The Triple Agent

It was also true, bin Zeid continued, that Jordan had supplied the evidence that led to the fatal missile attack against Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, leader of al-Qaeda in Iraq. And the Mukhabarat had netted much bigger prey. He claimed that a Jordanian spy had been behind one of the greatest and most mysterious assassinations of a terrorist figure in decades, the 2008 slaying of former Hezbollah security chief Imad Mughniyeh. The man who was dubbed Abu Dokhan—the “father of smoke”—because of his uncanny ability to elude capture had been killed by a bomb hidden in the headrest of his car in Damascus. Initial speculation had pointed to a rival Hezbollah faction or Syrian agents. But U.S. terrorism experts came to suspect Israel’s Mossad spy agency, despite Israel’s strong denials, simply because the hit had been so exquisitely planned and executed. Mughniyeh’s name had been on numerous most wanted lists, including that of the FBI, which blamed the Lebanon-born militant for separate bombings in 1983 of the marines’ barracks in Beirut and the U.S. Embassy there. The latter strike had killed more than sixty people, including eight CIA employees. It was the deadliest single event in the history of the U.S. intelligence agency. And it was the Mukhabarat, bin Zeid said, that had exacted vengeance.

There was yet another surprise. One of the most enduring mysteries since the founding of the modern jihadist movement was who had killed Abdullah Azzam, the revered Palestinian cleric who helped lead the anti-Soviet insurgency in Afghanistan in the 1980s. Azzam had been a mentor and teacher to Osama bin Laden, but in his later years he had clashed with bin Laden’s followers over the terrorist group’s willingness to spill Muslim blood to advance their cause. His death in 1989 by a remote-control bomb in Peshawar, Pakistan, was the Muslim world’s equivalent of the John F. Kennedy assassination, drawing legions of conspiracy theorists, who variously linked the slaying to the Soviets, Israelis, Americans, Pakistanis, Afghans, and even bin Laden himself. Now bin Zeid said flatly that Azzam’s death too had been the work of the Mukhabarat. He even offered the name of the assassin: bin Zeid’s own boss, Ali Burjak, the “Red Devil.”

“If you go and kill any leader of the mujahideen, you’ll become the top man in Jordan, like my chief,” bin Zeid had said.

It was now clear what bin Zeid was looking for, and Balawi, after some thinking, decided to float his idea. I could go to FATA, he offered.

The proposal sparked furious discussions at the Mukhabarat and at the Amman counterterrorism center run jointly with the CIA. Balawi was no agent, that was clear; he had no training, spoke no Pashto, and could hardly be considered reliable after a few nights in detention and a handful of dinners and coffees with bin Zeid. On the other hand, there was little to lose.

A quick consensus was reached on the key points. For the cost of only a few thousand dollars, Balawi could be set loose in Pakistan with a serviceable cover story. Fortunately for him, he already possessed assets that would accord him instant credibility in Taliban country, including a medical degree and an Internet persona. He would essentially work on spec, earning significant rewards only in the unlikely event that he could deliver someone important. He would not be given fancy communication gadgets or anything that might expose him as a spy if he were discovered. If he were killed—the chances were judged to be high—few outside Balawi’s own family would notice or care.

Questions were raised about why Balawi would even consider leaving his home and job for such a dangerous assignment. To judge from his behavior in his meetings with bin Zeid, the answer seemed obvious: money. In reports summarizing Balawi’s views about his possible assignment, the physician appeared to vacillate between deep concern over his safety and endless curiosity about the size of his reward.

With the CIA now fully on board, the logistics of Balawi’s journey came together with remarkable speed. Balawi would need an expedited Pakistani visa, so a letter inviting the Jordanian physician to a diabetes conference in Pakistan was drafted. E-mail accounts were created and tested. Code words were forged and memorized.

Balawi would also have a new code-name. No longer Panzer—the handle bin Zeid had chosen—he would now be known by his CIA name, Wolf.

A critical decision that fell to the CIA was whether to inform Pakistan, a U.S. ally, of the plan to insert an undercover operative into its sovereign territory. Langley quickly rejected the idea. Top CIA officials were convinced that Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence agency harbored agents sympathetic to Jalaluddin Haqqani, a Pashtun warlord who had been backed by Islamabad during the 1980s and was now a supporter of the Afghan insurgency. Balawi could be betrayed and killed before he had time to unpack his bags.