Dan Brown - The Lost Symbol

“It’s spectacular,” she whispered. Despite being sealed in a dark stone cube for over a century, the capstone had not faded or tarnished in any way. Gold resists the entropic laws of decay; that’s one of the reasons the ancients considered it magical. Katherine felt her pulse quicken as she leaned forward, peering down over the small golden point. “There’s an inscription.”

Langdon moved closer, their shoulders now touching. His blue eyes flashed with curiosity. He had told Katherine about the ancient Greek practice of creating a symbolon — a code broken into parts — and how this capstone, long separated from the pyramid itself, would hold the key to deciphering the pyramid. Allegedly, this inscription, whatever it said, would bring order from this chaos.

Katherine held the little box up to the light and peered straight down over the capstone.

Though small, the inscription was perfectly visible — a small bit of elegantly engraved text on the face of one side. Katherine read the six simple words.

Then she read them again.

“No!” she declared. “That can’t be what it says!”

Across the street, Director Sato hurried up the long walkway outside the Capitol Building toward her rendezvous point on First Street. The update from her field team had been unacceptable. No Langdon. No pyramid. No capstone. Bellamy was in custody, but he was not telling them the truth. At least not yet.

I’ll make him talk.

She glanced back over her shoulder at one of Washington’s newest vistas — the Capitol Dome framed above the new visitor center. The illuminated dome only accentuated the significance of what was truly at stake tonight. Dangerous times.

Sato was relieved to hear her cell phone ring and see her analyst’s ID on the screen.

“Nola,” Sato answered. “What have you got?”

Nola Kaye gave her the bad news. The X-ray of the capstone’s inscription was too faint to read, and the image-enhancing filters had not helped. Shit . Sato chewed at her lip. “How about the sixteen-letter grid?”

“I’m still trying,” Nola said, “but so far I’ve found no secondary encryption scheme that’s applicable. I’ve got a computer reshuffling the letters in the grid and looking for anything identifiable, but there are over twenty trillion possibilities.”

“Stay on it. Let me know.” Sato hung up, scowling. Her hopes of deciphering the pyramid using only a photograph and X-ray were fading fast. I need that pyramid and capstone… and I’m running out of time.

Sato arrived at First Street just as a black Escalade SUV with dark windows roared across the double yellow and skidded to a stop in front of her at their rendezvous point. A lone agent got out.

“Any word yet on Langdon?” Sato demanded.

“Confidence is high,” the man said, emotionless. “Backup just arrived. All library exits are surrounded. We even have air support coming in. We’ll flush him with tear gas, and he’ll have nowhere to run.”

“And Bellamy?”

“Tied up in the backseat.”

Good. Her shoulder was still smarting.

The agent handed Sato a plastic Ziploc bag containing cell phone, keys, and wallet. “Bellamy’s effects.”

“Nothing else?”

“No, ma’am. The pyramid and package must still be with Langdon.”

“Okay,” Sato said. “Bellamy knows plenty he’s not telling. I’d like to question him personally.”

“Yes, ma’am. To Langley, then?”

Sato took a deep breath and paced a moment beside the SUV. Strict protocols governed the interrogation of U.S. civilians, and questioning Bellamy was highly illegal unless it was done at Langley on video with witnesses, attorneys, blah, blah, blah… “Not Langley,” she said, trying to think of somewhere closer. And more private.

The agent said nothing, standing at attention beside the idling SUV, waiting for orders.

Sato lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and gazed down at the Ziploc bag of Bellamy’s items. His key ring, she had noticed, included an electronic fob adorned with four letters — USBG. Sato knew, of course, which government building this fob accessed. The building was very close and, at this hour, very private.

She smiled and pocketed the fob. Perfect.

When she told the agent where she wanted to take Bellamy, she expected the man to look surprised, but he simply nodded and opened the passenger door for her, his cold stare revealing nothing.

Sato loved professionals.

Langdon stood in the basement of the Adams Building and stared in disbelief at the elegantly inscribed words on the face of the golden capstone.

That’s all it says?

Beside him, Katherine held the capstone under the light and shook her head. “There’s got to be more,” she insisted, sounding cheated. “ This is what my brother has been protecting all these years?”

Langdon had to admit he was mystified. According to Peter and Bellamy, this capstone was supposed to help them decipher the stone pyramid. In light of those claims, Langdon had expected something illuminating and helpful. More like obvious and useless. Once again, he read the six words delicately inscribed on the face of the capstone.

The secret hides within The Order?

At first glance, the inscription appeared to be stating the obvious — that the letters on the pyramid were out of “order” and that their secret lay in finding their proper sequence. This reading, however, in addition to being self-evident, seemed unlikely for another reason. “The words the and order are capitalized,” Langdon said.

Katherine nodded blankly. “I saw that.”

The secret hides within The Order. Langdon could think of only one logical implication. “ ‘The Order’ must be referencing the Masonic Order. ”

“I agree,” Katherine said, “but it’s still no help. It tells us nothing.”

Langdon had to concur. After all, the entire story of the Masonic Pyramid revolved around a secret hidden within the Masonic Order.

“Robert, didn’t my brother tell you this capstone would give you power to see order where others saw only chaos ?”

He nodded in frustration. For the second time tonight, Robert Langdon was feeling unworthy.

Once Mal’akhhad finished dealing with his unexpected visitor — a female security guard from Preferred Security — he fixed the paint on the window through which she had glimpsed his sacred work space.

Now, ascending out of the soft blue haze of the basement, he emerged through a hidden doorway into his living room. Inside, he paused, admiring his spectacular painting of the Three Graces and savoring the familiar smells and sounds of his home.

Soon I will be leaving forever. Mal’akh knew that after tonight he would be unable to return to this place. After tonight, he thought, smiling, I will have no need for this place.

He wondered if Robert Langdon yet understood the true power of the pyramid… or the importance of the role for which fate had chosen him. Langdon has yet to call me, Mal’akh thought, after double-checking for messages on his disposable phone. It was now 10:02 P.M. He has less than two hours.

Mal’akh went upstairs to his Italian-marble bathroom and turned on the steam shower to let it heat up. Methodically, he stripped off his clothes, eager to begin his cleansing ritual.

He drank two glasses of water to calm his starving stomach. Then he walked to the full-length mirror and studied his naked body. His two days of fasting had accentuated his musculature, and he could not help but admire that which he had become. By dawn, I will be so much more.