Langdon now realized the tiny pyramid he was carrying was not a pyramid at all. It’s a capstone. At that instant, he knew why he alone could unlock the mysteries of this pyramid.
I hold the final piece.
And it is indeed. . a talisman.
When Peter had told Langdon the package contained a talisman, Langdon had laughed. Now he realized his friend was right. This tiny capstone was a talisman, but not the magic kind. . the far older kind. Long before talisman had magical connotations, it had another meaning — «completion.» From the Greek telesma, meaning «complete,» a talisman was any object or idea that completed another and made it whole. The finishing element. A capstone, symbolically speaking, was the ultimate talisman, transforming the Unfinished Pyramid into a symbol of completed perfection.
Langdon now felt an eerie convergence that forced him to accept one very strange truth: with the exception of its size, the stone pyramid in Peter’s Chamber of Reflection seemed to be transforming itself, bit by bit, into something vaguely resembling the Masonic Pyramid of legend.
From the brightness with which the capstone shone on the X-ray, Langdon suspected it was made of metal. . a very dense metal. Whether or not it was solid gold, he had no way of knowing, and he was not about to let his mind start playing tricks on him. This pyramid is too small. The code’s too easy to read. And. . it’s a myth, for heaven’s sake!
Sato was watching him. «For a bright man, Professor, you’ve made some dumb choices tonight. Lying to an intelligence director? Intentionally obstructing a CIA investigation?»
«I can explain, if you’ll let me.»
«You will be explaining at CIA headquarters. As of this moment, I am detaining you.»
Langdon’s body went rigid. «You can’t possibly be serious.»
«Deadly serious. I made it very clear to you that the stakes tonight were high, and you chose not to cooperate. I strongly suggest you start thinking about explaining the inscription on this pyramid, because when we arrive at the cia. .» she raised her blackberry and took a close-up snapshot of the engraving on the stone pyramid. «my analysts will have had a head start.»
Langdon opened his mouth to protest, but Sato was already turning to Anderson at the door. «Chief,» she said, «put the stone pyramid in Langdon’s bag and carry it. I’ll handle taking Mr. Langdon into custody. Your weapon, if I may?»
Anderson was stone-faced as he advanced into the chamber, unsnapping his shoulder holster as he came. He gave his gun to Sato, who immediately aimed it at Langdon.
Langdon watched as if in a dream. This cannot be happening.
Anderson now came to Langdon and removed the daybag from his shoulder, carrying it over to the desk and setting it on the chair. He unzipped the bag, propped it open, and then hoisted the heavy stone pyramid off the desk and into the bag, along with Langdon’s notes and the tiny package.
Suddenly there was a rustle of movement in the hallway. A dark outline of a man materialized in the doorway, rushing into the chamber and approaching fast behind Anderson. The chief never saw him coming. In an instant, the stranger had lowered his shoulder and crashed into Anderson’s back. The chief launched forward, his head cracking into the edge of the stone niche. He fell hard, crumpling on the desk, sending bones and artifacts flying. The hourglass shattered on the floor. The candle toppled to the floor, still burning.
Sato reeled amid the chaos, raising the gun, but the intruder grabbed a femur and lashed out with it, striking her shoulder with the leg bone. Sato let out a cry of pain and fell back, dropping the weapon. The newcomer kicked the gun away and then wheeled toward Langdon. The man was tall and slender, an elegant African American whom Langdon had never seen before in his life.
«Grab the pyramid!» the man commanded. «Follow me!»
CHAPTER 42
The African American man leading langdon through the capitol’s subterranean maze was clearly someone of power. beyond knowing his way through all the side corridors and back rooms, the elegant stranger carried a key ring that seemed to unlock every door that blocked their way.
Langdon followed, quickly running up an unfamiliar staircase. As they climbed, he felt the leather strap of his daybag cutting hard into his shoulder. The stone pyramid was so heavy that Langdon feared the bag’s strap might break.
The past few minutes defied all logic, and now Langdon found himself moving on instinct alone. His gut told him to trust this stranger. Beyond saving Langdon from Sato’s arrest, the man had taken dangerous action to protect Peter Solomon’s mysterious pyramid. Whatever the pyramid may be. While his motivation remained a mystery, Langdon had glimpsed a telltale shimmer of gold on the man’s hand — a Masonic ring — the double-headed phoenix and the number 33. This man and Peter Solomon were more than trusted friends. They were Masonic brothers of the highest degree.
Langdon followed him to the top of the stairs, into another corridor, and then through an unmarked door into a utilitarian hallway. They ran past supply boxes and bags of garbage, veering off suddenly through a service door that deposited them in an utterly unexpected world — a plush movie theater of some sort. The older man led the way up the side aisle and out the main doors into the light of a large atrium. Langdon now realized they were in the visitor center through which he had entered earlier tonight.
Unfortunately, so was a Capitol police officer.
As they came face-to-face with the officer, all three men stopped, staring at one another. Langdon recognized the young Hispanic officer from the X-ray machine earlier tonight.
«Officer Nuсez,» the African American man said. «Not a word. Follow me.» the guard looked uneasy but obeyed without question.
Who is this guy?
The three of them hurried toward the southeast corner of the visitor center, where they arrived at a small foyer and a set of heavy doors blocked with orange pylons. The doors were sealed with masking tape, apparently to keep the dust of whatever was happening beyond out of the visitor center. The man reached up and peeled off the tape on the door. Then he flipped through his key ring as he spoke to the guard. «Our friend Chief Anderson is in the subbasement. He may be injured. You’ll want to check on him.»
«Yes, sir.» Nuсez looked as baffled as he did alarmed.
«Most important, you did not see us.» The man found a key, took it off the key ring, and used it to turn the heavy dead bolt. He pulled open the steel door and tossed the key to the guard. «Lock this door behind us. Put the tape back on as best as you can. Pocket the key and say nothing. To anyone. Including the chief. Is that clear, Officer Nuсez?»
The guard eyed the key as if he’d just been entrusted with a precious gem. «It is, sir.»
The man hurried through the door, and Langdon followed. The guard locked the heavy bolt behind them, and Langdon could hear him re-applying the masking tape.
«Professor Langdon,» the man said as they strode briskly down a modern-looking corridor that was obviously under construction. «My name is Warren Bellamy. Peter Solomon is a dear friend of mine.»
Langdon shot a startled glance at the stately man. You’re Warren Bellamy? Langdon had never met the Architect of the Capitol, but he certainly knew the man’s name.
«Peter speaks very highly of you,» Bellamy said, «and I’m sorry we are meeting under these dreadful circumstances.»
«Peter is in terrible trouble. His hand. .»
«I know.» Bellamy sounded grim. «That’s not the half of it, I’m afraid.»