religion of Saudi Arabia, and that fundamentalist sect of Islam is the principal influence in the mosques they build and finance here. It’s also the subset of Islam that claimed the allegiance of Osama bin Laden, al Qaeda and most of the terrorist organizations in the world. The true radical believer pays allegiance to no country, only to Allah.”
“But why is that brand of Islam taking hold here?” Drake asked.
“I can only guess,” Pastor Steve said. “In our inner cities, Muslim organizations deliver materially in a way our government and churches don’t. They build community centers, patrol the streets and get people organized. In our prisons, converting to Islam means you have protection when you’re inside, and someone with money to help outside. When welfare reform came along, Saudi money stepped in when the government stepped out. Saudi-funded Islam has just done a better job reaching out to the disaffected and angry among our people.”
“But that doesn’t explain the appeal of radical Islam to well-educated, middle-class Americans. Not all the people who have been arrested on terrorism charges have been inner-city welfare types,” Drake said.
“You don’t have to be poor and uneducated to feel disaffected and angry. If you’re told that family breakdown, racism and poverty result from Western decadence and immorality, fundamental Islam can seem pretty attractive. By converting to Islam, people who feel they’re invisible and unimportant now belong to a powerful and moral civilization without borders. They’re told that someday they’ll rule the world, like Islam did in the days of the Caliphs. Hope of utopia has powered more than one ‘ism’ in the last hundred years.”
“Do you think American citizens, who grew up in our culture and aren’t taught in
Pastor Steve nodded slowly. “I’d have to say yes. Minority groups who perceive themselves as underdogs and blame America for their perceived oppression, can probably be persuaded to become martyrs. The reward of paradise, coupled with the teaching that Mohammed himself desired martyrdom, as bin Laden taught, is pretty powerful stuff.”
“Are they brainwashed by this religious training, or is it hatred that motivates them?”
“Hatred and religious doctrine have motivated people for two thousand years. Do you know who the original terrorists were?” Pastor asked, getting up to walk to his bookcase and pull a volume from the shelf.
“Terrorism has been with us for a long time, but no, I don’t know who the original terrorists were,” Drake answered.
“Marco Polo wrote about a secret sect of Islam using murder and assassination as a weapon of terror, ostensibly to keep the religion pure. The master of the cult, known as the Old Man of the Mountain, kept young boys at his court who would do anything he asked them to do. It’s said he promised them paradise if they carried out his assassination orders. Marco Polo wrote that he witnessed young men jumping off the Old Man’s fortress wall to their death to prove how the master controlled them. Does that sound anything like what we’re reading about today in Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel, London? Why should America be any different?”
Drake didn’t have an answer. After finishing his coffee, he left, promising he would see Pastor Steve in church soon.
Chapter 42
Drake was driving back to his office when his cell phone jarred him from his thoughts about American martyrs.
“Detective Carson just called. He’s having coffee where you saw him last. Said he needed to talk to you,” Margo said. “If you are still in the area, you might want to see him. It sounded like it was urgent.”
“I’m on 217. I’ll turn around and go meet him. If he calls again before I get there, tell him I’m on my way.”
He wondered what the detective had that was so urgent. He knew more than he did last week, but he wasn’t confident that Carson had made much progress. When he pulled into the Starbucks parking lot ten minutes later, Detective Carson waited for him at a window table.
Carson stood when he entered and gestured for him to have a seat. Carson didn’t wait for him to get comfortable before he started.
“I’m getting a lot of heat, Drake, to bring you in for questioning about some dead guys on your farm. I don’t have jurisdiction for that. I’m told it might have something to do with the murder at Martin Research. I do have jurisdiction to question you about that. I thought I’d save us both some time, and ask you up front what you might know about any connection.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with your investigation, does it?” Drake asked. “You’re getting pressure because of the imams’ protests. Are you sure you want to hear what I might know? If you think this is going to make your life easier, you’re dead wrong.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the guy being investigated for killing three men. You think I can just ignore that?”
“If you’re smart, which at this point is questionable, you’ll walk away from this. Just do your job and find out who murdered Janice Lewellyn. The FBI is involved, but, if I give you some off-the-record information, will you tell me everything you’ve learned and leave this alone? Can you live with that, or do I walk out of here?”
Detective Carson looked at Drake with a decade of resentment smoldering in his eyes before he nodded.
“Stay. Maybe I came on a little too strong. You need to know there are people downtown who want to hang you for killing those Muslims. They don’t want another scandal, or to be accused of covering up a profile killing. Me, if guys came on my farm, with the weapons they carried, I’d kill them too. Regardless of their religious persuasion.”
“It had nothing to do with their religious persuasion. It was dark. All I knew was, they were armed, and surrounding my home. End of story. Except I can’t believe they came after me because I was looking into the murder of Martin’s secretary.”
“So what were you looking into?” Carson asked. “I’ve run down all the leads. None of the people I talked to looked dangerous.”
“Did you talk with the ISIS manager? You detect anything unusual about some of the help they hired as security guards? Sam Newman did, and he’s dead. I did, after visiting ISIS, and three goons came gunning for me. That give you some clue how this all ties together?”
Drake could see Carson didn’t want to hear what he was telling him. He didn’t want to be on the wrong end of a police investigation that the feds would probably commandeer and then would look for a scapegoat if there was a mess to clean up. He felt sorry, for a second, for the cop who’d been promoted beyond his capabilities.
Drake softened his approach. “Look, trust me that you don’t want to get caught up in the stuff that’s out of your jurisdiction. But, if you share with me what you know, and it winds up that it’s all connected, I’ll see you get credit for all of it.”
“Why would you do that? You’re the one who blew the whistle on me. All I did was what any cop would have done with a scumbag like that. He was going to walk unless I did something.”
“That was then, this is now. I was just pissed you screwed up my case and the guy walked because of you. I could have won that case, regardless of what you thought. This is bigger than our past differences. Tell me what you’ve learned.”
“Martin’s secretary was the proverbial straight arrow. Wrong place, wrong time. Martin’s the same straight arrow and a workaholic. Logs at least eighty hours a week. His employees love him,” Carson recited. “I don’t think Sam Newman committed suicide. He was a devout Catholic, and his priest said he was a regular at confession. There wasn’t enough gunshot residue on his hand, and we can’t find his dog. According to Martin, that dog would never leave his master. There just isn’t any reliable evidence that he had anything to do with the secretary’s murder, or that he killed himself. Someone else was involved, had to have been.”
“So, where does that leave us?” Drake asked.
“Nowhere. None of the employees at Martin Research had any problems with Mrs. Lewellyn, as far as we can
