Page 69 of The Secret of Secrets

“Sasha has no secrets!” Harris insisted. “She’s an open book, and she’s just happy to have someone to talk to.”

“Exactly. And you have now established yourself in that position, which is very valuable. You need to keep her talking. In the meantime, I’ll ignore your situation with Dana, and I’ll tell my superiors to pay you twice what they’re already paying you for this special project.”

Harris was stunned. His additional financial compensation was already exceedingly generous. Who is so eager to keep tabs on Sasha Vesna? And why?

“And Michael,” she said, “if this project ever feels even slightly dangerous, you tell me, and I pull the plug.” She locked eyes with him. “Deal?”

Harris gazed down at her outstretched hand, stunned by how effortlessly she had reached checkmate. Despite his gut reservations, he suspected that if he himself didn’t do this, someone else might take more drastic measures. Sasha doesn’t deserve that. He shook the ambassador’s hand.

In the weeks that followed, Harris’s relationship with Sasha naturally progressed to an awkward physical romance. Fortunately, Sasha was extremely inexperienced, and Harris insisted they take things incredibly slowly. So far, the most intimacy they had shared was lying in each other’s arms in her bed, mostly clothed, watching old American romantic comedies until they both fell asleep.

Now, as Harris raced north to meet with Sasha and Langdon, he reflected on everything he had learned this morning from the ambassador. The scope of the operation going on in Prague was beyond his wildest imagination. Even without specifics, Harris knew he was in miles over his head.

It’s time to get out.

As he neared Old Town, Harris made himself a solemn vow.

No matter the repercussions, this will be my last visit with Sasha Vesna…ever.

Chapter 43

Robert Langdon paced anxiously around Sasha Vesna’s small kitchen, his soaking-wet socks leaving footprints on her tile floor.

This can’t be happening.

He stared again at the slip of paper that had appeared moments earlier under Sasha’s door.

The handwritten note had jarred his world from its axis.

I have Katherine.

Come to Petřín Tower.

His mind raced with agonizing questions.

Who are you? What have you done with her? Why Petřín Tower?

Prague’s two-hundred-foot Petřín Tower was not far from the city’s center, situated atop a heavily wooded hill. The forest’s storied history of virgin sacrifices did little to calm his nerves.

Langdon could imagine no possible motive for anyone abducting Katherine Solomon. Come to Petřín Tower…why?

“We must have been followed here,” Sasha said, sounding frightened. “Maybe from the taxi stand? Maybe this is ÚZSI, but—”

“Why the hell would ÚZSI kidnap Katherine?!”

“I don’t know.” Sasha looked distraught. “Michael will know what to—”

“I can’t wait for Michael,” Langdon interrupted, hurrying up the hallway to find his shoes. “I’ve got to go right now.” Katherine is in danger. I need to get there as soon as possible. As he slid his wet socks into his loafers, Sasha opened the hall closet and reached for her coat.

“No, Sasha,” he interjected, “the best thing you can do is to stay here, meet with Michael, have him take you to the U.S. embassy, and tell them everything you know. Everything. Including what happened with Brigita, the ÚZSI agent, this note, my going to Petřín Tower, everything.”

Langdon had already witnessed Sasha’s spontaneous capacity for abrupt violence, and he could not afford to show up at Petřín Tower accompanied by a wild card.

“Okay,” she said, reaching into her handbag, “but if you’re going alone, at least take this.” She pulled out Pavel’s weapon.

Langdon recoiled instinctively. He had always been unnerved by weapons and knew enough about confrontation not to add a gun to the mix if not necessary. He had no desire to carry a stolen ÚZSI weapon through the streets of Prague, especially as he had no way to transport it except tucked into the waist of his pants, a technique that, every time he saw it in the movies, seemed an insane risk.

“I’d feel better if you kept it,” he said. “Obviously, whoever left that note knows where you live. Hide it in a kitchen cupboard…and if you desperately need it, you’ll know where it is.”