Moazzam Begg is one of nine British Muslims who were held in extrajudicial detention in Guantanamo Bay by the US. He was released on January 25, 2005 without charge though he received no compensation or apology. In this excerpt from his book Enemy Combatant he describes the night he was taken by the CIA.

Midnight. Islamabad, 31 January 2002

The house was silent. Zaynab and the children were all asleep. It had been a long day for them: a friend from Kabul and her two children were staying over for a visit. They were in bed too by now. I was still awake, at my computer, writing a letter, then playing a game. I checked my watch at the sound of the doorbell. My first thought was that someone had got the wrong door, or that there was an emergency
with the neighbours.

I didn’t feel worried, although it seemed a little strange because of the time. I opened the door, and stood there in my socks, stunned. I saw a group of people standing in front of me, and the first thing I knew was a gun at my head. I was pushed right back, through the forecourt, through the open front door, into the living room where my peaceful evening had just ended in shock and rising fear. I was made to kneel. In front of me was a baffling group of people, not dressed as policemen, but in local Pakistani and Western clothes.

They didn’t say a word. They didn’t even ask me who I was. I could have been anybody. As I knelt there, I saw from the corner of my eye that some of them were walking in towards the rooms in the back where my wife and the other family were. With an instant reflex to protect them, I said, ‘That’s my family in there, don’t go in there.’ Then I couldn’t see anything more, as they put a cloth hood over my head.
They pulled my hands behind my back, handcuffed me, and fastened flexicuffs (a disposable plastic shackling device) tightly around my ankles. I was physically picked up and carried into the vehicle, which they had parked in my driveway. If any neighbours had been awake they would not have known that anything was wrong. The house was detached, and the walls and gates high.

I was dropped in the back of a 4×4, lying flat.Within seconds, as we started to move, somebody pulled up my hood just enough so that I could see. Instantly a camera flashed in my face. Behind it, I saw a very badly disguised American, dressed to look like a Pakistani. He had a cloth wrapped round his head in a style that attempted to be but was obviously not Pakistani. My first reaction, despite the terrifying position I was in, was laughter. He looked ridiculous. He didn’t say a word, but just took a photograph. Then the person on the other side of me, also an American but dressed a little better with an Afghani cap, produced a pair of handcuffs. I was cuffed behind my back already, but he waved these at me, and he said,‘Do you know where I’ve gotten these handcuffs from?’

‘I’ve no idea, how would I know where you got your handcuffs from?’

‘I was given these by the wife of a victim of the September 11th attacks.’

I was calm enough to tell him that she would think he was really stupid, having caught the wrong person. Then he put them on top of the ones I already had on. I was incredulous. Could this scene really be happening?