Babylon rising: the secret on Ararat

by Tim F. LaHaye

  Murphy thought for a moment. "Azgadian, you have already done so much for us. If you could look after my friend Vern here until he is well enough to return to Dogubayazit, you will have my eternal gratitude. I wish I could repay you in some way for your courage and your kindness."

  Azgadian waved him away. "It is the guardians' duty to look after the seekers if they are pure in heart. You owe me nothing. But I would ask one thing of you. When God calls on you to be His messenger, do not disregard Him."

  Murphy held his gaze. "I'll do my best to do God's will, whatever it is." He turned to Isis, taking her gently by the shoulders.

  "You stay here too, Isis. I'm sure Azgadian could do with some help looking after Vern."

  She narrowed her eyes. "And what exactly will you be doing all this time?"

  Murphy paused. "I'm going after Talon."

  A cocktail of emotions flashed through her green eyes. "Blast you, Murphy. You think you can do everything on your own, don't you? Well, not this time."

  "What do you mean?"

  She had a defiant look on her face. "I'm going with you, of course."

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  FORTY-EIGHT

  SHANE BARRINGTON raised his antique crystal goblet and proposed a toast.

  "To us. And to many more moments like this."

  They clinked glasses and each took a mouthful of the vintage champagne.

  "Well, I must admit I was disappointed when you canceled our dinner engagement, but I guess this makes up for it," Stephanie said with a dazzling smile.

  In fact, the setting Barrington had chosen was far more impressive than the most glitzy of downtown restaurants. The top floor of the Barrington Communications building had been transformed into a florist's fantasy. Every surface seemed to be covered with flowers. Huge sprays adorned every corner, there were rose petals scattered over the floor, and the whole room was awash in their scent.

  Barrington smiled back. "I just wanted to show my

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  appreciation for all your hard work, Stephanie. And more important, for your loyalty. I know how you like to ask questions all the time--it's your job, after all. But you never question anything I ask you to do. That's important. That's why I can trust you."

  Stephanie chose her next words carefully. "I'm sure there's always a good reason for your decisions. I don't need to ask why all the time. You're the boss, after all."

  He raised his glass again and drained the rest of his champagne in one gulp. "Right. But I know deep down you must find it tough to hold that reporter's tongue of yours. So as a special treat tonight, I'm going to let you ask me anything you want. And I'll tell you the answer."

  Stephanie tried to keep her smile in place, but under the surface she was worried. When she'd first agreed to become Barrington's mistress and do whatever he commanded, she'd naturally been curious about a lot of things. Why was he pursuing his aggressive campaign against evangelical Christians? Why was he so interested in Michael Murphy? And how did he appear to know some stories were going to break before they'd even happened? But she'd gradually learned to suppress her curiosity. That was the price she had to pay, after all.

  But there was also another reason for not asking questions.

  She was afraid of the answers.

  She was smart and experienced enough to know that people like Shane Barrington didn't get to the top of the corporate pile by playing by the rules. She had no doubt he had a few skeletons rattling around in his closet. Perhaps even literally. That wasn't what bothered her.

  What bothered her was her growing conviction that

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  Barrington was doing something more than making money, more than just accumulating power for himself. He was doing something ... evil.

  She surprised herself by even thinking the word. It wasn't part of her vocabulary. Sure, she'd used it plenty of times in her more sensational TV reports when describing rapists or serial killers, but she hadn't meant it literally. It was just a word you used to spice things up.

  But the more time she spent with Barrington, the more she thought it really meant something.

  And the more she wondered how she was going to ever get away from him.

  "Okay," she said finally. "Here's a question. How did you know Michael Murphy was planning an expedition to find Noah's Ark? And how did you know before any of the other networks that FBI agent, Hank Baines, had been shot?"

  Barrington's face darkened. "That's two questions, Stephanie."

  He looked at her intently, his eyes boring into hers, and she suddenly felt she'd gone too far. But then his expression lightened, and he laughed.

  "Well, they're connected, so I guess I can count it as one question. But before I answer, you have to promise me something, Stephanie."

  She gulped. "Sure."

  "Promise me you won't do anything foolish, so I'd be forced to ... dispose of you. I've grown very fond of you, Stephanie. I'd hate our relationship to end in tragedy."

  Now she really was scared. "Look, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I was just making conversation."

  "No, no," he insisted. "A promise is a promise." He

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  laughed again. "Even from me. I'll tell you what you want to know. And then," he added ominously, "you'll be part of the family."

  "Okay," she whispered, hardly able to speak.

  Abruptly, Barrington stood up and walked to the window, looking down over the brightly lit streets many stories below.

  "I was going out of business," he began, still looking out the window. "My company had massive debts, which I'd managed to hide with some creative accounting, but I wasn't going to be able to do it for much longer. And there was some other stuff I could have gone to jail for too, if anyone found out. Well, someone did find out. And they put a gun to my head and made me one of those offers you can't refuse. They'd inject five billion into the business to make it the biggest communications company in the world. To put me where I am today. And all I had to do in return was help them in their enterprise."

  The words were out of Stephanie's mouth before she could stop them. "And what enterprise was that?"

  He turned back to her and smiled grimly. "Why, to take over the world, of course."

  He sat back down opposite her, filled his glass, and quickly drained it.

  "And what has all that got to do with Murphy and Noah's Ark? You see, these people I work for, these people who own me, are hell-bent on establishing a one-world government. A one-world religion too. And people like Murphy, they see it all coming, in the Bible. So they have to be stopped. Before they can persuade people to resist."

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  "And the ark?"

  "Ah, yes, the ark. If the ark was found sitting on Mount Ararat, that would be a blow to my friends. It would show that the Bible was true. It would make people think what the Bible said about the one-world government was true too. You can see why they wouldn't want that."

  Stephanie nodded, not sure what to say. Her brain was reeling from Barrington's bizarre confession. Was incredible stuff like this really happening in the world? And was she really caught up in the middle of it?

  "And Baines? What was their problem with him?"

  "I'm not sure. I think my employers had a connection inside the CIA and Baines was about to expose it. So they dealt with him."

  Stephanie felt as if she was in free fall, as if she was stuck in an elevator hurtling toward the ground--except there was no ground. This elevator was going to keep on falling until ... until it reached hell itself.

  But then, unexpectedly, she started to hear a voice at the back of her mind. A voice of hope. A little voice telling her that maybe this was her chance for redemption. Her chance to prove that she wasn't all bad. If Barrington was going to trust her with his secrets, if she could keep his trust so he didn't dispose of her, then maybe she could make a difference after all.

  Already she was forming a plan in her mind. The first thing she needed to do was to contact Murphy.<
br />
  But where was he?

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  FORTY-NINE

  MURPHY STOPPED IN THE middle of a narrow street crowded with tiny shop fronts and put his hands on his hips.

  "They all look the same to me, Isis. How are we ever going to find the right place?"

  "It can't be far away," she said. "We were near the museum when that guy accosted us, and then we followed him for about five minutes. It has to be within a one-mile radius of the museum."

  "One mile. That's a lot of alleys, a lot of buildings that look exactly the same. It could take forever."

  Murphy suddenly winced.

  "Is it your leg?" Isis asked, looking concerned.

  "It's nothing," he said, rubbing his thigh. "I'm fine."

  Isis tutted. "You must have fallen thirty feet, and onto a hard wooden floor. It would be amazing if you didn't

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  have some injury to show for it. Why can't you men just admit it when you're hurt?"

  "That's a discussion for another place and another time. When we've found the bronze plate. And when we've found Talon."

  "Have it your own way," Isis said. She turned in a slow circle. "This way," she suddenly pointed. Gritting his teeth as he limped after her, Murphy followed farther down the street.

  "We were walking south, then we doubled back to try and shake him off, then he took us off in another direction ... west. So ..." She took a hairpin left, Murphy struggling to keep up, then a right into an alley choked with carts laden with oranges and limes. They squeezed their way through and then they were in a wider street lined with ancient-looking wooden doorways.

  "This is starting to look familiar," Murphy said.

  "I think so too," said Isis. "Which means round that corner should be an archway, and through it ..."

  They hurried around the corner. There indeed was a low arch. They exchanged glances and ducked under the arch, entering a tiny courtyard littered with rusting motorcycle parts.

  "Did I ever tell you you're a genius?" Murphy exclaimed.

  "Not nearly often enough," Isis replied with a grin. She pointed at a door that had once, many years ago, been painted blue. "Come on, this must be the one."

  Murphy rapped on the door, then stood back and waited. He rapped again, louder. Still there was no sound of anyone inside the house.

  Then he heard the unmistakable noise of a gun being

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  racked and he looked upward. A blond man with a thin beard was leaning out of a second-story window, pointing a pump-action shotgun. Murphy knew there was no chance of escape. The field of fire was too wide.

  "What do you want here?" the man shouted.

  Murphy walked in front of Isis. If the man fired, perhaps he could at least shield her from the blast. "We're looking for someone. A big man. Gray hair, wears a long leather coat."

  "My brother, Amin."

  "Yes, do you know where we can find him?"

  "Sure. But you'll need to take a shovel if you want to talk to him. I buried him a week ago."

  Isis gasped. She had experienced too many deaths in the last few days. "I'm sorry. We didn't know."

  "How do I know it wasn't you who killed him?" asked the blond man. "Maybe I should take my revenge now."

  Murphy held his hands up. "Look, if we'd done it, why would be looking for him now? We had no idea."

  The blond man thought about it for a moment, then disappeared back inside. A few moments later the door opened and he beckoned them across the threshold at gunpoint.

  The room was exactly as they remembered it. The only difference was the dull reddish stain against one wall. Isis tried not to think about what it meant.

  The blond man gestured for them to sit.

  "Why are you looking for my brother?"

  "He had some artifacts, some things he claimed were taken from Noah's Ark. They came from the museum," explained Murphy. He was careful not to say stolen from the museum. "He offered to sell them to us, but when

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  we came back the next day he was gone. Or that's what we thought."

  "Gone, yes, and to hell probably," said the blond man, spitting noisily on the floor. "Someone else wanted these things, I think. Someone who didn't want to pay for them."

  "They're gone?" Isis asked.

  The blond man waved his arm. "See for yourself."

  With one eye on their host, Isis and Murphy carefully searched the room. There was no doubt about it. The bronze plate was gone.

  "So now he has all three," Murphy said forlornly.

  "Who? You know the man who did this?" asked the blond man, his voice urgent.

  Murphy nodded.

  "Can you tell me what he looks like?"

  An image of Talon's long, pale face with its dark eyes suddenly sprang into Isis's mind, as sharp as a photograph. "That won't be a problem," she said.

  "But what good would it do?" Murphy asked. "He isn't in Erzurum any longer, you can bet your bottom dollar on that."

  "Our family, it is very big. I have cousins all over Turkey. If this man is still in the country, we can find him."

  Murphy thought he knew what kind of "family" the blond man was referring to. "I understand. Let's make a deal. If we give you a description of this man, you must promise to tell us if anyone in your ... family finds him. I want to deal with him myself."

  The blond man stroked his chin for a few moments, cradling the shotgun in his lap. "Then you must make me a promise. If you catch him, you must kill him."

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  Murphy bit his lip, contradictory emotions flooding through him. Isis looked at him, wondering what he was going to say. She knew how powerful was the instinct for revenge when a loved one had been killed, but could he make such a promise as a Christian?

  "I promise," Murphy said.

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  FIFTY

  IT WAS EARLY in the morning when they first heard the sound. Dressing quickly, Noah's family gathered on the walkway above the third floor. They forced open one of the windows, only to be blown back by a fierce wind. The window slammed shut in their faces .

  "What is happening, Father?" asked Ham. "The waters have been calm ever since the tops of the mountains disappeared under the waves. Is God angry about something? Have we done something wrong? We've worked hard to look after the animals."

  "I don't know," Noah answered. "We are in God's hands. Surely He will tell us if we have failed to do His will."

  The whole family closed their eyes in prayer as they listened to the wind howling outside the ark .

  The winds continued unabated, day after day. Then one morning Noah heard Japheth call out excitedly, "Father, come 371 quickly. Look out the window. Over there. Do you see the top of the mountain?"

  Noah stroked his long beard and nodded. "I think I know why God has sent the strong winds. He is drying out the sea. The waters are receding."

  As the days went by, more land emerged from the waters, mountaintops peeking through in all directions. They began to hope that they would soon set foot on dry land again .

  Then one day they heard a massive grinding sound, and the ark came to a halt .

  Rushing to the third floor walkway, they crowded around one of the windows. The sight took their breath away .

  "Look!" shouted Ham. "We're not floating anymore! Look outside! We're on a mountain." And indeed, the great boat was wedged at the bottom of a gulley on a rock-strewn mountainside. It seemed as if they only had to reach out their hands and they could touch things they'd only dreamed about for so long: earth, rocks, dirt .

  "The waters have indeed greatly receded," said Noah with a smile. He put his hand on Japheth's shoulder. "But we must be sure the earth is ready again to receive all the animals."

  "How will we know?" asked Ham impatiently .

  "We will send out a raven to see if it can find a resting place," replied Noah .

  Japheth fetched one of the ravens from its cage. He held his hand over its eyes until he was leaning right o
ver the deck, then flung it into the air. The raven squawked loudly, as if it had forgotten how to fly, then with a few strong beats of its wings it disappeared up into the sky .

  They waited eagerly, some unable to take their eyes from the horizon. Then a few hours later the raven returned. It had not found land .

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  A week later Noah sent out a dove, but it returned even more quickly than the raven .

  "We've been on this boat for almost a year," cried Naamah. "How much longer must we endure this?"

  "Have patience," said Noah. He knew this was the most difficult time, when the end seemed so near .

  Another week passed, and Noah again sent out a dove. This time the dove returned with a freshly plucked olive branch in its beak .

  Everyone looked to Noah. Was this the sign they had been waiting for? "It won't be long now," he said. "Just a little longer, I am certain of it."

  The third time Noah released the dove, it did not return .

  "Now we can leave the ark," he announced. "Try the door and see if it will open." Ham, Shem, and Japheth eagerly put their shoulders to the door and pushed. They were determined to finally escape the confines of the ark that had been their home for so long it now seemed like a prison .

  To their surprise it opened easily. As the light flooded in, they could see green trees in the valley below. The fresh air was the most wonderful thing they had ever tasted .

  As they laughed and hugged each other, it was Shem who brought them back down to earth. "We will have to rig up the pulleys and lower each other down, along with our tools," he said. "We are going to have to build another ramp to get the animals out of the ark."

  The days passed quickly as they worked at fever pitch, constructing a ramp to the third floor. Then the incredible exodus began. Noah's sons ran along the stalls, opening cages, and two by two the vast sea of living things charged, scurried, flew, scampered, wriggled, and slithered out of the ark and into a fresh new world .