Free Europa Conspiracy (Babylon Rising 3) by Tim F. LaHaye Page B

Babylon, and you have all the connections."
    There was a pause. "Are you serious, Michael? I think you have a death wish. There may not be SUVs trying to
    88
    run you down, but there are roadside bombs, random mortar attacks, and kidnappings. Do you want to lose your head to a sword?"
    Ignoring Abrams's question, Murphy continued, "I'm planning to take Isis with me. She's going to contact the Parchments of Freedom Foundation to see if they'll fund the trip like they did for the Ararat expedition. There's a good chance that they will."
    "Oh, great! Now you're going to take a beautiful redheaded American woman with you. Do you think she won't attract attention? I think you hit your head in your last adventure. Iraq is not the safest place for civilians."
    "Could we at least get together to discuss it?"
    "When were you thinking about going?"
    "Within a month or two. I'm going to fly up to New York on some business. Isis is going to fly up from D.C., and we're going to go over the details."
    "Maybe we could get together in New York. Some friends have asked me to attend to certain matters there."
    "Friends?"
    There was another pause. "Michael, let's just say that they need some information to make effective business decisions."
    89
    EIGHTEEN
    EUGENE SIMPSON GLANCED at his watch as he pulled up next to the Gulfstream IV jet. With a sigh of relief, he shifted the polished ebony Mercedes into park and got out. Whew I ... Just on time.
    He had worked for Barrington Communications for three years and had been late only once. One mistake is all any employee ever had with Shane Barrington, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world.
    As Simpson opened the back door, he looked into Barrington's flint-gray eyes. It gave him the chills. He quickly stepped back and stood at attention like a trained soldier. The athletic frame of the coldhearted corporate warrior emerged. He straightened the coat of his $2,500 suit and looked around.
    The soft gray hair at his temples whipped around in the slight breeze. Simpson looked at his employer's high
    90
    cheekbones and thin lips. His large body and confident stance were very imposing.
    "Get the bags, Eugene."
    It was slightly overcast when the jet put down in Zurich. The damp dark weather matched Barrington's spirit. He was not happy at being there. He was getting a little tired of being ordered around by seven pompous, smug, power-hungry egomaniacs. He'd about had his fill.
    Careful, Barrington. They've helped to make you rich and can destroy you too. They do control your purse string, you know ...at least for now.
    He felt his chest and stomach muscles tighten when the chauffeur drove up to take him to the castle.
    Why do they always send that creepy driver who has no tongue? Oh, well. At least I don't have to listen to him jabber.
    In about fifteen minutes the limousine broke through the low clouds. The sky was blue and the sun shone on the snow-covered Alps. It took about another hour before Barrington could see the Gothic spires of the castle in the distance. They didn't look quite as foreboding as the last time he was there.
    Maybe I'm getting used to it , he told himself. If it wasn't for those egomaniacs, this would be a beautiful place to visit.
    The chauffeur let Barrington off in front of the giant wooden door. Inside the large entry hall, he walked past suits of armor standing like lifeless sentries for some medieval king. Torches that usually burned brightly were out. The whole place seemed eerie and uninviting--deserted. His footsteps echoed loudly on the stone floors.
    91
    By now he knew the routine. He strode to the large stainless steel door at the south end of the hall, which hissed open to allow him to enter, then hissed shut. He pushed the down button. All aboard. First stop. Hell.
    It had been Hell, all right. Especially the night he first met Talon as his son Arthur lay on a bed with a breathing mask over his face. He recalled the conversation.
    "Talon? What kind of