ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, the Adala team met in the conference room of Mil ar Trading. Everyone was on hand. The excitement Alan had felt in Houston was no less electric in this room, but it was also tempered with an orderly professionalism that Alan had come to expect from his people.
“We may have a recruiting pipeline that could possibly eliminate any need for advertising and bring us a level of recruits that requires a whole lot less screening. Listen to what Aly learned while we were in Texas.” Alan replayed the conversation that had taken place on Saturday night between Aly and Hamud Khalid. “He and his brother aren’t the aberration we thought. Apparently there are plenty of young Muslims who hate Al Qaeda and the ideology they stand for as much as the Khalid brothers do!”
“And he and his brother are wil ing to help us contact these people?” Brian asked.
“Apparently so. And they’re wil ing to talk with you about the idea. Aly asked Hamud about that straight out, and he was emphatic.”
“Imagine that. Muslims recruiting Muslims to fight the bad apples making a mockery of their religion,” Brian said, shaking his head and smiling.
“That’s what I cal movement,” Marie said, sharing his smile.
“And if what Hamud said is true about the mindset of these people, and if they real y do harbor as much resentment and animosity toward terrorists as he suggests, we’ve got the makings of who knows how many Class A-1 OWLs,”
Herb offered. “For that matter, a whole slew of potential HAWKs.”
“I better get down to El Paso ASAP. Run this down while the iron is hot,” Brian said. “I’d like to get this up and running as soon as possible. Any objections?”
“Go,” Marie said. “Everything’s under control here.”
“And the airstrip at the ranch is final y usable, so you can bypass El Paso altogether,” Alan added.
“Tomorrow morning then,” Brian said with a quick, decisive nod.
“What else have we got, boss?” Herb asked.
“More good news I hope,” Alan said. “Monday I was in Houston for a shindig with some industry bigwigs. I was the keynote. I went for the jugular and talked about how the private sector had to step up to the plate and start doing their part in countering terrorism. I told them Davis Industries had something cooking, and three pretty wel -placed execs want to know more. They’re flying in for a discussion tomorrow. Herb, I’m hoping you’ll join us.”
“You bet I wil .”
“Lunch in my conference room. Come ready to play hardbal .”
“I always do,” Herb said tugging at his tie. “You know that.”
EDEN, GLEN COVE, N. Y.
IT WAS A MEDIA fest. The press and the television news channels were al over a story about two car bombs that had somehow failed to detonate in the streets of London, and they were positively giddy over the Jeep Cherokee that had crashed into the main entrance of the Glasgow International airport and exploded.
Scenes of the Jeep burning wildly were everywhere. The media pundits and terrorist “experts” they drag out every time such an event occurs, couldn’t agree on whether it was the work of Al Qaeda, associates of Al Qaeda, or simply disgruntled Muslims. The speculation swayed this way and that until it was learned that the perpetrators were actual y medical doctors, al Muslim, al angry, disgruntled, and dangerous.
“What is this? Some sort of Muslim medical conspiracy?” Aly asked, her voice fil ed with disgust. She and Alan were sprawled on the couch in the living room of their Manhattan condo, drinks in hand, and utterly fascinated by the fiasco. Aly could hardly contain herself. “What in the world do they hope to gain?”
Alan looked at his wife and said, “What the difference? If any one of those bombs had detonated, the street would be ful of dead people, and the last time I looked, dead is dead. Who cares what their agenda was? Why aren’t the streets fil ed with English men and women screaming for action from their elected politicians at 10 Downing Street or the Home Secretary or whomever? The rabble-rousers are on television making speeches, and al that’s doing is riling up mobs of fanatics. The police know who they are and where they are. Sorry, Aly. I just don’t get it.”
“Listen, Alan. If I were you, I’d be worried about what’s on your plate at the moment. Adala is beginning to bear fruit. Keep the bal rol ing. If anyone can do it, you can,” Aly said, an empty glass serving as a prop and punctuating her words. “But I have to say this. I want you to remember that whatever you or your group does, you have to protect the rights of the individual. You have to; or we’re just as bad as the terrorists.”
“I’m not saying you have to crack eggs to make an omelet,” Alan argued, using a saying so old he couldn’t remember where he had first heard it or why it had popped into his head at that moment. Stil , it seemed appropriate. “What I’m saying is that no one has the right to cal for anarchy within a country that protects his or her right of free speech. Likewise, no one should seek to tear down the laws that protect him and at the same time agitate for the replacement of those laws with laws that would restrict his very right to agitate, to say nothing of replacing them with laws that combine church and state and turn women into slaves. Am I being too simplistic here? Are people that blind?”
Aly leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I think you’re the most bril iant man in the world, my dear, and if you’re looking for an al y, there’s one sitting on the couch next to you and about thirty seconds from dragging you to our bedroom.”
ADALA TRAINING CAMP, TEXAS
AT THE RANCH the next day, Brian Hal met privately with Hamud and Fahd Khalid, OWLs #1 and #2 respectively, two young men he found very likeable and extremely committed. They talked about Hamud’s conversation with Aly and his contention that there were any number of young American Muslims who thought exactly as he and his brother did about the ravages of terrorism and the evil men perpetrating it.
“You can imagine how far this would go to help our cause,” Brian told them.
“I’m glad you said ‘our’ cause,” Fahd said to him. “because that’s exactly what it is. This opportunity that you’ve given us, it’s more than a job to us; it’s a cause.”
“So this is what I’d like to ask you both,” Brian said, looking from brother to brother. “Would either of you be wil ing to interrupt your training here and help us recruit these men we’re talking about?”
“Yes. Either or both,” the older brother replied, and Hamud nodded his agreement.
“Excel ent. Let’s do this before we make a decision. I’l come up with a game plan. It may take several days, so in the meantime, I’d like you both to continue your training as if you’l be heading overseas according to our original schedule. I’l get back to you as soon as I can.”
NEW YORK, N. Y.
BOB GRANT, THE New York-based talk-radio host with a fol owing a mil ion strong, was sponsored in part by a group cal ed Inspiration Tours. Inspiration Tours used Grant’s show to advertise the various tour packages they organized every month. A good number of these ventures explored the wonders of Israel, but not al . And these days, with the ever-present terrorist activities so prevalent in the Middle East, Inspiration Tours oriented their tours toward historical sites both outside and within Israel. It was just good business; if people wanted to use their off-days to stand at the Wailing Wal or visit one of Jerusalem’s many temples, so be it.
Sam and Sarah Weiner not only owned and operated Inspiration Tours; they were also the tour directors. Their philosophy was, why not enjoy the fruits of their labors to the ful est? Their spring tour this year offered their clients something new and different and less contentious than their usual Middle East jaunts. Two weeks on the island of Sicily, a jewel set in the heart of the Mediterranean Sea and one that had been invaded and conquered by more civilizations and armies than any other place on earth. It was a great sales pitch, and the response was robust. The Sicily tour sold out in three days.