The Samson Effect Chapter 4

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THOMAS SCRAPED HIS cheeks against the dirt floor as the soldiers threw him and his companions into a cell. He reached up and yanked off his blindfold. Behind, he heard the heavy wooden door slam and the lock bolt the cell securely. He stood, brushed himself off, and helped Hanna to her feet. "Anyone hurt?"

Michael and Hanna both shook their heads. Thomas scanned the barren cell. He kicked his foot at a gray hairball and a half-rotted rat corpse rolled over. He looked up to see a three-inch slit at the top of a stone wall that allowed a sliver of light to provide the only illumination. A metal plate covered the slit on the door.

The box, the scrolls, and, more importantly, the parchment, had been taken from them. Michael slid down one wall and buried his face in his hands. "Hanna, Thomas, forgive me. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Thomas said. "I don't see how you could have anticipated this, let alone avoid it."

Hanna smiled. "Your uncle's a powerful and resourceful man. He'll find a way to get us out alive."

Hours passed and the sunlight coming through the slit faded. They had not talked to anyone since being imprisoned. Thomas felt hunger pangs and assumed the others did too, although no one complained. More intense than his hunger, though, was his thirst.

Michael and Thomas stripped off their shirts, using them to wipe the sweat from their necks and faces. Hanna, struggling to show some modesty, unbuttoned her white cotton blouse down to just below her bosom. She seemed to cope with the ordeal as stoically as the men did. So well, in fact, that Thomas feared he would show cracks of stress before she did.

The light slowly disappeared, throwing the cell into darkness. Thomas's tongue felt like a swollen sponge filling his dry mouth. No one spoke for hours.

The darkness brought a perceptible break from the heat, though not enough for either man to put his shirt back on. The stench from their oil and sweat became more bearable the longer they were exposed to it. Thomas didn't feel at all self-conscious when Hanna scooted next to him and wrapped her arms around his. Her touch caused increased heat to radiate from her body, yet it still felt overwhelmingly wonderful. He clasped his hand over hers, slowly rubbing her delicate arm with his other hand. Without saying a word, she leaned over and put her head on his chest. For the first time, Thomas felt comfort in the darkness. Enough so, that he had no problem falling asleep.

The unbolting and creaking of the opening door woke Thomas. He felt Hanna lift her head from his chest, and an oil lantern bathed the cell in light. Thomas squinted, trying to make out the details of the two silhouettes behind the light. One man emerged from the light and yanked Hanna up by her wrist. Thomas leaped to his feet; but when he cried out for the man to stop, only a hoarse, cracked sound emerged.

The man threw Hanna to his companion carrying the lantern. He shouted something in Arabic while he grabbed Thomas by the shoulder with one hand and sank the other into Thomas's stomach.

Thomas collapsed to the floor, trying to suck in air, but his swollen tongue filled his mouth, making it difficult for the air to reach his lungs. As quickly as it had appeared, the light disappeared as the door slammed shut. Thomas felt Michael's hand glide over him and pull him to a sitting position.

"You okay?"

After a few deep breaths, Thomas was able to force out a response. "Fine … Hanna?" Michael's silence tore at Thomas's heart. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in helplessness.

"Thomas, we can't allow Azim to discover the Samson Effect."

"What can we do to stop him? He has everything, even the parchment."

"The parchment …" Michael pushed away his discomfort to force himself to keep his mind active. "It mentions that the priest hid the Effect in the belly of the devil."

"The devil?"

"I've wracked my brains trying to discover its meaning. All I know for sure is that the Effect must be hidden in, or around, Hebron. The priest goes on to write that early the next morning he reported to King David he had destroyed it."

The two men quit talking when their words grew gravelly. Thomas fought to stay awake, but exhaustion won the battle, and he soon slipped into unconsciousness.

* * * *

Thomas awoke as sunlight filtered through the slit in the wall and burned onto his cheek. He sat up, hungry, and his lips cracked from thirst. He looked over at Michael, still asleep against the wall. When Michael began to stir, Thomas crawled to him. He pulled himself into a sitting position and let out a sigh. "We're going to die here, aren't we?"

"I don't know, Thomas. Much more of this, and we may welcome death." They both looked at the door when they heard the bolt slide from the other side. When it opened, a woman stepped into the cell carrying a tray of food and water. Her coal-black hair flowed around her shoulders, framing her smooth face and dark complexion. Her wide, bright eyes commanded Thomas's gaze, but the woman seemed not to notice him at all. She and Michael silently stared into each other's eyes. Thomas was about to shake his friend from his trance when she set the tray down and turned to leave without saying a word.

Ice rattled as Thomas picked up the pitcher and poured crystal-clear water into two glasses. They drained the glasses and poured more. Thomas couldn't believe how quickly the water revitalized him. After his third glass, he turned his attention to the two plates on the tray.

Each plate had a slice of grilled ham and two pieces of toast. Thomas, with dirty fingers, picked up a piece of ham and tore into it. Michael picked up a piece of toast, savoring it as much as Thomas did the ham.

"Try the ham. It's got to be the best I've ever had."

"You can have mine."

Thomas bit off another piece. "You're kidding. You'll need it to build your strength."

Michael held his plate forward. "I'm Jewish, remember?"

Thomas stopped chewing. "Of course. I'm sure Azim did this on purpose." He handed his two pieces of toast to Michael. Some sense of guilt, however, kept him from eating the double portion of meat, at least for now.

Before they finished, the woman returned to the cell carrying a brown paper bag. She looked at the ham left on the plate, then at Michael. "Feeling better?"

Michael nodded as Thomas asked, "Where's Hanna?"

"She's safe for the moment. Her safety, however, depends in large part on how cooperative you'll be with my brother."

"And who's your brother?"

Michael answered before she had a chance. "Let me guess. Azim?"

She smiled. "Perceptive, but please don't confuse his disposition with mine. In many ways, we're quite different people." She stepped over to Michael and held out the bag to him. "For you."

Michael cocked his head and warily took the bag from her hand. He opened it and reached in to pull out a turkey drumstick. When he started to eat it, Thomas reached for Michael's ham.

"The reason I'm here is to tell you Azim will be meeting with you in a few minutes. Please, for your safety and that of your friends, don't refuse him."

Michael let etiquette fall by the wayside and spoke with his mouth full of turkey. "Refuse what?"

"You'll find out soon enough." The woman paused before stepping through the door. "Oh, and please don't mention the turkey to him. He'd be very angry with me if you did."

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Thomas and Michael stood before Azim with their arms tied behind their backs. He sat behind his desk scanning the headlines of the Tel Aviv newspaper. They quietly waited until Azim finally put down the newspaper and looked at them. He shook his head with a solemn expression. "So sad … the authorities believe you are dead."

He pointed to the headline: Dr. Michael Sieff And Companions Dead In Terrorist Attack.

"The story says your auto was destroyed by mortar fire and your bodies were burned beyond recognition."

Michael shook his head. "So, you can kill us now, and no one would ever know."

"I suppose that's true, but I'm hoping that won't be necessary. I do so much hate violence."

"Right. I'd need a computer to keep track of all the people you're responsible for killing."

One of the men standing next to them drove the butt of his rifle into Michael's gut. Thomas leaned toward Michael, but the other man grabbed his shoulders, holding him in place.

Michael tried to catch his breath. From his knees, he looked up at Azim. "No, you're not a man of violence."

The man with the gun raised the butt above Michael's head, but grunted and relaxed when Azim waved him off. "Do not touch these men again without my command."

Azim walked over to Michael and bent to help him up. Michael shrugged his shoulders away. "I'm fine."

Thomas pulled against his bonds, trying to break free to help Michael to his feet. In frustration, he spun around to face Azim. "What exactly do you want from us?"

Azim returned to his desk. "Ah, Dr. Hamilton. You're an old college acquaintance of Dr. Sieff, aren't you? It's unfortunate you've become mixed up in all of this." He paused and shook his head. "And I believe you're wanted for murder in the United States, aren't you?"

Thomas felt rage burn through him but stopped himself from lashing out at Azim. Instead, he stood straight and remained silently stoic.

"Very well, I have a proposition for you. We both want the Samson Effect found. Maybe we can work together and each get something we want. I, of course, will have the Samson Effect. You will have your lives and the life of the woman."

Michael smiled. "No offense, Azim, but I value a filthy swine more than I do your word." This time, the blow from the rifle butt crashed into the back of Michael's neck, collapsing him to the floor.

Azim's teeth clenched as he got up and walked over to Michael. He balled his hand into a fist and struck the man behind Michael across the cheek, drawing blood from the corner of the man's mouth. He spoke with an even, restrained anger. "I told you not to touch them without my command. Next time, it will not be my fist that strikes you."

Trembling, the man bowed his head in submission. Azim's next words barked through the office. "Delia, come."

Thomas turned toward the door as the dark-haired woman who had fed them earlier entered. She escorted Hanna into the office, bound, gagged, and stripped to her undergarments. Hanna's eyes were wide and full of terror. Thomas tried to step toward her, but the guard restrained him.

"Enough of the pleasantries. Dr. Sieff, you and Dr. Hamilton will help me find the Samson Effect, or I assure you that your friend will suffer long before she dies." He stepped to a bookshelf and pulled off a leather briefcase, handing it to Delia. "You'll find copies of all the scrolls and parchments we've found concerning the Samson Effect. My sister will accompany you on your search. Should she fail to report back to me at prescribed times, your female friend will begin her journey of terror to hell." With a wave of his hand, one of the guards grabbed Hanna by the arm and dragged her from the office.

Thomas strained against the man holding his arm but couldn't move an inch toward Hanna. Delia stood between him and the door. "Dr. Hamilton, as long as you obey my brother, you've nothing to fear. However, please don't test him. He is a man of his word. Isn't that right, Barhim?"

The man nodded and lifted his bandaged hand. Thomas saw the bloodstain where his pinky finger should have been. Barhim then stepped to Azim and whispered into his ear.

Azim returned to his desk. "All things have been made ready. Dr. Sieff, you have two weeks to find the Samson Effect. If you can't find it by then, your usefulness to me will be suspect."

"Thomas and I have spent over a year searching for the Samson Effect. You can't possibly believe we can find it in two weeks.

Azim narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps you've not been sufficiently motivated." Before Michael could respond, Azim flicked his hand in a dismissive wave.

Delia turned to Michael and Thomas. "Gentleman, I suggest we begin our search immediately." The guards blindfolded them again and led them out of the office.


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