conversations with Moore, however, had ultimately brought him to the abyss. If not him, then who?
Then one evening the colonel had called Moore and said he was willing to talk. Moore had picked him up at his house and driven him to the hotel, where he would sit down with Moore and two of Moore’s colleagues. They pulled into the guest parking lot.
Khodai had just turned fifty, and his thick, closely cropped hair was woven with streaks of gray. His eyes appeared worn and narrow, and his prominent chin was dappled by a quarter-inch of snow-white growth. He was dressed in civilian clothes, simple slacks and a dress shirt, but his military boots betrayed his office. His BlackBerry was tucked tightly in its leather case, and he nervously twirled it between his thumb and middle finger.
Moore reached for his door handle, but Khodai raised a palm. “Wait. I said I was ready, but maybe I need more time.”
The colonel had studied English in high school and had then attended the University of Punjab in Lahore, where he’d earned a BA in engineering. His accent was thick, but he possessed a wide vocabulary, his tone always impressive and commanding. Moore could see why he’d risen so quickly through the ranks. When he spoke, you couldn’t help but gravitate toward him, and so Moore relaxed, removed his hand from the door, and said, “You
“Do you really believe that?”
Moore raked errant locks of hair out of his eyes, sighed, and answered, “I want to.”
The man grinned weakly. “The burdens you carry are at least as heavy as mine.”
“You assume a lot.”
“I know an ex-military man when I see one. And given your current office, you have seen a lot yourself.”
“Maybe. The question for you is — which burden is heaviest? Doing something? Or doing nothing?”
“You’re still a very young man, but I daresay wise beyond your years.”
“I know where you’re coming from.”
He hoisted his brows. “I have your promise that my family will be completely protected?”
“You don’t have to ask again. What you’re going to do will save lives. You understand that.”
“I do. But I’m not just risking myself and my career. Both the Taliban and my colleagues are ruthless. Relentless. I’m still concerned that even your friends won’t be able to help us — despite all your reassurances.”
“Then I won’t reassure you anymore. It’s your choice. We both know what happens if you don’t go up there. That’s at least one outcome we can predict.”
“You’re right. I can’t sit by anymore. They will
“Well, let me remind you that the offer to bring your family to the U.S. is still on the table. We can better protect them there.”
He shook his head and rubbed the corners of his eyes. “I can’t disrupt their lives. My sons are in high school now. My wife was just promoted. She works right there in the tech center next door. Pakistan is our home. We’ll never leave.”
“Then help us make it better. Safer.”
Khodai glanced up, faced Moore, and widened his eyes. “What would you do if you were me?”
“I wouldn’t want the terrorists to win by doing nothing. This is the most difficult decision of your life. I know that. I don’t take this lightly. You have no idea how much respect I have for what you’re about to do …the courage it takes. You’re a man who wants justice. So, yes, if I were you, I’d open that car door and come up to meet my friends — and let’s restore honor to the Pakistan Army.”
Khodai closed his eyes, and his breathing grew shallow. “You sound like a politician, Mr. Moore.”
“Maybe, but the difference is I really believe what I just said.”
Khodai offered a faint grin. “I would have thought you had lived a life of privilege before entering the military.”
“Not me.” Moore thought a moment. “Are you ready, Colonel?”
He closed his eyes. “Yes, I am.”
They got out and crossed the parking lot, heading up the ramp, beneath the broad awnings, toward the hotel’s main entrance. Moore’s gaze surveyed the road, the lot, even slid along the rooflines of the buildings across the street, but all seemed quiet. They passed the cabdrivers, leaning on the hoods of their cars and smoking quietly. They nodded to the young valets loitering near a small lectern and a box mounted on the wall, within which hung dozens of keys. They moved inside, past the newly constructed bombproof wall, and past the security checkpoint, where they were X-rayed for bombs and weapons. Then they shifted across ivory-colored marble tiles that gleamed and stretched out to the ornate check-in counters, behind which stood dark-suited concierges. A bearded man in a white cotton suit played a soft melody on a baby grand piano positioned off to their left. There were a few people at the counter, businessmen, Moore thought. Otherwise the hotel was quiet, tranquil, inviting. He gave Khodai a curt nod, and they crossed to the elevators.
“Do you have any children?” Khodai asked as they waited for the lift.
“No.”
“Do you wish you had?”
“That seems like another life. I travel too much. I don’t think it would be fair. Why do you ask?”
“Because everything we do is to make the world a better place for them.”
“You’re right. Maybe someday.”
Khodai reached out and put a hand on Moore’s shoulder. “Don’t give them everything. That’s a decision you’ll regret. Become a father, and the world will become a different place.”
Moore nodded. He wished he could tell Khodai about the many women he’d been with over the years, the relationships that had all become victims of his careers in both the Navy and the CIA. The divorce rates varied, but some said that for SEALs the numbers reached as high as ninety percent. After all, how many women could marry men they would barely see? Marriage became more like having an affair — and one of Moore’s ex-girlfriends suggested that’s exactly what they do. She wanted to marry a man while continuing her relationship with him, only because he provided her with the humor and physical thrills that the other man could not, while the other guy provided financial support and an emotional cushion. With a husband in the forefront and a Navy SEAL on the side, she’d have the best of both worlds. No, Moore wasn’t willing to play that game. And, unfortunately, he’d bedded too many call girls and strippers and crazy drunken women to count, though in more recent years his life had become a hotel bed with just one pillow ever used. His mother still begged him to find a nice girl and settle down. He laughed and told her that the settling-down part was impossible, which in turn made finding the girl impossible. She’d asked him, “Don’t you think you’re being selfish?” He told her that yes, he understood that she wanted grandchildren, but his job asked too much of him, and he feared that being an absentee father would be worse than not being a father at all.
She’d told him to quit. He told her he’d finally found a place for himself in this world, after all the pain he’d caused her. There was no quitting now. Not ever.
He wanted to share all of those thoughts with Khodai — they were kindred spirits — but the bell rang and the elevator arrived. They stepped inside, and the colonel seemed to grow paler as the doors shut.
They rode in silence to the fifth floor, the doors opened, and Moore quickly spotted a man silhouetted in the stairwell door frame at the opposite end of the corridor — he was a Pakistani operative from ISI (Inter-Services Intelligence). The cell phone plastered to the agent’s ear reminded Moore to reach into his own pocket for his smartphone so he could call the others and tell them they were nearing the door, but then he realized he’d left the phone down in the car, damn it.
They reached the door, and Moore knocked and said, “It’s me, guys.”
The door swung open, and one of his colleagues, Regina Harris, answered and invited Khodai into the room. Douglas Stone was with her as well.
“Left my phone down in the car,” said Moore. “I’ll be right back.”
Moore started off down the hallway, and now he spied a second agent at the elevators. Smart move — the ISI now controlled the foot traffic for the entire fifth floor. The elevator man was a short, scruffy-faced dude with large brown eyes and was talking nervously into his phone. He wore a blue dress shirt, brown slacks, and black sneakers, and his features seemed more rodent than human.
When the man spotted Moore, he lowered his phone and started back down the hall, toward the stairwell,
