The Samson Effect: A Novel, page 17
They shut the door behind the fuming women. Thomas opened his door and flipped on the lights. The two men melted into their chairs, taking a minute to envelop themselves in this serene haven. With his eyes closed, Michael asked, “Do you think it was wise to leave them alone in there?”
Thomas sighed. “I really don’t know.”
* * * *
Judas pulled into the parking lot of Arnold Willingham’s church and home. When he saw the burnt shell of the parsonage next door, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. With late evening approaching, the traffic along the busy roadway had already dwindled to a trickle. He parked next to the church building and stepped out of the car.
He looked around in the darkness, hoping to find Tobin and Aaron, but the place seemed deserted. He ascended the steps at the side of the building to the door with the dedicated doorbell to Arnold’s downstairs residence. He pushed the button and waited. A few moments later, he hit the button again and glanced up at the video camera the church had installed so Arnold could see from his apartment who was at the door. No sound stirred within the church building. He descended the steps and was about to get back into his car when a voice from the front of the building called to him.
“Can I help you?”
Judas squinted at the silhouette of a man who cautiously took a few steps toward him from the front of the church. “I’m here to see Arnold Willingham.”
“Dear God,” an elderly female voice said as another, shorter silhouette appeared next to the man. “He doesn’t know.”
“Know what?” Judas asked as he stepped toward the couple.
The two did not run, but the woman’s hand quickly clutched the man’s arm. As he approached, Judas could finally make out the sullen details on the elderly couple’s faces.
The old man shook his head and spoke quietly. “Pastor Willingham died today—”
“Was killed,” the woman clarified. “Oh, it’s so terrible. Were you a friend of the pastor?”
Judas had only met Willingham occasionally when he and Simon had accompanied the rabbi to Jerusalem. However, the affection the rabbi had for him made Judas give no thought in sending Aaron and Tobin to him after the rabbi’s death. “Yes I am,” Judas answered weakly. “I’m shocked to hear of his death. The burnt house, was it recent also?”
“Today. The firefighters just left.” The old man shook his head. “Praise the Lord the pastor’s son and family were spared.”
“That is fortunate.” Judas thought for a moment. “Perhaps I could speak with the pastor’s son. Two friends of mine were staying with his father. Maybe he could tell me where I could find them.”
The couple froze, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping open. Judas grew uncomfortable at their reaction and silence. “Sir, do you know where I might find the pastor’s son?”
“Friend, let me make a call to see if I can find them. Mind waiting here for a few minutes?”
“No, I … I guess not.” He watched the man nudge the woman, snapping her from what appeared to be a trance, and the two disappeared around the front corner of the building. Judas reluctantly stepped back to his car and leaned against the hood.
A few seconds later, the silence was shattered by the start of a car’s engine and the squealing tires. Judas bolted from the car and ran to the front of the church in time to see the old couple fly from the church drive onto the street. He watched as their taillights disappeared around the corner of the first intersection.
Whatever was going on, Judas knew it would be best if he left immediately. He jogged to his car, but a familiar voice from the darkness behind the church stopped him cold.
“Rabbi.”
He peered into the darkness. “Tobin? Is that you?”
Two figures emerged from the darkness. When they approached the car, Judas let out a sigh. “Tobin, Aaron, what’s going on?”
“Get in the car. We have to get out of here, now!”
Aaron slipped into the backseat while Tobin slid behind the wheel and started the car. Without arguing, Judas went around to the passenger side and got in. Before he even closed the door, Tobin took off.
“Tobin, what’s going on?”
Tobin held up a hand and picked up a cell phone. He punched in a few numbers and waited.
“This is Tobin. We have the rabbi…Israeli police will soon be after us. I need to ask you to trade cars with us … thank you. We’ll meet you out front in a couple of minutes.”
Tobin ended the call and dropped the phone into his lap. Without taking his eyes from the road, he began filling Judas in on what was happening. “The police are looking for Aaron and me for killing the pastor. The old couple you were talking to knew that and probably headed for the police when they linked you to us. They’ve been there since the house burned down. Aaron and I found a hiding place close to the church, hoping to see you if you came tonight.”
“But how did you know I’d be here? I wasn’t planning to be here for a week or two.”
Tobin turned to Judas. “What? Didn’t my sister call you and ask you to come?”
“No, no one called me. I came because I heard you’d lost the envelope I gave you.”
Tobin fixed his eyes back upon the road. His audible swallow confirmed he was unaware Judas knew he had lost the envelope.
“Please tell me you have the envelope.”
The car’s engine was the only noise Judas heard.
“Tobin? You didn’t lose the envelope, did you?”
Tobin closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.
“Dear God, no! This can’t be happening. Do you know what was in that envelope?”
Neither Tobin nor Aaron answered.
“The location of the power of the Lord’s Strength and the key to access it!” Judas balled his hand into a fist and, in frustration, brought it down. His hand sliced through the glove compartment as though it were a Styrofoam egg carton.
They heard sirens whine in the distance. Judas felt a surge of anger sweep through him like he had never felt before. All he wanted to do was lash out at Tobin and break his neck with his bare hands. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster to fight off the urge. When his blind rage finally passed, his hands trembled as he realized how close he had come to killing his friend. His bouts of anger were growing increasingly stronger and harder to control. With calm resolution, he asked, “Where is it?”
Aaron spoke up for the first time. “The last time we saw it one of the pastor’s American friends had it.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Judas.
Judas studied the paper. It was the first page of the article written by Dr. Thomas Hamilton. There was a picture of the author in the upper left-hand corner.
“That is the man who took the envelope,” Aaron said. “Tobin and I heard him and the pastor talking about what we protect. The doctor called it the Samson Effect.”
The conversation stopped when Tobin whipped the car into the drive of a dark house silhouetted in the light from a full moon. Outside, a woman stood waving them forward. The three men got out of the car, and the woman ran to Tobin, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.
Tobin took a step back. “Rabbi, this is my sister. She’s going to help us.”
Judas nodded his greeting, yet felt anxious because of the lingering sirens still in the background.
Tobin and his sister exchanged keys. “Take the rabbi’s car and go. I’m sure they have the description. If God is with us, you may be able to buy us some time.”
Tobin’s sister nodded and slipped a piece of paper into his hand. “This is the phone number and directions to a friend’s home. He’s waiting to take you in and hide you for as long as you need protection.”
Tobin thanked her and went to the car. When they were in, he rolled down the window as his sister approached. “I gave him the name of the doctor you’re looking for, and he says he knows him. He seemed eager to help you find him.”She looked past her brother to Judas. “Godspeed, Rabbi.”
Judas smiled and nodded his appreciation. Tobin started the car and turned left out of the drive. In the rearview mirror, he watched his sister leave to the right. He handed the folded directions to the rabbi, who navigated the rest of the way.
Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the circular drive of a large, middle-class home situated in the midst of a suburban neighborhood. The front-door light came on, and a thin, middle-aged man met them at the door. “May I ask which of you is the rabbi?”
“That depends,” Aaron said cautiously. “Who are you?”
The man smiled. “Yes, of course. Forgive me.” He fished his wallet from his pocket and flipped it open. Next to a Jerusalem police photo ID rested a police badge. “I’m Detective Ari Hazan.”
Chapter 20
“PLEASE COME IN and sit down.” Hazan extended an inviting hand inside and stepped aside to make way for the three men to enter.
Judas shifted his eyes from Tobin to Aaron, both of whom awaited his instructions. The menacing sirens remained in the background, but still worried Judas enough that he warily nodded to his host and led the others in. They all took a seat on the extended sofa.
“May I offer you something to drink?” Before they could answer, Hazan’s enthusiasm erupted. “I’m honored to have you in my home.” With a juvenile smile and trying to hide his giddiness, he turned to Judas. “Especially you, Rabbi.”
The three men looked at each other quizzically. Judas stood and stepped to Hazan. “Who are you, and what do you know about me?”
The expressions of joy morphed into confusion, accentuated by his shrinking smile. Then, as if baptized with understanding, his eyes widened, and his smile stretched to full length. “The rabbi hadn’t revealed the Council to you. Of course.”
Hazan’s nonsensical comments began to stir the seeds of Judas’s anger. Hazan apparently sensed Judas’s growing aggravation and motioned for him to sit again as he himself slid into the chair facing the couch. “Let me explain.” He nervously eyed Aaron and Tobin. “May we speak alone?”
“No,” came Judas’s adamant reply. “What you need to say, you may say in front of these two.”
All joy washed from Hazan’s expression, replaced by nervous indecision. “You don’t understand—”
“That’s right, and you’re not helping me to understand. Now tell me what you wish, or my friends and I will handle our affairs on our own.”
“No! You mustn’t risk it. Please, Rabbi, it’s for your own protection.”
Judas stood and unceremoniously strode to the door. “Tobin, Aaron, we’re leaving.”
“Okay, okay.” Judas stopped and turned to the detective. Hazan wiped his brow with his sleeve. “The Council won’t like this at all.”
They seated themselves, and Hazan let out a sigh. “There’s a council of ten who guards the Protector and takes care of his needs. We’re all in positions of influence in Israel, and we were to be introduced to you by the rabbi next week.”
“The rabbi never mentioned a council to me, either orally or in writing.”
“He wouldn’t have. For centuries, the Council has existed without written record or awareness by anyone except fellow members, an enforcer, and the Protector himself.” His eyes shifted to Tobin and Aaron. “That is, until today. The Council is not going to be happy at all.”
“How do you know my sister?” Tobin interrupted.
“When the rabbi told the Council two months ago he’d be choosing Judas or Simon to pass on his responsibilities, I took the opportunity to create friendships with families of both.”
“So, she doesn’t know about the Council?” Judas asked.
“Heavens, no. She only sees me as a trusted friend.”
“I suppose you’ve heard of the rabbi’s death, then.”
“Yes. It filled the Council with panic since we weren’t sure if he’d chosen his successor and passed on the secret.” A smile swept across Hazan’s face. “And then we heard stories of a man in Hebron who bent a rifle barrel. Our emotions were mixed, with relief he’d apparently made his choice and with apprehension from the public display of power. It was only when we looked into the rumors that we learned of the rabbi’s death.”
Judas felt overwhelmed by what he had just heard. Until now, he had believed he, Tobin and Aaron were alone with their great responsibility. A wave of relief washed over him. However, he felt he needed to put Hazan to the test in order to confirm the detective’s legitimacy. If there was, indeed, a council as Hazan had described, Judas knew it would not want the secret hiding place of the source of the Lord’s Strength revealed to them. The rabbi had insisted he and Judas were the only two people on earth who knew the location.
Judas stood and paced thoughtfully through the room. All was silent as each man watched and waited. He finally stopped and turned to Hazan. “I want you to send someone to bring the secret to me in Jerusalem. It’s in danger of being discovered.”
“What?” Hazan flew to his feet, and years of tough-nosed interrogation experience took over. “What do you mean, it’s in danger?”
The depth of the paleness that washed over Hazan’s face surprised Judas. “First things first; I want you to have it brought safely to me now.”
Hazan violently shook his head. “But we cannot. We don’t know where it is.”
Judas peered into Hazan’s frightened, dilated eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I’ll tell you—”
Hazan covered his ears with his hands and cried out. “No! No! You must never, never share that information with anyone except your successor!”
Judas smiled and waited for Hazan to remove his hands. “I now believe what you told me.” He watched as the color slowly returned to Hazan’s face.
An audible sigh escaped from the detective’s mouth. “For a moment, I feared you were telling the truth about the secret’s location being in danger of being compromised.”
Judas pulled out the cover page of Dr. Thomas Hamilton’s article and handed it to Hazan. “Do you know the man in the photo?”
Hazan gave it a cursory glance. “Yes. I spoke with him today, as a matter of fact. Why?”
“Because I was telling the truth about the secret being compromised. This man has directions to the secret, and the means to access it.” He watched Hazan stumble into the chair as the color once again drained from his face. “I need your help in getting it back.”
For a moment, Hazan seemed paralyzed. Then, suddenly, he snapped into action. He grabbed the phone and dialed. Placing his hand over the mouthpiece, he said, “We must convene the Council first thing tomorrow morning.”
* * * *
Light from the lamp poured over the table in Thomas’s room. He and Michael sat spellbound, poring over the contents of the envelope. Not only did the material in the notebook confirm the ancient writings about the Samson Effect, it also revealed Protectors were still searching for and guarding the secret. A chill ran through Thomas’s body as he imagined that somewhere, someone at this very moment had intimate knowledge of this “ancient” secret.
Thomas watched Michael examine the metal key that had weighed down the envelope. “What do you think it is?”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t know. The notebook calls it a key that leads to the altar room and then to the secret of the Lord’s Strength.” Michael turned the key around in the palm of his hand and examined it from every angle. “Doesn’t look like any key I’ve ever seen.”
“Let me see it.”
Michael tossed the key to Thomas, who examined it for the first time. It was cylindrical and the size and weight of a small stone. There were no carvings on it, only ridges and grooves of varying thickness around its circumference. Thomas imagined if he rolled it on an inkpad and then onto a white sheet of paper, he’d find a pattern that would look like a common UPC bar code. One end of the cylinder was flat with tiny scuffmarks embedded in the surface. The other end was hollowed out. To Thomas it looked like a large thimble.
He absentmindedly stuck his forefinger and middle finger into the hollowed end and began tapping the “key” on the tabletop. He pursed his lips and looked up at Michael. “Do you suppose this really does unlock the hiding place to the surviving sample of the Effect?”
“Are you kidding? Solomon reigned about 900 BC or so. What vegetation do you know of that could have survived for three thousand years?” Michael let out a quiet chuckle. “At least I was on the right track. The Samson Effect is a plant, and if the notebook is correct, the seeds have been lost since the Protector during the reign of King Rehoboam died before letting his successor know what he’d done with them. Apparently, no Protector since has been able to solve the riddle of the seeds being hidden in Satan’s belly.”
Michael rubbed his eyes with his palm. “I hope that if we find the seeds there’s enough left to identify the type of plant they came from.”
“If we’re really lucky, we’ll find dormant seeds that can germinate.”
Michael’s laughter bellowed out and filled the small hotel room. “You actually think three-thousand-year-old seeds can survive and remain fertile?” He smiled. The slight nod of his head teased Thomas, who knew he was about to be the butt of unmerciful banter. “You’re the archaeologist. Ever hear of King Tut’s wheat?”
Thomas’s cheeks grew hot. “Of course I’ve heard of King Tut’s wheat, but apparently your knowledge of botany and seed viability is pretty limited.”
Thomas stared at Michael and shook his head at his friend’s implication. Every archaeologist knew of the American airman who, during World War II, came across a street vendor in Egypt who sold him thirty-six kernels of grain he claimed was found preserved in a pharaoh’s tomb. The young man sent the kernels to his father, a farmer in Montana, who successfully grew the seeds. Eventually, the public went crazy over what was dubbed “King Tut’s wheat.”
