Finding the home of Mr. 'Nukes 'R Us'

I told some journalist friends this morning that I had been up to the house of A.Q. Khan. A.Q. Khan, you may remember, is the father of Pakistan’s nuclear program. He’s revered in Pakistan for bringing it the bomb. And he’s reviled in the West because he traded nuclear secrets with North Korea, Libya and Iran in the process. He was a one-man “Nukes ‘R Us.”

Khan purportedly is under house arrest, and I now know where his house is.

It’s in the E-7 sector of Islamabad, tucked up along the hills, a short distance from the mammoth Faisal Mosque that Saudi Arabia built for Pakistan.

The first time I went, my Pakistani fixer looked like he was about to have a heart attack when I said I wanted to take a video for my blog. “You can’t do that!” he said. When we got there, I saw why. Driving down the street, amid a series of palatial estates, one sees signs that say, “No photographs.”

Diagonal to the Khan house is a guard station apparently filled with sharpshooters.

In front of the house are two sandbagged guard posts. Sitting on chairs are special ops guys with big automatic weapons. For the safety of all concerned, my fixer and I drove on by.

This morning was different. It was a different driver who’s English is challenged. When we got close to the house, he misunderstood, thinking we would be going in. When we slowed in front of the first guard, the sentinel vigorously signaled us to move along. Then in front of the second guard, at the entrance to a driveway, our driver started to pull in. The second guard jumped out of his chair and blew a piercing whistle. We journalists started shouting in unison to pull out and keep moving along the street. He understood. And thankfully, we are alive. But no picture.

We did, however, make it up to Margallah Hills National Park, which overlooks Islamabad, a beautiful and peaceful place full of pine trees, rustling breezes – and apparently rabid monkeys.

The monkeys, Rhesus Macaques, to be precise, are everywhere, including right at roadside. It wasn’t until we got up to the parking lot that we saw the signs saying to stay away from the monkeys. They may have rabies.

So your faithful, now slightly bearded correspondent put on his meanest expression to frighten away any rabid monkeys. And anyone else wandering in the vicinity.

Also, while I’m on indulging in travelogue, one of the pleasures of Islamabad, apart from the fact that it’s a magnet for foreign journalists, and I’m seeing long-lost friends here whom I hadn’t seen in a decade, is seeing the scenes on the street. It’s common to see bakers along the street pulling hot naan bread out of big tandoors, or clay ovens.

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Any chance for a garage sale at A.Q.'s house?

I want to pick up some old centrifuges, and other items!