The Samson Effect Chapter 18

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THOMAS WAS TREATED and released from the hospital. He now sat in his room at the King David Hotel, with Michael and Delia seated at a small table by the window. Michael, he observed, seemed to be getting along rather well with his injuries. However, a thick atmosphere saturated with tension filled the room with silence as the three looked at the floor while running their fingers through their hair.

Thomas stood and stretched. He walked to the vanity and splashed cool water on his face. After he patted himself dry with a towel, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His skin looked worn, and dark circles puffed under each eye. His mind raced through the events of his time since entering Israel. He thought of the life-threatening moments he had lived through and of the fear and apprehension that accompanied each day. But he also thought of the Effect, of its historical and, if he were honest, its professional significance to him.

His eyes drilled back into him from the mirror. The deeper he looked into his own soul, the firmer his resolution became. He silently vowed to let nothing sway him from his quest. From this very moment, he'd be the master of his circumstances.

"It ends here." He turned to see Michael and Delia lift their eyes to his.

"What ends here?" Michael asked.

"From the day I left home, I've been tossed about by my circumstances like a rag doll. No more." He sat at the table and folded his hands across his chest. "I'm going to find the Samson Effect, and neither Azim, nor Jewish assassins, nor anyone else will get in my way. Your uncle has offered protection, and I intend to take him up on his offer."

Thomas leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. He looked to Michael and then to Delia, who both caught his eyes before they turned to each other. Slowly, Michael's smile grew, and he clenched his fist. "I'll call Uncle Ben right away. We'll be back in Hebron tomorrow."

"Hold up, there. The first thing we're going to do is locate Pastor Willingham and find out how he's involved with the Samson Effect. I'm sure the key to the search is hidden with him."

A knock at the door stopped the conversation cold. Thomas got up and looked through the peephole before removing the chain lock and opening the door. Hanna stepped across the threshold and melted into his arms.

"Thank goodness you're all right. I've been in torment not knowing how bad your condition was." She cupped Thomas's cheek in her right hand, tenderly massaging it with her thumb.

Thomas wiped her tear away with his thumb and pulled her into his arms. He looked into her eyes and gently guided her lips to his. She offered no resistance. When their lips touched, an emotional spark ignited his passion. Thomas had played this kiss over and over in his mind, and by the way Hanna melted into his arms, he knew she had as well. Without breaking either kiss or embrace, he led her into the room and kicked the door shut with his foot.

He pulled her into his chest, her hands slipping behind his head. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him, if it were possible, deeper into her lips. Then they slowly, reluctantly, pulled apart from each other. With her still in his arms, he smiled and looked into her eyes. "It's good to see you too."

She smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned her head upon his chest. They silently swayed together as Thomas softly kissed the top of her head. Her fragrance flowed into him and he felt a contentment long since forgotten. He rolled his eyes to his forgotten friends at the table. Both returned his gaze with an affectionate smile, sitting hand-in-hand, obviously feeling towards each other some fraction of what he was feeling now.

"Did I interrupt anything?" Hanna asked softly.

"Actually, we're just about to make plans to return to Hebron."

"You're what? Thomas, no. You and Michael are lucky to be alive as it is."

Thomas took a step back and gently gripped Hanna's shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "I'm not going to pass up an opportunity to find it."

"I don't understand—"

"You don't have to understand it, just accept it. I'm going to do this."

She looked at Thomas, her eyes pleading for him to reconsider. Finally, she softened and smiled back at him. "I suppose it'll be futile to try to talk you out of this." She turned to Michael and Delia and sighed. "When do we start?"

Thomas spun her towards him. "We? There's no we! I'm not about to bring you into this."

She arched her eyebrows and smiled with confidence. "You have no choice. I represent Ambassador Ben Hur, who, I might remind you, is underwriting your little search. I'm confident he'll want me along."

Thomas looked at Michael, silently pleading for help. Michael shook his head. "She's right. Knowing my uncle like I do, I'm positive he'll insist she go with us. He trusts her more than he trusts me, remember?"

Thomas blew out a frustrated sigh. "Fine, but I'm going on record to voice my disapproval in the strongest of terms."

Hanna shrugged with a wry smile. "Duly noted."

She and Thomas stared at each other until the tension between them grew uncomfortable. Michael pierced the atmosphere by changing the subject. "I need to speak with Thomas alone. Why don't you girls go downstairs and grab something to drink."

Neither woman looked particularly thrilled about being excluded from a conversation, but neither pushed the issue. Delia stepped next to Hanna. "Fine. We'll just have our own conversation."

Hanna took a step back and looked Delia up and down. The look of disgust on her face was unsettling to Thomas. "I can entertain myself while you two discuss what you need to discuss." She turned to Thomas and morphed back to her beautiful, sweet self. "I need to make a phone call anyway. I'll meet you in the lobby when you're ready." She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek, turned, and walked out of the room.

When Thomas turned to see Delia's frozen, shocked expression, he knew he must be abnormally crimson. Michael was reddening too; but by his expression, Thomas knew it was from anger. Before either man spoke, Delia said, "It's obvious how she feels about me."

"I'm sorry." Thomas said.

"Please, under the circumstances, it's nothing to take to heart." Her smile melted the tension away. "I have a long history to make up for."

Michael stepped up to her and brushed her hair from her eyes. "You are truly amazing. It's no wonder I love you so much." He leaned in and kissed her. After a few moments, she pulled away. "I'll be waiting with my tea."

When she left, Thomas began to stutter through an apology, but Michael held up his hand to stop him. "You've nothing to apologize for, my friend." He sat on the edge of the bed. "She's right. It'll take time for them to accept her, possibly just to tolerate her. I'm fortunate she's as patient as she is."

"You're one lucky man, that's for sure." Thomas dropped into a chair. "So, what is it we need to discuss?"

"I didn't want to ask you in front of Hanna, but when you were rushed into the hospital, you told me you think my uncle may be hiding something. What did you mean?"

Thomas ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know, Michael. Something just doesn't feel right about his relationship with Arnold Willingham. I mean, this man had more information about the Samson Effect than we have, and yet your uncle waited until now to bring us into the loop. And Willingham's son had a photocopy of the parchment you and Caleb found. Tell me if I'm crazy, but it seems your uncle's been dripping information about the Samson Effect to us as he sees fit."

"I don't know what to think. Why would my uncle, who wants us to find it as much as we do, withhold anything from us?"

"Look, I didn't mean to impugn your uncle's motives—"

"No, no. It's obvious he's aware of more than he wants us to know." Michael stood and nodded to the door. "Let's find the women. I have a gut feeling Hanna may be privy to more than she'll offer to share. I say we keep our concerns to ourselves and not arouse suspicion. From now on, we'll do some dripping of our own. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

As they were about to walk out the door, the phone rang. Thomas answered it. "Hello … You're kidding? We're on our way down."

As soon as he hung up the phone, Michael asked, "Who was it?"

"Hanna. She just talked with your uncle. They have the pastor in custody along with the notebook. They're waiting for us at his office."

Fifteen minutes later, the four of them were sitting in Ambassador Ben Hur's reception area. They had only been there a couple of minutes when the office door opened, and Ambassador Ben Hur appeared in the threshold. Behind him, Thomas saw a man with his hands cuffed behind his back sitting in a chair facing the mammoth mahogany desk. At least three men in suits stood erect.

"Michael, Thomas, you both look remarkably well. Come in. I think your quest is about to take a giant leap forward."

The four walked to the door. Thomas followed Hanna in. He counted eight armed men standing on either side of the bound man. After a few more steps, Thomas confirmed the bound man's identity as the younger Pastor Willingham. The man's eyes were wild, darting around chaotically, terror emanating from his quivering body. He rocked back and forth, uttering repeatedly, "No, please, no."

Thomas turned when he heard Michael's firm resolve that Delia was going to enter. The ambassador had positioned his body between her and the door, resolving just as loudly that she was not entering his office. Two guards entered the reception area, obviously to enforce the ambassador's wishes.

Thomas stepped to the ambassador and in a calm, even tone said, "Remember our agreement? If you want me to continue the search, she's with us every step of the way."

The ambassador stared incredulously at Thomas, who waited with raised eyebrows. He then looked at Michael, whose thick brows were definitely crinkled downward. With a slight move of his hand, he waved off the men in the reception room and grudgingly stepped aside for Delia to enter. Thomas shook his head and marveled at her composure during these public affronts against her.

With the conflict over Delia settled for the moment, the ambassador slipped behind the desk and eased into his chair. On the desk before him lay the manila envelope and blue spiral notebook that Thomas recognized as the items he had temporary custody of before he was arrested. His heart raced. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, grab the envelope, and search it to see what was important

enough to cause the death of a man.

"Mr. Willingham," the ambassador said, "My patience is gone. I'm going to ask you one more time. What do you know of the items in this envelope?"

Tears streamed down the pastor's cheek. "I told you, I don't know what it is. The detective gave it to me after he interviewed that man." The pastor nodded at Thomas. "Ask him. He brought it from my father's apartment."

"If that's true, then why are you so upset? Makes me think you're hiding something from me."

"I'm not—"

"And why are you so adamant to return home with the envelope and notebook?"

The silence was heavy as everyone waited for the pastor to explain. He bowed his head and quietly gave in to the ambassador. "The men who killed my father were waiting for me and my family when we returned from the detective's office. When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw someone climbing into the window at the back of the house. I turned the car around and fled. Almost immediately, I heard an explosion. I pray if I just give the men what they're after, they'll leave me and my family alone."

Again, silence filled the office. The pastor's eyes darted from person to person, pleading for someone to believe him. Thomas's heart went out to him. He looked frightened. Coupled with the loss of his father and then the attempt on his family's life, it was no wonder he was a nervous wreck.

The ambassador looked at the pastor and then to the others in the room. Hanna and Michael shrugged and raised their eyebrows. Thomas, however, replayed the pastor's story in his mind while matching it against what he knew to be true. There was a piece missing, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Well, Pastor Willingham," the ambassador said as he folded his hands upon his desk, "I'm going to allow you to leave, but I must insist on keeping the envelope and its contents with me."

"No! You must allow me to take them. I told you—"

The ambassador stopped him by raising his hand. "I'm sorry, but this is a matter of national security."

Delia whispered something to Michael, who immediately produced a pen and a business card from his pocket. She scribbled something on the back and handed it to Michael, who silently read it and handed it to Thomas.

"Please, sir, take a copy of the contents, but you must let me have the originals. My family will die if you don't."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot do that. I'll arrange to have you and your wife protected for a few days or make arrangements for you to return to the United States if you're so inclined."

"He's lying."

All eyes turned to Thomas. "Who's lying, Thomas?" the stunned ambassador asked.

"Pastor Willingham. Oh, I believe him about his run-in with the assassins and the burning of his house, but the only fear he has is he'll miss a large payday by not being able to sell the envelope to Azim."




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