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“Allah be praised, what you are planning is good indeed.” Lualhati and Agpalo knew him only as ‘Al-Hakim’, which they now knew meant “the learned one” in Arabic. “And you are wise beyond what I expected to desire such caution. Wise indeed.” He twisted his beard, thinking carefully. Beside him, a hot cup of coffee sat untouched.

“Thank you, Al-Hakim,” replied Lualhati deferentially. “I have great plans, but know that we cannot do this alone.”

“Indeed, you probably cannot, Lualhati, but you need not try, either. Allah has sent both of you to us, and us to both of you.Together, we will all work and, Allah willing, accomplish the end result of your plan. And this is a sign from Allah, who most of all has sent you to me.” His hand went to the side, lifting the coffee to his lips. He sipped the thick sweet liquid, pondering his next words.

Almost nobody knew much about Al-Hakim, and he carried with him a certain aura of mystique. He was a former oil worker who had truly learned to discover and love Islam while working on the Saudi Peninsula. An engineer, but of Palestinian descent rather than a Saudi citizen, he was among the vast class of immigrant workers mostly responsible for the operation of a tiny country’s vast petroleum production. Such people, denied citizenship, were not able to share in the wealth, however. While fortunate not to have been cast out as so many were after the Gulf War, he saw how many were not so lucky, and truly grasped the exploitation of his kind.The less lucky ones were unceremoniously driven out after Arafat backed Saddam Hussein, and were cast from a life of some stability to seek a new life elsewhere.

Agpalo and Lualhati tried to figure out what Al-Hakim was getting at. The cup of coffee went back down, and the man folded his hands together before speaking. “You see, young students, I think that we all together have the knowledge to put together a great plan.You do not know my past; nobody here does. I used to work in the Mid-East, on the oil fields. My profession was in building and maintaining control systems for large tanks, groups of them.”

The two young men glance at each other again, now even more con- fused. Why was he telling them this, and where was it going? They barely knew this wise, respected man, and now he was confiding in them like he had never done with anyone else, apparently.

“You see, these tanks are grouped together in large clusters, often called tank farms.They store diesel, petrol, kerosene, aviation fuel…all sorts of things.They are very, very important.”

The pair started to become uneasy, and almost uninterested by this. “Al-Hakim,” Agpalo offered, “I mean no disrespect, but why are you telling

us these things? We have no use for this here.” Lualhati just kept his mouth shut, as he always did when he felt uncomfortable.

Al-Hakim smiled. “Ah, but you do have use for it. Listen to me. Did you know that the Americans use more oil than any other single country? And that they depend on it so much that their economy can falter if the price goes up too high?”

They shook their heads, still clueless as to the point of this, but at least reassured that it connected in some form to something they cared about. “No, but what does their need of Muslim oil have to do with us? Oil does not come from here.”

Al-Hakim smiled, and nodded. “You are correct, Agpalo. But

remember, you are hoping to strike at the Americans. What do you think would hurt them the most? What can you take from them that would hurt them so badly that they would not ever forget the lesson?”

“Oil?”

“Yes. But how?” “I don’t know.”

“Exactly. But I know. And I’m going to tell you. But I can’t do it myself; I need you to do it for me. I don’t know computers as you do, and you don’t know petroleum facility operations as I do.These tank farms are extremely important. At refineries, they hold the oil and petrol before it goes in tankers. And near cities, the same tankers fill the tank farms, where the petroleum is stored before it is distributed to petrol stations, airports, and similar places.They are a very important link in the supply chain that feeds the infidels of America.

“These places are large, and full of gauges and valves.They are compli- cated, and difficult to control. If you fill a tank too full, the fuel spills, and creates a problem. Fumes can build up in some of the tanks, and explode if things are not handled correctly. From the outside they look simple, but it takes a great deal of effort, and many people to operate them safely.

“It used to be true that people had to walk around, taking measure- ments and controlling things.They used radios to talk to each other. But in recent years, computers have taken the place of people with radios. Valves are controlled from afar, and gauges are now computer instruments that sit in a single control room. It is all done with computers.”

Lualhati smiled, and Agpalo did a moment later as he too understood where this was leading. “You know what to choose as a target, Al-

Hakim…yes?” inquired Lualhati, wanting to be sure.

“Exactly, young student. If we can somehow go after these computers, we can stop the flow of oil to the American infidels.There are problems with my idea, but we are only at the very beginning. Allah will guide us. But as you have said, we must be very cautious, and start in small ways. Of course Ibn Kelbeh will support you.Tell me what you need.”

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