Aiming at innocents

When Fatima bin Laden said their destination was Blaisdell Park in Pearl City, Lt. Basel Zakly Faris, USMC, let out a little sigh of relief. From there to the Ford Island bridge was barely a couple of miles, which reduced the chance that the plastique explosives to be loaded into his trunk would accidentally go off. It wasn't that Baz was afraid of dying for his country, or for what he believed to be the true teachings of Allah the Most Merciful. What troubled him was the thought that he could potentially be involved in an explosion that killed innocent people.

Which, from what Fatima was saying, her new friends in jihad were planning to do. She'd stayed up last night, catching up with the beautiful charismatic Aafiya. She spoke proudly of being a charter member of the Khomeini Sharia Unification Movement for Preaching and Combat, the Islamist version of the Greet Berets -- well trained, well funded, well armed. There were five of them in Honolulu, and besides rescuing Muhammed Resurreccion from the Navy brig at Ford Island, they had other big plans in coming days.

"They have other weapons, not just explosives," Fatima said, the beauty of Kaneohe Bay passing on her right side. This place of tropical paradise was growing on her, as was the notion of aloha. "I'm not sure what all they have, but shoulder-fired missiles for sure. They'll have two people with missiles and line-of-sight to the bridge and the brig."

"What other targets?"

"A hotel in Waikiki. A downtown bank. A Christian school. The university. The airport."

"Not the military?"

"Perhaps military vehicles on public roads, or individual military members. Better to hit targets that are both easier to attack and leave a lasting impression on the populace. So they say."

"And you say?"

"I don't think Allah the Most Merciful asks us to kill innocents. Rescuing my uncle's friend is one thing, killing children quite another."

Baz glanced over, caught Fatima's profile against the passing green mountains. Suddenly she did not look at all Filipina. She was Arabic. "This uncle of yours ... " Baz said as they entered the tunnel.

"I'm so confused, Baz, and it's all your fault." She wiped away a tear. "Your faithfulness to Allah, your love ... You know of my uncle, and I've always loved and admired him. But now ... Baz, I am half Filipino, but I've never lived in the Philippines. I grew up in Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, believing in jihad ... But now I am disagreeing with my uncle's way ... my Uncle Osama ... "

It was all Baz could do to keep the car moving straight. At the federal building, members of the FBI's Joint Terrorism Task Force, listening through a freshly installed bug in an AC vent, went into action.