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In his wildest imagination, he could not guess what this could mean. Puzzled, he went to his computer and

typed in a search for this precise phrase.

To his great surprise, page after page of references appeared, all citing this exact question. He read the

information in wonderment. It seemed Warren Bellamy was not the first person in history to ask this strange

question. These same words had been uttered centuries ago . . . by King Solomon as he mourned a murdered

friend. The question was allegedly still spoken today by Masons, who used it as a kind of encoded cry for

help. Warren Bellamy, it seemed, was sending a distress call to a fellow Mason.

CHAPTER 68

Albrecht Dürer?

Katherine was trying to put the pieces together as she hurried with Langdon through the basement of the

Adams Building. A.D. stands for Albrecht Dürer? The famous sixteenth-century German engraver and

painter was one of her brother’s favorite artists, and Katherine was vaguely familiar with his work. Even so,

she could not imagine how Dürer would be any help to them in this case. For one thing, he’s been dead more

than four hundred years.

“Dürer is symbolically perfect,” Langdon was saying as they followed the trail of illuminated EXIT signs.

“He was the ultimate Renaissance mind—artist, philosopher, alchemist, and a lifelong student of the Ancient

Mysteries. To this day, nobody fully understands the messages hidden in Dürer’s art.”

“That may be true,” she said. “But how does ‘1514 Albrecht Dürer’ explain how to decipher the pyramid?”

They reached a locked door, and Langdon used Bellamy’s key card to get through.

“The number 1514,” Langdon said as they hurried up the stairs, “is pointing us to a very specific piece of

Dürer’s work.” They came into a huge corridor. Langdon glanced around and then pointed left. “This way.”

They moved quickly again. “Albrecht Dürer actually hid the number 1514 in his most mysterious piece of

art—Melencolia I—which he completed in the year 1514. It’s considered the seminal work of the Northern

European Renaissance.”

Peter had once shown Katherine Melencolia I in an old book on ancient mysticism, but she didn’t recall any

hidden number 1514.

“As you may know,” Langdon said, sounding excited, “Melencolia I depicts mankind’s struggle to

comprehend the Ancient Mysteries. The symbolism in Melencolia I is so complex it makes Leonardo da

Vinci look overt.”

Katherine stopped abruptly and looked at Langdon. “Robert, Melencolia I is here in Washington. It hangs in

the National Gallery.”

“Yes,” he said with a smile, “and something tells me that’s not a coincidence. The gallery is closed at this

hour, but I know the curator and—”

“Forget it, Robert, I know what happens when you go to museums.” Katherine headed off into a nearby

alcove, where she saw a desk with a computer.

Langdon followed, looking unhappy.

“Let’s do this the easier way.” It seemed Professor Langdon, the art connoisseur, was having an ethical

dilemma about using the Internet when an original was so nearby. Katherine stepped behind the desk and

powered up the computer. When the machine finally came to life, she realized she had another problem.

“There’s no icon for a browser.”

“It’s an internal library network.” Langdon pointed to an icon on the desktop. “Try that.”

Katherine clicked on the icon marked DIGITAL COLLECTIONS. The computer accessed a new screen,

and Langdon pointed again. Katherine clicked on his choice of icon: FINE PRINTS COLLECTION. The

screen refreshed. FINE PRINTS: SEARCH.

“Type in ‘Albrecht Dürer.’ ”

Katherine entered the name and then clicked the search key. Within seconds, the screen began displaying a

series of thumbnail images. All of the images looked to be similar in style—intricate black-and-white

engravings. Dürer had apparently done dozens of similar engravings.

Katherine scanned the alphabetical list of his artwork.

Adam and Eve

Betrayal of Christ

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

Great Passion

Last Supper

Seeing all the biblical titles, Katherine recalled that Dürer practiced something called Mystic Christianity—a

fusion of early Christianity, alchemy, astrology, and science.

Science . . .

The image of her lab in flames rushed through her mind. She could barely process the long-term

ramifications, but for the moment, her thoughts turned to her assistant, Trish. I hope she made it out.

Langdon was saying something about Dürer’s version of the Last Supper, but Katherine was barely listening.

She had just seen the link for Melencolia I.

She clicked the mouse, and the page refreshed with general information.

Melencolia I, 1514

Albrecht Dürer

(engraving on laid paper)

Rosenwald Collection

National Gallery of Art

Washington, D.C.

When she scrolled down, a high-res digital image of Dürer’s masterpiece appeared in all its glory.

Katherine stared in bewilderment, having forgotten just how strange it was.

Langdon gave an understanding chuckle. “As I said, it’s cryptic.”

Melencolia I consisted of a brooding figure with giant wings, seated in front of a stone building, surrounded

by the most disparate and bizarre collection of objects imaginable—measuring scales, an emaciated dog,

carpenter’s tools, an hourglass, various geometric solids, a hanging bell, a putto, a blade, a ladder.

Katherine vaguely recalled her brother telling her that the winged figure was a representation of “human

genius”—a great thinker with chin in hand, looking depressed, still unable to achieve enlightenment. The

genius is surrounded with all of the symbols of his human intellect—objects of science, math, philosophy,

nature, geometry, even carpentry—and yet is still unable to climb the ladder to true enlightenment. Even the

human genius has difficulty comprehending the Ancient Mysteries.

“Symbolically,” Langdon said, “this represents mankind’s failed attempt to transform human intellect into

godlike power. In alchemical terms, it represents our inability to turn lead into gold.”

“Not a particularly encouraging message,” Katherine agreed. “So how does it help us?” She did not see the

hidden number 1514 that Langdon was talking about.

“Order from chaos,” Langdon said, flashing a lopsided grin. “Just as your brother promised.” He reached in

his pocket and pulled out the grid of letters he had written earlier from the Masonic cipher. “Right now, this

grid is meaningless.” He spread the paper out on the desk.

Katherine eyed the grid. Definitely meaningless.

“But Dürer will transform it.”

“And how might he do that?”

“Linguistic alchemy.” Langdon motioned to the computer screen. “Look carefully. Hidden in this

masterpiece is something that will make sense of our sixteen letters.” He waited. “Do you see it yet? Look

for the number 1514.”

Katherine was in no mood to play classroom. “Robert, I see nothing—an orb, a ladder, a knife, a polyhedron,

a scale? I give up.”

“Look! There in the background. Carved into that building behind the angel? Beneath the bell? Dürer

engraved a square that is full of numbers.”

Katherine now saw the square that contained numbers, among them 1514.

“Katherine, that square is the key to deciphering the pyramid!”

She shot him a surprised look. “That’s not just any square,” Langdon said, grinning.

“That, Ms. Solomon, is a magic square.”

CHAPTER 69

Where the hell are they taking me?

Bellamy was still blindfolded in the back of an SUV. After a short stop somewhere close to the Library of

Congress, the vehicle had continued on . . . but only for a minute. Now the SUV had stopped again, having

again traveled only about a block.

Bellamy heard muffled voices talking.

“Sorry . . . impossible . . .” an authoritative voice was saying. “ . . . closed at this hour . . .”

The man driving the SUV replied with equal authority. “CIA investigation . . . national security . . .”

Apparently the exchange of words and IDs was persuasive, because the tone shifted immediately.

“Yes, of course . . . service entrance . . .” There was the loud grinding of what sounded like a garage door,

and as it opened, the voice added, “Shall I accompany you? Once you’re inside, you won’t be able to get

through—”

“No. We have access already.”

If the guard was surprised, it was too late. The SUV was moving again. It advanced about fifty yards and

then came to a stop. The heavy door rumbled closed again behind them.

Silence.

Bellamy realized he was trembling.

With a bang, the SUV’s rear hatch flew open. Bellamy felt a sharp pain in his shoulders as someone dragged

him out by his arms, then lifted him to his feet. Without a word, a powerful force led him across a wide

expanse of pavement. There was a strange, earthy smell here that he could not place. There were footsteps of

someone else walking with them, but whoever it was had yet to speak.

They stopped at a door, and Bellamy heard an electronic ping. The door clicked open. Bellamy was

manhandled through several corridors and could not help but notice that the air was warmer and more humid.

An indoor pool, maybe? No. The smell in the air was not chlorine . . . it was far more earthy and primal.

Where the hell are we?! Bellamy knew he could not be more than a block or two from the Capitol Building.

Again they stopped, and again he heard the electronic beep of a security door. This one slid open with a hiss.

As they pushed him through, the smell that hit him was unmistakable.

Bellamy now realized where they were. My God! He came here often, although never through the service

entrance. This magnificent glass building was only three hundred yards from the Capitol Building and was

technically part of the Capitol Complex. I run this place! Bellamy now realized it was his own key fob that

was giving them access.

Powerful arms pushed him through the doorway, leading him down a familiar, winding walkway. The heavy,

damp warmth of this place usually felt comforting to him. Tonight, he was sweating.

What are we doing here?!

Bellamy was halted suddenly and seated on a bench. The man with the muscles unhooked his handcuffs only

long enough to reaffix them to the bench behind his back.

“What do you want from me?” Bellamy demanded, heart pounding wildly.

The only response he received was the sound of boots walking off and the glass door sliding shut.

Then silence.

Dead silence.

They’re just going to leave me here? Bellamy was sweating more heavily now as he struggled to release his

hands. I can’t even take off my blindfold?

“Help!” he shouted. “Anybody!”

Even as he called out in panic, Bellamy knew nobody was going to hear him. This massive glass room—

known as the Jungle—was entirely airtight when the doors were closed.

They left me in the Jungle, he thought. Nobody will find me until morning.

Then he heard it.

The sound was barely audible, but it terrified Bellamy like no sound he had ever heard in his life. Something

breathing. Very close.

He was not alone on the bench.

The sudden hiss of a sulfur match sizzled so close to his face that he could feel the heat. Bellamy recoiled,

instinctively yanking hard at his chains.

Then, without warning, a hand was on his face, removing his blindfold.

The flame before him reflected in the black eyes of Inoue Sato as she pressed the match against the cigarette

dangling from her lips, only inches away from Bellamy’s face.

She glared at him in the moonlight that filtered down through the glass ceiling. She looked pleased to see his

fear.

“So, Mr. Bellamy,” Sato said, shaking out the match. “Where shall we begin?”

CHAPTER 70

A magic square. Katherine nodded as she eyed the numbered square in Dürer’s engraving. Most people

would have thought Langdon had lost his mind, but Katherine had quickly realized he was right.

The term magic square referred not to something mystical but to something mathematical—it was the name

given to a grid of consecutive numbers arranged in such a way that all the rows, columns, and diagonals

added up to the same thing. Created some four thousand years ago by mathematicians in Egypt and India,

magic squares were still believed by some to hold magical powers. Katherine had read that even nowadays

devout Indians drew special three-by-three magic squares called the Kubera Kolam on their pooja altars.

Primarily, though, modern man had relegated magic squares to the category of “recreational mathematics,”

some people still deriving pleasure from the quest to discover new “magical” configurations. Sudoku for

geniuses.

Katherine quickly analyzed Dürer’s square, adding up the numbers in several rows and columns.

“Thirty-four,” she said. “Every direction adds up to thirty-four.”

“Exactly,” Langdon said. “But did you know that this magic square is famous because Dürer accomplished

the seemingly impossible?” He quickly showed Katherine that in addition to making the rows, columns, and

diagonals add up to thirty-four, Dürer had also found a way to make the four quadrants, the four center

squares, and even the four corner squares add up to that number. “Most amazing, though, was Dürer’s ability

to position the numbers 15 and 14 together in the bottom row as an indication of the year in which he

accomplished this incredible feat!”

Katherine scanned the numbers, amazed by all the combinations.

Langdon’s tone grew more excited now. “Extraordinarily, Melencolia I represents the very first time in

history that a magic square appeared in European art. Some historians believe this was Dürer’s encoded way

of indicating that the Ancient Mysteries had traveled outside the Egyptian Mystery Schools and were now

held by the European secret societies.” Langdon paused. “Which brings us back to . . . this.”

He motioned to the slip of paper bearing the grid of letters from the stone pyramid.

“I assume the layout looks familiar now?” Langdon asked.

“Four-by-four square.”