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In Baghdad, One False
Move Can Mean Death
Saddam Sent Hitman To Kill London Foes
By Marie Colvin
http://www.sunday-times.co.uk
1-14-01
 
 

There is one question that Iraqi intelligence agents are not supposed to put to the people they interrogate under torture. They never ask why their prisoners oppose Saddam Hussein.
 
Brutality has become such a commonplace in the culture that keeps Saddam in power that his minions cannot be allowed to doubt whether the evil they commit is normal.
 
Interviewing defectors from the Iraqi power structure entails hearing about so many inhuman acts that when one agent of the mukhabarat (security service) said he had worked in the Bureau of Murders, I thought he meant the office that committed them. In fact, it was the office that investigated murders.
 
There are many startling stories about Iraq. Saddam gunned down half his cabinet after he took power in 1979; Uday, his eldest son, raped and killed a woman, then gave her family a car in compensation; Qusay, his second son, ordered Abu Ghreib prison to be "cleaned out" and had 2,000 prisoners executed in 24 hours.
 
What these stories obscure is the day-to-day oppression that 16m Iraqis endure. The people who commit brutal acts say: "It was normal to us."
 
Omar Ismael, now a refugee in western Europe, worked for 14 years in the mukhabarat and rose to the rank of captain before fleeing six months ago.
 
He is not an unfeeling man: he talks movingly about wanting his children, Mustapha, 9, and Raima, 6, to escape from Iraq and join him. But he has no remorse about the job he considered "normal". Ismael saw so many people killed in Iraqi prisons that he no longer remembers their names or the number.
 
Ismael did not leave Iraq because he opposed Saddam, but because he thought he would be the next victim. His final mission is a chilling warning of how far beyond any civilised boundaries the regime in Iraq has gone.
 
Ismael's last order - one he did not obey because he believed he would have been killed - was to travel to London and assassinate Iraqi opposition leaders.
 
He was given weeks of training with 14 other mukhabarat agents, all being prepared for similar missions. He was to pose as an asylum seeker in London and ingratiate himself with opposition figures there. For weeks his instructors at the Salman Pak bureau of the mukhabarat schooled him in what to say to his interviewers to convince them he was a political refugee. He was given a passport with a new name identifying him as a Shi'ite, the branch of Islam that is followed by those in the south of Iraq and is viewed with suspicion by Saddam's Sunni elite.
 
He was told to say he had been imprisoned for joining the Shi'ite rebellion that followed Saddam's defeat in the Gulf war and was taught the dialect of the south. More sinister was the training he received to fire a gun with a silencer and to use thallium, a slow-acting poison that has featured in Iraqi assassinations.
 
"They told me to go to London, to remain quiet for two months and get myself established. They said the government of Britain would pay me some money and I should live only on that. Then I was to get close to three people. They showed me thick files on the people in London."
 
He left through northern Iraq, now in control of the Kurds, and was given money by an Iraqi agent in Ankara. He was to check in with Baghdad every week through contacts in Romania and Greece. If he needed a weapon or thallium compound, he had a number to call in Cyprus.
 
"I was told I would be given new orders after two months," Ismael said. "I knew I was supposed to assassinate these people for three reasons: one, why else would they teach me to use a silenced gun and thallium; two, I was told not to worry about my children - they would be taken care of; and three, the way the mission was set up in Baghdad, they could deny any connection with me if I was caught."
 
Ismael decided to flee. He knew what could happen to him because for years he had been a "technician" - recording torture sessions or helping with electrical equipment during the interrogation of suspects.
 
The equipment, imported from Germany by the health ministry, was a machine manufactured to restart patients' hearts with a jolt of electricity. The mukhabarat modified it to deliver stronger jolts.
 
Every torture session had to be recorded and a tape sent to the office of Qusay, who runs Iraq's Special Security Organisation. Like the Nazis, the Iraqi regime is keeping details of the crimes it commits in its own archives. The record could be invaluable to any tribunal convened to consider the regime's crimes against humanity.
 
"Sometimes we had so much work that we could not record everything, but we sent many tapes," Ismael said. "Always one question was asked: who are you working with?"
 
Electrodes were placed on suspects' heads or genitals. Whenever a question went unanswered, said Ismael, the voltage was increased.
 
Torture trio: Iraqis live in terror of Saddam, with Uday, left, and Qusay His career reveals the depth of the regime's paranoia. In April 1998 Ismael and four other agents followed Taha Abbas Hababi, the director of the Al Eimn al-Amn, Iraq's equivalent of MI5. Hababi was considered to have gone "soft".
 
"We found nothing against him after two months, so we made a tape of his daughter having sex with a man," Ismael said. "We had to drug her first."
 
When Hababi was sent the tape he went directly to a meeting with Saddam and Qusay. He was not seen again until his body was delivered to his family two months later.
 
Executions were routine. "Prisoners would be put in a room and killed by a man who just opened fire, spraying them with bullets," Ismael said. "Then another man would come and put a bullet in each one's head, to be sure. Once we found a man who had died without any bullet holes in him - from fear, I think."
 
On one occasion Ismael and fellow mukhabarat agents were called to witness the execution of two colleagues. "I think it was to make an example of them," he said.
 
In Ismael's last year one name kept emerging in torture sessions: Amar Turki, said to be an opposition leader based in London. Iraq had no file on him. Part of Ismael's mission was to find Turki. He was also ordered to get close to Arras Habib, of the Iraqi National Congress, and Mohammed Safie, another opposition leader. Habib is not surprised. "I was told Saddam offered 40m dinars [£17,000] for my death," he said yesterday.
 
Ismael was sent on his mission last August and, having sought sanctuary, says he can never return to Iraq. His story would be amazing had other former mukhabarat agents not provided similar accounts.
 
Khaled Jenabi, now a refugee in Jordan, was also a mukhabarat officer until he left last year. His brother, Kamel, a field marshal, was shot dead by Qusay after an argument. Jenabi believes that Saddam felt he had become too popular.
 
Both Khaled Jenabi and Ismael were sons of the regime. Ismael was recruited from university; Jenabi at 16. "I was told by my tribe that I had been chosen by Saddam. I was very proud," Jenabi recalled. He started as a bodyguard to Barzan Tikriti, Saddam's brother and a former head of the mukhabarat, then graduated to spying on fellow Iraqis.
 
He drugged female relatives of government or army officials and filmed them having sex. Some tapes were used for blackmail, others to keep officials in line. The tortures Jenabi saw in prisons ranged from pulling nails to burning skin with a blowtorch. "Iraqi prisons are like burial places - once you enter, you never leave," he said.

 
 
 
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