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“But this is not a Masonic lodge!”Anderson declared. “It’s the U.S. Capitol, and I’d like to know what the hell this room is doing in my building.”

 

“Sometimes Masons set aside rooms like this in their offices or private homes as meditation spaces. It is not uncommon.” Langdon knew a heart surgeon in Boston who had converted a closet in his office into a Masonic Chamber of Reflection so he could ponder mortality before going into surgery.

 

Sato looked troubled. “You’re saying Peter Solomon comes down here to reflect on death?”

 

“I really don’t know,” Langdon said sincerely. “Maybe he created it as a sanctuary for his Masonic brothers who work in the building, giving them a spiritual sanctuary away from the chaos of the material world . . . a place for a powerful lawmaker to reflect before making decisions that affect his fellow man.”

 

“Lovely sentiment,” Sato said, her tone sarcastic, “but I have a feeling Americans might have a problem with their leaders praying in closets with scythes and skulls.”

 

Well, they shouldn’t,
Langdon thought, imagining how different a world it might be if more leaders took time to ponder the finality of death before racing off to war.

 

Sato pursed her lips and carefully surveyed all four corners of the candle lit chamber. “There must be
something
in here besides human bones and bowls of chemicals, Professor. Someone transported you all the way from your home in Cambridge to be in this precise room.”

 

Langdon clutched his daybag to his side, still unable to imagine how the package he carried might relate to this chamber. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary here.” Langdon hoped that now at last they could get to the business of trying to find Peter.

 

Anderson’s light flickered again, and Sato spun on him, her temper starting to show. “For Christ’s sake, is it too much to ask?” She plunged her hand into her pocket and yanked out a cigarette lighter. Striking her thumb on the flint, she held out the flame and lit the desk’s lone candle. The wick sputtered and then caught, spreading a ghostly luminescence throughout the constricted space. Long shadows raked the stone walls. As the flame grew brighter, an unexpected sight materialized before them.

 

“Look!” Anderson said, pointing.

 

In the candlelight, they could now see a faded patch of graffiti—seven capital letters scrawled across the rear wall.

 

VITRIOL

 

“An odd choice of word,” Sato said as the candlelight cast a frightening skull-shaped silhouette across the letters.

 

“Actually, it’s an acronym,” Langdon said. “It’s written on the rear wall of most chambers like this as a shorthand for the Masonic meditative mantra:
Visita interiora terrae, rectificando invenies occultum lapidem
.”

 

Sato eyed him, looking almost impressed. “Meaning?”

 

“Visit the interior of the earth, and by rectifying, you will find the hidden stone.”

 

Sato’s gaze sharpened. “Does the hidden stone have any connection to a hidden pyramid?”

 

Langdon shrugged, not wanting to encourage the comparison. “Those who enjoy fantasizing about hidden pyramids in Washington would tell
you that
occultum lapidem
refers to the stone pyramid, yes. Others will tell you it’s a reference to the Philosopher’s Stone—a substance alchemists believed could bring them everlasting life or turn lead into gold. Others claim it’s a reference to the Holy of Holies, a hidden stone chamber at the core of the Great Temple. Some say it’s a Christian reference to the hidden teachings of Saint Peter—the Rock. Every esoteric tradition interprets ‘the stone’ in its own way, but invariably the
occultum lapidem
is a source of power and enlightenment.”

 

Anderson cleared his throat. “Is it possible Solomon lied to this guy? Maybe he told him there was something down here . . . and there really isn’t.”

 

Langdon was having similar thoughts
.

 

Without warning, the candle flame flickered, as if caught by a draft. It dimmed for a moment and then recovered, burning brightly again.

 

“That’s odd,” Anderson said. “I hope no one closed the door upstairs.” He strode out of the chamber into the darkness of the hallway. “Hello?”

 

Langdon barely noticed him leave. His gaze had been drawn suddenly to the rear wall.
What just happened?

 

“Did you see that?” Sato asked, also staring with alarm at the wall.

 

Langdon nodded, his pulse quickening.
What did I just see?

 

A moment earlier, the rear wall seemed to have shimmered, as if a ripple of energy had passed through it.

 

Anderson now strode back into the room. “No one’s out there.” As he entered, the wall shimmered again. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed, jumping back.

 

All three stood mute for a long moment, staring in unison at the back wall. Langdon felt another chill run through him as he realized what they were seeing. He reached out tentatively, until his fingertips touched the rear surface of the chamber. “It’s not a wall,” he said.

 

Anderson and Sato stepped closer, peering intently.

 

“It’s a canvas,” Langdon said.

 

“But it billowed,” Sato said quickly.

 

Yes, in a very strange way.
Langdon examined the surface more closely. The sheen on the canvas had refracted the candlelight in a startling manner because the canvas had just billowed
away
from the room . . . fluttering backward
through
the plane of the rear wall.

 

Langdon extended his outstretched fingers very gently, pressing the canvas backward. Startled, he yanked his hand back.
There’s an opening!

 

“Pull it aside,” Sato ordered.

 

Langdon’s heart pounded wildly now. He reached up and clutched the
edge of the canvas banner, slowly pulling the fabric to one side. He stared in disbelief at what lay hidden behind it.
My God.

 

Sato and Anderson stood in stunned silence as they looked through the opening in the rear wall.

 

Finally, Sato spoke. “It appears we’ve just found our pyramid.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER
39

 

Robert Langdon
stared at the opening in the rear wall of the chamber. Hidden behind the canvas banner, a perfectly square hole had been hollowed out of the wall. The opening, about three feet across, appeared to have been created by removing a series of bricks. For a moment, in the darkness, Langdon thought the hole was a window to a room beyond.

 

Now he saw it was not.

 

The opening extended only a few feet into the wall before terminating. Like a rough-hewn cubbyhole, the recessed niche reminded Langdon of a museum alcove designed to hold a statuette. Fittingly, this niche displayed one small object.

 

About nine inches tall, it was a piece of carved, solid granite. The surface was elegant and smooth with four polished sides that shone in the candlelight.

 

Langdon could not fathom what it was doing here.
A stone pyramid?

 

“From your look of surprise,” Sato said, sounding self-satisfied, “I take it this object is not
typical
within a Chamber of Reflection?”

 

Langdon shook his head.

 

“Then perhaps you would like to reassess your previous claims regarding the legend of a Masonic Pyramid hidden in Washington?” Her tone now was almost smug.

 

“Director,” Langdon replied instantly, “this little pyramid is
not
the Masonic Pyramid.”

 

“So it is merely coincidence that we found a pyramid hidden at the heart of the U.S. Capitol in a secret chamber belonging to a Masonic leader?”

 

Langdon rubbed his eyes and tried to think clearly. “Ma’am, this pyramid doesn’t resemble the myth in any way. The Masonic Pyramid is described as enormous, with a tip forged of solid gold.”

 

Moreover, Langdon knew, this little pyramid—with its flat top—was not even a
true
pyramid. Without its tip, this was another symbol
entirely. Known as an Unfinished Pyramid, it was a symbolic reminder that man’s ascent to his full human potential was always a work in progress. Though few realized it, this symbol was the most widely published symbol on earth.
Over twenty billion in print.
Adorning every one-dollar bill in circulation, the Unfinished Pyramid waited patiently for its shining capstone, which hovered above it as a reminder of America’s yet-unfulfilled destiny and the work yet to be done, both as a country and as individuals.

 

“Lift it down,” Sato said to Anderson, motioning to the pyramid. “I want a closer look.” She began making room on the desk by shoving the skull and crossed bones to one side with no reverence whatsoever.

 

Langdon was starting to feel like they were common grave robbers, desecrating a personal shrine.

 

Anderson maneuvered past Langdon, reached into the niche, and clamped his large palms on either side of the pyramid. Then, barely able to lift at this awkward angle, he slid the pyramid toward him and lowered it with a hard thud onto the wooden desk. He stepped back to give Sato room.

 

The director repositioned the candle close to the pyramid and studied its polished surface. Slowly, she ran her tiny fingers over it, examining every inch of the flat top, and then the sides. She wrapped her hands around to feel the back, then frowned in apparent disappointment. “Professor, earlier you said the Masonic Pyramid was constructed to protect secret information.”

 

“That’s the legend, yes.”

 

“So, hypothetically speaking, if Peter’s captor believed
this
was the Masonic Pyramid, he would believe it contained powerful information.”

 

Langdon nodded, exasperated. “Yes, although even if he found this information, he probably would not be able to
read
it. According to legend, the contents of the pyramid are encoded, making them indecipherable . . . except to the most worthy.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Despite Langdon’s growing impatience, he replied with an even tone. “Mythological treasures are
always
protected by tests of worthiness. As you may recall, in the legend of the Sword in the Stone, the stone refuses to give up the sword except to Arthur, who was spiritually prepared to wield the sword’s awesome power. The Masonic Pyramid is based on the same idea. In
this
case, the information is the treasure, and it is said to be written in an encoded language—a mystical tongue of lost words—legible only to the worthy.”

 

A faint smile crossed Sato’s lips. “That may explain why you were summoned here tonight.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Calmly, Sato rotated the pyramid in place, turning it a full 180 degrees. The pyramid’s fourth side now shone in the candlelight.

 

Robert Langdon stared at it with surprise.

 

“It appears,” Sato said, “that someone believes you’re worthy.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER
40

 

What’s taking
Trish so long?

 

Katherine Solomon checked her watch again. She’d forgotten to warn Dr. Abaddon about the bizarre commute to her lab, but she couldn’t imagine the darkness had slowed them down this much.
They should have arrived by now.

 

Katherine walked over to the exit and heaved open the lead-lined door, staring out into the void. She listened for a moment, but heard nothing.

 

“Trish?” she called out, her voice swallowed by the darkness.

 

Silence.

 

Puzzled, she closed the door, took out her cell phone, and called the lobby. “This is Katherine. Is Trish out there?”

 

“No, ma’am,” the lobby guard said. “She and your guest headed back about ten minutes ago.”

 

“Really? I don’t think they’re even inside Pod Five yet.”

 

“Hold on. I’ll check.” Katherine could hear the guard’s fingers clicking on his computer keyboard. “You’re right. According to Ms. Dunne’s key-card logs, she has not yet opened the Pod Five door. Her last access event was about eight minutes ago . . . at Pod Three. I guess she’s giving your guest a little tour on his way in.”

 

Katherine frowned.
Apparently
. The news was a bit odd, but at least she knew Trish wouldn’t be long in Pod 3.
The smell in there is terrible.
“Thanks. Has my brother arrived yet?”

 

“No, ma’am, not yet.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

As Katherine hung up, she felt an unexpected twinge of trepidation. The uneasy feeling made her pause, but only for a moment. It was the same exact disquiet she’d felt earlier when she stepped into Dr. Abaddon’s house. Embarrassingly, her feminine intuition had failed her there. Badly.

 

It’s nothing,
Katherine told herself.

 

 

 

CHAPTER
41

 

Robert Langdon
studied the stone pyramid.
This isn’t possible.

 

“An ancient encoded language,” Sato said without looking up. “Tell me, does this qualify?”

 

On the newly exposed face of the pyramid, a series of sixteen characters was precisely engraved into the smooth stone.