by Tim LaHaye
“The European Union wants to trade with our countries and will help to support them,” Rajak replied. “All of Europe and Asia—and most of the world—would rather have the European Union’s help than America’s help. We think that power has gone to your heads. You think everyone in the world must join America’s democratic way of thinking. But who’s to say that your way is best? All you want to do is force policies and tariffs on us so that you can exploit us commercially. The United States wants the wealth of all of our nations!”
Rajak paused to collect himself. He realized that he may have come on too strong. He began to moderate his words. “Of course, this does not mean that the United States should not be a member of the United Nations. They are a strong country and should be included. It is just that they should not play such a dominant role. The Americans need to become a little more… shall we say tolerant and diplomatic.”
Watson, irate, was about to respond when Zet Lu Quang addressed the group. “As a permanent member of the Security Council, I speak on behalf of the People’s Republic of China. We also have grave concerns about the United Nations remaining in the America, and especially New York. There has been talk of a UN building being constructed in Geneva, Switzerland, since we already have a headquarters there. Are any other locations being considered? The People’s Republic would be most happy to consider the donation of land in our capital city.”
Verney responded. “Plan 7216 suggests moving out of the United States. It does not, however, suggest where the final location should be. That must be decided by a vote of the entire body. I’ve talked with various members of the UN, and there seems to be a positive response to the possibility of moving the United Nations building to Iraq. More specifically, to a city in Iraq with a very ancient history: Babylon. I talked to Helmut Weber, the ambassador from Germany, and his country is most supportive of such a move.”
Serapis looked at the assembled group. This was a good opportunity “I’ve talked with a number of the leaders of the European Union. They told me that they would support a move to Babylon. The EU would even help to pay off the huge debt the UN has incurred over the years. They also said that they have funds available to help construct a new headquarters.”
Everyone smiled and nodded except for Watson and Thorndike, who were fuming. They knew it would not be wise to speak when their emotions were so volatile.
“The EU leaders told me that those funds came as a donation from an anonymous group. Their representatives said that they would pay all of the expenses for the construction of a new building,” Serapis concluded.
He smiled as he noted a buzz of conversation at his words. He looked toward Jacques Verney. Their eyes met briefly with an imperceptible sign of recognition.
Watson saw the exchange. He felt sure that Serapis and Verney had discussed this topic more than once before. They’re using this recent threat as an excuse to promote the United Nations moving out of the United States.
Serapis got the group’s attention. “Part of our responsibilities is to help promote and preserve world peace. It is our job to agree to general principles and encourage the settling of disputes. I think that moving the United Nations out of America will help to promote world peace. It will be seen as a gesture of reaching out to those smaller nations that do not believe they have a voice. The Arab world and many in Europe will view the move to Iraq as a reaching out to the Muslim community.”
Serapis could see many of the members nodding in agreement. He knew he had them in the palm of his hand. “It will reduce tensions worldwide. It may even bring about that lasting peace that we are all looking for. Our children and our grandchildren are depending on us to make the right decision. It is a decision that will lead to the saving of thousands of lives worldwide.”
Serapis was beginning to wax eloquent. Watson felt like hitting him rather than listening to him.
“As leaders, we are to look for positive and unique ways to settle disputes among all nations… both large and small.” Serapis paused for a moment and let his words sink in. Then he asked, “How many of you would like to see this as a topic at our next meeting of the General Assembly?”
All but two hands were raised.
FORTY-EIGHT
THE TRIP BACK TO RALEIGH seemed to drag on and on for Murphy. It was not so much the miles traveled, but the thought of what might have happened if the George Washington Bridge had been blown up. How much devastation would the dirty bombs have caused?
I’ll bet as many as thirty to forty thousand would have been killed by the blast and radiation.
Memories began to flood over Murphy as he relived the tragic events of a bombing at the Preston Community Church. He could hear the explosion in his mind. He could smell the smoke from the burning wood. He could taste the ashes on his tongue. He could see bloodied people and lifeless bodies. And he also could see the sweet face of Laura as she slowly exhaled her last breath. He relived his anguish at the realization that she was gone and his anger for the man who had killed her.
More than once Murphy had to pull to the side of the road because his vision was blurred with tears for himself and for those who lost loved ones. He knew their pain. He was emotionally drained when he arrived home that evening.
As Murphy drove to the Preston University campus, he was aware of the struggle of emotions that faced him: Anger at the terrorists and the panic they caused vied with the need for a sense of normality.
How strange life is sometimes. There is so much pain in this world and yet there is also so much beauty.
Murphy recalled the words of King Solomon. They had been a favorite of President Ronald Reagan:
To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born,
And a time to die;
A time to plant,
And a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill,
And a time to heal;
A time to break down,
And a time to build up;
A time to weep,
And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn,
And a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones,
And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to gain,
And a time to lose;
A time to keep,
And a time to throw away;
A time to tear,
And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence,
And a time to speak;
A time to love,
And a time to hate;
A time of war,
And a time of peace.
Deep down inside, Murphy knew that it was a time of war—a spiritual war against the powers of darkness.
“Dr. Murphy, I’m so glad to see you. I knew that you were in New York, and I was wondering if you got caught in that terrorist attempt. I was so worried.” Shari’s usually sparkling green eyes were filled with concern.
“I’m fine, Shari. I was just getting ready to leave New York when I got the word.”
“How about Isis?”
“Fortunately, she flew out of La Guardia before the terrorist warning. She’s safe back in Washington.”
Murphy realized that he could have lost Isis if the terrorist attack had happened and she had been on a later flight. He could hardly bear the thought. He knew that his feelings for Isis were more than just casual.
Shari was riveted as Murphy recounted the events surrounding the attack. Finally Murphy shifted the conversation. “Shari, how are you doing? I know that you were going to have a talk with Paul. How did that go?”
“Good and bad. Bad because we broke up, and that has made me unhappy. It’s been a tough few days. And good because it’s finally settled. I couldn’t continue in a relationship with someone who had different values than me, even though I love him. I knew it wouldn’t work in the long
run.”
“How did Paul take it?”
“I don’t think he was surprised. We had discussed it several times before. It’s just that it’s so final. It’s hard to adjust.”
Murphy kept silent for a moment. He knew that nothing he could say would ease her immediate pain. “Shari, I’ll be praying that God will give you the strength to go through this difficult time.”
Shari looked up with tears in her eyes. “Thanks, I need it.”
Murphy tapped his fingers while he tried to reach Isis on the phone. His body was filled with a whole host of emotions that were not finding expression.
“Michael, are you all right? Where are you calling from?” Isis exclaimed.
“I’m back in Raleigh. I arrived late last night. I would have called then but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
Murphy told Isis about the abortive bombing of the George Washington Bridge and his role in deflecting it. Eventually the conversation turned toward the planned search for the Handwriting on the Wall.
“It may be a little more difficult to get into Iraq with all the heightened security. But if they approve, I think we should still go. Are you still game?” he asked.
“I’m game, but a little nervous at the same time,” Isis replied.
“Me too. But at least we’ll be together, and that’s a good thing.”
Isis smiled to herself. It would be good to be with Michael.
“Have you heard anything from your folks at the Parchments of Freedom Foundation?” he asked. “Are they still interested in helping to fund the expedition?”
“Yes, I talked with our chairman, Harvey Compton, and he has agreed to the project. However, he’d like us to take Dr. Wilfred Bingman along.”
“Who’s he?”
“He recently joined the foundation. He was a professor of archaeology at Florida State University. I think you’ll like him. He’s very outgoing and really knows his stuff. You’ll have a lot in common.”
“The more the merrier. It’ll be good to have another archaeologist on the team. I’ll contact Jassim Amram to see if he’s been able to clear his calendar. With your ability to read ancient languages and all of our experience, we should be able to easily confirm the handwriting if we find it.”
“Do you have any doubts, Michael?”
“No, I’m sure it’s there. Methuselah wouldn’t go to all of the trouble to inform me if it wasn’t. I’m just a bit concerned about what we might run into trying to discover it. We haven’t had an easy time finding other artifacts. Something usually happens to throw a kink in the works. That’s how Methuselah gets his entertainment.”
Isis sighed. “You’re certainly right about that. Well, at least our lives aren’t dull and boring.”
Murphy laughed. “I’ll contact Levi to see if he has cleared our travel to Iraq. He was also going to see if Colonel Davis of the U.S. Marines would be able to afford us some protection while we’re there. Especially when we travel.”
“That would be reassuring. I’d like that.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I get the green light. I’m looking forward to being with you again, Isis,” Murphy murmured.
FORTY-NINE
“OKAY, OKAY. I have to admit it.”
Murphy glanced up from his desk with a questioning look, Shari was standing in the doorway holding a box with some mail on top of it. Her head was cocked to one side and there was a smirk on her face.
“Admit what? What are you talking about?”
“Your mail.”
“What about it?”
“You’ve got a really heavy box.”
“So?”
“So I have to admit that I’m curious. Let’s see what’s inside.”
Murphy shook his head, smiling. Shan’s curiosity was refreshing. Pretending not to care, he looked down at the papers on his desk and said in a bored tone, “Well, if you’re so curious, why don’t you open it?”
A big smile came over her face. Shari shook the box like it was her Christmas present. “There’s something loose inside. It doesn’t have a return address on it. And look—the box is almost falling apart.”
Murphy smiled at her running commentary. He watched her take a knife and begin to open it. Then he said, “Maybe it’s a bomb.”
That made her hesitate for a minute and give him a dirty look. She pulled the top off and said in surprise, “It’s full of rocks.”
“Oh, great! I was wondering when they’d arrive.”
“What do you want rocks for?” Shari had scrunched her nose up in distaste.
“Just kidding, Shari. I didn’t order any rocks.”
“These rocks are smooth like they came out of a river,” she said as she placed three-to four-inch rocks on the table. “Look, there’s a note.”
“Probably from Dean Fallworth. He’d like to stone me to death,” Murphy said wryly.
Shari smiled. “The note isn’t signed. Some more of your weird mail!”
“What does it say?”
A golden opportunity awaits
Those who appreciate Cabarrus Debates
And search for the Hessian who deserted his
session… And later planted a seed which
led to the weed of greed.
Murphy sighed. Shari caught the sound and looked up. “What?”
“Methuselah, I’ll bet.”
“He gets a real kick out of the bizarre, doesn’t he? What do you think it means?”
Murphy took the note, ran his fingers through his hair, and began to pace back and forth deep in thought.
“Cabarrus has to be the key.”
“Of course, anybody would know that!” Shari said mockingly.
Murphy ignored her sarcasm. “The only thing I can think of is Cabarrus County. According to early North Carolina history, Cabarrus County was named after Stephen Cabarrus, the Speaker of the House of Commons. That must be what the word ‘debates’ refers to.”
“What about the Hessian who deserted his session?” Shari asked.
“The first part is simple,” Murphy explained. “A Hessian was a German. But deserting his session is strange. The planting of a seed could refer to real seeds or the seeds of behavior. The ‘weed of greed’ sounds like an attitude or an action.”
“What does all that have to do with river rocks?”
“Cabarrus County… river rock… a German… who plants something… the weed of greed … a golden opportunity,” Murphy murmured, thinking. “The Germans had a settlement in Cabarrus County after the Revolutionary War. Most of them had been part of the fighting force that was brought over by the British. Many of them became rural farmers. That may be the reference to the word ‘seed.’”
“Okay, but what does that have to do with greed?”
Murphy was silent for a few minutes as he paced back and forth, “Well, try this one on, Shari,” he said finally. “There was a Hessian soldier named John Reed who settled in Cabarrus County. He was a deserter from the British Army and moved into the lower Piedmont. He married and started a farm. One Sunday afternoon in 1799, his twelve-year-old • son was fishing in Little Meadow Creek on the farm. He saw something shiny in the water and picked it up. He took it home and showed it to his father, who didn’t know what it was. For three years they used the object as a doorstop.”
“Okay, okay. What was it?”
“It was a gold nugget weighing seventeen pounds. John Reed took it into town one day, and a jeweler instantly recognized it. He offered Reed three dollars and fifty cents for the metal. It was worth thousands. Reed later found out that it was gold and made the jeweler pay him more money.”
“I would think so.”
“Reed and several partners then began to search for more gold in Little Meadow Creek. By 1824 they had taken over $100,000 of gold from the area—that was in 1824 dollars. It was the first documented gold find in the United States. One of their slaves named Peter dug up a gold nugget that weighed twenty-eight pounds. North Carolina was the principa
l gold-producing state until 1845, when the California Gold Rush started.”
“Where do you come up with all of this trivia?”
“It’s called reading, Shari. I think that Methuselah is telling us that there is some kind of golden opportunity waiting for us at the Reed Gold Mine. It’s located about twenty miles from Charlotte.”
Murphy reached the Reed Gold Mine in the afternoon of the next day and bought a ticket for one of the guided tours. Anticipating that he might have to go exploring, he had brought a small flashlight with him.
The tour guide led the group into one of several shafts still open to the general public. Along the way Murphy noticed a number of adjoining shafts that had been blocked off. Murphy purposely let the rest of the group get ahead of him.
At one point he shined his flashlight on some boards and noticed something peculiar. Something had been freshly carved in the old wood; the name Conrad. Murphy studied the name for a moment and looked more closely at the boards. They were loose. He could tell that they had been recently moved. Shining his light past the boards, he could see fresh footprints in the dust of the cave.
I’ll bet those are Methuselah’s. What does Conrad refer to?
Murphy waited until the tour group had disappeared farther into the shaft and could not hear him.
Conrad? Murphy thought again. Conrad was the name of John Reed’s son who discovered the seventeen-pound gold nugget!
Murphy followed the footprints in the dust. From the marks, it was clear that someone had walked into the shaft and then walked back out.
Why? What’s in the cave? Or what has been left in it?
Murphy moved ahead cautiously. The last time Methuselah had lured him into a cave, he had nearly drowned. He was watching for booby traps or anything that seemed out of place when suddenly the footprints seemed to end. They came up to the wall of the cave where an old signboard was hanging. Peering at it in the light of his flashlight, Murphy could just make out faded words and an arrow pointing to the right.
