The Samson Effect: A Novel, page 15
“Pastor!”
A quick sweep of the rooms at the front of the house yielded no people. He opened the front door for the others, and then set his sights on the hall where the thick gray smoke grew intense and fire licked the walls and ceiling.
“Thomas, don’t do it. The firefighters will be here any moment.”
“We may not have a moment, Ambassador.” Before another word could be spoken, Thomas dashed into the hall, feeling the heat increase upon his face with each step.
“Pastor!”
He flung open the first door to the right but saw no one. He looked through the open bathroom door across the hall, finding that room also empty. He fought through the heat to the next door on the right. He reached for the doorknob and yanked his hand away when pain melted through his palm and fingers.
He pounded on the door.
“Pastor!”
He steeled himself, took the doorknob into his hand again, and opened the door. The flames leapt at him with a force of their own and pushed him backward through an open door across the hall.
Thomas fell onto his back and stared up at the swirling flames which covered the ceiling. Then black smoke rolled in from both sides and covered him.
He rose to his knees, feeling the needle pinpricks of heat stab his entire body. His eyes burned from the smoke, and everywhere he turned he saw blackness. He knew the door was somewhere, but he felt as though he was locked in a cube with no way out.
“Thomas!” He turned toward the direction he thought the sound came from. He opened his mouth to call back, but smoke filled his lungs, suffocating him and allowing only coughs and heaves to escape his lips.
He gasped for air, but his lungs were again filled with the soupy smoke. His starvation for oxygen overrode the heat’s pain upon his skin. He dropped to his hands and began crawling toward what he hoped was the door. The crackling fire roared in his ears as he crawled forward. He felt his chest heaving, but a strange calmness overcame his numb body.
His head bumped into something, and he felt up the surface until his hand reached a tabletop. He tried to pull himself up, but his hands landed on sheets of paper and slipped off the desk. He fell down and rolled onto his stomach.
His gasps turned into uncontrolled hacking, and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.
With his cheek against the carpet, he could see through the wisps of smoke hovering above the floor. He craned his neck, struggling to find the bottom of the door before unconsciousness claimed him, but the last thing he saw made him forget about everything else. As he gave up his fight, his eyes closed over the sight of the parchment Michael had discovered.
Chapter 17
THOMAS AWOKE TO the sounds of screaming sirens and bumps that shook him on his cot. One man bent over him, listening to his heartbeat with a stethoscope, while another taped a needle to his arm. He groggily reached up to push the mask from his face, but a firm grip stopped him.
“Take it easy, my friend.”
Thomas rolled his head toward the voice and saw Michael’s face smiling back at him. His thoughts began to clear, and he attempted to lean forward on the cot. Once again Michael stopped him, gently forcing him back down.
“The fire …”
“You’re lucky Colonel Yarconi found you when he did. Looks like at least one of us is destined to always be in the hospital.”
Thomas reached out and gripped Michael’s arm, forcing the graveled words from his throat. “The Davidic parchment; I saw it.”
Michael cocked his head to one side; his smile seemed quizzical more than joyous. “You saw it? Where?”
“In the pastor’s house, before I blacked out.”
“It must’ve been something else. I never made copies of it, and Azim has the original. It’s doubtful he’d give it, or a copy, to a Christian pastor.”
“I know what I saw. It was the symbol that caught my eye.” He removed the oxygen mask, brushing aside Michael’s attempt to stop him. One of the paramedics reached for the mask and politely, yet forcefully, encouraged him to put the mask back on.
“Just a minute!”
The paramedic looked at Michael, who stared at Thomas for a moment and then nodded. The paramedic shook his head but eased away.
Thomas leaned up, resting on his elbows and looked directly into Michael’s eyes. “Someone else knows about the Samson Effect. The pastor’s hiding something, and I believe your uncle is too.”
Thomas felt exhaustion creep over him. He dropped his head onto the pillow and offered no resistance to the paramedic’s insistence on replacing his oxygen mask. By the time the ambulance pulled into the hospital drive, he had told Michael about his visit with the elder pastor and about the notebook.
The ambulance stopped, and the paramedics opened the door and rolled him out. Michael jumped out to his side and followed him through the hospital doors. “But why do you think my uncle’s hiding something?”
Before Thomas could reply, a guard stopped Michael as the paramedics wheeled him through another set of doors.
* * * *
Judas had spent the last twenty-four hours finding and following his rabbi’s assassins. He fought the impulse to snuff out their lives immediately, biding his time, waiting for them to lead him to Azim. Against him, he would let his fury burn.
He sat in an outdoor cafe, nursing his tea from a table where he could watch people come and go from Azim’s building. Every now and then he caught himself rubbing his freshly shaven cheek and chin. With his beard gone and his black hair dyed brown, he felt conspicuous rather than inconspicuous.
Across the street, he watched a group of men step out of the building as a car drove up to the front door. Azim stepped out of the building and glanced down both directions of the street before entering the car.
Judas downed the rest of his tea and stood from the table. He watched the car pull away from the building and make a U-turn. He casually entered his car and pulled into traffic, keeping his eyes on Azim’s car.
He followed them to the same building he and Simon had thrown the swine’s head into. Azim’s party exited the car while he found a parking space in front of a market three blocks down the road.
When the last man walked through the door, he eased out of his car and strolled toward the building. He passed without slowing, casting a brief glance while looking for any breach that would allow him entrance. He turned the corner at the crossroad and continued until he reached an alleyway behind Azim’s building. Two men were sitting in a car, looking bored, but definitely there for a purpose. He kept walking and noticed the top of a structure on the roof above Azim’s place. He also saw ladder rungs embedded in the building across the alley from the ground to the roof.
He turned a corner again and walked in front of the businesses that backed against the buildings on Azim’s street. A grocery store stood directly behind Azim’s building. He casually entered and began browsing the aisles. An elderly man sat behind the register. Every time Judas glanced at him, the man had his eyes locked onto him.
Judas fingered through cans of soup while looking over the shelves to the rear of the store. To the left he saw an open doorway with stairs leading up. On the center wall, he saw a set of double doors he supposed led to a storage area. He picked up a can of soup and made his way to the back of the store.
The door to the store opened, and Judas turned to see seven or eight men enter, laughing and filling the room with chatter. A young, clean-shaven man Judas guessed to be in his mid-twenties picked up a bottled drink from a tub of ice, downed the contents, and smacked his lips. He reached back into the tub and began tossing bottles to his friends. A sharp complaint from the old storekeeper and the ensuing conversation revealed to Judas that the young man was the storekeeper’s son. Everyone’s spirits lifted when the young man set a wad of currency on the counter as he leaned in to kiss his father’s forehead. Cheers and laughter erupted as the young man’s friends went on a shopping spree.
Judas made his way toward the stairs. He knew his best chance to slip up the stairs unnoticed would be in the midst of the boisterous customers.
One more quick glance at the storekeeper found him laughing and conversing with one of the customers while counting the crisp currency in his hands. When it seemed everyone was preoccupied, Judas eased closer to the stairway and made one more sweep of the room.
The storekeeper’s son picked up an apple and bit into it. He then lifted his eyes to Judas. “My brother, come and let me buy you something to drink.”
Judas froze, feeling the hairs on his neck tingle to life. The man stared at him, smiling and waving him over. Every set of eyes in the place stared in his direction, especially the storekeeper’s eyes. As he was about to make his way to the young man, a ten-year-old boy swept past him and ran into the arms of his older brother. Everyone’s eyes followed the young boy as they all crowded in to pat the boy on the head. Just as the man lifted his younger brother up onto the counter next to his father, Judas silently slipped onto the stairs. He quickly ascended, praying the clamorous group would mask the creaking noise coming from the stairs.
When he reached the top, he stepped into a small apartment. The window next to the ladder was across the living area to the right. He hurried to it, casting glances over his shoulder at the staircase entrance.
Once at the window, he turned the handle and pushed it open. Below, he saw the top of the car with the two men who were guarding Azim’s building from the rear. He reached out and grabbed a rung of the ladder. After one more quick glance at the staircase, he pulled himself through the window and quickly made it to the roof.
Across the alley, he could see Azim’s flat roof. It was one of only two areas on the block-long building that contained air-conditioning units. The structure he saw from the ground looked like a small shed with a single door on it.
Judas crouched down and, with little effort, leaped from one roof to the other. He made his way to the shed, hoping it would lead inside the building. He reached out and turned the handle, relieved to find the door unlocked. His relief turned to frustration when the shed proved to be just that, a storage unit for tools and supplies.
Judas shut the door and scanned the roof. His face brightened when he spotted the large rectangular outline of a doorway flush with the roof. As he walked over, he saw hinges on one end of the door. He reached for the handle at the other end and tugged on it, finding it locked. He scanned the roof again. Finding no one, he began slowly pulling up on the handle, increasing his force bit by bit.
With a relatively small creak, something gave way and the door flew open with ease. Below, he saw a lavishly furnished bedroom. He dropped into the empty room and stealthily eased over to the door. It opened to a hallway. From down the hall, he heard the sound of a woman crying and a man trying to offer her soothing words of comfort.
Judas cracked the door open a little more and looked down the hall, which opened into a sitting room where the backs of three men obscured the rest of the view. He was sure, however, that the man uttering the soothing words was Azim, comforting his aunt about Uncle Umar’s death.
This was it. This was his chance to avenge his rabbi’s and Simon’s death. With the element of surprise and the Lord’s Strength upon him, he knew he could kill every person in the room as effortlessly as Samson killed a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of an ass. His jaw clenched as he let the images in his mind of Simon’s desecrated body and the rabbi’s lifeless, bullet-filled body burn resolve into his conscience.
Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared to burst into the room. Just as he was about to release his fury, something Azim said caused him to relax. Speaking to someone else in the room, he distinctly heard Azim mention his rabbi’s notebook.
He paused and listened.
“… those two Jewish swine nearly recovered it, but Allah was with us. Mr. Willingham is in possession of it. I have Rajah making arrangements with him to give it to us even as we speak.”
All his great strength seemed to flee from Judas upon hearing that Tobin had lost the notebook. His knees turned to water, and he sank to the floor and gasped for air with shallow breaths.
The noise of his falling grabbed the attention of the people in the sitting room. The three men turned in unison and stared at him. Between two of them, Judas’s eyes met Azim’s. Everyone froze in momentary disbelief until one man reached into his jacket.
Judas snapped back to reality and leapt to his feet. He darted into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He ran under the doorway to the roof just as he heard the bedroom door slam open. One of the men burst into the room, holding his gun before him. As the man swung the gun at him, Judas sprang into the air, throwing the roof’s door open with his turned-up palms. Sounds of automatic gunfire echoed behind him.
Judas landed on the roof, sprinted to the edge, and leaped across to the other building. As he crossed the alley, he looked down to see the two men out of the car, guns in hand, staring up at him. Before they could fire, Judas landed on the other building and ran to the other end. He jumped to the street and sprinted through a crowd of astonished people who had seen him fall from the sky. He crossed the alley and sprinted to the street where his car waited for him.
When he reached his car, he dove in and took off. After a few quick turns, he was on the road leading to Jerusalem. Tonight, he knew, he had to find Tobin and Aaron; but more importantly, he had to find the rabbi’s notebook.
Chapter 18
THOMAS WAS TREATED and released from the hospital. He now sat in his room at the King David Hotel, with Michael and Delia seated at a small table by the window. Michael, he observed, seemed to be getting along rather well with his injuries. However, a thick atmosphere saturated with tension filled the room with silence as the three looked at the floor while running their fingers through their hair.
Thomas stood and stretched. He walked to the vanity and splashed cool water on his face. After he patted himself dry with a towel, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His skin looked worn, and dark circles puffed under each eye. His mind raced through the events of his time since entering Israel. He thought of the life-threatening moments he had lived through and of the fear and apprehension that accompanied each day. But he also thought of the Effect, of its historical and, if he were honest, its professional significance to him.
His eyes drilled back into him from the mirror. The deeper he looked into his own soul, the firmer his resolution became. He silently vowed to let nothing sway him from his quest. From this very moment, he’d be the master of his circumstances.
“It ends here.” He turned to see Michael and Delia lift their eyes to his.
“What ends here?” Michael asked.
“From the day I left home, I’ve been tossed about by my circumstances like a rag doll. No more.” He sat at the table and folded his hands across his chest. “I’m going to find the Samson Effect, and neither Azim, nor Jewish assassins, nor anyone else will get in my way. Your uncle has offered protection, and I intend to take him up on his offer.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. He looked to Michael and then to Delia, who both caught his eyes before they turned to each other. Slowly, Michael’s smile grew, and he clenched his fist. “I’ll call Uncle Ben right away. We’ll be back in Hebron tomorrow.”
“Hold up, there. The first thing we’re going to do is locate Pastor Willingham and find out how he’s involved with the Samson Effect. I’m sure the key to the search is hidden with him.”
A knock at the door stopped the conversation cold. Thomas got up and looked through the peephole before removing the chain lock and opening the door. Hanna stepped across the threshold and melted into his arms.
“Thank goodness you’re all right. I’ve been in torment not knowing how bad your condition was.” She cupped Thomas’s cheek in her right hand, tenderly massaging it with her thumb.
Thomas wiped her tear away with his thumb and pulled her into his arms. He looked into her eyes and gently guided her lips to his. She offered no resistance. When their lips touched, an emotional spark ignited his passion. Thomas had played this kiss over and over in his mind, and by the way Hanna melted into his arms, he knew she had as well. Without breaking either kiss or embrace, he led her into the room and kicked the door shut with his foot.
He pulled her into his chest, her hands slipping behind his head. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him, if it were possible, deeper into her lips. Then they slowly, reluctantly, pulled apart from each other. With her still in his arms, he smiled and looked into her eyes. “It’s good to see you too.”
She smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned her head upon his chest. They silently swayed together as Thomas softly kissed the top of her head. Her fragrance flowed into him and he felt a contentment long since forgotten. He rolled his eyes to his forgotten friends at the table. Both returned his gaze with an affectionate smile, sitting hand-in-hand, obviously feeling towards each other some fraction of what he was feeling now.
“Did I interrupt anything?” Hanna asked softly.
“Actually, we’re just about to make plans to return to Hebron.”
“You’re what? Thomas, no. You and Michael are lucky to be alive as it is.”
Thomas took a step back and gently gripped Hanna’s shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to find it.”
“I don’t understand—”
“You don’t have to understand it, just accept it. I’m going to do this.”
She looked at Thomas, her eyes pleading for him to reconsider. Finally, she softened and smiled back at him. “I suppose it’ll be futile to try to talk you out of this.” She turned to Michael and Delia and sighed. “When do we start?”
Thomas spun her towards him. “We? There’s no we! I’m not about to bring you into this.”
