Page 175 of The Secret of Secrets

Langdon flipped the mirror open with his thumb and carefully extended it just an inch past the edge of the recess. In the tiny reflection, he hoped to see an empty hallway. But instead, he saw the unmistakable shape of a figure approaching, inching stealthily toward them. The man was older, with silver hair, a dark suit, and glasses.

Whoever the man was, he had not been fooled. His handgun was raised, pointing in their direction.

Everett Finch peered over the barrel of the outstretched SIG Sauer pistol and surveyed the hallway ahead. The intruder was near. Whoever had penetrated the lower level of Threshold had not come to hide in a supply closet; they had come for something else.

And if they’ve made it this far, they’re perilously close to uncovering Threshold’s most sensitive secret.

As Finch advanced, he maintained focus on the hallway’s lone hiding place—the recessed doorway ahead on the right, which was just deep enough to conceal anyone who was standing flush with the heavy metal door.

Hugging the left-hand side of the corridor, he moved with furtive steps, keeping his gun trained on the alcove. As his angle improved, his sight line began to reveal the interior of the alcove. When he finally glimpsed the leftmost edge of the metal door, Finch surged forward with two long strides and crouched down, swinging his arms around and taking dead aim.

To his surprise, the alcove was empty.

Langdon and Katherine stood face-to-face, hearts pounding.

What just happened?!

Seconds ago, with their backs against the wide steel door, Langdon had recoiled from the reflection of a man advancing on them with a pistol. As he pressed up hard against the door, he felt suddenly as if he was losing his balance—but then Katherine’s eyes went wide with disbelief, and it dawned on Langdon what had just happened.

The heavy door behind them…had moved.

Langdon leaned back hard again, joined by Katherine. The door was spring-loaded and stiff, but as they braced their feet and thrust themselves backward, it swung open. It made no sense considering the presence of an RFID scanner, but as he and Katherine slipped through, Langdon noticed the strike plate in the doorjamb was stuffed with some kind of green fabric, apparently to keep it from locking.

Who propped this door open?!

Fearing the gunman in the hall, Langdon instinctively pulled the green material out of the strike plate and quietly let the door close. The portal clicked and engaged. Locked. The material in his hand, he now realized, was not fabric at all, but rather vinyl or rubber—a cluster of artificial leaves that must have been yanked off the fake ficus tree just inside the door.

“Incredible luck,” Langdon whispered in amazement.

Katherine looked less relieved than he expected. “Unless someone wanted to be sure they could get out.”

“What do you mean?”

She pointed to a second RFID scanner on the wall beside the ficus tree. “You also need a card to exit, Robert. Someone was trying to prop this door open…but we’ve just locked ourselves in.”

The Golěm gripped the turn wheel on the fourth canister of helium and twisted it to the right, just as he had done with the first three. The end is near. After several tight turns, the valve was fully closed, and the control panel beeped urgently. The icon for canister #4 turned red. Off. Four indicators in a row now glowed red with warning, alongside eight that still were illuminated green.

He began the process anew for canister #5, laboring slowly as the wheel turned. Off.

The Golěm made his way down the line, turning off each valve. Every time he shut down a canister, the controller pinged and made an adjustment, opening the helium flow to the next fresh backup canister.

Despite his eagerness to finish the job, The Golěm moved slowly and maintained slow, deep breathing to help prevent another seizure. His objective was within sight now, and he forced himself to be cautious. As he closed each valve, he rehearsed in his mind the steps he would take to escape.

Twenty minutes will be plenty of time…

A loud buzzer sounded now, pulling The Golěm back from his thoughts. The control panel was flashing warnings and emitting increasingly urgent beeps. The display screen showed eleven canisters were off. Every canister except #12 was now manually disconnected from the SMES. More importantly, nine of those canisters were listed as 100 percent full.

Thousands of kilos of liquid helium in this tiny space.

The Golěm took a deep breath and reviewed his plan one last time, then placed his hand on the turn wheel of #12.

I do this for you, Sasha, he thought as he began closing the valve.

Threshold was built with your blood.

Our blood.

The valve came to a stop, fully closed.