NanoStrike by Pete Barber Read Free Book Online Page A

an Imam.”
    “Dawud, at Mount Arafat you led the prayers as only an Imam could.”
    David smiled at the truth in Ali’s words. “Imam, before my Hajj, you spoke of a meeting. Allah has commanded me to help this man.”
    Ali nodded. “He comes tomorrow. But in this thing, I am like Yahya—I opened the way, and I can guide you, but Allah calls to you alone, Dawud. Now come, eat, then you must rest. The Hajj takes a physical toll. Allah needs his servant to be strong.”
    That night, David slept peacefully on a mat in the conference room.
     
    The next day, he folded the Ihram in his suitcase, showered, and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. The clothes felt strange, false.
    He walked through the prayer hall and knocked on the Imam’s door.
    “Come!”
    Imam Ali sat at a small table beside a large man dressed in black shirt and jeans. The stranger stood and offered his hand. The man’s neck was thick, like a bull. A scar, red and angry, distorted the left side of his face. Rough laborer’s hands delivered a powerful grip that crushed David’s fingers.
    “Dawud, this is Imam Ghazi.”
    Ghazi bowed. “Dawud-bin-Hussein-bin-Ferran, it is an honor. Imam Ali told me of your Hajj, Allahu Akbar .” The man’s voice was deep and resonant.
    “ Allahu Akbar .” David met the stranger’s gaze. “Allah commands that we meet. I am yours to instruct.”
    Ghazi nodded, and David noted with pride the look of approval on Ali’s face.
    Ali poured dark, aromatic tea from a silver pot while Ghazi spoke. “Many years ago, I took my Hajj alongside my good friend, Ali. We were young, twenty-two. We returned changed men and dedicated ourselves to the study of Islam. Those were wonderful days, filled with the joy of doing God’s bidding.” Ghazi paused to sip his tea, the cup was a toy in his hand.
    Ali smiled along with his friend’s reminiscence. David felt honored to be accepted in such exalted company.
    “In my early thirties, Allah called me to help my Muslim brothers at the place of their greatest need. I parted from Ali and traveled to Jerusalem.” Ghazi’s face grew solemn.
    “Israel is the front line in a war on Islam. I tried to help. I talked to representatives from the UN, and to Western Peace Commissions. I pleaded with rabbis, ministers, and priests. Islam is the one true path for all mankind, yet in Jerusalem, each day, its followers are crushed.” Ghazi’s raised voice filled the room, strong with passion. Here was a true soldier of Allah.
    “The Western powers and the Arab puppets they use to control the Muslim people want one thing; to drive Islam from the face of the Earth. They fear Islam because the words of the Koran expose them as charlatans and thieves.” When he picked up his tea again, his hand shook, the spoon rattling in the saucer.
    “In Allah’s name, I took up arms against the Crusaders, but our weapons are weak, homemade, cheap, and old. We combat the infidel’s rockets with sticks and rocks. Earlier this year I was forlorn, ready to give up the fight. I sought council from my wise friend, Ali, and in his words I found clarity.”
    Ghazi turned to Ali who took over the story. “Ghazi spoke of his frustrations. He cried to think of Allah’s servants strapping explosives to their bodies, sacrificing everything yet gaining so little. I said to my friend: ‘You cannot beat an enemy that doesn’t fear you.’ I asked, ‘Do they fear the suicide bombers?’”
    “No,” Ghazi replied.
    “Do they fear Hamas’s rockets?”
    “No again,” said Ghazi.
    “Did they crumble and accept Islam when the towers fell in New York?”
    This time David responded. “No. They fear only weapons of mass destruction.”
    “Yes . . . yes, Dawud,” Ghazi said, “because they know the threat of these weapons cannot be hidden from their people. Israeli, American, and British citizens do not despise Islam. Their leaders do. Their leaders fear what all leaders fear—losing power. Only when the Islamic