Page 48 of The Secret of Secrets

Pavel had pulled his weapon and sprinted out of the alcove, rounding the corner into the hallway. “Stůj!” he shouted as he went. “Stop!”

But there was nobody there.

The shattered doorway was indeed tipped over onto the floor, indicating the door had been opened, and yet, strangely, the foyer was empty.

Pavel bolted to the entrance and looked outside. The wide-open area was deserted. Nobody can run that fast. Standing in the snow, Pavel turned and looked back at the lab door, realizing that perhaps the sound he’d heard was not someone exiting the lab…but rather someone entering.

Whoever it had been, the person clearly had biometric access. A lab employee? Pavel felt a cold sweat on his brow thinking about how Janáček would take this news. Not only had Pavel lost Robert Langdon…he had allowed someone else to enter the lab.

Dumb move, Pavel. He told me to stay here and guard that lab door.

Chilled by the wind, Pavel stepped back into the entryway, pacing to stay warm, his military boots crunching on shards of glass. He was about to reach for his phone when he noticed something on the biometric panel next to the lab door.

That’s odd, he thought, eyeing the tiny green indicator light.

The light on the panel had been red this morning when they arrived and found the door locked. He was sure of it. Now it was green. And blinking. Puzzled, Pavel walked over to the lab door, grabbed the handle, and pulled.

To his surprise, the door swung open easily, revealing a stairwell beyond. The door, it seemed, had not locked properly after the last person entered. Glancing downward, Pavel now saw the reason—a chunky shard of safety glass had become caught in the doorjamb.

I need to alert the captain immediately—we have access!

But as Pavel gazed down the empty stairwell, he was struck by an alternate idea. It was aggressive and perhaps a bit risky, but the notion excited him, especially knowing he had disappointed his captain recently on numerous occasions.

Pavel pictured the scene below.

A few unarmed academics…

He imagined Janáček’s delight upon returning to discover the fugitives expertly lined up on the couch at gunpoint. Pavel ran a hand across the CZ 75 D handgun in his holster, the feel of its textured handle like the reassuring touch of an old friend.

I have specialized training for this precise task.

Robert Langdon had already shown himself to be gun-shy, and no doubt the others would be as well. In Pavel’s experience, civilians facing an armed ÚZSI officer always did the exact same thing…precisely what the officer demanded.

Somewhere far below the ridgeline, staring at the sky, Captain Janáček was fading in and out of consciousness. He had no idea how much time had passed since his body had become airborne, plummeting downward at a terrifying rate, before smashing against the rocks at the bottom of the ravine with sickening force.

Suicide would have been poetic considering the news he had just received from the ambassador. But Janáček had not taken his own life.

I was pushed.

Lying on the rocks, shattered and bleeding, Janáček could still feel the two spots on his back where powerful palms had shoved him hard and sent him tumbling over the low stone wall. The captain had no idea who had snuck up on him, but quite strangely, that fact seemed wholly irrelevant to him at the moment.

This is the end…I am dying.

To his surprise, however, the transition felt quite natural and calm.

There was very little physical discomfort. All the dire concerns that had consumed him only minutes earlier seemed to be evaporating…including his devastating call with the U.S. ambassador.

He could still hear the six words she had spoken to him.

We know there was no bomb.

Janáček’s claim that ÚZSI had found a small bomb had indeed been a lie…an embellishment to help him take total control of the situation.

I did what I was ordered to do.

The peculiar call had come early this morning from London, waking Janáček from a sound sleep. The American man on the line apologized for the hour and told the captain to check his text messages. Janáček did, and he found a set of sobering credentials confirming this man moved in the highest echelons of power.

“I have a situation,” the man said. “And I’d like your help.”