The Black Banners_ 9_11 and the War Against Al-Qaeda - Ali H. Soufan [221]
“Okay,” I said, “let’s go through your story, then. Why were you in Afghanistan?”
“I was there because I like falcons and Afghanistan is great for falconry.”
“How many times have you been to America?”
“Never.”
“We have the details of your attempted entry in August.”
“Oh,” Qahtani stuttered, “that was my only time.”
“And why were you trying to enter?”
“I wanted to buy cars.”
“Where from?”
“I don’t know.”
It was soon clear that Qahtani didn’t have a well-thought-out cover story. All he’d say was that he was in Afghanistan for falconry and had gone to the United States to buy “cars.” To any additional questions about the U.S. episode, he answered, “I don’t know.” When we discussed nonterrorism-related matters, I saw that he wasn’t very intelligent. I concluded that at best his intended role in 9/11 must have been as a muscle hijacker.
“We’ll stop for now,” I told him, “but you should realize we know who you are. You can play all the games you want to, but eventually you’ll realize it’s in your interest to talk to me.”
Before my interview with him the next day, I put pictures on the wall of al-Qaeda members I knew he’d recognize, including KSM, Mohammed Atta, Ramzi Binalshibh, and Mustafa al-Hawsawi. They were all central planners of 9/11. We doctored the pictures, except the one of Atta, so that all the men appeared to be wearing orange jumpsuits, indicating that they were in our custody.
“Do you know these people?” I asked, gesturing to the pictures as he walked in. “We’ve got all your friends in custody. That’s how we know all about you.” He froze for a moment, and his face went red, but then he shook his head and said, “I don’t know anything.”
“I need to step out,” I told him, “but I’ll be back soon.”
I left and went into the room where others were watching the interrogation through a video link. As we watched, Qahtani got out of his bed and slowly approached the wall where we had taped the photographs. He stared at them for a few minutes and then touched them gently, as if trying to communicate with the subjects.
I returned to the room and found Qahtani shaking. “Are you okay?” I asked him.
“I’m going on a hunger strike,” he replied. When he was among the general population, some detainees had gone on hunger strikes to protest prison conditions. He thought that it might absolve him from cooperating.
“You are being silly,” I told him. “You can play this game if you want to, and we’ll wait for you to stop, but I’d prefer it if you just started being honest and stopped wasting both our time.” He folded his hands and wouldn’t say anything else, and he was taken to his cell.
I went and got hummus, tabouli, and kebab and brought it to him with some pita. “Here’s food for you,” I told him. “If you want, you can eat.” I placed it in front of him and left the cell. From the room where the video cameras were, I watched him jump up and start eating the food. That was the end of his hunger strike.
Showing a detainee that I knew all about him and that further denial was a waste of time often worked if he had initially denied his role or refused to cooperate. It took time to wear down al-Qaeda members’ resistance, because when silence didn’t deter us, they would make small talk and deny wrongdoing, hoping to prove their “innocence” that way. That’s when we would start questioning them on small details: Why did they go to Afghanistan? How had they traveled there? Who had arranged their trip? Who had convinced them to go? How was the trip funded? How did they get the money? Who vouched for them? Who picked them up at the airport? How did they enter Afghanistan? Where did they stay in Afghanistan? Whom did they meet?
In their minds, these were questions that weren’t directly relevant to terrorism and could fit with their cover story, but their answers would eventually trap them in a lie, and they would have to revise their story, usually so that it was