David Barak, aka “Malik,” left his twenty-seventh floor penthouse, one block off the Las Vegas strip, to head to the airport. He was accompanied by his personal bodyguard, Jamal James, a former defensive tackle for the San Diego Chargers. At six foot eight inches and three hundred fifty pounds, Jamal was a menacing presence that Barak was proud to have in his employ. Jamal wasn’t just a big body. His eyes shined with intelligence, his movements were both graceful and quick, and he was loyal. People were impressed that a man of such obvious strength and quality was his servant. Barak was most impressed with the man’s unswerving loyalty. The President of the United States might have his Secret Service to stop bullets for him, but Barak had Jamal.
“Jamal, when we get to Oregon, I want you to have the biggest steak the chef at the ranch can find,” he said, as they took the elevator down to the waiting limousine. “You’ve been a loyal friend. Is there anything you might want to do while I’m busy for several hours?”
“No sir, dinner will be enough. I thought I’d just wait for you in the plane. Still haven’t gotten used to flying around in so much luxury,” Jamal said with a wry smile on his broad face. “The quarterbacks always got the private jets.”
In America, Barak had learned that symbolism was everything. Bodyguards, expensive cars, private planes, big homes, and clothing and watches that cost as much as two-thirds of the world earned in a year, were symbols of achievement, worth, and superiority. He had chosen to put his headquarters in America’s gaudiest city, where symbolism was everything. It reminded him every day why America was a fraud and had to be destroyed. A country that celebrated actors above teachers, banned its religions from public places and catered to man’s most basic instincts, in the most vile and public ways, could not be allowed to remain the world’s leader.
So he put on the symbols America cherished and was recognized as a business leader, a man of means. His company, ISIS, was a world leader in security services and executive protection. Because of its success, he had access to the secrets of many of the world’s largest corporations and its most famous and influential people. Soon, he would make use of that access to shock the rich and powerful. He would make them all wish they had not allowed their governments to make war on Islam.
Barak was concerned about the developments in Oregon. It was where he had chosen to make his first strike, and he couldn’t afford to fail. As he made his way to the Las Vegas Executive Air Terminal and his private Gulfstream G650, he knew he would have to do something about the attorney Kaamil had allowed to live. He could not be permitted to jeopardize their plan. He would have to find a way to throw the man off their track.
In four short days, when the Secretary of Homeland Security was assassinated, the world would learn that the jihad could reach everywhere. Then, those on a list of twelve of the most influential American leaders and celebrities would receive an invitation to convert to Islam-or face the consequences. He had the means and the ability to make sure they understood that opposing Allah meant a swift and sure punishment. He smiled, as he thought about headlines announcing the beheadings of Hollywood stars, television anchors, politicians and a few billionaires. People who thought they were above the violence their government’s bombs had brought to so many in Arab lands.
As his plane took off for the flight to his training facility outside Hood River, Barak stared down at the flat land that reminded him of his homeland, and the life, war with the Jews had taken from him. He had vowed at his father’s funeral that he would avenge his death a thousandfold. With Allah’s blessing, and the Brotherhood’s support, he was close to keeping that vow and getting his revenge.