The Samson Effect Chapter 5

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THOMAS FELT EVERY bump under the delivery truck as he sat next to Michael against the wall. He rubbed his head on his shoulders to remove his blindfold. From the light coming through the cracks around the back door, he could see that he and Michael were the only cargo in the truck. When Michael removed his blindfold, he threw his head against the wall and uttered something Thomas was sure was a Hebrew curse.

The truck bounced along for fifteen minutes before Thomas broke the silence. "Options?"

Michael sighed. "As I see it, we can save ourselves and assure Hanna's death, which I'm sure will be as horrific as Azim says it'll be; or we can work with Azim to find the Samson Effect, which I'm sure will eventually lead to all three of our deaths."

"There has to be another option."

"I agree, but I can't think of one. Can you?"

"Not yet, but one will come to us."

"Okay, then we agree to work on finding the Samson Effect with Delia's help until we find the opportunity for all three of us to escape?"

"Agreed."

Thomas listened to the sounds outside the truck, but he only heard the rumble of the truck and its engine. He then thought of the woman driver. "Michael, when we were in the cell and Delia first entered with the food, you two looked at each other as if you've known each other. What's up with that?"

Michael looked like a caught liar about to deny the obvious and then relaxed. He parted his lips and looked away. Just as Thomas was about to press him for an answer, the men glanced at the door as they felt the truck roll to a stop. A few seconds later, it swung open. "Hope the ride wasn't too uncomfortable for you, " Delia said.

Neither man responded as they struggled to their feet and walked to the door.

"Now, gentlemen, we'll be working closely for the next couple of weeks. I'm sure it will be more comfortable if we're all civil to each other."

Thomas jumped from the truck and stepped up to Delia. Until he had come to Hebron, he had never once thought of harming anyone, let alone a woman. Now, he knew he could strike Delia with no remorse if his hands were free. "It's not mine or Michael's civility I question." He turned his back to her and joined Michael.

Delia nodded. "I don't blame you for your unwillingness to accept me—"

Thomas interrupted with a smirk. "That's very kind of you."

"—but as I said, you'll find me much different from my brother." She stepped up to Thomas and glared at him. "And I promise I'm the best chance for you, Michael, and Hanna to remain safe." She turned her back and walked to the building next to the truck. "If you'll follow me, we can get started now."

Delia led them from the street where the truck was parked to the threshold of an old block-long building that looked to be an apartment unit. Curious bystanders cast their gaze away when their eyes met Thomas's. He sensed fear in them. "Michael is known here. What if someone recognizes him?"

Delia held open the door. "As long as we stay within Palestinian neighborhoods, no one will say a thing or molest you in any way. My brother has made sure of that."

Delia unlocked an inner door across from a staircase. They stepped into a large room with three twin beds and two desks. Maps of Hebron and southern Israel hung on the walls. Each desk had a computer, which shared a printer. Off to the side, an open closet displayed Palestinian clothing. An open door at the back of the room led to a bathroom.

Delia spread her arms as each man claimed a bed. "This, gentlemen, is where you'll live, eat, work, and breathe for the next two weeks except when we work on site. The computers are connected to the Internet, and you'll find your user IDs and passwords in the center desk drawer. I'm sure I don't need to tell you every keystroke will be monitored." She gestured to the young man who appeared in the doorway. "This is Fahd. If you need anything at all, Fahd will make sure you have it."

Delia nodded to Fahd. He pulled a knife from the sheath on his hip and stepped behind Thomas. Thomas held his breath, but relaxed when he felt his bonds fall away. He rubbed his wrists as Fahd stepped behind Michael.

Thomas pointed to the third bed. "And I suppose he'll sleep there to keep an eye on us."

Delia arched her eyebrows. "No, Dr. Hamilton. That's where I'll be sleeping to keep an eye on you."

Michael sat at one of the desks and turned on the computer. "The clock is ticking, let's get started."

Thomas rolled his chair to Michael's desk and opened the briefcase, spreading the documents across the desk. "You said the scribe hid the Samson Effect in Satan's belly; still no thought on what that could be?"

Michael walked over to the map of Hebron. "I was in the process of searching the literature on Israel's ancient geography before we fell under attack. I found nothing, but I'm positive it must be in Hebron."

"Why do you say that, Dr. Sieff?"

"Because the time between the scribe hiding it and reporting back to King David would have been too short for him to travel very far."

"Unless," Delia continued, "he sent it with someone else. If he did, it could be anywhere in Israel."

"First, my gut tells me he wouldn't have turned it over to anyone else. He was very protective of the Effect. In fact, he was committing a capital offense by disobeying the king's edict. Second, we don't have time to search all of Hebron, let alone all of Israel. We must focus our efforts here unless we come across compelling evidence to search elsewhere."

Thomas joined Michael at the map. "I agree. Since we know it was still protected under Solomon's reign, I feel confident his father's priests didn't move it north to the kingdom of Saul's son. If he did, the tide may have changed in Israel's first civil war."

Delia joined the two men at the map. "The belly of the devil … it must be a cave. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't the Israelites use caves extensively to hide everything from sacred writings to soldiers?"

Michael smiled at Delia. "I'm impressed; you seem to know your Jewish history well."

"I took a few courses in college, Doctor."

"We're going to be working closely for a while. Call me Michael."

She brushed her hair from her eyes and smiled. "Okay, Michael."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "If we can forgo the pleasantries, I suggest we stay focused on finding the Samson Effect." He glared at Michael. "I, for one, have not forgotten this woman's brother is threatening to kill your uncle's assistant."

"Thomas—"

He glared at Delia. "And it's Dr. Hamilton to you."

Michael sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"It's all right, Michael. No one can blame him for being upset. I think I'll prepare some tea for us. If you'll please excuse me."

As soon as Delia closed the door behind her, Thomas yanked out his chair and dropped into it. "What's gotten into you, Michael? If you're not careful, your hormones will lead you down the same path they led Samson when he met Delilah." Thomas's eyes grew wide. "There's a coincidence, Delia and Delilah. Hmmm …"

"Stop it, Thomas. Don't you ever accuse me of betraying Hanna." Michael squeezed his hand into a fist when Thomas rolled his eyes. The two men stared at each other until Michael relaxed his fingers and sighed. "You've been a friend for a long time, and I love you like a brother. We've got to make it through the next two weeks in order to have a prayer of saving Hanna, and that woman may be our best ally in doing so."

Thomas stared at the only bare wall in the room. After a few moments, he closed his eyes and bowed his head into his hands. Michael walked up to him and squeezed his shoulders. "I'm as frustrated as you are, my friend."

"You're right."

Delia returned with three cups of tea. She set the tray on one of the desks and handed a cup to Michael. She brought another and handed it to Thomas. "Dr. Hamilton."

Thomas took the tea and smiled. "Thanks." He looked into his cup. "Sorry we got off on the wrong foot."

"You've nothing to apologize for, Doctor."

He looked up and extended his hand. "Please, call me Thomas."

She shook his hand and nodded. Michael walked over with his tea. "If we can move past the pleasantries, I believe we have work to do."

Delia smiled and sipped her tea. "I recall while growing up in Hebron a mountain with three narrow peaks. We used to call it Satan's Pitchfork. Perhaps the Samson Effect is somewhere around there."

"Nice guess," Michael said, "but the image of a red Satan with horns, a pointed tail, and a pitchfork is a relatively new Western image of him. The pitchfork would've meant nothing to the ancient Jews."

"Then what did they think he looked like?"

"The Jews believed he was an angelic being cast down from heaven."

"I take it angels didn't look like chubby little cherubs with wings and a bow and arrow."

Michael laughed. "Hardly. When they appeared, they looked like any other man."

"But there must've been some unique characteristic about the hiding place which identified it with Satan."

Delia's question struck a chord with Thomas. He tuned out the ongoing conversation, and his mind went back to a dig he was on last year outside of Jericho. His team had found a stone idol dating around 1300 BC, a few hundred years before the establishment of David's kingdom. The idol was a Canaanite deity, but one of the interns pointed out the irony that its image was also that of the Hebrew devil.

The answer struck Thomas like a bolt of lightning. "Michael, I'm disappointed in you." Michael and Delia turned to Thomas. He pounded the desk with his fist, unable to keep his smile from growing. "How quickly you forget what your mother taught you. 'Now the serpent was more subtle than any of the beast of the field which the Lord God had made,' Genesis 3:1."

Michael's eyes grew. "I think that may be it! We're looking for a snake or a serpent!" He glanced at his watch. "It'll be dark in less than an hour. I propose we research the geography tonight for a field expedition tomorrow morning."

Delia jumped to her feet and made a beeline to the door. "I'll make arrangements for a day trip tomorrow."

Thomas took a sip of tea. "Maybe we ought to ask ol' Fahd to break out a bottle of champagne."

"Not so fast. It may be a serpent we're looking for. Even if it is, we don't know how much the landscape may have changed in three thousand years. And might I remind you we only have two weeks to find what no one has stumbled on in over three millennia."

Thomas plopped down on his bed. "You can sure bring someone down."

"I prefer to call it managing expectations." Michael walked over to the map. "However, if we are on the right track, I know just where to start looking tomorrow."

* * * *

The sound of hushed giggling woke Thomas. He rolled his head to see the clock's red digital numbers flash 3:15. He lifted his head and leaned on his elbows to see Michael and Delia in their respective beds, lying on their sides and conversing in hushed tones. He lay down and listened to them carry on as though they were lifelong friends.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sounds. He hated himself for letting even the slightest bit of fondness for Delia slip into his mind. Michael had told him she was suspected of carrying out a number of assassinations against Israelis. She was cold-blooded and more than likely would step aside when his and Michael's usefulness was through. He forced his mind back to Hanna. What was Azim doing to her right now? Was she in pain? Was she humiliated? He thought of Delia, whose aim it was to gain his trust. Hatred began to push away any fondness that had snuck in. He could be just as cunning as Delia. He could let her believe she had his trust.

Another giggle from Michael broke his thoughts. Delia shushed him and then responded with her own muted giggle.

Something wasn't right. Michael had a good head on his shoulders. He would never jump into such a ridiculous relationship, especially so quickly. Tomorrow, he wouldn't let anything keep Michael from giving him a straight answer.

Thomas closed his eyes, convincing himself repeatedly that Michael, too, must be displaying his cunning.

* * * *

Thomas awoke at 6:00 a.m. to the sound of a commode flushing in the adjoining bathroom. Its occupant stepped through and flipped on the bedroom lights.

"Sorry for waking you," Michael said as he stepped into the room.

"No problem. Time to get up anyway."

Delia entered, already dressed and ready for the trip into the desert. With a slight, silent gesture of her hand, she dismissed Fahd. She glanced at each man with a smile. "So, where are we off to this morning?"

Michael walked to the map of Hebron and took a pen from his shirt pocket. "First light, I want to be on this hill." He circled an area on the map repeatedly.

Delia stepped to the map. "Why there?"

"If my hunch is correct, terrain with the features of a serpent will be easier to make out from an elevation. This hill will give us a great panoramic view of the whole area."

Delia raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Good. Can you be ready to leave in thirty minutes?"

Thomas grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. "I'll be out in fifteen."

"Thomas …"

He stopped and turned to Delia.

"Please choose a tunic from the closet. My brother's influence is great here, but we should still try to blend in as much as possible."

He looked at the closet and then turned to Delia. "I'll put it on over my own clothes."

Michael laughed. "Trust me, my friend, come this afternoon you'll be sweltering with all that clothing on."

Thomas reluctantly pulled a tunic from the closet. He tossed his clothes onto the bed and slipped into the bathroom, shaking his head. The first thing that commanded his attention was the rust-stained toilet. It was on par with some of the worse truck stop toilets he had seen. A freestanding iron tub rested against the wall. "Great, no shower."

Thomas leaned into the tub and plugged the drain with the rubber stopper. He turned on the hot water and walked to the sink. A minute into brushing his teeth, Thomas walked over to the tub and dipped his hand into the water.

Cold.

He spit into the sink, grabbed a washcloth, and shut off the water in the tub. He stripped and plunged the cloth into the cool water, ready to take a sponge bath.

The sound of automatic gunfire and shattering glass in the bedroom startled him, forcing his nude body against the icy floor. Thomas heard Delia scream in the bedroom. He crouched, yanking a towel from the rack and wrapping it around him. He eased to the door and cracked it open.

Glass covered the bedroom floor. Michael lay over Delia with his face down and buried under his arms. Blood was splattered over them and the bed next to them.

Thomas heard screeching tires and ran to Michael and Delia, losing his towel behind him. He grabbed Michael by the shoulders, shaking him and yelling his name.


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