Page 111 of The Lost Symbol

“CIA!” Simkins shouted, holding up his ID. “Do NOT open the doors!” As the train glided slowly past him, he went toward the conductor’s car, shouting in at him. “Do not open your doors! Do you understand?! Do NOT open your doors!”

The train came to a full stop, its wide-eyed conductor nodding repeatedly. “What’s wrong?!” the man demanded through his side window.

“Don’t let this train move,” Simkins said. “And don’t open the doors.”

“Okay.”

“Can you let us into the first car?”

The conductor nodded. Looking fearful, he stepped out of the train, closing the door behind him. He escorted Simkins and his men to the first car, where he manually opened the door.

“Lock it behind us,” Simkins said, pulling his weapon. Simkins and his men stepped quickly into the stark light of the first car. The conductor locked the door behind them.

The first car contained only four passengers—three teenage boys and an old woman—all of whom looked understandably startled to see three armed men entering. Simkins held up his ID. “Everything’s fine. Just stay seated.”

Simkins and his men now began their sweep, pushing toward the back of the sealed train one car at a time—“squeezing toothpaste,” as it was called during his training at the Farm. Very few passengers were on this train, and halfway to the back, the agents still had seen nobody even remotely resembling the description of Robert Langdon and Katherine Solomon. Nonetheless, Simkins remained confident. There was absolutely no place to hide on a subway car. No bathrooms, no storage, and no alternative exits. Even if the targets had seen them board the train and fled to the back, there was no way out. Prying open a door was almost impossible, and Simkins had men watching the platform and both sides of the train anyway.

Patience.

By the time Simkins reached the second-to-last car, however, he was feeling edgy. This penultimate car had only one passenger—a Chinese man. Simkins and his agents moved through, scanning for any place to hide. There was none.

“Last car,” Simkins said, raising his weapon as the threesome moved toward the threshold of the train’s final section. As they stepped into the last car, all three of them immediately stopped and stared.

What the . . . ?! Simkins raced to the rear of the deserted cabin, searching behind all the seats. He spun back to his men, blood boiling. “Where the hell did they go?!”

CHAPTER 79

Eight miles due north of Alexandria, Virginia, Robert Langdon and Katherine Solomon strode calmly across a wide expanse of frost-covered lawn.

“You should be an actress,” Langdon said, still impressed by Katherine’s quick thinking and improvisational skills.

“You weren’t half bad yourself.” She gave him a smile.

At first, Langdon had been mystified by Katherine’s abrupt antics in the taxi. Without warning, she had suddenly demanded they go to Freedom Plaza based on some revelation about a Jewish star and the Great Seal of the United States. She drew a well-known conspiracy-theory image on a dollar bill and then insisted Langdon look closely where she was pointing.

Finally, Langdon realized that Katherine was pointing not at the dollar bill but at a tiny indicator bulb on the back of the driver’s seat. The bulb was so covered with grime that he had not even noticed it. As he leaned forward, however, he could see that the bulb was illuminated, emitting a dull red glow. He could also see the two faint words directly beneath the lit bulb.

—INTERCOM ON—

Startled, Langdon glanced back at Katherine, whose frantic eyes were urging him to look into the front seat. He obeyed, stealing a discreet glance through the divider. The cabby’s cell phone was on the dash, wide open, illuminated, facing the intercom speaker. An instant later, Langdon understood Katherine’s actions.

They know we’re in this cab . . . they’ve been listening to us.

Langdon had no idea how much time he and Katherine had until their taxi was stopped and surrounded, but he knew they had to act fast. Instantly, he’d begun playing along, realizing that Katherine’s desire to go to Freedom Plaza had nothing to do with the pyramid but rather with its being a large subway station—Metro Center—from which they could take the Red, Blue, or Orange lines in any of six different directions.

They jumped out of the taxi at Freedom Plaza, and Langdon took over, doing some improvising of his own, leaving a trail to the Masonic Memorial in Alexandria before he and Katherine ran down into the subway station, dashing past the Blue Line platforms and continuing on to the Red Line, where they caught a train in the opposite direction.

Traveling six stops northbound to Tenleytown, they emerged all alone into a quiet, upscale neighborhood. Their destination, the tallest structure for miles, was immediately visible on the horizon, just off Massachusetts Avenue on a vast expanse of manicured lawn.

Now “off the grid,” as Katherine called it, the two of them walked across the damp grass. On their right was a medieval-style garden, famous for its ancient rosebushes and Shadow House gazebo. They moved past the garden, directly toward the magnificent building to which they had been summoned. A refuge containing ten stones from Mount Sinai, one from heaven itself, and one with the visage of Luke’s dark father.

“I’ve never been here at night,” Katherine said, gazing up at the brightly lit towers. “It’s spectacular.”

Langdon agreed, having forgotten how impressive this place truly was. This neo-Gothic masterpiece stood at the north end of Embassy Row. He hadn’t been here for years, not since writing a piece about it for a kids’ magazine in hopes of generating some excitement among young Americans to come see this amazing landmark. His article—“Moses, Moon Rocks, and Star Wars”—had been part of the tourist literature for years.

Washington National Cathedral, Langdon thought, feeling an unexpected anticipation at being back after all these years. Where better to ask about One True God?

“This cathedral really has ten stones from Mount Sinai?” Katherine asked, gazing up at the twin bell towers.