The Apostate (29 page)

Just universal incompetence
, Ray thought, but there was no point in attacking Merkeim. He was a representative of the system, not its creator.

“So you're saying that there's no special concern over the threat of terrorism, and young American Muslims willing to try acts of terrorism?”

Merkeim looked composed. He obviously knew what sort of questions would be thrown at him. Still Ray detected a glint of resentment in his hard dark eyes. “Of course, we have to be vigilant, and we are. Terrorism by native-born people has been a problem in several countries, not just us. Look at England and Norway, for example. Meanwhile, no acts of terrorism have been committed on American soil since 9/11.”

This was true, but Ray decided not to let the issue drop. “So you're just as vigilant with Buddhists and Hindus as with American Muslims?”

“Buddhists and Hindus didn't commit 9/11. Buddhists and Hindus aren't killing American soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

Ray scowled to himself. He set himself up for that excellent response on the part of Merkeim. He'd better get sharper at this interviewing business. He had a lot to learn.

Now Merkeim wouldn't let the subject end. “We respond to any perceived threat and we've been very successful. Isolating one religion is un-American. It's not our way.”

Ray smiled. “I'm sure our viewers are glad to hear this.”

Merkeim was silent, refusing to take the bait.

“Well, far be it for me to be un-American,” Ray said, mustering his look of pained sincerity, “but I think it's far more un-American to subject young American Muslim men to undue suspicion. Isn't it true that you try to infiltrate mosques to see what's being preached and to see if young men are being recruited to perform acts of violence and terrorism? Or just influenced in this direction?”

This accusation was richly ironic given his current mission. Somewhere Perkins, who had to be watching, was probably squirming.

“I can't discuss intelligence matters,” Merkeim said.

“There have been reports in the media about such attempts,” Ray claimed.

Merkeim allowed himself a thin smile. “Not everything said in the media is necessarily accurate. I believe you've made the same judgment.”

Again, he was snaggled in the net of his own words. Merkeim, a veteran of many interviews, was obviously adroit in turning the tables. He had to find a way to regain his momentum. Many in the audience would probably sympathize with this notion, Ray realized, so he beat a tactical retreat.

“Let's move on,” Ray said. “What do you think the prospects are for an American Muslim to be president?”

“As good as anyone else's,” Merkeim snapped. “In my personal opinion it might be easier for someone who was born as a Muslim. You know, didn't convert.”

This was clearly a personal attack, but Ray knew he had to keep his composure. Merkeim, who had a confident look on his saturnine face, was just waiting for him to crash.

“Why is that?” Ray asked, hoping Merkeim would say something foolish, thinking he had the upper hand.

Merkeim seemed surprised by the question. Apparently, Ray thought, Merkeim thought he could score an easy and cheap point.

“Uh, well, it's a question of sticking to one's guns. Not shifting around.”

Here was his opening, Ray figured, and he jumped in. “So anyone who starts as Jewish and converts to Catholicism or vice versa would be out of luck in aspiring to the presidency?”

“Any citizen can aspire,” Merkeim snapped back. “Everyone has choices to make. We live in a free society.”

And so it went. Merkeim telling half-truths and Ray being unable to really challenge him, while each scored subtle hits. Warfare on the air. Finally, the first interview was over and it was time for a commercial. Merkeim declined to shake hands with Ray and left the studio without a parting word.

Lenore Haven, the governor of Missouri, was his second guest, and she was much easier. She was a dignified middle aged woman, no longer slender but far from hefty, with short-cut blonde hair that might be tinted and alert brown or hazel eyes. She fit comfortably in the chair, and Ray had the sense that she had once been a very attractive woman.

“There aren't that many Muslims as yet in Missouri, but I don't have an exact count,” Haven said, when he brought up the subject of Islam in her state. “But to my knowledge there haven't been any incidents of Islamophobia.”

“That's good,” Ray said. “But how do you know what people really think? Say when a Muslim moves into their neighborhood? When they appeal to the zoning board to build a mosque around where you live?”

Haven wasn't at all fazed by his question. “I suppose you can't know what's in people's hearts. You have to look at what they do and say. But if integration is any indication, we're doing fine. We have quite a few Muslims in government, municipal to state.”

“That's admirable,” Ray conceded. He didn't want to come across as a bully. “Have there actually been any applications to build more Islamic Centers and mosques?”

“Yes, and all have been approved to date. No problem. As I said, in Missouri American Muslims are part of the overall community. They don't live in religious enclaves of any sort.”

This wasn't necessarily true in every state, and Missouri—by her own admission—might not have enough Muslims to constitute any sizeable enclave. But it was time to move on again. “Since 9/11 do you think American Muslims have been singled out for suspicion?”

“That's a tough question,” Haven said. “It's natural, given who was behind 9/11, that Muslims received extra attention.”

Using the past tense was a nice ploy, Ray realized.
Attention
was a euphemism, but he wasn't about to challenge her semantically. She was also far more honest than Merkeim, and she must have heard his answer to the same basic question. Haven was a smart and brave cookie.

“And has that extra attention persisted?” Ray asked as his follow-up question.

“Not on a general basis to my knowledge,” Haven said evenly without any hesitation.

That was all he was going to get from her so Ray asked, “Could a Muslim be elected governor of Missouri? In our lifetime?”

“Certainly,” Haven said. “But not against me, I hope. I'm going to run for reelection.”

Haven smiled and so did Ray. The lady had a sense of humor, more than Merkeim could claim. Chances are she'd win easily. He'd vote for her if he lived in Missouri. The question now was whether his first show was a winner.

“Boychick, you did well,” Wenner praised Ray as he, Abra, and the producer shared a celebratory lunch.

Ray found it moderately amusing that Wenner should use a Yiddish expression with two Muslims, but that was probably a good thing. A sort of unknown verbal icon of the fledgling show.

“What did the channel execs think?” Ray asked.

“They were pleased themselves, but they're waiting for more reaction from the public.”

“Will we get a breakdown?” Abra asked.

“Yes, of course,” Wenner said, looking perplexed.

“What is it?” Ray asked.

“Well, there were a couple of emails already. One good, one not so good.”

“What was the bad one?” Abra asked, her face composed to hear the worst.

Wenner consulted his notebook. “Keep it up, towelhead, and we'll take care of you good.”

Abra shook her head. “Animals!”

“And the good one?” Ray asked.

“An interesting show. More hard hitting than I would have expected. Keep it up.”

“So we're batting five hundred so far,” Ray quipped.

“It's not funny,” Abra said, with a disapproving look. “You're really a target now. You need a bodyguard. I'm going to speak to the imam.”

“Speak to Tariq, master of the purse.”

Abra pouted, giving Ray an arch look.

“Look, folks,” Wenner interjected, “that's just two messages. The nasty one is, well nasty, but it does show impact, and believe me, that's good.”

“What's good about a death threat?” Abra asked, her face clouded with anger.

“Anything else?” Ray asked, hoping Abra would cool down.

“There were a couple of rough spots during the interviews,” Wenner said, again with a tinge of regret. “I have to tell you.”

Ray could feel his face constrict. “You mean with Merkeim?”

Wenner nodded. “Did he get under your skin with that conversion crap?”

“Not really,” Ray lied. “I think I got to him more.”

“Definitely,” Abra agreed. “He was a self-insulated piece of governmental overkill.”

Abra had a sharp tongue, and often didn't hesitate to use it. Ray recalled several choice lashings he had received. But he particularly liked this description. Too bad he couldn't use it on the air, or could he? It would certainly work in his book, he thought, committing the line to memory.

“A piece of work,” Wenner agreed less eloquently.

Two things were clear, Ray thought, taking another sip of his coffee. It was an open season for crazies and all the true believers patrolling the airwaves. But he couldn't bottle himself up in a cocoon out of fear. He was doubly glad that he had set Abra up as his legal survivor. She'd be surprised by how much money was in his offshore kitty.

Secondly, he really had to improve his interviewing skills. He had vulnerabilities and he had to learn how to handle them. Many of the guests who would be on the show, if it passed muster, would probably have more experience in interviews than he did.

But the jury was still out on whether the show would continue. His career in television might be a short one.

Meeting Al-Januzi, which took place at the center, was short and orderly. Al-Januzi was also short and on his way to corpulence. A thick black beard covered a good deal of the lower part of his swarthy face. A few pockmarks surfaced just above the beard. His aquiline nose darted beneath alert black eyes. A headdress covered his head, and he wore traditional Arab dress but without a sword or dagger. If he had been a warrior once, those days were clearly behind him.

Ray had been confused over the proper deportment to address a prince. Of course, Saudi Arabia had a large brood of princes, and he was an American on American soil. Abra suggested he show deference, which she did with use of “your excellency” as well as a frequently bowed head and strict adherence to letting the prince speak first and also to have the last word. He wasn't sure he could manage all that.

“Thank you for meeting me, your excellency,” Ray said, feeling the words rub like a sore on his tongue.

Al-Januzi nodded. A pitcher of water sat on the table before them in the conference room. They were alone.

“Tariq has told me of your work on our behalf, and I am pleased.”

“Shukran,” Ray said, forgetting to add “your excellency.” Al-Januzi failed to take note, Ray was glad to see. Perhaps the Arabic word for thank you was the ticket. Al-Januzi spoke excellent English with only a slight accent tilted toward British English. Probably he has gone to school in England.

“Do you plan someday to make the
Hajj
?”

Ray hadn't anticipated this question. Every Muslim, he knew, was supposed to make the pilgrimage to Mecca once in their life if at all possible.

“Inshallah .
”

Al-Januzi nodded in approval. “Allah will permit. I see you speak some Arabic.”

“I studied Arabic at college, your excellency.” He should have memorized how to say this in Arabic, Ray belatedly realized.

“Ah, even before your conversion.”

“
Na'am
(Yes) sir, but I speak badly.” “Sir” was a change of verbal pace, but the word eased out of his mouth more smoothly.

“Would you want to improve your Arabic?”

“Yes, very much so, sir. Abra helps me.”

Al-Januzi smiled for the first time, revealing yellowish teeth. But he didn't seem to be a smoker. “Yes, a remarkable girl. Allah has indeed smiled upon you.”

“I have been most fortunate,” Ray acknowledged.

“Here is what may take place,” Al-Januzi said. “We are pleased to offer you a stay in our kingdom where you may study Arabic on an intensive basis. I doubt you will want to be absent from Abra for any length of time, so this offer extends to her. I'm sure the imam will approve.”

Al-Januzi allowed himself another knowing smile. “All expenses will be taken care of. We would also want you to prepare a report of your stay, which you could then use in your work here in promoting Islam to your countrymen. You would be free to visit most places in the country, and we would provide a guide. In this way you can tell America of your impressions.”

“That sounds wonderful, your excellency,” Ray said, wondering what the catch was. One thing was certain, he figured, he'd only see what his hosts wanted him to see.

“My country, as you doubtless know, is conservative,” Al-Januzi said. “We're making changes, but on an incremental basis. We will go at our own pace. Nothing must upset this policy. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ray said, not quite sure of what he was understanding. He was still processing the offer, which seemed very magnanimous. Abra would be delighted.

“Naturally, we would expect to see your report before it is published or disseminated in any way,” Al-Januzi said. While his look was casual there was no mistaking, Ray saw, the prince's meaning.

“I understand, your excellency,” Ray said. How could he have doubted for a moment that censorship was involved! The answer should be a firm no, but how could he cross a prince, and a donor to the center? He and Abra could go to Saudi Arabia and he could write something differently upon return than what he was shown in Riyadh. That would be grossly deceitful, but this was no time for him to latch on to an elusive morality.