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fingers to the hidden part of Peter’s palm. “Maybe it’s not written on paper.”

“Tattooed?” Anderson said.

Langdon nodded.

“Do you see anything on the palm?” Sato asked.

Langdon crouched lower, trying to peer up under the loosely clenched fingers. “The angle is impossible. I

can’t—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sato said, moving toward him. “Just open the damned thing!”

Anderson stepped in front of her. “Ma’am! We should really wait for forensics before we touch—”

“I want some answers,” Sato said, pushing past him. She crouched down, edging Langdon away from the

hand.

Langdon stood up and watched in disbelief as Sato pulled a pen from her pocket, sliding it carefully under

the three clenched fingers. Then, one by one, she pried each finger upward until the hand stood fully open,

with its palm visible.

She glanced up at Langdon, and a thin smile spread across her face. “Right again, Professor.”

 CHAPTER 22

Pacing the library, Katherine Solomon pulled back the sleeve of her lab coat and checked her watch. She

was not a woman accustomed to waiting, but at the moment, she felt as if her whole world were on hold. She

was waiting for Trish’s search-spider results, she was waiting for word from her brother, and also, she was

waiting for a callback from the man who was responsible for this entire troubling situation.

I wish he hadn’t told me, she thought. Normally, Katherine was extremely careful about making new

acquaintances, and although she had met this man for the first time only this afternoon, he had earned her

trust in a matter of minutes. Completely.

His call had come this afternoon while Katherine was at home enjoying her usual Sunday-afternoon pleasure

of catching up on the week’s scientific journals.

“Ms. Solomon?” an unusually airy voice had said. “My name is Dr. Christopher Abaddon. I was hoping I

might speak to you for a moment about your brother?”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” she had demanded. And how did you get my private cell-phone number?

“Dr. Christopher Abaddon?”

Katherine did not recognize the name.

The man cleared his throat, as if the situation had just become awkward. “I apologize, Ms. Solomon. I was

under the impression your brother had told you about me. I’m his doctor. Your cell number was listed as his

emergency contact.”

Katherine’s heart skipped. Emergency contact? “Is something wrong?”

“No . . . I don’t think so,” the man said. “Your brother missed an appointment this morning, and I can’t reach

him on any of his numbers. He never misses appointments without calling, and I’m just a little worried. I

hesitated to phone you, but—”

“No, no, not at all, I appreciate the concern.” Katherine was still trying to place the doctor’s name. “I haven’t

spoken to my brother since yesterday morning, but he probably just forgot to turn on his cell.” Katherine had

recently given him a new iPhone, and he still hadn’t taken the time to figure out how to use it.

“You say you’re his doctor?” she asked. Does Peter have an illness he’s keeping from me?

There was a weighty pause on the line. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve obviously just made a rather serious

professional error by calling you. Your brother told me you were aware of his visits to me, but now I see

that’s not the case.”

My brother lied to his doctor? Katherine’s concern was now growing steadily. “Is he sick?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Solomon, doctor-patient confidentiality precludes me from discussing your brother’s

condition, and I’ve already said too much by admitting he is my patient. I’m going to hang up now, but if you

hear from him today, please ask him to call me so I know he’s okay.”

“Wait!” Katherine said. “Please tell me what’s wrong with Peter!”

Dr. Abaddon exhaled, sounding displeased with his mistake. “Ms. Solomon, I can hear you’re upset, and I

don’t blame you. I’m sure your brother is fine. He was in my office just yesterday.”

“Yesterday? And he’s scheduled again today? This sounds urgent.”

The man heaved a sigh. “I suggest we give him a little more time before we—”

“I’m coming by your office right now,” Katherine said, heading for the door. “Where are you located?”

Silence.

“Dr. Christopher Abaddon?” Katherine said. “I can look up your address myself, or you can simply give it to

me. Either way, I’m coming over.”

The doctor paused. “If I meet with you, Ms. Solomon, would you please do me the courtesy of saying

nothing to your brother until I’ve had a chance to explain my misstep?”

“That’s fine.”

“Thank you. My office is in Kalorama Heights.” He gave her an address.

Twenty minutes later, Katherine Solomon was navigating the stately streets of Kalorama Heights. She had

phoned all of her brother’s numbers with no reply. She did not feel overly concerned about her brother’s

whereabouts, and yet, the news that he was secretly seeing a doctor . . . was troubling.

When Katherine finally located the address, she stared up at the building in confusion. This is a doctor’s

office?

The opulent mansion before her had a wrought-iron security fence, electronic cameras, and lush grounds. As

she slowed to double-check the address, one of the security cameras rotated toward her, and the gate swung

open. Tentatively, Katherine drove up the driveway and parked next to a six-car garage and a stretch limo.

What kind of doctor is this guy?

As she got out of her car, the front door of the mansion opened, and an elegant figure drifted out onto the

landing. He was handsome, exceptionally tall, and younger than she had imagined. Even so, he projected the

sophistication and polish of an older man. He was impeccably dressed in a dark suit and tie, and his thick

blond hair was immaculately coiffed.

“Ms. Solomon, I’m Dr. Christopher Abaddon,” he said, his voice a breathy whisper. When they shook hands,

his skin felt smooth and well tended.

“Katherine Solomon,” she said, trying not to stare at his skin, which was unusually smooth and bronzed. Is

he wearing makeup?

Katherine felt a growing disquiet as she stepped into the home’s beautifully appointed foyer. Classical music

played softly in the background, and it smelled as if someone had burned incense. “This is lovely,” she said,

“although I expected more of . . . an office.”

“I’m fortunate to work out of my home.” The man led her into a living room, where there was a crackling

fire. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’m just steeping some tea. I’ll bring it out, and we can talk.” He

strode toward the kitchen and disappeared.

Katherine Solomon did not sit. Female intuition was a potent instinct that she had learned to trust, and

something about this place was making her skin crawl. She saw nothing that looked anything like any

doctor’s office she had ever seen. The walls of this antique-adorned living room were covered with classical

art, primarily paintings with strange mythical themes. She paused before a large canvas depicting the Three

Graces, whose nude bodies were spectacularly rendered in vivid colors.

“That’s the original Michael Parkes oil.” Dr. Abaddon appeared without warning beside her, holding a tray

of steaming tea. “I thought we’d sit by the fire?” He led her over to the living room and offered her a seat.

“There’s no reason to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Katherine said entirely too quickly.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Actually, it is my business to know when people are nervous.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m a practicing psychiatrist, Ms. Solomon. That is my profession. I’ve been seeing your brother for almost

a year now. I’m his therapist.”

Katherine could only stare. My brother is in therapy?

“Patients often choose to keep their therapy to themselves,” the man said. “I made a mistake by calling you,

although in my defense, your brother did mislead me.”

“I . . . I had no idea.”

“I apologize if I made you nervous,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “I noticed you studying my face when

we met, and yes, I do wear makeup.” He touched his own cheek, looking self-conscious. “I have a

dermatological condition, which I prefer to hide. My wife usually puts the makeup on for me, but when she’s

not here, I have to rely on my own heavy touch.”

Katherine nodded, too embarrassed to speak.

“And this lovely hair . . .” He touched his lush blond mane. “A wig. My skin condition affected my scalp

follicles as well, and all my hair jumped ship.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid my one sin is vanity.”

“Apparently mine is rudeness,” Katherine said.

“Not at all.” Dr. Abaddon’s smile was disarming. “Shall we start over? Perhaps with some tea?”

They sat in front of the fire and Abaddon poured tea. “Your brother got me in the habit of serving tea during

our sessions. He said the Solomons are tea drinkers.”

“Family tradition,” Katherine said. “Black, please.”

They sipped their tea and made small talk for a few minutes, but Katherine was eager for information about

her brother. “Why was my brother coming to you?” she asked. And why didn’t he tell me? Admittedly, Peter

had endured more than his fair share of tragedy in his life—losing his father at a young age, and then, within

a span of five years, burying his only son and then his mother. Even so, Peter had always found a way to

cope.

Dr. Abaddon took a sip of tea. “Your brother came to me because he trusts me. We have a bond beyond that

of normal patient and doctor.” He motioned to a framed document near the fireplace. It looked like a

diploma, until Katherine spied the double-headed phoenix.

“You’re a Mason?” The highest degree, no less.

“Peter and I are brothers of sorts.”

“You must have done something important to be invited into the thirty-third degree.”

“Not really,” he said. “I have family money, and I give a lot of money to Masonic charities.”

Katherine now realized why her brother trusted this young doctor. A Mason with family money, interested in

philanthropy and ancient mythology?

Dr. Abaddon had more in common with her brother than she had initially imagined.

“When I asked why my brother came to you,” she said, “I didn’t mean why did he choose you. I meant, why

is he seeking the services of a psychiatrist?”

Dr. Abaddon smiled. “Yes, I know. I was trying to sidestep the question politely. It’s really not something I

should be discussing.” He paused. “Although I must say I’m puzzled that your brother would keep our

discussions from you, considering that they relate so directly to your research.”

“My research?” Katherine said, taken totally off guard. My brother talks about my research?

“Recently, your brother came to me looking for a professional opinion about the psychological impact of the

breakthroughs you are making in your lab.”

Katherine almost choked on the tea. “Really? I’m . . . surprised,” she managed. What is Peter thinking? He

told his shrink about my work?! Their security protocol involved not discussing with anyone what Katherine

was working on. Moreover, the confidentiality had been her brother’s idea.

“Certainly you are aware, Ms. Solomon, that your brother is deeply concerned about what will happen when

your research goes public. He sees the potential for a significant philosophical shift in the world . . . and he

came here to discuss the possible ramifications . . . from a psychological perspective.”

“I see,” Katherine said, her teacup now shaking slightly.

“The questions we discuss are challenging ones: What happens to the human condition if the great mysteries

of life are finally revealed? What happens when those beliefs that we accept on faith . . . are suddenly

categorically proven as fact? Or disproved as myth? One could argue that there exist certain questions that

are best left unanswered.”

Katherine could not believe what she was hearing, and yet she kept her emotions in check. “I hope you don’t

mind, Dr. Abaddon, but I’d prefer not to discuss the details of my work. I have no immediate plans to make

anything public. For the time being, my discoveries will remain safely locked in my lab.”

“Interesting.” Abaddon leaned back in his chair, lost in thought for a moment. “In any event, I asked your

brother to come back today because yesterday he suffered a bit of a break. When that happens, I like to have

clients—”

“Break?” Katherine’s heart was pounding. “As in breakdown?” She couldn’t imagine her brother breaking

down over anything.

Abaddon reached out kindly. “Please, I can see I’ve upset you. I’m sorry. Considering these awkward

circumstances, I can understand how you might feel entitled to answers.”

“Whether I’m entitled or not,” Katherine said, “my brother is all I have left of my family. Nobody knows him

better than I do, so if you tell me what the hell happened, maybe I can help you. We all want the same

thing—what’s best for Peter.”

Dr. Abaddon fell silent for several long moments and then began slowly nodding as if Katherine might have

a point. Finally, he spoke. “For the record, Ms. Solomon, if I decide to share this information with you, I

would do so only because I think your insights might help me assist your brother.”

“Of course.”

Abaddon leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Ms. Solomon, as long as I’ve been seeing your

brother, I’ve sensed in him a deep struggle with feelings of guilt. I’ve never pressed him on it because that’s

not why he comes to me. And yet yesterday, for a number of reasons, I finally asked him about it.” Abaddon

locked eyes with her. “Your brother opened up, rather dramatically and unexpectedly. He told me things I

had not expected to hear . . . including everything that happened the night your mother died.”

Christmas Eve—almost exactly ten years ago. She died in my arms.

“He told me your mother was murdered during a robbery attempt at your home? A man broke in looking for

something he believed your brother was hiding?”

“That’s correct.”

Abaddon’s eyes were appraising her. “Your brother said he shot the man dead?”

“Yes.”

Abaddon stroked his chin. “Do you recall what the intruder was looking for when he broke into your home?”

Katherine had tried in vain for ten years to block out the memory. “Yes, his demand was very specific.

Unfortunately, none of us knew what he was talking about. His demand never made sense to any of us.”

“Well, it made sense to your brother.”

“What?” Katherine sat up.

“At least according to the story he told me yesterday, Peter knew exactly what the intruder was looking for.