The Caliphate by André Gallo (books to read for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

     ‘Who shall rule? Those with the most votes? Those with the most effective and repressive control of the citizens? Or Sharia, Divine Law?

     ‘I will not talk of the swift punishment that is to befall the enemies of our faith. I will soon exhibit a small sample of the punishment I will mete out to the infidel, corrupt, apostate rulers of our Caliphate lands, from Andalusia to Indonesia, unless they bow to the will of Allah, Lord of the Universe. In His service, my scimitar is sharp and ready for battle.

     ‘To the brothers in Algeria who now call themselves Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb, the guards of Islam’s western garrison, and to the other grandsons of Salahdin, today we are restoring the glory of your forefathers.

     ‘I repeat: 24 hours. Woe to those who do not take heed. The second strike will be geometrically more powerful. This is as the Battle of Badr was in predicting the success of the Prophet.

     ‘May Peace be upon you and the Mercy of Allah and His blessings’.”

***

     Steve and Kella stepped out of their cell into a dark space. They put their hands out and moved forward carefully. He realized they were in another office in the back of the large map of the Middle East. The door to their closet-cell guarded by Abdul was on the back wall and to the right of the map. He determined they were in an executive area from which the map could be activated and changed. There were two large desks and two doors.

     Still in the dark, Steve and Kella explored the corridor onto which the doors opened. To the left, they found stairs heading up to the right. At the top of the stairs was a vaulted door much like the one they had seen at the top of the other stairwell. They went back downstairs.

     “This must be another way to come down, and al Khalil must not have found it,” Steve said. “Either that or he has a guard on the other side of the door.”

     They had been out about fifteen minutes when Kella said, “Don’t you think we should go back, in case someone comes looking for us?”

     “I hope the only one looking for us is Izem. We have a way out, but it’s useless without weapons.”

***

As Salim spoke to the media in Cairo, in Israel, al Khalil gave Habib his orders.

     “Can you operate this weapon without the Jew scientists? With or without them, you will target Tehran. I want to strike the buildings that house the Supreme Council and the office of the president, but not the whole city. Then I want a similar strike on the Algerian Government. Our Algerian brothers have been fighting and dying for many years. They have earned this help.

     “Algiers and Tehran are lucky. They will receive only a warning shot. The laser should not be on full power this time. But next time, tomorrow, for the leaders who do not heed the warning, their populations will suffer grievously. We’re not going to burn Tel Aviv yet. We want to lull them into inactivity. I want them to think that we’re only interested in striking Iran and some Arab capitals. If they believe it’s our plan, the Jews will leave us alone for a while.

     “We’re doing what they never had the guts to do. Plus, I’m sure the Americans are telling the Jews not to attack because of the two Americans we’re holding. We want to delay an Israeli attack as long as possible so that we can finish our work here. We’ll incinerate Tel Aviv later. Go do this now.”

***

Izem tried to rally the small group of Tuaregs. There were seven left, not counting him. It was difficult to have private conversations with any of them. Some were upstairs guarding the entry points of the building. Others were downstairs guarding the prisoners, the Israeli scientists and the two Americans.

     He rounded up two from a Timbuktu tribe he knew well and brought them to the room where Steve and Kella had been kept.

     “This is Kella, the ranking descendant of the leadership of our Udalan clan, which as you know is one of the seven big Tuareg clans. We are all Udalans. We first fought the Arabs when they invaded and made us Muslims; we fought the French who tried to teach us that our ancestors were Gauls. Now we must fight these Salafists, the latest invaders. It is our duty to follow Kella. We owe her allegiance.”

     The two young Tuaregs looked at Kella and then at Izem with puzzled expressions.

     “This is just an American girl, an unbeliever. Al Khalil told us about western girls, all prostitutes. Why do we owe her allegiance?” they asked Izem in their native Tamasheq.

     Then Kella spoke up, also in Tamasheq.

     “Because I am Tuareg, and this proves my authority.”

     She showed them the gold bracelet with the geometric-type Tamasheq script, which had been in her family for generations as a symbol of tribal leadership.

     Izem told them, “Look closer; see the Tuareg inscriptions?”

     The young fighters stepped closer, looking shocked that Kella had understood them and could speak their tribal language. One also attracted the other’s attention to the four dots on the back of Kella’s hand. By their hushed whispers and looks of awe, Izem could tell that the design had obvious significance to them.

     The two men inspected the bracelet as Kella extended her arm. They looked at each other in confusion and indecision. Then one lowered his head and, in Tamasheq, asked, “What is your order, Amenokal?” The other likewise bowed in submission.

     Izem spoke up. “She wants to speak to all of the Tuaregs