Page 117 of The Lost Symbol

Bellamy found himself squinting into the glow of what appeared to be some kind of futuristic laptop with a handheld phone receiver, two antennae, and a double keyboard. His initial surge of relief turned quickly to confusion.

The screen bore the CIA logo and the text:

SECURE LOG-IN

USER: INOUE SATO

SECURITY CLEARANCE: LEVEL 5

Beneath the laptop’s log-in window, a progress icon was spinning:

ONE MOMENT PLEASE . . .

DECRYPTING FILE . . .

Bellamy’s gaze shot back up to Sato, whose eyes were locked on his. “I had not wanted to show you this,” she said. “But you’ve left me no choice.”

The screen flickered again, and Bellamy glanced back down as the file opened, its contents filling the entire LCD.

For several moments, Bellamy stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. Gradually, as it began to dawn on him, he felt the blood draining from his face. He stared in horror, unable to look away. “But this is . . . impossible!” he exclaimed. “How . . . could this be!”

Sato’s face was grim. “You tell me, Mr. Bellamy. You tell me.”

As the Architect of the Capitol began to fully comprehend the ramifications of what he was seeing, he could feel his entire world teetering precariously on the brink of disaster.

My God . . . I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake!

CHAPTER 84

Dean Galloway felt alive.

Like all mortals, he knew the time was coming when he would shed his mortal shell, but tonight was not the night. His corporeal heart was beating strong and fast . . . and his mind felt sharp. There is work to be done.

As he ran his arthritic hands across the pyramid’s smooth surfaces, he could scarcely believe what he was feeling. I never imagined I would live to witness this moment. For generations, the pieces of the symbolon map had been kept safely apart from one another. Now they were united at last. Galloway wondered if this was the foretold time.

Strangely, fate had selected two non-Masons to assemble the pyramid. Somehow, this seemed fitting. The Mysteries are moving out of the inner circles . . . out of darkness . . . into the light.

“Professor,” he said, turning his head in the direction of Langdon’s breathing. “Did Peter tell you why he wanted you to watch over the little package?”

“He said powerful people wanted to steal it from him,” Langdon replied.

The dean nodded. “Yes, Peter told me the same thing.”

“He did?” Katherine said suddenly on his left. “You and my brother spoke about this pyramid?”

“Of course,” Galloway said. “Your brother and I have spoken on many things. I was once the Worshipful Master at the House of the Temple, and he comes to me for guidance at times. It was about a year ago that he came to me, deeply troubled. He sat exactly where you are now, and he asked me if I believed in supernatural premonitions.”

“Premonitions?” Katherine sounded concerned. “You mean like . . . visions?”

“Not exactly. It was more visceral. Peter said he was feeling the growing presence of a dark force in his life. He sensed something was watching him . . . waiting . . . intending to do him great harm.”

“Obviously he was right,” Katherine said, “considering that the same man who killed our mother and Peter’s son had come to Washington and become one of Peter’s own Masonic brothers.”

“True,” Langdon said, “but it doesn’t explain the involvement of the CIA.”

Galloway was not so sure. “Men in power are always interested in greater power.”

“But . . . the CIA?” Langdon challenged. “And mystical secrets? Something doesn’t add up.”