocks skittering down the ravine, unsettled by their crash. Birds, flying away, fluttering and cawing high above. His heart, the blood roaring through his veins. His breath, the hollow sound of it rattling through his lungs, his throat. Passing over his lips.
He had to move. He had to find Dawood. He had to stop whatever was going to happen. Whatever Dan had planned, today
.
His mind churned, trying to put the pieces together. Memories fluttered just out of reach. The touch of sedatives lingered inside him, trying to confuse him. Someone had drugged him. Someone working with Dan.
He breathed deep, closing his eyes. Grab the memories. Push through. You know what’s true in your heart. Remember.
The SUV, parked outside the warehouse. Large enough to be packed with explosives, enough to devastate a city.
A body on the floor. Haddad’s partner, Dan had said.
Dawood’s confession, his love letter. What was Dan forcing him to do?
What day was it? September 11?
Kris crawled back to the car, his eyes glued to Dan’s body. Blood dripped from his face, from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Kris stilled, waiting, watching to see if his chest rose or fell. If he breathed.
Nothing. Dan was gone. Dead.
Good. He shuddered. Good.
He set the gun down in the leaves and reached over Dan, trying not to touch him as he fumbled in Dan’s pockets for the handcuff keys. They tumbled free, clattering to the roof. He reached—
Beneath the deflated airbags, trapped at the end of the dashboard, Kris spotted a cheap burner phone, identical to the one Dawood had shown him.
Dan wasn’t stupid. He’d have smashed the phone George had tracked him with, destroyed it and hidden the remains. Dan was smart, damn it. He’d covered his tracks well, had hidden his betrayal for two years. Had lied to Kris’s face for two years.
This must be a different phone.
Was it the phone he and his partner used? Whoever had knocked him out last night?
Kris grabbed it, dragged it free, and shimmied out of the car.
Handcuffs first. He dropped the phone as he wiggled the key into place, twisted, jimmied the lock until the catches released, and the cuffs dropped in the dirt.
The phone vibrated when he picked it up, and the screen winked on when he pressed the home button. One unread message.
He opened it.
The thread was a back-and-forth of location data and times, starting just after one in the morning.
