The gathering of men, resplendent in the robes of the highest leaders of Islam, was not seen by the townspeople of the secluded country that cradled the old Mullah’s village. Nothing but a monumental calling - a clarion trumpet that rang in their hearts as loud as their local muezzin’s call to prayer from their mosques - could bring these leaders of millions in their own nations to this insignificant hovel. But come they did, these rocks of Islam. They came to the shabby little town on foot or on horseback so as not to arouse the attention of those sleeping soundly after a long day’s work. But the men were deadly serious in their purpose and it showed in every aspect of their deportment. They spoke nothing to each other but merely mouthed the traditional Islamic greeting - "Assalamu alaikum" - as they met with their eyes. The chief security precaution was stealth and silence. There was much to discuss and the wandering ear of an uninvited onlooker would mean disaster to their purpose.

The imams and mullahs had come from all corners of the Sunni empire. They had traversed huge distances to hear of the progress of the most audacious plan ever conceived by the Faithful and they risked nothing to chance. Most traveled incognito by airplane and boat some going so far as to defile their bodies with Western attire so as to not arouse the suspicions of port authorities of airport personnel. It was repugnant to dress as the infidels but no sacrifice was too great for their purposes this night.

They also came without their usual security detachments and entourages. A lone security attendant for each was agreed upon before hand even though many of the men attending had been blood enemies for centuries, all such enmity was put aside for this particular meeting. A document, circulated to all those invited, required them to swear to attend peacefully and with a pure heart on pain of banishment from the Faith. All but one of the 20 leaders had agreed to the strict rules. The one invitee who demurred would be missed but the proceedings could not wait and would move forward without him. As the rugs were placed at the feet of the men, the attendants silently slipped away to leave the men to their critical business.

No one spoke until the host began the meeting with "Allahu Akbar!" All in attendance responded with an abnormally muted repetition of the takbir. The old man followed with "Assalamu alaikum" and received a muted "wa `Aleykum As-Salaam" in response from all. Then, the Mullah voice became even more hushed and serious.

"Welcome, brothers of the One True Faith. We are gathered here tonight for our first formal meeting for planning the New Path. Work has proceeded better than we had hoped in moving toward our final victory over the infidels that have besieged and occupied our lands for centuries. Our young Mahdi grows in wisdom and faith each day and knows that he is beginning a journey that will save his people and his Faith. Truly, I have seen many young men take up the true calling of the Qu’ran in my years as a teacher but this young one has a soul that is committed, a heart that beats strongly for his people and a mind that soaks in knowledge like a sea sponge. Allah, Praise be unto His Name, has sent us one who is all we could have dreamed of."

All heads nodded in approval and they exchanged smiles to each other as they heard the words of the old man. When he had finished, one of the older men spoke:

"Are you convinced, as you were before, that he is the true Mahdi?".

Unhesitatingly, the old man answered: "Yes, brother. He is the one who will deliver us."

Another younger man spoke next: "The journey is a long one, my brother. Is it not?"

For a moment, the old man merely smiled at the question. He knew that patience was a gift of the old and rarely found in abundance among the younger men, no matter what their personal power or influence might be. He recalled when he young and at the feet of his imam, he was taught that, indeed, power and influence are poisonous to patience and grow only the weeds of impatience and irrationality. Then, he spoke his thoughts and words carefully:

"Our Faith is ancient and true, young brother. Because we have been impetuous and divided, we have remained weak and, with our weakness, we have been abused by our enemies for centuries. Without patience and unity of purpose, we will remain slaves to the infidels who steal our lands and our resources and protect the Zionist mongrels who occupy Palestine and call it that most hated of names, Israel. I pray that their souls will be cursed by Allah, all praise to His Name, forever. The recent war ⁽¹⁾ has hardened my heart to the righteousness of our purpose."

He continued: "Our road is long, yes, but it will be successful, if it is Allah’s Will. At the beginning of the next millennium, it will be our leader who will sit at the very center of power of the infidel’s world. And, once there, he can strike at the nonbelievers at will and reclaim for Islam the power we once held over all the world. It is - it must be - truly, Allah’s Will, all praise to His Name"

He waited for the words to course from the ears that hear to the heart that feels and to the mind that understands. Then, he continued: "Most of us here will be in Paradise when this flower blooms to its full deadly and righteous beauty. It must be thus and I, for one, am willing to dedicate my remaining years fixing my gaze far, far ahead. Ahead to the day when our New Path will collapse the West and bring a new dawn to the One True Faith. This is the purpose for which my life, my fortune and my Faith are focused."

No one spoke for what seemed like ages. There were glances into the eyes of others around the circle but, otherwise, the words seared into those in the circle. Finally, someone spoke what most were thinking:

"The conflict between the Soviets and the Americans will keep their eyes fixed elsewhere for years to come. Each will feel their biggest dangers lie from without and look not to the flower that grows within their missile shields. The time is perfect to attack at the heart of West - from among them, within their midst. America is in turmoil and they cannot see past the chaos of their own cities or the rockets of Moscow. Their military is weak, addled by drugs, poorly lead and, even now, is suffering greatly at the hands of the Asians. Our New Path is perfectly time to bear its fruit at its proper time when America is brought to her knees from their decadence and immorality. I pledge my all, brothers, to this Holy Crusade." He closed, quietly, with "Allahu Akbar!" Almost under their breath, was "Allahu Akbar!" spoken in unison by all.

A voice from the circle asked: "What of the child’s father?"

The old man smiled his widest for he knew this point troubled his gathering. He replied: "The African cares nothing for the woman or the child. He did what he was paid to do and is now savoring his reward. He gladly left the American woman in Hawaii and returned to school in the Land of the Infidel when the mahdi was but a year old. He plans, as he always has, to return to his native Africa to seek his fortune there. He will play no part in the child’s life. He has assured me of that upon pain of death".

"Does the child still have any contact with this man?" another asked.

"Yes, he gets regular letters. But they are from my hand - transcribed to avoid recognition by the boy - and speak of his father’s faith in Islam and his wish that his son follow the One True Path. Of course, they are complete fabrications but they ground the boy and have him believe his father is, truly, an Islamist. They serve a minor but important purpose."

Another imam asked: "How long will you have with the child before he returns to America?"

The old mullah replied: "He will be 10 years old when his mother will decide to send him to be raised by her parents."

"How do we know this?" asked another.

"She has been convinced that there is too much racial upheaval in her homeland for her child to return to America. She has been provided with means and the assurances of those she trusts that her child is safer and better cared for here than he would be among the racist infidels. Our women has whispered the right words to her ears and she has been made aware of the strife in her land. We have nothing to worry as long as we can make our mahdi safe and tend to his education as we would our garden. His learning and knowledge progresses apace. He attends our madrasah in the morning and instruction is in the teachings of Islam and our history. He spends his afternoons with me for his special instruction. She is content and will remain so."

"She is content?"

The old man answered, this time quickly: "Oh, yes, brother! She has been made to feel that she is most welcomed here though she is not a true believer. We can allow a snake in our garden as long as we keep her distracted. She has work that interests her and supports her well. Our women report she is happy here and grows to despise her homeland more day by day. She is courted by a local man - a good Muslim though he lapses enough to not draw her scrutiny - who has made her feel loved. For an American woman, that is sufficient."

With that, they were scattered (though still muffled) laughter around the circle.

"What of this man who attends to the mahdi’s mother? Is he in our confidence?" asked a voice from the circle.

"No, my brother. He is paid only to woo her and tend to her physical appetites. He is no Islamist. He knows nothing other than it is desirable for the woman to remain in our village. He is sufficiently compensated for his attentions to the American bitch of a dog and, truthfully, finds it not as revolting as a true and faithful Muslim might. He is a simple man and does not ask too many questions. He enjoys the favors we dispense his work brings him. He will not be a problem for us."

With that, the men in the circle smiled widely. They could finally begin to feel that the plan, as they had dreamed, was taking shape as perfectly as human puppets could be made to perform. One by one, they expressed their assent. In doing so, they were pledging their loyalty, their secrecy and their fortunes to the execution of the plan that was codenamed "New Path". All were in agreement that the scheme should continue forward and that the elder mullah should remain in local control.

For his part, the old man would apprise the leaders of progress at regular intervals but only at irregular intervals and with the utmost security. There would be no written communications and only messengers - true jihadists - would carry the information to be transmitted from the village. No messenger would be used more than once so all information distributed would only appears as pieces of a giant puzzle to prying eyes and nonsensical in its separate parts. The members of the cabal would not communicate with each other about New Path under any circumstances. There would be an immediate end to all blood feuds and quietude would be the watchword by which they would all coexist.

As for the one absent, none spoke. While they all prepared to leave with hearts that soared in anticipation and steadfast confidence in the perfection of their plan, they all knew without the cooperation of the one not there, things would be more difficult but not impossible. Those that left the meeting that night had renewed hope for their scheme and knew they must and should proceed, regardless. Without success, their cause would be lost and, with it, the future of their faith.

There are, after all, a multitude of reliable and proven ways of obtaining agreement or eliminating obstacles in a plan of this magnitude. Throughout the history of Islam, no man was above the advancement of The Faith. This thought was in the back of everyone’s mind as they left the village, silently and separately for the long journeys home. They would spread across the globe as locust, each returning with different passports and by a different mode of travel from which they came.

Such was the secrecy demanded when the overthrow of the world was in progress.

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(1) The "Six-Day War" between Egypt, Jordan and Syria and Israel; June 5-10, 1967