I Am Pilgrim

An NYPD homicide detective, Bradley participated in the rescue efforts in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Though not on duty that day, Bradley rushes into the buildings to rescue others. Bradley is gravely injured before he can escape himself, and he is haunted by the death and suffering he witnesses. He nearly retreats entirely into grief, until his beloved wife, Marcie, decides her last hope is to buy him a book about investigative techniques. The author is Jude Garrett, Murdoch’s pseudonym, and as Murdoch himself reflects, the quest to find him marked “the renewal of their love story” (114). Bradley, then, represents the facets of Murdoch’s better nature, showing the reader that a life investigating crime leaves some people committed to their principles and more deeply connected to their loved ones. His happy marriage, in a sense, shows Murdoch the kind of happy life he desires if he can ever escape his past. Both men are sarcastic and somewhat cynical, however, and Murdoch posits that Bradley’s genius nearly rivals his own, considering that he found his secret identity and whereabouts mostly on his own through creative sleuthing, including a high school yearbook and two short sentences from his book.

When Murdoch decides that the only way to learn al-Nassouri’s plan is to kidnap and threaten his son, Bradley is horrified. In one of his last conversations with Murdoch, Bradley admits that he would have been unable to harm either the child or his nanny: His morality is unshakeable, in contrast to Murdoch’s admission that he would have done so without hesitation. Bradley, then, may function as a kind of stand in for the reader, since he admires Murdoch but never fully embraces his approach to the world.

Murdoch primarily refers to the primary antagonist as “the Saracen,” from an archaic term for a Muslim, a person who fought against Christians during the Crusades, or someone without a fixed home. Murdoch constructs entire sections of the novel from his point of view, declaring, “[W]hile I might be accused of putting words into his mouth or thoughts into his head, I make no apology” (71). Al-Nassouri’s father, a devout Muslim but a strong critic of Saudi Arabia’s monarchy, is executed when his son is a teenager. This enhances the young boy’s commitment to conservative Islam, and he is so incensed by his mother’s decision to stop veiling her face and have lunch with male coworkers that he decides to enlist in the Soviet-Afghan war. Like Murdoch, then, his life is changed by family tragedy and the erosion of family bonds. Hayes is careful to note that much of his radicalism comes from the draconian rule of the House of Saud, not Islam itself, and he stresses the young al-Nassouri’s devastation and remaining love for his mother.

Al-Nassouri meets a fellow radical Muslim, a doctor like himself, who reignites his mission to topple the Saudi Arabian government when she points out that attacks on the United States would devastate its allied regimes. His death is presumably a catalyst for his deeper radicalization, as it is only then that he embarks on his plan to engineer vaccine-evasive smallpox.

He has no reservations about murdering innocent hostages to test his virus, or about the possibility of his death or his son’s in the coming pandemic. He spends much of the book isolated from others—given his similarities to Murdoch, he is a kind of mirror into who Murdoch might have been without the love of Bill Murdoch or the friendship of Ben Bradley. Murdoch himself notes that al-Nassouri’s talent for espionage is “remarkable” (141). Al-Nassouri’s plot is thwarted when he chooses to save his son rather than bring it to fruition—underlining his humanity.

A Turkish detective, Cumali is initially antagonistic toward Murdoch in his role as an FBI agent because he suggests her department is less professional or skilled than an American one. She speaks fluent English and is a competent and thorough investigator—Murdoch finds himself admiring her beauty and intelligence. He soon realizes that she is the sister of Zakaria al-Nassouri, the mastermind he is searching for, and thus the key to bringing him out of hiding. Family loyalty, for Murdoch, explains everything—including why a modern professional would have close connections to a radical aspiring terrorist.

Cumali, unlike her brother, is far from a committed ideologue or a radical—she is instantly horrified by the danger he has placed their family in. After she helps him escape from the Theater of Death, Murdoch urges Cumali to deny any knowledge of her brother’s activities to save her nephew—demonstrating that he remains focused on averting more family tragedy.

McKinley serves as the director of national intelligence and thus becomes a key figure in the effort to end al-Nassouri’s terrorist plot and keep any knowledge of it from the American public for as long as possible. He serves as a kind of mentor to Murdoch, admiring that he envies him, saying, “I would have liked just one fucking chance to make it all count” (271). He is referred to by his nickname because he always speaks in the softest possible voice. He makes an exception when he realizes Murdoch is close to identifying al-Nassouri as the Saracen, underlining the level of trust and mutual respect between them.

He tells Murdoch to choose death by suicide over trying to withstand torture, a kind of macabre effort to protect him from pain and his own empathetic nature. As Murdoch nearly succumbs to his injuries at the end of the novel, he realizes that Whisperer sounds unusual: “I had never heard his voice sound so gentle” (584). If Bill Murdoch is the father to Murdoch’s best self, Whisperer understands him as he truly is, and does not hesitate to exploit his skills in the name of the cause.