“What you may not call me is ‘boy,’ ” I said.
“Most definitely not,” Hale said, glaring at her partner.
The slender man threw up his arms in mock surrender. “Fine. He’s aggravating though.”
“I’m the one who is aggravating?”
“Most folks get real nervous when people like us show up at their door in the middle of the night,” he said. “I like that. It’s a warm feeling. You aren’t nervous. I don’t like that.”
“I’m an attorney. I know my rights.”
“Don’t like that much either. You mind if I take a leak, Counselor? I’d ask you where the bathroom is, but I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot at finding it on my first go and I’m a gambling man.”
Alone with Hale now, I gestured for her to take a seat and sat down across from her.
“Did something happen at the mosque?” I said.
I suspected, as did other Muslims, that mosques were under surveillance. The Republican presidential candidate had discussed it, saying that the government had to “maybe check, respectfully, mosques” and “other places.” This suggestion had been met with outrage from his political opponents, but it was an outrage based on the persistent myth of American innocence. Muslims believed they were being watched, even as a national debate about such spying took place. The true question wasn’t really whether mosques should be monitored by the government, but whether such surveillance should actually be publicly acknowledged.
Discussions about the national moral fiber aside, this meant that it was entirely possible DHS had some information about allegedly radical activity there. While I certainly hadn’t heard anything extreme from the pulpit or among the congregation, I couldn’t know what some kid was doing on the internet, or what warped ideology some idiot had decided to adopt on his own.
We were a community haunted by lone wolves.
“Agent Hale, I can assure you that there isn’t anything going on there. Not systematically. I’ve never seen or heard anything militant or suspicious there. The Imam preaches about the importance of smiling at people and about the importance of being clean, about etiquette when using a cellphone—”
“This isn’t about the mosque or Imam Sama.”
“You’ve done your research.”
A tight smile from her. “We received an anonymous tip regarding potential Islamist activity in your community. It came from you.”
“What? No, it didn’t.”
“Mr. Faris, there is no reason to lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
Agent Hale stared me down. I folded my arms across my chest.
“Anvar, please, if the tip you sent was accurate, lives may be at risk.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t call in any tips.”
“It was a note.”
“I didn’t write any notes. By the way, what’s your partner doing back there? He’s been gone a long time.”
She ignored my question. “We know you didn’t write the note, sir. But you mailed it. Or, at least you touched it. We were unable to trace the fingerprints on the note itself. They aren’t in our database. You, however, went through immigration and, of course, took the state bar. So when your fingerprints showed up on the envelope the note had come in, we had a lead.”
I had not touched a letter addressed to the Department of Homeland Security. It was the kind of thing you expected to remember.
“I need some water,” I said. “Can I get you some water?”
Hale ignored that question as well. She retrieved a piece of paper from her jacket pocket, unfolded it and slid it over to me.
I recognized the photocopied writing instantly. Hale saw it on my face and gave a triumphant smile. “Who was the author of the note, Mr. Faris?”
“What are you going to do to her?”
“It’s a woman then?”
“You already knew that. I’m sure your handwriting experts were able to ferret that out.”
“Yes, they were,” Hale’s partner admitted, walking back into the living room, making a show of drying his hands on his pants. Had I even heard the water run? The fear that my training and knowledge had kept at bay suddenly began to rise. Laws meant something only when people with power agreed to follow them. Otherwise, they were just words.
I’d assumed that the agent would take the time to look through my medicine cabinet or something while he was in the bathroom. I hadn’t before considered the possibility that he might plant something there.
That had been stupid. Despite everything I knew, despite everything that had happened with Taleb Mansoor, I was still somehow programmed to trust the authority figures. I blamed my mother.
“We still need you to give us a name. People could die. So why don’t you do something for the country that raised you and tell us who wrote the note?”
“Please, Mr. Faris. We need to speak to her.”
I thought about it. These two were competent and motivated. They would, eventually, figure out that Azza was the author of the note. Evading them was not a game I could win. All I could do was control how long it took for them to find out.
Time, as any lawyer who has had to enter billable hours will tell you, is not without value. It is, in fact, the currency of life. Right now, it was the only chip I had to protect Azza’s interests. I decided to use it.
I ran a hand through my hair. “You don’t need her name. You need to know what she is talking about and who she is talking about. If you bring her in for questioning, or if you show up at her door, you’ll destroy her life. Her father will…I don’t know what he will do. I want to help you, Agent Hale. I just don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“We do need a name, Mr. Faris.”
“I still need some water. You guys want some?”
They looked at each other. Hale shook her head, but Moray nodded. “Sure. Why not?”
I walked over to the kitchen slowly. When had this happened? The day Zuha had come over and found Azza here. I’d picked up an envelope of hers then. That must have been it.
What could Azza know that would interest the Department of Homeland Security?
I walked back to the living room and handed Moray his glass. “I don’t know her name.”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
“I don’t know her real name. She calls herself Azza.”
Agent Hale started typing into her phone. “Can you spell it? Do you have a last name?”
“Azza bint Saqr,” I said, before spelling it out.
“So how do you know this girl?” Hale asked.
“I know her well. Intimately.”
“Oh,” Agent Moray remarked. “Details please?”
Hale sighed, then tried a different question. “Do you have any idea who her notes could be about?”
“You can ask her yourself.”
“Now?”
“No. Not now. I could tell you where she lives and you could go knock on her door with your friend. You’ll scare her and you will completely alter her life. Worse, you’ll piss off her lawyer, who will instruct her to tell you nothing, and nobody wants that.”
Agent Moray frowned. “Who is her— Right, you’re her lawyer.”
“They gave me a bar card and everything. There is a solution that will get everyone what they want. You’ll have to trust me.”
Awiti Hale nodded. “We do trust you. We know about your last significant case. You’re a patriot.”
“She thinks you’re a patriot,” her partner said. “I think you look at the world and wish it were different. I think reality leaves you scared and confused. I think you’re naïve, like a small child.”
I ignored him. “I’ll talk to her, so that she isn’t freaked out. You’ll meet her here. I will call you. In one day. You can ask her whatever you need to ask her here.”
“Why? Were you planning to waterboard her or something?” Hale narrowed her eyes at me and I held up my hands. “Sorry. Just trying to be funny.”
“It’s a bad habit,” Moray said. “Didn’t your mama tell you that?”
“Constantly. Yes, in my presence. I won’t instruct her to avoid or refrain from answering any questions, though, if they’re reasonably calculated to produce probative information. You have my word.”
“That’s some fancy lawyer speak. Impressive. Fine. We’ll do this your way, son, but I can’t promise it’s gonna end well.”
“I know. But that’s just a chance we’ll all have to take.”
AZZA
It would have been nice to tell Anvar the truth, to confide in him and let him know exactly what I was doing and why. But no, I would have to lie to him as well, I’d have to make him believe that Qais was evil and a terrorist, even if only one of those things was true. You never know what someone will do with the truth once they have it.
Trust is always a bad idea. Your family, your friends and, if you ever get married, your husband—always assume they’re going to hurt you because they probably will.
In fact, I could use him. Anvar could be very persuasive. He was trained for it. If I convinced him that Qais was a terrorist, he would convince Homeland Security for me.
Lying to him was for the best. It didn’t feel good, but I had no option. He was in the middle of it now. I couldn’t remember exactly what the Quran said, but I remembered verses that told the world that humans can plan, but God also plans and He is better at it.
Anvar’s unexpected involvement seemed like the Hand of God. Maybe He was on my side, for once.
Anvar had brought me to his place. We would meet DHS here.
“We need to talk before you call them.”
“Are you okay?” Anvar asked.
“Yes. This is what I wanted. I’m sorry to drag you into it.”
“Have you thought about what to say to them?”
I got to my feet and walked away from him.
“Yes. I’m not stupid.” I pressed on quickly, before he could reassure me that he’d never thought that. All I wanted was for him to be silent and listen. “Before I tell them anything, I want to tell the story to you, Anvar. I want to tell you the truth.”
“You have to tell them the truth too.”
I stood by the window, staring out into the dark world. It was time to tell him what I needed him to believe. I needed to weave truth and lies together, until they became indistinguishable.
I’d use pain to do that. If you tell someone a truth that hurts, a personal truth, then it paints over the lie you feed them.
“I’m not a good person. I’ve done things. Terrible things. You shouldn’t feel sorry for me.”
“Azza, you don’t have to—”
“You won’t understand. You haven’t seen it. The destruction of your city. War. I saw many things. I’m not making excuses. It’s just impossible to explain. The dust and the rubble and the dried blood. What happens to people, what they become. I couldn’t tell you and, if I could, you wouldn’t get it.”
Then I spoke the worst truths.
I told him about Mama and how she had died.
I told him about Abu and how he’d been taken, and the long night that followed.
I told him about Fahd and how I had left him behind.
I felt like I was ripping the story out of my soul, in which it had become intertwined, because of how much it was a part of me, because I had tried not to even think of it, much less speak of it, for so long.
I stared at my reflection in the windowpane as I spoke. It seemed like a face that belonged to someone else. There were tears flowing down the face that was looking back at me, but my voice remained strong. “He begged for painkillers at the end, when I told him I was leaving. He begged me to let him overdose.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I should’ve done it. I should have killed him quickly and stayed with him until he passed. Instead, I left him and he died alone.”
Anvar walked toward me, to comfort me I’m sure, but I shrank away from him and held myself. He stood where he was, arms dangling uselessly by his sides.
“We met Qais Badami when we left home. He was—no, he is a bad man. He looks nice and he talks nice, you know, and he acts religious, so Abu liked him. They became friends. Abu told him about my desire to leave Afghanistan. One day Qais came to our house when Abu was out. He said that friends of his were organizing a mission in the United States, a mission in which he would hurt a lot of Americans. He could get passage for Abu and myself, by saying that Abu would help carry their mission out. My father would never do that, you know, he would never hurt anyone.”
“He hurt you,” Anvar noted quietly.
“That’s different.” I was no longer looking at the girl in the window. I couldn’t. “All Qais wanted in return was for me to sleep with him one time. I let him do what he wanted. We had to get out of there—I had to get out. I told myself it was only one night. Abu would never have to know.”
“Except he came back,” Anvar guessed. “You’d put yourself in his power, and he came back.”
How well men understand each other. “I couldn’t refuse him, and he knew it. I needed Qais until we came here.”
I told Anvar about locking Qais out of the apartment, that Bhatti had made Qais leave and how Qais had finally decided to actually marry me.
“The agents will ask but I don’t know what Qais’s mission is. I know only that Abu told Qais he doesn’t want any part of it. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. I don’t either. That’s why I wrote those notes. That is what I’m going to tell them.”
I waited for Anvar to say something, but all that followed my words was silence. He was thinking, probably going over the story in his mind, looking for anything that didn’t make sense. That was not what I wanted.
For the first time since I’d started telling my story, I turned to look at him. I met his eyes. I didn’t flinch.
“That’s the whole truth?”
“It’s the truth,” I said. “What can I get?”
“For what?”
“Tell your friends I want a deal. That’s what they do on TV. Cops make deals with people who can give them information.”
“These aren’t cops. And they aren’t my friends.”
“Can they protect me?”
“From Qais?”
I shook my head. “No. They’re going to take him away. I mean protection from themselves, from the government. I don’t want people coming after us, me or my father. We’re here illegally. I want to stay.”
“Well,” Anvar said, “Immigration is part of the Department of Homeland Security. I’ll talk to Agent Hale about seeing if we can work out that kind of arrangement. After all, what you’re asking for won’t cost them anything. You just want them to look the other way. There are something like ten million illegal immigrants in this country, what are two more?”
“Tell them that I have evidence,” I said. “Against Qais. I have things of his that will show that he’s guilty. If they promise me immunity, I’ll show them.”
“What kinds of things?”
“I’ll tell them when they agree.” I nodded toward his phone. “Make the call.”
Anvar didn’t move. Instead, he sat back down and studied me carefully, trying to decide how to say what he was going to say. Finally, he asked, “Are you going to tell them about your father?”
“What about him?”
“If they find out about what happened to him in Iraq, they’ll deport him.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe he’ll disappear forever this time.”
“He hits you, Azza. If they find out who he really is, that’ll stop.”
Who he really is? Anvar always thought he was so smart, but he was too simple to realize the depths of what he didn’t know.
I’d thought about that a lot though. What is a father? Abu wasn’t the man who had slept with my mother when I was conceived, true, but he had raised me. He’d often been an awful father, but he had been a father still. That was a debt of a sort.
I’d already thought about the fact that I could be rid of both Abu and Qais in one move, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I let out a deep breath, relieved that I could start telling the truth again, if only for the moment.
“He wasn’t like this before. Before…everything. If I could’ve saved Fahd somehow, I think he’d still love me like he did once.”
“There was nothing you could have done.”
“It doesn’t matter. We say nothing to the agents about Abu’s past. This is about Qais and making sure he never hurts anyone ever again.”
* * *
—
Anvar had said there were two agents, but only one, a woman, came to meet us. He invited her in and asked why her partner wasn’t with her. She didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she sat down in a chair across from me and introduced herself.
Then Agent Hale said, “Take off your niqab.”
I looked at Anvar. He started to object, but Hale cut him off. “You’ve slept with her, so she doesn’t wear it in front of you. She doesn’t have to wear it in front of me. That’s why I asked Moray not to come. I wanted to see her face.”
I hoped Anvar would keep arguing, but he didn’t. My heart started to beat faster as Agent Hale looked at me, almost unblinking, waiting for me to reveal myself. I’d been counting on the veil. It’d be easier to lie if they couldn’t see my face as I did it.
It didn’t matter. I’d fooled Anvar. I could fool this woman. I would. True, Anvar wasn’t trained to spot liars, not like she was—
“Is there a problem?” Hale asked.
I shook my head quickly and did as she asked. I felt exposed now. Nervous.
Anvar gave me a smile that said everything was going to be fine.
“Tell me everything,” Hale demanded.
The Bad Muslim Discount Page 30