Babylon rising: the secret on Ararat

by Tim F. LaHaye

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  Only the sacrificial animals remained. Noah and his family stepped out onto the sweet-smelling earth and immediately built an altar. They thanked God that their ordeal was over at last and their new life could begin .

  They walked around slowly at first, unused to having solid, unmoving ground beneath their feet, not quite believing that it was real .

  "What's that in the sky?" asked Achsah, pointing to the east .

  Everyone turned and looked. Their mouths opened in wonder as they beheld the multicolored beauty of a great arc framing the sky .

  Noah smiled. "That is a rainbow. It is a promise to us from God that He will never again bring a flood to cover the earth. It will be a reminder to all of our generations of His faithfulness and mercy."

  "Father, should I bring the things from the chest?" asked Shem .

  "No, son. Not yet. We must first see where we shall live. We need to explore the new country below. But we will return someday soon for the golden box of Tubal-cain and the bronze plates."

  "What shall we call this place, Father?" asked Japheth .

  Noah thought for a moment, looking out over the majestic landscape of rock and stone, with trees and grass farther down in the valley. "We will call it Ararat."

  Hagaba leaned over to Naamah and whispered in her ear .

  "We shall also call it the place where you found out that you will soon become a grandmother."

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  FIFTY-ONE

  JOHN BARTHOLOMEW KNEW he was breaking one of his own unwritten rules, but the circumstances seemed to demand it. Most of the time, each member of the Seven led a perfectly normal life, whether as a banker, lawyer, churchman, or general. No one would guess that they were part of a conspiracy that aimed to destroy the world monetary system, the rule of law, the Christian church, and the military power of sovereign nations. When they came together, it was only at the castle, and only their most trusted lieutenants witnessed their meetings or even knew they were taking place. It was imperative that no one associated these seven people with one another. So outside the confines of the castle they were forbidden from ever meeting, unless by chance their business brought them together fleetingly.

  But they were getting so close to their goal, so close to

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  total triumph, he felt he could relax the rules a little. Surely whatever happened, no one could stop them now.

  He planted his ski poles firmly in the snow and looked back down the gentle slope. General Li was quickly closing the distance between them with firm strides, closely followed by Mendez, red-faced and sweating but clearly determined not to be beaten by his much fitter fellow conspirator. Sir William Merton's portly frame was unmistakable at the back of the group, gliding effortlessly over the snow as if by some diabolical magic. Another man and two women trudged along in front of him, completing the Seven.

  Bartholomew waited until they had all caught up with him on the ridge. The thin-faced, red-haired woman was about to make a comment about wasting valuable time, not to mention effort, when there were still important things to be done--when she glimpsed the view.

  In front of them a vast glacier stretched down into the valley below, and beyond that a towering fortress of dark stone thrust up into the clouds, like a skyscraper built by an ancient race of giants.

  "Magnificent, isn't it?" Bartholomew intoned.

  "Sure, sure," came a harsh Brooklyn accent. "Very pretty. Now, what's this all about?"

  Bartholomew smiled indulgently. "I have brought you all here because I wanted an appropriate setting for what I have to announce."

  There was a hush as they waited for more. Then a heavyset woman with blond hair broke the silence impatiently.

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  "It's true, then! They have found the potassium forty. We have the key to eternal life in our grasp!"

  Bartholomew shook his head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, my dear. I know you were hoping to preserve those lovely features for future generations to admire. And perhaps it shall be so. But that was not what Talon found on the ark."

  "Then what did he find?" asked Merton, intrigued.

  "Something that will be of incalculable value in the next phase of our operation. A technology that will enable us to control all of the world's energy supplies--that will make oil a thing of the past. Imagine the power that will give us. It could bring forward the achievement of our goal by years!"

  "And this was on the ark?" said General Li incredulously.

  "Indeed," said Bartholomew. "It would seem our friend Noah was much more than just a zookeeper. He was the master of some ancient but highly sophisticated technologies. Processes that were lost when he left the ark."

  "And Talon now has them?" said Merton.

  Bartholomew nodded. "He is on his way back."

  "How soon will he get here?" said Mendez.

  "He is taking a cautious route. He cannot risk being intercepted. He was forced to terminate one of our friends from the CIA. We must anticipate that they will use all of their resources to track him down." He turned to the red-haired woman. "You will rendezvous with him in Romania."

  She nodded. "What about the other members of the expedition team? Who else knows about this technology?"

  "Talon reports that every member of the team has

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  been eliminated, with one exception--the woman, Isis McDonald. But she is no threat to us. He will deliver the ark's secret to us before tying up that particular loose end."

  Merton looked thoughtful. "Murphy's dead, then?"

  "And buried. Under a thousand tons of ice and snow. Along with Noah's little boat, I might add. Talon has done exceptionally well, don't you think? The ark has been destroyed."

  Merton smiled. "And the story of Noah will perish with it."

  "Amen to that," the red-haired woman laughed.

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  FIFTY-TWO

  THE FAT MAN SCRATCHED his stubble and carefully unfolded the crumpled sheet of paper, revealing a pencil drawing of a long-faced man with thin lips and intense, dark eyes. It was only a sketch, but the contained ferocity of his expression burned off the page.

  On the other side of the table in the smoky back room of the bar, Murphy and Isis waited patiently.

  The fat man looked at the drawing closely, then held it at arm's length, as if it was one of those optical illusions that reveal a different picture if you look at them a certain way.

  Finally the fat man slapped his palm on the table, almost knocking over a half-finished glass of raki. "My cousin has seen him. And another man. They travel together, I think. In a boardinghouse near the docks." He peered again at the sketch. "This is a very dangerous man. It is best if you let us take care of him for you."

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  Murphy looked at him steadily. "Amin's brother promised that you would leave him to us."

  The fat man shrugged, as if it was of no concern to him. "As you wish. But a man like this, he is like a wolf that must be killed quickly. Show him mercy and he will tear your throat out."

  Murphy nodded solemnly. "We know what he is. And what has to be done. So where do we find him?"

  "He will not be in Istanbul for very long," the fat man said. "He and his friend have booked passage on the Arcadia sailing to Constanta, Romania. The ship is leaving this afternoon. It will sail through the Strait of Bosporus and into the Sea of Marmara. It will eventually reach the Black Sea and sail on to Romania."

  Isis was puzzled. "Why is he taking a pleasure cruise? Why doesn't he just get on a plane?"

  "Because that's what we'd expect him to do," Murphy said. "Who would think of looking for him on a boat?"

  "Maybe there's some significance about Romania too," she added.

  "Maybe. Whatever it is, we have to make sure he doesn't get there and hand over the bronze plates to his masters." Murphy leaned across the table. "How can we get on the boat?" he asked.

  The fat man smiled, showing a mouthful of gold teeth, then pulled an enve
lope out of the pocket of his leather jacket and put it on the table.

  "Your tickets," he said. "Have a pleasant trip."

  The sun was going down as Isis and Murphy approached the docks, turning Istanbul into a romantic

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  realm of minarets and winding alleyways. For a moment, Isis imagined what it would be like to spend time there alone with Murphy. It would be a perfect place for them, a city brimming with history, just asking to be explored. They could discover its treasures together, and then perhaps they'd be able to find each other too.

  Seeing the ship suddenly looming in front of her, Isis snapped out of the fantasy and back to the present. They were not about to go on a romantic vacation. They were about to step onto a boat where two killers were waiting for them.

  The last passengers were hurrying up the gangplank, and Murphy broke into a jog. "Come on, Isis, we have to hurry."

  As they stepped onto the deck, Isis brought her sun hat lower over her face. Her red hair was tucked out of sight and a pair of sunglasses covered her eyes, but she was still desperately afraid that Talon would recognize her before they spotted him. As for Murphy, as far as she could tell, he was trusting mostly to the fact that Talon was convinced he was dead. "He's arrogant," he explained to her. "He won't believe that he might have messed up." Even so, she insisted he wear his baseball cap low over his face until they got to their cabin.

  Once inside, she bolted the door, then stacked a chair against it, just in case. Murphy looked at her quizzically. "We're looking for him , remember?" he said, trying to brighten her mood. But it didn't work. She went and sat on one of the twin beds.

  "So what do we do now?"

  Murphy sat on the other bed and put his hands behind

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  his head. She had an awful feeling he was preparing to take a nap.

  "We wait," he said.

  "Wait? Until when?" She could hear her voice beginning to sound slightly hysterical.

  "Talon's a hunter," Murphy said quietly. "And like most hunters, he's more at home in the dark. I think that's when he feels most comfortable. He's also a loner. Crowds aren't his style. I think he'll stay in his lair until most of the passengers and crew are asleep. Then he'll come out to play."

  Isis looked at her watch. It was going to be a long wait. She watched as Murphy pulled a battered leather-bound Bible out of his rucksack, turned to the front, and began to read.

  When she felt the hand shaking her, she had no idea where she was. The gentle motion of the boat riding the swell had soothed her into a deep sleep, and she was currently imagining herself striding through the thick heather with her father, on their way to climb some favorite Highland peak.

  Then she saw Murphy's face, and his expression of icy determination brought her back to the present.

  To Talon.

  They opened the door of the cabin and stepped out into the corridor. Apart from the noise of the engines, all seemed quiet. They climbed a steep flight of steps leading up to the main deck and Murphy poked his

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  head out of a narrow doorway. After a few moments he motioned to Isis to follow him onto the deck.

  "No sign of them."

  It was the middle of the night, but a few couples were strolling hand in hand or leaning against the railings and gazing out into the darkness. A sudden laugh made Isis clutch Murphy's arm. One of the couples swayed drunkenly against the railings.

  Murphy pushed her forward gently. "Still too crowded for Talon, I reckon. Let's see if we can find a quieter spot."

  They walked back along the rail, Isis starting at every little sound, until they reached the stern. The deck dropped down to a lower level, and a guardrail prevented passengers from going any farther. Murphy peered over at the lower deck. Empty. Isis breathed a sigh of relief. She prayed that Talon and Whittaker weren't on the boat at all, that somehow the Turkish mafiosi had gotten to them first. She didn't know what she would do if she had to come face to face with Talon again. All she was certain of was that she had to stay at Murphy's side, no matter what.

  She was about to suggest that they go back to their cabin and make another plan when she felt Murphy's finger pressing against her lips. Her eyes widened as she looked in the direction he was pointing.

  Thirty feet above them, perched on the very top of the ship's superstructure next to a radio mast, a dark figure was crouched like a cat waiting to pounce on a bird.

  Her heart beating furiously, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Gradually more detail came into

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  view. Talon was facing to starboard, looking out over the sea. He didn't seem to have spotted them.

  Murphy motioned for Isis to stay where she was. He pointed upward.

  She shook her head vigorously. No! she wanted to scream, her eyes wide with fear. Murphy gave her an intense look, one that seemed to penetrate deep inside her, and she knew there was no point arguing. After a few moments she nodded. Tears welled up and she let them fall as she watched him moving stealthily around to the other side of the ship and disappearing up a ladder.

  She closed her eyes, trying to make herself invisible, not daring to move a muscle in case a sudden noise alerted Talon to their presence. Leaning back against the guardrail, she could feel her whole body begin to shake.

  Come on! Get a grip! she told herself angrily.

  She willed her eyes to open and looked up.

  Talon was gone.

  She gasped, then quickly put her hand over her mouth. He must have seen them. She had to warn Murphy somehow. She thought of following him up the ladder but felt too shaky. Maybe she should just scream as loud as she could. Or was that the worst possible thing she could do? She bit her lip, drawing blood. She couldn't think.

  She heard a soft thud, like a cat landing on a carpet, and Talon was standing right in front of her, his gray eyes glinting in the darkness.

  "Will wonders never cease," he purred. "I was just trying to figure out when I was going to catch up with you and shut your pretty mouth before you tell any silly

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  tales about Noah's Ark--and here you are. Almost makes you believe in miracles, doesn't it?"

  He took a step forward, and a shiver traveled through her body.

  "If you don't know already," he continued, "I have bad news about poor old Murphy. He's rather more than six feet under, I'm afraid. About sixty feet under, I would say. Still, he got to see his precious ark in the end, so perhaps he died happy. Let's hope so, eh?"

  She swallowed hard. Where was Murphy? Was he watching at this very moment, waiting for his chance to act? Or was he still trying to sneak up on Talon's original position? If she screamed a warning, would it simply alert Talon to the fact that Murphy was still very much alive? Would it put him in more danger?

  She had to keep Talon talking while she tried desperately to figure out what to do.

  "Where's Whittaker?" she said in a trembling voice.

  Talon laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about him. I sent him on a special assignment. Underwater photography." He narrowed his eyes. "So you saw our little accident with the helicopter, did you?"

  She gulped, trying not to imagine Whittaker sinking down into the murky depths. "What about the bronze plates?"

  He gestured behind him with his thumb. "Up there. Safe in my rucksack."

  "Think again!"

  Talon shoved Isis out of the way as he rushed to the guardrail and looked down. Murphy was sitting on the rail at the stern, holding on with one hand as he dangled a rucksack over the churning wake.

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  "Murphy!" Talon growled. "I should have known you'd come crawling back. I should have put one of those magic swords through your guts when I had the chance!"

  He leaped over the rail onto the deck below and began advancing on Murphy.

  Isis craned forward, her hand to her mouth. What was Murphy doing?

  Murphy held his position, a confident smile on his face. "I guess your em
ployers would be pretty ticked off if you came home empty-handed, wouldn't they? I'd say that would be your end-of-year bonus up in smoke, don't you think? Maybe they'd even terminate your employment." He shook the rucksack, and Talon could hear the bronze plates scraping together.

  Talon was just a few paces away now and advancing more cautiously as Murphy leaned back and dangled the rucksack farther over the abyss.

  Talon stopped and put his hands on his hips. "You wouldn't dare. You know the significance of what's in that rucksack, and you aren't going to throw it overboard. Not after all you and your friends went through to get it."

  "Try me," said Murphy. He loosened his grip and the strap started to slip from his grasp.

  Talon gasped. "No!"

  He rushed forward. Murphy turned his back on him and swung the rucksack, as if he was preparing to hurl it overboard. Talon leaped at Murphy's back, a knife suddenly in his hand.

  Isis screamed.

  Then at the last moment Murphy let go of the strap.

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  Talon changed course and hurled himself over the rail as the rucksack flew out of Murphy's hand. Talon grunted as he got a hand on it, ready to haul it back. Then gravity took over and Isis could see the look of horror on his face as he realized he was going over.

  There was a rush of air, and Talon and the rucksack were gone.

  Isis scrambled down a ladder and buried herself in Murphy's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. They were both shaking. He hugged her hard, overcome with relief. They stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, until eventually she pulled away, smiling through her tears.

  "Were the bronze plates really in the rucksack? Are they really--"

  "Yes," he said. "They're gone."