Lithuanian President Announces Investigation into CIA Secret Prison

By Matthew Cole

The president of Lithuania called for an official investigation Tuesday into an ABC News.com exclusive report in August that the CIA housed a secret prison for al Qaeda suspects in Lithuania for more than a year beginning in 2004.

"If this is true," President Dalia Grybauskaite said, "Lithuania has to clean up, accept responsibility, apologize, and promise that it will never happen again."

At a press conference with the Council of Europe Human Rights Commission, Grybauskaite announced the investigation after it was clear a previous attempt by the Lithuanian Parliament was insufficient, according to a Council of Europe official.

In August, ABC News reported that the CIA built a secret prison in a residential section of Vilnius from September 2004 through November 2005. The CIA used the prison to detain and interrogate top level al Qaeda prisoners captured around the world after 9/11. Lithuania was the only unknown European country to house so called "black sites," after the identities of Poland and Romania were reported in late 2005 by the Washington Post and ABC News' Brian Ross.

The CIA built or housed al Qaeda detainees in several countries around the world before President Obama ordered them closed shortly after assuming office earlier this year. Among the countries were Thailand, Afghanistan, Morocco, in addition to the three eastern European nations, according to more than a dozen former and current intelligence officials.

The Lithuanian prison was the last "black" site opened in Europe, after the CIA's secret prison in Poland was closed down in late 2003. In September 2004, European and American flight records examined by ABC News reveal CIA-contracted flights directly from Afghanistan to Lithuania. On September 20th, 2004, a Boeing 707 with tail number N88ZL flew directly from Bagram Airbase to Vilnius. According to several former CIA officials, the flight carried an al Qaeda detainee, who was being moved from one CIA detention facility to another. Additionally, in July 2005, a CIA-chartered Gulfstream IV, tail number N63MU, flew direct from Kabul to Vilnius. Several former intelligence officials involved in the CIA's prison program confirmed the flight as a prisoner transfer to Lithuania. The Vilnius prison was closed, however, after news of other CIA prisons in Poland and Romania were reported in the press in November 2005.

 

Focusing On Ending Torture

Last August, in a written response to ABC.com's report the Lithuanian government denied their country had ever hosted a CIA prison, saying "The Lithuanian Government denies all rumors and interpretations about alleged secret prison that supposedly functioned on Lithuanian soil."

Lithuania is a signatory to the U.N. Convention Against Torture, as well as the European Convention on Human Rights. Additionally, the Lithuanian legal system prohibits torture, assault, and extrajudicial detention.

"There are important legal issues at stake," said John Sifton, a human rights researcher. "As with Poland and Romania, CIA personnel involved in any secret detentions and interrogations in Lithuania were not only committing violations of U.S. federal law and international law, they were also breaking Lithuanian laws relating to lawless detention, assault, torture, and possibly war crimes. Lithuanian officials who worked with the CIA were breaking applicable Lithuanian laws as well."

As a result of the ABC News.com story about Lithuania, the Council of Europe reopened its investigation into Lithuanian involvement in the CIA program, according to a Council of Europe official.

"We cannot place Lithuania in a position, for whatever interests, where it may become a target for international terrorists," said Lithuanian President Dalia Grybauskaite. "Both Lithuania and the United States must provide answers to these questions."

Source: http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/lithuania-in...

U.S. Afghanistan Base 'Death Trap' From The Beginning

By Matthew Cole

The remote base in northern Afghanistan where eight U.S. soldiers were killed this weekend in a deadly battle was well-known inside the military as extremely vulnerable to attack since the day it opened in 2006, according to U.S. soldiers and government officials familiar with the area.

When a reporter visited the base a few months after it opened, soldiers stationed in Kamdesh complained the base's location low in a valley made most missions in the area difficult.

"We're primarily sitting ducks," said one soldier at the time.

Known as Camp Keating, the outpost was "not meant for engagements," said one senior State Department official assigned to Afghanistan, and brings "a sad and terrible conclusion" to a three-year effort to secure roads and connect the Nuristan province to the central government in Kabul.

The boulder strewn road that led into the valley was referred to by U.S. soldiers stationed there as "Ambush Alley."

In addition to the eight dead Americans, at least two Afghan Army officers were killed, with as many as a dozen Afghan National Policemen missing, according to military and Afghan officials.

The base, located less than 10 miles from the Pakistan border and nestled in the Hindu Kush mountains, was attacked almost every day for the first two months it was opened, hit by a constant stream of rocket-propelled grenades and small arms fire.

By the third or fourth month of the base's existence, resupply had been limited to nighttime helicopter flights because the daytime left helicopters and road convoys too exposed to insurgent attacks. That remained true through the weekend.

The base had several near-misses with enemy fire over the years. In 2006, all daytime helicopter flights landing at the valley floor were cancelled when an American Blackhawk was nearly hit with an incoming rocket as it was taking off. After the incident, helicopters were banned from landing anywhere but an observation post some three hours' walk above the base on a nearby ridgeline. Even then, helicopters filled with troops or equipment were rushed during offloading, as pilots were keen to take off before drawing hostile fire.

And like many other remote and rural parts of Afghanistan, the local population had begun souring on the American presence after airstrikes had hit civilians in the neighboring villages.

Deployment into Nuristan

The initial military goal was to establish the base as a one of 13 Provincial Reconstruction Teams set up throughout Afghanistan to help with reconstruction projects, civil affairs and basic safety for the local population. Within a year, the PRT had been moved to a safer, more hospitable base in the western section of the province.

Camp Keating, along with two other outposts near the border, was then intended to help patrol and oversee the stretch of the Pakistan border. U.S. officials were concerned that the nearby mountain passes were being used by militants to infiltrate Afghanistan and set up for attacks.

American officials were often divided over whether the U.S. effort in the mountainous region could be sustained.

According to an American who has consulted with U.S. forces on their deployment into Nuristan, the effort in the north can only be seen as a failure.

"What have we done there in the last three, four years," he said. "We didn't gain anything. We weren't able to open the road up or make the area secure.

Despite the inherent physical vulnerabilities of Camp Keating, until this weekend, the base had suffered no casualties from hostile fire. The base itself was named after Lieutenant Benjamin Keating, who was killed in vehicle accident nearby in Nov. 2006.

But on Saturday, a force of as many as 300 insurgents attacked the vulnerable base in what the military has termed a "complex" attack that began in a neighboring village mosque. According to an Afghan translator for American forces in Nuristan, the village mosque was used to store the weapons and ammunition used in the attack. The rules of engagement generally prevent U.S. forces from searching or attacking Afghan mosques.

According to the Afghan translator, most of the insurgents were local. Eastern Nuristan has long been filled by the insurgent group led by former mujahedeen leader Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, called Hezb-e-Islami. U.S. officials believe that Hekmatyar is hiding in Pakistan, and helps coordinate insurgent attacks throughout eastern Afghanistan.

Insurgent Attack

One U.S. military official told ABC News that they believe the insurgents started a fire as they began to attack. "They burned the base down," said the official.

The smoke from the fire initially limited the air support U.S. soldiers requested, according to a military official. The fighting lasted "throughout the day" as there were signs that the insurgents were able to breach the base before being "repelled." As insurgents fired from three or four different locations above the base, they also maneuvered and over took one of the observation posts on higher ground, taking out a post meant to protect Camp Keating from enemy fire.

The outpost at its peak was home to roughly 100 U.S. soldiers and a few dozen Afghans from both the national army and police force. According to reports, the base was down to half that size when the attack came over the weekend.

Patrols in the neighboring villages and mountaintops were often limited by the lack of U.S. forces, and forced commanding officers to stay on base for fear of being over-run while on patrol.

According to a senior state department official familiar with the area, the attack came as a surprise, and was "much bigger than anything U.S. forces could have expected."

The soldiers were preparing to leave the base for good this week, in a plan that had been set in motion as early as a year ago, according to American officials familiar with the military's plan. Military officials have said that they do not believe the insurgents knew the U.S. forces were withdrawing from the base.

The attack, according to a senior State department official, was most likely the last major effort by the insurgents before the winter snows blanket the province and make maneuvering and fighting that much harder to accomplish.

"Unfortunately," said the State Department official, "this [attack] gives the insurgents a propaganda victory because they can go and claim to the locals that they forced the Americans out."

With additional reporting by Nick Schifrin.

Source: http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/afghanistan-...

Obama White House v. CIA; Panetta Threatened to Quit

By Matthew Cole, Richard Esposito and Brian Ross

A "profanity-laced screaming match" at the White House involving CIA Director Leon Panetta, and the expected release today of another damning internal investigation, has administration officials worrying about the direction of its newly-appoint intelligence team, current and former senior intelligence officials tell ABC News.com.

Amid reports that Panetta had threatened to quit just seven months after taking over at the spy agency, other insiders tell ABCNews.com that senior White House staff members are already discussing a possible shake-up of top national security officials.

"You can expect a larger than normal turnover in the next year," a senior adviser to Obama on intelligence matters told ABCNews.com.

Since 9/11, the CIA has had five directors or acting directors.

A White House spokesperson, Denis McDonough, said reports that Panetta had threatened to quit and that the White House was seeking a replacement were "inaccurate."

According to intelligence officials, Panetta erupted in a tirade last month during a meeting with a senior White House staff member. Panetta was reportedly upset over plans by Attorney General Eric Holder to open a criminal investigation of allegations that CIA officers broke the law in carrying out certain interrogation techniques that President Obama has termed "torture."

A CIA spokesman quoted Panetta as saying "it is absolutely untrue" that he has any plans to leave the CIA. As to the reported White House tirade, the spokesman said Panetta is known to use "salty language." CIA spokesman George Little said the report was "wrong, inaccurate, bogus and false."

Investigation by CIA Inspector General

Another source of contention for Panetta was today's public release of an investigation by the CIA inspector general on the first two years of the agency's interrogation and detention program. The report has been delayed by an internal administration debate over how much of the report should be kept secret.

One CIA official said colleagues involved in the interrogation program were preparing for a far-reaching criminal investigation.

In addition to concerns about the CIA's reputation and its legal exposure, other White House insiders say Panetta has been frustrated by what he perceives to be less of a role than he was promised in the administration's intelligence structure. Panetta has reportedly chafed at reporting through the director of National Intelligence, Dennis Blair, according to the senior adviser who said Blair is equally unhappy with Panetta.

"Leon will be leaving," predicted a former top U.S. intelligence official, citing the conflict with Blair. The former official said Panetta is also "uncomfortable" with some of the operations being carried out by the CIA that he did not know about until he took the job.

Other Candidates for the Job

The New York Times reported Thursday that the CIA had planned to use the private security contractor Blackwater to carry out assassinations of al Qaeda leaders.

Six other current and former senior intelligence officials said they too had been briefed about Panetta's frustrations in the job, including dealing with his former Democratic colleagues in the House of Representatives.

One of the officials said the White House had begun informal discussions with candidates who were runners-up to Panetta in the CIA director selection process last year.

One of the candidates reportedly has begun a series of preparatory briefings.

"It would be a shame if such as talented a Washington hand as Panetta were to leave after one year," said Richard Clarke, an ABC News consultant who worked on the national security team for the Clinton and Bush administrations and served as an adviser to President-elect Obama.

"It takes that long for any senior bureaucrat to begin to understand what needs to get done and how to do it, "said Clarke. "The CIA needs some stability."

Source: http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/obama-white-...

Officials: Lithuania Hosted Secret CIA Prison To Get "Our Ear"

By Matthew Cole

A third European country has been identified to ABC News as providing the CIA with facilities for a secret prison for high-value al Qaeda suspects: Lithuania, the former Soviet state.

Former CIA officials directly involved or briefed on the highly classified program tell ABC News that Lithuanian officials provided the CIA with a building on the outskirts of Vilnius, the country's capital, where as many as eight suspects were held for more than a year, until late 2005 when they were moved because of public disclosures about the program. Flight logs viewed by ABC News confirm that CIA planes made repeated flights into Lithuania during that period.

The CIA told ABC News that reporting the location of the now-closed prison was "irresponsible." "The CIA does not publicly discuss where facilities associated with its past detention program may or may not have been located," said CIA spokesman Paul Gimigliano. "We simply do not comment on those types of claims, which have appeared in the press from time to time over the years. The dangers of airing such allegations are plain. These kinds of assertions could, at least potentially, expose millions of people to direct threat. That is irresponsible."

Former CIA officials tell ABC News that the prison in Lithuania was one of eight facilities the CIA set-up after 9/11 to detain and interrogate top al Qaeda operatives captured around the world. Thailand, Romania, Poland, Morocco, and Afghanistan have previously been identified as countries that housed secret prisons for the CIA.

According to a former intelligence official involved in the program, the former Soviet Bloc country agreed to host a prison because it wanted better relations with the U.S. Asked whether the Bush administration or the CIA offered incentives in return for allowing the prison, the official said, "We didn't have to." The official said, "They were happy to have our ear."

Through their embassy in Washington, the Lithuanian government denied hosting a secret CIA facility. "The Lithuanian Government denies all rumors and interpretations about alleged secret prison that supposedly functioned on Lithuanian soil and possibly was used by [CIA]," said Tomas Gulbinas, an embassy spokesman.

CIA Secret Prisons

According to two top government officials at the time, revelations about the existence of prisons in Eastern Europe in late 2005 by the Washington Post and ABC News led the CIA to close its facilities in Lithuania and Romania and move the al Qaeda prisoners out of Europe. The so-called High Value Detainees (HVD) were moved into "war zone" facilities, according to one of the former CIA officials, meaning they were moved to Iraq and Afghanistan. Within nine months, President Bush announced the existence of the program and ordered the transfer of 14 of the detainees, including Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, Ramzi bin al Shihb and Abu Zubaydah, to Guantanamo, where they remain in CIA custody.

The CIA high value detainee (HVD) program began after the March 2002 capture of Abu Zubaydah. Within days, the CIA arranged for Zubaydah to be flown to Thailand. Later, in mid-2003 after Thai government and intelligence officials became nervous about hosting a secret prison for Zubaydah and a second top al Qaeda detainee, according to a former CIA officer involved in the program. One was transferred to a facility housed on a Polish intelligence base in December 2002, said a former official involved with transferring detainees. The facility was known as Ruby Base, according to two former CIA officials familiar with the location.

One of the former CIA officers involved in the secret prison program allowed ABC News to view flight logs that show aircraft used to move detainees to and from the secret prisons in Lithuania, Thailand, Afghanistan, Poland, Romania, Morocco and Guantanamo Bay. The purpose of the flights, said the officer, was to move terrorist suspects. The official told ABC News that the CIA arranged for false flight plans to be submitted to European aviation authorities. Planes flying into and out of Lithuania, for example, were ordered to submit paperwork that said they would be landing in nearby countries, despite actually landing in Vilnius, he said. "Finland and Poland were used most frequently" as false destinations, the former CIA officer told ABC News. A similar system was used to land planes in Romania and Poland.

Interrogation and Detention Program

Lithuania, Poland, and Romania have all ratified the U.N. Convention Against Torture as well as the European Convention on Human Rights. All three countries' legal systems prohibit torture and extrajudicial detention. Polish authorities are currently conducting an investigation into whether any Polish law was broken by government officials there in hosting one of the secret prisons, according to a published report in the German magazine Der Spiegel.

"There are important legal issues at stake," said human rights researcher John Sifton. "As with Poland and Romania, CIA personnel involved in any secret detentions and interrogations in Lithuania were not only committing violations of U.S. federal law and international law, they were also breaking Lithuanian laws relating to lawless detention, assault, torture, and possibly war crimes. Lithuanian officials who worked with the CIA were breaking applicable Lithuanian laws as well."

Washington has been sharply divided over whether investigations into the interrogation and detention program should be opened. The CIA has been ordered by a federal judge to declassify and release much of the agency's inspector general report about the first years of the program by next week.

Attorney General Eric Holder has said that he is weighing whether he should appoint a special prosecutor to investigate alleged abuses in the program after reading the IG report. At issue are instances of abuse that went beyond the guidelines set up by the Office of Legal Counsel (OLC), which included waterboarding and sleep deprivation of up to 11 days, according to people aware of Holder's thinking. President Obama has called the practices "torture" and abolished the program within a few days of taking office this year. But the president has also said that his administration intended to "look forward" not backward at Bush-era policies of interrogation and detention.

One current intelligence official involved in declassifying the IG report told ABC News that the unredacted portions will reveal how and when CIA interrogators used methods and tactics that were not permitted by the OLC. "The focus will be on the cases where rules were broken," the official said. "But remember that all instances were referred to the Justice Department and only one resulted in a prosecution," said the official, referring to the conviction of CIA contractor David Passaro, who beat an Afghan detainee to death in 2003.

Featured Image Credit: By CIA photo [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Source: http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/story?id=837...

Missing U.S. Soldier May Be in Pakistan

By Matthew Cole

The U.S. soldier kidnapped by Taliban forces in Afghanistan may have been taken across the border to Pakistan, complicating efforts to obtain his release, according to two people involved in U.S. and Afghan military efforts to locate him, and three Afghan soldiers captured with him.

The soldier, Pfc. Bowe R. Bergdahl, 23, of Idaho, is the first serviceman captured since the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan in 2001. According to a person actively involved in the search, a top Afghan insurgent commander has taken credit for capturing the soldier and has now moved the soldier to South Waziristan, Pakistan. U.S. armed forces are not permitted to operate inside Pakistan except under extreme circumstances.

The insurgent leader, Mullah Sangeen, has reportedly demanded the U.S. halt air raids as a condition for the return of the soldier.

Lt. Col. Patrick Ryder, a Pentagon spokesman, said that "the efforts continue to locate the soldier, but we're not going to provide any details." The Pentagon yesterday announced that it took two days to determine that Bergdahl had been captured by enemy forces.

Officials at the Pentagon said they still believe Bergdahl is in Afghanistan.

Bergdahl was taken by Mullah Sangeen's men from village near the U.S. military post in Paktika, where he was stationed, according to a senior Afghan Army official in the province. The captors "punched and hit the soldier after some resistance. But than they were able to take the soldier and left all of his things: weapon, body armor and radios." The Afghan official says Bergdahl and the three Afghan National Army soldiers were moved from the near-by village and quickly vanished.

"We have an entire Afghan National Army platoon searching the area," says the Afghan official, who is searching for his soldiers as well. "But I suspect they might have moved him in to Pakistan already." Yesterday, Bergdahl's captors released a video showing the soldier eating and sitting on a carpet. After Bergdahl is prompted by one of his captors, he is heard saying that the date is July 14th, nearly two weeks after he was captured, and that he is scared.

U.S. Military Distributes Leaflet in Afghanistan

Bergdahl's family released a statement yesterday asking for privacy and that Americans "please continue to keep Bowe in your thoughts and prayers." Bergdahl, who is assigned to 1st Battalion, 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division, Fort Richardson, Alaska, went missing from his post with three Afghan National Army soldiers in Eastern Afghanistan on or around July 1st under circumstances that remain unclear.

The U.S. military began distributing a leaflet in eastern Afghanistan last week that warns, "If you do not release the U.S. soldier, then You will be hunted." A picture of an American soldier kicking in the door of an Afghan home covers the leaflet. A Pentagon official tells ABC News that the leaflets were distributed in the areas inside Afghanistan that the military believes Bergdahl is being held.

Any effort to stage a rescue attempt would be fraught with risk, Pentagon officials say, but if Bergdahl has been moved to Pakistan, the challenge is even harder. The U.S. military is not allowed to operate inside Pakistan, unless its forces are in "hot pursuit" of Taliban fighters fleeing Afghanistan. In addition to U.S. military rules of engagement, operating inside Pakistan covertly has proven to be difficult for U.S. forces.

In private meetings, U.S. military officials based in Afghanistan have insisted that their soldier is still inside Afghanistan. "They want to think he's in Afghanistan," said an American involved in the search efforts.

But Bergdahl's location was identified in field reports from people operating in Pakistan's tribal areas. Bergdahl was recently seen at a Sangeen training camp, just inside Pakistan, according to one of those involved in his search.

Secretary of State Hillary Clinton told ABC News' Martha Raddatz that she is not allowed to talk about where Bergdahl might be.

The U.S. military has had a succession of efforts to locate the missing soldier and free him. Initially, a reward of $25,000 for location tips was offered to Afghans in the eastern portions of the region from which he disappeared. According to a source involved in the effort, a large number of calls flooded, and overwhelmed U.S. military efforts.

Complicating the search is determining who, if anyone, Mullah Sangeen works for. In the past, he has associated with the Haqqani network, the largest and most powerful insurgent group in eastern Afghanistan. The Haqqani network is lead by Siraj Haqqani, who has $5M bounty on his head for terrorist and insurgent activities against foreign forces in Afghanistan. But Haqqani however, is not technically part of the Taliban, who aligned with fugitive leader Mullah Omar.

"I am not sure if Mullah Sangeen is a hardcore Siraj Haqqani group member," says an Afghan intelligence officer in the province where Pfc. Bergdahl was captured. "However, Siraj is the boss. Let's hope the solider is still with Sangeen's people because you can [negotiate] with him."

War in Afghanistan

Paktika province is largely under Haqqani control. Two Taliban spokesman have denied holding or capturing the soldier, suggesting that Sangeen acted alone or in concert with Haqqani. Siraj Haqqani is believed to be responsible for the kidnap of New York Times reporter David Rohde, who escaped last month from Pakistan after seven months of captivity.

The war in Afghanistan has escalated in recent months, as the U.S. has surged troops and conducted more operations. July has already become the deadliest month for U.S. forces since the war began in 2001.

Source: http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/pfc-bowe-ber...

The David Rohde Puzzle

The official story about the Times reporter’s dramatic kidnapping and escape leaves much unexplained. Inside sources offer their accounts to fill in the gaps.

By Matthew Cole

The story that has emerged over the past few days about the secret confinement of journalist David S. Rohde and his dramatic escape in the wee hours of Saturday morning is remarkable. On November 10, the Pulitzer Prize–winning reporter was kidnapped, along with his Afghan fixer, Tahir Ludin, and their driver, en route to a meeting with an Afghan Taliban commander south of Kabul. He was held in Taliban-controlled northwest Pakistan and eastern Afghanistan for seven months; all the while the Times worked frantically to secure his release and convinced dozens of competing news organizations to remain silent about the abduction and their negotiations for fear that any attention to Rohde’s case could lead to his life being put at even greater risk.

Then, over the weekend, we learned that Rohde and Ludin had suddenly escaped their captors, hitched a ride with the Pakistani military, and soon were safely in the confines of a U.S. military base in Afghanistan. Ludin told a Times reporter how he had outwitted the guards by keeping them up late playing a board game so that he and Rohde could sneak out while they were sleeping. Then the two men climbed a wall, and, with a purloined rope, lowered themselves 20 feet to the ground. It’s a tale out of a movie, and thankfully it has a happy ending, but it also raises as many questions as it answers.

Rohde himself has not spoken about his kidnapping or his escape except to confirm to a Times reporter “the accuracy of Mr. Ludin’s account.” And Times executive editor Bill Keller responded to questions by saying, “We’re not going to talk about strategy, tactics, deliberations, advice we got, any of that—even to correct the abundant misinformation now in circulation. People are free to write what they want, but we believe such stories only raise the level of danger for our reporters in the field, who already have enough risk to contend with.”

But because the Times isn’t providing much in the way of detail, the paper leaves it to others to try to fill in the gaps. The story of those who worked to get Rohde out, and what led to his escape, is only beginning to become known. This account is pieced together from multiple sources either directly involved in the negotiations or apprised of the Times’ negotiating efforts as they were going on; it suggests a patchwork of attempts to get the reporter out alive, involving the FBI, the Pentagon, the State Department, and multiple private intelligence contractors. The scenario they describe is incomplete, and not always possible to verify, but it portrays a complicated process with players frequently operating at cross-purposes.

In announcing the news of Rohde’s escape, one thing the Times was careful to point out is that it paid no ransom for his release. That is apparently true, but two sources involved in the rescue efforts say the paper had authorized as much as $2 million in ransom funds, which would have been one of the highest known amounts ever paid to secure the release of a journalist. According to these sources, a $1 million offer was on the table even as Rohde was scrambling to safety. One American contractor involved says that although no ransom was ultimately paid, money did play a part in Rohde’s escape. He adds a crucial detail to the Times’ published account of the escape: That guards had been bribed to look the other way as Rohde and Ludin made their way out of the compound.

The Kidnapping

On November 10, 2008, Rohde rode roughly 30 miles south of the Afghan capital to Logar province in order to conduct an interview with a local Taliban commander who had fought the Soviets in the eighties. Rohde was conducting research for a book on the history of U.S. involvement in Afghanistan. In the car with him was Tahir Ludin, 35, a well-known and well-regarded fixer and translator to Western journalists working in the country, according an Afghan colleague of Ludin’s. Ludin had set up the interview for Rohde and would translate. The driver was a regular of Ludin’s, Asadullah Mangal, who owned a taxi service with his brother.

The commander they expected to see was Abu Tayeb, a grizzled Afghan-Soviet War veteran and the son of a teacher—more of a local thug than a religious ideologue. Afghan experts say the motivation for most of his purported violent activities is money, not jihad.

But Rohde and his two companions never made it to see the Taliban leader. They were stopped before they reached him and taken captive by men whom two sources described as working for Abu Tayeb. According to John Chase, a ransom negotiator for AKE Group with sixteen years of experience, these men would have known how much they could get for kidnapping a foreigner like Rohde and selling him to a bigger player. Chase says the men would have made about $5,000. That was the kidnappers’ likely plan.

 

The Negotiations

There is no good time to be kidnapped in a war zone, but late in a lame-duck presidency is worse than most. Because of Rohde’s reporting on the wars in the Balkans a decade earlier, he had allies in Hillary Clinton and Richard Holbrooke (who had helped to secure his release when Rohde was held captive by Serbian forces in 1995), but six days after the election, both of them had months to go before taking prominent roles in the new administration. The only practical recourse the Times had was a kidnapping and ransom company—referred to as K&R in hostage-negotiations industry.

The Times’ insurance company, AIG, hired a K&R firm called Clayton Consultants to handle the negotiations. According to a source close to the Times, assistant general counsel David McCraw was made chairman of the paper’s crisis-management team. He would speak on behalf of the Times to the Clayton consultant in Kabul. That consultant would then direct communications to a trusted local identified as Farouq Samim by the Christian Science Monitor, who would pass them on to the militants holding Rohde, Ludin, and Mangal.

Or at least that was the way it was supposed to work. When Rohde’s captors made contact with the Times’ team, their demands were astronomical: They asked for $25 million as well as the release of fifteen Taliban prisoners from Guantánamo and an Afghan prison, according to two sources involved in the negotiations. But, say these sources, McCraw and the Times’ crisis team never had a chance to respond to the demands. According to this account, Clayton’s man in Kabul responded with an offer of $786,000. A kidnapping and ransom insider says this number was above the going rate for Western hostages, which ranges from $250,000 to $750,000. The kidnappers, perhaps recognizing this as a high starting bid, refused the offer. This early exchange—along with long periods of silence between the negotiators and the kidnappers—strained the Times’ relationship with Clayton, according to these sources. (A spokesperson for Clayton says, “Our consultants do not comment on the details of any kidnap cases whether or not we have been involved in the negotiations.”)

Within three weeks of Rohde’s kidnapping, according to a source close to the Times, his wife, Kristen Mulvihill, had requested that the Times hire an additional consulting firm—this one specializing in military and intelligence contracting—to try to get him out. The Times, and AIG, agreed.

While Mulvihill and other members of Rohde’s family naturally feared for the reporter’s life, intelligence and kidnapping experts sensed that his captors’ goal was not to kill Rohde but to make money. “We were never really worried that they would kill him,” says one of the sources. “This wasn’t Al Qaeda. These were businessmen.”

Nonetheless, as word of Rohde’s capture began to circulate in the news community, the Times convinced other news organizations to keep the incident quiet. The specter of Daniel Pearl was constant, as was the fear that if Rohde’s kidnapping became an international circus, the price for his release might escalate.

By all accounts, the Times agonized over the question of whether to pay a ransom, knowing that to do so might put other journalists in the area in danger but also that it might be the only way to secure the safe return of their colleague. Multiple sources agree that executives at the Times ultimately decided they would pay.

But as deliberations and negotiations between the Clayton consultants and the Taliban continued, dissent developed inside the newspaper over whether this was the right decision. According to two sources directly involved or close to the negotiations, Rohde’s Times colleague in Pakistan, the British journalist Carlotta Gall, was particularly concerned. Gall told people at the Times that paying the Taliban any money would only cause other journalists operating in the region to become the targets of kidnapping. She was not alone in this view.

Gall began her own efforts through intermediaries in Pakistan to communicate with the captors, according to three different sources involved. These sources say that Gall was trying to use her ex-Taliban contacts to reach out to those holding Rohde and persuade them to release the reporter for no money and no hostages.

 

A Thwarted Rescue Attempt

In December, an assault team of roughly ten men geared up for a daring raid in the Afghan province of Khost, just west of the Pakistan border. According to two sources directly involved, the assault team was organized by the private intelligence contractors Mulvihill had persuaded the Times to hire, although it is not known whether the Times authorized it.

But just before the assault team left their base, according to a person directly involved in the operation, Rohde was moved. Rohde, in fact, was no longer in Abu Tayeb’s custody at all. He had been sold up the food chain, to Sirajuddin Haqqani, an Afghan warlord with a $5 million price tag on his head through the State Department’s Reward for Justice program. The son of famed mujahideen leader Jalaluddin Haqqani, Sirajuddin is believed by U.S. authorities to be aligned closely with both the Taliban and Al Qaeda, while maintaining his own insurgent organization in Pakistan’s tribal areas. The younger Haqqani is considered a terrorist and suspected to be the person behind the suicide bombing at Kabul’s five-star Serena Hotel last year.

As Rohde was sold and moved, his location was hard to track. Haqqani’s network controls most of North Waziristan in Pakistan as well as the Afghan villages along the border. Its strength has come from its tribal roots in the area in addition to a lack of American or Afghan government presence. And beyond the challenges presented by a group moving its captives constantly to avoid detection, negotiators had to contend with such mundane difficulties as spotty phone service in the tribal areas of Pakistan.

According to two sources directly involved in the negotiations, Haqqani’s people moved Rohde, Ludin, and Mangal in and around Miran Shah, North Waziristan, where they keep multiple safe houses, operate training camps, and run madrassas. According to one source involved in tracking Rohde’s movements, Haqqani, fearing a U.S. military operation, recently moved Rohde out of the Miran Shah entirely, before returning him a few days later. The fact that Rohde was being moved so frequently meant that a paramilitary raid was all but impossible.

 

The Escape

Two weeks ago, says a source close to the Times, negotiations had broken down. According to Chase, the ransom expert, the cardinal rule of negotiation is that there can be only one channel through which an organization negotiates. “It’s called the Coca-Cola Template,” says another source close to the negotiations. “Someone from Coca-Cola gets taken, and the executives tell the employees, ‘No one talks to anyone. We have a channel, and we will conduct the negotiations.’” But the number of people attempting to negotiate on Rohde’s behalf included the FBI, the Times, Clayton, the private contractors championed by Mulvihill, and Rohde’s colleague Gall. The multiple channels had confused and divided the Haqqani clan.

According to sources, negotiators on behalf of the Times had offered $1 million in ransom, an offer that had been firm since January. A source who was directly involved with the transfer of funds says that more than $1 million had been moved to Afghanistan and readied for payment. Haqqani’s team still wasn’t satisfied. A month ago, they came back with a new demand for $8 million, according to sources close to the negotiations.

Then, late Friday night, Rohde and Ludin made their move. It was a harrowing and brave escape. What they could not have known was that the groundwork may have been laid long before they rappelled down the wall. A source directly involved with Rohde’s negotiations says that a network was set up to pay bribes to guards in the various Haqqani compounds where Rohde and Ludin were being held, including the one from which they escaped. The goal was to grease the wheel for a future rescue attempt, and it may have enabled their getaway. It is unclear whether the Times had any knowledge of the bribery network. “David doesn’t know what happened with the guards,” the source says. “It’s a very nice idea that he escaped.”

Rohde will likely tell his own story, eventually, in the paper. But in the end, no one may know the full story of what happened on his behalf.

Source: http://nymag.com/news/media/57635/

You're Fired! CIA Axes $1000-A-Day Waterboarding Experts

By Matthew Cole

The CIA has reportedly cut its ties to the two psychologists credited for being the architects of the CIA's brutal interrogation program after 9/11, a news report said yesterday. Dr. James Mitchell and Dr. Bruce Jessen, who suggested and supervised waterboarding at secret prisons around the world have been told their services are no longer needed. Mitchell and Jessen, according to their associates, boasted of being paid $1,000 a day by the CIA to oversee the use of the technique on top al Qaeda suspects.

Their firings came during a purge by CIA Director Leon Panetta of all contractors involved in the interrogation program. In early April, Panetta told CIA employees that contractors involved in the interrogation program and secret prisons were being "promptly terminated."

Mitchell and Jessen, who created a consulting company called Mitchell & Jessen Associates, are among the most public contractors who were let go. According to the most recent issue of the New Yorker, the psychologists had their contract renewed by the agency just weeks earlier, after President Obama took office, but before Panetta was confirmed as the new director.

The company had at least 120 employees as of 2007, according to a recent Senate investigation. One former military psychologist tells ABC News that Mitchell & Jessen charged the CIA roughly $500,000 a year for their services. It was this source's understanding that the money was largely tax-free and did not include expenses, which the agency also paid for.

In April, ABC News reported that neither Mitchell nor Jessen, both former military psychologists, who were part of a military training program that taught U.S. soldiers how to withstand harsh interrogation techniques, had any experience in conducting actual interrogations before they were hired by the CIA. The two, and later with additional employees, however, recommended so-called "enhanced interrogation techniques."

Obama and Cheny Disagree on 'Torture'

Air Force Colonel Steve Kleinman, a former colleague of both Mitchell and Jessen and an expert interrogator, told ABC News that the two knew virtually nothing about conducting interrogations.

"They went to two individuals who had no interrogation experience," said Col. Kleinman. "They are not interrogators."

The Obama administration has repeatedly said the regimen the CIA applied to top terrorism suspects was "torture." In his second full day in office, President Obama signed an executive order to halt all the techniques and close all CIA secret prisons.

Since then, however, the uproar over the Bush Administration counter-terrorism policies and CIA tactics have flared up. Former Vice President Richard B. Cheney has publically lashed out at the new administration. In a series of television interviews and speeches, Cheney has accused Obama of making the country less safe and more likely to get attacked by terrorism because he closed down the CIA prison system and the Mitchell and Jessen interrogation program.

CIA director Leon Panetta told the New Yorker magazine recently that he believes Cheney was playing "gallows politics." Panetta said, "It's almost as if he's wishing that this country would be attacked again, in order to make his point. I think that's dangerous politics."

Mitchell and Jessen were headquartered for several years in Spokane, Washington, near a U.S. military base that served as their respective offices while serving in the military. Their unassuming downtown office has recently been vacated, according to ProPublica. Calls to their listed office number are now disconnected. Neither Mitchell nor Jessen would speak to ABC News citing non-disclosure agreements with the CIA.

 

Source: http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/story?id=784...

Killing ourselves in Afghanistan

In a secret meeting with a Taliban commander, I learned how Bush administration aid to Pakistan helps fund insurgents who kill U.S. troops.

BY MATTHEW COLE

Killing ourselves in Afghanistan

On a recent bitterly cold winter day, I sat huddled on a red Persian carpet in an unheated Kabul office, waiting for a visitor who, I was told by a trusted friend, would help me understand why America is not winning its war in Afghanistan.

A stocky, bearded figure in a gray vest, a faded brown shalwar kameez and a cream-colored Pashtun shawl appeared at the door. He removed his shoes and walked on cracked, callused feet over the carpet to sit cross-legged beside me. Our meeting was conducted in secrecy. My guest was, until early 2007, a Taliban commander of 50 fighters in North Waziristan, Pakistan, one of the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) near the Afghan border where both al-Qaida and Taliban insurgents operate. Ever since he left the Taliban, he has been living in fear of assassination for treason. I thanked him in English for his willingness to meet, and he answered me in Pashto, the chief language of southern and eastern Afghanistan and Pakistan’s Tribal Areas, without a trace of emotion.

“If you had tried to interview me this time last year,” he said, “I would have killed you.” Then he reached past my feet and poured himself a glass of sugary green tea.

Over the course of several hours in the Kabul office, “Haji Muhammed,” as we agreed he would be called, spun a gemstone ring absently around his finger and ran his hands through his thinning hair as he described for me his firsthand experience of an American foreign-policy debacle. The U.S. is paying for both sides of the war in Afghanistan. As is becoming increasingly clear, for at least two and a half years, and perhaps far longer, the Pakistani government has been receiving massive U.S. aid while its intelligence agency and elements of its military have been pursuing their own anti-American agenda within Afghanistan. The U.S. has given theMusharraf regime $10 billion since Sept. 11, 2001, but Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) and factions within the Pakistan army, while helping the U.S. track al-Qaida with one hand, have been aiding the Taliban with the other, both inside Afghanistan and across the Pakistani border in Tribal Areas like North Waziristan. In part because of Pakistani help, the Taliban have made a steady comeback and American and Afghan casualties are at their highest annual levels since the war began.

Islamabad has denied complicity and Washington has maintained official silence, but the double-dealing is not surprising. It’s just the continuation of the Pakistani government’s former alliance with the Taliban, which was itself an outgrowth of a decades-old Pakistani policy of trying to exert control over the internal affairs of its chaotic neighbor. It was the recognition of Pakistan’s motives that drove Muhammed to defect. “I left the Taliban because I could no longer stand Pakistan’s hand in Afghanistan,” Muhammed told me through a translator. “For years we were trained and helped, and fought alongside ISI and [Pakistan] army officers. But they are not mujahedin, they want to keep Afghanistan weak.”

Muhammed said the ISI had helped train and arm him to fight inside Afghanistan against U.S. and international coalition forces since 2002. “If the world can know what happens inside the Tribal Areas, maybe Afghanistan has a chance to survive,” he said. “Like this the war will not end.”

For nearly two years now, the military situation inside Afghanistan has deteriorated. Violence has increased, security has shrunk and the Taliban have brought the war to Kabul. Coalition casualties increased more than 20 percent last year and estimates of civilian deaths for 2007 range as high as 6,000. My own repeated trips to the country have convinced me that not only are Haji Muhammed’s assertions about Pakistan’s role in the violence true, but that the U.S. — or at least its representatives on the ground in Afghanistan — has long been aware of the problem.

Interviews with Afghan and U.S. intelligence officials involved in covert U.S. operations along the border suggest that U.S. intelligence operatives have known since 2005 that the Pakistan army and the ISI have been training and arming insurgents in the Tribal Areas who cross into Afghanistan to kill Afghan, U.S. and coalition forces. “Our guys are getting killed because Pakistan has a double policy,” said an American policy advisor who travels frequently to U.S military and CIA bases near the border. But the same advisor says intelligence officials have only recently gotten through to their superiors in Washington that Pakistan is part of the problem.

On my own trip to an American military base near the border in Afghanistan’s Kunar province in October 2006, I was asked on arrival to have an off-the-record conversation with a U.S. Army public affairs officer. He explained a few rules about avoiding sections of the base that were run by the CIA and Special Forces. Then he told me that although we could literally see Pakistan from where we stood, I should ask no questions about what role Pakistan played in Afghanistan’s war. “You might as well pretend it doesn’t exist,” he said. He understood reporters were interested, and acknowledged that most of the insurgents operating in Kunar were based across the border in Pakistan. But the Army’s orders were, essentially, to ignore the problem. “Pakistan,” he said, smiling, “is a committed ally in the war on terror.”

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

The sweet tea could not keep us warm, so our host brought in an electric space heater. I listened as Muhammed detailed Pakistani help in attacking U.S. forces in Afghanistan. While it is impossible to verify all of his claims, parts of his story have been confirmed by a senior Western diplomat and Afghan and U.S. intelligence officials.

Muhammed is a Pashtun Afghan who joined the Taliban as a young fighter in 1993. He viewed the Taliban, which would rule Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001, as a principled force bringing needed national stability. He fought against the Taliban’s main rivals, the Northern Alliance, who would become instrumental in the American effort to roust the Taliban after 9/11.

The U.S. began bombing Taliban and al-Qaida sites in Afghanistan on Oct. 7, 2001, when the Taliban would not hand over Osama bin Laden. The aerial campaign was meant to support the Northern Alliance’s push against the Taliban. After Kabul fell to the Northern Alliance and U.S. Special Forces in November, Muhammad retreated with other Taliban fighters across the border, to Miran Shah in North Waziristan, one of the southernmost of Pakistan’s Tribal Areas.

The Federally Administered Tribal Areas are a collection of seven “agencies” and six “frontier districts” that share 250 miles of mountainous border with Afghanistan, and make up an area about the size of Massachusetts. Nearly all of the 4 million residents are Pashtun, like their neighbors across the border in southern and eastern Afghanistan. The arid, craggy region is less Pakistan than it is “Pashtunistan,” an area run by millennia-old tribal customs rather than the central government in Islamabad. Since U.S. forces occupied Afghanistan and the anti-American insurgency began, the Tribal Areas have been headquarters for al-Qaida, and a refuge for the Taliban. The region has also been the site of most of the conflict’s guerrilla and terrorist training camps, many of which Haji Muhammed attended, visited or helped conduct. Many of the worst terrorist incidents of recent years, the 7/7 suicide bombings in London, the failed Heathrow airline attacks, the German attacks and the recent train bombing attempts in Barcelona, involve individuals with significant ties to the Tribal Areas.

From the time Muhammed arrived in North Waziristan in 2001 until his recent defection, he worked, he says, under Siraj Haqqani. Siraj, now the leader of the North Waziristan-based Taliban, is the son of Jalaluddin Haqqani, who was one of the seven main Afghan mujahedin leaders of the Afghan-Soviet war in the 1980s, and a direct recipient of the U.S. and Saudi aid that was funneled to all seven of those leaders via the ISI.

Jalaluddin Haqqani had also fled into North Waziristan in late 2001. He had suffered serious wounds to his shoulder and leg. For six months after the fall of the Taliban, as the elder Haqqani recuperated, Haji Muhammed and his comrades did nothing, though they very much wanted to expel Afghanistan’s new foreign occupiers, the Americans, and the American-installed government in Kabul. “We waited to see how the Americans were fighting,” Muhammed told me. “And we waited for money and supplies. We had very little.”

According to Muhammed, the fighters who regrouped in North Waziristan after the fall of Kabul were a complex and ever-shifting alliance of Afghan Talibs, al-Qaida of various nationalities, Pashtun tribal militias and Pakistani jihadists. Within the mix, he said, there were two main and distinct groups. One was largely domestic and made up of Afghan and Pakistani Talibs. The other one was, and is, led by foreign fighters — Arabs, Uzbeks and Chechens. This was Muhammed’s organization.

Though he served under an Afghan Pashtun, Siraj Haqqani, he worked and trained with Abu Layth-al Libi, a Libyan national in his 40s who’s considered by many in the U.S. intelligence community to be al-Qaida’s No. 3. Abu Layth is best known for being the man who informed the world in July 2002 that bin Laden was still alive, and was also seen in video footage from 2004 leading an apparent attack on an Afghan military outpost. Abu Layth was reportedly killed by a CIA predator drone strike this January.

Despite fighting alongside Layth, Muhammed did not consider himself al-Qaida — he insisted to me, quite forcefully, that he was Taliban — but the goal was the same. All wanted to attack the Americans inside Afghanistan.

Some of the cash and weapons needed to carry the fight to the Americans finally appeared after Jalaluddin Haqqani reached out to his previous handlers in the ISI. Beginning in 2002, according to Muhammed, the Pakistani intelligence agents who had underwritten his struggle against the Soviets and had continued to fund him up until the U.S. invasion begin helping Haqqani again. Haqqani and his men were able to stockpile Russian and Chinese light arms provided by the Pakistanis, and Muhammed, not then a commander, helped organize small groups of fighters for additional training. In the winter months, Muhammed and the other fighters lived in the North Waziristan lowlands; when the snows melted, they headed for their training camps in the hills.

By 2004, Muhammed was a platoon leader. But supplies were still inconsistent and his platoon’s efforts inside Afghanistan’s eastern provinces against Afghan, U.S. and coalition forces remained sporadic. That changed later that year when Pakistan army trucks began arriving in Miran Shah to collect fighters. “We were put in the back of the trucks at night,” Muhammed said. “There were about 40 or so men loaded into the trucks with the top covered. We were driven to Nowshera” — a town far north of Waziristan in Pakistan’s North-West Frontier Province where the Pakistan army has many training facilities — “and we stayed for a few days for training. After, they drove us back to Miran Shah.” European and American analysts believe Pakistan stepped up aid to the insurgents in 2004 because the Musharraf regime saw that U.S. forces were achieving no better than a stalemate in southern Afghanistan, the Taliban’s stronghold. The Pakistanis stepped into the resulting power vacuum by aiding the Taliban.

The ISI also began to provide assistance in the Taliban’s own training camps. The training camps inside both North and South Waziristan, said Muhammed, required new recruits to go through all the same training. After the ISI began helping, the labor was divided. In addition to leading attacks inside Afghanistan, Muhammed helped train young Afghan and Pakistani men in basic weapons. “I was good at some things, like teaching how to fire weapons.” While he did that, an Arab or Uzbek trainer might school a smaller group in remote-controlled bombs or IEDs. An ISI officer, meanwhile, might teach an even smaller group how to gather intelligence.

Combined, it was an excellent education in guerrilla warfare, the same methods and tactics taught in the camps in Afghanistan prior to 9/11. And Muhammed intimated that because of Pakistani protection, the fighters in the North Waziristan training camps didn’t fear American air power. “We were never scared or worried about American airstrikes. We were only worried about the men who entered. We had very serious security. You had to have proper paperwork and permission to get inside the camps. We worried about spies, but not missiles.”

Muhammed himself also received training from the ISI that allowed him to launch more sophisticated attacks across the border. During late 2005, Muhammed and his platoon operated on the Shawal mountain range in North Waziristan. From the Shawal peaks he and his men could see Afghanistan just a few miles away. An ISI captain named Asif Khan trained him to use a 6-foot rocket called the Sakar-20, a Russian-made device that is roughly 6 feet long and requires several days to perfect firing.

The rockets were delivered at night by an ISI logistics officer to a house in Miran Shah. The next morning, Muhammed’s men would retrieve them and transport them to the Shawal peaks. Capt. Khan never wore a uniform and kept his beard long. The ISI and army personnel who worked with the Taliban, Muhammed said, almost never wore uniforms, the better to blend in. “From their looks they were mujahedin,” he said.

Capt. Khan, who took orders from another ISI officer whom Muhammed knew as “Major Doctor Sajit,” spent a week teaching Muhammed how to position the rocket on the Shawal’s ridgeline to get its maximum range of 30 kilometers. Khan, Muhammed said, also gave the Taliban fighters GPS devices, taught the men how to calibrate them, and then paid Afghans to take the device across the border to nearby American and Afghan bases to pinpoint their locations. With those coordinates, Muhammed could fire the Sakar-20 with decent precision. “Once I was taught, then I trained my men.”

In 2005 and 2006, Muhammed fired the Sakar-20's at U.S. and Afghan posts inside Khost, the Afghan province just across the border from North Waziristan. “We fired rockets inside Afghanistan whenever we could get supplied,” said Muhammed. He did not tell me what he hit with the rockets. In late 2006, he began to consider defecting, and in 2007 he made the leap, fleeing to Kabul and the protection of the National Directorate for Security, or NDS, the Afghan government’s intelligence agency.

On a second meeting in the same Central Kabul office, Muhammed and I again sat cross-legged on the red rug and drank tea. This time I spread before him some maps of Pakistan’s Tribal Areas, so he could help me understand where he had been and what he had done.

He pointed out the mountain range where he used to fire rockets into Afghanistan, and the village where one of the training camps was situated, and from which he and Abu Layth led an attack on a small Americanfire base across the border.

I asked Muhammed why he really left the Taliban, why he had abandoned his friends and colleagues after 15 years. He sighed and looked at his feet for a few moments, suddenly looking much older than his years.

I joined the Taliban when I was young,” he finally answered, “very young. They wanted to get rid of corruption and to end the fighting between the warlords. Afghanistan needed this and I wanted to help. I became a soldier, but when we fled to Waziristan we relied too much on the Pakistanis. And we were corrupted. Land disputes inside Afghanistan were settled by Pakistanis, and by the man with the most money. This isn’t just. And fewer Afghans made decisions about how and where and when to fight inside Afghanistan.”

Muhammed has come to terms with his new station in life. “I worked many years with Arabs, Uzbeks and Chechens. I have accepted that they must be killed for Afghanistan’s sake. I don’t feel bad.” But he still draws the line at helping those other foreigners. “I won’t work for the Americans. Twice NDS has asked me to meet with them. I said no. If I do that I am surely a dead man.”

While Muhammed was contemplating defection, U.S. intelligence officials were growing frustrated with the duplicity of a supposed ally in the war on terror, and with the limitations placed on them by Islamabad and Washington. But much of the problem was due, initially, to the way the CIA conducts its business, and to the rules of engagement in the Afghan-Pakistan border region.

The CIA rotates most of its officers in the area every three to six months, giving them insufficient time to learn the contours of Pakistan’s problems. Virtually no operational officers speak Pashtun, nor can they travel without an official Pakistani escort.

Also, until recently, the CIA division of labor has made officers in Afghanistan responsible for attacking and thwarting Taliban inside Pakistan. Officers based in Pakistan are primarily tasked with tracking al-Qaida and Arab terrorists inside Pakistan.

Since the war began the general rules of engagement for U.S. forces — be they CIA or other — was that military attacks inside Pakistan could extend only six miles from the border, and only in pursuit. Attacking or even surveying training camps and any insurgent movements aided by Pakistan army units more than 20 miles inside the border was an impossibility.

Simply understanding the political dynamics of the Tribal Areas and the rest of Pakistan’s frontier region to the north was therefore slow and laborious for American officials. Interference from the Pakistanis has made it still more difficult. CIA officers in Pakistan, who outnumber those stationed in Afghanistan, are not allowed to travel in Pakistan’s frontier areas without ISI accompaniment. A retired CIA officer, who still works on contract for the agency, told me that in early 2006, he was based in Dir, a restive area north of North Waziristan in Pakistan’s North-West Frontier Province, and not far from several U.S. bases in Afghanistan. The contractor was part of a joint CIA-ISI team hunting for bin Laden and al-Zawahiri. Before his rotation ended he asked the ISI brigadier if they could fly still farther north to the town of Chitral to watch some of the region’s famed polo tournaments. “This guy told me straight up, ‘I ain’t letting you go north.’” The American persisted and was again rebuffed. “I realized that the only two reasons he wouldn’t let me travel north was because he either was afraid of what I would see, or he was afraid of what he would see.”

The Americans were quickly aware that the Pakistanis had no enthusiasm for fighting the Islamist insurgency. Gary Schroen, a former senior CIA official who led the first U.S. team into Afghanistan days after 9/11 and a former station chief in Islamabad, told me recently that where the Pakistan army does engage in battle against militants, they do so without vigor. “The Pakistanis don’t want to fight a counter-insurgency inside their own country,” he said. “They don’t want to fight against Muslims, they want to fight against India.”

According to a former senior government official responsible for U.S.-Pakistani policy, many American policymakers took for granted Musharraf would work harder going after al-Qaida than going after the Taliban. “I always assumed that, strategically, Pakistan would want to hedge its bets for the day the U.S. decided to pull out of the region.” Pakistan had helped create the Taliban years earlier as an element of its regional security plan, meaning, in part, as an additional Muslim counterweight against perennial foe India. The U.S. expected a certain lack of enthusiasm from the Pakistanis for pursuing the Taliban, or at least a greater enthusiasm for dealing with al-Qaida. But Pakistan actually remained committed to keeping the Taliban active inside Afghanistan. What’s more, said the former senior official, the White House had no mechanism for determining whether the ISI or other factions within the Musharraf regime were aiding the Taliban. Washington was conducting a “see no evil” foreign policy.

Ultimately, the Americans came to realize that the ISI was not just avoiding conflict with the insurgents, or shielding them, but actively abetting them. The senior American policy advisor told me that U.S. intelligence concluded that the ISI support — often in the form of medical aid, signals intelligence and military strategy — is not the work of rogue officers within Pakistan intelligence. “Injured Taliban fighters have been sent to military hospitals for good medical care,” he said. “That doesn’t happen inside Pakistan unless the military knows.” Some ISI agents were attempting to help the Americans catch insurgents, but the most powerful faction within the agency was doing precisely the opposite.

The ISI has two main divisions. The CIA works primarily with Directorate C, the ISI’s version of a counter-terrorism branch. According to a former senior CIA official who still reads intelligence reports from the region, Directorate C has been penetrated by American intelligence and its leader vetted by the CIA.

A second and much larger division of the ISI, however, is Directorate S, which is responsible for external operations, such as Afghanistan, Kashmir and India. It takes precedence over Directorate C, and often works at cross-purposes. The CIA has no working relationship with Directorate S, and no means to assess the loyalty of its personnel. A retired CIA officer who once served in the Tribal Areas recounted an exchange with his ISI partner from Directorate C. “He told me that he had just gone to a tribal shura in Peshawar and sat across from a man he’d arrested and imprisoned a few weeks earlier. He was convinced the man was a Pashtun terrorist. He said that one of his peers from Directorate S had released him within a few days — with no notice or paperwork.

“This guy was trying to commiserate with me about how difficult it was to get anything done in the Tribal Areas,” said the CIA officer. “He was truly frustrated. A few weeks after nabbing a bad guy, he had to sip tea and negotiate with him.”

But the Americans discovered that the ISI was able to create some plausible deniability for its role in promoting the Taliban insurgency by relying on a Pakistani version of Blackwater. After 9/11, some ISI officers who were deemed too sympathetic to Islamic extremism were purged from the agency as a condition of American aid. These officers were never truly purged, however, and with other former and retired ISI agents form an extra-governmental conduit for ISI aid to the anti-American insurgents in the border area. Newsday reported last year that “the ISI offers the insurgents tactical advice and information about the deployment of U.S. forces.”

As an example, the CIA learned that since 2005, a retired ISI officer who lives within 10 miles of the Afghan border, not far from a U.S. fire base, and who helped arm Afghan jihadists against the Soviets in the 1980s, was again working for the ISI — this time on contract. According to U.S. and Afghan sources, this man, whom the CIA refers to as “General Yusef,” recruits and organizes Afghan men to fight in Afghanistan’s Nuristan and Kunar provinces. He is officially retired but reports to an ISI office in Chitral and receives a monthly stipend. For the ISI, General Yusef and his privatized peers are the perfect tools to help destabilize Afghanistan, since they don’t officially work for the ISI.

General Yusef was responsible for procuring some of the fighters based at a training camp in Chitral that was the source of a spate of attacks on U.S. bases. The ISI, meanwhile, was responsible for the camp’s very existence. In late 2006, Taliban and insurgent attacks on U.S. forces were escalating along the northern Afghan-Pakistani border. CIA officers stationed in northeast Afghanistan began to receive raw intelligence that a small but effective training camp had opened across the border in Chitral. The camp was run by the terrorist group Laishka-e-Taiba (LeT), which had been formed in the late 1990s by the ISI as a proxy force of jihadists to fight hundreds of miles to the east against the Indian government in Kashmir, the province over which India and Pakistan have been fighting for 60 years.

After the U.S invaded and occupied Afghanistan in the wake of 9/11, it demanded that Islamabad stop supporting LeT. The fighters, many of them Afghans from Nuristan Province, filtered back from Kashmir to their homes in Nuristan or settled just across the border from Nuristan in Pakistan’s Chitral and Dir districts. By 2005, however, the LeT network was alive and well again, this time in Chitral, and the Pakistanis were apparently redirecting their old proxies at the new foe right next door. Insurgents were being driven at night from the Chitral training camp to a Pakistan army outpost in Pakistani trucks, their flatbeds covered and the headlights turned off. Once at the outpost, they were given Chinese-made weapons, mostly small arms and automatic rifles, and sent on separate mountain trails into Afghanistan to attack Americans.

Despite the mounting evidence that their Pakistani counterparts could not be trusted, American intelligence attempted to take action against insurgents sheltering on the Pakistani side of the border. But on at least two occasions, they were apparently thwarted by interference from elements within the Pakistani military or the ISI who were sympathetic to the insurgents.

In December 2006, a few months after reports about the LeT camp in Chitral had begun trickling in, a team of roughly 20 CIA and Afghan paramilitary officers drove pickup trucks from a CIA base in Chitral to an Afghan border post. They parked their vehicles and struck out on foot through small goat trails back over the border into Pakistan. It was nearly 2 a.m and all the men were outfitted with night-vision goggles, Kevlar helmets and vests, and plenty of automatic weapons. Their target was a Pakistani mullah named Hari Yusef. The CIA believed he was an IED expert, and used his compound in the Pakistani border town of Arandu as a safe house for dozens of insurgents.

But when the team kicked in the front gate to Mullah Yusef’s mud-walled compound and entered, they found nothing. Neither Yusef nor any fighting-age men were there. They conducted a search, but left empty-handed within a half-hour. All they accomplished was burning a small footbridge that Yusef’s men had used to cross the Kunar River into Afghanistan out of sight of the official border post.

Also in 2006, while Haji Muhammed was still with Taliban leader Siraj Haqqani, CIA officers at a Pakistani military garrison in Miran Shah, North Waziristan, attempted to capture Haqqani. Siraj’s father, Jalaluddin, had grown too sick and weak to lead an insurgency. His son, however, had developed into a dangerous Taliban commander. Much as his father had done to the Soviets 20 years earlier, Siraj, with Haji Muhammed’s help, was punishing foreign troops inside Afghanistan with effective guerrilla attacks. The CIA had long known about a mosque and madrassa that the Haqqanis used as a headquarters in Miran Shah. The CIA readied a plan to raid the mosque when surveillance indicated Siraj Haqqani was present.

The CIA plan required approval of a Pakistan Army commander in Peshawar. But there was never any Pakistani response, which killed the plan.

This refusal to cooperate, however, was no longer a surprise to American operatives. A year earlier, it had been. The CIA’s first attempt to raid Haqqani, in 2005, had netted nothing. CIA officers discovered that an ISI officer had warned Haqqani in advance about the raid.

“Our guys couldn’t believe it,” the former CIA officer told me. “CIA had worked on this thing for some time, and the son of a bitch tipped Haqqani off.” They presented their evidence to the ISI general in charge, who responded with embarrassment and apologies. “He told us that they were punishing the officer, but all we could verify is that he was no longer working with us. He could have been thrown in prison, or he could have been sent to another field office. We had no way of knowing.”

The frustrated intelligence officers of Afghanistan and Pakistan may finally be getting some traction in Washington. While they have long been telling their superiors back home that there is a problem, their bosses seem to have chosen to believe that any Pakistani aid to the Taliban was the work of a few rogue officers and not policy. But the recent disclosure that the White House was considering giving CIA officers based in Afghanistan more freedom to operate unilaterally — that is, without Pakistani approval — is a result of accumulating intelligence reports such as the one about the LeT camp and reports about retired officers such as Yusef.

The U.S. recently announced plans to send 100 military trainers to the Pakistani frontier to aid the Pakistanis in the fight against al-Qaida. But recent American proposals to enter the Tribal Areas with U.S. troops, and to increase CIA efforts inside Pakistan, have been rebuffed by Pakistan’s President Musharraf. He told Newsweek in January that Americans would “curse the day they came here” if they crossed the border without Pakistani permission. He continued, “I know American troops. I know our troops. This is not easy. American troops don’t have any magic wands. Our troops, who are the locals, who understand groups and customs, are very hardy. Our troops can go on roti and water. American troops would need chocolate.”

The outlook seems bleak for any real cooperation from the Pakistanis in stopping cross-border attacks. But in the end the Americans actually derive some benefit, however small, from the fact that the Musharraf regime is pursuing its own agenda. Sometimes the needs of the Americans and the Pakistanis coincide.

Haji Muhammed explained to me that when fighting rekindled along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border in late 2002, the two main branches of the Taliban had slightly differing goals. The foreign-led fighters, though they were aiding the Afghan fighters looking to take back their country from the U.S., were really focused on the “Far-Enemy,” training for terrorism missions against the West. The ISI-led Taliban were focused primarily on attacking the Americans inside Afghanistan, the “Near-Enemy.”

Of late, however, the foreign-led Taliban factions in the Tribal Areas, the ones believed to shelter al-Qaida’s Arab leadership, have begun focusing more attention on destabilizing Islamabad than Kabul. Now Pakistani intelligence has reason to work with the Americans, at least when it comes to some jihadis, including those known locally as “the Arabs.”

Many of these insurgents were once aligned with the ISI, but no more. “The Arabs no longer trust the ISI,” Muhammed told me. “They refuse to let the ISI know where they are because they are afraid the ISI will sell them out to the Americans.” So while the ISI continues aiding Pashtun Taliban insurgents in North Waziristan, as long as those insurgents keep focusing their activities across the Afghan border, they are now simultaneously fighting other Talibs farther to the north.

The Pakistani government is particularly concerned with Baitullah Mehsud, whom both Musharraf and the CIA have identified as responsible for Benazir Bhutto’s assassination in December. Mehsud, who operates in South Waziristan, is, like Haji Muhammed, a former lieutenant to Jalaluddin Haqqani. When he fought under Haqqani, he received ISI aid. He became the head of a Taliban group with branches in five of the seven Tribal Areas, which the ISI allowed to operate unimpeded as long as their military actions were directed at Americans in Afghanistan. Now, however, since Mehsud has become a threat to Islamabad’s stability, Pakistani authorities are far more dedicated to killing him than they are to catching Osama bin Laden. The ISI and the Pakistani army are now at war with a powerful, many-tendriled insurgent band they helped to create. The ISI’s history of double-dealing has come back to haunt it.

Read the original here

Source: http://www.salon.com/2008/03/10/taliban/

Who's In Charge?

By Matthew Cole

Editor's Note: This story appears in the Oct. 8 2007 edition of ESPN The Magazine.

SCOTT BORAS wants you to know that it's not all about the money. For baseball's most successful capitalist, money flows from performance. And performance is the result of talent plus information. Boras supplies both: His information aids his talent, and his talent performs. And because of that, Boras is a very rich man. Five-percent-skim-of-$2-billion rich. Prime-seats-in-Anaheim-Los-Angeles-San-Diego-San-Francisco-and-Oakland rich. An-Orange-County-mountaintop-mansion-with-a-clear-view-of-the-Pacific rich.

Boras knows there are 252 million reasons you probably hate him already. He knows nobody roots for a man who negotiates between millionaires and billionaires. If you follow the conventional wisdom about him -- and he figures you do -- you believe he's a greedy snake-oil salesman, the Darth Vader of Baseball, the Ruination of the National Pastime.

He knows you blame him for your $65 ticket, your $20 parking fee and your $8 beer, but especially for spiriting your favorite player away from your favorite team over a few million dollars and a no-trade clause.

Scott Boras

The offseason is Scott Boras' time to be in the spotlight.

In three decades as a baseball agent -- he still does only baseball -- the 54-year-old Boras has made your favorite player his player, a valued member of the Scott Boras All-Stars. He rents his players out to individual clubs for the most money the market will bear, but he wants you to know that he does so with the intention of making sure each member of his club plays longer and better than those who don't get with the program. The Tigers genuflected before him and came away with Pudge RodriguezMagglio Ordonez and Kenny Rogers -- and look who made it to the World Series last year. The Red Sox? They have six Boras guys, including Jason Varitek and Daisuke Matsuzaka, and the club is headed for its fourth postseason in five years. The Yankees? Team Boras¹ franchise player is their third baseman. For now.

See, from his perch high above the Pacific Ocean, Scott Boras isn't ruining baseball. He's running it.

BEFORE HE drove a Range Rover or authored the richest contract in pro sports history, Boras milked cows and drove a tractor on his father's dairy farm in Elk Grove, Calif., in the flatlands south of Sacramento. He wasn't even the best athlete in his family; that was older brother Jim Jr., who was all-state in football. Scott grew up dreaming of baseball, which in the rural America of the 1960s was still the beloved national sport. He was a second baseman, just good enough to keep the Dream alive. He was small, slow and suspect in the field. But he batted .288 in his four-year minor league career, not too shabby for a kid who spent his off-seasons studying industrial pharmacology at the University of the Pacific. Baseball wouldn't last forever, not for a guy with bum knees and cement hands. Marketing new drugs and medical treatments -- there was a future in that.

"Stay in school, Boras," he heard somebody growl during batting practice one day in 1976. "You're not that good." The voice belonged to the chain-smoking manager of the Lakeland Tigers. Boras, playing for the St. Petersburg Cardinals, was chasing the Class-A Florida State League batting crown, but the Tigers had an authentic star second baseman in Lou Whitaker. "You can't take him, Boras. He's better than you." Boras knew the voice was right. He was hard work, but Whitaker was talent. And talent always wins. Boras struck out three times that day. He didn't win the batting crown. The Dream died. He hung up his spikes and went to law school at Pacific, although he still collected a salary from the Cubs during his first year, while recovering from his third knee surgery.

Had a knack for negotiation, it turns out.

His friends and teammates already knew that, and they figured their buddy in law school could help them sell their careers. First it was a Sacramento kid named Mike Fischlin, then Keith Hernandez, a budding star for the Cardinals.

Boras was just helping out a few friends, including his old spring-training roommate, Claude Crockett, who'd turned him on to James Brown and Luther Vandross. After getting his law degree, in 1982, Boras hung out a shingle as a medical lawyer representing new products. He also discovered that selling ballplayers was just like selling a new drug: Armed with the right data, he could set the price. He held his ground, sold hard and got his buddies paid. Buckets and bags of money.

So he changed careers and made baseball his business. He focused on top prospects heading into the amateur draft, and in 1984 he got pitcher Tim Belcher $150,000 when few signing bonuses had reached six figures since the draft's inception in 1965. He exploited a series of loopholes that eventually drove bonuses into the millions of dollars, driving owners to distraction. But money wasn't his only motive. This was also about baseball, about pure love for the perfect Greg Maddux cut fastball or Bernie Williams gliding catch. Boras needed everyone to see just how good his team was.

And he loved to find raw talent. That's how he happened to be in Monterrey, Mexico, in the summer of 1992, for the World Junior Baseball Championships. He was there to see a Brazilian pitching prospect, but instead he spotted the kid. He looks like a German shepherd puppy, Boras thought. Hands and feet too big for his body. The kid, of course, was a tall, lanky, 16-year-old shortstop from Miami named Alex Rodriguez.

Boras says he knew Rodriguez would be a superstar the first time they spoke. The agent told the kid he used to be a ballplayer too, but his Dream had died, and now he represented ballplayers. All he wanted was a few minutes to explain why Rodriguez should think about getting ready for his Dream.

Because he might need help with that. Young A-Rod wanted information: "What's Ken Griffey Jr. like? What makes him such a great hitter?" He was voracious, like Boras, and precocious. Usually prospects were shy, unable to comprehend their futures. Not this kid. He trusted the information. Filed it away. Consumed it. After four hours of talking in a Mexican hotel lobby, Boras had to send the kid to bed. "Let's meet again," Rodriguez said.

If this kid was destined to break the big records, the ones that hold for decades, he'd have to be strong, flexible, indefatigable. Boras could keep him healthy, help him handle the Dream.

As a former player, Boras believed that owners didn't invest enough in their talent, their product. Teams treated players like replaceable parts. They had pitchers and shortstops do the same training, the same lifting and stretching. It didn't make sense. The teams didn't start teaching players how to stay healthy and fit until they were men, which shaved years off performance. Not for this kid, Boras told himself.

ESPN The Magazine

A-Rod would serve as the template for a new, full-service division of the organization Boras had been gradually building. It was like a franchise of his own, helping him locate the talent, sign it and protect it. The men he had first helped -- his old teammates and friends -- came to work for him. (Today, the Boras Corporation employs 38 people in its two-story headquarters in Newport Beach, Calif., and has 35 others stationed around the world. At its core are guys like Fischlin, who scouts the minors; former major league pitcher Bill Caudill and shortstop Kurt Stillwell, who scout high schools and colleges and help Boras drive up those bonuses; and another ex-pitcher, Jeff Musselman, who serves as head of operations.) Boras could send his guys far and wide, trust them to track the talent when and where he couldn't and to recruit players away from other agents. He sent them all over the country and the world, from the Pacific Northwest to the Dominican Republic, New Jersey to Japan.

He needed more and better information to stay a step ahead in an increasingly crowded field, so in the late 1980s he created a new division and staffed it with statisticians and economists. They helped him seduce the talent -- not with money but with information, lots of it. Boras knows it doesn't sound sexy, doesn't sound very baseball. But to the kid in that Mexican hotel lobby, or to a veteran pitcher thinking about switching leagues, information can be sexier than money. Boras' experts built him a database with every stat since 1871 mixed with every game since 1956. He wanted visual box scores, a way to recall every at-bat or pitch by each player on Team Boras. His geeks gave it to him, on five servers with four terabytes of space. Nearly every game from the last three years lives, digitally, on his humming computers in the basement of his headquarters.

It's like a situation room at the Pentagon, with dozens of flat-screens showing bits of data streaming across them. For kids who are living the Dream, to see their achievements and future in this context is, well, sexy.

Take A-Rod. Boras claims that at age 32, Rodriguez has the body and flexibility of a 25-year-old.

Imagine adding seven years to your career, Boras tells his new kids. Imagine what history you can make with those years. Boras shows them the batting cages and the private gym. This is an institute, not some spa. Each member of Team Boras gets a dedicated program designed by Steve Odgers, the former White Sox conditioning director and decathlete, who has a neck the width of an oak tree, a guy with 13 years of training data etched in journals. Odgers gets prospects when they're just out of high school and puts them through a year-round program designed specifically for each player -- because a relief pitcher is not the same as a second baseman. He even teaches them yoga. Show me a team that can do all that.

Throughout the year, Boras dispatches Odgers and four other trainers around the country to check in on A-Rod, Dice-K, Pudge and the rest. It's Odgers who tells teams what program the players should follow. Boras knew he couldn't call trainers himself -- they'd never listen to a moneyman, but one of their own, that's a different story. And if a team's trainer squawks about outside interference, Boras might pick up the phone and call the GM.

"This is about durability," he'll say. "This kid can play until he's 40." The fans in the stands know only about the contracts -- Rodriguez to the Rangers for 252 mil will do that -- but Boras wants you to know it goes beyond that. When he agreed to represent Barry Bonds, in 2000, he got Bonds to agree to meet with him six times a year, one-on-one, to talk about hitting. Boras promised to get Bonds plenty of money, and in return he wanted one of the greatest hitters ever to tell him everything he knows about his craft. He wanted to learn what goes on in the mind of a man who could hit .350 and crush the ball 450 feet. Maybe he juiced, maybe he didn't -- doesn't change what he knows about pitchers and hitting. You might ask, Shouldn't a guy this controlling, a guy with a degree in pharmacology, know all about what his players are putting into their bodies? Boras professes boredom with this line of questioning, waves it off with an obscenity. Then he notes that Bonds always had his own training program (and, in fact, left Boras in 2004 for the Beverly Hills Sports Council).

But when Bonds was at the peak of his powers, he'd come over to Boras' house and share his hitting secrets. That's how Boras found out that to develop better timing, Bonds sometimes swings off a tee or takes batting practice with his right eye closed, in an effort to sharpen his left eye and give himself an extra millisecond to see a pitch.

Sure, Boras would use that information to seduce some young hotshot in a hotel lobby, but really he was doing it for himself. He goes to a ballpark nearly every day, sometimes twice a day. He'll watch an Angels afternoon game in Anaheim and be at Dodger Stadium that night. He'll catch parts of another 12 games on TV, texting back and forth with his players, his teammates. That's the part most people never seem to mention -- how much of a fan he is.

In between, he'll slip out to another ballpark to see his kids, his actual kids. Boras and his wife, Jeanette, have two teenage sons who play. The older one, Shane, is a high school second baseman, built like his dad was at that age, slight and undersized. And this Boras can hit, too. Dad knows. He sees all the games. There he is, video camera in hand, filming each of Shane's at-bats, not for training purposes (the kid has high school coaches for that) or for scouting purposes (Boras knows these guys aren't that good) but for the sheer love of it. He goes to watch his sons play just like his dad watched him. He sees Shane fly open and overswing, a strikeout. But by his third at-bat -- last licks with two on, two out, down by two -- Shane cracks a two-run single. Scott Boras stands with all the other Catholic League parents, cheering for the clutch hit. "That's a pretty special day for a dad," he says.

IT'S NOT just about the money, because Boras already has more than he'll ever need. Money is just the way to keep score, the only real way to measure his victories. He wants to test his team, to prove his franchise is worth the 30 years he has put into it. He wants the game to come to him. And with 140 players on his roster, and the ability to place them pretty much where he sees fit, that's no stretch.

So one day he picks up the phone and hears that raspy voice, the one that back in 1976 said, "You're not that good, Boras." The voice is older now, there's even more gravel in it, enough to drive a tractor over. It's the voice that has commanded top-notch clubs in Pittsburgh and Florida and now Detroit. Jim Leyland took care of Boras' kids in Miami, in 1997, and Team Boras helped deliver a ring. He hears Leyland on the line and remembers Kevin Brown, Alex Fernandez, Charles Johnson and Robb Nen. Leyland called just before taking the Tigers job in October 2005. "I need an arm. Who fits?" he asked. "Kenny Rogers," Boras told him. Shortly after Leyland was hired, Rogers was signed. From 119 losses to the World Series they went, with three Boras players (Rogers, Pudge and Ordóñez) doing the heavy lifting.

Now Leyland needs help again, and that's why he's calling. "My pitching stinks," he says. "We need more arms." Boras doesn't reply right away. He has learned how to listen and, if asked, to parcel out information. Eventually he reminds Leyland that the Tigers have a couple of flamethrowers smoldering in their farm system. The kids aren't on Team Boras, but they're out there. Boras can call up their scouting reports anytime he wants. He's got the information. And information is power.

Leyland refuses to talk about Boras; through a Tigers PR rep, he denies having any relationship with him. In the quiet of the clubhouse, though, Leyland's players will tell you he does. "They talk all the time," Pudge says. And why not? What team has the most talent, and what team has the most information?

Team Boras. October rosters are dotted with his guys. A-Rod is poised to opt out of his contract for an even bigger one; it'll be the story of the year.

Don't even ask about the minor leaguers, names you'll know in a few years.

One just signed for a record amount, a kid pitcher named Rick Porcello, barely past his prom, who got a $7.28 million bonus from the Tigers. Where are my arms?

Boras wants you to know it's not all about the money. He grew up on a farm and left so he could reach for the Dream. He played for next to nothing and paid with his knees. But he had to earn a living. He knows you may never believe that even if he had stayed a medical lawyer, he'd still be at the ballpark as often as humanly possible. He knows you may never believe how much he loves the game you think he's ruining. But he believes it.

And he's the one keeping score.

See original article here

Source: http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?i...

In Italy, CIA Agents Are Undone by Their Cell Phones

The CIA needs to get a Q. James Bond's gadget guru surely would have warned the agency about how easy it is to track calls made via cell phone. Now 25 of its agents are facing trial in absentia in Milan, Italy, this summer — undone by their pathetic ignorance of technology. It seems that cellular data exposed their operation to carry out the "extraordinary rendition" (read: illegal abduction) of an Egyptian cleric suspected of terrorist involvement from a Milan street in 2003.Cell phones communicate with nearby transmission towers when making and receiving calls. As many criminals know, tower location is recorded with the billing data. The spooks apparently didn't realize this and left a trail of cellular footprints at the crime scene. When an Italian prosecutor pulled the records of phones in the area at the time, the plot became apparent. He was able to identify the agents (by alias), where they had stayed, and even calls they made to northern Virginia (where CIA headquarters is), the US consulate in Milan, a US Air Force base in Aviano, and each other. The cleric, Abu Omar, has been released. But should the operatives — likely back in the States — be found guilty, they won't be able to travel anywhere Interpol operates. Maybe they can telecommute.

How They Did It:

Coordinating the abduction

The CIA's snatch team used unsecured mobile handsets to communicate during the kidnapping. By zeroing in on phones in the area that were unusually active at the time of the grab — many calling each other — authorities were able to identify the handsets involved. Soon they knew the agents' aliases, where they had stayed, and who else they had called.

Checking in with headquarters

One of the agents participating in the abduction used his cell phone to call Robert Lady, the CIA station chief in Milan. This provided Italian investigators with the first undeniable link to CIA involvement. Lady has been forced to leave Italy and is now among those facing charges.

Planning the escape

Several phones involved in the operation called an Air Force base in Aviano, both before and immediately after the event. Among the numbers dialed: the mobile phone of a commanding officer at the base. This revealed the getaway. Italian authorities believe the cleric was held at Aviano before being flown to Egypt, where he claims to have been tortured.

Read the original here

Making A-Rod more like Mike

By Matthew Cole

Editor's Note: This story appears in the May 21 edition of ESPN The Magazine.

Scott Boras darts into his field-level executive box at Angel Stadium to tell his staff to switch the TV channel. "A-Rod just hit another one," he says. Someone finds the Yankees-Devil Rays game as Rodriguez rounds third base, reaching 14 home runs in a season faster than anyone else in history.

"What was it?" another assistant asks. "Two-oh pitch high in the zone," Boras replies, his eyes glued to the replay, his finger pointing to the flat-screen. "There it is."

The Newport Beach-based Boras Corp. is fully invested in A-Rod's transformation. Boras won't comment on what his superstar client has done to change his game plan, but he does admit to using another superagent as a model on which to reshape A-Rod's image.

"I admired David Falk," Boras says, referring to the man who helped Michael Jordan dominate the NBA the way A-Rod dominated baseball in April. "He had the greatest athlete and helped guide him to become an icon."

The Falk-Jordan footprint is one Boras is happy to follow, especially when it comes to PR. Boras notes that Jordan was a media master, never giving reporters or opponents ammunition to use against him. It was Falk who was the man behind The Man.

"Michael Jordan never talked about himself other than as a basketball player," Boras says.

It's all part of the plan. Recently, when Rodriguez was asked about his contract, he looked straight at the writer and said, "A few years ago, I'd have given you a three-paragraph quote on that, but not anymore." After his 14th home run, he offers reporters little insight. "I think hard work and grinding through it and supporting your teammates are the most important things," he tells the media scrum.

No more long, rambling self-reflections about his psyche. This pleases Boras. Better that A-Rod's transformation be a mystery, the agent says; the fewer tabloid stories about his relationship with Derek Jeter or his annual salary or his postseason struggles, the better.

Scrolling his BlackBerry for A-Rod's latest stat line (4-for-5, 2 HRs, .400 batting average), Boras can't help but smile. "We're on the same page now," he says.

Source: http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?i...

Blowback

 

When a Muslim cleric was snatched off a street in Milan and flown to Egypt to be interrogated and tortured in February 2003, it set off an investigation that has led the CIA, for the first time ever, to be charged by a friendly government for criminal wrongdoing.  Now, faced with the possibility of American agents going to prison, how has the CIA responded?  By turning on its own

By Matthew Cole

Ten minutes before noon on February 17, 2003, a prominent cleric named Osama Mustafa Hasan Nasr left his apartment in northern Milan for midday prayers at a nearby mosque. He was a big, round-shouldered 41-year-old Egyptian with a dark beard that fell to his chest, and he wore a black winter jacket with a white tunic that hung down underneath. Nasr—better known as Abu Omar—walked south through the working-class neighborhood of Zona Maciachini and down Via Guerzoni, the high concrete walls on both sides of the street covered with concert posters and ads. This was a route he knew well, having walked it almost every day, at the same time, for the past three years. He passed parked cars, shabby apartment houses, and a few pizzerias. He passed a side street and a mother with two small girls on the far side of the street. He saw two men standing next to a white van parked on the sidewalk, its back doors facing him. That’s strange, he thought. I just saw those men outside my apartment.

And then he disappeared.

At that moment, Robert Seldon Lady was sitting in a café across town, having coffee with a friend. Lady was the CIA’s Milan chief and a twenty-one-year veteran of the agency. He was handsome, with a goatee and a thin, delicate nose that made him look much younger than his forty-nine years; his athlete’s body had only recently begun to show signs of middle age. Bob Lady was a devout agency man, a former cop who’d been recruited in the early 1980s to join Bill Casey’s CIA and help subvert Communism—a threat he had come to know and despise as an American kid growing up in Honduras under the spectre of Fidel Castro. By most accounts, Lady was an exemplary operative. He’d been in his current job for just two years but had already helped dismantle several terrorist cells in northern Italy; Milan, under his guidance, had become one of the CIA’s most productive European stations. “Bob was an excellent liaison officer,” said a former senior CIA official. “He was an ex-cop, could get along with anyone, and had terri?c language skills. He served the agency well.”

Meetings like today’s—with Bruno Megale, chief of Milan’s antiterrorism police (known as DIGOS)—were crucial to that success. They allowed Lady to gather and share intelligence in an informal setting and to talk strategy with key players in Italy’s counterterrorism community, and they also gave him an opportunity to prove himself worthy of their trust. In fact, Megale and Lady had become good friends during their time working together. After each major terrorist bust—three active cells had been uncovered in the past two years alone—they made a point of going out for a big dinner to celebrate.

Mostly, though, they got together to talk about Abu Omar, whom they both believed to be one of Italy’s most dangerous terrorists. Lady had been among the ?rst to identify Omar as a rising star in Italy’s Islamist community, a man who had apparently sent as many as a dozen people to ?ght and run suicide missions in Iraq. Omar, it turned out, was a middle-class, college-educated militant with, Lady believed, strong links to Al Qaeda, Ansar al-Islam, and the Egyptian terrorist organization (led by the Blind Sheik, Omar Abdel-Rahman) known as Al-Gama’a al-Islamiyya. He’d spent time in an Egyptian prison for his affiliation with Gama’a, which planned the assassination of Egyptian president Anwar Sadat in 1981. From 1983 through the early 1990s, Omar aided the mujahideen in Afghanistan and Pakistan and then spent several years in Albania helping Islamic charities front militant groups during the Bosnian war. He arrived in Italy in 1997 seeking asylum, because he was still wanted in Egypt for his Gama’a membership, and soon became the protégé of Al Qaeda’s most senior member in Italy, who groomed Omar to be the Imam of the country’s most radical mosque. The CIA thought that he had become a liaison for Europe’s Islamist underground railroad, which ?elded recruits, facilitated travel, and encouraged young men to ?ght jihad on battle?elds in Kashmir, Chechnya, Afghanistan, and later Iraq. He also gave frequent ?ery sermons encouraging attacks on American consulates and embassies in Italy.

Clearly, Omar needed to be taken down, and starting in late 2001, Lady and Megale had put their respective agencies to work, surveilling his activities, tapping his phones, and working informants. Lady gave Megale a transmitter that was hooked up to a pin-sized microphone the CIA had tucked into an Islamic text in Omar’s mosque and that would, over the course of the next year, provide a wealth of valuable information. (Megale marveled at the technological sophistication Lady brought to the operation. The CIA was an omnipotent force, Megale told friends, and Bob Lady was its charming face.)

But today, as they spoke over coff­ee, there was something Lady couldn’t tell Megale: A team of CIA officers were tracking Omar as he walked from his home to noon prayers, intending to abduct him, put him on a plane, and send him to Egypt for “questioning,” and that the only reason Lady had scheduled today’s meeting in the ?rst place was to keep an eye on Megale, in case something went wrong.

In fairness, it was a plan Lady never believed in. He thought the intelligence being gathered would, in a few months, be enough to ensure Omar’s arrest and conviction; why put a promising joint investigation (not to mention Lady’s relationship with Megale) at risk by doing something as provocative as kidnapping a man o­ the street in a major Italian city? Progress was being made; Lady was preaching patience.

But Lady’s superiors had something else in mind. His immediate boss, Je­ff Castelli, pushed to move ahead with the operation—going against the direct recommendation of not only Lady but also the Counterterrorist Center, the CIA division tasked with extraordinary rendition. Ultimately, Castelli’s plan was approved by the brass at Langley and SISMI, the CIA’s Italian counterpart. According to a senior CIA officer directly involved, the week before the rendition, CIA director George Tenet met national-security adviser Condoleezza Rice in the West Wing, where Rice approved the mission and fretted over how she was going to tell President Bush.

Once the order was given, Lady wasn’t the type to disobey. “The CIA is the vanguard of democracy,” he told me. “It was the greatest job I ever had.” He had one year left before retirement; this would be his last major operation. He and his wife were about to buy a villa in the Italian countryside, near the Alps—the plan was to move there, relax for a few months, and then start making some real money as a private security consultant. Why put all that at risk by raising a stink now? So Lady chose the time (Omar’s regular noon walk to prayer) and the place (Via Guerzoni, which was protected from view by ten-foot-high walls). And because Lady was so close with Megale, he knew precisely when DIGOS would not be monitoring Omar’s movements. Whether Lady agreed with the plan or not didn’t matter anymore; his ?ngerprints were all over it.

Lady looked across the table at Megale and checked his watch: a few minutes past noon. It was time. He sat back in his chair and waited for Abu Omar to disappear.

***

Abu Omar stepped o­ the curb, out into the street, to make his way around the van. A man with blond hair and black sunglasses stopped him and started talking in Italian.

“I do not speak Italian,” Omar said. “English?”

“Can I see your residency papers?” the man asked.

Omar retrieved some forms from his jacket. The officer inspected them and appeared to make a phone call. Suddenly, the van doors opened and two masked men dressed in black jumped out, pepper sprayed Omar, and shoved him into the back of the vehicle as it sped away. His head was forced down against the floor, a knee was pressed into his lower back. “Keep still or I’ll kill you,” he was told.

Five hours later, the van pulled into an American air base north of Venice. Several English-speaking interrogators stripped o­ Omar’s clothes, put him in blue overalls, and photographed him. Then they started asking questions: What are your connections to Al Qaeda? Did you send recruits to ?ght in Iraq? What is your relationship with Islamic radicals in Albania?

Omar said nothing. The interrogators punched him in the stomach and slapped him across the face. Then they wrapped his head in a sticky bandage, cut some breathing holes into it, and put him on a Learjet.

When he landed seven hours later, he was in Cairo. “Welcome home, Osama,” an Egyptian interior-ministry official said, using Omar’s formal name. “If you help us in Milan, we will send you back to Italy in forty-eight hours. If you do not, you will bear the consequences of your decision.”

***

Armando Spataro, a 58-year-old prosecutor and chief of Milan’s antiterror unit, took over the Omar case after news of the cleric’s whereabouts ?nally surfaced in April 2004, more than a year after he was kidnapped. A phone tap picked up a conversation between Omar and his wife, their ?rst contact in fourteen months. Omar had been released by Egyptian intelligence, and he quickly called his wife, laying out some of the particulars: He’d been kidnapped, taken by English- and Italian-speaking men, and put on a plane with an American flag on it.

“I was very close to dying,” Omar told his wife. “But I don’t think about death anymore…. I am deeply saddened because I wasn’t able to do what I had planned to do in Italy.”

Spataro wasn’t exactly shocked to learn that Omar had been rendered. He told me last May that he’d assumed all along the CIA had played a role in the operation—after all, as many as 200 men have been snatched in the years after September 11—but he also had a hunch that Italian intelligence officials had a hand in it as well. He intended to ?nd out. He considered this rendition a national embarrassment and a clear violation of Italian sovereignty and law—it was a kidnapping, in his eyes—which guaranteed Omar protection from deportation and the right to asylum. “Our system requires my office to open an investigation if there is reasonable belief that a crime has been committed,” he told me. “In this case, Omar’s phone call to his wife was what we needed to investigate.” In a less-than-subtle show of his toughness and determination, he also mentioned that he had run fourteen marathons and now planned to run another—in other words, his pursuit of Bob Lady and the CIA would not be ending anytime soon, no matter how heavy the political or diplomatic pressure got.

He began to build his case.

***

Eventually, Spataro located the young mother of two who saw Omar disappear into the van, and she would describe what she saw: a bearded Muslim man walking alone on Via Guerzoni; an Italian officer stopping the Muslim man; the Italian officer making a phone call; and two men in black jumping out and forcing the Muslim man into a van as he yelled for help.

The mention of the phone call would give Spataro his ?rst solid lead: He immediately sought the records of all calls made in the area at noon on February 17, and using mobile positioning—a technique that determines a caller’s location by pinpointing the cell tower the call was relayed through—he came up with a list of seventeen phones used on Via Guerzoni that day. The next step was ?nding out whom the phones belonged to. Spataro discovered that nearly all seventeen were registered to fake names or unwitting Italians; not one yielded a solid identi?cation. Each phone had been activated at around the same time and then deactivated not long after Omar’s disappearance.

His investigators also noticed that calls had been placed to Langley, Virginia—home to CIA headquarters—before, during, and immediately after Omar’s abduction.

Spataro then took all this cell-phone data and tried to determine where the abductors had stayed in Milan. It didn’t take him long. He found that the CIA team members had turned their phones on each morning when they woke up—which, in turn, transmitted a signal to cellular towers. It’s basic knowledge that as soon as a phone is switched on, it can be used to isolate its owner’s location. This careless mistake lit up the Abu Omar operation like a Christmas tree and helped Spataro trace the CIA team’s movements down to the minute—what hotels they slept in during their six weeks in Milan, where they were the moment Omar was kidnapped, where they took him after forcing him into the back of the van.

Once Spataro knew where the agents had been staying in Milan, he wanted their names. He checked the hotel registers for American guests between November 2002, when the CIA surveillance team ?rst arrived, and February 17, 2003, when Omar was taken. He discovered names on registers that were clearly aliases; and many of these names listed, as contact numbers, cell phones that had been used during the operation. Spataro then matched the names and phone numbers to rental cars, which led to passport photocopies and Visa and Diners Club cards…and six months after launching his investigation, Spataro had uncovered nearly every trick the CIA uses to facilitate its operations: credit card numbers, fake passport numbers, telephone numbers, addresses, even photos of agents—some of America’s most closely guarded secrets.

“It was a good op, but it was done sloppy,” said the former senior CIA official, with direct knowledge of the rendition. “The cell phones were the fuckup, just a terrible decision. If they had been my guys, I would have ?red their asses.”

There were levels and levels of sloppiness that even Spataro would never discover. The operation, it turns out, took much longer to complete than the CIA had planned, and as it dragged on, discipline on the eleven-member abduction team broke down. Two agents used their cell phones to call home. At least two others decided to use the trip for romantic encounters in rooms at some of Milan’s swankier hotels, like the Sheraton Diana Majestic and the Principe di Savoia, on the CIA’s dime. One team member, believed to be a freelance contractor, used his real name when checking in to hotels. Worst of all, Langley had given the team walkie-talkies to use for operational communications—a $20 solution that would have kept the operation airtight. (The former senior CIA official told me the agents felt the two-way radios “made them look too much like spies” when they were on Via Guerzoni and scrapped them for cell phones.)

“This was amateur hour with a bunch of Keystone Kops,” said former CIA officer Milt Bearden.

“They were told to stop using their phones and stop calling home, but they did it anyway,” said the former senior CIA official, who approved the plan. “The responsibility for this operation falls on COS [chief of station] Rome. This was Je­ Castelli’s operation from the beginning. He ran a very good station, but he had a history of not paying attention to details.” This former official also said that Castelli, a rising star and a skilled bureaucratic in?ghter, knew the rendition team was being sloppy with the phones but never alerted anyone in Langley. Of course, this operation was one that he—and CIA leadership—had been pushing for all along, to “show the wimps in the NSC and the House Intelligence Committee that the agency didn’t need help from foreign governments,” said the former official.

In the wake of this debacle, the CIA has promoted Jeff­ Castelli twice in three years, deep into senior management.

Bob Lady hasn’t been so lucky.

***

The cellular network Spataro uncovered would yield one more big break: One of the phones, he discovered, had been used to contact Bob Lady just moments after his coff­ee meeting with Bruno Megale. (Lady’s official cover was as a diplomat working from the U.S. consulate in Milan, and his cell phone was registered to the U.S. embassy in Rome.) Tracking Lady’s movements through cell-phone records, Spataro then found that Lady had traveled to Cairo for three weeks shortly after the rendition. When Spataro’s investigators raided Lady’s villa in mid-2005, they discovered his flight itinerary to Egypt, an e-mail from a former colleague telling him to flee Italy, and surveillance photos—one of which showed Omar a month before the rendition in the exact spot where he was later snatched.

“Bob should have been a minor ?gure in this operation,” said the former senior CIA official. “Unfortunately, that is not how things played out. It’s sad, really. He should not have put anything work-related on his home computer. That was just stupid.”

To make matters worse for Lady, Spataro revealed last May that he had a witness: Luciano Pironi, the blond-haired CIA asset and friend of Lady who had stopped Omar on the street and asked him for his residency papers. Pironi told Spataro that the rendition team had put itself in place to take Omar more than a dozen times in January and February, only to abort at the last minute due to unexpected pedestrians or patrolling police cars.

With Pironi’s testimony, Lady’s fate was sealed, and on June 24, 2005, he became one of twenty-?ve CIA officers eventually charged in connection with the kidnapping, marking the ?rst time the CIA had ever been criminally charged by a friendly government. Worse, Spataro publicly named all the officers involved and published the operational details. It was a massive embarrassment for the CIA, and it came at a time when the agency was trying to prove its worth in the wake of the September 11 attacks. The Omar operation was meant to be the post–September 11 crown jewel of CIA covert operations, proof that the CIA was still the world’s preeminent clandestine institution and the agency to do the president’s dirty work abroad. Though the White House has refused to comment on the case speci?cally or to elaborate on their rendition program generally, Spataro’s charges removed any doubt about the U.S. hand in human-rights violations and our complicity in the torturing of men who, like Omar, were sent to foreign countries for interrogation.

In the intelligence community, there is a name for the unintended consequences that result from a covert operation gone bad: blowback. “After we grabbed Omar, senior management went around the seventh floor of Langley bragging about this op,” the former senior CIA official involved told me. “They’re not bragging anymore.”

A few days earlier, Abu Omar had been in Milan, on his way to prayers, just another Monday afternoon. Now he was sitting in a small, dank room in Cairo with three Mukhabarat agents, his hands cu­ed behind his back. The interrogators asked him repeatedly about his recruiting network and which Al-Gama’a al-Islamiyya members were working with him in Milan. Omar sat impassively, saying nothing.

As Omar stonewalled, several Cairo-based CIA officers watched on a video monitor in a room nearby. During a break in questioning, the CIA officers off­ered to help break the impasse. They told the Egyptians a story—a story they picked up from a bug they had planted in Omar’s house—as a way of speeding things along. In the days before Omar was snatched, his youngest son, Ibrahim, had come to his father with a dilemma. He had gotten into a ?ght at school with a friend named Ahmed and felt great shame about it. “Tell me what to do, Father,” he had said. Omar had told his son that the Koran says ?ghting is wrong. “You cannot ?ght with Ahmed, Mish-Mish,” Omar told him. (Mish-mish means “sweet thing” in Arabic and was Omar’s pet name for his son.) “You must apologize to Ahmed. You must ask his forgiveness. This is the way of Islam.”

Armed with this story, the Egyptians reentered the cell. “We have a message for you from Mish-Mish,” they said. Omar’s eyes widened. “He says he has apologized to Ahmed. He says that he will not ?ght with Ahmed anymore.” Omar dropped his head to his chest and sobbed. Then he began to talk. And talk. He ended up talking through the night, telling them who in Milan was involved in his recruiting eff­orts and which Egyptians helped obscure his money transfers. Having gotten what they needed, the Americans went home and left Omar behind, in Egyptian custody.

That’s when the torture began. Omar was beaten and hung upside down. He was exposed to extreme heat and then dragged into a freezing-cold room. He was denied sleep and was forced to listen to hours and hours of music at ear-splitting levels. For months at a time, he was not permitted to bathe. He was subjected to a device the Mukhabarat calls the Mattress: He was tied to a wet mattress, his shoulders pinned by an agent sitting on a wooden chair, as electricity was ?red through the mattress coils. The former senior CIA official said the Egyptians were known to torture, but only after they got the information they wanted. “They’re a good intel service,” he said. “They use sedatives and psychological manipulation to get someone to talk. If they’re mad or you’re of no use—that’s when they get mean.”

Fourteen months later—still imprisoned, although never formally charged with a crime—Omar was told that he could return to Alexandria, where he was born. But ?rst he had to sign a statement saying that he came back to Egypt of his own volition, and that he had been treated well in captivity. Back in his cell, he asked the other incarcerated jihadis what he should do.

“No one leaves this prison alive,” they told him. “Sign the paper.”

But Omar didn’t follow the rules. Once he got out, he called his wife in Italy. He told her the truth about why they hadn’t spoken in more than a year. (This was the call that set the Spataro investigation in motion.) What he didn’t know was that his wife’s phone was tapped, and within three weeks of the phone call, he would be rearrested.

He’s been imprisoned ever since.

                            ***

Bob lady sits in a strip-mall café in Florida, his eyes scanning the room, his back to the wall, his ?ngers nervously stroking his graying mustache. He is alone now, three years into retirement, but he can’t shake the feeling that he is being watched. His wife of thirty years left him a week ago, tired of the constant moving, the unpredictable cash flow, the fear that some militant might seek revenge for her husband’s role in the kidnapping of Abu Omar. The house they bought in Italy has been seized by Spataro and will be con?scated if Lady is convicted. “I’ll probably be convicted,” he says. “But I won’t go to the trial, and I’ll never see Italy again.” All the antique furniture, the bottles of wine, the memories and mementos of their life together—it’ll all be seized by the Italian state.

“I don’t blame her,” Lady says of his wife’s decision. “She’s been living with a guy who is frustrated and powerless. I can’t take this stuff­ out on anyone, so she has to bear the load. It’s too much. Why should she have to deal with this?”

His “former employer” refuses to acknowledge that Lady was their man in Milan, that he opposed the operation from the start, that they overrode his objections, or anything else related to the case. Lady was the only officer who was retired when Spataro announced the charges (making him the perfect fall guy), and the only one with a contentious relationship with Jeff­ Castelli. Worse, another former CIA official told me, the agency’s leadership threatened Lady if he ever acknowledged his role in the rendition.

“The agency has told me to keep quiet and let this blow over,” Lady says. “But it’s not blowing over for me. I pay $4,000 a month on a mortgage to a house I can’t live in.” Each month he has to go to Langley for update meetings, but he’s not allowed to have a lawyer. “No one’s called me for support. No one has helped. I keep thinking, Fuck it, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Yet another former CIA officer, who knows Lady well, says the agency threw Lady under a bus. “Bob got screwed because he was a good soldier, a perfectly subservient CIA officer. The agency could have given him some funds so he could get his own lawyer. He’s retired, so they didn’t have to do anything. But they could have done something. He got fucked big-time.” One of Lady’s former superiors agrees. “To leave Bob hanging in the wind—that’s not right,” he says. “He deserves more than that.”

Lady sips espresso from a plastic cup and shakes his head. “Leaders used to protect those below from the top as they went up,” he says. “It’s a way of harnessing the loyalty of those they led. Now they protect the top. They manage down and step on anyone below. What happened to me—and it happened to many good people—is that I worked too hard. I was decent. The agency is dying. Even bureaucracies must die.”

Lady’s trial, which is likely set for this spring, will be held in absentia. All twenty-?ve CIA officers (along with an air-force officer) face up to four years in an Italian prison if convicted of kidnapping. Spataro o­ffered Lady a deal to stay out of prison and retain his house if Lady would testify against the agency. Lady passed. Testifying against the agency, despite the way he’s been treated, is not an option. “If I lose respect for the out?t,” he says, “then I lose respect for twenty-four years of my life.”

Spataro also brought charges against five Italian-intelligence officials, including the director of SISMI and his deputy. His attempt to link former prime minister Silvio Berlusconi to the rendition has so far fallen short, though not for lack of eff­ort. For Italy, the Omar scandal has been its version of the Iran-contra affair.

Abu Omar, however, doesn’t get a trial. He claims he’s innocent, but he doesn’t get a hearing, doesn’t have the right to speak publicly about what happened to him, doesn’t get to raise his children or sleep with his wife. He sits in a Cairo prison cell. And because the U.S. government used officers like Bob Lady to kidnap militants like Omar, we have turned patriots into criminals and terrorists into victims.

 For PDF, click here: Blowback

Search for Bin Laden at home

By Matthew Cole

Where in the world is Osama bin Laden? Uh ... try checking Google Earth. After Google recently updated its satellite images of parts of the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, much of the region still looked blotchy — the kind of low resolution that persists in coverage of, say, upstate New York. But several small squares (they stand out as off-color patches from 680 miles up) suddenly became as detailed as the images of Manhattan. These sectors happen to be precisely where the US govern­ment has been hunting for bin Laden and his deputy, Ayman al-Zawahiri.

Turns out, Google gets its images from many of the same satellite companies — DigitalGlobe, TerraMetrics, and others-that provide reconnaissance to US intelligence agencies. And when the CIA requests close-ups of the area around Peshawar in Pakistan's North-West Frontier Province, Google Earth reaps the benefits (although usually six to 18 months later). This is also why remote parts of Asia went hi-res after the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004 and the Kashmir earthquake in 2005.

Google doesn’t ask why resolution improves in particular locations. But the CIA believes bin Laden is holed up in the Hindu Kush mountain range-one of the most out-of-the-way places on Earth — and you can now see every house, school, and mosque in certain villages there. Keep your eyes peeled for a very tall guy with a long beard and an AK-47.

Images

Read article at Wired

Source: http://www.wired.com/2007/03/make-backdati...