The Edge of Darkness Page 19

  Kadmiel responded: “The Ark of the Israelite God must not remain here. Their God is angry with us and has struck the great statue of Dagon. Their God, Jehovah, has brought on a plague to torture us. Let the golden Ark be carried away to the city of Gath. They have giants in their city. Maybe they can deal with the God of the Israelites.”

  FORTY

  THE SWISS ALPS looked majestic as the sun broke through the clouds. A fresh blanket of snow sparkled on the roof and turrets of the castle. Everything was covered in white, while a terrible darkness festered deep below the ancient structure.

  Sir William Merton’s face was so red that his head looked like a rocket about to explode off a launching pad. His fist came down hard on the table in front of him and he yelled.

  “I told you! I told you! I told you before! He is a danger to our mission!”

  The other six members winced. Even Talon, who was used to just about anything, was taken aback slightly by the strength of Merton’s emotions. His left hand grabbed the gargoyle on the arm of the chair and squeezed. His right hand was wrapped in bandages.

  “You are correct,” replied John Bartholomew. “We all knew that it was a risk. He has not let the cat out of the bag yet. There is still time to resolve the matter.”

  Merton shook his head. “I hope so! I hope that it has not gone beyond the point of no return. What do you think would happen to us if the Master found out that we could not do our job?”

  This hit a nerve. The Seven burst forth with a litany of excuses and opinions, talking over one another in their desire to place blame and escape responsibility. Talon could almost taste their fear, and it delighted him. He didn’t like any of them and it gave him pleasure to see them squirm.

  John Bartholomew tried to gain control of the group and get them to refocus. He pounded a gavel twice and at length their murmuring ceased.

  “Please, let us not lose our heads. We have a guest. Talon, thank you for coming on such short notice. I see your hand is bandaged. Is there anything we should be concerned with?”

  Talon knew they were not concerned about the injury to his finger by Paul Wallach. They were only concerned as to whether it would affect his ability to kill.

  “Nothing serious. I will be able to fulfill any mission you desire.”

  The Seven smiled their evil smiles and Bartholomew continued. “Underneath your chair is a folder with a copy of an editorial. Would you please take it out and read it. We would like to hear your comments.”

  Talon bent forward and pulled the folder from under the chair with his left hand. He opened it and read.

  AN IMPORTANT BARRINGTON

  NEWS EDITORIAL

  Since the founding of Barrington Communications, I have made it a practice to let other people write the editorial column. It has only been upon rare occasions and for momentous news stories that I have personally picked up my pen. This happens to be one of those significant and notable times.

  If you have been reading our newspapers or have listened to our television broadcasts, the name Dr. Constantine De La Rosa will be familiar to you. Dr. De La Rosa is the founder of the Religious Harmony Institute based in Rome, Italy.

  We have been writing numerous articles about his desire to unite the world with Religious Harmony. You may have even seen several television documentaries recounting his miraculous healing crusades. These reports have provided eyewitness accounts of crippled people being able to walk. You have also seen documented cases of the blind having their sight restored and the deaf being able to hear.

  Along with physical healings, Dr. De La Rosa has also made some astounding political predictions that have come true. Even more importantly, he has warned of the coming of a number of natural disasters. His call to be alert has saved the lives of countless thousands of people from several tornados, three hurricanes, seven earthquakes, and two tidal waves.

  Dr. De La Rosa is becoming a household name in all nations of the world. His crusades seem to be striking a chord of harmony between all peoples regardless of race or religion. His dynamic personality has a magnetism that can only be compared to the life of one other person who has ever lived: The man called Jesus Christ.

  However, this author is not afraid to ask some hard questions. Who is Dr. De La Rosa? Not much is known about him. We have been unable to trace any history of his birth, childhood, or even much about his adulthood. He seems to have just broken into the course of history out of nowhere.

  This author also asks the question, ‘Where does Dr. De La Rosa get all of his money?’ Try as we may, we have been unable to discover any businesses he has started, inheritances he has received, or how he is supported other than the contributions he receives from followers.

  I am also concerned about his so-called nonprofit corporation called the Religious Harmony Institute. Nothing can be found about a board of directors or any overseers of his activities. He seems to be accountable to no one.

  At first glance one could say, ‘So what? Look at all the good he is doing!’ But I personally think this is a dangerous position to hold. Could Dr. De La Rosa have ulterior motives? Is there a group of people behind him supporting activities of their design? Are their motives good and right and moral? What do we know about these individuals? Are there just two or three of them or as many as seven?

  You may say, ‘Are you trying to punch holes in the reputation of Dr. De La Rosa? Is he a man that does not have integrity? Is he trying to lead people like the Pied Piper of Hamelin down a path that may lead to destruction?’ Those are fair questions.

  At this writing I am not yet willing to make that strong of a statement. I am merely questioning who he is and why he is doing what he is doing. I will say, however, that a thorough investigation is being launched by the Barrington Communications Company into all of these questions. We will find out the answers. And if, as we suspect, there is some clandestine motivation, you will be given that information.

  This is a promise, and a solemn pledge, or my name isn’t Shane Barrington, Owner and President of Barrington Communications.

  Talon placed the paper in his lap and looked up at the Seven. He could see all of their eyes focused on him.

  “It looks like he’s about to blow your cover.”

  The Seven sat there for a moment in silence as Talon’s words sunk in. He was never one to mince words.

  “May I ask you how you got a hold of this editorial? I haven’t seen it in print yet.”

  General Li spoke up.

  “You are not the only one who works for us, Talon. We have some other operatives within the Barrington Communications Company. They alerted us to the fact that Barrington was beginning to consolidate and move money around. He has opened several Swiss bank accounts and is in the process of transferring money. We believe that he is trying to protect himself in the event that we shut off the flow of funds to his organization.”

  Talon nodded.

  “In addition, Barrington has purchased extensive security equipment for his home. He has ordered a bulletproof car and has put out feelers to companies who do bodyguard work for high-level executives. In light of this, we instructed our operatives to break into his office and access information off of his personal computer.”

  Talon smiled. They don’t miss a trick.

  “They opened up his computer and found the editorial you read. We are not sure when he is planning to run it. But it is evident that he is out to try and destroy us.”

  Talon knew what was coming next.

  Bartholomew said, “Talon, we have a number of assignments on your To-Do List. However, we think that this one should rise to the top.”

  “I understand. And may I inquire as to when—”

  Bartholomew cut him off.

  “The money has already been deposited in your Swiss bank account.”

  A blast of cold struck Talon as he exited the castle. He took in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and buttoned the collar of his coat as the driver without a tongue opened the d
oor to the limousine.

  The drive back to Zurich gave Talon plenty of time to think about Paul Wallach. How could he have been so careless to allow an untrained fighter to damage his finger like he did? It was stupid. He should have waited until the boy left and the girl was alone. But after two failed attempts on her life, Talon had grown impatient and made his move too soon. And now he had paid the price. He began to rub his right hand, which was throbbing because of the cold, damp air. It would take a while before it would heal enough to have a new metal finger replacement.

  Talon felt the limousine slip a little as they rounded a corner in the fresh-fallen snow. He saw the driver’s eyes glance at him for a moment in the rearview mirror and then back to the road ahead.

  That would be an ironic end. To slip off the road and over the cliff to the deep canyon below. Not the way I thought I would go. But then death sometimes arrives when least expected. In his line of work, Talon knew that better than anyone.

  His mind drifted back to all the people he had killed. How many had it been? Too many to remember. How long would it continue? Was it the money? He had enough to last several lifetimes. Why did he do it? Was it anger? Yes, it was. Was it for pleasure? Yes, it was. Would he continue as long as his health held out? Why not?

  After all, he reflected, how many people truly love what they do for a living?

  FORTY-ONE

  MURPHY GLANCED AT the clock when he heard the telephone ring. It was 8:45 P.M. He had been channel-surfing and, unable to find anything that held his interest, he’d decided to go to bed a little early and finish a mystery novel that he’d been reading.

  He was reluctant to answer the phone. Lately it seemed that every time it rang, someone else had been injured or killed.

  “Murphy here.”

  “Michael, it’s Bob. I hope that I haven’t disturbed you.”

  “Not at all. What’s up?”

  “Do you remember when we were at J. B. Sonstad’s tent meetings?”

  “How could I forget? People like that stick in your mind.”

  “I mentioned to you that one of the men that came forward went to our church.”

  “Yeah, the one with the kidney disease.”

  “Yes. That was Clyde Carlson. Anyway, I met with him later and talked about what happened. He told me that he wasn’t sure. It was a very emotional experience and he hoped that he was healed. I encouraged him to go back to his doctor for a checkup.”

  “Let me guess. He wasn’t any better.”

  “Unfortunately you’re right. He was discouraged, to say the least. His condition is deteriorating. But that hasn’t slowed him down. He heard from a friend about another person who claims to be a psychic healer, someone named Madame Estelle. She lives in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Raleigh.”

  “I’ve never heard of her before.”

  “Neither have I … but actually I don’t run in those types of circles, so it’s not surprising. He’s asked that I go along with him. I really don’t feel comfortable doing that but I want to help him work through the acceptance that he may soon die from the disease. He is sort of grabbing at straws and I don’t like him fighting the battle alone. This is a long way of asking if you’d be willing to go with us. I would feel much more at ease if you were there.”

  “Sure, Bob. When people face death sometimes they’ll try anything to escape the inevitable. If I were in his place, maybe I would seek any kind of help too. I’ll do a little research on psychic healing. Maybe we could get together over lunch and discuss it.”

  “That would be great.”

  “How about the Adam’s Apple at twelve-thirty tomorrow?”

  “You’re on. I’ll see you there.”

  When Murphy entered the Adam’s Apple restaurant it was busy as usual. He could tell that Roseanne was under a little pressure. Not only was she waiting on the tables but she was trying to train a new girl at the same time. When she saw Murphy she pointed to the back.

  “Pastor Bob is in the corner. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “Thanks, Rosanne.”

  “Do you want your usual, Doc?”

  “That’ll be great.”

  As Murphy headed toward the back he could hear Roseanne yelling in the order. As he slid into the booth he noticed a tear on the green vinyl seat. Murphy and Wagoner shook hands.

  “Well, what do you think, Michael? Fake healing crusades, psychic surgeons, rise of the occult, false teachers … we’re certainly living in interesting times.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. I did some study last night on psychic healers. Not only do we have them in the United States but in many places around the world. I read that psychic healing is quite popular in the Philippines.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Their activities vary a little but often they pretend to do bloodless surgery without a scalpel.”

  “That sounds like my kind of surgery,” Bob laughed. “I’m a wimp when it comes to pain.”

  “You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you. They will have the person lie on a table and they act like they are digging their hands into the person’s body and taking out the disease or cancer from their body. After the imaginary incision, the psychic seems to pull out some kind of tissue and discards it. Then they wipe their hand back across the person’s body and the incision is gone and everything is normal. Sounds great, right?”

  “No. It sounds weird.”

  “That’s for sure. There is a book entitled Arigo: Surgeon of the Rusty Knife. It’s the story of a Brazilian peasant who operates with an unclean pocketknife. It’s supposed to be done without pain, bleeding, or stitches. It is said that this Arigo could stop the flow of blood with a verbal command, and that he had the ability to read blood pressure without instruments. Apparently, over three hundred patients a day would visit him.”

  “Is that documented?”

  “No. He died in 1981 before any scientific investigators could verify his claims. I also read about a magician named Henry Gordon who debunked what psychic surgeons did. In front of television cameras, he performed the same type of surgery and also pulled out some flesh from a patient. In actuality, it was tissue from a chicken liver that he had hidden in the palm of his hand. It did look impressive, though.”

  “Well, when we go with Clyde we’ll look for chicken livers.”

  Roseanne came waddling toward their table with plates in her hands. Her gray hair was tied in a bun and slight beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead. She placed the plates on the table.

  “Here you go, men. Have a good lunch.”

  Murphy smiled. “Thank you, Rosanne. By the way, are you aware of the rip in the vinyl seat?”

  Roseanne put her hands on her hips and she looked where Murphy was pointing.

  “Humph. It must have been those teenagers we had in here last night. They were a rowdy bunch.” She turned and waddled away.

  “You know, Bob,” responded Murphy. “It seems like evil is on the increase. Not just from kids horsing around destroying property like this seat, but keying and stealing cars … and other things like violent crime, terrorist bombings, murders, and wars. There is much darkness in this world and it’s only going to get worse.”

  “As you know, Michael, the Bible informs us that in the last days many people will leave their faith in God. Then the ‘man of sin’ will come. He will be someone who will bring strong delusion. Do you think it could be that guy … what’s his name … Rosa something?”

  “Do you mean Constantine De La Rosa?”

  “Yes, he’s the one.”

  “I don’t know, Bob, but whoever he is he’ll be a strong leader. Unfortunately many people will believe his lies. It also says that he will be able to perform miracles and wonders.”

  “Sort of like this De La Rosa that has been in the newspapers and television lately?”

  “Yes. It has been reported that he has been doing some very powerful healings and giving predictions.” The implications r
aced around in Murphy’s brain. “Do you think he might be the coming Anti-Christ, Bob?”

  “Actually, I don’t think so. He sure could pass for the False Prophet though. He’s supposed to have great powers and be able to perform miracles. The False Prophet will pave the pathway for the Anti-Christ. He will do this by a call for religious unification between all peoples and all cultures. If he tries to globally organize political and social life, it would be a definite sign that he could be the person. If he then begins to set up some type of economic control with a marking or registration system, he will certainly be the person. The False Prophet is the one who will oversee the 666 marking of people on their right hand or on their forehead.”

  “Hmm,” Murphy said absently.

  “Michael? Are you still listening?”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about Isis. I don’t think she has come to a point of faith in her life. I’d hate to see her begin to follow someone like the False Prophet.”

  “Michael, may I speak frankly?”

  “Of course, Bob.”

  “I’ve been a little concerned about you and Isis. It seems like this is beginning to develop into something more than just a friendship.”

  “It’s moving in that direction.”

  “You know that your faith discourages getting involved with someone who does not hold the same belief. It can lead to many disagreements and disappointments with each other. More than one marriage has struggled over these issues. I would hate to see you in a marriage like that, especially after you and Laura were so happy and well-matched.

  “I know you’re right, Bob. It’s just difficult when the feelings begin to grow.”

  “It might be best to end them before there’s no turning back, Michael.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking very seriously about it. It’s just hard.”

  “There are other wonderful people who love the Lord and share your faith. For example, there is that new young lady who has been attending our church. She’s the new women’s volleyball coach for Preston.”