The Prophet Murders Read Free

We were all quiet, reading what he’d written.
    I skimmed through the list of nicks while waiting for his diatribe to end. I recognised a few names. Most of those in the
     room try to pass themselves off as super macho types. They choose names they think are provocative, or at least obscene. As
     I read through them, I kept an eye on Jihad2000’s messages. He was banging on about a transvestite who burned to death, who
     suffered the tortures of hell while still on this earth.
    All eyes, I began concentrating. This was the first time he’d gone into such detail. He must have read about it in the newspaper,
     and been inspired.
    ( written in red characters )
        PERVERTS
    YOU HAVE STRAYED FROM THE PATH OF RIGHTEOUSNESS.
    HAVE CHOSEN THE WAY OF SHIT
    HELLAWAITS YOU!
    THE INFIDEL WHO DIED TODAYWAS NOT THE FIRST
    AND WON’T BE THE LAST!
    HERETICS, PREPARE YOURSELVES !
    A HOLYWAR HAS BEEN LAUNCHED!
    YOU’RE NEXT!>
    As always, his connection was cut as soon as he’d floated his message. Either one of our operators had kicked him out, or
     he’d bolted. I had too much on my plate to know which.
    Thanks to Jihad2000, all hell broke loose. The room buzzed with panic. Those who hadn’t yet witnessed his antics showered
     the others with questions. Who died? Where? When? How? Who did it? Were religious fanatics responsible? Were we all doomed?
     It took some time for chat to return to normal. Using my webmaster code, I took a look at what he’d written earlier. I’d
     only caught the end, and wondered what I’d missed.
        YOU ALL BLASPHEME.
    YOU SEEK TO ALTER THE ALMIGHTY’S CREATION
    DO YOU REALLY KNOW BETTER THAN THE
    GREAT CREATOR?
    YOU’RE ALL PERVERTS!
    YOU’RE ALL DAMNED!
    YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR SINS HERE ON EARTH!
    ONE OF YOU WENT UP IN FLAMES!
    THE SINNER IBRAHIM HAS BURNED!
    THE WORLD HAS ONE LESS SINNER!>

    The words really threw me. He’d gone too far. Why this hatred? Why this venom? I sensed a headache coming on.
    One of the girls I know from the site opened a private window and asked me what was going on. I quickly summed it up for her.
     She hadn’t read the papers, and became upset. Then vindictive.
    I’d had enough, and it was clearer than ever that I faced a migraine. I switched off the computer and went to the living room.
     It was almost time for my game show.
    I never get the slightest pleasure out of game shows. I’m just addicted. It’s upsetting to realize how much more I know than
     the average contestant. Their lack of knowledge makes me cross; I curse their ignorant certainty. But I don’t miss a programme.
     I suspect this is a form of masochism.
    The first contestant was a young woman, an Istanbul University student. Her glasses, straight hair parted down the middle
     and drab clothes lent her an intellectual air.
    As I munched on spinach börek , I let her have it with my best insults. I didn’t expect her to hear. And if she had, what would she have made of me? I was
     on a roll. She was disqualified on the fifth question.
    It concerned music terminology. She was asked to identify the odd one out from: symphony, sonata, opus and oratorio. Naturally,
     she wasn’t aware that opus refers to the numerical chronology of a composition. She chose oratorio, and was neatly eliminated.
     My headache had worsened to the point where I require medication. I turned off the TV.
    I took a painkiller, and then started concentrating on redirecting energy flows. Exercise is best for this. I’m practised
     in Aikido and Thai-boxing. As long as I’m not faced with an armed opponent, there’s no one I can’t handle. For this reason
     alone, the neighbourhood shows me a certain respect. No matter how frivolous or flamboyant my outfits, I’m considered an abi , a big brother.
    After tackling one of a growing number of purse snatchers, my standing in the neighbourhood increased still further, and not
     just in the eyes of the rescued