great sadness he had gone to his cousin - also a mullah - and had given him and his wife his two infant sons to rear, and his place at the mosque until the congregation chose his successor. Then, with his remaining son, he had turned his back on Kowiss. “Tomorrow we will be down in the plains, my son. It will be warmer.” “I’m very hungry, Father,” the little boy said.

“So am I, my son,” he said kindly. “Was it ever different?” “Will we be martyred soon?”

“In God’s time.”

The little boy was six and he found many things hard to understand but not that. In God’s time we get to Paradise where it’s warm and green and there’s more food than you can eat and cool clean water to drink. But what about… “Are there joubs in Paradise?” he asked in his piping little voice, snuggling against his father for greater warmth.

Hussain put his arm around him. “No, my son, I don’t think so. No joubs or the need for them.” Awkwardly he continued cleaning the action of his gun with a piece of oiled cloth. “No need for joubs.”

“That’ll be very strange, Father, very strange. Why did we leave home? Where are we going?”

“At first northwest, a long way, my son. The Imam has saved Iran but Muslims north, south, east, and west are beset with enemies. They need help and guidance and the Word.”

“The Imam, God’s peace on him, has he sent you?”

“No, my son. He orders nothing, just guides. I go to do God’s work freely, of my own choice, a man is free to choose what he must do.” He saw the little boy’s frown and he gave him a little hug, loving him. “Now we are soldiers of God.”

“Oh, good, I will be a good soldier. Will you tell me again why you let those Satanists go, the ones at our base, and let them take away our air machines?”

“Because of the leader, the captain,” Hussain said patiently. “I think he was an instrument of God, he opened my eyes to God’s message that I should seek life and not martyrdom, to leave the time of martyrdom to God. And also because he gave into my hands an invincible weapon against the enemies of Islam, Christians and Jews: the knowledge that they regard individual human life sacrosanct.”

The little boy stifled a yawn. “What’s sacrosanct mean?”

“They believe the life of an individual is priceless, any individual. We know all life comes from God, belongs to God, returns to God, and any life only has value doing God’s work. Do you understand, my son?” “I think so,” the little boy said, very tired now. “So long as we do God’s work we go to Paradise and Paradise is forever?”

“Yes, my son. Using what the pilot taught, one Believer can put his foot on the neck of ten millions. We will spread this word, you and I…” Hussain was very content that his purpose was clear. Curious, he thought, that the man Starke showed me the path. “We are neither Eastern, nor Western, only Islam. Do you understand, my son?”

But there was no answer. The little boy was fast asleep. Hussain cradled him, watching the dying sun. The tip vanished. “God is Great,” he said to the mountains and to the sky and to the night. “There is no other God but God…”

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