The Spy Who - The Spy Who Almost Stopped 9/11 | The Looming Enemy | 1

Episode Date: August 18, 2026

Ali Soufan is a rookie FBI agent convinced that an almost unknown terror group called al-Qaeda, and its leader Osama Bin Laden, are a threat to America. When the naval destroyer USS Cole is attacked by suicide bombers, he knows it’s al-Qaeda. But now he has to prove it.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of The Spy Who, add free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. Early 2000, about a year and a half before the 9-11 terrorist attacks. Islamabad, Pakistan. In a safe house, FBI counter-terrorism agent Ali Sufahan sits on the floor and offers the man opposite him a basket of bread. He must be hungry. Please eat.

The man smiles and takes a roti. He used to be in the terrorist group, Al-Qaeda, but has since fallen out with them. He initially offered information to the CIA, but they refused to meet him. So now he's been passed to Sufhan, the FBI's expert on al-Qaeda, and its leader, Osama bin Laden.

I'm sorry the CIA wouldn't meet with you. They only wanted to know if I had met Sheikh bin Laden. I never did. But I know Khalid. If you know Khalid, you know a lot about Bin Laden. Sufhan is careful not to show it, but he feels an electric thrill. He's heard the name Khalid before. Sufane is hunting the terrorists who bombed the U.S. embassies in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam two years ago.

One of the attackers who was captured told the FBI that Khalid filmed his martyrdom video. Who is Khalid? He's known as bin Laden's errand boy. Bin Laden is a close friend of his father's. Also, he lost a leg fighting in Afghanistan. Sufhan offers some more bread, but makes a mental note to learn everything he can about Khalid and tracking it out. A week later, CIA headquarters Langley, Virginia.

In a secure briefing room, Sufane raises an eyebrow at the two senior CIA officers sitting operating office. sitting opposite. I thought you weren't interested in him as an asset. Now you want to share him? The CIA officers look embarrassed. We may have misjudged. You got some great intel from him about this guy, Khaled.

Well, if the agency can help track down Khaled, then I'm all for it. After all, we're working towards the same goal. But Sifan's supervisor at the FBI is less keen. Look, I need to make something clear here. something clear here. This man is now an FBI source. We'll only agree to share him if everything is shared between our two agencies. You CIA boys have a habit of messing up our evidence and only sharing what you think is necessary. I've had enough of it. This is too important. We agree. It is important. So yeah, we can work on that basis. So you'll

share everything you get from him? Everything. All right then. We have a deal. Sufahn leaves Langley feeling upbeat. It often feels like an uphill battle to get anyone outside his team to realize the threat Bin Laden poses. Sufane studied the Saudi multimillionaire for years and knows he's planning something big. He doesn't know what, when or where,

but he's sure it'll be an attack on Americans. And maybe with the CIA's help, he can uncover that plot and stop it before it happens. Police in Irvine, California, are investigating the double murder of a young couple in the parking lot of their apartment complex. A double homicide grabs the public's attention by the throat. We have identified Christopher Dorner as a suspect in this double homicide. A former cop and still in the loose.

Considered armed and extremely dangerous. And scariest of all, he left something behind. A particular interest is a multi-page manifesto. This manifesto on Facebook is 11 pages long. this manifesto from this suspect who's targeting cops, it's stunning. Listen to the show, The New Yorker calls one of the best podcasts of the summer. Dan Tiberski's Manifesto. And I tell you, this manifesto, it scares a hell out of me.

Listen to Dan Tiberski's manifesto, wherever you get your podcasts, orb into the entire series right now, only with Audible. I'm Raza Jafrey, and this is The Spy Who, an audible original. Beneath the veneer of the everyday looks the realm of the spy. It's a dank, murky world, full of dark corners, sinister motives and corrupted morals. A place of paranoia and infiltration, sabotage and manipulation. This series, we opened the file on Ali Sufhan, the FBI counter-terrorism agent who saw the rising threat from Al-Qaeda long before 9-11.

But he's about to discover that his biggest challenge in uncovering Osama bin Laden's master plan might not be al-Qaeda, but elements inside the US government. What you're about to hear are dramatized reconstructions of events based on the information that's been made public. But remember, in the shadow realm of the spy, the full story is rarely clear. This is episode one, the looming enemy. May 1998, three years before 9-11, the FBI field office, New York City. At his desk, rookie FBI agent Ali Sufahan hunches over surveillance photos from the mob case he's working on.

He's fresh-faced with thick, dark hair and is keen to prove himself. Agent Sophan speaking. Ali, get up here right now. Your man's doing an interview on ABC. The caller is a colleague in I-49, a specialist counter-terrorism squad within the FBI. Sufán grabs his jacket and runs to the lift. He's currently on rotation, getting experience on various teams. But he's already well known in the counter-terrorism division for his pet project, Al-Qaeda, and its mysterious leader, Osama bin Laden.

Sufan joins the knot of people huddled around the TV. Mr. bin Laden, you have issued a fatwa. In it you call on Muslims to kill Americans where they can, when they can. Is that directed at all Americans? Just the American military? Just the Americans in Saudi Arabia? On it, bin Laden is sitting in front of a large map of Africa, with an AK-47 rifle beside him.

We do not have to differentiate between military or civilian. They are all targets. Do you have a message for the American person? people? If they cherish their lives and their sons, they must elect the government that caters to their interests, not the interests of the Jews. If the present injustice continues, the battle will move to American soil. Bin Laden's words make Sufane's blood run cold. The counter-terrorism officer who called him lifts an eyebrow. Ali, what do you think? First he declared jihad, then the Fanwa. This is the third warning. We should expect an attack soon.

Shit. Nobody's taking this guy seriously in headquarters. Can you write this up in a memo? You need to circulate it as widely as possible. A few months later, Kennedy's Irish pub and restaurant, Midtown Manah. Sufan is in an Irish bar with John O'Neill, the head of the counter-terrorism division of the FBI in New York. Twenty minutes ago, Sufan was working late in the office when O'Neill appeared beside his desk and invited him to dinner. Their server finishes jotting down their food order. All right, can I get you to anything to drink? I'll just have water, thank you.

O'Neill frowns. Are you, Muslim? Yes, sir. In that case, I'll have water instead. Sophan is touched by O'Neill's respect and fascinated by him. O'Neill has the thick neck, slicked back hair, and abrasive attitude of a New Jersey bruiser. Beneath his suit trousers is the outline of a Glock pistol strapped to his ankle. But his office is filled with cut flowers and impressionist paintings.

I was impressed with the memo you wrote about Bin Laden's interview. Great analysis. Thank you, sir. Tell me about yourself. You're not the typical FBI recruit. I know I wasn't sure I'd get in. And why's that? I'm an Arab-American born in Labu.

A Muslim and I like books. I probably shouldn't say this, but I only applied because of a bet with my fraternity brothers. A bet. Yet you're the kind of agent we should be recruiting. Do you know how many Arabic speakers we have in the FBI? No idea. Eight.

And do you know how many of those are in the New York office? the only office focused on Islamic terrorism? Sufhan shakes his head. You're it. The only goddamn one. We need people who understand the language, the culture, the mindset. I mean, this guy, bin Laden, I know he hates us, but I don't know why.

What's driving him? Sufan waits for the server to put down their food, then continues. Well, it kind of goes back. to 1979. What do you mean? That year was like a turning point for Islamists. There was the revolution in Iran, Egypt's treaty recognizing Israel, and then the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. So, the Islamic revolution in Iran gave them hope. A whole country cast off what they saw as Western imperialism and adopted Sharia law. Meanwhile, Egypt, a modern Islamic nation, was humiliated at the hands of Israel. Then an atheist superpower attacked Afghanistan and Muslims from across the world came

together to help fight the infidels in a jihad of the sword. Bin Laden was one of them. But why hate America? We haven't got anything to do with it. We damn well helped them beat the Soviets in Afghanistan. We installed the regime and the Islamists overthrew in Iran, so there's that. But at the heart, it's because America is the world's most powerful country. It represents Western democracy and modernity. These people want to revive a medieval form of Islam. They need to show that the West is corrupt and failing. They want people to reject the modern world. To see the West as corrupt, godless, it's a monolithic religion. There are many different schools and branches, just like Christianity. It's not just Sunni versus Shia. There are Takfiris and Wahhabis.

We're the last ones left in here. O'Neill's been encouraging Sufan to keep talking, but now it's 1 a.m. And they're the only customers left. O'Neill signals to the barman. Sorry, Martin, for holding you up. Bring the check. They walk out onto the warm streets, and O'Neill throws an arm around Sufan's shoulders.

Ali, next time you write an analysis, make sure you send it direct to me, okay? Yes, sir. And sorry for talking so much tonight. I hadn't realized the time. Never apologize for working. And fuck how late it is. The bad guy's work non-stop.

So do we. Sufahn grins. He gets why O'Neill can be a divisive figure within the FBI, but if they're to stop Al-Qaeda, that's the boss he wants. One month later, August 7, 1998, Sufane's apartment in New York. Sufane wakes up, blearily reaching for his pager. A message flashes to call his supervisor immediately.

He checks his alarm clock. It's 5.30 a.m. Something must have happened. He leaps out of bed and grabs his phone. Yeah. It's Ali I was told to call. Two truck bombs have exploded outside our embassies in Nairobi and Dharis Salam. Shit, who was it?

I'm hoping you're going to tell me that. Get your bud into the office now. An hour later. Entering the office, Sufane is greeted with devastation being shown across multiple TV screens. Shattered buildings, bodies. bloodied people on stretches, others screaming in despair. The images taken back to his childhood during the Lebanese civil war, the constant fear, the horrific wounds, the stench of death from beneath the rubble.

He gets to work, printing out reports about the explosions. An unknown organisation called the Islamic Army for the Liberation of the Holy Places is claiming responsibility. Sufhan knows the list of true suspects is long. But his gut tells him this is the attack bin Laden threatened. An hour later, Sufan and his supervisor walk into the Joint Terrorism Task Force Command Center in Manhattan. The rooms are bars with intelligence officers and police. In the middle is John O'Neill, who waves them over.

A cluster of senior FBI officers quickly surround them. Well, Ali, what are your thoughts? I think it's Al-Qaeda. Look at the language using the statement of responsibility. Some of the lines are exactly the same as Bin Laden's previous statements. Sufane hands over two documents with highlighted passages. O'Neill scans them and then looks to a senior FBI agent in the huddle. Kevin, you've been tracking Al-Qaeda in Nairobi.

What do you think? It fits. There was a lot of activity in the lead-up to the attacks. Right, you two? Do me a memo with all the evidence, quick as you can. O'Neill turns to his senior team. And I need two teams ready to fly to Africa the moment we get approval. There's a flurry of movement as people act on his orders.

Sufan hovers near O'Neill. Sir, I'd like to volunteer to go. O'Neill puts an arm around Sufan's shoulders. That was great analysis, Ali. And that's why I need you here. I've got agents who can collect evidence and do interviews. is you're the only one who can help me piece it together. That okay?

Sufane is disappointed, but flushed with pride that O'Neill rates him so highly. Yes, of course. One year later, October 1999, Manchester, England. Sufane and O'Neill are briefing British police ahead of a dawn raid on a terror suspect's flat. O'Neill shows the room a photo of a Libyan with a neat beard and short cropped hair.

The suspect is Anas al-Libbi. He's a senior Al-Qaeda operative. We believe he did surveillance on the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi ahead of the bombing. One of the policemen raises his hand. What exactly are we looking for in his flat? O'Neill looks to Sufahan, who steps forward.

Notes, documents, computer disks, photos, anything that might link him to al-Qaeda or the embassy bombing. A few hours later, dawn, a residential street in Manchester. Show me your hands! Counter-terrorism officers burst through the front door of Al-Libby's flat. Before he can run, a policeman tackles him to the ground and handcuffs him. Anas Al-Libby, I'm arresting you on suspicion of terrorism.

As Al-Libby is led outside, the other police officers search the flat. But there are no discs, photos, or notes. and his computer's hard drive has been wiped clean. A policeman picks up a booklet of photocopied pages in Arabic. He bags it as evidence, hoping it's significant. A few days later, a police station in Manchester. Sufane and O'Neill look at the large pile of items removed from Al-Libby's flat. Sufan is depressed, but O'Neill is fuming.

Fucking British. I told them, if you release a lot of... him before we've had time to sort through all this crap, he's going to skip town, and I was fucking right. John, they held him as long as they could without charge, and we've got no evidence to charge him with yet. Yeah, and they were supposed to keep him under surveillance while we found that evidence.

Tell me what kind of surveillance team loses a man that quick? Who was running me up, Ray fucking Charles? He's had good training. Sufan picks up the photocopied booklet with pages in Arabic, and leafed through them. Oh, well, this is interesting. What is it? Some kind of al-Qaeda training manual.

Will it help us catch anyone? Not directly, but it tells us how they operate. O'Neill sits on the corner of a desk. Give me an example. So it talks about them using a cell model. Members of one cell have no knowledge about any others. So if one gets arrested, they can only compromise their own, not the whole organization. Exactly.

And if they're captured, they need to hold out for 48 hours. So Al-Qaeda can cover its tracks. They expect torture, so are allowed to share non-valiable intelligence to fall interrogators into thinking they're cooperating. So we never know if we're getting the truth or not. You're right, this is like a CIA manual. We can definitely use this for interrogations. Good. That those expensive plane tickets weren't a complete fucking waste of time.

A year later, October 12th, 2000. 11 months before 9-11. Aiden, Yemen. In the city's harbor, the American naval destroyer, the USS Coal, is refueling. A young sailor on the upper deck leans over the gunwale to watch the small boats swarming around the huge ship. One is taking away the ship's rubbish,

another hands over crates of soft drinks. In a third, men are scraping barnacles off the hull. Another small boat putters towards the ship with a red carpet covering its cargo. The two Arabs in it see the sailor watching and wave. He grins and waves back. The boat slows and turns side on, cutting its engine in the same time.

It drifts in, bumping gently against the steel hull. The blast slams the sailor into the metal stairs. Pain shoots through his spine, his ears ring. Black smoke rises into the air, and he feels the ship listing sideways. Confused and disoriented, he grabs the gun off and looks down. There's a huge hole in the side of the hull, exactly where the two waving Arabs were just seconds before. The next day, Aidan Airport.

Ali Sufane peers out of the small windows at the front of a military cargo plane for his first site of Yemen. There seems to be a lot of deserts and mountain ranges, but few buildings or people. He left New York last night. As soon as news broke about the bombing of the USS Cole, O'Neill sent him out with an FBI team to investigate. Sufans anxious about what's ahead. Following the bombing, there was a grenade attack on the British embassy in Yemen's capital, Sunnah. He's grateful and elite FBI SWAT team has been sent with them. As the plane lands, Sufane does a double take.

Military jeeps are speeding towards them filled with men in Camo, holding AK-47s. The SWAT team has also noticed. Whoa, what the fuck? Are those Yemeni special forces? Sure looks like it. Why are they pointing their guns at us? The plane taxis to a stop and is quickly surrounded by a ring of Yemeni guns.

Nobody moves inside the plane. The minutes tick by as they wait for what happens next. Fifteen minutes later, the plane door lowers and the US defense attache in Yemen, who was sent to meet them, appears. Hi folks, my name is Colonel Newman. I'm trying to find out what's going on here, but the Yemenis have suggested you hand over all your weapons

before you get off the plane. A SWAT team commander stands up. Sir, American sailors have been blown up and the British embassy attack. There's no way we're handing over our weapons. The defence attache looks even more harassed. Sufan edges his way towards him. Colonel, I speak Arabic. Perhaps I could find out what's going on.

The defence attache shrugs and lets Sufan out of the plane. As he exits the plane, he's assaulted by the desert heat and glare. Amid the Yemeni troops, he spots an officer with a walkie-talkie and several stripes on his shoulder. He heads towards him with a friendly smile and offers the traditional Arabic greeting. Peace be upon you. And upon you be peace. It's very hot today. Are you thirsty? The officer's surprise is clear.

Yeah. We have water on the plane for you and you will offer. for you and your officers, if you like. Is it American water? Uh, yes, bottled water from America. Sufahn wonders if his plan has backfired. Many Yemenis hate America. It's why the country has become a sanctuary for Al-Qaeda.

But instead, the officer smiles. Yes. Thank you. Sufahn waves at one of his FBI colleagues on the plane. George, bring everyone some bottled water. some bottled water. Soon, Sufahn is distributing water bottles to the soldiers who grab them, smiling their thanks. A few shoved them into their pockets. The Yemeni officer notices Sufarn's benusement.

They are taking them home to show their families. American bottled water is a luxury. Sensing the tensions diffused, Sufane tackles the main problem. What's going on? Why have you surrounded our plane? For your protection. Thank you, but if someone's going to attack us, shouldn't your weapons be facing outwards, not towards us? No, this is the best way.

Well, what if you lowered your weapons, un-worryed an accident will happen? I don't think any of us want that, do we? The Yemeni officer looks at Sufahn for a moment. Sufarn hopes he's considering the political implications of a firefight. Man, lower your weapons. Sufane. Sufane feels relief, but it's not an encouraging start. A few days later, Sufane sits in the passenger seat of a truck that is returning to his and the rest of the FBI team's hotel.

They've spent the day interviewing sailors from the USS Cole and he's exhausted, but there's one last task to do. Since arriving, he and his team has found many Yemeni officials aggressive and unhelpful. They seem to think the FBI are here to lay the groundwork for a US invasion. Sofans tried to befriend those who seem more sympathetic. And today, that effort has paid off. One contact has confirmed the Yemenis are withholding evidence, despite their denials. And if the Yemenis won't hand it over voluntarily, the FBI will have to take it forcefully. Dadaan the street.

The Yemeni driver is surprised, but obeys. Another swapping. Sufan directs the driver to an earth-colored square house with a high gate. His contact told him this government laboratory is where the missing evidence is. He jumps out of the truck and marches into the house, surprising the Yemeni scientists eating a meal in the courtyard. Who are you? Sufan flips open his badge.

FBI were investigating the attack on the USS coal. I was told some parts from the ship washed ashore and were brought here. The scientist shakes his head. No, there's nothing here. You sure? Yes, absolutely. Okay, then. Sufan smiles and walks past the scientist into the first room off the courtyard.

The scientist chases him. What are you doing? We have authority to say. search here for anything relating to our investigation. Stop, you're not allowed in there. Sufans's FBI colleagues have followed him in, and, without asking, fan out into each room of the house. Sifan offers his mobile phone to the scientist. Do you need to call somebody? The man hesitates. Just then, his FBI colleagues walked past them, carrying the ship's radar cover and other items. You can't, you can't take that. The scientist's

The scientist tries to bar their way, but Sufan steps forward. These items are from the USS Coal. They belong to the United States and we are taking them with us. No, please, I need to call somebody. Saffan tucks his phone into his pocket. Barges past the scientist and jumps into the truck. Let's go, now. One of the SWAT team looks around nervously.

And keep your heads down in case it's firing. I don't trust anybody in this friggin' country. friggin' country. As they speed away, Sufarn knows the elation of this small victory will be short-lived. It's clear the Yemenis don't want them here, and they certainly don't want to help them find who's behind the bombing that killed 17 American sailors. A few days later, Aidan Harbor. Sufane sits in a speedboat alongside his boss, John O'Neill, as it zooms towards the USS Cole in the middle of the harbor. Sufan shouts over the noise.

What took you so long, boss? A fucking ambassador wouldn't let me into the country. Says she's worried about offending the Yemenis. So she's met you before then. Yeah, funny. Aha. But as they get closer to the USS Cole, their humour fades. The massive scorched hole in the side of the ship

gives it the impression of a fatally wounded animal. The Cole's captain greets them with a... shocked, hollow expression, and takes them below deck to the galley where the most casualties were. Even though Sufane has been here before, he can't get used to the sickly smell of death and brine, nor the dried blood and floor. Close by, FBI investigators examined blackened objects, trying to decide if they come from the ship, a sailor or a suicide bomber. Sufane notices tears in O'Neill's eyes. A few minutes later, they're not going to be. A few minutes later, They are both back on deck.

As they breathe in the fresh sea air, O'Neill leans against the gunwale. Ali, you're the lead on this investigation, okay? My job is to deal with this ridiculous ambassador and the stonewalling Yemenis. Your job is to nail the bastards behind this. Also, the naval criminal investigative service is sending someone to partner with you on it. He knows Yemen and speaks Arabic. Sure, happy for any help. As the men contemplate the distant hills behind Aden, Sufahan suddenly realizes something.

Al-Qaeda won't have led a propaganda opportunity like this slip. That's Bernardin's thing. So? So someone will have filmed it. They'll have been somewhere with a good view of the ship, probably the harbour of those hills. So there's at least one person involved in the plot, Out there. Exactly. Then go find him. October 2000, Little Aiden. Sufane and his new NCIS co-investigator Bob McFadden are interviewing people at the docks.

The men used a crane to put the boat in the water? Yes. Oh, what was in the boat? I don't know, it was covered with a red carpet. Sufane and McFadden exchange a glance. One of the sailors on the USS Coal mentioned the red carpet, and the crane was probably needed because the boat was heavy with explosives. They're making progress. They now have the descriptions and names of the two suicide bombers,

but the man who videoed the attack remains elusive. Sufane turns back to the witness. Do you know where these men were staying? I heard they had a house in Medinat, Al-Sah. Sufhan doesn't know the area. He looks around for Hussein Ansi, the Yemeni intelligence chief in Aden who's accompanying them. But he's nowhere to be seen. It's odd as Ansi's usually glued to their sides.

He's supposed to be helping, but Sufane suspects he's really here to sabotage the investigation. Finally, he sees him, talking to a fisherman away from the crowd. from the crowd. Realizing he spotted them, the fisherman leaves quickly, and Ansi wanders back. Sufane narrows his eyes. Who was that? What did he say? Ansi turns his hands outwards. Nothing. Nothing? Nothing of importance. Sufanne's lips compressed with anger.

Perhaps you should let us, the investigators decide that. How far is Medinat al-Shab? Maybe a 40-minute drive. Why? Because we need to go there now. Why? It's necessary. It's all you need to know.

Later, Medinat al-Shahab. Sufhan steps out of an armoured four-by-four and onto a dusty street with few amenities. Within moments, they are surrounded by a curious crowd of men and boys. Sufan takes advantage. I wish to speak to the mayor. An elderly man in a turban with a ceremonial dagger stuck in his belt is pushed forward. Yes? I am an American, FBI, and I'm investigating the bombing of the ship.

The mayor looks puzzled. But you speak Arabic. Sufant smiles. Americans are not what do you think. I wish to know about any strangers in this area. There were three Saudis here. They rented a house and kept a boat in the yard. Sufane sees Ansi glowering that he's managed to get the area's most powerful person on side.

Which house? The mayor points down the street to one with a tall white wall around it. Thank you. Svane and MacFadden head towards the house, but Ansi moves to stop them. You should let us go in first. Why? For your protection, they may have left booby traps. Fine. We'll wait here, but five minutes only. Ansi enters the house with his men, but quickly returns.

There is nothing there. We can go. We will decide that. Thank you. Sufan heads inside. At first glance, Ansi appears to be right. The suicide bombers swept the house clean before leaving. Sufane radios the FBI team waiting in the four-by-fors. We need forensics here, please. The forensics team arrive, suited up in thin plastic overalls and masks. Hansi scoffs as they drop to their hands and knees to begin searching. But when they find fingerprints, strands of hair, and finally, residues of TNT,

the smile is wiped off his face. Sufans' mobile phone rings Yes, we're on our way He hangs up We need to head back to the port They found an apartment rented by the bombers A few hours later Aiden Harbour

In the apartment overlooking the port Sufane looks through the large windows Facing the sea The coal is clearly visible Being prepared for towing by a salvage vessel Perfect view for filming His NCIS colleague McFadden nods. Yeah, let's talk to the neighbours.

They move into the communal hallway and knock on doors, accompanied by a Yemeni intelligence officer. Sufan feels grateful Ansi chose to stay behind in Medinat al-Sharab. Good morning, I'm with the American FBI. We're investigating the ship bombing. Do you know who's been renting the flat next door? I saw many men go in and out, Saudis, by their accent. Did they use any names at all?

No. But a few times I saw Fahad al-Qasah visiting. Sufan sees the intelligence officer, recognises the name. Once back in the apartment, Sufan presses him for information. You know this Al-Qasa? Who is he? Is he local? Yes, he's local. And, uh, known to be Al-Qaeda.

Sophan's heart leaps. Finally, a clear link with Al-Qaeda. Do you know where he is? The intelligence officer nods. It might take a little while, but we'll find him for you. A few weeks later, Sophan is with his boss, O'Neill, in a motorboat heading towards Aden Harbour. Since hearing gunfire outside their hotel,

the FBI team have been staying offshore on the USS Duluth. a US Navy transport ship. So Al-Hosa is the video guy. That's my hunch. Sounds like he might be well connected. I'm hoping you'll tell us who ordered the attack. Make sure Bodine doesn't get wind of it. Sufan grins.

Barbara Bodine, the US ambassadors of Yemen, wants the FBI to stop annoying the Yemenis. O'Neill's shouting matches with her have resulted in a formal complaint to Washington. A member of the SWAT team on the boat interrupts them. Sir, there's two unknowns on the hill watching us. Are they armed? No visible weapons, but their binoculars look military.

O'Neill and Sifan look at each other, worried. As the boat reaches the harbour, Saffan pulls aside one of the Yemeni intelligence officers waiting to meet them. Hey, have you got any men stationed up on that hill over there? Not that I know of. Why? No, no reason. Sufhan glances back to the hill where the watchers were and feels a chill. If those men weren't Yemeni intelligence, they're probably Al-Qaeda. And that means he and his team are now potential targets.

A month later, Aidan. Sufarn and MacFadden sit at a table in a bare interrogation room. Yemeni intelligence chief Ansi leans against one of the walls, scowling at them. Al-Hasa, the man they suspect filmed the attack on the coal, was arrested a few days ago. Ansi immediately tried to have him released, claiming he knew nothing. Sufane and O'Neill appealed to Ansi's boss to prevent that happening, and now he's furious. They hear the clink of handcuffs, and when the door opens a small, thin young man enters, Ansi moves swiftly to greet him with a kiss on each cheek.

He then seems to whisper something into the suspect's ear. Sufan interrupts. Ansi steps back. Alcasa smiles, flops down in his chair and looks at Sufhan. I'm not talking to you. I'm waiting for the interrogator. I am the interrogator. You're FBI?

Yes. No, you're not FBI, you're Mossad. You think there are no Muslims in America? Al-Hasa looks flummoxed and glances at Ansi. Sufan decides to follow up quickly. We know about your role in the attack on the cold. You were the cameraman, aren't you? No, I know nothing about the attack.

Sufanne smiles. He recognizes Al-Hasa's initial denial tactics from the photocopied manual he found in Manchester. He knew it would come in useful. And after denial will come the low-value intel that suggests cooperation. Have you had food today? Because I think you should prepare yourself

for a very long night of questions. Al-Hasa glances at Ansi with a trace of fear in his eyes. Sufan smiles at him and feels the thrill of a hunter. It might take all night It might take several days, but he will prize the truth out of Al-Qaasa. Follow the Spy Who on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts.

You can listen to all episodes of The Spy Who add free by joining Audible. You've been listening to The Spy Who, an Audible original. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to The Spy Who at Audible.com. A quick note about the scenes you've been hearing. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said. Those scenes are dramatizations. But they're based on the best available sources.

If you'd like to know more about this story, we recommend The Black Banners Declassified by Alu Sufan and The Looming Tower by Lawrence Wright. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Raza Jaffrey. Produced by Audible with Yellow Ant. This episode was written by Judy Cooper and researched by Louise Byrne, with thanks to Paula Richardson. The senior producer was Jay Priest. The sound designer was Damian Pace.

The lead sound designer was Joshua Morales. For Yellow Ant, the story editor and executive producer was Tristan Donovan. For Audible, the executive producers were Estelle Doyle and Theodora Leludis. Head of production, Audible Europe, Chris Jones. Senior Director of Originals, Lisa Higginson. Head of Audible Originals International, O'Ali de Toyer. Sound recording, copyright 2026 by Audible Limited.