The Samson Effect Chapter 19

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EVERYONE IN THE ambassador's office was stunned at Thomas's indictment of the pastor, especially Pastor Willingham, who, at the mention of Azim's name, sat wide-eyed with his mouth gaping open. He recovered rather quickly, but not before convincing Thomas he was dead-on with his conclusion.

"I don't know any Azim, and I'm certainly not trying to sell anything. My father died over this, for heaven's sake. Everything I've told you is the God-honest truth."

"Thomas, maybe you'd better explain yourself."

"I'd be happy to, Ambassador. Everything the pastor said seems plausible, but something about his story just didn't settle with me. I'd no idea what it was, and I was about to shrug it off when Delia wrote this." He placed the back of the business card on the desk and slid it to the ambassador, who picked it up and read it.

The ambassador looked at Delia for a long moment and then back to Thomas. Hanna stepped forward and extended her hand. "What is it, Ambassador?" He handed her the card, which she read aloud: "I've seen this man meet with my brother on two occasions. I'm sure of it."

Willingham jerked his head around and for the first time saw Delia standing in the back of the room. "You!" This time he didn't attempt to recover from his incriminating expression.

"Before I fell unconscious at the pastor's house, I saw a photocopy of the parchment your nephew found. The only way the pastor could have obtained it is if Azim had given it to him. Michael made no copy, and Azim has the original. Based on that and on Delia's recollection, it's obvious the pastor was dealing with Azim behind his father's back, presumably to sell what his father had on the Samson Effect." He stepped over to the pastor, who refused to look him in the eyes. "How much was Azim willing to pay for the notebook?"

"She's mistaken. I've never seen her or her brother before."

The ambassador addressed Delia for the first time since meeting her. "Are you positive this is the man?"

"I have no doubts whatsoever."

"I don't know why she's saying this," the pastor pleaded, "because I've never seen her before in my life. Please, you must believe me."

The ambassador leaned back in his chair and brought his fingers to his lips. After a few moments, he called over one of his men. "James, put the word on the street that a pastor has come to us with written information about my nephew's current work. Don't give a name or nationality; just say it was a pastor."

"What are you doing?" the pastor asked, fear flooding his eyes.

"Simple. If you're telling the truth, then when Azim gets this message, you'll have nothing to worry about. But if you're lying, well, I'm sure you understand your predicament."

Without pause, the pastor snapped out his response. "My family will take you up on your offer to leave for America immediately."

Thomas felt the surge of victory rush through him. He felt, for the first time, that he was in control of his quest; and he wasn't about to lose that edge. "Hold up, Ambassador." He stepped in front of the pastor. "Mr. Willingham, before you go anywhere under Israeli protection, you're going to answer a few questions."

The ambassador smiled and nodded to an empty chair in the corner of the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable, Dr. Hamilton."

Thomas positioned the chair so he was sitting directly across from Willingham. "Just three simple questions. First, how did you come across knowledge of the Samson Effect? Your father?"

"No, at least not directly. He just returned from a trip to Rome a few days ago. While he was gone, I found the notebook quite by accident."

"Okay, then how did you manage to meet up with Azim?"

"I found the story of a magical weed turning people into Superman entertaining. I mentioned it to a few people, and we had a good laugh over it. Somehow, word got back to Azim, who sent someone to make an offer to me. He said he'd buy the notebook for fifty thousand dollars. By then Dad was back, so I had to wait for an opportunity to take the notebook."

He turned to the ambassador with watery eyes. "Sir, you've known me for years. You know I loved my father, and I would never have gotten into this had I known it would cause his death. I just thought fifty thousand dollars would help me take better care of my family."

"I knew your father, not you. When you lied to me, you spoiled any personal affection I may have had for you. It's only because of my friendship with your father that I'm going to help you leave Israel."

Delia inserted herself into the conversation. "If my brother ever believes you've betrayed him and takes it personally, there's nowhere you can hide from him. You're as good as dead." The whole time she was talking to Willingham, her eyes were fixed upon Michael.

"I'm sorry, but she's right," the ambassador said. Willingham grew still and very pale. Thomas scooted his chair away from him, fearing the pastor was about to be sick to his stomach.

"What's your last question, Thomas?" the ambassador asked.

Delia's words still echoed in his ears. He felt a gut-wrenching pain, not for Willingham, but for Delia and Michael. He knew every day Azim lived could potentially be the last for his friends. He slowly blinked his eyes to help clear his mind. When he opened them, he saw Willingham was as pale as ever. "Last question: what else do you know about the substance that gives men great strength?"

"Nothing. I found nothing except the notebook, and my father never mentioned it to me."

Thomas stood and picked up the envelope and looked in it. He pulled out the rabbi's old notebook that Arnold Willingham had described to him. He flipped through it and slipped it back into the envelope with Willingham's notebook. He then tucked the envelope under his arm. The ambassador leaned forward with a scowl. "What are you doing?"

"Michael and I have a few hours to read over this tonight. Tomorrow, I want the four of us, along with the protection you promised, on a helicopter heading for Hebron." He looked at Michael and smiled. "We still have a couple of caves to search."

* * * *

Thomas held a slice of New York-style pizza with both hands. "Pizza? We're in the Middle East, and you ordered pizza?"

"But I like pizza," Michael countered in defense of his meal choice.

An empty box sat on the foot of Michael's bed while he, Thomas, and the two women finished off their last piece. A chorus of agreements from Hanna and Delia put the issue to rest. Neither woman had spoken a word to each other throughout the meal. Upon their simultaneous agreement about the pizza, they averted their gaze from each other and sat in silence.

Thomas tossed his unfinished crust into the box and rested his elbows on the table, looking from Hanna to Delia. When he looked at Michael, his friend rolled his eyes and shook his head. Thomas's frustration over the friction between the two women had just reached his boiling point. He smacked his hand against the table's surface, cracking the serene atmosphere.

"That's it; enough is enough!" Everyone's eyes swiftly locked onto him, and the chewing came to an abrupt halt. "Here's the deal. Michael and I have work to do, and it's going to take every bit of physical and mental strength we can muster. The last thing we need is for you two to continue with your catty, schoolgirl behavior toward each other."

Both women's eyes nearly popped from their sockets. They were about to respond when Thomas held out his hand. "I'm not through. Either you two decide right now to be civil to each other, at least in my presence—"

Michael interrupted with a weak voice and tentatively raised a hand. "Mine too."

Thomas whipped his head toward Michael, unable to keep the fire from his eyes for being interrupted. Michael dropped his hand and lowered his head, deferring the floor back to Thomas. Thomas took a breath and continued. "Either you two find a way to get along, or Michael and I go to Hebron alone."

Now the fire spread into both women's eyes. Delia was the first to challenge Thomas. "You wouldn't dare!" She whipped her head toward Michael. "Tell him!"

Thomas let out a sigh of relief when his friend answered. "I'm with him. Either you both go or you both stay. Your choice." Michael shook his head and looked at each girl. "I don't know why you're making us go through this; you're both big girls."

Hanna folded her arms across her chest. "I don't care what you say; I'm going. The ambassador won't have it any other way. And, frankly, I'm appalled at your outburst and insinuations."

"Trust me, the ambassador wants me to go far more than he wants you to go." Thomas nodded toward Delia. "If I promised to leave Delia behind if he would order you to stay, how quickly do you think he'd take me up on my offer?"

For a moment there was a chilly silence in the room. Thomas finally decided to thaw the situation somewhat. In a sincere, soothing voice, he said, "Look, Michael and I truly want you to come; heck, we need you to come, but not if you're going to constantly be at each other." He picked up the envelope and motioned for Michael to follow. He opened the door and said, "Michael and I are going to my room to start going through this material. You two discuss what you're going to do and then let us know."

They shut the door behind the fuming women. Thomas opened his door and flipped on the lights. The two men melted into their chairs, taking a minute to envelop themselves in this serene haven. With his eyes closed, Michael asked, "Do you think it was wise to leave them alone in there?"

Thomas sighed. "I really don't know."

* * * *

Judas pulled into the parking lot of Arnold Willingham's church and home. When he saw the burnt shell of the parsonage next door, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. With late evening approaching, the traffic along the busy roadway had already dwindled to a trickle. He parked next to the church building and stepped out of the car.

He looked around in the darkness, hoping to find Tobin and Aaron, but the place seemed deserted. He ascended the steps at the side of the building to the door with the dedicated doorbell to Arnold's downstairs residence. He pushed the button and waited. A few moments later, he hit the button again and glanced up at the video camera the church had installed so Arnold could see from his apartment who was at the door. No sound stirred within the church building. He descended the steps and was about to get back into his car when a voice from the front of the building called to him.

"Can I help you?"

Judas squinted at the silhouette of a man who cautiously took a few steps toward him from the front of the church. "I'm here to see Arnold Willingham."

"Dear God," an elderly female voice said as another, shorter silhouette appeared next to the man. "He doesn't know."

"Know what?" Judas asked as he stepped toward the couple.

The two did not run, but the woman's hand quickly clutched the man's arm. As he approached, Judas could finally make out the sullen details on the elderly couple's faces.

The old man shook his head and spoke quietly. "Pastor Willingham died today—"

"Was killed," the woman clarified. "Oh, it's so terrible. Were you a friend of the pastor?"

Judas had only met Willingham occasionally when he and Simon had accompanied the rabbi to Jerusalem. However, the affection the rabbi had for him made Judas give no thought in sending Aaron and Tobin to him after the rabbi's death. "Yes I am," Judas answered weakly. "I'm shocked to hear of his death. The burnt house, was it recent also?"

"Today. The firefighters just left." The old man shook his head. "Praise the Lord the pastor's son and family were spared."

"That is fortunate." Judas thought for a moment. "Perhaps I could speak with the pastor's son. Two friends of mine were staying with his father. Maybe he could tell me where I could find them."

The couple froze, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping open. Judas grew uncomfortable at their reaction and silence. "Sir, do you know where I might find the pastor's son?"

"Friend, let me make a call to see if I can find them. Mind waiting here for a few minutes?"

"No, I … I guess not." He watched the man nudge the woman, snapping her from what appeared to be a trance, and the two disappeared around the front corner of the building. Judas reluctantly stepped back to his car and leaned against the hood.

A few seconds later, the silence was shattered by the start of a car's engine and the squealing tires. Judas bolted from the car and ran to the front of the church in time to see the old couple fly from the church drive onto the street. He watched as their taillights disappeared around the corner of the first intersection.

Whatever was going on, Judas knew it would be best if he left immediately. He jogged to his car, but a familiar voice from the darkness behind the church stopped him cold.

"Rabbi."

He peered into the darkness. "Tobin? Is that you?"

Two figures emerged from the darkness. When they approached the car, Judas let out a sigh. "Tobin, Aaron, what's going on?"

"Get in the car. We have to get out of here, now!"

Aaron slipped into the backseat while Tobin slid behind the wheel and started the car. Without arguing, Judas went around to the passenger side and got in. Before he even closed the door, Tobin took off.

"Tobin, what's going on?"

Tobin held up a hand and picked up a cell phone. He punched in a few numbers and waited.

"This is Tobin. We have the rabbi…Israeli police will soon be after us. I need to ask you to trade cars with us … thank you. We'll meet you out front in a couple of minutes."

Tobin ended the call and dropped the phone into his lap. Without taking his eyes from the road, he began filling Judas in on what was happening. "The police are looking for Aaron and me for killing the pastor. The old couple you were talking to knew that and probably headed for the police when they linked you to us. They've been there since the house burned down. Aaron and I found a hiding place close to the church, hoping to see you if you came tonight."

"But how did you know I'd be here? I wasn't planning to be here for a week or two."

Tobin turned to Judas. "What? Didn't my sister call you and ask you to come?"

"No, no one called me. I came because I heard you'd lost the envelope I gave you."

Tobin fixed his eyes back upon the road. His audible swallow confirmed he was unaware Judas knew he had lost the envelope.

"Please tell me you have the envelope."

The car's engine was the only noise Judas heard.

"Tobin? You didn't lose the envelope, did you?"

Tobin closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.

"Dear God, no! This can't be happening. Do you know what was in that envelope?"

Neither Tobin nor Aaron answered.

"The location of the power of the Lord's Strength and the key to access it!" Judas balled his hand into a fist and, in frustration, brought it down. His hand sliced through the glove compartment as though it were a Styrofoam egg carton.

They heard sirens whine in the distance. Judas felt a surge of anger sweep through him like he had never felt before. All he wanted to do was lash out at Tobin and break his neck with his bare hands. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster to fight off the urge. When his blind rage finally passed, his hands trembled as he realized how close he had come to killing his friend. His bouts of anger were growing increasingly stronger and harder to control. With calm resolution, he asked, "Where is it?"

Aaron spoke up for the first time. "The last time we saw it one of the pastor's American friends had it." He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Judas.

Judas studied the paper. It was the first page of the article written by Dr. Thomas Hamilton. There was a picture of the author in the upper left-hand corner.

"That is the man who took the envelope," Aaron said. "Tobin and I heard him and the pastor talking about what we protect. The doctor called it the Samson Effect."

The conversation stopped when Tobin whipped the car into the drive of a dark house silhouetted in the light from a full moon. Outside, a woman stood waving them forward. The three men got out of the car, and the woman ran to Tobin, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.

Tobin took a step back. "Rabbi, this is my sister. She's going to help us."

Judas nodded his greeting, yet felt anxious because of the lingering sirens still in the background.

Tobin and his sister exchanged keys. "Take the rabbi's car and go. I'm sure they have the description. If God is with us, you may be able to buy us some time."

Tobin's sister nodded and slipped a piece of paper into his hand. "This is the phone number and directions to a friend's home. He's waiting to take you in and hide you for as long as you need protection."

Tobin thanked her and went to the car. When they were in, he rolled down the window as his sister approached. "I gave him the name of the doctor you're looking for, and he says he knows him. He seemed eager to help you find him."She looked past her brother to Judas. "Godspeed, Rabbi."

Judas smiled and nodded his appreciation. Tobin started the car and turned left out of the drive. In the rearview mirror, he watched his sister leave to the right. He handed the folded directions to the rabbi, who navigated the rest of the way.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the circular drive of a large, middle-class home situated in the midst of a suburban neighborhood. The front-door light came on, and a thin, middle-aged man met them at the door. "May I ask which of you is the rabbi?"

"That depends," Aaron said cautiously. "Who are you?"

The man smiled. "Yes, of course. Forgive me." He fished his wallet from his pocket and flipped it open. Next to a Jerusalem police photo ID rested a police badge. "I'm Detective Ari Hazan."




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