Ridiculous fantasies of the unfaithful, thought Ahmed. There was only one
true book under heaven and no man had ever been so foolish as to try to make a
movie of it.
Ahmed's little group had been instructed to strike on the second day of the
science fiction convention. No reasons had been given for choosing this
particular event as a target and -- as far as Ahmed was concerned -- none were
required. Their leader had spoken, and his words were the words of Allah in
matters of their holy cause.
When the light turned green, Ahmed's jangling nerves caused him to goose the
gas pedal. The back tires spun uselessly on the wet pavement until he rather
shakily let up on the gas a bit.
Continuing up the street, he turned left into the covered driveway of the
Rivage Hotel's reception area and joined a line of cars waiting their turns to
load or offload passengers and luggage at the big glass doors at the top of the
driveway.
Ahmed's was the fifth car in line when a family of five came through those
doors and walked past him, evidently on their way to some part of the science
fiction convention.
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