The Apostate (3 page)

Perkins shook his head like the jury or judge had already passed a severe judgment against him. Ray was silent. He didn't know what to say or ask, and figured his best move was to keep quiet.

“But we managed to intervene on your behalf if things work out between us,” Perkins said.

“What things?” Ray felt compelled to ask when Perkins waited for him to speak.

“You probably know that sometimes guys, girls too, agree to go into the army or somewhere in the military, instead of jail time. What we have in mind is a variant of that.”

Perkins hesitated a moment, and then looked at a file folder on his desk. “This is your file, Ray. It doesn't make you a criminal, yet, or anything wrong. We can have your little problem excised.”

“So I'd just be a person of interest?” Ray volunteered, not masking his bitterness. Why did the Homeland Security people have a file on him? This continuing blowback of his muttering indiscretion was incredible, but he was helpless. Or was he? Was he really facing jail time? He hadn't contacted a lawyer, because no charge had been made. He couldn't afford a lawyer anyway. If he were charged he'd have to ask for a court-appointed attorney.

“Let's review things a bit,” Perkins said. “I'm sorry about your little problem with the Senator's speech. But we do have to be careful.”

“And that means bothering my employer?”

”Regular checkup,” Perkins said. “And that also means constructing a file, but like I said, we want your help.”

“In what way?” Ray couldn't help shooting Perkins a distrustful glance.

“Well, let me back up,” Perkins said, opening the file. “I can see that you've had a few run-ins with authority before, apparently starting in public school.”

Ray couldn't help a sour laugh. “You went that far back?”

“We look at school records,” Perkins said like that was the norm. “Evidently, you're not the type to back down, and that can be a useful trait.”

Ray said nothing. Perkins was obviously laying out some scenario, and he would just have to wait to learn more. “Let's see,” Perkins went on, reading from the file, you challenged your teacher in a history class, and your mother had to come to school.”

“What a dangerous student I was,” Ray said, not masking his sarcasm. He wasn't going to let himself be intimidated.

Perkins's face showed no reaction to Ray's irony. “Then you were accused of sex with a minor, and you were still in public school or your first year in high school. Tsk, tsk.”

Ray's face flushed. He recalled the incident well. “I don't know what you have there, but the young lady and I fooled around, and she was quite willing. Later, she felt guilty or ashamed or whatever, and she lied to her parents that I seduced her. Which was a lot of crap!”

“Evidently, it turned out to be a he said, she said type of situation,” Perkins said. “Just like with the cop you slugged. But you weren't charged with anything with that incident.”

“Because I was telling the truth,” Ray asserted with fervor. Perkins, he knew, was getting to him.
Slugged
was a deliberate inaccuracy, and a poor use of the verb. How do you slug a pelvis?

“Let's move on,” Perkins said. “College days. Apparently, you didn't know what to major in. Is that it? You took this Stanford-Binet test?”

Ray felt embarrassed again. Roaming through his life this way was humiliating. He felt oddly naked. What else did these myrmidons of the law have in his file? “It was a free college service, so I took it. It helps determine what a student's interests might be.”

“And your interests were?”

“Doesn't it say there?

“Nope. Just that you took the test.”

“Minister, priest, rabbi—some religious position—was my primary interest.”

“Interesting,” Perkins said.

“Journalist/author was a close second. And I do, as you well know, editorial work now.”

“Right. Now, the last collegiate thing brings us closer to why you're here. Why did you study Arabic?”

“Simple. I had to take a language. I had Spanish in high school. I wanted to learn a new language. I thought of Russian, but then Arabic seemed so much more topical.”

“And that's the only reason?” Perkins studied him closely for a moment.

“Pretty much,” Ray said.

“There's also a report here of a fight, with campus police taking you into custody. What happened?”

Ray frowned, recalling the incident. “What happened is there was a Muslim cleric coming to campus to give a talk, and some students were unhappy about this. A couple of them accosted me in the building where my Arabic class was. They called me a white Arab, an academic towelhead, and a few other endearments.”

“Who threw the first punch?”

“They pushed me and blocked my way. I pushed back.”

“And then the campus police came?”

“Yes. I was the one attacked but they wouldn't listen. They threatened to taser me, which made me even angrier. I probably lost it a bit.”

“Evidently,” Perkins said. “Just like with the cop.”

Ray just stared at Perkins. It didn't pay to contradict everything he said or alleged.

Some web was being woven but it still wasn't clear what his role was supposed to be.

“So they took you into custody?” Perkins asked.

“Yes, but I went voluntarily. I wasn't tasered. And I was released.”

“Yes, I see that. No academic black mark either.”

Ray shrugged as if such a mark would have been ridiculous. He never did find out what questions, if any, had been leveled at the guys who precipitated the incident.

“The whole thing blew over,” Ray said. “No big deal.”

“I see,” Perkins moved on, “that you also took a course in Islamic Studies and Arabic History.”

“It went with the language,” Ray said.

Perkins nodded. “The Arabic language study caught our interest. Are you fluent?”

“Hardly. I can conduct a very limited and basic conversation, enough to show my lousy accent. That's about it.”

“Maybe you're better at it than you realize,” Perkins suggested.

“I doubt it,” Ray said, wondering why Perkins should stroke him in this way.

“Do you read Islamic literature? Get any of their newsletters? Anything like that?”

Ray stared at Perkins in surprise. “Why am I here?”

“Fair question,” Perkins said, closing his file. “We think, given your record and Arabic-centered interests, that you could be a special agent.”

A special agent! For Homeland Security? The FBI? This new agency?

“Again, I don't understand.”

“Okay, Ray, what I'm talking about is that instead of going to jail and having a record that you consider getting involved with a local mosque.”

Ray was astonished. What sort of trade-off was this?

“I realize this sounds strange to you,” Perkins said. “But I think you have the ability to carry it off.”

“Thanks, but what do you mean about being involved?”

Perkins hesitated a moment. “This is serious stuff. For this to work you'd have to show you're even more interested in the Muslim world than you've already done. Much more. It would mean converting to Islam.”

“What!” Ray couldn't help his exclamation. Becoming a Muslim to avoid jail time, if that was really what he would face? What a choice!

“Like I said I know this is a lot to swallow,” Perkins admitted. “But it isn't as strange as you might think. We have a pool of potential candidates for these assignments. Some people, like you, are tracked from college. You just gave us a reason to jump you to the top.”

Lucky me
, Ray thought. But the overall scheme seemed to fit the hysteria over domestic terrorism and the loyalty of American Muslims.

Perkins gave him a moment to process things and then went on. “This is how you'd be able to furnish us with useful information on the mosque you go to, the imam you meet, and others in the local Islamic community. There's a lot going on in the Islamic community that we need to know about, like recruitment of domestic terrorists. We also want to learn more about how they relate to the rest of the public? Are they real Americans or is their loyalty more to their religion?”

“You want me to be a spy!” Ray recoiled at the thought.

“Spy has a negative connotation,” Perkins said blandly.

“Double agent?” Ray asked.

“Informant,” Perkins corrected. “And don't devalue yourself. Like I said, we watch American-born students who show special interest in Islamic subjects. You've also shown your knowledge of Arabic culture in your job with several manuscripts. You're probably more knowledgeable than you realize.”

Ray sat stunned. He had no idea that his life was such an open book. What sort of strange profile did he fit!

“We might have contacted you in due course anyway, but your police fracas did expedite matters.”

“I see,” Ray said, though he knew he was utterly taken aback.

“But what I really mean is as a sleeper agent,” Perkins explained. “You wouldn't be infiltrating. No hidden microphone, camera, or anything like that. No spy stuff. This would be a long time assignment, and you'd be paid regularly. You're a young guy, single, no family with your parents gone. Pretty adventurous, I'd say. You'd wind up with a sizable nest age for your retirement.”

“If I got that far.”

Perkins nodded. “There's always some danger. I'm not going to lie to you. But we can extract you anytime there's a problem.”

“That's reassuring,” Ray said in a measured tone, trying to absorb and process this startling proposition. “Just what is there in my file that remotely suggests I'd be interested in doing this?”

“A valid question,” Perkins conceded. “So here's our reasoning. Other than the basic trade-off, your record clearly indicates that you have a problem with authority. You're very assertive about what you consider your rights, how you're treated or possibly mistreated. You have a pronounced tendency to say outrageous things and be critical of our government and government figures.”

“Quite a profile,” Ray said. His dossier was still thin. But he was only twenty-six. At his current pace he might occupy more of the PAS's cabinet space.

“It made us think you could be helpful.”

Helpful!
What a euphemism, Ray thought.

“Make any sense to you?” Perkins questioned. “You'd be able to carry on your normal life. No problem. Keep the same job. See the same people. Just some new ones.”

“So I could tell other people that at the age of twenty-six I just decided to become a Muslim?”

“Others have. Why not you?”

Ray frowned. “How many others? How long has this little covert program been going on?”

“That's classified,” Perkins said.

Ray thought for a brief second. “Well, I consider myself to be honest, maybe a bit outspoken. Lots of people are critical of our government and various government figures. I thought we still lived in a democracy with free speech.”

“We do, and we want to keep it that way,” Perkins said. “Let's be clear. We're not asking you to endanger yourself. Just to be observant, listen to things. Go to talks. Show interest. Get involved.”

“But I'm not a Muslim.”

“Yes, I know. But being a Muslim would greatly enhance your ability to give us useful information.”

“Just a small change in my life,” Ray said.

“We're aware that we're asking a lot,” Perkins said. “Again, we're not suggesting you become a
jihadist
or anything like that. You're a well-read person. You know that one of our biggest fears now are domestic terrorists, guys that we'd never have suspected in the past. But times have changed. Those who convert to Islam are the ones we most have to watch.”

“This isn't me,” Ray said.

“But it could be,” Perkins came back. He hesitated a moment. “Ray, just because you'd be doing a patriotic service, doesn't mean you won't be rewarded. It doesn't

tarnish your role one bit if we give you a monthly stipend, which can cover any expenses you incur. If we work this out, you get as a start $500 a month. When you become a Muslim and join a local mosque, it doubles to $1,000.”

“So I'd be a paid informant?” How could this Protect America Service ask him to risk his life this way? Was he a piece of collateral material?

“One of many,” Perkins said. “I'd be lying if I said they were all great patriots. Some are in it just for the money. But there are others who really don't want to see another 9/11. We hope you're one of them.”

Ray was silent. Perkins was being honest at least.

“Ray, have you heard of Anwar al-Awlaki?”

“Vaguely,” Ray said. “Isn't he with Al Qaida?”

“Yes, he is. And he's American born, right here in California. We have a bunch of Americans who have lost their way, just as the British have some home grown terrorists. With the growth of the Muslim communities in the U.S. and other countries, this is a growing problem. Someone in your position, especially if you converted, could save lives.”

“You're asking me to completely change my life,” Ray said, as if Perkins didn't really understand the full implications of his strange proposal.

“We think you're an excellent candidate for this role,” Perkins went on with a convincing look. “You have a decent job but no great prospects, especially with your police situation. And getting a job with a prison record is kinda difficult. I know I'm repeating things, but you're single and you don't have a serious relationship. Your parents have passed away and you don't have any siblings. You fit the bill very well.”

“I had no idea you've done such research on me,” Ray said, not bothering to conceal his sarcasm. Since he apparently already had a reputation for having a problem with authority what better place to show it than here with the overreaching PAS?