Joseph waited in the taxi with Michael and David, as Paul walked up the narrow concrete steps to Javed's office. Paul knocked on the door at the top of the stairs and heard Javed's rumbling voice call, "Who is it?"

"Paul Gill," he replied. He heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and then heavy steps coming toward the door. As the door swung open, it revealed a large man almost as broad as he was tall. Iqbal Javed was what his friends called a "healthy" man. His head sat on his shoulders barely revealing a neck. His arms and shoulders bulged beneath his suit coat, and his shirt was stretched tightly over his chest and abdomen. He was very dark and his teeth shone brightly against his face, as he smiled and motioned with a thick hand for Paul to enter.

Javed's office was simple but tasteful. His degree and attorney's license were hung on one wall. There were no pictures of his family on his desk, but Paul knew that Javed was very proud of his four children and two wives. Under Muslim law he could have up to four wives, if he treated each one equally in every way. This meant providing equally for each wife not only financially, but also spending the same amount of time with each and loving each equally. This was no problem for Javed. He dearly loved both his wives and all of his children. Paul wondered, however, how his wives felt about each other and about Javed. Most likely, both marriages had been arranged by their families. He'd always wanted to ask Javed about that, but he'd never had the nerve.

"As-salàamu Alàykum, Paul," Javed said, using the standard Muslim greeting.

"Wa-laykum As-salàam," Paul replied. Often Christians in Pakistan used the traditional Muslim response when greeted by a Muslim.

"I'm surprised you're still walking the streets," Javed said teasingly, as he motioned to a chair in front of his desk. Javed dropped heavily back into his own cushioned seat and pulled his chair up to the desk. Then he leaned toward Paul with his elbows on the desk and his hands clasped together.

"You've heard then about the charges filed against me, because of the protest march."

"Yes. I've heard."

"If the Christian members of the Sindh Assembly don't succeed in getting all the charges dropped, I may need your legal assistance."

"At your service," Javed replied, again with a broad smile. "No problem."

"Thanks, Javed. I knew I could count on you." Paul paused before continuing. "There's one more favor I want to ask."

Javed opened his hands as if to say, ask away.

Paul hesitated, and then said quickly, "I want to file a suit against the blasphemy law." There was no reason to hedge with Javed, but Paul wasn't comfortable yet with talking about what he was planning to do.

Javed's eyebrows raised slightly, the smile left his face, and he sat perfectly still for a moment before he spoke. "There are good legal grounds for challenging its constitutionality. And if the right justices are on the bench, you might get a regular hearing." Javed leaned back in his chair. "Who will help you, Paul? You can't take this on alone."

"The elders of the colonies have agreed to support me. We can raise locally some of the money we need, and I think we can get some outside help as well." Paul dropped his eyes for a moment, as he considered his next words, then raised them to confront Javed's steady gaze. "Would you take this case, Javed? Would you represent me?"

Javed picked up a pack of cigarettes from the desk and offered one to Paul who shook his head. Paul used to smoke but quit when he started working with drug addicts. He thought he had to break his own addiction if he was going to try to help other addicts. Javed took a match from a matchbox, closed the box, and then, holding the match tip down in his big fingers, struck it sharply against the box. As the match flared, Javed brought it up to his cigarette and inhaled a couple of times. Then he shook his wrist, extinguishing the match, and dropped it into the large ashtray on the side of his desk. He inhaled once more, held his breath, and then exhaled slowly, blowing cigarette smoke out of his broad nostrils toward Paul.

"My advice, Paul, is don't do it," Javed said. "Your chance of winning the lawsuit is less than fifty percent, but the likelihood of being getting killed is almost a sure thing."

Javed's words hung heavily in the air, like the cigarette smoke that slowly rose above them toward the ceiling. Paul swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and felt perspiration begin to form on his forehead and neck.

"We can't live with this law, Javed." Paul paused and swallowed once more. "It hangs over us like a guillotine. But we don't want to have only Christians challenging a Muslim law. That would be suicide. We know we need to work with Muslims. That's why I'm asking for your help. We'd like you to represent us. You're a well-known Muslim, and you have friends in the government. They can help to protect you, and that would us, too. Moreover, you're a good lawyer. We think you might be able to win this case."

Paul knew that a number of Javed's former clients were high government officials. After one political party came to power, it prosecuted members of the other party for corruption. So there was no lack of business for a smart criminal lawyer in Pakistan. But few of those charged were actually convicted. Most of the accused paid bribes to get the charges against them dropped. It was a way for the new rulers to make up some of their election expenses.

Javed began to laugh, his heavy voice thick from chain smoking. "I love flattery, Paul, but it won't be enough to get me to take this case."

"Do you believe the blasphemy law is just?" asked Paul.

"Absolutely not. Of course, I'm not opposed to the idea of punishing blasphemers. Blasphemy is against God's law. But the crime of blasphemy has to be defined carefully to include at least a negligent state of mind as well as words or acts that offend others. In addition, the rules for evidence need to be strictly administered in such a case to protect the innocent from being convicted by false testimony. The present law falls far below these standards. It's being used as a cover for settling grudges. It ought to be repealed."

"We aren't opposing the blasphemy law in principle, and certainly Muslims have a right to have any blasphemy law they want for themselves." As he spoke, Paul began to see an argument that might encourage Javed and other Muslims to join with them in the lawsuit. "But the present law is vague and is being used against non-Muslims to intimidate them and exact vengeance."

Javed tapped the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray and then leaned back once more in his chair. "That kind of argument might be successful with the Supreme Court, if they agreed to hear the petition. But it's too subtle for the public. Any lawsuit against the blasphemy law will be seen as an attack on Islam."

"That's exactly why we need your help, Javed. We need a Muslim lawyer to present this case to the Supreme Court and to the press so it is perceived as a matter of justice for Muslims as well as non-Muslims. After all, even though most of the prosecutions have been against non-Muslims, Muslims have also been unjustly charged under this law."

"True, but making that clear through the news media in this country will be very difficult." Javed crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray and tapped his thick fingers on the desk. "I've got to think of my family, Paul, not just of what's right and wrong, and of my practice. Who knows what a lawsuit like this might mean? Things could really get out of hand."

Paul hesitated for a moment. Then he leaned forward in his chair and looked straight into Javed's eyes. "Javed," Paul said slowly, "you're our best hope. We've got to go ahead, and we need your help. You'll make enemies, but most of them already dislike you because of your human rights work. Your friends, by and large, will respect you even more for taking the case. People are drawn to strength and courage. It's a risk, but it might actually get you international attention and create some interesting new opportunities for you."

Javed smiled broadly and then laughed once again. "Paul, you should have been a lawyer. You're very persuasive." He shoved the ashtray to the side of his desk. "Well, let me give it some thought. I'll let you know."

Paul smiled. "I'm glad you didn't say no. After you've lived with the idea for awhile, I'm sure you'll want to join us. It will be a real challenge for you."

Javed laughed once more, then stood up and moved from behind the desk toward Paul. Paul also stood as Javed stretched out his hand, and Paul felt his own far smaller hand engulfed by Javed's rough grip. "It's good to see you, Paul," he said softly. "Watch your back."

As Javed showed him to the door, Paul wondered if Javed really would take the case. If he declined, that might give Paul a way of backing out. They absolutely had to have a Muslim lawyer, and Paul didn't know any other Muslim lawyer he could ask. But Paul didn't want to back out now. He wanted to go forward with Javed at his side.

"I'll keep you in my prayers, Javed," he said, as he stepped out into the hall.

"Thanks," Javed replied. "I'll remember you, too."

Carefully Paul made his way down the steep concrete stairway. If Javed was praying for him, then surely he would help. He's a man of deep faith, Paul thought. We're alike in that way, even though he's a Muslim and I'm a Christian. Paul suddenly realized that he had more in common with Javed than with many of his Christian acquaintances.

When Paul stepped onto the street, he saw Joseph standing by the door of the taxi. He was grateful not to be alone and before climbing into the taxi put a hand briefly on Joseph's shoulder. As the taxi drove slowly past the restaurant beside Javed's office, Paul thought he saw someone move quickly out of the door in their direction. Were they being followed already? Without thinking he ducked his head, expecting to hear a gunshot. But there was no sound except the groaning of the taxi's old engine. Paul wondered if Joseph had noticed his reaction. His young bodyguard didn't miss much.

After several minutes they pulled off into Korangi 2 and worked their way close to his mission. The safest place in Karachi was in the middle of a Christian colony, even though that's where the filth of the streets and the crush of people were most intense. The reason it was safe there was very simple. It was almost impossible for strangers to get into the center of a colony without being detected. Moreover, cars couldn't drive all the way in, so police or government officials had to walk for several blocks to get to his mission. In addition, the streets were a maze of connections leading in a variety of directions. All he needed was a few minutes of warning to escape. If it came to that, his friends on the street would surely give him time to flee.

A few blocks from the mission the taxi left them off, and they walked in silence the rest of the way. When they came to the mission, Paul stepped through the gate and unlocked the door, then reached in and turned on the light before stepping inside. The front room was small and lit by a bare fluorescent bulb bracketed to the wall. The room contained a bed that was used as a couch, a couple of chairs and a low table. Joseph sat on the bed. Michael and David stayed in the street, to find out what was going on in the colony. The colonies remained an oral culture. Information was passed primarily by word of mouth. Many of the people were without phones, and no newspaper could tell you what was happening on the streets. Besides, many of the people couldn't read. Paul knew that the young men would report back to Joseph and that Joseph wouldn't bother him with details. He'd only tell Paul, if there were a problem.

Paul pushed aside the curtain that separated the front room from the second room, stepped out of his shoes before entering, and flicked the light switch. He took a box of matches from the shelf on the wall, struck one, and squatted to light the small burner on the floor. Then he put some water in a pot and put it on the burner. While the water was coming to a boil, he slipped on a pair of plastic sandals and stepped into the small room containing the floor toilet. He kept the back room very clean and private, but so many people came into the front room that he'd stopped taking his shoes off at the door. In the back room he didn't allow any smoking, but he'd given up trying to enforce that rule in the front room. Smoking was too much a part of their culture. He even kept cigarettes in the front room to offer a few of the addicts who visited. Smoking sometimes provided a substitute for them, as they struggled to get off drugs.

By the time he finished using the toilet, the water in the pot was boiling. He added tea, powdered milk, and sugar, stirring until the brew was a light milk chocolate color with white foam on top. He turned the burner off, put his strainer over the teapot, poured the tea through the strainer into the teapot, and put the teapot and four cups on a tray. While he was carrying the tea into the front room, Michael and David came in. Paul sat on the bed with Joseph, and Michael and David sat in the chairs.

Joseph was eager to talk. "Tell me what Javed said."

"He said a suit against the blasphemy law was a bad idea." Paul watched Joseph's face, looking for an indication of prejudice against Javed or Muslims in general. Young men like Joseph had a tendency to define themselves, as Christians, over against Muslims. They could hardly imagine working with Muslims against injustice.

"Javed said he'd think about it," Paul added. "He didn't say no, but he wasn't willing to commit himself."

"Do you think he'll help?" Joseph asked. Paul couldn't detect any trace of anger or prejudice in the younger man's voice.

"Yes, I think he will. He's a brave man. Moreover, he believes in justice, because of his faith in God." Paul intentionally did not say Allah, for he wanted to emphasize the similarity between Javed's faith and their own. He waited to see if Joseph would say something to distinguish Muslim from Christian faith. But Joseph wasn't taking the bait.

"Samuel said to stay with you."

"Yes, he told me. You're welcome here for as long as you're willing to help us." Paul poured tea for the three men and then for himself. "I've get two beds in back that will stack on this one, so you can sleep in this room. Sister Martha will come in an hour or so to fix dinner for us." Martha helped him with the work of the mission. She stayed in the sacristy of the church that was next door.

Joseph finished his tea, and Paul offered him a cigarette. Joseph lit it and leaned back against the wall. "I can't wait until we file the suit," he said, his eyes glowing. He turned to Michael and David and asked them what they had heard on the street. Paul put the cups on the tray, as they talked, and took them out to the kitchen. Martha would clean them before she made dinner.

When he had been a student in Birmingham in England, he had often cooked for himself and cleaned his own dishes. But in Karachi the men would be offended if he did anything more in the kitchen than make tea. The rest was women's work. He wanted to fight that battle, too, but there were many other issues to face before he tackled the attitude of Pakistani men toward their women. Tonight, however, he was grateful that Martha would come and cook for him. She was a fine cook, and it was also good to have her company for a time each evening.

Paul liked living alone. It was very difficult to have privacy in the colonies. He'd grown up in a family with seven children living in a small, two bedroom apartment. When he was young, he always slept with two or three other members of his family, or outside if it was warm. He'd never known any privacy until he became a novice in the seminary and was given a small bedroom. That was when he really began to enjoy prayer. Kneeling in his room at night and praying before the crucifix on his wall was the best time of each day.

He looked at the crucifix on the wall, crossed himself, and pressed his palms together briefly. "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner," he whispered. He crossed himself again and stood quietly for a moment, his head bowed, beginning to feel the heavy burden of the decision he had made a few hours earlier.