"What is your name, boy?" Major David Stern looked steadily at the boy sitting in the corner, by the green metal table. There were no shackles or handcuffs. The boy did not look dangerous at all. On the first look David would not give this boy more than ten years of age but the boy's eyes told a different story. These were the eyes of an adult, who was under tremendous pressure, which was still building up inside him.

He gave off the impression of a good person; someone you could trust. He was dressed in the traditional Arabic long loose-fitting jilbab. It was worn to the thread in many places but the whole appearance of the boy was still clean and very neat. The boy was polite and well mannered.

Early in the morning, this small, smiling and very friendly-looking boy was arrested trying to blow up a bus full of people. The majority of the passengers were Palestinians, Arabs, Turks and Christians from all over the world. Many of them lived in Jaffa and worked in Haifa. Later in the day and in the reverse direction the bus would be full of Jews and Christians living in Haifa and going to Jaffa on business, shopping and for fun.

The boy was pulling the cord protruding from his jilbab time and time again when once should be more than enough, but nothing happened. There was no explosion, no fire and no thunder. A middle-aged, well-dressed Palestinian sitting right next to the boy wrestled the boy down, pinning his hands to the floor. Being a Palestinian, he understood everything before anyone else did.

The police arrived a few minutes later and surrounded the bus. Passengers were carefully let out from the bus. The bomb expert lifted the boy's jilbab and saw that instead of a long undergarment (sirwal), the Arab boy was wearing an undergarment made out of Russian-manufactured low-grade plastic explosives. The boy tried to complete his mission by pulling the cord to ignite the explosives but the cord connection had come loose in his long journey from the West Bank or from the heat and sweat, and the bomb did not ignite. The road to paradise was blocked temporarily The boy would have to wait and try again and again until he succeeded and Allah the Merciful would take him to His holy bosom. Maybe Allah was saving him for something else, later? Who can say? It was Allah's way. Inshallah (God Willing). And who said that martyrdom was easy? One had to die for it.

"I am not a boy, Sir. I am past the age of maturity (sin al-bulugh). I am a man. Give me a cigarette, please."

The major knew what sin al-bulugh was. It was the age at which Muslims were considered adult and became accountable for his/her duties in Islam. There was no fixed age for it. It was decided by three signs: a menstruation period or pregnancy for girls, and being physically mature or having a wet-dream for boys; growing pubic hair; or reaching the age of fifteen, whichever came first. Jews made it mandatory at the age of thirteen but Muslims were more flexible in that regard. Well, Judaism was a few thousand years older than Islam so there was plenty of time to make it comfortable enough for a thirteen years old to become responsible for his actions. It was interesting, Major Stern mused, that the ancient Jews became responsible for their actions at the age of thirteen; later Muslims set the age of responsibility at fifteen and the modern Christians have the age of responsibility split in two - seventeen and twenty one. One can get married and have children at the age of seventeen but he or she cannot buy alcohol and tobacco. How can one explain something like that to an ancient Jew?

Daud was not afraid of death; he'd died once already when he pulled the cord of the bomb for the first time. What he could not deal with was the life of the unknown. No one could. But only that was offered in this room. This was the room of the unknown and the eternal fear. One could smell fear in the stale air of this airless room. The boy wanted to know what was waiting for him - to go to jail or to be shot or whatever. Anything, but not this unsettling room where he would have to spend time without knowing time.

David was a master of the psychological approach to interrogation. In his opinion, disorientation worked better than brutal force. He used some very effective drugs but never torture. He knew that physical pain is much easier to resist than psychological confusion. People could train themselves to control pain but not to control thoughts and the unknown. The psychological approach was tough even for the best-trained professional. Daud was a boy and he would break down soon.

"I am sorry, young man. I did not know that. Please forgive me. Here, you can have a cigarette and I have a bottle of cold Coca-Cola for you if you like it. You see the logic now, don't you? We don't know anything about you unless you tell us. Are you hungry?"

The boy smoked a cigarette given to him and lighted by the Jewish major. This Jew was different from what Daud was told about Jews. He was soft-spoken and even friendly. This cigarette was good, expensive, American. Cold Coca-Cola. Food. When were they going to torture him and ask questions he could not answer? When would the pain come?

The Mullah said that Jews would torture him to death, a very slow death. He said that Jews were not human and that they were enemies of Allah. Maybe they would not torture him? No, no, the teacher from the Mosque told them time and time again that Jews always torture and that torture, if they did not tell anything, would take them to Jannah - Paradise. But, if one co-operated with the Jews with anything, there would be no Jannah. There would be Jahannam - hell.

Major Stern was transferred to the Mossad (the secret service of Israel) from the military intelligence five years ago after being wounded in a suicide-bomber's attack. It was as deadly an attack as many before and probably as many in the future. That day burnt a deep memory in his mind and left a never-healing and constantly bleeding scar on his heart. That day made an empty shell of a man once full of life. That was a day of the greatest loss in David's life.

David was on assignment in Eilat on the Red Sea at the time and his son, Boruch, was coming over for the whole week. It was a rare treat for both of them. Boruch was thirteen already and David saw him only for a few weeks at the time while he was home in Tiberius. Wars and well-financed perpetual terrorism constantly kept him on the road. Before his military service David was a well-to-do psychiatrist, who was fluent in Hebrew, Arabic, English and Russian. His father was from Syria and his mother was from Russia, and he grew up in Israel studying English in the University, as did everyone else. Like so many at his school, he became convinced that coexistence with the Arabs could be achieved. All they had to do was to see each other as people and try harder than at anything else. And David tried hard to make friends out of enemies.

David was considered one of the best interrogators in the country. He was able to get answers using techniques of a psychoanalyst rather than those of a professional interrogator. The friendly Western foreign powers liked to borrow David on occasion; he delivered results. David believed that kindness and the properly directed soft-spoken words could do much more than torture and mistreatment. He used to say that even a marble statue talks if you stroke it the right way. And, time and time again he was able to prove the point even in the toughest cases. Everyone had something he cherished most and if you find what that was, you get your answers. Everyone knew that but David could find almost in every case what that most cherished thing was.

He did his job with commitment, sacrificing time with his family. It was his deep and true belief that Israel was the last place on earth for the Jews of the world to go to and David was one of the chosen guardians. Where else would all these people go if Christianity or Islam, forgetting where they came from, start another crusade or a holocaust? In Israel every Jew was welcomed. That was the law and that was the fact.

It was a very fine day that day in Eilat; warm but not hot and, thanks God, not humid. But, again, how many bad days does one get in Eilat? David was able to clear completely three whole days, dedicating them exclusively to Baruch. It would be like a mini vacation but just for two of them. The schedule for relaxation and enjoyment was heavy and filled to the brim. Beach, swimming, sunbathing, breakfasts, lunches and dinners, shows, concerts and the movies, ice-cream and soft drinks at midnight and the long walks filled with important conversations that only a father and son could have - they had to do it all. It was so important. David was so excited; he could hardly wait. Three whole days with his son...

The bus arrived only ten minutes late. That was quite unusual. A bus on time? Anything on time? In Israel? In Israel busses had their own schedules and their own minds. The driver decided what to do and when. He knew better. Only he could drive on or make a pit stop. He was the driver and the leader of the passengers. If many tried to make a decision, there would be chaos and anarchy. The bus driver could not allow that. He was supposed to know what to do in any situation and usually he did. Bus drivers were a bright lot regardless of nationality: Jews, Arabs, Palestinians, Druses or anyone else brave enough to drive a bus across this wonderful and yet extremely dangerous country of Israel. One could still see the blown up and burnt down buses on the sides of roads as a reminder of what was, still is, but hopefully would not be.

David saw Boruch right away. How much the boy had grown! And the hair. A hippy. David had a hippy in his family. Boruch was holding his backpack, waiting in line to disembark the bus. David was impatient. He started to move closer in anticipation to hug his son, to hold him close to his chest. Then there was a sudden commotion. David looked around trying to see what was happening. A young Palestinian, just a teenager not much older than Boruch, pushed everyone aside rushing in to the bus and yelling "Allahu akbar". As in slow motion, a powerful explosion shook the earth and knocked David down. He was bleeding from the head. People ran and yelled something but David could not hear what they yelled. Something terrible had happened, but what? David tried to concentrate, to remember. Boruch. Where was Boruch? "Boruch" screamed David, but words did not come out. David felt suspended and underwater: floating, weightless and deaf. The air was thick with acrid fumes and hard to breath. Rapidly he slipped into unconsciousness - the condition mercifully provided by the body when you can not handle consciousness any longer. The last he remembered was blood, human flesh, fire and that terrible acrid, one of a kind, smell of explosion.

"Thank you, Major. My name is Daud."

"Thank you, Daud. Now, what happened? Why did you have explosives, Daud? Why did you want to kill yourself and people around you?" Daud was a rare treat for the Mossad. He was a terrorist, a human bomb that did not explode. Maybe David would get lucky and learn something from this very scared boy.

"I am a soldier - ghazi. Jews took our land. Jews killed my family. Jews is everything evil on this earth. I hate Jews. After we kill all the Jews, we will kill all the Americans. They support Jews and they hate Islam. We will kill all infidels. May I have another coke, please, and one more cigarette?" Like so many, this boy was full of passion. Many Palestinians here talked about land and about the Jews and the Americans, and killing. They were ready to kill and to die for the land they never had and for the ideas planted in their heads by others.

Palestinians had never owned this land but rich Egyptians, Syrians, Iraqis and the Turks did. Come to think about it, Palestinians were a unique bunch - an Arab-Turkish mixture that no one wanted. Turks treated them as slaves and the other Arabs betrayed them at every opportunity and often without one. Now, Arabs used these Palestinians to keep the whole world in check, especially the Jews. Palestinians were expendable in the Arab's mind. And the Arab world smiled while the whole world was put to tremendous expense fighting terrorism off. Jews were strained to the limit and that was very important to the Muslims of the world.

This was the struggle of Islam for undeserved leadership in the world. Arabs had sold this land to the Jewish agents on the beginning of the twentieth century and before, when Jews came back in large numbers to the Land, theirs from thousands of years ago. The Arabs came into the Land some 600 years ago. In the 1940s, Egyptians, Syrians and Iraqis forced the Palestinians into refugee camps, raping and robbing them in the process. The Trans-Jordan legionnaires murdered hundreds if not thousands of Palestinians that did not want to move and co-operate with them - these legionnaires were the fascists of the Middle East. And now Palestinians were crying about the land the Jews took from them? What land? When did it happen? What Jews had anything to do with the Palestinian problem? Well, David knew answers to all of these questions but Daud did not. Daud believed the Muslim clerics. They were masters at trading the dreams of Paradise for the reality of death.

"Where did your family come from, Daud?" Major put the whole packet of cigarettes on the table. He also called for another coke and for some sandwiches. Food would make this boy more comfortable and make it easier for him to talk.

It took four months of hospitals and surgeries for David Stern to recover after the explosion on the bus stop in Eilat. He learned that explosion killed twenty-three people and his son, Boruch, was among them. The terrorist was a young sixteen years old Palestinian from Gaza. There was not enough found of him to identify anything but Hamas claimed the victory and showed pictures of the hero. Arafat himself was present at the funeral and a little playground - one of the very few in Gaza City - was named after the new martyr.

David strongly believed that Arafat and all these dancing, singing and machine gun firings - Palestinians celebrating - mocked the death of his son, Boruch. This was something he did not want to forget or forgive. It was a well-planned operation by professional killers. Were they achieving anything? Yes, they were getting paid and in hard currency. The Muslim world and the Arabs were celebrating all this terror as little victories on the way of conquering the world. They wanted Islam to dominate the world so they could reap the fat benefits. From that time on, the war on terrorism became personal for Major David Stern.

"My family was from Gaza. We always lived there. Are you going to torture and then kill me?" This boy looked so small and scared now but a few days ago he was pulling a cord to ignite an explosion. How many Boruchs could he kill with that explosion?

"No, Daud. We are not going to torture or to kill you. We are just going to talk to you for a while and then we will send you to jail where you will spend many years, maybe your life. The Court will decide but that would still depend on you. This jail is full of terrorists who failed and were captured. You will feel right at home there. They are always friendly with young boys like you. You see, they have nothing to lose but paradise, and paradise is gone already. Some like to start a new life and ask us for help and we help if we can." The boy was quiet. A new life? Was it possible?

The boy told his story and there was nothing new but some names and places. The local leader of the PLO and one of the closest associates of Arafat, the father of terrorism, was running the evening school for the boys and girls of sin al-bulugh - the age of maturity. Young adults, children of missing parent, were especially welcomed. Every evening after the talk was over and the final prayer conducted, some money would be passed around. Once a week a good meal of some chicken and rice pilaf would conclude the evening. Daud tried not to miss even one evening at the teacher's home. The best out of the best students would be selected to become a martyr while paying back the Jews for their atrocities. Everyone thought that Jews deserved it because that's what the teacher told them and he always was right. That is why he was the teacher and chairman Arafat was his friend.

Daud's family died when he was only five years old. The Jewish military entered their section of the city in search of a few PLO fighters hiding there. The Jews had tanks and helicopters. The PLO was losing ground, house-by-house and street-by-street. Many civilians were killed. They had nowhere to hide but in their homes and that was where the terrorists were hiding, as well. Suddenly two of the PLO fighter stormed into Daud's parents' house. They had RPG's (Pocket Propelled Grenades) and a Russian heavy machine gun. They set up the machine gun and started shooting. A Jewish soldier fell down. The Jews replied with a few shells from the tank. All in the house were killed but Daud, who was playing in the neighbor's house.

Ever since then, Daud lived with his uncle, Omar, two streets over from the house of his father. Omar was a street vendor selling watches, wallets, CD's and cigarette lighters. Sometimes he would come across some jewelry, which made more money for him, but it was dangerous. Jewelry usually was stolen from the foreign tourists and the police demanded bakshish (a bribe) for not investigating the matter. Bandits and the PLO wanted some, too. Omar never knew the difference between these two but he respected the rules because he was afraid.

Omar had five children already and Daud was not a welcomed addition to the family but he was a relative and the Koran taught that one has to help relatives in need. Omar was not a zealot but he respected the Koran and the old traditions. "How else could a good man exist in these troubling times?" Omar often thought.

Daud was often reminded that, if not for the Jews, they would not be in this situation and he, Daud, would still have his parents. It was burnt deep into his mind. He never saw a Jew close up and definitely never talked to one but he hated them with every little fiber of his body. Jews were the enemies and he actively searched for the opportunity to pay the Jews back and the opportunities were plenty around. Unfortunately, many of these opportunities required death of the faithful but so what. It was a holy death, which takes you to paradise. It was up to the teacher to choose and the teacher would choose the best ones. The teacher showed them how to kill many Jews with one blow, to become a martyr and to earn $20.00 for uncle Omar at the same time.

For the first six months of imprisonment Daud was sent to the high security school for the young Palestinians and Arabs convicted of crime. This was the first real school Daud attended. Back in Gaza all they had were religious classes. The Koran was all they needed to know. Some math and writing were an extra taught by a volunteer on weekends. Daud loved these classes and the teacher who had lived in America for ten years studying to be a professor of mathematics. But when he came back to Gaza, he understood that professors of anything were not really needed. Palestinians needed teachers for children that grew up with a questionable knowledge of Koran but could not read or write. So he started his own school. Money? Some wealthy merchants would donate a few dollars occasionally and that's how the teacher of math and writing survived. He was known to the Mossad as well, and was protected when it was possible. After all, this teacher tried to do something good for his people and that was available in the Muslim world in very limited supply. Israeli Jews like David believed that education of Palestinians could become the strongest part of the foundation necessary for peace and understanding between the Jews and the Palestinians.

David visited Daud often, almost every weekend. David and Daud started to grow close. Daud waited for this visits as the most important part of his life. David had permission to take Daud out of the school and they would go for a walk, movies, and dinner. The whole world suddenly opened for Daud. He wanted to know everything and most of all Hebrew. This boy was changing so rapidly and David enjoyed it as one of his best accomplishments. They became, without really thinking about it, the best of friends. They became closer than father and son. David was a man who lost a son and the young man had lost his father.

The next two years Daud was allowed to stay with David and his wife on weekends and holidays. He reminded them of Boruch so much that both of them secretly wanted Daud to become Boruch. And, then there was parole. David was able to convince the Parole Board to let Daud stay with David's family. He thought that family, love, education and many other things would contribute to the Daud's rehabilitation dramatically. And, he was right. Daud grew to be a strong wiry and not very tall man. School was a joke for him and he proudly showed the high school diploma to all his new friends. Then, there was even a bigger occasion. The university accepted Daud. He wanted to study engineering and David was happy to support it financially. All this was like a miracle proving his theories that there were no bad people and a violent past and a questionable upbringing did not stop the proper development of a solid present. For the first time in his life Daud had access to everything he could only dream of. He was happy and his plans went far.

Daud's correspondence with "home" in Gaza was quite limited. He would call his uncle Omar once a month and he would write once in three months. He could not call there more often because Omar did not have a phone. The nearest phone was in the teahouse five blocks away. Daud knew that every Wednesday night after the evening prayer Omar went to the teahouse to end the working week (from Saturday to Thursday) with friends, neighbors and a good cup of tea. That's when Daud called.

Receiving letters was very important for uncle Omar but who could read them? Daud was the only one on the whole street who could read and now he was living in Israel reading and writing in Hebrew. Omar never liked the idea of Daud blowing himself up but twenty dollars helped. It took two or three months to make that much. Yes, Jews were pushing Palestinians around but blowing oneself up just to kill a few Jews was not really smart. Omar could not see the point of doing that and he tried to stay away from his more aggressive neighbors, who supported these ideas. Why fight? What was good in it? Life was not too bad after all. A beautiful wife, a few full-of-energy children, good food, old friends and neighbors. What else do you need? You work hard to support your family and you enjoy your rest. Life was good. With all its problems and the happiness, life was good.

"David, I have to go back to Gaza." Daud had just finished talking on the phone. This was a call from Gaza. His aunt Fatima had called. "Something terrible happened, David. My uncle is dead. He was killed coming out from the teahouse. Someone killed him with a knife. The killer did not take any money so it was not robbery. I think it was because of me. They called my uncle 'The Jew lover'. You see, he was telling to people that life was good here and that I was doing fine, and about you, and that I was accepted in the university. Now he is dead and I have to go back and help his family. There's still his wife and two small children at home." Daud was very upset and David could see tears in his huge brown eyes.

"Your conditional parole is not over for another six months, Daud. Then your general parole for another five years starts. You cannot leave the country until that. You know that, Daud."

"Help me, David. Please. They know you and they trust you. I am not a threat to anyone. You know that and they know that. This is an emergency. Talk to them. Please. I promise to come back after I straighten out the situation with my aunt. Please, David."

Daud called from Gaza every week. Because he could speak Arabic, Hebrew and quite passable English, he was able to find a job in an Egyptian bank as a customer service representative. The family was doing great, considering the situation. In a year or so they would be able to live by themselves. Daud was tutoring two of his cousins every night and it was not long before they would get high school diplomas and that would lead to jobs. Daud hoped that soon he could come back to Israel to continue his studies. Gaza could use a few educated people, especially doctors, teachers and engineers, and he wanted to be one of them. That was his vision. That was his dream.

Gaza did not need more clerics or freedom fighters, or experts in weapons and explosives. Gaza did not need more peace discussions and negotiations, and Christian missionaries discussing and negotiating for the Arabs and the Jews. The missionaries did more bad than good due to their total lack of knowledge and understanding of the real issues. Gaza needed real action. Gaza needed jobs, education, food and health care. But where would it come from? Arabs never lifted a finger to help the Palestinians and the West tried but shied away because of the terrorism and the general Islamic misunderstanding of - and resistance to - progress.

Jews of Israel were the only saviors in the region and that is why they were the biggest enemies of all. Jews offered jobs, education, supplies, food, safety, country and that is why Jews had to be destroyed. Arabs could not forget that they lost time and time again to the small understaffed and undersupplied military of the Jews. Arabs could not forget the lost land and begging for it to be returned and the insult of getting it back. Jews did not want the "occupied" territories, such as Gaza, and on a number of occasions they tried to give it back to Egyptians, Palestinians and whoever else would take it.

But a new war would start and the lost-in-the-desert Gaza would get dropped by the Arabs again, like a hot potato. The Arabs seemed to benefit from the war between the Jews and the Palestinians. On one hand the Palestinians were preoccupied with so many problems and on the other hand the Jews were constantly held in check. If Allah wanted a paradise in the desert, He would do it Himself, not the hated Jews. Jews reminded them of little ants and bees always working, building something, and then enjoying the fruits of it. Why work so hard when you can rest and pray and then rest some more and when you need something just go to the Jews and take it. Christians presented a nice target as well, but Jews were better. Jews never fought back. Until recently. Something happened, something snapped somewhere and Jews came out from the comatose sleep of the religion-imposed pacifism. They started to fight back and hard. They kept saying: 'Never again!" Whatever that meant. So the Arab world needed the Palestinians to create terror, blame it on Jews and kill in the process as many of them as was possible. Jews had to be constantly kept in check. That was a must for Islam, if Islam wanted to survive much longer.

The Saudis, the Syrians, the Egyptians and the Iraqis always demanded more from the other half of the world for the Palestinians Arabs but little was ever passed down to them from these Arabs - their half-brothers. There were no extra funds available for food, hospitals, education, developing new jobs, and the social issues but millions always could be found for purchasing the Russian-made weapons and the explosives. Murder and terror was in high demand and well financed in the Muslim world. It was the only thing all Arabs could agree on.

Then telephone calls from Gaza from Daud became a happy rarity for David and his wife. An occasional letter - Daud was busy, tired and overwhelmed with all his new responsibilities and duties - substituted for the weekly telephone calls. David, on a few occasions, offered some money but Daud proudly declined it saying that he was grateful but he could manage. David worried but it seemed to him that Daud was doing so well. David thought that Daud was trying to prove himself, his manhood, his will to survive.

The situation in the Middle East and specifically in Israel was becoming more and more complicated. A new "Road Map" plan for peace was getting adopted under tremendous pressure from the West. A one-state approach with Jews and Palestinians living together but with an independent Palestinian council managing the so-called occupied territories fell through due to inability or to a lack of desire by the Palestinians to manage their own people. Arafat was not the man for the job but he controlled the money and there was no one in the PLO strong enough to replace him. Attempts were made but he manipulated the deaths of his opponents and he always prevailed. Naturally, the Jews were blamed for that failure as for everything else. The newly proposed plan called for a two-states approach and that smelled more of blood than anything before. All militant groups of Islam and the PLO went on the killing spree. It was open season on Jews and the powers of the Arab world paid for it with smiling faces. On one hand the Saudis, Iraqis, Syrians and the Egyptians cried for peace and on the other hand they kept paying for weapons, explosives and the instructors. Palestinians killed Jews and the Jews responded with the vengeance bloodying the streets of Gaza and the West Bank. Palestinians cried burying their dead and went back to doing more killings. David worried about Daud and his safety.

"David, this is Daud. How are you?" This was the telephone call David was waiting for. Daud was coming back to Israel to complete his education - of course, if David did not mind.

Two weeks. For David it was not soon enough. Daud was his last chance to have a son, grandchildren, and the future. Daud was a Palestinian. But what was the difference? They were cousins by blood maybe, somewhere a long time ago. David did not see any problems. They could be as father and son.

David had to go to the Gaza area anyway. This time the unrest was one of the bloodiest. Palestinians had blown up another bus and there was a bomb explosion in a market. Dozens of people died. Israel struck back moving tanks in, firing missiles from the helicopters and arresting a few active Islamic militants. Arafat was beside himself. Some of these people were his close associates and they could tell a few things. So the political pressure was mounting again. Arafat wanted his people back before they would break. Arabs, liberals, missionaries and the suicide bombers were employed once again to force the powers of the world to lean on the Israeli government. It was getting ugly but it never was pretty to begin with.

David never believed that this burning fire would ever be over as long as the Arabs fed it with suicidal hysteria and monetary fuel. If all these poison-spitting angry people went away, the family of Semites would have a chance to reunite. If David and Daud could do it, others could too.

That was another perfect day in the land of paradise. The temperature was a little high but the light breeze kept it pleasant. David smoked a cigarette waiting for a bus from Gaza. Lately, he was not feeling all that good. For the first time in his life David was feeling his heart. Well, that was a sign, a signal. His doctor and his wife, Frida, insisted he quit smoking and David was thinking it over. This was a serious decision to make. He'd smoked for all his life. But true, it was time to take care of his health if he wanted to see Daud's children and maybe grandchildren. There was the bus. Hm. It was only ten minutes late. Another miracle ...

Daud was first to come out. He looked taller and somewhat leaner. He'd matured into a good-looking man. Daud was wearing the traditional jilbab as he had the first time they met. They hugged right there, right in front of the bus that was holding the disembarking people back for a few seconds.

"I love you, Daud," David was holding the boy close to his heart.

"And I love you, David, but god is great. Allahu akbar" Tears were streaming from the Daud's eyes when he pulled the cord protruding from his jilbab. A powerful explosion shook the square incinerating all hopes of survival for humans and animals alike. "Allahu akbar" kept ricocheting from wall to wall and from body to body for several seconds leaving all witnesses deaf and blind - stunned.
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