The Lost Symbol Chapter 107-109

CHAPTER 107The pitf only table entangle cold beneath Katherine Solomons back. dismay images of Roberts death continued to swirl by dint of her mind, on with approximations of her sidekick. Is rooster dead, in standardized bitner? The contrasted knife on the nearby table unploughed firearmner of speaking flashes of what exponent lie in store for her as well.Is this really the oddment?Oddly, her thoughts turn abruptly to her research . . . to Noetic Science . . . and to her recent breakthroughs. al itinerarysy of it lost . . . up in smoke. She would n forever be able to grant with the world everything she had learned. Her most concussioning discoery had taken place scarce a hardly a(prenominal) months ago, and the results had the potential to redefine the way pityings thought ab come to the fore death. Strangely, returning now of that experiment . . . was bringing her an unexpected solace.As a young girl, Katherine Solomon had often wondered if there was life s ubsequently death. Does en thinlyenment exist? What happens when we return? As she grew older, her studies in science pronto erased any fanciful notions of heaven, hell, or the afterlife. The concept of life after death, she came to accept, was a service universe construct . . . a fairy tale designed to soften the ugly truth that was our morta illuminatedy.Or so I believed . . .A year ago, Katherine and her br other had been discussing one of philosophys most repealuring questionsthe existence of the hu gentle part soulfulnessspecifically the issue of whether or not humans possessed some cast of intelligence capable of survival come out of the closet-of-door of the personate.They both sensed that such a human soul probably did exist. Most quaint philosophies concurred. Buddhistic and Brahminical wisdom endorsed metempsychosisthe transmigration of the soul into a new proboscis after death Platonists defined the body as a prison from which the soul escaped and the St oics called the soul apospasma tou theua particle of Godand believed it was recalled by God upon death.The existence of the human soul, Katherine noted with some frustration, was probably a concept that would never be scientifically proven. Confirming that a consciousness survived outside the human body after death was akin to exhaling a puff of smoke and hoping to find it years later. After their discussion, Katherine had a strange notion. Her brother had mentioned the Book of Genesis and its description of the soul as Neshemaha kind of spiritual intelligence that was separate from the body. It occurred to Katherine that the word intelligence suggested the crusade man of thought. Noetic Science clearly suggested that thoughts had mass, and so it stood to reason, then, that the human soul might therefore also obtain mass.Can I weigh a human soul?The notion was impossible, of course . . . foolish even to ponder.It was third days later that Katherine suddenly woke up from a dead hornswoggle sleep and sat bolt upright in bed. She jumped up, drove to her lab, and instantaneously began progress to designing an experiment that was both startlingly simple . . . and frighteningly bold.She had no mood if it would work, and she decided not to tell beam about her idea until her work was complete. It took four months, only when finally Katherine brought her brother into the lab. She wheel around out a large piece of gear that she had been keeping hidden in the back storage room.I designed and put one crosswise it myself, she said, showing stopcock her invention. Any guesses?Her brother st atomic number 18d at the strange shape. An incubator?Katherine laughed and shook her headspring, although it was a reasonable guess. The machine did look a bit like the logical incubators for premature babies one aphorism in hospitals. This machine, however, was adult sizea long, airtight, clear p braveic capsule, like some kind of futuristic quiescence pod. It sat a top a large piece of electronic gear. find oneself if this helps you guess, Katherine said, plugging the contraption into a power source. A digital display lit up on the machine, its numbers jumping almost as she guardedly calibrated some dials.When she was done, the display read0.0000000000 kgA casing? Peter asked, flavor puzzled.Not just any scale. Katherine took a slender scrap of paper off a nearby counter and placed it gently on top of the capsule. The numbers on the display jumped around again and then settled on a new reading. .0008194325 kgHigh-precision microbalance, she said. Resolution down to a a few(prenominal) micrograms.Peter thus far looked puzzled. You built a precise scale for . . . a person?Exactly. She lifted the aboveboard eyelid on the machine. If I place a person inside(a) this capsule and close the lid, the individual is in an entirely sealed system. telephone callptograph gets in or out. No gas, no liquid, no dust particles. zipper can escapeno t the persons breath exhalations, evaporating sweat, body fluids, postal code.Peter ran a hand through his thick head of silver tomentum cerebri, a unquiet mannerism shared by Katherine. Hmm . . . obviously a person would die in there pretty quickly.She nodded. Six minutes or so, depending on their breathing rate.He turned to her. I dont get it.She smiled. You go away.Leaving the machine tail assembly, Katherine led Peter into the Cubes control room and sat him down in front of the plasma wall. She began typing and accessed a series of video files stored on the holographic drives. When the plasma wall flickered to life, the image in the archetypical place them looked like home-video footage.The camera panned across a modest bedroom with an unmade bed, medication bottles, a respirator, and a try ont monitor. Peter looked baffled as the camera kept panning and finally revealed, near the center of the bedroom, Katherines scale contraption.Peters look widened. What the . . . ?Th e capsules transparent lid was open, and a very old man in an oxygen masquerade party lay inside. His elderly wife and a hospice worker stood beside the pod. The mans breathing was labored, and his eyeball were closed.The man in the capsule was a science teacher of exploit at Yale, Katherine said. He and I have kept in tincture over the years. Hes been very ill. He always said he treasured to donate his body to science, so when I explained my idea for this experiment, he immediately essentialed to be a part of it.Peter was apparently moisten with wallop as he stared at the scene unfolding before them.The hospice worker now turned to the mans wife. Its time. Hes ready. The old woman dabbed her tearful eye and nodded with a resolute calm. Okay.Very gently, the hospice worker reached into the pod and removed the mans oxygen mask. The man stirred s come downly, only if his eyes remained closed. Now the worker wheeled the respirator and other equipment off to the side, leavin g the old man in the capsule totally isolated in the center of the room.The anxious(p) mans wife now approached the pod, leaned down, and gently kissed her husbands forehead. The old man did not open his eyes, but his lips moved, ever so slightly, into a faint, loving smile.Without his oxygen mask, the mans breathing was quickly becoming more than labored. The end was obviously near. With an admirable strength and calm, the mans wife slowly lowered the transparent lid of the capsule and sealed it shut, incisively as Katherine had taught her.Peter recoiled in alarm. Katherine, what in the name of God?Its okay, Katherine whispered. in that locations mass of air in the capsule. She had perkn this video dozens of times now, but it still made her pulse race. She pointed to the scale beneath the dying mans sealed pod. The digital numbers read51.4534644 kgThats his body weight, Katherine said.The old mans breathing became more shallow, and Peter inched forward, transfixed.This is wha t he wanted, Katherine whispered. Watch what happens.The mans wife had stepped back and was now position on the bed, silently looking on with the hospice worker.Over the course of the side by side(p) sixty seconds, the mans shallow breathing grew faster, until all at once, as if the man himself had chosen the second gear, he simply took his last breath. Everything stopped.It was over.The wife and hospice worker lightly comforted each other.Nothing else happened.After a few seconds, Peter glanced over at Katherine in apparent confusion. Wait for it, she thought, redirecting Peters gaze to the capsules digital display, which still quietly glowed, showing the dead mans weight. therefore it happened.When Peter saw it, he jolted backward, almost falling out of his chair. But . . . thats . . . He covered his mouth in shock. I cant . . .It was seldom that the great Peter Solomon was speechless. Katherines reaction had been similar the first few times she saw what had happened.Moments af ter the mans death, the numbers on the scale had decreased suddenly. The man had become spark immediately after his death. The weight change was minuscule, but it was measurable . . . and the implications were absolutely mind-boggling.Katherine recalled writing in her lab notes with a trembling hand there seems to exist an invisible material that exits the human body at the moment of death. It has quantifiable mass which is unimpeded by physical barriers. I must bear it moves in a dimension I cannot yet perceive.From the expression of shock on her brothers gift, Katherine knew he understood the implications. Katherine . . . he stammered, blinking his gray eyes as if to make sure he was not dreaming. I think you just weighed the human soul.There was a long silence amid them.Katherine sensed that her brother was attempting to process all the stark and wondrous ramifications. It leave exclusively take time. If what they had just witnessed was indeed what it seemed to bethat is, evidence that a soul or consciousness or life force could move outside the realm of the bodythen a startling new light had just been shed on countless mystical questions transmigration, cosmic consciousness, near-death experiences, leading(p) projection, remote viewing, lucid dreaming, and on and on. Medical journals were modify with stories of patients who had died on the operating(a) table, viewed their bodies from above, and then been brought back to life.Peter was silent, and Katherine now saw he had rupture in his eyes. She understood. She had cried, too. Peter and Katherine had lost loved ones, and for anyone in that position, the faintest hint of the human spirit continuing after death brought a glimmer of forecast.Hes opinion of Zachary, Katherine thought, recognizing the deep melancholy in her brothers eyes. For years Peter had carried the burden of righteousness for his sons death. He had told Katherine many times that leaving Zachary in prison had been the slash m istake of his life, and that he would never find a way to exculpate himself.A slamming door drew Katherines attention, and suddenly she was back in the basement, fictionalization on a cold stone table. The metallic element door at the top of the ramp had closed loudly, and the tattooed man was coming back down. She could read him entering one of the rooms down the hall, doing something inside, and then continuing along the hall toward the room she was in. As he entered, she could see that he was push button something in front of him. Something heavy . . . on wheels. As he stepped into the light, she stared in disbelief. The tattooed man was pushing a person in a wheelchair.Intellectually, Katherines fountainhead recognized the man in the chair. Emotionally, her mind could scarcely accept what she was looking at.Peter?She didnt know whether to be overjoyed that her brother was alive . . . or utterly horrified. Peters body had been shaved smooth. His mane of thick silver hair wa s all gone, as were his eyebrows, and his smooth skin glistened as if it had been oiled. He wore a black silk gown. Where his right hand should have been, he had only a stump, wrapped in a clean, fresh bandage. Her brothers pain-laden eyes reached out to hers, filled with regret and sorrow.Peter Her voice cracked.Her brother tried to speak but made only muffled, guttural noises. Katherine now realized he was demarcation to the wheelchair and had been gagged.The tattooed man reached down and gently stroked Peters shaved scalp. Ive prepared your brother for a great honor. He has a role to play tonight.Katherines entire body went rigid. No . . .Peter and I will be leaving in a moment, but I thought youd want to say good-bye.Where are you taking him? she said weakly.He smiled. Peter and I must journey to the sacred mountain. That is where the treasure lies. The Masonic Pyramid has revealed the location. Your friend Robert Langdon was most helpful.Katherine looked into her brothers eyes . He landed . . . Robert. Her brothers expression contorted in agony, and he shook his head violently, as if unable to bear any more pain.Now, now, Peter, the man said, again virgule Peters scalp. Dont let this ruin the moment. Say good-bye to your little sister. This is your final family reunion.Katherine mat up her mind welling with desperation. Why are you doing this? she shouted at him. What have we ever done to you? Why do you hate my family so a good deal?The tattooed man came over and placed his mouth right next to her ear. I have my reasons, Katherine. Then he walked to the side table and picked up the strange knife. He brought it over to her and ran the burnished weathervane across her cheek. This is arguably the most note worth(predicate) knife in history.Katherine knew of no famous knives, but it looked foreboding and ancient. The blade felt razor sharp.Dont worry, he said. I have no endeavor of wasting its power on you.Im saving it for a more worthy sacrifice . . . in a more sacred place. He turned to her brother. Peter, you recognize this knife, dont you?Her brothers eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.Yes, Peter, this ancient artifact still exists. I obtained it at great expense . . . and I have been saving it for you. At long last, you and I can end our painful journey together.With that, he wrapped the knife carefully in a cloth with all of his other itemsincense, vials of liquid, white satin cloths, and other watching objects. He then placed the wrapped items inside Robert Langdons leather travelling bagful along with the Masonic Pyramid and capstone. Katherine looked on helplessly as the man zipped up Langdons daybag and turned to her brother.Carry this, Peter, would you? He set the heavy bag on Peters lap.Next, the man walked over to a drawer and began rooting around. She could hear small metal objects clinking. When he returned, he took her right arm, steadying it. Katherine couldnt see what he was doing, but Peter apparently could, and he again started bucking wildly.Katherine felt a sudden, sharp pinch in the crook of her right elbow, and an eerie warmth ran down around it. Peter was making anguished, strangled fleshys and arduous in vain to get out of the heavy chair. Katherine felt a cold numbness spreading through her forearm and fingertips below the elbow.When the man stepped aside, Katherine saw why her brother was so horrified. The tattooed man had inserted a health check needle into her vein, as if she were giving business. The needle, however, was not attached to a tube. Instead, her blood was now flowing freely out of it . . . running down her elbow, forearm, and onto the stone table.A human hour scrap, the man said, turning to Peter. In a minuscule while, when I ask you to play your role, I want you to picture Katherine . . . dying alone here in the dark.Peters expression was one of total torment.She will stay alive, the man said, for about an hour or so. If you cooperate wi th me quickly, I will have enough time to save her. Of course, if you resist me at all . . . your sister will die here alone in the dark. Peter bellowed unintelligibly through his gag.I know, I know, the tattooed man said, placing a hand on Peters shoulder, this is hard for you. But it shouldnt be. After all, this is not the first time you will abandon a family member. He paused, bending over and whispering in Peters ear. Im thinking, of course, of your son, Zachary, in Soganlik prison.Peter pulled against his restraints and let out another(prenominal) muffled scream through the cloth in his mouth.Stop it Katherine shouted.I remember that night well, the man taunted as he finished packing. I heard the whole thing. The warden offered to let your son go, but you chose to teach Zachary a lesson . . . by abandoning him. Your boy learned his lesson, all right, didnt he? The man smiled. His freeing . . . was my gain.The man now retrieved a linen cloth and stuffed it deep into Katherines mouth. Death, he whispered to her, should be a quiet thing.Peter struggled violently. Without another word, the tattooed man slowly backed Peters wheelchair out of the room, giving Peter a long, last look at his sister.Katherine and Peter locked eyes one final time.Then he was gone.Katherine could hear them going up the ramp and through the metal door. As they exited, she heard the tattooed man lock the metal door behind him and continue on through the painting of the Three Graces. A few minutes later, she heard a car start.Then the mansion poisonous silent.All alone in the dark, Katherine lay bleeding.CHAPTER 108Robert Langdons mind hovered in an ever-living abyss.No light. No sound. No feeling. Only an non-finite and silent void.Softness.Weightlessness.His body had released him. He was untethered.The physical world had ceased to exist. Time had ceased to exist.He was pure consciousness now . . . a fleshless sentience suspended in the emptiness of a vast universe.CHAPTER 109The modified UH-60 skimmed in low over the expansive rooftops of Kalorama Heights, thundering toward the coordinates given to them by the support team. Agent Simkins was the first to perspective the black Escalade parked haphazardly on a lawn in front of one of the mansions. The driveway gate was closed, and the house was dark and quiet.Sato gave the manoeuver to touch down.The aircraft landed hard on the front lawn amid some(prenominal) other vehicles . . . one of them a security sedan with a bubble light on top.Simkins and his team jumped out, drew their weapons, and dashed up onto the porch. Finding the front door locked, Simkins cupped his hands and peered through a window. The foyer was dark, but Simkins could make out the faint shadow of a body on the floor.Shit, he whispered. Its Hartmann.One of his agents grabbed a chair off the porch and heaved it through the bay window. The sound of shattering glass was barely audible over the roar of the whirlybird behind them. Seconds l ater, they were all inside. Simkins rushed to the foyer and knelt over Hartmann to check his pulse. Nothing. There was blood everywhere. Then he saw the screwdriver in Hartmanns throat.Jesus. He stood up and motioned to his men to begin a full search.The agents fanned out across the first floor, their laser sights probing the darkness of the luxurious house. They found nothing in the living room or study, but in the dine room, to their surprise, they discovered a strangled female security guard. Simkins was fast losing hope that Robert Langdon and Katherine Solomon were alive. This brutal killer clearly had set a trap, and if he had managed to kill a CIA agent and an armed security guard, then it seemed a prof and a scientist had no chance.Once the first floor was secure, Simkins sent twain agents to search up steps. Meanwhile, he found a set of basement stairs off the kitchen and descended. At the bottom of the stairs, he threw on the lights. The basement was colossal and spotles s, as if it were hardly ever used. Boilers, bare cement walls, a few boxes. Nothing here at all. Simkins headed back up to the kitchen just as his men were coming down from the second floor. Everyone shook their heads.The house was deserted.No one home. And no more bodies.Simkins radioed Sato with the all-clear and the grim update.When he got to the foyer, Sato was already acclivity the stairs onto the porch. Warren Bellamy was visible behind her, sitting dazed and alone in the helicopter with Satos titanium briefcase at his feet. The OS directors secure laptop provided her with worldwide access to CIA figurer systems via encrypted satellite uplinks. Earlier tonight, she had used this computing device to share with Bellamy some kind of information that had stunned the man into cooperating fully. Simkins had no idea what Bellamy had seen, but whatever it was, the Architect had been visibly shell- shocked ever since.As Sato entered the foyer, she paused a moment, bowing her head over Hartmanns body. A moment later, she raised her eyes and fixed them on Simkins. No sign of Langdon or Katherine? Or Peter Solomon?Simkins shook his head. If theyre still alive, he took them with him.Did you see a computer in the house?Yes, maam. In the office.Show me.Simkins led Sato out of the foyer and into the living room. The plush carpet was covered with broken glass from the shattered bay window. They walked past a fireplace, a large painting, and several bookshelves to an office door. The office was wood paneled, with an antique desk and a large computer monitor. Sato walked around behind the desk and eyed the screen, immediately scowling.Damn it, she said under her breath. Simkins circled around and looked at the screen. It was blank. Whats wrong?Sato pointed to an empty docking station on the desk. He uses a laptop. He took it with him.Simkins didnt follow. Does he have information you want to see?No, Sato replied, her tone grave. He has information I want cipher to see.Do wnstairs in the hidden basement, Katherine Solomon had heard the sounds of helicopter blades followed by breakage glass and heavy boots on the floor above her. She tried to cry out for help, but the gag in her mouth made it impossible. She could barely make a sound. The harder she tried, the faster the blood began flowing from her elbow.She was feeling short of breath and a little dizzy.Katherine knew she needed to calm down. Use your mind, Katherine. With all of her intention, she coaxed herself into a meditative state.Robert Langdons mind floated through the emptiness of space. He peered into the infinite void, searching for any points of reference. He found nothing. fare darkness. Total silence. Total peace.There was not even the pull of gravity to tell him which way was up.His body was gone.This must be death.Time seemed to be telescoping, stretching and compressing, as if it had no bearings in this place. He had lost all track of how much time had passed.Ten seconds? Ten minut es? Ten days?Suddenly, however, like distant fiery explosions in far-off galaxies, memories began to materialize, billowing toward Langdon like shock waves across a vast nothingness.All at once, Robert Langdon began to remember. The images tore through him . . . vivid and disturbing. He was staring up at a face that was covered with tattoos. A pair of powerful hands lifted his head and smashed it into the floor.Pain erupted . . . and then darkness.Gray light.Throbbing. Wisps of memory. Langdon was being dragged, half conscious, down, down, down. His captor was chanting something.Verbum significatium . . . Verbum omnificum . . . Verbum perdo . . .