"You left me notes suggesting that Aaron's Rod and the Golden Jar of Manna could be found. Have you found them?"
"Not personally, Dr. Murphy. I just use my grandfather's notes. I am leaving the discovery of the various items up to you."
"You also mentioned that my discovering various biblical artifacts would hamper the activities of a group of people who killed your family."
"Yes, yes. These are evil people who do not believe in God or the Bible. I get great joy out of trying to destroy their plans. Revenge, as they say, is sweet."
"Plans? What do you mean? Who are these people?"
"They call themselves the Seven. They are extremely wealthy and power-hungry. Together, they control the largest banks in the world.
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They have influence over the richest oil fields ever discovered. They have infiltrated many governments and have countless political leaders in their pockets. They promote corruption wherever they can. They also influence the movement of the European Common Market and have designed a clandestine conspiracy to control the economies of the entire world. They are the force behind the rebuilding of the city of Babylon."
Murphy was trying to process the enormity of what Methuselah was saying.
"This group of people wants the United States to become a lesser power in the world. They will try and turn the United Nations against the U.S. They will help to foment war and turmoil within countries, like the crisis between Pakistan and India. They are the financial supporters of a number of leading terrorist organizations and helped to coordinate the attack of 9/11. They have contacts in many of the sleeper cells. And they are rejoicing that America has been stretched financially between the war with Iraq, natural disasters by hurricanes, and the expense of homeland security."
"How do you know all of this?"
"Being a billionaire does have its advantages, Dr. Murphy. There is a great deal of information for sale if you can afford the asking price. Besides, I have infiltrated their organization."
"You get information from one of the Seven?"
"Oh, no. But I have an informant who gets me the information."
"What if they catch him and make him talk?"
"That would be impossible. He cannot talk. He has no tongue. He lives deep within their headquarters in a solitary room. Little do they know, but an air duct runs from their meeting room past the room of my informant. He can hear everything they talk about. It has been a wonderful turn of events."
"If they're so powerful, how can you stop them?"
Methuselah stopped walking and picked up a starfish that had been washed ashore. He held it in front of Murphy.
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"You see this starfish, Dr. Murphy?"
Methuselah tossed it back in the water.
"I'm sure that you've heard the story of the little boy who was tossing starfish back into the sea which were stranded on the shore. When asked what he was doing he said, 'I'm saving the life of this starfish.' 'But,' replied the questioner, 'there are so many starfish on the shore. How can you possibly make a difference?' You'll remember the little boy responded, 'I'm making a difference to this one,' as he tossed it into the sea. So, I may not be able to stop all the evil actions of the Seven ... but any action I can stop gives me great joy. I love to be a thorn in their side or a pebble in their shoe. I'm making a difference in hindering them."
"And what if they try to kill you to put an end to your harassment?"
"Oh, they've tried that on several occasions. But my informant has gotten word of their plans to me before their assassin could carry them out. He's a strange man who has an addiction for killing people with his pet birds."
Murphy's heart almost stopped. Talon . But if he worked for the Seven, then they were responsible for killing his wife and the attempts to kill Isis and Paul Wallach, plus many others. Murphy suddenly realized that he and Methuselah had common enemies in the Seven.
"You see, Dr. Murphy, I have been using you to hamper the work of the Seven. Your discoveries help to prove the validity of the Bible, which in turn helps to destroy their plans."
"What does this all have to do with the Temple of Dagon and Aaron's Rod, and the Golden Jar of Manna?"
"Well, Dr. Murphy ... just think about it for a moment. Aaron's Rod that budded was a miracle. What if someone had Aaron's Rod and used it to lend credibility to so-called miracles they might perform? People would follow that person. And suppose that same person had the Golden Jar of Manna. Manna was a symbol of God
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providing food for the hungry. What if the person began to feed the starving people of the world? Do you suppose that they might generate a big following? I think that this is all part of the plan of the Seven."
"And how about the Bronze Serpent of Moses?"
"That could become a symbol of the healing of all forms of illness and disease. Remember, Moses lifted up the Bronze Serpent on a rod or pole and the people were healed. I think that someone could do the same thing today using the Bronze Serpent. People would begin to think there was healing power in the snake. Even King Hezekiah knew of the danger in worshiping the snake, which is why he had it broken in three pieces."
Murphy was amazed at all of Methuselah's knowledge of the Bible.
"With you knowing so much about the Bible... have you ever come to faith?"
Methuselah began his cackling laugh.
"Just because someone knows the facts about the Bible doesn't make one a believer. I just listened carefully to my grandfather and my father. They were believers. But not me. I'm too old and bitter for that. God wouldn't want to have me in heaven."
"But God-"
Methuselah cut him off before he could finish.
"Enough talk about God."
Methuselah sounded irritated. He stopped walking and looked at Murphy.
"I know that you are a man of faith. That's fine. So were my father and grandfather. But don't try to push your thoughts on me. I think we are through talking. In fact, since you persist in taking away the pleasure of the surprise element of our relationship, I can no longer involve you in my little games."
Incredibly, Murphy was disappointed to hear it. He certainly had no desire to face any more of Methuselah's little death traps, but did that mean the old man would no longer provide information on
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hidden biblical artifacts? Murphy started to ask him, but Methuselah was clearly through for the day.
"Good day, Dr. Murphy," he said curtly. "Perhaps our paths will cross again someday. Two of my men will escort you back to your car."
With that, Methuselah turned and headed away with four of his bodyguards. Murphy watched silently for a moment and then looked at the two large men. They wore sunglasses on their expressionless faces and walked in silence beside him.
Murphy had mixed feelings as he headed back to his car. He had uncovered some startling information about the power wielded by the Seven, and learned who was responsible for his wife's death. But he'd also managed to offend Methuselah somehow, depriving himself of his considerable help just when he needed it most.
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FORTY-FOUR
THE RALEIGH HEALTH and Fitness Gym had been open twenty-four hours a day for more than two years. The owners wanted to meet the athletic needs of a broad range of working folks. Murphy usually went to the gym around 6:00 A.M. three days a week. He was glad that he had kept this routine for quite a while. He felt like he was in pretty decent shape. And with Talon and Methuselah in his life, he never knew what to expect. But at least he felt up to the challenge.
The first part of his hour-long workout started with some stretching exercises. He would then proceed to a step machine and begin to work up a little sweat. That was followed by the use of free weights. He would bench-press his usual two hundred pounds and intersperse a number of routines with dumbbells and other equipment.
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He had just finished his last set of repetitions on the bench press when he heard a vo
ice behind him.
"That looks like a lot of hard work, Dr. Murphy."
He sat up and turned around, taken off-guard by the sight of Summer Van Doren. She was wearing gray jogging pants, a lighter gray tank top and a gray sweatband around her blond hair. She held a towel in her left hand and she'd evidently been working out. Despite the perspiration, she looked quite attractive. He noticed that the other guys lifting weights around him had slowed down a little and he could see them trying to get a better glimpse of her. He thought that they might want to change places with him.
Did she ever look bad?
He grabbed a towel and wiped his forehead. "Remember, it's Michael ... not Dr. Murphy."
"Okay, Michael," she said with a slight smile.
"I didn't know you worked out here, Summer."
"I have been for several weeks. But I usually come in the evening. This is my first time early in the morning. I really don't like to get all sweaty before going to school but sometimes it's just more convenient to do it in the morning. Are you all through with your workout?"
"Just about. I always like to finish with about a twenty-minute jog in the park across the street."
"I've thought about doing that, but didn't feel comfortable running through the park at night alone."
Murphy nodded. "That's understandable. Our world is not always safe. There are some real weirdoes in it. You made the right decision."
He stood up.
"Are you all through?"
Murphy was still quite aware that he was the envy of every guy in the room.
"Yes, I just finished."
"Well, I'm going to finish with a jog. Would you like to join me?"
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Summer smiled a cute smile and said, "That sounds like fun. Why not? I've got plenty of time before I need to be at school."
Murphy was impressed how effortlessly Summer kept up with him. They held a pretty good pace for fifteen minutes and then began a slow jog for another five minutes. Eventually they started walking.
"How is Paul Wallach doing?" Summer asked.
"Not real well. His condition hasn't improved. He had some severe internal damage from the beating he received."
Summer grimaced. "That's terrible. Do the police know who was responsible for the attack?"
"Not for sure. But I think I know who it might be."
"You do? Have you shared that with the police?"
"Yes. They're attempting to check into it."
"Who would do such a thing?"
"A man named Talon. He's a highly trained assassin. He seems to get great pleasure in hurting and killing people. He's a true sociopath without any moral compunction for his behavior."
They both sat down on a park bench and continued their conversation.
"Why would he choose to hurt Paul and Shari?"
Murphy proceeded to share with Summer some of his experiences and battles he had with Talon. She sat there dumbfounded at the tales of danger and adventure coming from Murphy's lips. She had no idea how perilous a life the Preston University archaeologist led.
She finally spoke. "I've been praying for Shari and for Paul, but now I think I need to add you to my list. God has graciously spared you on a number of occasions. Have you ever thought about changing occupations to something a little less dangerous?"
Murphy laughed.
"As a matter of fact, I have. But I feel like I'm on some kind of
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mission. I think that God has allowed me to become involved in all of this for some purpose. There are powerful evil forces at work in our world. The Bible suggests that in the last days, moral and spiritual darkness will increase. We are only beginning to see the edge of this darkness. Somehow I think He wants to use me in battling these evil forces."
"What you're talking about is similar to what Pastor Wagoner has been talking about in his sermons at church. He has mentioned that there would be an increase of crime, wickedness, and deception from false teachers. When he talks about the danger of the occult, it disturbs me. I have to admit I'm really fearful of the occult. Have you had to face these kinds of things also?"
Murphy shared with Summer the story of his encounter with J. B. Sonstad. She sat there on the bench with her mouth slightly open and never took her eyes off of him.
"Where do you think all of this is going to lead?" she finally asked him.
"I'm not sure. My friend Levi Abrams and I will be leaving soon on an expedition to a spot in Israel. It's the site of the ancient Temple of Dagon."
"What do you expect to find?"
"I'm not sure. But it could be of great significance. I think it may have something to do with what the Bible calls the False Prophet."
"When will you be leaving?" For some reason, Summer felt just a little sad that he wouldn't be around.
"It looks like it'll be just after school ends for the summer."
"That's just a few weeks away."
Murphy and Summer walked back to the gym, gathered their things together and said good-bye.
On his way back to school, Murphy replayed his conversation with Summer. She seemed very interested ... they had a common faith ... she was athletic and very attractive ... and she was very easy to talk to.
Where is this leading? he wondered, and not for the first time.
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FORTY-FIVE
EUGENE SIMPSON was excited when Shane Barrington's bulletproof car arrived. He had been a chauffeur for a number of years but had never driven something quite as exotic as this. It was a black Mercedes with tinted windows that bullets could not shatter. The metal on the sides of the vehicle could withstand a medium bomb blast. The car could even ride on the heavy-duty tires if they were pierced and the air was let out. It had all the bells and whistles.
This is pretty cool. But why does Mr. Barrington need a car with so much protection? He's not the President."
A group of security experts went through every detail of maintaining the car and checking it out before it was driven. They provided
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Simpson a long pole with a mirror on it, to slide under the car to check for any bombs that might be placed on the frame. It was to become a daily routine before he would pick up Mr. Barrington.
Simpson wondered why Barrington was so concerned about his safety. He had never seemed worried about such things before. He had noticed that two bodyguards had been hired within the last two weeks. They traveled everywhere with him.
Oh, well. It's his money. Rich people are strange .
On the tenth day of driving the new car, Simpson received a phone call from Barrington's assistant, Wilson Dewitt.
"Eugene, this is Wilson. Mr. Barrington will be going to the office at his regular time of nine A.M. He would like to be picked up then. He has an important meeting at ten A.M. and would like to arrive in plenty of time to prepare some last-minute papers. Don't be late."
"Yes, sir."
Nine A.M. That gave Eugene plenty of time to pick up the package his parents had sent him from California. Especially since it was on the way to Mr. Barrington's penthouse.
At ten minutes after nine, Wilson Dewitt's phone began to ring.
"Wilson here."
"Mr. Dewitt, this is Eugene."
"Eugene where have you been? Mr. Barrington's in the lobby waiting for you. His patience is running very thin."
"I'm sorry, sir. There's been an accident."
"With the new car?"
"No, sir. A taxi ran into a bus in front of me and it is blocking traffic. I haven't been able to move forward or backward. It's just now clearing up. I should be there in about seven minutes."
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"I'll tell Mr. Barrington.... Uh-oh ... here he comes, Eugene. He doesn't look happy. Just a minute ... he's asking me a question."
Simpson was very nervous waiting for Dewitt to come back on the line.
"Eugene."
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Barrington wants to talk with you."
Simpson's heart began to sink.
"Eugene. This is Barrington. What's going on? Where are you?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Barrington. After I picked up the package, I got stuck in a traffic jam. There was an accident in front of me."
"What package are you talking about, Eugene?"
"My parents sent me some fruit from California. I picked it up at the bus station. But I left extra early, sir. This accident is just--"
"Do your parents usually send you packages of fruit?" Barrington interrupted.
"No, sir. This is the first time."
"How did you hear about the package?"
"Some man from the bus station called and told me it was in."
"What does it look like, Eugene?"
"It's a small wooden crate. It's the type that you send oranges in. You know, the type with wooden slats nailed on the top and a picture of oranges on the side."
"Where are you, Eugene?"
"I'm at a stop light on Seventy-third. I'm waiting for the light to change."
"Eugene, can you reach the wooden crate?"
"Yes, sir. It's on the passenger seat next to me."
"Pick it up and hold it to your ear, Eugene. See if you hear anything."
"I can hear a very soft whirring sound."
"Eugene, get it out of the car. Do you hear me? Get rid of that box as fast as you--"
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An enormous blast put an immediate end to the conversation. A ball of fire blew out all four doors as the flaming vehicle lifted off the street and flipped upside down.
Fortunately no one was in the crosswalk. Drivers in the cars waiting for the light to change were blinded by the flash of light. Debris from the Mercedes rained down on the windows and hoods of the waiting cars.
Eugene Simpson never knew what hit him.