"Michael, have you been to Baghdad before?"
"On one other occasion," Murphy said, shaking himself awake.
"What's it like?"
"Well, it is a large city of about five to six million people. It's the transportation hub for Iraq. It is probably the richest and most economically solid city there. It is the headquarters for the Central Bank of Iraq and the center of financial operations for the country."
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"Will it be dangerous for us?"
"It could be, but we'll be escorted by the military, which will provide protection."
"My experience from Desert Shield is that they'll also provide a target for the enemy to shoot at," Bingman said.
"That could happen too. However, I don't think that the military will be taking us into the more dangerous sections of the city. One of the things you'll notice is the wide streets. They make moving around the city easier."
"What did you think of all the National Guard at Dulles?" Bingman changed the subject.
"They did look impressive."
"Yes, I think the president has the right idea in calling in the Guard and closing all the borders into the United States. However, I think he should have done it earlier. It's sort of like closing the barn door after the cows are already out."
"I think we'll see that his decision is not temporary, Will. Closed borders may very well become part of our national policy in the future. People may demand protection, and the politicians will have to respond."
"To be honest with you, Michael, I think I'd prefer a closed border to having to watch out for terrorists all the time. Does that sound awful?"
"No. A closed border can give better control and a feeling of security. There's nothing wrong with that."
"It won't make us the most popular country by other nations if we do make it more difficult for people to visit," Bingman said pensively.
"Well, a lot of them haven't liked us when we've had an open door policy," Murphy replied. "They like our
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money and our freedom, and want to live here, yet they hate us at the same time. It is a strange situation."
"I know what you mean. If I were to move to another country, like, say, Romania, I could become a citizen but I would never be a Romanian. But when people come from other countries to the U.S. and become citizens, they become Americans. America is made up of people from hundreds of countries who have blended together. It has truly become the land of the free and those who seek freedom. That's what our Statue of Liberty is all about. It sure makes me feel proud to be an American."
"You're right, Will. It's the blending together of cultures as one nation that has made us strong. One of the things that will destroy America the fastest is when people from other countries come here and attempt to recreate their own country on American soil. That type of multiculturalism will cause division. President Theodore Roosevelt had strong convictions about that when he said: 'There is no room in this country for hyphenated Americans The one absolutely certain way of bringing this nation to ruin, of preventing all possibility of continuing to be a nation at all would be to permit it to become a tangle of squabbling nationalities.'"
"Cultural division does increase tension," Bingman agreed. "Just look at where we're going. Look at the infighting and vying for control in Iraq. There's so much tension among the Kurds, the Sunni, and the Shi'i. If democracy is going to work there, they'll have to begin to think of themselves as one nation rather than three cultures fighting for power. Do you think moving the United Nations headquarters to Babylon would help to unite them?"
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"It probably will in the short run. But in the long run, I think it's part of a move for a one-world government to be led by the Anti-Christ. The world will be looking for a leader who will promise to lead countries away from war and terrorism. Words of peace will sound very attractive. If you put that together with the hope of eliminating famine, decreasing poverty, protecting the environment, reducing corruption, and instilling universal spiritual harmony among people... he could win the world with that message."
"You're probably right, Michael. I wonder how we fit into the picture."
"I think our role is to try to sound a warning about future judgment and share the good news that God has provided a solution to the problems of the world through Jesus. He is the only one who can lead us to peace with God and harmony with our fellow man--not the Anti-Christ. We live in exciting days, Will, and I think they're going to get even more exciting as we draw closer to His return."
There was silence for a while as both men thought about their own roles and responsibilities. Finally Murphy broke the silence.
"Will, tell me a little about yourself. Do you have children?"
"Yes, I have three. Two daughters and a son. Amber, my oldest, is a senior in college. She's studying to be an English teacher. Amy is a sophomore and is planning to go into psychology. Adam is in his senior year of high school. I don't think he has any idea of what he would like to do, other than play football. But when I look back
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at my own life, I didn't know what I wanted to do either when I graduated from high school."
"It sounds like you have a wonderful family. Do you have any pictures?"
"This is Arlene, my wife," Bingman said, smiling and offering Murphy pictures from his wallet.
"It sounds like and looks like God has blessed you," Murphy said, examining the pictures.
"Yes. When all is said and done, it's your relationship with God and your family that really matters. I don't like to be away from them, but my wife knows how much I like adventure. This is the trip of a lifetime!" Bingman exclaimed.
"Well, I think we might have some excitement waiting for us in Baghdad. It might be good for us to get as much rest as we can," Murphy said.
Bingman nodded and closed his eyes.
Murphy closed his eyes but sleep did not come easily. He was filled with a growing sense of apprehension.
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FIFTY-THREE
THE SOUND OF THE CAPTAIN speaking over the loudspeaker woke Isis. She looked over at Murphy, who was reading his Bible.
He glanced at her and smiled. "Looks like you got some sleep."
"I did but I still feel tired."
"Sitting up isn't the most restful sleep position," Murphy agreed.
Isis thought that it didn't really matter how tired she was because she was with Michael... and it would be for a couple of weeks. Just being close to him made her heart beat fast. I wonder if there's any hope that he's feeling the same way.
As the plane touched down and began to taxi, Isis was jarred back to reality. Out the window, she could see U.S. Air Force jets, helicopters, and military vehicles everywhere.
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Murphy, Isis, and Bingman were all surprised at how many people were flying in and out of the Baghdad Airport.
"Well," said Bingman, "I don't know what I expected, but this is a busy place. It's as packed as any airport in the U.S."
"Except there are a lot more military on security watch," Isis replied. "It makes me feel insecure rather than safe. Weird, huh?"
The words were just out of her mouth when a tall U.S. Marine captain approached. He was dressed in crisp desert fatigues and boots, wearing two shoulder holsters. He was flanked by two younger soldiers carrying rifles.
"Are you Dr. Murphy?"
"Yes. And this is Dr. Isis McDonald, and Dr. Wilfred Bingman."
The captain shook hands with everyone. "I'm Captain Michael Drake, and I serve under Colonel Davis, who is stationed in Babylon. He asked me to escort you. I'll assist you through customs and we can then pick up your luggage. Hopefully, it will be a little faster with my help.
"We have hotel rooms reserved for you in the Green Zone. It's safe and well protected. Most of the news reporters and other dignitaries stay there. We won't be leaving for Babylon for a couple of days. We'll be joining a convoy going that direction. It
will be safer that way."
"Captain Drake, we were supposed to meet an Egyptian friend in Baghdad, Jassim Amram. He's supposed to travel with us to Babylon. Will he be able to enter the Green Zone?" Murphy asked. "Otherwise I can meet him outside."
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"I'm afraid not, sir. We've recently had a rash of bombings and security has tightened down. If he's going to travel with us, we'll have to meet him just outside of the zone.
"Regarding leaving the Green Zone, you will be permitted in and out, but once you leave, you'll no longer be under U.S. military protection. Americans do stand out in a crowd, and in some parts of Baghdad it would be extremely dangerous for you to travel alone."
"I appreciate that word of advice. We'll keep it in mind."
Murphy, Isis, and Bingman were standing just outside of the Green Zone checkpoint as the sun was going down. It had been a very warm day, and they had been able to swim and relax after the long flight of the day before. It wasn't long before an older Mercedes drove up and out stepped Jassim Amram.
"Michael, it is so good to see you!"
Amram was wearing his usual white suit, which hung loosely on his gangly frame. His rich mellifluous laugh rang out as he gave Murphy a big hug.
He then turned toward Isis and smiled. "And the lovely Dr. McDonald." Amram took her hand and gently kissed it.
Bingman held out his hand. "I'm Wilfred Bingman. Nice to meet you."
"Well, come, come. Let's not stand here. I have a good restaurant selected for tonight, and we can discuss this new adventure."
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"Jassim, are you sure that it is all right for us to move away from the Green Zone? You know we'll stick out like sore thumbs. Especially Isis with her red hair," Murphy asked, worried.
Amram waved his hand. "Michael, there is no problem. The area that we are going to go to is very safe and the food is excellent."
The men were deep in discussion about the Handwriting on the Wall when Isis began to look around the restaurant. She had felt uncomfortable for most of the evening. She knew that many of the men in the restaurant were looking at her. Although she had draped a scarf over her hair and was wearing long sleeves, she still stood out. The few other women there were looking at her and making comments. The experience was a little unnerving.
I just need to relax , she told herself firmly. Jassim said it was safe.
As she glanced around the room, she caught the eyes of an Arab eating by himself nearby. He immediately glanced away. As he turned, she thought she saw something on his neck--a tattoo?
Could it be? He's got the tattoo of an upside-down crescent on his neck with a star below it!
Isis reached out and grasped Murphy's hand under the table. He could tell something was wrong by her firm grip.
He turned and looked at Isis while Bingman and Amram continued their conversation. Isis was looking in
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the direction of the man who was standing and leaving his table, and she looked frightened.
She leaned over and whispered, "Did you see his tattoo? It was an upside-down crescent with a star under it on the side of his neck."
"Are you sure? How did one of Talon's men find us here?" Murphy exclaimed.
"Well, it is getting late," Amram was saying. "I should get you back to the Green Zone. The military get very suspicious and have a hair trigger on anyone who approaches the zone after ten P.M."
Amram brought up the Handwriting on the Wall as they left the restaurant. Deep in discussion, they didn't notice a dark vehicle approaching slowly.
At the first sound of gunfire, Murphy reached out, pushed Isis to the ground, and covered her with his body. Amram and Bingman also hit the ground as bullets sprayed a brick wall and shattered the restaurant window.
Then Murphy jumped to his feet, pulling Isis with him. "Run!" he shouted, heading for a dark alley next to the restaurant, dragging Isis along with him. Amram and Bingman were also up and running. Good. None of us has been hit.
Murphy could hear the screech of brakes behind him. Whoever had shot at them had stopped and was backing up.
As he ran down the alley, Murphy noticed an opening into a courtyard to his left. It was too narrow for a car to follow. The attackers would have to pursue on foot. Murphy turned into the opening, motioning for the others to follow, then ran across a courtyard, into another alley.
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They began to zigzag through alleys and yards in an attempt to escape. Soon they came to a small street on which there were a number of shops and restaurants.
"Over there!" Amram shouted.
They crossed the street and entered a small restaurant, breathing hard. Every head turned their way as they entered. The group tried to walk nonchalantly to a table at the back, but it was obvious that they were out of place. Pairs of dark eyes followed them, focused on the three white faces. Americans never frequented this local hangout--especially a light-skinned woman with flaming red hair.
Everyone knew that they were in trouble. Was there anyone in the room they could trust?
Murphy, Isis, Bingman, and Amram looked up at the faces that were staring at them. Eventually a short stocky man approached and said something to Amram in Arabic. "The man says that we should follow him," Amram translated.
The stocky man led them through the kitchen, opened a door that led to the alley, and pointed.
Obviously the man was giving them an escape route out the back. Maybe the people in the restaurant wouldn't say anything to those pursuing them. It was worth a chance.
The group walked quickly through several more alleys until they found a place to rest.
"I am so sorry for what has happened," Amram cried. "I can't understand how we were targeted! I will work my way back to the car and come pick you up. Remain here. I will return as soon as I can."
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"Be careful, Jassim. Those men are out there somewhere. We'll keep in the shadows until you return," Murphy replied.
After ten minutes, Murphy, Isis, and Bingman heard the sound of people coming up the alley. They froze and waited in the shadows of a doorway. Isis, trembling, grabbed Murphy's arm and stood close to him.
Four men approached, slowed, and finally stopped right in front of the doorway where the Americans were hiding. Then one of the men lit a cigarette. In the flickering light, Murphy could see that one of the men carried an automatic weapon, two had knives, and the fourth had some sort of club. But the light also enabled the Arabs to see them.
The one with the gun yelled and motioned for them to come out of the doorway. Murphy, Isis, and Bingman stepped forward.
The four Arabs began to argue in Arabic. Quietly Isis began to interpret.
"The large one with the knife says that they should kill us right here. The one with the gun is saying no. He thinks we should be taken to their leader for him to decide. The heavy one with the other knife says that they should behead us right now. The small one is arguing that they should have fun with me before they kill me."
Murphy looked at Bingman. Their eyes briefly met, and Bingman gave a slight nod. Murphy knew it was best to move while the Arabs were arguing. He went for the man with the automatic weapon. As he stepped forward, the man started to bring his gun up. Murphy's left hand hit the weapon as it started to fire, deflecting the bullet.
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Murphy spun around in one spot, raising his right elbow and driving it into the gunman's right temple. He was instantly down and out.
Bingman took on the big man with the knife, who lunged straight forward. Bingman sidestepped, pulled off his jacket, and rolled it over his left arm as protection. The Arab lunged a second time, this time trying to stab Bingman in the face.
Bingman blocked the knife with his jacket-covered arm. He drove his right fist in an uppercut motion into the Arab's diaphragm. Then Bingman brought his knee up, breaking the man's nose and shattering his cheekbone. He was through.
Isis decided to take on the small man with the club--the one who w
anted to have fun with her. As she started to charge him, he raised the club over his head and shouted, "White whore." Suddenly she dropped down as if she were sliding into home base, raised her left foot, and drove it straight into his groin. The man dropped the club, rolling on the ground and wailing in pain.
Isis picked up the club and was about to hit the Arab when Bingman grabbed her arm. "Allow me," he said, driving his fist into the man's face.
In the meantime, Murphy had taken on the tall Arab with a knife. Murphy dropped down and did a leg sweep, knocking the man's feet out from under him. He then jumped up and drove his heel down on the man's hand that was holding the knife. The Arab screamed as his fingers broke. Then Murphy grabbed the knife, dropped to one knee, and placed the point on the tall man's throat.
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He could see an upside-down crescent tattoo on the Arab's neck.
"Who sent you after us? Who are you working for?" Murphy cried.
Isis translated. The man only moaned and clutched his broken fingers.
Isis repeated the question as Murphy pushed on the knife, breaking the man's skin and drawing a bead of blood.
Finally the Arab spoke. "The man with the razor finger wants you dead," Isis translated. "He says the people he works for need you eliminated."
"What do you mean, the people he works for?" Murphy asked, pressing his knee into the Arab's belly.
Again Isis translated what was said. "The Seven."
"The who? Who are the Seven?" Murphy asked.
As soon as Isis translated that, a look of absolute terror came over the tall man's face. Murphy knew that the man would die before he would reveal that secret. He tossed the knife away and drove a reverse punch into the man's chest, rendering him unconscious.