500 Days (82 page)

Over the course of a few months, the leverage against other detainees provided by Sheikh Mohammed’s information played a big part in the agency’s efforts to cripple al-Qaeda’s associated militant network in Southeast Asia, Jemaah Islamiyah. After 9/11, Sheikh Mohammed began to count increasingly on the Asian terrorists for his plots, recruiting Jemaah Islamiyah in an unsuccessful plot to crash a hijacked plane into Library Tower in Los Angeles, as well as to strike targets throughout Asia and Europe. In the course of planning the attacks, Sheikh Mohammed revealed, he had asked an ally named Majid Khan to deliver $50,000 to Jemaah Islamiyah members.

Unknown to Sheikh Mohammed, Khan had been detained weeks before in Pakistan. CIA interrogators confronted him about the money, and Khan cracked, admitting that he had turned it over to a man he knew only as Zubair. Khan provided a description and phone number for the man, and authorities picked up Zubair a few weeks later.

Then, during his debriefings, Zubair revealed that he worked directly for Riduan Isamuddin, better known as Hambali. Dubbed by the CIA as “Osama bin Laden of Southeast Asia,” Hambali was one of the most sought-after terrorists in the world; the Bali nightclub bombers had already identified him as a primary director of the attack. And Zubair knew where the terrorist leader was hiding. Hambali was captured by the CIA and Thai authorities at an apartment in Ayutthaya, Thailand; at the time, he was in the final stages of planning attacks on a series of hotels in Bangkok.

Hambali was Jemaah Islamiyah’s military commander and chief liaison with al-Qaeda. While his capture dealt a severe blow to the Southeast Asian terror
group, the CIA wanted to hammer it harder. So the agency went back to Sheikh Mohammed and told him to identify Hambali’s likely successor. He named Hambali’s brother, ‘Abd al-Hadi.

In short order, the brother was in custody and he, too, was interrogated. He identified a cell of Jemaah Islamiyah terrorists who had been sent by Hambali to Karachi so that they could serve as martyrs in future al-Qaeda operations. When confronted with that information, Hambali confessed—the cell members were being groomed for attacks in the United States involving hijacked airplanes. The instructions to set up the cell, Hambali said, had been transmitted to him by a senior al-Qaeda terrorist—Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. With the new information, authorities took down the terror cell.

The process had gone full circle—starting with Sheikh Mohammed and ending with the destruction of a terror cell he had helped create. Asia’s worst terrorist group was, at least for a while, left in shambles.

•  •  •  

Bush peered out a window on
Air Force One
as the coastline of Portugal’s Azores Islands came into view. It was March 16, a Sunday, and the president had just flown more than two thousand miles to the idyllic archipelago in the North Atlantic for an emergency summit with the prime ministers of Britain, Spain, and Portugal.

Hopes that the Security Council would pass a second resolution authorizing the use of military force against Iraq had all but evaporated. Some last-minute diplomatic efforts were brewing—representatives from Chile were still attempting to broker a compromise resolution, but their effort was faltering. There were also rumblings out of the Middle East that other Arab states were negotiating Saddam’s departure from Iraq, but that apparently was all they were—rumblings.

So instead, Bush called for this meeting in the Azores with three countries that had already committed their support for an Iraqi invasion. He was tired of debate, and done with it. This discussion would not be so much about whether to close the door on more U.N. wrangling, but rather how hard to slam it shut.

The president’s plane landed at Lajes Field, a military base shared by the air forces of Portugal and America. Other large jets were just off the runway, including a British Airways 777 airliner that had been chartered to carry Tony Blair and a handful of his advisors to the meeting.
Air Force One
came to a stop and
Bush came down the stairs. He stepped into a limousine that was part of an enormous motorcade—so large it seemed designed more to convey an air of urgency than to shuttle around politicians.

The convoy swung by a building on the Portuguese side of Lajes where the prime ministers were waiting. Blair was invited to join Bush in his limousine, while José Maria Aznar of Spain and José Manuel Barroso of Portugal climbed into other cars. Then the motorcade sped off to the American portion of the base. There, the group was led to its meeting room.

As the leader of the host country, Barroso welcomed his guests and launched into a long, cumbersome speech about the road that lay ahead.

“We have to make a last effort for peace,” he implored. “We need to try one last time to reach a political solution.”

There were formulaic nods and mutterings of agreement, amid an unspoken understanding that diplomacy had almost certainly failed. They had to present the U.N. with an ultimatum, Bush said—accept the resolution as written within twenty-four hours, or get out of the way.

“This is our last effort,” he said. “Everyone has to be able to say that we did everything we could to avoid war. But this is the final moment, the moment of truth.”

There would be no more hand-wringing, Bush said. Saddam still had the means—indeed, the incentive—to deliver weapons of mass destruction to al-Qaeda terrorists. The civilized world could not simply stand by, waiting for calamity to strike.

“I am just not going to be the president on whose watch this happens,” Bush said. “I love my country and these people threaten it by their hatred for us.”

But, he promised, he would pursue more than just a military action against Iraq—this was just a stage in his grander ambition to advance the Middle East peace process, and once Iraq was liberated from its tyrant, he would pursue that cause with vigor.

Blair quickly struck a cautionary note. “The vote in Parliament is on Tuesday,” he said. “And if the vote fails, I’ll have to resign as prime minister.”

That eventuality, Bush knew, would be a huge blow to the Iraq mission. If Blair was forced from office, Britain would pull out of the coalition and America would lose its most important ally. The entire military strategy would have to be rethought.

The men and their aides crafted a statement declaring their commitment to disarming Saddam and aiding the Iraqi people. Once they were finished,
everyone prepared to leave the room. Alastair Campbell, a Blair aide who over the years had struck up a friendly relationship with Bush, approached the president. He was going to be participating in a charity run, Campbell explained.

“If I do a sub-four-hour marathon, will you sponsor me?” he asked.

Bush smiled. “If you win the vote in Parliament, I’ll kiss your ass.”

“I’d rather have the sponsorship,” Campbell replied.

•  •  •  

Minutes later, Bush spoke to the assembled reporters, making no effort to mask his anger or sugarcoat his message.

“Tomorrow is a moment of truth for the world,” he said. “Many nations have voiced a commitment to peace and security. And now they must demonstrate that commitment in the only effective way, by supporting the immediate and unconditional surrender of Saddam Hussein.”

Blair agreed. “More discussion is just more delay, with Saddam remaining armed with weapons of mass destruction,” he said. “We are in the final stages because, after twelve years of failing to disarm him, now is the time when we have to decide.”

The reporters didn’t quite know what to make of what they had just heard.
Tomorrow, final stages, time to decide.
Had Bush and Blair just thrown down the gauntlet and given the U.N. twenty-four hours to act?

Ron Fournier from the Associated Press asked the question. “When you say tomorrow is the moment of truth, does that mean that tomorrow is the last day that the resolution can be voted up or down and, at the end of the day tomorrow, one way or another, the diplomatic window has closed?”

Bush didn’t hesitate. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

•  •  •  

When the press conference ended, the four world leaders stood together, shaking hands as they bade their good-byes. Bush patted Blair on the shoulder, then walked off toward
Air Force One,
accompanied by Condoleezza Rice.

“I hope that’s not the last time we see him,” she said to Bush. In days, they knew, Blair could be a private citizen again.

The president and his entourage climbed onto the plane. They gathered at a wooden table in the aircraft’s conference room and began hammering out what they called “the ultimatum speech,” which Bush would deliver in an Oval Office address the following night. The message was simple: Hussein had to leave Iraq in forty-eight hours from the time Bush gave his address—by Wednesday at 8:00
P.M.
Washington time—or face the fury of American might.

They completed the draft and settled in for a movie. Bush munched on popcorn as the lights dimmed. The film
Conspiracy Theory
began. Bush didn’t like it.

•  •  •  

Two days later, Tony Blair was reviewing documents in shirtsleeves, his suit jacket beside him on the table. He was in a private room in the House of Commons, directly behind the Speaker’s chair, preparing to beseech Parliament to authorize the use of military force against Iraq.

The room was a hive of activity, with aides giving him last-minute information and suggesting pungent turns of phrase for his speech. Amid the tumult, one of them studied Blair. The intense machinations of the past year had exacted a toll on the prime minister. He had lost weight and his face had paled. But his energy had not waned—he was reaching the tail end of what would be an eighteen-hour day, and his staffers were still struggling to keep up with him as he rushed from place to place.

The time approached 12:30
P.M.
Blair slipped on his jacket and stepped into the House chamber.

•  •  •  

Blair stood at a wooden podium in front of his seat in the House of Commons, the spot where prime ministers historically addressed the members.

“This is a tough choice indeed,” he said, “but it is also a stark one: To stand British troops down now and turn back or to hold firm to the course that we have set. I believe passionately that we must hold firm to that course.”

Already, some of the House members saw a difference in Blair, changes in style that underscored the gravity of the moment. There were no sneers or head shakes directed at those he considered fools as there had been so often in the past. There was no cadence of the pulpit. Instead, the words were simple, raw, and respectful. But above all, they were bleak.

“The outcome of this debate will determine more than the fate of the Iraqi regime,” Blair proclaimed. “It will determine the pattern of international politics for the next generation.”

He reviewed the twelve-year history of the U.N.’s efforts to disarm Iraq, reciting the dashed hopes, the endless delays, the fruitless talks. Now Security Council members were singing that same old song. The choice was no longer about whether action against Saddam would be postponed, Blair said. It was about whether there would be any action at all.

“The tragedy is that the world has to learn the lesson all over again that
weakness in the face of a threat from a tyrant is the surest way not to peace but, unfortunately, to conflict,” Blair said.

These were not simple issues, the prime minister said, and reasonable people could disagree in good faith on how to proceed. There had, of course, been efforts to link Saddam with bin Laden, though no firm proof of a meaningful relationship had yet been found.

“At the moment,” he said, “I accept fully that the association between the two is loose. But it is hardening.”

Blair’s voice stayed steady, but his hands began to tremble. His wife, Cherie, watched from the gallery, her face frozen.

“To retreat now, I believe, would put at hazard all that we hold dearest,” he said, “to tell our allies that, at the very moment of action, at the very moment when they need our determination, Britain faltered.”

He looked around the packed room. “I will not be a party to such a course,” he said.

With that, Blair pushed aside his prepared remarks.

“This is the time not just for this government—or indeed for this Prime Minister—but for this House to give a lead,” he said, “to show, at the moment of decision, that we have the courage to do the right thing.”

Blair stopped speaking, and the members erupted in applause and cheers.

•  •  •  

The debate lasted late into the night. At 10:00
P.M.
, a majority beat back an amendment offered by 139 members of Blair’s own party, declaring that the case for war had not been proved. Learning of his victory, Blair breathed deep and sighed. The revolt against his war policy had been quelled. Britain would be joining the Americans in the fight to defang Saddam Hussein.

•  •  •  

On the afternoon of March 19, in the private dining room just off the Oval Office, members of the war cabinet were showing Bush maps of Baghdad and pointing out a proposed strategic target.

The combined CIA and army Special Forces unit—called the Northern Iraq Liaison Unit—had turned up intelligence the previous day. As relayed by an important source, information from Iraq’s communications headquarters indicated that Saddam, his sons, and other top members of his government would be hiding out at Dora Farms, an estate owned by the dictator’s wife. Aerial reconnaissance suggested that the location’s security had been tightened. Rather
than fleeing Iraq and seeking asylum abroad before Bush’s forty-eight-hour deadline expired that night, Saddam apparently planned to hole up at the small complex on the outskirts of Baghdad.

Bush clasped his chin. “How good are your sources on this?” he asked Tenet.

“Very good,” Tenet replied. “But we can’t guarantee that it isn’t wrong, or that it isn’t a trick.”

Saddam was capable of doing anything to stay in power. He might have moved an orphanage to the site, luring the United States into unknowingly raining bombs on children and earning the censure of the world. Or maybe Dora Farms was just a stopping point on his way out of the country. But, Tenet said, the intelligence that placed Saddam there was as good as it got.