Gideon's Spies полностью

Long realizing that the United States has the capability to electronically eavesdrop on his discussions, bin Laden writes his orders in a neat hand, then distributes them to trusted aides. They travel to neighboring countries and transmit them from there to bin Laden’s global network of some 2,500 terrorists. It was such an order that led to the Madrid massacre.

In 2003, via an Islamic Web site, bin Laden said, “We don’t consider it a crime if we try to obtain nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons. Our holy land is occupied by Israeli and American forces. We have the right to defend and liberate our holy land.”

Washington has doubled its bounty for bin Laden’s capture to $50 million. Meir Amit, a former director general of Mossad, has said such a tactic often does not work. “Betrayal for money is a hard thing to induce in someone committed to a terrorist leader. Part of the reason is fear of someone discovering the treachery. Part of the reason is that the leader has picked his men with care. No promise of a bounty will make them think about turning bin Laden in.”

However, in Tel Aviv a former Mossad katsa, Eli Cohen, said (to the author) that a weakness could be bin Laden’s strong family ties to his four wives, seven children, and forty grandchildren. “We know where they live and their movements. If a wife and some of his children were kidnapped it would certainly focus bin Laden’s mind. At minimum they could be held as hostages against him carrying out any further outrage. If he still did, then he should expect ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’ policy to exist. In other words, his family would be executed.”

But no one knows if such a threat would be brushed aside by Osama bin Laden with the same indifference with which he treats all human life.

During the summer months of 2004, the world was shocked by the pictures and descriptions of Iraqi prisoners being abused by their U.S. military guards in Baghdad’s Abu Ghraib jail. One of the most unpleasant images was of a naked Iraqi prisoner being held on a lead by a woman soldier. The consensus was that, horrific though the images were, they resulted from a toxic mixture of boredom, sadism, and a warped idea of entertainment by the guards. The Pentagon insisted it did not go beyond that. But action would be taken; severe punishment meted out to the guilty.

The prison commander, Brig. Gen. Janis Karpinski, was relieved of her post. A damning report, which effectively ended her career in the military, accused her of lack of leadership during her tenure as prison governor.

On July 4, Karpinski hit back. She publicly announced that among the interrogators at Abu Ghraib had been Mossad interrogators. Fluent Arab speakers, they had been given free access to the high-value prisoners.

Karpinski’s claim had political implications that extended far beyond the walls of the prison. The Arab media used her claim to inflame further Muslim opinion. There were allegations that the Mossad interrogators had been responsible for the interrogation of Palestinian detainees in Iraq. Israel vehemently denied this. There was no way of independently confirming the claims. There may never be.

But soon there was an even more compelling moment to focus world attention. It was the appearance of Saddam Hussein in court in Baghdad in July to face an indictment for war crimes including genocide. Gone was the man who had emerged from a hole in the ground. His old arrogance had returned. He refused to recognize the court. He treated the prosecuting judge with indifference and at times, contempt. It was a chilling reminder of who Saddam had once been: a despot, a tyrant who held the fate of his people in his hands. It will be two years before his trial gets under way. In that time Saddam will, away from his court appearances, live the same daily routine.

Every morning at 4:30—an hour the many millions of Iraqis terrorized for years by Saddam Hussein call “the true dawn”—he will awaken. In the distance he will hear the call of the muezzins to prayer. But Saddam is only a lip-service follower. He will not prostrate himself toward Mecca—even though an arrow on the wall of his bedroom indicates the direction. Next door is his dayroom. The floor is covered with a carpet from his palace. It is the only visible reminder of his past.

For a moment he will blink owlishly in the bright wire-covered bedroom ceiling lights. Above the door, out of reach, is a security camera that provides a wide-angle view of the fifteen-by-fifteen foot room. It has a chair over which is draped the Arab robe he has taken to wearing. In a nearby control room, a bank of monitor screens and computers record his every movement, his occasional mumblings, his angry glares at the camera. Sometimes he shouts for the lights to be turned off. They never are.