The Apostate (9 page)

“So I have to ask again: is there any problem with conversion? If there is, if one has developed, this is the time to get out.”

Ray didn't answer right away as Perkins studied him. He knew this aspect would come up eventually. He didn't have any great religious scruples. His parents and aunt had all been Unitarian and not particularly religious. His opinions on God had come down to a simple premise: If there was a God he was a God for everyone, and people just chose to worship Him or Her in different ways. But he didn't believe in heaven or hell, which could be a problem with Muslim beliefs, and to him, God was simply a universal consciousness that poor mortals mostly had and which made the more intelligent of them recognize that they were a tiny part of life's fabric. Some muddled pantheism, he thought, in rating his religious clarity. Many people treated their faith as a possession, like a house or stocks and bonds. It was theirs, and for their use when they wanted it. Ritual more than principle ruled. It was like saying you liked to live in a large city with all sorts of museums and cultural attractions and then making a precious few visits to these places.

Sham, and more sham.
And he was as guilty as most people.

But if he was going to be successful it seemed he had to take the next step. Actually, he reasoned, Perkins was probably right. If he was clever enough he could serve two masters—be faithful to Abra but still alert the PAS to any threats. The two elements weren't necessarily incompatible. However, if he was going to be a super sleeper agent, he might never be called upon by the agency. The danger, though, was Tariq, who didn't trust him. What would happen if he started making demands?

“I can do it,” Ray said.

“Good,” Perkins said. “I know it's a major step. You're doing the right thing.”

Ray nodded. Perkins was successful in getting him to agree to marrying Abra. He also managed to stress his former commitment to convert to Islam as if he needed this reminder. These momentous decisions were all made over coffee and apple pie at a cafeteria. How odd it was to have a stranger to his prospective wife accept a marriage proposal he hadn't made to her yet! Major deliberations made in a mundane manner. Whether any of this would work out or not was another matter.

“Look, Ray, if at any time you feel you're in danger, we can always extract you.”

“Before my head is cut off?”

Perkins didn't smile at all. “Like I told you we do our best to protect our operatives in the field.”

“Great,” Ray said. “What happens then, if I'm somehow discovered and a
fatwa
is issued against me? I go into some sort of witness protection program?”

“You'll be protected, and don't think for a second that you're that important to have a
fatwa
issued.” Perkins deliberated a second. “To them, that is. To us, you are important. Don't forget that. We won't.”

“Very reassuring,” Ray said, far from convinced that Perkins and the PAS really had his back. He was pretty much on his own, and he knew it. So far, so good, but what was on the horizon?

“Mongoose, the code name we've given our deep asset in the Los Angeles area, is doing well with becoming a member of the local Islamic community.”

“No problems, then?”

“No, sir. He's seeing the niece of the imam. He's willing to marry her, which will require him to convert. He's willing to do so.”

“Excellent. Good work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Has he come up with anything of use, or is it premature to expect anything? He has to be careful not to compromise himself.”

“Nothing as yet, sir. And Mongoose has been instructed to tread lightly.”

“Okay. Sounds promising. Keep me posted.”

“Yes, sir.”

Uncle Tariq didn't drink alcohol. At least not with him, Ray thought. Instead he was invited to have tea but not at the complex. Instead, they met at a nearby restaurant. Tariq said he had some business to attend to at a nearby foreign imports store, in which he had an interest.

The conversation, soon after some pleasantries, became less than tea-like.

“Abra, you should know, doesn't know of this meeting,” Tariq said. “Of course you will tell her, but that will be after we speak.”

Ray nodded. Tariq's attitude was as dark as his complexion.

“You are serious about Abra?”

Tariq's black eyes dug into Ray in search of a truthful reply like some scooper excavating dirt from a pit. Abra's father was dead, so this uncle was assuming the part, trying to establish if his intentions were honorable. That was traditional and reasonable in any culture or religion. But Ray suspected Tariq's intent went beyond that factor. On the other hand, Ray worried that he was becoming increasingly suspicious about every word and gesture others made, letting himself succumb to an internal culture of doubt and intrigue. Perkins' assorted warnings didn't help. This intrinsically cynical attitude, no doubt, came with the territory of being awake even as a sleeper agent.

“Yes,” Ray said, playing the game and meeting Tariq's glance evenly. “Very much.”

Tariq nodded with a solemn air. “She is very dear to us. We wouldn't want to see her harmed.”

“I would never do that.”

“Let's hope so,” Tariq said with a pious tone Ray disliked. “We're a peaceful people, despite lies often told about us in the media. But we shield our women from harm.”

“As it should be,” Ray said.

At least this shield didn't mean, in the case of Abra, her not getting a western-style education. Nor was she expected to forswear jeans and other western garb. Chances were that Abra had never worn a veil or
burka
and never would.

As if reading his mind, Tariq said, “Abra is very Westernized, and contrary to the perceptions of many, we have no problem with this.”

“I realize that,” Ray said.

“And she may see who she wishes,” Tariq added, with the words sounding more ominous than accommodating.

“Fine,” Ray said. This meeting was too much of an interrogation, but he felt leery of being impolite. As an elder uncle, Tariq was pursuing a traditional role, and he had to keep that in mind and not let irritation and anger ruin things.

“So your intentions are honorable?” Tariq again questioned.

“Of course.”

“And she knows this?”

Ray chanced a smile. “I think that's evident to everyone. If it wasn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Tariq nodded again. “True.” He paused a moment. “Have you made a commitment to Abra?”

“Tariq, I understand your concern,” Ray said, feeling it was time for him to take the offensive. “But understand me. I value Abra greatly, but our relationship is between her and me.”

Tariq's eyes flashed for an instant, but then his voice was less confrontational. “I understand. This is America. No arranged marriages.”

No honor deaths either, where male Muslims slaughtered their daughters and sisters for allegedly dishonoring the family. Pointing this aspect out to Tariq would only inflame the proud uncle.

“There is a problem though,” Tariq said. “You're an intelligent young man and I'm sure you realize it as well.”

“What?” Ray questioned.

“You're of a different faith. Our family wants Abra to marry a Muslim.”

Tariq and Perkins, two sides of a difficult coin. Of course, this was a critical issue, but Ray was taken aback a bit by Tariq's candor. “Isn't that up to her?”

Tariq didn't back down at all. “Yes. She can choose and we can, to use your political word, veto her choice. In that case I assure you, Ray, she won't abandon her family. Or her faith.”

“I wouldn't want her to do either,” Ray blurted. He was angered by Tariq trying, like Perkins, to force a commitment out of him that he hadn't made to Abra. But he had to find a way to preserve his own honor and to placate Tariq as well. He wondered if Tariq had consulted with the imam on this mini-inquisition. Perkins was very much, he had to admit, on target.

“The question then comes about your intentions,” Tariq went on. “Given your interest in Islamic studies, your learning of our language, and all this, are you willing to take the next step and convert?”

There it was, Ray realized. Perkins had been absolutely right in his prediction. Tariq studied him for tell-tale signs as if they were playing a high stakes poker game.

“You want me to discuss a subject with you that must first be discussed with Abra,” Ray said with conviction that didn't reveal his ire. “To do otherwise would be an insult to her.”

Tariq bridled at his allegation. “It's my duty as her uncle to ask this question.”

“And it's my duty to honor Abra,” Ray shot back with no hesitation.

Honor Abra!
The right words, Ray thought. He wasn't going to be intimidated by Tariq.

Tariq relented. “Very well. We share that desire then. But we must know the answer soon.”

Ray nodded. He knew the answer already.

The opportunity to discuss the future with Abra came up soon enough, Ray thought, as they settled down in a booth at a Chinese restaurant. Abra, he saw, was quite dexterous with chopsticks. She was dressed in a loose fitting, long sleeve black blouse and a light brown suede skirt.

“I'm sorry, but not surprised, that uncle Tariq subjected you to his questions,” Abra said apologetically. “Protecting the women of the extended household is a matter of honor to Muslim men.”

“So I understand, and so I saw.”

“But you recovered,” Abra said with a smile. She reached out to grasp his hand over the table. “What did he ask you?”

“What my intentions are.”

“And you said?”

“Honorable.”

Abra let out a tiny laugh. “I'm sure Uncle Tariq was more than satisfied.”

Ray loved Abra's brand of indirect sarcasm. She was independent minded, but he wasn't sure of how far she would be willing to go against her family's wishes. The imam and his wife seemed to accept him thus far, but Tariq was another matter. If he was going to go through with his overall plan, here was a deciding point. A more romantic setting and time would be great, but he didn't have that luxury.

“Abra,” he said, staring at her with intensity, “I don't know how to say this, so just let me blurt it all out. I want to marry you.”

Abra looked more astonished than glad but kept silent. She couldn't help looking around if anyone was noticing them.

Ray kept his gaze steadfast, never letting his eyes move away from her conflicted face. A proposal was obviously not something she expected.

“I want to marry you even though we have different religions. I don't care if you're a Muslim, but you probably care that I'm not. And I'm sure your family feels the same way.”

“What did Tariq say?” Abra demanded to know. Her glance was sharp, like a blade. The reasons for his unexpected proposal were paramount to her, not the proposal itself.

“It wasn't what he said. It was what I said. And I said this was a matter between us. So, do I have to convert for us to be happy the rest of our lives?”

Abra didn't hesitate. “I didn't hear the word love yet.”

She was right, Ray chastised himself. All his rehearsal had been for nothing. If he wasn't in love with Abra, he was damn close, but not close enough to have thought of prefacing his proposal with a key word. How lame of him! Either he shot his mouth off too quickly or he managed to leave out the most important sentiment. Swiftly, he rectified matters. “I love you. And you know I do.”

He didn't have to act. He was sincere, and he felt an unfamiliar stirring in his mind like he was catapulting into some unknown location that seemed promising despite his ignorance of it.

“And I love you,” Abra said, her eyes shining and her voice trembling with emotion now. She squeezed his hand and their knees brushed against each other under the table. “And, yes, I want to marry you. And I would if you were the worst infidel or pagan.”

“I gave up paganism a long time ago,” Ray quipped with a broad smile. He was doubly happy, he recognized. His plan was working, but now he had an even subtler balancing act. More than Tariq would ever know. And he didn't want to hurt Abra in any way.

But Abra wasn't amused. “Ray, there are difficulties.”

“So Tariq was kind enough to explain.”

“Were I to marry you, as things are, I would have to become an outcast from my own family, my own community.”

Ray couldn't help frowning. He didn't want to be critical, but Abra's vaunted independence came up radically short if she was held captive in such an unforgiving fashion. “So there is some limit to your independence.”

“For me, yes,” she said with a look of sadness. Perhaps in other ways for you, too.”

Abra was locked into her culture, and she was fatalistic about it. Now ironically more a prisoner than she was, he had settled his choices as well. But he still had to act on them. “There's an easy solution,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “I'm willing to convert.”

“Really!” Abra's eyes widened with surprise.

“Why are you surprised?” he asked, with a smile. “I said I love you. I didn't buy a ring but I will. I'm kind of new at this.”

“Oh, come on, Ray,” she said, with a short smile, while her eyes glistened with excitement and pleasure. “I care about you, not a ring.”

“Likewise,” he said, with a longer smile.

Still Abra looked conflicted. “But…but it's such a huge decision…and I love you even more for making it for my sake.”

“Abra, God is God,” Ray said, using the words he had rehearsed. “How men and women worship God is a matter of individual invention by human beings. That's how I look at it. I haven't been a very observant Christian. I'll try to do better as a Muslim. But I'm just not the devout type.”