The Lost Symbol Chapter 52-57

CHAPTER 52Malakh could feel the tat be slopesed muscles on his buttocks rippling as he sprinted back around the building toward the aerofoil bay verge of seedpod 5.I must gain access to her testing ground.Katherines operate had been unlooked-for . . . and problematic. Not exactly did she k flat whither Malakh lived, she straight forward k parvenue his true identity . . . and that he was the sensation who had invaded their infrastructure a decade earlier.Malakh had non forgotten that apparition cartridge clip either. He had come unin propoundigible wipe break inches of possessing the gain, only destiny had obstructed him. I was non to date shewy. and he was ready let eruptright. more powerful. More influential. Having endured unthinkable hardship in preparation for his return, Malakh was poised to darkness to gather his destiny at brave out. He felt real that before the night was whole over, he would indeed be staring into the dying eyeball of Kat herine Solomon.As Malakh reached the bay door, he reassured himself that Katherine had not truly escaped she had only when pro vasted the inevitable. He slid by the opening and strode confidently across the darkness until his feet hit the carpet. Then he took a right turn and compass pointed for the Cube. The banging on the door of Pod 5 had stopped, and Malakh mirthfuled the guard was now try to remove the dime Malakh had jammed into the come across panel to per seduce it useless.When Malakh reached the door that led into the Cube, he located the outer keypad and inserted Trishs key card. The panel lit up. He entered Trishs PIN and went at heart. The lights were all ablaze, and as he moved into the sterile blank shell, he squinted in amazement at the crying(a) array of equipment. Malakh was no stranger to the power of technology he performed his give breed of comprehension in the basement of his home, and last night few of that science had borne fruit.The Truth. hawk shaw Solomons unique confinementtrap al nonpareil in the in-betweenhad laid bare all of the opuss secrets. I can imbibe his soul. Malakh had learned certain secrets he anticipated, and others he had not, including the news nearly Katherines lab and her shocking discoveries. Science is postureting close, Malakh had realized. And I give not award it to light the way for the unworthy.Katherines work here had begun using modern science to answer ancient philosophical questions. Does anyvirtuoso hear our prayers? Is in that respect life subsequently death? Do hu art objectes shed souls? Incredibly, Katherine had answered all of these questions, and more. Scientifi rallying cryy. Conclusively. The methods she utilise were irrefutable. nonetheless the more or less skeptical of people would be persuaded by the results of her experiments. If this information were promulgated and do known, a fundamental shift would begin in the soul of man. They depart start to find their way . Malakhs last task tonight, before his transformation, was to picture that this did not happen.As he moved through the lab, Malakh located the information way that slam had told him about. He peered through the heavily scrap walls at the both holographical data- stock units. Exactly as he say they would be. Malakh instal it hard to imagine that the contents of these little boxes could change the course of human development, and until now Truth had always been the most potent of all the catalysts.Eyeing the holographic storage units, Malakh produced Trishs key card and inserted it in the doors security panel. To his surprise, the panel did not light up. Apparently, access to this room was not a trust extended to Trish Dunne. He now reached for the key card he had set in motion in Katherines lab-coat pocket. When he inserted this one, the panel lit up.Malakh had a problem. I neer got Katherines PIN. He act Trishs PIN, yet it didnt work. Stroking his chin, he stepped bac k and examined the three-inch-thick Plexiglas door. notwithstanding with an ax, he knew he would be unable to break through and dumb be the drives he demanded to destroy.Malakh had planned for this contingency, how constantly. Inside the power-supply room, exactly as neb had described, Malakh located the rack holding several coat cylinders resembling commodious aqualung tanks. The cylinders bore the letters LH, the number 2, and the universal symbol for combustible. One of the tin cans was committed to the labs henry fuel cell.Malakh left one canister connected and cautiously heaved one of the reserve cylinders down onto a dolly beside the rack. Then he rolled the cylinder out of the power-supply room, across the lab, to the Plexiglas door of the data-storage room. Although this fixing would certainly be cud close enough, he had noticed one weakness in the heavy Plexiglas doorthe low-pitched space between the bottom and the jamb.At the threshold, he care in effect(p)y la id the canister on its side and slid the flexible rubber tube under the door. It took him a arcminute to remove the safety seals and access the cylinders valve, however once he did, ever so gently, he uncocked the valve. Through the Plexiglas, he could see the clear, aglitter(p) liquid begin draining out of the tube onto the root inside the storage room. Malakh watched the realise expand, oozing across the al-Qaeda, steaming and bubbling as it grew. Hydrogen remained in liquid form only when it was chilly, and as it warm up, it would start to boil off. The resulting gas, conveniently, was savourless more flammable than the liquid.Remember the Hindenburg.Malakh locomote now into the lab and retrieved the Pyrex jug of Bunsen-burner fuela viscous, highly flammable, to that degree noncombustible oil. He carried it to the Plexiglas door, pleased to see the liquid hydrogen canister was exempt draining, the puddle of boiling liquid inside the data-storage room now covering the entire floor, encircling the pedestals that supported the holographic storage units. A whitish mist now rose from the boiling puddle as the liquid hydrogen began turning to gas . . . filling the small space.Malakh raised the jug of Bunsen-burner fuel and squirted a healthy amount on the hydrogen canister, the tubing, and into the small opening beneath the door. Then, very carefully, he began backup out of the lab, leaving an un unordered stream of oil on the floor as he went.The dispatch hustler handling 911 calls for Washington, D.C., had been unusually bustling tonight. Football, beer, and a full moon, she estimate as yet another mite call appeared on her screen, this one from a gas-station pay yell on the Suitland Parkway in Anacostia. A car accident probably.Nine-one-one, she answered. What is your emergency?I was just attacked at the Smithsonian Museum Support Center, a panicked womans voice said. enliven send the police Forty-two-ten Silver Hill RoadOkay, slow down, the operator said. You need toI need you to send officers also to a theater in Kalorama Heights where I think my brother may be held captiveThe operator sighed. Full moon.CHAPTER 53As I tried to herald you, Bellamy was saying to Langdon, there is more to this profit than meets the eye.Apparently so. Langdon had to go for that the stone pyramid sitting in his unzipped daybag looked often more underpass to him now. His decryption of the masonic cipher had rendered a seemingly substanceless football field of letters.Chaos.For a farseeing while, Langdon examined the grid, searching for any hint of meaning inside the lettershidden words, anagrams, clues of any sortbut he found no issue.The Masonic Pyramid, Bellamy explained, is said to guard its secrets behind many veils. Each time you pull back a curtain, you pillow slip another. You ingest unveiled these letters, and yet they tell you nothing until you peel back another write downer. Of course, the way to do that is known o nly to the one who holds the finishing touch. The capstone, I suspect, has an inscription as well, which tells you how to decrypt the pyramid.Langdon glanced at the cube-shaped package on the desk. From what Bellamy had said, Langdon now understood that the capstone and pyramid were a segmented ciphera code stony-broken into flip-flops. Modern cryptologists used segmented ciphers all the time, although the security lineation had been invented in ancient Greece. The Greeks, when they wanted to store secret information, inscribed it on a clay tablet and then shattered the tablet into pieces, storing each piece in a separate hole. Only when all the pieces were gathered to ascertainher could the secrets be read. This kind of inscribed clay tabletcalled a symbolonwas in fact the origin of the modern word symbol.Robert, Bellamy said, this pyramid and capstone provoke been kept apart for generations, ensuring the secrets safety. His tone turned rueful. Tonight, however, the piece s have come dangerously close. Im sure I dont have to say this . . . but it is our duty to hold back this pyramid is not assembled.Langdon found Bellamys reason of drama to be pretty overwrought. Is he describing the capstone and pyramid . . . or a detonator and nuclear bomb? He still couldnt quite accept Bellamys claims, but it precisely seemed to matter. Even if this is the Masonic Pyramid, and til now if this inscription does somehow reveal the location of ancient knowledge, how could that knowledge possibly impart the kind of power it is said to impart?Peter always told me you were a hard man to changean academic who prefers proof to speculation.Youre saying you do accept that? Langdon demanded, feeling impatient now. Respectfully . . . you are a modern, educated man. How could you suppose such a thing?Bellamy gave a patient smile. The craft of Freemasonry has given me a mystifying respect for that which transcends human understanding. Ive learned never to close my min d to an brain simply because it seems miraculous.CHAPTER 54Frantically, the SMSC perimeter patrolman dashed down the father lineway that ran along the outside of the building. Hed just received a call from an officer inside saying that the keypad to Pod 5 had been sabotaged, and that a security light indicated that Pod 5s exemplification bay door was now open.What the hell is going on? As he arrived at the specimen bay, sure enough he found the door open a couple of feet. Bizarre, he thought. This can only be unlocked from the inside. He took the flourishlight off his belt and shone it into the inky blackness of the pod. Nothing. Having no passion to step into the unknown, he moved only as far as the threshold and then stuck the flashlight through the opening, flaping it to the left, and then to the potent hands seized his wrist and yanked him into the blackness. The guard felt himself being spun around by an invisible compact. He smelled ethanol. The flashlight flew out of his hand, and before he could even so process what was happening, a rock-hard fist collided with his sternum. The guard crumpled to the cement floor . . . groaning in suffer as a large black form stepped extraneous from him.The guard lay on his side, gasping and wheezing for breath. His flashlight lay nearby, its beam spilling across the floor and illuminating what appeared to be a metal can of some sort. The cans label said it was fuel oil for a Bunsen burner.A cigarette lighter sparked, and the orange flame well-lighted a vision that hardly seemed human. Jesus Christ The guard exactly had time to process what he was sightedness before the bare-chested creature knelt down and touched the flame to the floor.Instantly, a strip of fire materialized, leaping away from them, racing into the void. Bewildered, the guard looked back, but the creature was already slipping out the open bay door into the night.The guard managed to sit up, wincing in pain as his eyes followed the thin r ibbon of fire. What the hell? The flame looked too small to be truly dangerous, and yet now he cut something utterly terrifying. The fire was no longer illuminating only the change void. It had traveled all the way to the back wall, where it was now illuminating a massive cinder-block structure. The guard had never been permitted inside Pod 5, but he knew very well what this structure must be.The Cube.Katherine Solomons lab.The flame raced in a straight line straightway to the labs outer door. The guard clambered to his feet, knowing full well that the ribbon of oil probably continued beneath the lab door . . . and would soon start a fire inside. scarce as he turned to run for suspensor, he felt an unthought draw off of line of business suck past him.For a brief instant, all of Pod 5 was bathed in light.The guard never saw the hydrogen whizz-kid erupting skyward, ripping the roof off Pod 5 and billowing hundreds of feet into the air. Nor did he see the sky raining fragment s of titanium mesh, electronic equipment, and droplets of melted ti from the labs holographic storage units. Katherine Solomon was driving north when she saw the sudden flash of light in her rearview mirror. A complex rumble thundered through the night air, startling her.Fireworks? she wondered. Do the Redskins have a halftime show?She refocused on the road, her thoughts still on the 911 call shed draw a bead ond from the deserted gas stations pay phone.Katherine had successfully convinced the 911 dispatcher to send the police to the SMSC to investigate a tattooed trespasser and, Katherine prayed, to find her assistant, Trish. In addition, she urged the dispatcher to check Dr. Abaddons address in Kalorama Heights, where she thought Peter was being held hostage.Unfortunately, Katherine had been unable to obtain Robert Langdons unlisted cell-phone number. So now, seeing no other option, she was speeding toward the Library of sexual relation, where Langdon had told her he was heade d.The terrifying revelation of Dr. Abaddons true identity had changed everything. Katherine had no idea what to believe anymore. entirely she knew for certain was that the very(prenominal) man who had killed her mother and nephew all those years ago had now captured her brother and had come to kill her. Who is this madman? What does he want? The only answer she could come up with made no sense. A pyramid? Equally confusing was why this man had come to her lab tonight. If he wanted to hurt her, why hadnt he done so in the privacy of his own home earlier today? Why go to the trouble of sending a text message and risk intermission into her lab?Unexpectedly, the fireworks in her rearview mirror grew brighter, the initial flash followed by an unexpected sighta blazing orange fireball that Katherine could see uprising higher up the tree line. What in the world? The fireball was accompanied by dark black smoke . . . and it was nowhere near the Redskins FedEx Field. Bewildered, she tr ied to baffle what industry might be located on the other side of those trees . . . just southeast of the parkway.Then, uniform an oncoming truck, it hit her.CHAPTER 55rabbit warren Bellamy stabbed urgently at the buttons on his cell phone, trying over again to shamble contact with someone who could help them, whoever that might be.Langdon watched Bellamy, but his mind was with Peter, trying to examine out how best to find him. Decipher the engraving, Peters captor had commanded, and it hightail it tell you the hiding mail service of mankinds greatest treasure . . . We go forth go together . . . and make our trade.Bellamy hung up, frowning. Still no answer.Heres what I dont understand, Langdon said. Even if I could somehow accept that this hidden comprehension exists . . . and that this pyramid somehow points to its underground location . . . what am I looking for? A vault? A bunker?Bellamy sat quietly for a long moment. Then he gave a reluctant sigh and communicate guard edly. Robert, according to what Ive perceive through the years, the pyramid leads to the entrance of a spiral staircase.A staircase?Thats right. A staircase that leads down into the earth . . . many hundreds of feet.Langdon could not believe what he was hearing. He leaned closer.Ive heard it said that the ancient wisdom is buried at the bottom.Robert Langdon stood up and began pacing. A spiral staircase descending hundreds of feet into the earth . . . in Washington, D.C. And no embody has ever seen this staircase?Allegedly the entrance has been covered with an large stone.Langdon sighed. The idea of a tomb covered with an enormous stone was right out of the biblical accounts of Jesus tomb. This archetypal hybrid was the grandfather of them all. Warren, do you believe this secret mystical staircase into the earth exists?Ive never seen it personally, but a few of the older Masons swear it exists. I was trying to call one of them just now.Langdon continued pacing, uncertain what to say next.Robert, you leave me a unmanageable task with respect to this pyramid. Warren Bellamys gaze hardened in the sonant glow of the adaptation lamp. I know of no way to force a man to believe what he does not want to believe. And yet I hope you understand your duty to Peter Solomon.Yes, I have a duty to help him, Langdon thought.I dont need you to believe in the power this pyramid can unveil. Nor do I need you to believe in the staircase it supposedly leads to. But I do need you to believe that you are morally obliged to treasure this secret . . . whatever it may be. Bellamy motioned to the little cube-shaped package. Peter entrusted the capstone to you because he had religion you would obey his wishes and keep it secret. And now you must do exactly that, even if it means sacrificing Peters life. Langdon stopped short and wheeled around. What?Bellamy remained seated, his expression pained but resolute. Its what he would want. You need to forget Peter. Hes gone. Peter did h is job, doing the best he could to protect the pyramid. Now it is our job to make sure his efforts were not in vain.I cant believe youre saying this Langdon exclaimed, temper flaring. Even if this pyramid is everything you say it is, Peter is your Masonic brother. Youre sworn to protect him above all else, even your rudeNo, Robert. A Mason must protect a fellow Mason above all things . . . except onethe great secret our marriage protects for all mankind. Whether or not I believe this lost wisdom has the potential that history suggests, I have taken a hallow to keep it out of the hands of the unworthy. And I would not give it over to anyone . . . even in exchange for Peter Solomons life.I know plenty of Masons, Langdon said angrily, including the most advanced, and Im invoke sure these men are not sworn to sacrifice their lives for the sake of a stone pyramid. And Im also damned sure none of them believes in a secret staircase that descends to a treasure buried deep in the earth. There are circles at heart circles, Robert. Not everyone knows everything.Langdon exhaled, trying to control his emotions. He, like everyone, had heard the rumors of elite circles within the Masons. Whether or not it was true seemed irrelevant in the face of this situation. Warren, if this pyramid and capstone truly reveal the ultimate Masonic secret, then why would Peter involve me? Im not even a brother . . . such(prenominal) less part of any inner circle.I know, and I suspect that is precisely why Peter chose you to guard it. This pyramid has been targeted in the past, even by those who infiltrated our trades union with unworthy motives. Peters choice to store it outside the brotherhood was a clever one.Were you aware I had the capstone? Langdon asked.No. And if Peter told anyone at all, it would have been only one man. Bellamy pulled out his cell phone and hit redial. And so far, Ive been unable to reach him. He got a voice-mail greeting and hung up. well, Robert, it looks l ike you and I are on our own for the moment. And we have a decision to make.Langdon looked at his Mickey Mouse watch. 942 P.M. You do realize that Peters captor is waiting for me to decipher this pyramid tonight and tell him what it says.Bellamy frowned. Great men throughout history have made deep personal sacrifices to protect the Ancient Mysteries. You and I must do the same. He stood up now. We should keep moving. Sooner or later Sato allow for figure out where we are. What about Katherine? Langdon demanded, not wanting to leave. I cant reach her, and she never called.Obviously, something happened.But we cant just abandon her go away Katherine Bellamy said, his voice commanding now. Forget Peter Forget everyone Dont you understand, Robert, that youve been entrusted with a duty that is bigger than all of usyou, Peter, Katherine, myself? He locked eyes with Langdon. We need to find a safe place to hide this pyramid and capstone far fromA loud tinny interrupt echoed in the direc tion of the great hall.Bellamy wheeled, eyes filling with fear. That was fast.Langdon turned toward the door. The sound apparently had come from the metal bucket that Bellamy had fixed on the ladder blocking the tunnel doors. Theyre coming for us.Then, quite unexpectedly, the crash echoed again.And again.And again.The unsettled man on the bench in front of the Library of Congress rubbed his eyes and watched the strange scene unfolding before him.A vacuous Volvo had just jumped the curb, lurched across the deserted pedestrian walkway, and screeched to a halt at the foot of the librarys main entrance. An attractive, dark-haired woman had leaped out, anxiously surveyed the area, and, spotting the roofless man, had shouted, Do you have a phone?Lady, I dont have a left shoe.Apparently realizing as much, the woman dashed up the staircase toward the librarys main doors. Arriving at the top of the stairs, she grabbed the handle and tried desperately to open each of the three giant doors .The librarys shut, lady.But the woman didnt seem to care. She seized one of the heavy ring-shaped handles, heaved it backward, and let it fall with a loud crash against the door. Then she did it again. And again. And again.Wow, the homeless man thought, she must really need a book.CHAPTER 56When Katherine Solomon finally saw the massive bronze doors of the library swing open before her, she felt as if an emotional floodgate had burst. All the fear and confusion she had bottled up tonight came pouring through.The figure in the library doorway was Warren Bellamy, a friend and confidant of her brothers. But it was the man behind Bellamy in the shadows whom Katherine felt happiest to see. The feeling was apparently mutual. Robert Langdons eyes make full with relief as she step on it through the doorway . . . directly into his harness.As Katherine lost herself in the comforting embrace of an old friend, Bellamy closed the front door. She heard the heavy lock click into place, and at last she felt safe. Tears came unexpectedly, but she fought them back.Langdon held her. Its okay, he whispered. Youre okay.Because you saved me, Katherine wanted to tell him. He destroyed my lab . . . all my work. Years of research . . . up in smoke. She wanted to tell him everything, but she could barely breathe.Well find Peter. Langdons deep voice resonated against her chest, comforting her somehow. I promise.I know who did this Katherine wanted to yell. The same man who killed my mother and nephew Before she could explain herself, an unexpected sound broke the silence of the library.The loud crash echoed up from beneath them in a vestibule stairwellas if a large metal object had move on a tile floor. Katherine felt Langdons muscles stiffen instantly.Bellamy stepped forward, his expression dire. Were leaving. Now.Bewildered, Katherine followed as the Architect and Langdon hurried across the great hall toward the librarys famed reading room, which was ablaze with light. Bellamy qu ickly locked the two sets of doors behind them, first the outer, then the inner.Katherine followed in a daze as Bellamy hustled them both toward the center of the room. The threesome arrived at a reading desk where a leather bag sat beneath a light. Beside the bag, there was a tiny cube-shaped package, which Bellamy scooped up and placed inside the bag, alongside a Katherine stopped short. A pyramid?Although she had never seen this engraved stone pyramid, she felt her entire body recoil in recognition. Somehow her gut knew the truth. Katherine Solomon had just come face-to-face with the object that had so deeply damaged her life. The pyramid.Bellamy zipped up the bag and handed it to Langdon. Dont let this out of your sight.A sudden ebullition rocked the rooms outer doors. The tinkling of shattered glass followed.This way Bellamy spun, looking scared now as he rushed them over to the central circulation deskeight counters around a massive octagonal cabinet. He guided them in behin d the counters and then pointed to an opening in the cabinet. Get in thereIn there? Langdon demanded. Theyll find us for sureTrust me, Bellamy said. Its not what you think.CHAPTER 57Malakh gunned his limousine north toward Kalorama Heights. The explosion in Katherines lab had been bigger than he had anticipated, and he had been lucky to escape unscathed. Conveniently, the ensuing chaos had enabled him to slip out without opposition, powering his limousine past a distracted gate guard who was busy yelling into a telephone.Ive got to get off the road, he thought. If Katherine hadnt yet phoned the police, the explosion would certainly draw their attention. And a shirtless man driving a limousine would be hard to miss. afterward years of preparation, Malakh could scarcely believe the night was now upon him. The journey to this moment had been a long, difficult one. What began years ago in misery . . . will end tonight in glory.On the night it all began, he had not had the name Malakh. I n fact, on the night it all began, he had not had any name at all. Inmate 37. Like most of the prison houseers at the brutal Soganlik Prison outside of Istanbul, Inmate 37 was here because of drugs.He had been lying on his bunk in a cement cell, hungry and cold in the darkness, wondering how long he would be incarcerated. His new cellmate, whom hed met only twenty-four hours ago, was sleeping in the bunk above him. The prison executive, an obese alcoholic who hated his job and took it out on the inmates, had just killed all the lights for the night.It was almost ten oclock when Inmate 37 heard the conversation filtering in through the ventilation shaft. The first voice was outstandingly clearthe piercing, belligerent accent of the prison administrator, who clearly did not think being woken up by a late-night visitor.Yes, yes, youve come a long way, he was saying, but there are no visitors for the first month. domain regulations. No exceptions.The voice that replied was soft and r efined, filled with pain. Is my son safe?He is a drug addict.Is he being treated well?Well enough, the administrator said. This is not a hotel.There was a pained pause. You do realize the U.S. State Department will request extradition.Yes, yes, they always do. It will be granted, although the paperwork might take us a couple of weeks . . . or even a month . . . depending.Depending on what?Well, the administrator said, we are understaffed. He paused. Of course, sometimes concerned parties like yourself make donations to the prison staff to help us push things through more quickly.The visitor did not reply.Mr. Solomon, the administrator continued, lowering his voice, for a man like yourself, for whom money is no object, there are always options. I know people in government. If you and I work together, we may be able to get your son out of here . . . tomorrow, with all the charges dropped. He would not even have to face prosecution at home.The response was conterminous. Forgetting the legal ramifications of your suggestion, I refuse to take my son that money solves all problems or that there is no responsibility in life, especially in a serious matter like this.Youd like to leave him here?Id like to speak to him. Right now.As I said, we have rules. Your son is unavailable to you . . . unless you would like to negotiate his immediate release. A cold silence hung for several moments. The State Department will be contacting you. Keep Zachary safe. I expect him on a plane home within the week. Good night.The door slammed.Inmate 37 could not believe his ears. What kind of father leaves his son in this hellhole in order to teach him a lesson? Peter Solomon had even rejected an tolerate to clear Zacharys record.It was later that night, lying awake in his bunk, that Inmate 37 had realized how he would free himself. If money was the only thing separating a prisoner from freedom, then Inmate 37 was as good as free. Peter Solomon might not be willing to part with money, but as anyone who read the tabloids knew, his son, Zachary, had plenty of money, too. The next day, Inmate 37 spoke privately to the administrator and suggested a plana bold, ingenious scheme that would give them both exactly what they wanted.Zachary Solomon would have to die for this to work, explained Inmate 37. But we could both disappear straightway. You could retire to the Greek Islands. You would never see this place again.After some discussion, the two men shook hands. Soon Zachary Solomon will be dead, Inmate 37 thought, smiling to think how easy it would be.It was two days later that the State Department contacted the Solomon family with the horrific news. The prison snapshots showed their sons viciously bludgeoned body, lying curled and lifeless on the floor of his prison cell. His head had been bashed in by a steel bar, and the rest of him was battered and kinky beyond what was humanly imaginable. He appeared to have been tortured and finally killed. The pristine susp ect was the prison administrator himself, who had disappeared, probably with all of the murdered boys money. Zachary had subscribe papers moving his vast fortune into a private numbered account, which had been emptied immediately following his death. There was no telling where the money was now.Peter Solomon flew to bomb on a private jet and returned with their sons casket, which they buried in the Solomon family cemetery. The prison administrator was never found. Nor would he be, Inmate 37 knew. The Turks rotund body was now resting at the bottom of the Sea of Marmara, feeding the blue gold rush crabs that migrated in through the Bosporus Strait. The vast fortune belonging to Zachary Solomon had all been moved to an untraceable numbered account. Inmate 37 was a free man againa free man with a massive fortune.The Greek Islands were like heaven. The light. The water. The women.There was nothing money couldnt buynew identities, new passports, new hope. He chose a Greek nameAndros D areiosAndros meaning warrior, and Dareios meaning wealthy. The dark nights in prison had frightened him, and Andros vowed never to go back. He shaved off his shaggy hair and shunned the drug world entirely. He began life anewexploring never- before-imagined sensual pleasures. The serenity of sailing exclusively on the ink-blue Aegean Sea became his new heroin trance the sensuality of sucking moist arni souvlakia right off the skewer became his new turn and the rush of cliff diving into the foam-filled ravines of Mykonos became his new cocaine.I am reborn.Andros bought a sprawling villa on the island of Syros and settled in among the bella gente in the exclusive townspeople of Possidonia. This new world was a community not only of wealth, but of culture and physical perfectiveion. His neighbors took great pride in their bodies and minds, and it was contagious. The newcomer all at once found himself jogging on the beach, tanning his pale body, and reading books. Andros read Homers Odyssey, captivated by the images of powerful bronze men doing battle on these islands. The next day, he began lifting packs, and was amazed to see how quickly his chest and arms grew larger. Gradually, he began to feel womens eyes on him, and the admiration was intoxicating. He longed to evolve stronger still. And he did. With the help of aggressive cycles of steroids intermixed with black-market growth hormones and endless hours of weight lifting, Andros transformed himself into something he had never imagined he could bea perfect male specimen. He grew in both height and musculature, developing flawless pectorals and massive, sinewy legs, which he kept perfectly tanned.Everyone was looking now.As Andros had been warned, the heavy steroids and hormones changed not only his body, but also his voice box, expectant him an eerie, breathy whisper, which made him feel more mysterious. The soft, enigmatic voice, combined with his new body, his wealth, and his refusal to speak about h is mysterious past, served as catnip for the women who met him. They gave themselves willingly, and he satisfied them allfrom dash models visiting his island on photo shoots, to nubile American college girls on vacation, to the lonely wives of his neighbors, to the occasional young man. They could not get enough.I am a masterpiece.As the years passed, however, Andross sexual adventures began to lose their thrill. As did everything. The islands sumptuous culinary art lost its taste, books no longer held his interest, and even the dazzling sunsets from his villa looked dull. How could this be? He was only in his midtwenties, and yet he felt old. What more is there to life? He had sculpted his body into a masterpiece he had educated himself and nourished his mind with culture he had made his home in paradise and he had the love of anyone he desired.And yet, incredibly, he felt as empty as he had in that Turkish prison.What is it I am missing?The answer had come to him several months later. Andros was sitting alone in his villa, absently surfing channels in the middle of the night, when he stumbled across a program about the secrets of Freemasonry. The show was poorly done, comprise more questions than answers, and yet he found himself intrigued by the plethora of confederation theories surrounding the brotherhood. The narrator described legend after legend.Freemasons and the New humanness Order . . .The Great Masonic Seal of the United States . . .The P2 Masonic suit . . .The Lost Secret of Freemasonry . . .The Masonic Pyramid . . .Andros sat up, startled. Pyramid. The narrator began sexual congress the story of a mysterious stone pyramid whose encrypted engraving promised to lead to lost wisdom and unfathomable power. The story, though seemingly implausible, sparked in him a distant memory . . . a faint recollection from a much darker time. Andros remembered what Zachary Solomon had heard from his father about a mysterious pyramid.Could it be? Andros lab ored to recall the details.When the show ended, he stepped out onto the balcony, letting the cool air clear his mind. He remembered more now, and as it all came back, he began to sense there might be some truth to this legend after all. And if so, then Zachary Solomonalthough long deadstill had something to offer.What do I have to lose?Three weeks later, his timing carefully planned, Andros stood in the frigid cold outside the conservatory of the Solomons Potomac estate. Through the glass, he could see Peter Solomon chatting and laughing with his sister, Katherine. It looks like theyve had no trouble forgetting Zachary, he thought.Before he pulled the ski mask over his face, Andros took a hit of cocaine, his first in ages. He felt the familiar rush of fearlessness. He pulled out a handgun, used an old key to unlock the door, and stepped inside. Hello, Solomons.Unfortunately, the night had not gone as Andros had planned. Rather than obtaining the pyramid for which he had come, he fo und himself riddled with domestic fowl shot and fleeing across the snow- covered lawn toward the dense woods. To his surprise, behind him, Peter Solomon was giving chase, pistol glinting in his hand. Andros dashed into the woods, running down a trail along the edge of a deep ravine. Far below, the sounds of a waterfall echoed up through the crisp winter air. He passed a stand of oak trees and rounded a corner to his left. Seconds later, he was skidding to a stop on the icy path, narrowly escaping death.My God Only feet in front of him, the path ended, plunging straight down into an icy river far below. The large boulder at the side of the path had been carved by the lubberly hand of a childOn the far side of the ravine, the path continued on. So wheres the noseband? The cocaine was no longer working. Im trapped Panicking now, Andros turned to flee back up the path, but he found himself facing Peter Solomon, who stood breathless before him, pistol in hand.Andros looked at the gun and took a step backward. The drop behind him was at to the lowest degree fifty feet to an ice-covered river. The mist from the waterfall upstream billowed around them, chilling him to the bone.Zachs bridge rotted out long ago, Solomon said, panting. He was the only one who ever came down this far. Solomon held the gun remarkably steady. Why did you kill my son?He was nothing, Andros replied. A drug addict. I did him a favor.Solomon moved closer, gun aimed directly at Andross chest. Perhaps I should do you the same favor. His tone was astonishingly fierce. You bludgeoned my son to death. How does a man do such a thing?Men do the unthinkable when pushed to the brink.You killed my sonNo, Andros replied, hotly now. You killed your son. What kind of man leaves his son in a prison when he has the option to get him out You killed your son Not me.You know nothing Solomon yelled, his voice filled with pain.Youre wrong, Andros thought. I know everything.Peter Solomon drew closer, only five yards away now, gun leveled. Andross chest was burning, and he could tell he was bleeding badly. The tenderness ran down over his stomach. He looked over his shoulder at the drop. Impossible. He turned back to Solomon. I know more about you than you think, he whispered. I know you are not the kind of man who kills in cold blood.Solomon stepped closer, taking dead aim. Im warning you, Andros said, if you pull that trigger, I will haunt you forever.You already will. And with that, Solomon fired.As he raced his black limousine back toward Kalorama Heights, the one who now called himself Malakh reflected on the miraculous events that had delivered him from certain death atop that icy ravine. He had been transformed forever. The gunshot had echoed only for an instant, and yet its personal effects had reverberated across decades. His body, once tanned and perfect, was now marred by scars from that night . . . scars he kept hidden beneath the tattooed symbols of his new identity.I am Mal akh.This was my destiny all along.He had walked through fire, been reduced to ashes, and then emerged again . . . transformed once more. Tonight would be the final step of his long and magnificent journey.