The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) James Best (best books to read all time .txt) 📖

here?” the angry man demanded. “You just assumed Muslims? It’s our fault? Islam is a religion of peace. It was probably some of your hillbillies who did this. Look to yourself. Don’t blame us.”

“We’re not blaming you; we were hoping you might give us a direction for our inquiries.”

“A Muslim direction?” The angry one said.

“Yes, if you will. The FBI has teams working other angles.” Adams appeared embarrassed. “As you can see, we’re junior, so our superiors are not prioritizing an Islamic connection but that doesn’t mean we don’t need to cover all the bases. Their priorities are probably right, but it would still be embarrassing to return empty handed. Anything would help. Even a reason to look elsewhere.”

“I’ll give you a reason,” the angry one said. “We didn’t do it.” He made a dismissal wave with his hand. “Now leave us.”

“You six didn’t do it or Muslims didn’t do it?” Adams asked evenly.

“Tozz feek!” the angry one exclaimed. “That is your job to prove who did these deeds. Not ours. Your accusations offend me. Take your Islamophobia to a distant place. I will no longer listen to you.”

Adams stiffened and his voice lost its polite tone. “It is our job to find the killers. Whoever they are. You profess innocence for all Muslims, but your coreligionists have blood on their hands. As recently as last month on Pont Neuf they slaughtered nineteen innocents and injured many others.” Adams paused and gave the angry Arab a long, hard look. “Do you have any information for us?”

“Innocence is in the eye of the beholder,” the angry one blurted out.

“In Islam, what’s innocent?” Adams asked. “Explain it to me.”

“I would, but you’re too untrained to comprehend our theology,” the angry one muttered. In a louder voice he added. “Now, go with God.”

Adams started to press, but Baldwin interrupted by laying a hand on his forearm. “I’m familiar with the teachings of Sayyid Qutb. Perhaps you can explain innocence from his perspective.”

Everyone at the table sat dumbfounded.

“A woman … a woman cannot understand Qutb,” the angry one retorted. “Especially not an American woman. It takes years of study from a perspective that is foreign to an aimra'at 'amrikiat.”

She turned to the jovial man. “You asked if anyone had claimed credit for the bombings.” He nodded agreement. “Do you believe killing non-believers is an accomplishment worthy of credit?”

“Of course not. It’s a turn of phrase.” He seemed perplexed. “I never thought about it before.”

Baldwin leaned in. “A turn of phrase? That’s all? Odd. Is handing out candy to the siblings and friends of child suicide bombers a gesture of condolence?” She straightened to her full height. “Your turn of phrase offends me. Your mistreatment of women offends me. Your weaponization of mere children offends me. Your teaching of hatred of Jews offends me. Your coreligionists’ eagerness to kill kuffar offends me. So, don’t play that damned victim game with me.”

“You cannot talk to us like that!” the angry one exclaimed. “We are renown Egyptian scholars and distinguished guests at this conference. I will file a formal protest with the dean and our embassy.”

Baldwin reached behind her, swung around another chair, and sat at the table with the men. They recoiled like she had cooties. She smiled pleasantly. “Who among you was recommended as a presenter by Ali as-Saad.”

“You know Ali as-Saad?” the jovial man asked.

“Not the man. His work,” Baldwin answered. “How could I claim to be familiar with Sayyid Qutb and not know of Ali as-Saad?”

“You could not,” the jovial man admitted. “He is the foremost living expert on Qutb.”

“He is,” she said. “In fact, I have not read In the Shade of the Qur'an. I know Qutb only through as-Saad’s teachings.”

“Then you know Qutb,” the jovial man said. “I have read both and as-Saad is meticulously accurate. This is fascinating. Did you—”

“Excuse me,” the angry one said. “We must prepare for this afternoon’s session. Attendees depend on us and we are tardy in coordinating our talks.”

“Please Yousef, you underestimate yourself,” the jovial one said. “You could present this material in your sleep.” He laughed. “Come to think of it, I believe you have. Now, just a few moments. It’s rare to encounter an American who—”

“This is not appropriate!” Yousef exclaimed. “We do not speak of Islam with a woman, a kafir. It is not done.”

The jovial man turned to Baldwin. “Are you a believer?”

“No,” Baldwin answered. “I’m an academic.”

“See, she studies us like a caravan of camels in the wild,” Yousef stood. “I’m leaving.”

“You may leave as soon as you answer my question,” Baldwin said with tone of a schoolmarm scolding an unruly child. “Sit down please.”

Yousef looked to his colleagues for support. “It is haram. Forbidden.”

“Just answer the question,” Adams insisted. “Who here was endorsed by Ali as-Saad?”

“Why?” demanded the angry man. “What significance? I’m honored to have been recommended by one of the greatest scholars of Islam.”

Adams scanned the remaining men at the table. “Who else?”

Another man who had remained silent made a motion indicating that he had also been referred by as-Saad. Then he put a hand on Yousef’s shoulder.

Yousef threw off the hand and slapped the table hard. “I demand to know why this is of significance.”

Baldwin answered. “Because Ali as-Saad has informed our consulate in Jakarta that he may have made a mistake and sent a terrorist to this conference.”

“Who?” demanded Yousef.

“He doesn’t know,” Adams answered. “We don’t even know why he suspects someone.” He gave Baldwin a stern look. “In fact, this was classified.” After Baldwin’s expression turned sheepish, Adams continued. “This is highly confidential. Please do not contact him or mention his name outside this room. Lives could be endangered. Even Ali as-Saad’s life might be endangered.” He met the eyes of each man. “May I have your sacred oath not to speak further of this with anyone not currently present in this room?”

“No!” screamed Yousef. “You lie. As-Saad would never betray a Muslim. Never!” He pulled a cell phone from his robe. “I’m calling