The Lost Symbol

Only a minute ago he had limped quickly out of the Rotunda in an army-surplus coat. Stepping into a darkened alcove, he shed his coat, revealing the blue blazer he wore underneath. Before abandoning his surplus jacket, he pulled a blond wig from the pocket and fit it snugly on his head. Then he stood up straight, pulled a slim Washington guidebook from his blazer, and stepped calmly from the niche with an elegant gait.

Transformation. This is my gift.

As Mal’akh’s mortal legs carried him toward his waiting limousine, he arched his back, standing to his full six-foot-three height and throwing back his shoulders. He inhaled deeply, letting the air fill his lungs. He could feel the wings of the tattooed phoenix on his chest opening wide.

If they only knew my power, he thought, gazing out at the city. Tonight my transformation will be complete.

Mal’akh had played his cards artfully within the Capitol Building, showing obeisance to all the ancient etiquettes. The ancient invitation has been delivered. If Langdon had not yet grasped his role here tonight, soon he would.

CHAPTER 13

For Robert Langdon, the Capitol Rotunda — like St. Peter's Basilica — always had a way of taking him by surprise. Intellectually, he knew the room was so large that the Statue of Liberty could stand comfortably inside it, but somehow the Rotunda always felt larger and more hallowed than he anticipated, as if there were spirits in the air. Tonight, however, there was only chaos.

Capitol police officers were sealing the Rotunda while attempting to herd distraught tourists away from the hand. The little boy was still crying. A bright light flashed — a tourist taking a photo of the hand — and several guards immediately detained the man, taking his camera and escorting him off. In the confusion, Langdon felt himself moving forward in a trance, slipping through the crowd, inching closer to the hand.

Peter Solomon's severed right hand was standing upright, the flat plane of the detached wrist skewered down onto the spike of a small wooden stand. Three of the fingers were closed in a fist, while the thumb and index finger were fully extended, pointing up toward the soaring dome.

“Everyone back!” an officer called.

Langdon was close enough now that he could see dried blood, which had run down from the wrist and coagulated on the wooden base. Postmortem wounds don't bleed. which means Peter is alive. Langdon didn't know whether to be relieved or nauseated. Peter's hand was removed while he was alive? Bile rose in his throat. He thought of all the times his dear friend had extended this same hand to shake Langdon's or offer a warm embrace.

For several seconds, Langdon felt his mind go blank, like an untuned television set broadcasting only static. The first clear image that broke through was utterly unexpected.

A crown. and a star.

Langdon crouched down, eyeing the tips of Peter's thumb and index finger.

Tattoos? Incredibly, the monster who had done this appeared to have tattooed tiny symbols on Peter's fingertips.

On the thumb — a crown. On the index finger — a star.

This can't be. The two symbols registered instantly in Langdon's mind, amplifying this already horrific scene into something almost otherworldly. These symbols had appeared together many times in history, and always in the same place — on the fingertips of a hand. It was one of the ancient world's most coveted and secretive icons.

The Hand of the Mysteries.

The icon was rarely seen anymore, but throughout history it had symbolized a powerful call to action. Langdon strained to comprehend the grotesque artifact now before him. Someone crafted the Hand of the Mysteries out of Peter's hand? It was unthinkable. Traditionally, the icon was sculpted in stone or wood or rendered as a drawing. Langdon had never heard of the Hand of the Mysteries being fashioned from actual flesh. The concept was abhorrent.

“Sir?” a guard said behind Langdon. “Please step back.”

Langdon barely heard him. There are other tattoos. Although he could not see the fingertips of the three clenched fingers, Langdon knew these fingertips would bear their own unique markings. That was the tradition. Five symbols in total. Through the millennia, the symbols on the fingertips of the Hand of the Mysteries had never changed. nor had the hand's iconic purpose.

The hand represents. an invitation.