The Edge of Darkness, Page 5

  Murphy waved and Bob nodded as he walked toward the booth. He did not appear to be his usual jovial self. They shook hands and he sat down.

  “Sorry I’m late, Michael. I got a phone call just as I was about to leave the church.”

  “No problem. I haven’t been waiting long.” Pet peeve or no, Murphy was too concerned to hassle him about his tardiness.

  “Good. I …” He trailed off as Roseanne waddled up to the table.

  “Good afternoon, Reverend. Do you and the professor want your usual?”

  Both of the men nodded their heads.

  “You got it,” said Roseanne as she turned and yelled to the kitchen,

  “Cheeseburger and chili fries and a chicken sandwich!”

  Murphy chuckled. There was no one quite like Rosanne.

  But Bob was in no mood to laugh. He got right to the point.

  “Michael, I’m glad you could meet with me. I need your advice on something.”

  “I’m glad to help if I can.”

  “During the past few weeks I’ve had a growing concern about some of the people in the congregation. I think someone could be leading them astray.”

  Murphy’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, have you heard about the tent evangelist that has come to town? His name is Reverend J. B. Sonstad.”

  “I read something about it in the paper.”

  “Some of the people from the church have gone to his meetings.

  When I’ve discussed it with them, they’ve told me disturbing things about what goes on there.”

  “Disturbing things … like what?”

  “I was told that he walks around the audience and then all of a sudden stops. Then he’ll say, ‘What, Lord? Yes, I hear you. You say that someone named George has a kidney problem that needs to be healed.’ Then he’ll look around the audience and say, ‘Is there someone named George that has a kidney problem?’ Then George will stand up and go forward to be healed. The whole thing bothers me. I don’t think that is how God works. Do you have any thoughts?”

  Murphy sat there for a moment before he responded.

  “You know, Bob, the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  “So you believe in all of this?”

  “Not for a minute. It sounds to me like some kind of put-up job. You know the Bible says that in the last days there would be many false prophets. He sounds like he might be one of them.”

  “Exactly my thoughts, Michael. Which leads me to the next question. Would you go with me to one of his meetings? I’d like to find out firsthand what’s going on.”

  “Sure, Bob. Let’s get it straight from the horse’s mouth. Besides, I’ve always been curious about these so-called faith healers anyway.”

  “The other thing is, I’ve heard that some of the young people might be experimenting with the occult. You know, things like using a Ouija board and table tipping.”

  “That’s a starting point, Bob. I’ve seen it before.” Murphy had witnessed table tipping when he was in college. Several of the students had gathered around three sides of a small square table. At one end of the table they placed a chair, ostensibly for the spirit who would answer their questions. Then they lightly placed their hands on the table and looked toward the empty chair. They would ask yes-or-no questions. The table would lift off the ground and then come down with a slight noise. One knock on the floor for yes and two knocks for no.

  “What happened?” Bob interrupted his recollection.

  “It was eerie. All of the answers were correct. I remember that when a new person came into the room they did something different. They asked the new person to pull out his wallet and his Social Security card. They then asked the spirit to tap out the third number on the Social Security card. None of the students around the table knew what the number was. The table lifted off the ground and came down three times. It was the correct number.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I just watched and thought they were all crazy. I thought it was some type of trick. Now that I’m older and have a lot more experience with ancient gods and pagan worship, I think that some of the things are fake and some of them may be real.”

  “Well, I can’t ignore it, Michael. My people are beginning to ask questions and more and more of them are starting to go to the meetings. I would like to nip this in the bud if possible. Faith healing, table tipping … it’s all very disturbing.”

  Roseanne came by with coffee and overheard. “Did you say table tipping? At this table, you should tip twenty percent. At least.”

  Even Bob had to smile a little. Nope, there was nobody quite like Roseanne.

  ELEVEN

  EUGENE SIMPSON PACKED the last piece of luggage into the trunk. He closed the lid of the ebony Mercedes and used his coat sleeve to polish off his fingerprints. He wanted everything to look perfect. His boss was a real stickler for details and hated to ride in a car that was the least bit dirty.

  Simpson had a primo job as driver for Shane Barrington, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world. It paid extremely well and he did not want to lose it. He snapped to attention and opened the door when Barrington came down from his penthouse.

  The huge athletic frame of his boss was imposing, to say the least. That, along with his high cheekbones, thin lips, and flint-gray eyes sent chills down Simpson’s spine. He knew that his employer did not appreciate small talk and had zero tolerance for weakness of any kind.

  “Where would you like to go, Mr. Barrington?”

  “To the airport, Eugene.”

  A half hour later, Simpson parked the Mercedes next to a Gulfstream IV jet owned by Barrington Communications. He unloaded the luggage and put it on board.

  “Eugene, I’ll be back on Thursday. I don’t know what time. Call the airport for our time of arrival.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be here.”

  Simpson let out a long sigh as he watched the Gulfstream taxi down the runway and take off.

  The flight to Zurich gave Barrington time to think. Maybe too much time. His mind began to drift back to Stephanie. He hadn’t thought that he would miss her as much as he did. He laid his head back on the leather seat, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. But sleep would not come.

  Instead, he kept reliving that day. His assistant Melissa had come running into his office.

  “Mr. Barrington, Mr. Barrington, did you see the latest news flash?”

  “What are you talking about, Melissa?”

  “Look, I’ll turn on the news.”

  “This is Mark Hadley reporting for BNN. I am standing outside of the apartment building of Stephanie Kovacs, a former investigative reporter for Barrington Communications and Network News. Our information is sketchy at this time, but initial reports indicate that her throat was slit early this morning by an unknown assailant.”

  Barrington gritted his teeth. He knew it was Talon that had killed her, and that the order came from the Seven. His stomach tightened with raw hatred and a longing for revenge. But just how would he be able to do it?

  He was jarred back to reality when the plane hit some turbulence.

  The Seven were so powerful that Barrington wasn’t sure if he could ever avenge Stephanie’s death. But he desperately longed to see all seven of them with their throats slit, to watch them die in the same way they had murdered Stephanie.

  The twisting mountain road into the Alps was wet with a fresh ram. The gray and overcast sky mirrored Barrington’s mood.

  Why do they always have to send that creepy, sallow-skinned chauffeur without a tongue to pick me up? Oh well, at least I don’t have to listen to some idle chatter.

  The closer he got to the castle, the more apprehensive he felt.

  Come on, Barrington. Get it together. Never let your opponent know that you are afraid. Remember what General Patton said: Courage is fear holding on a minute longer.

  As the limousine rounded one of the turns, Barrington saw the castle in the distance. Ever since h
e had first laid eyes on the castle, he thought it looked like an evil gargoyle, a cancer growing on the mountainside.

  The closer they came, the more he could see of the massive granite walls holding up spiked turrets. Candlelight danced behind several of the ancient leaded windows.

  This would be the perfect place to film a horror movie.

  The chauffeur opened the giant wrought-iron door of the castle and Barrington crossed the large entry hall. The flickering light of a dozen torches lit up the hallway that led to a large steel door.

  As Barrington approached, the door made a hissing sound and opened, allowing him to step into the elevator. Once inside, it hissed shut. The elevator automatically began its descent into the deep recesses of the castle.

  Next stop, hell, he thought.

  The doors hissed open and Barrington stepped into the medieval gloom that was the meeting place for the Seven. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lights he could see the familiar chair he always sat in. It was ornately carved with gargoyles on the arms. A light shone down upon it.

  There’s the hot seat.

  His eyes shifted to the table that was about twenty feet in front of the chair. It was covered with a bloodred cloth that hung down to the floor. Seated behind it were seven high-backed carved chairs and the silhouettes of the seven members waiting for him.

  “It’s good to see you are punctual, Mr. Barrington. Last time you were late,” said John Bartholomew. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

  Barrington wanted to throw up. None of them cared about his welfare. They were just using him.

  “Of course,” he said with a forced grin on his face. “Always a pleasure to be with you again.”

  Two can play at this game, he thought.

  “We’re glad you feel that way. Today we want to discuss with you a very important project. We want your media organizations to promote an up-and-coming individual by the name of Constantine De La Rosa.”

  “Who? I’ve never heard of him before.”

  “He is a very religious man who will unify the various religions of the world.”

  That will be the day, Barrington thought.

  “Underneath your chair is the first of many announcements to come. We want you to print it in your magazines, talk about it on the radio, and produce special television programs about him. We want to introduce him to the entire world and we feel the best way is through your media companies.”

  Barrington reached under his chair and picked up a manila envelope containing a news release.

  NEWS RELEASE FROM THE

  BARRINGTON NEWS NETWORK

  World Unity Summit

  Dr. Constantine De La Rosa, founder of the Religious Harmony Institute based in Rome, Italy, has announced a World Unity Summit. The Unity Summit is planned for the first week of September in Rome. This summit is designed for everyone interested in world peace and religious harmony. It is hoped that religious and political leaders from around the world will attend this historic conference.

  Dr. De La Rosa has indicated that there will be a number of goals that the World Unity Summit hopes to achieve.

  The celebration of religious unity in the midst of diversity—with the understanding that all religions are seeking to reach out to God and to assist their fellow man

  The creation of a culture of peace and security for all peoples of the planet

  The expression of divine love for every human being

  The ending of religion-motivated violence

  The striving to heal the earth environmentally

  The honoring and encouragement of cultural differences—and the experiencing of the richness received from various values and beliefs of every nation

  The discouraging of absolutism and the encouraging of religious tolerance for all sects, cults, and methods of expressing worship

  The discouraging of groups who stress discrimination with regard to sexual preferences, race, or age

  The establishment of seminars and training in conflict resolution and negotiation to help end religious intolerance

  The creation of discussion groups related to matters of human reproduction and the overcrowding of the earth

  The training of methods to uncover the positive aspects of the human potential of mankind—the celebration of man’s ability to achieve

  The planning of methods to reduce poverty, starvation, and health care needs of every nation

  Dr. De La Rosa has also announced that the Religious Harmony Institute will be establishing Harmony Centers on every continent. Also planned are Youth Harmony Programs for children eighteen years of age and younger. Along with the Harmony Centers, the University of Unity will begin operation within a year. This school is intended to attract students from around the globe who want to dedicate their lives to world unity.

  Dr. De La Rosa is also suggesting that each nation adopt a new national holiday. It will be called World Unity Day. A second holiday to consider would be World Year of Thanksgiving. For further information, please contact the Religious Harmony Institute at the following address: 18 Unity Boulevard, Rome, Italy, or visit our website at www.religiousharmony.com.

  Barrington read the article and then looked at the Seven.

  “Come on! You don’t really believe all this, do you?”

  Even at twenty feet away, Barrington could see the angry spark in the eyes of Sir William Merton. His voice was low and guttural and definitely unfriendly.

  “Mr. Barrington, we are not asking for your opinion. The Unity Summit will take place. And you will do exactly as we say. Do you understand?”

  Barrington understood but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like anyone telling him what he could or couldn’t do.

  “And if I don’t?”

  Jakoba Werner began to laugh, a truly horrible sound.

  “Let me ask you a simple question, Mr. Barrington. Do you wish to live?”

  So there it was. Do or die. That was his choice.

  Discretion is the better part of valor, he thought. I need to get out of here alive.

  “As you wish.”

  “That is a very, very wise decision,” responded Ganesh Shesha.

  “Is there anything else?” At this point, Barrington was more than eager to part company.

  “That’s all, Mr. Barrington. We will expect a massive promotional campaign within the next month.”

  Barrington rose from the chair, entered the elevator, and left without a word. The only sound was the gentle hiss of the elevator door.

  Señor Mendez turned to the group. “I do not like his attitude. I think he is a dangerous man. Are you sure we can trust him?”

  “He will do what we ask, or he will be eliminated like the others,” responded Bartholomew. “Besides, he has gotten used to our money and he doesn’t want to give that up.”

  “I agree with Señor Mendes,” said Viorica Enesco. “He almost said no to us here today.”

  Bartholomew cautioned, “We need him for the time being, to promote De La Rosa. The public holds his news network in high regard, and any reports coming from them will be taken seriously. So, we will use him as long as he serves our purpose.”

  The other members nodded begrudgingly Impertinent or not, Barrington was a valuable asset. And if he became too disobedient? Well, there were ways of dealing with that if and when the time arose.

  TWELVE

  MURPHY ENTERED the Out West Steak House at 6:00 P.M. He was looking around for Levi when the hostess came up.

  “May I help you, sir? Would you like a table?”

  “Yes, a table for two. I’m meeting a friend.”

  “Your name?”

  “Murphy.”

  As she jotted his name down on the wait list, Murphy saw Abrams waving from the other side of the restaurant.

  “Excuse me. I see that my friend has already arrived.”

  The hostess smiled and nodded and proceeded to cross off his name from her list.

  As Murphy approached the table, the six-foot-five
Israeli greeted him with a big grin and a warm embrace. “It’s great to see you, Michael,” he said as they sat down.

  “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you, Levi.” He tapped his temple. “There’s hardly any scar at all from the bullet.”

  “No, I was very fortunate. They told me later that you saved my life.”

  “You know what that means? According to Asian tradition, you now become my servant for the rest of your life.”

  They both laughed.

  “Michael, help me out. I have no memory of what happened in the warehouse after I was shot. All I remember is waking up in the hospital at Et Taiyiba.”

  Murphy’s mind quickly flashed back.

  “Well, we were in the warehouse looking for Talon and his men. They started firing at us with handguns. Then one of Talon’s goons fired an RPG at the warehouse from a building across the street. The front of the building went up in flames, then you caught a bullet and it was lights out.”

  “The last thing I remember was the fire.”

  “I was in a different aisle, behind some boxes, pinned down by their gunfire. Un had crawled up to you and was checking for a pulse when a second RPG went off behind Un. His body protected you from the blast. He was killed instantly.”

  Murphy paused as an expression of guilt and sadness crossed Levi’s face. This was his first true glimpse into the events of that day.

  “He was a good friend.”

  Murphy nodded. “There was nothing I could do for Uri. You were bloody but still breathing. By that time, the building was engulfed in flames. Talon and his men were gone, having taken us all for dead.”

  Levi was listening intently, his eyes focused on Murphy.

  “I dragged you over to where they had been firing from and found an escape tunnel. I pulled you into it, looped our belts together to create a rudimentary harness, and used it to slide you through the tunnel.”