Local time – 1:45pm, Saturday 16th June, 2011.
Islamabad, Pakistan.
General Abdullah Wasti asked his driver to pull over. He needed a moment to think before entering the University grounds. In his 40 year career with the Pakistani military, he couldn’t recall a more momentous occasion than the one before him today. His son had no idea why his father was visiting, and had sounded excited when told his father needed to speak to him urgently. Ahmed was a brilliant student, Abdullah thought, and a dedicated son. Studying at the National Defence University in Islamabad was a natural step in preparing him for a military career. It was good that he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. But it would mean giving up family life, as he had done, well before the boy was born. Abdullah rarely visited Ahmed, and since becoming Foreign Minister two years ago, he hadn’t seen him at all.
Abdullah motioned for his driver to enter the grounds, where a security guard ushered the car through to a small car park at the rear of the student accommodation block. Usually a visit from a government minister would be greeted by a procession of University dignitaries, but Abdullah had insisted this visit be kept private.
His personal security protection officer accompanied him inside the students’ wing and stood guard outside the formal sitting room where Ahmed was waiting. At 25 years of age, he still managed to look to his father like a wide eyed ten year old, hoping from one foot to the other in excitement at the Eid ul Fitr feast. Ahmed shook his father’s hand.
‘Father, peace be to you. I am so grateful for your visit.’ Ahmed invited his father to sit down in one of the twin armchairs and poured a tea for them both.
‘And to you be peace together with God’s mercy, my son. How are your studies Ahmed? Your mother tells me you are doing well.’
‘Yes, I am currently enjoying National Security Studies very much. This is the field I am hoping to pursue.’ Polite, stilted conversation could not quite obscure the pride they took in each other.
‘Very wise, my son. You will have every opportunity with this subject.’ Ahmed stared at his feet.
‘My son, I want to speak to you about something very important. You have always been patient and dutiful in your relationship with me. I did not want to show you disrespect by withholding information that will affect not just your life, but the lives of every man in this country.’ Ahmed did not quite manage to hide his consternation. His father did not bring good news.
‘Of course, father. I am honoured you have taken the time to meet with me.’ Abdullah did not have to explain the strict confidence of their discussions, or the consequences if his son were to break the promise of secrecy he made as a child never to talk about his father’s activities.
‘You are going to be told your father is a coward and it is possible you will have to leave Pakistan, if our plans are not accepted.’
Ahmed looked stunned. ‘Are you leaving, father?’
‘I hope I won’t have to. But when you hear what we have chosen to do, and you understand how close we are to achievement, you may feel it’s safest I do.’ Ahmed would not meet his father’s eye. Abdullah did not mind, he was grateful to be able to speak without his son seeing his sudden apprehension.
‘We are selling our nuclear arsenal and dismantling our facilities.’
‘What? Selling?’ Ahmed stood up in agitation.
‘I can’t explain the details of the sale, not even to you. But you have to trust me that this is for the good of our country. We hope that one day it will be seen as the turning point in Pakistan’s history.’
‘But why father? We base our security on those weapons. What price could possibly be enough?’
‘Please my son, do not burden me with questions I can’t answer. You will find the truth in good time, but I did not want you learning of this through the eyes of a sceptical media. I beg you to trust me. We have not done this without genuine argument and consideration. But eventually the decision was unanimous amongst the cabinet and we have been privately arranging the details for months.’
‘But father, you are putting this country at incredible risk. Whoever can afford these weapons, whoever can afford to convince our government to endanger the security of its citizens, how do you know they won’t use the weapons themselves? How do you know they won’t use them to strike us?’ Abdullah would have been disappointed if his son hadn’t reacted this way. Ahmed loved Pakistan as much as he did, and he was perfectly correct to be so concerned.
‘Trust, my son, is a very important thing. Our country will not move forward by accusing, hating and turning other nations against us. We have made this decision for the people of Pakistan.’ Ahmed sat back down and now looked his father straight in the eyes, seeking to make sense of this news. But he knew his father was not going to say any more. Abdullah got up and hugged his son.
‘Please put your faith in me, your father, if you can’t put your faith elsewhere. I have not told you this to frighten you. I hope you will find yourself, not long from now, proud you are my son and proud you are from Pakistan.’ Ahmed watched his father walk out. He waited until the door was shut before he put his head in his hands and wept.