"But you didn't eliminate Khalid."
"No."
Everything Dylan was, everything he did for them, and the single moment when he chose differently.
I turn back to the screen. Keep reading because stopping means letting these people die twice. Letting their suffering become just another classified file that nobody remembers.
The list of subjects scrolls past. Names. Ages. Medical conditions. All meticulously documented. All dead except one.
My investigation has been chasing this network for six months. Building a case against corrupt generals who covered up war crimes. But this is genocide disguised as research. Mass murder authorized at the highest levels of command.
And the only surviving witness is a teenage boy who shouldn't have lived.
"I need to talk to Khalid."
"No." Dylan's response is immediate. "He doesn't discuss what happened."
"He's the only witness. The only person who can testify to what Morrison did."
"He's a traumatized child who watched his entire family die. You don't get to use him as a source for your story."
"This isn't about a story anymore." I close the medical files, pull up the authorization documents instead. "This is about justice. Morrison authorized the murder of three hundred forty-seven civilians. He's dead now, but his crimes still need to be exposed. And Webb is continuing the same operations."
"He will. But not by exploiting Khalid's trauma."
The edge in Dylan's voice is sharp enough to draw blood. This isn't just a rescue. It's personal.
"Tell me the rest. You were there to ensure compliance. To eliminate witnesses. But you saved Khalid instead. What happened to the others?"
Dylan's expression doesn't change. "There were no other survivors."
"Because you followed orders?"
"Because Morrison's chemical weapons were extremely effective. By the time I arrived, everyone except Khalid was already dead or dying."
"And Khalid?"
"Khalid was still breathing. Barely. The field medics said he had maybe an hour." Dylan's jaw works. "I was supposed to wait until he died naturally. Document the progression. Make sure there were no surviving witnesses."
"But you didn't wait."
"I saw an eight-year-old girl's body on a table with a tag marking her as Subject Seven. Saw the clinical notes documenting how long it took her to die." Something shifts in his expression. "She was the same age my daughter would have been."
My breath catches. Would have been. Past tense.
"What happened to your daughter?"
"She died when she was eight years old. Along with my wife. Years ago."
Years working for the Committee. Years since his daughter died.
"How did they die?"
"Committee bombing. Targeted strike designed to eliminate witnesses to a Syrian operation. Lisa and Maya were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Collateral damage in an operation I helped plan."
Outside, someone's boots crunch on gravel. Through the encrypted connection, Tommy types at Echo Base. The ordinary sounds make Dylan's words even more horrifying.
"You helped plan the operation that killed your family."
