Dan Brown - The Lost Symbol

Langdon stared. Am I really witnessing this? Masonic initiation rites had remained shrouded in secrecy for centuries. The only descriptions that had ever been leaked were written by a handful of estranged brothers. Langdon had read those accounts, of course, and yet to see an initiation with his own eyes… this was a much different story.

Especially edited this way. Langdon could already tell that the video was an unfair piece of propaganda, omitting all the noblest aspects of the initiation and highlighting only the most disconcerting. If this video were released, Langdon knew it would become an Internet sensation over night. The anti-Masonic conspiracy theorists would feed on this like sharks. The Masonic organization, and especially Peter Solomon, would find themselves embroiled in a firestorm of controversy and a desperate effort at damage control… even though the ritual was innocuous and purely symbolic.

Eerily, the video included a biblical reference to human sacrifice… “the submission of Abraham to the Supreme Being by proffering Isaac, his firstborn son.” Langdon thought of Peter and willed the helicopter to fly faster.

The video footage shifted now.

Same room. Different night. A larger group of Masons looking on. Peter Solomon was observing from the master’s chair. This was the second degree. More intense now. Kneeling at the altar… vowing to “forever conceal the enigmas existing within Freemasonry”… consenting to the penalty of “having one’s chest cavity ripped open and pulsing heart cast upon the surface of the earth as offal for the ravenous beasts”…

Langdon’s own heart was pulsing wildly now as the video shifted yet again. Another night. A much larger crowd. A coffin-shaped “tracing board” on the floor.

The third degree .

This was the death ritual — the most rigorous of all the degrees — the moment in which the initiate was forced “to face the final challenge of personal extinction.” This grueling interrogation was in fact the source of the common phrase to give someone the third degree. And although Langdon was very familiar with academic accounts of it, he was in no way prepared for what he now saw.

The murder.

In violent, rapid intercuts, the video displayed a chilling, victim’s point-of-view account of the initiate’s brutal murder. There were simulated blows to his head, including one with a Mason’s stone maul. All the while, a deacon mournfully told the story of “the widow’s son” — Hiram Abiff — the master Architect of King Solomon’s temple, who chose to die rather than reveal the secret wisdom he possessed.

The attack was mimed, of course, and yet its effect on camera was bloodcurdling. After the deathblow, the initiate — now “dead to his former self” — was lowered into his symbolic coffin, where his eyes were shut and his arms were crossed like those of a corpse. The Masonic brothers rose and mournfully circled his dead body while a pipe organ played a march of the dead.

The macabre scene was deeply disturbing.

And it only got worse.

As the men gathered around their slain brother, the hidden camera clearly displayed their faces. Langdon now realized that Solomon was not the only famous man in the room. One of the men peering down at the initiate in his coffin was on television almost daily.

A prominent U.S. senator.

Oh God…

The scene changed yet again. Outside now… nighttime… the same jumpy video footage… the man was walking down a city street… strands of blond hair blowing in front of the camera… turning a corner…the camera angle lowering to something in the man’s hand… a dollar bill… a close-up focusing on the Great Seal… the all-seeing eye… the unfinished pyramid… and then, abruptly, pulling away to reveal a similar shape in the distance… a massive pyramidical building… with sloping sides rising to a truncated top.

The House of the Temple.

A soul-deep dread swelled within him.

The video kept moving… the man hurrying toward the building now… up the multitiered staircase… toward the giant bronze doors… between the two seventeen-ton sphinx guardians.

A neophyte entering the pyramid of initiation.

Darkness now.

A powerful pipe organ played in the distance… and a new image materialized.

The Temple Room.

Langdon swallowed hard.

On-screen, the cavernous space was alive with electricity. Beneath the oculus, the black marble altar shone in the moonlight. Assembled around it, seated on hand-tooled pigskin chairs, awaited a somber council of distinguished thirty-third-degree Masons, present to bear witness. The video now panned across their faces with slow and deliberate intention.

Langdon stared in horror.

Although he had not seen this coming, what he was looking at made perfect sense. A gathering of the most decorated and accomplished Masons in the most powerful city on earth would logically include many influential and well-known individuals. Sure enough, seated around the altar, adorned in their long silk gloves, Masonic aprons, and glistening jewels, were some of the country’s most powerful men.

Two Supreme Court justices…

The secretary of defense…

The speaker of the House…

Langdon felt ill as the video continued panning across the faces of those in attendance.

Three prominent senators… including the majority leader…

The secretary of homeland security…

And…

The director of the CIA…

Langdon wanted only to look away, but he could not. The scene was utterly mesmerizing, alarming even to him. In an instant, he had come to understand the source of Sato’s anxiety and concern.

Now, on-screen, the shot dissolved into a single shocking image.

A human skull… filled with dark crimson liquid. The famed caput mortuum was being offered forth to the initiate by the slender hands of Peter Solomon, whose gold Masonic ring glinted in the candlelight. The red liquid was wine… and yet it shimmered like blood. The visual effect was frightful.

The Fifth Libation, Langdon realized, having read firsthand accounts of this sacrament in John Quincy Adams’s Letters on the Masonic Institution . Even so, to see it happen… to see it calmly witnessed by America’s most powerful men… this was as arresting an image as any Langdon had ever seen.

The initiate took the skull in his hands… his face reflected in the calm surface of the wine. “May this wine I now drink become a deadly poison to me,” he declared, “should I ever knowingly or willfully violate my oath.”

Obviously, this initiate had intended to violate his oath beyond all imagination.

Langdon could barely get his mind around what would happen if this video were made public. No one would understand. The government would be thrown into upheaval. The airwaves would be filled with the voices of anti-Masonic groups, fundamentalists, and conspiracy theorists spewing hatred and fear, launching a Puritan witch hunt all over again.

The truth will be twisted, Langdon knew. As it always is with the Masons.

The truth was that the brotherhood’s focus on death was in fact a bold celebration of life . Masonic ritual was designed to awaken the slumbering man inside, lifting him from his dark coffin of ignorance, raising him into the light, and giving him eyes to see. Only through the death experience could man fully understand his life experience. Only through the realization that his days on earth were finite could he grasp the importance of living those days with honor, integrity, and service to his fellow man.