Fatal Convictions

22

Following the execution, Hassan did not allow himself the luxury of emotion. There was nothing to celebrate, nothing to mourn. He was only following Allah’s will. There was still much to be done.

The marriage between Ja’dah and Fatih Mahdi could now be expunged. It would be as if she had never existed. The gruesome manner of her death would strike fear into the hearts of other Muslim women who were considering dishonoring their families. At the same time, it would repulse and terrorize Americans, reminding them that there were jihadists among them, here on American soil.

Beheadings were commonplace in parts of the Middle East, an accepted form of capital punishment. But in America, they were regarded as a grotesque novelty, one that would have the media chattering for months. Muslim scholars and moderate imams would condemn the brutality and claim Islam was a religion of peace.

But radicals like Hassan would be energized by it. A personal attack deep in the heart of the enemy’s territory. A clinical strike. One that would frustrate millions because the agents of the Great Satan would never find the responsible party. On the other hand, Hassan would make sure the bodies were found, even though they would never be traced back to him.

Though Ja’dah’s death would be repulsive to Americans, in truth she did not suffer. Hassan hadn’t wanted her to. She was courageous, though misguided. He understood her resolve and commitment, a reflection of his own. She was in many ways a victim. The one who shouldered the greater part of the blame was this man named Martin Burns, an infidel who had lusted after a Muslim woman and led her astray.

For him, death would not come so easily. Ja’dah’s beheading would deter other Muslim women, but Hassan needed something just as strong to deter American men. Martin Burns had to suffer. He needed to die in a way that would play on the fears of Americans, something that would command the attention of even those who gorged themselves on Hollywood horror movies. And Hassan wanted to create some religious symbolism as well. It would be a shame that the irony would be lost on most.

Using Ja’dah’s cell phone, Hassan sent a text message at about 8:30 p.m., timed to coincide with the ending of the Beach Bible worship service. Ja’dah had not programmed Martin Burns’s cell number into her contact list, but Hassan had done his homework. Burns was a real estate broker, and Hassan had called his place of business earlier that week, pretending to be a new client anxious to talk. It had not been hard to get Burns’s cell number. Greed was a handy tool in dealing with Americans.

The text message was simple. We need 2 talk privately. It’s important. Can we meet?

He didn’t sign Ja’dah’s name. The call history on her phone showed several calls to Burns’s number. Burns would recognize the source.

A few seconds later, Ja’dah’s phone rang. Hassan let the call from Burns kick into voice mail. He waited a few seconds and then sent another text. Can’t talk on my cell. Can u meet with me? Please?

This time, Burns sent an immediate reply. Sure. Where are you?

Hassan responded. I needed to get away. Very confused. Can u meet at the parking lot at the far end of Sandbridge-by the Pavilion?

Hassan assumed this might throw Burns a little. He was prepared to meet the man anyplace private, but Sandbridge would make things easier. Hassan also knew that every word of these text messages would eventually be discovered by the authorities and would, in turn, help them narrow their search for the bodies. It would be better if they found the bodies before a great deal of decomposition. Sandbridge? It’s a long story. I’ll tell u when u get here.

Hassan waited. The phone vibrated. On my way.

Hassan smiled. One more text message. This one, the most important of all. Don’t tell anyone, ok? I need this to be just u and me.

The response was exactly what Hassan had expected. Of course.