Babylon rising: the secret on Ararat

by Tim F. LaHaye

  Seated on a bench under the colonnades was a bearded man. He was wearing an earth-colored robe--the sort of rough woolen garment that might belong to a beggar--with a white prayer cloth around his shoulders. There was nothing at all remarkable about his features, but looking at his face somehow made you want to listen to what he was saying. He paused and looked the stranger directly in the eye, as if he was addressing him alone, before continuing .

  "No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left .

  "Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."

  "Who is that man?" the stranger asked the person next to him .

  "Do you not know?" said a short, beady-eyed man with bad breath. "Where are you from?"

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  "I just arrived from Capernaum, next to the Sea of Galilee. I came to pay the annual tribute."

  "That's a man named Jesus. Some people think he is a prophet. Others say he is a rebel trying to start an insurrection against Rome."

  "What's he talking about?"

  The short man scratched his beard. "I'm not sure. It's some strange talk about judgment for sin and the end of the world. It doesn't make all that much sense to me."

  The stranger felt compelled to question him further, even though the man didn't seem to have the answers. "What is he talking about when he says, 'As in the days of Noah'?"

  The man merely shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps the weather's going to turn nasty." He grinned .

  The stranger persisted. "Who is this Son of Man he is talking about? And what does he mean 'So you also must be ready'?"

  But the short man with the beady eyes had slipped away through the crowd and the stranger was left to ponder the mystery of the preacher's words on his own. He gently lowered the boy down to the ground and whispered quietly to himself, as if repeating the words would reveal their meaning: "... because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him...."

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  THREE

  MURPHY PULLED INTO his reserved spot and got out of his car. The walk from the teachers' parking area up the winding path to the Memorial Lecture Hall always pleased him. The tree-covered walkways, beautiful flowers, and lush greenery of the South had a wonderful calming effect. But this time the familiar walk was more agony than ecstasy, as the pain from his various scrapes and bruises began to kick in.

  "What happened to you? You look terrible!"

  Murphy winced as Shari came bouncing down the path toward him. With Laura gone, Shari had taken up the post of chief worrier on his behalf, and he knew she hadn't really believed him when he told her he was going to look up an old acquaintance over the weekend. Well, Methuselah was certainly old, and acquaintance covered a multitude of sins, so he hadn't actually been lying. He'd just neglected to add that this acquaintance

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  happened to be lurking in a dangerous underground cave system in the Great Smoky Mountains.

  He had started to frame a reply that wouldn't get him into more trouble than he was already in, when he was saved by the two pups playfully nipping at Shari's ankles.

  "Who are these little guys?" she asked delightedly, bending down to let them nuzzle her hand.

  "Meet Shem and Japheth. Their owner wasn't really looking after them properly, so I decided to bring them back to Preston with me. I'm hoping we can find them a good, loving home. And in the meantime ..."

  Shari finished his sentence for him. "You want me to look after them. Now, listen, Professor, if you think I'm going to babysit these pups while you go off on some madcap adventure--"

  Murphy held his hands up to interrupt her. "No madcap adventures, Shari. I promise. There's something I want you to take a look at. I want your professional opinion."

  He grinned and she scowled back to show him she didn't buy the flattery. Nevertheless, it was hard to resist. "What is it?" she asked.

  He steered her back toward the lab. "That's what I was hoping you would tell me, Shari."

  While Shem and Japheth noisily emptied a large bowl of water in the corner of the lab, Murphy pulled the chunk of weather-beaten wood out of his briefcase. He knew that as soon as Shari had an archaeological puzzle to solve, she'd be so totally focused on it that she might

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  possibly forget to interrogate him about his weekend activities. At least that was what he was hoping.

  "Well, it's definitely old," she said, putting the wood under a powerful microscope. "It's practically fossilized. But there's something else--a layer of something that's bonded with the surface."

  Murphy clapped her on the shoulder, almost upsetting the microscope on its stand. "I'm beginning to think I know what that is."

  "You do?"

  "Chemar. Zepheth. Kopher . Remember?"

  Shari looked up from what she was doing. "Where did you get this, Professor Murphy?"

  "Never mind that now, Shari. Chemar means to bubble up. Zepheth means to flow. And kopher means to cover or make watertight. Put them together and they form the biblical word for pitch."

  "Pitch?"

  "Bitumen. Asphalt. It bubbles out of the ground in liquid form, and shipbuilders used to spread it over planks to make them watertight. The Bible talks about tar pits in Genesis Fourteen: Ten. Apparently there were a lot of tar pits near Babylon."

  Shari folded her arms. "Sounds like you've been doing some serious Bible study over the weekend, Professor. Anything else you can tell me?"

  "Well, Shari, did you know that pitch was used to cover the papyrus basket that baby Moses was floating in when Pharaoh's daughter found him? Exodus Two: Three."

  "I always wondered how a basket made of reeds stayed afloat."

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  "And the same stuff was used in the construction of the Tower of Babel. It says in Genesis Eleven: Three that they used tar instead of mortar between the bricks."

  Shari was wide-eyed now. He definitely had her attention. "Is this piece of wood something to do with the Tower of Babel?"

  Murphy rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure. The first thing we have to do is find out how old it is. Which means we need the best carbon-dating equipment we can lay our hands on."

  "The Parchments of Freedom Foundation?" asked Shari excitedly.

  "Exactly. If you wouldn't mind just handing me the phone, Shari ..."

  Murphy punched in the number and drummed his fingers on the workbench in anticipation. He didn't even notice Shem and Japheth chasing each other excitedly round his feet.

  "Yeah, hi. This is Michael Murphy at Preston University. Can I speak to Isis McDonald--I mean, Dr. McDonald? Sure, I can hold." He drummed his fingers some more, wondering why he was so nervous. Was it just the excitement over a new archaeological find? Then he heard a familiar voice in his ear, and for a moment he was transported back to the ancient sewers of Tar Qasir and the vision of a crazed fanatic coming at him with a butcher knife.

  "Murphy, is it really you?"

  He snapped back to the present, calmed by her soft

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  Scottish brogue. "Yeah, I think so, Isis. Long time no speak. How have you been doing?"

  "You know me, Michael. Just poring over dusty old manuscripts in my little office. I haven't been in a life-threatening situa
tion since ... well, since the last time I saw you, actually."

  He laughed, picturing her up to her ankles in old books and papers, pushing her red hair out of her eyes as she furiously scanned the chaos for some vital piece of parchment. "I'm glad to hear that, Isis. And I'd very much like to keep things that way."

  "But?" she said good-naturedly.

  "Well, I was hoping you could do me a favor."

  "As long as it doesn't involve traveling halfway around the world and doing battle with a murderous psychopath."

  "Absolutely. I promise." He laughed nervously. "You won't have to leave the building, let alone Washington."

  "So what have you got for me?"

  "A fragment of wood. Old. Very old."

  "And you want to know exactly how old."

  "That's right."

  "And you want to know yesterday."

  "If it's not too much trouble."

  "Of course. Not a problem. Send it over and I'll get right on it."

  "Thanks, Isis. I really owe you. Let me know if there's anything I can do in return."

  After a pause she said, "Next time, don't wait six months before you call me. And don't wait until you need a favor."

  He started to think of how to respond, but the line

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  was dead. He turned to Shari with an awkward smile, suddenly feeling the need to get outside the lab again, to be doing some hard physical work that didn't require too much thought.

  But Shari was gone.

  He caught up with her in the cafeteria. She was sitting on her own in a corner, staring at a mug of coffee. Murphy slid in beside her and put a gentle hand on her arm.

  "Are you planning to drink that, or are you just seeing if you can turn it to stone?"

  She smiled wearily and brushed a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry, Professor Murphy. That wasn't very professional, running out like that. I just needed to be by myself, I guess."

  "Do you want me to go? I don't want to intrude, you know that."

  "It's okay. I guess I need to talk to someone, and who better, right?"

  "Right. So what's been going on?"

  "It's Paul. We had an argument."

  "What about?" He knew Shari and Paul Wallach had been seeing each other for a while, ever since Shari had nursed him back to health after the bomb explosion in the church. They seemed to be very close.

  "Something stupid." She shook her head. "No, not stupid. I just mean it wasn't about us. It was about evolution."

  "Evolution?"

  She nodded. "I don't know who he's been talking to,

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  but he's been reading some books. He keeps quoting someone called Dawkins. He had a copy of Darwin's The Origin of Species and wanted to show me these passages he'd underlined. Things about fossils and how they prove different kinds of animals evolved from one another and weren't all created at the same time the way it says in the Bible."

  "I see. And what did you say?"

  "I told him I didn't have all the answers, but if God created the world, and if God also created science, then the two would be compatible. I mentioned that my research into the early pioneers of evolution showed that many of them were simply trying to force science to fit in with their preconceived view that God didn't exist. So they came up with this theory that species somehow transformed themselves into other species, in order to take God out of the equation. Yet not one valid transitional fossil has ever been found, despite claims to the contrary. And with the discovery of the DNA code, which actually prevents one organism from changing into another organism, the theory of evolution today is in shambles.... Although I doubt you'll hear too many evolutionists admit it, especially after all the trouble they've gone through to get it taught in schools."

  Murphy nodded. "That's a great answer, Shari. Paul's still unsure of where he stands. Knowing you has definitely brought him closer to God, but he's the one who's going to have to step over the threshold, and in his own time." He smiled. "But I think we just may have a little something that could help him on his way."

  Shari looked up. "What do you mean?"

  Murphy tapped his nose conspiratorially. "Let's wait

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  and see what Isis McDonald can tell us about our little piece of wood. If I'm right, it could open Paul's eyes in a big way."

  Over the next few days, Murphy concentrated on getting up to speed with his lecture notes, knowing that Dean Fallworth would be looking over his shoulder, just waiting for an excuse to boot him off campus. Shari, meanwhile, was becoming so infatuated with Shem and Japheth--who seemed to think the whole campus was their private playground--that she was beginning to hope an offer of a good home wouldn't turn up. She and Paul hadn't spoken since their argument, and having the little dogs around her apartment certainly made her feel less lonely. In fact, they had been so successful in distracting her from her problems that when Murphy burst into the lab, waving a letter with the Parchments of Freedom Foundation logo, she didn't at first understand what he was getting so excited about.

  "The carbon-dating results, Shari. Isis has confirmed my theory. This could be one of the most amazing archaeological finds in the history of ... well, the history of archaeology."

  "That does sound pretty exciting," she laughed. "So what did Isis find out? How old is it?"

  "Between five and six thousand years," Murphy declared triumphantly.

  Shari shrugged. "Meaning?"

  "Meaning," said Murphy, drawing it out, "that our little piece of wood might just be a chunk of ... Noah's Ark."

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  Shari jumped out of her chair. "Are you serious? I was holding a piece of Noah's Ark?" She looked down at her hand as if it might be glowing with some special radiance.

  "I can't say for sure yet, but the dates seem about right and it certainly could be a fragment from a boat of some kind. So ..."

  "So, where did you get it? I think you forgot to tell me that part."

  Murphy held his hands up in mock surrender. "Where did I get it? Oh, sure. But listen, Shari, when I tell you, you've got to remember that this could be one of the most important biblical artifacts ever discovered. And I think it says somewhere in the Bible, 'No pain, no gain,' right?"

  "Not in any Bible I've read," said Shari, folding her arms.

  Murphy sighed. "There's no fooling you, is there? You remember that FedEx package?"

  She frowned. "From Methuselah ... the one with the map. Oh, my goodness--the Cave of the Waters! I thought you said you were--"

  "I didn't want you worrying, is all. Listen," he continued, hoping to distract her from the uncomfortable facts of his ordeal in the cave, "the first clue was the three Hebrew words for pitch. God told Noah to cover the ark with pitch, inside and out. The second clue was the Cave of the Waters. After the Flood, of course, the face of the earth was covered by water, leaving only Noah and his family to survive."

  "Don't forget all the animals," said Shari.

  "Right. Shem and Japheth. Two little dogs. God told

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  Noah to take two of every kind of animal into the ark so they'd be saved."

  "But in case you hadn't noticed, Professor Murphy, Shem and Japheth are two little boy dogs," Shari said with a smile. "Didn't God ask Noah to take male and female animals with him?"

  "You're right. Methuselah was cutting corners a little bit there. But he made his point. He was trying to tell us that the biblical artifact at stake had something to do with the ark. Which is why I named our two little friends Shem and Japheth--after two of Noah's sons."

  "If it really is a piece of the ark, where on earth do you think Methuselah found it?"

  "Not in Tennessee. I think we can be sure of that," said Murphy. "Traditionally, the ark is supposed to have finally come to rest on Mount Ararat, in Turkey. Plenty of people have looked for it over the years, but no one's ever been successful. Methuselah seems to be telling us to go get it."

  Shari looked thoughtful. "Which leaves one more thing: Why di
d Methuselah write the word Babylon on the package?"

  Murphy put his hands on Shari's shoulders. He couldn't hide the truth from her. They'd been through too much together. Sadly, Shari knew as well as anyone how evil was present and active in the world.

  "I think it was a warning. He's telling us not to forget about the Seven."

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  FOUR

  AS MURPHY DROVE into the church parking lot, the first thing he saw was the new sanctuary, gleaming pristine white against the blue sky. Its physical beauty struck him, but it was also a powerful symbol of community and shared faith. And yet, looking at it, he couldn't help remembering that terrible night when a massive explosion had turned Preston Community Church into a vision of hell.

  He put his beat-up Dodge in park and stared off into space. He remembered with extraordinary clarity the moment before the bomb went off. That last fragile second of normality. He was sitting between Shari and Laura. Shari was agitated because Paul Wallach, a transfer student from Duke, was supposed to have met her at the church. She'd hoped it would be the first step in bringing him to a personal experience of Christ, and now she was worried that she'd frightened him off, that

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  she should have taken things more slowly. Little did she know that he was in the basement of the church, right under their feet, lying injured. And there too was her wayward brother, Chuck. Already dead. But later found to have set the bomb.

  For some reason he could never recall the moment of the explosion. Only the aftermath--the flames, the crashing timbers, the smoke, the screaming, and then Laura collapsing and the paramedics rushing her to hospital. In his mind he was there, sitting by her bed, surrounded by life-support machines, praying as hard as he knew how.