Foxtrot in Kandahar

by Foxtrot in Kandahar- A Memoir of a CIA Officer in Afghanistan at the Inception of America's Longest War (retail) (epub)

  After introductions and offerings of tea, I began a debriefing of Pasha, asking him questions about where he was from and whom he knew back home. Pasha’s native language was Dari, the Afghan dialect of Farsi, but his English was better than my Farsi, so I carried out the debriefing in English.

  Pasha appeared to be forthcoming, and it was obvious he was used to being debriefed. I had already read his file from when he was a source for CIA, so I knew quite a bit about him. As we had planned ahead of time, during the debriefing Joan did not ask questions but played the role of my “assistant.” This allowed her to carefully observe Pasha and take detailed notes.

  Pasha’s demeanor was serious, but his politeness and reserved manner were appealing. Still, he did have significant personal baggage, which I knew about from his file, and it was anything but appealing; there were many detractors of the case. Despite this, however, due to his access to intelligence, Pasha was kept on the books.

  Finally, I introduced the subject I really wanted to discuss.

  “Pasha, what do you think? Do you believe bin Laden is still in Afghanistan?”

  “Yes, he is still in Afghanistan, but he no doubt has gone into deep hiding. He is not stupid. He knows America is looking for him and will kill him if he is found.”

  “Is there any reason to think he or other al-Qa’ida members might show up in your home province?”

  “That is a possibility,” Pasha said. “A few years back, some al-Qa’ida men came through the province. They were looking into acquiring mining interests in the area. I heard they made some deals and those mines could be excellent hideouts.”

  Pasha then leaned toward me and in a lowered voice said, “And do not forget, Mr. Ian, the border with Pakistan is not far from there. It will be their escape route should things become too uncomfortable for them in Afghanistan.”

  Nothing Pasha had said was new or original, nor was I expecting it to be. We already knew about al-Qa’ida’s interest in mines. The group relied on the sale of semi-precious stones like Lapis Lazuli, the deep blue stones for which Afghanistan was famous, to help generate income to finance its activities. Also, there had been speculation that the mines could serve as cover for creating secret bunkers where men and material could be hidden. As for the proximity of the province to the Pakistan border and the likelihood of it serving as a back door for bin Laden’s escape, that was as obvious as the rather broad nose on Pasha’s tough-looking face. All you needed to do was look at a map to figure that out.

  No, there was nothing in the conversation that CIA did not already know or had not considered. But the discussion did serve my purpose, as it let Pasha explain the very rationale I would use to convince him why it was important for him to go back to his province and reestablish his information network. Of course there would be a cost for his services, but in the interest of establishing a picket line of reporting sources in a remote area where bin Laden and his cronies might flee, CIA was ready to pay a premium.

  “Pasha, you would make a great analyst,” I said. “Your thinking is the same as the combined brain power of the CIA.” Pasha beamed.

  “We are very worried that the people in al-Qa’ida, maybe bin Laden himself, will slip away before we can catch them. Your province, because of all the things you mentioned, could be the place that will swallow them up and bin Laden may never be seen again. That cannot be allowed to happen. He has committed a terrible crime, and he must be punished for it.”

  As I talked, Pasha sat very still. His face had a stern look about it, and he seemed intently focused on my every word. When I stopped, he continued to sit motionless for several seconds. Then he smiled.

  “So, Mr. Ian, what must I do?”

  “We need you to go back to your home province and reestablish your reporting network. This time we want you to be watching for al-Qa’ida, not narcotics traffickers.”

  I stopped to watch his reaction as Joan quietly scribbled some notes.

  “I will need money to do this. Maybe a lot of money,” Pasha said.

  Now it was his turn to carefully watch my reaction. His words were not unexpected. In my experience as a case officer, most agents seemed to have been programmed to respond in this manner when given a new tasking.

  “You will get the money you need for this, and a nice boost in your salary. Possibly a bonus as well—if you are successful. But first you need to prepare a plan on how you would go about making this happen. How would you get there? What would you tell your friends and family you were doing? Who would you use as sources, and how would you stay in contact with them? I’ll need timelines for getting everything in place. Everything you can think of, including how much money you think you’ll need. Once you’ve done that, we’ll sit down and go over the plan top to bottom and fix any problems. Can you do all that?”

  “No problem, Mr. Ian. I can do this for you, and CIA will be very happy. I know how to make this work.”

  “I know you do, Pasha. That is why we wanted to meet you again. We know we can depend on you to get this done.”

  In preparation for the meeting, Joan and I had pulled together maps and ordered special photography of selected areas of his province. The photography was an Air Force product that presented the terrain in a 3D format similar to what it would look like if you were flying through the area. The terrain we were interested in was unbelievably rugged, with narrow valleys and gorges that were bordered on each side by the exceptionally steep mountains of the Hindu Kush. If Bin Laden wanted to hide there it would be very difficult, perhaps impossible, to find him. The best chance we had would be to detect his initial movement into the area, and to do that we needed a local source network. That was what we hoped Pasha could provide.

  As the meeting continued, Joan and I spread out the terrain map on the table. Unlike most assets from the Third World I had worked with, Pasha could easily read a map, and he quickly pointed out his home village. There were few roads in the area, and Pasha confirmed that much travel was done using trails not shown on the map.

  “It’s easy to know where the trails are,” he said. “Almost every valley that is big enough for a stream or river will have a trail running near it.”

  “And what about crossing from one valley to the next? How is that done?” Joan asked, momentarily breaking from her role as note-taker. “Those mountainsides are very steep.”

  “Yes, very steep. But there is always a way.” Pasha flashed a grin through his black beard. “But it may take several days to make the crossing. And in winter, forget it. You’re not going anywhere. The snow is just too deep, and the passes are closed.”

  “So what do you do in the winter?” I asked.

  “Not much. You spend almost all your time inside your compound trying to stay warm. Your supplies have been stored by the time winter begins, and you keep your animals in your compound with you. So there really is not much need to go outside, even if you could.”

  “So if al-Qa’ida is there in the winter, they won’t be moving about?”

  Pasha shook his head. “Nobody moves in winter. Everyone will be sheltered, or they won’t last long.”

  The discussion with Pasha made it abundantly clear that if we hoped to find our quarry, it would have to be done before winter set in. It was already October and I had serious doubts that it could be done in time. If we were going to have any chance at all, we would have to work fast.

  9

  Suspicious Minds

  Over THE COURSE OF the next couple of weeks Joan and I had a few more hotel meetings with Pasha to review his plan for how he would return to Afghanistan and set up his source network. We also needed to train him on how to use a GPS device. This would be a critical skill for him, and one he would have to know well enough that he could also train members of his network. By using the GPS, the locations of any al-Qaida members could be accurately determined and reported back for targeting purposes. From my college ROTC days when I competed in the sport of orienteering, and from my six years in the Ar
my that included Ranger School and the Special Forces Qualification course, I knew how to use a map and compass very well. But my Army service pre-dated GPS technology, so I was in no position to train anyone on it. For this task, SAD provided a young paramilitary officer named Ted to assist us.

  After briefing Ted on the case, we arranged to pick up Pasha and take him to a large park in northern Virginia where we would conduct the training. It was the weekend and the weather was nice that day, so there were quite a few people at the park. If there had been more time, we would have preferred to do the training on a military base or at a CIA facility, but it wasn’t possible to make those arrangements in the short timeframe we had; the park would have to do. The problem was, with the memory of 9/11 still very fresh in everyone’s mind, Pasha’s pronounced Afghan appearance and ethnic style of clothing immediately attracted the attention of anyone who saw him. The fact we were working with a GPS only heightened people’s interest and suspicion.

  “This isn’t good. We’ve got to get away from all these people. I wouldn’t be surprised if they called the cops on us,” I said.

  Ted agreed. We finally found an area of the park where there wasn’t anyone around, and we were able to complete the training in a couple of hours. I took advantage of Ted’s instructions as well, knowing that if I ever made it to Afghanistan I would need to know how to use the GPS.

  As we made our way back to the parking area and began to encounter more people, Pasha once again began to draw attention. We got in the car, and as we pulled away, I saw in the rear view mirror a middle-aged man with his two children by his side, writing down our license plate number. I wasn’t worried that he might call in the plate number to the police or the FBI because I had an Agency credential I could produce if need be. What did worry me, though, was how much attention Pasha drew to himself simply by the way he looked. I imagined the kind of attention he would generate from both the public and airport security personnel when he went to Dulles Airport in a few days holding a ticket with Pakistan as his destination. If he or his luggage were subjected to extra scrutiny, it could cause problems. We wanted his trip to be as problem-free as possible, so we would have to make special arrangements to get him through the airport and on his way.

  The Transportation Security Agency did not exist at the time but the U.S. Immigration Service did, and it had an officer assigned to CTC whose job, among other things, was to provide assistance in situations like this. First thing on Monday morning, I met with the immigration officer to discuss how we could get Pasha through the airport without a delay and without causing undue concern among other passengers. Although for operational security reasons, I could not tell the officer what Pasha would be doing for us, he understood enough to know that it was important, and he was eager to help. With his assistance, arrangements were made for Pasha’s travel.

  On the night of his departure I picked him up at a predetermined location in northern Virginia. On the drive to Dulles Airport, I went over the contact plan for when Pasha would be met again in two weeks time. The meeting would take place in Pakistan’s capital, Islamabad. I did not know for certain that I would be the officer to meet him, so I gave him a verbal parole that would be used in the event that he met with a different CIA officer.

  At Dulles, Pasha and I met the CTC immigration officer and a couple of his colleagues at an auxiliary gate where I had been instructed to go. Pasha and I got out of the car and transferred his bags into an unmarked van. This would be the last time I would talk to Pasha in the U.S., and it was time to say good-bye.

  “Alright, my brother, this is the first step. Either myself or one of my colleagues will see you in Islamabad. Remember what we talked about. You need to come to the meeting with a full report on what’s going on back home. That will be what determines the next steps we take.”

  “No problem. I am ready to do this.”

  After a quick embrace, Pasha got into the van that headed off for the terminal building. One of the immigration officers escorted me to a room inside the terminal where we would be able to monitor Pasha’s boarding of the aircraft via closed circuit television. I was beginning to get a bit concerned as most of the passengers had boarded and there was no sign of Pasha, when suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, he appeared and got at the end of the line and boarded the plane. I stayed at the airport until his plane took off, and then returned home wondering if I would see Pasha again.

  10

  New Mission

  Working WITH PASHA WAS mainstream case officer work, and it had been a nice diversion from the headquarters routine. But with his departure, I was back to sitting at a desk waiting for word on when I might deploy. It was now well into October, and a couple of other teams had deployed to northern Afghanistan. As they arrived in country, each team was usually assigned to work with a senior Northern Alliance commander. In addition to managing the CIA’s relationship with the commander and collecting intelligence on events on the ground, the teams were also responsible for providing the Northern Alliance forces with material support, including weapons. The teams continued to be made up predominantly of paramilitary officers supported by a handful of medics with an occasional NE division officer with specialized area expertise thrown into the mix.

  Also by this time, Special Forces teams began to deploy and join up with the CIA teams already on the ground. The ODA’s brought with them a Special Operations Forces Laser Marker, or SOFLAM, that could be used to direct close air support for the Northern Alliance forces battling the Taliban and al-Qa’ida on the Shomali Plains north of Kabul.

  About this same time, it began to look like I might deploy as well—not to Afghanistan, but to Pakistan. A foreign liaison service had approached the CIA saying they had a cross-border agent network that could provide reporting on the Taliban and al-Qa’ida, and they were offering to work jointly with the CIA on running the network. I was teamed up with a paramilitary officer for the mission, but before we got very far into the planning, the liaison service advised that there were some doubts about the credibility of the network, and the offer to cooperate was withdrawn.

  With another deployment possibility gone, all I could do was hope that Pasha’s efforts in northern Afghanistan would be successful. If they were, the tentative plan was for me to take in a team to link up with him. In the meantime, I was back in waiting mode.

  During this time, most of the day to day routine was unremarkable. One day, however, President George W. Bush came to the Agency to give a talk to the employees. He offered encouragement and thanked everyone for their around-the-clock efforts since the 9/11 attacks. I didn’t attend his speech, as there wasn’t enough room for every employee to be there. But afterward, much to our astonishment, President Bush came down to the offices of CTC/SO, escorted by CTC Chief Cofer Black. We all dropped what we were doing and lined up in the bullpen area. The President, with Cofer beside him, walked along the line of employees shaking our hands. When they reached where I was standing, Cofer stopped the President and personally introduced him to me. President Bush thanked me for my work and the two then continued down the line.

  I was stunned that Cofer had introduced me by name to the President of the United States. I had worked for Cofer in one capacity or another for the previous six years and had the highest respect for him. His gesture meant a lot to me.

  Around the third week of October, I was called into the front office of CTC/SO, along with another NE Division officer named Jimmy. I really didn’t know Jimmy well at that point, except by his excellent reputation. Before coming to the Agency, he had completed a full Army career retiring as a Command Sergeant Major from Delta Force. He then joined the Agency to work as a case officer. He was well known and well liked, and I immediately liked him too. In part this may have been because his personality and manner of speech reminded me so much of one of my favorite characters, “Gus,” who was played by Robert Duval in the “Lonesome Dove” TV mini-series.

  Upon arriving at the front office we were
directed to see John, the Deputy Chief of CTC/SO. I had had a fair amount of contact with John since coming to CTC/SO and had developed a high respect for him due to the intense focus and direction he provided to the office. A former Navy officer, he had a trim build with a silver head of hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. Always well dressed, he reminded me of a middle-aged model in a men’s clothing catalogue. John was also a devout Catholic, and he was the only CIA officer I ever heard speak of the soul in the context of operational work. On that occasion, which was not too long after the formation of CTC/SO, another operations officer and I were in his office discussing CTC/SO’s mission.

  “You men need to realize that what you will be involved in may well bear on the salvation of your very soul. You need to think about that. I’m talking about eternity and the things that you do in this life that can affect how you spend it. It is important that you are at peace with yourself and with God and with the actions you take.”

  I believe it was an honest and heartfelt commentary on his part. Faith was clearly an integral part of his life and something that he consciously factored into his thinking and decisions. I had no doubt he had already given much thought about the impact of his current work on the question of his own salvation. The fact that he was still on the job was evidence that he was at peace with the course he was taking. I felt the same way.

  This time, however, when Jimmy and I arrived in his office, there was no talk of salvation. John did not mince his words or waste our time.

  “Gentlemen, things are moving along in northern Afghanistan, but we’ve got nothing going in the South. The Taliban and AQ are still in control. We need you two to get out to Pakistan and work with Station to get things going in the South. Any questions?”