The Deaf Mullah clapped his hands sharply. "There will be no fighting in this holy place. Remember that 'Islam' means 'peace.' We are men of peace when dealing with one another."
"But men of death when dealing with the infidel," said the Egyptian who had been about to punch Yusef in his camel-like nose.
"You will not be paratroopers," the Deaf Mullah said quietly. "For the initials USPS stand for United States Postal Service."
A hush fell over the room. The men looked at one another, their faces contorting with confusion and doubt.
"We will be mailmen?"
"You will be the Messengers of Muhammad," the Deaf Mullah announced, standing up.
"A boustajai?" asked Yusef.
"No uniform is more feared!" the Deaf Mullah proclaimed. "Nor more respected. Wearing these colors, you will be admitted freely into the holiest of holies of the infidel nation. No one will question you. No one may challenge you. For their mail is sacred to the infidel. You will swear allegiance to the mighty postmaster general, but in reality you are answerable only to your imam and Allah the Compassionate, the Merciful, on whom all praise must fall."
"I cannot be a postman," Yusef complained. "I am a Palestinian. It is a demotion in the eyes of Allah."
"As a Palestinian, you are a fierce killer?"
"Yes. Many enemies have I slain."
"Tell me, O brother, who do you fear?"
"No one."
"Do you fear the Israeli?"
"Never! I have killed Israelis like dogs."
"If I placed you in a room with two doors and told you that you could have any weapon at your disposal and that you must escape through one door and one door only, which door would you choose? The one behind which stands an Israeli soldier or the one behind which stands a United States postman?"
"Both are armed?" asked Yusef. "With Uzis."
Yusef hesitated. "If they are both armed with Uzis, I might be able to kill the Israeli first. Or trick him by pretending to surrender and slaying him when his guard is down. But the postman, if he is armed that means he has gone crazy. Who can defeat a crazy man?"
"Exactly."
"A crazy man is crazy. He will not listen to reason, but only shoot without discrimination. Even at his own."
"Yes," said the Deaf Mullah. "The postal worker is feared because he has been driven mad by the stern demands of un-Islamic living. He will kill anyone or anything without compunction."
"This is my point exactly," retorted Yusef.
The Deaf Mullah lifted his voice to address them all. "Today. In the West, if an American was walking down a dark street and was confronted by one of you wearing a kaffiyeh over your face and a postal worker carrying a gun, the American would throw himself on your mercy because he knows from the wild look in the postal worker's eyes no mercy is to be found there. That is why you will wear this feared uniform. This is how you will infiltrate the buildings that are denied to us by increased American security. This is how we will bring down the towers of the infidel so that the minarets of our own pure and thrice-blessed culture may rise to the very stars."
Yusef Gamal looked at the uniform with strange eyes and asked, "Do they not carry great leather bags?"
"You will all be given leather bags large enough to conceal the deadliest weapons. You will be scattered to the compass points of the infidel nation until you are activated. Also you will have to join a union. Some of you will join the American Postal Workers Union, others the National Association of Letter Carriers. A few, the National Rural Letter Carriers' Association."
"It is a small price to pay in order to insinuate ourselves into the bosom of the infidel," Yusef proclaimed.
"You must also change your names so that you may further blend in with the ones you will destroy."
"American names?"
"Yes. Of course."
A man stood up. He struck his chest with his fist. "Then I will be Al Ladeen."
"And I Jihad Jones," said the fire-haired Egyptian.
"I insist upon being Abu Gamalin," said Yusef.
"You cannot be Abu Gamalin," said the Deaf Mullah.
"If that one can be Jihad Jones, I can be Abu Gamalin."
"I will allow you to retain your true name, if you are careful. To us, you will be Abu Gamalin. But to the Americans, you will be known as Joseph Camel."
And for reasons unknown to Yusef, the others softly laughed in the Abu Al-Kalbin Mosque.
"It is better than the other name," he said, mollified.
YUSEF GAMAL TOOK the postal-service exam, passing only through the coaching of the Deaf Mullah and by wearing a shirt whose green patterns in fact were imprinted with key answers in Arabic script-which was unreadable to stupid Western eyes.
This was in the state of Oklahoma, in the city of Oklahoma, as prescribed by the Deaf Mullah and ordained by Allah. Yusef's job at first was to place mail in canvas bags and in pigeonholes. It was very tedious work, and the bosses were hard taskmasters, which made Yusef understand why some of the workers went crazy from time to time.
"It is not just because they have turned their face from Allah," he told the Deaf Mullah via e-mail, the secure method of communications they all used. "It is the mindless tasks they are forced to perform that unbalance them."
"But you are getting along with the Godless?" the Deaf Mullah wrote back.
"Some think I am a Jew. Jews are not plentiful here, so I am singled out in this way."
"This is good, for when the appointed hour comes, they will remember you as a Jew and not Abu Gamalin."
"When will the hour come, O Imam? I chafe and fret among these infidels."
"Soon, soon. Have patience. First, you must be given a route."
"I am trying very hard, because these pigeon holes are driving me to distraction. They have recently painted the walls a hideous pink."
"Think of Islamic green."
"I am thinking of green. But I see pink. Everywhere I look, I see pink."
"Contain your rage. Store it. When the time comes, it will be unleashed."