Excerpt:

It is winter, the middle of December, and I find myself making an odd phone call. Pacing around my living room, I kick at the carpet as I dial the number.

"Hello?" I say.

"There's no time," the man on the other end of the line answers immediately. His name is Gavin Boby. We have e-mailed before, but I introduce myself again, explaining my background: education, photography and video experience, that sort of thing.

Boby's tone is measured and businesslike. "It sounds like you have skills that could be of use. Muslims are very bad losers," he says matter-of-factly. He'd like me to act as a witness, he tells me, videotaping his court appearances and searching the Internet for "targets." The conversation is taking me into uncomfortable territory; my voice wavers, and I begin to flounder. Boby doesn't notice. "I'll send you instructions on how we work," he says and hangs up. I have just become a Mosquebuster.


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