Darrar al-Ghoury
I didn’t know what secret lay behind the alarming task the man called Sari hired me to do after I got out of prison, where I’d been locked up in solitary confinement for seventy-five days and nights.
I didn’t know where he got my address. How did that devil find me?
In this country, certain things went on that made a person feel vulnerable and as though his personal liberties had been violated and infringed upon. The paranoia was enough to drive a man insane.
Before this Sari character found me, I was baffled about how the Jordanian authorities were able to find out about our arrival from Afghanistan – myself and the three mujahideen who accompanied me – despite having shaved our beards and dressed in Western pants and shirts and suits.
Where did they get the informat
