02 The Secret on Ararat (3 page)

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
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
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.”

“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
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 situation 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
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,
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
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.”

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
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 did 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.”

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
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.

And then a word rose unbidden to his lips and he found himself whispering, “Talon.”

The knocking at his window startled him out of his reverie.

“Hello, Michael. Admiring the new building?”

The tanned face of Bob Wagoner was smiling down at him. With his thinning white hair and his slacks and polo shirt, he looked as if he belonged more on the golf course than in the pulpit. And, in fact, Wagoner was often heard to say that you could learn as much about the frailty of human nature and the need to put your trust in a higher power while standing on the first tee with a driver in your hand as you could listening to preachers in church. He’d often tried to persuade Murphy to take up the game, but Murphy doubted he had the spiritual strength to survive a round without bending that driver round a tree.
God designed golf for saints like you
, he joked to Wagoner.

Murphy rolled down the window. “Good to see you, Bob. Thanks for agreeing to meet up. Are you hungry?” Wagoner grinned. “Is the Pope a Catholic?”

Murphy hardly touched his chicken sandwich, but Wagoner finished up his cheeseburger and chili fries and wiped his napkin across his mouth before getting down to business. He waited until Roseanne, the gray-haired waitress who’d been at the Adam’s Apple Diner as long as anyone could remember, refilled their coffee mugs and went back to reading her magazine by the empty counter, then fixed a concerned gaze on his friend.

“So, Michael. What’s on your mind? You look a little beat up, to be honest. What’s been going on?”

Murphy touched a finger to a laceration on his forehead. “Oh, that’s nothing, Bob. A few bumps and bruises are par for the course when you’re digging for artifacts. You know that.”

Wagoner looked thoughtful. “I guess I’ll take your word for it, Michael. So something else is troubling you. Would it help to talk about it?”

Murphy had so wanted to unburden himself. To pour all his feelings out to his friend. But now that the moment had come, he felt tongue-tied, uncertain how to begin.

Wagoner let him take his time. He knew the secret of good counseling was not to be afraid of silence. But as the silence stretched out, he thought Murphy would appreciate some gentle prompting.

“Is it Laura?”

Murphy nodded, then let out a deep sigh. “We’ve
talked about all this before, Bob. And you gave me the best advice anyone could give. To give thanks for the wonderful life Laura and I had, to think about that instead of all the things we never got to do, all the years we wouldn’t be spending together. And to remember all the good she did, which lives on every day in this community. And I do, Bob, I thank God every day for bringing Laura into my life and bringing me so much happiness. But the truth is, at the same time I just can’t believe He let her be taken away. The pain and emptiness just doesn’t get any less, whatever I do.”

Wagoner waited until Murphy was finished, then he reached out and grasped his hand firmly. “I don’t have any easy answers for you, Michael. You know that. But you know God will never leave or forsake us. It may not seem to be getting any easier now, but He will help you through this, Michael. And you’ve got lots of friends praying for you too. Every night Alma and I pray for you and for Shari and the others who were injured in the explosion or who lost loved ones.”

“I know you do, Bob,” Murphy said, tears welling up. “And I appreciate it.” He wiped a hand across his face and attempted a smile. “Just don’t slack off, y’hear?”

“That’s a promise,” said Wagoner, laughing.

Murphy hesitated. “There is one other thing. Talon.”

Wagoner’s face darkened. “The man who killed Laura. And all those others.”

“I’m not sure you could rightly call him a man,” said Murphy through gritted teeth. “And calling him an animal would be an insult to rats and cockroaches. I’ll be honest, Bob. I feel nothing but hatred for that evil—”
He stopped himself from blaspheming. “Hatred and a burning desire for revenge.”

“I’ll be honest too, Michael,” Wagoner said. “If it had been my wife he killed, I’d feel the same. It’s only natural. But I will say this. Don’t let the hatred overpower and control you. If we focus on those we hate, we’re in danger of becoming like them. Easy to say, I know. But it’s the truth. The devil wants us to sink down to his level. We just can’t let that happen. You’ve got to leave the Almighty to deal with the likes of Talon. I sincerely hope that’s the last you ever see of him.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Bob. But I’m not sure I can guarantee our paths aren’t going to cross again.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just a hunch. Maybe nothing. But I’m planning an expedition to search for an important biblical artifact, and I think somebody wanted to give me a warning. A little bit of a heads-up, if you know what I mean.”

Wagoner knew exactly what he meant. Talon. The church bombing. Laura’s death. It was all tied up with the quest for the Golden Head of Nebuchadnezzar, which Murphy had discovered near the ancient site of Babylon. And some very powerful—and evil—people had been determined to get their hands on it.

“All I can say is be careful, then,” Wagoner replied. “You’ve never told me all the details of how you found the head, but I know it was a white-knuckle ride.”

“Maybe one day I’ll write a book about it,” chuckled Murphy. “But right now I think I’m onto something just as big.”

Bob reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “Then I’ll say no more—except may God be with you.
And you might want to take a look at this some time. It’s a quote from a famous preacher. I use it as a reminder. The next time you have a down moment, it might help.”

Murphy slipped the card in his pocket without looking at it.

Wagoner looked over to the counter and waved to Roseanne. She nodded and reached for a pot of coffee. “Say, do you remember that FBI agent Hank Baines?” he asked.

“Sure. Wasn’t he the one who worked with Burton Welsh, the guy in charge of the church-bombing investigation?”

Wagoner nodded. “That’s the fella.”

“What about him?”

“His family has been attending church for the past month and a half. They come every Sunday. They seem quite interested.”

“That’s great. What about Baines, does he come?”

“No, just his wife and daughter. I think their daughter has been in trouble with the law. I asked Shari Nelson if she might spend some time with her. What do you think?”

“That’s a great idea. Shari’s got her own problems with Paul at the moment. But focusing on someone else would probably be good for her. It must be hard to be a law-enforcement officer and have your own child in trouble at the same time. If I remember right, Baines was sort of soft-spoken. He seemed genuinely concerned for people. Unlike his boss. What an arrogant—We bucked heads on several occasions.”

“Welsh is no longer working with the FBI.”

“What did they do? Fire him?” asked Murphy with a smile.

“No, I don’t think so. But I was told he’s now working for the CIA.”

“Good! Maybe I won’t have to deal with him anymore!”

“Let’s hope you have no reason to,” said Wagoner. “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. Back to Hank Baines. He gave me his business card two weeks ago. He asked me to give it to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. He was quite impressed with how you conducted yourself during the investigation. He was even more impressed with how you handled things with Laura. If you remember, he came to the funeral. He said he’d like to talk with you if you could spare him some time.”

“What about?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Here’s his card. Why don’t you give him a call?”

Wagoner glanced at his watch.

“Michael, I need to get going. Could you drop me back at the church? I have a three o’clock appointment.”

“Sure. Thanks again for your time, and your advice. I really appreciate it.”

Wagoner took Murphy’s hand in a strong grip. “Remember what Paul the Apostle wrote in Romans:
We rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts.”

Murphy dropped Wagoner at the church, waited for him to disappear inside, then got out of the car and walked around to the little cemetery. He tried to think about the good times he and Laura had had together. The thought of being near her overcame him. Soon he was looking down at a plaque in the ground.

LAURA MURPHY—SHE LOVED HER LORD

Murphy sat on the grass and began to weep. He wept until no more tears would come. He was not aware of time.

It was the sound of a bird singing in a nearby willow tree that caught his attention. He listened.

Think of the good times
.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card that Pastor Bob had given him at the restaurant.

If finding God’s way in the suddenness of storms makes our faith grow broad—then trusting God’s wisdom in the “dailyness” of living makes it grow deep. And strong. Whatever may be your circumstances—however long it may have lasted—wherever you may be today, I bring you this reminder: The stronger the winds, the deeper the roots, and the longer the winds … the more beautiful the tree.