Protect And Defend

chapter 47
Imad Mukhtar had changed into a suit and dress shirt. He had chosen not to wear a tie, however. He descended the ancient steps one at a time. The fact that they had not made it out of the city was not what was worrying him. He had felt from the beginning that it would be too difficult to make it the sixty-odd miles to the Iranian border, but it was worth a try. Even so the Americans had reacted far quicker than he had predicted. An advance team had been sent to an abandoned factory midway between Mosul and the border. As luck would have it, two American Blackhawk helicopters had landed and disgorged over twenty men a mere 100 meters from the factory. Mukhtar was forced to turn around after traveling nearly twenty miles, and then they had to face the gridlock that had been created by the American roadblocks.

Mukhtar had another backup location within the city. A place where the Americans were not welcome. He continued down the steps of the mosque to the dank basement, where the director of the CIA was waiting. Mukhtar had been very pleased with the attack up until just a few minutes ago. Kennedy had been plucked from her SUV without a scratch, and they had left the scene just in time. At least that was what he thought at the time.

He had just been given the bad news that they had lost thirty-four men. At first Mukhtar thought the information was surely inaccurate. How could they possibly have lost so many men? It started to sink in when he asked for Ali Abbas, Hezbollah's liaison in Mosul. Abbas was the man who had brokered the deal with the local police chief. When he was told that Abbas was one of the men killed, his first response was to make sure. If Abbas was alive everything was in jeopardy. He knew Hezbollah's entire infrastructure. Not just in Mosul, but back in Lebanon as well. He also knew they were working directly for the Iranian president which could complicate things. Abbas knew where each and every safe house was located and what local officials were on their payroll.

Someone needed to be dispatched immediately to the scene to find out if anyone had been taken alive. Next he asked for Rashid Dadarshi, the Quds Force commander. Dadarshi was extremely capable. He surely had a man who could go back and begin poking around. But the news only got worse. Dadarshi's second in command informed Mukhtar that his commander had not made it back.

Mukhtar could scarcely believe it. He had seen both men just seconds before he had left with Kennedy. What could have possibly happened in such a short span of time? He reached the final step that led to a second basement beneath the Great Mosque and again wondered if he was doing the right thing by staying put. Abbas had been the one who had told him about the mosque-that it had an imam who they could trust with their lives. Dadarshi did not know that Abbas had told him about the mosque as a place of refuge and Mukhtar felt very confident that if by chance the Americans had taken Abbas alive, it would take them at least twenty-four hours to break him. He pitted that against the risk of moving Kennedy in broad daylight while the streets were buzzing with American military and police.

When the imam informed Mukhtar of the ancient tunnels beneath the mosque, he decided it was best to stay put, at least until nightfall. Mukhtar's orders were unfortunately specific in one regard. He was not to kill Kennedy unless given the order from Amatullah himself. The only exception was to be during the original attack. If that were to happen, her death could be blamed on Sunni insurgents and no one would be the wiser. He was tempted to walk through the door at the end of the narrow passageway and be done with the whole thing. Simply put a bullet in her head and then dump her body in the river, but he was equally tempted to interrogate her. That was why he was willing to risk the run to the Iranian border. She was a very smart woman, so it would take time to deconstruct her lies. Mukhtar had no doubt he could do it, but it would not be easy. It would require months of painstaking interrogation, but the information would be so valuable it could fund Hezbollah for the next decade, not to mention what it would do for their reputation. First things first, though. He had given President Amatullah his word that he would deliver a vital piece of propaganda.

One of the Quds Force commandos was standing guard outside the door. Mukhtar straightened his jacket as he approached and asked, "How is she?"

The man shrugged. "No problems so far."

"Let's keep it that way."

Mukhtar threw the door open and entered the dank, stone walled storage room. It was approximately ten feet wide by twenty feet long with a ceiling of only seven feet. A single lamp was plugged into an extension chord that ran back down the hallway. The stench of mold and stale air was oppressive. Mukhtar walked across the dirt floor to Kennedy and looked down at her bare legs protruding from the blanket they had thrown on her. Mukhtar bent down and pulled the canvas bag off Kennedy's head. She looked up at him with blinking eyes as he reached down and covered her legs with the blanket.

In English, Mukhtar said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, Dr. Kennedy." Mukhtar was very proud of the research he'd done and the ingenious angle he'd come up with. He'd read in a Washington Post piece that she was referred to as doctor by her close friends. "I only found out thirty minutes ago that you had been taken hostage. Have they treated you all right?"

Kennedy stopped blinking and looked up at Mukhtar with searching eyes. "I'm sorry...you are?"

Mukhtar smiled and said, "Someone who would like to see this mistake rectified before anyone else gets hurt."

"That is very nice of you. Do you work for the regional government?"

"You could say that. I'm a freelancer of sorts."

Kennedy was well aware that kidnapping for ransom was rampant across all of Iraq. It had grown into a cottage industry complete with neutral negotiators who collected upwards of a third of the ransom. "I see," Kennedy said as she struggled to prop herself up on her left elbow.

"Here," Mukhtar offered as he grabbed her around the shoulders and helped her sit up. The blanket fell partially away exposing her bra and bound wrists. Mukhtar drew a knife and cut the plastic flex cuffs on her wrists and then her knees and ankles.

Kennedy clutched the blanket and covered her exposed skin. "Thank you...I'm sorry, you never told me your name."

"You may call me Muhammad."

"Of course," Kennedy replied a bit suspiciously. He might as well have said John Doe. "You said this was a mistake. I'm sorry, but I find that a bit hard to believe."

"I'm sure you do, but I think I can explain." Mukhtar glanced at the guard sitting in the corner and in Arabic asked him if he could have a moment alone with the prisoner. The lumbering man slowly got off his chair and left the room.

"The police force here in Mosul is extremely corrupt. They were not told that you were in that convoy."

Kennedy knew they had not told the police for that very reason. "Then who did they think was in the convoy?"

"They are not telling me that. All they've said is that it was someone who they would be able to ransom for a lot of money."

"Have you contacted my government?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

Mukhtar glanced nervously over his shoulder and then in a much quieter voice said, "Some of them want to kill you, some of them want to negotiate with your government, and some of them would like to sell you to another government."

"Who are you talking about?"

"A local group, but very powerful. More like your Mafia than one of our militias."

"Sunni?" Kennedy asked.

Mukhtar shrugged off the question. "I cannot say, but I wanted you to know I am working on your release...and that I will do everything I can to make sure you remain unharmed."

"Thank you."

Mukhtar stood. "Now I must go, but first if you will allow me I need to take your photo."

Kennedy looked hesitant.

"It is for your own good. So I can prove that you are alive."

That sounded like a good idea to Kennedy. She clutched the blanket around her shoulders and sat up as straight as her broken rib would allow her.

Mukhtar snapped her photo with a digital camera and said, "I will be back to check on you in a bit. Is there anything I can get for you?"

There were a lot of things she would have liked, but she decided to keep it brief. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"I will see if I can arrange that. Anything else?"

"Some clothes would be nice."

"Of course. I will see what I can do." As Mukhtar left the room he gave Kennedy one more comforting smile and then closed the door behind him. He waved for the guards to follow him down the hallway.

When they were far enough away Mukhtar lowered his voice and in Farsi said, "Wait five minutes and then bring her a pot to go to the bathroom in. I want you to watch her do it. If she gets shy, rip her panties off, but do not rape her. At least not yet. When she is done you can slap her around a bit, but do not hit her face. Then put the hood back on her. Do you understand?"

Both men smiled and nodded.

"Good. I will be back in one hour."