In an abandoned luxury apartment in the Syrian capital of Damascus, armed men dressed in military fatigues sifted through designer clothes and documents. Scattered across the living room floor, beneath a sparkling crystal chandelier, were dozens of photographs of the same slender man in various settings—sitting at his desk, playing in the snow, and smiling warmly as he shook the hand of the ousted dictator Bashar al-Assad. While the man was not instantly recognizable to everyone, gold medals and gilded certificates piled nearby were inscribed with the name Hussam Luka. Known to many as "The Spider," Luka was one of Assad's top henchmen, accused of orchestrating widespread atrocities and systematic torture, and subsequently sanctioned by the United Kingdom, the United States, and the European Union. As the head of Syria's most powerful civilian intelligence agency, the General Security Directorate (GSD), Luka was among the most feared men in the country, though much of his work was conducted from the shadows. Like other high-ranking figures in the regime, Luka seemingly vanished overnight in December 2024 when Assad was toppled, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and demands for justice that many fear will never be realized.
In his apartment, just days after Assad's fall, reporters watched rebels looking for clues as to where the spy chief might have gone. One of the photos found in the apartment had been copied multiple times, showing Luka shaking hands with Assad. In the corner of the living room, resting on a console table, was an unremarkable-looking notebook. Inside, written in scribbled blue handwriting, were dozens of names, ranging from local shopkeepers and doctors to military officials and individuals sharing the Luka family name. This phone book became the starting point for an investigation to learn more about "The Spider" and his crimes, and potentially track down his whereabouts.
At one time, Luka's own phone number was hard to avoid. In the early days of the Syrian civil war, which was sparked by Assad's brutal crushing of a pro-democracy uprising in 2011—a conflict in which hundreds of thousands of people would go on to be killed—Luka's number had been spray-painted on walls around the central city of Homs. At the time, Luka was the local head of the Political Security Directorate, one of Assad's main intelligence agencies, and had been tasked with wresting the city from rebel forces. Rebel-held areas in Homs were under a tight government siege, and residents were struggling to access basic food and medicine. Several people, including former rebel fighter Motaz al-Zaydi, recalled that they had resorted to eating rats to survive.
Al-Zaydi remembered Luka's name and phone number appearing on a wall in his neighborhood. He said a message began to spread that those wanting to flee the fighting could call the number for safe passage. While some are believed to have been granted safe transit out of the city by Luka, others who called the number were never seen or heard from again, according to several people, including al-Zaydi. Many residents referred to Luka as "The Spider" because of his vast web of allies and informants, including some who were embedded directly within rebel groups. "He was everywhere," Homs residents recalled. Al-Zaydi described Luka as an "evil genius" and "a fox of a man."
Luka's most egregious action in Homs, many argue, was his alleged involvement in the so-called Eid Massacre, also known by some as the Children's Massacre, which the United States specifically noted when imposing sanctions against him. It occurred during the Muslim holiday of Eid al-Adha in September 2015. Mohammed Towakatli's seven-year-old son, Wael, was gardening in a playground he had set up in the al-Waer neighborhood. At 17:10, just after the daily power rationing had kicked in, Mohammed remembers the strike hitting. Walking around the park years later, now planted with rows of saplings, Mohammed recalled the names of the children killed and the games they had been playing at the time, gesturing to the places where he had found their bodies, including that of Wael. "They were tiny children," he said with tears in his eyes. "The ground here was painted red with blood."
According to the Syrian Network for Human Rights, twenty-eight people were killed in the strike, including 17 children and four women. A Syrian activist group and a pro-opposition newspaper at the time reported that Luka was the official responsible for the regime's selection of targets in the area that day. The government security services could target anyone—from opposition fighters, journalists, doctors, and rights activists, to anyone believed to be opposed in any form to the Assad government. Those arrested were detained in Syria's political prisons, including Sednaya in Damascus, a facility so notorious it was dubbed the "human slaughterhouse." Many imprisoned there were never seen again. As the head of the GSD, Luka had strategic control over Syria's detention policies, and his personnel would monitor communications to and from Sednaya.
Today, there are widespread calls across Syrian society on social media for former senior officials to be held accountable. Some also say the new Syrian government is not doing enough to bring these people to justice. Syria's Attorney General, Hassan al-Turba, confirmed that the government has launched a lawsuit against Luka, accusing him of "premeditated murder, torture, and death resulting from torture." Al-Turba stated that a warrant has been circulated domestically and they are working on circulating it internationally as well, adding that the administration is working to track the location and seek the extradition of Luka and other missing senior regime officials. As he continues to grieve for his son, Mohammed said he wants Luka, alongside other senior regime officials, to be returned to Syria and executed. "They look like humans but have no humanity in them at all," he said.
In an effort to trace the fugitive, investigators took photos of every page of the book discovered in Luka's apartment. Back in London, they began testing every one of its 155 numbers, aware that many people close to the regime would have fled or gone to ground. Fifty-one numbers appeared to be operational. They called these numbers in order of their apparent importance to Luka, starting with military commanders and relatives. However, every call was unsuccessful. Anyone who answered simply hung up when the callers explained who they were and what they wanted, or they denied knowing Luka or his family, or even being the people listed in the book.
To make progress, a reporter, whose own name was once on a GSD wanted list while Luka ran the agency, headed to Syria to try in person. Since many of those listed in the phone book were doctors, the reporter began booking medical appointments with some of them as a way to meet them. A doctor in Aleppo reluctantly acknowledged he had treated Luka, but then ordered the journalist to leave and returned the consultation fee. The reporter then booked an appointment with another doctor in the phone book, this time based in Damascus. This doctor revealed he had once accompanied Luka's mother on a medical trip to Russia, but was reluctant to give any more information, other than to vaguely direct the reporter to a pharmacy belonging to one of Luka's daughters. Locals said she, too, had not been seen since December 2024.
For months, the hunt for Luka drew a blank. Then, the first breakthrough occurred. One of those listed in the book, who was tried again, finally answered the phone. He had been the guard for Luka's apartment block, and he eventually agreed to provide the number for someone he said had been Luka's personal bodyguard, a man referred to as Mahmoud. It took weeks to secure an interview with Mahmoud. Meetings would be scheduled but he would not show up, or he would request a meeting in a private space such as a car or apartment, which the reporter judged to be too much of a risk. They eventually met at a hotel one night, just before midnight. Broad-shouldered and physically imposing, Mahmoud seemed to consider every answer carefully before he spoke.
Mahmoud told the news team that he was angry with Luka for leaving him behind when the regime fell. As word had spread in December 2024 that Assad's rule was on the brink of collapse, with rebels advancing on the capital, Luka had said he would stay and defend Damascus, Mahmoud said. But by the early hours of the next morning, Luka had disappeared, taking a large sum of money with him from the office safe. Another contact, a driver, proved even harder to reach. When he answered the phone, his voice was nervous and unsteady. He repeatedly insisted he was just a driver and knew nothing of Luka's activities. Multiple meetings were never kept, and eventually he stopped replying.
The investigation then turned to Luka's possible escape routes, including neighboring Lebanon, where the Iran-backed group Hezbollah had close links with the Assad regime. One senior source in the Lebanese government said he understood Luka had passed through Lebanon on a "good Russian passport but with a different name," before flying out to Russia. Investigators managed to find a man, now based in Lebanon, whose name was listed in Luka's contacts book, but under a number that no longer worked. This man is one of many wanted by the new Syrian government because of his close association with the Assad regime. The man, who cannot be identified, said he had a number for Luka. When shown, the number was realized to have a Russian country code.
Russia was a key backer of the Assad regime, and in the days after his fall, Assad released a statement confirming that he had fled there. Many of his inner circle were believed to have followed him. Back in Luka's apartment in Damascus, investigators had found clues that Luka also had strong links to Moscow, including awards from Russia's foreign spy service and even a New Year's card addressed to him from a senior Russian official. Now, the Russian telephone number suggested they finally had proof that he was in Russia.
To verify that this number really belonged to Luka, the contact in Lebanon agreed to put the person he said was Hussam Luka on speakerphone a few days later, with investigators present, and ask him questions that only Luka would know the answer to, based on information gathered during the investigation. The voice on the other end of the phone sounded confused, but answered the questions instantly and correctly. He refused, however, to speak to the journalists directly. But the contact later agreed to call Luka again and allow the reporters to try to interview him.
The same voice answered, and the reporters introduced themselves, explaining that they had questions about serious allegations relating to massacres and torture committed by the former regime official. "I can't take any risk talking on the phone in the position I'm in," Luka said, his tone anxious. Asked if Russia was blocking him from talking, Luka said: "I cannot talk. I can't explain. You have to understand." When asked if he would meet outside Russia, he said: "It's difficult."
Investigators later obtained a second number which they were told was also for Luka, this time registered in Syria and linked to social media and messaging apps which he appeared to be still using. Over a period of a day, they were able to locate him in two suburban areas on the outskirts of the Russian capital, Moscow. The locations seemed far removed from the luxurious lifestyle Assad is reported to be leading in exile in Russia, and to the life Luka himself once led in Syria. Knowing they could not approach him in person in Russia, where Assad's henchmen are shielded from international journalists and police, they decided to try putting the allegations to him over the phone once again. They rang the number and the same voice as before answered, the line crackly. He asked who was calling, and when told it was the news team, he immediately hung up. A message sent over WhatsApp asking for his response to the many allegations against him went unanswered.
Confirmation that Luka is in Moscow is difficult news for those in Syria seeking justice. Russia is highly unlikely to extradite officials from the regime that it long supported. The Russian government did not respond to requests for comment about Luka's presence there, or whether it would ever consider an extradition request. Back in Homs, Mohammed says he will never let go of the hope that Luka, and other senior members of the Assad regime, will one day face justice. "I am angry at all those who were with the regime and its security apparatus… They were all against us," he says. "Wael was just a seven-year-old child… All he cared about was playing and having fun."
