Confessions of a spy

Former Swiss informant spills secrets.

Along with banks and chocolates, the placid lakefront city of Geneva has another claim to fame: It is full of spies. Claude Covassi, a broad-shouldered, grey-eyed martial arts expert, was one of them. He became an informant for Swiss intelligence in early 2004, converted to Islam and infiltrated fundamentalist circles here in his hometown. He followed the trail of holy warriors all the way to mosques in Syria where aspiring foreign "martyrs" are groomed for Iraq.

But in February, the secret agent went explosively public. He revealed his mission to its prime target, a Muslim scholar in Geneva who has been periodically accused of extremism, and gave newspaper interviews accusing his handlers of trying to frame the cleric. Since then, Covassi has unleashed everything from confidential documents to details of clandestine operations.

The former spy insists that he abandoned his masquerade because he found faith.

"It is not great speeches that convinced me but the force of prayer and understanding of the Quran," Covassi, 36, said in a recent interview by e-mail from his refuge in Egypt. "Islam transformed my existence."

But Swiss anti-terrorism officials reject his allegations and accuse him of a personal vendetta. It's unclear who was manipulating whom.

Street-level view

Covassi's story gives a rare street-level view of the fight against Islamic extremism. All across Europe's Muslim communities, security forces conduct aggressive surveillance of mosques, prayer halls, bookstores, butcher shops, internet cafes and other outposts where legal fundamentalist activity converges with terrorism.

Covassi's war of words has shaken the anti-terrorism forces of a small country with an active militant underworld. Questions abound about Covassi's motivations. Is he retaliating over money or a grudge? Is he in league with extremists? Adding to the uncertainty about his credibility, in April a court sentenced him in absentia to eight months in prison for dealing in anabolic steroids while he taught Thai boxing at a gym in 2002. Some officials believe he's trying to pressure the government to avoid the prison term.

The Los Angeles Times confirmed essential parts of Covassi's story in interviews with Swiss legislative and security officials, European anti-terrorism agents and others involved in or familiar with the events. And Covassi supports his account by providing names and phone numbers of his handlers and confidential e-mail exchanges with agents.

The intelligence oversight committee of the Swiss congress is investigating the case. But doubts persist, especially regarding Covassi's allegation that spymasters plotted to smear the controversial Islamic scholar Hani Ramadan by linking him to Iraq-bound militants. Ramadan's brother, Tariq, is an internationally known Islamic intellectual.

Ramadan and Covassi are ambiguous figures in a city of shadows. Geneva has long been a crossroads for intrigue because it is a base for international institutions, including the United Nations, as well as a haven for dissidents and a repository of colossal and dubious fortunes from around the globe. Soviet and Western agents sparred in this nominally neutral territory during the Cold War.

Since September 11, 2001, the cloak-and-dagger game has had a new focus. Authorities have frozen millions of dollars of suspected terrorist financiers and investigated local groups allegedly linked to Al Qaida.

Enter Covassi. Acquaintances, and his own account, depict him as engaging, athletic, restless and a slick operator.

The son of an Italian immigrant labourer, he grew up in Geneva and went to Paris to study philosophy. A boyhood friend in police intelligence introduced him to agents of the domestic intelligence service, the Service for Analysis and Prevention, or SAP. The agents helped him get out of jail after an arrest on charges of credit card fraud in February 2004, he said, and enlisted him in a mission dubbed Operation Memphis.

"The SAP had the air of being worried about a terrorist threat in Switzerland,'' Covassi said. "I didn't know anything about Islam. The project of Operation Memphis seemed useful. I did not get a salary. I was repaid for expenses, along with some ?gifts'. I got paid a total of about $12,200.''

Covassi started attending the Islamic Centre of Geneva, a mosque run by Ramadan, 47. Ramadan and his brother, Tariq, have been watched by the world's spy services for decades.

In order to infiltrate Hani Ramadan's inner circle, Covassi used his real name and a classic cover story: He presented himself as a troubled ex-convict looking for spiritual solace. Within two months, Ramadan encouraged him to convert, Covassi said.

Fellow operatives

As Covassi spent time at Ramadan's Islamic Centre and Geneva's larger mosque, he says he realised they were swarming with fellow operatives for spy agencies. He briefed his handlers about an ardent extremist at the big mosque; they told him the man was a spy recruiting militants for combat in Iraq, he said.

Covassi says he even accompanied Iraq-bound militants. Upon his return, Covassi clashed with his handlers. He accuses them of pushing him to plant names of suspected Iraq-bound militants on computers at the Islamic Centre to implicate Ramadan in the recruitment network. Covassi said that by then he had come to admire the cleric "for his human qualities and the help he gave me in my knowledge of Islam.''

As a result, Covassi distanced himself from the SAP, but not from spying. He promptly went to work for the Swiss foreign intelligence service, known by the French initials SRS, infiltrating terrorist networks across Europe and the Middle East.

In an e-mail dated December 3, an agitated Covassi complains that his former bosses had renewed pressure on him to spy on Ramadan, whom he calls "the Guru''.

Under pressure to act against Ramadan, Covassi soon went on a rampage. He had two angry meetings with his old handlers. He gave an interview to the Tribune de Geneve newspaper denouncing what he called the persecution of Ramadan.

In the following days, he alleges, he received threats, his studio apartment was burgled and he was mugged on a street.

He decided to run.

From his refuge, he now fires off e-mails to journalists and politicians. He threatens to disclose well-documented secrets if the congressional commission does not bring him back to Switzerland to testify.

The runaway spy sounds plaintive, lost in his labyrinth. "I don't have money,'' Covassi said. "I have made an effort to avoid being helped by any group so no one can claim that I am being manipulated or what have you. I am absolutely alone.''