CHAPTER
92
Beneath the
watchful gaze of several armed CIA agents, Langdon, Katherine, and Bellamy waited with Sato in the Cathedral College sitting room. On the coffee table before them, Langdon’s leather bag was still open, the golden capstone peeking out the top. The words
Eight Franklin Square
had now faded away, leaving no evidence that they had ever existed.
Katherine had pleaded with Sato to let her go see her brother, but Sato had simply shaken her head, eyes fixed on Bellamy’s cell phone. It sat on the coffee table and had yet to ring.
Why didn’t Bellamy just tell me the truth?
Langdon wondered. Apparently, the Architect had been in contact with Peter’s captor all night, reassuring him that Langdon was making progress deciphering the pyramid. It was a bluff, an attempt to buy time for Peter. In fact, Bellamy was doing all he could to interfere with anyone who threatened to unveil the pyramid’s secret. Now, however, it seemed that Bellamy had switched sides. He and Sato were now prepared to risk the pyramid’s secret in hopes of catching this man.
“Take your hands off me!” shouted an elderly voice in the hall. “I’m
blind,
not inept! I know my way through the college!” Dean Galloway was still protesting loudly as a CIA agent manhandled him into the sitting room and forced him into one of the chairs.
“Who’s here?” Galloway demanded, his blank eyes staring dead ahead. “It sounds like a lot of you. How many do you need to detain an old man? Really now!”
“There are seven of us,” Sato declared. “Including Robert Langdon, Katherine Solomon, and your Masonic brother Warren Bellamy.”
Galloway slumped, all his bluster gone.
“We’re okay,” Langdon said. “And we just heard that Peter is safe. He’s in bad shape, but the police are with him.”
“Thank heavens,” Galloway said. “And the—”
A loud rattling caused everyone in the room to jump. It was Bellamy’s cell phone vibrating against the coffee table. Everyone fell silent.
“Okay, Mr. Bellamy,” Sato said. “Don’t blow it. You know the stakes.”
Bellamy took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he reached down and pressed the speakerphone button to connect the call.
“Bellamy here,” he said, speaking loudly toward the phone on the coffee table.
The voice that crackled back through the speaker was familiar, an airy whisper. It sounded like he was calling from a hands-free speakerphone inside a car. “It’s past midnight, Mr. Bellamy. I was about to put Peter out of his misery.”
There was an uneasy silence in the room. “Let me talk to him.”
“Impossible,” the man replied. “We’re driving. He’s tied up in the trunk.”
Langdon and Katherine exchanged looks and then began shaking their heads at everyone.
He’s bluffing! He no longer has Peter!
Sato motioned for Bellamy to keep pressing.
“I want
proof
that Peter’s alive,” Bellamy said. “I’m not giving you the rest of—”
“Your Worshipful Master needs a doctor. Don’t waste time with negotiations. Tell me the street number on Franklin Square, and I’ll bring Peter to you there.”
“I told you, I want—”
“Now!” the man exploded. “Or I will pull over and Peter Solomon dies this instant!”
“You listen to me,” Bellamy said forcefully. “If you want the rest of the address, you’ll play by
my
rules. Meet me at Franklin Square. Once you deliver Peter alive, I’ll tell you the number of the building.”
“How do I know you won’t bring the authorities?”
“Because I can’t risk double-crossing you. Peter’s life is
not
the only card you hold. I know what’s really at stake tonight.”
“You do realize,” the man on the phone said, “that if I sense so much as a hint of anyone other than
you
at Franklin Square, I will keep driving, and you will never find even a trace of Peter Solomon. And of course . . . that will be the least of your worries.”
“I’ll come alone,” Bellamy replied somberly. “When you turn over Peter, I’ll give you everything you need.”
“Center of the square,” the man said. “It will take me at least twenty minutes to get there. I suggest you wait for me as long as it takes.”
The line went dead.
Instantly, the room sprang to life. Sato began shouting orders. Several field agents grabbed their radios and headed for the door. “Move! Move!”
In the chaos, Langdon looked to Bellamy for some kind of explanation as to what was actually going on tonight, but the older man was already being hurried out the door.
“I need to see my brother!” Katherine shouted. “You
have
to let us go!”
Sato walked over to Katherine. “I don’t
have
to do anything, Ms. Solomon. Is that clear?”
Katherine stood her ground and looked desperately into Sato’s small eyes.
“Ms. Solomon, my top priority is apprehending the man at Franklin Square, and you will sit here with one of my men until I accomplish that task. Then, and only then, will we deal with your brother.”
“You’re missing the point,” Katherine said. “I know
exactly
where this man lives! It’s literally five minutes up the road in Kalorama Heights, and there will be evidence there that will help you! Besides, you said you want to keep this quiet. Who knows what Peter will start telling the authorities once he’s stabilized.”
Sato pursed her lips, apparently registering Katherine’s point. Outside, the chopper blades began winding up. Sato frowned and then turned to one of her men. “Hartmann, you take the Escalade. Transport Ms. Solomon and Mr. Langdon to Kalorama Heights. Peter Solomon is not to speak to
anyone
. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the agent said.
“Call me when you get there. Tell me what you find. And don’t let these two out of your sight.”
Agent Hartmann gave a quick nod, pulled out the Escalade keys, and headed for the door.
Katherine was right behind him.
Sato turned to Langdon. “I’ll see you shortly, Professor. I know you think I’m the enemy, but I can assure you that’s not the case. Get to Peter at once. This isn’t over yet.”
Off to one side of Langdon, Dean Galloway was sitting quietly at the coffee table. His hands had found the stone pyramid, which was still sitting in Langdon’s open leather bag on the table in front of him. The old man was running his hands over the stone’s warm surface.
Langdon said, “Father, are you coming to see Peter?”
“I’d just slow you down.” Galloway removed his hands from the bag and zipped it up around the pyramid. “I’ll stay right here and pray for
Peter’s recovery. We can all speak later. But when you show Peter the pyramid, would you please tell him something for me?”
“Of course.” Langdon hoisted the bag onto his shoulder.
“Tell him this.” Galloway cleared his throat. “The Masonic Pyramid has always kept her secret . . .
sincerely
.”
“I don’t understand.”
The old man winked. “Just tell Peter that. He will understand.”
With that, Dean Galloway bowed his head and began praying.
Perplexed, Langdon left him there and hurried outside. Katherine was already in the front seat of the SUV giving the agent directions. Langdon climbed in back and had barely closed the door before the giant vehicle was rocketing across the lawn, racing northward to Kalorama Heights.
CHAPTER
93
Franklin Square
is located in the northwest quadrant of downtown Washington, bordered by K and Thirteenth streets. It is home to many historic buildings, most notably the Franklin School, from which Alexander Graham Bell sent the world’s first wireless message in 1880.
High above the square, a fast-moving UH-60 helicopter approached from the west, having completed its journey from the National Cathedral in a matter of minutes.
Plenty of time,
Sato thought, peering down at the square below. She knew it was critical that her men got into position undetected before their target arrived.
He said he wouldn’t be here for at least twenty minutes.
On Sato’s command, the pilot performed a “touch-hover” on the roof of the tallest building around—the renowned One Franklin Square—a towering and prestigious office building with two gold spires on top. The maneuver was illegal, of course, but the chopper was there only a few seconds, and its skids barely touched the gravel rooftop. Once everyone had jumped out, the pilot immediately lifted off, banking to the east, where he would climb to “silent altitude” and provide invisible support from above.
Sato waited as her field team collected their things and prepared Bellamy for his task. The Architect was still looking dazed from having seen the file on Sato’s secure laptop.
As I said . . . an issue of national security.
Bellamy had quickly understood Sato’s meaning and was now fully cooperative.
“All set, ma’am,” Agent Simkins said.
On Sato’s command, the agents ushered Bellamy across the rooftop and disappeared down a stairwell, heading for ground level to take up their positions.
Sato walked to the edge of the building and gazed down. The rectangular wooded park below filled the entire block.
Plenty of cover.
Sato’s team fully understood the importance of making an undetected intercept. If their target sensed a presence here and decided just to slip away . . . the director didn’t even want to think about it.
The wind up here was gusty and cold. Sato wrapped her arms around herself, and planted her feet firmly to avoid getting blown over the edge. From this high vantage point, Franklin Square looked smaller than she recalled, with fewer buildings. She wondered which building was Eight Franklin Square. This was information she had requested from her analyst Nola, from whom she expected word at any moment.
Bellamy and the agents now appeared, looking like ants fanning out into the darkness of the wooded area. Simkins positioned Bellamy in a clearing near the center of the deserted park. Then Simkins and his team melted into the natural cover, disappearing from view. Within seconds, Bellamy was alone, pacing and shivering in the light of a streetlamp near the center of the park.
Sato felt no pity.
She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, savoring the warmth as it permeated her lungs. Satisfied that everything below was in order, she stepped back from the edge to await her two phone calls—one from her analyst Nola and one from Agent Hartmann, whom she had sent to Kalorama Heights.
CHAPTER
94
Slow down!
Langdon gripped the backseat of the Escalade as it flew around a corner, threatening to tip up on two tires. CIA agent Hartmann was either eager to show off his driving skills to Katherine, or he had orders to get to Peter Solomon before Solomon recuperated enough to say anything he shouldn’t say to the local authorities.
The high-speed game of beat-the-red-light on Embassy Row had been worrisome enough, but now they were racing through the winding residential neighborhood of Kalorama Heights. Katherine shouted directions as they went, having been to this man’s house earlier that afternoon.
With every turn, the leather bag at Langdon’s feet rocked back and forth, and Langdon could hear the clank of the capstone, which had clearly been jarred from the top of the pyramid and was now bouncing around in the bottom of his bag. Fearing it might get damaged, he fished around inside until he found it. It was still warm, but the glowing text had now faded and disappeared, returning to its original engraving:
The secret hides within The Order.
As Langdon was about to place the capstone in a side pocket, he noticed its elegant surface was covered with tiny white gobs of something. Puzzled, he tried to wipe them off, but they were stuck on and hard to the touch . . . like plastic.
What in the world?
He could now see that the surface of the stone pyramid itself was also covered with the little white dots. Langdon used his fingernail and picked one off, rolling it between his fingers.
“Wax?” he blurted.
Katherine glanced over her shoulder. “What?”
“There are bits of wax all over the pyramid and capstone. I don’t understand it. Where could that possibly have
come
from?”
“Something in your bag, maybe?”
“I don’t think so.”
As they rounded a corner, Katherine pointed through the windshield and turned to Agent Hartmann. “That’s it! We’re here.”
Langdon glanced up and saw the spinning lights of a security vehicle parked in a driveway up ahead. The driveway gate was pulled aside and the agent gunned the SUV inside the compound.
The house was a spectacular mansion. Every light inside was ablaze, and the front door was wide open. A half-dozen vehicles were parked haphazardly in the driveway and on the lawn, apparently having arrived in a hurry. Some of the cars were still running and had their headlights shining, most on the house, but one askew, practically blinding them as they drove in.
Agent Hartmann skidded to a stop on the lawn beside a white sedan with a brightly colored decal:
PREFERRED SECURITY
. The spinning lights and the high beams in their face made it hard to see.
Katherine immediately jumped out and raced for the house. Langdon heaved his bag onto his shoulder without taking the time to zip it up. He followed Katherine at a jog across the lawn toward the open front door. The sounds of voices echoed within. Behind Langdon, the SUV chirped as Agent Hartmann locked the vehicle and hurried after them.
Katherine bounded up the porch stairs, through the main door, and disappeared into the entryway. Langdon crossed the threshold behind her and could see Katherine was already moving across the foyer and down the main hallway toward the sound of voices. Beyond her, visible at the end of the hall, was a dining-room table where a woman in a security uniform was sitting with her back to them.
“Officer!” Katherine shouted as she ran. “Where is Peter Solomon?”
Langdon rushed after her, but as he did so, an unexpected movement caught his eye. To his left, through the living-room window, he could see the driveway gate was now swinging shut.
Odd
. Something else caught his eye . . . something that had been hidden from him by the glare of the spinning lights and the blinding high beams when they drove in. The half-dozen cars parked haphazardly in the driveway looked nothing like the police cars and emergency vehicles Langdon had imagined they were.
A Mercedes? . . . a Hummer? . . . a Tesla Roadster?
In that instant, Langdon also realized the voices he heard in the house were nothing but a television blaring in the direction of the dining room.
Wheeling in slow motion, Langdon shouted down the hallway. “Katherine, wait!”
But as he turned, he could see that Katherine Solomon was no longer running.
She was airborne.