The Samson Effect Chapter 25

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AMBASSADOR BEN HUR dragged himself into his bedroom at 11:30 p.m., unusually early for a Friday evening in Washington, DC. He passed by his wife and slipped into their adjoining bathroom. He leaned forward and sighed at his reflection. His crow's feet were deepening and his hairline plowed deeper into his gray hair.

He shook his head, remembering how it wasn't too many years ago his diplomatic duties carried him deep into the night. But not anymore.

He started brushing his teeth, when he heard his private line ring in the bedroom. He glanced at his watch; less than twenty minutes until his aging body demanded its rest for the evening. He didn't hear a second ring and assumed his wife had answered the phone. He fought to keep this inconsiderate late-night intrusion from fanning his anger.

When his wife came into the bathroom with the cordless handset, his anger began to simmer. "Who is it, my dear?"

She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "It's Michael. He needs—"

Upon hearing his nephew's name, adrenaline coursed through his veins, waking every cell in his body as he yanked the phone from her. "Michael, you have some nerve disappearing for three months. Where in heaven's name are you? What have you done with the seed?"

"Uncle Ben, I need your help. I…Thomas and I lost the seed. Azim's got it."

"What?" The ambassador slammed his palm against the wall, startling his wife, who looked at him with sickening worry. He spun away from her and marched into his closet. "How could this have happened? How could you have been so foolish? You should've come to me when you found the seed."

The ambassador began changing into his navy-blue pinstriped suit while fumbling to keep the phone to his ear. "We were going to call you today but Azim knew we were on our way to pick up the plant and followed us. We were betrayed."

The ambassador stopped buttoning his shirt and leaned against the closet door. "Plant? You found a way to grow the seed?" The harsh tone in his voice softened. With those few words, Michael had vindicated his dedication to the Council's purpose. His satisfaction was short-lived when he remembered Azim. "Betrayed? I told you that Jezebel would turn on you when she had the opportunity. Your hormones have cost us—"

"It wasn't Delia. Hanna told Azim."

"Hanna? Don't be ridiculous. She wouldn't have—"

"Listen to me! I'm not going to argue about how or why Azim was able to find out about the plant, I just need you to send someone to help us get it back."

"No. Stay where you are. I'll find a way to recover the plant."

"Azim has Delia."

The ambassador's lips quivered in silence.

"Look, Thomas and I are on our way to Hebron. Help us if you will. Regardless, we're going."

"Don't be a fool, Michael. The peace in Hebron is fragile. If you and your American cowboy friend go in there with guns blazing, you'll make it nearly impossible to get the plant back. Please, wait where you are. I'll send someone to take care of things."

"Do you know the kind of damage Azim could do if he and his men consume the plant? We're going."

The line disconnected. The ambassador knew profoundly what would happen if Azim found a way to prepare and consume the plant. He finished dressing and met his driver downstairs. On the way to the Ronald Reagan International Airport, he called his pilot to have him prepare to leave as soon as possible. He then called Colonel Yarconi and ordered him to Hebron to detain Michael and Thomas without creating an international incident. His last call before boarding his flight was to arrange an emergency meeting of the Council upon his arrival in Tel Aviv.

He had done everything he could from this side of the Atlantic. He prayed the Lord would interfere with whatever plans Azim had until the Council could meet. And he prayed, fervently, that his nephew would not make matters worse.

* * * *

The sun's rays over Hebron's desert felt heavy upon Thomas's head and neck. He and Michael had made it undetected to the craggy hills a few hundred yards behind Michael's compound. The landscape they surveyed seemed serene except for six soldiers the Israeli army had dispatched to protect his home. Michael leaned against the rock and grimaced.

"You okay, Michael?"

"I'll be fine." He ran his fingertips across his ribs and smiled. "That sprint to the table in the greenhouse didn't help much."

Thomas looked around the rocks. "Why don't you stay here and tell me how to get into the compound. I'll bring back what we'll need."

Michael shook his head. "If they catch you without me, they'll detain you. We don't have the time for them to learn you're no threat."

"It's your home. Why don't we just walk up to the front door? They're protecting it for you."

"Uncle Ben made it clear he didn't want you or me to proceed. I've no doubts he's issued orders to detain us if we're found. I can't let that happen. The longer we wait, the less of a chance we have of finding Delia in time."

Thomas looked back at the compound and counted the soldiers again. "If you're right about your uncle, we'll need to do this quickly. This is one of the first places they'll look for us." He shook his head. "I don't know how we're going to make it across open desert without being spotted. And even if we do make it, we have no idea how many soldiers may be in the courtyard or the house."

"Hey, where's that competitive spirit of yours?"

"I've never had an open desert between me and assault rifles, and an invalid in tow."

"True," Michael said, "You've only had to deal with the bombing of your office, escaping U.S. authorities, being locked in a dungeon, caught in the crossfire of a shootout, escaping seconds before your execution—"

"Okay, okay, I get your point—"

"This will be a piece of cake, even with an invalid in tow."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "So, how are we going to get in?"

"I've been watching the soldiers walk their patrol. If we wait until the two soldiers on either side of the compound walk from the rear toward the front, and if the soldier on the roof lingers long enough before walking towards the back, we should have enough time to make it to the right corner of the wall. We scale it and drop behind the shed in the corner of the courtyard."

Thomas stared unblinkingly at him. "Yeah, piece of cake. And if the stars and moon line up, we'll be able to walk out the front door, to boot."

"I'm serious; this can work."

"Okay, let's say we make it to the corner undetected. How do we get over the ten-foot wall?"

"That's the part I'm dreading. You'll have to stand on my shoulders and once you're on top of the wall, pull me up."

"Are you crazy? You can't hold my weight in your condition."

"Look, my ribs have been healing for three months. They're fine. Besides, I have a better chance of lifting you than trying to pull you up the wall."

"I can't believe we are even thinking of doing this. There's no way it can work."

"It has to work, for Delia's sake."

The determination on Michael's face set Thomas's resolve. He sighed and shook his head. "Tell me why you think it's absolutely necessary for us to risk this."

"Because I have the weapons and equipment we'll need if we're going to try to penetrate Azim's compound. Think of this as a dry run."

Thomas threw up his arms. "Okay, let's do it."

They waited a few minutes until everything finally fell into place. The two soldiers patrolling the sides of the compound reached the rear at the same time and turned to walk toward the front. The soldier on the roof lingered for a moment before turning from the rear and heading to the front. Thomas felt a hollow feeling of anticipation grow in his stomach. Michael pushed him forward. "Go."

He sprinted into the open desert, and a sense of vulnerability washed over him. Now, only one thing focused in his mind: making it to the wall. When he had covered half the distance, a troubling thought raced through his mind and threatened to paralyze him where he stood. How were they going to get out of the compound once they got in?

* * * *

Delia sat on the edge of her bed locked in her room. The guard outside her door refused to answer her command to release her. She paced the floor and thoroughly searched the room for anything that would help her escape. She knew better than anyone what was going to happen when Azim grew tired of letting her worry about her predicament. Blood was not enough to stay his vengeful fury.

She walked to the window and pulled the curtains aside for the tenth time. And, for the tenth time, she spotted the armed guard faithfully patrolling his station below. The fear and respect toward her the guards had once shown were gone. It infuriated her that they treated her as a common enemy and not as the sister of Azim.

The thought of Michael entered her mind again. Each time it did, she conjured the strength to expel it. Now was not the time to grieve. If she did, she knew she'd have nothing left in her to find even the remotest chance of escaping.

She drew on every tactical experience she had, knowing no plan was perfect, not even one of her brother's. Somewhere there was a flaw. If she could find it, no matter how small it was, she knew it could be fatal.

She prayed to Allah she hadn't missed it.

The door opened, driving her thoughts away. Her escort stepped in and gripped her arm. "Come!"

She shrugged her arm free and conjured up the cold, steady expression she knew sent fear into others. "Hello, Sofian." Her penetrating stare didn't have the effect she was seeking. Sofian's eyes squinted as a smile curled from the edge of his lips. His reaction turned her blood cold and sent a shiver up her spine. Something about him was very different.

Sofian led her from the bedroom, through the maze of hallways, and to her brother's plush study. When she stepped into her brother's office and saw him sitting behind his desk, her blood froze. Azim stared at her, anger flaming from his eyes. He held out his hand and gestured to a chair across the desk.

She obeyed his silent command and waited for him to speak first. He rose from his chair with a smile and walked around the desk. Her flesh began to crawl as she awaited his twisted habit of greeting her. It was his ultimate show of dominance over her, one she had never been able to stand against. Even now, she felt herself turning into the frightened little girl only he could bring out in her. He approached and leaned into her. Fear paralyzed her every move except for the shallow breaths that stabbed her lungs.

His lips hovered so close to hers that she felt his warm breath upon her. She tried to summon the inner strength to pull away from him, but it never came. She resigned herself to the abhorrent display of affection and waited with closed eyes.

Moments dragged on and then the warm breath disappeared. She tensed, awaiting the touch of his lips while fighting the urge to retch. But even with her eyes closed, she sensed his presence receding from her. She opened her eyes and caught a blur of motion in her vision followed by an intense flash of white light. Her neck twisted violently to one side, and a warm numbness seeped into her face. She lifted her head to her brother, who was massaging his right fist in his left hand. She lifted her fingers to her lips and felt the warm, sticky ooze. The numbness went away, replaced by a stinging, throbbing pain. She felt a pebble roll upon her tongue and spit it to the floor. Gliding her tongue along her teeth, she discovered a hole created by a missing upper front tooth.

For the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid of her brother. Hatred fueled her fury. She hated what he had turned her into. She began to laugh, seeing the blood spray from her mouth through her peripheral vision.

"You find this a matter to laugh about, sister?" He spewed the words through clenched teeth.

Her laughter regressed to a bloody smile. "I do, brother. Oh, I do very much."

He cocked his head and squinted with curiosity. "And what, by Allah, do you find so funny?"

"The fact that you're a little man who thinks he's big." Azim's face reddened and his fist clenched. "And before the night's out, I will kill you." For a brief moment, Delia saw in her brother's eyes the fear she had often witnessed in her targets' eyes the moment they knew they were about to die. Never, until this moment, had she seen it in her brother. As quickly as it came upon him, however, it left him.

"You'd be wise to hold your tongue, Delia. It's only by my grace you're alive for the moment. I may be a small man, but not too small to hold your insignificant life in my hand."

Brother and sister stared into each other's eyes, neither blinking nor looking away. "Why," Azim said, finally breaking the silence, "did you betray me? Why did you turn your back on Allah for a Jew?"

Delia appraised Azim's sincerity as genuine. Somewhere in her hatred for him, a glimmer of familial love flickered. "I didn't betray Allah. My dedication to him made me try to stop you. Not me, brother. You betrayed Allah by the evil you've done in his name, by what you've turned your own sister into."

She had no tears for Azim. Only pity. "Set your things in order, Azim, for today I finish his will."

Delia knew she had just cut off any hope of reconciliation between her and her brother. Fate had been set. Tonight, only one of them would be alive. She entrusted the outcome to Allah's hands.

Azim's voice roused her from her thoughts. "Before you die, I want you to witness Allah bestowing his glory upon me. Your last thought before death will be confirmation that I've been his faithful servant." He shook his head. "You could have been by my side when it happens."

Azim lifted his phone and called for Sofian and Rajah. They entered the office followed by two armed men. "Make everything ready at the hangar. Tonight, we begin laying the building blocks for Allah's new kingdom. The three of us will unite the world to his cause. The final jihad is about to sweep upon the infidels, purifying the earth for Islam."

Delia saw the maddening hubris deep within her brother's eyes, far beyond his usual arrogance. Something was happening in his mind. Her anxiety was more potent over this than when she contemplated her own death. "What do you mean, Azim?"

His lips curled into a smug smile. "Yes, I want you to hear, to know the plan Allah has put into my heart. You'll understand I am truly his prophet and humble servant."

"Please, Azim, no," Rajah insisted. Delia heard panic in his voice. "We mustn't tell her. If too many people know, all could be lost."

"Silence!" Azim's command echoed in the office. "Nothing can go wrong. The future has been ordained. Now sit!"

Rajah turned to Sofian with wide, pleading eyes. "Please, help make him understand!"

Sofian shook his head and a few chuckles escaped his lips, but he didn't respond to Rajah's pleas. Delia watched the strange scene unfold before her, nearly convinced she must be in the midst of a nightmare. Rajah always spoke with calm wisdom, but now he looked and acted like a frightened child.

Azim's glare locked onto Rajah. He stepped up to Rajah and extended a hand, wrapping his fingers around the frightened man's throat. His lips curled into a snarl as he lifted Rajah effortlessly into the air. "I said sit."



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