Part 6 (1/2)

”If you decide to cooperate with us, Mosab, I will do my best to see that you don't have to spend more time in prison.”

A moment of hope. Maybe I could make him think I was going to cooperate and then he would let me out of here.

We talked a little about general things. Then he said, ”What if I offer you a job with us? Israeli leaders are sitting down with Palestinian leaders. They have fought for a long time, and at the end of the day they are shaking hands and having dinner together.”

”Islam forbids me to work with you.”

”At some point, Mosab, even your father will come and sit down and talk to us and we will talk to him. Let's work together and bring peace to people.”

”Is this how we bring peace? We bring peace by ending the occupation.”

”No, we bring peace through people with courage who want to make change.”

”I don't think so. It's not worth it.”

”Are you afraid of being killed as a collaborator?”

”It's not that. After all our suffering, I could never just sit down and talk with you as a friend, much less work with you. I am not allowed to do this. It is against everything I believe.”

I still hated everything around me. The occupation. The PA. I had become a radical just because I wanted to destroy something. But it was that impulse that had gotten me into this whole mess. Here I was sitting in an Israeli prison, and now this man was asking me to work for them. If I said yes, I knew I would have to pay a terrible price-both in this life and in the next.

”Okay, I need to think about it,” I heard myself saying.

I went back to my cell and thought about Loai's offer. I had heard stories about people who agreed to work for the Israelis but were double agents. They killed their handlers, stashed weapons, and used every opportunity to hurt the Israelis at an even deeper level. If I told him yes, I figured Loai would most likely release me. He would probably even give me the opportunity to have real weapons this time, and with those weapons I was going to kill him.

The fires of hatred burned inside me. I wanted revenge on the soldier who had beaten me so badly. I wanted revenge on Israel. I didn't care about the cost, even if it cost me my life.

But working for the s.h.i.+n Bet would be a lot riskier than buying weapons. I probably should just forget it, just finish my time in prison, go home and study, be close to my mother, and take care of my brothers and sisters.

The following day, the guard took me back to the office one last time, and a few minutes later Loai came in.

”How are you today? You seem to be feeling much better. Would you like something to drink?”

We sat there drinking coffee like two old friends.

”What if I get killed?” I asked, though I really didn't care about getting killed. I only wanted to make him think I did so he would believe that I was for real.

”Let me tell you something, Mosab,” said Loai. ”I've been working for the s.h.i.+n Bet for eighteen years, and during all that time, I know of only one person who was discovered. All those people you have seen getting killed had no relations.h.i.+p with us. People became suspicious of them because they had no families and they did suspicious things, so people killed them. n.o.body will know about you. We will cover you so you aren't found out. We will protect you and take care of you.”

I stared at him a long time.

”All right,” I said. ”I will do it. Will you release me now?”

”That's great,” Loai said with a big smile. ”Unfortunately, we cannot release you right now. Since you and your cousin were arrested right after Salameh was nabbed, the story was on the front page of Al-Quds Al-Quds [the main Palestinian newspaper]. Everybody thinks you were arrested because you were involved with a bomb maker. If we release you so soon, people will be suspicious, and you might be exposed as a collaborator. The best way to protect you is to send you to prison-not for long, don't worry. We'll see if there's a prisoner exchange or release agreement we can use to get you out. Once you are there, I'm sure that Hamas will take care of you, especially since you are the son of Ha.s.san Yousef. We'll see you after your release.” [the main Palestinian newspaper]. Everybody thinks you were arrested because you were involved with a bomb maker. If we release you so soon, people will be suspicious, and you might be exposed as a collaborator. The best way to protect you is to send you to prison-not for long, don't worry. We'll see if there's a prisoner exchange or release agreement we can use to get you out. Once you are there, I'm sure that Hamas will take care of you, especially since you are the son of Ha.s.san Yousef. We'll see you after your release.”

They took me back to my cell, where I stayed for another couple of weeks. I couldn't wait to get out of Maskobiyeh. Finally one morning, the guard told me it was time to go. He handcuffed me, but this time my hands were in front of me. No stinking hood. And for the first time in forty-five days, I saw the sun and felt the outside air. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs and relis.h.i.+ng the breeze on my face. I climbed into the back of a Ford van and actually sat down on the seat. It was a hot summer day, and the metal bench I was cuffed to was blistering, but I didn't care. I felt free!

Two hours later, we arrived at the prison in Megiddo, but then we had to sit in the van for another hour, waiting for permission to enter. Once we finally got inside, a prison doctor examined me and announced that I was fine. I took a shower with real soap and was provided with clean clothes and other toiletries. At lunchtime, I ate hot food for the first time in weeks.

I was asked what organization I was affiliated with.

”Hamas,” I answered.

In Israeli prisons, every organization was allowed to police its own people. The hope was that this would either cut down on some of the social problems or create more conflict among the factions. If prisoners focused their anger on one another, they'd have less energy to fight against the Israelis.

Upon entering a new prison, all prisoners were required to declare an affiliation. We had to choose something: Hamas, Fatah, Islamic Jihad, the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine (DFLP), or whatever the case might be. We couldn't simply say we were nothing. Prisoners who really were were nothing would be given a few days to choose an organization. At Megiddo, Hamas was in total control inside the prison. Hamas was the largest and strongest organization there. Hamas made the rules, and everybody else played their game. nothing would be given a few days to choose an organization. At Megiddo, Hamas was in total control inside the prison. Hamas was the largest and strongest organization there. Hamas made the rules, and everybody else played their game.

When I entered, the other prisoners welcomed me warmly, patting me on the back and congratulating me for joining the ranks. In the evening, we sat around and shared our stories. After a while, though, I started to feel a little uncomfortable. One of the guys seemed to be kind of a leader for the inmates, and he was asking a lot of questions-too many. Even though he was the emir-the Hamas leader within the prison-I just didn't trust him. I had heard many stories about ”birds,” another word for prison spies.

If he's a s.h.i.+n Bet spy, I thought, I thought, why doesn't he trust me? I'm supposed to be one of them now. why doesn't he trust me? I'm supposed to be one of them now. I decided to play it safe and say nothing more than I had told the interrogators at the detention center. I decided to play it safe and say nothing more than I had told the interrogators at the detention center.

I stayed at Megiddo Prison for two weeks, praying and fasting and reading the Qur'an. When new prisoners came through, I warned them about the emir.

”You've got to be careful,” I said. ”That guy and his friends sound to me like they might be birds.” The new arrivals immediately told the emir about my suspicions, and the next day I was sent back to Maskobiyeh. The following morning, I was brought to the office.

”How was your trip to Megiddo?” Loai asked.

”It was nice,” I said sarcastically.

”You know, not everybody can spot a bird the first time he meets one. Go and rest now. Soon we will send you back to spend a little more time there. And one day we will do something together.”

Yeah, and one day I will shoot you in the head, I thought as I watched him walk away. I was proud of myself for having such radical thoughts. I thought as I watched him walk away. I was proud of myself for having such radical thoughts.

I spent twenty-five more days at the detention center, but this time I was in a cell with three other prisoners, including my cousin Yousef. We pa.s.sed the time talking and telling stories. One guy told us how he had killed somebody. Another boasted about sending suicide bombers. Everybody had an interesting story to tell. We sat around, praying, singing, and trying to have fun. Anything to get our minds off our current surroundings. It was not a place for humans.

Finally, all of us except my cousin were sent to Megiddo. But this time we were not going to be on the side with the birds; we were headed to a real prison. And nothing would ever be the same again.

Chapter Twelve

Number 8231996.

They could smell us coming.

Our hair and beards were long after three months without scissors or razor. Our clothes were filthy. It took about two weeks to get rid of the stink of the detention center. Scrubbing didn't work. It just had to wear off.

Most of the prisoners started their sentence in the mi'var mi'var, a unit where everyone was processed before being moved to the larger camp population. Some prisoners, however, were considered too dangerous to be in the general population and lived in the mi'var for years. These men, not surprisingly, were all affiliated with Hamas. Some of the guys recognized me and came over to welcome us.

As Sheikh Ha.s.san's son, I was used to being recognized wherever I went. If he was the king, I was the prince-the heir apparent. And I was treated as such.

”We heard you were here a month ago. Your uncle is here. He will come to visit you soon.”

Lunch was hot and filling, although not quite as tasty as what I had eaten when I was with the birds. Still, I was happy. Even though I was in prison, I actually felt free. When I had time alone, I wondered about the s.h.i.+n Bet. I had promised to work with them, but they hadn't told me anything. They never explained how we would communicate or what it would mean to actually work together. They just left me on my own with no tips on how to behave. I was totally lost. I didn't know who I was anymore. I wondered if maybe I had been scammed.

The mi'var was divided into two big dorms-Room Eight and Room Nine-lined with bunks. The dorms formed an L and housed twenty prisoners each. In the angle of the L, there was an exercise yard with a painted concrete floor and a broken-down Ping-Pong table that had been donated by the Red Cross. We were let out for exercise twice a day.

My bed was at the far end of Room Nine, right by the bathroom. We shared two toilets and two showers. Each toilet was just a hole in the floor over which we stood or squatted, and then we doused ourselves with water from a bucket when we were finished. It was hot and humid, and it smelled horrible.