by Tim LaHaye
"What do they do?"
"Their activities vary a little but often they pretend to do bloodless surgery without a scalpel."
"That sounds like my kind of surgery," Bob laughed. "I'm a wimp when it comes to pain."
"You won't believe what I'm about to tell you. They will have the person lie on a table and they act like they are digging their hands into the person's body and taking out the disease or cancer from their body. After the imaginary incision, the psychic seems to pull out some kind of tissue and discards it. Then they wipe their hand back across the person's body and the incision is gone and everything is normal. Sounds great, right?"
"No. It sounds weird."
"That's for sure. There is a book entitled Arigo: Surgeon of the Rusty Knife . It's the story of a Brazilian peasant who operates with an unclean pocketknife. It's supposed to be done without pain, bleeding, or stitches. It is said that this Arigo could stop the flow of blood with a
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verbal command, and that he had the ability to read blood pressure without instruments. Apparently, over three hundred patients a day would visit him."
"Is that documented?"
"No. He died in 1981 before any scientific investigators could verify his claims. I also read about a magician named Henry Gordon who debunked what psychic surgeons did. In front of television cameras, he performed the same type of surgery and also pulled out some flesh from a patient. In actuality, it was tissue from a chicken liver that he had hidden in the palm of his hand. It did look impressive, though."
"Well, when we go with Clyde we'll look for chicken livers."
Roseanne came waddling toward their table with plates in her hands. Her gray hair was tied in a bun and slight beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead. She placed the plates on the table.
"Here you go, men. Have a good lunch."
Murphy smiled. "Thank you, Rosanne. By the way, are you aware of the rip in the vinyl seat?"
Roseanne put her hands on her hips and she looked where Murphy was pointing.
"Humph. It must have been those teenagers we had in here last night. They were a rowdy bunch." She turned and waddled away.
"You know, Bob," responded Murphy. "It seems like evil is on the increase. Not just from kids horsing around destroying property like this seat, but keying and stealing cars ... and other things like violent crime, terrorist bombings, murders, and wars. There is much darkness in this world and it's only going to get worse."
"As you know, Michael, the Bible informs us that in the last days many people will leave their faith in God. Then the 'man of sin' will come. He will be someone who will bring strong delusion. Do you think it could be that guy ... what's his name ... Rosa something?"
"Do you mean Constantine De La Rosa?"
"Yes, he's the one."
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"I don't know, Bob, but whoever he is he'll be a strong leader. Unfortunately many people will believe his lies. It also says that he will be able to perform miracles and wonders."
"Sort of like this De La Rosa that has been in the newspapers and television lately?"
"Yes. It has been reported that he has been doing some very powerful healings and giving predictions." The implications raced around in Murphy's brain. "Do you think he might be the coming Anti-Christ, Bob?"
"Actually, I don't think so. He sure could pass for the False Prophet though. He's supposed to have great powers and be able to perform miracles. The False Prophet will pave the pathway for the Anti-Christ. He will do this by a call for religious unification between all peoples and all cultures. If he tries to globally organize political and social life, it would be a definite sign that he could be the person. If he then begins to set up some type of economic control with a marking or registration system, he will certainly be the person. The False Prophet is the one who will oversee the 666 marking of people on their right hand or on their forehead."
"Hmm," Murphy said absently.
"Michael? Are you still listening?"
"Sorry, I was just thinking about Isis. I don't think she has come to a point of faith in her life. I'd hate to see her begin to follow someone like the False Prophet."
"Michael, may I speak frankly?"
"Of course, Bob."
"I've been a little concerned about you and Isis. It seems like this is beginning to develop into something more than just a friendship."
"It's moving in that direction."
"You know that your faith discourages getting involved with someone who does not hold the same belief. It can lead to many disagreements and disappointments with each other. More than one marriage has struggled over these issues. I would hate to see you in a marriage
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like that, especially after you and Laura were so happy and well-matched.
"I know you're right, Bob. It's just difficult when the feelings begin to grow."
"It might be best to end them before there's no turning back, Michael."
"I know. I've been thinking very seriously about it. It's just hard."
"There are other wonderful people who love the Lord and share your faith. For example, there is that new young lady who has been attending our church. She's the new women's volleyball coach for Preston."
"Summer Van Doren."
"You know her? I didn't realize that. What do you think about her?"
"She's quite impressive. She's got it all ... looks, personality, talent, and a strong faith."
"Well?"
"Well, I have been thinking about it. Isis has it all also, except she doesn't share my faith. And that's really big to me. I have noticed the difference the few times I've talked to Summer. She's a very warm and caring person. There's a dimension with her that I don't have with Isis. I just don't like the idea of hurting someone else in the process."
"There is no easy way around that, Michael. You can't have your cake and eat it too. Life is filled with choices. Some are easy and some are very tough. You have to look at the big picture. Do you want to spend your life with the wrong person? I have a lot of people like that in my counseling office."
Murphy was quiet. Wagoner could tell that he was struggling.
"Michael, I will be praying that God will give you the right answer for your relationship with Isis. Remember what it says. 'Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.' I am confident that God will enlighten you with the right answer at the right time."
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FORTY-TWO
MURPHY OPENED the taxi door and got in. The driver turned and looked at him.
"Where to?"
"The Parchments of Freedom Foundation."
"Okay. It may take a few more minutes than usual. The traffic is really heavy today."
"I understand," said Murphy as he settled back in the seat and stared out the window.
The flight from Raleigh to Washington had really seemed long. He hadn't looked forward to it as he had to previous trips. A dark cloud hovered over his thoughts. He did not want to face what lay ahead, and yet, he knew that it had to be done.
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The whole process was made even more difficult by Isis's excitement over his visit. Murphy pursed his lips and shook his head. There was a dull pain in his stomach. He took a long deep breath and let it out slowly.
Isis was putting some papers into a filing cabinet when Murphy arrived at her office. Her back was to him as he entered and she was humming a tune. He hesitated in the doorway. She was wearing a black pants suit that was tailored to fit her shapely body. Her red hair had a hint of auburn in it.
Murphy softly cleared his throat. Isis turned at the sound.
Her face brightened with a big smile and her green eyes sparkled with delight.
"Michael!"
Isis moved toward him. They embraced and she kissed him.
"You're early."
"The plane had a tail wind and we arrived about twenty minutes early."
&nbs
p; Isis gathered her things. "The reservations are for seven o'clock. I'm so glad you're here."
The conversation at dinner was very general and somewhat stilted. Isis could tell that Murphy was a little preoccupied. She thought that he must be tired from the trip or maybe that he was worried about Shari... or about Paul Wallach in the hospital.
It wasn't until they were at Isis's apartment that Murphy began to open up.
"Isis. We need to talk a little."
There was something in his tone that made her very uneasy.
"You know, we've had a lot of good times together. We've been
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through some real danger and I'll always be grateful for you nursing me back to health after the events on Mount Ararat."
Isis could feel that something was coming.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me. Your research and translation work have been invaluable. You've helped in the discovery of a number of important artifacts. It's been wonderful."
She thought to herself, There's a "but" coming .
"My feelings toward you have grown stronger over the past few months. But there is an issue that has been hard for me to face."
Murphy paused and took a deep breath.
"You know that I have a strong faith in Christ and believe the Bible. It is something that is a significant part of my life. I also know that you are not at the same place that I am in your spiritual journey."
Murphy's faith in God was one of the things Isis liked about him. It made him different from all the other men she had ever dated. It gave him a sense of purpose that had been missing in other men. It also seemed to change his behavior toward her. He had treated her with more respect and gentleness than anyone she had ever met. And if she was totally honest with herself, it was the one thing that caused her to begin to think about her own relationship to God.
"If two people are to develop a strong and lasting relationship, they really need to be on the same wavelength when it comes to faith in God. Divided families often have great struggles. Both parties are not able to share the same experience or values. It can bring about great stress."
Isis could feel it coming and she didn't want to hear what he was going to say. She knew that it wasn't going to be good.
"I care about you very deeply. However, I don't think it's wise for us to continue to see each other and have our feelings develop to an even deeper level. I think we might be headed for greater hurt if we do. I need someone who shares my same beliefs. I respect you so much, Isis. You are a beautiful person inside and out. And I have loved being with you. I just can't let my feelings go any further. I don't want to
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hurt you any more than I have to. It wouldn't be good for either of us. I also don't want you to feel pressure to believe what I believe. Nor would I want you to try and create some type of experience to please me. Everyone's faith must be his own. Each person has to individually come to a relationship with God."
Isis felt like she was going to cry.
"It might be good for both of us if we began to see other people. You have so much to offer someone and I don't want to stand in the way of you meeting someone who will love you with all of his heart."
Isis felt like the rug was being pulled out from under her. Tears were close to the surface but she held her composure.
"Michael, I don't know if I agree with you. I think that two people can still see one another and have a relationship grow, and still talk about faith. I don't think it has to end."
"But what if the relationship grows and the faith does not?"
"There's risk in every relationship, Michael."
He did not respond. She could tell that his mind was already made up and that nothing she could say would make any difference now.
"I hear what you're saying and I can tell that you're uneasy," she said at last. "I wouldn't want you to be in a relationship that didn't meet your spiritual expectations."
Isis didn't want to press the issue. She didn't want to come across as begging for the relationship to continue. She had too much self-respect and pride to do that. All she wanted to do was escape from the emotions she was feeling. She felt sick inside. She knew that this was hard for Michael and she loved him so much that she was willing to let him go. She could only hope that he would change his mind and come back to her.
Murphy knew that what he had said had destroyed the evening and maybe even their friendship forever. He took her hand.
"Isis. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I just think that with the gap of faith between us, we could be in for even deeper hurt in the future. I'm so sorry to do this to you."
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Murphy could tell that she was close to tears.
"I'd better go, Isis. I'll take a taxi back to the airport." Murphy stood.
Isis wiped a little tear from her eye and stood as well. She was trying desperately to hold herself together.
Murphy took both of her hands and looked into her eyes. He then embraced her and whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry."
She felt so good in his arms and he didn't want to let her go. Finally, he knew that he had to. He let go and slowly backed away.
Both of her hands came up and she began to wipe away the tears that were beginning to flow uncontrollably.
Murphy walked to the door, turned around, took one last look at Isis, and left.
The flight back to Raleigh was worse than the flight going to Washington. Murphy felt terrible. He knew that he had deeply hurt Isis and he truly hadn't wanted to do that. He played the conversation back in his mind, and the more he did, the sicker he felt. Had he made the wrong decision? His emotions made him want to catch the next flight back to Washington to try and repair the damage he'd caused. He wanted to hold her in his arms again.
The stewardess came by and offered drinks and a snack to everyone on the plane. Murphy ordered a Coke and began to mindlessly eat the pretzels.
Even though Murphy knew intellectually that he had made the right decision, everything else inside him screamed in protest. Now what was he going to do? There was a large, empty void in his heart. He had lost Laura when Talon killed her and now he had driven Isis out of his life.
Murphy felt angry, depressed, and terribly lonely.
God, why is all of this happening?
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FORTY-THREE
WHETHER IT WAS curiosity, a hunch, or just wishful thinking, something motivated Murphy to again drive down Highway--40 to North Myrtle Beach. He had to get more information about the mysterious Methuselah. There were too many unanswered questions about the reclusive billionaire.
This time there would be no deception, no putting on a waiter uniform. He would simply approach Methuselah directly and let the chips fall where they may. He was tired of all of the games. Besides, it would save him another two-hundred-dollar tip.
Murphy parked his old Dodge, grabbed a book, and walked down to the beach. This time he came a little later, figuring that Methuselah would not come until after 11:00 A.M., when the sun's rays became
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warmer. There were a couple dozen people scattered about. A couple was fishing, several were jogging, and the rest were just relaxing.
Murphy had no idea if Methuselah would show up or not, but he thought he would play the odds. At the very least, if he did not come, Murphy would get a little relaxation at the beach with a good book. Plus, it would help keep his mind off Iris.
At 11:30 A.M., Murphy stopped reading and began looking around. Methuselah was nowhere to be found. Maybe he's not even in the country .
About 12:15 P.M. he got up and stretched. He was beginning to believe that this trip would turn out to be fruitless. He was heading back toward his car when he saw three men in the distance walking along the beach near the water. They were wearing Hawaiian shirts. Behind them was one man who was followed by three more men in Hawaiian shirts. The man in the center had a slight limp. No one had any folding lawn chairs.
Mu
rphy's heart began to beat a little faster. He decided that he would join Methuselah in his stroll along the beach. As he drew closer to the group, he could see the lead bodyguards going on the alert, intently watching him approach. One was already starting to reach for the automatic that was bulging under the brightly colored shirt he wore.
Murphy could hear one of them say: "Mr. M.!"
Methuselah turned to his bodyguard and then spied Murphy. The three bodyguards behind were moving forward, closing the distance between them and Methuselah.
The older man began to smile and then let out a little cackling laugh.
"Well, well, well. Dr. Murphy. Curiosity killed the cat and satisfaction brought it back."
The whole group had stopped and two of the men moved toward Murphy and began to frisk him for weapons.
"It's all right, gentlemen. I think Dr. Murphy would like to join me for a stroll."
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Methuselah started to walk and Murphy joined him.
"I still have some unanswered questions," Murphy began.
"I'm sure you do, Dr. Murphy."
"I don't understand your game. Why do you keep revealing the location of biblical artifacts to me? What's behind all of this?"
"A combination of reasons, Dr. Murphy. Part of it has to do with my grandfather, Marcello Zasso. As you know, he was a dedicated missionary and a devoted student of the Bible. He also had a passion for biblical archaeology like you do. He wished to explore for biblical artifacts but never had the opportunity. Instead, he spent countless hours researching obscure historical texts and experts' papers. As a child I would listen to his stories and his theories about where certain items might be hidden. I used to keep a little notebook of my grandfather's thoughts."
Murphy was listening intently.
"Do you mean he had figured out where Nebuchadnezzar's golden head might be located?"
