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and this stone pyramid than he did on explaining to Langdon what was going on. Langdon had a growing

apprehension that there was far more going on than he could imagine.

The CIA? The Architect of the Capitol? Two Thirty-third-degree Masons?

The shrill sound of Langdon’s cell phone cut the air. He pulled his phone from his jacket. Uncertain, he

answered. “Hello?” The voice that spoke was an eerie, familiar whisper. “Professor, I hear you had

unexpected company.”

Langdon felt an icy chill. “Where the hell is Peter?!” he demanded, his words reverberating in the enclosed

tunnel. Beside him, Warren Bellamy glanced over, looking concerned and motioning for Langdon to keep

walking.

“Don’t worry,” the voice said. “As I told you, Peter is somewhere safe.”

“You cut off his hand, for God’s sake! He needs a doctor!”

“He needs a priest,” the man replied. “But you can save him. If you do as I command, Peter will live. I give

you my word.”

“The word of a madman means nothing to me.”

“Madman? Professor, surely you appreciate the reverence with which I have adhered to the ancient protocols

tonight. The Hand of the Mysteries guided you to a portal—the pyramid that promises to unveil ancient

wisdom. I know you now possess it.”

“You think this is the Masonic Pyramid?” Langdon demanded. “It’s a chunk of rock.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “Mr. Langdon, you’re too smart to play dumb. You know very

well what you’ve uncovered tonight. A stone pyramid . . . hidden at the core of Washington, D.C. . . . by a

powerful Mason?”

“You’re chasing a myth! Whatever Peter told you, he told you in fear.

The Legend of the Masonic Pyramid is fiction. The Masons never built any pyramid to protect secret

wisdom. And even if they did, this pyramid is far too small to be what you think it is.”

The man chuckled. “I see Peter has told you very little. Nonetheless, Mr. Langdon, whether or not you

choose to accept what it is you now possess, you will do as I say. I am well aware that the pyramid you are

carrying has an encrypted engraving. You will decipher that engraving for me. Then, and only then, will I

return Peter Solomon to you.”

“Whatever you believe this engraving reveals,” Langdon said, “it won’t be the Ancient Mysteries.”

“Of course not,” he replied. “The mysteries are far too vast to be written on the side of a little stone

pyramid.”

The response caught Langdon off guard. “But if this engraving is not the Ancient Mysteries, then this

pyramid is not the Masonic Pyramid. Legend clearly states the Masonic Pyramid was constructed to protect

the Ancient Mysteries.”

The man’s tone was condescending now. “Mr. Langdon, the Masonic Pyramid was constructed to preserve

the Ancient Mysteries, but with a twist you’ve apparently not yet grasped. Did Peter never tell you? The

power of the Masonic Pyramid is not that it reveals the mysteries themselves . . . but rather that it reveals the

secret location where the mysteries are buried.”

Langdon did a double take.

“Decipher the engraving,” the voice continued, “and it will tell you the hiding place of mankind’s greatest

treasure.” He laughed. “Peter did not entrust you with the treasure itself, Professor.”

Langdon came to an abrupt halt in the tunnel. “Hold on. You’re saying this pyramid is . . . a map?

” Bellamy jolted to a stop now, too, his expression one of shock and alarm. Clearly, the caller had just hit a

raw nerve. The pyramid is a map.

“This map,” the voice whispered, “or pyramid, or portal, or whatever you choose to call it . . . was created

long ago to ensure the hiding place of the Ancient Mysteries would never be forgotten . . . that it would never

be lost to history.”

“A grid of sixteen symbols doesn’t look much like a map.”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Professor. But regardless, you alone have the power to read that inscription.”

“You’re wrong,” Langdon fired back, picturing the simplistic cipher. “Anyone could decipher this engraving.

It’s not very sophisticated.”

“I suspect there is more to the pyramid than meets the eye. Regardless, you alone possess the capstone.”

Langdon pictured the little capstone in his bag. Order from chaos? He didn’t know what to believe anymore,

but the stone pyramid in his bag seemed to be getting heavier with every passing moment.

Mal’akh pressed the cell phone to his ear, enjoying the sound of Langdon’s anxious breathing on the other

end. “Right now, I have business to attend to, Professor, and so do you. Call me as soon as you have

deciphered the map. We will go together to the hiding place and make our trade. Peter’s life . . . for all the

wisdom of the ages.”

“I will do nothing,” Langdon declared. “Especially not without proof Peter is alive.”

“I suggest you not test me. You are a very small cog in a vast machine. If you disobey me, or attempt to find

me, Peter will die. This I swear.”

“For all I know, Peter is already dead.”

“He is very much alive, Professor, but he desperately needs your help.”

“What are you really looking for?” Langdon shouted into the phone.

Mal’akh paused before answering. “Many people have pursued the Ancient Mysteries and debated their

power. Tonight, I will prove the mysteries are real.”

Langdon was silent.

“I suggest you get to work on the map immediately,” Mal’akh said. “I need this information today.”

“Today?! It’s already after nine o’clock!”

“Exactly. Tempus fugit.”

CHAPTER 44

New York editor Jonas Faukman was just turning off the lights in his Manhattan office when his phone rang.

He had no intention of picking up at this hour—that is, until he glimpsed the caller-ID display. This ought to

be good, he thought, reaching for the receiver.

“Do we still publish you?” Faukman asked, half serious.

“Jonas!” Robert Langdon’s voice sounded anxious. “Thank God you’re there. I need your help.”

Faukman’s spirits lifted. “You’ve got pages for me to edit, Robert?” Finally?

“No, I need information. Last year, I connected you with a scientist named Katherine Solomon, the sister of

Peter Solomon?”

Faukman frowned. No pages.

“She was looking for a publisher for a book on Noetic Science? Do you remember her?”

Faukman rolled his eyes. “Sure. I remember. And thanks a million for that introduction. Not only did she

refuse to let me read the results of her research, she didn’t want to publish anything until some magical date

in the future.”

“Jonas, listen to me, I don’t have time. I need Katherine’s phone number. Right now. Do you have it?”

“I’ve got to warn you . . . you’re acting a little desperate. She’s great looking, but you’re not going to impress

her by—”

“This is no joke, Jonas, I need her number now.”

“All right . . . hold on.” Faukman and Langdon had been close friends for enough years that Faukman knew

when Langdon was serious. Jonas typed the name Katherine Solomon into a search window and began

scanning the company’s e-mail server.

“I’m looking now,” Faukman said. “And for what it’s worth, when you call her, you may not want to call

from the Harvard Pool. It sounds like you’re in an asylum.”

“I’m not at the pool. I’m in a tunnel under the U.S. Capitol.”

Faukman sensed from Langdon’s voice that he was not joking. What is it with this guy? “Robert, why can’t

you just stay home and write?” His computer pinged. “Okay, hold on . . . I got it.” He moused through the

old e-mail thread. “It looks like all I have is her cell.”

“I’ll take it.”

Faukman gave him the number.

“Thanks, Jonas,” Langdon said, sounding grateful. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me a manuscript, Robert. Do you have any idea how long—”

The line went dead.

Faukman stared at the receiver and shook his head. Book publishing would be so much easier without the

authors.

CHAPTER 45

Katherine Solomon did a double take when she saw the name on her caller ID. She had imagined the

incoming call was from Trish, checking in to explain why she and Christopher Abaddon were taking so long.

But the caller was not Trish.

Far from it.

Katherine felt a blushing smile cross her lips. Could tonight get any stranger? She flipped open her phone.

“Don’t tell me,” she said playfully. “Bookish bachelor seeking single Noetic Scientist?”

“Katherine!” The deep voice belonged to Robert Langdon. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“Of course I’m okay,” she replied, puzzled. “Other than the fact that you never called me after that party at

Peter’s house last summer.”

“Something has happened tonight. Please listen.” His normally smooth voice sounded ragged. “I’m so sorry

to have to tell you this . . . but Peter is in serious trouble.”

Katherine’s smile disappeared. “What are you talking about?”

“Peter . . .” Langdon hesitated as if searching for words. “I don’t know how to say it, but he’s been . . . taken.

I’m not sure how or by whom, but—”

“Taken?” Katherine demanded. “Robert, you’re scaring me. Taken . . . where?”

“Taken captive.” Langdon’s voice cracked as if he were overwhelmed. “It must have happened earlier today

or maybe yesterday.”

“This isn’t funny,” she said angrily. “My brother is fine. I just spoke to him fifteen minutes ago!”

“You did?!” Langdon sounded stunned.

“Yes! He just texted me to say he was coming to the lab.”

“He texted you . . .” Langdon thought out loud. “But you didn’t actually hear his voice?”

“No, but—”

“Listen to me. The text you received was not from your brother. Someone has Peter’s phone. He’s

dangerous. Whoever it is tricked me into coming to Washington tonight.”

“Tricked you? You’re not making any sense!”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Langdon seemed uncharacteristically disorientated. “Katherine, I think you could be

in danger.”

Katherine Solomon was sure that Langdon would never joke about something like this, and yet he sounded

like he had lost his mind. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m locked inside a secure building!”

“Read me the message you got from Peter’s phone. Please.”

Bewildered, Katherine pulled up the text message and read it to Langdon, feeling a chill as she came to the

final part referencing Dr. Abaddon. “‘If available, have Dr. Abaddon join us inside. I trust him fully . . .’ ”

“Oh God . . .” Langdon’s voice was laced with fear. “Did you invite this man inside?”

“Yes! My assistant just went out to the lobby to get him. I expect them back any—”

“Katherine, get out!” Langdon yelled. “Now!”

At the other side of the SMSC, inside the security room, a phone began ringing, drowning out the Redskins

game. The guard reluctantly pulled out his earbuds one more time.

“Lobby,” he answered. “This is Kyle.”

“Kyle, it’s Katherine Solomon!” Her voice sounded anxious, out of breath.

“Ma’am, your brother has not yet—”

“Where’s Trish?!” she demanded. “Can you see her on the monitors?”

The guard rolled his chair over to look at the screens. “She hasn’t gotten back to the Cube yet?”

“No!” Katherine shouted, sounding alarmed.

The guard now realized that Katherine Solomon was out of breath, as if she were running. What’s going on

back there?

The guard quickly worked the video joystick, skimming through frames of digital video at rapid speed.

“Okay, hold on, scrolling through playback . . . I’ve got Trish with your guest leaving the lobby . . . they

move down the Street . . . fast-forwarding . . . okay, they’re going into Wet Pod . . . Trish uses her key card to

unlock the door . . . both of them step into Wet Pod . . . fast-forwarding . . . okay, here they are coming out of

Wet Pod just a minute ago . . . heading down . . .” He cocked his head, slowing the playback. “Wait a minute.

That’s odd.”

“What?”

“The gentleman came out of Wet Pod alone.”

“Trish stayed inside?”

“Yes, it looks that way. I’m watching your guest now . . . he’s in the hall on his own.”

“Where is Trish?” Katherine asked more frantically.

“I don’t see her on the video feed,” he replied, an edge of anxiety creeping into his voice. He looked back at

the screen and noticed that the man’s jacket sleeves appeared to be wet . . . all the way up to his elbows.

What in the world did he do in Wet Pod? The guard watched as the man began to move purposefully down

the main hallway toward Pod 5, clutching in his hand what looked like . . . a key card.

The guard felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Ms. Solomon, we’ve got a serious problem.”

Tonight was a night of firsts for Katherine Solomon.

In two years, she had never used her cell phone inside the void. Nor had she ever crossed the void at a dead

run. At the moment, however, Katherine had a cell phone pressed to her ear while she was dashing blindly

along the endless length of carpet. Each time she felt a foot stray from the carpet, she corrected back to

center, racing on through the sheer darkness.

“Where is he now?” Katherine asked the guard, breathless.

“Checking now,” the guard replied. “Fast-forwarding . . . okay, here he is walking down the hall . . . moving

toward Pod Five . . .”

Katherine ran harder, hoping to reach the exit before she got trapped back here. “How long until he gets to

the Pod Five entrance?”

The guard paused. “Ma’am, you don’t understand. I’m still fast-forwarding. This is recorded playback. This

already happened.” He paused. “Hold on, let me check the entry event monitor.” He paused and then said,

“Ma’am, Ms. Dunne’s key card shows a Pod Five entry event about a minute ago.”

Katherine slammed on the brakes, sliding to a halt in the middle of the abyss. “He already unlocked Pod

Five?” she whispered into the phone.

The guard was typing frantically. “Yes, it looks like he entered . . . ninety seconds ago.”

Katherine’s body went rigid. She stopped breathing. The darkness felt suddenly alive all around her.

He’s in here with me.

In an instant, Katherine realized that the only light in the entire space was coming from her cell phone,

illuminating the side of her face. “Send help,” she whispered to the guard. “And get to Wet Pod to help

Trish.” Then she quietly closed her phone, extinguishing the light.

Absolute darkness settled around her.

She stood stock-still and breathed as quietly as possible. After a few seconds, the pungent scent of ethanol

wafted out of the darkness in front of her. The smell got stronger. She could sense a presence, only a few feet