 The scream came from the minaret. As I turned and looked up, I saw the bearded muezzin in his flowing robe stagger out of the tower, pitch headlong down the winding stairway. He rolled over and over, and he didn't stop till he sprawled at the bottom, almost at my feet. It was like something out of a bad opera. For a split second, I couldn't move. But the red splotches from stab wounds spreading across his white robe snapped me out of it, and I rushed over to him. All right, easy there. Try not to move.