Origin

“Ambra,” Langdon whispered. “Who was it that asked you to add Ávila’s name?”

Ambra swallowed hard. “It was my fiancé … the crown prince of Spain. Don Julián.”

Langdon stared at her in disbelief, trying to process her words. The director of the Guggenheim had just claimed that the crown prince of Spain had helped orchestrate the assassination of Edmond Kirsch. That’s impossible.

“I’m sure the palace never expected I would learn the killer’s identity,” she said. “But now that I know … I fear I’m in danger.”

Langdon put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re perfectly safe here.”

“No,” she whispered forcefully, “there are things going on here that you don’t understand. You and I need to get out. Now!”

“We can’t run,” Langdon countered. “We’ll never—”

“Please listen to me,” she urged. “I know how to help Edmond.”

“I’m sorry?” Langdon sensed that she was still in shock. “Edmond can’t be helped.”

“Yes, he can,” she insisted, her tone lucid. “But first, we’ll need to get inside his home in Barcelona.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please just listen to me carefully. I know what Edmond would want us to do.”

For the next fifteen seconds, Ambra Vidal spoke to Langdon in hushed tones. As she talked, Langdon felt his heart rate climbing. My God, he thought. She’s right. This changes everything.

When she was finished, Ambra looked up at him defiantly. “Now do you see why we need to go?”

Langdon nodded without hesitation. “Winston,” he said into his headset. “Did you hear what Ambra just told me?”

“I did, Professor.”

“Were you already aware of this?”

“No.”

Langdon considered his next words very carefully. “Winston, I don’t know if computers can feel loyalty to their creators, but if you can, this is your moment of truth. We could really use your help.”

CHAPTER 27

AS LANGDON MOVED toward the podium, he kept one eye on Fonseca, who was still engrossed in his phone call to Uber. He watched as Ambra drifted casually toward the center of the dome, talking on her phone too—or at least pretending to talk—precisely as Langdon had suggested.

Tell Fonseca you decided to call Prince Julián.

As Langdon reached the podium, he reluctantly turned his gaze to the crumpled form on the floor. Edmond. Gently, Langdon pulled back the blanket that Ambra had placed over him. Edmond’s once bright eyes were now two lifeless slits below a crimson hole in his forehead. Langdon shuddered at the gruesome image, his heart pounding with loss and rage.

For an instant, Langdon could still see the young mop-haired student who had entered his class full of hope and talent—and had gone on to accomplish so much in so brief a time. Horrifically, tonight, someone had murdered this astonishingly gifted human being, almost certainly in an attempt to bury his discovery forever.

And unless I take bold action, Langdon knew, my student’s greatest accomplishment will never see the light of day.

Positioning himself so that the podium was partially blocking Fonseca’s line of sight, Langdon knelt down beside Edmond’s body, closed his eyes, folded his hands together, and assumed the reverent posture of prayer.

The irony of praying over an atheist almost caused Langdon to smile. Edmond, I know that you of all people don’t want anyone praying for you. Don’t worry, my friend, I’m not actually here to pray.

As he knelt over Edmond, Langdon fought a rising fear. I assured you the bishop was harmless. If Valdespino turns out to be involved in this … Langdon pushed it from his mind.

Once he felt certain that Fonseca had spotted him praying, Langdon very discreetly leaned forward and reached inside Edmond’s leather jacket, removing his oversized turquoise phone.

He glanced quickly back toward Fonseca, who was still on the phone and now seemed less interested in Langdon than he did in Ambra, who appeared to be engrossed in her own phone call and was wandering farther and farther away from Fonseca.

Langdon returned his eyes to Edmond’s phone and took a calming breath.

One more thing to do.

Gently, he reached down and lifted Edmond’s right hand. It already felt cold. Bringing the phone to his fingertips, Langdon carefully pressed Edmond’s index finger to the fingerprint recognition disk.

The phone clicked and unlocked.

Langdon quickly scrolled to the settings menu and disabled the password protection feature. Permanently unlocked. Then he slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and covered Edmond’s body again with the blanket.