Alex Berenson - The Ghost War

Forever.

Anyway, he hadn’t come here to think about Kowalski. He wanted to remember Hackett. Instead his mind slid sideways, to the Talib whose brains he’d blasted on the night that Hackett died. He could see, actually see, the man’s skull shattering, as if he were in Afghanistan instead of Virginia, as if he were living the night over again. He closed his eyes and sagged down.

He had destroyed that Talib as easily as the average person swatted a fly. He’d killed so much that killing had become automatic, a reflex. Only after the action ended could he realize the horror of what he’d done. Only now.

Wells wished he could cry. But he never cried. Instead he put his head to the soft turf and closed his eyes and watched a movie of the men he’d killed playing on the screen in his mind. Forgive us, for we know not what we do.

“John.” He felt Exley’s thin arms around him. He lifted his head and forced his eyes open.

“I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

“You don’t have to, John. You can always quit.”

But even before Exley’s words rose out of the cemetery and floated south over the Pentagon and into the past, even before they joined everything that had ever happened and everyone who’d ever lived in the place that never was—

Wells knew she was wrong.

He would never quit.

While in Boston on book tour for The Faithful Spy, the predecessor to this novel, I was fortunate enough to meet the lovely and talented Dr. Jacqueline Basha, a wonderful woman and a wonderful reader. Without Jackie, John Wells — and his creator — would be a lot more tortured.

Thanks also to:

David, my brother, who was present at the creation.

Neil Nyren, whose suggestions are always on point.

Heather Schroder, who is never afraid to fight for her writers.

Deirdre Silver, a careful and thoughtful reader.

Doug Ollivant, who knows the difference between an LZ and a DZ.

Mark Tavani and Jon Karp, who knew John Wells when he had a different name.

Larry Ingrassia and Tim Race, my editors at The New York Times, who gave me more days off than I deserved.

And last but certainly not least, to all the readers who e-mailed me (alexberenson@gmail.com) to say how much they liked (or in a few cases didn’t like) The Faithful Spy. Writing a book isn’t easy, but knowing that people are actually reading it — and care enough to respond — makes the work worthwhile.