"Go away, Zionist entity," he was told.
"I am no Jew, but Abu Gamalin the Feared."
"Liar."
"It is true. I swear by the beard of the prophet."
"If you speak truly, state your secret code name."
"I told you. I am Abu Gamalin."
"I have no such name on my list, Jew."
"I am not a Jew. I am sometimes called Al Mahour."
"I have no Al Mahour here. Perhaps it is some other mosque you are trying to infiltrate, Jewish dog."
"For the last time, I have come as summoned. Do not turn me away to drive the Hasidim around until I am mad with craziness."
"And for the last time, I ask you the code name you were given if you were given one."
Insulted to the bone, Yusef Gamal would have turned around and gone home. But he had slept so long. He did not wish to sleep any more. He wished excitement. He wished to feel young again. He craved the strong hardness of a Kalashnikov in his hands and the stink of infidel blood in the wind.
So he stood on the stoop of the Abu al-Kalbin Mosque, racking his brains. What was it he had been code-named? It had made his blood boil with rage when he first heard it. He was so offended by the very sound, he drove it from his memory. Now he beseeched Allah to unlock his memory again so he could speak the despised words aloud.
Then it came to him.
"I remember!" he cried through the shut door. "I remember now! I am called Yusef the Jew! Do you hear? It is Yusef the Jew. Open up."
"You admit to being a Jew?"
"No, I am called Yusef the Jew. It is my code name."
"No Jews are allowed in Allah's holy temple. This is a holy place. Go away or we will smash your teeth in your foul mouth."
Then a new voice came. Deeper, vaguely familiar. After it had spoken, Yusef placed it. It was the telephone voice.
"He is expected. Let him in."
The door opened. Yusef peered in cautiously. Shadows lay thick.
The voice said, "Enter, one who has slept too long." And Yusef Gamal entered.
The room was ill lit. It was night. No candles burned.
"You are the last chosen one who is expected," said the voice. "Enter, Seeker of the Light, and follow."
"I follow."
Other shadows huddled around. Yusef could feel hard eyes on him. On his nose, actually.
"Is a Jew allowed to meet the mullah?" a suspicious voice asked.
"He is not a Jew, but only called that," said the voice from the telephone.
"His nose is Jewish."
"His nose is his ticket to Paradise. Be envious of it, ye of lesser noses."
"I prefer to be called Abu Gamalin," Yusef said, squaring his shoulders.
A voice hooted. Another called him Gamal Mahour.
Yusef would have taken offense, except that he did not know these men, and at least "Camel Nose" was better than being called Yusef the Jew.
They were escorted to a room where thin light fell from a skylight that was obscured with muslin to foil prying eyes. Prayer rugs were pointed out, and they took kneeling positions of supplication, including the tall shadow whose voice Yusef had heard over the telephone.
When all was still, a candle was lit. It guttered, its sickly yellow light showing a screen. The shadow of a seated man was visible behind the screen. The figure was rounded, the head fringed with a full beard.
"True Believers, we will speak English here because some of you know Farsi and others Arabic, but not both."
The voice was strange in its accents. Musical, the vowels odd. Yusef, who knew few Persians, decided it must be the accent that made the English so sickly sweet to his ears. Or perhaps it was the contrast to the nasal English of New Yorkers, with whom he had dwelt for so long.
"The sight of my holy countenance must be denied even to you, the faithful," the voice began. "To cast eyes upon me is haram-forbidden. My true name will never be known to you. Some called me their mufti. Others imam. Some of you here have heard of me by a name bestowed upon me by the intelligence organs of Egypt, Iraq and the Great Satan. This name is the Deaf Mullah."
A gasp raced around the supplicant men.
Yusef was impressed. All True Believers knew of the Deaf Mullah, a Persian cleric reviled in the West for his exhortations against all things Western. It was said he had personally constructed an infernal device intended to destroy the Egyptian puppet, Mubarak, but that it had exploded in his hands. His survival was considered a gift from Allah and a sign of his holiness. For the mullah had lost only the hearing in one ear entirely and the hearing in the other but partially. More impressively it was the Deaf Mullah who had organized the enterprise that nearly brought down the World Trade Center, as well as demolishing the Lincoln and Holland tunnels, except for certain unfortunate misadventures that resulted in the capture of the conspirators, incidentally landing the Deaf Mullah in a federal prison.
As he reflected on these tales, Yusef noticed that the man behind the screen held an ear trumpet in one hand. It was the Deaf Mullah. Truly.
"You who have slept in this infidel land are now called upon to awaken. For an army of the faithful is being mustered, and you will be its soldiers."
"Praise Allah," a man said fervently. It was the telephone summoner, Yusef realized.
"Praise Allah," another man vowed.
"Yes, praise Allah that you have lived to see this day," the Deaf Mullah said. "You all have been selected for your devotion, your ferocity, your courage and your ability to exist in an enemy land unchallenged. You all are U.S. citizens. This is important. When this plan was created years ago, it was not understood how important. But becoming citizens of the United States is a necessary step to joining the army that will break the American spine in many places.
"For you all to understand your task, it is necessary that you all understand the state of things as pertains to the march of Islam."
They listened attentively.
"You all know that the first attempt to bring jihad to America ended in abject failure. The one who came before failed. They brought disgrace to Islam through their base ineptitude. They made mistakes. They failed to destroy the twin towers of the World Trade Center. They did stupid things for which they were caught. Others of their cells also failed in executing important tasks, such as the destruction of the bridges and tunnels and other lawful targets. As a consequence, many laughed at our cause, derided us as stupid. No more. Those days are done with."
"Praise Allah," another man said.
"We are done with being mocked. For we have found another, truer path. One that will lead us to victory over the infidel. You are not alone among True Believers. Our numbers increase. Even the American media have noted that we Muslims outnumber the Episcopalians and Presbyterians. In a few years, we will outpace the Jews. But we cannot wait for that day. We must begin to strike at their soft underbelly."
"How, O Holy One?"
"Yes, we are with you."
A broad hand was raised. "Patience. My tale is not done."
They settled down, their bodies leaning forward in their eagerness. Their breathing became audible. "More recently a building was destroyed in the city called Oklahoma. For this, we were blamed, though we were truly blameless."
"It is a sign of the anti-Islamic virus that infects America!" Yusef exclaimed.
"No, it was a good thing that we were blamed. For although it is an insult and an affront to Allah, whose children we are, it is more important that the infidel fear us. But in time it was discovered that infidel elements were themselves responsible for this outrage."
"It is not an outrage if it afflicts the infidel," a man suggested.
"It is an outrage that infidels are more successful in striking at infidel targets than us, who have been anointed by Allah to do this thing."
Murmurs around the room agreed that this was in fact an outrage.