The Apostate (27 page)

“I'm glad to hear it,” she said. “So she didn't try to seduce you.”

Ray smiled. Abra would be immediately cross if he tried one of his smart aleck comments. “To the contrary, she gave me some insights I can use in the book.”

“Great.” She was silent a moment, and then asked, “Now that you're into the actual manuscript how is the writing going?”

“Fine. I'm actually more enthused now.”

“Really! That's wonderful.” Abra seemed surprised by his declaration, which was reasonable enough as she didn't know the emotional distance he had traversed since his singular born-again life began.

“My original notion was more a break-out of my talks and interviews, where I was mostly an activist, but now I'm seeing the book as an opportunity to supply a bridge, a modest bridge, between the Islamic world and The West. Maybe I'm in a position where I can influence perceptions in both sides with some candid material. Does that sound too optimistic or too grandiose?”

“Not at all,” she said with instant approval. “It sounds like an excellent idea. A very exciting one.”

“I'm glad,” Ray said, still unsure of his somewhat different editorial direction.

“I've been reading some material. I was caught by one opinion that we should let Islam be Islam. Let Muslims discover for themselves what's wrong or outdated with the religion and its various positions. This article drew the analogy of Russians finally seeing the problems with Marxism and China reevaluating Maoism.”

“That's fascinating,” she said, leaning forward and waiting for Ray to continue.

“But I don't agree. I don't think we should let things go. We have to keep searching for better ways to understand and accept each other.”

“That's so true,” she said. She looked at him as if impressed by the depth of his thinking. But Abra was his wife. Others might have a less salutary opinion. But it was actually the editors at the publisher who would have the final verdict.

“And I include our parochial notion that the U.S. is some exceptional nation, anointed by God to be an example to all other nations.”

“That's also true. Unfortunate but true.”

“I just don't want to fall into the trap of sounding too dogmatic or tutorial. I know that's one thing people elsewhere in the world don't like about the U.S. We try to teach others too much. It's condescending.”

“And we back it up with military bases and a war now and then,” Abra added with a bitter smile.

“Well, that's my current editorial ambition,” Ray said, feeling he was revealing a major new direction in his general stance, editorial and otherwise. “To help in finding an antidote to friction and perhaps a way to lessen or end extremism on both sides. Too ambitious?”

“You'll do it!” she crooned, coming to his side and hugging him. “You're a peacemaker.”

“Many Muslims still call me the agitator. An interesting sobriquet, one I'm probably stuck with. I don't know how it goes with what I want to accomplish.”

“You have a wide following,” Abra said, dismissing his concern. “Many believe in you, You're a leader. Take pride in your leadership.”

Abra was a devoted wife, urging her warrior husband onto greater glories in the battlefield of ideas. He was a lucky man to have such an understanding and supportive wife, with this realization still a constant flame in the fire pit of his mind. Being an agitator or gad-fly wasn't exactly his original mission description with Perkins, but now he was seeing a bigger and more accurate picture. One, though, he had to be careful in discussing with Perkins who would doubtless voice negative concerns. Having Abra by his side was extremely reassuring. And now perhaps his deceiving her might be seen as a lesser affront?

“And by the way,” Ray added, as an afterthought, “I'm going to meet Al-Januzi. He's coming to LA. Tariq set up a meeting.”

“Really?” Abra's surprise vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I looked into the schedule of future events, so I knew Al-Januzi thought he might come. It wasn't definite, but Tariq works on his schedule along with the consulate, so he'd know for sure.”

“So you have met Al-Januzi?” He was covering past ground, but Ray still wanted a better base for any audience with the Saudi prince.

“Yes, I told you,” Abra said, with a shadow crossing her face.

“Was he overly appreciative of your good looks?”

“Ray, I don't want to go into this.”

“I know,” Ray said. “He's a big donor.”

“That's true, but it isn't just that. It's a matter of manners. He's a prince and used to…certain considerations.”

“I hope you weren't too considerate.”

The shadow turned into a full fledged storm. “What're you saying? Do you think I…?”

“No, no!” Ray said quickly. He darted to Abra's side, but she turned away, her back to him. “I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to say.”

“Very stupid!” But Abra still turned to face him. Ray immediately embraced her.

“Please forgive me.”

“What made you say something like that?” The anger had faded from her face, but she still broke free from his embrace.

“Tariq told me about Al-Januzi making use of Hosker's services, and he even warned me in his inimitable way not to go Januzi's hotel suite. I don't have a very good image of the man”

Abra frowned. “Men can be pigs.”

“Is this pig forgiven?”

“You're not a pig,” Abra said, putting her arms around Ray's waist and giving him a warm look. “Just a little piglet. My piglet,” she giggled, caressing his hair.

Abra was surprised when Tariq approached her at the center and invited her to have tea with him. They always spoke to each other in meetings, and nodded while passing each other in hallways, but she didn't remember the last time they sat down for tea. Dinners with the imam and Sanah was another thing. Tariq, she was sure, had a specific subject he wanted to discuss. It didn't take long for his true interest to emerge.

“Do you read everything that Ray writes?”

“Yes, I do,” Abra acknowledged. This was none of Tariq's business, she thought, but he was her uncle and she had to be polite.

“Ah, he is fortunate to have such a skilled wife.”

Abra smiled out of politeness. “Tariq, I'm not a skilled editor. My grammar has always been suspect.”

“But the content? That you can surely discuss with Ray.”

“And discuss we do,” Abra said, masking her irritation. “What do you want to know, uncle?”

Tariq looked surprised. “I was just curious. I know Ray discussed the book with the imam and I was just interested in learning more. Surely I don't have to wait until the book is published, do I?”

“Not at all,” Abra said. “Ray is covering the whole spectrum of Muslim integration into American society. What's been done and what may be done to facilitate a better relationship.”

“Ah, a worthy subject,” Tariq said. “Can one volume cover it all?”

Abra smiled. “Well, we'll find out, won't we?”

Tariq wasn't put off at all by her unaccommodating stance. “And politics is, of course, one of his subjects?”

Abra gave Tariq a questioning glance. “Politics comes into play, of course. But it's not a political book per se.”

“I see,” Tariq said. Abra had a sense that Tariq was relieved a bit but why, she wondered, making a mental note to discuss this interest with Ray. There was always this aura of behind-the-scenes intrigue when Ray and Tariq were involved.

“And how is the fund raising going?” Abra asked, to change the subject.

“Fine, fine,” Tariq was quick to answer. “The center is fiscally sound. Our donors have been quite generous.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.”

“Yes, our American ummah is thriving,” Tariq said.

American ummah.
These were words to also tell Ray, Abra told herself, as if this were a significant clue. It was terrible, she thought, but she was becoming as suspicious of Tariq as her intrigue-minded husband.

“This could work,” trilled Herb Wenner, an independent producer of television shows, both for cable and network television.

Ray listened, his antenna up for opportunities but feeling cautious at letting prospects cloud his judgment. Wenner had phoned him to set up a lunch meeting to discuss a television show after his television bombshell. The meeting had been postponed, but finally they got together. They sat in a comfortable booth at a Sunset Boulevard bistro. Wenner was a short, stocky man with a broad forehead and thinning brown hair. His voice was thick, and Ray thought he detected a New York or Boston accent. He didn't know if Wenner was Jewish or not, but he hoped he was. It would be a good sign, and one he could possibly use in his book.

“It's important that you cash in on your fame,” Wenner said. “You created a sensation.”

“Fame is fleeting,” Ray observed.

“All the more reason to act before it starts fleeting,” Wenner said with a grin. He waited an instant for Ray to react, and then went on. “We'll start maybe with cable, a half hour show, and then when it catches on, move onto network. Sound good?”

“Yes, if it works out that way.” Ray gave the producer a cautionary look. Enthusiasm, he knew, could be infectious. He had to stay on an even keel. Abra had also cautioned him to be wary. He had invited her to come with him, but she said she had too much work to do at the center with a women's auxiliary group coming in to discuss future events.

“It will,” Wenner promised. “I know the business. Trust me.”

Obviously, Ray surmised, Wenner didn't realize that some people immediately distrusted anyone who used the trite “Trust me” imploration. But he remained polite and attentive.

“What do you think of “American Islam Today” as the name of the show?”

Before Ray could respond, Wenner continued, “I have to check if anyone has that name already. Anyway, maybe you need something more controversial.”

“Like?”

Wenner was like a verbal train, moving on quickly from aspect to aspect, and hardly allowing him adequate time to respond in some reasonable depth. His enthusiasm was impressive but not catching.

Wenner nodded. “Let's brainstorm about that and we'll come up with something better.”

“Okay,” Ray agreed, not sure when this brainstorming session was supposed to take place.

“Right now,” Wenner went on in the same expansive manner, “I see it as a half hour show with two guests interviewed for about twelve minutes each. Anyone you want. Public figures, Muslim or not. But the more famous, the better.”

“Do you think we can attract such famous people to a cable show?”

Wenner snorted. “You'd be surprised. The answer is, for most people, yes. For some of these people, publicity is an addiction. They leap at any chance of getting into the news or staying in the news.”

This was probably true enough, Ray thought. But getting publicity hounds might be insufficient to get a show off the ground if indeed it ever got on the air to begin. But Wenner was clearly undaunted, and he marched on with a hoarse and convincing honesty.

“Tentatively,” Wenner said, “I see the show going to network in, say, six months.”

“That's optimistic,” Ray said.

Again Wenner was dismissive, sticking to his agenda. “Your topics should be of interest to everyone, actually more to non-Muslims, than Muslims. Do you agree?”

Ray nodded. He could see the logic of this approach. “Yes. That makes sense.”

“We'll go for a late Sunday morning airtime, though to be honest, that's a crowded period.”

“Sunday morning sounds good,” Ray said, feeling he was giving in to Wenner's stubborn progression.

“We'll see,” Wenner said, a little less optimistic. “Now for the hard part. You need a certain number of sponsors or advertisers to get the cable shot. But that shouldn't be a problem, given your following. And how about the Islamic Complex itself?”

“I can ask,” Ray said, not relishing actually approaching the imam on this subject. Tariq would probably say there was no money in the budget for such an investment. Other than the complex Ray couldn't think of other potential sponsors. Of course, there were other Islamic centers around the country, but that might give the show too much of an Islamic aura. It would be great to have a show, and he could see himself interviewing luminaries with tough questions and extracting meaningful answers. Maybe Abra could be the show's hostess. But he was getting ahead of himself, falling for the producer's blandishments; Wenner was exaggerating his so-called following. He had made a bit of a media splash with his brash statements. How was that enough to warrant a television show! He might in line for a real debacle. A bit of hubris a la carte.

Then there was Perkins and the PAS. Perkins was already uncertain over his growing public posture.

“So let me know, ASAP,” Wenner said.

“I will,” Ray said, sounding more positive than he felt.

Ray was unsure how things would go with the imam, Tariq and Abra in the joint meeting over the potential television show. He had discussed it earlier with Abra who favored the project if more sponsors could be found. As anticipated, this was the core issue raised, and just as expected, it was Tariq, the “master of the purse,” who raised the alarm.

“We haven't any money in the budget,” Tariq said as if he regretted this situation. “We'd have to take away from other areas to provide funding of any amount.”

“We have a contingency fund,” Abra countered.

“For emergencies,” Tariq shot back. “This is hardly an emergency.”

“But it is an opportunity for national exposure,” Abra said. “A way for Ray to continue his valuable work.”