Protect And Defend

chapter 25

MOSUL, IRAQ

As the chief of base in Mosul, Stilwell could move far more easily around the city than both the chief of base in Basra and the chief of station in Baghdad. His counterpart in Basra lived on the base at the airport and was in constant fear of being kidnapped or assassinated. The chief of station in Baghdad rarely left the Americanized Green Zone, and when he did it was usually in a helicopter.

Stilwell liked to keep three safe houses in rotation at any given time. Every couple of months he'd rent a new one and close up one of the old ones. They were all fairly nondescript, two-story brick or stucco homes with high walls and a strong gate. He staffed them with private contractors and never stayed in one more than two nights in a row. He was constantly changing his routine so as to confuse anyone who might attempt to kidnap him. Dozens of contractors and private citizens in Mosul had been ambushed and held for ransom. About half of them made it back alive. The other half ended up floating downstream in the river. Massoud would from time to time provide a shadow for Stilwell to see if anyone was following him. Massoud's men caught a local thug getting a little too close a few months earlier and put him in the hospital with a broken jaw and two broken legs.

As they crossed over the Tigris, Stilwell brought Rapp up to speed on Massoud.

"He's been trying to get this house for three years."

"Why this house in particular?" Rapp asked.

"It's on the east side of the river. There's more land and it tends to be less violent. It also puts him that much closer to the Iranian border which for some reason means a lot to him."

As they crossed over the river, Stilwell pointed north. "You see that patch of land past that other bridge with all the trees. It looks like a park?"

"Yeah."

"That's his new place. It used to belong to one of Saddam's cousins. The guy had a monopoly on the textile industry in northern Iraq. With Saddam's help he used forced labor to run his factories. I guess the guy made a killing."

"Did we get lucky and drop a bomb on his head?"

"Nope. He took off to Jordan the week before the war started. The guy has been holding out hope that he would be able to return. A few months ago he finally saw the light and sold to Massoud."

They made it across the bridge and turned north. A mile later they turned on to a quiet road and then a few hundred yards after that they approached a massive steel gate with guards milling about. The men recognized Stilwell and greeted him with smiles and waves. A signal was given and a twelve-foot-high steel gate began rolling back.

"They're not going to search us?" Rapp asked.

"Massoud and I are tight. They trust me."

As they drove up the tree-lined drive, Rapp got his first glimpse of the house. It was massive. "I don't remember him being this wealthy when I was here last year. Is this guy into anything other than used car parts?" Rapp asked with suspicion.

"He might be into a few other things."

"Like what?"

"Guns."

"He's an arms dealer?"

"More of a financier. He helps put the deals together."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"Saddam's cousin...the one he bought this place from?"

"Yeah."

"He also bought his business."

"At a steeply discounted price, I'm sure."

Stilwell stopped in front of the massive portico. "These Sunnis have been screwing people for years. You're not going to get any sympathy out of me."

Rapp opened his car door and stood, taking in the full scope of the front of the house and the motor court. Massoud Mahabad had done very well for himself.

"Mitch."

Rapp turned to see Massoud coming toward him down a walking path covered with crushed rock that looked as if it led to an orchard of some sort. The man stood five feet eight inches tall and Rapp figured he weighed over 200 pounds. He had mostly gray hair and was probably in his late sixties. He was wearing a short-sleeve Tommy Bahama shirt. Rapp began walking toward the man.

"Thank you for traveling all this way to see me," Massoud said in perfect English as he extended his hand.

"If I had known you'd moved into this beautiful place, I would have planned on staying longer."

"You are welcome to stay as long as you like." Massoud took Rapp's hand with both of his and smiled warmly. "I can't thank you enough for what your country has done for the Kurdish peoples."

"And I can't thank you enough for your loyalty and support."

"You are welcome." Massoud looked over Rapp's shoulder and said, "Hello, Rob. How are you, my friend?"

"I am good, Massoud. And how is your family?"

"Good. Thank you for asking. Although every time this one comes around I have to lock up my daughters." Massoud looked at Stilwell. "They all swoon over him."

Ridley shook Massoud's hand. "I can have him castrated if you would like."

"Yes, castration." Massoud laughed heartily. "That would be very nice."

After the laughing died down, Rapp introduced Dumond, and then Massoud led them through the house. He stopped several times to discuss artwork that he had purchased and pieces he was hoping to get his hands on. The place looked more like a small palace than a house. The interior walls were constructed of limestone blocks. The main staircase with its black iron banister dominated the left side of the entry hall. Antique tapestries and oil paintings covered the walls. They made it out onto the veranda just in time to see the sun floating on the western horizon. The entire city of Mosul lay before them with the long shadows of evening stretching toward them.

Indoor furniture and rugs had been moved outside and were waiting for them along with two butlers. Drinks were served and then appetizers. They all sat and Massoud worked his way around the group offering each guest a cigar from his humidor. As the sun went down, heat lamps were set up and ignited. After everyone had lit up, Massoud settled into his oversized chair and looked at Rapp with a devilish smile.

"You are aware of my hatred and disdain for that little peacock Amatullah."

"Yes, I am," Rapp replied.

"And you know I would love nothing more than to see him embarrassed."

"That makes two of us."

"Then I'll do whatever I can to help you. Tell me more about your plans."

Rapp set down his scotch and took a long pull off his Monte-cristo cigar. "I want you to think this through because there could be reprisals."

Massoud grunted with disdain as he shook his head. "I am not afraid of the Iranian government or their cowardly Badr Brigades."

"You know their history as well as anyone. They are not afraid to assassinate their enemies."

"And I am not afraid to strike back. If what Stan has told me is true," Massoud gestured at Stilwell, "and you have a chance to really embarrass that little bastard, to catch him in one of his lies, then I want to be involved."

"What about the MEK and PMOI? Do you need to speak to them before you agree to this?"

"I could speak for the PMOI, but I won't. The MEK I can and will speak for, and if I am right about what you would like to accomplish, the MEK is more believable."

"I agree."

"We will support any attempt to create instability within Amatullah's administration."

"Compensation?" Rapp queried.

Massoud adopted an uncomfortable expression and shifted in his oversized chair. "You have been very good to us."

"And you to us," Rapp replied.

"There might be some dealings you could help me with, but I don't want to make this about that. We are allies. We will both benefit from this."

"True."

"Now tell me of your plan. I am very interested to hear more details."

Rapp held up his glass to toast Massoud. "Here's what we're going to do."