creams and two teaspoons of sugar for him. He took a seat in his usual chair. They drank in silence for a moment, and then Dan said, “You hear the weather report? This should be one of the best weekends of skiing we’ve ever had, my friend.”
For the moment, Alan felt the powder snow beneath his imagined skis as he slalomed downhil to the door of the Davis’ eight-room condo and the waiting whiskey sours.
Dan, his wife Betty, Aly, and Alan had taken over a dozen ski trips together over the years, and Aspen was one of their favorite haunts. “They’ve got a twenty-foot base and enough fresh powder to make a grown man cry.”
“With those new skis you’ve been raving about, I may need a handicap in our annual downhil extravaganza,” Alan mused.
“You’l get a handicap when hippos can fly,” replied Dan with a laugh. “By the way, how is Aly? Her sore throat any better?”
“Your cousin’s sore throat is a thing of the past. She wanted me to tel you that she’s chomping at the bit to get on the slopes and make us both look bad,” Alan replied.
“Betty’s raring to go, too. She says I’m a much better lover at ten thousand feet, and who am I to argue?” Dan said.
“Just don’t overdo, lover boy. I need you and your A-game around here,” Alan chided. “There’s just too much to do and too many decisions to make.”
“That’s the price you have to pay when you own every share of stock in a multibil ion dol ar company. I don’t feel sorry for you in the least.” Dan finished his coffee and jumped to his feet. “Don’t forget, I’m the guy that fixed you up with Aly in the first place. And unless I’m mistaken, that sort of makes me a cousin-in-law.”
“That’s our secret, buddy boy,” said Alan with a good-natured grin. “So just don’t be spreading it around. I’l never live it down.”
“Yeah, right.” Dan headed for the door. “I’l be in to see you as soon as I get an update from Riyadh. Then we’re off to Aspen and the best holiday week we’ve had so far.”
NEW YORK UNIVERSITY, MANHATTAN
THE NEWSPAPERS REFERRED to her as Mrs. Alan Davis, wife of the philanthropic energy chief. Friends and family knew her as Aly. Her students at New York University cal ed her Professor Davis. And it was in that role that she had just concluded a lecture on contemporary Muslim values to a class of nearly 200. She stood erect at the podium accentuating her lithe figure, just over five feet, nine inches without shoes.
“Okay then. You’re not going to forget everything over the holidays, are you? I crammed so much into this last week about the roles Muslims are playing in so many current fields of endeavor here in this country and about their achievements that I hesitate to bring up one very pertinent failure––skiing.”
The class roared with laughter. “But I don’t want any of you to feel ashamed. I want you to know that your professor is the only Muslim I know of, male or female, who has successful y competed in the Aspen Cup’s giant slalom.”
Whistles of approval, thunderous cheers, and wild applause fil ed the auditorium. Aly smiled, bowed, and pumped her fist playful y. “And remember, there’s nothing disgraceful in finishing twenty-ninth.”
When the laughter died down this time, she said, “And on that gem, I wish al of you a very happy holiday. Class dismissed.”
THE HINDU KUSH, AFGHANISTAN
SOMEWHERE IN THE rugged foothil s near the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan a group of bearded men in Muslim dress were seated around a campfire. They cradled their Kalashnikovs as if their very existence depended upon the rifles and listened to Mohammed Omar al-Fayez as if his words were a mantra guiding their destinies.
“We have many ready to martyr themselves and attain paradise,” he said in a low, guttural voice. “It is only for us to direct them. I have arranged with our brothers in Al Qaeda to attack the infidel on his flight to Riyadh and eliminate Hassim bin Arabi. We must be certain