Plano, TexasW
afic Aziz had trouble rousing from an exhausted slumber when the phone he’d been given by a brother in the faith began to warble. The ratty quilt that covered him against the stale air in the little basement room felt like his mother’s arms, and he didn’t want to heave it aside to deal with the call. Duty drives the warrior and denies him comfort. Wafic groaned, reaching for the instrument flashing on a fruit crate that served as a nightstand next to the lumpy cot where he’d spent his first night in America. He tried to sound aware and alert, but he couldn’t manage much more than a grunt.
“You are awake…” The caller wasn’t asking a question. He was a hard man, a tough taskmaster and the ISIS mission commander that Wafic was duty bound to obey absolutely during the time he w
