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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The Samson Effect Chapter 24

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FOR THREE MONTHS, Thomas and Michael waited with the women for the botanist to do her thing. Thomas vividly remembered the euphoria that swept through the house when she had called less than two weeks after receiving the seed to report the appearance of tiny sprouts. The daily updates Michael, in his excitement, had insisted on receiving grew monotonous for everyone and quickly turned into weekly updates. Even the botanist seemed surprised at the sprout's rapid growth. Her own excitement was evident as she reported one week that she had not been able to identify the plant. It was a new, undiscovered species.

A few weeks ago, however, they had received a call from her that rivaled the excitement of her initial call. The plant had produced five seeds that were quickly maturing. Last night she had asked to meet so Thomas and Michael could pick up the plant and four of the five seeds in exchange for the promised research on its discovery. Since tomorrow was the Sabbath and the facility would only have a skeletal crew of nonorthodox Jews, they agreed to meet then at 6:00 a.m.

Thomas lay in bed and looked at the clock. Midnight. Although he had consumed no caffeine, his body felt like it was jacked up on ten pots of coffee. He and Michael had invested over a year of their lives searching for the Samson Effect. They both suffered injuries and lived under the threat of death, and they both lost people close to them. As far as he knew, he was still a wanted man in his own country.

But in less than six hours he would be holding in his hands the thing responsible for all of it.

His bedroom door cracked open, followed by a soft rap. It wasn't Hanna; she never knocked. A deep voice called from behind the door. "Thomas, you awake?"

Thomas rolled over and turned on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. "Yeah, come on in."

Michael slipped in and sat at the foot of the bed. "I'm having a tough time sleeping myself. I can't believe it. It actually exists." He gripped Thomas's leg and squeezed it in excitement. "Do you know what this means?"

"Hey, I'm as excited as you, but you do know there's a possibility this is still just a legend. We may find out this plant is nothing more than a heck of a burger topping." He tried to look serious, but Michael saw through him.

"You can't wait to see what it's like to be Samson, can you?"

"I'm serious." He couldn't maintain his facade any longer. A betraying smile stretched across his face. "No, I guess I can't." After a brief fantasy played through his mind, his deeper analytical thinking surfaced. "We're going to have to test this thoroughly and build safety nets into our experiments, especially on how it affects mental health. If it's more than a legend, then there may be a correlation between it and mental illnesses I've researched."

Michael's spirit did not dampen one iota. "Sure. Absolutely. We'll be very cautious." He squeezed and shook Thomas's legs again. "I can't wait to walk up to it tomorrow, pluck off a leaf, and see how quickly the strength starts flooding into me."

Thomas bolted from the bed and towered over Michael. "That's exactly what I mean about safety! You've no idea what—"

Michael fell onto his back, holding his stomach while laughing. "I'm kidding, Thomas. Take it easy. Of course we'll be careful."

Thomas felt his cheeks flush. He sat down on the bed next to Michael and shook his head with a smile. Of course Michael would take safety seriously. Michael sat up and patted him on the back. "We better get some sleep. Tomorrow morning is already here."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Is Delia still putting the pressure on you to tell her more about the plant?"

"Are you kidding? It's become a nightly chorus by now. 'Don't you trust me? Don't you love me? How can you shut me out?' I tell you, she was wonderful for a while, but now I believe she's taking it personally."

"What do you tell her?"

"The truth. I do love her; and when I'm positive we're all safe, I'll tell her." He looked at Thomas and shook his head. "Don't worry, I didn't tell her anything."

"Oh, it's not that. Lately, Hanna's been needling me for more information too. To tell the truth, I think Delia's put her up to it. Hanna doesn't like to appear weak in any way; and every time I tell her no, I can see the humiliation in her eyes. Makes me feel like a louse."

"Are they still drinking on the verandah?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Yeah. They're strengthening each other up to slowly chip away our resolve. I think I liked it better when they hated each other."

"Well, why not come clean now? Once we get the plant, there will be nothing to hide anymore."

Thomas thought for moment. "Why not? We've been here three months and all has been quiet. We have to leave in a few days when your friends return anyway. Let's go find them."

They entered the upstairs media room and walked through to the balcony. The women sat at a small round table sipping wine from their nearly empty glasses. Michael picked up two clean wine glasses from the shelf next to the sliding door before entering the veranda. The women hushed their conversation, acknowledging their entrance with smiles and tipped glasses.

Thomas pulled up a chair and sat while reaching for the wine bottle in the ice bucket. "Mind if we join you?" He pulled out the bottle and shook it. It was empty. "Looks like you two had a pretty good time tonight."

The women looked at each other and started giggling. Michael sighed and looked at his watch. "It's late anyway." He pulled up the fourth chair and wedged himself up to the crowded table. "We wanted to talk with you anyway."

Delia drained the last of her wine and smiled. "About what?"

"Well, you two have been patient beyond expectation, and Thomas and I figured it was safe enough to bring you fully into what's happening with the Samson Effect."

Delia's mouth flew open, and she looked at Hanna with a look of genuine surprise on her face, which Hanna parroted. "Really?"

"Really," Thomas answered, taking Hanna's hand. "Thank you for putting up with us."

After telling them about the plant's new seeds and their planned trip to the lab in a few hours, Delia leaped to her feet and swooned, steadied by Michael's arm. "This calls for a toast. I'll be right back with a bottle of wine."

"Let's hold off until tomorrow night, okay?" Michael said with a touch of concern in his voice.

"Nonsense! This is too big." She took a step and staggered.

"At least let me get the wine, then. You come sit down."

"No!" Everyone looked at her when she exclaimed. She smoothed her blouse with her palms and took deliberate steps to the sliding door. "I'll be fine." She didn't wait for a response but kept walking with dogged determination.

The three eased uncomfortably into their chairs, knowing it would be futile to try to stop her from her mission. "Guess you can see which one of us had the better part of the bottle," Hanna said sheepishly.

Thomas and Michael answered Hanna's endless questions about the Samson Effect with zeal. After ten minutes, Michael looked at his watch and stood. "I'd better make sure she's all right."

No sooner had the words left his lips, than he saw Delia enter the media room carrying a bottle of champagne. She stepped onto the veranda and held the bottle between her legs. When she popped the cork, champagne bubbled out. She brought the bottle to her lips, trying to capture as much as she could.

"I thought this called for a real toast."

Hanna giggled and extended her glass, receiving as much champagne on her arm as in her glass. The men smiled and extended their glasses as well. With their glasses full, Michael helped Delia to her seat and offered a toast. "To the sweet reward of costly perseverance." They raised their glasses and sipped their champagne. Five minutes later, Thomas helped Michael carry Delia to bed.

* * * *

At ten till six in the morning, the four met the botanist at a side entrance to the lab. Michael and Thomas had made a half-hearted attempt to talk the women into waiting for them at the house; but after they heard about the seeds, the men knew it was futile. Michael introduced everyone to Rachel, who warmly returned their greetings before leading them to her office.

Once in her office, sipping the fresh coffee she had offered, they seated themselves around her desk. All eyes locked onto the potted plant sitting on the corner of her desk. Thomas looked at the delicate flowers that bloomed at the end of thin bamboo-like stalks. Any other day, he would have confidently sworn it was an orchid.

Rachel glowed over the interest they showed in her plant. "Isn't it beautiful?" They silently nodded, lost for words.

"Is this the …" Michael was too overwhelmed to finish his question.

A puzzled look covered Rachel's face for a moment before being replaced by a comprehending smile. "Oh no, this is my prized orchid." She gently touched her fingertips to the flowers. "It's one of the rarest in the world. I only bring it here for special guests."

Thomas's shoulders, along with the others', instantly sagged. Rachel looked hurt but quickly recovered. "I suppose you're anxious to see the product of the seed you've entrusted to me. I want you to know it's garnered a lot of interest among the staff. It wasn't easy to dodge their questions. It was only when I took the lab director into my confidence that he blessed my secretive work."

"You told someone about it? But you promised. I specifically asked you—"

"I know, I know, but something like this is hard to keep hidden. It doesn't exactly blend in with anything else." She paused. Everyone's attention was riveted to her. "It was your promise of full disclosure and collaboration that actually swayed the director to give me the freedom I've needed to nourish it with the secrecy you've insisted on."

Michael was clearly struggling over her decision to involve someone else, in spite of her promises not to. Thomas knew Michael was wondering the same thing he was wondering: how many others knew about the plant?

Rachel ended the awkward silence by standing and gesturing to the door. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you what I mean about it not being able to blend in." She stepped to the door, followed by the group. Thomas felt like he was about to enter a new, unexplored tomb. In a few seconds, they found themselves standing in a greenhouse full of trees and plants in full bloom. The heavy, wet air was a noticeable contrast to the cool night air in which they had arrived.

Rachel stepped through the maze of plants and stopped next to the plant they had all come to see. She didn't need to point it out. With only a few steps into the room, everyone saw the plant they knew had come from the thick seed. Rachel was right; it truly was like nothing they had ever seen.

"We've dubbed it, 'The Burning Bush.'" Rachel stepped aside to let the four eager people examine it more closely. It was a small shrub planted in a five-gallon container. The trunk broke out in all directions about an inch above the soil. The branches looked like a handful of millipedes scattering in every direction. Tall, thin, green leaves shot horizontally up along the branches. They were as narrow as fern leaves but grew between six and ten inches long. None was at an angle; they all grew straight up.

As Thomas reached out to touch the leaves, the slight breeze from his hands caused the leaves to dance. The leaves themselves were dark green with a burgundy tint to them.

"Watch this," Rachel said. She reminded Thomas of a child who had found a strange bug along the creek and was eagerly coaxing people to witness her good fortune. She picked up a clipboard that hung on the wall and began waving it back and forth a few inches from the plant.

The leaves caught the breeze and began dancing. With the light reflecting off the leave's red and green sheen, Thomas instantly understood just how aptly they had named it. The leaves looked like flickering flames burning the bush. As the breeze died away, so did the botanical flames.

Everyone was speechless.

"Well?" Rachel finally asked. "What do you think? Didn't I tell you it was unlike anything you've ever seen?"

"Yes you did," Michael answered in awe. He stared at the plant so intently he looked like he was in a trance. He reached for the pot and hefted it into his arms. "Thank you," he said, without breaking his gaze from the plant.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. "When you share your findings on the plant with me, that will be thanks enough."

Thomas cringed. He knew it was coming eventually, and when it did, sparks would fly. He took a step back and waited for the fireworks to start.

Michael broke his gaze from the plant and looked at Rachel. His hesitation was just enough to let Thomas know this was going to be harder for him than he thought. "Rachel, I … we need to—"

"You'd better not be telling me what it sounds like you're telling me. We had an agreement. You promised."

"And I will follow through on that promise. This plant is more important to

Israel's national security than you could imagine."

"Spare me your cloak-and-dagger story. We had an agreement, and I mean to

hold you to it."

As if summoned by the power of her mind, a security guard entered the greenhouse. He stopped about ten feet away and stood silently, as if waiting for Rachel's order to attack. Thomas saw the pistol holstered at his side and began to feel the fingers of circumstance wrestle control from him once again. Banking on the premise that they were all on the same side, more or less, he decided to defuse the confrontation and negotiate a deal everyone could live with.

"Rachel, Michael's right. He should have been more open with you, but he was trying to protect you. A number of people have died over this plant already." He paused to study her reaction, but her determination did not waver. "You can go with us and when we're sure it's safe, you can have everything you need to begin your research today."

Thomas's spirits rose when she seemed to contemplate his offer. No one made a sound. They looked at her and waited. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "I'd better get the director on the phone." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Before Thomas could think of a convincing way to stop her, the security guard started walking toward them. Rachel's fingers paused on the cell's buttons. "Please take that plant and hold it while we sort this out."

The guard kept walking, passing by Michael and the plant. A look of anger crossed Rachel's face. "I said … wait a minute. Who are you? Where's Matt?" Her anger melted into confusion, and then her eyes grew wide as the guard reached for his gun and leveled it at her head. She stumbled backwards, pleading through barely coherent words. "No... please..."

The gunshot echoed in the greenhouse, causing the four of them to gasp. Thomas watched Rachel slump to the floor and then followed the security guard with his eyes toward Michael. Out of instinct, he folded Hanna into his arms and turned his body so he was between her and the guard.

Three more men entered the greenhouse where the guard had entered. One had a rifle trained on the group. When Thomas saw the other two, he felt his knees weaken. It was as if he was caught in a nightmare, unable to flee from the monster.

"Azim!"

"Hello, Dr. Hamilton. I must commend you and Michael on a job well done. I knew my faith in your abilities wasn't misplaced. Rajah, please get the plant."

Michael offered no resistance. He handed the plant to Rajah and slumped like a man thoroughly beaten. Only when his narrow eyes lifted to Delia did Thomas see a semblance of strength in him. Venom saturated his words. "You really had me fooled."

Delia vigorously shook her head. "Michael, I—"

Michael turned his back, stopping her in midsentence. He tried to remain stoic, but his quivering lips betrayed him. Delia looked shocked rather than angry. She closed her eyes in resignation, but she couldn't keep a lone tear from falling when he turned his back on her.

"Enough!" Azim cried out. He nodded to the security guard. "Give us five minutes, and then take care of them." He gestured to Rachel's body. "Take care of her too."

The guard nodded and walked over to a wheelbarrow leaning against the wall behind him. He wheeled it next to Rachel's body and then looked at his watch.

"Time to come home, sister. You and I have a lot to talk about." He turned and led her toward the exit, whispering something into her ear. Rajah and the other armed man fell in behind.

Thomas felt Hanna pull away from his embrace and take a step toward Azim. He attempted to pull her back, afraid Azim needed little encouragement to put a bullet into her on the spot. She shook off his hand and kept walking.

"What about me, Azim?"

The moment turned surreal for Thomas. Hanna smiled and had the worshipful look of a prom queen enamored with her quarterback boyfriend. Azim stopped and looked back at her. Hanna took it as her invitation to run to him. The love she had in her eyes for him stabbed at Thomas again and again. He let her slip from his fingers like quicksilver, feeling totally naked and exposed. As if she wanted to cast one more stone at his heart, she turned and gave him a wicked smile.

She reached her hand to Azim, who wrinkled his nose at it and scoffed. "Get away from me, Jewish swine."

The smile faded from Hanna's face. "What? Azim, I love you." She reached for his hand again but he used it to backhand her cheek. The force of the blow made her stagger backward a couple of steps before it sent her sprawling on her backside.

Thomas jogged to her and knelt down. Anger bubbled inside, but he didn't know quite where to aim it. He reached to gently wipe the blood from her swollen lips but she pulled her head away in defiance. The word choked from his throat. "You?"

Contempt oozed from Azim. "You think I'd have anything to do with an Israeli sow? The thought makes me sick." He turned on his heels and led the rest unceremoniously to the door. "Five minutes," he said to the lingering guard before exiting.

Hanna cried out and sobbed, unable, or unwilling, to hide the tears. Michael looked at Thomas, his eyes widening in comprehension, then streaked with terror. "Delia," he whispered. He turned to go after her in spite of the armed guard blocking his path.

Thomas grabbed his arm. "No, Michael. Not yet." He felt Michael tug against his arm but ease up as he sized up the guard. Resistance oozed from him, leaving him limp. He turned to Hanna and looked down at her. He summoned the vilest substance he could and spit it on her face. Hanna didn't look at him. She still sought after Azim, holding an arm outstretched toward the door.

Her betrayal ate at Thomas. It took all of his will to replace the humiliation and hurt with anger. He pulled Michael aside, leaving Hanna to wallow in her own broken spirit.

Thomas checked his watch. "We've got less than five minutes to clear our heads and find a way out of this or Delia is as good as dead."

Michael nodded.

Thomas hoped his friend's head was clearing. It would take every ounce of mental prowess they had to get out of there alive. He subtly surveyed the room for anything that would give them a fighting chance. The wheelbarrow and Rachel's body were next to the guard, about seven feet in front of them. Rachel's cell phone had cracked into two pieces when it fell and lay a few feet away. Thomas was growing uneasy, fighting the thought that everything was futile.

Then he noticed the shelf under the table next to Rachel. A pair of manual hedge trimmers with twelve-inch blades rested on the shelf. The crude outline of a plan formed in his head as he quickly surveyed the rest of the room. He glanced at his watch. Two minutes left. He prayed the guard would hold off, taking the five-minute countdown ordered by Azim literally.

He walked next to Michael and nodded toward the space behind him. "See that table?" Michael looked at a table full of plants about six feet behind them and nodded. "I'm going to go over and check Rachel's body. When you see me place my fingers on her neck to check for a pulse, I want you to run as fast as you can for that table, flip it over, and hide behind it."

"Why? What are you going to do?"

Thomas checked his watch. "No time to explain. Just trust me."

Michael looked into his eyes for a moment and then nodded. Thomas turned and headed for Rachel's body. His plan would result in their salvation or their massacre. Success hinged on perfect timing.

The guard thrust his gun at Thomas and babbled something in Arabic. Thomas looked at him as he knelt next to Rachel. The guard glanced at his watch and smiled, keeping his gun trained on him.

Thomas took a deep breath, hoping Michael was watching. He held out his fingers and applied them to Rachel's neck. The silence seemed to last an eternity but he finally heard Michael's footsteps pounding the floor followed by a loud crash. Trusting the guard had averted his attention to the commotion, he reached for the hedge trimmers and in one swift motion swung around as he stood to his feet. When he stopped, all twelve inches of both blades stuck into the guard's abdomen. He and the guard stood face-to-face, eye-to-eye. Without blinking, Thomas pulled the handles apart with all his strength and felt the blades separate inside the guard.

The guard's mouth fell open, and Thomas watched the life fade from his eyes. He heard the pistol hit the floor and released the trimmers. The guard crumpled to the floor, and Thomas picked up the pistol.

The greenhouse was silent. He turned to see Michael's head slowly appear from behind the table. Then he turned to Hanna, whose cries were replaced by an occasional sniffle. She stood and walked to him.

He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her, yet at the same time he wanted to use his own backhand to give her lips a twin cut to match the one Azim gave her. When she held her arms open, his own arms opened as if they had a mind of their own. Her body pressed against his.

"Everything's going to be okay."

When she squeezed her arms around him, his body nearly melted. She held him for a moment and then pulled away from him just enough to look into his eyes. She smiled as a tear fell from each eye. She gently ran her hands down each of his arms.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

The pace of her hands quickened. It registered in Thomas's mind what she was doing, but not in time to stop her. She gripped his hand and pulled the pistol's muzzle into her stomach. Her fingers found his trigger finger and it was over. She fell forward into his arms.

His reaction surprised him. He felt pain and hatred, but they were overshadowed by pity. He knelt and laid her body peacefully onto the floor. Michael ran over and stared. Thomas stood, tucked the pistol into his waistband, and walked to the door. "Let's find Delia."




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The Samson Effect Chapter 23

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AMBASSADOR BEN HUR'S limo screeched to a stop next to the entrance of the King David Hotel. Without waiting for his driver, the ambassador threw open his door and stormed from the car. Colonel Yarconi and the four-man team that had escorted Michael's group to Hebron stood at attention. As the ambassador reached the front door, Colonel Yarconi fell in beside him, followed by the four soldiers.

"No one's answering their phones," the ambassador said through clenched teeth. The hotel's general manager waited silently by the front desk and then joined the group when they entered.

"My men and I have knocked on all of their doors. No answers there either."

They squeezed into an elevator and the general manager pressed the button for the third floor. The elevator jerked and started its ascent. "Which one of your men witnessed the discovery?"

Two men lifted their hands. "We did, sir," one of them said.

"And what happened after the discovery?"

"Sir, we boarded the chopper and flew back to Jerusalem. When we landed, we drove them back to the hotel."

The ambassador removed his glasses and stared icily at the soldier. "Then what?"

The soldier gulped, but kept his composure. "Then we headed back to base per orders."

The elevator slowed and stopped. The doors opened and the ambassador led the group to Thomas's room and pounded on the door. Without waiting, he nodded to the manager who unlocked the door. The ambassador stepped in, looked around, and checked the bathroom. The room was empty. The empty closet caused the ambassador's stomach to churn. He yanked out the dresser drawers and found them empty as well.

He pushed his way through the crowd that had filled in behind him. He grabbed the manager firmly by the upper arm and dragged him into the hall and to Michael's door. The manager fumbled with the keys before finally opening the door. The ambassador pushed him out of the way and marched into the room.

"Michael!"

He opened the closet and pulled out the dresser drawers, finding everything empty.

"Ambassador, here."

The ambassador turned to Colonel Yarconi, who pointed to an envelope on the nightstand addressed to him. He picked it up and ripped it open.



Uncle Ben,

We did it! Yahweh was with us! Now that we have it, we believe we are in the greatest danger. I know you won't understand, but Thomas and I have vowed to keep this discovery to ourselves until we can authenticate it. We're safe and the women are with us, though they don't know what our plans are either. Rest assured, as soon as we determine it's safe, we'll share the discovery with you. I don't ask you to understand, just to please trust me. Michael.



The ambassador's eyes bored a hole through the letter. He could feel his cheeks catch fire, and by the expressions on everyone's faces he knew they all could see it. He clinched the note in his fist and threw it to the floor. "Colonel, I want your men to do what it takes to find my nephew. You know what's at stake." The colonel nodded and pulled his men out of the room with him.

The ambassador shot an angry look at the manager. "That will be all." When the manager ducked out, he picked up the phone and called the hotel operator.

"This is Ambassador Benjamin Ben Hur. Please call the Jerusalem police and locate Detective Ari Hazan."

In less than two minutes, Detective Hazan came on the line. "Hazan, my nephew and his American friend have found the secret, and now they're gone. Find them!"

* * * *

"I don't understand why we're here," Delia protested. "Why are you hiding this discovery?"

"I don't understand either," Hanna added. "I especially don't understand why you're hiding it from the ambassador. Above all, I really don't understand why you're hiding it from us. Just tell me, what did you do with the seed?"

Thomas tried to sound empathetic. He hated keeping the women in the dark, but in truth, no one had been searching as long as or with as much heart as he and Michael. Both knew they would create hard feelings in the people they cared about and possibly alienate them for good, but until they could resolve all lingering doubts about everyone's motives, they had agreed to pursue the rest of their plan themselves. That now meant they would need to try to get the seed to germinate; and if it did, test it to see if the legends of its power were true.

Michael had dropped the three of them off at a friend's house. His friend's family was out of the country for three months, making it a perfect place for them to remain under the radar. Michael had gone on to drop off the seed to a botanist friend. He had told her they found a seed in an ancient burial site; and if she could help it germinate while keeping quiet about it, they would give her all the research documentation she needed to write a paper on it for one of her journals. She was more than eager, knowing that if she were the first to grow a seed from antiquity, it would catapult her career.

Thomas lifted his eyes. The two women looked betrayed as they awaited an answer to their questions. He was frustrated with himself, knowing anything he said would only deepen the gulf forming between them. "I just hope you'll trust us. Our lives are in danger; and until Michael and I can guarantee your safety and the safety of the seed, we're not involving anyone deeper into this." He slouched, realizing how pathetic his reason truly was.

Hanna blinked in apparent disbelief. "Thomas, we're already deeply involved with this. If you're afraid Delia or I will tell anyone, we promise we won't. I swear I won't even tell my boss." She looked with pleading eyes to Delia, who supported her with a vigorous nod.

"Hanna, Delia, please, I know this is hard; but I promise you two will be the first to know everything, and you'll witness the secret that's hidden within the seed. But for the moment, our minds are made up." He inwardly cringed, knowing the words came out harsher than he intended.

To his surprise, the women didn't argue or pout. They seemed, at least temporarily, resigned to the decision.

"Well," Hanna said, "you don't expect us to stay hidden here with you until the seed germinates, do you?"

"No, of course not. We trust you to keep our location quiet."

"And if we don't," Delia interjected, "the seed is still hidden, and we'll be found to be untrustworthy, correct?"

"I didn't say that, but it …" Thomas paused, knowing he couldn't finish the statement. The women looked away, defeat in their eyes.

"Promise if you tell one of us, you'll tell us both," Delia said. The women held each other's gaze for a few moments. Thomas couldn't tell whether it was a look of camaraderie or of jealousy. When they finally broke their gaze and looked at him, he simply nodded.

* * * *

Rajah stepped out of the passenger backseat of Azim's Mercedes. The driver opened the other backseat door, and Azim stepped out into the desert sand and stifling heat. Still, as always, Azim wore his Armani suit, silk tie, and polished leather dress shoes. Rajah, in his khakis, polo, and loafers, was already sweating after leaving the cool, refreshing, air-conditioning less than a minute earlier. Azim, however, never sweated. At least, not noticeably. When he did, it was not due to the sun but to his fuming temper. At the moment, though, he was happy and, thus, dry.

They approached an abandoned, dilapidated hangar left over from an attempt to build Hebron's first commercial airport in the desert. The only other site left was the single cracked runway half overgrown with weeds. When they were within a few feet of the large hangar door, it slid open and Sofian emerged with a smile and upbeat demeanor in spite of his soaked hair and shirt. He greeted Azim and Rajah and then led them into the hangar.

As soon as the men entered, it was as if they had stepped into a sweltering oven. Not only was it hot, but the air was also heavy and carried a putrid stench.

Azim's joy didn't falter. He strutted in and went straight to the single chair that sat in the center of the hangar. Behind, the door slid shut and the windowless hangar grew as dark as a moonless, starless, desert night. The darkness quickly scattered when Sofian turned on the semi-ring of electric lanterns strung around the chair. As they approached, the men felt the added heat radiating from the lamps. The tied and gagged man in the chair summoned the strength to lift his head and pry open his swollen eyes just long enough to see his visitors before exhaustion pulled his head back down.

Azim's dress shoes clicked on the concrete and echoed thunderously through the cavernous hangar until he came within three feet of the chair. When he stopped, silence washed over the scene to such an extent that Azim could hear the man breathe. His breath had a shudder in it as if he was so terrified he couldn't keep the terror from finding a way to boldly advertise itself.

Azim smiled.

"My family... please—"

Sofian's backhand struck the man's cheek with vicious force. "Don't you ever speak in Mr. Ebadi's presence without consent, you filthy swine!"

Fresh blood flowed from a gash in the man's cheek over crusted, dried blood. The man lifted his head only high enough for his eyes to meet Azim's eyes. Azim could not make out the whites of the man's eyes through the narrow slits and the bluish-black puffy lids. Heeding Sofian's warning, the man merely nodded.

This is a good day, Azim thought to himself. This is the day he would take a giant step toward the ancient prize he'd been striving to possess. He looked down at the man and smiled. It was one of those occasions where he felt benevolent.

"Sofian, I believe this man has the utmost respect for me." He looked at the man again and smiled. "Isn't that correct?"

The man nodded immediately but still held his tongue.

"I thought so. I'm sure he doesn't want to be here any longer than we do." Azim beckoned with his hand. "A chair and something cool to drink."

A man emerged from the shadows with a padded folding chair followed by another man with a tall glass of ice in one hand and a clear pitcher of water in the other. The man with the chair unfolded it and set it before Azim. Azim adjusted it and placed it facing the man so close that his shoes brushed against the man's knees when he pulled one leg over the other.

The man with the water stepped forward and poured a thin stream of water from the pitcher into the glass. The sounds of ice clanking against the glass and the low rumble of falling water echoed in the hangar. Azim watched the man in the chair. His swollen eyes were riveted to the glass. Azim watched him, with great effort, force his dry tongue through cracked, bleeding lips. Azim could actually hear the man's dry swallow over the trickle of water.

A cheerful "thank you" from Azim stopped the water flow. He reached out and took the glass. The man's eyes remained locked onto the water, and his tongue had managed to crack the entire length of his now parted lips. With epicurean satisfaction, Azim sipped the water and then leaned back in his chair.

"Very good water." Azim called into the shadows. "I'm done. Please take the glass away."

The man who had brought the water reemerged from the shadows. The bound man quickly became alert. Azim saw anxiety pour from his prisoner's expression as the man came to take away the water. Azim reached forward with the glass but before handing it off, he tipped it, allowing the water to trickle onto the dusty concrete floor. The man in the chair groaned and strained against his bonds, trying to capture a few precious drops of the ice-cold water onto his tongue. Azim could see the veins in the man's neck as his mouth stretched for the water that trickled only inches away. A train of ice fell over the rim and shattered on the floor. As the last of the water dripped to the floor, the man's dry tongue extended so close to the trickle Azim was sure he must have felt the coolness that radiated from the water against his tongue.

Finally, the last drops of water fell. The bound man quit straining and slumped into the chair. Azim waited until the man quietly started to cry.

Azim spoke with a calm, even voice. "I don't want you to die, nor do I want your beautiful wife or lovely children to come to harm. I just want what you promised me." The man sobbed steadily but quietly. "Give me what you promised and I'll overlook your attempt to flee from me to the United States."

The man struggled to answer because of his dry, swollen tongue and his inability to stop sobbing. "I told the others already, I no longer have the notebook. The police took it."

"If that's true, it doesn't bode well for you." Azim leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees, making sure the man could see his holstered gun beneath his jacket. "If you've truly lost the notebook, then you've failed me, and I don't take it well when people fail me, Mr. Willingham."

The pastor's sobs grew louder and echoed in the hangar. With great effort, he groaned out his words. "I don't have it."

Azim sighed and stood. "I'm sorry our relationship has to end on a sour note."

"My family, please, let them go."

"You've no need to worry about them, or anything for that matter." Azim reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun. In one swift motion, he lifted it to Willingham's forehead and pulled the trigger. Willingham's body jerked and then slumped.

Azim holstered his gun, and the men in the hangar moved with the swiftness and grace of a ballet production, each silently and expertly cleaning the mess. Two men ended the dance by lifting Willingham, one by the shoulders and the other by the legs, and melting into the shadows.

The clicks of Azim's footsteps echoed in the hangar as he, Sofian, and Rajah approached the exit. The doors parted a few feet and the sun's rays cut the blackness like an intense laser beam.

"I'm sorry, Azim," Sofian said. "We did everything we could to pull the information from him."

Azim smiled and squeezed Sofian's shoulders. "I know you did, my friend." When he turned to leave with Rajah, Azim heard the unmistakable sigh of relief escape from Sofian.

The car's driver stood rigid with Azim's door open. Azim walked to the car and slid in while Rajah helped himself in on the other side. The car made a U-turn and headed back to the city.

"I don't understand how you can still be happy," Rajah said. "What did I miss?"

Azim's smile grew. "An old friend at the King David Hotel spotted my sister last night and was kind enough to call me. My friend agreed to keep an eye on her and, in doing so, described a manila envelope she and her companions seemed extremely interested in."

Rajah's jaw fell. "You found Delia? Give me the word, and I'll have her to you this very evening."

"Patience, my friend. At the moment, I'm more interested in the envelope, or should I say the notebook my friend saw them pull from it. Besides, I received a call from my friend a little while ago that informed me they all checked out in a hurry."

"How can you not be frustrated? You seem to always be one step behind."

"Because my friend, I was able to find out where they went." Azim patted his breast pocket. "I have the address of the house they're staying in right here. Now, it's just a matter of waiting for them to lead me to the Samson Effect."



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The Samson Effect Chapter 22

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TWO SOLDIERS CLIMBED to the mouth of the cave while the other two remained at the foot of the mountain. Already, the sun's heavy rays bore down on Thomas, heating the sweat his shirt had soaked up. He looked over his shoulder toward Michael and the women. Delia scaled the surface with the agility of a mountain goat. Hanna climbed much more tentatively, though Thomas was still impressed with her progress. It was the first time he remembered beating Michael in a physical challenge, yet victory over a man with cracked ribs was hardly something to celebrate.

Thomas could see the agony masked behind the determination etched on Michael's face. Each grunt from Michael echoed from the mountainside, and yet they seemed to give him the nudge he needed to make it up, inch by inch. Thomas looked up at the soldiers who waited to pull him to the level surface at the cave's mouth. He reached out a trembling hand to the soldier's vice grip, which pulled him the rest of the way.

He pulled the canteen from his belt and drained half its contents, dismissing Delia's earlier warning to conserve. A cool flush revitalized the strength the climb had zapped. He looked down at the approaching climbers, ready to lend his hand, but was relieved when the two soldiers made it clear they could handle it without his help.

He walked to the cave's entrance and peered inside. The opening led back about fifteen feet before sharply turning to the right. The passageway was just big enough for them to crawl into, one by one. He gripped the remaining stalactite fang, trying to envision the serpent's image he had seen from the helicopter. No matter how hard he tried, however, he could not recreate the vision from this vantage point. If not for the uncanny timing of their flight, he knew there was no way they would have been able to find the spot.

He turned to the rustling sound behind him and saw Delia's deep bronze arm extend and grip the soldier's hand as he hoisted her the remaining way up. She grabbed her canteen and tipped it back, gulping a little more water than her own advice should have allowed. Thomas smiled and dropped to a sitting position next to her. "I'm impressed. You're not even winded."

"Looks can be deceiving," she answered between breaths. "If you weren't in my way, though, I'd be up here already."

Thomas smiled. "Sure you would." He crawled to the cave and started inside. "Want to see where we're going?"

Delia followed close behind until they reached the first turn. Thomas took out his flashlight and aimed the beam into the black void. He cringed when he saw a steep pitch downward that extended beyond the light's reach. "Great," he mumbled as images of his painful slide in the other cave flooded to mind.

"You two, wait for us."

Thomas looked back at the cave's opening and saw one of the soldiers kneeling in and shining his light at them. "This is as far as we're going without you. Just wanted to get an idea of what lay ahead."

"What do you see?" Hanna's unmistakable figure silhouetted in the cave's entrance.

Thomas tapped Delia and pointed toward the exit. "Nothing really. Just a chute going down into the cave."

They emerged from the cave and saw Michael lying on his back with his hand shielding the sun from his eyes. He made no attempt to mask his exhaustion. As Thomas approached, he saw Michael's canteen lying empty next to his sweat-drenched body.

"You going to make it?"

Michael pulled his head to Thomas and held up a finger as he tried to catch his breath. "Yeah … just give me … a minute."

For the next few minutes they rested, and each ate a granola bar they had packed. One of the soldiers poured part of his water into Michael's canteen. When everyone seemed rested enough to continue, a soldier knelt next to the cave's entrance.

"If you're ready, let's get going."

As he entered the cave, Thomas stopped him. "I think it's best if I lead. I know what we're looking for, and I need a full view of what's before me."

"Sir, I think it's best I lead."

"You can be right behind me. We're more likely to run into trouble from behind anyway."

The soldier looked at his partner, who nodded. He stepped out of the way to let Thomas take the lead. Within a few minutes, the train of explorers was halfway down the steep chute. The walls and floor were rugged, winding and narrowing along the way. Thomas was sure the passageway was naturally formed, but the discarded water bottles and plastic wrappers let him know others had been down this way recently. His stomach tightened as he thought of the prospects that someone else may have found what they were looking for.

They continued down until the tunnel's grade began to level out. This must be the belly, Thomas thought. He shined his flashlight in front of him. It looked as if this part of the snake's belly was alive. The tunnel walls undulated and shivered in the darkness.

Thomas froze, not sure he wanted to go farther. "What is it?" the soldier behind asked.

Thomas squeezed next to the wall, giving the soldier a view ahead of him. "I don't know. Looks like the tunnel is alive."

"Alive?" Hanna asked.

The soldier reached to his hip and pulled up something. "Everyone, put your face to the ground and cover your heads. Don't look up until I give the word."

"Why? What's out there?" Thomas asked when he saw the soldier pull out his pistol.

"Bats. By the looks of it, thousands. A few gunshots should scare them out of here."

Thomas dropped to the ground and buried his face under his arms. He didn't like the thought of thousands of bats making a mad exodus out of the cave and flying chaotically over him. He closed his eyes and cursed himself for insisting to be in the lead.

For a few seconds, the silence eerily hung with anticipation.

The stuttering cracks of bullets pierced the silence, and the cave echoed with unnumbered screeches. Thomas not only heard the cries, he also felt them reverberate from head to toe. He wasn't sure, but he thought he also heard a woman's scream buried in the frightening screeches.

Then bats began to swarm. Thomas felt the rush above him and the wind from their flapping wings beating down upon him. Every so often one of the bats touched the top of his head or bounced from his legs. Every muscle in his body tensed as the roar of screeches rumbled above him. It went on and on until Thomas wondered if their exodus would ever end.

After what seemed an eternity, the screeches faded in intensity. Thomas began to feel hope that the ordeal would soon be over. He realized he had been holding his breath and let the stale air spill from his lungs. He gasped, sucking in rich oxygen. Peaceful contentment washed over him. It was almost over. As he raised his head, a hand gripped his shoulders and forced him back to the ground. "Get down!" As soon as his face hit dirt, Thomas heard another round of gunfire.

The surge of bats increased but this time died away after a few seconds. Soon every sound receded until absolute silence returned. Thomas remained prone until he heard the all clear from the soldier. Only then did he lift his head.

He looked over his shoulder to see everyone slowly raising their heads. Thomas sucked in a breath and crawled forward. The stench left from the bats nearly overpowered him as he moved farther through the chute. A chamber quickly opened to a room about fifteen or twenty feet high and wide enough for the group to walk around freely in.

He reached to the wall to steady himself, and his hand pressed on something cold and slick. He pulled it back to find it covered with guano. He shined the light into the room and saw a slick layer of bat dung covering the floor. Maggots were squirming in it, their white bodies highlighted against the inky, dark mush. Cockroaches scurried across it surface. With the group silently urging him forward, he wiped his palms on his shirt and stood in the entrance. Stepping aside, he made room for each person to enter and listened to the "Yucks" and "Oohs" as they did. Someone's stomach retched. Thomas could have sworn it was from one of the soldiers.

He stepped carefully, feeling the guano ooze over the laces of his hiking boots. "Careful, the footing is slick." He continued to trudge through the murk while shining his light along the walls. He completed the room's circumference, finding no other exit. This was the end of the line.

"Well, what do you want to do now?" Michael asked, completing his own survey of the room.

"I don't know." Thomas massaged his closed eyes, trying to ward off his disappointment. "It's too much of a coincidence not to be the location we're looking for."

Hanna shined a light around the room. "Did you find anything that gives a clue as to where the Samson Effect may be hidden?"

"No," Thomas answered. "No markings, no sealed passages, nothing."

"Well, there's only one more place to look."

"Where?"

Hanna pointed her light at the guano.

"What? There?" Thomas looked to the floor and then to Hanna. "You think it's buried in bat dung?"

"Not exactly, but we may find something on the floor under it." She didn't wait for a response but started at the back corner of the room and used her boot to slide the guano away, revealing a smooth, stained surface.

"And what exactly are you looking for?" Michael asked.

"I don't exactly know. I was hoping you would tell me."

Thomas slid his toe through the guano and wrinkled his nose. "I guess it's not going to hurt to check." Everyone spread out at the back of the cave, side by side. Even the two soldiers agreed to help. "All right, we're looking for anything out of the ordinary."

"Out of the ordinary? What exactly does that mean?" Delia asked. "It means anything that shouldn't naturally be here; a carving, a mark. I don't know. Just yell if you think you've found something."

Thomas heard Delia's muffled response, and knew she meant him to hear it. "That clears it up."

He didn't comment. Instead, he began sliding the guano away with his foot. Quietly, the others followed his lead. They were at it for fifteen minutes when Delia's shrill cry stopped the others in their tracks. "I've found something! Quick, look!"

Thomas sloshed over to her, followed by the others. Delia's knees sank into the guano as she frantically cleared an area two feet by two feet with her hands. A thin line formed a near perfect square, enhanced by the guano. Ignoring the sticky mess, Thomas dropped to his knees and ran his fingers along the line. "It's a cover. I'm sure of it."

He ran his fingertips along the surface of the rock slate. In the upper left corner, his fingers felt the indentation of surface carvings. He reached for his canteen and poured water on the corner. The water and his fingertips removed the guano enough for an etched image to become visible.

Delia gasped. "The mark."

Michael thrust his hand down and ran it over the etching. His fingers froze. He looked up at Thomas, and the two of them broke out in simultaneous laughter.

Michael motioned a soldier over. "You have anything to pry this up with?"

The soldiers began using every tool they had to try to pry up the stone, but nothing worked. Finally, they tried another tactic with Michael's approval. One soldier placed a chisel on the corner opposite the mark and picked up a stone. The cavern echoed from continuous poundings until, finally, the chisel broke through.

The soldier removed the chisel and Michael shoved his fingers into the hole. "It's hollow."

The hole made it easy for the soldiers to pry off the stone cover. Thomas shined his light into the cavity and saw a layer of tiny, white, coarse rocks about four inches down. Delia picked up one of the stones and examined it. "Salt. It's salt."

Michael examined one of the stones also. "I believe you're right."

Thomas started digging, throwing handful after handful of salt out of the hole. After removing about ten inches, his fingers struck a solid object. With renewed fervor, he dug around the object and uncovered a clay jar. He pulled it up and examined it. The jar was plain with no markings, and the top was still sealed. As he turned it over he could tell something was in it. It felt like sand or pebbles falling free within it.

Thomas held the jar delicately in his hand, gently brushing off the fine white dust with his thumbs. "We need to get this to a lab."

With deliberate swiftness, Michael grabbed the jar and thrust it against the stone lid. It shattered, spilling out yellow-white crystals. As the crystals spread away, a single dark sphere about the size of a golf ball rested on top.

Thomas's heart sank. "I can't believe you just did that!"

Michael picked up the sphere. "Come on, you wanted to know what was in there as much as we did."

Michael's utter disrespect for the ancient vessel caused indignation to bubble up inside of Thomas. However, the expressions on everyone's face made him bite his tongue. He picked up the yellow crystals and let them slip through his fingers. His indignation fled when he realized what he was holding. "Of course," he whispered.

"What?" Hanna asked.

He picked up more crystals and let them fall through his fingers again. "It's honey. Salt and honey, two of the most reliable forms of preservation in the ancient world."

"You mean this ball is a seed … the seed?" Hanna asked. "But it's three thousand years old."

Thomas held out his hand and Michael handed him the seed. "Nothing lasts forever, but the size and thickness of the seed, coupled with the honey and the salt to keep moisture and bacteria away—"

Hanna gasped. "You mean it may germinate after three millennia?"

Michael popped the bottom of Thomas's hand and snatched the seed from midair. With an infectious smile, he said, "There's only one way to find out."



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The Samson Effect Chapter 21

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THOMAS AND MICHAEL stepped into the hotel's dining area a few minutes before 6:00 a.m. Delia and Hanna were already seated at a small table for two along the wall. Their breakfast plates and drinks covered the entire surface of the small table, leaving no room for the men to join. As they approached, both women looked up at them and smiled, and then returned to their conversation. Thomas and Michael smiled back and slipped into the chairs at the small table behind them.

The waiter appeared and took their order. In a few minutes, they began dining on a continental breakfast. The men ate their breakfast silently until it became apparent the women were not yet interested in forgiving them.

Thomas cleared his throat, determined not to let the women's icy behavior dampen his excitement for the day's excursion. He matched the women's muted tone as he buttered his muffin. "How do you want to go about checking out the rabbi's house?"

"I've been thinking about that. The house is right in the middle of a Palestinian controlled neighborhood. How the Jews have been able to retain control over it for centuries is beyond me. Obviously, Azim doesn't have a clue the sample may be in there, or he'd have found a way inside. To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure how we can manage to search for the altar room without calling attention from both the Jews and the Palestinians."

"You do still think it's worth checking out though, don't you?"

"Absolutely. I figured we'd check out the two caves today while we think of a way to get into the house." Michael lowered his already muted volume. "I think it's wise for us to keep the knowledge of the altar room to ourselves for the time being. Right now, you're the only one I have 100 percent trust in."

"I've been thinking the same thing. In fact, I think we should hold everything we find close to our vests until we know it's safe to share it with anyone." Thomas stole a sly glance over his shoulder. "Be prepared to face your uncle's fury and the women's when they find out we've been hiding something from them."

"What are you two talking about?"

Thomas looked up to see Hanna approaching the table. "Oh, nothing of consequence. You two ready for today?"

Hanna couldn't hold in the smile. "To tell the truth, I've not been this excited for a long time."

"Michael, you done eating?" Thomas asked.

Michael picked up the juice and downed it. He stood, picked up a muffin, and took a bite. "I guess." He looked at his wristwatch. "The colonel should be in the lobby in five or ten minutes. Let's wait for him in there."

They entered the hotel's lobby to find Colonel Yarconi already seated on a couch waiting for them. Standing around him were four soldiers dressed in full combat gear, complete with their assault rifles held against their chests. Thomas felt uneasy seeing military personnel dressed to kill standing idly by in such a public place. He glanced at his friends' faces, but they didn't seem to give it a second's thought. He was beginning to realize just how well he had it back home, at least when he wasn't wanted for murder.

Colonel Yarconi stood and extended a hand to Michael. "I see you're already up and ready to go."

Everyone nodded to each other as the colonel introduced the four-man team that would accompany them to Hebron. "You have until sunset," the colonel continued, "to be back in Jerusalem. These men will watch your backs everywhere you go and reinforcements are just a radio call away. Any questions?"

Having no questions, the group followed the colonel out of the hotel and loaded into a military transport vehicle. A few minutes later, they boarded a large helicopter and were soon heading south.

Thomas studied Michael's crude map. They agreed that after checking out Snake Cave Number Three, they would have the pilot fly around Hebron to see if other parts of the city's landscape had features of a serpent.

Michael leaned forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulders. "I need you to sweep around the south of Hebron so I can get my bearings."

The pilot nodded, and the four of them planned their day in detail in order to take full advantage of their borrowed chopper. Every now and then Thomas asked the soldiers questions; but after endless one-word answers and no interaction on their part, he finally gave up and turned his full attention to his friends.

As they passed by a mountain, Thomas interrupted Michael and pointed out the window. "We're here. There's the mountain we were on when you drew the map."

Michael glanced out the window and then looked at his map. Once he was oriented, he again tapped the pilot on the shoulder and gave him directions to Snake Cave Number Three. The pilot made a slight bank to the right, and Michael returned to his conversation with the women. The four soldiers gathered up their equipment and checked their rifles.

Thomas leaned his head against the window and stared into the desert, wondering if everything they were doing was futile. He wondered if the Samson Effect even existed at all. As he silently debated, something in the receding distance caught his eye and jarred him to a rigid posture. With his hands and face plastered on the window, he felt his breath go shallow.

"Pilot, turn around at once. Head back to the tall mountain."

The pilot kept his course but turned to look at Michael for approval. Michael's conversation with the women halted abruptly as all eyes were riveted on him. Even the soldiers froze in their preparation for landing and looked questioningly at him."

"What is it, my friend?"

"Just turn this thing around, and I'll show you."

Michael nodded to the pilot, who drew his attention back to his controls and initiated a much deeper bank than he had previously. Thomas jumped from his seat and moved to the other side of the chopper, squeezing between two soldiers. Soon all eight sets of eyes were peering out the window.

"Bring us within one hundred yards of the northeast side of that mountain."

The pilot moved them into position while Thomas waited to see if anyone else saw what he saw. He didn't have to wait long.

"Good heavens," Michael said with a touch of awe. "The belly of the devil."

By the gasps from the women, Thomas knew they saw it too. As they hovered next to the mountain, Thomas could clearly see the image of a snake embedded in the cave. The shadows of the overhanging rocks cast a dark, triangular shape of a snake's head against a smooth side of the cave. Right where the eyes should be, Thomas found two small indentations into the mountain. But it was the jaw of the rock serpent that made the sight surreal. A cave opened into the mountain with a stalactite dropping down like a menacing fang. What was apparently another fang had broken off, leaving a thick stump behind.

As the chopper hovered, the sun continued its path across the morning sky. The shadows that gave the snake's head its form slowly receded down the mountain until the surface no longer resembled a serpent. After a few more moments of surreal silence, the group burst out in unison with all kinds of questions. "How could someone see from this vantage point three thousand years ago?" "What are the odds we'd randomly choose the exact moment needed to see the serpent?" "How could the surface not have changed through erosion?"

Thomas silently listened to the chaotic chorus around him, but it was not enough to drown out his own thoughts. He sat back in his seat and marveled at their luck. It was about time he had some luck. He didn't know, nor at the moment did he care, how this discovery could have happened. A deep satisfaction drifted through him because it had happened. He heard Michael giving the pilot anxious instructions to land. When they touched down, a maverick thought came out of nowhere, something the elder Pastor Willingham said. If God wanted him to find it, he would. Thomas shuddered at the thought, yet still not bringing himself to believe in a deity. He tried to summon back the feelings of satisfaction; but the maverick thought lingered, cutting into his joy like a two-edged sword.

* * * *

At 7:00 a.m., the first members of the Council began filing into Detective Ari Hazan's home. Hazan confided to Judas that this would be the first time since he had joined the Council that he would actually get to meet the chairman, who had always been out of town when the Council convened. In fact, since no one talked of Council matters, he did not even know the name of the chairman. Judas couldn't tell if Hazan was more excited to meet him or the chairman.

As the Council members started arriving, Judas remained alone in the kitchen and immersed himself in prayer while the other three men removed furniture from the living room and arranged the chairs into a circle. As more people entered, Judas finished his prayer and moved to a place in the kitchen where he could see the front door. Two well-dressed men in their fifties walked in and made brief greetings to Hazan before being seated.

Hazan's housekeeper brought a tray of refreshments to the men, who took a cup of espresso and then returned to their whispered conversation. Judas noticed that the men ignored Tobin and Aaron, only giving them cursory glances and shaking their heads. Over the next half-hour more men joined the group, until all ten were present. When the tenth man entered, Judas noticed that the expression on Hazan's face changed markedly. It was as if he had seen a ghost.

Once all the men were seated, the chairman of the Council cleared his throat, immediately ending the gentle murmurs in the room. "Before we begin, I must insist that you and you leave this house at once." The chairman pointed to Tobin and Aaron, who looked to Judas for guidance. After a brief pause, Judas nodded, and Hazan escorted them through the room and out a sliding door in the kitchen, where he seated them at a table next to the swimming pool. Judas smiled and nodded to them through the window and then turned his attention back to the chairman.

When Hazan returned to his seat, the chairman continued. "On behalf of the Council, let me tell you how honored we are to finally meet you, Rabbi." Nods and verbal agreement broke out in the room. When silence returned, the chairman said, "Please accept the heartfelt condolences on the death of your rabbi. I assure you it was as painful for us as it was for you."

Judas noted the sincerity in the chairman's eyes. The room was deathly silent until Judas's quiet response thundered through the room. "Thank you. I'm sure it was hard on you."

"Of course, these are not the circumstances in which we wanted our first meeting with you. Apparently, the rabbi made no mention to you of the Council or of our purpose."

Judas shook his head.

"Very well. For thousands of years this Council has existed for one purpose: to provide for the needs of the Protector of the Lord's Strength. I believe you know Detective Hazan; let me introduce each member to you."

The chairman went around the circle introducing each man. Some, Judas had heard of, but most he had not. In the group was a bank president, an import/export entrepreneur, an army general, two mayors of prominent Israeli cities, a high-level official in Israel's Foreign Ministry, a multibillionaire who had his hands into everything, and a member of Parliament.

"And finally, that leaves me. My name is Benjamin Ben Hur, Israel's ambassador to the United States."

Suddenly Judas felt a wave of inferiority sweep over him. In his presence were some of the most powerful men in Israel. Even his great strength couldn't suppress the trembling that overtook his hands. Had he wanted to say something, he knew he wouldn't be able to. His mouth felt like someone had stuffed wads of cotton into it.

He glanced around the room. The eyes of these powerful men locked upon him only exacerbated the problem. Then his eyes met Detective Hazan's eyes. The familiar face was instantly soothing. Hazan was the only man in the room who he was not intimidated by. In fact, the more he considered Hazan, the more out of place the detective seemed in the presence of these men.

"Forgive me, but may I ask how a police detective became part of this Council? His station in life hardly seems to fit."

Judging by the detective's reaction, it seemed as though Judas had just stripped him naked in the midst of a jeering crowd of strangers. The detective averted his eyes from everyone as deep crimson colored his dark face. Instantly Judas regretted asking the question. He hadn't meant to humiliate Hazan.

The ambassador humanely broke the oppressive silence. "Each member of the Council chooses his own successor in much the same way as the Protector chooses his. Once every member approves the choice, we use what influence we may have to elevate, in your words, his station in life. Detective Hazan's predecessor died of a sudden heart attack before we had a chance to groom him for the position." The warmth of the ambassador's smile as he turned his attention to Hazan seemed to hearten the detective and take the sharp edge from Judas's question. "No need to worry. In short order he will be sitting among us as an equal in every sense of the word." The ambassador then turned back to Judas and in a nonaccusatory manner asked, "Does that alleviate any worries you have, Rabbi?"

Judas's embarrassment blossomed, and he let the issue die with a simple nod

of his head.

"Good. Now before we administer the oaths and take up the issue that has brought us together today, we must have a confirmation that you have, indeed, received the sacred knowledge you claim to have."

"Of course," Judas said. "Tell me how you wish me to prove it."

"I believe a demonstration of your strength will suffice." For the first time since the meeting had started, the ambassador's eyes squinted and his voice became gravelly. "You are still under the effect of the Lord's Strength, aren't you?"

Judas gulped and silently nodded. Without taking his eyes from Judas, the ambassador said, "General …"

The general rose from the chair and marched through the circle in an even cadence until he stood next to Judas. Judas looked up at him, wondering what demonstration the Council had in mind. It quickly became evident as the general reached for his holstered gun and pressed the barrel to Judas's temple. Judas's heart raced, and his eyes flew open. His brain sent messages to his muscles to flee, but the shot came too quickly.

Instinctively, Judas yanked the gun from the general's grip and smashed it in his hand as though it were a plastic toy. Shouts of "Rabbi" filled the house as Tobin and Aaron burst through the back door to their rabbi's aid.

"I said out!"

Tobin and Aaron stopped at the ambassador's shout. Their helpless eyes were glued to the rabbi as they waited for him to fall.

But he didn't.

The general bent down and picked up the pieces of his gun. The curious expression of every council member instantly changed to that of deep, almost godlike, reverence. Murmurs of "Rabbi" again filled the room.

Hazan, the newest member of the Council, ran up to Judas and pressed his fingers to Judas's temple. His expression betrayed his complete bewilderment. "But how? This is not possible. By Solomon's Temple, he's only flesh and blood!"

The ambassador's laughter filled the room. "How, you ask. It is of the Lord. The stories of Samson and the Judges, of King David's amazing feats, none are myths. You see the seriousness of our duty, don't you Ari?"

Hazan nodded feebly. "I've seen what gunshot wounds do to the human body, especially from point-blank range. The skin isn't even broken." He whipped his head toward Judas. "Do you feel any pain?"

Having not yet recovered from the shock of being shot in the head, Judas slowly shook his head while reaching his fingertips to his temple.

The ambassador's tone came soothingly and full of reassurance. "Ari, Ari, please my friend, if not for faith then accept what your own eyes have seen." The ambassador looked at the faces of the men in the circle. "It's a rare thing for our faith to be strengthened like this. The time will come when our work and sacrifice will be rewarded abundantly. The Messiah will come, and when he does, he'll restore Israel to its full glory. By this gift, the Army of God will once again be invincible."

The ambassador walked over to Judas and dropped to his knees. Following the custom of their spiritual father, Abraham, he slid his hand under Judas's thigh and administered his oath. "I swear on all I have and upon my very life to provide for you your every need, freeing you to answer the Lord's call. My riches, my possessions, my life are yours until the Lord breaks this bond by death."

Every member of the Council lined up behind the ambassador and administered the same oath, word for word, with adoration and sincerity. The last to pledge himself was Hazan. His voice trembled as he spoke his words. Rather than adoration and sincerity, Judas perceived fear in Hazan's voice.

When they finished and were seated, the ambassador moved to the issue at hand. "Now, about the secret which the rabbi protects being compromised; put your fears to ease. My nephew and his friends have the rabbi's notebook. I assure you it will be returned safely to him."

"But you know as well as we all do there can be no knowledge of the secret outside the Council," the general said.

"I know, and the time will come when those who know must be silenced."

"Even your nephew?" asked the bank president.

"If he does not accept the gift of succeeding me on the Council, yes." Judas perceived no doubt, no remorse in the ambassador's words. "However, we've never been so close in finding the source of the Lord's Strength. Give them time. The Lord may be answering our prayers through them."

Each Council member considered the request and agreed. The ambassador adjourned the meeting with a warning that caused each member to leave with a distressed spirit. "Azim Ebadi's sister has bewitched my nephew and searches for the secret with him. If they do find it, she'll be his Delilah and betray him to her brother. We all know what he'll do with the gift." Fear enveloped each member, and none attempted to mask it. "We must commit all resources to silence her when and if the secret is found... even if it means my nephew's death."



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