Waqar Kiani was driving out of Islamabad just after sunset when two vehicles, a Toyota jeep and a saloon car, ran him off the road. Two men yanked him out, bundled him into the jeep and applied a blindfold. Fifteen minutes later, they reached a safehouse where Mr. Kiani was tied to a chair and greeted by an interrogator. The abuse started.
Mr. Kiani, a 29-year-old Pakistani journalist, was working for the London-based Guardian at the time, July 2008. Two days earlier, he travelled to Karachi on assignment for London-based reporter Ian Cobain, who was working on a story about alleged cooperation between Pakistani and British intelligence in the detention and abuse of suspected militants. The trail led Mr. Kiani to the headquarters of the Intelligence Bureau, a civilian spy agency, in an upmarket city suburb. Realising he was being followed, Mr. Kiani hastily returned to Islamabad. There, he found his apartment had been broken into and turned upside down. Some papers were missing. Hours later, he disappeared.
At the safehouse, the interrogator shone a bright light in Mr. Kiani's face while others punched him in the kidneys and burned his arms with cigarettes. Accusing him of being a “British agent,” they peppered him with questions that indicated they had details of his bank account, his movements and his interactions with two Guardian reporters.
Mr. Kiani told them he was a journalist. “We don't care about the Guardian , whatever that is,” one said. “We are just doing our job.” During the beating, Mr. Kiani vomited and was refused access to food, water or a toilet. Hours later, the men bundled him back in a vehicle and started driving. He could only hear voices. “What shall we do with him?” said one. “Cut off his legs,” replied one. “Cut off his fingers,” said another, “so that he will not be able to write anything in future.” Another suggestion came: “We should shoot him and throw him in the river.” Three hours later, Mr. Kiani was dumped on the roadside in Mianwali, 120 miles southwest of Islamabad. If he told anyone of his ordeal, they warned, they would abduct his wife, rape her and post a video of the assault on YouTube. They pushed him from the vehicle, still blindfolded, warning him not to look back or they would shoot.
The following day, I went to see the Interior Minister, Rehman Malik. He was evasive, suggesting a “private gang” was behind the attack but promised to investigate. He assigned two policemen to guard Mr. Kiani's home. I contacted Human Rights Watch, who offered advice.
But Mr. Kiani's ordeal wasn't over. For days afterwards, strangers loitered outside his apartment block. He received threatening phone calls, including one that threatened the “ultimate punishment” for having sought help. Local police were reluctant to register a case. Once, after being followed by an unmarked car, Mr. Kiani turned up at my house at 3am, terrified. He stayed the night.
The British Foreign Secretary, David Miliband, wrote a private letter to the Pakistani government, expressing his concern. Eventually the harassment stopped. Now Mr. Kiani is back at work, most recently covering the death of Osama bin Laden. To this day, he cannot identify his abductors. The Guardian did not publicise the abduction at the time out of fears for Mr. Kiani's safety, but he has agreed to talk about it for the first time.
“Our government and military establishment want their own kind of stories in the papers,” he said. “That's why abuses continue to happen.” Meanwhile, the Interior Ministry — which oversees the Intelligence Bureau — has not resolved the case. — © Guardian Newspapers Limited, 2011
