Читать книгу Holy Warrior Trojan Horses - Sheldon Cohen - Страница 10

“Yes, Yusuf, that is right. The Koran forbids suicide.” The Imam paused. He looked at Yusuf sitting in silence. This was an important day in the learning process. His student, Ben Marzan, an American citizen, given the name of Yusuf, needed careful handling. He was the perfect candidate. He was born of an American mother, who had converted to Islam, and a Muslim father. Yusuf had grown to manhood in the United States, therefore was already assimilated into the culture and for the assigned task, this assimilation was the principle requirement.

Yusuf, after a year of indoctrination, would be sent back home to the United States and join three others as a group of Trojan Horses and live in the Chicago area where he planned to go to school. Only these Trojan Horses would be different from the Trojan horse as told in Virgil’s Latin poem epic, The Aenid. Their goal would not be to capture a city, but rather to destroy a city—and that city was Chicago picked as the next target in the great global religious war. The city, a major rail, air hub and financial center was perfect. Americans would be expecting another attack on New York or Washington, D.C. Yusuf would be one of the avenging angels. He would be welcomed back in his country, but soon after, the Great Satan would know he had returned.

Yusuf and the Imam sat cross-legged on a rug facing each other. They were the only ones in the office, a small 10 by 10 feet room with a circular oriental rug and six pillows. Yusuf’s dark brown eyes stared at his teacher. Behind the Imam, and facing Yusuf, was a small bookcase filled with Pashto language books and the Koran. The Koran, held upright by golden eagle-shaped bookends, stood by itself in the center of one of the shelves at eye level to a seated Yusuf.

Yusuf’s pitch-black beard hid his mouth under the growth and betrayed the fact that he was eighteen years old. His bright eyes shone forth like twin lighthouse beacons from above his beard and from under his turban. He was clothed in a long cloth, mantle and baggy pants. He was ready for prayer.

The Imam, dressed in similar garb, was fifty-five years old. He had a bulbous nose, a black mustache, pointed at the ends, and a long salt-and-pepper beard. His fingers were thin and tapered and they danced in the air as he spoke. When he read from the Koran, his right index finger, never touching the pages, pointed to what he was reading. When he was not quoting or reading from the book, his fingers drummed on the rug. Even when he was not speaking, his hands were in motion. He read every word from the book with a booming voice, each word enunciated with devotion. Normal conversation, not involving the book, was spoken in a quieter voice forcing Yusuf to extreme attentiveness less he might misunderstand the Imam’s words. Several of the Imam’s front teeth chipped as the result of a fall on a mountain climbing expedition, he left as proof that appearance was unimportant in a world where dedication to Allah meant everything. The Imam stared at his pupil and smiled. He knew: Yusuf’s mind and body had been receptive. He was a quick learner.

“If you look at statistics, Yusuf, you would learn that suicide is a rare occurrence in Muslim society.” He choose to speak to his student in perfect English, the birth language of Yusuf’s mother, rather than Pashto, the language, less familiar to Yusuf, of his father, born and reared with the tribes of Northwest Pakistan. “Suicide is a major sin. The Koran says, ‘Do not kill yourself, for if you do you will be cast into the fire and cannot go to paradise.’”

Yusuf did not speak. He continued to stare into the eyes of his Imam. The Imam stared back. “But there is a difference, Yusuf, between suicide and martyrdom.” The Imam paused again. He closed his eyes and raised his arms, his fingers moving in ecstatic motion. “For martyrdom is not suicide, but rather it is a self sacrifice when done for Holy War to please Allah, and he who performs martyrdom in the name of Holy War will win the eternal gratefulness of Allah, and eternal affection from the beautiful maidens in paradise. Plus, and I stress this, you receive eternal knowledge. You will understand the mind of God. You see, Yusuf, when you attack the enemy and die, you strike a blow for Allah and put fear and terror in the hearts of the oppressors. There is no greater homage that can be paid to Allah.”

“Yes,” said Yusuf with quiet passion, his eyes staring into the Imam’s face.

“Our enemies have precision weapons, Yusuf, the so called ‘smart bomb,’ a bomb that can be directed with great accuracy to a target. As good as those are, they are not as precise as our own precision weapon, our own smart bomb, the suicide bomber. Here you’re talking precision in millimeters. What could be more precise than a person dedicated to Allah intent on a target that he or she walks to? Let the great Satan spend the billions on the high-tech armaments. We counter with martyrdom.

“Our enemies are certain that technology would dominate the twenty-first century. They feel that their armaments will lead them to world-control. But, they are wrong, Yusuf. We will be led to dominance by our Holy Martyrs, and all they need is a few pounds of explosives wrapped around their bodies with a detonator that once they press will propel them to paradise for all eternity. This weapon of ours, Yusuf, is in its early stages of development today, but we are planning for the time when our martyrs will strike in waves like the blitzkrieg of World War II. Yes, God is great,” said a contented Imam.

He had made much headway with Yusuf. This represented a year of work as opposed to the time it took to develop a martyr from kindergarten. Five-year olds are the Holy Martyrs of tomorrow. There the work was easy. You took a young child’s mind, filled it with hatred for the enemy, nurtured this mindset and soon you had grown men ready to be Holy Martyrs. It was like growing a plant from the planting of the seed to careful fertilization and watering. When the plants grow up, they flower into a Holy Martyr. In Yusuf’s case, he had watched the power of Allah transition Yusuf from an irritable, confused youngster to a dedicated Islamist and Holy Warrior. “Our enemies have nuclear bombs, Yusuf. We counter with a more powerful method, human bombs.”

The Imam sighed. Yusuf was the ideal candidate: he had learned to manifest an intense love for Islam, and he had no criminal record. He was an unknown. The perfect innocent. He was beyond suspicion. “It is time, Yusuf. It is not heroic. It is holy. God is Great.”

“God is Great,” answered Yusuf.

“We are at a time in our history when the pagans are attacking Muslims all over the world. It is time to unite under Allah’s banner. We must fight and kill the infidels wherever we find them. The Prophet Muhammad said, “I was ordered to fight all men until they say, there is no God but Allah. We must never forget the tragedy of al-Andalus. Our obligation is to convert everybody to Islam. That is our Islamic mission, Yusuf.

“You will be a true Holy Warrior. The United States leads the pagans in a crusade to use Allah’s holy lands as a beachhead to reach out and enslave other Muslim lands. The crusaders and the Zionists together have united to conquer Jerusalem. The Americans and the Israelis are a single two-headed coin. The Americans use Israel in a plot against Islam. To assure that the world only worships Allah, we go with the sword in our hands. The crimes of the United States and their allies demand a religious ruling. It is the duty of all Muslims to kill Americans and their allies, wherever we find them. Do you understand, Yusuf?”

“Yes, Imam.”

“Good, Yusuf. You are perfect for us. You are very intelligent and you are an excellent learner. As you adopt our philosophy, you will see that your understanding of everything becomes clearer. Have you noticed the ease by which your advanced mathematics sticks in your brain, Yusuf?”

“Yes, I do, Imam.”

“The more that you accept our philosophy, the easier it will be to comprehend mathematics. That is a guarantee, Yusuf. It would be an honor to have you join us. We are The Assimilated, The Trojan Horses, the Takfirs. We are the only true sect. Our way is the only possible way to a world of Allah.”

“Do you understand what The Assimilated means, Yusuf?”

“I think so, Imam.”

“It means we infiltrate and assimilate in the land of our enemies. We blend in. We are beyond suspicion. We are each a Trojan Horse; a Trojan Horse in a foreign land, but our Trojan horses make the Trojan Horse in the Aenid look like an ant next to an elephant. Our Trojan Horses will not conquer a city they will change a world. And you, Yusuf, will lead the way. Our enemies welcome us; we are to them as one, and as we are welcomed, we will conquer for they have no idea as to our ultimate goal. We will restore the Islamic Empire. We will go back to the days of glory when our Islamic political empire controlled the entire Middle East. Fifty years after that, Yusuf, we will have the entire world. Think on that, Yusuf.”

Yusuf nodded too and fro and smiled—a closed mouth closed eyed smile.

“Do you accept The Assimilated philosophy, Yusuf?”

“I do, Imam,” he said with eyes still closed.

“Then you are exempt from Islamic law. Do you understand why?”

“Yes, I must appear entirely secular so as to blend in.”

“Yes, that is correct. It will be easy for you, Yusuf. You are already an American. You are a Trojan Horse already born in a foreign land that we will change. Oh, if we had a thousand just like you we could conquer the world in short order. That goal is only possible through violent struggle, and we will be successful. Allah has directed us. We can not fail.”

“I understand, Imam.”

“We infiltrate enemy societies, and we take any measure necessary to accomplish this goal. You are perfect for us now, as you have embraced the philosophy. Your outward appearance will be complete secular assimilation, but on the inside, the idea of religious war will never leave your mind and will be foremost in your thoughts. Anyone, including Muslims, who offer the slightest opposition to our mission can and must be done away with. Do you understand, Yusuf?”

“Yes, Imam.”

“Remember what I say here today. Once you are in, there is no turning back You are a member forever.”

“Yes, Imam.”

“Good, Yusuf. Are you ready?”

“Yes, I am ready.”

“When you go to school in Chicago, you will be clean shaven. You’ll wear your American clothes, get rid of your ponytail, resume your American name, Ben Marzan, start school and take a part time job where you can mix with hundreds of people. Then you will go to meet Steve. You will only know his first name, and he will only know you as Ben. He will be your contact. He too is a Trojan horse, only he was not born there like you. Assigned there, he has gone to school and works and lives among the people. And there are more. Steve will have your picture from your high school yearbook. He lives in Chicago at 2789 Addison Avenue on the third floor. If you go there any weekday at six o’clock in the evening, he will be there. You will never call him by wire phone or cell phone. You will never write him notes or send letters or emails. We have a cell in Chicago. They do not congregate in their homes. They have ways of communicating with each other that you will learn when you get there. They have been in place for a long time. They have great weapons for the struggle. We are counting on them. Now you will be a part of what we consider the greatest operation in the history of Islam. Go with Allah, Yusuf.”