Near Plano, TexasI
t was silent in the small room off the main worship area of the Noori Masjid mosque after Friday services. There was an aura of reverence still hanging in the air after the local community of worshippers departed. It felt to a True Believer as if God was still here, still smiling on the faithful in the land of the Infidels. It was just the right time and the right place for Hasim to enlist a martyr in service to the worldwide caliphate. He sat cross-legged on a cushion across from the chosen one, so close that their knees were touching, so intimately close that whispers were all that was required to communicate. And those whispers were in Arabic, the language of God, the language of grace, and the only language that could adequately communicate the importance of what wa
