218 AMERICAN SPYAfter learning the shocking details of what Imad had just survived, I was
a bit nervous about meeting him later that night. For starters, I could not
begin to imagine how he could even function, after having lost most of his
family in such a horrific event. I honestly don’t know how I would handle
something so devastating. Under the circumstances, it was also difficult to
understand how Imad could be willing to help me, an American whom he
knew had ties to the CIA. But my trust in Dan was unwavering, and so I
arrived on time at an inviting open-air Lebanese restaurant on the outskirts
of Amman to meet with Dan and my future Iraqi business partner. As the
infectious Arabic dance tune “Nour El Ain” by Egyptian pop star Amr
Diab played softly over the restaurant’s sound system, I took in the spec-
tacular view of the blood-orange, dust-enhanced sunset from the hilltop
restaurant.
After shaking Imad’s hand, I briefly pressed my open right hand to
my heart, as did Imad, a traditional Iraqi greeting indicating respect and
sincerity. He was wearing sandals and a traditional white dishdasha, or
tunic. For the next couple of hours, his fingers never stopped manipulating
the well-worn wooden prayer beads that dangled off his left hand. Grief
was etched on Imad’s face like a permanent mask. Sitting next to him was
almost physically painful. He spoke in a soft voice, and only enough to
deal with the matter at hand. His dark eyes were barely able to contain
his unbearable sadness. The one and only time Imad smiled was when,
recalling my hunger-filled days in food-scarce Sarajevo, I asked if we
should stock up on food supplies to bring with us to Baghdad. Imad and
Dan just looked at each other and laughed.
After briefly reviewing our partnership agreement, we agreed to meet
up two days later at 4:00 a.m. to begin our dangerous overland trek to
Baghdad. We said goodbye, and Imad left the restaurant without eating,
accompanied by his driver and bodyguard.
After confirming the details of our plan one last time, I also bid fare-
well to Dan, who would return to the United States the next day. I’ll never
forget his parting words of advice, meant to keep me safe inside Iraq:
“Keep your mouth shut and follow Imad’s lead.”