The Samson Effect: A Novel, page 20
“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.”
Chapter 23
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.”
Chapter 24
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?”
