The Lost Symbol (Page 65)

They stopped at a door, and Bellamy heard an electronic ping. The door clicked open. Bellamy was manhandled through several corridors and could not help but notice that the air was warmer and more humid. An indoor pool, maybe? No. The smell in the air was not chlorine . . . it was far more earthy and primal.

Where the hell are we?! Bellamy knew he could not be more than a block or two from the Capitol Building. Again they stopped, and again he heard the electronic beep of a security door. This one slid open with a hiss. As they pushed him through, the smell that hit him was unmistakable.

Bellamy now realized where they were. My God! He came here often, although never through the service entrance. This magnificent glass building was only three hundred yards from the Capitol Building and was technically part of the Capitol Complex. I run this place! Bellamy now realized it was his own key fob that was giving them access.

Powerful arms pushed him through the doorway, leading him down a familiar, winding walkway. The heavy, damp warmth of this place usually felt comforting to him. Tonight, he was sweating.

What are we doing here?!

Bellamy was halted suddenly and seated on a bench. The man with the muscles unhooked his handcuffs only long enough to reaffix them to the bench behind his back.

"What do you want from me?" Bellamy demanded, heart pounding wildly.

The only response he received was the sound of boots walking off and the glass door sliding shut.

Then silence.

Dead silence.

They’re just going to leave me here? Bellamy was sweating more heavily now as he struggled to release his hands. I can’t even take off my blindfold?

"Help!" he shouted. "Anybody!"

Even as he called out in panic, Bellamy knew nobody was going to hear him. This massive glass room–known as the Jungle–was entirely airtight when the doors were closed. They left me in the Jungle, he thought. Nobody will find me until morning.

Then he heard it.

The sound was barely audible, but it terrified Bellamy like no sound he had ever heard in his life. Something breathing. Very close.

He was not alone on the bench.

The sudden hiss of a sulfur match sizzled so close to his face that he could feel the heat. Bellamy recoiled, instinctively yanking hard at his chains.

Then, without warning, a hand was on his face, removing his blindfold.

The flame before him reflected in the black eyes of Inoue Sato as she pressed the match against the cigarette dangling from her lips, only inches away from Bellamy’s face.

She glared at him in the moonlight that filtered down through the glass ceiling. She looked pleased to see his fear.

"So, Mr. Bellamy," Sato said, shaking out the match. "Where shall we begin?"

CHAPTER 70

A magic square. Katherine nodded as she eyed the numbered square in Durer’s engraving. Most people would have thought Langdon had lost his mind, but Katherine had quickly realized he was right.

The term magic square referred not to something mystical but to something mathematical–it was the name given to a grid of consecutive numbers arranged in such a way that all the rows, columns, and diagonals added up to the same thing. Created some four thousand years ago by mathematicians in Egypt and India, magic squares were still believed by some to hold magical powers. Katherine had read that even nowadays devout Indians drew special three-by-three magic squares called the Kubera Kolam on their pooja altars. Primarily, though, modern man had relegated magic squares to the category of "recreational mathematics," some people still deriving pleasure from the quest to discover new "magical" configurations. Sudoku for geniuses.

Katherine quickly analyzed Durer’s square, adding up the numbers in several rows and columns. "Thirty-four," she said. "Every direction adds up to thirty-four."

"Exactly," Langdon said. "But did you know that this magic square is famous because Durer accomplished the seemingly impossible?" He quickly showed Katherine that in addition to making the rows, columns, and diagonals add up to thirty-four, Durer had also found a way to make the four quadrants, the four center squares, and even the four corner squares add up to that number. "Most amazing, though, was Durer’s ability to position the numbers 15 and 14 together in the bottom row as an indication of the year in which he accomplished this incredible feat!"

Katherine scanned the numbers, amazed by all the combinations.

Langdon’s tone grew more excited now. "Extraordinarily, Melencolia I represents the very first time in history that a magic square appeared in European art. Some historians believe this was Durer’s encoded way of indicating that the Ancient Mysteries had traveled outside the Egyptian Mystery Schools and were now held by the European secret societies." Langdon paused. "Which brings us back to . . . this."

He motioned to the slip of paper bearing the grid of letters from the stone pyramid. "I assume the layout looks familiar now?" Langdon asked.

"Four-by-four square."

Langdon picked up the pencil and carefully transcribed Durer’s numbered magic square onto the slip of paper, directly beside the lettered square. Katherine was now seeing just how easy this was going to be. He stood poised, pencil in hand, and yet . . . strangely, after all this enthusiasm, he seemed to hesitate.

"Robert?"

He turned to her, his expression one of trepidation. "Are you sure we want to do this? Peter expressly–"

"Robert, if you don’t want to decipher this engraving, then I will." She held out her hand for the pencil.

Langdon could tell there would be no deterring her and so he acquiesced, turning his attention back to the pyramid. Carefully, he superimposed the magic square over the pyramid’s grid of letters and assigned each letter a number. Then he created a new grid, placing the Masonic cipher’s letters in the new order as defined by the sequence in Durer’s magic square.

When Langdon was finished, they both examined the result. Katherine immediately felt confused. "It’s still gibberish."

Langdon remained silent a long moment. "Actually, Katherine, it’s not gibberish." His eyes brightened again with the thrill of discovery. "It’s . . . Latin."

In a long, dark corridor, an old blind man shuffled as quickly as he could toward his office. When he finally arrived, he collapsed in his desk chair, his old bones grateful for the reprieve. His answering machine was beeping. He pressed the button and listened.

"It’s Warren Bellamy," said the hushed whisper of his friend and Masonic brother. "I’m afraid I have alarming news . . ."

Katherine Solomon’s eyes shot back to the grid of letters, reexamining the text. Sure enough, a Latin word now materialized before her eyes. Jeova. Katherine had not studied Latin, but this word was familiar from her reading of ancient Hebrew texts. Jeova. Jehovah. As her eyes continued to trace downward, reading the grid like a book, she was surprised to realize she could read the entire text of the pyramid.

Jeova Sanctus Unus.

She knew its meaning at once. This phrase was ubiquitous in modern translations of Hebrew scripture. In the Torah, the God of the Hebrews was known by many names–Jeova, Jehovah, Jeshua, Yahweh, the Source, the Elohim–but many Roman translations had consolidated the confusing nomenclature into a single Latin phrase: Jeova Sanctus Unus.

"One true God?" she whispered to herself. The phrase certainly did not seem like something that would help them find her brother. "That’s this pyramid’s secret message? One true God? I thought this was a map."

Langdon looked equally perplexed, the excitement in his eyes evaporating. "This decryption obviously is correct, but . . ."