I am once again free.
At about four o'clock this morning, the latest round of scantily clad CIA interrogators showed up with a container of viagra, a Twister game board and two Rick James CDs. I politely declined, because after about 36 hours of interrogation even that kind of non-stop partying can seem like torture.
My captors awoke me at about 11 and told me that I should shower because there would be a line-up at noon! At the line-up, two other men plus myself were standing behind a curtain, and when the curtain was raised each of us was asked to say "My name is Jamil Hussein." I saw my AP contact, Quais Abdul Raazzaq, seated with some other people, and he quickly pointed to one of the other two men standing beside me.
Before I could say anything, Interior Ministry agents came up, grabbed the other man and rushed him through an exterior door. Watching through a window, I witnessed the two agents put on clown masks and then beat the man to death with Nerf bats. It was not a quick or easy death. Then I was freed.
As I left, I saw Raazzaq standing on the steps, smoking a cigarette. I approached him and asked, "Why did you identify the other man and not me?"
He squinted at me and said, "Oh, crap."