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  As he reflected on these tales, Yusef noticed that the man behind the screen held an ear trumpet in one hand. It was the Deaf Mullah. Truly.

  "You who have slept in this infidel land are now called upon to awaken. For an army of the faithful is being mustered, and you will be its soldiers."

  "Praise Allah," a man said fervently. It was the telephone summoner, Yusef realized.

  "Praise Allah," another man vowed.

  "Yes, praise Allah that you have lived to see this day," the Deaf Mullah said. "You all have been selected for your devotion, your ferocity, your courage and your ability to exist in an enemy land unchallenged. You all are U.S. citizens. This is important. When this plan was created years ago, it was not understood how important. But becoming citizens of the United States is a necessary step to joining the army that will break the American spine in many places.

  "For you all to understand your task, it is necessary that you all understand the state of things as pertains to the march of Islam."

  They listened attentively.

  "You all know that the first attempt to bring jihad to America ended in abject failure. The one who came before failed. They brought disgrace to Islam through their base ineptitude. They made mistakes. They failed to destroy the twin towers of the World Trade Center. They did stupid things for which they were caught. Others of their cells also failed in executing important tasks, such as the destruction of the bridges and tunnels and other lawful targets. As a consequence, many laughed at our cause, derided us as stupid. No more. Those days are done with."

  "Praise Allah," another man said.

  "We are done with being mocked. For we have found another, truer path. One that will lead us to victory over the infidel. You are not alone among True Believers. Our numbers increase. Even the American media have noted that we Muslims outnumber the Episcopalians and Presbyterians. In a few years, we will outpace the Jews. But we cannot wait for that day. We must begin to strike at their soft underbelly."

  "How, O Holy One?"

  "Yes, we are with you."

  A broad hand was raised. "Patience. My tale is not done."

  They settled down, their bodies leaning forward in their eagerness. Their breathing became audible. "More recently a building was destroyed in the city called Oklahoma. For this, we were blamed, though we were truly blameless."

  "It is a sign of the anti-Islamic virus that infects America!" Yusef exclaimed.

  "No, it was a good thing that we were blamed. For although it is an insult and an affront to Allah, whose children we are, it is more important that the infidel fear us. But in time it was discovered that infidel elements were themselves responsible for this outrage."

  "It is not an outrage if it afflicts the infidel," a man suggested.

  "It is an outrage that infidels are more successful in striking at infidel targets than us, who have been anointed by Allah to do this thing."

  Murmurs around the room agreed that this was in fact an outrage.

  "Long I have pondered this conundrum. Much thought have I put into this problem. The infidel no longer fears us. How, I asked myself, could I strike fear into the craven hearts? More importantly how can we strike at the heart of the Great Satan when they have hardened their hearts against us?"

  "They will never embrace Islam!" Yusef spat. "It is a waste of time to convert them. Instead, they must be put to the sword!"

  "The hearts they have hardened are not their false hearts beating within their breasts, but the hearts of their government. Their federal buildings. Their courthouses. These places of wickedness that are denied us."

  "Oh," said Yusef, who now understood.

  "How to enter these places that we might destroy them from within was my thought. Long I prayed Allah to enlighten me. It came to me that even you, who wear faces that enable you to blend in with the infidel's base, corrupt civilization, were not equal to the task."

  "We are equal, Holy One."

  "We are greater than equal. We are Muslims."

  "We are ready to die."

  "Yes, you are ready to die," said the Deaf Mullah. "But are you prepared to succeed?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "Good. For the next step lies before you."

  "What is this?" Yusef asked:

  And the candle was snuffed out by a quick movement of the hovering ear trumpet, and a curtain was drawn before the dark shape of the Deaf Mullah.

  Lights came on. They hurt the eyes. When Yusef looked down, there was a pen and a sheaf of papers resting before his crossed legs.

  "What is this?" he asked aloud.

  "It is called an exam. In order to take the next step, you must pass it."

  Yusef picked up the papers. Reading, he frowned. "I understand the words, but the questions are hard."

  "Yes," another said. "It is harder than passing the test for citizenship. You must memorize all manner of godless notions."

  "Nevertheless," said the melodious voice of the Deaf Mullah from behind the curtain, "you will do your mightiest."

  Yusef raised a hand. Then he realized the Deaf Mullah could not see him, so he said, "I have a question, Holy One."

  "Ask it."

  "Can we cheat?"

  "Yes. Cheating is allowed by Allah, who has blessed this enterprise."

  And Yusef and the others grinned. As long as they could cheat, success was possible.

  It was at that point that Yusef got a good look at his fellow worshipers. Fear touched his eyes. These men did not look Arabic or even Persian. They were too white. Even the Egyptian, seen in a clear light, looked wrong. His hair was as red as a Crusader's. Two men were black, not the coffee black of Libya, but the ebony of lower Africa.

  Noticing that the eyes of the others were looking back at him strangely, Yusef blurted, "I am not Jewish. Really, it is just my nose. I am a Semite, as are many of you. It is a Semitic nose, not a Jewish one. There is a very great difference."

  That night everyone took the exam, and though they cheated their mightiest, as Allah would wish them to, no one passed.

  "Have we failed?" asked the flame-haired Egyptian.

  "No," returned the Deaf Mullah. "This is not the true test, for that can only be given by the generals who control the infidel army we seek to infiltrate."

  "What army is this?"

  "The most dreaded army in this hateful land." Yusef said, "It is the Marines. They are the most feared."

  "The Marines were crushed and broken in Lebanon," the Deaf Mullah reminded.

  "It is the Navy," said another. "For the Navy have warriors who are called sea lions and can swim underwater like fish and steal up from the very waters to do evil, un-Islamic things."

  "You will not become Navy SEAL," intoned the Deaf Mullah from behind his curtain.

  "Then what will we be?" a man wondered aloud. "We cannot be Army men. For all know the Army is composed of pigs."

  "They are called grunts," said the Deaf Mullah. "Not pigs."

  "What army, O Imam?" they beseeched him. Then the uniforms were brought out.

  They were blue and gray. Down the gray pant legs ran a very military blue stripe. And on the breast and shoulder was a patch showing a striking eagle's head. "We are Air Force!" he cried.

  "Shut up, Jew," a man cried sourly. "These are not Air Force uniforms."

  "They are blue and they show an eagle. Unquestionably it is Air Force that we will infiltrate."

  "These are not the uniforms of the United States Air Force. Note the patch. What do the initials say?"

  "USPS," a man said slowly.

  "We are paratroopers!" Yusef exclaimed. "We will jump out of airplanes and strike at will! Allah be praised."

  "Your brains are in your nose," the sour voice of the fiery-haired Egyptian spat at Yusef.

  "May Allah change your face," Yusef retorted hotly. The two men jumped up and squared off.

  The Deaf Mullah clapped his hands sharply. "There will be no fighting in this holy place. Remember that 'Islam' means 'peace.' We
are men of peace when dealing with one another."

  "But men of death when dealing with the infidel," said the Egyptian who had been about to punch Yusef in his camel-like nose.

  "You will not be paratroopers," the Deaf Mullah said quietly. "For the initials USPS stand for United States Postal Service."

  A hush fell over the room. The men looked at one another, their faces contorting with confusion and doubt.

  "We will be mailmen?"

  "You will be the Messengers of Muhammad," the Deaf Mullah announced, standing up.

  "A boustajai?" asked Yusef.

  "No uniform is more feared!" the Deaf Mullah proclaimed. "Nor more respected. Wearing these colors, you will be admitted freely into the holiest of holies of the infidel nation. No one will question you. No one may challenge you. For their mail is sacred to the infidel. You will swear allegiance to the mighty postmaster general, but in reality you are answerable only to your imam and Allah the Compassionate, the Merciful, on whom all praise must fall."

  "I cannot be a postman," Yusef complained. "I am a Palestinian. It is a demotion in the eyes of Allah."

  "As a Palestinian, you are a fierce killer?"

  "Yes. Many enemies have I slain."

  "Tell me, O brother, who do you fear?"

  "No one."

  "Do you fear the Israeli?"

  "Never! I have killed Israelis like dogs."

  "If I placed you in a room with two doors and told you that you could have any weapon at your disposal and that you must escape through one door and one door only, which door would you choose? The one behind which stands an Israeli soldier or the one behind which stands a United States postman?"

  "Both are armed?" asked Yusef. "With Uzis."

  Yusef hesitated. "If they are both armed with Uzis, I might be able to kill the Israeli first. Or trick him by pretending to surrender and slaying him when his guard is down. But the postman, if he is armed that means he has gone crazy. Who can defeat a crazy man?"

  "Exactly."

  "A crazy man is crazy. He will not listen to reason, but only shoot without discrimination. Even at his own."

  "Yes," said the Deaf Mullah. "The postal worker is feared because he has been driven mad by the stern demands of un-Islamic living. He will kill anyone or anything without compunction."

  "This is my point exactly," retorted Yusef.

  The Deaf Mullah lifted his voice to address them all. "Today. In the West, if an American was walking down a dark street and was confronted by one of you wearing a kaffiyeh over your face and a postal worker carrying a gun, the American would throw himself on your mercy because he knows from the wild look in the postal worker's eyes no mercy is to be found there. That is why you will wear this feared uniform. This is how you will infiltrate the buildings that are denied to us by increased American security. This is how we will bring down the towers of the infidel so that the minarets of our own pure and thrice-blessed culture may rise to the very stars."

  Yusef Gamal looked at the uniform with strange eyes and asked, "Do they not carry great leather bags?"

  "You will all be given leather bags large enough to conceal the deadliest weapons. You will be scattered to the compass points of the infidel nation until you are activated. Also you will have to join a union. Some of you will join the American Postal Workers Union, others the National Association of Letter Carriers. A few, the National Rural Letter Carriers' Association."

  "It is a small price to pay in order to insinuate ourselves into the bosom of the infidel," Yusef proclaimed.

  "You must also change your names so that you may further blend in with the ones you will destroy."

  "American names?"

  "Yes. Of course."

  A man stood up. He struck his chest with his fist. "Then I will be Al Ladeen."

  "And I Jihad Jones," said the fire-haired Egyptian.

  "I insist upon being Abu Gamalin," said Yusef.

  "You cannot be Abu Gamalin," said the Deaf Mullah.

  "If that one can be Jihad Jones, I can be Abu Gamalin."

  "I will allow you to retain your true name, if you are careful. To us, you will be Abu Gamalin. But to the Americans, you will be known as Joseph Camel."

  And for reasons unknown to Yusef, the others softly laughed in the Abu Al-Kalbin Mosque.

  "It is better than the other name," he said, mollified.

  YUSEF GAMAL TOOK the postal-service exam, passing only through the coaching of the Deaf Mullah and by wearing a shirt whose green patterns in fact were imprinted with key answers in Arabic script-which was unreadable to stupid Western eyes.

  This was in the state of Oklahoma, in the city of Oklahoma, as prescribed by the Deaf Mullah and ordained by Allah. Yusef's job at first was to place mail in canvas bags and in pigeonholes. It was very tedious work, and the bosses were hard taskmasters, which made Yusef understand why some of the workers went crazy from time to time.

  "It is not just because they have turned their face from Allah," he told the Deaf Mullah via e-mail, the secure method of communications they all used. "It is the mindless tasks they are forced to perform that unbalance them."

  "But you are getting along with the Godless?" the Deaf Mullah wrote back.

  "Some think I am a Jew. Jews are not plentiful here, so I am singled out in this way."

  "This is good, for when the appointed hour comes, they will remember you as a Jew and not Abu Gamalin."

  "When will the hour come, O Imam? I chafe and fret among these infidels."

  "Soon, soon. Have patience. First, you must be given a route."

  "I am trying very hard, because these pigeon holes are driving me to distraction. They have recently painted the walls a hideous pink."

  "Think of Islamic green."

  "I am thinking of green. But I see pink. Everywhere I look, I see pink."

  "Contain your rage. Store it. When the time comes, it will be unleashed."

  "That is the problem," typed Yusef. "The more I see pink, the less angry I become."

  "Think green. Paint the walls of your home green so that you can at night dispel the pink influence of Christianity."

  The hour at last came, and Yusef received his instructions.

  "But the federal building is not on my route," Yusef protested.

  "It does not matter. Your uniform will gain admittance for you. Go forth and slaughter those who inhabit the court of Judge Rathburn."

  "I hear and obey."

  "When the slaughter is complete, fly to Toledo in Ohiostan. You will be met there by your brethren."

  "Then I am done? After only one slaughter?"

  "No, for your slaughter will inform the infidel that his much-protected federal building is vulnerable to us. That the messengers of Muhammad are as mighty as their own militia. After this and other deeds are done, we will embark upon our true mission."

  "Which is?" Yusef asked eagerly.

  "For you to know in Toledo. Go now, Abu Gamalin. And do not forget to shout the slogans you have been taught."

  "God Is Grape!"

  " 'Great.' The English for Allahu Akbar is 'God Is Great.' "

  "Yes, yes, I will remember."

  "And do not forget to tell the dying Americans that they are suffering the deaf penalty."

  "The death penalty, yes."

  "No, 'deaf.' Not 'death.' The deaf penalty."

  "What is the difference?"

  "None whatsoever," the Deaf Mullah replied.

  It was easy, Yusef discovered. With his Uzi in his leather letter bag and ear protectors, he had walked into the Wiley Post Federal Building, took the elevator to the court of Judge Rathburn and killed all within.

  No one questioned him going in, and no one stopped him on the way out. He was well out of town when a search was organized for him. But he was not the usual mailman on that route, and all who saw him saw the uniform, not the man.

  It had been perfection-and proof the enterprise had been blessed by Almighty Allah.

  Chapter 14

/>   The President of the United States was in the middle of a whistle-stop stump speech in Charlotte, North Carolina, trying to hold on to the slipping South when his press secretary attempted to convey an urgent message.

  Deep into his exhortation, the President was oblivious to the raised finger in the wings, which turned into a circling finger, indicating that he should wrap it up quick.

  The President wouldn't have been aware of the finger if it had been jammed up his nose. Besides, his handlers were forever giving him the circling finger.

  The President was reading off the twin Teleprompters-two Lucite electronic screens set at eye level to the left and right of the portable podium emblazoned with the presidential seal. A traveling liquid-crystal line of text, visible whether he faced left or right, told him what to say.

  "'Make no mistake, this election is about change,'" he read. "'This election is about ... an explosion in midtown Manhattan'?" The President stopped reading. The crawling blue letters had turned red. That was the signal that he wasn't to read what followed. Red letters were the stage directions such as "Gesture with fist a la JFK," or "Stay behind the podium, your fly is open."

  The President paused. The red letters crawled along: "No further information available..."

  "I have just been told," the President said, recovering quickly, "that there has been an explosion in Manhattan."

  The crowd made a little murmur like a wave breaking and muttering in the sand. The blue letters returned, and the President resumed speechifying. He wondered why his handlers had bulletined him in the middle of his speech about an ordinary explosion. And why hadn't they said what had exploded? A car? A building? The Statue of Liberty? Coney Island?

  The President was into paragraph fifty-seven of his ten-minute speech-now running twenty-five minutes overlength-when the blue crawl once again turned angry red.