He’d been convinced of what Julian and Dominique told him was the truth about Hashim, yet being here, he wasn’t ready for the barrage of questions and accusations Bruton would throw at him if he pursued it. He sidestepped the issue and sat down opposite Bruton.

“We were good friends once. I’m not sure what happened to that.”

“Life has many turns. And you were the one responsible for pulling away. Is that why you’re here? To mend the past?”

“Maybe I came to ask forgiveness.”

“You don’t need me to forgive you, Paul.”

Ledge missed his friendship with Bruton. He was the one man he’d been able to talk with. But that closeness never gave way to him sharing with Bruton the fact he’d had experiences he couldn’t explain—experiences that placed in his life a chance to move the axis of the world away from violence.

He was a young senator when his occurrence happened, placed into that position by forces outside the world he knew, to help the world of which he was a part. Fear had stopped him from taking that on, and created a void in his life—a void responsible for the growing dissolution in his marriage, and a void between he and his son.

Julian was being given the chance to make that right, and Ledge knew he wouldn’t be able to escape his responsibility any longer.

He came wanting to come clean, and tell Bruton about his past, and what his son and Dominique told him of what happened to them in the desert, and that Hashim was here to surrender.

But what if Hashim came for something else?

The one thing of which he was aware—Hashim was here. The reason would surface sooner or later.

That unknown gripped the courage he wanted to have, and again kept him silent.

46

46

In front of the raw concrete monolithic structure on Pennsylvania Avenue, Hashim stood at the metal sign above the doors to the FBI that read: J. Edgar Hoover Building. A metallic taste was in his mouth. The bitterness of saliva upon his lips. But he was here. He had no idea if he would make a difference. And who would believe him? But he was compelled to be here.

He knew Julian and Dominique couldn’t risk their lives to give witness. Any empathy they showed would condemn them. He knew he’d be in this alone. He’d come to that realization soon after their lives were spared in the attack in the Mosul desert. His journey to America had fueled his resolve that something this radical and expiatory was needed, in order to shift the unending violence. He also knew the blood and turmoil a surrender of this magnitude could create. But it was what had been placed before him, and he chose the path that led him here—and he stepped inside the front doors of the FBI.