Murphy nodded. "I suppose that could be possible,
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but that would be a pretty big stretch, Paul. It is difficult to imagine that people from, say, the jungles of Papua New Guinea, had relatives who traveled very far. There are over 860 languages in that country alone. Missionaries have translated the Bible into only about 130 of those languages, and yet the newly discovered tribes still have a flood story.
"Let me give you an example. In the western district of Papua New Guinea, there is a tribe called the Samo-Kubo. When the missionaries arrived at this remote tribe, they found a flood tradition. The tribesmen believed that if you make lizards mad, they will bring another flood and destroy the world again. If previous missionaries had been there, they certainly would not have taught the tribesmen that lizards would destroy the world with a flood."
Murphy had Shari turn on the projector.
"Let me show you one slide of how the story of the Flood could have been passed on. You will see the arrows running away from the Mideast to all parts of the world. It is believed that after Noah landed on Ararat and the people began to multiply, they built the Tower of Babel. God then confused their languages and the people dispersed throughout the world. They could have taken the flood story with them. Over time, as the story was passed down, it was changed in each location. This seems a more logical conclusion as to why there are over five hundred flood traditions around the world. I believe that they came from one source. They had a common origin."
Murphy could see that Paul was trying to figure out the weak point in this argument. He could also see that
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Shari was beginning to have a difficult time with Paul. She looked uncomfortable as he frowned in concentration beside her.
"If what you are saying about the Flood is true," Paul said at last, "it contradicts the theory of evolution. They can't both be true."
"I agree," Murphy said.
"So on the one hand we have a bunch of myths and stories," Paul said. "And on the other a proven scientific theory relying on fossil evidence." He smirked unpleasantly. "I think I know which one I go for."
Shari looked as if she wanted the ground to swallow her up, but Murphy smiled at Paul, trying to show Shari he wasn't fazed or annoyed by Paul's argument.
"You have a point, Paul. Evidence is evidence. Do you remember last semester when I demonstrated that there had been more than twenty-five thousand archaeological digs that had unearthed evidence confirming the authenticity of the Bible? And that there had never been one single artifact unearthed contradicting any biblical reference? I might also point out that every one of your proofs for evolution, the so-called missing links, have all turned out to be either fraudulent, misidentified, or simply a case of wishful thinking. Even evolutionist Dr. Colin Patterson, former head of the British Museum of Natural History, has admitted there is not one single transitional fossil in existence anywhere that could be used to prove the theory of evolution. So tell me, Paul, what would you think if someone discovered the remains of the Ark? You'd have to give up your theory of evolution then, wouldn't you?"
Paul shrugged. "Sure. I'd eat my hat too."
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Murphy wagged a finger at him. "Don't make any promises you can't keep, Paul. I'll let you off eating your hat, as long as you promise to look at the Bible with an open mind and think about what it teaches." He turned to the rest of the class. "Let's imagine someone does find the remains of the ark. It would be the most important archaeological discovery ever made. But even more awesome, it would be the proof that God did judge the wickedness of the world with the Flood. And if the Bible was accurate in predicting the flood judgment, it must also be accurate in predicting the next judgment--the judgment of the Son of Man that Jesus talks about!"
Paul didn't seem to have an answer to that, much to Shari's obvious relief, and Murphy began to shuffle his notes into order.
Then some instinct made him look up at the stylishly dressed man leaning against the back wall of the lecture hall.
But he was gone.
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TWENTY-THREE
MURPHY HURRIED OUT of the amphitheater, but all he could see were students leisurely making their way to and from classes or the cafeteria. No sign of the man in the blue suit.
He turned back to retrieve his notes, and there he was, standing by the door, his hand held out. "Professor Murphy, I'm Shane Barrington. Interesting lecture."
I knew the face was familiar , thought Murphy.
"I just flew in to Raleigh," he said, as if that explained everything. "The search for Noah's Ark, eh? Interesting topic. Have you been researching it long?"
"This is my third class on the subject," said Murphy guardedly. It seemed bizarre to be having a conversation about Noah's Ark with the head of Barrington Communications, one of the world's most powerful businessmen. What did he want to do--buy advertising space on the ark? He'd be disappointed when Murphy
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told him it hadn't been seen for several thousand years. "The students seem to be quite interested."
"Yes, I can see that. I'm interested too."
"You are?" said Murphy. "No offense, but I don't think there's a lot of money to be made from biblical artifacts like the ark. When they're found, they belong to everybody. And their value is way beyond mere money."
For a fleeting second Barrington's eyes darkened, then he suddenly laughed. "Excellent. I admire your passion, Professor Murphy. In fact, that's why I want to talk to you. Do you have some time right now?"
Murphy was still suspicious, but it was hard not to be swayed by Barrington's charm. And it couldn't hurt to talk, whatever Barrington's real motives. "You're in luck. I have half an hour before my next lecture."
Murphy led the way across the campus to the student center, where they ordered iced teas and found a quiet table.
"First, let me say how sorry I was to hear about the death of your wife. What a shocking, terrible event. Did they ever catch the man who was responsible?"
"Not yet," Murphy replied grimly. He wondered why Barrington had brought it up, and Barrington seemed to sense his curiosity.
"My son was also murdered--around the same time as your wife."
Murphy nodded. "I heard about that. I'm very sorry."
"Thank you. So, you see, Professor Murphy, we have something in common after all. We've both suffered the loss of loved ones. I know the loss of Arthur has given me a different perspective on life--on what's important." He smiled. "You're looking skeptical, Professor
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Murphy. Well, maybe we don't have exactly the same outlook, but I think it's true to say that each of us, in his own way, is trying to use his influence to make a difference in the world. And I think maybe we'd have an even bigger influence if we worked together."
His well-rehearsed patter tripped easily off his tongue, but despite himself, Barrington found he was transported back to the day when his son had died--and when he had failed to save him. But the truth was, he hadn't loved Arthur at all, just as his own father hadn't loved him. He really didn't have anything in common with Murphy.
Except for one thing. Murphy's wife and Barrington's son had both been killed by the same man.
Talon.
And that was a fact he wasn't about to share.
"There's so much violence and disorder in the world," Barrington continued. "So much crime and violence. I'm trying to use Barrington Communications to fight that."
"How?" Murphy asked, sipping his tea.
"Information. Communication. The more we know about the world, about one another, the less reason there is for conflict. Does that make any sense to you?"
Murphy nodded. "Sure. As long as what you tell people is the truth. Sometimes truth does lead to conflict. Sometimes truth is what you have to fight about."
Barrington looked thoughtful. "I see what you're saying. And what's your particular battle in this great conflict?"
"I try to prove the truth o
f the Bible," Murphy said simply.
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"And why is that so important?"
"For a number of reasons," Murphy replied. "But let me give you just one example. If we can prove that Noah's Ark really existed, then we know for sure that God really did punish the evildoers in Noah's time. So when the Bible tells us that there's another judgment coming, it would be smart to take it seriously and try to change our lives in accordance with His will."
"Saving people's immortal souls," mused Barrington, stirring the ice in his tea. "What could be more important than that, right? So the more people you can communicate that message to, the better."
"Of course," Murphy agreed.
"Then I guess if you had the chance to utilize one of the world's most influential cable-TV channels to spread the word, that would be a--how can I put it?--heaven-sent opportunity, wouldn't it?"
"I guess it would," Murphy said.
Barrington grinned like a poker player who had just scooped the pot. "That's what I was hoping you'd say. You see, Murphy, I'd like to offer you a job. I'd like you to come to work for the Barrington Communications Network."
Murphy's mouth opened but no words came out. He truly didn't know what to say. Barrington kept on talking. "I want to develop a new department of special interest. I would like you to head up a team to produce documentaries in the field of archaeology. I think our more scientific and serious-minded viewers would enjoy this discovery type of format. You could select your own staff. We would provide the filming and editing crew. You'd be completely in charge. You can make any program you
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want--any subject. Money's no object. How does that sound?"
The truth was, it sounded incredible. Instead of standing in a lecture theater, talking to a hundred students, Murphy could talk to millions of people, all around the world. And instead of battling with Dean Fallworth on a daily basis over the content of his lectures, he'd have a free hand to go in any direction he wanted.
"I'm not sure what to say. I'm just an archaeologist."
"Trust me," Barrington insisted, leaning over the table. "You've got star quality. Charisma. Call it what you will. That's why you're a great teacher. People respond to you. Trust you."
And why should I trust you? Murphy wondered. What's really going on here?
It was as if he'd suddenly snapped wide awake after a particularly vivid dream.
"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Barrington, but the answer will have to be no."
That dark look clouded Barrington's features again. Clearly he didn't like people saying no to him.
"Don't be hasty. Give yourself time to think about it. If there's something else you want, ask. I'm sure we can figure it out."
Murphy could feel his temper rising. He didn't like people assuming he could be bought.
"The answer is no. Thank you."
"Would you do me the courtesy of telling me why?" Barrington asked, not bothering to keep the venomous edge out of his voice.
"Because I don't want to be a part of your sleazy
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organization. Your late-night shows are nothing but pornography. Your prime-time shows are filled with sexual innuendos, distasteful language, and an assault on morality. Your comedy shows make fun of everything that is decent in America. Your reality shows don't even touch reality. And you support political leaders who are corrupt. If I've left anything out, I apologize. To quote a verse from the Psalms, I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in tents of wickedness."
Barrington sat quite still. Murphy had a sense that Barrington wanted very badly to reach over and grab him by the throat. But something was holding him back. Something more powerful even than his own rage. Murphy wondered what it was.
Slowly, Barrington got up and straightened his tie. He smoothed the front of his jacket and held out his hand, his expression of barely suppressed fury unchanging.
"Until we meet again, Murphy. Until we meet again."
Murphy held his eye and remained seated, his hands on the table. Barrington turned on his heel and walked quickly away.
Murphy watched him go. He still wasn't sure what had just happened. I need to think about this , he thought. But at that moment his cell phone began to ring.
"Murphy."
"Michael, this is Vern. I was calling about our conversation. I told you I was going to give you an answer about flying the discovery team to Ararat."
"Right. What did you and Julie decide?"
"The answer is yes."
"How does Julie feel about it?" Murphy asked.
"I won't kid you. She's concerned. She doesn't like
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the thought of me being gone. She knows that Turkey is not the safest place for Americans right now."
"She's right, Vern. You don't have to go."
"I realize that, but this will be an opportunity to help make a better life for my family. Sometimes you've got to take risks if you want to do that. Besides," he chuckled, "you can't do this without me. I've seen you in action, remember. You need someone smart to watch your back."
Murphy grinned. "And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have do it. Good to have you aboard, Vern."
He cut the connection and looked off toward the lake. A cold shudder passed slowly through him.
He was sure Barrington's offer had been a poisoned chalice. Tempting, but dangerous. And now he'd just made his old friend Vern an offer. An offer Vern had found equally tempting. Tempting, but possibly fatal.
And if it was, how would Murphy feel about that?
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TWENTY-FOUR
PAUL WALLACH WAS IN the library, deeply absorbed in taking notes from a book about archaeological digs in the Valley of the Kings. He didn't notice the man standing behind him until he reached for the chair next to Paul and pulled it out.
"Do you mind if I sit down?"
Paul didn't look up from his notes. "Sure. Whatever." Then something made him turn.
"Mr. Barrington! What are you doing here?"
Barrington smiled and stuck out his hand. "I came to check up on my investment, Paul!"
"Your investment is doing great," Paul gushed, closing the book. "Thanks to you and the scholarship. It was a great honor to have you come and visit me in the hospital after the bomb explosion at the church."
Barrington waved a hand dismissively. "That was a tough time for everyone, even me, Paul. After I lost
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Arthur I was devastated. Probably like you were when your father passed away. I guess since losing Arthur, I've begun to think of you a little bit as a son. I hope you don't mind."
Paul just smiled a puppy-dog smile, as Barrington knew he would. His emotional buttons were easy to press.
"Could you possibly take a break from your studies and go for a walk with me?"
"Of course. I was just finishing up here, anyway."
As they left the library, Paul was aware of the other students talking and pointing. He concentrated on looking casual and relaxed, but inside he was glowing. One of the world's most recognizable businessmen had come to Preston to see him. Paul Wallach.
They found a bench shaded by azaleas and dogwoods and sat down.
"Paul, I would like to propose an idea. Something for you to think about. I want you to consider working for me when you graduate. You're smart, you're a hard worker, and you're a team player. That's a pretty rare combination."
Paul tried not to let his excitement show.
"I don't know what to say, Mr. Barrington. It would be an incredible opportunity."
"You see, here's what I was thinking, Paul. I think you have real leadership potential. I would like you to join BCN and work as an apprentice. I would like to take you under my wing and mentor you. I think you can go far in our media organization. You already have a background in media with your father's having been in
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the printing business. I'm sure that you learned some of his skills."
> Paul just nodded.
"Here's what I'd like to see happen, Paul. I would like you to continue to stay in school. I'll take care of all of your school expenses. But I want you to begin to develop your skills as a writer. To begin with, I would like you to give me samples of your writing on a weekly basis. For example, take your class on biblical archaeology. The one that Professor Murphy teaches. Let's start by having you give me a four-page report of what is taught in his class. I'll read your material and come back to you with suggestions. What do you think?"
"That's one of my most interesting classes. That would be great. I'm sure I could learn a lot from you."
"Good. Then we'll start with that. By the way, I forgot to mention, not only will you have a scholarship, but it's only fair to pay you for the tasks I assign you. How does twenty dollars an hour sound, is that acceptable?"
Paul couldn't believe his ears. His schooling was going to be paid. He was going to get a part-time job for twenty dollars an hour. And then he was guaranteed a high-paying job upon graduation. It didn't get any better than that.
"Paul, before you give me a final answer it is important that you think it over. I wouldn't want to push you too hard or rush you into a decision. I'm asking you to take on responsibilities beyond your course work. I want you to be comfortable and happy. So you don't have to worry about what I'll say if you turn me down.
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Like I say, I think of you as a son. I only have your interests at heart."
Paul was about to speak, but Barrington held up a hand.
"Oh, one other thing. Are you free this weekend? I've got tickets to The Phantom of the Opera . How would you like to fly up to New York and join me? You can stay at the penthouse."
Babylon rising: the secret on Ararat Page 15
