Page 83 of The Secret of Secrets

And yet…she must never know.

To this day, Sasha Vesna had no idea The Golěm even existed…much less that he was involved in her life, watching from the shadows, protecting her innocent soul from the stark horrors of the world.

Sasha’s body and mind had been abused by Brigita Gessner. Michael Harris, on the other hand, had betrayed Sasha’s heart—the cruelest of all deceptions.

“Michael…” The Golěm had whispered only twenty minutes earlier, gripping the neck of the unconscious man to secure the plastic bag tightly over his face. “Your betrayal was the harshest of all. I watched you prey on Sasha’s loneliness. I watched you lie in bed, wrapped in her arms, pretending to love her.”

The Golěm had tightened his grip without remorse, feeling his fingertips burrow into Harris’s flesh.

“Sasha will be heartbroken to learn of your death,” he whispered, “but that would be nothing compared to her learning the truth…that the only man she ever loved was using her…deceiving her…spying on her.”

As the pulse in Michael Harris’s neck grew faint, The Golěm knew, from his own deaths, that the man was leaving his body now, hovering in this room, bearing witness to his own demise.

The Golěm had turned his eyes upward at the ceiling, addressing Harris directly. “She is a child, Michael…Abandoned by her parents…Locked in an asylum…Lured to Prague by a monster. Everyone in her life betrayed her…except me!”

When the last trace of life had been wrung from Harris’s body, The Golěm leaned down and coldly whispered the same words he had heard Sasha whisper to Harris as he fell asleep in her arms. “Spokoynoy nochi, milyy. Good night, sweetheart.”

This piece of The Golěm’s plan had been a success. Michael Harris had been cornered alone. Sasha was safely locked away. And the American professor, Robert Langdon, had been sent off. Langdon did not deserve to die, but the man’s presence at Sasha’s apartment would have made it impossible for The Golěm to execute Harris. And so The Golěm had improvised, leaving a note at Sasha’s door that would cause Langdon to scramble in search of Katherine Solomon.

Langdon would not find her at Petřín Tower, of course.

There’s a good chance he will never find her, The Golěm thought, recalling what Gessner had confessed last night while ice-cold saline tore through her body.

“Katherine has no idea the danger she is in…” Gessner had uttered through the pain. “The people I work for…they will stop at nothing to silence her.”

Chapter 52

MetLife Stadium is located several miles south of Teterboro Airport in East Rutherford, New Jersey, and is one of the highest-grossing stadiums in the world. Home to both the New York Giants and New York Jets football teams, the stadium was built with transformation in mind, regularly swapping out banners, field logos, and lighting schemes from Giants Blue to Jets Green each week to host the home team.

Tonight, as the deserted stadium loomed to Faukman’s right, it looked foreign to him—like some kind of dark mother ship abandoned in the middle of a sprawling parking lot. He checked his rearview mirror for any sign of pursuit, and seeing nobody, Faukman pulled the stolen SUV off Route 17, swung around behind the stadium, and parked in one of nearly thirty thousand available spaces.

Take a minute, Jonas. Think.

He had been white-knuckling the SUV at ninety mph, and his nerves were frayed. This moment of calm was a welcome respite, especially as the warmth of the seat heater finally began permeating his body.

Alone now in the deserted parking lot, Faukman checked his phone, concerned that Langdon had not called back. He’s got to be awake by now…it’s nine in the morning in Prague. Faukman’s call history showed no missed calls except for several from a Penguin Random House IT extension, which at this hour Faukman imagined could only be the security technician, Alex.

Faukman tapped the button to call the tech back, hoping he might have information that could shed some light on what was going on here. The familiar voice of Alex Conan answered on the first ring.

“Mr. Faukman! Where have you been? Are you okay?!”

I’m nowhere near okay, kid.

“I need to warn you,” Alex continued breathlessly. “The hackers who deleted your manuscript…I think they may be very dangerous.”

No shit, Faukman thought, unconsciously touching his sore abdomen where he’d been punched. “I came to the same conclusion, Alex.”

“And…well…I’m just so sorry to have to tell you this, but…” The tech’s voice cracked, and Faukman felt a rising alarm.

Tell me what?

“I…I think they might have killed one of your authors.”

The editor hoped he had misheard the words.

As the young tech shared what he had learned, Faukman listened in shock, thinking he would be sick.

One mile away, having tracked Faukman’s phone from a safe distance, the two operatives—Auger and Chinburg—were now parked on a quiet residential street in East Rutherford, New Jersey, adjacent to MetLife Stadium. They were listening to the phone call through their iPad.