Holy Warrior Trojan Horses. Sheldon Cohen
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on this task—but no longer. Now that he had learned from the Imam how to control these beasts by study and concentration, he could keep his mind from straying from the most important task—Holy War. He knew when to concentrate on difficult math problems in order to prevent his mind from turning inward. This would never happen anymore thanks to the Imam. Dealing with these math problems dissipated the clouds and quenched the fire. They had become even easier to solve. A Trojan horse could never deviate from the task. It was too important. He knew what to do. He would not fail.
Ben’s father instantly recognized his son’s change. He could tell by the weekly letters and by the occasional phone call. And when he saw Ben in person stepping from the plane at O'Hare Field, he knew what his instinct had told him. His son had indeed changed. This had been a great year. The Imam had worked his magic.
Lois saw the same change in her son. She was overwhelmed. His ponytail was gone. His hair was combed and short. His face reflected a calmness and maturity that she had never seen before. It was as if another son had been born. How was it possible to change so? She prayed, hopeful for the best, but she could not eliminate the nagging fear that she felt.
Ben’s parents drove from O’Hare field back to Madison. Ben was silent and spoke only when his parents spoke to him. On the way home, Hari said, “You look good, Ben. I see calmness in your eyes. You are a changed man. Are you satisfied with your experience with the Imam?”
“I am, father. I understand what my problem was and now I know how to control it. I’m anxious to start school.”
“Have you decided on a major?” asked Hari as Lois listened with interest.
“Mathematics. I’ve learned how to use math to control my emotions, and my mind is clearer and much more focused.”
“That’s very good,” said Hari with a contented smile on his face. “How do you mean?”
“Math seems to level my brain and keep me on an even keel. It forces me to concentrate and it stabilizes my mood. It even can change me. Once I had a bad toothache, and it was late at night, so I put my attention to a LaPlace Transform problem and worked all night on it. The next thing I knew it was seven in the morning, and I realized that I had spent the whole night concentrating and did not feel pain.”
“What was wrong with your tooth?” asked Lois in alarm.
“The Imam had a dentist see me and he couldn’t find anything wrong, so he changed the filling in that tooth and it worked. I had no more pain.”
“Oh, that’s good,” said Lois.
“I’m not surprised to hear that,” said Hari. There is nothing that could absorb a mind like a tough math problem.”
They arrived at their Madison home. Ben stared at its opulence, a thought that had never entered his mind before he left for his yearlong session with the Imam. His home was in sharp contrast to the simple surroundings of his quarters in Pakistan. Living here with his mother and father had been the quintessential assimilation in the land of the infidel. The Imam would be pleased.
The Marzan home was a tri-level on a side street, built in the shape of a cube with a three-car garage adjacent to the left side of the house as you approached it from the front. You entered into a handsome foyer, and off to the left was a square shaped dining room. To the right was a rectangular shaped living room. Also on the main floor was a kitchen, dining area, bathroom and family room with a home entertainment center. Directly ahead was a winding staircase leading up to the second level where there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms and a study. The basement level they turned into a large recreation room with a library, family room furnishings and a three-cushioned billiard table. It was here that Hari had taught Ben geometry and trigonometry while studying billiard ball ricochets. Ben’s room was just the way he had left it. Lois had seen to that.
“Look in the garage,” said Hari.
To Ben’s surprise, there were three cars. “I can’t believe it. Is one for me?”
“Yes of course,” said Hari. “You’ll need your own transportation now to travel back home and visit your parents.”
CHAPTER 10
CHICAGO, Steve
Ben settled in to his new living accommodations in one of the dormitories at Northwestern University. He had much to do. Soon he would start school and get a part time evening job where he would meet people and start the process of assimilation so important for a holy warrior.
He was following all the Imam’s recommendations. What better way to assimilate than be a typical student, work part time to make some money for expenses and be one of the boys.
He took a job working five to nine, three evenings per week at a McDonald’s not far from the campus. Once settled in his new job he would visit Steve for instructions. He did this the following week.
He drove down Sheridan Road to Lake Shore Drive to Addison Ave and parked on the 2700 block. He found a large apartment building shaped like a U with two entrances on each long leg of the U. He found the 2789 entrance, walked up to the third floor and knocked on the door. A stern-looking man peeked out through the opening. He smiled when he saw Ben, released the latch, and opened the door.
“You must be Steve,” said Ben.
“Yes, Ben, that’s my name. Come in.”
Ben entered and walked into a small living room furnished with a small television set, a couch, a rectangular end table and a large recliner opposite the TV.
Off to the right was a small bathroom and bedroom. Adjacent to the living room was a dining room furnished with a bookcase, a large table and four chairs. Off to the right of the dining room was a standing-room-only kitchen.
Steve was of medium height about one inch shorter than Ben, had a dark complexion, and wore glasses with thick lenses. His hair was black and wavy. “Sit at the head of the table while I get the supplies,” said Steve.
The Imam told him that Steve would be in charge, and Ben was to follow all instructions without question. It was clear to Ben that Steve was indeed a take-charge person and he spoke in a confident and firm voice. Ben watched and wondered what supplies Steve was talking about as he watched Steve walk to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. He took out a small metal box and brought it to the dining room table. “All the Trojan Horses have been vaccinated, Ben. You’re the last one and then we’ll be ready.”
Ben nodded. Now he knew.
“We’re having a hot summer. I would vaccinate you on the upper arm, but that could become too obvious. I don’t want to force you to have to wear long sleeves, so I’ll use the upper, outer part of your thigh. You’re going to need full use of your arms with the job we’ve got to do. Lower your pants and stand here next to me,” said Steve.
Ben complied and Steve continued, “Let me tell you what I’m doing, Ben. First of all, the vaccine is not a smallpox virus vaccine. It’s made from a virus called Vaccinia, which is related to the smallpox virus called Variola. I’m about to give you a live Vaccinia virus and it’ll make you immune to smallpox. The immunity will last about five years and you will not have to worry about catching the disease like the infidels will when we introduce it to them. There are two more Trojan Horses you haven’t met. You’re the forth and the only home-grown one. We will spread the smallpox virus to the good citizens of Chicago, Ben. We’ll stop the city dead in its tracks. God is Great,” said Steve.
“God is Great,” answered Ben.
Ben watched as a smiling Steve opened the metal box and took out a two-pronged needle. He then dipped the needle into a liquid held in a small vial. Ben could see that the needle held a drop of the liquid between its two prongs. He watched as Steve used the needle and pricked him multiple times on the lateral aspect of his left thigh. Two small droplets of blood formed and Steve said, “That’s all there is to it. In a few days, you’ll see an itchy red bump. Don’t scratch it, you don’t want to irritate it and get it infected.