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There was a long pause and then Amatullah said, “Yes.”
Mukhtar started laughing. Rapp knew instantly there was a problem. He took two quick steps and placed the tip of the silencer against Husseini’s knee. “Change of plan. We’re going to start with the knee. I need a quick answer. Fifty grand, or more fucking pain than you’ve ever imagined in your entire life.”
The imam looked at the cash, and then the dead man on the floor and said, “I will take the cash.”
“Good choice. Let’s go.” Rapp grabbed him under the arm and yanked him from the chair. Over his earpiece he heard Mukhtar say, “It is time for the war to begin. It is time for you arrogant Persians to sacrifice for Allah.”
“Fuck,” Rapp mumbled under his breath as he pulled Husseini toward the door.
The imam resisted, saying, “I will tell you where he is. He’s in the old catacombs under the mosque.”
“You will show me,” Rapp kept moving, “or I’ll fucking blow your head off.”
Stilwell opened the door, and Rapp rushed through it with the imam.
“Stan, grab the back of his robes. If he makes a wrong move kill him.” Rapp drew his silenced 9mm with his now free hand. With the .45 in his left hand he grabbed the extra fabric from the robe and draped it over the gun so all but the last few inches of the silencer were concealed. In his ear he could hear Mukhtar droning on about the struggle to cleanse the cradle of Islam of all infidels.
“How many men does he have?” Rapp asked Husseini.
Husseini straightened his glasses as they hurried around the corner for the stairs. “Eight, I think.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t count…maybe ten.”
“What about your men?” Stilwell asked. “The ones from the local militia.”
“They are guarding the three main entrances to the mosque, but that is normal. We do not like the guns inside if we can avoid it. They do not even know she is here,” Husseini added as an afterthought.
Rapp felt like asking him, “So you’re the only rat bastard who is helping him,” but since Husseini was cooperating, he thought it was best to keep things as positive as the situation would allow. Rapp heard a new voice come over his earpiece. The man was speaking Farsi and was very angry.
“Imad,” the man barked, “you are to release her unharmed, and you are to do it immediately!”
As they hit the first-floor landing that led back to the madrasa, Stilwell asked in Arabic, “Do you want me to get the Kurds in here?”
“Ayatollah Najar,” Mukhtar said, “knowing your disdain for the CIA, I would have thought you’d approve of my actions.”
“No,” Rapp said to Stilwell’s question. “Give them an update, but tell them to stay put.”
Husseini led them down another half flight of stairs. “The mosque is straight ahead.”
“Where does he have his men?” Rapp asked Husseini.
“Some of them are upstairs sleeping.”
“Back in the madrasa?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I think three.”
“And the rest of them?”
“He has two out front with the militia, and then two more guarding the stairs that lead to the catacombs.”
“And in the catacombs?”