Counterfeit Lies

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Following the Maghrib, or sunset prayers, Mohammed, Rostam, and Kareem retreated to the small office in the back of the strip mall mosque. The tiny place of worship certainly wouldn’t warrant inclusion in a book on the great cathedrals of North America, but it served the needs of a radical Islamist sleeper cell operating in metro Los Angeles. A single lamp, providing muted light, shrouded the room as if the demons of terrorism hovered overhead.

Rostam, Mohammed’s most trusted associate, had an air of superiority and, though several inches shorter than Kareem, still managed to look down his nose at the black American convert. The Hezbollah fighter’s beard was thick, his hair shoe-polish black, and he often questioned why Mohammed included the convicted felon in the terrorists’ mission. Mohammed and Rostam had discussed many times the threat jihadist wannabes posed to their objective. Rostam believed the homegrown terrorists had adversely impacted the cause by alerting law enforcement authorities to the Islamist hidden agenda.

Mohammed countered that, in fact, “Jihad Jims and Janes” springing up in America’s heartland helped the cause by instilling fear in a nation of sheep and distracted law enforcement authorities from the lethal work of Allah’s real warriors. “Let them waste their dollars erecting new security walls that will be breached by our brothers.”

Now, in the presence of their latest recruit, Rostam was silent about his concerns. The three men exchanged small talk about a new Islamic center being built in the Midwest before taking their seats at a scarred table that rocked whenever someone leaned on one side or the other. It annoyed Kareem, who was constantly shoving folded napkins under one leg or the other in an effort to stabilize the battered piece of furniture.

As Kareem engaged in his ritual repair, Mohammed engaged in a ritual of his own that had nothing to do with religion. He turned on the small transistor radio positioned on a nearby shelf. “All News KNX 1070” had become a constant part of every discussion in this room — not from any desire to keep up with current events, but because the IRGC had schooled Mohammed that such background noise made it more difficult for listening devices to pick up conversations.

Mohammed offered Kareem and Rostam tea and both accepted as Mohammed, acting as teacher, led the discussion about the new Islamic center. “The mega-mosques serve a purpose. There is great propaganda value in having moderate imams proclaim that jihad is simply a personal struggle against the sin and weakness in one’s soul. The peace-loving leaders in these places do us no harm. They will never rise at Friday prayers to condemn the actions of men like Nidal Hasan or the martyrs who blow themselves to pieces while killing infidels.”

“But these places serve as magnets for our cowardly brothers and sisters, those who think we can have sharia without bloodshed,” countered Rostam.

“This is true,” responded Mohammed. “But as long as one in a thousand attending prayers in these places comes to know that we will never succeed with weakness, never conquer through Da’wa, lip-service jihad, then we will raise sufficient numbers to conquer through the sword.”

Rostam smiled. “Perhaps you are correct. Even their Justice Department supports the building of our mosques. You are a good teacher.”

Mohammed took a sip of tea before continuing. “Americans are mindless. They refuse to drill for their own oil, seeking to protect the environment. They do not care that their petrodollars have long funded our cause.”

“So when they are conquered, they will have clear skies,” said Rostam, grinning.

“Inshallah,” said Mohammed. If Allah wills.

All three laughed.

“Their days are numbered. Whoever has the sword will have the earth. Very soon the battle flag of jihad will be flying over the White House, their Stars and Stripes a mere footnote in the history books,” added Rostam.

Mohammed’s voice rose slightly as he leaned forward in the chair looking past the two men. “We do not have to be satisfied with mosque building. We were not sent here to ‘convince’ through their political system. We are here to remind the infidels that September 11, 2001, is the model, not the exception. We are here to strike fear in the hearts and minds of the infidels and rejoice when they are slain. The Prophet has told us, ‘The writ of Islam will be obeyed in every country and must be pressed by force.’ It is our mission to make it so when the time is right.”

Rostam nodded. “All that you say is true. But to wage war we need money. Much of our funding from the Islamic charities has been cut off. We can no longer count on financial support from our friends who have been so generous in the past. The sanctions against Tehran have hurt us the most.”

“You are correct, Rostam,” Mohammed said with a smile. “That is why the Prophet instructed us in the holy book and the Hadith to destroy our enemies and always be alert to making new allies; new friends. And now our spiritual leaders have done so.”

The cell leader had the full attention of his protégés. Rostam spoke first: “Who are our new friends?”

Mohammed waited a moment and then said, “The people of North Korea.”

Kareem still said nothing, but Rostam was stunned. “How do you know this? How will the North Koreans help us with our jihad here in California?”

Mohammed cut him off. “I know this because I have received a communication from our sponsors in Beirut. They have told me that a great agreement has been forged between the Islamic Republic of Iran and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. Included in this covenant is an arrangement for providing us with funds to carry out our mission.”

“How will they do this?” asked Rostam.

“Through North Korean enterprises operating in this country,” replied the teacher.

“You mean their black market in knockoff cigarettes, jeans, and watches?” Rostam was clearly uncomfortable with the idea. He leaned forward and asked quietly, “Mohammed, please tell me, how did you receive this message.”

The imam cum cell leader reached into a pocket, pulled out two cheap throwaway cell phones, slid one to each of his co-conspirators, and said, “From now on we are going to use phones like these. They can be bought at Walmart for twenty-five dollars. Use only cash to buy them. Make or receive no more than five calls of less than a minute each and then smash the phone, throw it away, and get a new one. Make sure I have your new number each time you get a new phone. From now on, this is how we will communicate when we cannot meet face-to-face.”

“But why must we communicate this way?” asked Rostam.

“Because,” answered Mohammed, “thanks to the defector Snowden we now know how the NSA collects information. This will make it much harder for them to intercept our communications in what they call ‘real time.’ ”

Rostam nodded and said, “How will they get the money to us?”

“I don’t know the details yet. All they have told me is that it’s through North Korean enterprises in this country,” said Mohammed.

“And you believe them?” said Rostam. “They’ve told us before that money was coming and it never got here.”

Finally Kareem spoke up. “I don’t know about agreements with Iran, but we all know Korean businesses generate lots of cash.”

Rostam’s tone and expression revealed his skepticism. “How do you know what they make? Because they pay you so well at their infidel bar, shaming the word of Allah, that you are able to share your meager tips with us?”

Before Kareem could react to the insult, Mohammed intervened. “Kareem is working there at my direction. We need him there to protect our interests.”

Unconvinced, Rostam stared at Kareem and asked, “And just how much money does your employer Henry Yeong make on his counterfeit goods that he would have something to spare for us?”

Kareem thought for a moment, doing the math in his head, and said, “I don’t know all his overhead or exactly how many partners he has to pay off, but in addition to the cigarettes, phony-label clothing, watches, handbags, athletic shoes, and luggage, he’s also moving knockoff Viagra, OxyContin, meth, and ecstasy. My guess is he grosses somewhere in the neighborhood of five million a month.” Kareem paused to let the figure sink in, knowing his importance was about to increase in the eyes of Rostam and the teacher. “And if what I’ve learned is true we should be able to pick up a quick three million in the next few days.”

Rostam choked on the tea he was sipping as he and Mohammed fixed their gaze on the recent convert.