The Lost Symbol

Katherine vaguely recalled her brother telling her that the winged figure was a representation of “human genius” — a great thinker with chin in hand, looking depressed, still unable to achieve enlightenment. The genius is surrounded with all of the symbols of his human intellect — objects of science, math, philosophy, nature, geometry, even carpentry — and yet is still unable to climb the ladder to true enlightenment. Even the human genius has difficulty comprehending the Ancient Mysteries.

“Symbolically,” Langdon said, “this represents mankind’s failed attempt to transform human intellect into godlike power. In alchemical terms, it represents our inability to turn lead into gold.”

“Not a particularly encouraging message,” Katherine agreed. “So how does it help us?” She did not see the hidden number 1514 that Langdon was talking about.

“Order from chaos,” Langdon said, flashing a lopsided grin. “Just as your brother promised.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the grid of letters he had written earlier from the Masonic cipher. “Right now, this grid is meaningless.” He spread the paper out on the desk.

Katherine eyed the grid. Definitely meaningless.

“But Dürer will transform it.”

“And how might he do that?”

“Linguistic alchemy.” Langdon motioned to the computer screen. “Look carefully. Hidden in this masterpiece is something that will make sense of our sixteen letters.” He waited. “Do you see it yet? Look for the number 1514.”

Katherine was in no mood to play classroom. “Robert, I see nothing — an orb, a ladder, a knife, a polyhedron, a scale? I give up.”

“Look! There in the background. Carved into that building behind the angel? Beneath the bell? Dürer engraved a square that is full of numbers.”

Katherine now saw the square that contained numbers, among them 1514.

“Katherine, that square is the key to deciphering the pyramid!”

She shot him a surprised look. “That’s not just any square,” Langdon said, grinning.

“That, Ms. Solomon, is a magic square.”

CHAPTER 69

Where thehell are they taking me?

Bellamy was still blindfolded in the back of an SUV. After a short stop somewhere close to the Library of Congress, the vehicle had continued on. but only for a minute. Now the SUV had stopped again, having again traveled only about a block.

Bellamy heard muffled voices talking.

“Sorry. impossible. ” an authoritative voice was saying. “. closed at this hour. ”

The man driving the SUV replied with equal authority. “CIA investigation. national security. ” Apparently the exchange of words and IDs was persuasive, because the tone shifted immediately.

“Yes, of course. service entrance. ” There was the loud grinding of what sounded like a garage door, and as it opened, the voice added, “Shall I accompany you? Once you’re inside, you won’t be able to get through —”

“No. We have access already.”

If the guard was surprised, it was too late. The SUV was moving again. It advanced about fifty yards and then came to a stop. The heavy door rumbled closed again behind them.

Silence.

Bellamy realized he was trembling.

With a bang, the SUV’s rear hatch flew open. Bellamy felt a sharp pain in his shoulders as someone dragged him out by his arms, then lifted him to his feet. Without a word, a powerful force led him across a wide expanse of pavement. There was a strange, earthy smell here that he could not place. There were footsteps of someone else walking with them, but whoever it was had yet to speak.

They stopped at a door, and Bellamy heard an electronic ping. The door clicked open. Bellamy was manhandled through several corridors and could not help but notice that the air was warmer and more humid.

An indoor pool, maybe? No. The smell in the air was not chlorine. it was far more earthy and primal.

Where the hell are we?! Bellamy knew he could not be more than a block or two from the Capitol Building. Again they stopped, and again he heard the electronic beep of a security door. This one slid open with a hiss. As they pushed him through, the smell that hit him was unmistakable.

Bellamy now realized where they were. My God! He came here often, although never through the service entrance. This magnificent glass building was only three hundred yards from the Capitol Building and was technically part of the Capitol Complex. I run this place! Bellamy now realized it was his own key fob that was giving them access.

Powerful arms pushed him through the doorway, leading him down a familiar, winding walkway. The heavy, damp warmth of this place usually felt comforting to him. Tonight, he was sweating.

What are we doing here?!

Bellamy was halted suddenly and seated on a bench. The man with the muscles unhooked his handcuffs only long enough to reaffix them to the bench behind his back.