Blog | Barbed Wire, AK-47s: When I Almost Saw A 'Most Wanted' Pakistani Terrorist

For decades, Pakistan has been a safe haven not only for heads of terror groups - the likes of Osama bin Laden and Hafiz Saeed - but even some 'lone wolf' terrorists. However, at every point in history, successive Pakistani governments have stoutly denied harbouring any such characters on their soil.

The present Defence Minister, Khawaja Asif, has, unsurprisingly, stuck to the same script in media interviews following the April 22 terrorist attack in Pahalgam. In fact, he has even stated that terror mastermind Masood Azhar is not in Pakistan, despite several records hinting to the contrary. There are numerous incidents that confirm the presence of such rogue elements in the Afghanistan-Pakistan region, moving freely across the border, raising mercenaries, and sending threats across the world.

The CIA Killings Of 1993

About 14 years before Osama bin Laden was eliminated by US Marines in 2011 at his Abbottabad hideout in Pakistan's Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, a killer who had shot at least two CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) operatives in 1993 was apprehended by US agents in Quetta. The fugitive was picked up on June 15, 1997, before dawn in the capital of Balochistan province, bordering Afghanistan. It was barely 200 km from Kandahar. According to reports, the killer was whisked away to Chaklala airbase - a gruelling drive of almost twelve hours - and flown directly to the Washington Dulles International Airport in a huge C-141 Starlifter aircraft. Apparently, no formal arrest or deportation procedures were followed in this case.

An FBI poster of Mir Aimal Kansi

Incidentally, the airbase in Chaklala - near the garrison town of Rawalpindi that houses Pakistan's military headquarters - was one of the targets bombed by India in its recent strikes against Pakistan. The base is now known as the Nur Khan airbase and is used for Pakistan Air Force operations.

The Barrister From Karachi

In the eighties, the airbase used to be quite busy as it was one of the launchpads for covert programmes, serving as an important venue for operations against the former Soviet army, then occupying Afghanistan. It was the same airbase that the CIA and the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) used during their manhunt for Mir Aimal Kansi for close to four years. From this garrison town came an elderly gentleman who claimed to be a barrister from Karachi. 

I met this man months after Kansi gunned down two operatives of the CIA and injured three others on January 25, 1993. This meeting was right at the entrance of the agency's Langley headquarters in Virginia, US. When I told the gentleman that I was a journalist and intended to meet the main players those days in Afghanistan, he said he would see what he could do. The next morning, I found a copy of a report on the manhunt for Kansi in Afghanistan, slipped under the door of my hotel room. I believe it was the barrister who got me that clipping. 

Kansi was on the FBI's list of top 10 fugitives. An AK-47 was found at his Virginia apartment, and ballistic experts confirmed that it was the same weapon that had been used to fire the bullets found at the scene of the shooting at the CIA headquarters.

That fateful morning, Kansi had parked his pickup truck near the CIA headquarters in Virginia. As the traffic light in the front turned red, he whipped out his gun and began shooting at the cars. He jumped back into his vehicle and sped away as soon as the stoplight changed. By then, CIA operatives Frank Darling, 28, and Lansing Bennett, 66, were dead, while Nicholas Starr, Calvin Morgan, and Stephen Williams were wounded. Despite security agencies' dire efforts to catch him, Kansi boarded a plane the next day to Islamabad from the Dulles International Airport.

The Search For Kansi

My research took some time (Google was not even a concept, and the 'internet' was just a word I had heard). The more I read, the more I was intrigued. Some reports suggested that he was sighted at the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.

Meanwhile, on a visit to Jalalabad, about 150 km east of Kabul and situated close to the Khyber Pass leading to Peshawar in Pakistan, I found an almost burnt handbill. It featured a photo with Kansi's name - I comprehended that with help from a local contact - and an amount, in US dollars, as a reward. The last part was completely burnt and undecipherable. This amount, I later learnt, was to be awarded for information on Kansi and had gone up to a staggering $2 million.

I figured that Kansi was unlikely to stay in Kabul or any other city or province controlled by the ruling coalition. The then defence minister and Northern strongman, Ahmad Shah Massoud, detested Pakistan and its army. His ally, Abdul Rashid Dostum, with a considerable foothold then in the northern border areas, had somewhat similar sentiments.

Meeting Hekmatyar

Amidst all this, I had managed to reach out to Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, the founder of Hezb-e-Islami, for an interview about the conflict with the Kabul government. I had met him briefly and obtained his satellite phone number earlier. Deep inside though, I had a feeling that if Kansi had taken shelter, it probably was with Hekmatyar.

Little did I know what was in store ahead.

Gulbuddin Hekmatyar

It was sometime in 1994. The Hezbis were intermittently shelling Kabul. It was a nightmare, travelling before dawn some 10-odd kilometres to their headquarters in Char Asyab. Once there, we were made to wait at the barbed wire-fenced gate while our equipment was checked.

Then I saw him. Or that's what I thought. The man was walking away from me, more than 100-150 metres away. I shouted out his name at the top of my voice. He stopped, but didn't turn; meanwhile, the muzzles of at least half a dozen AK-47s were pointed at me. My subject had walked into a barrack.

I asked then, and later, whenever I met Hekmatyar, if I had indeed seen Kansi that day. Hekmatyar would either deny with a straight face or laugh at my question. Subsequently, I tried to visit Peshawar and Quetta too, but given my Indian passport, I couldn't get a visa to Pakistan.

Days passed, and finally, Kansi was whisked away to the US, where he faced a trial and was executed for his crimes on November 14, 2002.

Was It Really Him?

Kansi's family and some human rights agencies raised questions about his involvement in the CIA headquarters attack. The gun may have been found in his apartment, but that does not prove he is guilty, they argued. How could a lone person plan, prepare, and execute such an act, they asked. Et cetera, et cetera.

If he did commit the killings, did he act alone? He came from a well-to-do family, had inherited wealth himself from a deceased relative, yet gave up everything to work for a courier company in Virginia. He told his interrogators that he was troubled by the Western world's "excesses" against Muslims and wanted "to do something" about it. He claimed he wasn't associated with any terror group, but was also said to have revealed that he had once met Osama bin Laden. That was that, he insisted.

Above all, I'll forever live with this unanswered question: Did I really see the man US agencies were combing the region for? Or was it someone who merely remembered him? If it's the former, I lost the chance of a scoop of a lifetime because of barbed wire and a few AK-47s.

(Jayanta Bhattacharya is a senior journalist writing on polls and politics, conflict, farmer and human interest issues) 

Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author