“I don’t need your protection. I need you to get Hashim released into my custody. That was the plan. There’s no room for anything else. I’m not going to let you sweep this under the carpet. You brought Adrien Kurt in to help find us when we were captured in Mosul. You let him bring in Catherine Book because your back was against the wall. You denied your experience in Vietnam until you didn’t. You have to let this play out. Or, you can carpet bomb the world. Because that’s where we’re headed.”

PART NINE: Into Buried Light

PART NINE

Into Buried Light

95

95

Monday, October 26

Dominique stood in the hallway outside Issa Malik’s room in the hospital in Maryland. She could see the head of the psychiatric unit was intrigued why she was visiting the brother of the local imam. Vague in her response to his curiosity, she said she was doing research on the religions of the world and thought Issa could give her a unique perspective.

“So, you know about the hallucinations,” the head of the psychiatric unit said.

Without missing a beat she answered, “Yes,” even though it was news to her. She could see the response put the doctor at ease and he spoke about those within the Islamic faith who had suffered hallucinations.

Those imaginings, he said, were attributed to belief in the Djinn. He spoke of a study conducted to assess the impact of religions on the phenomenology of delusions and hallucinations.

“Fifty-three Pakistani Muslim patients with schizophrenia were interviewed in one study,” he said. “The results indicated the more religious patients had greater themes of grandiose ability and identity, more likely to hear voices of paranormal agents and have visions of the same.”

“That’s not just the purview of Muslims,” Dominique said. “And it doesn’t mean they’re crazy.”

“I imagine your experience in the warehouse had a bit of the ontological as well, huh?” he said, prying.

“May I see Issa?” she said, cutting through the pompous bullshit.

“Of course, Miss Valen.”

He escorted her into Issa’s room.

Issa was a small man, compact in frame, nothing like the thin, angular features of his brother.

He looked up when they entered. His eyes were wide and daring when he saw Dominique.

She flashed to the story Julian had told her of Brian Halloway, the young soldier under his command. There was something about the look in Halloway’s eyes, Julian had said, that would always haunt him. Dominique experienced a haunted look in Issa, as tears filled his eyes and a huge smile lit his face.

It was recognition, not madness.

Issa’s tears and smile were a surprise to the doctor.

Dominique wondered if Issa saw the same tornado of sunlight swirling in slashes of gray dust and black smoke, like what Halloway had told Julian he saw on that roadside—like the smoke they’d all seen in the warehouse.