by Tim LaHaye
“The town has certainly grown since we were last here,” Murphy said, looking around.
“Yes, sir. For some reason we’ve had a lot of dignitaries come and visit Babylon. A new hotel is being built, and businesses are moving in. I’ve even heard talk of investors coming into the area and buying up land.”
“Why do you think that is happening?” Isis asked.
“I don’t know for sure, ma’am. I have heard there might be a possibility of the United Nations moving here. But I can’t for the life of me see why. This is not the hottest attraction in Iraq, in my opinion.”
“Yet Babylon does have a long and glorious history,” Isis said. “It was the home of the great King Nebuchadnezzar and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.”
“Yes, ma’am. And maybe it will have a glorious future if enough people get excited about it. In fact, there’s a group of a dozen UN representatives in town now. We’ve been taking them all around. They’ve been looking at water supplies, building sites, and meeting with Iraqi businessmen and government leaders. It looks like they might be serious.”
Bingman turned to Murphy and pointed. “What’s that in the distance?”
“That’s part of the ancient structures near where we’ll be exploring. Look over to your left. You can see the buildings that Saddam was in the process of reconstructing. Some of the arches are forty feet tall. Tomorrow you may get a chance to see the ancient roadway that leads to Babylon. It has a fence on either side to preserve the pavement, which dates back to 400 B.C.”
“Michael, when you were here last, did you have a chance to explore the ruins?” Bingman asked eagerly.
“A little,” Murphy replied. “Most of our efforts were directed at finding Nebuchadnezzar’s golden head.”
“Did you see any of the bricks that had Nebuchadnezzar’s name on them? I’ve read that he had his name on most of the exposed brick surfaces.”
“Yes, I did see his name on many of the bricks. But listen to this. Saddam had his name put on the new bricks that were added to the original foundation. He wanted to get the credit for rebuilding Babylon.”
“Will Colonel Davis be on hand to meet us?” Amram asked the captain.
“No, sir. He’s out on a mission and won’t arrive back until late this evening. He’ll meet you in the morning. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was just wondering if he received my message about borrowing the sonar sled. We used it when we were here last time to find the hollow opening into the chamber where the golden head was found.”
“I believe he did, sir. I know that I saw our men checking it out before I went to Baghdad to pick you up.”
“That’s good news, Captain. That will save us a lot of unnecessary digging.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
ISIS WAS LOOKING forward to an exciting day. She was eager to get started in the hunt for the Handwriting on the Wall.
She was halfway through the mess line for breakfast when she had the eerie feeling that she was being watched. Murphy smiled as he noticed her discomfort.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked, grinning.
“I feel like I’m being stared at.”
“Of course you are. Turn around.”
About two hundred Marines were looking her direction. They smiled in unison when they noticed her looking into the room. It took her a moment to gain composure, she then smiled, waved, and turned around, grabbing her tray.
After getting their food, they turned and looked for a place to sit. Immediately six Marines jumped to their feet, grabbed their trays, and stepped back, waving their arms for them to sit down. Isis flushed but acknowledged their compliment and sat down with the team.
“That’s embarrassing,” she said.
The men laughed.
Murphy, Isis, Bingman, and Amram were deep in conversation about the expedition when all of a sudden the Marines jumped up.
A deep voice shouted, “Attention.”
“At ease, men. Continue eating.”
They turned to see the tanned, rugged face of Colonel Davis. Beneath his aviator shades, his steel blue eyes were sparkling and alert. The muscles on his forearm rippled as he shook hands with everyone, his grip like steel. He was the type of soldier you’d want on your side in a battle.
“Welcome to Babylon,” Davis said. “I’m happy to see that you all arrived safely. I have your sonar sled ready, and I’ve assigned Captain Drake to assist you. He has a platoon of men at your disposal. Please do not hesitate to call on them for any assistance. They’ll instantly respond. These are some of the best Marines in Iraq.”
Murphy was drawn to the colonel’s command presence. He could tell that Davis’s men would follow wherever he led.
“Thank you, sir, we appreciate all that you’re doing to make our expedition a success. When we were here last time, you assisted us with a bulldozer. Would that be available this time?” Murphy asked.
“By all means… except we’ll have to be very careful as we use it. We have strict orders not to damage any ancient artifacts. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to be with you today. I’m scheduled for some meetings with a group from the United Nations.”
“Of course,” Murphy said. “Thank you again for all of your help, Colonel.”
“If Methuselah’s directions are accurate, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find the Handwriting on the Wall,” Murphy said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the three-by-five card that Methuselah had left for him. He read aloud to the group, which now included Marines with shovels who were waiting for orders.
BABYLON-375 METERS DIRECTLY
NORTHEAST OF THE HEAD
Jassim Amram was looking around for the site where they found Nebuchadnezzar’s golden head. “It looks like it’s been covered over since we were last here. I think it is in this general area, We’ll have to use the sonar sled to find the spot.”
Captain Drake had the men sweep the area. It took almost two hours before they found the spot.
“Michael, I will use my compass and pace off three hundred seventy-five meters toward the northeast. Look over there,” Amram said, pointing. “I’ll bet it is very close to those old ruins.”
“Captain Drake, if you and your men could follow Mr. Amram, I think he’ll need some help,” Murphy said.
After several hours of looking, a spot was located and the sonar sled was turned on. The Marines dragged the sled back and forth until it registered a void in the ground. They then dragged the sled in a crisscross fashion to pinpoint the void.
“Dr. Murphy, I think we can use the bulldozer to remove some of this sand. We won’t drive over the void in case it collapses on us. We’ll just drag the sand away.”
“Fine, Captain. I think that’s the safest way to operate.”
The sonar sled estimated the depth of the sand to the point of the void at about eighteen inches. Marines with shovels were brought in to do the more careful digging.
Soon a sound of metal scraping on rock could be heard. Another fifteen minutes of digging exposed the top of a square capstone with a large metal ring on each corner.
Bingman stepped forward. “I’ll bet they put poles through the rings and sets of men lifted it into place,” he exclaimed. “It’s got to be the covering of some type of chamber.”
Murphy called for the backhoe, and chains were attached to the four rings. “This will be a little easier than having teams of men trying to lift it,” he explained, smiling.
Soon the backhoe was lifting the stone. There was a slight hiss, then a musty smell escaped from the opening. Murphy and the team brought their flashlights and shined them down.
“Look,” Isis exclaimed. “A set of stairs! I’ll bet that this was a back entrance. It’s not wide enough to be the main passageway.”
“Let’s go in!” Bingman’s voice was filled with excitement. “I don’t think there’ll be any of Nebuchadnezzar’s guards hiding in this hole.”
&nbs
p; “We still need to be careful,” Murphy cautioned. “We want to be sure that nothing will collapse on us. Captain Drake, you can tell your men to rest while we go exploring.”
“Yes, sir. Are you sure that you don’t want some of us to accompany you?”
“Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Murphy entered the acrid pit first, followed by Isis, Amram, and Bingman. The stairs continued down for about thirty feet and then stopped in a ten-by-ten chamber with about a seven-foot ceiling. Murphy shined his light around.
“Three tunnels split off the chamber. We can go right, left, or straight ahead.”
Bingman’s voice could be heard in the background. “Decisions, decisions, decisions. You choose, Murphy. We can always come back here and try a different one.”
“Did you bring your bread crumbs, Will?”
“No, but I do have my knife, and I can scrape arrows on the wall.”
“That will really preserve the archaeological site,” Isis exclaimed.
“It sure beats getting lost.”
Murphy laughed. “Let’s try it for a while without marking the walls. I think all we’ll have to do is follow our footprints in the dust. Let’s try the tunnel to the right.”
Isis shined her light down to check that she could see her footprints. They were clear in the dust. She felt relieved. She didn’t like the idea of getting lost in a maze of tunnels.
She was about to follow Murphy when something caught her eye—other footprints. They came from the tunnel to the left and entered the tunnel that was straight ahead. They seemed to return to the same direction they came from. “Michael!” she called. “Come back here for a moment. I think I’ve found something.”
Murphy returned and Isis shined her light on the footprints.
Murphy brushed his hand through his hair. “They’re large prints. Probably a man who weighs about two hundred pounds.”
“How would you know that, Michael? Are you Sherlock Holmes?” Amram asked.
“By deduction Dr. Watson. The shoe size is close to my size and I weigh about one ninety-five. The impression created is very similar to mine except for the print pattern on the sole of the boot. And look there! Whoever it is walks with a slight limp. Can you see a little drag mark from the side of the footprint?”
“I beg your pardon, you are Sherlock Holmes. Now tell us who it is and you will win a copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles”
“My guess is that it’s Methuselah. When I was at the Canon City Penitentiary, I talked with an inmate named Tyler Scott. He described Methuselah to me. He said he was about my size and walked with a slight limp. I later received a golden cup from Methuselah. The only way that Methuselah could know about the location of the Handwriting on the Wall and the cup was to have been here before us. I think those are his footprints.”
“It looks like I may owe you a copy of the Baskervilles,” Amram said seriously.
“Well, I’ll collect later. For now, let’s follow these footprints and see where they lead. They’ll be better than bread crumbs or marking on a wall.”
The team followed the tracks for another ten minutes until they came to a spot where the tunnel forked. Tracks came and went out of both of the forks.
“So far, so good, Michael. You pick,” Bingman said.
“Let’s go to the left.”
Another ten minutes of exploring brought them to a flat wall.
“The tunnel ends here,” Isis said, discouraged.
“It seems to end here,” Murphy replied after looking around. “Look at the floor. The prints look like they go under the wall. I’ll bet this is some kind of a back door. Will, you and Jassim help me push on the wall.”
All three men put their shoulders to the wall and pushed. Slowly the wall seemed to pivot to the left and open.
“Well, we’ve learned something else about Methuselah,” Murphy said with a grunt.
“What’s that?” Isis asked.
“We now know that he’s a very strong man. He pushed the wall door open all by himself.”
————
As the team moved through the opening and shined their lights around, they couldn’t believe their eyes.
“This must have been the temple treasury!” Murphy exclaimed. “Look at all the gold and silver. There are hundreds of plates, goblets, cups, and eating utensils.”
Isis was shining her light on the walls. “Look at the ornate golden shields!”
Amram was scooping his hands through some coins. “This is indeed a king’s ransom.” He got out his camera and began to photograph the precious relics.
“It’s an unbelievable archaeological find!” Bingman cried. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”
Murphy looked at one of the golden cups. “I’ll bet this is where Methuselah got the golden cup from.”
“It doesn’t look like he took very much,” Isis said. “Just who is this guy, anyway?”
“Well, I’ve never actually met him, you know, but I have heard him. He laughs with a high-pitched cackling laugh. I know he has a weird sense of humor. He enjoys putting me into life-threatening situations. He must be independently wealthy, because he creates expensive and elaborate traps for me and he doesn’t take any artifacts like the ones that are in this room. He understands the Bible and must believe in stories like Daniel and the lions’ den and Noah and the ark. And he has told me that my training is almost done—whatever that means. Oh, and by the way, I have one of his fingerprints and am trying to see if I can get a match somewhere. That’s about all I know.”
“That’s enough to give someone a nightmare,” Bingman murmured.
“That’s a good way to put it, Will. Methuselah is a nightmare.”
“Well, maybe your nightmare will come to an end if we go back and find out what’s at the end of the other tunnel,” Amram said encouragingly.
FIFTY-NINE
“WE’LL LEAVE the wall door open for now,” Murphy said. “After we explore the other fork in the tunnel, we can return with the soldiers and retrieve the relics in the temple treasury.”
“I can’t believe it hasn’t been looted before now,” Bingman said excitedly. “I feel like a kid in a candy shop. I want to see it all and examine every piece. It’s not every day a person discovers something like this.”
“I know what you mean, Will, but I think it would be good for us to see what else might be down here,” Murphy said indulgently.
It took the expedition team about twenty minutes to retrace their steps back to the fork and then follow the other tunnel, which ended in a dead end.
“This looks like the same type of wall we just came from,” Amram said. “I’ll bet that it too is a secret door.”
“One way to find out,” Murphy said, putting a shoulder to the wall. Even with Bingman and Amram’s help, it didn’t budge. “I know this has to open like the other one,” Murphy said through gritted teeth. “We’ll just have to keep working it loose.”
Finally after forty minutes and a lot of sweat, the wall door gave way. The team stepped into an enormous room. It was so large that their flashlights could not shine through the darkness and reflect off a back wall.
“This is huge!” Amram exclaimed. “Can you believe what they were able to do without modern tools?”
“Look at the stone tables.” Bingman was pointing at a marble table with marble benches; dozens of other tables surrounded him.
“Probably a dining room of some kind,” Murphy concluded, shining his light straight up. “The ceiling looks about sixteen to eighteen feet high. It’s a little hard to tell in this light.”
“Look at the painted murals on the ceiling,” Isis exclaimed, focusing her light off to the left.
“This must be Belshazzar’s banquet hall,” Murphy cried. “I have a feeling that we’re going to discover the Handwriting on the Wall very soon. Jassim, do you have the camera?”
“Of course. That is why you have brought a smart Egyptian
like me along.”
“Let’s spread out and see if we can find anything.”
It wasn’t long before the team could hear Bingman yelling. “Come over here. I think I have found Belshazzar’s throne.”
Murphy was the first reach Bingman. “You may be right,” he said firmly. “Look right there. It’s a raised platform with three steps.”
Murphy walked up the stairs and approached a wall. In front of the wall were the remains of a marble throne surrounded by three smaller thrones.
“I’ll bet this is where Belshazzar and his wives or top officials sat,” Isis said.
“Probably his wives,” Murphy replied. “In Daniel, Chapter Five, it states that he brought golden vessels for his wives and concubines to drink from. They were the golden cups that were taken from the temple in Jerusalem. This desecration was the final straw that caused God to write a message for him on the wall.”
They all shined their lights on the wall behind the thrones.
“I don’t see anything,” Isis said, disappointment evident in her tone.
Murphy told her, “If Belshazzar was sitting on the throne at the time of the writing, I’ll bet it’s on the other side of the room, where he could watch the armless hand scratch a message.”
“Well, let’s go see, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You have been right so far,” Amram said.
The team worked their way to the other side of the room, stepping carefully around broken marble blocks.
“Let’s do this together,” Murphy advised. “Let’s all raise our lights at the same time and see what we might discover. We’re looking for four words in Babylonian script: the words Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”
Four flashlights brightened the ancient wall. It was definitely covered with some type of plaster. Large and small cracks could be seen along with chunks of missing plaster. Everyone was searching for something that looked like a word amid the many cracks.
“Look! To the right,” Amram cried. “Is that part of a word?”