As THE DAYS PASSED, more and more officers showed up for duty at CTC/SO and took their seats at the computers to read-in. One of the team’s first priorities was to coordinate with the Department of Defense for the quick deployment of a Special Forces Operational Detachment Alpha, or “ODA”—also referred to as an “A”-Team—to join the NALT in Afghanistan’s Panjshir Valley. ODA’s would also be needed to partner with other CIA teams that were deploying in the coming weeks. To everyone’s dismay, however, due to various complications within DOD, it would not be until after mid-October that the first Special Forces ODA would be on the ground in Afghanistan with the NALT.
From late September to late October much of CTC/SO’s work dealt with logistics, planning, and coordination with various military headquarters as well as the State Department and the National Security Council. At the same time, the office was responsible for tracking what was happening on the ground and providing daily intelligence briefings and situational updates to Agency leadership on the 7th floor and to the White House. I had no specific responsibilities related to those tasks, but I pitched in whenever I saw something I could do, such as answer a cable or coordinate with another office on some issue. It wasn’t exciting work, but I was at least making a contribution, even if a small one, while I waited to be assigned to a team.
One day I received a call from a desk officer in NE Division who had information on an Afghan who had formerly been a CIA reporting source. Because his access had shifted away from what CIA was most interested in, to international narcotics trafficking, he had been turned over to the Drug Enforcement Administration a couple of years before. The desk officer said the source, who was informally referred to as “Pasha,” was currently in the U.S. and, in light of the 9/11 attacks, DEA thought he might be of use to CIA again.
In describing the source to me, the desk officer mentioned that Pasha was from a remote province in northern Afghanistan, a place where we believed Osama Bin Laden might flee once our efforts in Afghanistan got fully underway. We had no sources in that province, and Pasha was well connected there. If we could get him to return home and tap into his network, there was a reasonable chance he might pick up on any al-Qa’ida moving into the area. Pasha sounded like an interesting operational lead, and I made arrangements to meet him at a hotel in the next couple of days.
Accompanying me to meet with Pasha was a retired case officer named Joan who, following the 9/11 attacks, had immediately volunteered to come back to work and help out wherever she could. Well into her sixties, Joan had been enjoying her retirement writing children’s books, but had put that love aside to return to serve her country in its time of need. She brought with her a great personality and a great deal of operational experience; CTC/SO was fortunate to have her services. During her career she had served in the Near East region and at one point had been a Chief of Station. She and I hit it off immediately, and with management’s approval we teamed up to evaluate Pasha’s potential operational usefulness.
We departed CIA Headquarters and after taking the necessary precautions to insure that we were not being followed, arrived at a local hotel where the meeting was to take place. The suite for the meeting had already been reserved, and I checked in using an alias. For purposes of dealing with Pasha, I was “Ian” and Joan used the throwaway alias of “Elaine.”
The meeting with Pasha was a “cold turnover,” meaning his current handler from DEA would not be there to make the introduction. We would have to introduce ourselves without the benefit of an interlocutor. This was not the best way to do a turnover, but sometimes it was the only way it could be done.
Shortly after our arrival and right on schedule, Pasha called from the lobby and asked for “Mr. Ian.” I told him the room number and a few minutes later he knocked on the door. Pasha was thick-set and imposing. With a stern expression and jet black hair and beard, with eyes to match, he presented the stereotypical image of a Middle Eastern terrorist. I imagined the attention he must have been receiving since the 9/11 attacks, and in fact, the attention Pasha’s looks drew would present some challenges for us in the coming days.
After introductions and offerings of tea, I began a debriefing of Pasha, asking him questions about where he was from and whom he knew back home. Pasha’s native language was Dari, the Afghan dialect of Farsi, but his English was better than my Farsi, so I carried out the debriefing in English.
Pasha appeared to be forthcoming, and it was obvious he was used to being debriefed. I had already read his file from when he was a source for CIA, so I knew quite a bit about him. As we had planned ahead of time, during the debriefing Joan did not ask questions but played the role of my “assistant.” This allowed her to carefully observe Pasha and take detailed notes.
Pasha’s demeanor was serious, but his politeness and reserved manner were appealing. Still, he did have significant personal baggage, which I knew about from his file, and it was anything but appealing; there were many detractors of the case. Despite this, however, due to his access to intelligence, Pasha was kept on the books.
Finally, I introduced the subject I really wanted to discuss.
“Pasha, what do you think? Do you believe bin Laden is still in Afghanistan?”
“Yes, he is still in Afghanistan, but he no doubt has gone into deep hiding. He is not stupid. He knows America is looking for him and will kill him if he is found.”
“Is there any reason to think he or other al-Qa’ida members might show up in your home province?”
“That is a possibility,” Pasha said. “A few years back, some al-Qa’ida men came through the province. They were looking into acquiring mining interests in the area. I heard they made some deals and those mines could be excellent hideouts.”
Pasha then leaned toward me and in a lowered voice said, “And do not forget, Mr. Ian, the border with Pakistan is not far from there. It will be their escape route should things become too uncomfortable for them in Afghanistan.”
Nothing Pasha had said was new or original, nor was I expecting it to be. We already knew about al-Qa’ida’s interest in mines. The group relied on the sale of semi-precious stones like Lapis Lazuli, the deep blue stones for which Afghanistan was famous, to help generate income to finance its activities. Also, there had been speculation that the mines could serve as cover for creating secret bunkers where men and material could be hidden. As for the proximity of the province to the Pakistan border and the likelihood of it serving as a back door for bin Laden’s escape, that was as obvious as the rather broad nose on Pasha’s tough-looking face. All you needed to do was look at a map to figure that out.
No, there was nothing in the conversation that CIA did not already know or had not considered. But the discussion did serve my purpose, as it let Pasha explain the very rationale I would use to convince him why it was important for him to go back to his province and reestablish his information network. Of course there would be a cost for his services, but in the interest of establishing a picket line of reporting sources in a remote area where bin Laden and his cronies might flee, CIA was ready to pay a premium.
“Pasha, you would make a great analyst,” I said. “Your thinking is the same as the combined brain power of the CIA.” Pasha beamed.
“We are very worried that the people in al-Qa’ida, maybe bin Laden himself, will slip away before we can catch them. Your province, because of all the things you mentioned, could be the place that will swallow them up and bin Laden may never be seen again. That cannot be allowed to happen. He has committed a terrible crime, and he must be punished for it.”
As I talked, Pasha sat very still. His face had a stern look about it, and he seemed intently focused on my every word. When I stopped, he continued to sit motionless for several seconds. Then he smiled.
“So, Mr. Ian, what must I do?”
“We need you to go back to your home province and reestablish your reporting network. This time we want you to be watching for al-Qa’ida, not narcotics traffickers.”
I stopped to watch his reaction as Joan quietly scribbled some notes.
“I will need money to do this. Maybe a lot of money,” Pasha said.
Now it was his turn to carefully watch my reaction. His words were not unexpected. In my experience as a case officer, most agents seemed to have been programmed to respond in this manner when given a new tasking.
“You will get the money you need for this, and a nice boost in your salary. Possibly a bonus as well—if you are successful. But first you need to prepare a plan on how you would go about making this happen. How would you get there? What would you tell your friends and family you were doing? Who would you use as sources, and how would you stay in contact with them? I’ll need timelines for getting everything in place. Everything you can think of, including how much money you think you’ll need. Once you’ve done that, we’ll sit down and go over the plan top to bottom and fix any problems. Can you do all that?”
“No problem, Mr. Ian. I can do this for you, and CIA will be very happy. I know how to make this work.”
“I know you do, Pasha. That is why we wanted to meet you again. We know we can depend on you to get this done.”
In preparation for the meeting, Joan and I had pulled together maps and ordered special photography of selected areas of his province. The photography was an Air Force product that presented the terrain in a 3D format similar to what it would look like if you were flying through the area. The terrain we were interested in was unbelievably rugged, with narrow valleys and gorges that were bordered on each side by the exceptionally steep mountains of the Hindu Kush. If Bin Laden wanted to hide there it would be very difficult, perhaps impossible, to find him. The best chance we had would be to detect his initial movement into the area, and to do that we needed a local source network. That was what we hoped Pasha could provide.
As the meeting continued, Joan and I spread out the terrain map on the table. Unlike most assets from the Third World I had worked with, Pasha could easily read a map, and he quickly pointed out his home village. There were few roads in the area, and Pasha confirmed that much travel was done using trails not shown on the map.
“It’s easy to know where the trails are,” he said. “Almost every valley that is big enough for a stream or river will have a trail running near it.”
“And what about crossing from one valley to the next? How is that done?” Joan asked, momentarily breaking from her role as note-taker. “Those mountainsides are very steep.”
“Yes, very steep. But there is always a way.” Pasha flashed a grin through his black beard. “But it may take several days to make the crossing. And in winter, forget it. You’re not going anywhere. The snow is just too deep, and the passes are closed.”
“So what do you do in the winter?” I asked.
“Not much. You spend almost all your time inside your compound trying to stay warm. Your supplies have been stored by the time winter begins, and you keep your animals in your compound with you. So there really is not much need to go outside, even if you could.”
“So if al-Qa’ida is there in the winter, they won’t be moving about?”
Pasha shook his head. “Nobody moves in winter. Everyone will be sheltered, or they won’t last long.”
The discussion with Pasha made it abundantly clear that if we hoped to find our quarry, it would have to be done before winter set in. It was already October and I had serious doubts that it could be done in time. If we were going to have any chance at all, we would have to work fast.