The Samson Effect Chapter 28

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FOR THE FIRST time in his life, Michael cursed his uncle. He looked at his watch again. The man from the Foreign Ministry was supposed to have met him across the street from the Tomb of the Patriarchs thirty minutes ago. Thomas knew Michael better than anyone. He could see Michael's pain and disappointment buried beneath his anger.

Michael leaned over the front seat and took the keys from the ignition. "I can't wait any longer. I'm going to the hangar. You two get out."

Delia grabbed his arm. "What are you talking about?"

"I said, get out. I'm not about to drag you two into the arms of death with me."

"Then don't go," Thomas said.

"Have you come up with a brilliant plan? You know as well as I do Azim must be stopped tonight."

Thomas struggled to find words of wisdom that would deter Michael, but he hit a dead end. In frustration, he blurted, "You can't…"

Michael leaned back in the seat and rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "Even you know I'm right."

"I'm going with you."

Thomas whipped his head toward Delia. "You can't be serious." He looked from one to the other. "What are you going to do? Just walk up to him and beat him into submission?"

Neither answered.

"At least get a weapon. Azim's men cleaned out everything you brought."

"Not everything." Michael stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. He was back a minute later with two pistols and a box of ammunition. He loaded the pistols and handed one to Delia along with an extra clip and a handful of bullets.

"You two are serious, aren't you? In case you've forgotten, we're dealing with an enemy of biblical proportions. Biblical, Michael! Jawbone of an ass and fiery furnace proportions."

Again, neither answered. Thomas threw himself back into his seat and shook his head. Then, the fire flared in his side again.

"This is as far as you go, my friend. I never intended to entangle you so deeply in this. I'll call for someone to pick you up when we leave."

Thomas didn't move. Where was he going to go? How long could he outrun the authorities; long enough to be swept away by Azim's army of Samsons? He knew Michael was right; they didn't have the luxury of waiting for the cavalry. They had to do something tonight if they had a prayer of stopping Azim. He laid his head against the headrest. "Give me a gun." The words caught in his throat. He never would have thought he'd ever have to shoot another human.

"Thomas, please—"

"You said it yourself. It's now or never. Besides, I don't exactly have any place to go." He reached his arm into the backseat. "Well?"

"I'm afraid I only have two guns. If you go, you'll be unarmed."

Thomas knew it wasn't logical, but a wave of relief swept over him. "Well, I guess I'll have to trust you two for protection, won't I?"

"You know the guns probably won't stop Azim."

"I'm going."

* * * *

Two of Azim's men pulled the battered rabbi from their car and dragged him to the hangar door. Judas held his left hand in his right hand, trying to keep his three broken fingers from touching anything. The pain in his fingers far surpassed the pain from the lacerations on his face and the burns on his arms. He wished they had killed him, but he knew Azim was eager to see the famed rabbi from whom the Lord had departed.

The door slid open, and his escorts threw him into the hangar. He stumbled and fell at Azim's feet. "So, this is the mighty rabbi." Azim rolled Judas onto his back with his foot. "How long before I need another dose in order to keep my strength?"

Judas didn't answer. Azim reached down and picked him up by his tunic, holding Judas in midair. "Answer me." When he refused to speak, Azim threw him to another man fifteen feet away. "Sofian, see what you can do to get him to talk."

Sofian wore the grin of a boy who was about to pluck the wings from a fly before squashing it in his hands. As he bent down to pick Judas up, Judas choked out the answer through bloody, swollen lips. "Two weeks."

Judas heard Azim's shoes click on the concrete as Azim approached. He tried to lift himself when the clicks stopped next to him, but his rubbery arms buckled under his effort.

"Thank you, Rabbi. The more you cooperate, the less painful your death will be." He picked Judas up again and carried him to the back row of folding chairs his men had set up in the hangar. There were at least one hundred chairs but fewer than ten people huddled together in the first row. He felt his strength drain away, and he had to stretch out on the two chairs next to him. He closed his eyes and listened to Azim release his anger behind him.

"This is it? Ten people?"

"Azim," Rajah said, "the religious leaders don't know you yet—"

"Yet! But they will, and when they do, they'll regret their arrogance toward me. These ten people shall be rewarded for their faith when I lead Allah's army to victory."

Judas heard Azim's footsteps fade away toward the makeshift stage up front. "Bring him."

Sofian grabbed Judas's right foot, yanked him to the floor, and dragged him down the aisle as if he were dragging a dog by the collar. Once they reached the stage, Sofian lifted him above the platform and tossed him at Azim's feet. When Judas opened his eyes, he was looking out over the chairs at people who were clearly bewildered by Sofian's show of strength.

Azim's voice thundered through speakers across the empty hangar. "My dear friends, thank you for answering my invitation on such short notice. As I said in my invitation, today is the day Allah has chosen to begin fulfilling his promises through his prophet Mohammed. Today is the day you and I can answer his call and be rewarded by our great faith in him."

Judas tried to pull himself up, but his strength was gone. He listened to Azim tell the sparse crowd about Allah's gift to him, and Azim promised a demonstrations that would prove he was Allah's new prophet. Despair washed over Judas as Azim revealed details about the gift with uncanny accuracy. He was the first protector since the days of Moses to lose the Lord's Strength to Yahweh's enemies.

He was so weak. As hard as he tried, he was powerless to do anything to stop Azim. Then, Sofian made his task nearly impossible by grabbing him like a ragdoll and dragging him back to a folding chair behind the meager crowd. Conflicting emotions washed over Judas as he melted into the comfort of the chair while despair enveloped him as he realized he would have to watch Azim shining victoriously on stage.

Then the demonstrations began.

Azim stepped up to a sedan parked on the stage and ran his fingers delicately across the fenders. "When the jihad begins, I will have thousands of soldiers all over the earth. Some will be operating the bullet train between Paris and London; some will be on Wall Street. Everywhere there's power and fortune, my soldiers will be there, awaiting my command to strike. When they do …" His forearm shattered the driver's window, and he ripped the door from the car with one hand and tossed it to Rajah, who caught it like a Frisbee. "… my soldiers will be as strong as we are."

Prayers and praise to Allah rang out from the meager audience. To accentuate his strength, Azim bent down and gripped the front of the car. With but a little show of exertion, he lifted the front end and held the car as steadily as a pair of jacks. He looked over his guests and stoically accepted their praise and reverence. He put an exclamation on his exhibition by dropping the car. It crashed down upon the stage and rocked on its shocks to a halt.

"Imagine what thousands like me will be able to do in the name of Allah."

A sickening feeling bubbled from the pit of Judas's gut. He silently mouthed a prayer to Yahweh, pleading for the gift to return to him as the Lord had granted to Samson, one last time, to kill his enemies. He waited but felt nothing except pain from his injuries. His hand drifted to his thigh. Through his robe, he felt the hilt of the dagger strapped to him.

Judas finally accepted that the strength was not going to return upon him. He prayed for just enough strength to stagger on his feet far enough to thrust the dagger into Azim's belly. He also prayed that what his rabbi had told him about the secret was correct. If so, Azim would die tonight.

He had to find a way to Azim before Azim realized the Lord's protection wasn't complete, before Azim drew his own blood in one of his demonstrations.

Judas somehow found the strength to rise from the chair. His broken fingers were on his dominant hand, so he would have to attack with his weak hand. He squared his shoulders and started walking painfully down the aisle.

* * * *

Thomas counted seven cars parked in front of the hangar, far less than the fifty to seventy-five they had estimated. The meeting's low turnout most likely accounted for the scaled-back security. Only one man guarded the back door leading into the hangar. Darkness protected them as they crawled the mile across the desert and stopped just outside the illumination of the hangar's light.

Delia checked her gun and snapped the clip into place. "If we can kill the guard, we should have clear access to the door. Once we go through, we'll quickly lose the element of surprise. We must find Azim, Rajah, and Sofian immediately. Shoot for their eyes."

"I'll take the guard's rifle," Thomas said. "I may not be the marksman you are, but if I empty all my bullets in the face, I'm sure at least one will hit the eyes."

"You and Michael know if we fail we'll be dead before the evening is over."

The men nodded soberly. Michael and Delia stretched on their stomachs and took aim at the lone guard. Thomas watched and hoped Azim hadn't shared the Effect with the guards.

Delia and Michael looked at each other and nodded. Then, Delia leaned in for possibly the last kiss she and Michael would share. When they broke, they both took aim and fired.

Bullets silently whizzed from the pistols, one after the other, until the guard's spasmodic body finally fell to the ground. Thomas swallowed two more pain pills and sprinted behind Michael as fast as his cracked ribs allowed.

By the time they reached the back door, Thomas was in torment. He took the guard's rifle from Michael and leaned against the hangar, trying to catch his breath.

Delia reached for the door handle. "Unlocked," she whispered.

Thomas squeezed his trigger and sucked in three deeps breaths to steady his nerves. Adrenaline began masking his pain, but his hand started trembling as he realized he was seconds away from possibly shooting another man. He steeled himself for Delia's worst-case scenario: they open the door to find nothing between them and their targets to take cover behind. They'd be sitting ducks.

He was lost in his thoughts when Delia flung the door open and followed Michael into the hangar. He took another quick breath and followed behind to find Michael holding a finger to his lips. They were standing behind a large platform. Thomas saw the back of the heads of three men and heard Azim's unmistakable voice bellowing from loudspeakers.

The adrenaline was wearing off, and Thomas's pain began claiming its dominance. Delia made a silent gesture with her hands, and he followed her to the left side of the platform while Michael eased to the right side. As he and Delia turned the corner, they had a clear view of the empty chairs on their side of the hangar and of the aisle that separated the two sections. A robed, battered man was walking toward the platform.

Azim broke the cadence of his speech and turned his attention to the man. "Ah, Rabbi, you came to testify to these faithful few."

The rabbi didn't answer. He continued dragging himself forward. When he reached the steps, he dropped to his knees and tried to crawl up them; but he couldn't make it past the first step. He slumped forward and sprawled across the steps.

"Sofian, be kind enough to help the good rabbi up here."

Sofian went to Judas and grabbed him by the collar of his robe. He snapped the rabbi up, carried him with one hand, and dropped him upon the stage.

"You should be a little gentler with our guest," Azim said in mock concern. "Judas, is it? Come here."

Judas struggled to his feet but remained in place and looked defiantly toward the center of the stage. "You come to me. I have a secret message for you from the Lord God."

Azim stepped into Thomas's view. He smiled playfully to the crowd and stopped about six feet from Judas. "What? Allah has given you a message for me?" He played to the audience with dramatic flair. He extended one arm while holding the microphone with the other. He directed his comments to the audience. "Tell me, what is this message God has for me?"

The rabbi remained silent and immovable.

Azim paced along the edge of the stage. "It seems the good rabbi has forgotten his message. Sofian, help him remember."

Sofian came back into Thomas's view and swaggered to the rabbi. His smile was mischievous, and his eyes drank in the opportunity to "help" the rabbi remember. Judas stared at him through swollen blue slits, immovable from either bravery or a lack of energy to protect himself.

Thomas gripped his rifle and inched forward, compelled to intervene on behalf of the defenseless rabbi. Delia reached out a hand to stop him and sternly shook her head. He looked at the rabbi and forced himself to ease back and watch.

Sofian wrapped a hand around the rabbi's neck and lifted him into the air. Judas's legs kicked, frantically seeking solid ground. The words hissed from Sofian's lips. "You had a message?"

Judas's mouth gaped open, but no sounds came out. His narrow slits widened to reveal large, round eyes desperately seeking reprieve while his fingernails clawed at Sofian's arm with no effect.

Thomas rocked on his knees, fighting to break free from Delia's invisible restraint. Just as the rabbi's eyes began to shut, Sofian dropped him to the stage. The rabbi wheezed and clutched his throat.

Azim's voice masked Judas's gasps. "Behold, the famed rabbi of Hebron!"

By the murmurs from the audience, it was apparent they knew of whom Azim was referring. "Able to bend steel and walk unscathed through a shower of bullets. Now look at him. Allah has given his gift to me."

Judas coughed and defiantly struggled to his feet, wavering on weakened legs. It seemed a simple puff from Sofian's lips would be enough to send him toppling to the ground. Sofian reached out and placed his hands upon the rabbi shoulders. "The message..."

Judas bent down, placed his hands upon his thigh, and stammered through gulps of air. "The message... from God... is..."

He lifted his robe and grabbed the dagger. In one swift motion, he stood and thrust it into Sofian's belly. His legs buckled, but he sliced the dagger down a few inches before collapsing to the ground. Sofian looked down at the dagger protruding from his stomach and then to the rabbi. "This is your message?" He yanked out the dagger and laughed. "Now, I have a message for you."

Sofian took a step toward Judas and stopped. Confusion swept over his face. He reached to his belly and coughed, lifting a bloodied hand. He slowly turned to Azim, raising his hand and staring at Azim with accusing eyes before falling to his knees and then to the floor.

Azim dropped the microphone and ran to him. He rolled Sofian over and stared into his lifeless eyes. His words echoed from a bewildered fog. "But how?"

Another man ran to Sofian and knelt next to him. "I warned you; Allah is punishing us for our insolence!"

Thomas heard a commotion coming from the audience and saw a handful of people running down the aisle toward the hangar door. Delia slapped Thomas on the shoulders. "Now!"

She rose and fired her gun. Thomas heard Michael's gunfire echo from the other side of the hangar. He stood and saw four men running down the aisle with their rifles poised to shoot. His rifle seemed to gain fifty pounds as he lifted it to take aim. His spray of bullets dropped two guards instantly.

Thomas watched Rajah collapse to the floor and a puddle of blood pool under his head. Azim jerked back and slapped a hand over his bloody shoulder and then jumped from the stage and ran to the hangar door. He flew between the two remaining guards, who had dropped to their knees to take aim at Michael and Delia.

Delia gripped Thomas's rifle and yanked him down as a burst of gunfire erupted from the soldiers. She stripped the rifle from him. "Michael, don't let Azim get a way!"

She stood, fired, and then dropped next to Thomas. There was an eerie silence while Thomas waited for the gunfire to continue; but twenty seconds passed, and it was still quiet. He looked to Delia for direction and found her clutching her chest. He knelt and pulled her hand away from her chest.

"I'll be fine." She yanked her hand away. "You and Michael must stop Azim."

"Let me take a look."

"Go!"

He stared into her eyes and slowly nodded. He grabbed her pistol, propped the rifle in her lap, and put his hand on her shoulder.

Delia closed her eyes. "Please, hurry."

Thomas braced himself to face the guards. After three deep breaths, he leaped to his feet and fired. He stopped when he saw the remaining guards were already dead.

"Michael!"

Thomas sprinted behind the stage to the other side. He found Michael sitting against the wall tying his shirt around one thigh.

"How bad are you hurt?"

Michael gritted his teeth as he tied the knot. "I'll live."

Thomas wasn't a medic, but he knew enough to know Michael had lost a lot of blood. He then saw the wound on Michael's other leg. He ripped off his shirt and used it to tie off the second wound.

"Delia?"

"Still alive."

Michael grabbed Thomas's hand, stopping him from finishing the tourniquet. "Tell me the truth."

Thomas resumed tying off the wound. "I am. She's hit, but she'll live."

Delia's voice echoed in the hangar. "Please, go!"

Thomas smiled. "See?"

Michael nodded and grabbed the shirt. "You must stop Azim. He might not be immortal, but he's still as strong as an ox. Be careful."

"I will." Thomas sprinted through the hangar, sickened at the sight of mangled corpses and blood bathing the floor. He looked through the door and saw taillights receding in the distance. Thomas clutched his side and ran as fast as he could run through the door and into open desert.

Everyone was gone. There were no cars, no soldiers, nothing. He stopped to catch his breath, cursing himself for waiting so long to go after Azim. It would be impossible, he knew, to find the seeds again. Something worse than Armageddon would be brewing while the world waited for the final jihad.

He was about to go back and help Michael and Delia when the sound of an engine racing toward him came from behind the hangar. He gripped his pistol, waiting to face whatever monster the desert had given birth to.

An army truck barreled around the corner and skidded to a stop about six feet from him. The headlights momentarily blinded him, and he heard shouts and people surrounding him.

Thomas dropped his pistol and raised his hands. He was aware of the men surrounding him, but the light kept him from seeing anything. It wasn't until the silhouette of a tall man stepped between him and the lights that Thomas finally saw who had come in the truck. He relaxed his arms.

"Colonel Yarconi, call for a medic. Michael and Delia have been shot. They're in the hangar."

"Anyone else in there?"

"I don't think so, but I'd be careful."

The colonel issued a command, and his men began filing into the hangar. A few seconds later one of the soldiers exited. "All clear, but the ambassador's nephew and a rabbi are in bad shape."

The colonel nodded, and the soldier disappeared back into the hangar. Yarconi jogged to the truck and called the medics. He stopped next to Thomas before joining his men. "Send the medics in when they arrive."

Thomas nodded and watched Yarconi disappear into the hangar. A few seconds later, he walked to the truck and climbed into the driver's seat. Before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, he put the truck in gear and sped across the desert in the direction he saw Azim fleeing.





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