Page 200 of The Secret of Secrets

“Sasha’s protector,” Katherine said. “Her ‘guardian angel,’ as you put it. Did you ever learn his identity?”

“Not conclusively,” Nagel replied. “He appeared only in glimpses in the video and was disguised, but I do have a strong suspicion I know who it was.”

Langdon and Katherine exchanged a surprised glance.

“The man on the video who tortured Gessner spoke with a Russian accent,” Nagel said. “And he told Gessner he was punishing her for betraying Sasha’s trust. But there was something about his rage that felt like personal betrayal…as if he too had been a Threshold test subject.”

He was, Langdon thought. In a sense, he was patient number three. Langdon didn’t fully understand the complexities of DID, but it seemed that whatever procedures Gessner had carried out on Sasha could have been experienced by her alter, especially if that alter was protective and chose to endure those parts of Sasha’s life that were painful. According to Katherine, a dominant alter could govern which identity was conscious and in the forefront at any given moment.

“The director informed me,” Nagel continued, “that Threshold’s first test subject was also Russian and was taken from the same institution as Sasha. His name was Dmitri Sysevich. Finch said he had died in the program, but the director said he had seen no proof of Dmitri’s death. It’s possible that Finch lied about it for some reason.”

Finch didn’t lie, Langdon knew. Dmitri is dead. We saw his medical file.

“Considering the video,” Nagel said, her tone regretful, “the director and I concluded that Dmitri Sysevich must have survived the program somehow and returned to take revenge.”

In the uncomfortable silence, Langdon glanced at Katherine, their gazes locking. They both knew what needed to happen. It was time for the ambassador to learn the truth.

“Ma’am,” Langdon said, turning back to her. “The person you saw killing Gessner…it was not Dmitri Sysevich.”

Chapter 126

Ambassador Nagel was uncertain how much time had passed when the group emerged through the Dripstone Wall. An hour? Two? Darkness had settled over Wallenstein Garden, and there seemed to be a cold foreboding in the shadows.

She was still reeling from what Langdon had explained about Sasha, and while Nagel knew she would eventually be able to accept the truth intellectually…she feared there would be one fact that would forever cut through her emotions like a knife to the heart.

Michael Harris was killed by…Sasha.

“You have to remember,” Katherine insisted. “It was not Sasha who did this to Michael. She loved Michael. You must think of them as two people.”

Either way, the news had caused her a fresh wave of crushing guilt. Nagel found herself wishing she could beg both Michael and Sasha for their forgiveness…but they were both gone.

Even Wallenstein Garden seemed lifeless to her now, the rosebushes wrapped in burlap bags and the pond drained for winter. Nagel doubted she would witness its annual renaissance this spring. As of a few hours ago, she possessed enough political leverage to do whatever she wanted, which no longer included being a U.S. ambassador living in Prague.

I was never supposed to be here, she thought. I was sent as a puppet.

She would probably wait a month to help the embassy through the current crisis and then tender her resignation. She had no idea what she would do next, but she felt like she had some fight left in her…and a lot more to give.

At the moment, her most immediate concern was recovering the USB stick that Scott Kerble had cleverly smuggled out of the embassy in the box of Dana’s belongings. Kerble would be headed to her flat shortly to recover it.

As they exited the garden, Nagel glanced back at Langdon and Solomon, who were talking quietly as they followed. No doubt they both were deeply exhausted and needed sleep.

“I’ll drive them back to their hotel,” Kerble said, as if reading her thoughts exactly. “Right after I drop you at the embassy.”

They emerged into the glow of the streetlights, and Nagel knew she would miss Kerble most of all. “Scott,” she said softly. “I’m fully aware of the risks you took for me today…and I don’t take your loyalty for granted.”

The Marine gave her a rare smile and touched his cap. “Nor I yours.”

Chapter 127

The most disturbing and effective piece of art in Europe, Langdon had long believed, was Victims of Communism—a memorial consisting of six life-size bronze men descending a wide concrete staircase. Each of the men was emaciated, bearded, and on a different step. Eerily, all six men were the same individual…but each was in a different state of decay…one missing an arm, another half his head, another with a gaping chasm through his chest.

Defiance and endurance, Langdon recalled, was the artist’s message. This individual, regardless of his level of suffering, remained standing.

Langdon had not anticipated seeing the sculpture on this visit to Prague, and yet there it was, rushing by the window of the embassy sedan as they sped along Újezd Street. He would have pointed it out to Katherine, but she was already asleep on his shoulder, her tousled hair soft against his cheek.

Having dropped the ambassador at the embassy, Sergeant Kerble was now whisking Langdon and Katherine south along Petřín Gardens, headed for the Four Seasons Hotel and a much-needed rest. As they turned left onto Legion Bridge, Langdon closed his eyes and listened to Katherine’s soft breathing, feeling comforted by the reassuring sound of…life.

The concept of death had been entirely too present today, not only in discussion, but also in Langdon’s reality…nearly freezing to death in the Vltava River, then being shot at by Pavel and narrowly escaping Threshold.