"I wish that were so," Eleish said. "I am just not sure which of us has more to fear."
"Clearly it is you." Hassan raised a defiant, tremulous finger. "I fear nothing but the judgment of God."
Impatient, Eleish shifted from one foot to the other. He waved the gun at the Sheikh. "Hazzir Kabaal. You know him, don't you?"
Hassan folded his skinny arms across his chest. "Why do you ask after him?"
"Do you know him?" Eleish said, raising his voice along with the barrel of the gun.
"Abu Lahab is a student of mine," Hassan said.
"Where can I find him?" Eleish asked.
"Not here."
"Where is he?" Eleish spat.
The Sheikh shrugged. "I am not his keeper."
Eleish's irritation got the better of him. "Do you have any idea what sort of crimes Kabaal is responsible for?"
Hassan grunted a bitter laugh. "Abu Lahab acts in the service of God."
"The service of God?" Eleish snorted. "The man has spread a deadly virus among innocent people. He murders women and children in the name of Islam. Do you call that the service of God?"
"Innocent?" Hassan grimaced as if pained. "There is nothing innocent about the enemies of the faithful. Open your eyes!"
"To what?" Eleish shot back. "The bilious hatred that you preach."
"I do not hate anyone," Hassan said calmly. "What I preach is the preservation of our way of life."
Eleish shook his head vehemently. "The Koran extols peace and tolerance. You and your kind… You twist the beautiful words until nothing is left but bigotry and loathing." He sighed heavily. "There are so few of you hate-mongering extremists. And so many of us peaceful Muslims. Yet your kind defines the face of Islam to the rest of the world. And what an ugly face it is."
"Mohammed said that those who are not for Islam are against it." The Sheikh shrugged unapologetically.
"So death to all the nonbelievers?" Eleish scoffed.
"I wish I could make you understand." Hassan's face assumed another sad, missing-toothed smile. "Are you too blind to see the threat?"
Eleish threw up his free hand. "What threat?"
"Ever since the Turks dispensed with the Caliphate…" Hassan said obliquely and then sighed. "In many ways, Islam is like me. Old and weak. Incapable of protecting itself." He pointed a finger at his own chest. "But inside, it is strong and pure. Do you understand, my brother? The heart and soul of Islam is good but the body ails. And the infidels… those Western heathens, the Americans… are the opposite. Their body is fierce and mighty, but their soul is crippled and the heart very weak."
Eleish listened to the crafty old cleric, aware of his manipulative sermonizing but engrossed by the delivery.
"And the strongest of hearts might not be enough to save us. The Americans are camped at the gates of the Tigris and within a stone's throw of Mecca." He pointed at the wall as if Mecca were just on the other side. "The lands that practice the laws of the Shari'ah have fallen, one after the other, under the weight of the American bombs. If we do nothing to stop them, they will eradicate Islam in their lust for oil. Very soon, we will be powerless to stop them." He exhaled slowly. "Hazzir Kabaal is fighting to save Islam. He is fighting the holiest of Jihads with the only weapons available to him." His voice warbled. "And you should drop to your knees and pray to God for his success."
Eleish shook his head. "You are a deluded old man."
Fadi, who had silently watched the discussion, took an aggressive step forward, but the Sheikh stopped him with a bony hand laid on his chest. Hassan turned back to Eleish. "Listen to me, brother—"
"No." Eleish walked forward until he was three feet away from the Sheikh. "I have no more time to listen to you." He leveled the gun at the Sheikh's head. "Where is Hazzir Kabaal?"
Hassan laughed softly. "Do you honestly believe I am afraid of death?"
Eleish shook his head slowly. "No, I don't." He swung his gun over until it pointed at Fadi's head.
"What are you doing?" the Sheikh demanded shrilly.
"I will give you one last chance, and then I'm going to kill your son."
Hassan's expression creased into a fleeting cringe, long enough for Eleish to know he was right. "Fadi is not—" Hassan started to say calmly.
Eleish cut him off with a snap of his fingers. "I will kill your son on the count of three, if you do not tell me where I can find Hazzir Kabaal." Eleish shoved the muzzle against Fadi's forehead. "One… two…"
Hassan's eyes widened and his hands shook wildly.
"Don't tell him anything, Father!" Fadi implored. "Let me be martyred!"
Eleish shrugged. "So be it. Three." He slowly began to squeeze the trigger.
"No!" Hassan squeaked. "Somalia. He is in Somalia."
Fadi's head stayed immobile but his eyes shot over to the direction of the Sheikh. "No, Father!"
"Where in Somalia?" Eleish demanded, not releasing his finger from the trigger.
"I do not know," the Sheikh cried. "He has a camp there — a base — but I am too old to travel there."
Eleish's gaze skipped from father to son. "But you know, don't you?" Eleish said.
Fadi sneered in response.
