The Lost Symbol

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 remained a force to be reckoned with.

Catching his breath, the young man told him, «I just. . took a call. . from your friend. . Warren Bellamy.»

«Oh?» The old man perked up. «About what?»

«He didn’t say, but he sounded like he was in a big hurry. He told me he left you a message on your voice mail, which you need to listen to right away.»

«That’s all he said?»