“Open your mouth,” the man whispered, licking his own tattooed lips.clenched her teeth in revulsion.man again reached out with his index finger and ran it slowly around her lips, making her skin crawl. She clenched her teeth tighter. The tattooed man chuckled and, using his other hand, found a pressure point on her neck and squeezed. Katherine’s jaw instantly dropped open. She could feel his finger entering her mouth and running along her tongue. She gagged and tried to bite it, but the finger was already gone. Still grinning, he raised his moist fingertip before her eyes. Then he closed his eyes and, once again, rubbed her saliva into the bare circle of flesh on his head.man sighed and slowly opened his eyes. Then, with an eerie calm, he turned and left the room.the sudden silence, Katherine could feel her heart pounding. Directly over her, an unusual series of lights seemed to be modulating from purple red to a deep crimson, illuminating the room’s low ceiling. When she saw the ceiling, all she could do was stare. Every inch was covered with drawings. The mind-boggling collage above her appeared to depict the celestial sky. Stars, planets, and constellations mingled with astrological symbols, charts, and formulas. There were arrows predicting elliptical orbits, geometric symbols indicating angles of ascension, and zodiacal creatures peering down at her. It looked like a mad scientist had gotten loose in the Sistine Chapel.her head, Katherine looked away, but the wall to her left was no better. A series of candles on medieval floor stands shed a flickering glow on a wall that was completely hidden beneath pages of text, photos, and drawings. Some of the pages looked like papyrus or vellum torn from ancient books; others were obviously from newer texts; mixed in were photographs, drawings, maps, and schematics; all of them appeared to have been glued to the wall with meticulous care. A spiderweb of strings had been thumbtacked across them, interconnecting them in limitless chaotic possibilities.again looked away, turning her head in the other direction., this provided the most terrifying view of all.to the stone slab on which she was strapped, there stood a small side counter that instantly reminded her of an instrument table from a hospital operating room. On the counter was arranged a series of objects — among them a syringe, a vial of dark liquid… and a large knife with a bone handle and a blade hewn of iron burnished to an unusually high shine.God… what is he planning to do to me?105CIA systems security specialist Rick Parrish finally loped into Nola Kaye’s office, he was carrying a single sheet of paper.
“What took you so long?!” Nola demanded. I told you to come down immediately!
“Sorry,” he said, pushing up his bottle-bottom glasses on his long nose. “I was trying to gather more information for you, but —”
“Just show me what you’ve got.”handed her the printout. “It’s a redaction, but you get the gist.”scanned the page in amazement.
“I’m still trying to figure out how a hacker got access,” Parrish said, “but it looks like a delegator spider hijacked one of our search —”
“Forget that!” Nola blurted, glancing up from the page. “What the hell is the CIA doing with a classified file about pyramids, ancient portals, and engraved symbolons?”
“That’s what took me so long. I was trying to see what document was being targeted, so I traced the file path.” Parrish paused, clearing his throat. “This document turns out to be on a partition personally assigned to… the CIA director himself.”wheeled, staring in disbelief. Sato’s boss has a file about the Masonic Pyramid? She knew that the current director, along with many other top CIA executives, was a high-ranking Mason, but Nola could not imagine any of them keeping Masonic secrets on a CIA computer.again, considering what she had witnessed in the last twenty-four hours, anything was possible.Simkins was lying on his stomach, ensconced in the bushes of Franklin Square. His eyes were trained on the columned entry of the Almas Temple. Nothing. No lights had come on inside, and no one had approached the door. He turned his head and checked on Bellamy. The man was pacing alone in the middle of the park, looking cold. Really cold. Simkins could see him shaking and shivering.phone vibrated. It was Sato.
“How overdue is our target?” she demanded.checked his chronograph. “Target said twenty minutes. It’s been almost forty. Something’s wrong.”
“He’s not coming,” Sato said. “It’s over.”knew she was right. “Any word from Hartmann?”
“No, he never checked in from Kalorama Heights. I can’t reach him.”stiffened. If this was true, then something was definitely wrong.
“I just called field support,” Sato said, “and they can’t find him either.”shit. “Do they have a GPS location on the Escalade?”
“Yeah. A residential address in Kalorama Heights,” Sato said. “Gather your men. We’re pulling out.”clicked off her phone and gazed out at the majestic skyline of her nation’s capital. An icy wind whipped through her light jacket, and she wrapped her arms around herself to stay warm. Director Inoue Sato was not a woman who often felt cold… or fear. At the moment, however, she was feeling both.106’akh wore only his silk loincloth as he dashed up the ramp, through the steel door, and out through the painting into his living room. I need to prepare quickly. He glanced over at the dead CIA agent in the foyer. This home is no longer safe.the stone pyramid in one hand, Mal’akh strode directly to his first-floor study and sat down at his laptop computer. As he logged in, he pictured Langdon downstairs and wondered how many days or even weeks would pass before the submerged corpse was discovered in the secret basement. It made no difference. Mal’akh would be long gone by then.has served his role… brilliantly.only had Langdon reunited the pieces of the Masonic Pyramid, he had figured out how to solve the arcane grid of symbols on the base. At first glance, the symbols seemed indecipherable… and yet the answer was simple… staring them in the face.’akh’s laptop sprang to life, the screen displaying the same e-mail he had received earlier — a photograph of a glowing capstone, partially blocked by Warren Bellamy’s finger.… Franklin Square, Katherine had told Mal’akh. She had also admitted that CIA agents were staking out Franklin Square, hoping to capture Mal’akh and also figure out what order was being referenced by the capstone. The Masons? The Shriners? The Rosicrucians?of these, Mal’akh now knew. Langdon saw the truth.minutes earlier, with liquid rising around his face, the Harvard professor had figured out the key to solving the pyramid. “The Order Eight Franklin Square!” he had shouted, terror in his eyes. “The secret hides within The Order Eight Franklin Square!”first, Mal’akh failed to understand his meaning.
“It’s not an address!” Langdon yelled, his mouth pressed to the Plexiglas window. “The Order Eight Franklin Square! It’s a magic square!” Then he said something about Albrecht Dürer… and how the pyramid’s first code was a clue to breaking this final one.’akh was familiar with magic squares — kameas, as the early mystics called them. The ancient text De Occulta Philosophia described in detail the mystical power of magic squares and the methods for designing powerful sigils based on magical grids of numbers. Now Langdon was telling him that a magic square held the key to deciphering the base of the pyramid?
“You need an eight-by-eight magic square!” the professor had been yelling, his lips the only part of his body above the liquid. “Magic squares are categorized in orders! A three-by-three square is an ‘order three’! A four-by-four square is an ‘order four’! You need an ‘order eight’!”liquid had been about to engulf Langdon entirely, and the professor drew one last desperate breath and shouted out something about a famous Mason… an American forefather… a scientist, mystic, mathematician, inventor… as well as the creator of the mystical kamea that bore his name to this day..a flash, Mal’akh knew Langdon was right., breathless with anticipation, Mal’akh sat upstairs at his laptop. He ran a quick Web search, received dozens of hits, chose one, and began reading.ORDER EIGHT FRANKLIN SQUAREof history’s best-known magic squares is the order-eight square published in 1769 by American scientist Benjamin Franklin, and which became famous for its inclusion of never-before-seen “bent diagonal summations.” Franklin’s obsession with this mystical art form most likely stemmed from his personal associations with the prominent alchemists and mystics of his day, as well as his own belief in astrology, which were the underpinnings for the predictions made in his Poor Richard’s Almanack.’akh studied Franklin’s famous creation — a unique arrangement of the numbers 1 through 64 — in which every row, column, and diagonal added up to the same magical constant. The secret hides within The Order Eight Franklin Square.’akh smiled. Trembling with excitement, he grabbed the stone pyramid and flipped it over, examining the base.sixty-four symbols needed to be reorganized and arranged in a different order, their sequence defined by the numbers in Franklin’s magic square. Although Mal’akh could not imagine how this chaotic grid of symbols would suddenly make sense in a different order, he had faith in the ancient promise.ab chao.racing, he took out a sheet of paper and quickly drew an empty eight-by-eight grid. Then he began inserting the symbols, one by one, in their newly defined positions. Almost immediately, to his astonishment, the grid began making sense.from chaos!completed the entire decryption and stared in disbelief at the solution before him. A stark image had taken shape. The jumbled grid had been transformed… reorganized… and although Mal’akh could not grasp the meaning of the entire message, he understood enough… enough to know exactly where he was now headed.pyramid points the way.grid pointed to one of the world’s great mystical locations. Incredibly, it was the same location at which Mal’akh had always fantasized he would complete his journey..107stone table felt cold beneath Katherine Solomon’s back.images of Robert’s death continued to swirl through her mind, along with thoughts of her brother. Is Peter dead, too? The strange knife on the nearby table kept bringing flashes of what might lie in store for her as well.this really the end?, her thoughts turned abruptly to her research… to Noetic Science… and to her recent breakthroughs. All of it lost… up in smoke. She would never be able to share with the world everything she had learned. Her most shocking discovery had taken place only a few months ago, and the results had the potential to redefine the way humans thought about death. Strangely, thinking now of that experiment… was bringing her an unexpected solace.a young girl, Katherine Solomon had often wondered if there was life after death. Does heaven exist? What happens when we die? As she grew older, her studies in science quickly erased any fanciful notions of heaven, hell, or the afterlife. The concept of “life after death,” she came to accept, was a human construct… a fairy tale designed to soften the horrifying truth that was our mortality.so I believed…year ago, Katherine and her brother had been discussing one of philosophy’s most enduring questions — the existence of the human soul — specifically the issue of whether or not humans possessed some kind of consciousness capable of survival outside of the body.both sensed that such a human soul probably did exist. Most ancient philosophies concurred. Buddhist and Brahminical wisdom endorsed metempsychosis — the transmigration of the soul into a new body after death; Platonists defined the body as a “prison” from which the soul escaped; and the Stoics called the soul apospasma tou theu — “a particle of God” — and believed it was recalled by God upon death.existence of the human soul, Katherine noted with some frustration, was probably a concept that would never be scientifically proven. Confirming that a consciousness survived outside the human body after death was akin to exhaling a puff of smoke and hoping to find it years later.their discussion, Katherine had a strange notion. Her brother had mentioned the Book of Genesis and its description of the soul as Neshemah — a kind of spiritual “intelligence” that was separate from the body. It occurred to Katherine that the word intelligence suggested the presence of thought. Noetic Science clearly suggested that thoughts had mass, and so it stood to reason, then, that the human soul might therefore also have mass.I weigh a human soul?notion was impossible, of course… foolish even to ponder.was three days later that Katherine suddenly woke up from a dead sleep and sat bolt upright in bed. She jumped up, drove to her lab, and immediately began work designing an experiment that was both startlingly simple… and frighteningly bold.had no idea if it would work, and she decided not to tell Peter about her idea until her work was complete. It took four months, but finally Katherine brought her brother into the lab. She wheeled out a large piece of gear that she had been keeping hidden in the back storage room.
“I designed and built it myself,” she said, showing Peter her invention. “Any guesses?”brother stared at the strange machine. “An incubator?”laughed and shook her head, although it was a reasonable guess. The machine did look a bit like the transparent incubators for premature babies one saw in hospitals. This machine, however, was adult size — a long, airtight, clear plastic capsule, like some kind of futuristic sleeping pod. It sat atop a large piece of electronic gear.
“See if this helps you guess,” Katherine said, plugging the contraption into a power source. A digital display lit up on the machine, its numbers jumping around as she carefully calibrated some dials.she was done, the display read:
.0000000000 kg
“A scale?” Peter asked, looking puzzled.
“Not just any scale.” Katherine took a tiny scrap of paper off a nearby counter and laid it gently on top of the capsule. The numbers on the display jumped around again and then settled on a new reading.
kg
“High-precision microbalance,” she said. “Resolution down to a few micrograms.”still looked puzzled. “You built a precise scale for… a person?”
“Exactly.” She lifted the transparent lid on the machine. “If I place a person inside this capsule and close the lid, the individual is in an entirely sealed system. Nothing gets in or out. No gas, no liquid, no dust particles. Nothing can escape — not the person’s breath exhalations, evaporating sweat, body fluids, nothing.”ran a hand through his thick head of silver hair, a nervous mannerism shared by Katherine. “Hmm… obviously a person would die in there pretty quickly.”nodded. “Six minutes or so, depending on their breathing rate.”turned to her. “I don’t get it.”smiled. “You will.”the machine behind, Katherine led Peter into the Cube’s control room and sat him down in front of the plasma wall. She began typing and accessed a series of video files stored on the holographic drives. When the plasma wall flickered to life, the image before them looked like home-video footage.camera panned across a modest bedroom with an unmade bed, medication bottles, a respirator, and a heart monitor. Peter looked baffled as the camera kept panning and finally revealed, near the center of the bedroom, Katherine’s scale contraption.’s eyes widened. “What the…?”capsule’s transparent lid was open, and a very old man in an oxygen mask lay inside. His elderly wife and a hospice worker stood beside the pod. The man’s breathing was labored, and his eyes were closed.
“The man in the capsule was a science teacher of mine at Yale,” Katherine said. “He and I have kept in touch over the years. He’s been very ill. He always said he wanted to donate his body to science, so when I explained my idea for this experiment, he immediately wanted to be a part of it.”was apparently mute with shock as he stared at the scene unfolding before them.hospice worker now turned to the man’s wife. “It’s time. He’s ready.”old woman dabbed her tearful eyes and nodded with a resolute calm. “Okay.”gently, the hospice worker reached into the pod and removed the man’s oxygen mask. The man stirred slightly, but his eyes remained closed. Now the worker wheeled the respirator and other equipment off to the side, leaving the old man in the capsule totally isolated in the center of the room.dying man’s wife now approached the pod, leaned down, and gently kissed her husband’s forehead. The old man did not open his eyes, but his lips moved, ever so slightly, into a faint, loving smile.his oxygen mask, the man’s breathing was quickly becoming more labored. The end was obviously near. With an admirable strength and calm, the man’s wife slowly lowered the transparent lid of the capsule and sealed it shut, exactly as Katherine had taught her.recoiled in alarm. “Katherine, what in the name of God?!”
“It’s okay,” Katherine whispered. “There’s plenty of air in the capsule.” She had seen this video dozens of times now, but it still made her pulse race. She pointed to the scale beneath the dying man’s sealed pod. The digital numbers read:
.4534644 kg
“That’s his body weight,” Katherine said.old man’s breathing became more shallow, and Peter inched forward, transfixed.
“This is what he wanted,” Katherine whispered. “Watch what happens.”man’s wife had stepped back and was now seated on the bed, silently looking on with the hospice worker.the course of the next sixty seconds, the man’s shallow breathing grew faster, until all at once, as if the man himself had chosen the moment, he simply took his last breath. Everything stopped.was over.wife and hospice worker quietly comforted each other.else happened.a few seconds, Peter glanced over at Katherine in apparent confusion.for it, she thought, redirecting Peter’s gaze to the capsule’s digital display, which still quietly glowed, showing the dead man’s weight.it happened.Peter saw it, he jolted backward, almost falling out of his chair. “But… that’s…” He covered his mouth in shock. “I can’t…”was seldom that the great Peter Solomon was speechless. Katherine’s reaction had been similar the first few times she saw what had happened.after the man’s death, the numbers on the scale had decreased suddenly. The man had become lighter immediately after his death. The weight change was minuscule, but it was measurable… and the implications were utterly mind-boggling.recalled writing in her lab notes with a trembling hand: “There seems to exist an invisible ‘material’ that exits the human body at the moment of death. It has quantifiable mass which is unimpeded by physical barriers. I must assume it moves in a dimension I cannot yet perceive.”the expression of shock on her brother’s face, Katherine knew he understood the implications. “Katherine…” he stammered, blinking his gray eyes as if to make sure he was not dreaming. “I think you just weighed the human soul.”was a long silence between them.sensed that her brother was attempting to process all the stark and wondrous ramifications. It will take time. If what they had just witnessed was indeed what it seemed to be — that is, evidence that a soul or consciousness or life force could move outside the realm of the body — then a startling new light had just been shed on countless mystical questions: transmigration, cosmic consciousness, near-death experiences, astral projection, remote viewing, lucid dreaming, and on and on. Medical journals were filled with stories of patients who had died on the operating table, viewed their bodies from above, and then been brought back to life.was silent, and Katherine now saw he had tears in his eyes. She understood. She had cried, too. Peter and Katherine had lost loved ones, and for anyone in that position, the faintest hint of the human spirit continuing after death brought a glimmer of hope.’s thinking of Zachary, Katherine thought, recognizing the deep melancholy in her brother’s eyes. For years Peter had carried the burden of responsibility for his son’s death. He had told Katherine many times that leaving Zachary in prison had been the worst mistake of his life, and that he would never find a way to forgive himself.slamming door drew Katherine’s attention, and suddenly she was back in the basement, lying on a cold stone table. The metal door at the top of the ramp had closed loudly, and the tattooed man was coming back down. She could hear him entering one of the rooms down the hall, doing something inside, and then continuing along the hall toward the room she was in. As he entered, she could see that he was pushing something in front of him. Something heavy… on wheels. As he stepped into the light, she stared in disbelief. The tattooed man was pushing a person in a wheelchair., Katherine’s brain recognized the man in the chair. Emotionally, her mind could barely accept what she was looking at.?didn’t know whether to be overjoyed that her brother was alive… or utterly horrified. Peter’s body had been shaved smooth. His mane of thick silver hair was all gone, as were his eyebrows, and his smooth skin glistened as if it had been oiled. He wore a black silk gown. Where his right hand should have been, he had only a stump, wrapped in a clean, fresh bandage. Her brother’s pain-laden eyes reached out to hers, filled with regret and sorrow.
“Peter!” Her voice cracked.brother tried to speak but made only muffled, guttural noises. Katherine now realized he was bound to the wheelchair and had been gagged.tattooed man reached down and gently stroked Peter’s shaved scalp. “I’ve prepared your brother for a great honor. He has a role to play tonight.”’s entire body went rigid. No…
“Peter and I will be leaving in a moment, but I thought you’d want to say good-bye.”
“Where are you taking him?” she said weakly.smiled. “Peter and I must journey to the sacred mountain. That is where the treasure lies. The Masonic Pyramid has revealed the location. Your friend Robert Langdon was most helpful.”looked into her brother’s eyes. “He killed… Robert.”brother’s expression contorted in agony, and he shook his head violently, as if unable to bear any more pain.
“Now, now, Peter,” the man said, again stroking Peter’s scalp. “Don’t let this ruin the moment. Say good-bye to your little sister. This is your final family reunion.”felt her mind welling with desperation. “Why are you doing this?!” she shouted at him. “What have we ever done to you?! Why do you hate my family so much?!”tattooed man came over and placed his mouth right next to her ear. “I have my reasons, Katherine.” Then he walked to the side table and picked up the strange knife. He brought it over to her and ran the burnished blade across her cheek. “This is arguably the most famous knife in history.”knew of no famous knives, but it looked foreboding and ancient. The blade felt razor sharp.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I have no intention of wasting its power on you. I’m saving it for a more worthy sacrifice… in a more sacred place.” He turned to her brother. “Peter, you recognize this knife, don’t you?”brother’s eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
“Yes, Peter, this ancient artifact still exists. I obtained it at great expense… and I have been saving it for you. At long last, you and I can end our painful journey together.”that, he wrapped the knife carefully in a cloth with all of his other items — incense, vials of liquid, white satin cloths, and other ceremonial objects. He then placed the wrapped items inside Robert Langdon’s leather bag along with the Masonic Pyramid and capstone. Katherine looked on helplessly as the man zipped up Langdon’s daybag and turned to her brother.
“Carry this, Peter, would you?” He set the heavy bag on Peter’s lap., the man walked over to a drawer and began rooting around. She could hear small metal objects clinking. When he returned, he took her right arm, steadying it. Katherine couldn’t see what he was doing, but Peter apparently could, and he again started bucking wildly.felt a sudden, sharp pinch in the crook of her right elbow, and an eerie warmth ran down around it. Peter was making anguished, strangled sounds and trying in vain to get out of the heavy chair. Katherine felt a cold numbness spreading through her forearm and fingertips below the elbow.the man stepped aside, Katherine saw why her brother was so horrified. The tattooed man had inserted a medical needle into her vein, as if she were giving blood. The needle, however, was not attached to a tube. Instead, her blood was now flowing freely out of it… running down her elbow, forearm, and onto the stone table.
“A human hourglass,” the man said, turning to Peter. “In a short while, when I ask you to play your role, I want you to picture Katherine… dying alone here in the dark.”’s expression was one of total torment.
“She will stay alive,” the man said, “for about an hour or so. If you cooperate with me quickly, I will have enough time to save her. Of course, if you resist me at all… your sister will die here alone in the dark.”bellowed unintelligibly through his gag.
“I know, I know,” the tattooed man said, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “this is hard for you. But it shouldn’t be. After all, this is not the first time you will abandon a family member.” He paused, bending over and whispering in Peter’s ear. “I’m thinking, of course, of your son, Zachary, in Soganlik prison.”pulled against his restraints and let out another muffled scream through the cloth in his mouth.
“Stop it!” Katherine shouted.
“I remember that night well,” the man taunted as he finished packing. “I heard the whole thing. The warden offered to let your son go, but you chose to teach Zachary a lesson… by abandoning him. Your boy learned his lesson, all right, didn’t he?” The man smiled. “His loss… was my gain.”man now retrieved a linen cloth and stuffed it deep into Katherine’s mouth. “Death,” he whispered to her, “should be a quiet thing.”struggled violently. Without another word, the tattooed man slowly backed Peter’s wheelchair out of the room, giving Peter a long, last look at his sister.and Peter locked eyes one final time.he was gone.could hear them going up the ramp and through the metal door. As they exited, she heard the tattooed man lock the metal door behind him and continue on through the painting of the Three Graces. A few minutes later, she heard a car start.the mansion fell silent.alone in the dark, Katherine lay bleeding.108Langdon’s mind hovered in an endless abyss.light. No sound. No feeling.an infinite and silent void...body had released him. He was untethered.physical world had ceased to exist. Time had ceased to exist.was pure consciousness now… a fleshless sentience suspended in the emptiness of a vast universe.109modified UH-60 skimmed in low over the expansive rooftops of Kalorama Heights, thundering toward the coordinates given to them by the support team. Agent Simkins was the first to spot the black Escalade parked haphazardly on a lawn in front of one of the mansions. The driveway gate was closed, and the house was dark and quiet.gave the signal to touch down.aircraft landed hard on the front lawn amid several other vehicles… one of them a security sedan with a bubble light on top.and his team jumped out, drew their weapons, and dashed up onto the porch. Finding the front door locked, Simkins cupped his hands and peered through a window. The foyer was dark, but Simkins could make out the faint shadow of a body on the floor.
“Shit,” he whispered. “It’s Hartmann.”of his agents grabbed a chair off the porch and heaved it through the bay window. The sound of shattering glass was barely audible over the roar of the helicopter behind them. Seconds later, they were all inside. Simkins rushed to the foyer and knelt over Hartmann to check his pulse. Nothing. There was blood everywhere. Then he saw the screwdriver in Hartmann’s throat.. He stood up and motioned to his men to begin a full search.agents fanned out across the first floor, their laser sights probing the darkness of the luxurious house. They found nothing in the living room or study, but in the dining room, to their surprise, they discovered a strangled female security guard. Simkins was fast losing hope that Robert Langdon and Katherine Solomon were alive. This brutal killer clearly had set a trap, and if he had managed to kill a CIA agent and an armed security guard, then it seemed a professor and a scientist had no chance.the first floor was secure, Simkins sent two agents to search upstairs. Meanwhile, he found a set of basement stairs off the kitchen and descended. At the bottom of the stairs, he threw on the lights. The basement was spacious and spotless, as if it were hardly ever used. Boilers, bare cement walls, a few boxes. Nothing here at all. Simkins headed back up to the kitchen just as his men were coming down from the second floor. Everyone shook their heads.house was deserted.one home. And no more bodies.radioed Sato with the all-clear and the grim update.he got to the foyer, Sato was already climbing the stairs onto the porch. Warren Bellamy was visible behind her, sitting dazed and alone in the helicopter with Sato’s titanium briefcase at his feet. The OS director’s secure laptop provided her with worldwide access to CIA computer systems via encrypted satellite uplinks. Earlier tonight, she had used this computer to share with Bellamy some kind of information that had stunned the man into cooperating fully. Simkins had no idea what Bellamy had seen, but whatever it was, the Architect had been visibly shell-shocked ever since.Sato entered the foyer, she paused a moment, bowing her head over Hartmann’s body. A moment later, she raised her eyes and fixed them on Simkins. “No sign of Langdon or Katherine? Or Peter Solomon?”shook his head. “If they’re still alive, he took them with him.”
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