The Apostate (12 page)

Meanwhile, he had to buy a new laptop, while awaiting disposition of his insurance claim. Fortunately, Perkins secured his getting a small stipend for this purpose from his offshore account. Getting some money in this fashion was reassuring. All he had to do was ask though he might well be turned down. Perkins held all the cards. Increasingly, it was obvious he was on his own.

The tea at the center was always too sweet, but the surroundings, with shrubbery and the fountain, were quite pleasant.

“We're pleased to welcome you into the family,” Tariq said, echoing the imam's sentiments. “I trust your indoctrination is going well with the imam.”

Indoctrination was such a negative word, Ray thought. Even given Tariq's disposition, Ray was surprised by its usage.

“I wouldn't call it indoctrination,” Ray said, suspecting Tariq was baiting him. “Education. The imam is very informative. I'm learning a great deal. I'm very fortunate to be in such learned hands.”

“Indeed, this is true,” Tariq allowed. “Learning to be a Muslim is good, but obeying the Qur'an is the issue,” he added, both as a general statement and warning.

“My desire is sincere,” Ray said, stung. Tariq, deliberately provocative, had a way of getting under his skin.

“Of course, of course,” Tariq said. “I mean to cast no doubt. All will go well.”

For a moment Tariq hesitated. “I hope, Ray, by this time, you see that your suspicions about us, and me in particular, have no merit.”

“I have no suspicions,” Ray lied. It was clever of Tariq to turn the notion of distrust between them as if it was primarily his fault. Given his deceitful presence, it was difficult not to feel and probably look defensive.

“I hope not,” Tariq said, with a sharp gaze intended to pierce his denial. But Ray held his gaze, and Tariq looked away for an instant. “You can see that we don't preach
jihadism
here, nor do we recruit anyone or misuse donations for corrupt causes. But as you know, being active on the Internet, there are many sites, which do try to gain recruits or at least promote the appeal of Islam. Electronic dawah.”

Dawah
, the call to Islam, was a part of his life now, Ray realized, feeling another burst of irony. Frequent practice now made it easier for him to ward off the impact of these sudden epiphanies.

“Are these sites effective?” Tariq asked.

It was hard to believe that Tariq didn't already have an opinion, but Ray played along.

“Hard to say.” He paused and then added, “There's a word for some of these sites and the people who run and frequent them. Jihobbyism.”

Tariq smiled. “Ah, I've never heard of this word. Interesting.”

“Not all who write are serious,” Ray said. “Some are, what's the word, “
munafiqeen
” – hypocrites.”

“No doubt,” Tariq agreed. “Dogs without consciences.”

Many loonies vented on the assorted web sites, though there were serious comments as well. Ray thought of starting his own web site but decided for the time being to just participate on selected blogs.

“Are you familiar with one of our proverbs?” Tariq asked. “The dog barks but the caravan moves on.”

“No,” Ray admitted, savoring the proverb for its nuances. “It's fitting,” he added, not quite sure this was the case.

Tariq nodded. “You, yourself, now that you are in the process of becoming a Muslim, haven't been asked, and won't be asked, to do anything bad. Nor will you be sent off to Pakistan or Yemen to attend a
madrassah
, to learn how to make bombs, or to perform any foul deed.”

“Very reassuring,” Ray said. “Ezbek just wanted me to improve my Arabic. I'm sure he realized I would never do anything to harm the U.S.”

“Nor would you be asked to,” Tariq was quick to say. “Perhaps you misunderstood the offer by Ezbek.”

Ray was silent, waiting for Tariq to continue. Again, Tariq was being aggressive, trying to remove any elements of discord.

“Ezbek is a generous man, and he has important contacts with the Yemeni officials. That's why he offered an Arabic class.”

“I see,” Ray said, unconvinced.

“But there is a role here, a very important one, for you.”

Ray waited for Tariq who seemed to be choosing his words carefully. This was a side of Tariq he hadn't seen before. Tariq speaking diplomatically was a pleasant change, but an oddly disturbing one. His former persona, more obvious, was one he was more attuned to.

“The imam and I have discussed your potential, once you have been blessed by becoming a Muslim. We appreciate and admire your work in the publishing industry, a wonderful achievement.”

Ray nodded, still waiting for the punch line.

“Now we trust you can expand upon this and serve as a spokesman for the complex. Along with Abra you can prepare more press releases to media, answer media questions, and do more blogging on the Internet, which you have already been active in doing. You can refresh and explain our image to everyone in the country, and from the vantage point of a young American who has seen the light. So much of Islam is still misunderstood. This is a great task. Will you accept it?”

“Gladly,” Ray said, already thinking of how he would report this promising development to Perkins. Being such an activist hardly conformed to the job description Perkins had given him. The sleeper agent apparently was going to have loud dreams. Hopefully, they would be less vivid than his shocking wake up with a scream and an invisible dagger in his hand.

“I'll be frank with you,” Tariq said. “The imam and I don't agree on everything. I believe in the Islamic community taking a more active course in advancing our cause. My brother, who I love, is more—how should I put it, laid back.”

“He is loved by everyone,” Ray said, finding himself in the strange position of defending the imam from his own half-brother.

“Including me,” Tariq quickly said. “Well, enough of this. When the time comes we can discuss more specifics.”

Specifics about what causes, Ray wondered. Tariq, he still felt, wasn't his friend. But he had to be partial to him to learn more. Maybe Abra could give him an insight into her wily uncle.

Abra had a sealed look that puzzled Ray until they came to his apartment. She had been enormously pleased with his decision to convert to Islam and she continually coached him as a mentor on his readings of the Qur'an. Considering the length of the scripture including the
hadiths
, the more than 100 sayings of Mohammed that were copied by the prophet's companions much as the apostles saved Jesus' sayings, he had a great deal to understand. At least he wasn't in one of those religion-only
madrassahs
in some Islamic countries and just expected to memorize portions of the Qur'an . Young minds were consigned to a life without a real education and with their imaginations stultified. But, of course, he couldn't let on that he had these feelings.

Depleting more of his savings, without bothering to ask Perkins for another stipend, he had bought her a high-grade silver engagement ring. Somehow the ring seemed more sincere this way. Their marriage date wasn't set yet, but it was expected to be in several months. Meanwhile, the delay was giving him an ongoing credit for a satisfactory conversion. Her aunt was busy making plans for the wedding.

The plans of the imam and Tariq for him to be some sort of latter-day spokesman were still unclear. Perkins, to his surprise, had seemed ambivalent on this putative role. Apparently, he saw benefits for the PAS for him being more of an awake agent, but was concerned that he could hardly maintain a deep cover. “The more you're out there, the more you'll be checked out,” Perkins warned. But neither he nor Perkins opened this can of worms on their last phone conversation, which centered on his conversion. Someone was getting rich on discarded cell phones, though the government probably got a hefty discount on the units.

Meanwhile, the first Muslim author, Omar Ramil was due to come to the office for a chat in a few days. Things were going relatively well, asleep or awake.

“Let's go looking at neighborhoods this weekend,” Abra said, slipping her shoes off as she sank into a couch.

“Okay,” Ray said. They had settled on finding a place to live between his office and the complex. Hopefully, they could find a small house that was affordable. They both wanted to end their rental of apartment days. Their combined incomes weren't that great, and he couldn't very well use the money the PAS was squirreling away on his account. He didn't want any help from the imam or Tariq, which would only make him more dependent on them and vulnerable to their demands. Abra, he knew, would never accept being far from her accustomed circle of family and friends.

“Come here,” Abra commanded in a soft, coquettish tone as she curled up on the couch.

Ray immediately joined her on the couch and they sprawled kissing and embracing. Their hands groped over their bodies and then her hand slipped down to his throbbing groin, and he was sure that this time their passion would become more intimate.

“Abra,” he said, leaning back inches from her intense face, unsure of what to do.

“Let's go to your bed,” she whispered.

Ray embraced her. He had never demanded sex from her. She was a virgin, he was sure, though the subject had never come up.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, rising and taking his hand. She led him to his bed in the adjoining room where they stood in a tight embrace. Then Abra said, “You made a huge sacrifice for me. Now it's my turn, and one I take with great pleasure. You are the only man I will ever know. But the fact that we made love before marriage must always be kept a secret.”

Ray nodded as he slowly undressed Abra, his eyes feasting on her ample snowy breasts and then trailing down to the dark patch between her thighs. Another secret in his expanding vault.

“And you must wear a condom,” Abra said, pulling the covers over her as she slipped into bed. “Please.”

Ray nodded, leaping up and rushing to the bathroom. A small enough sacrifice, he thought, afraid Abra would ask why he had prophylactics handy.

The imam, as far as he could tell, was being quite forthcoming and encouraging him to ask questions. Increasingly, Ray felt free of a huge weight. Showing elementary curiosity, albeit in a respectful manner, was normal under the circumstances. Meanwhile, his store of knowledge about Islam was increasing tremendously. He stared for an instant at his little notebook, which hopefully showed the imam his readiness to jot down important things.

“It's good that you unburden yourself of these concerns,” the imam said as they continued his period of instruction. “All this will make you a better communicator for Muslims in America and for our religion worldwide. As both Tariq and I have said, we hold great hopes for you as another spokesman.”

“I'll do my best,” Ray said. He paused a moment. “Tell me, imam, is there any sympathy or sentiment for American Muslims for some sort of worldwide Islamic caliphate in the future?”

“This is a political question,” the imam said in a clear judgment.

“Yes, but aren't politics and religion one under the Qur'an?”

The imam smiled. “A bright student. Yes, that's true.”

“But is it true in the U.S?”

“Obviously, it isn't,” the imam said evenly. His eyes, now grave, studied Ray as if his brightness was perhaps a dubious quality even though he had encouraged questions.

“I apologize for pressing you on this issue,” Ray said, “but it's a subject of great interest and one I'd surely be asked if dealing with the public. I've also gotten the impression that you and Tariq aren't exactly on the same page on this issue.”

The imam considered a moment. Ray couldn't tell if he was angry or disturbed

His face was a mask of calm. “Tariq seeks a future where American Muslims play a greater role in the United States where I, and the great majority of Muslims, are more content with integration as our numbers grow. But our differences are not so great. Tariq is bold only in speech. However, be forewarned he will try to influence you.”

“Thank you, imam,” Ray said, wondering if the imam knew of his session with Ezbek. “I have a better understanding now.”

The imam nodded. “We feel that your conversion is another example of the appeal of Islam, and that's a story that you can tell and tell well.”

“As an example?” Ray repeated, wondering what this aspect of his conversion would entail.

“Yes,” the imam continued, “Tell those who ask that American Muslims are loyal citizens of this country. We don't seek to establish sharia law here, which is doubtless another concern.”

“Thank you,” Ray said. “But as for the rest of the world, Morocco to Indonesia?”

“There are some abroad who envision such a caliphate,” the imam conceded. “The majority of Muslims around the world, in my judgment, have no such ambition or expectation. I certainly don't. Muslims can be loyal citizens of any country they're in, and just like Jews, I might add.”

Ray nodded. “That's what I need to know. Now, may I ask about the role of women in Islam? Here in the U.S. they have equal rights with men, but in so many countries abroad they are treated, I have to say, very badly.”

The imam nodded. “We don't approve of the Taliban and their denying women an education. The Qur'an states women should be honored.”

But there were different interpretations of the Qur'an, Ray had learned in his research. Not all Muslims were necessarily on the same page on every single aspect.

“But as equals?” Ray asked.

“They should honor their husbands. Abra, you will see, will be a dutiful wife.”

A sticky point, Ray saw, and he decided not to pursue the equality issue. “Do you want Muslim women to wear
burkas
, veils, and headscarves?”