Page 101 of The Secret of Secrets

Langdon couldn’t help but smile. “That’s actually pretty damn clever, Katherine Solomon.”

“It wasn’t very hard.” She laughed and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “I just asked myself: What would you do?”

In the hallway outside the Baroque Library, Lieutenant Pavel watched the last of the tourists exit.

Where the hell is Robert Langdon?

Five minutes earlier, Pavel had shown Langdon’s photo to the museum docent checking tickets at the library entrance. The man had confirmed that the tall American had indeed entered this library shortly before Pavel arrived and, to the best of the docent’s knowledge, had not yet exited.

So where is he?!

“Is there another way out?” Pavel demanded. “Jiný východ?!”

The frightened docent shook his head. “Žádný tu není.”

Pavel stepped through the doorway and scanned the long rectangular chamber. It was essentially a wide hallway with towering bookcases for walls, offering nowhere to hide. A procession of antique globes ran down the center of the room toward a huge transparent display case of some sort—neither of which provided much cover.

It was then that Pavel noticed the balcony.

Very clever, Professor.

The library’s wraparound loggia was high enough that Langdon could remain out of sight simply by lying flat on the elevated floor. Pavel looked around the room and saw no stairs, doors, or access to the upper level.

He summoned the docent and pointed to the balcony. “How do you get up there?” he said quietly, towering over the thin young man.

The docent pointed nervously to the corner of the library on the left of the entrance. “There’s a door in the bookcase…and a spiral staircase behind it.”

Pavel considered his options. “Seal the library!” he commanded. “Get out and keep the doors locked. The man trapped inside is extremely dangerous. Do not open these doors for any reason—no matter what you hear! Including gunfire. Is that clear?!”

The docent went pale and nodded, wasting no time rushing back into the hallway and heaving the doors closed behind him. The slam resonated through the empty room, and Pavel heard multiple dead bolts clank into place.

Alone now, Pavel turned and faced the silent chamber.

Just you and me, Professor…in this beautiful killing box.

Chapter 65

The historic Old-New Synagogue is nestled in the neighborhood of Josefov—once the original walled Jewish ghetto of Prague. As the oldest active synagogue in Europe, it has been a silent witness to the changing tides of history since the late thirteenth century. Despite the encroachments of time and tumultuous events that Prague has endured, the synagogue remains unscathed—a testament to the resilience of faith and tradition.

According to legend, the stones for this temple were brought by angels from Jerusalem “on condition” that the stones would be returned to Jerusalem upon the arrival of the Messiah. Many scholars believe that this gift “on condition”—in Hebrew, al tnay—was confused with the Yiddish alt-nay, which literally means Old-New, hence the building’s unusual name.

A spiritual oasis…in a desert of materialism, The Golěm thought, gazing ahead at the synagogue’s austere stone facade, which was flanked closely by the storefronts of Hermès, Montblanc, and Valentino. The modern world had encroached upon every corner of this ancient ghetto, swallowing up its somber residences until barely a trace remained of the perilous streets once patrolled by the original mythical golem, who had been created on this spot centuries ago.

In many ways, the synagogue was where The Golěm had been born as well. Shortly after arriving in Prague, he had been walking aimlessly past this building when he heard a tour guide narrating the legend of the Jewish ghetto’s great protector—a guardian soul inserted into the body of a clay monster. The story felt familiar and personal. As if drawn by some unseen gravity, The Golěm had entered the temple.

Inside, the air was deathly still, infused with an almost mystical energy. Behind the altar, the sacred ark stood sentinel, harboring the ancient Torah scrolls inspired by the eternal dialogue between the earthly and the divine. The Golěm felt comforted by the silence and dim light. He took a seat on a wooden pew whose surface was worn smooth by generations of the faithful, and it was there, by the fragile light of medieval chandeliers, that he had picked up an informational pamphlet…and he had begun to read.

He found himself captivated by the legend of the golem and its creator, a powerful rabbi named Judah Loew ben Bezalel, also revered as the Maharal of Prague. In addition to being a scholar of Jewish mysticism and the Talmud, Rabbi Loew had been a mathematician, astronomer, philosopher, and Kabbalist who had written extensively, including an important text known as Gur Aryeh al HaTorah.

Later that night, The Golěm had quietly read the rabbi’s text, which he had purchased in the gift shop beside the synagogue. As he consumed the ancient words, The Golěm was stunned to find himself on every page…the Truth as he already understood it!

Reality has many different levels.

Guf, nefesh, sechel…

A solitary soul can fuse with another to form a new entity.

Yesodot, taarovot, tarkovot.