The Samson Effect Chapter 9

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THOMAS NUDGED MICHAEL with his elbow. "I think we have company."

"What company?"

Thomas nodded at the window. "Up there, on the ridge; see him?"

Michael ducked his head and stared out the window. "I see him."

Delia removed her hand from Michael's thigh. "See who, Michael?"

"There's a man with binoculars watching us. Three to one it's one of your uncle's men."

"I'm sure he is."

"Now will you two take things more seriously? If that man has seen your hand on Michael's thigh, we're all dead."

"You're right, Thomas." Michael turned his head to Delia. "You know he is, too. Let's make it through the next two weeks. We'll focus on us then."

"Michael, who are we kidding? It'll never be safe for us to be together. There's no place we can run where we won't be constantly looking over our shoulders."

Even Thomas could feel the weight of the silence. He knew Michael's academic mind was crunching all the numbers and running all the equations for an answer on how he and Delia could safely be together. No matter how many times he did, Thomas knew he would always get the same answer.

Delia parked near the next cave on Michael's sketchpad. The three silently gathered their tools and approached the cave. Thomas broke the silence. "I'll go in first. Just leave me a clear path for a few minutes in case I run into any snakes."

Michael worked to lighten the mood. He smiled and slapped Thomas on the back. "If you do see snakes, yell for me. I'll come running, and we'll have a foot race."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know how badly you want to beat me in something. Having snakes behind you may be your best chance."

Thomas felt the competitive juices starting to bubble in his veins. It was bad enough he had come to Hebron looking for his first victory over Michael; now Michael was taunting him about it. "Don't worry about my motivation. Before I leave Israel, you'll be licking your wounded pride."

"Oh, is that what one does when one loses? I guess I've never been in the position to know."

"Boys, am I going to have to cause both of you to lick your wounded pride?"

Thomas eyed Michael and let the smile spread across his face. He dropped to his knees and shined his light into the opening. The passageway was narrow and ended a few feet back. Thomas couldn't see around the wall on the right to tell whether the passage continued or if it just opened into a larger room. At least he didn't see any snakes.

He inched his way along with a pick in one hand and the flashlight in the other. When he reached the back, he poked his head around the corner to see a passageway descending sharply into the black void. He pointed the beam down the tunnel, but the tunnel continued beyond the light. From what he could see, it looked like the passageway descended at a forty-five degree angle.

He shined the light around until he found a rock about the size of his fist and tossed it down the passageway. It rolled out of sight. Thomas could hear slight echoes from it well beyond the light.

As he began to turn around in the narrow passageway, he felt something slither under his left pant leg and onto his calf. At the same time, he heard the unmistakable hiss of a snake.

He was about ten feet down the passageway, violently shaking his left leg, before Michael's laugh sunk in. Thomas tried to stop himself from sliding farther, but the loose gravel and the steep incline made for a bad combination. He slid on his knees, palms, forearm, and then his chest as he disappeared into the darkness.

Shouts of his name replaced the laughter. He wasn't sure how far he slid, and somewhere along the way, he had dropped his pick and flashlight. Every part of his body that made contact with the tunnel floor felt numb.

Thomas smacked into the cave wall and bounced down the tunnel as it made a sharp left turn.

"Michael!" His voice was strong—a good sign.

In the distance he heard, "I'm coming."

When he stopped sliding, he lifted himself to his hands and knees just as pain morphed from the numbness. He moved his limbs; nothing broken, thank goodness.

Everything was dark. Very dark. Pitch black.

Thomas raised his hands above him and slowly lifted to his knees. He felt nothing above him, so he slowly stood. He looked up the passageway. About twenty feet up, he saw light dancing in the shadows and the sharp curve he painfully remembered from the trip down. He heard Michael's controlled slide toward him. A few seconds later, his friend stood at the curve, blinding him with the light.

"Thomas, you're all right!"

Michael half surfed, half galloped his way down until he was standing next to Thomas on the level surface. For the first time, Thomas was able to see the scrapes and cuts through his ripped shirt and pants. He reached up to his face, wincing at the touch to his injuries. Blood from his face and forehead stained his fingers.

Michael had picked up his flashlight on the way down and handed it to Thomas, who turned it on to see his friend's terrified expression.

"Thomas, I'm … I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. It was a joke. You okay?"

Thomas stared at him.

"Thomas?"

He drew back and punched Michael in the jaw, sending his friend staggering and then falling to his knees.

"Yeah, I think I'm fine." He shook his hand, secretly fearing he had broken a finger or two.

Michael rose to his feet, rubbing his jaw. "Finished?"

Thomas felt a deep, warm contentment and nodded.

"Good."

They both turned when they heard Delia coming down after them. She turned the curve and called out, "Thomas, Michael!" When she took the next step, her feet slipped out from under her, and she made the rest of the trip down on her bottom.

She sprang to her feet. Michael was caressing his jaw. Thomas was massaging his right hand and was covered in blood. "Oh, Thomas." She reached her hand gently to his forehead.

Thomas winced and pulled away. "I'm sure it looks worse than it is." He glared at Michael. "Except for my hand, that is."

Delia stepped to Michael. "I told you not to do that!" With no warning, she drew back and punched him in the arm. Michael's hand left his jaw and began massaging his upper arm vigorously.

"Why does everyone keep hitting me? You can't possibly think I meant for this to happen."

Thomas felt good. With a bounce in his step and a smile on his face, he walked over to Delia and put an arm around her shoulders. "I am really starting to like you."

Delia spent the next few minutes using pieces of Thomas's torn shirt and a little of her own spit to clean his wounds while Michael crawled up the tunnel with his flashlight until he came to the curve. When Delia finished, Thomas shined his light up and saw Michael running his fingertips along the wall. "Michael, what do you see?"

Michael paused for a moment, contemplating his observation before yelling back. "I think, my friend, when you ran into the wall, you may have unwittingly uncovered a clue."

"What kind of clue?"

"I believe I see the remnants of the mark."

Thomas forgot his aches and pains. "You're kidding!" He flew to his feet and ran full speed up the incline. When he reached Michael, he dropped to his knees and looked at the part of the cave wall illuminated by Michael's flashlight. He slowly ran his fingertips along the chiseled image.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I don't know. Looks like it may be it. Half the image must've been chipped away." Thomas craned his neck to see Delia carefully climbing up to them. "Delia, stop!"

She froze at the command. "Why? What?"

"There's a very important, very thin, rock chip that may be under our feet. If it is, it's crucial we don't break or crush it." He shined his light in front of her feet. "Carefully step up. Make sure you push the loose gravel out of your way with your foot before you step on it."

In a couple of minutes, Delia stood next to the two men, who were on hands and knees examining the stones beneath them. Michael shook his head. "I don't know, Thomas; you came down pretty fast. If you chipped it off when you hit it, it may be pea gravel by now."

"And it might not be. Keep looking. We've got to find out if it's the mark or not."

"Uh, gentlemen, what are you talking about?"

Neither Michael nor Thomas stopped sifting through the loose gravel, and neither answered her question.

"I asked you a question! What about a mark?"

Michael stopped sifting and looked up at her and then to Thomas.

"Don't do it, Michael." Thomas watched his friend struggle to keep quiet.

"At every site—"

"Michael, shut your mouth. It's the only thing we have over Azim."

"We've no choice, Thomas! We either tell her everything we know and trust she'll work with us, or she'll eventually find out on her own."

Thomas felt a headache coming on when he saw the look in Michael's eyes. Michael was going to play the only trump card they had. Thomas held his breath and squeezed his lips tightly, keeping the arguments from escaping. Then he reached the point where his lungs were going to expel the air. When it happened, he was surprised at what came out.

Laughter.

"Go ahead and tell her, Michael. Might as well."

Delia's eyes fell on Thomas. They were soft and reassuring. "Thomas, please trust me. Let me help."

Thomas's laughter died away and his smile slowly faded. Looking into her eyes, he simply nodded.

Delia went to Michael, who shined his light onto the cave wall. "See this picture?"

"Yes."

The light revealed a carving, or at least part of a carving. Michael traced an image onto the cave floor with his finger. "This is the image recorded on the parchment I found."

"I remember."

He traced another image onto the floor. "And this is the one Thomas and I found a year ago on another parchment written about the Samson Effect."

Delia looked at the two images and then to the wall. Michael beamed at the speed comprehension spilled from her. "Separate, the images are commonplace: a crescent moon and a diamond. Together, they form a unique image."

"Very good." He traced the complete image on the cave wall with his fingertips, filling in the missing parts. "This image was found at every site where we found a manuscript. The parchment that Caleb," Michael's voice quivered at his friend's name, "—a friend found was the only piece of writing that bore both images together. That's how we knew it was authentic."

"What does the mark mean?"

"We've no idea. We just know it's present when we've found anything about the Effect."

Delia looked down and pushed the loose rocks with her toes. "And if we can find the missing chip with the matching image, then we can confirm someone who knew about the Samson Effect has been in here."

"Uh, guys." Delia and Michael turned to Thomas. "Want to look at this?"

They both looked at the stone chip Thomas held. He lifted it to the wall and placed it above the image. It fit like a piece of a puzzle in its only place. The top and bottom points of the diamond touched the top and bottom points of the crescent moon.

Delia gasped.

Michael looked at Thomas. "It's in the cave."

Thomas felt the impending discovery deep within his gut. A quick look at Michael told him his friend felt it also. Delia looked different. The feeling in Thomas's gut slowly turned queasy. She was hiding something.

"What's wrong, Delia?"

She gazed hypnotically down the tunnel as a tear rolled down her cheek. The words spilled out as though she was in a trance. "Have you wondered why Azim is willing to kill so quickly for the secret?"

Thomas thought he did. "Because it can give an ordinary man great strength."

She smiled but didn't break her hypnotic gaze. Under her breath, Thomas thought he heard her say, "He's going to kill me."

"Oh, Dr. Hamilton, the Samson Effect is much more powerful than that... much more."

* * * *

Sofian felt sick to his stomach. Azim had given him a simple command: find out what Dr. Sieff knows about the Samson Effect. However, Azim also tasked him to work with Umar in avenging the attack on Delia. Less than twenty minutes after the attack, a few Hebron residents who had witnessed the attack volunteered to share what they saw. The man who threw the pig's head was easy to find and kill, but the gunman had disappeared.

Until now.

He looked at his fingers, wincing at the memory of Barhim's screams. He had kept his men outside his office until he overcame his sick feeling. That was the last thing he wanted to get back to Azim.

He took a cloth from his jacket, dabbed the moisture from his face and neck, and then took a few deep breaths until his stomach had settled. He rose to his feet, squared his shoulders, and walked over to open the door. His men filed into the office.

"I just talked to Azim. He's given us the honor of eliminating the rabbi and his men and of finding the source of his student's strength." His eyes passed over each man. One, and one alone, had steady eyes and did not avert his gaze.

"Jabir, are you willing to be Allah's agent, praise be his name?"

Without hesitation, the young man stood. "I will live and die to serve Allah."

For the first time since hearing he was given the "privilege" of eliminating a man who could bend a rifle muzzle with no effort, Sofian felt calm. "Good. You have command. Do you have any questions about what needs to be done?"

"No. The four Jews will be dead before the sun sets."

One of the men in the room sprang to his feet, shaking his head adamantly.

"Please, Sofian, you did not see this man. I did. He had hate in his eyes. And his strength …" He scrunched his brow, searching for the right words. "His strength was not of this world. You can't send us against him—"

"Enough! You will carry out Azim's orders—"

"But, Sofian—"

"I said 'enough'!" Sofian's eyes burned into Jabir. "If any of these men disobey, kill them on the spot." He then stared at each man. "If you die, so will your wives. And if Jabir 'mysteriously' dies, so will your wives." He paused to let his words sink in. "Now, are there any questions?"

The room was silent.

"Good." Sofian's demeanor softened. "When you carry out Azim's orders, I assure you, his favor will shine upon you."

Sofian returned to his desk and spoke in a low, resolute tone. "Now, go."

When the men filed out, Sofian gave in to the quivering that invaded his body. His lips silently, rapidly, mouthed a prayer to Allah. He thought of Azim's warning about the extent of the strong man's power, and his stomach felt sick again. If it were true, what power on earth could stand against the rabbi's student?


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