The Lost Symbol

«Sorry, ma’am,» the satellite technician said. «No coverage of those coordinates tonight. Do you want to make a reposition request?»

«No thanks. Too late.» She hung up.

Sato exhaled, now having no idea how they would figure out where their target had gone. She walked out to the foyer, where her men had bagged Agent Hartmann’s body and were carrying it toward the chopper. Sato had ordered Agent Simkins to gather his men and prepare for the return to Langley, but Simkins was in the living room on his hands and knees. He looked like he was ill.

«You okay?»

He glanced up, an odd look on his face. «Did you see this?» He pointed at the living-room floor.

Sato came over and looked down at the plush carpet. She shook her head, seeing nothing.

«Crouch down,» Simkins said. «Look at the nap of the carpet.»

She did. After a moment, she saw it. The fibers of the carpet looked like they had been mashed down. . depressed along two straight lines as if the wheels of something heavy had been rolled across the room.

«The strange thing,» Simkins said, «is where the tracks go.» He pointed.

Sato’s gaze followed the faint parallel lines across the living-room carpet. The tracks seemed to disappear beneath a large floor-to-ceiling painting that hung beside the fireplace. What in the world?

Simkins walked over to the painting and tried to lift it down from the wall. It didn’t budge. «It’s fixed,» he said, now running his fingers around the edges. «Hold on, there’s something underneath. .» His finger hit a small lever beneath the bottom edge, and something clicked.

sato stepped forward as simkins pushed the frame and the entire painting rotated slowly on its center, like a revolving door.

He raised his flashlight and shined it into the dark space beyond.

Sato’s eyes narrowed. Here we go.

At the end of a short corridor stood a heavy metal door.

The memories that had billowed through the blackness of Langdon’s mind had come and gone. In their wake, a trail of red-hot sparks was swirling, along with the same eerie, distant whisper.

Verbum significatium. . Verbum omnificum. . Verbum perdo.

The chanting continued like the drone of voices in a medieval canticle.

Verbum significatium. . Verbum omnificum. The words now tumbled through the empty void, fresh voices echoing all around him.

Apocalypsis. . Franklin. . Apocalypsis. . Verbum. . Apocalypsis. .

Without warning, a mournful bell began tolling somewhere in the distance. The bell rang on and on, growing louder. It tolled more urgently now, as if hoping Langdon would understand, as if urging his mind to follow.

CHAPTER 111

The tolling bell in the clock tower rang for three full minutes, rattling the crystal chandelier that hung above langdon’s head. decades ago, he had attended lectures in this well-loved assembly hall at phillips exeter academy. today, however, he was here to listen to a dear friend address the student body. as the lights dimmed, langdon took a seat against the back wall, beneath a pantheon of headmaster portraits.

A hush fell across the crowd.

In total darkness, a tall, shadowy figure crossed the stage and took the podium. «Good morning,» the faceless voice whispered into the microphone.

Everyone sat up, straining to see who was addressing them.

A slide projector flashed to life, revealing a faded sepia photograph — a dramatic castle with a red sandstone facade, high square towers, and Gothic embellishments.

The shadow spoke again. «Who can tell me where this is?»

«England!» a girl declared in the darkness. «This facade is a blend of early Gothic and late Romanesque, making this the quintessential Norman castle and placing it in England at about the twelfth century.»

«Wow,» the faceless voice replied. «Someone knows her architecture.»

Quiet groans all around.

«Unfortunately,» the shadow added, «you missed by three thousand miles and half a millennium.»

The room perked up.

The projector now flashed a full-color, modern photo of the same castle from a different angle. The castle’s Seneca Creek sandstone towers dominated the foreground, but in the background, startlingly close, stood the majestic, white, columned dome of the U.S. Capitol Building.

«Hold on!» the girl exclaimed. «There’s a Norman castle in D.C.?!»

«Since 1855,» the voice replied. «Which is when this next photo was taken.»

A new slide appeared — a black-and-white interior shot, depicting a massive vaulted ballroom, furnished with animal skeletons, scientific display cases, glass jars with biological samples, archaeological artifacts, and plaster casts of prehistoric reptiles.