She reached into the waistband of her skirt and withdrew a cell phone. With a practiced flip she opened it and hit a speed dial number. I could hear the line ring and a man pick up the other end.

“Yes,” the man said.

“This is Rashida. The deed is done. But there is a problem.”

“What is the problem?” the male voice asked.

“There is another, for whom I have not received instructions. Talman,” she said as she gestured towards me with the gun while speaking my name.

“Kill the Jew. Once you have done that, instead of coming to the bus station in Najaf go to Faris garage in Karbalah..”

“Thank you Imam,” she said, paused a moment and said quietly. “Pray for me.”

“Allah blesses all his faithful martyrs, my child, and welcomes them to paradise.”

She hung up.