“We have our next targets.”
“Where?”
“How far?”
“Who are they?”
“When?”
The shouts mingled together as dozens of men crowded around Abbas Kahn in the cramped bunker, their usual meeting place near the Line of Control separating Kashmir into Pakistani or Indian ruled areas. The room, built into the side of a mountain, was more like a cave than a cabin. There were small windows on only one side, and the air smelled of dust and sweat. But on this day, members of the cell were focused on revolution not ventilation. The leader raised his arms to quiet the noise.
“The American team will be arriving soon in New Delhi.” He turned to Rashid. “You sent their arrival plans to our brothers in Delhi?”
Rashid nodded.
“Very good. They know what to do. They will arrange a surprise for those American spies.”
Two men in the back of the bunker raised their guns in tribute to their leader.
“Tomorrow we shall watch their progress on Al Jazeera.” Kahn paused and added with a slight smile, “Or perhaps we will watch CNN. That may give us even greater satisfaction.” The men nodded and murmured their approval.
Abbas Kahn then unfolded a map on the floor. The men gathered around it. Some knelt on the dirt floor. Others squatted down behind them. All peered at the map and waited for Kahn to continue.
“We have two missiles left, and you all know that we have recruited two more scientists. They will help us launch these weapons with pinpoint accuracy.” He leaned down and pointed to the Indian capital. “Now then, if our information is correct, this so-called special envoy will be coming to New Delhi to arrange a peace treaty with Pakistan.”
“But if we assassinate the advance team, wouldn’t they cancel the whole operation?” One cell member asked.
“Do not be a fool. Our attack on this group will only embolden their stupid president to show his muscles. He will not stop. He will call all the heads of state and promise them money and aid and anything else he can think of to get them to come together and talk about peace. He will need a good headline after we create a very bad headline. Don’t you see?”
The young man sat very still, chastised by the harsh rebuke.
“Now back to the weapons,” Kahn continued. “When this Envoy arrives for his meetings, that is when we will launch our next missile. It will easily destroy the Defense Ministry and everyone in it. We will make all the necessary preparations for the launch from our territory. It has sufficient range, and we do not believe the Indians have any way to shoot it down.”
“Don’t they have some defensive systems?” Rashid asked.
“Yes, some. But they are not very efficient. And even if they did have an anti-missile device, and they sent up another missile to intercept it, the explosion would cause much damage as it would occur over their cities. Don’t you see? We win no matter what they do.”
“It has a conventional warhead, does it not?” Rashid asked.
“Yes. But don’t worry. It will create much destruction, especially if it reaches all the way to the Ministry.”
“And if India retaliates?”
“They have not yet answered our first missile strike. They do not know yet that we were responsible. If they did know, they would have fired back. No. They do not know.”
“But if they did?”
“We are working on defensive measures ourselves.” He glanced over at the table where his computer sat silent. “I am still waiting for a report from Jambaz.”
Rashid raised his eyebrows. “No word yet? Has something happened to him?”
“His last report indicated he was still working on his assignment. He was carrying out a plan tonight. He gave no specifics. But while we wait for him, we will work on our own plans.
“What about the last missile?” Another man asked.
“Ah, that will be the best of all. It has a very special warhead, and I have waited to tell you its final destination until all our leaders had agreed. Now I can announce that we have decided to repeat the attack originally planned back in 2002.”
“Which plan was that?” Rashid asked.
“The plan by our own Lashkar-i-Taiba to attack the Taj Mahal,” Kahn said forcefully.
“The Taj Mahal?” the others cried out simultaneously. The room erupted in noise and confusion as each of the men posed questions all at once. “Why the Taj?” “It’s a Moslem Mosque.” “Our Moslem brothers pray there.” “How can we do this?”
Abbas Kahn sat back and waited for the furor to die down.
“I can understand your concerns, but we need the cooperation of every member. We do not need you to question our decisions. Therefore I will explain how we came to this conclusion. First, the Indians are planning a celebration. They have already invited many heads of state, including western leaders. They are all our enemies.”
The young men settled down on the floor again and gave Kahn their rapt attention. He went on in a deliberate tone. “And if the American Envoy should somehow survive the cruise missile attack and persuade the Indians and Pakistanis to sign some sort of agreement, it will be signed at this big event.” He paused and said in an undertone, “But we don’t need to worry about the Envoy. He will undoubtedly be destroyed.” The men nodded. “Then the American president will work even harder to get Delhi and Islamabad to agree to a treaty. It is obvious. It will happen.”
“But the Taj Mahal. Can you explain why you want to destroy a Moslem monument?” a voice from the back of the room implored.
“Do you not remember just a few years ago when we had the first plan to destroy the place?”
A young man looked at his leader with a blank stare and replied, “We never carried it out.”
“I know that, you fool. But we had a plan. The Indians found out about it. Careless email. Bad communications back then. And when they found out, don’t you remember how they put all their tailors to work sewing dark cloth to put over the whole place as camouflage? If you go there today, you can still see the steel hooks and eye-rings in the dome where they attached the tarps. Of course, they think this stupid cloth would protect their precious building from a bombing raid. What fools they are. We know the location of the Taj Mahal. And if we decide to blow it up or bomb it with a missile, then that is what we will do.”
“But the Islamic heritage . . .”
“Silence!” he commanded. “I said I would answer your questions. You want to talk about Islamic heritage? I will give you Islamic heritage. Perhaps you all are too young to have studied your history properly. Perhaps you only listen to legends fed to the tourists who flock to Agra to look at a building. Let me tell you, there are many questions about that legend.”
“How can there be, Kahn Sahib? We all know the Taj Mahal was built by Shah Jahan as a tomb for his beloved wife, Mumtaz.”
“Was it? Do you always accept everything you hear or read? Let me ask you a few questions, and then you can tell me if you are so sure. If it were originally built by a Moslem, then why does it not face Mecca as our other mosques do? If it were built by a Moslem, why does the style resemble a Hindu temple and contain so many Hindu symbols like the Lotus Canopy? Lotus is the sacred flower of the heathen Hindu gods and goddesses. It means nothing to us. And the border on the main gateway is decorated with the elephant trunk. You know we do not allow decorations of animals in Islam. So why are these things even present?”
The men stared at Kahn and sat absolutely still.
“Another question. If it were built to be a tomb for his wife, why are there two floors below with many rooms for storing provisions? Hindus build basements. We do not need basements in our mausoleums.”
Rashid exchanged a glance with the young man on his left who had a curious expression on his face.
“And here are more questions,” Kahn continued. “Think about the arrangement of the buildings. The marble building in the center has two symmetrical buildings on each side. One is a mosque where our people pray. Why did they need the other one?”
Several men shook their heads in bewilderment.
“The long corridors leading up to the Taj Mahal are the type used in ancient Hindu capitals. And Hindus use octagons. They even have names for the eight directions. And what do you see at the front of the corridors? You see two octagon towers.”
“Another building in the garden is the Naqqar Khana. What is that? It is the Music House. You know that a Moslem mausoleum must have silence. We never disturb the dead. But the filthy Hindus play music all the time, especially when they do their work.”
“But the Koran . . . the lettering . . .”
“I did not say that Shah Jahan had nothing to do with the Taj Mahal. Yes, he had work done. Yes, he ordered marble and employed many workmen. Yes, his work took many years. But the lettering from the Koran was probably grafted onto the building.”
“If he didn’t build it, who did?” Rashid asked wide-eyed.
“There are many stories. Many theories that it could have been built hundreds of years before as a palace, and he took it over. There was even a test of a wooden door.”
“A door?”
“Yes. A radiocarbon date of a piece of wood from a door.”
“What did it show?”
“The date came to the mid-1300’s.”
“But couldn’t that door have been old to begin with?” another shouted.
“Perhaps. It is just one more clue.”
“But the records . . .” Rashid said.
“What records? There are very few records. They even argue over who the architects were. But yes, there are some records. They show that after his queen died in 1631, she was first buried somewhere else, and then moved to the Taj Mahal in 1632. Then tourists were allowed to visit in 1633. And yet, construction of the Taj Mahal, according to your precious legend, started in 1631 and went on for over twenty years. Now if Shah Jahan didn’t even start construction until she died in 1631, and the work went on for over twenty years, why was she reburied in the middle of a construction site, and why were tourists visiting such a place twenty years before it was finished?”
The men began to mumble among themselves when their leader cleared his throat and continued.
“And I will tell you one more thing. This Moslem Shah was perhaps not worth our praise. There are also stories that even if his architects, whoever they were, only made improvements to an already existing palace, he didn’t want them to create another Taj Mahal, so he had them killed. And so I ask you, why should we be concerned with such a place?”
The men sat in silence. Finally, Rashid raised his head and spoke. “There is another argument, Khan Sahib.”
“And what is that?” he snapped at the young man.
“Even though there are many questions about the Taj Mahal, it is still a historic landmark. If we were to destroy it, even in the name of our Jihad, would this not bring down the wrath of the world upon us?”
The leader started to answer when another man interrupted. “Remember 1972? The Munich Olympics? Remember when our brothers killed the eleven Israeli athletes? They thought they could focus world attention to the plight of the Palestinian people. But instead, the world turned against them. And then the Spanish trains and the Russian school and the Paris . . .”
Abbas Kahn waved his hand in frustration. “Those Olympics are long forgotten. We changed the Spanish government, and the Russians deserve even more than they got with that attack. They’ve been killing our Chechen brothers for years. And when they made their pre-emptive invasion of Afghanistan, it gave Osama bin Laden, peace be unto him, and our other leaders the strength they needed to develop and expand al Qaeda and the rest of our organization. Do you not see?
“When attacks are made by our side, more rally to our cause. And when we are attacked by our enemies, we get even more recruits. We win either way. That is why we must continue the fight right here in our homeland. We must never let the Americans talk about peace. There will be no peace until we control the governments . . . until we set up our own Califates.
“It will be a long struggle. But we are getting stronger every year, every month, every day. And today we put these new plans into effect.” He paused and surveyed the room. “Are there any more questions?”
Silence.
He raised his eyes. “We gather again tomorrow and watch the demise of the Americans.”