by Tim LaHaye
“All I remember is passing out.”
“A fishing trawler happened to be in the area and saw something floating on the water in the distance. They motored in your direction and found the mini-sub. The fishermen opened the hatch and discovered you unconscious in the driving seat. They could tell that you were badly injured. They said that you had lots of blood on you. They loaded you onto their boat and brought you back to the port in Burgas and you were put in the hospital on the outskirts of the town. I swear, you must have nine lives like a cat.”
“That explains the hills outside of the window. Those are the Bulgarian Mountains.”
“We’d alerted the Bulgarian Navy and they had begun a search for you. When the fishermen found you, they also called the navy and the mini-sub was towed back to the harbor.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Three weeks.”
“Three weeks? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. Your head wound caused you to go into a mild coma. The doctors set your leg, fixed your broken ribs, and repaired your lung. I asked them to contact me when you awakened from your coma … and here I am.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Levi. You’ve been a good friend.”
“Well, that’s the least I can do. Anyone who pulls me half-dead out of a collapsing tunnel deserves a vacation in Bulgaria.”
“Some vacation. When do you think I can get out of here?”
“The doctors say you’ll have to undergo physical therapy for the break in your leg. It was pretty bad. It will also take some time for that punctured lung to heal. They say that you will have at least another month before you can leave.”
“A month?”
“Aren’t you lucky? You get to relax and breathe fresh mountain air for a whole month.”
“Well, I guess it will give me some time for reading and thinking.”
“Michael, let me be honest with you. You will probably walk with a cane for a while and limp for several months afterward. However, the doctors think you will be able to make a full recovery after rehab.”
“Thanks for being truthful. At least I know what I have to look forward to.”
“Michael, I’ve got to ask you. Did you find the backpack? It was not on the mini-sub.”
Murphy told Levi about finding the backpack and getting rammed by Talon before he got skewered like a shish kebab and drowned.
“I can’t think of a better place for Talon to be,” Levi said.
“Agreed. The backpack is still on the Carson submarine at the bottom of the Black Sea.”
“Well, at least it’s not in the wrong hands yet. We can mount a salvage operation to retrieve it if you tell me where it is.”
Murphy just smiled.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Levi said.
Murphy shook his head. “After what I’ve been through, I want to be there when it’s found. And I’m not quite up to the trip just yet. I still have a difficult time breathing.”
Levi laughed.
“Oh, come on. Are you a wimp?”
Murphy laughed, but it hurt. “Have you found out any information about the Seven?”
“No. They are very elusive. But at least we know one thing about them now.”
“What’s that?”
“They no longer have their chief assassin working for them.”
Murphy smiled and nodded his head in agreement.
SIXTY-SEVEN
GANESH SHESHA and Señor Mendez stopped to look at the Fountain of Apollo and the Grand Canal.
“Have you ever seen anything like this before, Señor Mendez?”
“No, I haven’t. Nothing in all of South America could compare to this.”
“I would have to agree with you. I’ve traveled throughout India and even the Taj Mahal can’t quite compare to this. I think it was a wonderful idea for John Bartholomew to schedule our meeting here at the Château de Versailles. I have been to Paris many times but this is my first visit to this majestic place.”
“Look, Ganesh. Bartholomew is waving for us to join the others.”
Shesha and Mendez rejoined the group and Bartholomew commenced speaking.
“If I may have your attention. Today we will meander through the château grounds and the various buildings. Naturally I have arranged to have the entire area for our sole enjoyment, and no tourists will be admitted today. Every now and then we will stop and conduct a little business. I think it’s a grand way to combine business and pleasure.”
Sir William Merton was not quite as enthusiastic. Wearing his black cleric outfit in the bright sun was making him perspire. That, along with the fact that he was grossly overweight and it was almost a mile walk from the Fountain of Apollo back to the château. It was depressing.
It wasn’t long before they reached the Fountain of Latona, with frogs and turtles spewing water out of their mouths.
Bartholomew spoke. “You see how all the animals circle the statue of Latona. This is what will happen when De La Rosa unites the various religions of the world. They will circle around him as the world’s religious leader. They will look to him for leadership. Like spokes of a wheel all leading to the hub, he will lead them all to come to him for ultimate wisdom. And when Talon returns with more Christian artifacts, it will only increase his powers and influence.”
“Very good,” said Viorica Enesco. “May I add to your thoughts, John? Just as the animals of the fountain spout out water from their mouths … the religious leaders will spout out the same doctrines and the same orders from their leader.”
“Well done, Viorica. You now see how to conduct business and pleasure.”
After about an hour of walking through the fabulous gardens the Seven arrived back at the château.
When they came to the King’s Bedchamber they stopped. General Li began the conversation.
“Look at all the gold in this room, on the walls, the fabric of the bedcovers, and the large hanging drapes. This reminds me of our plan to gain economic control of all the wealth of the world. Señor Mendez is assisting us by gaming control of all of the oil produced in South America. He has been doing a wonderful job in convincing the leaders of Venezuela to withhold sending oil to the United States.”
“And don’t forget our influence on Syria and Iran,” spoke up Jakoba Werner. “By moving the United Nations to Babylon we begin to be able to influence how much oil is produced and who should receive it. It will enhance our ability to manipulate economies around the world. Besides, the environmentalists in the United States are so paranoid about drilling in Alaska and other places. They will hamper oil production in America. And if they have a few more hurricanes, they’ll be in a real fuel crisis.”
The next stop was in the Royal Chapel. The entire group gazed up at the ceiling high above. They were all silent until Sir William Merton spoke.
“As you look up in the central part of the chapel vault, you can see a painting by Antoine Coypel. It depicts the Heavenly Father in His glory announcing to the world the promise of redemption. It almost makes me sick to look at it. You are looking at our enemy … and the enemy of our leader, who is just about to make his presence known. Herein lies our struggle. We must do everything in our power to convince the world that redemption does not come through Christ. Redemption will only come through the power of ‘the Boy,’ who is now a man. He will come in all of his glory in just a few short days.”
Everyone nodded his or her head in agreement. They continued the tour into other rooms.
“This is the Great Hall of Mirrors. Look at all the golden statues and the mirrors on the walls. They reflect the majestic paintings on the ceiling and the light streaming through the windows. It reminds me of the reflection of great power and miracles that De La Rosa is able to perform,” said Jakoba. “Just as light comes in the windows, I think that he will seem like a spiritual light to the simple-minded followers. To them he will become an angel of light. They will not be able to tell the difference between the ref
lection of true light or false light.”
The group moved on and Sir William Merton spoke again.
“This is the Hall of Battles. Louis-Philippe had artists produce thirty-five large paintings portraying fourteen centuries of French history through great military battles. I want to remind you that we have some great battles ahead of us. One battle will be to destroy the nation of Israel. They have been a thorn in the flesh of all nations around the world. Another battle is to diminish the voice of those who call themselves Christians. They pretend that they have a relationship with God and that God only cares about them. Ridiculous! The world would be a better place without those narrow-minded, judgmental hypocrites. We must renew our efforts against them.”
John Bartholomew raised his hand.
“You know, I’m getting a little tired of walking. How about driving back into the city for a good meal and some fine wine. Besides, I’m a little tired of talking about the future. It will come soon enough. We all know what we have to do. We need a little break before we redouble our efforts.”
“Hear! Hear!” said Sir William Merton.
General Li spoke. “I think that we all should show our appreciation to our meeting planner.”
Everyone looked at John Bartholomew and politely clapped.
In the midst of their clapping, Bartholomew’s cell phone rang. He answered but said little to the person who called. This made the others curious. They could not hear what was said but they saw Bartholomew’s face grow red. He was not happy.
He finally flipped closed his cell phone and looked at the group.
“What’s wrong?” asked Sir William Merton.
“That was one of our operatives in Istanbul. They’ve been waiting to hear from Talon but all has been quiet. They made some inquiries and found out that Dr. Michael Murphy has been hospitalized for a number of weeks in Bulgaria. They bribed one of the nurses, who told them that some fishermen on the Black Sea had rescued Murphy. With some further digging, they discovered information that suggests that Talon may have been killed. It seems that the secret of the Philosopher’s Stone may be on a submarine at the bottom of the ocean.”
“We must stop this Michael Murphy!” said Jakoba Werner. There was fire burning in her eyes.
“Yes, I agree,” responded General Li. “But if Talon is dead, who will do our assassination work?”
John Bartholomew unleashed a sinister smile.
“This is not the first time I’ve had to think about a possible change in plans. For the last year and a half I have not been happy with Talon and his arrogance. During that time, I made discrete inquires about a possible replacement for Talon. I have found someone, and I have already placed this individual on a retainer. He has just been waiting in the wings for me to give him the green light. He was prepared to eliminate Talon and his murderous falcons. In fact, he can hardly wait to get started.”
Ganesh Shesha seemed excited. “That is a wonderful backup plan, John. Who is this individual and where does he live?”
Bartholomew shook his head. “I’m afraid I must withhold that information for a few days … until some last-minute details can be worked out. Please trust me. You will be very happy with this individual. He has an excellent track record for mayhem and assassinations.”
“What about our plans for conquest, John?” asked Viorica Enesco.
“I think the time has come for us to turn up the heat. De La Rosa needs to begin his program to control the economy of the world. It’s time for him to put forth the marking system. He also needs to introduce our leader to the general public. Our time is almost at hand!”
SIXTY-EIGHT
MURPHY LOOKED FORWARD to his flight back to the United States. He had been gone for a little over two months during the summer. During that time he had grown to enjoy Bulgaria and its people. They had been very kind to him. And they had been very good with him in therapy. With his Irish temper and his struggle with weakness, he hadn’t been the perfect patient. He had also appreciated his time to be able to think and read and plan while recuperating. It gave him an opportunity to reevaluate many things. But, he thought, be it ever so humble, there is no place like home.
As he stepped off the plane in Raleigh, he paused and took a deep breath. It was great. It took him a little longer than usual to get out of the airport. His limp and the use of a cane slowed the process. He even had to have a porter carry his bags. That was a new and humbling experience for him.
He took a taxi to his home not far from the university. The gardener had done a good job in Murphy’s absence. Everything looked lush and green. He unlocked the front door and stepped in. The floor was piled with bills, letters, and magazines. Too bad someone couldn’t have taken care of all the bills too. The postman had shoved two months’ worth of mail through the mail slot.
That should be fun to go through. I wonder how many late charges I’ll have?
He carried his luggage to the bedroom with much difficulty and a few more trips than normal. He was anxious to get rid of the cane. He unpacked and put the dirty clothes in the laundry room. He’d worry about washing them later.
He opened some windows to let the fresh air in. He then went and got a cardboard box from the garage. He hobbled back to the entry, filled the box with mail, and took it into the living room. He sat down in his favorite chair and set the box beside it. He put his left leg up on the ottoman. It was good to be home.
He then looked at the box of mail.
I don’t think so. Not now.
He looked at the phone and sat there for moment, debating. Was he going to do it now, or was he going to put it off? He had thought about it all the time while he was recuperating.
Come on, Murphy.
He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed her number. He began to drum his fingers on the arm of the chair while he waited.
“Parchments of Freedom Foundation. May I help you?”
“May I please speak with Dr. Isis McDonald?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but she is in a meeting on the other side of town. May I take a message or would you like her voice mail?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. But would you possibly know what her schedule is this coming week?”
“Yes. Dr. McDonald will be gone Monday and Tuesday, but she will be giving tours here at the Foundation on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.”
“Thank you very much.”
Hmmm … Friday.
Murphy picked up his baggage and walked out the doors of the terminal, eschewing the help of a porter this time. He hailed a taxi.
“Where to, sir?”
“Hotel Carlton.”
Murphy looked out the window as they drove by the Lincoln Memorial, thinking, What a great man of character.
“Here we are, sir.”
Murphy paid the driver and went to the registration desk to check in. After dropping off the luggage in his room he went back to the registration desk.
“Excuse me. Is there a flower shop near the hotel?”
“Oh, yes, sir. You just go out the main doors and turn left. It’s about half a block down the street.” The man at the desk smiled. “Are you planning a surprise?”
“Yes, I think it will be quite a surprise.”
Murphy picked up two dozen red roses and hailed a cab. He knew he wasn’t being real creative getting red roses, but they were Isis’s favorite.
“Where would you like to go, mister?”
“The Parchments of Freedom Foundation, please.”
Murphy started up the stairs to the Foundation, then paused for a moment. He took a couple of deep breaths and continued up. His cane was in his left hand, the roses were in his right, and his heart seemed to be in his throat.
Inside the building he stopped at the information booth.
“Could you please tell me where the tour group might be right now?”
“Why, yes. They should be in the Hall of Egyptian Antiquities. It’s down the corridor to your right, t
he third large doorway to your left.”
The closer he came to the doorway the more nervous he felt.
Come on, Murphy. You don’t get this anxious battling ninjas.
As he rounded the corner, he saw a group of people in front of a casket of an Egyptian mummy. He heard someone speaking but she didn’t sound like she had a Scottish brogue.
Murphy waited until the young lady was through and the crowd was moving on to view the next object.
“Excuse me, miss. Is Dr. McDonald giving a tour today?”
“Oh, no. Dr. McDonald’s not here. There was a change in plans. She left on Wednesday for Jordan. It seems that someone has discovered a cave containing a number of ancient manuscripts in some jars. They’ve asked her to come and translate the manuscripts.” The young lady smiled. “They may turn out to be as important as the Dead Sea Scrolls.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
Murphy stood there leaning on his cane for a moment. The crowd had moved on and he was alone. A deep sense of disappointment came over him.
I wonder if this will ever work out? Maybe we’re just not meant to be.
He walked over to a trash receptacle and dropped the roses in. The echo of his shuffling steps was the only sound as he trudged back the way he had come.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
DR. TIM LAHAYE is a renowned prophecy scholar, minister, and author. His Left Behind series is the bestselling Christian fiction series of all time. He and his wife, Beverly, live in southern California. They have four children and nine grandchildren.
BOB PHILLIPS, PH.D., is the author of more than eighty books. He is a licensed counselor and the executive director for the Pointman Leadership Institute.
BABYLON RISING
THE EDGE OF DARKNESS
A Bantam Book
Published by Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
