Babylon Rising: The Edge of Darkness

by Tim LaHaye

  It wasn't long before some in the crowd seemed to get really worked up, leaving their seats and running up and down the aisles. They then began to run toward the back and outside around the tent.

  Just out of curiosity, Murphy decided to get up and follow them to see where they went. Wagoner shot Murphy a questioning look as he stepped into the aisle. Murphy gave him the sign that it was okay and that he would return.

  Outside the tent, Murphy saw the people disappearing around the side of the tent. Those inside could hear the excited shouts as they ran around the tent and back inside.

  Murphy started to go back inside but hesitated. He saw a great number of tables that had been set up while everyone was in the tent. There was something on the tables covered with white cloths.

  He walked to one of the tables and lifted the cloth. Underneath

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  was a cash register, credit card machine, T-shirts, sweatshirts, and various literature.

  It looks like they plan to make a killing .

  As he started back into the tent, two bulky men stopped him.

  "Don't do that again!"

  Murphy was caught off guard.

  "Do what?" he replied.

  "You know what. Don't follow the people anymore. And keep your hands off the tables."

  Murphy rejoined Wagoner, who was intently watching how Sonstad kept working the crowd up. Wagoner looked relieved when he saw Murphy come back.

  Sonstad quieted the people and walked around the stage, looking up in the air and nodding his head up and down. It seemed like he was listening to a conversation with an unseen person.

  "Yes, Lord. I am listening." Sonstad began to speak to the sky. "You want to heal someone today. Thank you, Lord. That's wonderful. You say that the man you want to heal is named Clyde ... and that he has a kidney problem. I hear you, Lord."

  The people in the audience were spellbound, watching him seemingly talk to God.

  "You want to heal this man named Clyde tonight if only he will exercise his faith in You."

  Then Sonstad turned to the audience and looked at them.

  "Is there anyone in the audience named Clyde that has a kidney problem?"

  One man stood to his feet waving his arms and tears began to flow from his eyes.

  "Yes, I am Clyde and I have a kidney disease."

  "Please come to the platform," invited Sonstad.

  Clyde came forward and Sonstad met him as he came up the steps of the platform. He then asked him if he wanted to be healed. Clyde said yes, he would like to get rid of the disease that had bothered him

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  for years. Sonstad touched the man on the forehead and he fell backwards. Two of Sonstad's men caught him and eased him to the ground. After a few moments on the ground, the men helped him to his feet. Sonstad then proclaimed him healed and there was much excitement and rejoicing in the audience.

  Murphy leaned over to Wagoner and whispered, "I'd like to see a doctor verify that healing."

  Wagoner was shaking his head.

  "That man is Clyde Carlson. He has recently started attending our church. I'll talk to him later."

  Sonstad spoke for a few moments about healing and then took an offering. Sonstad's workers collected the money in large containers.

  After the offering Sonstad continued his conversation with God and healing more people. Then long lines of people wanting to be healed flowed up to the stage. They, too, were touched and would fall to the ground. This process continued for another hour, accompanied by rousing organ music.

  The meeting finally ended and the people began to disperse. Murphy and Wagoner remained behind.

  "What did you think of all of that, Michael?"

  "It was quite a show. However, I think there's more here than meets the eye. Something's not quite right. Let's get the car and see if we can follow Sonstad."

  "What do you expect to find?"

  "I'm not sure. But my gut tells me that this whole program is not on the level. I think his actions could give honest ministers a bad reputation. Remember that the Bible suggests that in the last days there will be many false teachers and prophets that will lead many people astray."

  Murphy and Wagoner had to wait about fifteen minutes before Sonstad and a number of his workers left the tent and got into a black limousine with tinted windows.

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  Murphy gave them a small lead and then began to follow the limousine. He had not driven far when a large SUV suddenly pulled right in front of him and stopped. Murphy had to slam on his brakes to avoid a collision.

  A moment later, a second SUV pulled up behind him, boxing him in. The doors of both SUVs opened and a half dozen large men got out and surrounded Murphy's car.

  "What's going on, Michael?"

  "I get the feeling they don't want us to follow Sonstad, Bob."

  "Do you think we're in any danger?"

  "They're a mean-looking bunch, but I think they'll just block us from following him. They can't risk any bad publicity that would get into the newspapers. As it stands now, it would just be our word against theirs. How could we prove anything?"

  The large men surrounded Murphy's vehicle and pushed down repeatedly on the hood and the trunk. The car rocked back and forth, jostling Murphy and his nervous passenger.

  "Michael ..." Bob said.

  "Don't worry. They're just trying to intimidate us."

  The shaking stopped. One of them pointed through the window at Murphy and shook his head menacingly. Murphy just glared back at him. After a few more seconds of this staring contest, they got back into their SUVs and drove off.

  "This confirms my gut feeling. I think we need to come back again. Are you up to it, Bob?"

  "You bet I am. We need to find out what is going on here. It looks like this whole meeting is planned around selling products and taking offerings. Even though there is a lot of God talk, I agree that this whole thing is a sham."

  "Good, because I've got an idea," Murphy said. "I think I know how to expose J. B. Sonstad."

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  EIGHTEEN

  MURPHY'S CELL PHONE began to ring as he drove into the teacher's parking lot at Preston University. He glanced at the caller I.D. display and smiled.

  "Good morning, Levi. To what do I owe the pleasure?" "Michael, I've got some good news and I've got some better news." Murphy laughed as he got out of his car and started to walk. "Far better than bad news and worse news. Fire away. What's the good news?" "The good news is ... if you can break away around twelve o'clock, I'll buy you lunch."

  "I'm free. Where would you like to meet?"

  "How about the Shaw Towers Dining Room? I'm--working on

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  some security issues with the owners there and part of our deal is free lunches for me and any guests."

  "Aha, now I understand your generous offer to treat."

  "You know I was born in Israel," said Abrams, and they both laughed.

  "Okay, so what's the better news?"

  "I think I've discovered who the mysterious Methuselah is."

  Murphy stopped in his tracks and his jaw fell open. He stood in stunned silence for several seconds.

  "Hello? Michael? Are you there?"

  He finally recovered enough to speak. "That's ... that's great! Who is he?"

  "At lunch, Michael. At lunch."

  "Are you kidding? You drop this bombshell, and now you're going to keep me in suspense until lunch?"

  "That's the idea, Michael."

  It was hard for Murphy to concentrate on his class lectures. Methuselah's true identity was a mystery he'd been trying to solve for years. And now Levi had the answer.

  Even though he had never actually gotten a good look at Methuselah, Murphy did know a few details about him. He knew that he was a large, gray-haired man in his sixties who walked with a limp. Tyler Scott, a prisoner at the Cannon City Penitentiary, had shared that information with him. He knew that he had a habit of clicking his tongue and also had a high, cackl
ing laugh--that sadistic sound that had taunted Murphy on numerous occasions.

  He also knew that Methuselah had a vast amount of knowledge about the Bible and biblical artifacts. And he knew that he had to be very wealthy to be able to plan the types of elaborate games and tests of skill that he had put Murphy through.

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  Levi was waiting outside the restaurant when Murphy arrived. They shook hands, went inside, and sat down at a table.

  "Well?" said Murphy.

  "Well, what?" replied Levi with a big smile on his face.

  "Who is he?"

  "Let's order lunch first."

  "You really know how to torture a man, don't you, Levi? Did they teach you that in the Mossad?"

  "Yes, and much more. Demolitions, marksmanship, mind control..."

  "Okay, okay. I give up."

  "So easily? Just when I was having so much fun."

  Murphy made an exasperated sound, but they ordered their meal, and at last Abrams became serious.

  "The fingerprint you sent me was a right index finger. I ran it through all of our criminal files and came up empty I then ran it through our civilian files and found a match."

  "Is he an Israeli?"

  "Actually, he's an American who has dual citizenship ... as well as Taiwanese citizenship."

  "That sounds strange."

  "It gets stranger. According to our records, he, his wife, and three children were on an Israeli plane that was blown up in 1980."

  "I vaguely remember that."

  "As I dug deeper, I found out that he and his family were on their way from New York City to Tel Aviv for a vacation. Also on the plane were some up-and-coming Israeli leaders. It is our belief that a terrorist group wanted them dead and smuggled a bomb on board. Methuselah and his family were just innocent passengers that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "How did he survive?"

  "The bomb was detonated while the plane was on its final approach

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  into the Tel Aviv airport. We believe the terrorists were hoping that the pilot would lose control and crash into the terminal building, killing thousands of people. However, it didn't happen that way.

  "Sounds like the attacks on the Twin Towers in New York."

  "Similar ... except no one tried to take control of the plane. The terrorist was a suicide bomber. The bomb exploded near the right wing, blew out the side of the plane and caught the engine on fire. The whole plane dipped to the right but the pilot was able to stabilize it and bring it in for a landing."

  "Heck of a pilot."

  "He was, but even so, he overshot the runway and skidded across a road and into a field. They might have made it if it weren't for a steel transmission tower. The left wing caught it and sent the plane into a spin. The plane spun into another tower, breaking off the rear section of the plane. Methuselah's seat was near that area. He and about a dozen people were tossed out of the plane while still in their seats. He was one of only three survivors."

  "What happened to the rest of the passengers?"

  "The plane burst into flames, and everyone in the front of the plane, including Methuselah's family, was burned alive. Those in the broken-off rear section were electrocuted when the electrical transmission lines dropped on the plane."

  "Tragic."

  "It was a terrible disaster. Our records indicate that Methuselah was in a Tel Aviv hospital for nearly three months recuperating."

  Murphy thought about Laura, and the pain he had felt at losing her. He felt a strange kinship for Methuselah, having lost his wife and three children. But he still wanted answers.

  "So who is he?"

  Levi leaned in close and spoke quietly. "Have you ever heard of the Zasso Steamship Lines, the Zasso Bank of International Trade, or Zasso Enterprises, Inc.?"

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  "Who hasn't? The Zasso companies must be worth billions."

  "The fingerprint you gave me matches Markus M. Zasso. He is the owner and president of all the Zasso corporations. He survived the plane crash. And get this: His middle initial 'M' stands for Methuselah."

  "Are you sure about all this? Where did he get a name like Methuselah? Zasso is an Italian name."

  "I thought you might ask. I found out that Methuselah inherited the steamship lines and all of the other companies from his father, Mario Zasso. During the 1930s and 1940s, Mario Zasso became very wealthy in shipping and international trade. His ships were used by the United States in the Pacific during World War II."

  "What about the name Methuselah?"

  "I'm not sure, but I think it must have come from his grandfather, Marcello Zasso. The grandfather became a naturalized citizen during the 1920s. He underwent some type of spiritual conversion and joined a theological seminary and later became a missionary to China. His son Mario was born in Taiwan. I think that the grandfather must have had a strong influence on his son and on his grandson. Maybe that's the source of Methuselah's interest in the Bible and biblical artifacts."

  "Makes sense. And his wealth gave him the opportunity to study about archaeology. I guess he got bored and had nothing to do but set up traps for me to escape from."

  "There may be more to it than that, Michael. There must be some method to his madness. Markus Zasso does not do things haphazardly. He is a hard-driven businessman that has something he wants to accomplish."

  "Did you find out anything else about him?"

  "Well, obviously he owns homes and businesses around the world. He even owns a chain of fancy hotels in exotic places. But did you know that he also owns a home about two hundred twenty miles from Raleigh?"

  "Here in North Carolina?"

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  "No. Down at Myrtle Beach."

  "Do you have the address?"

  "It's an out-of-the-way estate off Arrowhead Road, just off of North Kings Highway and south of Briarcliffe Acres and the Dunes. It's between the Arcadian Shores Golf Club and the Dunes Golf and Beach Club." He smiled. "You want me to draw you a map?"

  "I don't think that will be necessary."

  "I assume you plan to pay him a visit?"

  "The thought had occurred to me. But I'll bet he's pretty well protected."

  "That's putting it mildly. He's better protected than Howard Hughes ever was. He always has highly paid bodyguards close by. You can't get within fifty feet of the guy. He makes anyone bringing his meals taste the food ... just in case there's poison in it."

  "It's probably impossible to get into his estate then."

  "Pretty much. But there is still one possibility. Every day, he likes to go down to the beach and sit in a lawn chair and look at the ocean."

  "How did you find that out, Levi?"

  "We have our ways."

  "Do you also have ways of obtaining a recent photograph of him?"

  "As a matter of fact, I do. What's it worth to you?" he said with a smile.

  Murphy counted the money in his thin wallet. "How about a dollar fifty?"

  "That's just the price I had in mind."

  Abrams pulled out a picture of Methuselah sitting in a lawn chair on the beach, surrounded by six large bodyguards. They were in swim shorts and Hawaiian shirts, with telltale bulges under their armpits.

  "Do those bulges under the shirts mean what I think they mean?"

  Levi nodded. "Most of them carry automatics. They are very well paid for what they do, and they take their job seriously. Even if you didn't recognize Methuselah from a picture, the small army of bodyguards would probably tip you off."

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  "Since he has so many homes around the world, do you know whether he would be there now or not?"

  "Our sources indicate that he has been there for the last twenty days. We have no way of knowing how long he will remain there. He has his own private jet, and several assistants that travel with him and help to keep his business running smoothly."

  "I probably couldn't get close to him anyway. He'd recognize me."

  "Has he ever met you
in person? Close up, I mean."

  Murphy considered this. "Not exactly. But he might have pictures of me."

  "He probably does. Even so, I'll bet that you could get real close to him."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because you have the element of surprise. He thinks he's safe and no one knows who he is. You can exploit his false sense of security. In the Mossad, we use the element of surprise to throw the enemy off balance. Remember the raid on Entebbe in Uganda, when they hijacked an Israeli airliner and held the passengers hostage? No one expected us to sweep into a foreign country and rescue the prisoners. They were taken completely off guard. I think you could do the same thing with Methuselah."

  "That's a thought, Levi. There's nothing I would like better than to leave right now and go confront him. But I have a few things to do first. You were right. You had some good news and some better news. Maybe I can put an end to the life-threatening bouts with Methuselah."

  The food arrived and Levi dug in. "So who says there's no such thing as a free lunch?" he said between mouthfuls.

  Murphy wasn't sure if he was talking about the food or the priceless information he'd just received.

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  NINETEEN

  MURPHY PULLED INTO the twenty-four hour parking lot at the airport. He let out a sigh as he got out of his car. He didn't like the idea that he would only be able to spend part of the day with Isis. His schedule just permitted him to book a quick turnaround flight to Washington and back to Raleigh late that same night.

  He longed to spend more time with her. Ever since their time together searching for Noah's Ark on Ararat and their hunt for the Handwriting on the Wall in Babylon, he had found himself thinking about her constantly. It was wonderful to begin to care about another person. He still wore his wedding band, a reminder of Laura. But maybe it was time ...

  When he was settled in his seat, and the plane began its ascent,