The Looming Tower - Lawrence Wright [206]
Abu Jandal scowled at the Americans. “What are these infidels doing here?” he demanded. He took one of the plastic chairs 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 still refused to look him in the eye. Abu Jandal did want to talk, however; he delivered a lengthy rant against America in rapid-fire Hijazi dialect. He also complained about the fact that he had never been charged. “Why am I in jail?” he kept demanding.
“Why is he in jail?” the Americans asked their Yemeni counterparts during a break.
“Suspicion.”
“Suspicion of what?”
“You know, suspicion,” the Yemeni officer responded.
Soufan realized that the prisoner was well trained in counterinterrogation 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. The responses were designed to make the interrogators question their assumptions. Abu Jandal portrayed himself as a good Muslim who had flirted with jihad but had become disillusioned. He didn’t think of himself as a killer but as a revolutionary who was trying to rid the world of evil, which he believed mainly came from the United States of America, a country he knew practically nothing about.
As the nights passed, Abu Jandal warmed to the sport of the interrogation. He was in his early thirties, older than most jihadis. He had grown up in Jeddah, bin Laden’s hometown, and he was well read in religion. He enjoyed drinking tea and lecturing the Americans on the radical Islamist view of history; his sociability was his weak spot. Soufan flattered him and engaged him in theological debate. Within 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 bayat to Mullah Omar, that he worried about his two children, one of whom had a bone disease. Soufan also noted that Abu Jandal declined the pastries that came with the coffee, admitting he was a diabetic. These were small revelations that Soufan could use in getting him to identify the hijackers.
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 and what he represented: a Muslim who could argue religion with him, who was in the FBI, who loved America. He quickly consumed the history that Soufan gave him and was shocked to learn of the American Revolution and the passionate struggle against tyranny that was woven into the American heritage. His worldview depended on the assumption that the United States was the wellspring of evil in the world.
Soufan, meanwhile, was trying to determine the boundaries of Abu Jandal’s moral landscape. He asked about the proper way to wage jihad. Abu Jandal eagerly talked about how a warrior should treat his adversary in battle. The Quran and hadith are full of instructions concerning the honorable conduct of warfare.
Where does it sanction suicide bombing? Soufan wanted to know.
Abu Jandal said 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? He 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 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,” said Abu Jandal. Besides, he added, “can you imagine how many joined bin Laden after the embassy bombings? Hundreds came and asked to be martyrs.”
But many of the East African victims, perhaps most of them, were Muslims, said Soufan. The discussion was growing