CHAPTER ONE “MO”
Mohammed Raheem was a twenty-year old student at the University of Pittsburgh. He had enrolled at Pitt two years ago, coming from Saudi Arabia to study computer science. His parents were moderately wealthy and very proud of their son. A handful of distant friends at the University called him “Mo” and described him as intelligent, very religious and somewhat reserved. Mo just didn’t seem to fit in with the fun part of college life. He would never go to the Strip District to party with the others, had no girlfriend, and as far as anyone knew, didn’t even drink beer. He did spend a lot of time at the Mosque and his neighbors noticed that when he received visitors to his small apartment in Shadyside they were always older Arabic men.
After Mohammed’s last class on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Cindy Sullivan, a local Pittsburgher from Bethel Park in the South Hills, feeling sorry for the young man who lived so far from home, invited him to her family’s traditional holiday feast. Not only did he decline, telling Becky he didn’t care for turkey and certainly would never eat ham, but he rudely suggested she should forego her Thanksgiving Holiday and leave town. He told her such a holiday was for gluttons and she and her family should take a tent and go to the mountains and pray to Allah all weekend. Stunned by his thoughtless remarks, Cindy felt her holiday spirit whoosh away like the air from an untied balloon. She stormed out of the classroom and vowed to never sit next to this creep again.
As instructed, on Thanksgiving Day at 1:00 p.m., Mohammed entered his mosque and went directly to the janitor’s closet on the west side of the building. He quickly located the heavy, large, non-distinct backpack he was told would be there. Without hesitation, he carried it from the building and placed it in the trunk of his Kia Reo. Mo knew the instructions were simple and would be taped on the inside flap of the backpack. His contacts had instructed him not to open the pack until Friday morning at 8:00 a.m. when everything would be revealed to him concerning his holy work. Mohammed drove away from the mosque, thinking he might just drink an Iron City beer on his last night on earth.
One of the smallest nuclear warheads manufactured by the United States was the W-54, and a backpack version called the Mk-54 SADM (Small Atomic Demolition Munition). This warhead weighed just over 51 pounds and had the explosive power of one kilo-ton of TNT. The bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki were about 13 to 15 kilotons each. Even though much smaller, this “backpack” bomb could still do tremendous physical damage to a city. In comparison, the bomb used at the Federal Building in Oklahoma City in 1995 was less than .003 kilotons.
As he drove toward his apartment mentally dwelling on the device a few feet behind him in his trunk, Mohammed got a chuckle out of how the U.S. was still going to be ravaged by the name “SADM.” Mo thought there might be others in Pittsburgh that would also be engaging in this holy attack with similar devices. He hoped it was so. He thought the more destruction and death done to the Christian and Jewish pigs in Pittsburgh the better for Allah. Yes, Mohammed reveled; tonight he would drink an Iron City.
Excerpted from "The Christian States of America" by John Keener II & Rev. W. E. Brooks. Copyright © 2014 by John Keener II & Rev. W. E. Brooks. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.