• Hamad asks to pay one million dollars to obtain the “tapes” .. and the director of the “CIA”: The Emir of Qatar gave us an amazing gift
• Bin Khalifa interrupts his vacation to meet Fouda in a "modest restaurant" in London to ask about the recordings of al-Qaeda leaders
• An anonymous call ends with a meeting with Khalid Sheikh Mohammed and Ramzi bin al-Shibh in a “safe house” on the outskirts of Karachi
• Khaled Sheikh Mohammed: We are terrorists.. this is how we earn our livelihood.. and we are the ones who did it
On the morning of June 14, 2002, Al Jazeera was on a date with the biggest press blunder in its history when Fouda entered its building in Doha, loaded with his diary and secrets that he began to reveal. The tapes of his meeting with the leaders of al-Qaeda had not yet arrived, but he had begun to feel that the time had come for him to brief his chiefs in action on the matter.
The previous introduction by the great American journalist and writer, Ron Suskind, who is close to the political and security circles in Washington, was started by the journalist Yousry Fouda in his book (On the way to harm.. Al-Qaeda strongholds to the incubators of ISIS), issued by Dar Al-Shorouk, describing the state of astonishment that followed him while devouring the lines The book, “The One Percent Principle,” is acquainted with information that Susskind gleaned, as he says, from American intelligence sources, to paint an accurate and exciting picture of an important perspective of a scene concerning Fouda, which, from his point of view, was “one of the most important scenes in my life.”
The story that the American writer talks about is the one that Fouda passed through in one of the safe houses, with "confessions of the head of the Al-Qaeda military committee, Khaled Sheikh Mohammed, and the general coordinator of the September 11 operation, Ramzi bin al-Shibh." After about thirteen years since those events, Fouda comes out with a book - recently published by Dar Al-Shorouk - in which he tells the details of the meeting with the masterminds of the September attacks, and adds to it another unique experience "more dangerous", when he crossed the border from Syria to Iraq with smugglers In the aftermath of the American invasion.
50 million dollars
At the beginning of his account of what is happening, Fouda asks: “What would you do if you were in my place? I have just come out of one of the safe houses of al-Qaeda in the Pakistani city of Karachi and I have the confessions of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed and Ramzi bin al-Shibh... Americans are everywhere in Afghanistan and in Pakistan. Al-Qaeda is displaced as it has never been displaced before. No one in Al-Jazeera or in any other knows where I am or who I met. Osama bin Laden and Ayman al-Zawahiri are underground, and the whole world is in labor. Then all of a sudden...in my pocket, I am the poor servant of God, information worth 50 million dollars.”
Before Fouda recounts the details of his trip, he quotes Suskind from a hidden side until 2006: “It took more than four years before I had the opportunity to find out what happened behind me... George Tenet, then the director of the CIA, entered, entered On that day, the fourteenth of June 2006, to the 5 p.m. meeting, it was about to explode. As he took his place at the conference table, he insisted that the agenda be changed and that he should start talking: “As you know, we had our differences with my friend the Emir (he means the Emir of Qatar at the time, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani) ... but today he gave us an amazing gift ... and he presents Tenet the details that I received from the Emir regarding my meeting with the officials in charge of Al-Jazeera, and he is amused and proud of what he has.”
Fouda adds, "The terms were discussed during Tenet's call with the prince regarding how the CIA would deal with the information... No one at all - not even within the Al Jazeera administration - was aware that the prince had made that phone call."
mysterious encounter
The writer does not waste time for excitement, telling the details of that exciting meeting before recounting the details of his trip in Karachi: “While he was spending his usual summer vacation in London, the Chairman of Al Jazeera Channel, Sheikh Hamad bin Thamer Al Thani, called me to invite me to a dinner in the center of the capital. This was not out of the ordinary from what we had of a professional, humane and friendly relationship.”
But what was out of the ordinary was that, on arriving at that humble Italian pizzeria on James Street (near O'Wesford Street), I caught a glimpse of him before getting out of the car and standing by himself at the door of the restaurant. Hello, he took me into a deep, secluded corner of the restaurant, to be surprised at a table by a man full of thick hair, smooth, ruddy black, dressed in an aspor in blue jeans, and engrossed in the well-known Italian minestrone soup. It took me several seconds amid their smiles before realizing that I was in front of the Emir of Qatar, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani (..) after a warm welcome he invited me to sit down and said that he had to cut short his vacation to see me and tighten my hand after that scoop. He didn't waste much time before getting to the heart of the matter. “Where are the tapes, Real?” I explained to him the circumstances of what happened, and that mediators entered the line and are now trying to bargain with us to get a “donation” before delivering it.
- "Enzin.. what do you mean?"
= We want a million dollars.
- “And what do you think?”
= Of course not, I mean, one saying.
The prince looked at me at that moment as if he was looking at a fool.
= “Isn’t it better to push them and take our strips?”
An uneasy feeling began to seep into me (..) All he cared about was accessing the tapes at all costs, and his urgency was remarkable. When we reached this gap, I, in turn, looked at the chairman of the board of directors jokingly: "Why are there workers, tell me we don't have budgets, we don't have budgets?" I was not aware at the time of what Suskind had reported in his book four years later, and again I do not know if it had anything to do with what happened in that Italian restaurant. But my position at that time is my position at all times, and it is my position now.”
Elsewhere in the introduction to his book, Fouda asks: “What if the prince could have transferred him to Tenet and made him so excited? Even to the extent that Ron Suskind says in his book that “at that point, a journalist at Al-Jazeera had more valuable information than the greatest country in the world with all its combined forces and all its allies.”
man of a good will
In the first part of his book, entitled “The Road to Al Qaeda,” Fouda narrates the circumstances of that mysterious invitation he received “one morning, in the first week of April 2002”: “My mobile phone rang while I was about to enter my new office (... ) On the line was a voice I did not recognize. “Peace be upon you, brother Yusra. I am a benefactor.” A sympathetic voice, in fluent Arabic, came through a poor line: "We hope you have thought of preparing a special program for the first anniversary." He didn't explain what memory he meant, but went quickly, "If that's the case, we can give you something special, top secret." It didn't take more than twenty seconds before the "philanthropist", who then decided, to make things easier, to call him "Abu Bakr", called the number of the private fax machine and asked permission to cut off the call... I had to wait four days before the fax machine delivered a message Three-page print.
In the evening, Fouda receives a new call from “Abu Bakr”: “What do you think about coming to Islamabad (..) We will make sure of the arrangements and that no harm will happen to you, God willing, and that you will return with what you want.” Fouda is already traveling to Pakistan After he settled in the hotel room, about twelve hours had passed since his arrival.
: “The phone rang. I kidnapped him, and this time Abu Bakr's voice was very clear. "thank God for your safety". He did not wait for an answer, but added, "Take the evening flight to Karachi tomorrow." That was all, and only then did I begin to allow myself to believe that a journalistic "bump" might really be waiting for me. They know then that I am now in Pakistan, and that I have committed myself to what concerns me in the first agreement, and that from now on I place myself content in their hands.”
in Karachi
On the next day, after Fouda arrived in Karachi, and minutes before his arrival at the Marriott Hotel, the phone rang. Abu Bakr had new instructions: “Ask the driver to change lanes to the Regent Plaza.” The Marriott was too close to the US Consulate in Karachi and was frequented by many diplomats and members of foreign missions, as Abu Bakr later explained. By pure chance - or otherwise.
After about half an hour, room No. 322 was the scene of my first meeting with an al-Qaeda member (..) The man did not wait for an invitation, but rushed directly into the room while closing the door at the same time.
password
The next day, “I was not waiting for another call from Abu Bakr. Now I only had to wait until five in the evening before I began to carry out the instructions that the man had given me before he left last night.”
Just in time I quietly walked out the back door of the hotel into a side street and waved my hand for a taxi. Abu Bakr's instructions were to avoid the cars waiting in front of the hotel or near it.. A car that was speeding stopped, so I asked its driver to take me to a specific building address. When I got there, I went up to the second floor and waited on the stairs. Five heavy minutes passed before a man with a thick beard of Pakistani features came up to me. He said to me in English, 'I just finished driving my mother-in-law to her house, and we can go now!' This was a code that Abu Bakr agreed with me.
The bearded man drove me in his car to a crowded square, where he stopped abruptly to buy mango juice. The journalist in me was amazed and was completely silent until that moment before I asked in a polite tone: "Do you think we have time for this?" But the man also replied in a more polite tone: 'It is not about whether we have time. These are the instructions only, my brother.”
Journey into a rickshaw
The instructions were to stay in the car that sank in the Karachi heat at this time of year. While I sipped the mango juice, the owner of the beard left me three times, heading each time to a different box for public telephones (..) Finally, the owner of the beard came back from one of the telephone boxes with new instructions. The next stage of what must be a “twilight” journey will be aboard what Pakistanis call a “ricksha” (similar to a tuk-tuk) to a place that must be kept secret. The driver led me through dimly lit twisting streets and alleys on an uncomfortable journey, arriving at one of its curves. to a dead end.”
The rickshaw arrived and I quickly got off without even saying goodbye to the owner of the beard. “Lahore?!” exclaimed the driver of a small car that was waiting near the place where he stopped. That was the password that the bearded man whispered in my ear when he came back from the public telephone box. Delft inside the car, the driver sped off. He was a young man, with a sweet Arab face and bright eyes, in an ordinary shirt and trousers. He introduced himself in a Palestinian accent: “Hello, Professor. Your brother Hassan. He extended his hand and shook hands warmly as he drove out of Karachi at breakneck speed.
On a dark, secluded road, about ten kilometers outside Karachi, Hasan pulled up suddenly in the car alongside a car whose bonnet appeared to be broken. Another man dressed in Pakistani clothes came out, who soon helped Hassan put a blindfold on my eyes. The blindfold was of a funny type: two small balls of thick cotton were taped to one eye, and then I was asked to put sunglasses on them. The idea was simple and clever, had no one noticed the inconsistency of wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. But the real journey, however, had begun at that point.
last ride
After a long track full of curves and bumps, the car stopped. The man opened his door from the inside and then opened my door from the outside, whispering in Arabic with an Asian accent: "Can you help me carry this box?" As I was about to get out of the car, I felt the tip of a medium-sized paper box fall into my hands and I gathered my strength in my arms to receive it. But astonishment held my tongue when I felt no weight. The paper box was empty. There was absolutely nothing to be helped, but I responded to the request without questions. Suddenly, as the man led the way holding the other end of the box, I realized the genius of these people: it was a very clever ploy to lead a blindfolded man in the direction you wanted without attracting attention.
After about fifteen steps a long staircase began, and from the echo of the sound and the temperature I concluded that I was now inside a civilian building. I remembered the feeling of going up four stories before the box was pulled out of my hand and I heard an inner bell ringing intermittently. This must be the moment I've been waiting for for months.
face to face
The door opened and I felt two hands quickly pull me inside before the door closed behind me and the hands extended to lift the blindfold from my eyes. "Everything is okay now. You can open your eyes.” Lost at first sight and feeling the touches of reassurance I gradually began to recognize in front of me a phantom tending to the palace, full, with a medium-length beard, his features tending to Arabic. The first moments quickened moment by moment, leaving me with a gripping feeling that I had seen that face before. Then suddenly my realization came down like a thunderbolt. it is him. It is he with his fat and his flesh. It's Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, born in Kuwait thirty-eight years earlier, standing half a meter away right in front of me. How can I forget that face whose photo I "study" on the FBI website? Even before the events of September 11, the Americans had put $5 million in his head for his alleged involvement in the 1993 World Trade Center explosion, for which his nephew, Ramzy Yousef, is serving a life sentence in an American prison.
I am now in his hands, or is he now in my hands?
I swallowed the shock of the surprise while Khaled Sheikh Mohammed led me through an apartment that seemed empty on its thrones (..) Another surprise was waiting for me. On one of the benches was seated reassuringly, surrounded by three laptops and five mobile phones, Ramzi bin al-Shibh, born in Yemen thirty years earlier, who was accused by the Americans of involvement in the bombing of the destroyer USS Cole in 2000, and the Germans put him at the head of The wanted list after the eleventh of September.
"You know us now?!" Khaled jokingly threw the question, while Ramzy got up and extended his right hand, shaking hands with me warmly. I turned to Khaled and surprised myself with an answer that I thought at first glance was premature, while I took my place on the ground between the two men: “They say you are terrorists!”
Quiet, meek, relaxed, Ramzi replied with a modest, welcoming smile, but it was Khaled who opened his mouth: “Of course, we are terrorists. This is how we earn a living.” A fake cough broke from Ramzy an early moment of silence. “If terrorism is to strike terror into the hearts of your enemies and the enemies of God, then we thank Him, the Almighty, for making us terrorists,” Ramzi interjected calmly as he headed to the kitchen to prepare tea. “It is mentioned in the Qur’an, brother Yusri.”
Khaled took the opportunity to define the rules and conditions of the interview for me.. “You do not have to go into the ways of our communications, nor do you mention our nicknames.” Khaled began resolutely, then went on in front of me, shaking my head in agreement, “When (No, if) they ask you what our form looks like now.” You will tell them that we are exactly like those pictures that they will show you.” After that, Khaled asked me to place my right hand on the Qur’an and to swear by God Almighty to abide by these conditions.
Thunderbolt
Decisive, assertive, bold, and quick-witted. This was Khaled from the first moment. When I took out my mobile phone, Khaled quickly grabbed it and shut it down, then took out the smart card and battery and threw all these components isolated in one corner of the room.
An hour passed, which was enough to swallow the shock of surprise, after which I began to gain a sense of reassurance as the two men began to gain a sense of confidence... I gathered all my experience, decency and confidence, and looked at Khaled in his eyes with a piercing look: "You are the one who arranged it!" But a blink in his eyes did not move. “No shooting today,” he replied firmly, “and don't worry about the camera and the photographer. We will provide you with everything you need tomorrow.” Then Ramzy added the rest of the arrangements: "After you're done, you'll get out of here straight to the plane."
But Khaled would not allow me to sleep before he exploded another surprise, the thunderbolt descended on me: “I am the head of the military committee of Al-Qaeda, and Ramzi is the coordinator of the Blessed Tuesday operation, and yes, we are the ones who did it.” The call “The conditions were discussed during the call that Tenet brought together with the Emir regarding the matter. As to how the CIA would deal with the information... No one at all - not even within the Al Jazeera administration - knew that the emir had made that phone call."
Read also:
Yousra Fouda's book "On the Path of Harm"... Secrets for 48 Hours with the Leaders of the "Battle of Manhattan" (2-5)
Yousry Fouda in his book “The Way of Harm”: The head of Al-Jazeera channel kidnapped me from “Atmosphere of London” after the arrival of the second tape of Al-Qaeda (3-5)
Yousry Fouda in his book “The Way of Harm”: He narrates the details of the adventure of penetrating the Iraqi-Syrian border with gangs smuggling mujahideen to armed groups (4-5).