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The Philippines – Manila

The Doña Josefa Apartments

Ramzi Yousef gazed introspectively through a drawn lace curtain from suite 603’s only window overlooking the well-lit path the Papal motorcade would take on 15th January – the day John Paul II would die. ‘You are coming and we are ready for you,’ he whispered, eyes narrowing as he envisaged the assassination scene and the carnage his team would wreak upon this predominantly Catholic nation.

Located in Manila’s Malate district not 200 metres from the Embassy of the Vatican City in the Philippines, the Doña Josefa Apartments were perfectly positioned for the al-Qaeda terrorist cel ’s covert activities. Ramzi Yousef, aka Najy Awaita Haddad and his associates could come and go virtually unnoticed as locals had become accustomed to Middle Easterners residing in the nightclub district, satisfying their fantasies, drinking and whoring far from puritanical, condemnatory eyes. The Baluchistani-born Pakistani, Yousef, had rented the apartment in December as the headquarters for the implementation of ‘Operation Bojinka’, bra-zenly walking the capital’s streets, thumbing his nose at the United States and the two-million-dollar bounty placed on his head for his role in the 1993 World Trade Center bombing.

A diabolical explosives and bomb technician, Yousef had attended college in England where he studied electrical engineering. But it was in the al-Qaeda training camps that he had learned to prepare explosives. Yousef turned to fellow accomplices.

‘I want you to listen to the statement I have prepared for public dissemination once the first phase of Bojinka has been realized.’

Ahmed Saeed, aka Abdul Hakim Murad ceased what he was doing and glanced over at Wali Khan Amin Shah, the third conspirator in Yousef ’s terrorist cell, a stocky Afghani who was responsible for the financing of the operation. Shah had successfully established a network amongst bar girls whom he paid to launder funds from their indirect financier in Malaysia.

‘We’re all ears,’ Saeed grinned. He had also been complicit in the World Trade Centre bombing and was on the US intelligence community’s watch lists.

Yousef leaned over his Toshiba laptop and tapped the space bar bringing the screen to life. Although the manifesto’s words were already deeply ensconced in his mind Yousef elected to read from the computer, the confidence in his voice testament to his commitment to their cause. ‘Citizens of the United States and those who support that government will be our future targets for they are responsible for their government’s actions and the USA’s foreign policy’ he declared. ‘We will destroy all American nuclear targets and, should that government continue to support Israel, then we will continue to carry out operations inside and outside the United States to include…’ A knock brought the room to silence as a maid attempted to unlock the double-bolted door. Yousef raised a finger to his lips and slowly shook his head.

‘Mister Haddad, are you there?’ the Filipino maid inquired, still challenging the lock as she was not expecting any response. ‘May I change the linen today?’

Ahmed Saeed’s eyes panicked their way around the room. Bundles of soaked cotton lay scattered around the single-bed bachelor apartment, a pungent odour permeating the scene. Various sized plastic, chemical containers with German and Pakistani stamps of origin lay scattered everywhere, the loops of electrical wiring and dozens of Casio wristwatches all conspicuous signs of the tenants’ handicraft, obvious to even an ama-teur’s passing observation. He moved anxiously, throwing soiled sheets over the explosive material, cursing his ill fortune when he inadvertently knocked an opened bottle of Chivas Regal against the bedside lamp sending both crashing to the floor.

‘No!’ Yousef shouted, immediately regretting the forcefulness of his reply. ‘Leave the linen outside. I will change the bedding myself, later.’ He waved furiously at the other two men to rectify the situation, shocked when smoke appeared from somewhere under the bed.

‘I am sorry to have disturbed you, sir,’ the maid apologized, ‘my manager Miss Guerrera thought you had gone out.’

Ahmed fell to his knees to determine the seriousness of the accident and how quickly the alcohol-fueled fire was spreading.

‘Put it out, now!’ Wali Khan Amin Shah hissed, ‘before she calls security.’

Outside in the hallway the maid stopped, tilted her head questioningly and sniffed the air, alarmed when smoke appeared from under the door. ‘Mister Haddad, Mister Haddad,’ the woman yelled, ‘there’s smoke coming from your room!’ Suddenly she was afraid, recalling such fire traps as the Filipinas Hotel when flames engulfed the hotel trapping many of the guests, the huge death toll causing an even greater decline in the deteriorating number of tourist arrivals.

By now Yousef had filled the rubbish bucket with water from the bathroom and flushed the area directly under the bed.

To their great relief, the flames died almost instantly, Yousef returning to the bathroom to refill the bucket.

‘It’s okay,’ Ahmed looked up at Amin Shah, ‘we have it under control.’

Again the maid called. ‘Is there a fire in your room Mister Haddad?’ now less concerned when she could see that the smoke had ceased.

‘Just a cigarette burning in the waste paper basket.’ Yousef assured as he emptied the second load onto the now saturated carpet. The fire appeared to have died. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about.’ Yousef pulled a hundred pesos from his pocket and unlocked the door, his frame hiding the view inside. ‘I will clean up the mess. Here, let me have the fresh linen.’ He smiled and passed the tip to the maid who surrendered the bedding, shrugged and went on her way.

Back inside the room Yousef and Ahmed examined the burnt carpet, all present sending a silent prayer that exposure had been avoided.

‘I must leave. I agreed to catch up with Khalid,’ Amin Shah announced. ‘We’ll meet here again tomorrow, in the afternoon.’

Yousef smiled knowingly at Ahmed. Both men accepted that Amin Shah would not be rendezvousing with Khalid Shaikh Mohammed but with Arminda Costudio, a Filipino waitress who worked at the Manila Bay Club on Roxas Boule-vard. Arminda had captured Shah’s attention from the moment he had set eyes upon her.

With Amin safely out of the room Ahmed raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you think he knows?’

Yousef snorted. ‘That Arminda Costudio is also sleeping with my uncle?’ He shook his head. ‘Nothing to be gained in his knowing this.’

Ahmed refused to let it go. ‘You don’t think this Filipino whore could jeopardize the operation?’

Yousef ’s face clouded at the suggestion. ‘Khalid is not one to cross. Leave it be.’

Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, the mastermind of the Bojinka operation who had been appointed by Osama bin Laden to command al-Qaeda’s worldwide military operations was number three in the terrorist hierarchy, and was currently in residence just across the road. Ironically, Khalid’s lavish apartment was juxtaposed to a dwelling occupied by a future Philippines president. Armed with an American education courtesy of the Baptist Chowan College in North Carolina and, later, the North Carolina Agriculture and Technical State University, Khalid had developed a most un-Islamic, Western disposition for go-go bars, karaoke clubs and hard alcohol. Khalid resolutely believed that everyone but him should faithfully observe the rigid tenets of Islam.

Whilst in the Philippines he traveled extensively visiting countries as distant as Brazil, his lavish lifestyle a cover for the Malaysian company he promoted, Konsojaya Sdn Bhd which covertly funded and trained militant Islamic groups such as the Abu Sayyaf and MILF in the country’s restive, deep south. On occasions, the flamboyant Mohammed would arrange scuba diving excursions with Yousef, these merely a cover for journeys to isolated areas where they would meet with separatist groups to discuss strategies. Both Khalid and Yousef respected the Abu Sayyaf whose leaders had acquired their battle experience in the mountains and deserts of Afghanistan, courtesy of the CIA. Khalid and Yousef had listened to the camp-fire portrayals of how many of the eight hundred Filipino Muslim Mujahideen who had been recruited, trained and paid by the CIA to fight the U.S.-sponsored war in Afghanistan for a few dollars per day, fought against the finest of Russia’s forces. Then, after the Soviet withdrawal, how these guerrilla-trained Filipinos returned home bringing with them not only military expertise, but a deeply-ingrained appreciation of Islamic fundamentalism – Khalid surprised to learn that many now embraced the ultra-conservative Islamic ideology of “Wahabi” which was rapidly spreading across Malaysia, Indonesia and the southern Philippines.

The Malaysia companies’ registry would show that Khalid owned half of Konsojaya Sdn Bhd’s shares – the other half being owned by his partner, Riduan Isamuddin, an Indonesian who lived in exile hiding from the clutches of President Suharto’s regime.

Shah and Yousef had already tested their deadly explosives over the previous month. Shah had experimented by placing a bomb under a seat in the Greenbelt Theatre in Manila on December 1st to determine if a similar quantity of explosives would be adequate for under an airline seat. The detonation had left a number of injured. Then, on 11th December Yousef placed a device under his seat, 27F, on Philippine Airlines Flight 434 before alighting from a flight into Cebu. This flight was scheduled to continue on to Manila and then Narita in Japan. He had set the timer to detonate hours ahead and, when this did eventuate, the bomb exploded over Minami Daito Island near Okinawa killing a Japanese businessman and injuring ten others. Incredibly, the Boeing 747 landed safely, however

Yousef ’s experiment provided him with sufficient knowledge to develop the secondary phase in Operation Bojinka.

Ahmed checked the charred carpet again then rose to his feet and stretched. ‘Let’s get some fresh air. We can have a quick snack in the lobby.’

Yousef shook his head. ‘What, and leave all this?’

‘Hang the Do Not Disturb sign out. It’s late; the maid won’t be back. We won’t be long. Come on, I’ll buy you one of those Irish coffees in the bar around the corner you’re always talking about.’

Yousef was adamant. ‘Let’s not take any risks. We’re too close to screw it up now.’ But he knew that Ahmed was jittery, spooked by the almost disastrous fire. Yousef closed the Toshiba laptop and placed it careful y in the top dresser drawer removing a bottle of Chivas Regal as he did so. Ahmed’s eyes lit up and he smiled. He nodded affirmatively and fetched two tumblers.

An hour passed and, with the soporific effect of half a bottle of alcohol to assist, both men lay comatose, oblivious to the smoldering fire that burned slowly on the underside of the carpet. When fire alarms sent tenants scrambling from their rooms after the sixth floor had burst into flames, brigade tenders sped to the scene. Emergency alarms also galvanized members of the nearby Manila Police Station No. 9, located five hundred metres down the street on Quirino Avenue.

With their room filled with suffocating smoke Yousef coughed awake to confused consciousness and stumbled from the shared, single bed.

‘Ahmed! Ahmed,’ he screamed as flames licked the walls. ‘Get up, Ahmed!’

Moments later the men were seen fleeing along the corridor dragging their pants on as they fled.

* * * *

‘Just some Arabs playing with firecrackers,’ the doorman answered but the watch commander, a senior inspector from the No. 9, was not convinced.

‘They let off firecrackers in their room?’

‘That’s about the gist of it.’ The doorman had seen even more ridiculous situations.

‘Where are they now?’ Suspicions rising, the inspector scanned the faces of pedestrians gathered outside on the street.

‘Well, they scrambled down the fire stairs into reception and disappeared.’ The doorman turned, his face becoming animated as he recognized Ahmed Saeed. ‘That’s one of them!’ he pointed.

‘Okay, let’s see what he has to say. Bring him over here.’

Albeit risky, Ahmed accepted that he had no choice but to return to the apartment and recover whatever material and evidence may remain before the authorities uncovered the extent of their activities in the Philippines. He had not, however, envisaged being confronted so unexpectedly, his prepared explanation obviously not sufficiently convincing for the watch commander to let him return to apartment 603.

As Ahmed offered his version of events, explaining to the inspector that he was a commercial pilot and had been on his way to the precinct to explain what had happened, the doorman tapped the officer on the shoulder.

‘There’s the other one,’ he indicated Yousef standing outside, unaware that they were staring at Ramzi Yousef, a fugitive from the United States for his role in the World Trade Center bombing nigh on two years before.

‘Okay,’ the inspector’s gut feeling was making her nervous,

‘grab that one outside and hold him with this man until we check their room.’

Ahmed whirled, managing to escape the clutches of the law as officers were caught off guard by the foreigner’s audacious move. They gave chase, Ahmed tripped over debris left by a recent typhoon, the police overwhelming the terrorist as he lay stunned.

Yousef took the opportunity to slip away into the night.

Inside 603 the inspector’s team discovered two remote-control pipe bombs, street maps of the capital indicating the forthcoming papal motorcade’s route, the pontiff ’s photograph affixed to the bedside mirror along with a crucifix, rosary and Bible. With the recovery of a phone message from a tailor advising that the cassock Ahmed had ordered was ready for a final fitting the inspector knew without doubt, that the fire had delivered assassins into their hands, and prevented the assassination of John Paul II. Although at the commencement of the grueling interrogation conducted with ‘extreme prejudice’ Ahmed categorically denied such claims, at its conclusion he declared that there were ‘two Satans that al-Qaeda would destroy – these being the Pope and the United States of America.’

* * * *

Results of the white, Toshiba laptop’s contents had revealed an even more sinister component of Operation Bojinka which, the four recovered diskettes disclosed, was designed not only to assassinate Pope John Paul II during his Holiness’ impending visit to Manila, but also a commitment which called for a massive two-phased attack on American interests. This ambitious scheme proposed hijacking a commercial jet to be crashed into the Pentagon and for the placement of explosive devices on eleven aircraft bound for the USA – both operations the blueprint for a grim future.

Details of the militant group’s suicide missions were passed to the United States Embassy, the ambitious plan treated with derision when examined by CIA specialists in Langley.

Both Yousef (the explosives expert) and Khalid Shaikh Mohammed (the mastermind of Operation Bojinka) managed to escape to Ahghanistan. Data on the laptop also revealed that Wali Kahn Amin Shah (the infatuated financier of the operation) used an address on Singalong Street as his safe house.

He was arrested, but mysteriously escaped seventy-two hours later to Malaysia, from where, with Hambali, he would assist the Jemaah Islamiyah terrorist group in spreading its tentacles across South-East Asia and into Australia.