Alone and Unafraid (American Praetorians Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

spoke pretty good English, and Hassan was translating into Arabic to make sure everything was clear.
    As I walked out of the meeting, I leaned over to Hassan.  “Was it just me, or was he…not all there?”
    Hassan shook his head.  “It was not just you, my friend.  He has something on his mind, something he does not want you to know about.”
    “Any idea what?” I asked.  “I know you see some things that go on around here that we don’t.”
    He thought for a moment as we walked out into the courtyard behind the police station.  “There was a man who came from Baghdad yesterday,” he said carefully.  “He came and spoke to Commander al Zubayri, but not to Hussein Ali or anyone in his unit.  That might have something to do with his behavior.”
    I suppressed a sigh.  That didn’t sound good, especially after Alek’s news about General Saleh.  Couldn’t we catch a break somewhere?  Actually have a good stretch of time where things weren’t going to hell in a handbasket?  “What kind of relationship with Baghdad has Daoud and his family had?”
    Hassan looked around.  “Not so much with Baghdad,” he said.  “He never had a hand in it, but several of his family worked with Moqtada al Sadr in the war with the Americans.  I have heard that they also had some hand in moving support from the Qods Force to insurgents; then, after you left, they became involved with the government, as it moved more and more toward the Iranian camp.  Commander al Zubayri only came to join the Mullah al Hakim after the government began to disintegrate.”
    That had my attention.  Daoud had always been cagier than his counterpart, Hussein Ali, as crusty and taciturn as the old bastard was.  This was a part of his history I’d never heard.  While it was his family history, in Iraq, family history and personal history are inextricably intertwined.  “Do you think he’d join up with General Saleh if offered the opportunity?”
    Hassan didn’t even hesitate.  “No question.  His loyalty is only to himself and his family.”
    “What about the Mullah?” I asked carefully.  I knew Hassan admired Al Hakim, as much as I was cynical enough not to trust the old man.   I’d met the Mullah enough times to know that, in spite of his protestations of Sistani-like moderation, the man was a politician, first and foremost.  If he saw greater advantage in siding with Saleh, and by extension the same Iranians we’d fought for control of Basra, I expected he’d do it.  For damned certain he wouldn’t have any qualms about throwing us under the bus.  We were Americans, after all.  Americans were synonymous with bad guys in a lot of Iraq anymore.
    “I do not think Mullah Al Hakim will turn away from his cause,” Hassan said after a moment.  “He is very politically wise, but he is stubborn about an independent Basra.  He has fought the Iranians too hard to embrace them along with Saleh, and make no mistake, my friend.  Saleh is taking his orders from Tehran and the Council of Guardians.”
    So, Daoud was double-crossing Al Hakim as well as the rest of us.  But where did Hussein Ali stand?  Damn it, we had real work to do—we’d just gotten Basra out from under the Iranian thumb, at least mostly, and now we were trying to put a damper on the Sunni Islamist factions pushing in from the west.  Plus we had Collins “Project” to worry about.  And now this. 
    “ What will Hussein Ali do?” I asked.
    Hassan thought for a long moment before answering carefully, “There is very much bad blood between Hussein Ali and the Iranians.  He was fighting alongside the British when Basra was under their occupation.  There is also history between him and General Saleh.”
    “What kind of history?” I asked.
    Hassan really looked uncomfortable.  “You will have to ask him.   It is not my place to say.”
    So it was probably personal.  That could be good news, or really, really bad news.  Finally, I looked him in