Kamal looked at Big Daddy. His face was calm but his eyes were hard. “I’m sure you well know that your war is a messy affair. It doesn’t recognize borders. Two years ago, just after the war started, your special forces conducted a raid at Haditha, in western Iraq. Documents taken in the raid suggested that Syrian smuggling networks had turned their attention from oil, precious metals, and ordinary people leaving for Europe. They were moving fighters from Egypt, Tunisia, Algeria, and Saudi Arabia across Syria to Iraq. I can attest that this is true, as far as that goes.”

Big Daddy nodded. “Go on.”

“Your forces believed that the Syrian smugglers had set up a base of operations at Hajin, and were sheltering dozens of mujahideen there before they crossed into Iraq. That part was not true. It was, how would you describe it? Bad intelligence. A group of soldiers in helicopters conducted a cross border raid into Hajin. They found no fighters there, but killed at least a dozen civilians. This was one of your accidents. When your man Ahmet joined the mujahideen, he had just buried his younger brother and sister, who died in the raid. He was angry and broken, and he wanted revenge. He offered what skills he had. You might say these skills have proven very valuable.”

“Where is the girl?” Big Daddy said.

Kamal shook his head. “That I have no idea. I merely met Ahmet in the camps. His name was Hashan at that time. He tried hard, but was a bit of a laughingstock. I knew nothing about the operation he was sent on. Since he couldn’t fight, I assumed they would make a suicide bomber of him. You can torture me until I die, but I will save you the trouble by being honest. I rejoice that the brothers have taken your President’s daughter. But I don’t know where they took her, and I do not know what their plans are.”

“Do you know where Ahmet or Hashan is?”

Kamal shook his head. “No. Dead, I would guess. But I suppose you could ask his parents.”

Luke perked up at that. “His parents?”

“When I met him, he was concerned about his parents in Hajin. They had lost two of their three children to the Americans, and soon they would lose their last child. They were in mourning at that time. I assume little has changed for them.”

“You believe Ahmet’s parents are still in Hajin?”

Kamal nodded. “Yes. I think so. Where else would they be?”

Big Daddy eyed the man closely.

“Wouldn’t someone move them from there? The most important of all the mujahideen on Earth is their son. It seems risky to leave them there.”