Page 59 of The Secret of Secrets

An obdurate mind can be an immovable mountain, Langdon thought, always amazed how many people still fervently believed humans came from Adam and Eve despite the overwhelming scientific evidence for evolution.

“I’ve got a student with a one forty-eight IQ,” Langdon recounted, “who insists the earth is six thousand years old. So, I took her down the hall to the geology department and showed her a three-million-year-old fossil. She simply shrugged and said, ‘I believe God placed that fossil on earth as a trick…to test my faith.’ ”

Katherine laughed. “If you think religious zealots are irrationally tied to their worldviews, you should meet the tenured academics of higher education.”

“I’m a tenured academic of higher education!”

“And you’ve always been a skeptic, Robert. Old-fashioned, but cute.”

“Old-fashioned?” Langdon cocked his head. “I’m younger than you are…hate to remind you.”

“Careful…” she said, flashing a devastating smile. “You took my undergrad seminar twice, lover boy, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my slideshow you were staring at.”

Langdon laughed out loud. “Guilty as charged.”

“The point is, nobody likes change,” she continued. “And stodgy academics have a tendency to cling to the comfort of their existing beliefs long after their models are clearly obsolete. For this reason, establishing a new scientific paradigm—like that of human consciousness—becomes an exceptionally frustrating and slow process.”

Langdon thought of Thomas Kuhn’s 1962 classic, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, describing how paradigm shifts occurred only when a critical mass of incompatible phenomena had been attained. Katherine was clearly hoping her book would add substantial weight to that ongoing quest for a critical mass.

“Your manuscript…” Langdon said. “You still haven’t told me specifically what your big breakthrough is.”

Katherine smiled. “Patience. I think you’ll find it all quite fascinating—but I’d rather you read it and give me feedback.”

A car horn blared, and the warm memories of the café evaporated, returning Langdon to the cold of Folimanka Park. Shivering, he followed Sasha out of the park through an iron gate, pleased to see a line of yellow Škoda sedans idling at a taxi stand.

They climbed into the first cab, Langdon very grateful for the warm interior. Sasha gave the driver an address, and the cab pulled out onto Sekaninova Street.

Then she pulled out her phone and placed a call on speaker.

Michael Harris’s familiar voice answered. “Sasha?!”

“Michael!” she exclaimed, her voice distraught. “Something terrible happened to Brigita!” Sasha weepily relayed their grim discovery.

“I’m so sorry,” Harris said, sounding stunned. “I had no idea. I’m here at the bastion now.”

Damn, we just missed him, Langdon realized.

“ÚZSI is here too,” Harris added. “They have no idea Brigita is dead.”

Pavel must not have seen the body.

“Sasha,” Harris said, “did you attack an ÚZSI officer?!”

She hesitated, startled. “He attacked Robert Langdon! I didn’t know what to do.”

“Langdon?” Harris demanded. “Is he with you?”

“Yes, he wanted to take a taxi to the embassy, but—”

“Bad idea. ÚZSI will intercept.”

“I know. So I’m taking him—”

“Don’t say it on the phone!” Harris interrupted. “I know where you’re going. Tell Harry and Sally I said hello. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Maybe twenty minutes. Stay off the phone.”

The call ended.

“Harry and Sally?” Langdon asked.