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Peter’s still-youthful eyes.

“Yes, I get it,” Peter finally said. “Times are different now. I understand that Masonry probably appears

strange to you, or maybe even boring. But I want you to know, that doorway will always be open for you

should you change your mind.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Zach grumbled.

“That’s enough!” Peter snapped, standing up. “I realize life has been a struggle for you, Zachary, but I am

not your only guidepost. There are good men waiting for you, men who will welcome you within the

Masonic fold and show you your true potential.”

Zachary chuckled and glanced over at Bellamy. “Is that why you’re here, Mr. Bellamy? So you Masons can

gang up on me?”

Bellamy said nothing, instead directing a respectful gaze back at Peter Solomon—a reminder to Zachary of

who held the power in this room.

Zachary turned back to his father.

“Zach,” Peter said, “we’re getting nowhere . . . so let me just tell you this. Whether or not you comprehend

the responsibility being offered to you tonight, it is my family obligation to present it.” He motioned to the

pyramid. “It is a rare privilege to guard this pyramid. I urge you to consider this opportunity for a few days

before making your decision.”

“Opportunity?” Zachary said. “Babysitting a rock?”

“There are great mysteries in this world, Zach,” Peter said with a sigh. “Secrets that transcend your wildest

imagination. This pyramid protects those secrets. And even more important, there will come a time, probably

within your lifetime, when this pyramid will at last be deciphered and its secrets unearthed. It will be a

moment of great human transformation . . . and you have a chance to play a role in that moment. I want you

to consider it very carefully. Wealth is commonplace, but wisdom is rare.” He motioned to the portfolio and

then to the pyramid. “I beg you to remember that wealth without wisdom can often end in disaster.”

Zachary looked like he thought his father was insane. “Whatever you say, Dad, but there’s no way I’m giving

up my inheritance for this.” He gestured to the pyramid.

Peter folded his hands before him. “If you choose to accept the responsibility, I will hold your money and the

pyramid for you until you have successfully completed your education within the Masons. This will take

years, but you will emerge with the maturity to receive both your money and this pyramid. Wealth and

wisdom. A potent combination.”

Zachary shot up. “Jesus, Dad! You don’t give up, do you? Can’t you see that I don’t give a damn about the

Masons or stone pyramids and ancient mysteries?” He reached down and scooped up the black portfolio,

waving it in front of his father’s face. “This is my birthright! The same birthright of the Solomons who came

before me! I can’t believe you’d try to trick me out of my inheritance with lame stories about ancient treasure

maps!” He tucked the portfolio under his arm and marched past Bellamy to the study’s patio door.

“Zachary, wait!” His father rushed after him as Zachary stalked out into the night. “Whatever you do, you

can never speak of the pyramid you have seen!” Peter Solomon’s voice cracked. “Not to anyone! Ever!”

But Zachary ignored him, disappearing into the night.

Peter Solomon’s gray eyes were filled with pain as he returned to his desk and sat heavily in his leather chair.

After a long silence, he looked up at Bellamy and forced a sad smile. “That went well.”

Bellamy sighed, sharing in Solomon’s pain. “Peter, I don’t mean to sound insensitive . . . but . . . do you trust

him?”

Solomon stared blankly into space.

“I mean . . .” Bellamy pressed, “not to say anything about the pyramid?”

Solomon’s face was blank. “I really don’t know what to say, Warren. I’m not sure I even know him

anymore.”

Bellamy rose and walked slowly back and forth before the large desk. “Peter, you have followed your family

duty, but now, considering what just happened, I think we need to take precautions. I should return the

capstone to you so you can find a new home for it. Someone else should watch over it.”

“Why?” Solomon asked.

“If Zachary tells anyone about the pyramid . . . and mentions my being present tonight . . .”

“He knows nothing of the capstone, and he’s too immature to know the pyramid has any significance. We

don’t need a new home for it. I’ll keep the pyramid in my vault. And you will keep the capstone wherever

you keep it. As we always have.”

It was six years later, on Christmas Day, with the family still healing from Zachary’s death, that the

enormous man claiming to have killed him in prison broke into the Solomon estate. The intruder had come

for the pyramid, but he had taken with him only Isabel Solomon’s life.

Days later, Peter summoned Bellamy to his office. He locked the door and took the pyramid out of his vault,

setting it on the desk between them. “I should have listened to you.”

Bellamy knew Peter was racked with guilt over this. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Solomon drew a tired breath. “Did you bring the capstone?”

Bellamy pulled a small cube-shaped package from his pocket. The faded brown paper was tied with twine

and bore a wax seal of Solomon’s ring. Bellamy laid the package on the desk, knowing the two halves of the

Masonic Pyramid were closer together tonight than they should be. “Find someone else to watch this. Don’t

tell me who it is.”

Solomon nodded.

“And I know where you can hide the pyramid,” Bellamy said. He told Solomon about the Capitol Building

subbasement. “There’s no place in Washington more secure.”

Bellamy recalled Solomon liking the idea right away because it felt symbolically apt to hide the pyramid in

the symbolic heart of our nation. Typical Solomon, Bellamy had thought. The idealist even in a crisis.

Now, ten years later, as Bellamy was being shoved blindly through the Library of Congress, he knew the

crisis tonight was far from over. He also now knew whom Solomon had chosen to guard the capstone . . . and

he prayed to God that Robert Langdon was up to the job.

CHAPTER 62

I’m under Second Street.

Langdon’s eyes remained tightly shut as the conveyor rumbled through the darkness toward the Adams

Building. He did his best not to picture the tons of earth overhead and the narrow tube through which he was

now traveling. He could hear Katherine breathing several yards ahead of him, but so far, she had not uttered a

word.

She’s in shock. Langdon was not looking forward to telling her about her brother’s severed hand. You have

to, Robert. She needs to know.

“Katherine?” Langdon finally said, without opening his eyes. “Are you okay?”

A tremulous, disembodied voice replied somewhere up ahead. “Robert, the pyramid you’re carrying. It’s

Peter’s, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Langdon replied.

A long silence followed. “I think . . . that pyramid is why my mother was murdered.”

Langdon was well aware that Isabel Solomon had been murdered ten years ago, but he didn’t know the

details, and Peter had never mentioned anything about a pyramid. “What are you talking about?”

Katherine’s voice filled with emotion as she recounted the harrowing events of that night, how the tattooed

man had broken into their estate. “It was a long time ago, but I’ll never forget that he demanded a pyramid.

He said he heard about the pyramid in prison, from my nephew, Zachary . . . right before he killed him.”

Langdon listened in amazement. The tragedy within the Solomon family was almost beyond belief.

Katherine continued, telling Langdon that she had always believed the intruder was killed that night . . . that

is, until this same man had resurfaced today, posing as Peter’s psychiatrist and luring Katherine to his home.

“He knew private things about my brother, my mother’s death, and even my work,” she said anxiously,

“things he could only have learned from my brother. And so I trusted him . . . and that’s how he got inside

the Smithsonian Museum Support Center.” Katherine took a deep breath and told Langdon she was nearly

certain the man had destroyed her lab tonight.

Langdon listened in utter shock. For several moments, the two of them lay together in silence on the moving

conveyor. Langdon knew he had an obligation to share with Katherine the rest of tonight’s terrible news. He

began slowly, and as gently as he possibly could he told her how her brother had entrusted him with a small

package years earlier, how Langdon had been tricked into bringing this package to Washington tonight, and

finally, about her brother’s hand having been found in the Rotunda of the Capitol Building.

Katherine’s reaction was deafening silence.

Langdon could tell she was reeling, and he wished he could reach out and comfort her, but lying end to end

in the narrow blackness made it impossible. “Peter’s okay,” he whispered. “He’s alive, and we’ll get him

back.” Langdon tried to give her hope. “Katherine, his captor promised me your brother would be returned

alive . . . as long as I decipher the pyramid for him.”

Still Katherine said nothing.

Langdon kept talking. He told her about the stone pyramid, its Masonic cipher, the sealed capstone, and, of

course, about Bellamy’s claims that this pyramid was in fact the Masonic Pyramid of legend . . . a map that

revealed the hiding place of a long spiral staircase that led deep into the earth . . . down hundreds of feet to a

mystical ancient treasure that had been buried in Washington long ago.

Katherine finally spoke, but her voice was flat and emotionless. “Robert, open your eyes.”

Open my eyes? Langdon had no desire to have even the slightest glimpse of how cramped this space really

was.

“Robert!” Katherine demanded, urgently now. “Open your eyes! We’re here!”

Langdon’s eyes flew open as his body emerged through an opening similar to the one it had entered at the

other end. Katherine was already climbing off the conveyor belt. She lifted his daybag off the belt as

Langdon swung his legs over the edge and jumped down onto the tile floor just in time, before the conveyor

turned the corner and headed back the way it came. The space around them was a circulation room much like

the one they had come from in the other building. A small sign read ADAMS BUILDING:

CIRCULATION ROOM 3.

Langdon felt like he had just emerged from some kind of subterranean

birth canal. Born again. He turned immediately to Katherine. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes were red, and she had obviously been crying, but she nodded with a resolute stoicism. She picked

up Langdon’s daybag and carried it across the room without a word, setting it on a cluttered desk. She lit the

desk’s halogen clamp lamp, unzipped the bag, folded down the sides, and peered inside.

The granite pyramid looked almost austere in the clean halogen light. Katherine ran her fingers over the

engraved Masonic cipher, and Langdon sensed deep emotion churning within her. Slowly, she reached into

the daybag and pulled out the cube-shaped package. She held it under the light, examining it closely.

“As you can see,” Langdon quietly said, “the wax seal is embossed with Peter’s Masonic ring. He said this

ring was used to seal the package more than a century ago.”

Katherine said nothing.

“When your brother entrusted the package to me,” Langdon told her, “he said it would give me the power to

create order out of chaos. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’ve got to assume the capstone reveals

something important, because Peter was insistent that it not fall into the wrong hands. Mr. Bellamy just told

me the same thing, urging me to hide the pyramid and not let anyone open the package.”

Katherine turned now, looking angry. “Bellamy told you not to open the package?”

“Yes. He was adamant.”

Katherine looked incredulous. “But you said this capstone is the only way we can decipher the pyramid,

right?”

“Probably, yes.”

Katherine’s voice was rising now. “And you said deciphering the pyramid is what you were told to do. It’s

the only way we can get Peter back, right?”

Langdon nodded.

“Then, Robert, why wouldn’t we open the package and decipher this thing right now?!”

Langdon didn’t know how to respond. “Katherine, I had the same exact reaction, and yet Bellamy told me

that keeping this pyramid’s secret intact was more important than anything . . . including your brother’s life.”

Katherine’s pretty features hardened, and she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ears. When she spoke, her

voice was resolved. “This stone

pyramid, whatever it is, has cost me my entire family. First my nephew, Zachary, then my mother, and now

my brother.And let’s face it, Robert, if you hadn’t called tonight to warn me . . .”

Langdon could feel himself trapped between Katherine’s logic and Bellamy’s steadfast urging.

“I may be a scientist,” she said, “but I also come from a family of well-known Masons. Believe me, I’ve

heard all the stories about the Masonic Pyramid and its promise of some great treasure that will enlighten

mankind. Honestly, I find it hard to imagine such a thing exists. However, if it does exist . . . perhaps it’s

time to unveil it.” Katherine slid a finger beneath the old twine on the package.

Langdon jumped. “Katherine, no! Wait!”

She paused, but her finger remained beneath the string. “Robert, I’m not going to let my brother die for this.

Whatever this capstone says . . . whatever lost treasures this engraving might reveal . . . those secrets end

tonight.”

With that, Katherine yanked defiantly on the twine, and the brittle wax seal exploded.

CHAPTER 63

In a quiet neighborhood just west of Embassy Row in Washington, there exists a medieval-style walled

garden whose roses, it is said, spring from twelfth-century plants. The garden’s Carderock gazebo—known

as Shadow House—sits elegantly amid meandering pathways of stones dug from George Washington’s

private quarry.

Tonight the silence of the gardens was broken by a young man who rushed through the wooden gate,

shouting as he came.

“Hello?” he called out, straining to see in the moonlight. “Are you in here?”

The voice that replied was frail, barely audible. “In the gazebo . . . just taking some air.”

The young man found his withered superior seated on the stone bench beneath a blanket. The hunched old

man was tiny, with elfin features. The years had bent him in two and stolen his eyesight, but his soul