As a direct result of a cowardly and murderous act of terrorism, an American expatriate and former Marine sets out to avenge the death of his wife and children. Using his fortune accumulated over twenty years of working abroad, this widower turns his grief into a relentless determination and pursues three intolerant Islamic fundamentalists. His quest takes him from Europe to Canada and to the United States and through the cities of Montreal, New Orleans and Phoenix. Along the way and helped by his former associates, the vengeance-focused man meets a woman who aids him in his efforts and in doing so falls in love. In a series of well thought out and precision-like actions, three post 9/11 jihadists are brought to justice in ways only dreamed about by those who have suffered the loss of innocent loved ones in a terrorist act. Sprinkled with humor and tinged in irony, this tale takes the reader on a magic carpet ride which is based on fact.
In the Shadow of Allah
By Allen R. RemaleyAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Allen R. Remaley
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4389-8316-5Chapter One
This story is written to commemorate the thousands of innocent men, women and children who, over too many years, have been slaughtered by Islamic fundamentalists. The victims, never able to protect themselves from cowardly acts of would-be terrorists, cry out for some form of retribution. The families, friends, lovers and acquaintances of bodies torn apart by improvised explosive devices, the vests worn by suicide bombers, and munitions planted aboard vehicles of public transportation need a voice, a champion to carry their frustration and anger to the perpetrators of such barbarous acts based on intolerance. Such a hero is a man who, if left alone in his devotion to job and family, would never have caused a cloud to hover over some religiously-crazed followers of an Islamic God. Such men, driven mad by over-zealous clerics, will soon walk in the shadow of Allah.
Our story begins when a man has just been told that his wife, the woman he loves, has committed an indiscretion; she has been unfaithful. While this recklessness occurred only once and perhaps caused by the man's over attention to his job and neglect of his marriage, the feelings of guilt brought the wife to realize that a terrible wrong had been committed against the man she loves. In a quiet and serious discussion where both parties realized the importance of continuing their union, the man and his wife became closer than ever in a willingness to share the rest of their life together. In an effort to further cement their understanding, a short trip was planned in which husband and wife and their two children would travel and work to reconnect broken ties.
Chapter Two
2March 2003, Morocco
Crossing over from the Spanish-speaking town of Ceuta on the Moroccan coast of the Mediterranean to Malaga in southern Spain took less than three hours. In the cramped cargo area of the broken down, small Liberian steamer, like some rat which had secured its passage among unsuspecting mariners, Muhammad Husam al Din, a Moroccan Arab and self-appointed terrorist, laid out his prayer rug, faced Mecca, and said his prayers. This "servant and sword of the prophet" asked Allah to make is voyage safe and quick. Forged papers and a stack of Euros provided him by the militant wing of Morocco's jihad would get him past Spanish customs as soon as the ship's cargo had been unloaded at Malaga. Once there, like some diamondback rattlesnake slithering and disappearing under some mesquite bush in the desert, al Din would blend into the Muslim community where he would pick up more money allowing him to make his way north to the Spanish capital. In Madrid, al Din would carry out his plan to get the Spanish government to pull its troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan where they were aiding the English and Americans in the fight against the holy freedom fighters of Islam. If this plan should result in collateral damage to innocent Spanish civilians, it would be Allah's will. Al Din's teachers in Morocco would be proud of his work. They would drink tea and revel in their convert's success.
Muhammad Husam al Din had never oozed an ounce of sweat in any manual labor during his first twenty years in Morocco. Like the child born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, much like al Din's hero, bin Laden, al Din himself had been raised by a wealthy merchant family in the city of Fez. Like others in his affluent community, al Din was expected to do his studies in the madrassas, the Islamic religious schools funded by Saudi Arabia. In these schools, a particularly austere and rigid form of Islam, Whhabism, is practiced which preaches death to all infidels. In such schools, al Din was not so much concerned with scholarship as he was on making war on the infidels. For hours on end, bobbing back and forth like some buoy in a raging sea, al Din memorized the Koran in a head-nodding ritual of repetition which, after many weeks and months, turns the young men who engage in such things into religious fanatics and allows their minds to transform their bodies into lethal weapons. In special classes, al Din learned from his mullahs that he was to hate Jews, Christians and all others of alternative faiths. His was a hatred which did not exclude any American man, woman or child, and if given the opportunity, he would kill the entire English-speaking world. These victims would be those who supported the Zionists, the people who had taken land from the Palestinians. They would all pay, and al Din would soon be ready to serve Allah.
Chapter Three
March 3, 2004 Paris, France
Frank Sarvey, an American expatriate and former captain of United States Marines, was about to see his wife and two children off by train on a short vacation in Spain. Sarvey and his wife, Marie-France had talked about such a trip for months, and this holiday would also serve to cement small cracks in a marriage caused perhaps by an overzealous work ethic on the part of the husband. The family's two children, Franois and Franoise, had been studying Spanish in school. Now twelve and ten, Frank's son and daughter looked forward to a week's stay in Madrid where sightseeing, shopping and general relaxation would be a break from the rigors of the French educational system. Both children were fluent in English and in their native language, French. Now, they hoped to polish their skills in Spanish before moving on to German. At the last minute, Frank was called back to his office for an international meeting, and he regretted not being able to accompany his wife and children on holiday. Both he and Marie-France had looked forward to this spring-time escape, and both had decided that such a trip would bring them both closer together especially after a recent disclosure of a break in the marriage. The parents wanted to share the joys of travel with their children, but Frank was still one of those loyal to his employer, Marie-France's father. However, Frank would join his family after a few short days, and cell phones would allow daily conversations and keep his heart and mind united with those whom he loved most in this world.
Frank Sarvey was a unique individual. A native-born Pennsylvanian, former Marine officer and still a man who loved his home town along the Susquehanna River, Frank was in the hierarchy of the French business world, no small accomplishment for an American who did not attend the grandes coles, those prestigious Parisian schools which trained future CEO's and PDG's of French industry. In the years immediately following the war in Vietnam, Frank entered OCS Quantico with a B.A. and M.A. in French from Penn State University. From there, after Basic School in Quantico, Frank served six years of his life in the Corps before he resigned his commission and returned to civilian life as a professor at Union College in Schenectady, NY. In an effort to further hone his language skills, he decided to spend a summer in Paris where, in a little bistro off the Latin Quarter, he met and fell in love with Marie-France Gagnon, the daughter of the European PDG (CEO) of Dom Perignon. Frank treasured the moment he first met his wife, and the setting of that moment was often the backdrop of many of his dreams.
Frank often remembered the first time he saw her. He was seated in the caveau of Le Bon Couscous, a small bistro located in one of the narrowest streets of the Latin Quarter. The Algerian owner/manager of the restaurant invited him in and...
