The Lost Symbol Chapter 4-6

CHAPTER 4The U.S. Capitol Building stands reg each(prenominal)y at the eastern end of the topic M entirely, on a raised(a) plateau that urban center designer Pierre LEnfant described as a pedestal waiting for a monument. The Capitols wide footprint measures more than 750 feet in length and 350 feet deep. Housing more than sixteen acres of floor space, it contains an astounding 541 rooms. The neoclassical architecture is meticulously designed to echo the grandeur of ancient Rome, whose ideals were the inspiration for Americas founders in establishing the laws and culture of the b be-ass republic.The new security checkpoint for tourists enter the Capitol Building is located deep within the recently completed later(a) visitant center, beneath a magnificent glass skylight that frames the Capitol Dome. pertly hired security guard Alfonso Nunez c be wide-eyedy studied the male visitor now approa elevateg his checkpoint. The objet dart had a s conductd head and had been tardy in the lobby, completing a hollo call before entrance the building. His correct arm was in a sling, and he moved with a slight limp. He was wearying a tattered army-navy surplus coat, which, combine with his s ca-cad head, make Nunez guess military. Those who had served in the U.S. armed forces were among the most leafy vegetable visitors to Washington.Good evening, sir, Nunez said, following the security protocol of verbally engaging all male visitor who entered al whiz.Hello, the visitor said, glancing around at the coterminously run- consume entry. Quiet night.NFC p mystify-offs, Nunez replied. Ein truth unitarys watching the Redskins tonight. Nunez wished he were, excessively, notwithstanding this was his start-off month on the job, and hed drawn the short straw. Metal bearings in the dish, please.As the visitor fumbled to counter homod the pockets of his eagle-eyed coat with his integrity working baseball glove, Nunez watched him c arefully. world instinct mak e special allowances for the injured and handicapped, but it was an instinct Nunez had been trained to everyplaceride.Nunez waited while the visitor removed from his pockets the usual assortment of loose change, keys, and a couple of cellular phone phones. Sprain? Nunez asked, eyeing the small-arms injured hand, which appeared to be wrapped in a serial publication of thick Ace bandages.The bald man nodded. Slipped on the ice. A workweek ago. Still hurts similar hell.Sorry to hear that. Walk by dint of, please.The visitor limped by dint of the detector, and the machine buzzed in protest.The visitor frowned. I was afraid of that. Im wearing a ring under these bandages. My finger was too swollen to get it off, so the doctors wrapped right over it.No problem, Nunez said. Ill use the wand. Nunez ran the coat-detection wand over the visitors wrapped hand. As expected, the only metal he detected was a large lump on the mans injured ring finger. Nunez took his m grinding the metal detector over every inch of the mans sling and finger. He knew his supervisor was probably monitoring him on the closed circuit in the buildings security center, and Nunez needed this job. Always better to be cautious. He carefully slid the wand up at bottom the mans sling.The visitor winced in pain.Sorry.Its okay, the man said. You lavt be too careful these sidereal days.Aint that the truth. Nunez handled this khat. Strangely, that counted for a lot around here. Human instinct was Americas origin line of defense against terrorism. It was a prove concomitant that human intuition was a more accurate detector of riskiness than all the electronic gear in the worldthe gift of fear, as one of their security reference books termed it.In this case, Nunezs instincts sensed nonhing that caused him all fear. The only oddity that he noniced, now that they were standing so close, was that this tough-looking guy appeared to have used just about kind of self-tanner or concealer mak eup on his give. Whatever. Everyone hates to be pale in the winter.Youre fine, Nunez said, completing his sweep and stowing the wand.Thanks. The man started collecting his belongings from the tray.As he did, Nunez noniced that the dickens fingers stick out from his bandage separately pillock a tattoo the tip of his world power finger bore the plan of a crown, and the tip of his thumb bore that of a star. Seems everyone has tattoos these days, Nunez thought, although the pads of his fingertips seemed like painful spots to get them. Those tats hurt?The man glanced down at his fingertips and chuckled. Less than you might think.Lucky, Nunez said. Mine hurt a lot. I got a mermaid on my back when I was in guardianship camp.A mermaid? The bald man chuckled.Yeah, he said, feeling sheepish. The mis rents we make in our youth.I hear you, the bald man said. I make a big mis withstand in my youth, too. Now I wake up with her every morning.They both laughed as the man headed off. Childs profligacy, Malakh thought as he moved past Nunez and up the escalator toward the Capitol Building. The entry had been easier than anticipated. Malakhs slouching posture and aggrandise belly had secluded his true physique, while the makeup on his face and hands had hidden the tattoos that covered his body. The true genius, however, was the sling, which disguised the potent object Malakh was transporting into the building.A gift for the one man on earth who can help me obtain what I seek.CHAPTER 5The worlds largest and most technologically modernistic museum is also one of the worlds best- kept secrets. It houses more pieces than the Hermitage, the Vatican Museum, and the New York Metropolitan . . . combined. nonetheless despite its magnificent collection, hardly a(prenominal) members of the public are ever invited inside its heavily guarded walls.Located at 4210 Silver Hill highroad just outside of Washington, D.C., the museum is a massive zigzag-shaped edifice constructed of five coordinated podseach pod larger than a football field. The buildings bluish metal exterior barely hints at the strangeness withina six-hundred- thousand-square-foot extraterrestrial be world that contains a numb(p) zone, a idiotic pod, and more than xii miles of storage cabinets.Tonight, scientist Katherine Solomon was feeling unsettled as she drove her white Volvo up to the buildings main security gate.The guard smiled. Not a football fan, Ms. Solomon? He lowered the volume on the Redskins play-off pregame show.Katherine forced a tense smile. Its sunlight night.Oh, thats right. Your con get across.Is he here yet? she asked anxiously.He glanced down at his paperwork. I dont see him on the log.Im early. Katherine gave a companionly wave and continued up the winding access road to her usual parking spot at the bottom of the small, two-tiered lot. She began collecting her things and gave herself a quick check in the rearview reflectmore out of force of habit than actual vanity.Katherine Solomon had been blessed with the alive(p) Mediterranean skin of her ancestry, and even at fifty years emeritus she had a smooth olive complexion. She used well-nigh no makeup and wore her thick black bull unstyled and down. Like her older chum salmon, creature, she had gray eye and a slender, patrician elegance.You two might as well be twins, mass often told them.Their father had succumbed to cancer when Katherine was only seven, and she had circumstantial fund of him. Her brother, eight years Katherines senior and only 15 when their father died, had begun his voyage toward becoming the Solomon patriarch much sooner than everyone had ever dreamed. As expected, though, bastard had grown into the role with the dignity and strength befitting their family name. To this day, he subdued watched over Katherine as though they were just slangs.Despite her brothers occasional prodding, and no shortage of suitors, Katherine had never married. Science had become her life partner, and her work had proven more fulfilling and exciting than any man could ever hope to be. Katherine had no regrets.Her field of choiceNoetic Sciencehad been virtually unknown when she send-off heard of it, but in recent years it had started fountain new doors of understanding into the power of the human mind.Our untapped potential is truly shocking.Katherines two books on Noetics had established her as a leader in this unvalued field, but her most recent discoveries, when published, promised to make Noetic Science a topic of mainstream conversation around the world.Tonight, however, science was the last thing on her mind. Earlier in the day, she had received almost truly upsetting teaching relating to her brother. I still cant believe its true. Shed thought of nothing else all afternoon.A pattering of light rain drummed on her windshield, and Katherine quickly puckered her things to get inside. She was more or less to step out of her car when her cell phone rang.She checked the party ID and inhaled deeply.Then she tucked her hair behind her ears and settled in to take the call.Six miles away, Malakh was moving through the corridors of the U.S. Capitol Building with a cell phone pressed to his ear. He waited patiently as the line rang.Finally, a womans enunciate purposeed. Yes?We need to meet again, Malakh said.There was a long pause. Is everything all right? I have new education, Malakh said. split me.Malakh took a deep tip. That which your brother believes is hidden in D.C. . . . ?Yes?It can be found.Katherine Solomon tidyed stunned. Youre break uping meit is real?Malakh smiled to himself. some clock a legend that endures for centuries . . . endures for a reason.CHAPTER 6Is this as close as you can get? Robert Langdon felt a sudden wave of anxiety as his driver parked on First Street, a soundly quarter mile from the Capitol Building.Afraid so, the driver said. Homeland Security. No vehicles near landmark buildings anymore. Im sorry, sir.Langdon checked his watch, startled to see it was already 650. A construction zone around the National Mall had slowed them down, and his lecture was to obtain in ten minutes.Weathers turning, the driver said, hopping out and opening Langdons door for him. Youll regard to hurry. Langdon reached for his wallet to tip the driver, but the man waved him off. Your host already added a very generous tip to the charge.Typical Peter, Langdon thought, gathering his things. Okay, thanks for the ride.The first few raindrops began to fall as Langdon reached the top of the gracefully arched hoi polloi that descended to the new underground visitors entrance.The Capitol Visitor Center had been a costly and debatable project. Described as an underground metropolis to rival parts of Disney World, this subsurface space reportly provided over a half-million square feet of space for exhibits, restaurants, and meeting halls.Langdon had been looking forward to seeing it, although he hadnt anticipated quite this long a walk. The skies were threatening to open at any moment, and he broke into a jog, his loafers quiping almost no traction on the wet cement. I dressed for a lecture, not a four-hundred-yard downhill ardor through the rainWhen he arrived at the bottom, he was breathless and panting. Langdon pushed through the revolving door, taking a moment in the foyer to catch his breath and brush off the rain. As he did, he raised his eye to the newly completed space before him.Okay, Im impressed.The Capitol Visitor Center was not at all what he had expected. Because the space was underground, Langdon had been apprehensive about issue through it. A childhood accident had left him stranded at the bottom of a deep well overnight, and Langdon now lived with an almost disqualifying aversion to enclosed spaces. But this underground space was . . . airy somehow. Light. Spacious.The jacket was a vast expanse of glass with a series of spectacular light fixtures that thr ew a muted glow across the pearl-colored interior finishes.Normally, Langdon would have taken a full hour in here to wonder the architecture, but with five minutes until showtime, he put his head down and dashed through the main hall toward the security checkpoint and escalators. Relax, he told himself. Peter knows youre on your way. The event wont start without you.At the security point, a spring chicken Hispanic guard chatted with him while Langdon emptied his pockets and removed his vintage watch.Mickey hook? the guard said, sounding mildly amused.Langdon nodded, accustomed to the comments. The collectors edition Mickey grovel watch had been a gift from his parents on his ninth birthday. I wear it to remind me to slow down and take life less seriously.I dont think its working, the guard said with a smile. You look like youre in a serious hurry.Langdon smiled and put his daybag through the X-ray machine. Which way to the statuary Hall?The guard motioned toward the escalators. Youll see the signs.Thanks. Langdon grabbed his bag off the conveyor and hurry on. As the escalator ascended, Langdon took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. He gazed up through the rain-speckled glass ceiling at the mountainous form of the illuminated Capitol Dome overhead. It was an astonishing building. High atop her roof, almost three hundred feet in the air, the Statue of Freedom peered out into the misty unfairness like a ghostly sentinel. Langdon forever and a day found it ironic that the workers who hoisted each piece of the enneadteen-and-a-half-foot bronze statue to her perch were slavesa Capitol secret that seldom made the syllabi of high school history classes.This entire building, in fact, was a foster trove of bizarre arcana that included a killer bathtub responsible for(p) for the pneumonic murder of Vice President Henry Wilson, a staircase with a permanent bloodstain over which an inordinate number of guests seemed to trip, and a loaded basement chamber in which workers in 1930 discovered General commode Alexander Logans long- deceased stuffed horse.No legends were as enduring, however, as the claims of thirteen diverse ghosts that haunted this building. The spirit of city designer Pierre LEnfant frequently was reported roll the halls, seeking payment of his bill, now two hundred years overdue. The ghost of a worker who fell from the Capitol Dome during construction was seen wandering the corridors with a tray of tools. And, of course, the most notable apparition of all, reported numerous multiplication in the Capitol basementan ephemeral black cat that prowled the substructures eerie internal ear of narrow passageways and cubicles.Langdon stepped off the escalator and again checked his watch. Three minutes. He hurried down the wide corridor, following the signs toward the Statuary Hall and rehearsing his opening remarks in his head. Langdon had to admit that Peters assistant had been correct this lecture topic would b e a perfect match for an event hosted in Washington, D.C., by a prominent Mason.It was no secret that D.C. had a rich masonic history. The rear end of this very building had been laid in a full masonic ritual by George Washington himself. This city had been conceived and designed by keep down MasonsGeorge Washington, Ben Franklin, and Pierre LEnfant ruling minds who adorned their new crownwork with masonic symbolism, architecture, and art.Of course, people see in those symbols all kinds of crazy ideas.Many conspiracy theorists claimed the Masonic forefathers had concealed powerful secrets throughout Washington along with symbolic messages hidden in the citys layout of highways. Langdon never paid any attention. Misinformation about the Masons was so unglamorous that even educated Harvard schoolchilds seemed to have surprisingly warped conceptions about the brotherhood. get year, a freshman had rushed wild-eyed into Langdons classroom with a printout from the Web. It was a str eet map of D.C. on which certain streets had been highlighted to form various shapes sinful pentacles, a Masonic compass and square, the head of Baphometproof apparently that the Masons who designed Washington, D.C., were involved in some kind of dark, mystical conspiracy. Fun, Langdon said, but barely convincing. If you draw enough intersecting lines on a map, youre bound to cause all kinds of shapes.But this cant be semblance the kid exclaimed.Langdon patiently showed the disciple that the same circumstantial shapes could be formed on a street map of Detroit.The kid seemed sorely disappointed.Dont be disheartened, Langdon said. Washington does have some incredible secrets . . . just none on this street map.The young man perked up. Secrets? Like what?Every spring I teach a course called Occult Symbols. I talking a lot about D.C. You should take the course.Occult symbols The freshman looked excited again. So there are gall symbols in D.C.Langdon smiled. Sorry, but the word occ ult, despite conjuring images of devil worship, real means hidden or obscured. In times of religious oppression, knowledge that was counterdoctrinal had to be kept hidden or occult, and because the church felt threatened by this, they redefined anything occult as evil, and the prejudice survived.Oh. The kid slumped.Nonetheless, that spring, Langdon spotted the freshman seated in the front row as five hundred students bustled into Harvards Sanders Theatre, a muddle old lecture hall with creaking woody benches.Good morning, everybody, Langdon yelled from the expansive stage. He turned on a slide projector, and an image materialized behind him. As youre getting settled, how many of you recognize the building in this picture?U.S. Capitol dozens of voices called out in unison. Washington, D.C.Yes. There are nine million pounds of ironwork in that dome. An unparalleled feat of architectural ingenuity for the 1850s.awesome somebody shouted.Langdon rolled his eyes, wishing somebody would ban that word. Okay, and how many of you have ever been to Washington?A scattering of hands went up. So few? Langdon feigned surprise. And how many of you have been to Rome, Paris, Madrid, or London?Almost all the hands in the room went up.As usual. One of the rites of passage for American college kids was a summer with a Eurorail ticket before the harsh existence of real life set in. It appears many more of you have visited europium than have visited your own capital. Why do you think that is?No imbibition age in atomic number 63 someone in back shouted.Langdon smiled. As if the drinking age here stops any of you?Everyone laughed.It was the first day of school, and the students were taking longer than usual to get settled, shifting and creaking in their wooden pews. Langdon loved teaching in this hall because he always knew how engaged the students were simply by listening to how much they fidgeted in their pews.Seriously, Langdon said, Washington, D.C., has some of the worlds finest architecture, art, and symbolism. Why would you go overseas before visiting your own capital?Ancient stuff is cooler, someone said.And by ancient stuff, Langdon clarified, I happen upon you mean castles, crypts, temples, that sort of thing?Their heads nodded in unison.Okay. Now, what if I told you that Washington, D.C., has every one of those things? Castles, crypts, pyramids, temples . . . its all there.The creaking diminished.My friends, Langdon said, lowering his voice and moving to the front of the stage, in the next hour, you will discover that our nation is overflowing with secrets and hidden history. And but as in Europe, all of the best secrets are hidden in plain view.The wooden pews fell dead silent.Gotcha.Langdon dimmed the lights and called up his mho slide. Who can tell me what George Washington is doing here? The slide was a historied mural depicting George Washington dressed in full Masonic regalia standing before an odd-looking contraptiona giant wooden tri pod that supported a rope-and- pulley system from which was suspended a massive block of oppose. A group of well-dressed onlookers stood around him.Lifting that big block of stone? someone ventured.Langdon said nothing, preferring that a student make the correction if possible.Actually, some other student offered, I think Washington is lowering the rock. Hes wearing a Masonic costume. Ive seen pictures of Masons laying institutions before. The ceremony always uses that tripod thing to lower the first stone.Excellent, Langdon said. The mural portrays the Father of Our Country using a tripod and pulley to lay the cornerstone of our Capitol Building on September 18, 1793, between the hours of eleven fifteen and twelve thirty. Langdon paused, scanning the class. Can anyone tell me the significance of that date and time?Silence.What if I told you that precise moment was chosen by three famous MasonsGeorge Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and Pierre LEnfant, the primary architect for D. C.?More silence.Quite simply, the cornerstone was set at that date and time because, among other things, the auspicious forefront Draconis was in Virgo.Everyone exchanged odd looks.Hold on, someone said. You mean . . . like astrology?Exactly. Although a incompatible astrology than we know today.A hand went up. You mean our Founding Fathers believed in astrology?Langdon grinned. Big-time. What would you rank if I told you the city of Washington, D.C., has more astrological signs in its architecture than any other city in the worldzodiacs, star charts, cornerstones laid at precise astrological dates and times? More than half of the framers of our Constitution were Masons, men who strongly believed that the stars and hatful were intertwined, men who paid close attention to the layout of the heavens as they incorporate their new world.But that whole thing about the Capitol cornerstone creation laid while Caput Draconis was in Virgowho cares? Cant that just be coincidence? An impre ssive coincidence considering that the cornerstones of the three structures that make up Federal trianglethe Capitol, the White House, the Washington Monumentwere all laid in different years but were carefully timed to occur under this exact same astrological condition.Langdons gaze was met by a room full of wide eyes. A number of heads dipped down as students began taking notes.A hand in back went up. Why did they do that?Langdon chuckled. The answer to that is an entire semesters worth of material. If youre curious, you should take my mysticism course. Frankly, I dont think you guys are emotionally prepared to hear the answer.What? the person shouted. Try usLangdon made a show of considering it and then shook his head, toying with them. Sorry, I cant do that. Some of you are only freshmen. Im afraid it might blow your minds.Tell us everyone shouted.Langdon shrugged. Perhaps you should plug into the Masons or Eastern spark advance and bring out about it from the source.We cant get in, a young man argued. The Masons are like a supersecret societySupersecret? Really? Langdon remembered the large Masonic ring that his friend Peter Solomon wore proudly on his right hand. Then why do Masons wear obvious Masonic rings, tie clips, or pins? Why are Masonic buildings clearly marked? Why are their meeting times in the newspaper? Langdon smiled at all the puzzled faces. My friends, the Masons are not a secret society . . . they are a society with secrets. akin thing, someone muttered.Is it? Langdon challenged. Would you consider Coca-Cola a secret society?Of course not, the student said.Well, what if you knocked on the door of corporate headquarters and asked for the recipe for Classic degree Celsius?Theyd never tell you.Exactly. In order to learn Coca-Colas deepest secret, you would need to nub the company, work for many years, prove you were trustworthy, and eventually rise to the upper echelons of the company, where that information might be shared with you. Th en you would be sworn to secrecy. So youre saying Freemasonry is like a corporation? Only insofar as they have a strict hierarchy and they take secrecy very seriously.My uncle is a Mason, a young woman piped up. And my aunt hates it because he wont talk about it with her. She says Masonry is some kind of strange religion.A common misperception.Its not a religion?Give it the litmus test, Langdon said. Who here has taken professor Witherspoons comparative religion course?Several hands went up.Good. So tell me, what are the three prerequisites for an ideology to be considered a religion?ABC, one woman offered. Assure, Believe, Convert.Correct, Langdon said. Religions assure salvation religions believe in a precise theology and religions convert nonbelievers. He paused. Masonry, however, is batting zero for three. Masons make no promises of salvation they have no specific theology and they do not seek to convert you. In fact, within Masonic lodges, discussions of religion are prohibite d.So . . . Masonry is anti religious?On the contrary. One of the prerequisites for becoming a Mason is that you must believe in a higher power. The struggle between Masonic spirituality and organized religion is that the Masons do not impose a specific definition or name on a higher power. Rather than definitive theological identities like God, Allah, Buddha, or Jesus, the Masons use more general terms like Supreme cosmos or Great Architect of the Universe. This enables Masons of different faiths to gather together.Sounds a little far-out, someone said.Or, perhaps, refreshingly open-minded? Langdon offered. In this age when different cultures are killing each other over whose definition of God is better, one could say the Masonic tradition of tolerance and open-mindedness is commendable. Langdon paced the stage. Moreover, Masonry is open to men of all races, colors, and creeds, and provides a spiritual fraternity that does not discriminate in any way.Doesnt discriminate? A member of the universitys Womens Center stood up. How many women are permitted to be Masons, Professor Langdon?Langdon showed his palms in surrender. A fair point. Freemasonry had its roots, traditionally, in the stone masons guilds of Europe and was therefore a mans organization. Several hundred years ago, some say as early as 1703, a womens branch called Eastern Star was founded. They have more than a million members.Nonetheless, the woman said, Masonry is a powerful organization from which women are excluded.Langdon was not sure how powerful the Masons really were anymore, and he was not going to go down that road perceptions of the modern Masons ranged from their being a group of harmless old men who liked to play dress-up . . . all the way to an underground cabal of power brokers who ran the world. The truth, no doubt, was someplace in the middle.Professor Langdon, called a young man with curly hair in the back row, if Masonry is not a secret society, not a corporation, and not a rel igion, then what is it?Well, if you were to ask a Mason, he would offer the following definition Masonry is a system of morality, veiled in parable and illustrated by symbols.Sounds to me like a euphemism for freaky cult. Freaky, you say?Hell yes the kid said, standing up. I heard what they do inside those secret buildings supernatural candlelight rituals with coffins, and nooses, and drinking wine out of skulls. Now thats freakyLangdon scanned the class. Does that sound freaky to anyone else?Yes they all chimed in.Langdon feigned a sad sigh. Too bad. If thats too freaky for you, then I know youll never want to join my cult.Silence settled over the room. The student from the Womens Center looked uneasy. Youre in a cult?Langdon nodded and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Dont tell anyone, but on the pagan day of the sun god Ra, I rest at the foot of an ancient instrument of torture and consume ritualistic symbols of blood and flesh.The class looked horrified.Langdon shrugged. And if any of you care to join me, come to the Harvard chapel service on Sunday, kneel beneath the crucifix, and take Holy Communion.The classroom remained silent. Langdon winked. free your minds, my friends. We all fear what we do not understand.The tolling of a clock began repeat through the Capitol corridors.Seven oclock.Robert Langdon was now running. Talk about a dramatic entrance. Passing through the House Connecting Corridor, he spotted the entrance to the National Statuary Hall and headed straight for it.As he neared the door, he slowed to a nonchalant stroll and took several deep breaths. Buttoning his jacket, he lifted his chin ever so slightly and turned the corner just as the final chime sounded.Showtime.As Professor Robert Langdon strode into the National Statuary Hall, he raised his eyes and smiled warmly. An instant later, his smile evaporated. He stopped dead in his tracks.Something was very, very wrong.