The Lost Symbol

As his eyes adjusted, Langdon groped in front of him, his hands finding the wall, finding the glass, his face moving closer to the transparent portal.

Still only darkness beyond.

He leaned closer. pressing his face to the glass.

Then he saw it.

The wave of shock and disorientation that tore through Langdon’s body reached down inside and spun his internal compass upside down. He nearly fell backward as his mind strained to accept the utterly unanticipated sight that was before him. In his wildest dreams, Robert Langdon would never have guessed what lay on the other side of this glass.

The vision was a glorious sight.

There in the darkness, a brilliant white light shone like a gleaming jewel.

Langdon now understood it all — the barricade on the access road. the guards at the main entrance. the heavy metal door outside. the automatic doors that rumbled open and closed. the heaviness in his stomach. the lightness in his head. and now this tiny stone chamber.

“Robert,” Peter whispered behind him, “sometimes a change of perspective is all it takes to see the light.”

Speechless, Langdon stared out through the window. His gaze traveled into the darkness of the night, traversing more than a mile of empty space, dropping lower. lower. through the darkness. until it came to rest atop the brilliantly illuminated, stark white dome of the U.S. Capitol Building.

Langdon had never seen the Capitol from this perspective — hovering 555 feet in the air atop America’s great Egyptian obelisk. Tonight, for the first time in his life, he had ridden the elevator up to the tiny viewing chamber. at the pinnacle of the Washington Monument.

CHAPTER 129

Robert Langdon stood mesmerized at the glass portal, absorbing the power of the landscape below him. Having ascended unknowingly hundreds of feet into the air, he was now admiring one of the most spectacular vistas he had ever seen.

The shining dome of the U.S. Capitol rose like a mountain at the east end of the National Mall. On either side of the building, two parallel lines of light stretched toward him. the illuminated facades of the Smithsonian museums. beacons of art, history, science, culture.

Langdon now realized to his astonishment that much of what Peter had declared to be true. was in fact true. There is indeed a winding staircase. descending hundreds of feet beneath a massive stone. The huge capstone of this obelisk sat directly over his head, and Langdon now recalled a forgotten bit of trivia that seemed to have eerie relevance: the capstone of the Washington Monument weighed precisely thirty-three hundred pounds.

Again, the number 33.

More startling, however, was the knowledge that this capstone’s ultimate peak, the zenith of this obelisk, was crowned by a tiny, polished tip of aluminum — a metal as precious as gold in its day. The shining apex of the Washington Monument was only about a foot tall, the same size as the Masonic Pyramid. Incredibly, this small metal pyramid bore a famous engraving — Laus Deo — and Langdon suddenly understood. This is the true message of the base of the stone pyramid.

The seven symbols are a transliteration!

The simplest of ciphers.

The symbols are letters.

The stonemason’s square — L

The element gold — AU

The Greek Sigma — S

The Greek Delta — D

Alchemical mercury — E

The Ouroboros — O

“Laus Deo,” Langdon whispered. The well-known Latin phrase — meaning “praise God” — was inscribed on the tip of the Washington Monument in script letters only one inch tall. On full display. and yet invisible to all.

Laus Deo.

“Praise God,” Peter said behind him, flipping on the soft lighting in the chamber. “The Masonic Pyramid’s final code.”

Langdon turned. His friend was grinning broadly, and Langdon recalled that Peter had actually spoken the words “praise God” earlier inside the Masonic library. And I still missed it.

Langdon felt a chill to realize how apt it was that the legendary Masonic Pyramid had guided him here. to America’s great obelisk — the symbol of ancient mystical wisdom — rising toward the heavens at the heart of a nation.

In a state of wonder, Langdon began moving counterclockwise around the perimeter of the tiny square room, arriving now at another viewing window.

North.

Through this northward-facing window, Langdon gazed down at the familiar silhouette of the White House directly in front of him. He raised his eyes to the horizon, where the straight line of Sixteenth Street ran due north toward the House of the Temple.

I am due south of Heredom.