The Apostate (17 page)

Ray considered a moment. “Pro and con, mostly the latter. It's kind of an uphill battle, convincing people that Muslims are peace-loving and tolerant when you have honor killings and blasphemy laws among other repressive practices. And that's not to talk about the terrorists and
jihadists
.”

Abra poured herself more coffee. Her expression turned thoughtful. “We have extremists, true, not really so much in the United States. I know there's worry about home grown terrorists. It's terrible to think that young men could be so bitter and vulnerable that they're willing to sacrifice their lives.”

“And take others with them,” Ray said.

“True,” Abra admitted. “But every religion and culture, I think, has its splinter groups, some more violent than others.”

Abra's perspective was very honest and sensible. She didn't wear blinkers over her eyes, but an element of apology or downplaying the suicidal impulse of compliant young men and women almost always surfaced. As it were, some of the comments on the various blogs expressed the same viewpoint. Others damned Muslims as still trying to convert the world by sword, while some centered their negative views on a small minority of deluded fanatics who had hijacked Islam in their own bloodthirsty image. There was no shortage of opinions, and fierce wrangling between participants. The cyber world, and its strange brand of remote intimacy, never failed to fascinate him.

“Erasing the violent aspect of Islam in American eyes is my goal,” he said. “I'd like to change the playing field to change the conditions, which allow extremism to have any appeal, and to stop anyone from crossing the line into doing something stupid.”

“Not so easy,” she said.

Ray nodded. “I'm probably chewing off more than what's possible, or what I can do.”

“It's a wonderful and worthwhile goal,” Abra said in quick support.

“I suppose. But I'm always afraid of some incident cropping up with an apocalyptic newspaper headline.”

“Everything is quiet now,” Abra said in a soothing tone.

As always, Ray enjoyed sharing viewpoints with Abra, especially as they usually agreed. But the constant recognition that he was deceiving her was an open wound he tried to suppress though it often preyed on his mind.
Abra gave him a cautionary smile. “Just don't be too extremist in trying to do anything. You'll defeat your own objective.”

Abra was right in striving for a cool and balanced campaign, though becoming an extremist in defending Islam was his goal. Far from being a sleeper agent he was now on the cusp of being even more of an activist. This was a role he had to discuss even further with Perkins. Since he was drafted by Tariq, and to a lesser extent, the imam, to be a spokesman; being a laid-back Muslim was no longer in the cards. How far should he go if it indeed wasn't an option anymore to turn back the clock? The airplane brouhaha was done on a sudden impulse, and it had given him a vivid example of Islamophobia to use. Now he was plotting a major move with the prospect of the town hall forums. Again, he was playing a double game with rising stakes.

“And what's this about town hall meetings around the country?” Abra asked, always amazingly on the same page as him. “Are you leaving me already?”

Abra gave him a look of mild consternation. She had a way of modifying her concerns, but Ray sensed a readiness on her part to voice disapproval of his movements more than his words.

“The imam, and Tariq, have more or less drafted me.”

“So you've accepted,” she said as if there were no other option. She seemed to be mulling over the consequences of his decision, which he had really made without broaching it first to her.

“I really didn't have a chance to talk to you first,” Ray lied. “I just told them I'd do a local one and see how it worked out. How I work out.”

“You'll do fine,” Abra said. Fortunately, she wasn't miffed at being left out of the decision-making process.

“I suggested Tariq do the out of town ones or find local converts in each city.”

Abra scoffed. “Tariq! That'll be the day! He'd be booed off the stage. Find local converts in other cities if this program goes forward. I don't want you to go away.”

“Don't worry. I don't want to go away either. Tariq thought local converts was a good idea.”

“So do I.”

“I'll just provide talking points.”

“Good,” Abra said. “You're great with talking points.”

“Tell Tariq.”

“I'm going to be drafted to do these town hall forums in Southern California,” Ray told Perkins, neglecting to explain that he had suggested the forums himself. “I'm going to meet with the imam to go over details.”

They sat in a new cafeteria, one they had never used before, inside and away from the window facing the street. Perkins had brought the same bulging folder that was supposed to be a manuscript in progress. What would happen if either of them were recognized by anyone? They both had their cafeteria roles down pat now, but it would take some fast talking.

“This is because you converted?” Perkins questioned.

“Exactly. I'm supposed to be both a model of an American-born man who became a Muslim and a spokesman on this basis.”

Perkins thought a moment. “Well, that changes things around.”

“Not so much of a sleeper any more,” Ray said, realizing it was a criticism of sorts. The PAS had obviously miscalculated. “I had to make a name for myself to get in their good graces, and it led to my being this spokesman.”

“We thought it might play out that way,” Perkins said.

What a liar! Ray thought. The PAS, and Perkins himself, just couldn't admit any fault. Instead of him
sleeping
, he had woken up his new Islamic family.

“Let's see what the advantages might be,” Perkins said. “You might now be in an even better position to learn things.”

“I might also be in more danger,” Ray said.

Perkins shrugged. “Hard to say. This is uncharted territory. We can always extract you, but you have a wife now. How do you feel about that?”

“Pretty miserable,” Ray admitted. “I hate deceiving her.”

“You know, you might be helping her and her people.”

Her people!

Perkins was like Tariq, pigeon-holing people into huge clusters of humanity without respect for individual differences. They had similarities that both would angrily deny. And her people were his people now!

“Right now it's hard to see that,” Ray said, holding back on a more dissonant comment. Abra was right. He had to be careful on not becoming overly strident.

“And what about the imam and Tariq? Any new take on them?”

“The imam is for peace. He's against terrorism and
jihadism.
He likes the town hall forum idea.”

“And Tariq?”

“I'm not sure,” Ray admitted. “He's more Machiavellian. But he also likes the forum idea.”

“What do you mean by Machiavellian? A supporter of terrorism?”

“Not exactly. Nothing overt at least. But I think he wants a stronger Islamic role in the U.S.”

“Politically?”

“Probably, but I think it goes beyond that. I'm just not sure what he's up to.”

“And now you're looking for other Americans in different cities who have also converted? Is this a recruitment plan?”

“I don't know,” Ray said. “I'll let you know what I can.”

“ASAP, chum,” Perkins commanded.

Ray felt like just another devoted follower of Allah making his obeisance as he knelt, his chin touching the rug in the prayer hall. He whispered the expected words along with the other faithful. Islam was submission, and he was submitting to some extent. He saw no signs of any sort of recruitment. He didn't look in any direction but in front of him, but he knew the prayer hall was filled with other prostrating men.

After evening prayers, Ray went to see the imam in his office.

“Ray, it gives me great happiness to see you here, my son.”

“Thank you, imam. Prayers are always special moments for me. Your
khutba
(sermon) was stirring, and the brothers were moved.”

“Piety comes from Allah,” the imam said. “The faithful are always rewarded.”

Ray nodded. “Truly so,” he added to display his own devoutness, while swallowing his sanctimonious feeling. Why did brotherhood need to be prompted by religious figures? Why couldn't it spring forward from its own universal source? But, in a sense, Islam did come closest to capturing this universal element than other religions. That was in its favor, and a value he could promote.

“I'm pleased too at your work on the Internet,” the imam went on. “I hope it will prove effective in removing the misperceptions so many have about our faith.”

“I'm trying,” Ray said. “It's a daily task as Abra can attest.”

“With Allah's help you will succeed. Now Tariq tells me of your plan for the political style town hall meetings. This is most exciting, but are you sure it might not work against us? If foul questions are asked, what answers can be given?”

“Truthful answers, imam. Delivered calmly, with grace and compassion for those still mired in darkness.”

The imam smiled. “Ah, your way with words. Would that your words shine with angelic light wherever they appear or are heard. But wouldn't whoever conducts such a meeting need to be a special person, well trained for this sort of experience?”

“Of course,” Ray said, afraid of what the imam was leading up to. “He should be able to explain every facet of Islam and be fully aware of both the domestic and international situation affecting the Muslim community, the
ummah
.”

“Can we be sure of finding someone in each city who meets this standard?

“Can Tariq do this?” Ray said, knowing full well this notion was doomed.

“No,” the imam said decisively. “Tariq has many virtues. Public speaking is not one of them. The person we have in mind, and you know this already, is you.”

“But I've just converted.”

“Which is why you'd be perfect. Your sincerity would turn many in our favor.”

“I'm honored, imam. Truly, I am. But my life is here. With Abra. We've just been married. And I have a job.”

“As a dutiful daughter of Islam, Abra will understand your absence on these occasions. I'll speak to her.”

Ray nodded thankfully like he was caught in a comfortable web. As long as he didn't have to go far afield, Abra wouldn't be a problem.

“I saw your list of cities,” the imam said. “Not all need be visited. And isn't it possible for you to get a leave of absence from your employer?”

The same question Tariq had posed. The imam was balancing his recent conversion against his paucity of Islamic knowledge, and the newcomer to Islam was the winner.

Ray hesitated a moment. “Possible but not a good idea. I'm really busy with the fairy tale book. It wouldn't look good.”

“I see,” the imam said.

“May I suggest something, imam?”

“Certainly.”

“Executives who are going to be interviewed sometimes have practice sessions where someone pummels them with the more difficult questions they might be asked in the actual interview. We can do that as well. That will be helpful for me.”

“Then this is what we'll do,” the imam agreed. “Now, Tariq should coordinate with the local mosque in relevant cities to see if others like you are readily available, though it would be far easier to send the same person on tour. Money can be raised for this purpose. But Tariq perhaps is too ambitious. Let's see how your first town hall meeting goes.”

“That's wise,” Ray agreed.

“There's no problem with your job, is there? For one of these meetings at a local site?”

Ray paused, considering his reply. “Well, to be truthful, this isn't the best time. Besides the fairy tale book, which is well on its way to being published, I've been handed other projects.” He could have added that this was an employer who didn't know yet that they had a secret Muslim on their staff. No one else at Kindred, to his knowledge, was a Muslim. Going on a quasi religious tour in a political campaign method would probably end his career at Kindred and possibly the publishing industry as well.

The imam nodded. “Yes. I see there are difficulties. But we have need of you, my son. The time is soon for the first meeting. Will you be ready?”

His plan was working to perfection, Ray congratulated himself. He had managed to appear as a poor choice for a role he wanted.

“Yes, imam. If this is what is needed of me, I will be ready.”

The first town hall meeting, as an experiment, was held at a community college in Ventura on a Friday night. Abra and Tariq accompanied Ray, but he was alone on the stage surrounded on three sides by residents of the city. The event had been well publicized, titled as “Reality & Your Muslim Neighbors,” and there didn't seem to be a vacant seat.

Ray felt he was prepared for an onslaught of questions. Separately, back at the complex, Tariq and then Abra had peppered him with questions, and he had felt, to some extent, he was back in college prepping for an important exam. He didn't have any public speaking experience per se, but he did have a decent command of words and a strong, clear voice. He thought he could get by without a microphone though one was made available. It was difficult to imagine all the people looking at him, at close to the same level, as devoid of clothing. This was a time-honored technique for the anxious speaker to level the playing field, so to speak, but Ray thought it futile in his case. He'd only get a headache shifting his head back and forth around the three sided stage set-up. He was more concerned with the unanticipated questions that could catch him unaware. By agreement with the college, the questions were pre-screened by the moderator, a professor of European History. None of the questions were told to him. Essentially, he was, in a sense, the one standing naked and by himself before the immediate world.