An hour later, Maggie sat back down opposite Kafka. A word came to mind when she looked into his bruised face. Humbled. Gray noon light showed his features to be tense and washed out at the same time.
“Well?” she said, looking at her watch. “What’s it going to be?”
“You can guarantee to get my mother and father out of Iraq?”
“I can guarantee that we will do our very best,” she said. “With a high probability of success.” She signaled John Rae, who had been listening. He stood up, came over.
He crossed his arms. “Do you know where your parents are being held, exactly?”
“A camp about twenty kilometers southeast of Mosul. In the desert.”
Maggie sat up. The location sounded familiar. “Is it near a river?”
Kafka blinked. “Yes, the Zab River runs close by.”
Maggie’s heart rate bumped up. “What is the nearest town?”
“Al Kuwayr.”
“Are you sure?”
“I spoke to my mother after my parents were taken there. The commander put her on the phone. I’d also been following my father’s cell phone. I installed LifeLine on it. I made a note of the GPS coordinates before the phone was disabled. It’s the same place.”
Maggie pulled the area up on her mapping application, typing in Al Kuwayr. There it was.
Two Yazidi women who had been ransomed back to their families had said they were taken to a camp south of Mosul, near a river, by a town. On the way back they noted the name—Al Kuwayr.
Pay dirt.
“Do you know the Jihad Nation commander who runs this camp?” she asked.
“Of course. His name is Hassan al-Hassan.”
“Hassan al-Hassan?” Maggie felt a smack of euphoria and alarm mixed together. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve spoken to him many times. One of my duties is to fund his cells.”
She turned to John Rae, having difficulty curbing her excitement. “This is the same man Dara talks about in her notes. Hassan al-Hassan is also involved in the kidnapping of Yazidi woman and children and selling girls on the sex slave market.”
John Rae raised his eyebrows.
Kafka said: “Hassan al-Hassan is one of the architects of the kidnappings. He was tasked by the caliph’s secretary in Mosul. The caliph depends on Hassan al-Hassan to carry out many of his classified assignments now. He is highly valued.”
Maggie couldn’t believe her luck, if that was the right word for such a discovery.
John Rae said, “Any idea how many fighters this Hassan might have there at any given time?”
Kafka shrugged. “I would estimate any number from a handful of men to two dozen. The number fluctuates. But they would be heavily armed, regardless. Battle hardened. Bad men. Evil men.”
“That helps.” John Rae stroked his goatee. “Would Hassan consider ransom for your parents?”
“Not in my case.” Kafka gave a cynical laugh. “They want me back.”
“In that case,” John Rae said, “we need a rescue team. Maybe two helicopters. It’s been done enough times. But we’d have to check out the logistics first.” He gave Maggie a private, knowing look that said he’d have to get Walder to authorize it. “And then we have to move quickly.”
Kafka eyed Maggie. “If you can free my parents, I am prepared to help you.”
“Good,” Maggie said, “because you’ll be going along with the rescue team.”
Kafka’s face turned to stone for a moment. He’d have to take the same risk his parents’ rescuers did. Face a similar fate if it wasn’t successful. Perhaps worse.
“Is that necessary?” he said, a trace of fear echoing in his voice.
“Call it insurance,” Maggie said. They didn’t want to walk into a trap. “And we’ll no doubt have questions for you along the way.”
He frowned. “Then I have no issue.”
John Rae said to Maggie: “I’m going to ask Helga to get some more equipment set up here. Then I’ll contact Creech, schedule drone surveillance of the compound.” Creech Air Force Base was outside Las Vegas, Nevada, where much of the drone activity was run. “In the meantime, you and Kafka can sync up on Abraqa.”
Maggie said to Kafka, “I’m going to need a full understanding of Abraqa Darknet before we commit to anything.”
Kafka narrowed his eyes.
“That’s the price of admission,” Maggie said.
“I will show you how Abraqa works,” he said. “All the moving parts. But no passwords. Those I keep to myself—until I see my parents step on safe ground.” Kafka pressed down on the card table with his finger. “Here.”
“That may not be an option,” Maggie said.
“It will have to be,” Kafka said. He sat back, crossed his arms. “Otherwise you may send me back to SDAT. Or Iraq. I only go so far.”
Maggie took a breath. Maybe Kafka would play games when the time came but she’d worry about that when it happened. She understood his need to keep one last piece back until everything was taken care of.
“I’ll need to see a transaction or two in flight,” she said. “My superiors aren’t going to authorize a rescue mission until they see some kind of confirmation that what you have is what we want.”
There was a pause.
“That will not be a problem,” Kafka said.
“Then we have an agreement.”