NUCLEAR HOLOCAUST
NEVER AGAIN

I wish he were dead.

Turghun stood staring through the bulletproof glass, his face shining with the light of victory. Beside him, so pear shaped that not even a tailored uniform could be made to hang right, was General Mirzat Zunun, his chief of all combined military forces. By his narrowed eyes and smug expression, he appeared to be gloating already over the coming victory.

It is a wonder he does not crow like a rooster, thought Abul.

On the other side of Turghun towered long-faced and full-bearded Imam Ch'en Hsun. He was the head of China's National Governing Council-in effect, a council of Islamic Sabah clerics-and wore his emblematic toe length, all white, dragon court robe. Always inscrutable, always slippery tongued, always a holy word of Sabah on his lips. Abul did not trust him and had advised his son against appointing him to that powerful position.

Abul dropped his eyes for a moment-they felt almost too heavy to move-and gazed down with disgust verging on horror at the activity on the other side of the glass. A chill spiraled up his spine, competing with the apparent arthritis flaring up in his neck. He felt nauseous. If he vomited, he knew in what direction to spew it all.

Below was a roomful of metal desks topped with Yang computers, Lan consoles, and microphones. There were twenty desks, two for each of the major powers whose cities were to be destroyed. Twenty carefully screened technicians and scientists wearing headphones manned them. Each had a key paired up with that held by the technician at the other desk. The two keys would be inserted within four seconds of each other into key locks on the consoles of the two desks for a specific country. They would unlock the switches that set off a nuclear bomb in one or another of its cities.

Built into the wall in front of the room was a six by twelve foot electronic world map, with China at the center. Twelve red circles marked the cities already destroyed by hidden nuclear weapons. One red, pulsing X indicated the bomb had not gone off in Tokyo. Peking had a blue square around it on the map, as though it were surrounded by protective iron walls.

Security men, with their square, narrow brimmed hats and red and blue pinstriped trousers, stood or ambled around the room along with a supervising general and his aides. Four security men hovered over the Japan desks as two technicians struggled with their unlocked toggles. They kept inserting their keys into the locks simultaneously, and pushing their toggle switches back and forth. Suddenly one of them threw up his hands exuberantly as a row of green lights appeared on his console. He yelled something and everybody stared at the wall map.

In the booth, no one moved. Abul thought he could hear his blood boiling in horror. Maybe it was someone breathing heavily.

It could not be my son. He has not taken a decent breath in years.

The X over Tokyo disappeared. A minute went by. A red circle appeared.

General Zunun turned to Turghun and smiled. His chest swelled up even more, and he stated the obvious: "The second Tokyo bomb worked."

Turghun glanced at him, then at his father Abul for the time it takes to blink, and looked back at the floor below. "Good," he said, as though commenting on the fit of his shoes.

I cannot believe Turghun would do this monstrous killing, Abul thought for the thousandth time. I'm still as sickened by it as when I first heard about his evil plans. Abul had strongly advised against the attack. He told Turghun it must not be done this way. His method-of patience and infiltration and awaiting the right political moment to strike-would work, as it had in China.

Abul rubbed an arthritic hand over his face, each finger feeling its own deep wrinkle, and checked the large black and white wall clock again-9:14 p.m.

Only fourteen minutes have passed.

Further along the observation window, General Zunun's adjutant, Colonel Chi An, sat at a gray metal desk. Different colored phones rested on the desk in front of him. The desk sat on a raised metal platform that allowed Chi An a full view of the floor below.

Abul studied him. Tomorrow Turghun's ultimatum will be broadcast to the world in my name, despite my protests. Then the world will think I committed this unspeakably horrible act. Whether this ends in world victory or not, I do not care. This is not God's way; this is not the way of Sabah; this is not what I taught my son.

"Your method takes too long," Turghun had yelled at Abul, waving his hands as though tormented by flies. "We would all be dead before the final victory. This way, our victory will be fast and complete. We will control the world. Sabahism will be universal."

Abul argued, "Yes, but at what cost? One must kill to take power and consolidate it, to be sure. But not innocents. Not the masses; they could not care less who ruled. And not the wealth and history each major city contains. God wishes us to exploit what the centuries have built, not destroy it. God wants us to educate, convert to the true faith, and uplift the people in his name. You want to kill them like cockroaches, like pouring gasoline on an ant's nest and setting it ablaze."

Turghun had ignored his arguments, and made his preparations. He had the power.

Abul glanced at the two security officers in the back of the booth. Both had their eyes on him; they always did, no matter where he went. Sometimes he felt like pissing on their legs, and excusing himself as an old man.

He had threatened to go to the people. His name was still the power among the people and in the mosques. But Turghun had gradually taken away all his physical authority, all his physical power.

Oh, Abul reflected, I still can make speeches on behalf of God and the book of Sabah. But I first must ask for use of the appropriate facilities, and I have two of these security brutes always standing nearby. No security guard would let him enter a radio or television studio without express permission from his son. He couldn't even make a tape, since he had no recording device, and he didn't know how to use a computer. But he was secretly learning. Soon he would be able to get the word out by eletter or over the esystem.

All Abul's top men were long gone, either dead or transferred out of his reach. His uncle died decades ago. His son was his only living relative. There was not one person he could trust to kill Turghun, not one person around him who would come to his defense if his son tried to kill him.

I'm now a paper caliph.

Abul dropped his throbbing head into his hands. Is this all it means? All my successes, all my triumphs, all my planning for God, all my teaching? I converted billions to the true God; I thought my son had learned the way of Sabahism and would carry on the message of God after me.

I cannot believe how all I have done has ended.

On November 16, 1914, soon after Uighuristan became independent of China, Abul took his first breath on the outskirts of Kashgar, in the small bedroom of a three room, mud-brick home. His mother Niyasam Sabah bore him alone. She cut his umbilical cord after he arrived. She cleaned up both of them.

His mother told him years later that she was breast-feeding him when his father Aisha returned from herding his goats and came into the bedroom. In the dim light from the small window, he glanced at the afterbirth in a pail, the bloody towels, the wet bed, and finally stared at the infant. He approached the bed and leaned over for a good look at his tiny, wrinkled face. He asked gruffly, "Is it a boy?"

"Yes," Niyasam said proudly.

The hard lines of his father's face crinkled into a rare smile. Aisha half bowed and clasped his hands together in momentary prayer, repeating several times, "God be praised."

He put his rough hand on Niyasam's head for a second, nodded, and turned to leave. As he strutted into the main room he threw over his shoulder, "You take good care of Abul. That's what I will name him."

Abul's father husbanded and sold livestock, particularly sheep and goats, and Abul began to learn the trade even as a child. By the age of seven he regularly helped his father tend his livestock and sell them at the market. As was traditional in this part of the world, he also learned from his family about Mohammed and Allah-what Muslims called God-and the sacred Quran. He bowed in the direction of Mecca and said a prayer to God five times a day.

In this most conservative Islamic city, his family was one of the most fundamentalist. They attended the mosque whenever possible and on all Fridays and religious holidays, his father saved ten percent of the family income per year in the hope of taking Abul on the pilgrimage to Mecca, and he enrolled Abul in the Idgah Madrasa, an Islamic religious school at the famous twelfth century Idgah Mosque.

Now recorded in the holy book called The Sabah by his biographers, what happened to Abul at the age of thirteen would transform world history. He remembered that time differently, but he knew such religious myths were important to the faithful.

While on the way home with his father after herding their sheep, Abul fell to the ground with convulsions. His lips turned blue, his forehead oozed sweat, and he foamed about the mouth. Frightened by Abul's convulsions and frightening appearance, Aisha tried to pick him up to rush him home, but his violent shaking made handling him too difficult.

When Abul's convulsions stopped, he shuddered briefly. After a few minutes, he rolled over and pushed himself up to sit on a rock. His mind was still numb; he felt miserable, and he had a dull headache. It was minutes before Abul was able to focus on his father. When he did, he saw that Aisha looked worse than he felt. His father was shaking. Fear for Abul, his only son, lined his face and filled his eyes.

Abul knew nothing about epileptic fits, and such were unknown to his father and most people of Kashgar. At the time he thought it was something he ate, maybe bad lamb.

At thirteen, boyish pranks and jokes, especially on his parents, came naturally to Abul. It was also the way he relieved his fears and released tension. He was a believer in Islam, of course. Through his classes at the madrasa and his father, he was an good Muslim boy. But he was also questioning and iconoclastic, and his questions at the madrasa and his pranks had caused his father and him some grief.

So as his scared father leaned over him and while Abul's lower lip still trembled from the convulsions, Abul joked. That is, he thought he did at the time. The Sabah has him saying, "Father, I have had a holy visit. The angel Gabriel came to me. He told me that God wants to speak to me through him. God said that I would be his prophet. I am in Mohammed's image and must go forth and lead all people to Paradise."

Abul did not talk like that at thirteen. Years later he recalled saying something like, "Father, I saw the angel Gabriel. He said he speaks to me for God. He said God wants me as his prophet. He said I should take people to Paradise."

Abul's black hair was long and curly and framed an angelic, sweet face like a halo. He knew even at his young age that his looks put adults on their best behavior around him. Other boys teased and taunted him for it.

So, when Abul adopted what should have been a comical, saintly look and told Aisha, a simple and religious man, of his supposed revelation, his father gaped at him. He fell to his knees and bowed his forehead to the ground. He surprised Abul by saying, "You are God's prophet. God be praised. Lead us, Abul of God. I believe."

Abul thought his father was also joking, and at any moment would let out a laugh and kick him in the ass as he did his donkeys. Playing out the joke with him, Abul stood, asked him to rise, and said in a high-pitched voice, "Take your prophet home."

Rather than laughing, Aisha stood, bowed, and said, "Everyone must hear."

His father did get the whole family together, to Abul's further surprise. Almost all came: his married sister and her husband, three cousins, his in-laws, and two uncles. All crowded into their small home and gathered before the fireplace to hear about Abul's "revelation." His father described in detail Abul's convulsions and contortions and the color of his face and lips, and explained that this was due to the stress of his communication with an otherworldly being. Then he looked at Abul reverently.

Abul knew his father had him now. This was his way of being sarcastic. He was going to teach Abul a lesson for making a joke about God and Gabriel, for blasphemy, and once he repeated his "vision," his father would hold him up as a bad example and punish him in front of everyone. Abul trembled and chewed his nails. He could not look at his father. He'd not intended that things would go this far, but he felt he had to play it out. He tried to speak in a firm and knowing voice, but it sounded squeaky when he told them about Gabriel coming before him in the image of a man, and what he said to Abul.

No one laughed. His sister told him later that it was because his father brought everyone together with the admonition, "My son is divinely commissioned by God to lead us all."

But his mother was hearing this from Abul for the first time. Now she realized why his father had given him special treatment for the two days before this family meeting. Abul knew she was not dumb. She asked, "Are you sure you did not have dreams or hallucinations? It was very hot that day, and you did not eat breakfast." His sister nodded her agreement.

If his mother had just said, "You're joking," and shook her finger at him, he would have confessed his joke. But hallucinations or dreams? He was not going to admit to those. Abul replied, "It had to be a revelation." He made a boyish exaggeration. "I saw Gabriel as if he were standing here. He was so clear to me." He added what he hoped was his clincher: "But this was hard on my body. It was painful. Father saw this."

Most important, Uncle Hasan believed. Abul did not know it at the time and thought that when everyone went home, that would be the end of it. But, as an important businessman and contributor to the Idgah Mosque, Hasan told Molla Abduvahit Ahmedi about Abul's "visions." Ahmedi knew about Abul's studies at the madrasa and, Hasan told Abul later, was impressed by his seriousness and intelligence. So Ahmedi invited Abul to visit him, and then asked him to describe his "revelation."

Abul was scared. He could not admit to such a joke before Ahmedi. Abul was sure Ahmedi would see him as an evil blasphemer, and he would be kicked out of the madrasa and his family shunned. Stammering, hesitating, face heating up, he retold his story. He did better when Ahmedi asked him to repeat it, but Abul thought at the time, I sound like I've been caught peeing in the fireplace.

Abul's uncle told him afterward that Molla Ahmedi was not impressed, that Ahmedi thought Abul's "intense study of the Quran and the heat of the day caused him to hallucinate a revelation." Abul was only relieved to hear that Ahmedi did not think him a blasphemer.

"Whew," Abul said to himself. "I accept that."

That interview was not the end of it, however. Unknown to Abul, his father and uncle were trying to convert everyone they knew to his "revelation." This went slowly at first, with few converts. But this changed after Abul turned fourteen. While shopping with his mother at the Alpekin food market, the largest in Kashgar, he dropped to the rough ground in the midst of the shoppers. As his body convulsed and contorted in another epileptic fit, a crowd formed a large circle around him. His mother tried to shield his face from the sun and loosen his cotton shirt.

Many had heard about his "revelation" and it had become a local joke. No one laughed, however, when they saw his convulsions. When they ended several minutes later, he lay trembling for a few minutes, his eyes firmly closed, apparently exhausted.

Someone called out, "He has had another revelation." Another yelled, "He has talked to God." Abul heard and realized he was pinned down by his joke like a butterfly to a board. He just could not walk away. He would be the joke of Kashgar for the rest of his life.

Still weak, Abul got to his feet, held out his hands to the crowd, and in a quavering voice (he was really scared by this public speaking) that grew gradually firmer, he repeated parts of the sermon the Molla Aitbayev gave some Fridays, leaving out references to Mohammed. Abul recalled later that he intoned something like, "God has again talked to me through the angel Gabriel. He said, 'God is great. You are my prophet. Lead your people to Paradise. Show them the way. Through them, lead the world to salvation.'"

Gaining inspiration, Abul pointed with a flourish to a wrinkled, bearded man in front of the crowd and said, "Gabriel stood before me like he does. Gabriel told me, 'I speak to you for God.'"

Not bad for a fourteen-year-old, Abul thought years later.

The crowd was hushed, creating a surreal bubble of silence against the distant market hubbub.

Abruptly, the old man he had pointed to knelt and bowed; an old woman followed him, then one person after another until half the onlookers were on their knees, chanting, "Oh Prophet, lead us."

Word spread in the market that the Prophet had come to Kashgar, and was in this very market. People rushed to see Abul Sabah, the supposed prophet, and prostrated themselves. Two men lifted him to stand on a melon table so that all could see him. As the swelling crowd gathered around, many in the front still on their knees, Abul felt a thrill of exhilaration. Carried away, he repeated over and over in one combination of words or another, "I am God's prophet. He asked me to lead you to Paradise. My pain proves it."

Finally his voice gave out. Beyond exhaustion, he plopped down on the table and rolled off to stand unsteadily by his bowing mother. He put his hand on her shoulder, and when she saw it was Abul's, she got to her feet and looked at him in awe. When he croaked, "Home," she took his hand and led him through the silent crowd.

From that day on, she gave Abul special treatment at home, including his favorite meals. His father would not let him work with him. "Prophets do not milk goats," he told Abul while on his knees, bowing.

Abul now took it all seriously. And well he might. More and more Uighurs accepted his supposed holy leadership. He had more public fits, some now contrived, but he knew how to make them look good. He came to believe that what he had thought was a fit, and a joke-what he thought of as play-acting-was really God's way of communicating his intent while making it easy on him. God had put the idea of a joke in his mind. Otherwise, he might have been too scared to speak, or thought he was crazy. God does work in mysterious ways, he thought, but not so mysterious that his methods cannot be divined by his prophets.

Abul now preached Sabahism, as his converts now called it, to large groups that gathered in one rich man's home after another. He had been taught about Mohammed and the faith, about God's teachings. He had read the holy Quran and interpretations of it. He had heard how the mollas interpreted God's words. And it all came together in his head. He just knew what God wanted him to say: God wants the whole world to follow His Will-to be Muslim. If non-Muslims do not accept His Will, force is legitimate to convert those infidels to Islam. Using force to this holy end is an obligation of all faithful Muslims. It is a holy Jihad.

Moreover, all Muslims must be united under one banner, and that is the banner of Sabahism. In unity there is God. In unity there is paradise. In disunity there is hell. In disunity there is Satan's work.

Abul encouraged what his Sabahists were calling the Sabah Hanafi School of Islam. Even though Abul disagreed with the Hanafi School, it dominated Islamic teaching in Kashgar. He was taught this in the madrasa, and naturally he hung his preaching on this hook. This was a practical consideration advised by Uncle Hasan, not a religious one. Actually, the Hanafi School tolerated different ways of interpreting the Shari'ah-Islamic divine law. The school taught that law was what legal and religious Muslim scholars established by agreement, and that agreement was evidence of God's will.

Abul thought this was all wrong, but he never said so outright. Instead, in boyish words, he claimed that God told him through Gabriel what this agreement should be and that those clergy who agreed with him were correct in their interpretation of the Shari'ah.

Abul no longer lived at home, but moved from one rich man's house to another. He had all the money he needed, through donations. He was happy. And he was happier when he discovered another benefit, when beautiful Tillakiz came into his bed for a night, unasked. From then on, he slept alone only when he wanted to.

In a population of about thirty thousand, Abul had converted about six thousand people by the age of eighteen, in spite of the best efforts of the Muslim clerics to counter his teaching. One reason for his attraction was that he gave voice to what many Uighurs believed. The need for unity among Islamic tribes and nations was intensely felt, even preached by the mollas, although none of them claimed they were messengers of God. All of them believed unity was essential against the hated Chinese, English, and Russians, all former colonists or meddlers in the region's affairs. None of them could forget the horrendous murder of hundreds of thousands of Muslims during the Chinese annexation of their country.

Many of his rich converts financed the Sabah School in 1932, purposely built near the Idgah Mosque, and in which he would give sermons on the holy task that God had assigned him. His preaching and his school aroused the hostility of the clerics, especially that of Molla Bahtiyar Ezim, who believed Abul was a danger to the community and Islam-so much so that he decided to act against him.

In August 1933 Abul found out that in their forthcoming Friday sermons in all Kashgar's major mosques, the mollas planned to denounce him as a fake, as a false prophet and blasphemer of Mohammed. He felt helpless. Utterly depressed. There was nothing he could do.

But, the day before these sermons were to be delivered, Ezim denounced Abul before Mamat Abliz, the Chief of Police, and demanded that Abliz arrest Abul immediately after the sermon. A fundamentalist Muslim and friend of Ezim, Abliz gave the order to Captain Abulahat Khair, and added that Abul should be shot "while trying to escape."

Khair had attended one of Abul's sermons at the home of a friend, and had seen firsthand one of his "God induced" convulsions. He'd become a secret and fervent follower of Sabah. He was an exceptionally tall and big-boned Uighur, with a barrel chest and a loud, commanding voice. Although in his mid-thirties and still young for his position, he had a charismatic presence that demanded obedience from his men. With Chief Aliz's order in hand, Khair contacted his friend and fellow convert, Major Turdi Musa, who was in command of the battalion of army troops encamped just outside of Kashgar. Together, without a word to Abul, they made their plans.

Overnight, an army company sealed off the political center of Kashgar. In the hours before dawn, Captain Khair led a police squad of selected Sabahs to the homes of Abliz and the mayor, while Major Musa took care of the seven members of the "advisory" Kashgar Islamic Council. All were summarily shot, including every member of their families. By early morning, Kashgar was declared "The Holy City of Sabah."

Throughout the morning, Sabah volunteers, troops, and police arrested all the writers, teachers, and religious figures who had been critical of the Sabah School or Abul. They were given two choices-convert to Sabah or die. Those who would not convert were tortured to reveal others who plotted against or denied the truth of Abul's prophecies. All but one of the important clerics were allowed to flee to Urumqi, the capital.

That morning, Abul was asleep in wealthy Abduhelil Gohar's house, where at his invitation Abul had been spending the week. About 8:30 a.m., there was a heavy knock on the bedroom door. Abul covered his companion for the night, and said, "Come in."

Captain Khair, Major Musa, and Gohar entered, seeming apologetic. Before saying anything, they looked at his bed, and Khair put his fingers to his mouth. Abul lifted the cover from over his companion's head and told her that she would have to leave. Without a word and with obvious pride, she got out of the bed, threw her clothes on, and, with a nod toward Abul, walked out the open door.

Captain Khair closed the door behind her, and he and the others got on their knees and bowed to Abul. Khair intoned, "Oh Prophet Sabah, you rule Kashgar. Lead us to glory and to paradise."

Pleased but confused, Abul told them, "Stand up and tell me why you are here."

They told him.

He was thunderstruck. He was incredulous. Speechless.

They thought Abul was listening to God.

He thought, I must be God's prophet. What else can explain that I now rule Kashgar?

What he didn't realize at the time was that his life hung on his next words. Khair and Musa believed in Abul Sabah. They believed they had done the right thing for Sabah and Sabahism. But if he rebuked them, if he created doubt in their minds about their actions, they could have transferred this doubt to his holy authority. At the moment they were the real rulers of Kashgar, and they could still rule in the name of Sabah even though Abul had gone to Paradise, killed by a blasphemer. That might be better, since rule of Kashgar would be without his interference.

Abul was too inexperienced in power to think of this at the time. He did feel outrage at their murders. He knew many of those they'd killed. Although he thought Khair and Musa were mistaken about God's way, they were good Uighurs. But, had they asked him beforehand, he would have said, "No killing."

They had not, and the deed was done. And after all, he was now a ruler, with great power to spread Sabahism.

None of this ambivalence showed in Abul's voice when he finally put his hand on Captain Khair's shoulder and blessed him and the others: "All be praised. You have done God's work."

Major Musa let out his breath with a whoosh, and Khair's smile almost cut his face in two. Gohar just looked confused. Letting his own breath out in a gust, Abul thought, Thanks to God, I said the right words.

Fortunately for the conspirators, few in the outside world or the democracies knew what happened in Kashgar. Any large-scale mass murder of this sort, especially of political and religious leaders, normally would have come to their attention, either through their diplomats or foreign reporters. Uighuristan, however, was Middle Asia, deeply recessed from world attention by high mountains and deserts, and it existed on the remote and little explored peripheries of countries like China, India, Afghanistan, and Russia.

After the coup in Kashgar, Molla Ahmedi of the Idgah Mosque was the only important clergyman who remained. Captain Khair and Major Musa had given Ahmedi the choice between death and conversion, and he chose God's Way. They told him what they expected of his Friday sermon, and he gave it: "Prostrate yourselves before the true Prophet, for his name is Abul Sabah and he speaks in the name of God."

With much humility and several bows, Khair also suggested to Abul what he might do afterward. Khair and Musa had taken the lead; Abul could do no more than agree.

The sermon over, Abul strode with his Uncle Hasan through prostrating crowds of worshippers to stand on the steps of the Government Building. He was so nervous, he was afraid his baggy trousers fluttered as though in a wind.

Hasan stood behind Abul. As planned, Musa and Khair arrived to stand on each side of him. Then, before an awed crowd of thousands, Musa declared that Abul Sabah was the Holy Leader of Kashgar. Reverently, Uncle Hasan stepped around Musa and prostrated himself at Abul's feet. In a loud voice that carried to many in the crowd, he offered to take over the onerous task of political governance of the city on the Prophet's behalf.

I did not know he was going to say that. What could I do? I nodded, not trusting my voice.

And a huge cheer erupted from the crowd. Uncle Hasan stood up and, pointing to each of them in turn, appointed Major Musa as General in charge of all military forces, and Captain Khair as Chief of police and security.

Hasan turned to the crowd, opened his arms wide, and proclaimed, "This day is for the celebration of God and his Prophet Abul Sabah. Henceforth, it will be an annual holiday for prayer and thankfulness."

Abul heard that, when the expelled mollas reached Urumqi, the capital of Uighuristan, they told the powerful national Council of Clerics and President Awasy what had happened in Kashgar. Awasy then ordered police forces to arrest Abul Sabah's thousand or so followers in the city, and sent orders out to all army units to prepare to march to Kashgar to fight the blasphemers.

After his formal investiture of power, General Musa explained to Abul the military problem Awasy faced. The country's army units were largely stationed five hundred or more miles east and southeast, along the border with China. They were far from the axis of approach to Kashgar, or that between Kashgar and Urumqi. They had never faced in their lifetime such a rebellion as what now existed.

Musa prepared for battle. Abul had no role in this planning, but he was asked to speak to God on behalf of the proposed military campaign. Thus, with what he believed was God's help, he had a fit while attending prayers at the famous Azna Mosque, with over nine hundred Muslim men present.

Coming out of his convulsions, he declared, "Gabriel again appeared before me in the shape of a man." Abul rose and, reaching his hands out to all there, he proclaimed, "Through Gabriel, God told me that every Muslim who wants to go to Paradise must fight on his behalf and unify the faith under Sabah. He told me to preach that the holy duty of all Muslims is to join in this holy war."

Volunteers flocked to join his crusade, but there was no time to train them. Most had ancient rifles, and were no more than ragtag forces around the core army battalion that had been stationed outside Kashgar. No matter how ill-trained some under his command were, General Musa insisted that they must all march to the capital and capture it before the country's army could pull its units together to attack Kashgar or protect the capital.

Three days after the celebration, General Musa moved out with a force of six thousand volunteers and military men on horses, camels, and on foot. Clothed all in white and riding on a strutting white Arabian horse, Abul was at his side. Molla Ahmedi rode behind them.

They marched along the historic road toward the Tianshan Mountains. Urumqi lay on the other side. The road skirted the lethal and desolate Taklamakan Desert, but even so, the heat prevented them from moving at all during midday. On the way they met small army units at Akesu, Baicheng, and Kuche, all carrying white flags. Abul never had to say a word. He sat proudly on his horse while General Musa dictated terms: For God, join Sabah's army or die. They joined.

At Kurle, about twenty miles before the mountains, General Musa dispatched assassins near dawn. They sent to paradise its mayor, the head of the clergy council, and the colonel in charge of the local army forces. In the resulting chaos, the defending army units surrendered and enlarged Musa's forces by about one thousand trained men.

A few miles farther, the small town of Yanqi lay in the foothills, guarding the pass to Urumqi. When the major in charge of the army unit stationed there saw the size of Musa's forces, he surrendered without a fight. As Musa prepared to enter the pass to Urumqi, he had nearly eight thousand men.

Then he laid a trap.

Throughout the march, General Musa had sent advance units ahead, riding Musa's fastest horses. They killed any couriers they found and cut all telegraph and phone wires to Urumqi, except for those at Yanqi. When Musa's forces reached Yanqi, he had the army telephone operator, under the threat of death to him and his whole family, telephone army headquarters in Urumqi.

The operator yelled into the phone what Musa had written on a pad before him: "Alert, alert! A courier from Kuche has just ridden in to our base to warn us. Sabah forces are on their way and now are only about one hundred miles away. They have about five thousand men."

With pistols held to their temples, local army officers were placed at all available phones to repeat the warning if military headquarters tried to verify the call.

General Musa now deployed his forces in the mountains in three places. He put those with modern rifles among the rocks that hung above a narrow ravine in the pass. At the Yanqi end of the ravine, he placed his best soldiers. Hidden above the entrance to the ravine were most of the volunteers, commanded by his best officers.

President Awasy's army had never fought a modern war and his officers had no more military experience than that gathered while fighting bandits. Moreover, since no large-scale modern war had been fought elsewhere using airplanes, they had no example to follow-they never thought to use the three vintage biplanes still at their small international airport to reconnoiter ahead of their forces.

When Awasy's army of nine thousand troops passed through the ravine in an orderly march, the ambush caught them by surprise. Rifle fire from the rocks above them decimated their ranks, and when officers ordered their soldiers to rapidly deploy forward, they ran into a solid wall of fire from Musa's soldiers, who blocked the ravine. Many of Awasy's troops turned and ran, but by that time Musa's volunteers had filled the road to their rear, and with guns, knives, sabers, and pitchforks, butchered almost all of them. No mercy was shown. By the end of the battle, all but eleven hundred prisoners were dead or wounded.

Abul was not asked and did not want this, but Musa ordered that all the officers among the prisoners be killed, and the rest be given the choice of accepting Sabah as their prophet, or death. The remainder of the day was spent killing the wounded. When Abul found out about this, he told Musa to save those who were only wounded in the arms or legs. Musa said that his order had gone out, and it was too late to change it. He gave all the army weapons and the surviving horses and camels to the volunteers.

At daybreak the next day, Musa's army crossed the mountains and entered a defenseless capital. President Awasy welcomed Abul Sabah as the Prophet on the steps of the Presidential Palace, but at a word from Molla Ahmedi to General Musa beside him, the General had his men grab Awasy and hang him from the balcony outside the President's third floor office.

Abul, frozen in place, could only gape at the ongoing murder. He was glad his jaw did not drop, but he thought, This is-was-the President of Uighuristan. This is an internationally recognized country. Awasy was not a democrat, God forbid, but according to our traditions, the Council of Islamic Clergy appointed him. He was himself a recognized molla. But there he is, shaking and kicking, being hanged in MY name.

Without a word to Abul at the time, but acknowledged afterward, Musa had his men track down the clerics who had been expelled from Kashgar and execute them for blasphemy. Abul also found out that any government official, molla, or professional who informers claimed was involved in anti-Sabah activities, sermons, writing, or teaching, was also executed.

General Musa and Molla Ahmedi had plans for their first evening in power. Thousands of people, with cheer leaders scattered among them, gathered before the Presidential Palace. Some waved their fists, others waved the flag of Uighuristan, as they all chanted, "There is only one God, and Sabah is his prophet. Sabah, Sabah, Sabah."

Abul stood on the presidential balcony from which Awasy had been hung. Looking over the crowd of thousands, he waved his hand and hoped he had a look of revelation and prayer on his angelic face, rather than the disgust he felt.

At the set time, with radio and loudspeaker microphones in front of him, Abul read words written by Molla Ahmedi on a sheet pinned to a Chinese elm bench hidden by the balcony.

"Hear me, the great and holy Muslims of Uighuristan. I am your Prophet of God and I have come directly at His request to unify Islam and bring all under God. All Muslims everywhere must submit to His will and live according to the Quran, as your prophet, with His guidance, has interpreted it. Henceforth, by the will of God, Uighuristan will be a caliphate and I will be your caliph. General Musa will handle secular matters and will be my chief advisor. Molla Ahmedi will lead the Council of Clerics. There is no god but God, and I am His prophet."

General Musa ordered all army commanders throughout Uighuristan to return their men to their camps, and join him in the capital for a military meeting. As, in twos and threes, they entered the capital, Musa greeted them, gave them the best of quarters, and fed them well. Once the fifty-seven top commanders had all arrived, Musa convened them for a staff meeting in the auditorium at military headquarters. Before they entered the auditorium, soldiers disarmed them as "a precaution against an enemy of Sabah being among them."

Once all were seated, General Musa came in from a side door. He was followed by armed men who soon filled the aisle along both sides of the auditorium and guarded the rear exit. After all his men were in place, Musa raised his hands to quiet the buzz of alarm. The air was heavy with the smell of fear.

When he had everyone's attention, he spoke. "My fellow commanders. You now have the great privilege of joining in God's great struggle against blasphemy and the infidels."

Abul was ready, as Musa had rehearsed him. He entered through a side door, stopped at the mark taped on the floor in the exact center of the stage, and, head held high, turned to face them all. He wore a white shirt hanging over white baggy pants that ended a few inches above his ankles, so the hems would not get dirty-he could not bow to God in soiled clothes. A long white cloak was draped over his shoulders. In place of a turban he wore the traditional Uighur four-cornered hat, but it was all white rather than multicolored, as was usual. Molla Ahmedi's assistants had searched throughout the markets of Urumqi for this outfit. It became his public uniform.

After a few moments General Musa, standing at Abul's right shoulder, announced, "All of you are Muslims. Some of you are not Uighur, but that does not matter. What is important is that each of you accepts Abul Sabah as your Prophet, and pledge your life and that of your soldiers to his mission. Each of you must come onto the stage, bow before Sabah, and pledge 'There is one God and Sabah is His Prophet, and I pledge my life to Sabah.'"

One by one, starting with the commander in the first seat in the first row, they obeyed. Only eleven commanders refused, and they were immediately taken out and shot.

Abul had just turned twenty. He was undisputed ruler of Uighuristan.

His next step was to make an announcement to the country that Musa had prepared for him: "My fellow subjects of God. Our holy country is the home of all Muslims, regardless of whether you are Uighur, Kazakhs, Kyrgyz, Uzbek, Tartar, or Han Chinese. In recognition of this, and through his angel Gabriel, God asked me to change the name of our holy country to Islamic East Turkistan. Moreover, He has commanded that all those who refuse to accept Sabah as his messenger must leave the country within one month, without exception. I, Abul Sabah, His Prophet, have spoken."

There followed a mass migration of nearly 250,000 people, mainly Han Chinese, into China. Finally, word of the events in former Uighuristan reached the outside world. An international relief effort was undertaken by the democracies for these refugees. Its operations were limited to China, since Abul would not allow relief workers to cross the border. His government was criticized by one non-Muslim country after another, and the Prime Minister of China recalled its ambassador after formally protesting Abul Sabah's expulsions as barbaric. No other actions were taken. Within a few years a new Prime Minister was elected in China and diplomatic relations resumed.

Abul had no thought of it at the time, but China would be his next conquest.