The guard’s radio crackled, and a voice replied, «Actually, yeah. It’s strange. I’m seeing no entries since we computerized, but the hard logs indicate all the storage rooms in the SBB were cleaned out and abandoned more than twenty years ago. They’re now listed as unused space.» He paused. «All except for SBB Thirteen.»
Anderson grabbed the radio. «This is the chief. What do you mean, all except SBB Thirteen?»
«Well, sir,» the voice replied, «I’ve got a handwritten notation here that designates SBB Thirteen as ‘private.’ It was a long time ago, but it’s written and initialed by the Architect himself.»
The term Architect, Langdon knew, was not a reference to the man who had designed the Capitol, but rather to the man who ran it. Similar to a building manager, the man appointed as Architect of the Capitol was in charge of everything including maintenance, restoration, security, hiring personnel, and assigning offices.
«The strange thing. .» the voice on the radio said, «is that the Architect’s notation indicates that this ‘private space’ was set aside for the use of Peter Solomon.»
Langdon, Sato, and Anderson all exchanged startled looks.
«I’m guessing, sir,» the voice continued, «that Mr. Solomon has our primary key to the SBB as well as any keys to SBB Thirteen.»
Langdon could not believe his ears. Peter has a private room in the basement of the Capitol? He had always known Peter Solomon had secrets, but this was surprising even to Langdon.
«Okay,» Anderson said, clearly unamused. «We’re hoping to get access to SBB Thirteen specifically, so keep looking for a secondary key.»
«Will do, sir. We’re also working on the digital image that you requested — »
«Thank you,» Anderson interrupted, pressing the talk button and cutting him off. «That will be all. Send that file to Director Sato’s BlackBerry as soon as you have it.» «understood, sir.» the radio went silent.
Anderson handed the radio back to the guard in front of them.
The guard pulled out a photocopy of a blueprint and handed it to his chief. «Sir, the SBB is in gray, and we’ve notated with an X which room is SBB Thirteen, so it shouldn’t be hard to find. The area is quite small.»
Anderson thanked the guard and turned his focus to the blueprint as the young man hurried off. Langdon looked on, surprised to see the astonishing number of cubicles that made up the bizarre maze beneath the U.S. Capitol.
Anderson studied the blueprint for a moment, nodded, and then stuffed it into his pocket. Turning to the door marked SBB, he raised the key, but hesitated, looking uneasy about opening it. langdon felt similar misgivings; he had no idea what was behind this door, but he was quite certain that whatever solomon had hidden down here, he wanted to keep private. Very private.
Sato cleared her throat, and Anderson got the message. The chief took a deep breath, inserted the key, and tried to turn it. The key didn’t move. For a split second, Langdon felt hopeful the key was wrong. On the second try, though, the lock turned, and Anderson heaved the door open.
As the heavy door creaked outward, damp air rushed out into the corridor.
Langdon peered into the darkness but could see nothing at all.
«Professor,» Anderson said, glancing back at Langdon as he groped blindly for a light switch. «To answer your question, the S in SBB doesn’t stand for Senate. It stands for sub. »
«Sub?» Langdon asked, puzzled.
Anderson nodded and flicked the switch just inside the door. A single bulb illuminated an alarmingly steep staircase descending into inky blackness. «SBB is the Capitol’s subbasement.»
CHAPTER 33
Systems security specialist mark zoubianis was sinking deeper into his futon and scowling at the information on his laptop screen.
What the hell kind of address is this?
His best hacking tools were entirely ineffective at breaking into the document or at unmasking Trish’s mysterious IP address. Ten minutes had passed, and Zoubianis’s program was still pounding away in vain at the network firewalls. They showed little hope of penetration. No wonder they’re overpaying me. He was about to retool and try a different approach when his phone rang.
Trish, for Christ’s sake, I said I’d call you. He muted the football game and answered. «Yeah?»
«Is this Mark Zoubianis?» a man asked. «At 357 Kingston Drive in Washington?»
Zoubianis could hear other muffled conversations in the background. A telemarketer during the play-offs? Are they insane? «Let me guess, I won a week in Anguilla?»
«No,» the voice replied with no trace of humor. «This is systems security for the Central Intelligence Agency. We would like to know why you are attempting to hack one of our classified databases?»
Three stories above the Capitol Building’s subbasement, in the wide-open spaces of the visitor center, security guard Nuсez locked the main entry doors as he did every night at this time. As he headed back across the expansive marble floors, he thought of the man in the army-surplus jacket with the tattoos.
I let him in. Nuсez wondered if he would have a job tomorrow.
As he headed toward the escalator, a sudden pounding on the outside doors caused him to turn. He squinted back toward the main entrance and saw an elderly African American man outside, rapping on the glass with his open palm and motioning to be let in.
nuсez shook his head and pointed to his watch.
The man pounded again and stepped into the light. He was immaculately dressed in a blue suit and had close-cropped graying hair. Nuсez’s pulse quickened. Holy shit. Even at a distance, Nuсez now recognized who this man was. He hurried back to the entrance and unlocked the door. «I’m sorry, sir. Please, please come in.»
Warren Bellamy — Architect of the Capitol — stepped across the threshold and thanked Nuсez with a polite nod. Bellamy was lithe and slender, with an erect posture and piercing gaze that exuded the confidence of a man in full control of his surroundings. For the last twenty-five years, Bellamy had served as the supervisor of the U.S. Capitol.
«May I help you, sir?» Nuсez asked.
«Thank you, yes.» Bellamy enunciated his words with crisp precision. As a northeastern Ivy League graduate, his diction was so exacting he sounded almost British. «I’ve just learned that you had an incident here this evening.» He looked deeply concerned.
«Yes, sir. It was — »
«Where’s Chief Anderson?»
«Downstairs with Director Sato from the CIA’s Office of Security.»
Bellamy’s eyes widened with concern. «The CIA is here?»
«Yes, sir. Director Sato arrived almost immediately after the incident.»
«Why?» Bellamy demanded.
Nuсez shrugged. As if I was going to ask?
Bellamy strode directly toward the escalators. «Where are they?»
«They just went to the lower levels.» Nuсez hastened after him.
Bellamy glanced back with a look of concern. «Downstairs? Why?» «I don’t really know — I just heard it on my radio.»
Bellamy was moving faster now. «Take me to them right away.»
«Yes, sir.»
As the two men hurried across the open expanse, Nuсez caught a glimpse of a large golden ring on Bellamy’s finger.
Nuсez pulled out his radio. «I’ll alert the chief that you’re coming down.»
«No.» Bellamy’s eyes flashed dangerously. «I’d prefer to be unannounced.»
Nuсez had made some big mistakes tonight, but failing to alert Chief Anderson that the Architect was now in the building would be his last. «Sir?» he said, uneasy. «I think Chief Anderson would prefer — »