Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [31]
Already Noor observed the effects of the drug. After a few minutes the men began to perspire, then fidget on their prayer rugs. Voices became loud, almost shrill. Soon the drug-induced tension was palpable — then almost unbearable.
When the moment was right, Noor stepped through the curtains and mounted the platform. An almost fearful silence greeted him, all eyes following the massive man as he stepped up to the podium.
After an opening prayer, during which Noor seemed to slip into an almost mystical trance, the holy man opened his eyes again, and his intense gaze swept the room. There were men of many races present — Middle Easterners, Albanians, Afghanis, and Saudis among them — but the vast majority of the men in this room were African Americans, former inmates of the Federal and state prison systems.
"The Imam Ali Rahman al Sallifi sends his regards and his blessings to you, his Shahid, his Warriors of God," Noor began, his voice so low that men in the back of the room strained to hear him.
"The Imam wants you to know that with our actions and our sacrifices this day and in days to come, the world will take its first step on the long road to Khilafah, to a world ruled by Muslim law..."
Both cheers and imprecations greeted Noor's words. Men cried out in praise of God and the Imam, while they cursed the Great Satan America and her evil, godless allies. When the walls began to shake from their cries, Noor waved the men to silence, then his own voice boomed.
"To you, my Shahid, I repeat the words that Ali Rahman al Sallifi said to me when he came to me in my prison cell, ten years ago," Noor declared, his voice becoming louder with each word.
"This world does not want you, the Imam said. Because this world is diseased and decadent, it has no place for the Faithful. This world has no place for you, because you do not grasp for money, nor do you fornicate with tainted women. This world does not want you because of the color of your skin..."
Noor paused; his expression darkened.
"I wept when I heard those words because I knew they were true, and you know they are true, too. From the womb to the ghetto to the Great Satan's jails, that is the path the godless have set out for us! A path as deadly as the slavery they inflicted on our ancestors!"
Boos and catcalls greeted Noor's words.
"But do not despair, the Imam told me that day. Do not despair, Ibrahim, he said, because Allah wants you, and He has a special place in Paradise for all of His faithful servants..."
Noor's voice trailed off, until they feared he would say no more. But suddenly he cried out, the sound of his mighty voice shaking the rafters.
"It's true!" he roared, raising his arms and throwing his head back. "I know, for I have seen the place in Paradise reserved for each and every one of you! Your great mansion, your forty virgins, your seat at the One God's table."
The wild shouts swelled in volume, until they battered the ears of every man in the room. With difficulty, Noor waved the martyrs to silence.
"Today you will secure a place in Paradise. By defending the only true faith, you will take your place in a long line of martyrs," Noor continued. "Like our brothers in Palestine, in Sri Lanka, in Pakistan, in Egypt, and in Saudi Arabia, you will find favor with Allah, and you will never be forgotten."
Noor paused, as if to collect his thoughts.
"But you will not merely martyr yourselves," he continued, his voice tight with emotion. "You will become a warrior for the cause — a sword of God. And with that sword, you will take many thousands of infidels with you when you die. They will plunge into the fires of hell, while each one of you climbs to the very Gates of Paradise!"
The martyrs leaped to their feet, shook their fists in the air, and howled for the blood of the infidel.
"Your chariots await you!" Noor cried. "Go and smite the enemies of God. With each blow of your sword, cut out their lying tongues. Pierce their evil hearts with