Page 70 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
The headmaster of the largest private Islamic primary school, another facility built with Turkish funds, spoke up. “The government must redouble its efforts to stop the anti-Muslim violence we’ve been reading about.”
Topal nodded again. “I have received assurances that everything is being done to monitor the situation. But my sources also tell me the violence has been directed against other communities. Small acts of retribution.”
“Big fires begin with small sparks,” the other imam said. His mosque had been rebuilt with Saudi money.
“Which is why we must always take precautions and remain vigilant, even as we work for peace,” Topal said.
More heads nodded.
“Turkey is the hope of all Muslim nations, and President Özyakup is the father of the Umma,” the first imam said. “We are not afraid to work for peace because we know you are not afraid to fight for us.”
The Turkish president also said that every mosque was a barracks in his radical youth, Topal reminded himself. Özyakup had gone to great lengths in recent years to position Turkey as the new caliphate for the Muslim world. He was engineering an Ottoman Empire revival, including the restoration of historic Ottoman symbols, artwork, and buildings in Turkey and throughout the region. Özyakup even brought back Ottoman-styled uniforms to the presidential palace guard. State maps were being subtly republished to include areas formerly under Ottoman rule, and Turkish military and economic aid were spreading across the Middle East and even to Muslim Africa.
“Let us pray it never comes to that,” Topal said. “Peace is always better than war, and peace is the way of the true Muslim. But as the prophet said—Peace be upon him—‘He is a true believer who protects his brother or sister, both present and absent.’”
The two imams began applauding and the others quickly joined in. Topal smiled, crinkling his owlish eyes, seemingly embarrassed by the display, waving his hand to quell the collective enthusiasm.
Inwardly, he was shouting with joy.
The clapping stopped as he stood.
“Please forgive me, but I have another engagement toprepare for. I urge you all to do your utmost to encourage your people to vote for the referendum, and for them to encourage their neighbors to do so as well. The future of all Bosnia and of Bosniaks depends upon it. If the referendum fails, then Bosnia fails, and who knows what will happen after that.”
“You can count on us,” the director said.
And with that, the meeting ended.
—
Jack arrived at the Happy Times! office at exactly ten a.m. Emir stood behind the desk, greeting Jack with a forced smile.
“Welcome back, Mr. Ryan.”
“Is Aida here?”
“She will be with you shortly. Can I get you a bottle of water or something else?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Jack had skipped his standard morningpitachocolate-bomb breakfast and opted for a plate of fried eggs, pork sausage, and fresh fruit, and a couple cups of dark Bosnian coffee.
The office door behind the desk opened and Aida appeared. Jack almost forgot how beautiful she was, despite having spent half the night thinking about her. In tight jeans and a fitted but modest blouse, her figure was even more pronounced. Their eyes locked for a moment, and they both smiled.
Emir caught this. “We should get going,” he said, stepping out from behind the desk.
“No need. I’ll take him myself,” Aida said, still staring at Jack.
Emir’s constant smile faded. “But it might be better if I’m with you.”
“I think Jack can take care of us both,” she said. She turned to Emir. “Don’t you have the ten-thirty tour?”
“I called Ibrahim. He said he can take it.”
“Ibrahim needs a break.” Her voice lowered. “You keep it.”
Emir tensed.
Aida approached him. Emir’s head lowered, like a dog bowing before its master.
“They asked for you specifically.” Aida lifted his chin with her finger. He gazed up into her eyes. “You’re the best, and they know it. And so do I.”
