The Apostate (30 page)

“Excellent. Inform Tariq of what your schedule permits. I hope to see you in Riyadh. You'll find our hospitality of the highest order.”

“I'm sure,” Ray said, as Al-Januzi prepared to leave. “
Allah akbar
. (God is great.)”

Al-Januzi nodded. “
Wa alaak el salaam
(Peace be upon you).”

But there was no peace for him, Ray thought, as he sat alone in the conference room. How could he go to Saudi Arabia? Even if Perkins wanted him to? Meanwhile, his body was still intact. What a disappointment, Ray laughed to himself. The prince didn't find him attractive at all. No assignation was suggested. Or was Al-Januzi, in his wily way, waiting to seduce him once he was in Saudi Arabia? Even when Abra was with him? Or was this a plot to get her far away from the imam? And away from him as well while he was being escorted around gushing oil fields in the desert?

“So how did it go?” Abra asked eagerly.

He had come home before her and had already printed out his notes on his meeting with Al-Januzi. Worth a chapter, Ray thought, if he explored all its ramifications.

“Great,” he said, watching Abra take off her high heel shoes and rub her insteps. He crossed to where she sat and took over administering to her feet. She smiled gratefully. “He invited us to go to Saudi Arabia.”

“Really?” Abra stared at him like he was joking. This was the result, he knew, of his many quips and stabs at humor.

“Yep. All expenses paid. He wants me to tour the country, learn more Arabic, and then write a report to tell American Muslims how wonderful Saudi Arabia is.”

Abra frowned, able as usual to see the consequences of the invitation. “And you said?” Her tone was like a scimitar ready to fall on his hapless neck if he responded the wrong way.

“Well, there is a slight hitch.”

“Which is?”

“It's known as censorship. He'd want to see my report before I could leave the country.”

“I see the problem,” Abra said. “You're standing behind your editorial scruples.”

“Such as they are.”

“Did you already turn him down?”

Clearly, Abra relished the idea of the trip. Denying her was going to add to his problems.

“No. Not yet.”

“Then don't,” she said decisively. “Look, Ray, the prince is one of our biggest donors. He would be greatly offended if we didn't accept. You know that, don't you?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“You can write something negative in a positive way or a negative way,” Abra said, and what she said had some truth to it. “All you have to do is tone your comments down and put them in a positive light. You're a good writer, and you can do that.”

“In other words, gilding the lily.” When Abra looked at him uncertainly, Ray added, “That means—”

“I know what it means,” Abra snapped. “And if it means writing carefully, which you can do quite well, then that's the way to go.”

“You want to go, don't you?”

“Of course. If it wasn't for this request to basically see your notes, not some finished manuscript, don't you?”

“It would be exciting. But doesn't it bother you to have to wear a
burka
and be subject to all their repressive customs about women?”

Abra's face dissolved into a mild admission of concern. “Honestly, that aspect doesn't appeal to me, but I'll be with you and we'll be special guests. My guess is we'll have a terrific time.”

Ray smiled. “He said they're making changes. Incrementally.”

“So? Isn't that encouraging?”

“Yes, but women still can't drive by themselves, though some have challenged this policy. It's still restrictive as far as women go, and they can't go far unless a man accompanies them.”

Abra crossed to Ray, and held his head in her hands. “My escort. My handsome escort.”

“Words to live by.” He bent over and kissed the top of her left foot. “May I go wherever your feet take you.”

“A noble thought,” she said, softly, caressing Ray's hair. “So does that mean we're going?”

“Let's sleep on it,” he said, drawing a look of disappointment from Abra. She thought it was just between them, but he really had to run this invitation past Perkins. He'd probably be all for it, but he had to know one way or another. But one thing was sure; his editorial scruples had probably just experienced a seismic shift.

“Saudi Arabia?” Perkins mused as if the country was located in a black hole in outer space. “All expenses, too? You and your wife.”

“It comes with complications,” Ray explained, checking the spoon he wanted to use for his coffee for stains. Perkins' taste in cafeterias was going downhill. This greasy-looking eatery along a tawdry section of Western Avenue wasn't likely to get any benedictions from the city's food and sanitation division or whoever checks out such ptomaine palaces. “A little issue called censorship.”

“Doesn't bother me,” Perkins said. “Show him what you got, and then write what you want. What's he going to do, chop off your head?”

“But you'd extract me first, right?”

Perkins gave him a look that he recognized his sarcasm. “Sure.”

“I guess that has to be my decision.”

“I take it the little lady wants to go,” Perkins said with a knowing glance.

“Yes. Al-Januzi is a major donor. She doesn't want to offend him.”

“Hey, we don't either. It could screw up your position here. Take him up on his offer. We'll alert our people in Riyadh. You and your wife will be okay.”

This was now two-zip, Abra and Perkins. An unlikely combination. Who was against his going to Saudi Arabia?

The invitation to appear before a congressional sub-committee on Muslim affairs in the U.S. in Washington D.C. came as a bombshell to Ray as well as everyone else. Apparently, this new sub-committee on the Islamic community in the United States was inviting different sources—both Muslim and non-Muslim—to testify. His media appearances, and forthcoming book, had elevated him to be on some sort of an A list.

Now he was able to postpone his trip to Saudi Arabia without any risk of decreasing or ending supportive financial stipends to the complex. The prince could hardly be offended. In fact, his future visit would presumably be as a more important personage due to his semi-Congressional stripes.

Meanwhile, Abra was already suggesting what clothing he should wear at the hearing, and preparing a list of what he should take in his suitcase and carry-on bag. The desert wardrobe had been put aside for the near future, though no date was set. There were optimal times to visit Saudi Arabia, the weather having a lot to do with this topic.

Perkins, however, was unhappy. Over the phone he railed:

“This isn't what you're supposed to be doing.”

“I didn't request it,” Ray said.

“All your bullshitting has brought this about.”

“I thought I was doing a good job,” Ray said, almost enjoying Perkins' rage. “This appearance will certainly help my position in the Muslim community.”

“Well,” Perkins backtracked, “I suppose you couldn't have turned down the invitation.”

“Wouldn't have looked good.”

“Okay, it's a done deal,” Perkins said. “But when you get questioned let's make the most of the opportunity. Don't antagonize the senators. You can be a gadfly without being obnoxious to the point of offending your own people.”

Own people!

This was the first time Perkins had used this expression. If Perkins felt this way, many others must as well. Perkins, in his muddled way, just didn't want him to upset the proverbial applecart. But he wanted to be a bridge now, having identified his true goal, of creating a true breakthrough in the relationship between American Muslims and everyone else in the country, including recalcitrant government officials clinging to spurious fears. During the Cold War the government feared there were Communists hiding everywhere, and now the national anxiety was over Muslim youths plotting terrorist attacks. America thrived on scares. While he was amending his original mission in a creative and positive way, Perkins was adhering to his seminal role.

“I'm never obnoxious,” Ray protested.

“Keep it that way,” Perkins ordered in an unusually harsh tone.

The committee, Ray realized, was evenly spread with Democratic and Republican senators. A Republican, Senator Lloyd Dennis of Wyoming, however, was the sub-committee chairman and the first to question Ray after he was sworn in.

Great
, Ray thought. The state of Wyoming must have the least number of Muslims in the country. He was also disconcerted by the setting with the array of senators, none looking very sympathetic, staring at him from a slightly elevated long table as he sat in another elongated desk before them. The glare from the bank of television cameras was also offsetting anytime he turned in their direction. He fidgeted with the microphone in front of him, afraid he was holding it too far or too close to his mouth. He also didn't have an expensive attorney sitting next to him who could whisper sage advice into his ear. The imam had suggested retaining a D.C. lawyer, but Ray had said it wasn't necessary. “I'm not being charged with anything.”

Tariq seemed quite impressed. “A great opportunity!” he said, eyes gleaming as if the opportunity were his.

Now it was up to him, Ray realized, to satisfy many discordant minds, not the least of which might be his.

“Mr. Dancer, you're known as an advocate of the Muslim community,” Senator Dennis said in a loud, well articulated voice. “Would you say that the status of Muslims is better now than it was after 9/11?”

“Not really,” Ray said.

This was one of the questions he anticipated getting, and he was ready for it. He had done a little research on each member of the sub-committee to have some idea of their leanings. Dennis was the easiest of all to read; he was a staunch conservative who came from the banking industry. In the world's most select club he was probably the biggest millionaire.

“Why is that?” Dennis followed up. He leaned forward intent on hearing Ray's answer.

“We've settled into a grey area which should be corrected,” Ray responded. With no hesitation, he added for emphasis, “Muslims are subject to being suspect as if we're all potential terrorists. Generally, we're treated as if guilty until proven innocent. As you're well aware, there have been many incidents where innocent Muslims have been arrested or mistreated with long detentions because of their religious affiliation.”

“Do you feel this has created a climate that makes it easier to recruit terrorists?” asked Lorraine Winters, a Democrat from Iowa who was a career politician having served in the state legislature and then in the House of Representatives. “As you also know, there are examples of homegrown terrorists. And this is a crucial aspect of these hearings.”

“No, Senator, American Muslims are loyal to this country. It's a huge disservice to the entire Muslim community to suggest otherwise.”

“Such a suggestion isn't being made,” Senator Winters said in an even tone. “So you're saying this so-called treacherous grey area isn't undermining the loyalty of some Muslims, especially the younger ones?”

Ray recalled Paul Lassi and the trio of students whose apartment he had visited. They were undeniable examples of young Muslims ready to perform acts of terrorism.

“No, it isn't,” Ray said, feeling he was shading the truth. “And, with all due respect, may I remind the committee that there have been homegrown non-Islamic terrorists. In fact, there are organizations, with actual camps where they store and practice using weapons. And these groups specifically target American Muslims as well as Blacks and Jews and anyone else they decide is against their idea of American purity. The number of neo-Nazis and those susceptible to Nazi-like ranting in this country is deplorable.”

With satisfaction Ray saw the Wyoming senator wince. Being aggressive was the right stance. At least so far.

“Do you have any specific evidence on such camps?” asked Desmond Roof, a Republican senator from Alabama. He spoke slowly with a southern twang, but the hostility in his voice was apparent. With a big crop of white hair, and a jutting chin, he looked like he had graduated up from being a small town sheriff used to harassing blacks.

“No, sir, I don't,” Ray admitted. “But I suspect I wouldn't be sitting here if these camps didn't exist.”

“Do you have any charges you want to make?” inquired Jane Funnel, a Republican but a moderate one, from New Hampshire. She was a petite grey-haired lady who had once been a school teacher, and she spoke as if she had been adroit in getting students to back up their comments.

With fervor Ray continued. “Authorities have been overzealous in trying to use surveillance, paid informants and even going to the extent of inventing terrorism plots. They have gone out of their way to foster the notion of some stealth
jihad
and as if the country is in danger of having sharia law imposed on citizens.”

He was uttering another half-truth, Ray realized, since he himself was a paid informant. He wondered if any of the senators had any inkling of his true situation. Were they all playing a game of non-disclosure?

“What proof do you have of this?” challenged Herbert Lase, a Democrat from Oklahoma. A professor of American History, Lase probably could recite a litany of miscues by the authorities, many of them shrouded in official secrecy. Using the threat of disclosing elements of national security had become a governmental staple in avoiding some legal cases from going forward.

Ray was ready. “The American Civil Liberties Union and the Council on American-Islamic Relations sued the FBI on the allegation that it used a paid informant to infiltrate mosques and indiscriminately collect personal information on many American Muslims. The case about these undercover operations led to perjury and naturalization fraud charges.”