"Whatever you believe this engraving reveals," Langdon said, "it won't be the Ancient Mysteries."
"Of course not," he replied. "The mysteries are far too vast to be written on the side of a little stone pyramid."
The response caught Langdon off guard. "But if this engraving is not the Ancient Mysteries, then this pyramid is not the Masonic Pyramid. Legend clearly states the Masonic Pyramid was constructed to protect the Ancient Mysteries." The man's tone was condescending now. "Mr. Langdon, the Masonic Pyramid was constructed to preserve the Ancient Mysteries, but with a twist you've apparently not yet grasped. Did Peter never tell you? The power of the Masonic Pyramid is not that it reveals the mysteries themselves . . . but rather that it reveals the secret location where the mysteries are buried."
Langdon did a double take.
"Decipher the engraving," the voice continued, "and it will tell you the hiding place of mankind's greatest treasure." He laughed. "Peter did not entrust you with the treasure itself, Professor."
Langdon came to an abrupt halt in the tunnel. "Hold on. You're saying this pyramid is . . . a map?
" Bellamy jolted to a stop now, too, his expression one of shock and alarm. Clearly, the caller had just hit a raw nerve. The pyramid is a map.
"This map," the voice whispered, "or pyramid, or portal, or whatever you choose to call it . . . was created long ago to ensure the hiding place of the Ancient Mysteries would never be forgotten . . . that it would never be lost to history."
"A grid of sixteen symbols doesn't look much like a map."
"Appearances can be deceiving, Professor. But regardless, you alone have the power to read that inscription."
"You're wrong," Langdon fired back, picturing the simplistic cipher. "Anyone could decipher this engraving. It's not very sophisticated."
"I suspect there is more to the pyramid than meets the eye. Regardless, you alone possess the capstone."
Langdon pictured the little capstone in his bag. Order from chaos? He didn't know what to believe anymore, but the stone pyramid in his bag seemed to be getting heavier with every passing moment.
Mal'akh pressed the cell phone to his ear, enjoying the sound of Langdon's anxious breathing on the other end. "Right now, I have business to attend to, Professor, and so do you. Call me as soon as you have deciphered the map. We will go together to the hiding place and make our trade. Peter's life . . . for all the wisdom of the ages."
"I will do nothing," Langdon declared. "Especially not without proof Peter is alive."
"I suggest you not test me. You are a very small cog in a vast machine. If you disobey me, or attempt to find me, Peter will die. This I swear." "For all I know, Peter is already dead."
"He is very much alive, Professor, but he desperately needs your help."
"What are you really looking for?" Langdon shouted into the phone.
Mal'akh paused before answering. "Many people have pursued the Ancient Mysteries and debated their power. Tonight, I will prove the mysteries are real."
Langdon was silent.
"I suggest you get to work on the map immediately," Mal'akh said. "I need this information today."
"Today?! It's already after nine o'clock!"
"Exactly. Tempus fugit."
CHAPTER 44
New York editor Jonas Faukman was just turning off the lights in his Manhattan office when his phone rang. He had no intention of picking up at this hour--that is, until he glimpsed the caller- ID display. This ought to be good, he thought, reaching for the receiver.
"Do we still publish you?" Faukman asked, half serious.
"Jonas!" Robert Langdon's voice sounded anxious. "Thank God you're there. I need your help."
Faukman's spirits lifted. "You've got pages for me to edit, Robert?" Finally?
"No, I need information. Last year, I connected you with a scientist named Katherine Solomon, the sister of Peter Solomon?"
Faukman frowned. No pages.
"She was looking for a publisher for a book on Noetic Science? Do you remember her?"
Faukman rolled his eyes. "Sure. I remember. And thanks a million for that introduction. Not only did she refuse to let me read the results of her research, she didn't want to publish anything until some magical date in the future."
"Jonas, listen to me, I don't have time. I need Katherine's phone number. Right now. Do you have it?"
"I've got to warn you . . . you're acting a little desperate. She's great looking, but you're not going to impress her by--"
"This is no joke, Jonas, I need her number now."
"All right . . . hold on." Faukman and Langdon had been close friends for enough years that Faukman knew when Langdon was serious. Jonas typed the name Katherine Solomon into a search window and began scanning the company's e-mail server.
"I'm looking now," Faukman said. "And for what it's worth, when you call her, you may not want to call from the Harvard Pool. It sounds like you're in an asylum."
"I'm not at the pool. I'm in a tunnel under the U.S. Capitol."
Faukman sensed from Langdon's voice that he was not joking. What is it with this guy? "Robert, why can't you just stay home and write?" His computer pinged. "Okay, hold on . . . I got it." He moused through the old e-mail thread. "It looks like all I have is her cell."
"I'll take it."
Faukman gave him the number.
"Thanks, Jonas," Langdon said, sounding grateful. "I owe you one."
"You owe me a manuscript, Robert. Do you have any idea how long--"
The line went dead.
Faukman stared at the receiver and shook his head. Book publishing would be so much easier without the authors.
CHAPTER 45
Katherine Solomon did a double take when she saw the name on her caller ID. She had imagined the incoming call was from Trish, checking in to explain why she and Christopher Abaddon were taking so long. But the caller was not Trish.
Far from it.
Katherine felt a blushing smile cross her lips. Could tonight get any stranger? She flipped open her phone.
"Don't tell me," she said playfully. "Bookish bachelor seeking single Noetic Scientist?"
"Katherine!" The deep voice belonged to Robert Langdon. "Thank God you're okay."
"Of course I'm okay," she replied, puzzled. "Other than the fact that you never called me after that party at Peter's house last summer."
"Something has happened tonight. Please listen." His normally smooth voice sounded ragged. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this . . . but Peter is in serious trouble."
Katherine's smile disappeared. "What are you talking about?"
"Peter . . ." Langdon hesitated as if searching for words. "I don't know how to say it, but he's been . . . taken. I'm not sure how or by whom, but--"
"Taken?" Katherine demanded. "Robert, you're scaring me. Taken . . . where?"
"Taken captive." Langdon's voice cracked as if he were overwhelmed. "It must have happened earlier today or maybe yesterday."
"This isn't funny," she said angrily. "My brother is fine. I just spoke to him fifteen minutes ago!"
"You did?!" Langdon sounded stunned.
"Yes! He just texted me to say he was coming to the lab."
"He texted you . . ." Langdon thought out loud. "But you didn't actually hear his voice?"