and the Organization to remain busy."
Takase bowed his head in compliance. "Yes, Oyabun."
* * *
Two blocks away a man on a dark rooftop fiddled with the controls on a small laptop computer and listened to the voices from the top of the building through the headphones he wore. In front of him a black aluminum tripod held what looked like a camera. Actually, it was a laser resonator. It shot out a laser beam that hit the black glass on the top of the Japan center. The beam was so delicate that it picked up the slightest vibration in the glass. Reflecting back to a receiver just below the transmitter, a computer inside interpreted the sound vibrations into the words that caused them.
It had not taken the man long to tune out the background noise and get the computer to pick up the voices inside. He'd heard the entire exchange between Fatima and Takase. Satisfied that Fatima had left the room, he quickly broke down the laser and placed it into a backpack along with the computer. Within thirty seconds he was gone from his perch.
* * *
The room Fatima was renting was on the second floor of a six-story hotel. She had picked it, as she'd been taught in the terrorist camp in the Middle East so many years ago, for its transient and illicit clientele, mostly prostitutes and drug addicts. She hadn't even had to say a word when getting the room. She'd shoved two hundred-dollar bills at the clerk and received a key in return. Very convenient and inconspicuous, just as she'd expected.
Abayon had been her godfather, and his best friend, Moreno, her grandfather. Abayon had died in the explosion of his Jolo Island mountain lair at the hands of the Americans, and Moreno had gone down with his submarine during the failed nerve gas attack on Oahu. She had thousands of loyal "soldiers" ready to do her bidding, but felt completely isolated with the passing of the two old men who had taught her so much.
Fatima unrolled her prayer mat and then knelt on it. She faced toward Mecca and began her prayers, but her mind kept sliding among the various issues confronting her. Her body was still tense from the encounter with the local Yakuza warlord.
These were the times she had doubts. When she wondered if this Organization her godfather had fought against was nothing more than the shadow of the western world looming over the third world, or even a religious schism: the Vatican had wielded tremendous power and controlled great riches for many hundreds of years. Although Abayon had tried hard not to make the Abu Sayif's battle to be against Christians, it seemed inevitable at times. Surely there were many in the western world who viewed Islam as the equivalent of terrorism.
Even as she prayed, she continued to consider the factor religion played in all the divisiveness. There were many of her followers who believed their battle, as devout Muslims, was against Christians. And they believed that battle had been forced on them by the western world through various actions, most particularly the unprovoked invasion of Iraq by the United States and its cronies. But in private, Abayon had always tried to steer her away from seeing things in that manner.
Abayon had fought beside Christians in World War II to free the Philippines from the hold of the Japanese. In fact, he believed that Christians and Muslims shared a common path and should be closer to each other rather than fighting. It was an opinion he had not shared loudly, particularly when dealing with other Islamic groups the Abu Sayif was loosely affiliated with.
For Abayon, and now for Fatima, it was a war between the haves and the have-nots. Between those who controlled the world's economy to further their own aims and those who suffered because of that. Fatima had no doubts that the large gap existed, she just wondered if it was being controlled by one organization, as her great-uncle had claimed, or simply the result of capitalism run amuck.
Fatima had to admit that Abayon had had solid reasons
Takase bowed his head in compliance. "Yes, Oyabun."
* * *
Two blocks away a man on a dark rooftop fiddled with the controls on a small laptop computer and listened to the voices from the top of the building through the headphones he wore. In front of him a black aluminum tripod held what looked like a camera. Actually, it was a laser resonator. It shot out a laser beam that hit the black glass on the top of the Japan center. The beam was so delicate that it picked up the slightest vibration in the glass. Reflecting back to a receiver just below the transmitter, a computer inside interpreted the sound vibrations into the words that caused them.
It had not taken the man long to tune out the background noise and get the computer to pick up the voices inside. He'd heard the entire exchange between Fatima and Takase. Satisfied that Fatima had left the room, he quickly broke down the laser and placed it into a backpack along with the computer. Within thirty seconds he was gone from his perch.
* * *
The room Fatima was renting was on the second floor of a six-story hotel. She had picked it, as she'd been taught in the terrorist camp in the Middle East so many years ago, for its transient and illicit clientele, mostly prostitutes and drug addicts. She hadn't even had to say a word when getting the room. She'd shoved two hundred-dollar bills at the clerk and received a key in return. Very convenient and inconspicuous, just as she'd expected.
Abayon had been her godfather, and his best friend, Moreno, her grandfather. Abayon had died in the explosion of his Jolo Island mountain lair at the hands of the Americans, and Moreno had gone down with his submarine during the failed nerve gas attack on Oahu. She had thousands of loyal "soldiers" ready to do her bidding, but felt completely isolated with the passing of the two old men who had taught her so much.
Fatima unrolled her prayer mat and then knelt on it. She faced toward Mecca and began her prayers, but her mind kept sliding among the various issues confronting her. Her body was still tense from the encounter with the local Yakuza warlord.
These were the times she had doubts. When she wondered if this Organization her godfather had fought against was nothing more than the shadow of the western world looming over the third world, or even a religious schism: the Vatican had wielded tremendous power and controlled great riches for many hundreds of years. Although Abayon had tried hard not to make the Abu Sayif's battle to be against Christians, it seemed inevitable at times. Surely there were many in the western world who viewed Islam as the equivalent of terrorism.
Even as she prayed, she continued to consider the factor religion played in all the divisiveness. There were many of her followers who believed their battle, as devout Muslims, was against Christians. And they believed that battle had been forced on them by the western world through various actions, most particularly the unprovoked invasion of Iraq by the United States and its cronies. But in private, Abayon had always tried to steer her away from seeing things in that manner.
Abayon had fought beside Christians in World War II to free the Philippines from the hold of the Japanese. In fact, he believed that Christians and Muslims shared a common path and should be closer to each other rather than fighting. It was an opinion he had not shared loudly, particularly when dealing with other Islamic groups the Abu Sayif was loosely affiliated with.
For Abayon, and now for Fatima, it was a war between the haves and the have-nots. Between those who controlled the world's economy to further their own aims and those who suffered because of that. Fatima had no doubts that the large gap existed, she just wondered if it was being controlled by one organization, as her great-uncle had claimed, or simply the result of capitalism run amuck.
Fatima had to admit that Abayon had had solid reasons
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