A Rope and a Prayer (39 page)

I am told Holbrooke will once again be traveling to the region and will continue to raise David’s case. Later, he informs me that several Pakistani officials will be in D.C. in early May for the Afghanistan-Pakistan summit. He suggests that I make a return trip to Washington to meet with these officials on David’s behalf and offers to facilitate these introductions. This has been the best opportunity I’ve had so far to spotlight David’s case. I spot Eikenberry across the room and thank him for inviting me. He smiles knowingly.

 

 

Back in New York a few days later, we deal with the threat of publicity once again in what normally would have been a jubilant occasion. David and several of his colleagues have won a team Pulitzer Prize for their reporting in Afghanistan and Pakistan. David’s stories focused on the failure of Pakistan to confront militancy inside its own borders.

The newspaper has alerted us that another news organization may decide to write a story. The
Times
’ preference is to maintain silence. The paper will only issue a statement if prompted by another news organization. David McCraw, the paper’s lawyer, proposes that the public relations department at the
Times
prepare a low-key statement confirming the kidnapping and stating that we kept the matter quiet because of concerns for our three’s safety. Lee and I agree.

I receive a copy of the press release, which contains the following statements:

The statement goes on to include a brief section on David and Tahir’s professional bios. It ends: “The families, wives and children, friends and colleagues of all the men await their safe return.” To our amazement and relief, no other news organization reports on David’s being part of the Pulitzer Prize-winning team. Once again, we are able to keep David’s case off the public radar.

 

 

April is coming to a close, and this is my final photo shoot.
Cosmopolitan
has been quite gracious. They have agreed to let me take a three-month leave of absence, basically a maternity leave minus the baby. I spend my last few days tying up loose ends on an upcoming issue, which features stories entitled “Stalking Danger,” “How Yoga Can Help Your Sex Life,” and “Confronting Your Gyno Fears.”

Our crew consists of a hairstylist, a makeup artist, their two assistants, a fashion stylist, a photographer, two photo assistants, a prop stylist, and five models. We base ourselves out of a photo studio in Tribeca. We shoot the dramatic stalking scene “cinema verite” style on the surrounding streets. We dress the models—a hunky male model and a svelte brunette—in black, white, and shades of gray. This is what we refer to stylistically as “colorless color.”

For the yoga piece, the prop stylist arranges a mattress, pillows, and mosquito net in the center of the studio—everything in shades of purple. We photograph a couple in this setup using only available light to evoke the sense of twilight. The entire crew contributes suggestions for sexy and slightly suggestive yoga poses, though, looking around the room, it’s safe to estimate half of us have not been to the gym in quite some time, me included. The female model has never done yoga. Our male model saves the day, as he is über-fit and able to hold poses for a long time.

The gyno setup is the most elaborate. We assemble a medical exam table and props in the corner of the all-white studio, using a modern paneled wall partition as a backdrop. It all looks rather convincing. The prop stylist stands in as the doctor, complete with lab coat and stethoscope. We dress our model in a pink exam robe and pull her long blonde hair into a loose ponytail. Her nails have been painted a tasteful buff. Her skin glows, thanks to a healthy application of shimmer lotion. She is the chicest gynecological patient I have ever seen. I am relieved she does not leave the room in a panic or call her agent to complain about the content of our story. We assure her we will crop out part of her face to protect her anonymity.

Most of today’s crew does not know anything about my personal life. It has been difficult to live with this burden, but I’ve learned to artfully dodge questions about my new husband.

By day’s end we have achieved our goal of capturing convincing moments in a digital frame. The work provides me with a sense of control, even if it is only for a brief moment. I am sad to be leaving this job, but know there is no other option. I have to ration my energy. I can no longer accept the fact that my husband is not yet home—not that I have ever accepted this. Next week will be six months since the abduction.

My first week of full-time devotion to David’s case begins today with another trip to Washington. This time I am accompanied by Lee and a new addition to our small lobbying unit. We hope to meet with senior Pakistani and Afghan officials who are in town for a summit and who may be able to influence David’s case.

I am nervous about this visit. I will be out of my element. Then again, after years of working at fashion magazines, I am used to smoke and mirrors and discerning illusion from reality. I reassure myself that this skill will serve me well. Lee and I are exhausted. I convince him we need extra support on this trip. We are both so good at staying calm—Lee in particular. I think we need someone who can make a fuss, create a scene, and be emotional without consequence. We need backup. We need Carol.

David’s mother has been ready to spring into action since day one. She is smart, spirited, and attractive. She is also a social creature and very good at managing people. Lee, Carol, and I meet up at 8 A.M. on May 4 at the Monaco Hotel in downtown Washington. Our morning begins with a visit from two
New York Times
reporters who are colleagues of David’s. Coffee is interrupted by an urgent e-mail from Nic Robertson, a senior international correspondent for CNN.

We have exchanged e-mails a few times over the last few months. I contacted Nic after I found an e-mail from him in David’s inbox. It was simple and heartfelt. He repeated the words “you are not forgotten” several dozen times. He and his wife have offered their emotional and professional support. Nic agrees that it is wise to keep David’s case out of the public eye. He has been discreet in his inquiries, but keeps David in mind when meeting with sources in Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Today Nic informs me that he has just interviewed a Taliban spokesman in Afghanistan who seems to know quite a bit about David’s case. I am skeptical, as many Afghans have come forward with information regarding David in the past, very little of which has proved accurate. The Taliban claim that David is a “friend of Obama’s,” Nic informs me, and that they are demanding prisoners for his release. If true, this is a massive setback. Our security consultants and the FBI have been saying for months that the case could only end with ransom, not a prisoner exchange.

I e-mail back to Nic and tell him I think his source may not be reliable. I cannot believe I am criticizing Nic Robertson’s source. He is a seasoned journalist, but the demands don’t match our current understanding. I am suspicious that this is merely a false channel and also don’t want to believe that the demand for prisoners is real.

Soon after, the FBI calls my cell phone. They have received a new video of David, along with a written list of prisoners that the Taliban demands be released in exchange for his freedom. The local FBI agents offer to show us the video in their Washington headquarters in the Hoover Building.

When we arrive we are ushered through the lobby security checkpoints and into the counterterrorism office. The agents warn us that some of the content is disturbing, but they assure us this is not an execution video.

The video was dropped off by a source in Kabul, someone who claimed to have access to David. It was delivered to the FBI at the American Embassy there, along with a request for $8 million and four of eleven prisoners named on an attached list. The FBI cannot reveal their source, but tell us they are willing to send a message back through the channel to the kidnappers. They do not produce the list of prisoners. Despite our repeated inquiries about it, we are never permitted to view it.

We watch what we will come to refer to as “the crying video.” Shot in black and white, with harsh lighting, and from a slightly elevated angle, the video’s content is in fact disturbing. David appears to have lost weight, his face is ghastly white, perhaps enhanced by the blown-out lighting, but the effect is upsetting nonetheless. He is clean, but gaunt. The language is inflated, like a bad snuff film.

“It’s April 20, this is my proof of life video,” David says. “Maybe another video will come that will be very bad. If this message does not help, I cannot say what will happen to me.”

He is sobbing as he speaks. An unseen gunman points a machine gun at his head. Tahir and Asad are nowhere to be seen. We fear they have been killed and that is why David is so upset. For a moment, I think David has gone insane.

“If you don’t help me, I will die,” he says. “Now the key is in your hand. Do you want to kill me or do you want to save me?” he says. “If you do not meet their demands you will be responsible for my killing, not the Taliban.” He urges us to hurry up, says this is his last video, and pleads for us to help him.

“I am so, so sorry,” he says. “Please help me, please help me. I love you all very, very, very much.”

The video enrages me—the ridiculous language, the sense that David is at fault. I also think my husband has crossed a threshold. He appears completely distraught and broken in the footage. Carol feels the same. Lee stands by, speechless.

“Sorry to say this in front of you, Carol,” I inform everyone, “but my husband has definitely crossed a line. He looks like crap—that is a man that has not seen daylight in quite some time.”

I am also angered that David’s appearance does not match the description our security consultants provided recently through intelligence from Afghan and Pakistani local sources: that he was being treated well and allowed outside while being held in a small village on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. I feel completely duped. The insistence from the consultants—and the FBI—that the case could be solved with only money now seems utterly false. The situation feels hopeless. Securing $8 million and the release of four prisoners will be impossible.

Carol is in tears. Until now, we have shielded her from the harshest portions of the other videos and communications. I pound my fists on the desk in the office and demand that everyone see the video—President Obama, the head of the FBI, Holbrooke, Secretary Clinton—in the hopes of sparking an urgent response. I feel staying calm has gotten us nowhere. Time to try a different approach. Lee remains silent. I worry that he has been caught off guard by the extreme display of emotion in the video and in Carol’s and my reactions.

The lead FBI counterterrorism agent chimes in. “I notice there are no tears in David’s eyes,” he says. “When he cries, does he typically produce tears?”

Carol and I both shoot him looks that say, “How dare you.”

The agency promises to accommodate our request to send copies of the footage to high-ranking American officials. They suggest we take a few days to craft the message they will send back through their channel to the kidnappers. They emphasize that the FBI will not get involved in the negotiations; they are simply relaying the video and our response. The family must conduct negotiations privately.

We press them about their source and whether he is close to the Haqqanis. An agent will tell us only that the source is someone who has access to the Haqqanis and to David. This is assuming that David is indeed still under the control of the Haqqanis, the agent adds. I take this to mean that perhaps they think David has been moved or sold to a different group. I ask them if this is the case. They cannot say.

We make arrangements for local agents to show the video to David’s father in Maine and to his sister, Laura, and younger brother, Erik, in their home states. I talk to Laura and Erik to forewarn them that the content is disturbing and that unlike previous footage, David does not look well. I send them the transcript as a preview but discourage them from actually viewing the footage, admitting that images from the video will haunt me indefinitely.