01 Babylon Rising (14 page)

“This bronze piece, I believe, once we test it out in the lab, will prove to be the tail of the Brazen Serpent, which in your Old Testament was made by Moses in fourteen fifty-eight B.C. The Israelites started complaining about wandering around in the desert for so long and began acts of ‘unbelief’ against God. As punishment for their rebellion, God sent down poisonous serpents to bite the offenders. That got everybody back on track and they prayed and asked Moses for help. He prayed to God, who took mercy on the Israelites and told Moses, ‘Make a fiery Serpent, and set it on a pole; and it shall be that everyone who is bitten, when he looks at it, shall live.’

“Moses interpreted ‘fiery’ as bronze, because he made this Serpent figure and held it up before the afflicted, and those who repented were healed. All of this Serpent symbolism, of course, is a very potent direct line back to the Serpent tempting Eve in the Garden of Eden, which started the world down the road of sin and judgment. And one of these days I’d like to come back and talk about what healed the Israelites. Was it some magical dark power in the bronze snake, or was it the fact that the Israelites recommitted to their faith in God? But Dean Fallworth will start accusing me of being a tent-show preacher if I dare to wander off into issues of faith. Plus, I want to get to my real investigative point today.

“There are two places in history that are recorded in the Bible where this Brazen Serpent makes an appearance. The first is in fourteen fifty-eight B.C., when Moses forms the Serpent for the purpose of healing the Israelites. We then fast-forward to seven fourteen B.C., to the only other time it’s mentioned in the Bible, in II Kings 18:1-5, where, contrary to the First Commandment, the Brazen Serpent becomes a special object of worship.

“The young King Hezekiah, who was one of the most devout kings of Judah, discovers that his people are beginning to adopt the practice of idolatry, which was common among the neighboring tribes. Evidently, this Brazen Serpent had been secretly preserved and used as an object of worship. Some people even attributed mysterious healing powers to the Serpent.

“When Hezekiah discovered the people of Judah bowing down before the Serpent in worship, worship that belonged to
God alone, he was so enraged that he smashed it into three pieces.

“And that, as far as the Bible goes, is the last we see of the Brazen Serpent. Until this scroll set me on the trail of some connection to the Serpent’s being around in the time of the greatest empire of Babylon, during the kingdom of Nebuchadnezzar. That’s a long time and a long way from where the Bible leaves the Serpent lying in three pieces at Hezekiah’s feet.”

Murphy paused. “So, because archaeologists look for some way besides time machines to explain how artifacts may survive leaps of time and distance, I have a theory, and that theory helped me to find this piece of the Serpent last week. I believe that when Hezekiah ordered the Serpent destroyed in Judah, it was broken into three pieces and placed in the old Temple. Back then, even if the king told you to destroy an idol, you didn’t just throw away a three-foot piece of perfectly good bronze. About one hundred forty years later, when the Babylonians stormed through Judah and sacked the Temple, they took back to Babylon anything that looked like it was worth something, and somebody eventually rescued the three pieces of the Serpent.

“Now, some of the writing is missing from this scroll I uncovered, so some greater speculation than usual is in order, but we have pieced together enough of the message to reveal that some high priest among those idol-worshiping Babylonians put the Serpent back together, probably believing that it had great powers.

“In my next lecture, I will begin to talk about prophecies,
and how Nebuchadnezzar got his fear of the true God and ordered idols destroyed left and right—and there goes the Brazen Serpent on the chopping block again. Except the high priest who wrote this scroll wanted the Serpent saved again and split up the pieces with instructions on this scroll for finding them to put them back together. Which, if I have any luck reading what’s written on the bottom of this tail here, I will endeavor to do. So, while I dash off to do that, class dismissed.”

A student called out, “Professor Murphy? Nobody got healed when you held up the tail, but don’t you think that if you do find the other two pieces and Lego them all together again that you will be able to heal people?”

“That is the big question, yes. Or just as possible, according to believers in the so-called dark arts, who have sought out the Serpent for centuries, if the pieces are ever connected, you could wield this Serpent for evil.”

SHANE BARRINGTON WAS
forcing himself to not think of his son. Naturally, even for a master at turning the coldest of mental shoulders toward all the vicious acts and ruthless business sins he had perpetrated in his life, Talon’s murder of Arthur while he had just stood by helpless was proving to be a difficult memory for Barrington to ignore completely. Especially with no idea as to what Talon had done with the body, despite his cryptic promise that he had some further plan.

Odd, he thought, how after cutting his son out of his life completely for so many years, now, in death, Arthur kept coming to mind. Not that Barrington was in any danger of suddenly becoming sentimental about family. Other than his ex-wife, who had been paid off more than two decades earlier, Arthur had been his only living relative. And he had no
need of nor interest in something as pedestrian as a friend. Associates, staff, servants, yes; friends, no.

Nor did Barrington have a great attachment to places. There was nowhere he would really call home, though he owned luxurious houses on three continents. The place he came from certainly held no sentimental value for him. It was a place you escaped from if you were lucky, not one you dreamed of going back to. As for the attractions of magnificent architecture or priceless works of art, that was for weaker souls. The truth was, he was happiest when he was on his way somewhere, in a plane or a fast car. Moving, at speed, feeling the world shrink under his feet. And with the state-of-the-art systems Barrington Communications manufactured, he could make things happen wherever he found himself.

But if he had to choose one place where he felt most at ease, as if he were standing at the very center of the universe, it would be here, in his penthouse, watching the vast, jagged landscape of towering steel and glass come alive in the growing dawn. However, after that horrible moment of seeing Arthur tortured by Talon from his terrace, Barrington had not even looked out his window, let alone used the terrace.

Now, with four minutes before his guest would arrive, he told himself it was time for the great Barrington willpower to come to the fore. He forced himself to open the draperies and part the sliding glass doors to the terrace. He would not be like every weak creature he had conquered in the past. There was no room for guilt in the Barrington game plan. He strode toward the railing and looked down at the Endicott Arms. For a second, he shuddered, then he wiped his mind clean.

Immediately, he started to feel the return of total command,
as if he were a barbarian king standing on the piled-up corpses of his vanquished foes. Barrington Communications had recently become billions of dollars richer and had never been stronger than it was now. The gaping holes in its financial structure had been shored up, leaving more than enough to bankroll further expansion, further conquests. Any business magnate foolish enough to think he could stand toe-to-toe with Shane Barrington was about to discover the error of his ways.

He put his hand to the glass and smiled. All this, and how little, really, they had demanded in return. Now to initiate his second assignment from the Seven. As with his first assignment, this task seemed odd, arbitrary, and unconnected to any big master plan, and had been delivered in terse fashion, with no supporting explanation. However, like obtaining the checklist of U.N.-related security information, it was something he could accomplish from his position of power with ease.

He checked his Rolex. The meeting had been scheduled for seven o’clock. Late enough to have forced her to cancel any plans she might have had for the evening. And he had made her wait a further ten minutes. Long enough for confidence to dram away and be replaced by fear. Cheap tricks, perhaps, and hardly necessary anymore. But the exercise of power, however petty, was what gave him pleasure, and if he could not indulge himself in that, life would surely be very dull indeed.

He turned away from his shadowy reflection and spoke into a microphone woven into the lining of his jacket. “Send her in.”

Stephanie Kovacs, Barrington News Network’s up-and-coming
star reporter on the national beat, willed herself not to check her hair, her makeup, one more time as the cropped-blond receptionist behind the desk motioned her toward the door with a curt wave of her perfectly manicured hand. Here she was, Stephanie Kovacs, ace TV investigative journalist, fearless exposer of the crooked and corrupt, a woman who’d been shot at, slashed by a knife-wielding maniac, and threatened by slavering attack dogs—who had always stood her ground and kept her head while facing down men twice her size and ten times as aggressive—here she was, nervous as a kitten just because her network’s CEO summoned her to a meeting.

What was the worst that could happen? Okay, he could fire her. That was the thought that had been racing around her brain for the last five minutes, forcing her to flip urgently through her mental Rolodex.
Who would I call first? Who was that executive who said at the awards dinner, “If you ever think of leaving the show …” Which network needs a new face to boost the ratings? Which news program is desperately seeking some credibility?

But finding a new job in TV wasn’t really the point. She was successful and respected enough in the business not to worry unduly on that score. What was eating away at her and making the butterflies in her stomach do loop-the-loops was the certain knowledge that when Shane Barrington fired you, he didn’t just let you go. He made sure you were finished. Career over. If that was what he had in mind, she’d be lucky to be standing in front of a camera in a month’s time and talking about the unseasonable June rainfall’s effect on the soybean crop.

She paused at the door, patted a stray hair into place, and walked in, hoping he wouldn’t see beneath her practiced veneer of confidence.

“You asked to see me, Mr. Barrington?”

Shane Barrington seemed taller than in photographs and the rare pieces of TV footage, but the harsh features and dark eyes were ominously familiar. Without a word or a change of expression, he gestured toward the dark leather couch against the far wall. He remained standing as she seated herself, forcing her to look up at him from below.

“Miss Kovacs,” he began. “Stephanie. I’m so pleased you could spare me a few moments of your valuable time. I hope I haven’t kept you away from an important investigation. I’d hate to think some wrongdoer got off the hook because I’d distracted you from your work.”

She tried to laugh. “Well, there’s always more fish in the sea. That’s the great thing about this job—you never run out of worthwhile targets.”

Barrington looked at her without smiling. “Sure. I know exactly what you mean.” He turned and sat behind the long, smoked-glass desk in the center of the room. She couldn’t help noticing the absence of a phone or a computer. In fact, there was nothing on the desk to mar its perfect crystalline surface.

“Sometimes I hear people say I don’t really pay attention to this part of the corporation. That I’m not really interested in TV. Like it’s old technology, a thing of the past. And Shane Barrington is always interested in the future, right?”

“Right,” she found herself saying.

“But that’s not true at all, Stephanie. I pay very close
attention to what goes out on the news channel. And I’ve been paying particularly close attention to your reports. To your fearless investigations.”

It seemed to her the word
fearless
was his way of mocking her. If anyone else had used that sneering tone, she would have gone for their throat instantly. No one trivialized her and got away with it. But to her own surprise she continued to smile meekly, as if she were a dog being stroked, not a lamb being lined up for the slaughter.

Barrington’s eyes seemed to lighten a little, as if he were enjoying her discomfort. “You really know how to stick it to the bad guys. No mercy. No quarter. I like that.”

He made her sound like a prizefighter, not a reporter, but if he liked her style, that was fine with her. She still wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but her anxiety level was beginning to drop just a little. Maybe she wasn’t going to get fired after all.

“People also say I’m a hands-off CEO. I don’t tell the producers at the station what to do. As long as it gets the ratings, what do I care, right? Make a program about anything you like. Killer cockroaches, grandma serial killers. Whatever rings your bell.”

Better and better. He liked her news judgment. He believed in editorial freedom. What was she worrying about?

Barrington leaned back in his chair and laid his hands flat on the desk. His eyes darkened again. “But sometimes people just can’t be trusted to do their job. Sometimes they need a little direction.” He smiled humorlessly. “From above.”

Okay, not so good. The conversation, if you could call it that, had just taken an ominous turn.

“I’ve decided that someone ought to do an investigation—a ruthless exposé, no holds barred—on a certain group of people who pose a major threat to this country—to the world. Someone needs to expose them for the dangerous fanatics they are.”

He paused.
Uh-oh, here comes the punch line
, she thought.

“The group is evangelical Christians. And that someone is going to be you.”

Whew, she had not seen this coming, not where she thought this conversation was heading at all, but Stephanie Kovacs had not risen past the other bright, desperately eager TV talent by being slow on the uptake. She recovered from her puzzlement quickly by flashing a humble smile. “I am honored by your confidence in me, Mr. Barrington. I will try not to let you down.”