them they would not be doing their job.”
“My brother, America is not as free as they make out. Democracy comes at a high price. The ones in charge view the world with suspicion and they feed that insecurity down to the streets.”
“To be directed at us. At Islam and everything it stands for.”
“The Americans want our oil. To get it they declare illegal wars that give them an excuse to invade. They send in their military. Their tanks and warplanes. Against what? Against civilians. Women and children. They destroy our cities. Our sacred mosques. Their disregard for our holy places is outrageous. I have seen the destruction. The death. The heavy boot of the American aggressor crushing everything we hold dear. The infidels want to wipe us out.”
Kerim never once raised his voice. He spoke with absolute control. Calm. Considered. And that made his words more powerful.
“How dedicated would you be to the cause?” Kerim asked, eyes fixed on James’s face.
“As dedicated as necessary.”
“Without question?”
“Yes.”
“To the death?”
“To the death. However Allah sees fit to use me. My devotion to Him has no bounds. If He requires my sacrifice then I am willing.”
“Have you heard of Hand of Allah?”
James shook his head. “I have little contact with anyone, or anything. What is Hand of Allah?”
“We oppose all things American. Our dedication is toward the glory of Allah. In whatever way we can manifest that dedication.”
“A great and good cause.”
“Hand of Allah may have the answer to your prayers, my brother.”
“Give me the opportunity to prove myself. If I can do something, anything, for Allah, then my life will not have been in vain.”
“There is a plan, Hammid. One that will bring much pain and suffering to this place of Satan.”
“Then allow me to become part of it, brother. Let me be one of those who will deliver Allah’s wrath to this godless place.”
“I am in need of believers such as yourself, Ibrahim Hammid. True followers of Allah who need a purpose in life.”
James clutched his Koran. “Where you go I will follow, Shaia Kerim. There is nothing here in this place for me. This desolate land of the infidels is dead to me. I have never been in the military, but if I had a gun I would strike out against the Americans.” He raised the Koran and held it to his chest. “This is my only weapon, but against the American war machine it is powerless.”
“What would you say if I offered you a chance to strike at America? To make a difference?”
“How?”
“By joining a group who are going to visit Allah’s vengeance against the Great Satan. In a way that will bring home the pain of war to Americans at large. Here on their own streets.”
James held himself silent for a heartbeat, studying Kerim’s face. “This can happen?” And when Kerim simply nodded, he asked, “But how?”
“Put your trust in me, Ibrahim Hammid, and I will make this happen.”
James smiled at Kerim. “Allahu akbar,” he said. “Then if He wills it I will follow you.”
“Then go and gather your belongings. Return in the morning and I will take you to a place where you can wait until I make arrangements.” As James stood, still clutching his Koran, Kerim added, “Tell no one. Stay faithful.”
They moved out of the mosque together. James walked away, aware that Kerim had remained at the entrance, taking out a cell and making a call. He did not look back but simply went down the street, maintaining his cover role as Ibrahim Hammid.
* * *
WATCHING FROM his car, Encizo reported in.
“Cal is leaving the mosque. Kerim saw him out and now he’s making a cell call.”
“Check no one is following Cal. T.J. can tail him. Cal should be going back to his room. If it’s safe he’ll call in and update us.”
“You want me to stay on Kerim?”
“If he leaves the mosque.”
Encizo saw Kerim complete his call, then turn and go back inside the mosque.
“Kerim has gone back inside.”
“Stay there. If you see anyone interesting try to get some shots.”
“I’m on it.”
Nothing further happened until Kerim left the mosque a couple of hours later. By then Encizo had been informed about what had happened inside the mosque. He started the car and made his way back to the hotel Phoenix Force was using as a base.
Hawkins had tailed James back to his rooming house. No one else followed James, Hawkins determined. The black Phoenix Force pro went inside and used the cell hidden in his room to update McCarter on what had taken place. He hung around inside his room until it was time for him to start his afternoon shift at the restaurant.
Gary Manning, the lone Canadian on the team, was observing from a distance, watching to see if anyone made contact. No one did, but Manning noticed a lone figure keeping an eye on James, even taking a number of photographs. He called that in.
“Looks like they’re checking up on our mate,” McCarter said. “Probably want a picture for identification.”
“Good thing Aaron had that fake background planted on the internet.”
“Too bloody true,” McCarter said. “Keep a sharp watch, Gary. Let me know if anything happens that shouldn’t.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“He is of African-American descent,” Kerim explained. “His mother was Algerian. She taught him French and instilled in him a respect for the faith. Since he was brought here as a young child he has had nothing but disappointment. He feels nothing but resentment toward America. His life is nothing. I had one of our people check his background on the internet. The man has clashed with the authorities many times because of his disillusionment. Twice he has been arrested for disturbing the peace, so it was possible for his police records to be accessed. He has never been placed on the American watch list because his actions have always been low-key. He is considered a nuisance rather than a threat. But his presence on record shows he is far from content with his life and does not like America.”
“Will his feelings allow him to take that step to becoming an active dissident?” asked the man they called the Prophet.
“I believe so. Only his faith in Allah allows him to survive. He wants to leave this country but even that is denied him because he is penniless.
