01 Babylon Rising Read Free

faith.
    Which was hardly a justification for his risking his life, Murphy realized. However, pride, temper, stubbornness were all high on the list of Michael Murphy’s imperfections. Probably Murphy’s greatest reservations about his Methuselahadventures were a result of his deep religious faith, which made it far more difficult to justify the extreme risk to his life and limb.
    Justify the risk not merely to himself, but to his wife, Laura.
    So far, his passion for the quest for artifacts had been a real test of Laura’s passion for Murphy. It certainly helped his cause that she held a degree in ancient studies herself. However, there were many arguments after the fact, many pledges that he would try to resist the next Methuselah temptation, but Laura knew there would always be another insanely dangerous Methuselah trap. All he had to do was to dangle another artifact before her husband.
    It was that understanding that caused Murphy to dash off a quick note to Laura before he left for Raleigh that evening. She was at a conference in Atlanta and would not be home for another night, and Murphy wrote down what little he knew about where he was going. He left the note on the mantel in their living room. Just in case.
    Murphy kept a touch light on the accelerator all the way from Preston to Raleigh to make sure he did not get a speeding ticket. That was one risk he could definitely avoid for the night. The address Methuselah had barked at him was for an eight-story building on an empty street in a deserted neighborhood. When he got to the rooftop, Murphy looked for some sign for a next move.
    Without warning, the very roof beneath his feet opened,and that was when he found himself dropping through the building.
    Free-falling.
    In the fleeting seconds after he started his descent, his multitasking mind flashed on how beautiful Laura had looked yesterday afternoon before she left for her plane, he offered up a quick prayer, and he forced himself to focus on his years of martial arts training, specifically on the best position for his body to be in when he finally landed.
    Assuming he had to land eventually, it would not be pretty.
    He settled on the combination he had come to call Cat’s Last Gasp, his own poor interpretation of a Tibetan landing maneuver. He thought of it as the moves a cat in its ninth life would make to land safely. Murphy loosened every muscle, fighting the natural instinct to tense up in anticipation of what was bound to be one fearsome impact.
    Instead, he bounced. In the pitch-black space his body hit what felt like a huge net, and Murphy bounced up and down, rapidly making him more disoriented than the falling had.
    Feelings that were intensified by a blast of bright light that completely blinded Murphy.
    “So good of you to drop in, Murphy.”
    Methuselah. Though Murphy still could not see, there was no mistaking the cackling laugh that filled the space. Murphy also knew that even if he could see clearly, Methuselah would be well hidden, as he always was.
    “You’re probably still getting your bearings, eh, Murphy, so you can’t appreciate what a great old building this is. They built that chute to go through all the floors so they could dropthings from the roof down to the main work floor here. I had my people set this up especially for you, but I took pity on you at the last minute and provided the net. I’m getting soft. Let’s hope you’re not.”
    Murphy finally stopped bouncing and rolled himself to the edge of the net. His sight was beginning to normalize, but there did not seem to be much to see inside this building. There were white walls enclosing one giant floor space. The ceiling, if there was one, must have been several stories high, but the combination of gloomy darkness and now the piercing glow from spotlights mounted on the walls made it impossible to be certain.
    The netting was strung up at one end of the floor space. It was made of thick rope in a crosshatched pattern. The net