Page 7 of The Secret of Secrets

He had messaged and called her repeatedly with no response.

It’s been six hours…Gessner is meticulous—this is patently unlike her.

Having ascended to the pinnacle of his profession by following his gut, Mr. Finch had learned to listen to his intuition. Unfortunately, his instincts were now telling him that something in Prague had gone dangerously awry.

Chapter 3

The winter air felt crisp and invigorating as Robert Langdon ran southward along Křižovnická Street, his long strides leaving a lone trail of footprints in the sidewalk’s thin covering of snow.

The city of Prague had always felt enchanted to him. It was a moment frozen in time. Having suffered far less damage than other European cities in World War II, the historical capital of Bohemia enjoyed a dazzling skyline that still sparkled with all its original architecture—a uniquely varied and pristine sampling of Romanesque, Gothic, Baroque, Art Nouveau, and Neoclassical designs.

The city’s nickname—Stověžatá—literally meant “with a hundred spires,” although the actual number of spires and steeples in Prague was closer to seven hundred. In the summer, the city occasionally illuminated them with a sea of green floodlights; the awe-inspiring effect was said to have inspired Hollywood’s depiction in The Wizard of Oz of the Emerald City—a mystical destination that, like Prague, was believed to be a place of magical possibilities.

As Langdon jogged across Platnéřská Street, he felt as if he were running through the pages of a history book. The colossal facade of Prague’s Klementinum loomed on his left, a two-hectare complex that housed the viewing tower used by the astronomers Tycho Brahe and Johannes Kepler, as well as an exquisite Baroque library holding more than twenty thousand volumes of ancient theological literature. This library was Langdon’s favorite room in Prague, and possibly in all of Europe. He and Katherine had just visited its newest exhibit yesterday.

Now, as he turned right at the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, he could see, directly ahead of him, the east entrance to one of the city’s most famous landmarks, illuminated in the amber glow of Prague’s rare gas streetlamps. Hailed by many as the most romantic bridge in the world, Karlův most—Charles Bridge—was constructed of Bohemian sandstone and lined on both sides by thirty statues of Christian saints. Stretching more than half a kilometer across the placid Vltava River, protected on both ends by massive guard towers, the bridge had once served as a critical trade route between Eastern and Western Europe.

Langdon ran through the archway in the east tower, emerging to see an untarnished blanket of snow stretching out before him. The bridge was for pedestrians only, and yet, at this hour, there was not a single footprint.

I’m alone on Charles Bridge, Langdon thought. A life moment. He had once been similarly alone in the Louvre with the Mona Lisa, but those circumstances had been far less pleasant than this.

Langdon’s strides lengthened as he settled into his pace, and by the time he reached the other side of the river, he was running effortlessly. To his right, illuminated high against the dark skyline, shone the city’s most beloved glittering gem.

Prague Castle.

It was the largest castle complex in the world, stretching more than half a kilometer from its western gate to its eastern tip, and had a footprint of nearly five million square feet. The outer walls enclosed six formal gardens, four discrete palaces, and four Christian churches, including the magnificent St. Vitus Cathedral, in which the Crown Jewels of Bohemia were safeguarded, along with the crown of Saint Wenceslas, the beloved ruler commemorated in the popular Christmas carol.

As Langdon passed beneath the west tower of Charles Bridge, he laughed to himself, thinking of the event at Prague Castle the night before.

Katherine can be persistent.

“Come to my lecture, Robert!” she had said when she had called him two weeks earlier to coax him to Prague. “It’s perfect—you’ll be on winter break. The trip is my treat.”

Langdon considered her playful offer. The two of them had always enjoyed a platonic flirtation and mutual respect, and he was inclined to throw caution to the wind and take her up on the spontaneous proposal.

“I’m tempted, Katherine. Prague is magical, but really—”

“Let me cut to it,” she blurted. “I need a plus-one, okay? There, I said it. I need a date for my own lecture.”

Langdon burst out laughing. “That’s why you called? A world-famous scientist…and you need an escort?”

“Just some arm candy, Robert. There’s a black-tie sponsors dinner, and then I’m speaking in some famous hall—Vlad…something.”

“Vladislav Hall?! In Prague Castle?”

“That’s it.”

Langdon was impressed. The quarterly Charles University Lecture Series was one of Europe’s most prestigious gatherings, but it was apparently more highbrow than he imagined.

“Are you sure you want a symbologist on your arm at a black-tie dinner?”

“I asked Clooney, but his tux is at the dry cleaner’s.”

Langdon groaned. “Are all noeticists this tenacious?”

“Only the good ones,” she said. “And I’ll take that as a yes.”

What a difference two weeks make, Langdon mused, still smiling as he reached the other side of Charles Bridge. Prague certainly had lived up to its reputation as a magical city…a catalyst with ancient powers. Something has happened here…