by Adrian Levy
John Childs reunited with his daughters Cathy and Mary Childs at Bradley International Airport, Connecticut, on 15 July 1995.
Childs shortly after his rescue. The skin on both his heels had worn away to the bone during his fifteen-hour trek to freedom through the mountains.
A picture of the hostages and their captors that was delivered to the Srinagar Press Enclave on 14 July 1995, shortly before the first deadline expired at midnight. Investigators concluded that the kidnap party was now moving up beyond the snowline in a north-easterly direction, possibly heading for the remote Warwan Valley.
Hostages photographed inside an unidentified herders’ hut, probably in the Warwan Valley. (Left to right) Hans Christian Ostrø, Dirk Hasert, Paul Wells, Keith Mangan, Don Hutchings.
The Warwan Valley, where the hostages were held for several weeks.
Sukhnoi village, looking south, where the hostages were held for eleven weeks in a guesthouse on the edge of the village.
Indian Border Security Force soldiers question gujjar shepherds about the whereabouts of four hostages on Saturday 8 July 1995. A fifth and sixth hostage, Dirk Hasert, from Germany, and Hans Christian Ostrø, from Norway, were taken that day, as police would later discover.
Al Faran falsely claimed on 21 July 1995 that two hostages had been injured following a botched Indian security force operation, and later issued photographs appearing to show an injured Don Hutchings (pictured here) and Keith Mangan.
Hans Christian Ostrø was beheaded in the early hours of 13 August 1995 by the leader of al Faran, Hamid al-Turki. His corpse was later taken to Anantnag police station in south Kashmir, where it was photographed.
The hostages soon after they arrived in the Warwan Valley. In an attempt to identify their location, the FBI studied this and other pictures for evidence of plants that grow only in specific locations of the Himalayas.
A view from Mardan Top, a treacherous pass at the southern end of the Warwan Valley over which the remaining four hostages were marched in the second week of September 1995, across the Warwan and towards Inshan.
Another view from Mardan Top.
(Left to right) David Mackie and Kim Housego were seized in the same area by Pakistan-backed militants in June 1994 and held for seventeen days, with some of the hostage-takers involved going on to carry out the 1995 abductions.
Letter written by Hans Christian Ostrø to his family and the Norwegian Embassy in New Delhi shortly after his capture. It is unclear how this letter was smuggled out, but it eventually reached his mother Marit Hesby, who was staying at the Embassy.
Ostrø arranged for several batches of photographs, on which he had written cryptic clues as to the hostages’ condition and location, to be smuggled out of the Warman.
The contents of Ostrø’s money belt, recovered from his tent at Zargibal and eventually returned to his family.
Press conference given by Jane Schelly and Julie Mangan, Srinagar, July 1995.
Photograph of Paul Wells thought to have been taken in the wooden guesthouse in Sukhnoi village, Warwan, where the hostages were kept for several weeks.
Photograph taken by al Faran in August 1995, after Ostrø’s beheading, that served as a prelude to ‘proof of life’ conversations that followed. (Left to right) Keith Mangan, Don Hutchings, Dirk Hasert, Paul Wells.
In the years following the kidnapping, the families of the hostages announced several rewards for information leading to the return of their loved ones.
Jehangir Khan, a commander of the pro-government renegades, semi-retired but still afforded bodyguards by the state, at one of his bases in Kadipora, Anantnag, in 2008.
Kashmiri women walk back from market in 2011, passing an Indian Central Reserve Police Force patrol.
The last confirmed photograph of the hostages. (Left to right) Paul Wells (squatting), Dirk Hasert, Keith Mangan and Don Hutchings. When it emerged in February 1996, the families were told by Indian investigators that it had been taken the previous month. Western investigators believed it was much older, and dated to September or October 1995. There was much discussion about the identity of a fifth figure, whose shoulder can be seen on the far left, and why he had been cut out of the photograph.
Identity card of Basir Ahmad Wagay, aka ‘the Tiger’, a field commander for the pro-government renegades whose territory spread from Lovloo to Mati Gawran, in Anantnag district.
Renegade commander Azad Nabi, call-sign ‘Alpha’, whose real name was Ghulam Nabi Mir. One of the most powerful renegades, he led pro-government militias in the hills above Anantnag.
Naseer Mohammed Sodozey, a treasurer of Harkat ul-Ansar, captured by Indian security forces in April 1996 and allegedly forced to confess that the hostages had been killed by the Movement on 13 December 1995.
Omar Sheikh, from London, arrested in Pakistan in 2002 in connection with the kidnapping of Daniel Pearl.
Masood Azhar (right) in Pakistan in January 2000, shortly after he was released from an Indian jail, after Pakistani militants, including one of his brothers, hijacked an Indian Airlines jet, forcing it down in Kandahar, Afghanistan, and holding the passengers hostage. Having led the Movement, he now formed a new Jihadi group – Jaish-e-Mohammed – accused of the kidnapping and murder of Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl in 2002.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
We began working as foreign correspondents in India during the hostage crisis in Kashmir. Returning regularly to the valley, we built long-standing relationships that would enable us, in 2008, to start researching this book and to attempt to exorcise the ghosts of 1995.
Fastidious reporting by a close group of Western journalists based in New Delhi, especially Suzanne Goldenberg of the Guardian, went some way towards the truth. We have gone back through the contemporary press cuttings to show what was known publicly, and to compare this to what was recorded in the covert police and intelligence files that would not surface until recently. In our attempts to create an accurate time line from the perspective of the Western authorities, we were assisted by internal documents from the so-called G4 countries – Britain, the USA, Norway and Germany – whose diplomats came together to attempt to gain the hostages’ freedom. Particular thanks go to Tore Hattrem, then a political officer in the Norwegian Embassy in New Delhi, and today Ambassador in Khartoum, and to Arne Walther, then Norway’s Ambassador in New Delhi, and today its Ambassador to Japan.
Back in 1995, the police and intelligence agencies in India were largely unapproachable. But over the last three years, serving and retired senior police officers from the upper echelons of the Jammu and Kashmir force have generously given us many hours of interviews, recollecting events from 1995, playing us tapes, showing us documents, notes and diaries. Rajinder Tikoo, who conducted the hostage negotiations until they collapsed in mid-September 1995, can still recall sharply what it was like to deal with al Faran, and contributed greatly to the chapters that relate to the talks and their collapse.
Key to helping us understand the STF and the operation of the renegades was Deputy Inspector General Farooq Khan, who as a Superintendent of Police ran the first STF unit. Senior Superintendent of Police Ashkoor Ahmad Wani, who while stationed in south Kashmir worked closely alongside the STF and the renegades, explained his take on both outfits, and their failings. Countless former renegades talked to us too, in south and north Kashmir, including Ghulam Muhammad Lone (‘Papa Kishtwari’), Ghulam Nabi Mir (‘Alpha’) and Abdul Rashid (‘the Clerk’), in interviews that began in 1998, with the last taking place in 2011, by which time many of them had been killed or jailed.
We thank those still serving in the J&K force who worked on the al Faran investigation, and who later had access to the detailed summaries and analyses of the case prepared for the police, the intelligence agencies and counter-militancy agencies, who took an enormous risk in opening up their files, sharing copies of their case diaries with us, allowing us to study key witness statements, maps and notes. In return for a guarantee of anonymity, th
ey also helped locate their old confidential sources and agents, whose lives would be at risk if their identities were revealed. Thanks also to the J&K police officers who witnessed the events of 1995 at first hand while serving in Pahalgam, Bijbehara and Anantnag.
In Britain, Roy Ramm showed us a draft of his unpublished memoirs, which incorporate a journal he kept at the time of the hostage crisis.
In Pakistan, the late Benazir Bhutto spurred the writing of this book, as she was in government at the time of the crisis and suspected that the development of al Faran marked a significant step in the growth of global terrorism. Special thanks go to Pakistan’s erudite High Commissioner for Britain, Wajid Shamsul Hasan, the last indoor cigar-smoker in town. We are especially grateful to specialists, agents and federal investigators in Punjab, Rawalpindi and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (formerly North-West Frontier province) who gave us access to exhaustive files that chart the rise of Masood Azhar. They also introduced us to veteran intelligence sources in Karachi, Pakistan-administered Kashmir and the tribal areas who were close to Masood’s operation. Members of Masood’s various jihad fronts talked too, as did those close to them, sharing documents, speeches, diaries and recollections. It took a leap of faith for them to sit down face to face with us, as it did for several retired senior officers in Pakistan’s Inter Services Intelligence directorate.
In India, among those who have retired from the intelligence community (assuming an old spook is ever let off the hook) was C.D. Sahay, who provided the most complete account of Masood Azhar’s interrogation and the decision to release him in 1999. He was also frank about the intelligence agencies’ perspective on the events of 1995, and the decision to let the al Faran kidnapping operation ‘run long’, so as to allow India to secure a moral advantage over Pakistan. C.D. Sahay was equally insightful on the priorities of the Rao administration in 1995, the role of intelligence during Governor’s Rule in Kashmir, and the significance of the yatra and the 1996 elections on government thinking about the kidnapping, although he will not agree with this book’s conclusions. Similarly, A.S. Dulat, who ran IB operations in Kashmir in the late 1980s and returned throughout the nineties, and who would go on to run both the IB and RAW, was insightful on the rise of the militancy and the shortcomings in New Delhi that led to the explosion of violence in the valley, although he does not agree with the J&K police assessment of IB’s failings. A.K. Doval, a veteran IB agent and brilliant field operative who went on to lead the Bureau, watched the Pakistanisation of the militancy from close up, monitoring the growth of infiltration from over the LoC, designing some of the most far-reaching counter-measures to contain it, and working to expose Pakistan’s hand using pro-government renegades. He also led operations on the ground during the Kandahar hijack fiasco of 1999, working with C.D. Sahay, and his candid reflections on this operation proved invaluable. Neither he, C.D. Sahay nor A.S. Dulat ever discussed with us the police’s findings concerning the transfer and killing of the hostages, and they are in no way linked to these events.
There are many in the Indian foreign service who provided tantalising details about dealing with the Western embassies that besieged them during the crisis, but all of them still work in government, and cannot be thanked by name. The Indian Ministry of Defence and the Indian Army declined to cooperate officially, but individual senior officers in the Rashtriya Rifles gave considerable time to reflect on counter-militancy activities and their work with the renegades. Thanks especially to Lt. General (rtd) D.D. Saklani, who talked frankly and at length about his dealings with al Faran. Late to the book but well worth the call was Nalin Prabhat, Deputy Inspector General for the Central Reserve Police Force in Srinagar, an unflinchingly honest commentator on the insurgency, the state’s successes and its profound failings.
Key among the former militants we interviewed in Indian jails was Naseer Mohammed Sodozey, in Ward 2 of Tihar prison, New Delhi, whose family were also generous when we visited them in Palandiri, in Pakistan-administered Kashmir. Naseer explained the background and training of Masood’s fighters, detailing his own induction into jihad and Kashmir, and maintained, in stories backed up by multiple sources, that he was compelled to create a fictitious ‘ending’ for the hostage drama, about which, in reality, he knew nothing. Weeks of torture, and the promise of clemency, he still maintains, elicited his cooperation in this deception.
Nasrullah Mansoor Langrial, aka Langrial Darwesh, who until February 2011 was held in Agra jail, gave permission for us to see his files and notes, helping us to understand the character of the men he served with, especially the Afghani and Sikander, whose family in Dabran were patient and welcoming too. In Baramulla, we also spent many days with Qadeer Dar, the retired commander of the Muslim Janbaz Force, who provided insight into his group’s kidnapping of Western engineers working in Kashmir in 1991. Today Qadeer is chairman of the People’s Rights Movement, a group of many thousands of former Kashmiri militants seeking rehabilitation into mainstream society. The recollections of many of his members were invaluable to our book.
Much help was given by two Kashmiri human rights groups, the Jammu and Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society (JKCCS) and the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons, which have opened up many previously remote and closed communities through their ongoing work to locate and map a network of mass unmarked graves scattered across the valley, and to chart cases of state-sponsored disappearance and torture.
A big thank you goes to Kashmiri human rights lawyer Parvez Imroz, president of the JKCCS. Winner of the eleventh Ludovic-Trarieux International Human Rights Prize, awarded by the European Bar Human Rights Institute, Imroz has continued working despite several attempts on his life and the murder of many colleagues. Thanks also to the indefatigable Khurram Parvez, the JKCCS’s programme coordinator, who could have quit when he lost a leg in an IED attack on his car, which claimed the life of a young female colleague. Thanks also to Parvaiz Matta, who accompanied us on many of our journeys into the mountains. The intrepid journalist Yusuf Jameel has always made time to listen and advise; and from the new generation of journalists, special thanks go to Showkat Ahmed and his excellent Conveyor magazine, Masood Husain and his incisive weekly Kashmir Life, the photographers Javed Dar and Faisal Khan, and especially to Yawar Kabli, who helped source photos despite the snowfall. There are many other Kashmiris we would like to name, who over the last sixteen years have advised and assisted us, but most of them would be embarrassed to be singled out, as hospitality remains the norm throughout the valley, despite what this story teaches us.
One of the first people to understand what we were trying to achieve with this book was David Housego, who still lives in New Delhi despite his family’s experiences in 1994. Special thanks also go to Kim, who we met in France, and to his mother Jenny, who has a business in Kashmir. They all spent time with us, studying maps and dredging up memories, matching the events of 1994 with those of 1995.
Special thanks go to Anette Ostrø and Marit Hesby in Norway, who welcomed us, and made the difficult decision to open up Hans Christian’s diaries and letters anew. Also to John Childs in Vermont, who withstood many requests before finally agreeing to see us. He proved to have a near-perfect memory of all that he endured, and was straightforward and painfully honest.
At first we were nervous about contacting the families of Don, Keith, Paul and Dirk after all these years, aware that they had been hounded by the press in the past, and dragged through countless versions of the case, without ever knowing the truth.
We have huge admiration for Jane Schelly, who helped us immensely and who remains a force of life, retaining command over all of the details of the case, and whose journal throws light on the months and years of turmoil. Jane was our primary fact-checker, and also pointed us towards Ann Auerbach, whose book Ransom: The Untold Story of International Kidnapping contains a thorough account of the Western reaction to the crisis, and provides an invaluable reference point, capturing the desperation of those waiting for news in New Del
hi and back home.
In Britain, Bob and Dianne Wells opened up their home to us, bravely sorting through many of Paul’s albums and letters to help us understand their son, spending hours recalling phone calls and newspaper articles, and the visits Bob made to India in search of the hostages.
Charlie Mangan died in 2010 without finding out what had happened to Keith, on whose behalf he travelled to Kashmir – a trip from which he never recovered. Mavis Mangan, who survives Charlie, and Julie Mangan kept in touch with us through the writing of this book but did not want to actively participate in it.
In Germany, the family of Dirk Hasert were helpful, placing his journey into a sharper context.
We respect too those relatives and friends of hostages who did not want or need to talk to us, having built new lives for themselves, and learned to cope with a crime with no closure.
Thanks also to the Middlesbrough Gazette, especially Paul Delplanque, who allowed us to spend hours reading cuttings.
Finally, we are grateful to all at HarperCollins, especially our editors Arabella Pike and Robert Lacey, whose pin-sharp suggestions and revisions whipped the manuscript into shape. Thanks too to David Godwin, our agent, and all at DGA who pushed to get the book to a wide audience.
