For The Record  

FTR #563 A Tale of Two Heroes

Recorded August 13, 2006
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Revis­it­ing the tragic story of FBI Agent John O’Neill, the pro­gram high­lights his unsuc­cess­ful efforts at inter­dict­ing Al Qaeda oper­a­tions and details the mag­nif­i­cent work of his Lebanese-American col­league Ali Soufan. These are the “Two Heroes” in the title of the broad­cast. In charge of the FBI’s inves­ti­ga­tion of Al Qaeda, O’Neill died in the 9/11 attacks. Despite remark­able efforts in Yemen by both men in their inves­ti­ga­tion of the Al Qaeda bomb­ing of the USS Cole, their dis­cov­ery of infor­ma­tion about the impend­ing 9/11 attacks was never prop­erly uti­lized, due in con­sid­er­able mea­sure to the CIA’s fail­ure to share sur­veil­lance infor­ma­tion. That sur­veil­lance infor­ma­tion led to the dis­cov­ery that two of the atten­dees at a Malaysia meet­ing of Al Qaeda oper­a­tives had trav­eled to the United States. The arti­cle read here attrib­utes the fail­ure to inter­a­gency jeal­ousy and a Jus­tice Depart­ment rul­ing dubbed “The Wall” that blocked proper infor­ma­tion shar­ing among intel­li­gence and law enforce­ment per­son­nel. How much of the fail­ure was due to incom­pe­tence and how much to the activ­ity of a Fifth Col­umn is a mat­ter of con­jec­ture. It is Mr. Emory’s opin­ion that there was plenty of both in con­junc­tion with 9/11. (For more about John O’Neill, see—among other programs—FTR#’s 310, 326, 336. In par­tic­u­lar, lis­ten­ers are encour­aged to lis­ten to side “A” of FTR#310, recorded in early July of 2001 and broad­cast on WFMU on the evening of 9/10/2001, between 6 and 7pm. WFMU is right across the river from the site of the World Trade Cen­ter. The morn­ing fol­low­ing the broad­cast, O’Neill died in the attack on the World Trade Cen­ter. Click to hear the pro­gram as it was broad­cast on the evening of 9/10/2001.

Pro­gram High­lights Include: Ali Soufan’s clever manip­u­la­tion of cap­tive Al Qaeda oper­a­tives in order to fer­ret out the truth; open ani­mos­ity and jeal­ousy on the part of the CIA toward John O’Neill; sym­pa­thy on the part of the Yemeni author­i­ties toward the jihadis; the con­vic­tion on the part of Al Qaeda cap­tives that Israel was behind the 9/11 attacks; attempts by the CIA to recruit Ali Soufan to “The Dark Side;” the dis­cred­it­ing of John O’Neill.

1. Intro­duc­ing the two heroes for whom the pro­gram is named, the broad­cast opens with the bomb­ing of the USS Cole, inves­ti­gated by the late John O’Neill and Ali Soufan. The for­mer was in charge of the FBI’s inves­ti­ga­tion of Al Qaeda and the lat­ter was his “right-hand man.” “Octo­ber 12, 2000, in the deep-water port of Aden, Yemen, the U.S.S. Cole, a guided-missile destroyer weigh­ing eighty-three hun­dred tons, was docked at a fuelling buoy. The Cole, which cost a bil­lion dol­lars to On build, was one of the most sur­viv­able ships in the U.S. Navy, with sev­enty tons of armor, a hull that could with­stand an explo­sion of fifty-one thou­sand pounds per square inch, and stealth tech­nol­ogy designed to make the ship less vis­i­ble to radar. As the Cole filled its tank, a fiber­glass fish­ing boat con­tain­ing plas­tic explo­sives approached. Two men brought the skiff to a halt amid­ships, smiled and waved, then stood at atten­tion. The sym­bol­ism of this moment was exactly what Osama bin Laden, the leader of Al Qaeda, had hoped for when he approved a plan to attack an Amer­i­can naval ves­sel. The destroyer rep­re­sented the West, bin Laden said later. The small boat rep­re­sented Muham­mad. The shock wave from the blast shat­tered win­dows onshore. Two miles away, peo­ple thought there had been an earth­quake. The fire­ball that rose from the water­line swal­lowed a sailor who had leaned over the rail to see what the men in the skiff were up to. The blast opened a hole, forty feet by forty feet, in the port side of the ship, tear­ing apart sailors belowdecks who were wait­ing for lunch. Sev­en­teen of them per­ished, and thirty-nine were wounded. Sev­eral sailors swam through the blast hole to escape the flames. The great man-of-war looked like a gut­ted ani­mal.”
(“The Agent: Did the C.I.A. Stop an F.B.KI. Detec­tive from Pre­vent­ing 9/11” by Lawrence Wright; The New Yorker; July 10–17/2006; pp. 62–63.)

2. The pro­gram details Ali Soufan’s back­ground: “It was Al Qaeda’s sec­ond suc­cess­ful strike against Amer­i­can tar­gets. In August, 1998, oper­a­tives had bombed the United States Embassies in Kenya and Tan­za­nia simul­ta­ne­ously, killing two hun­dred and twenty-four peo­ple. Yet an impor­tant part of the Cole plot had failed: Fahd al-Quso, a mem­ber of Al Qaeda’s sup­port team in Aden, was sup­posed to video­tape the blast for pro­pa­ganda pur­poses, but he slept through a morn­ing alarm and did not set up his cam­era in time. Quso was in a taxi at the moment of the explo­sion, and he imme­di­ately went into hid­ing. Shortly after the attack, Ali Soufan, a twenty-nine-year-old Lebanese-American, was dri­ving across the Brook­lyn Bridge when he received a page from the New York office of the F.B.I., where he was employed as a spe­cial agent. He was told to report to work at once. At the time, Soufan was the only F.B.I. agent in the city who spoke Ara­bic, and one of only eight in the coun­try. He had joined the New York office in the fall of 1997, and his tal­ents were quickly spot­ted by John O’Neill, the head of the F.B.I.‘s National Secu­rity Divi­sion, which is devoted to com­bat­ting ter­ror­ism. The fol­low­ing Feb­ru­ary, when bin Laden issued a fatwa declar­ing war on Amer­ica, Soufan wrote a tren­chant report on Islamic fun­da­men­tal­ism that O’Neill dis­trib­uted to his super­vi­sors. com­bat­ting ter­ror­ism. The fol­low­ing Feb­ru­ary, when bin Laden issued a fatwa declar­ing war on Amer­ica, Soufan wrote a tren­chant report on Islamic fun­da­men­tal­ism that O’Neill dis­trib­uted to his super­vi­sors. After the 1998 embassy bomb­ings, Soufan helped assem­ble the ini­tial evi­dence link­ing them to bin Laden. Soufan’s lan­guage skills, his relent­less­ness, and his roots in the Mid­dle East made him invalu­able in help­ing the F.B.I. under­stand Al Qaeda, an orga­ni­za­tion that few Amer­i­cans were even aware of before the embassy bomb­ings. O’Neill, who had joined the F.B.I. twenty-five years ear­lier, referred to the young agent as a national trea­sure. Despite Soufan’s youth and his rel­a­tively short tenure, O’Neill placed him in charge of the Cole inves­ti­ga­tion. As it turned out, Soufan became America’s best chance to stop the attacks of Sep­tem­ber 11th.” (Ibid.; pp. 63–64.)

3. “Soufan speaks rapidly, and there is still a hint of Lebanon in his voice. He has an open face and an engag­ing smile, although there are cir­cles under his eyes from too many long nights. Soufan is a Mus­lim, but he doesn’t fol­low any par­tic­u­lar school of Islam; instead, he is drawn to mys­ti­cal thought, espe­cially that of Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese-American poet. He told me that he has an inter­est in the Kab­balah, because it appeared at a time when the polit­i­cal envi­ron­ment for the Jews was so harsh that they used this phi­los­o­phy to escape their anguish. When he wants to relax, he watches reruns of Seinfeld–he’s seen every episode three or four times–or Bugs Bunny car­toons. One of his favorite writ­ers is Karen Arm­strong, whose biogra­phies of Muham­mad and the Bud­dha knit together his­tory and reli­gion in a way that makes sense to him. Soufan grew up in Lebanon dur­ing the calami­tous civil war, when cities were destroyed and ter­ror­ists were empow­ered by law­less­ness and chaos. His father was a jour­nal­ist in Beirut, and as a child Soufan helped out at the busi­ness mag­a­zine his father pro­duced, often car­ry­ing gal­leys to the printshop. In 1987, when Soufan was six­teen, the fam­ily moved to the United States. Soufan’s most vivid ini­tial impres­sion of his adopted coun­try was that it was safe. Also, it allowed me to dream, he said.” (Ibid.; p. 64.)

4. “Soufan lived in Penn­syl­va­nia, and he never suf­fered from prej­u­dice because he was a Mus­lim Arab. In high school, he won many aca­d­e­mic awards. He attended Mans­field Uni­ver­sity, in cen­tral Penn­syl­va­nia, where he was elected pres­i­dent of the stu­dent gov­ern­ment. In 1997, he received a master’s degree in inter­na­tional rela­tions from Vil­lanova Uni­ver­sity, out­side Philadel­phia. He ini­tially planned to con­tinue his stud­ies in a Ph.D. pro­gram. But he had devel­oped a fas­ci­na­tion with the U.S. Constitution–in par­tic­u­lar, with its guar­an­tees of free­dom of speech, reli­gion, and assem­bly, and the right to a speedy trial. Peo­ple who are born into this sys­tem may take it for granted, he said. You don’t know how impor­tant these rights are if you haven’t lived in a coun­try where you can be arrested or killed and not even know why. Like many nat­u­ral­ized cit­i­zens, Soufan felt indebted for the new life he had been given. Although he was poised for an aca­d­e­mic career, he decided–almost as a joke, he says–to send his resume to the F.B.I. He thought it was nearly incon­ceiv­able that the bureau would hire some­one with his back­ground. Yet in July, 1997, a let­ter arrived instruct­ing him to report to the F.B.I. Acad­emy, in Quan­tico, Vir­ginia, in two weeks.” (Idem.)

5. After join­ing the FBI, Soufan hooked up with O’Neill. “Upon grad­u­a­tion, Soufan went to the New York bureau. He was soon assigned to the I-40 squad, which con­cen­trated mainly on the Islamist para­mil­i­tary group Hamas, but, in 1998, on the day after the East African embassy bomb­ings, O’Neill drafted him into I-49, which had become the lead unit in the F.B.I.‘s inves­ti­ga­tion of Al Qaeda. O’Neill was one of a few top man­agers in the F.B.I. who rec­og­nized early the dan­ger that Al Qaeda posed to Amer­ica. His inten­sity was unyield­ing, and his man­ner was often abra­sive; he could be bru­tal not only to those under him but to supe­ri­ors who he felt were not fully com­mit­ted to an inves­ti­ga­tion. Soufan proved to be a tire­less ally, will­ing to work nights and hol­i­days. O’Neill adored him, and Ali felt the same way, Car­los Fer­nan­dez, an agent who knew both men well, observed. They were equals, in many ways. If you say some­thing to Ali, he’ll remem­ber it, word for word, ten years from now. John was also great at remem­ber­ing names and con­nect­ing the dots. They could go on for hours, putting things together. The fact that a novice like Soufan had direct access to O’Neill aroused some resent­ment among the other agents, but the bureau had nobody else with his skills and ded­i­ca­tion. John and I often talked about the need to clone Ali, Ken­neth Maxwell, an F.B.I. offi­cial who was then Soufan’s supe­rior, told me.” (Idem.)

6. “The after­noon of the Cole bomb­ing, Soufan and a few dozen other agents flew to Yemen to begin look­ing for evi­dence that could be used against Al Qaeda in court. (A larger con­tin­gent, which included O’Neill, was held up in Ger­many for a week, wait­ing for per­mis­sion to enter the coun­try.) Yemen was a par­tic­u­larly dif­fi­cult place to start a ter­ror­ist inves­ti­ga­tion, as it was filled with active Al Qaeda cells and with sym­pa­thiz­ers at very high lev­els of gov­ern­ment. On tele­vi­sion, Yemeni politi­cians called for jihad against Amer­ica. When the agents landed in Aden, the day after the attack, Soufan looked out at a detach­ment of the Yemen Spe­cial Forces, who wore yel­low uni­forms with old Russ­ian hel­mets; each sol­dier was aim­ing an AK-47 at the U.S. plane. A jit­tery, twelve-man hostage-rescue team, which had been sent along to pro­tect the F.B.I. agents, responded by bran­dish­ing their M4s and hand­guns. Soufan real­ized that every­one might die on the tar­mac if he didn’t do some­thing quickly. He opened the plane’s door. One Yemeni sol­dier was hold­ing a walkie-talkie. Soufan walked directly toward him, car­ry­ing a bot­tle of water as the guns fol­lowed him. It was a hun­dred and ten degrees out­side.” (Idem.)

7. An invalu­able asset, Soufan’s pres­ence of mind and under­stand­ing of Arab cul­ture and cus­toms helped defuse the con­fronta­tion. It was one of many instances in which Ali Soufan’s extra­or­di­nary abil­i­ties stood him in good stead. “You look thirsty, Soufan said, in Ara­bic, to the offi­cer with the walkie-talkie. He handed him the bot­tle. ‘Is it Amer­i­can water?’ the offi­cer asked. Soufan assured him that it was, adding that he had Amer­i­can water for the other sol­diers as well. The Yeme­nis con­sid­ered the water such a pre­cious com­mod­ity that some would not drink it. With this sim­ple act of friend­ship, the sol­diers low­ered their weapons. Soufan divided the agents on the ground into four teams. The first three were respon­si­ble for foren­sics, intel­li­gence, and secu­rity; the last was devoted to exchang­ing infor­ma­tion with Yemeni author­i­ties. Just get­ting per­mis­sion from the Yemeni gov­ern­ment to go to the crime scene–the wounded war­ship in the Aden harbor–required lengthy nego­ti­a­tions with hos­tile offi­cials. Secu­rity was a great con­cern, con­sid­er­ing that auto­matic weapons were ubiq­ui­tous in the coun­try, espe­cially in rural areas, but Bar­bara Bod­ine, the Amer­i­can Ambas­sador, refused to allow the agents to carry heavy arms. She was con­cerned about offend­ing the Yemeni author­i­ties.” (Ibid.; pp. 64–65.)

8. Sens­ing a point of infor­ma­tion that was going to prove very fruit­ful, Soufan ini­ti­ated a search for a cam­era­man. That search ulti­mately yielded Quso, who, in turn, helped to unravel the Cole bomb­ing. That inves­ti­ga­tion ulti­mately yielded infor­ma­tion about the 9/11 attacks, which might have helped pre­vent the attacks, had it not been for “The Wall” [see below.] “When Soufan and the inves­ti­ga­tors vis­ited the ship, clumps of flesh were strewn belowdecks, amid the tan­gled mass of wire and metal. F.B.I. divers, hop­ing to make DNA iden­ti­fi­ca­tions of the vic­tims and the bombers, net­ted body parts float­ing in the waters around the ship. Look­ing through the huge blast hole, Soufan could see the moun­tain­ous, ancient city of Aden, ris­ing above the curved har­bor like a clas­si­cal amphithe­atre. He fig­ured that, some­where in the city, a cam­era had been set up to record the explo­sion, since ter­ror­ists reg­u­larly doc­u­mented their work. Although the bombers were likely dead, a cam­era­man might still be at large. When O’Neill finally arrived in Aden with the other agents, he was puz­zled, upon get­ting off the plane, to see the Yemeni sol­diers salut­ing. I told them you were a gen­eral, Soufan explained to him. Yemen is a status-conscious soci­ety, and, because Soufan had pro­moted O’Neill to gen­eral, his coun­ter­part was Gen­eral Ghalib Qamish, the head of Yemeni intel­li­gence. Every night, when the Yemeni author­i­ties did busi­ness, Soufan and O’Neill spent hours push­ing for access to wit­nesses, evi­dence, and crime scenes. Ini­tially, the Yeme­nis told them that, since both of the bombers were dead, there was noth­ing to inves­ti­gate. But who gave them money? Soufan asked. Who pro­vided the explo­sives? The boat? He gen­tly prod­ded the Yeme­nis to help him.” (Ibid.; p. 65.)

9. “A few days after the bomb­ing, the Yeme­nis brought in two known asso­ciates of bin Laden’s for ques­tion­ing. One was named Jamal Badawi; the other was Fahd al-Quso, the man who had failed to video­tape the Cole attack. Both men were Yemeni cit­i­zens. Quso, who ran a guest­house in Aden for jihadis, had turned him­self in after fam­ily mem­bers were ques­tioned. He did not admit his role in the Cole plot, but he and Badawi con­fessed that they had recently trav­elled to Afghanistan, and had met there with a one-legged jihadi named Khal­lad. Badawi said that he had bought a boat for Khal­lad, who, he explained, had wanted to go into the fish­ing busi­ness. The Yeme­nis even­tu­ally deter­mined that this was the boat used in the Cole bomb­ing. When Soufan heard that Quso had men­tioned the name Khal­lad, he was star­tled: he had heard it from a source he had recruited a few years ear­lier, in Afghanistan. The source had told him that he had met a fighter in Kan­da­har with a metal leg who was one of bin Laden’s top lieu­tenants. When Soufan asked to speak to Quso and Badawi, the Yeme­nis told him that the men had sworn on a Koran that they were inno­cent of any crime. For them, that set­tled the mat­ter.” (Idem.)

10. O’Neill and Soufan were able to estab­lish an excel­lent rap­port with
Gen­eral Qamish. “Soufan and O’Neill knew that Gen­eral Qamish rep­re­sented their best hope of gain­ing any coop­er­a­tion. He was a small, gaunt man whose face reminded Soufan of Gandhi’s. Despite the ten­sions between the two sides, Qamish had begun call­ing his Amer­i­can col­leagues Brother John and Brother Ali. One night, O’Neill and Soufan spent many hours ask­ing Qamish for pass­port pho­tographs of sus­pected plot­ters, espe­cially that of Khal­lad. He said repeat­edly that the F.B.I. was not needed on the case, but O’Neill and Soufan pointed out that the sooner they could inter­ro­gate sus­pects linked to the Cole bomb­ing the sooner they might obtain intel­li­gence that could destroy Al Qaeda. The fol­low­ing night, Qamish announced, I have your pho­tos for you. Soufan imme­di­ately sent Khallad’s photo to the C.I.A. He also faxed it to an F.B.I. agent in Islam­abad, Pak­istan; the agent showed it to Soufan’s source in Afghanistan, who iden­ti­fied the man as Khal­lad, the Al Qaeda lieu­tenant. This sug­gested strongly that Al Qaeda was behind the Cole attack. Another break came that same evening, when a twelve-year-old boy named Hani went to the local police. He said that he had been fish­ing on a pier when the bombers placed their skiff in the water. One of the men had paid the boy a hun­dred Yemeni riyals–about sixty cents–to watch his Nis­san truck and boat trailer, but he never returned. When the police heard Hani’s story, they locked him in jail and arrested his father as well. After repeated requests, the Amer­i­cans got per­mis­sion to inter­view the boy and to exam­ine the launch site. Hani was scared, but he pro­vided a descrip­tion of the bombers: one was heavy, and the other was hand­some. An Arabic-speaking naval inves­ti­ga­tor named Robert McFad­den offered the boy some candy. He then said that the bombers had invited him and his fam­ily to take a ride in the boat, which was white, with red car­pet­ing on the floor. When Soufan heard this, he deduced that the bombers had been try­ing to deter­mine how much weight the skiff could carry.” (Ibid.; pp. 65–66.)

11. “The aban­doned truck and trailer were still at the launch site. It was a major mis­take on the part of Al Qaeda not to have retrieved them. By check­ing reg­is­tra­tion records, inves­ti­ga­tors con­nected the truck and trailer to a house in a neigh­bor­hood of Aden called Burayqah. When Soufan went to the house, which was sur­rounded by a wall and a gate, he had an eerie feel­ing: this res­i­dence had a strik­ing resem­blance to the house in Nairobi where the bomb for the 1998 embassy attack had been made. Inside, in the mas­ter bed­room, there was a prayer rug ori­ented to the north, toward Mecca. The bath­room sink was full of body hair; the bombers had shaved and per­formed rit­ual ablu­tions before going to their deaths. Soufan’s men col­lected a razor and hair sam­ples, which might pro­vide the F.B.I. with the DNA evi­dence nec­es­sary to estab­lish the iden­tity of the killers. (So far, the inves­ti­ga­tors at the Cole site had found only a cou­ple of bone frag­ments that didn’t belong to Amer­i­can sailors.) Inves­ti­ga­tors found that another house in Aden had been rented by the ter­ror­ists; it was reg­is­tered to Abda Hus­sein Muham­mad. The name was dimly famil­iar to Soufan. At one point dur­ing the Nairobi inves­ti­ga­tion, a wit­ness had men­tioned an Al Qaeda oper­a­tive named Nash­eri who had pro­posed attack­ing an Amer­i­can ves­sel in Aden. Soufan did some research and dis­cov­ered that Nasheri’s full name was Abdul Rahim Muham­mad Hus­sein Abda al-Nasheri. The mid­dle names were the same, just reversed. Soufan’s hunch paid off when Amer­i­can agents dis­cov­ered a car in Aden that was reg­is­tered to Nash­eri. It was another strong link between Al Qaeda and the Cole attack.” (Ibid.; p. 66.)

12. Among the many obsta­cles that Soufan, O’Neill and their asso­ciates had to over­come was the more or less open sym­pa­thy that some Yemeni offi­cials had for jihadis. “A cou­ple of weeks after the bomb­ing, Yemeni author­i­ties placed Badawi and Quso, the two Al Qaeda oper­a­tives, under arrest, appar­ently as a pre­cau­tion. Soufan con­tin­ued to press Gen­eral Qamish to let him inter­ro­gate the men directly, and finally, after sev­eral weeks, Qamish relented. Soufan spent hours prepar­ing for the encoun­ters, with the goal of find­ing some com­mon ground with his sub­jects. Often, the bond cen­tered on reli­gion. Ali was very spir­i­tual, Car­los Fer­nan­dez recalled. In Yemen, he was read­ing the Koran at night. He would talk to these guys about their beliefs. Some­times, he would actu­ally con­vince them that their under­stand­ing of Islam was all wrong. In the inter­ro­ga­tion of Badawi, Soufan learned that the skiff had been pur­chased in Saudi Ara­bia. Soufan ques­tioned Quso over the course of sev­eral days. Quso was small, wiry, and inso­lent, with a wispy beard that he kept tug­ging on. Before Soufan could even begin, a local intel­li­gence offi­cial came into the room and kissed Quso on both cheeks–a shock­ing sig­nal that the secu­rity ser­vices were sym­pa­thetic to the jihadis. McFad­den, who par­tic­i­pated in the inter­ro­ga­tions, recalled that Soufan was not intim­i­dated. He said, Ali was a nat­ural inter­viewer, and he was able to dis­lodge Quso from his cir­cle of com­fort. Even­tu­ally, Quso began to open up. He had been in Afghanistan, and boasted that he had fought beside bin Laden. He said that bin Laden had inspired him with his speeches about expelling the infi­dels from the Ara­bian Peninsula–in par­tic­u­lar, Amer­i­can troops sta­tioned in Saudi Ara­bia.” (Idem.)

13. Again, Soufan’s under­stand­ing of the Arab psy­che yielded results: he was able to learn of a Khal­lad, who even­tu­ally proved to be a key to deter­min­ing that another oper­a­tion was on the way. That oper­a­tion was 9/11, although “the Wall” pre­vented the inter­dic­tion of the oper­a­tion. “Soufan asked if Quso ever planned to get mar­ried. A shy, embar­rassed smile appeared. Well, then, help your­self out, Soufan urged him. Tell me some­thing. Finally, Quso admit­ted that he was sup­posed to film the bomb­ing but had over­slept. (The Yeme­nis later found a video cam­era at his sister’s house.) He also said that sev­eral months before the Cole attack he and one of the bombers had deliv­ered thirty-six thou­sand dol­lars to Khal­lad, the one-legged Al Qaeda lieu­tenant, in Bangkok. The money, Quso added, was meant only to buy Khal­lad a new pros­the­sis. Soufan was sus­pi­cious of this expla­na­tion. Why had Al Qaeda sent money out of Yemen just before the Cole bomb­ing took place? Money always flowed toward an oper­a­tion, not away from it. He won­dered if Al Qaeda had a big­ger plot under way. The C.I.A. had offi­cials in Yemen to col­lect intel­li­gence about Al Qaeda, and Soufan asked them if they knew any­thing about a new oper­a­tion, per­haps in South­east Asia. They pro­fessed to be as puz­zled as he was. In Novem­ber 2000, a month after the Cole bomb­ing, Soufan sent the agency the first of sev­eral offi­cial queries. On Soufan’s behalf, the direc­tor of the F.B.I. sent a let­ter to the direc­tor of the C.I.A., for­mally ask­ing for infor­ma­tion about Khal­lad, and whether there might have been an Al Qaeda meet­ing some­where in South­east Asia before the bomb­ing. The agency said that it had noth­ing. Soufan trusted this response; he thought that he had a good work­ing rela­tion­ship with the agency.” (Ibid.; pp. 66–67.)

14. The CIA’s reluc­tance to help the FBI obstructs attempts at pen­e­trat­ing the con­spir­acy. The Agency’s jeal­ousy of Soufan, O’Neill and the FBI played a part. “Quso had told Soufan that when he and the Cole bomber went to Bangkok to meet Khal­lad they had stayed in the Wash­ing­ton Hotel. F.B.I. agents went through phone records to ver­ify his story. They found calls between the hotel and Quso’s house, in Yemen. They also noticed that there were calls to both places from a pay phone in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. In April, 2001, Soufan sent another offi­cial tele­type to the C.I.A., along with the pass­port photo of Khal­lad. He asked whether the tele­phone num­bers had any sig­nif­i­cance, and whether there was any con­nec­tion between the num­bers and Khal­lad. The C.I.A. said that it could not help him. In fact, the C.I.A. knew a lot about Khal­lad and his ties to Al Qaeda. The F.B.I. and the C.I.A. have long quar­relled over bureau­cratic turf, and their man­dates place them at odds. The ulti­mate goal of the bureau in gath­er­ing intel­li­gence is to gain con­vic­tions for crimes; for the agency, intel­li­gence itself is the object. If the agency had responded can­didly to Soufan’s requests, it would have revealed its knowl­edge of an Al Qaeda cell that was already form­ing inside the United States. But the agency kept this intel­li­gence to itself. I come from a gen­er­a­tion of F.B.I. agents who have always worked closely with the C.I.A., Soufan told me. At the time he joined the bureau, law enforce­ment had become inter­na­tion­al­ized. In the nineteen-nineties, his men­tor, O’Neill, had estab­lished close rela­tions with for­eign police ser­vices, an approach that some­times encroached on the C.I.A.‘s ter­ri­tory. In 1999, O’Neill sent Soufan and his super­vi­sor, Pasquale D’Amuro, to Jor­dan, where author­i­ties had dis­cov­ered that jihadis linked to Al Qaeda were plot­ting to bomb tourist sites and hotels. Infor­ma­tion that the Jor­da­ni­ans shared with Soufan made him real­ize that the intel­li­gence that the C.I.A. was report­ing was deeply flawed. His analy­sis forced local C.I.A. rep­re­sen­ta­tives to with­draw twelve cables that they had sent to agency head­quar­ters. On the floor of the C.I.A.‘s sta­tion in Amman, Soufan dis­cov­ered a box of evi­dence that had been given to the agency by Jor­dan­ian intel­li­gence. Such evi­dence is what the F.B.I. needs in order to mount pros­e­cu­tions, and no one had exam­ined the box’s con­tents or turned it over to the bureau. In the box, Soufan found a map of the pro­posed bomb sites, which proved cru­cial in the pros­e­cu­tions of twenty-eight plot­ters in Jor­dan, twenty-two of whom were con­victed. Soufan’s suc­cess embar­rassed the C.I.A., deep­en­ing the rift between the two insti­tu­tions. ‘The C.I.A. peo­ple couldn’t stand the fact that Ali’s opin­ion and analy­sis were cor­rect, an F.B.I. coun­tert­er­ror­ism offi­cial who worked with Soufan told me. He was an Ara­bic speaker and an F.B.I. agent on the ground who was run­ning cir­cles around them.’” (Ibid.; p. 67.)

15. The CIA tried to recruit Soufan. Their phrase­ol­ogy is inter­est­ing. Inter­est­ing, also, is the fact that the FBI gave the CIA much of its infor­ma­tion about Al Qaeda. “Nev­er­the­less, the C.I.A. rec­og­nized Soufan’s abil­i­ties and repeat­edly tried to recruit him. ‘Come over to the Dark Side,’ an agency oper­a­tive once said to him. ‘You know you’re inter­ested.’ Soufan said that he just laughed. Indeed, some of the C.I.A.‘s best infor­ma­tion about Al Qaeda came from the F.B.I. In 1998, F.B.I. inves­ti­ga­tors found an essen­tial clue–a phone num­ber in Yemen that func­tioned as a vir­tual switch­board for the ter­ror net­work. The bombers in East Africa called that num­ber before and after the attacks; so did Osama bin Laden. The num­ber belonged to a jihadi named Ahmed al-Hada. By comb­ing through the records of all the calls made to and from that num­ber, F.B.I. inves­ti­ga­tors con­structed a map of Al Qaeda’s global orga­ni­za­tion. The phone line was mon­i­tored as soon as it was dis­cov­ered. But the C.I.A., as the pri­mary orga­ni­za­tion for gath­er­ing for­eign intel­li­gence, had juris­dic­tion over con­ver­sa­tions on the Hada phone, and did not pro­vide the F.B.I. with the infor­ma­tion it was get­ting about Al Qaeda’s plans. A con­ver­sa­tion on the Hada phone at the end of 1999 men­tioned a forth­com­ing meet­ing of Al Qaeda oper­a­tives in Malaysia. The C.I.A. learned the name of one par­tic­i­pant, Khaled al-Mihdhar, and the first name of another: Nawaf. Both men were Saudi cit­i­zens. The C.I.A. did not pass this intel­li­gence to the F.B.I. How­ever, the C.I.A. did share the infor­ma­tion with Saudi author­i­ties, who told the agency that Mihd­har and a man named Nawaf al-Hazmi were mem­bers of Al Qaeda. Based on this intel­li­gence, the C.I.A. broke into a hotel room in Dubai where Mihd­har was stay­ing, en route to Malaysia. The oper­a­tives pho­to­copied Mihdhar’s pass­port and faxed it to Alec Sta­tion, the C.I.A. unit devoted to track­ing bin Laden. Inside the pass­port was the crit­i­cal infor­ma­tion that Mihd­har had a U.S. visa. The agency did not alert the F.B.I. or the State Depart­ment so that Mihdhar’s name could be put on a ter­ror watch list, which would have pre­vented him from enter­ing the U.S.” (Ibid.; pp. 67–68.)

16. A mon­u­men­tal short­com­ing on the part of the agency was its fail­ure to dis­close to the FBI the infor­ma­tion gleaned from Malaysian sur­veil­lance of an Al Qaeda meet­ing attended by Mihd­har, Hazmi and Khal­lad. “The C.I.A. asked Malaysian author­i­ties to pro­vide sur­veil­lance of the meet­ing in Kuala Lumpur, which took place on Jan­u­ary 5, 2000, at a con­do­minium over­look­ing a golf course designed by Jack Nick­laus. The condo was owned by a Malaysian busi­ness­man who had ties to Al Qaeda. The pay phone that Soufan had queried the agency about was directly in front of the condo. Khal­lad used it to place calls to Quso in Yemen. Although the C.I.A. later denied that it knew any­thing about the phone, the num­ber was recorded in the Malaysians’ sur­veil­lance log, which was given to the agency. At the time of the Kuala Lumpur meet­ing, Spe­cial Branch, the Malaysian secret ser­vice, pho­tographed about a dozen Al Qaeda asso­ciates out­side the condo and vis­it­ing nearby Inter­net cafes. These pic­tures were turned over to the C.I.A. The meet­ing was not wire­tapped; had it been, the agency might have uncov­ered the plots that cul­mi­nated in the bomb­ing of the Cole and the Sep­tem­ber 11, 2001, attacks. On Jan­u­ary 8th, Spe­cial Branch noti­fied the C.I.A. that three of the men who had been at the meeting–Mihdhar, Hazmi, and Khallad–were trav­el­ling together to Bangkok. There Khal­lad met with Quso and one of the sui­cide bombers of the Cole. Quso gave Khal­lad the thirty-six thou­sand dol­lars, which was most likely used to buy tick­ets to Los Ange­les for Mihd­har and Hazmi and pro­vide them with liv­ing expenses in the U.S. Both men ended up on planes involved in the Sep­tem­ber 11th attacks.” (Ibid.; pp. 67–68.)

17. Con­tribut­ing to the CIA’s reluc­tance to share infor­ma­tion with FBI was its resent­ment of O’Neill. The CIA neglected to notify the bureau that the Mihd­har and Hazmi were in the coun­try. “In March, the C.I.A. learned that Hazmi had flown to Los Ange­les two months ear­lier, on Jan­u­ary 15th. Had the agency checked the flight man­i­fest, it would have noticed that Mihd­har was trav­el­ling with him. Once again, the agency neglected to inform the F.B.I. or the State Depart­ment that at least one Al Qaeda oper­a­tive was in the coun­try. Although the C.I.A. was legally bound to share this kind of infor­ma­tion with the bureau, it was pro­tec­tive of sen­si­tive intel­li­gence. The agency some­times feared that F.B.I. pros­e­cu­tions result­ing from such intel­li­gence might com­pro­mise its rela­tion­ships with for­eign ser­vices, although there were safe­guards to pro­tect con­fi­den­tial infor­ma­tion. The C.I.A. was par­tic­u­larly wary of O’Neill, who demanded con­trol of any case that touched on an F.B.I. inves­ti­ga­tion. Many C.I.A. offi­cials dis­liked him and feared that he could not be trusted with sen­si­tive intel­li­gence. ‘O’Neill was duplic­i­tous,’ Michael Scheuer, the offi­cial who founded Alec Sta­tion but has now left the C.I.A., told me. ‘He had no con­cerns out­side of mak­ing the bureau look good.’ Sev­eral of O’Neill’s sub­or­di­nates sug­gested that the C.I.A. hid the infor­ma­tion out of per­sonal ani­mos­ity. They hated John, the F.B.I. coun­tert­er­ror­ism offi­cial assigned to Alec Sta­tion told me. They knew that John would have marched in there and taken con­trol of that case.” (Ibid.; p. 68.)

18. The author spec­u­lates about pos­si­ble rea­sons for the CIA’s fail­ure to notify the FBI about the hijack­ers’ pres­ence in the United States. It should be noted that, as Daniel Hop­sicker (among oth­ers) has chron­i­cled, in the San Diego area, some of the hijack­ers were actively assisted by FBI infor­mants. For more about this sub­ject, see—among other programs—FTR#507.) Were the infor­mants actu­ally dou­ble agents? How much of the osten­si­ble “incom­pe­tence” on the part of ele­ments of the fed­eral bureau­cracy was due to the activ­ity of what Mr. Emory calls “Fifth Colum­nists?” “The C.I.A. may also have been pro­tect­ing an over­seas oper­a­tion and was afraid that the F.B.I. would expose it. More­over, Mihd­har and Hazmi could have seemed like attrac­tive recruit­ment possibilities–the C.I.A. was des­per­ate for a source inside Al Qaeda, hav­ing failed to pen­e­trate the inner cir­cle or even to place some­one in the train­ing camps, even though they were largely open to any­one who showed up. How­ever, once Mihd­har and Hazmi entered the United States they were the province of the F.B.I. The C.I.A. has no legal author­ity to oper­ate inside the coun­try. In the end, the C.I.A.‘s fail­ure to inform the F.B.I. may be best explained by the fact that the agency was drown­ing in a flood of threats and warn­ings, and sim­ply did not see the piv­otal impor­tance of this intel­li­gence. What­ever the rea­son for the C.I.A.‘s lapse, many F.B.I. inves­ti­ga­tors remain furi­ous that they were not informed of the pres­ence of Al Qaeda oper­a­tives inside Amer­ica. Mihd­har and Hazmi arrived twenty months before Sep­tem­ber 11th. Ken­neth Maxwell, Soufan’s for­mer super­vi­sor, told me, ‘Two Al Qaeda guys liv­ing in California–are you kid­ding me? We would have been on them like white on snow: phys­i­cal sur­veil­lance, elec­tronic sur­veil­lance, a spe­cial unit devoted entirely to them.’ Of course, the F.B.I. had other oppor­tu­ni­ties to pre­vent Sep­tem­ber 11th. In July, 2001, an F.B.I. agent in Phoenix sug­gested inter­view­ing Arabs enrolled in Amer­i­can flight schools; a month later, the bureau’s Min­nesota office requested per­mis­sion to aggres­sively inves­ti­gate Zacarias Mous­saoui, who later con­fessed to being an Al Qaeda asso­ciate. Both pro­pos­als were rejected by F.B.I. super­vi­sors. But Mihd­har and Hazmi were directly involved in the Sep­tem­ber 11th con­spir­acy. Because of their con­nec­tion to bin Laden, who had a fed­eral indict­ment against him, the F.B.I. had all the author­ity it needed to use every inves­tiga­tive tech­nique to pen­e­trate and dis­rupt the Al Qaeda cell. Instead, the hijack­ers were free to develop their plot until it was too late to stop them.” (Idem.)

19. “In Yemen, the secu­rity sit­u­a­tion dete­ri­o­rated rapidly. Soufan and the other F.B.I. agents were quar­tered at the Aden Hotel, crammed in with other U.S. mil­i­tary and gov­ern­ment employ­ees, includ­ing Marine guards, and bil­leted three and four to a room; sev­eral dozen slept on bedrolls in the hotel ball­room. Gun­fire erupted out­side the hotel so fre­quently that the agents slept in their clothes, with their weapons at their sides. Agents learned from a mechanic in Aden that, after the bomb­ing, some men brought to his shop a truck sim­i­lar to the one used by the bombers; the men wanted to have metal plates installed in such a way that they could direct the force of an explo­sion. Cer­tainly, the most tempt­ing tar­get for such a bomb would be the Aden Hotel. It wasn’t clear that the Yemeni gov­ern­ment troops who were guard­ing the hotel with machine-gun nests would truly pro­tect the Amer­i­cans. We were pris­on­ers, an agent recalled. One night, shots were fired on the street while O’Neill was run­ning a meet­ing inside the hotel. The marines and the hostage-rescue team adopted defen­sive posi­tions. Soufan ven­tured out, unarmed, to talk to the Yemeni troops. Hey, Ali! O’Neill called out. Be care­ful! He raced down the steps of the hotel to make sure Soufan was wear­ing his flak jacket. Frus­tra­tion, stress, and dan­ger, along with the enforced inti­macy of their sit­u­a­tion, had brought the two men even closer. O’Neill had begun to describe Soufan as his secret weapon. Speak­ing to the Yeme­nis, he called him sim­ply my son.” (Ibid.; pp. 68–69.)

20. Soufan again helped the inves­ti­ga­tors evade what may have been a dan­ger­ous sit­u­a­tion. “Snipers cov­ered Soufan as he approached a Yemeni offi­cer, who assured him that every­thing was O.K. If every­thing is O.K., why are there no cars on the street? Soufan asked. The offi­cer said that there must be a wed­ding nearby. Soufan looked around and saw that the hotel was sur­rounded by a large num­ber of men in tra­di­tional dress–some in Jeeps, all car­ry­ing guns. They were civil­ians, not sol­diers. They could be intel­li­gence offi­cers, or a tribal group bent on revenge. In either case, they eas­ily out­num­bered the Amer­i­cans. Soufan was reminded of the 1993 upris­ing in Soma­lia, which ended with eigh­teen Amer­i­can sol­diers dead, and one of the bod­ies being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu. The hotel backed up to the har­bor, and the Amer­i­cans were essen­tially trapped. After Soufan went inside and offered his assess­ment of the sit­u­a­tion, O’Neill ordered the marines to deploy two armored vehi­cles to block the street in front of the hotel. The night passed with­out fur­ther inci­dent, but the next day O’Neill moved the inves­ti­ga­tors to the U.S.S. Duluth, sta­tioned ten miles away, in the Bay of Aden. That proved to be a dan­ger­ous mis­take. The next morn­ing, when O’Neill and Soufan were fly­ing back to town, their heli­copter sud­denly lurched into vio­lent eva­sive maneu­vers. The pilot reported that an SA-7 mis­sile had locked in on them. O’Neill decided to send most of the inves­ti­ga­tors home; those who remained returned to the deserted hotel.” (Ibid.; p. 69.)

21. The CIA turned down a sug­ges­tion by an Agency liai­son at FBI head­qauar­ters to notify the bureau of Mihd­har and Hazmi’s pres­ence in the coun­try. “Just before Thanks­giv­ing, the F.B.I. pulled O’Neill out of Yemen, appar­ently as a con­ces­sion to Ambas­sador Bod­ine, who felt that the F.B.I. pres­ence was strain­ing diplo­matic rela­tions between Amer­ica and Yemen. Soufan stayed on, but the threats in Aden became so acute that he and the other agents moved to the Amer­i­can Embassy in Sanaa, Yemen’s cap­i­tal. The inves­ti­ga­tion was los­ing its momen­tum. In the spring of 2001, Tom Wilshire, a C.I.A. liai­son at F.B.I. head­quar­ters, in Wash­ing­ton, was study­ing the rela­tion­ship between Khaled al-Mihdhar, the Saudi Al Qaeda oper­a­tive, and Khal­lad, the one-legged jihadi. Because of the sim­i­lar­ity of the names, the C.I.A. had thought that they might be the same per­son, but, thanks in part to Ali Soufan’s inves­ti­ga­tions in Yemen, the agency now knew that they were not, and that Khal­lad had orches­trated the Cole attack. O.K. This is impor­tant, Wilshire said of Khal­lad, in an e-mail to his super­vi­sors at the C.I.A. Coun­tert­er­ror­ist Cen­ter. This is a major-league killer. Wilshire already knew that Hazmi, the other Saudi oper­a­tive, had arrived in the United States and that Mihd­har was pos­si­bly with him. Some­thing bad [is] def­i­nitely up, Wilshire wrote to a col­league. He asked per­mis­sion to dis­close this vital infor­ma­tion to the F.B.I. His supe­ri­ors at the C.I.A. never responded to his request. (In an offi­cial state­ment, the C.I.A. ques­tioned the accu­racy of this arti­cle but did not address spe­cific alle­ga­tions. It said, Based on rig­or­ous inter­nal and exter­nal reviews of its short­com­ings and suc­cesses before and after 9/11, the C.I.A. has improved its pro­cess­ing and shar­ing of intel­li­gence. C.I.A.‘s focus is on learn­ing and even closer coop­er­a­tion with part­ners inside and out­side gov­ern­ment, not on pub­lic fin­ger point­ing, which does not serve the Amer­i­can peo­ple well.)” (Idem.)

22. “That sum­mer, Wilshire asked an F.B.I. ana­lyst to review the mate­r­ial on the Malaysia meet­ing, but he did not reveal that some of the par­tic­i­pants might be in the United States. More impor­tant, he con­veyed none of the urgency reflected in his e-mail; he told the ana­lyst that she should exam­ine the mate­r­ial in her free time. She didn’t get around to it until the end of July. Wilshire did want to know, how­ever, what the F.B.I. knew. He asked Dina Corsi, another F.B.I. ana­lyst, to show three sur­veil­lance pho­tos from the Malaysia meet­ing to sev­eral I-49 agents. The pic­tures showed Mihd­har and Hazmi and a man who, the C.I.A. believed, resem­bled Quso, the Cole cam­era­man. Wilshire told Corsi that one of the men was named Khaled al-Mihdhar, but he did not explain why the pic­tures had been taken, and he did not men­tion that Mihd­har had a U.S. visa. Accord­ing to the 9/11 Com­mis­sion Report, on June 11th a C.I.A. super­vi­sor went with the F.B.I. ana­lyst and Corsi to New York to meet with F.B.I. case agents on the Cole inves­ti­ga­tion; Soufan, who was still in Yemen, did not attend. The meet­ing started in mid-morning, with the New York agents brief­ing the C.I.A. super­vi­sor, Clark Shan­non, for three or four hours on the progress of their inves­ti­ga­tion. Corsi then showed the three Malaysia pho­tographs to her F.B.I. col­leagues. They were high-quality sur­veil­lance pho­tos. One, shot from a low angle, showed Mihd­har and Hazmi stand­ing beside a tree in Malaysia. Shan­non wanted to know if the agents rec­og­nized any­one. The I-49 agents asked who was in the pic­tures, and when and where they had been taken. Were there any other pho­tographs of this meet­ing?, one of the F.B.I. agents demanded. Shan­non refused to say. Corsi promised that in the days and weeks to come she would try to get per­mis­sion to pass that infor­ma­tion along. The meet­ing became heated. The F.B.I. agents sensed that these pho­tographs per­tained directly to crimes they were try­ing to solve, but they couldn’t elicit any fur­ther infor­ma­tion from Shan­non. Corsi finally dropped the name Khaled al-Mihdhar. Steve Bon­gardt, Soufan’s top assis­tant in the Cole inves­ti­ga­tion, asked Shan­non to pro­vide a date of birth or a pass­port num­ber to go with Mihdhar’s name. A name by itself was not suf­fi­cient to pre­vent his entry into the United States. Bon­gardt had just returned from Pak­istan with a list of thirty names of sus­pected Al Qaeda asso­ciates and their dates of birth, which he had given to the State Depart­ment. That was stan­dard procedure–the first thing most inves­ti­ga­tors would do. But Shan­non declined to pro­vide the addi­tional infor­ma­tion. Top C.I.A. offi­cials had not autho­rized him to dis­close the vital details of Mihdhar’s U.S. visa, his asso­ci­a­tion with Hazmi, and their affil­i­a­tion with Khal­lad and Al Qaeda” (Ibid.; pp. 69–70.)

23. “There was a fourth pho­to­graph of the Malaysia meet­ing that Shan­non did not pro­duce. That was a pic­ture of Khal­lad, the one-legged oper­a­tive. Thanks to Soufan’s inter­ro­ga­tion of Quso, the Cole inves­ti­ga­tors had an active file on Khal­lad and were prepar­ing to indict him. Knowl­edge of that fourth photo would likely have prompted O’Neill to demand that the C.I.A. turn over all infor­ma­tion relat­ing to Khal­lad and his asso­ciates. By with­hold­ing the pic­ture of Khal­lad attend­ing the meet­ing with the future hijack­ers, the C.I.A. may in effect have allowed the Sep­tem­ber 11th plot to pro­ceed. That sum­mer, Mihd­har returned to Yemen and then went to Saudi Ara­bia, where, pre­sum­ably, he helped the remain­ing hijack­ers secure entry into the United States. Two days after the frus­trat­ing June 11th meet­ing, Mihd­har received another Amer­i­can visa from the con­sulate in Jed­dah, Saudi Ara­bia. Since the C.I.A. had not given his name to the State Depart­ment to post on its watch list, Mihd­har arrived in New York on the Fourth of July. The June 11th meet­ing was the cul­mi­na­tion of a strange trend in the U.S. gov­ern­ment toward hid­ing infor­ma­tion from the peo­ple who most needed it. In this regard, the F.B.I. was as guilty as the C.I.A. [Ital­ics are Mr. Emory’s.] A fed­eral law at the time pro­hib­ited the shar­ing of infor­ma­tion aris­ing from grand-jury tes­ti­mony, but the F.B.I. took it as a nearly absolute bar to reveal­ing any inves­tiga­tive evi­dence and, as a result, repeat­edly turned down requests for infor­ma­tion from other intel­li­gence agen­cies. (The Joint Con­gres­sional Inquiry on 9/11 claimed that the law ‘came to be used sim­ply as an excuse for not shar­ing infor­ma­tion.’)” (Ibid.; p. 70.)

24. The Wall became an invin­ci­ble obsta­cle for O’Neill, Soufan and the inves­ti­ga­tors of the Cole bomb­ing, as well as for those look­ing into what was to become 9/11. “In 1995, the Jus­tice Depart­ment estab­lished a pol­icy, known as the Wall, which reg­u­lated the exchange of for­eign intel­li­gence infor­ma­tion between agents and crim­i­nal inves­ti­ga­tors. Man­agers at F.B.I. head­quar­ters mis­in­ter­preted the pol­icy, turn­ing it into a strait­jacket for their own inves­ti­ga­tors. Intel­li­gence agents were warned that shar­ing such infor­ma­tion with crim­i­nal agents could mean the end of their careers. The Wall, the F.B.I. decided, sep­a­rated even peo­ple who were on the same squad. The F.B.I. also began with­hold­ing intel­li­gence from the White House. Every morn­ing on the clas­si­fied com­put­ers of the National Secu­rity Coun­cil, there were at least a hun­dred reports, from the C.I.A., the N.S.A., and other intel­li­gence branches, but the F.B.I. never dis­sem­i­nated infor­ma­tion. The C.I.A. embraced the idea of the Wall with equal vigor. The agency fre­quently decided not to share intel­li­gence with the F.B.I. on the ground that it would com­pro­mise sen­si­tive sources and meth­ods. For exam­ple, the C.I.A. col­lected other cru­cial infor­ma­tion about Mihd­har that it did not pro­vide to the F.B.I. Mihd­har, it turned out, was the son-in-law of Ahmed al-Hada, the Al Qaeda loy­al­ist in Yemen whose phone num­ber oper­ated as the network’s switch­board. After arriv­ing in New York on July 4th, Mihd­har flew to San Diego and rented an apart­ment. From there, he made eight calls to the Hada phone to talk to his wife, who was about to give birth. In the I-49 squad’s office, there was a link chart show­ing the con­nec­tions between Hada’s phone and other phones around the world. Had a line been drawn from Hada’s Yemen home to Mihdhar’s San Diego apart­ment, Al Qaeda’s pres­ence in Amer­ica would have been glar­ingly obvi­ous.” (Ibid.; pp. 70–71.)

25. In state­ments before Con­gress, the CIA lied about its fail­ure to divulge the two hijack­ers’ pres­ence in the United States: “After Sep­tem­ber 11th, the C.I.A. claimed that it had divulged Mihdhar’s iden­tity to the F.B.I. in a timely man­ner; indeed, both George Tenet, the agency’s direc­tor, and Cofer Black, the head of its coun­tert­er­ror­ism divi­sion, tes­ti­fied to Con­gress that this was the case. Later, the 9/11 Com­mis­sion con­cluded that the state­ments of both were false. The C.I.A. was unable to pro­duce evi­dence prov­ing that the infor­ma­tion had been passed to the bureau. The I-49 squad responded to the secrecy in aggres­sive and cre­ative ways. When the C.I.A. refused to share inter­cepts of bin Laden’s satel­lite phone, the squad came up with a plan to build two anten­nae to cap­ture the signal–one on Palau, in the Pacific, and another on Diego Gar­cia, in the Indian Ocean. The squad also con­structed an inge­nious satel­lite tele­phone booth in Kan­da­har, hop­ing to pro­vide a con­ve­nient facil­ity for jihadis want­ing to call home. The agents could lis­ten in on the calls, and they received videos of callers through a cam­era hid­den in the booth. Mil­lions of dol­lars and thou­sands of hours of labor were con­sumed in repli­cat­ing infor­ma­tion that other U.S. offi­cials refused to share. Accord­ing to Soufan, the I-49 agents were so used to being denied access to intel­li­gence that they bought a CD con­tain­ing the Pink Floyd song Another Brick in the Wall. He recalled, When­ever we got the speech about ‘sen­si­tive sources and meth­ods,’ we’d just hold up the phone to the CD player and push Play.” (Ibid.; p. 71.)

26. Even as the CIA was stonewalling with “The Wall” as an excuse, O’Neill was prepar­ing to leave the FBI after a dam­ag­ing leak to the New York Times. (For more about the nature of these dis­clo­sures, see FTR#326.) “Just days before the June 11th meet­ing took place in the New York office, new threats in Yemen cre­ated a secu­rity cri­sis for the Amer­i­cans. Yemeni author­i­ties arrested eight men who, they said, were part of a plot to blow up the Amer­i­can Embassy, where Soufan and other inves­ti­ga­tors had taken refuge. Louis Freeh, the direc­tor of the F.B.I., act­ing on O’Neill’s rec­om­men­da­tion, with­drew the team entirely. By then, Soufan had a much clearer idea of the rela­tion­ship between Khal­lad and the Cole con­spir­a­tors. In July, 2001, he sent a third for­mal request to the C.I.A. ask­ing for infor­ma­tion about a pos­si­ble Al Qaeda meet­ing in Malaysia, and about Khallad’s trip to Bangkok to meet with Quso and the Cole sui­cide bomber. Yet again, the agency did not respond. On August 22nd, John O’Neill was pack­ing boxes in his office. It was his last day at the F.B.I. He had decided to retire from the bureau after he learned of a dam­ag­ing leak to the Times. The paper had reported that O’Neill’s brief­case, con­tain­ing sen­si­tive doc­u­ments, was stolen while he was attend­ing an F.B.I. con­fer­ence in Florida. The brief­case was quickly recov­ered, and it was deter­mined that none of the sen­si­tive mate­r­ial had been touched, but it ruined his prospects at the bureau.” (Idem.)

27. The news that Mihd­har and Hazmi were in the coun­try set off alarm bells among those around Soufan and O’Neill. “That day, Soufan came by O’Neill’s office to say good­bye. He was going back to Yemen later that after­noon; O’Neill’s last act as an F.B.I. agent was to sign the paper­work that would send Soufan’s team back into the coun­try. They were deter­mined to arrest the killers of the Amer­i­can sailors, despite the risks of work­ing in such a hos­tile envi­ron­ment. The two men walked to a nearby diner. O’Neill ordered a ham-and-cheese sand­wich. You don’t want to change your infi­del ways? Soufan kid­ded him, indi­cat­ing the ham. You’re gonna go to Hell. O’Neill urged Soufan to visit him in New York when he returned. He had taken a job at the World Trade Cen­ter, as the head of secu­rity. I’m going to be just down the road, he said. Soufan con­fided that he and his long­time girl­friend had decided to get mar­ried. O’Neill gave his bless­ing. She has put up with you all this time, he joked. She must be a good woman. The week that O’Neill retired from the bureau, the F.B.I. ana­lyst at Alec Sta­tion who had been review­ing intel­li­gence on the Malaysia meet­ing real­ized that Mihd­har and Hazmi were in the U.S. She passed the infor­ma­tion to Dina Corsi, at F.B.I. head­quar­ters. Corsi, alarmed, sent an e-mail to the super­vi­sor of the I-49 squad, order­ing the unit to locate the Al Qaeda oper­a­tives. But, she added, because of the Wall no crim­i­nal inves­ti­ga­tors could be involved in the search. As it turned out, there was only one intel­li­gence agent avail­able, and he was new. An F.B.I. agent for­warded Corsi’s mes­sage to Steve Bon­gardt, Soufan’s top assis­tant. He called her. Dina, you got to be kid­ding me! he said. Mihd­har is in the coun­try? He com­plained that the Wall was a bureau­cratic fic­tion that was pre­vent­ing inves­ti­ga­tors from doing their work. In a con­ver­sa­tion the next day, he said, If this guy is in the coun­try, it’s not because he’s going to fuck­ing Dis­ney­land! Later, he wrote in an e-mail, Some­day some­body will die–and, Wall or not, the pub­lic will not under­stand why we were not more effec­tive. The new agent’s attempt to find Mihd­har and Hazmi proved fruit­less.” (Idem.)

28. “Three weeks later, on Sep­tem­ber 11, 2001, Soufan was at the embassy in Sanaa. He spoke on the phone with his fiancee, who told him that the Twin Tow­ers had been attacked. He turned on a tele­vi­sion, and watched as the sec­ond plane hit. He called O’Neill’s cell phone repeat­edly, but there was no answer. The F.B.I. ordered Soufan and the rest of his team in Yemen to evac­u­ate. The morn­ing of Sep­tem­ber 12th, the C.I.A.‘s chief of sta­tion in Aden went with the agents to the air­port in Sanaa. The C.I.A. offi­cial was sit­ting in the lounge with Soufan when he got a call on his cell phone from F.B.I. head­quar­ters. He told Soufan, They want to talk to you. Dina Corsi spoke to Soufan, and told him to stay in Yemen. He was upset. He wanted to return to New York and inves­ti­gate the attack on Amer­ica. This is about that–what hap­pened yes­ter­day, she told him. Quso is our only lead. She wouldn’t tell him any more. Soufan got his lug­gage off the plane, but he was puz­zled. What did Quso, the Cole cam­era­man, have to do with Sep­tem­ber 11th? Robert McFad­den, the naval inves­ti­ga­tor, and sev­eral other offi­cials stayed behind to help Soufan. The order from head­quar­ters was to iden­tify the Sep­tem­ber 11th hijack­ers by any means nec­es­sary, a direc­tive that Soufan had never seen before. When he returned to the embassy, a fax con­tain­ing pho­tographs of twenty sus­pects came over a secure line. Then the C.I.A. chief drew Soufan aside and handed him a manila enve­lope. Inside were three sur­veil­lance pho­tographs and a com­plete report about the Malaysia meeting–the very mate­r­ial that he had asked for so many times. The Wall had come down. When Soufan real­ized that the C.I.A. had known for more than a year and a half that two of the hijack­ers were in the coun­try he ran into the bath­room and threw up. (Soufan’s dis­il­lu­sion­ment with the gov­ern­ment was so pro­found that he even­tu­ally quit the bureau; in 2005, he became direc­tor of inter­na­tional oper­a­tions for Giu­liani Secu­rity and Safety, a com­pany founded by Rudolph W. Giu­liani, the for­mer mayor of New York.)” (Ibid.; pp. 71–72.)

29. “Soufan went to Gen­eral Qamish’s office and demanded to see Quso again. What does this have to do with the Cole? Qamish wanted to know. I’m not talk­ing about the Cole, said Soufan. Brother John is miss­ing. He started to say some­thing else, but he was unable to con­tinue. Gen­eral Qamish’s eyes also filled with tears. Qamish instantly made a deci­sion, McFad­den recalls. He said, ‘You tell me what you want, and I’ll make it hap­pen.’ Qamish said that Quso was in Aden, and there was one last flight that evening from there to the cap­i­tal. He called his sub­or­di­nates on the phone and began shout­ing, I want Quso flown in here tonight! Then the Gen­eral called the air­port and demanded to be patched through to the pilot. You will not take off until my pris­oner is aboard, he ordered him. You could hear them snap­ping to atten­tion, McFad­den recalled. At mid­night, in a room not far from Qamish’s office, Soufan met with Quso, who was in a petu­lant frame of mind. Just because some­thing hap­pens in New York or Wash­ing­ton, you don’t need to talk to me, he said. Soufan showed him the three sur­veil­lance pho­tographs of the Malaysia meet­ing, which included the Saudi hijack­ers Mihd­har and Hazmi. Quso thought he remem­bered see­ing them in Al Qaeda camps, but he wasn’t cer­tain. ‘Why are you ask­ing about them?’ He wanted to know.” (Ibid.; p. 72.)

30. Soufan played a pro­found role in con­firm­ing the link between the Cole bomb­ing and the 9/11 attacks. “Finally, the next day, Soufan received the fourth pho­to­graph of the Malaysia meeting–the pic­ture of Khal­lad, the mas­ter­mind of the Cole oper­a­tion. The two plots, Soufan instantly real­ized, were linked, and if the C.I.A. had not with­held infor­ma­tion from him he likely would have drawn the con­nec­tion months before Sep­tem­ber 11th. He met again with Quso, who iden­ti­fied the fig­ure in the pic­ture as Khallad–the first con­fir­ma­tion of Al Qaeda’s respon­si­bil­ity for the Sep­tem­ber 11th attacks. Soufan inter­ro­gated Quso for three nights, while dur­ing the day he wrote reports and did research, sleep­ing lit­tle more than an hour at a time. He was sick as a dog, but he was get­ting really good infor­ma­tion, his fellow-agent Car­los Fer­nan­dez recalled. On the fourth night, Soufan col­lapsed from exhaus­tion. We wanted to mede­vac him out of there, Fer­nan­dez said. We took him to the emer­gency room. The kid could barely stand. But he refused to leave, and the next day he was right back at it. None of us had ever seen any­thing like that. His co-workers began refer­ring to Soufan as an Amer­i­can hero. Soufan was intensely aware that the infor­ma­tion he was get­ting was crit­i­cal, and that per­haps no one else could extract the truth from Quso. Finally, after hours of extended ques­tion­ing, Quso was shown a pho­to­graph of Mar­wan al– She­hhi, the hijacker who piloted United Air­lines Flight 175, which crashed into the sec­ond tower. Quso iden­ti­fied him, and said that he had met She­hhi in a guest­house in Kan­da­har. He remem­bered that She­hhi had been ill dur­ing Ramadan and that the emir of the guest­house had taken care of him. The emir’s name was Abu Jan­dal. As it hap­pened, Abu Jan­dal was also in Yemeni cus­tody, and the Amer­i­cans arranged to inter­view him. He was a large, pow­er­ful man with a dark beard. What are these infi­dels doing here? he demanded. He took a plas­tic chair and turned it around, sit­ting with his arms crossed and his back to the inter­roga­tors. After some coax­ing, Soufan got Abu Jan­dal to face him, but he refused to look him in the eye. Abu Jan­dal did want to talk, how­ever; he deliv­ered a lengthy, rapid-fire rant against Amer­ica.” (Idem.)

31. “Soufan real­ized that the pris­oner was trained in counter-interrogation tech­niques, since he eas­ily agreed to things that Soufan already knew–that he had fought in Bosnia, Soma­lia, and Afghanistan, for instance–and denied every­thing else. Abu Jan­dal por­trayed him­self as a good Mus­lim who had con­sid­ered jihad but had become dis­il­lu­sioned. He thought of him­self not as a killer but as a rev­o­lu­tion­ary who was try­ing to rid the world of evil, which he believed came mainly from the United States, a coun­try he knew prac­ti­cally noth­ing about. As the nights passed, Abu Jan­dal warmed to Soufan. He told him that he was in his early thir­ties, older than most jihadis. He had grown up in Jed­dah, Saudi Arabia–bin Laden’s home town–and he was well read in reli­gion. He seemed to enjoy drink­ing tea and lec­tur­ing the Amer­i­cans on the rad­i­cal Islamist view of his­tory; his socia­bil­ity was a weak spot. Soufan flat­tered him and engaged him in the­o­log­i­cal debate. Lis­ten­ing to Abu Jandal’s dia­tribes, Soufan picked up sev­eral use­ful details: that he had grown tired of fight­ing; that he was trou­bled by the fact that bin Laden had sworn loy­alty to Mul­lah Omar, the leader of the Tal­iban, in Afghanistan; and that he wor­ried about his two chil­dren, one of whom had a bone dis­ease. Soufan also noted that Abu Jan­dal declined some pas­tries, because he was a dia­betic.” (Idem.)

32. Abu Jandal’s igno­rance of Amer­ica was pro­found. “The next night, the Amer­i­cans brought some sug­ar­less wafers, a cour­tesy that Abu Jan­dal acknowl­edged. Soufan also brought him a his­tory of Amer­ica, in Ara­bic. Abu Jan­dal was con­founded by Soufan: a mod­er­ate Mus­lim who could argue about Islam with him, who was in the F.B.I., and who loved Amer­ica. He quickly read the his­tory that Soufan gave him and was amazed to learn of the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion and its strug­gle against tyranny. Soufan, mean­while, was try­ing to deter­mine the bound­aries of Abu Jandal’s moral land­scape. He asked him about the proper way to wage jihad. Abu Jan­dal eagerly talked about how a war­rior should treat his adver­sary in bat­tle. The Koran and other Islamic texts dis­cuss the ethics of con­duct in war­fare. Where do they sanc­tion sui­cide bomb­ing? Soufan asked him. Abu Jan­dal said that the enemy had an advan­tage in weapons, but the sui­cide bombers evened the score. These are our mis­siles, he said. What about women and chil­dren? Soufan asked. Aren’t they sup­posed to be pro­tected? Soufan pointed to the bomb­ings of the Amer­i­can embassies in East Africa. He recalled a woman on a bus in front of the Nairobi embassy, who, after the bomb exploded, was found clutch­ing her baby, try­ing to pro­tect him from the flames. Both had been incin­er­ated. What sin had the mother com­mit­ted? What about the soul of her child? God will give them their rewards in the Here­after, Abu Jan­dal said. Besides, he added, can you imag­ine how many joined bin Laden after the embassy bomb­ings? Hun­dreds came and asked to be mar­tyrs. Soufan coun­tered that many of the East African victims–perhaps most of them–were Mus­lims. Sev­eral times, Abu Jan­dal quoted cler­i­cal author­i­ties or chap­ters from the Koran, but he found that Soufan was more than a match for him on the­o­log­i­cal mat­ters. Abu Jan­dal finally asserted that, because the embassy bomb­ings were on a Fri­day, when the vic­tims should have been in the mosque, they were not real Mus­lims.” (Ibid.; pp. 72–73.)

33. Note that Abu Jan­dal blamed the 9/11 attacks on Israel and the Jews. He would have fit very well in the so-called 9/11 Truth Move­ment. “On the fifth night, Soufan slammed a news mag­a­zine on the table between them. The mag­a­zine had pho­tographs of the air­planes crash­ing into the Twin Towers–graphic shots of peo­ple trapped in the build­ings and jump­ing a hun­dred sto­ries. Bin Laden did this, Soufan told him. Abu Jan­dal had heard about the attacks, but he didn’t know many details. He stud­ied the pic­tures in amaze­ment. He said that they looked like a Hol­ly­wood pro­duc­tion, but the scale of the atroc­ity vis­i­bly shook him. Soufan and Abu Jan­dal were joined in the small inter­ro­ga­tion room by McFad­den and two Yemeni inves­ti­ga­tors. Every­one sensed that Soufan was clos­ing in. Amer­i­can and allied troops were prepar­ing to go to war in Afghanistan, but they des­per­ately needed more infor­ma­tion about the struc­ture of Al Qaeda, the loca­tions of hide­outs, and the plans for escape–all of which Amer­i­can intel­li­gence offi­cials hoped Abu Jan­dal could sup­ply. Coin­ci­den­tally, a local Yemeni paper was on a shelf under the cof­fee table. Soufan showed it to Abu Jan­dal. The head­line read, TWO HUNDRED YEMENI SOULS PERISH IN NEW YORK ATTACK. (At the time, the death-toll esti­mates were in the tens of thou­sands.) Abu Jan­dal read the head­line and drew a breath. God help us, he mut­tered. Soufan asked what kind of Mus­lim would do such a thing. Abu Jan­dal insisted that the Israelis must have com­mit­ted the attacks on New York and Wash­ing­ton. The Sheikh is not that crazy, he said of bin Laden.” (Ibid.; p. 73.)

34. Even­tu­ally, Soufan was able to out maneu­ver Abu Jan­dal, who yielded the infor­ma­tion Ali sought. “Soufan then took out a book of mug shots con­tain­ing pho­tographs of known Al Qaeda mem­bers and of the hijack­ers. He asked Abu Jan­dal to iden­tify them. The Yemeni flipped through them quickly and closed the book. Soufan opened the book again and told him to take his time. Some of them I have in cus­tody, he said, hop­ing that Abu Jan­dal wouldn’t real­ize that the hijack­ers were all dead. Abu Jan­dal paused for a half-second on the pho­to­graph of She­hhi, the pilot of United Air­lines Flight 175, before he started to turn the page. You’re not done with this one, Soufan said. Ramadan, 1999. He’s sick. You’re his emir, and you take care of him. Abu Jan­dal looked at Soufan in shock. When I ask you a ques­tion, I already know the answer, said Soufan. If you’re smart, you’ll tell me the truth. Abu Jan­dal con­ceded that he knew She­hhi and gave his Al Qaeda nom de guerre, Abdul­lah al-Sharqi. He did the same with Khaled al-Mihdhar and five oth­ers, includ­ing Mohammed Atta, the lead hijacker. But he still insisted that bin Laden would never com­mit such an action. It was the Israelis, he main­tained. I know for sure that the peo­ple who did this were Al Qaeda guys, said Soufan. He took seven pho­tographs out of the book and laid them on the table. How do you know? Abu Jan­dal asked. Who told you? You did, said Soufan. These are the hijack­ers. You just iden­ti­fied them. Abu Jan­dal turned pale. He cov­ered his face with his hands. Give me a moment, he pleaded. Soufan walked out of the room. When he came back, he asked Abu Jan­dal what he thought now. I think the Sheikh went crazy, he said. And then he told Soufan every­thing he knew.” (Idem.)

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