“How can the jihad end? To reach an end is to make a beginning.”
—Fahad al-Qadi
Haddad was parked in the van in front of the machine shop when Fahad and the two machinists walked out of the shop and up to his car wearing dirty greasy coveralls and work boots. Both the machinists were clean, closely shaven and had their hair colored a light brown. Still Haddad knew they were from the Mideast.
He got out and opened a back door for Fahad, but when the two men walked to the car, Fahad didn’t bother to get out. He talked to the men through the open window.
“With a little luck, I should see you two back here in four days.” Fahad said. “You on top of everything?”
“We got it, boss,” the taller of the two men, Mukhtar, said.
“See that the dual-beam laser welder is ready to go. We’ll put the final touches on it Wednesday night.”
“It’s been a long time coming,” Ramzi, the shorter one, said. “Do you think this could be the blow that rids our land of the Infidel forever?”
“The hard truth is,” Fahad said, “the jihad never ends—not until the Final Day when Allah calls us all home. This attack will make a difference though, a major difference.”
“But it won’t end the Infidel Crusade?” Mukhtar asked Fahad.
“Perhaps not, but it may well mark the beginning of our New Crusade:”
“Then the struggle never ends?” Ramzi asked.
“How can the jihad end?” Fahad explained. “To reach an end is to make a beginning.”
“Then why do we do it?” Mukhtar asked.
“Because it is Allah’s will and our way,” Fahad said.
“Until Allah calls us home?” Ramzi asked.
“Until Allah calls us home,” Fahad said.
“La illahah illalah,” Mukhtar said. Let us renew our faith in Allah.
“Bsimillah,” Ramzi said. In the name of Allah.
“Just remember,” Fahad said, “when I come back, it’ll be an all-night job. So get some sleep.”
“I doubt that we can,” Mukhtar said. “We’ve waited so long.”
“This is so wonderful, my friend,” Ramzi said, his eyes actually tearing over. “It’s like a dream. I can’t believe it’s finally real.”
“Oh, it’s real,” Fahad said, offering them a small dreamy smile.
“Thank you so much for letting us help,” Mukhtar said.
“Jazak Allahu khair,” Fahad said. May Allah reward you for your kind words.
“Fi Amanullah,” Ramzi said. May Allah protect you on your journey.
Fahad climbed into the backseat.
“Where to?” Haddad asked.
“To the city,” Fahad said.
Then to hell, Haddad thought to himself, almost shaking with fear and dread. Then another thought hit him, an injunction: Don’t do it. Drop Fahad off, then drive like a maniac as far from this nightmare horror show as your money will take you.
But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. One look at Fahad’s eyes, and he could see that the man read his mind, his fear. Haddad also knew he could never run far enough or fast enough to escape Fahad’s wrath.
He would have to carry this one out to the bitter end.