by Tim LaHaye
What’s this all about?
The footprints went up to the wall, seemed to move around, then moved away from the wall and back the way he had come.
Strange.
He studied the sign for a moment then tapped on it. It sounded hollow. Could there be an opening behind the sign? Murphy cautiously touched the sign, then looked down at the dust on the ground. Sure enough, he could see a line that was the same length as the sign.
Methuselah must have taken the sign down, placed it on the floor, and then put it back up. Why?
For the first time in all of his encounters with Methuselah, Murphy suddenly wondered, Who is this mysterious man? How can I find out more about him?
Maybe he left some fingerprints. Murphy could copy the prints and have them examined by experts. But how can I take any prints?
Murphy searched through his pockets. In one he found a Band-Aid. Carefully he picked up the old signboard by a corner. He then shined his light on the board, front and back, to see if there might be any dusty fingerprints. He could see a good print impression on the right side. He pressed the Band-Aid’s adhesive side onto the print, and he put the Band-Aid back inside its envelope, thinking, I hope I got a good one.
Murphy was correct, there was a hollow opening behind the sign, about ten inches by ten inches. Murphy shined his light inside. He gasped and drew back, then took a deep breath and shined his light into the hole once more.
Inside he could see a golden cup. A mass of writhing rattlesnakes circled the cup in a ceaseless undulation. They had been disturbed by Murphy removing the sign and shining the light inside. Over the sound of his heart beating loudly, Murphy could hear their tails rattling.
Methuselah certainly wants to make things difficult for me!
Murphy looked around for a stick of some kind but-didn’t see any He didn’t like the thought of sticking his arm in the hole and grabbing the cup. The snakes would be able to detect the warmth from his arm no matter how slowly he moved. He didn’t want to be mistaken for prey
Then he looked at the sign more closely. It had been made of three boards. He broke off two and began to slide them into the opening, one on each side of the cup. The snakes took their time moving away from the boards. A couple even struck at them. Their quick movements made Murphy jerk. His heart started pounding, and he had to take a deep breath to regain his composure. He felt like he was in the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark—and he hated snakes too. Eventually he was able to slide the golden cup toward him, pulling out several of the snakes at the same time. Just then Murphy heard a slight clicking sound. Methuselah had placed some type of electronic triggering device behind the cup, and he hadn’t seen it! He hesitated, listening hard. All he could hear was the rattle of the snakes.
Murphy let out a sigh and started to drag the cup toward the opening again. As he did so, he heard another click—this time, above his head.
It must be a delay switch.
The thought barely entered his mind when there was a swish of air and something poured over him. It only took him a second to realize that it was raining rattlesnakes. Methuselah had somehow rigged a box of snakes above his head and camouflaged it well. Murphy froze, his arms still outstretched holding the boards around the cup.
The snakes must have been as surprised as Murphy. None struck at him during their sudden drop. Once they hit the ground, they seemed disoriented.
Some snakes were slithering over his shoes. Others were curled with their tails rattling. Murphy realized that he would have to forget about the cup for the moment. He slowly released the cup from between the boards and withdrew the boards from the hole.
Then Murphy bent over and lowered one board toward his feet. He used it to flip away a snake. Soon he had cleared a safe zone around his feet—no snake was left in striking distance.
Where does Methuselah come up with all this stuff?
Murphy then put the boards back into the hole and used them to inch the cup forward until he could grab it. Once the cup was in his hand, he noticed it had a note inside of it. It read:
Good work if you’re still alive and haven’t been bitten. I’m sorry I couldn’t remain to enjoy the show. I had some more important matters to attend to. I really didn’t think you would make it this far. You only have a few more tests.
A few more tests! What does that mean?
“Wow! This is terrific. This cup is really old.”
Back at Preston, Murphy was sitting at his desk examining the cup when Shari entered. He briefly summed up his adventure in the mine for her, then said, “My guess is that the cup is as old as the Handwriting on the Wall that we’ll soon be looking for.”
“Why do you say that?”
“In the fifth chapter of Daniel it is recorded that Belshazzar had a great feast. He wanted to do something unique for his guests, so he had his servants get golden vessels that had been captured from the temple in Jerusalem. He served his guests wine in those sacred vessels. At that very hour God wrote the doom of Belshazzar with his finger on the wall. I think that this cup was one of the golden vessels.”
“How does Methuselah find all of these artifacts?” Shari asked in wonder.
“It’s beyond me. He has to have some knowledge of the Bible to even know that they are there in the first place.”
“Why do you think Methuselah left it for you? It must be worth a ton of money.”
“I’m not sure. I think he really wants us to find the Handwriting on the Wall for some reason. He doesn’t seem concerned about money in any way. Just setting up the booby traps for me have been quite costly. He’s really quite strange. I believe I was able to get one of his fingerprints this time. I’ve sent it off to be examined. Maybe we can find out who he is!” Murphy exclaimed.
FIFTY
THE TRIP FROM RALEIGH to Richmond, Virginia, to meet Dr. Bingman gave Murphy some time to think about the events of the past few weeks. During the two-hour drive he replayed his adventures with Levi Abrams and the Arabs, the discovery of Dr. Anderson’s information about the Anti-Christ, and Talon’s pursuit of him and Isis in the library. But he spent the longest time thinking about the aborted terrorist bombing of the George Washington Bridge. Thousands of people could have died, and thousands more could have been affected by the radiation.
It was difficult for Murphy to think about finalizing the plans for an expedition to Babylon with the nation in turmoil, but something inside pushed him onward. He knew that the discovery of the Handwriting on the Wall would be a verification of a much larger picture. If God had judged Belshazzar and his kingdom, God would one day judge the world. Murphy had the sense that world events were rapidly moving toward a climax… a literal Armageddon.
Murphy was deep in thought when he drove into Capitol Square. The busy traffic had slowed to a stop. He looked up at the Capitol building, designed by Thomas Jefferson before he became the president. Jefferson had modeled it after a Roman temple in Nîmes, France. He could also see the bronze statue of Washington on horseback and the statues of Jefferson Davis, Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and other leaders of the Confederacy lining Monument Avenue. Murphy glanced at his watch.
Not bad time. At least I won’t be late.
Murphy sat at a table in the cafe awaiting Dr. Bingman. Murphy always liked to meet people in person—especially if they were planning a potentially dangerous expedition.
Murphy didn’t have long to wait. He smiled when he saw Bingman. As the man had explained, he did look like a young Theodore Roosevelt with sandy hair and alert green eyes. He even had a mustache that looked like Roosevelt’s. Murphy stood and they shook hands.
“Will, how did you become interested in archaeology?” Murphy asked once the men had seated themselves and ordered lunch.
“As a boy, I always loved history. I devoured books about the Civil War and western heroes. I then came to enjoy studying about ancient history But it wasn’t until I was in the first Persian Gulf War that I really got exposed to ancient artifacts.
”
“Kuwait?” Murphy asked, curious.
“Yes, why?”
“I was there too. I arrived in January of 1991 as part of Operation Desert Storm under General Norman Schwarzkopf.”
“Well, I was a little ahead of you with Desert Shield. Those were interesting days, weren’t they?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Murphy agreed. “We had expected greater resistance. We only had a few fierce battles.”
“While there, I got to see some of the ancient treasures of Iraq,” Will Bingman explained. “It prompted me to come back and join an archaeological team. We went on several interesting digs.”
“Find anything?”
“Yeah. We were digging in a royal cemetery when we noticed two holes in the ground. We guessed that something made out of wood might have been where the holes were and that the wood had rotted away. We poured plaster of Paris into the holes and let it set, then we carefully dug around the plaster. We had made a perfect cast of a harp. It was great!”
“I would have loved to have seen it, Will.”
“Then I came back to the States and seriously studied archaeology. My specialty is resistivity research. We pass an electrical current through the ground to measure electrical resistance of the soil, which is affected by moisture. As you know, stones in ancient buildings contain less moisture than the surrounding ground. Graves and human refuse dumps are really easy to distinguish with all the phosphate content in the soil. How about you?”
“Well, I don’t know how much Isis has told you, but my specialty is biblical archaeology. I teach at Preston University in Raleigh.”
“Does that mean that you’re a follower of Jesus?” Bingman asked.
“Yes, it does.”
“Well, isn’t that something. Me too. I made a decision to turn to Christ during Desert Shield,” Bingman explained. “The sergeant in charge of our platoon always prayed with us before we went out into battle. I watched his life. He seemed to have peace in the midst of war. I questioned him about it, and he told me that true peace came from God through Jesus Christ. That was when I turned my life over to God. I haven’t been the same since.”
“I think we’re going to have a good time together in Iraq, Will,” Murphy said, smiling.
“What exactly are we looking for, Michael?”
“The Handwriting on the Wall in Babylon.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Do you think you know where it is?”
“I’ve got a good idea. Will, have you been listening to the news about what the United Nations people have been suggesting?”
“You mean moving out of the United States to Babylon. Yes, Michael, I heard that. They say it’s because of the fear of future terrorist bombings, but I think it is about good old-fashioned greed. I think they’re after the oil.”
“You’re probably right,” Murphy agreed. “Whoever controls the oil controls the destiny of nations that need it. Everything depends on oil. It’s a trump card. Countries need oil to run the weapons of war to protect themselves. I think there’ll be a showdown over oil.”
“Are you talking about the final war in the Valley of Megiddo?” Bingman asked.
“Yes. I think that much of it will be driven by the need to gain control of oil resources. I recently read where scientists estimate that there are from 1,000 to 1,200 billion barrels of oil in proven oil reserves around the world. Saudi Arabia is estimated to have 260 billion barrels, Iraq 113 billion barrels, Iran 100 billion barrels, and Kuwait 97 billion barrels. Between those four countries, that’s about fifty-six percent of all the oil in the world. The Middle East will become a focal point in the days ahead.”
“Michael, how do you see all of that tying in with Babylon?”
“The second most mentioned city in the Bible, after Jerusalem, is Babylon. The Book of Revelation says that in the last days, Babylon will be destroyed. Before it can be destroyed, it has to be built up. If we can find the Handwriting on the Wall, it’s just another proof that the Bible is correct.”
Murphy wanted to tell Bingman what he knew about the Anti-Christ, but thought it might be best to hold that for another time. For now, he could see that they would be able to have a good working relationship. Bingman seemed to be a man he could trust. He looked like he could hold his own in any situation.
“I know that Saddam had started rebuilding Babylon but the war in Iraq has put a stop to that,” Bingman said. “How could Babylon be built into a major city? It would take years and years.”
“I think it could happen very quickly, Will. Remember, Oak Ridge, Tennessee, only had a few people until the government decided to extract uranium-235 isotopes as part of America’s efforts to build an atom bomb. The U.S. Army built a complete city for a hundred thousand people in eighteen months. And how about Dubai Internet City in the United Arab Emirates? They started building in 2001 and had buildings ready to move in to in twelve months. It can happen faster than you think.”
“Well, Michael, I’m ready to go. You’ve certainly stirred my juices. When do we leave?”
“I’m pulling together the final details. I should be able to tell you in a couple of days.”
Murphy’s phone rang at 9:30 P.M. Levi Abrams was calling to say that he was being reassigned. They had found something on a terrorist’s computer. “It may help us to find out how Talon is tied into all of this and who is funding him,” Abrams explained.
“Where are you going?”
“All I can tell you is that there is a small town in Israel called Et Taiyiba. We think the orders for the bombing of the bridge came from there. It’s a half-Jewish, half-Arab town. Over the years it’s been a site for terrorist activity. Hamas has a headquarters there and has been instrumental in sending suicide bombers into Jerusalem from that location. The Hamas leader Sheikh Yasin is suspected to have links with the Et Taiyiba cell and also with Osama bin Laden. He underwent terrorist training in bin Laden—affiliated camps in Afghanistan. Then he returned to the West Bank and Gaza to establish terrorist cells. Some connection, and some financial support, is going to the Hamas leaders from an outside source. That source may be Talon.”
“Now I’m really going to pray for you, Levi. You’ve got to be very careful. Talon has no conscience. He doesn’t care who he kills … he’s completely amoral.”
“I appreciate that, Michael. Although I don’t have the same faith that you do, I can tell you care for my soul. Oh, yes, Michael—Everything is set to go in Iraq. Colonel Davis is ready to assist you in your search. Some of his men will meet you at the Baghdad Airport. After a couple of days there they’ll escort you to Babylon. You be very careful too… and take care of Isis. I don’t think she is someone you want to lose.”
FIFTY-ONE
MURPHY BEGAN the checklist that had almost become second nature to him as a world traveler. He pointed as he ticked items off: passport…visa…copies of passport and visa… airline tickets… cash… euros… credit cards… maps… contact phone numbers…toilet articles… clothes… equipment… What are you forgetting? You always forget something!
The phone rang as he was walking to the closet to get his suitcase. It was Cindy at the switchboard at Preston University Stephanie Kovacs had called, saying it was urgent that she speak with Murphy “I told her that we have a policy to not give out home phone numbers but that I would pass on the message,” Cindy explained.
Murphy took Stephanie Kovacs’s phone number and thanked Cindy. I wonder what this is all about?
————
After packing his suitcase and placing it in the trunk of his car, he took a moment to try to reach Stephanie Kovacs. She thanked him for calling and said, “Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
She hesitated for a moment. “Forgive me. I’m usually not at a loss for words. I’m not quite sure where to begin …. Do you remember when you asked me if I was happy?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t been able to get that out
of my mind. You touched a sensitive area because I haven’t been happy for some time. Anyway, that thought along with your illustration about the kite and Christ knocking at the door to my heart got me thinking.”
Murphy started praying. God, You’re working in Stephanie’s life. Please give me the right words to say.
“The past few days have been really hard on me, and I had to make some difficult decisions that have affected my career. I did what you suggested.”
“What was that, Stephanie?”
“I prayed to God and asked Him to come into my life and help me through this tough time.”
“That’s great, Stephanie.”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but something has changed. I’m not out of my problems yet… but I don’t feel overwhelmed. I have a kind of peace in the midst of all this stress.”
“That’s God’s specialty. When He changes someone’s life, it’s like a new birth. He implants a new way of thinking in our mind. He gives us a new attitude and a new perspective in how we view life. He’s begun a new work in your life and will continue to help you grow in faith.”
“I think you’re right. Things are looking different. Well, at least most things are.”
“What do you mean, most things?”
“I had another reason for calling you, Dr. Murphy. I think you may be in some kind of danger.”
“Danger?” Murphy repeated.
“Yes. I’m sure that you know that my relationship with Barrington Communications has been more than just as a news reporter. I… I had a personal relationship with Mr. Barrington,” Kovacs explained.
