The Apostate (31 page)

“That were later dismissed.” Senator Lase said immediately. “Isn't that correct?”

“Yes,” Ray admitted. “But the case itself is clear evidence of this grey area. And so is the resistance to having mosques built. Under federal law, religious groups can build houses of worship virtually anywhere.”

“I'm interested in how you think this so-called grey area should be corrected,” said Ken Hazelton, a Republican from Arizona. “Enlighten us. Do you mean such things as a Muslim truth squad, a Muslim Peace Corps, or what?”

Perkins would doubtless call this his chickens coming home to roost, or some sort of similar homily, but Ray was actually glad his prior broadsides were getting even more national exposure.

Ray found the senator's twangy western accent was interesting to hear, but he resented his provocative tone. Hazelton was a rancher, with any number of employees, many of them probably Mexican. Were they all legal, Ray wondered? Meanwhile, he had to answer Hazelton without showing his anger.

“Yes, senator, gladly. The two concepts you cited are both designed to remove the blanket stigma placed over Muslims by media and other elements of society. I think it's clear to everyone that this committee itself is an example of the latent hysteria that pervades the country.”

Darkened looks came from virtually every member of the committee. Had he gone too far, Ray wondered? What he said was true and warranted being said, and under these circumstances where every word could be spun and misinterpreted by the senator, the full congress, and the American people at large. Perkins would be apoplectic once he learned the details.

He'd soon find out where he stood on all fronts, Ray thought, as the session came to an end with a few more questions that were bellicose on both sides. He was being a warrior with words, but was he doing any good?

As expected, media articles and editorials fanned the flames of Islamic accusations before Congress itself, which charged unfair treatment. Abra had some more stories and photos to put in the growing scrapbook she had started. The publisher had nothing to say, but Ray figured it had to see the fanfare as good publicity for his forthcoming opus. To his surprise Perkins only remonstrated, “I told you not to make a fuss.” But then, as always, he tried to derive a redeeming result. “So you're in even better. Get me something good.”

Something good!
What was he, a fisherman of terrorist activities by American Muslims?

Wenner phoned to say his show had been accepted, but an airing date hadn't been settled. “Good going! You're a national figure now, if you weren't before.”

Everyone at the complex was also pleased by his appearance before the congressional sub-committee, even Tariq.

“We've heard from many of our friends in other cities,” Tariq said. “They're all excited over your strong defense.”

“Good,” Ray said. Then he asked, “What friends are these?”

Tariq looked more surprised by the question than he should have, Ray thought. Of course, Muslim brothers were in other cities, but Tariq put an odd emphasis on friends. He certainly didn't mean Hosker's horde. All Muslim men were brothers, weren't they?

“These are fellow Muslims and some special people, like yourself, who are prepared to conduct town hall forums like you did and provide other services—just as you did with Congress and will do with your book.”

“Oh, these are people you found that could have been used with town hall meetings,” Ray said.

“Yes. Among others. It's the ummah that drives us all.”

The ummah, triumphant!
It seemed he and Tariq were both striving for the ummah, but Ray wasn't sure he and Tariq had the same notion of such an American-based community.

“Has a firm schedule been set for these new town hall meetings?”

“Preparations are being made,” Tariq said as if he didn't want to discuss these plans any further.

There had to be a way to find out what Tariq had going, not just to satisfy Perkins but to accomplish his own goal. Work on the book was moving ahead well, even with the extra effort of the annotations he put on many pages that went into his garage-kept journal. Soon he'd need another plastic container. Maybe the two literary efforts could be blended together someday.

Meanwhile, the jaunt to Saudi Arabia was also put on reinforced hold with the excuse that the publisher was putting pressure on him for an early submission of his manuscript. Not entirely true, but he did really need the time to finish and fine tune the book. A lot was riding on how he described the ummah he had in mind. It wouldn't be paradise on earth, but he had some sensible ideas to propose.

The question, of course, was who was ready for
sensible
.

“Damn it, Perkins! This is one fucking major screw up. I okayed some moderate activism since he obviously blew his sleeper status, but Mongoose talking to Congress is too much. How did you let things get so far out of hand?”

“Sir, the congressional invitation couldn't be foreseen. He had to go.”

“Yes, but he didn't have to say what he did.”

“Yes, sir. I know. But I did warn him.”

“Well, the damage is done. Mongoose is a loose cannon. He's going to wind up bringing scrutiny upon us and we have to do something before that happens.”

“Yes, sir. Clearly.”

“Mongoose has outlived his usefulness. You understand?”

“Implicitly, sir.”

Waiting for Abra to finish her work at the center, Ray noticed Tariq talking to a husky red-haired man in workman's clothing as they walked toward the athletic complex. The stranger didn't seem like a Muslim, though he might well be. Still Ray's attention was caught and he trailed after the duo as if he was going to the mosque that was nearby.

From the vantage point of the entrance to the mosque Ray saw the two men follow the perimeter of the athletic area, especially the basketball court and softball field. He ducked into the entrance of the mosque as the pair left the area. Tariq, he saw from his vantage point, went to the offices, while the red-haired man walked toward the parking lot.

Was Tariq planning some work at the athletic area, Ray wondered? He hadn't heard of any such plans. When he asked Abra later she also was unaware of any plans for renovations or extensions.

“We've been talking of adding a putting green, but nothing concrete has been decided,” Abra said.

“But you have the funds for it?”

“I believe so. I don't really see the ledgers, but I think we're quite fiscally solvent. I do know our mailing list has grown substantially. I hope they're all donors,” she added, smiling.

The growth of the mailing list was presumably normal, especially given his activities, but Ray was curious of the make-up of the additions. “Where is our stuff going today that it didn't go to a year or so ago.”

“You mean B.R., before Ray,” Abra joked.

Ray shrugged. Unerringly, Abra got to the bottom of things. “Sort of,” he admitted. She probably thought he was being egotistic.

“Hard to tell, but it does seem a lot are to big cities, especially those where town hall meetings had been planned. I guess Tariq got some of these names of the people who were interested in participating in the campaign.”

“Makes sense,” Ray said. But the question suddenly emerged of whether Tariq maintained any separate communication link-up with this newfound cadre of supporters. How could he find out, and without raising any suspicion on the part of Tariq, or Abra for that matter?

“Why are you so interested?” Abra asked. She searched his face for clues. Once her mind settled on an issue or point, she usually sought to follow through for an explanation. It might be true that many women thought and acted more emotionally than men, but Abra was a clear candidate for exception.

“Sheer egotism,” he lied. “I want to see how I fit in this rise in interest.”

Abra shook her head in derision. “Come on, Ray, down to Earth.”

Ray smiled in token appreciation of Abra's mild criticism. Her response would have been far more serious if he had mentioned his observation of Tariq with the red-haired man at the athletic complex. In context though, his curiosity might seem petty and trivial. He was sure Abra would have criticized his saying anything on this score. He'd have to check up on Tariq by himself.

“Just curious,” he said. “You know me. Would it be possible to look at the mailing list? Does it break down anything on ages? I really do want to know if I'm having any greater effect on young Muslims. Who knows, I might be called back to Washington.”

Ray smiled quickly to show he wasn't serious.

“Don't get your hopes up,” Abra said like she wasn't completely sure of his attitude. Ray didn't think he was acting like he had a swelled head, but then he couldn't see himself as others did. Abra, his very sensible wife, was his best gauge.

“Okay,” Abra then said, “but I don't think we have any such profiles on the list, or for that matter, on our web page.”

Ray had already looked at the web page, which had little to offer about the number of people in other cities or any personal information. In fact, people were told not to provide personal information. The same turned out to be true in the print-out of the mailing list. But people were offered the option of receiving snail mail or getting material by email.

Finally, when Abra left the office, he quickly copied some of the email addresses of people in other cities in other parts of the country. He hated sneaking around like this, but he had to follow his gut instinct. Abra would be furious if she found out. She hated the notion of secrets between them. Tariq wouldn't be particularly charmed either.

Ray knew he had to be careful what he wrote in his emails to people in other cities. These were persons he knew nothing about. He had no idea what they looked like, what their ages were, or anything about them. All he knew was that they were all males, brother Muslims. He didn't want his messages to get back to Tariq, but if they did, his emails had to appear innocuous. It was ironic that whereas Tariq had been so suspicious of him, and perhaps still was, the tables had turned somewhat. Now he was especially curious what Tariq was up to, electronically and otherwise.

Finally, Ray came up with a note that he thought would pass muster and not unduly alarm Tariq if it came to his attention.

Dear Mr. ____:

I want to personally thank you for all your support of our joint Islamic aims to promote the welfare of our fellow Muslims in the U.S. It's very reassuring to know that we have such staunch men in our ranks. Given your generous and sincere backing and help we will most certainly prevail.

Sincerely,

Ray Dancer, Islamic Complex of Los Angeles

Short and sweet, Ray thought. He particularly was pleased by using the word
ranks.
If there was anything odd about Tariq's additions to the mailing list, perhaps this word might light a fire. Perhaps he should have stuck to
ummah,
but that might have made it appear too religious or too much of an incitement.

He received several answers. All but one were simple responses thanking him for his interest, with some referring favorably to his television and Washington appearances. But one email stirred his curiosity about Tariq even further.

 

Dear Mr. Dancer:

You and your uncle, Tariq, are the true saviors of the American ummah. There are many other Muslims like me who stand ready to assist both of you in creating an Islamic force in the United States which will be a source of inspiration for Muslims worldwide. I'm proud to be a member of American Muslims United.

Billism allah il-rahman il-rahim

Sincerely,

Hassan Zalari

Writing “In the name of Allah, the beneficent and the merciful” wasn't unusual, Ray thought, but the concept of
force
was. And what were the American Muslims United? It sounded like a political group. Was Tariq setting up a separate political party of just American Muslims, and using him as an instrument in forming such an organization? Had he been that naïve not to see what was going on? Did Abra and the imam miss it too?

Tariq certainly merited more scrutiny, if he could do it without arousing suspicion about himself. With luck, he might come up with a coup in revealing any devious plan on the part of Tariq. This would serve to satisfy Perkins without damaging his core role as he now saw it.

Tariq was so punctilious about following his regular responsibilities that Ray's suspicion became even more heightened by any change in his usual schedule. At last, imbued by a stubborn impulse, he decided to follow Tariq when he left the center late one Saturday afternoon when Abra was busy composing notes from her interviews with staffers for a new brochure on the first of annual talent shows. He was careful to drive well behind and almost lost track of Tariq a couple of times, but it was clear that Tariq wasn't going to his store. They were heading north in the San Fernando Valley, going past suburbs and into more open farm land.

While he couldn't be certain, he felt reasonably sure Tariq hadn't spotted him. Asking Perkins to tail Tariq would be useless. He had nothing specific to report except new names on a mailing list. American Muslims United was definitely worth looking into, but right now he wanted to follow his gut feeling.

At last Tariq turned off onto a dirt side road. He couldn't keep after him there right away. Instead, Ray noted the name of the road on a sign and kept driving on the narrow, curving single-lane road. Finding a spot to make a U-turn was more difficult than on the highway, but finally, after about a quarter of a mile, he came across another house and managed to turn around in its driveway. It was approaching twilight and perhaps he should just keep going. But when he passed a farm house and caught a fleeting glance of Tariq's car, even in the dimming light, he decided that since he was already here he might as well do some more careful research.