James BeauSeigneur - In His Image James

The Palestinians looked at each other, not sure that they had understood him, and then started to laugh as they realized what Decker meant. If he were a Jew, he'd be circumcised.

The one who kicked Tom was not so sure about the idea. He didn't want to risk appearing foolish. But the other three laughed and went to work loosening Tom's pants. They were enjoying the contest between their leader and the American. Besides, it seemed an amusing way to settle an argument where a man's life hung in the balance.

There was just one problem, and therein lay the risk: Decker had no idea whether or not Tom was circumcised. But with Tom's life on the line, Decker's only choice had been to set that as the defining criterion. When the three lackeys pulled down Tom's pants, they committed themselves to that criterion. Knowing that many American men, Jew and gentile alike, are circumcised, Decker was well aware that he still might be condemning his friend to death.

The leader was disappointed with what he saw. The foreskin of Tom's penis had saved his life.

The three Palestinians gave Tom's pants a tug and pulled them most of the way back up. Again they were laughing, but this time, in part at least, they were laughing at their leader. An angry glare abruptly stopped their merriment. The leader quickly changed the subject and, after pushing Decker back to the floor with his foot, signaled for the others to follow him out of the room. As soon as they were gone Decker tried, as best he could, to check on his friend's condition. He helped him get his pants back up but with their hands tied behind them it was impossible to fasten or zip them.

That night one of the men brought them food and water. In the morning they were fed again and allowed to clean up, one at a time. In the evening two of the guards came in and blindfolded them, shoved rags in their mouths, and gagged them to keep them from making any noise. Decker guessed that they were about to be moved to another location. They lay in that condition for about twenty minutes, choking from time to time on the rags, before having their feet untied and being led outside.

Once outside, their captors did something which seemed very strange to Decker. He was taken by two of the men and laid on his back on top of something which he recognized from the way it felt as a mechanic's creeper, used for sliding under a car. His feet were then tied again. All he could imagine was that this might be in preparation for some grisly form of torture by dragging them behind a car or truck. On the other hand, why would they blindfold him? If sadism was the goal, wouldn't they want him to see the torture that awaited him? Certainly, he thought, they wouldn't stuff his mouth full of rags. They'd want to hear him scream.

Decker felt himself being pushed about eight feet, and then rolled off the creeper onto his stomach on the ground. He could sense that he was under something, something large. A moment later eight hands grabbed him and lifted him about eighteen inches until his back pressed firmly against the object above him, and he was strapped tightly into this position. The next thing he heard was the sound of a squeaky metal door sliding shut.

He realized that he was in a box of some sort, coffin-like, but he thought he could feel air moving around him, so he didn't think he would suffocate. As he hung there face down, strapped in, waiting, he heard the sound of the creeper's wheels again, followed by men straining under a weight and then another metal door closing. Decker assumed his captors had done the same to Tom. The voices of the Palestinians were now muffled beyond distinction, but since no one was speaking English, it really didn't matter.

After about five minutes Decker heard a door slam, followed by an engine starting. Now he understood. He and Tom were strapped under the bed of a truck. They had been placed in metal boxes which were built to fit under the truck in order to ship weapons and, on rare occasions, people through check points and past border guards.

Decker and Tom were on their way to Lebanon.

Tel Aviv, Israel

Elizabeth Hawthorne and her two daughters walked through the concourse of David Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv. A few days earlier, Elizabeth had been sitting in her office thinking about how slow business was and how much she missed Decker when she decided, on the spur of the moment, to take some extra vacation time, get the girls out of school, and fly to Israel a week early. Surprises had always been Decker's affinity, but this time Elizabeth decided that she would do the surprising. She was totally unprepared for the news that awaited her.

As she and the girls walked toward the exit with their luggage, a somber looking man and woman in their mid-sixties approached them.

"Mrs. Hawthorne?" the man asked, requesting confirmation.

"Yes," she answered, a bit surprised.

"My name is Joshua Rosen. This is my wife, Liana. We're friends of your husband."

"Yes, I know," Elizabeth responded. "Decker has mentioned you. Did he send you? How did he find out that I was going to surprise him?" she asked, not discerning the seriousness of the situation.

"Could I speak to you for a moment in private?" Joshua asked.

Suddenly Elizabeth realized that something was wrong. She wanted to know what and she didn't want to wait. "Has something happened to Decker?" she demanded.

Joshua Rosen preferred not to talk in front of Hope and Louisa but Elizabeth insisted. "Mrs. Hawthorne," he began, "according to the clerk at the Ramada Renaissance, Decker and Tom Donafin left their hotel in Jerusalem five days ago."

"Last night Bill Dean from NewsWorld called me on the phone to ask if I had any idea where they were. He said that their editor had been trying to reach them for three days. He tried to call you at your office but they said you were on vacation. He couldn't reach you at home either."

Elizabeth was growing impatient with Rosen's explanation. She wanted to know the bottom line. "Please, Mr. Rosen, if something has happened to my husband, tell me!"

Joshua understood her anxiety but hated to just blurt it out with no explanation. "I'm afraid that Decker and Tom have been taken hostage in Lebanon."

Elizabeth was struck with disbelief. "What?! That's crazy. That can't be," she said, shaking her head. "They weren't even supposed to be in Lebanon. They're in Israel! There must be some mistake!" The denial in her heart hid itself behind the authority in her voice, as if by sufficient insistence she could alter what she could not bear to face.

Joshua and Liana looked on sadly. "I'm sorry," he said. "This morning the Hizballah, a group of militant followers of Ayatollah Oma Obeji, announced that they were holding Decker and Tom hostage. They sent a note to a Lebanese newspaper claiming responsibility and included pictures of Decker and Tom."

Hope and Louisa were already crying. Elizabeth looked for some place to sit down but finding none, accepted the offer of support from Liana Rosen who held her as she wept.

Somewhere in northern Lebanon

As near as Decker could tell, he had now been held hostage for six and a half months, which would make it about June 24th, his wedding anniversary. Twenty-three years. He tried to remember if he had ever heard what the traditional present was for the twenty-third anniversary. He hadn't. He tried to imagine what Elizabeth might be doing that day. He could almost endure the separation. But the isolation – and not knowing if it would ever end – was more than he could bear. Feelings of total helplessness filled him both with self pity and with rage at his captors. He just wanted to be able to tell Elizabeth that he loved her and that he was alive. He knew he might never go home. He might never see his wife's face again – or his children. In his anger and frustration, he pulled at the bonds which held his hands and feet. He could not have broken the ropes even when he was in peak condition, but in his weakened, half-starved state it was doubly futile and only added to his despair.