The image of the child's beautiful features suddenly materialized in his mind. Then it faded, replaced by the Imam's depraved face, sneering, taunting.

Reese stood motionless, struggling to repel the fast-gathering clouds of rage that threatened his reason.

Flinging her arms about his waist, Miriam buried her head in his chest. "I didn't know, Reese. And I'm so sorry. I grieve for the child and the family. And I grieve for all Moslems of the world. Again we have to suffer the shame inflicted on us by the savages calling themselves jihadists."

He said nothing, waiting for his mind to calm. And as it did, he became certain that he and the Imam were on a deadly collision course.

One of them must die.

more excerpts

Held captive at an isolated farmhouse, Dr. Morgan Reese is forced at gunpoint to perform surgery on an Afghan calling himself the Holy Imam. Thus begins the battle of wits between Reese and the Imam. Caught in the crossfire is the Imam's nurse, Miriam, an Iranian-American and devout Moslem.

Reese soon suspects that the Imam is in America for reasons other than his health. The Imam's bodyguards repeatedly talk of a deadline: September 13. Suspecting a terrorist attack is planned on that day, Reese must thwart it. He will need Miriam's help, but can he trust her?

Racing against time, he finds clues that could reveal the Imam's plot: a missing Koran, the final words of a dying man, and a cryptogram. But the grand plan remains elusive—only the Imam knows it.

In the makeshift operating room, Reese confronts the Imam. He knows only one of them will survive.

For my story in In the Name of Islam, I brought together three aspects of my background: my knowledge of the Middle East, where I grew up; my knowledge of surgery, my profession; and my passion for creative writing. It all fell together into a page-turning mystery/suspense yarn.

Enjoy.

I. J. Sarfeh

There's an interesting story behind the cover photo used for In the Name of Islam. Dr. Sarfeh explains below.

The photo was taken over twenty years ago. I was scrubbing, getting ready for a tough case that had the butterflies flying, when our medical illustrator came to my side. She said she was entering a photographic contest, and did I mind if she took a few snapshots? Lovely woman, she was, and for the life of me, I can't remember her name. I gave her permission. Anyway, I was soon immersed in the operation, oblivious to everything except my patient and the terrible problem with his pancreas--or was it stomach?

The patient did fine, and I heard no more about the snapshots until a year later. The medical illustrator walked into my office one day with a package tucked under her arm. "Here's a present for you, Dr. Sarfeh. It won me first prize."

She gave me the photo, nicely framed and all that. I have treasured it all these years to remind me what "intensity" is all about. That was the title of the picture.