The Lost Symbol

“Shoot the lock,” she said, nodding toward the key plate beneath the lever.

Langdon’s pulse leaped.

Anderson cleared his throat, sounding uneasy. “Ma’am, I’m waiting for news on a secondary key. I am not sure I’m comfortable blasting our way into —”

“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in prison for obstructing a CIA investigation?”

Anderson looked incredulous. After a long beat, he reluctantly handed the light to Sato and unsnapped his holster.

“Wait!” Langdon said, no longer able to stand idly by. “Think about it. Peter gave up his right hand rather than reveal whatever might be behind this door. Are you sure we want to do this? Unlocking this door is essentially complying with the demands of a terrorist.”

“Do you want to get Peter Solomon back?” Sato asked.

“Of course, but —”

“Then I suggest you do exactly what his captor is requesting.”

“Unlock an ancient portal? You think this is the portal?”

Sato shone the light in Langdon’s face. “Professor, I have no idea what the hell this is. Whether it’s a storage unit or the secret entrance to an ancient pyramid, I intend to open it. Do I make myself clear?”

Langdon squinted into the light and finally nodded.

Sato lowered the beam and redirected it at the door’s antique key plate. “Chief? Go ahead.”

Still looking averse to the plan, Anderson extracted his sidearm very, very slowly, gazing down at it with uncertainty.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Sato’s tiny hands shot out, and she grabbed the weapon from him. She stuffed the flashlight into his now empty palm. “Shine the damned light.” She handled the gun with the confidence of someone who had trained with weapons, wasting no time turning off the pistol’s safety, cocking the weapon, and aiming at the lock.

“Wait!” Langdon yelled, but he was too late.

The gun roared three times.

Langdon’s eardrums felt like they had exploded. Is she insane?! The gunshots in the tiny space had been deafening.

Anderson also looked shaken, his hand wavering a bit as he shone the flashlight on the bullet-riddled door.

The lock mechanism was now in tatters, the wood surrounding it entirely pulverized. The lock had released, the door now having fallen ajar.

Sato extended the pistol and pressed the tip of the barrel against the door, giving it a push. The door swung fully into the blackness beyond.

Langdon peered in but could see nothing in the darkness. What in the world is that smell? An unusual, fetid odor wafted out of the darkness.

Anderson stepped into the doorway and shone the light on the floor, tracing carefully down the length of the barren dirt floor. This room was like the others — a long, narrow space. The sidewalls were rugged stone, giving the room the feel of an ancient prison cell. But that smell.

“There’s nothing here,” Anderson said, moving the beam farther down the chamber floor. Finally, as the beam reached the end of the floor, he raised it up to illuminate the chamber’s farthest wall.

“My God.!” Anderson shouted.

Everyone saw it and jumped back.

Langdon stared in disbelief at the deepest recess of the chamber.

To his horror, something was staring back.

CHAPTER 36

“What in God’s name.?” At the threshold of SBB13, Anderson fumbled with his light and retreated a step.

Langdon also recoiled, as did Sato, who looked startled for the first time all night.

Sato aimed the gun at the back wall and motioned for Anderson to shine the light again. Anderson raised the light. The beam was dim by the time it reached the far wall, but the light was enough to illuminate the shape of a pallid and ghostly face, staring back at them through lifeless sockets.

A human skull.

The skull sat atop a rickety wooden desk positioned against the rear wall of the chamber. Two human leg bones sat beside the skull, along with a collection of other items that were meticulously arranged on the desk in shrinelike fashion — an antique hourglass, a crystal flask, a candle, two saucers of pale powder, and a sheet of paper. Propped against the wall beside the desk stood the fearsome shape of a long scythe, its curved blade as familiar as that of the grim reaper.

Sato stepped into the room. “Well, now. it appears Peter Solomon keeps more secrets than I imagined.”

Anderson nodded, inching after her. “Talk about skeletons in your closet.” He raised the light and surveyed the rest of the empty chamber. “And that smell?” he added, crinkling his nose. “What is it?”

“Sulfur,” Langdon replied evenly behind them. “There should be two saucers on the desk. The saucer on the right will contain salt. And the other sulfur.”

Sato wheeled in disbelief. “How the hell would you know that?!”

“Because, ma’am, there are rooms exactly like this all over the world.”