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“That’s what this war is all about, Charley,” Pevsner said. “The Muslim world getting left behind. Think about it.”
He paused and took a spoonful of the soup.
“Take away their oil reserves and what do they have?” Pevsner went on. “They once dominated the known world. Now, with the exception of their oil, they are completely unimportant—more to the point, powerless—in the modern world. They simply don’t have the s
kills and the culture to compete in it. They gave the world mathematics, and some of the most wonderful architecture—so long as the architecture is based on one stone laid on top of another.
“All the skyscrapers in the Arab world were designed and built by the infidels. And their airplanes were designed and built by infidels and their telephone systems . . . even their sewers. And they need infidels to keep everything running.
“This isn’t the way Muhammad told them it was going to be. He promised them, in the Koran, that they would control the world. And they all know this because higher education in the Arab world consists mostly of men—only men— memorizing the Koran. And since nothing is their fault, it has to be someone else’s—the infidels’.”
“That seems pretty simplistic,” Castillo said, and immediately thought: Careful, Charley, you don’t want to piss Pevsner off.
“Because an answer is simple doesn’t mean it’s not the answer,” Pevsner said.
He took another sip of the soup and then a healthy swallow of the Hungarian wine.
“The Muslim world is four hundred—maybe five hundred —years behind the Western world,” Pevsner went on. “And adding to that problem is their religious hierarchy who likes it that way. People in power are never in favor of a system change that will see their power diminished. That’s also true in the Western world, of course. The Roman Catholic and my own Orthodox hierarchies—who also go around in medieval clothing—are as guilty of this as the mullahs. The difference is that as the influence of the Christian hierarchies on their societies has diminished over time, the Muslim hierarchies’ influence has grown.
“They have—as we see examples of just about every day—thousands, tens of thousands, perhaps many hundreds of thousands of faithful who are perfectly willing to sacri fice their lives because their mullahs tell them it will please God. And also send them directly to heaven, where they will receive the attentions of grateful whores. This, I think you will have to agree, makes for a very dangerous situation for Western society.”
He stopped and took another healthy sip of the Hungarian red.
“Excuse me,” Pevsner said. “I really didn’t mean to deliver a lecture.”
“You make some interesting points,” Castillo said.
“We were talking about the Holy Legion of Muhammad’s intention of crashing into the Liberty Bell, I believe?”
“We were.”
“Howard?” Pevsner said.
“We found out the 727 was flown to Chad,” Kennedy said. “But we don’t know where in Chad and Chad is a big country. Lots of remote places where you could hide a 727. And we don’t know if it’s still there. They may have finished. ”
“Painting new registration numbers on it, you mean?”
“I think they’re going to do more than that. The only way they can hope to get close to the U.S.—Philadelphia—is to disguise the airplane so it looks like somebody else’s. The question there is, whose?”
“When we have more information, we’ll get it to you,” Pevsner said.
“Why are you giving me this information?” Castillo asked.
“Because the U.S. government is better able to deal with the Holy Legion of Muhammad than I am,” Pevsner said. “If I could deal with these people myself, I would. I don’t want these lunatics to get away with this.”
“Why should you care?” Castillo asked.
For the first time, he sensed anger in Pevsner. His head snapped toward Charley and his eyes were cold.
“Because I am on the same side in this war as you are,” Pevsner said. “I hoped I had made that clear.”
And if we find the airplane, the pressure is off you?
I can’t say that. He’s already angry.
People sometimes say things when they’re angry they shouldn’t.
“And also because if we find the 727, the pressure is off you?” Castillo asked, meeting Pevsner’s eyes.
