Amir is the pseudonym John Kiriakou uses for the colleague who worked beside him through the operation that captured Abu Zubaydah in 2002. Amir was Muslim and an ethnic Arab, a domestic officer on temporary duty to Pakistan who had never served overseas before — and who was, Kiriakou says, thrilled to be part of it and “very much into the spirit of things.”[1]
The tea
That enthusiasm had costs. Halfway along the road between Lahore and Faisalabad, where the motorway turns into a dirt track, tea sellers pitch tents and travellers stop. Amir always got tea from them. Once he brought Kiriakou one with milk in it, and Kiriakou refused it — “do you have any idea how long that milk has been sitting out?” Amir drank his; Kiriakou threw his away. Amir had diarrhoea for the next six weeks, through the entire operation.[1] Kiriakou’s own view of the matter is that being ill in Pakistan is simply part of the job: on many days you are expected to work fourteen, sixteen, eighteen hours with a raging fever, and you should be prepared for it.[2]
Driving into India
On their first drive to Faisalabad, Amir insisted on using one of the new handheld GPS units — devices the size of a large walkie-talkie. Kiriakou kept saying they were heading east; Amir insisted they were heading west. Then the unit announced: approaching international border. They had driven into India, and turned around under the gaze of Indian border guards coming out to see who was arriving down the dirt track — adding an hour to the trip.[3][4]
Textile barons
Amir’s most consequential improvisation came when the estate agent selling the Lahore safe house asked what the cash buyers did for a living. Exhausted and without a cover story, Amir said: “we’re textile barons.” Kiriakou agreed that yes, they were textile barons, and the agent — assuming they owned the factories outside town — blessed them for employing everyone in that part of the country.[5]
It was Amir who drove with Kiriakou through Lahore twice in the small hours before the raids, rehearsing the route by landmark — shoe advertisement, traffic policeman, British school, McDonald’s — because the city had no street signs.[6][7] On the night itself the two of them watched from the roof of the Faisalabad safe house, and it was to Amir that Kiriakou gave his estimate beforehand: “I think we’re going to catch somebody. I don’t know if we’re going to catch him. I’m going to call it 50-50.”[8]