Treason

by Don Brown

  Except for her quiet weeping, the room was silent as she read. Five minutes later, she handed the report to Zack and said softly, her voice cracking, “That’s pretty much the way it was.”

  “Any additions or changes?”

  “No, I think the NCIS agent got it right.” She reached for another tissue. “Could I have a drink of water?”

  “Sure.” He poured a cup from the pitcher on his desk and handed it to her. “That’s all I need for now. Let’s call it a day. I’ll have Amy call you later on in the week.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Petty Officer DeBenedetto, would you please see Ensign Landrieu out and then report back here?”

  “Aye, sir,” Amy said as she stood and led Marianne out of Zack’s office.

  When she returned five minutes later, Zack noticed the puzzled look on her face. He’d seen the contorted look dozens of times before—it wasn’t his favorite of Amy’s expressions.

  “Okay, what’s the matter?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Something doesn’t add up, sir. I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like she’s telling us everything.”

  “How so?”

  She frowned. “I’m not sure what it is, but—”

  The phone rang, interrupting her.

  “Lieutenant, Admiral Ayers on the phone,” said the voice on the loudspeaker.

  Zack lifted the receiver, swiveling his chair toward the window as he spoke. A moment later, when he ended the call and turned back, Amy was gone.

  CHAPTER 4

  Community Bible Church

  Lemon Grove, California

  East San Diego County

  Weekdays brought with them a jam-packed traffic artery for thousands of commuters from the east San Diego communities of El Cajon, La Mesa, and Lemon Grove traveling to the 32nd Street Naval Station. But on Sunday mornings, California Highway 94 was almost deserted. As a result, the old Volkswagen beetle reached the Lemon Grove exit ten minutes early. The church was only about a mile off the freeway, off Lemon Grove Avenue, the main boulevard cutting through the heart of the east San Diego suburb.

  Neptune scanned the parking lot. Two sailors, both in their summer white enlisted uniforms, were getting out of their cars. One, a boiler technician third class, was accompanied by his wife and two young daughters. A few others, with military haircuts, walked across the parking lot in civilian clothes.

  An elderly white-haired gentleman in khakis and a golf shirt greeted Neptune with a friendly nod at the front door. Neptune took a bulletin from the greeter’s extended hand, then stopped to read it before entering the fellowship hall.

  Community Bible Church of Lemon Grove Presents:

  A Seminar of Comparison and Contrast

  Today’s Topic: “Christianity and Islam: What Are the Differences?”

  Neptune stepped into the crowded room and found an empty chair near the back row, just behind an African-American family of three. The couple’s little girl, maybe seven years old, gave him a big smile. She reminded him of his sister from Queens all those years ago. He smiled back, then shifted his eyes forward, to the front of the hall, where a pleasant-looking middle-aged man in a blue suit walked to the simple wooden lectern.

  “Good morning,” the man said.

  “Good morning,” came a cheery chorus of responses from the audience.

  “Welcome to Lemon Grove. My name is Jeffrey Spletto and I’m the pastor here at Community Bible. This morning we’re continuing our ongoing discussion of comparing Christianity with other religions. Today’s topic is ‘Christianity and Islam: What Are the Differences?’

  “Today will be a discussion, not a lecture, with questions and answers from the audience. And remember, no question is a bad question. We are here in search of the truth. Nothing more. Nothing less. Before we start, would you bow your heads as I pray?”

  Neptune did not bow, but drilled his gaze into Spletto as he spoke.

  “Lord, we thank you for this day. As we come before you to study your Word, we pray truth will be revealed and eyes will be opened to you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  A chorus of “amens” followed.

  “Let’s start today with a game to tell us a little about ourselves. I call it the ‘Where Were You When . . .’ game. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you a date, and if you remember where you were on that date, I want you to raise your hand. Okay?”

  There were smiles and affirmative nods.

  “Here we go. December 7, 1941.”

  About a dozen hands shot up. Most of the hand-raisers had white hair and wrinkled skin. A few were bald. Some wore thick bifocals.

  Spletto gestured to a man three rows in front of Neptune. “Leonard. Your hand is up. Where were you that day?”

  The old man rose from his seat. “That was the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. I was a sergeant in the Army Air Corps, at the Presidio up in San Francisco waiting to be shipped out. The lieutenant came running into the mess hall and yelling that the war’d started. After they bombed Pearl, we thought they might try to bomb the West Coast. The lieutenant said everybody’s leave was canceled.”

  Spletto smiled. “Thank you, Leonard. Here’s another date. November 22, 1963.”

  About fifty hands shot up.

  “Anybody remember where you were that day?”

  “I was in biology class in high school,” a middle-aged man blurted out. “The principal came over the intercom and announced that the president had been shot and school was being canceled for the day.”

  “Thank you, Barney,” Spletto said. “November 22. The day John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Like December 7, 1941, it was a turning point in American history. Here’s one more date. September 11, 2001.”

  A day of glory.

  Except for Neptune, who refused to participate in Spletto’s game, almost every hand in the room was raised.

  Spletto’s gaze rested on a young blond-headed boy in the front row. “Billy, can you tell us what happened that day?”

  “That’s when the Muslim terrorists crashed the airplanes into the buildings.”

  The infidels even train their young to refer to Allah’s warriors as “terrorists. ”

  “That’s right, Billy. And can you tell us how you know that?”

  “Because I saw it on television, and we learned about the terrorists in home school.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes.” Spletto smiled and turned to the audience. “Our young friend has hit the issue on the head. Most of us had heard of the religion known as Islam. Islam was something Middle Eastern, but not relevant to America—until September 11. Even still, most Americans don’t understand what Islam is about. There are many, for example, who say Islam is a peaceful religion. Anybody have any thoughts on that? Yes?” Spletto pointed to an attractive woman who looked to be in her late forties.

  “Jeff, I’ve often wondered. These Islamic terrorists murdered all those innocent people in the World Trade Center. Right after that, we had a national day of prayer in Washington. There was an Islamic mullah, or whatever they call it, participating in the service. Isn’t it sort of a contradiction? I mean, after all, it was Islamic terrorism that caused all the murder in the first place.”

  “That’s a very good question,” Spletto said. “You make a good point. As you recall, a couple of days after 9/11, President Bush declared a national day of prayer, and there was a multi-denominational service at the National Cathedral in Washington. Everybody remember that?”

  There were dozens of nods and murmurs of agreement.

  “The service had a Christian clergy. In fact, Billy Graham delivered the principle sermon.”

  There were a few “amens.”

  “But there was also a Jewish Rabbi and a Muslim cleric officiating at the service. Remember?”

  Again, nods of agreement followed.

  “I understand what President Bush was trying to do—unite the country in our darkest hour since World War II.”

  “Amen!” sang
out an older man in the second row.

  Spletto nodded. “But I have to be honest. The American public was not fully informed about the true nature of Islam.”

  “What do you mean?” another woman asked.

  “The president said that Islam is a peaceful religion and that what these terrorists did violated the Qur’an. And while it may be true that a good number of Islamic-Americans are peaceful, the truth is that murder and bloodshed are basic tenets of that religion. It is also a historical fact that Muhammad tortured, maimed, and murdered many people who were his political opponents. You see, Muhammad first claimed to have a vision from God in the year AD 610. For thirteen years, he preached peacefully in Mecca. Most historians say that he was at first a peaceful and well-meaning man who opposed paganism.

  “Then in the year 623, Muhammad moved from the city of Mecca to the city of Medina, where he became a political leader. Unlike Jesus, who is the true Prince of Peace, Muhammad became a slayer with the sword. He began to assassinate political opponents and led at least twenty-seven bloody invasions—maybe as many as sixty. Once, when he attacked a group known as the Quraizi Jews, Muhammad captured hundreds of Jewish men. Then he executed the men—murdering them in cold blood—and sold hundreds of Jewish women and children into slavery. So the historical fact is that Muhammad, the founder of this so-called peaceful religion, was a ruthless killer.”

  How dare you blaspheme the holy prophet—peace be upon him!

  There was a brief moment of silence.

  “But, Jeff . . . ?”

  “Yes, Andy?” Spletto turned toward a young man, seated with his wife, who rocked a baby gently over her shoulder.

  “Even if Muhammad was violent, and although we’ve all heard about 9/11 and the violence in Israel, do you think most rank-and-file Muslims are violent?”

  “Good question, Andy. I don’t think most Muslims living in America are violent at all. But then again, many Muslims living in America are relatively new to that religion and don’t understand its violent underpinnings. But if you’re asking me if Muslims worldwide are violent, then consider these statistics. Muslims routinely persecute Christians in nations like Algeria, Nigeria, Afghanistan, Iran, Egypt, Pakistan, Tajikistan, and Malaysia. Not only is there persecution in Sudan, but there is also slavery of Christians by Muslims.

  “Based on reliable statistics complied by several different sources, we know 160,000 Christians each year are murdered because of their faith in Christ. The vast majority of these Christians are killed by Muslims. So are Muslims worldwide violent? Statistics don’t lie. Do we need to be concerned about it here in America? You bet. The worldwide statistics and 9/11 prove that.”

  Infidel.

  Another man stood and cleared his throat. “Even given the fact that historically Muhammad was violent, what drives these terrorists from a theological standpoint to murder? Does the Qur’an tell them to kill? I remember President Carter, when he addressed the Egyptian Parliament back in 1979, referring to the Qur’an as the Holy Qur’an. Is their drive to commit murder from the Qur’an?”

  Spletto nodded. “Yes. At least partially. First let me comment on the Qur’an. The principle text of Islam, the Qur’an, is divided into 114 chapters. These chapters are called Suras. If you were to go into a bookstore and buy a copy of the Qur’an, you would find that some of the chapters speak of peace. But then others are bellicose. For example, one of the chapters, entitled ‘Accessions,’ speaks of ‘calling the believers to war.’

  “But here’s the point on which most Americans are ignorant. The Qur’an is not the only doctrinal writing governing Islamic theology. In fact, a second set of writings delves into far greater detail than the Qur’an. It is a set of writings known as the Bukhari Hadiths.” He scanned the audience. “Anybody ever heard of them?”

  Of course, infidel.

  No hands were raised.

  Ignorant fools.

  “Bear with me.” Spletto rolled an overhead projector to the front center of the hall, flipped on the light, and wrote “Bukhari Hadiths” with a blue marker on a plastic transparency.

  “The hadiths, pronounced a-hadiths, are a writing of the actions and sayings of Muhammad. There are several collections of hadiths, but those compiled by a man named Bukhari are among the most important and were composed about two hundred years after his death.

  “Now the hadiths, along with the Qur’an, govern every aspect of Islamic life. For example, one of the hadiths requires that an Islamic person, when answering the call of nature, cannot face Mecca when doing so.”

  At the ensuing chuckles, Neptune felt his blood boil.

  “From this source, Islam embraces murder. Eleven percent of it advocates jihad, or a holy war. This includes killing Jews and infidels. Muslims are taught that those who fight and die in a jihad will have their sins forgiven, that they will be rewarded with sensual and luxurious pleasures in paradise. In fact, Osama bin Laden, in the videotape discovered in Afghanistan after 9/11, said he was ‘ordered to fight the people until there is no god but Allah.’ He took those words right out of the Qur’an.”

  “Infidel!” Neptune leapt to his feet. Everyone in the room turned to stare.

  A stunned silence followed.

  “Did you have a question, sir?”

  He glared at the preacher. “You spread lies about the prophet—Peace be upon him!”

  “Our goal here is only the truth,” Spletto said. “If you believe I have said something untruthful, tell me what it is. If you are right, I will admit it.”

  “You condemn the one true religion, Islam, by trying to fool the people into believing Christianity is superior. Lies! Muhammad was God’s only true prophet—Peace be upon him!”

  “Jesus Christ, the mighty prophet of God, God’s only begotten Son, never killed anyone. He never harmed anyone, nor sold women and children into slavery. He never sinned against God, his Father. He healed, forgave, and when they killed him, he rose from the dead.” Spletto’s voice was soft but firm. “When Muhammad died, he stayed in his tomb. The tomb of Jesus is empty. He lives. He alone is our eternal hope for the future.”

  Neptune’s fury burned. “Lies! Lies! ”

  “Is this the religion you embrace? A religion of screaming and shouting? Is this an example of the peace that you pray to be upon your prophet?”

  Neptune ignored the infidel’s rambling. “Denounce!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Denounce Christianity. Admit Christianity is a religion of infidels.”

  The pastor shook his head. “I can’t do that. I can only tell the truth: Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by him.”

  “Denounce or die!” Neptune whipped out the hand grenade he’d kept hidden, pulled the pin, and held it over the head of the young black girl who reminded him of his sister. “Cease blaspheming the holy prophet—Peace be upon him—or die with the rest of the infidels. All of you!”

  CHAPTER 5

  Communications Center

  San Diego Police Department

  1401 Broadway

  San Diego

  Normally, Sunday mornings were the slowest time of the week for the San Diego Police Department Emergency Dispatch operators. And so when the watch captain stepped away from his monitor for a late-morning caffeine break, he expected to take at least five to seven minutes to refill his coffee, hit the bathroom, and then return to his post. But just as the freshly brewed, hot coffee was streaming from the big stainless-steel coffeepot into his San Diego Padres mug, the sudden shouts of three dispatchers from the next room forced a change of plans.

  The captain turned with a quick jerk, sloshing his coffee onto the floor, and headed back to the dispatch room. “What’s up?” He leaned toward a dispatcher’s monitor.

  The rookie officer, a recent Academy graduate, didn’t look up. “Captain, we’ve got three separate 911 calls from cell phones at the same location in Lemon Grove. The cell phone lines are open, but nobody is
saying anything.”

  “Do we have a ten-twenty?” The captain drained the last drops of coffee from his mug.

  “Calls are being placed from—stand by—2910 Lemon Grove Avenue.”

  “What’s there?”

  She typed in the address on her terminal. “It’s a church, Captain. Community Bible. Sounds like several people have dialed 911, but they aren’t talking for some reason.”

  “Notify Lemon Grove PD to get someone over there . . .”

  She held up one hand and frowned. “Sounds like a possible hostage situation. I’m hearing something that sounds like . . .”

  “Amplify all three cell calls on the loudspeaker. I want to hear this.”

  “Two more 911 calls in from the same location,” a second dispatcher called out. “Same thing. Callers not speaking. Definitely some sort of hostage situation unfolding in the background.”

  “Get ’em all on the loudspeakers, now!”

  A male voice poured over the loudspeakers. “If anybody moves, I release the grenade. The name of Allah shall be desecrated no more. The name of the holy prophet—May peace be upon him—shall not be blasphemed.”

  “Great. Sounds like a religious terrorism standoff.” The captain slammed the empty Padres mug on the table beside the dispatcher. “Notify the Sheriff’s Department, the Fire Department, and call the FBI. Get a hostage negotiation team at that church, ASAP. Also send the SDPD Bomb Unit and SWAT team out there now. Make our choppers available to all agencies.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away.” The rookie dispatcher grabbed her phone.

  Another voice came over the loudspeakers. “Sir, if yours is a religion of peace, as you say, then let these innocent people go. I am the one you have a quarrel with. I am the pastor of this church. I am the one who has made these proclamations about Muhammad and Islam. Does your religion mandate killing innocent women and children?”