Origin

“Mind-boggling,” Langdon replied, only now starting to grasp the quantum leap Edmond had made in the development of AI. Whatever Edmond’s “proprietary breakthrough technologies” had been, clearly he had been poised to usher in a brave new world of human–computer interaction.

Tonight, Winston had proven himself a faithful servant to his creator as well as an invaluable ally to Langdon and Ambra. In a matter of minutes, Winston had identified a threat on the guest list, attempted to thwart Edmond’s assassination, identified the getaway car, and facilitated Langdon and Ambra’s escape from the museum.

“Let’s hope Winston phoned ahead to alert Edmond’s pilots,” Langdon said.

“I’m sure he did,” Ambra said. “But you’re right. I should call Winston to double-check.”

“Hold on,” Langdon said, surprised. “You can call Winston? When we left the museum and went out of range, I thought …”

Ambra laughed and shook her head. “Robert, Winston is not physically located inside the Guggenheim; he is located in a secret computer facility somewhere and accessed remotely. Do you really think Edmond would build a resource like Winston and not be able to communicate with him at all times, anywhere in the world? Edmond talked to Winston all the time—at home, traveling, out for walks—the two of them could connect at any moment with a simple phone call. I’ve seen Edmond chat for hours with Winston. Edmond used him like a personal assistant—to call for dinner reservations, to coordinate with his pilots, to do anything that needed doing, really. In fact, when we were mounting the museum show, I talked to Winston quite often myself by phone.”

Ambra reached inside the pocket of Langdon’s tails jacket and pulled out Edmond’s turquoise-covered phone, flicking it on. Langdon had powered it down in the museum to save its battery.

“You should turn on your phone too,” she said, “so we both have access to Winston.”

“You’re not worried about being tracked if we turn these on?”

Ambra shook her head. “The authorities haven’t had time to get the necessary court order, so I think it’s worth the risk—especially if Winston can update us on the Guardia’s progress and the situation at the airport.”

Uneasy, Langdon turned on his phone and watched it come to life. As the home screen materialized, he squinted into the light and felt a twinge of vulnerability, as if he had just become instantly locatable to every satellite in space.

You’ve seen too many spy movies, he told himself.

All at once, Langdon’s phone began pinging and vibrating as a backlog of messages from this evening began pouring in. To his astonishment, Langdon had received more than two hundred texts and e-mails since turning off his phone.

As he scanned the in-box, he saw the messages were all from friends and colleagues. The earlier e-mails had congratulatory header lines—Great lecture! I can’t believe you’re there!—but then, very suddenly, the tone of the headers turned anxious and deeply concerned, including a message from his book editor, Jonas Faukman: MY GOD—ROBERT, ARE YOU OKAY??!! Langdon had never seen his scholarly editor employ all caps or double punctuation.

Until now, Langdon had been feeling wonderfully invisible in the darkness of Bilbao’s waterways, as if the museum were a fading dream.

It’s all over the world, he realized. News of Kirsch’s mysterious discovery and brutal murder … along with my name and face.

“Winston has been trying to reach us,” Ambra said, staring into the glow of Kirsch’s cell phone. “Edmond has received fifty-three missed calls in the last half hour, all from the same number, all exactly thirty seconds apart.” She chuckled. “Tireless persistence is among Winston’s many virtues.”

Just then, Edmond’s phone began ringing.

Langdon smiled at Ambra. “I wonder who it is.”

She held out the phone to him. “Answer it.”

Langdon took the phone and pressed the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Professor Langdon,” chimed Winston’s voice with its familiar British accent. “I’m glad we’re back in contact. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Yes, we can see that,” Langdon replied, impressed that the computer sounded so utterly calm and unruffled after fifty-three consecutive failed calls.

“There have been some developments,” Winston said. “There is a possibility that the airport authorities will be alerted to your names before you arrive. Once again, I will suggest you follow my directions very carefully.”

“We’re in your hands, Winston,” Langdon said. “Tell us what to do.”

“First thing, Professor,” Winston said, “if you have not yet jettisoned your cell phone, you need to do so immediately.”

“Really?” Langdon gripped his phone more tightly. “Don’t the authorities need a court order before anyone—”