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+ "Zubaydah Is Dead" 13 August, London
"Abu Zubaydah is dead. They killed him. The guy the Americans captured is some low-level look-alike." The words came out of nowhere -- and rather nonchalantly -- from Dr. Saad al Fagih, a former Saudi Arabian surgeon who has spent the past eight years of his life living as a guest of the British, a Saudi political dissident in exile. I've known Saad since August of 1998 -- just after the embassy bombings in East Africa -- when I began researching the subject that takes me back to London to see him again today: Osama bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and the surge of terrorism that shadows modern Islam. Saad says he's never met bin Laden, but he is connected somehow. For one, the satellite telephone that bin Laden allegedly used to plan the Nairobi and Dar es Salaam bombings was purchased from a merchant in Columbus, Ohio, on Saad's own credit card.
It's a familiar story: If the Americans think they've hurt the organization, they're wrong. If the FBI thinks it's got a high-level Al Qaeda commander in custody, they're fooled. If America thinks Al Qaeda is defeated, just wait. The comment about Abu Zubaydah rolls past, as do many more claims. He then takes me online to his favorite Web chat-room and shows me the latest gossip about Al Qaeda. Along with his cybermates, Saad keeps spinning tales of heroism and escape, and he chuckles when he talks about how stupid and arrogant he thinks the Americans are.
In the afternoon I meet the affable and somewhat foolish Sheik Omar Bakri Mohammed, founder of the al Mujahiroun Web site, whose stated mission is to establish an Islamic state in the U.K. Bakri boasts to me about his recent fatwa calling for President Musharraf of Pakistan to be put on trial for siding with the Americans in the "war against Islam." "If he is convicted, the punishment would be death." The guy is big and jaunty and seems to enjoy waging jihad with the enthusiasm of a party host. "It's a Quranic duty to fight infidels. It is my duty not to like them," he says. Amused by his performance, I tease him and ask if he dislikes me. He responds seriously but with a smile: "Yes, but that doesn't mean I hate you." I think that I am supposed to feel comforted by the distinction. It all seems like a well-rehearsed performance. As we pack up to leave, he is on the phone issuing a fatwa to a woman who has called for advice on how to handle a misbehaving husband.
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home - introduction - mapping the journey photograph ©afp/corbis
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