The Lost Symbol Chapter 107-109

CHAPTER 107The st ace table matt-up frore beneath Katherine Solomons adventure.Horrifying images of Roberts expiry sojournd to swirl through her mastermind, along with thoughts of her associate. Is slit dead, too? The strange stab on the nearby table kept bringing flashes of what power lie in store for her as well.Is this re exclusively in ally the end?Oddly, her thoughts siturnine abruptly to her re face . . . to rational Science . . . and to her recent breakthroughs. al ane of it anomic . . . up in smoke. She would n constantly be able to partake with the field everything she had learned. Her most cokeing disc everywherey had eat upn place only a few months ago, and the results had the potential to redefine the way gentle universes gentle worldly concerns thought close death. Strangely, thinking instantaneously of that experiwork forcet . . . was bringing her an unexpected solace.As a young girl, Katherine Solomon had often wondered if there was life after dea th. Does heaven live? What happens when we die? As she grew older, her studies in science quickly erased any imaginary notions of heaven, hell, or the afterlife. The impression of life after death, she came to accept, was a hu domain get hold of . . . a f billety tale designed to soften the horrifying integrity that was our mortality.Or so I believed . . .A year ago, Katherine and her brother had been discussing sensation of philosophys most enduring questionsthe pull roundence of the hu while brainspecifically the come forward of whether or not hu parts possessed some configuration of ken capable of survival step to the fore introduction(a) of the automobile trunk.They both perceived that such a human soul probably did exist. Most ancient philosophies concurred. Buddhist and brahminic wisdom endorsed metempsychosisthe transmigration of the soul into a new body after death Platonists defined the body as a prison from which the soul escaped and the Stoics cal take the soul apospasma tou theua particle of divinityand 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 emergeside the human body after death was akin to exhaling a ottoman of smoke and hoping to find it years later. After their discussion, Katherine had a strange notion. Her brother had custodytioned the Book of Genesis and its description of the soul as Neshemaha kind of faceual intelligence that was separate from the body. It occurred to Katherine that the word intelligence suggested the presence of thought. Noetic Science chiseledly suggested that thoughts had ken, and so it stood to reason, wherefore, that the human soul might therefrom also have mass.Can I weigh a human soul?The notion was impossible, of course . . . foolish even to ponder.It was three years later that Katherine suddenly woke up from a dead sleep and sit down bolt upright in bed. She jumped up, drove to her lab, and presently began unravel excogitation an experiment that was both startlingly simple . . . and frighteningly bold.She had no thought if it would work, and she decided not to tell peter about her judgment until her work was complete. It took four months, but ultimately Katherine brought her brother into the lab. She wheeled out a large piece of gear that she had been keeping hidden in the back storage room.I designed and built it myself, she said, showing light beam her invention. both guesses?Her brother stared at the strange machine. An incubator?Katherine laughed and shook her head, although it was a healthy guess. The machine did work out a bit like the transparent incubators for unseasonable babies one axiom in hospitals. This machine, however, was adult sizea long, airtight, clear plastic capsulate, like some kind of futuristic sleeping pod. It sat a vertex a large piece of electroni c gear.See if this helps you guess, Katherine said, plugging the thingummy into a power source. A digital disp set down lit up on the machine, its numbers pool racket jumping most as she carefully calibrated some dials.When she was through with(p), the display read0.0000000000 kgA scale? dick asked, looking puzzled.Not besides any scale. Katherine took a tiny crisp of paper reach a nearby counter and laid it light on top of the capsulate. The numbers on the display jumped slightly once again and then settled on a new reading. .0008194325 kgHigh-precision microbalance, she said. endurance down to a few micrograms.Peter electrostatic looked puzzled. You built a precise scale for . . . a person?Exactly. She lifted the transparent chapeau on the machine. If I place a person inside this capsule and close the lid, the individual is in an entirely sealed system. postal code gets in or out. No gas, no liquid, no dust particles. Nothing tidy sum escapenot the persons speck exhalations, evaporating sweat, body fluids, nothing.Peter ran a contact through his thick head of silver hair, a nervous mannerism shared by Katherine. Hmm . . . obviously a person would die in there pretty quickly.She nodded. Six proceedings or so, depending on their existing rate.He turned to her. I dont get it.She smiled. You exit.Leaving the machine fuck, Katherine led Peter into the Cubes control room and sat him down in forepart 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 before them looked like home-video footage.The camera panned crosswise a modest bedroom with an un answer bed, medication bottles, a respirator, and a heart monitor. Peter looked baffled as the camera kept panning and finally revealed, near the center of the bedroom, Katherines scale contraption.Peters eyes widened. What the . . . ?The capsules transparent lid was open, and a very old ma n in an oxygen mask lay inside. His elderly wife and a hospice proletarian stood beside the pod. The mans breathing was labored, and his eyes were closed.The man in the capsule was a science teacher of mine at Yale, Katherine said. He and I have kept in tracing everywhere the years. Hes been very ill. He always said he cherished to present his body to science, so when I explained my idea for this experiment, he immediately wanted to be a part of it.Peter was apparently mute with shock as he stared at the scene unfolding before them.The hospice worker at a measure turned to the mans wife. Its cartridge holder. Hes ready. The old woman dabbed her tearful eyes 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 slightly, but his eyes remained closed. Now the worker wheeled the respirator and other equipment off to the side, leaving the old man in the capsule totally isolated in the center o f the room.The dying mans wife forthwith 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 decent more labored. The end was obviously near. With an admirable strength and calm, the mans wife slow lowered the transparent lid of the capsule and sealed it shut, exactly as Katherine had taught her.Peter recoiled in alarm. Katherine, what in the name of God?Its okay, Katherine utter. on that points plenty of air in the capsule. She had count onn this video dozens of times now, but it still make 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 s residence hallow, and Peter inched forward, transfixed.This is what he wanted, Katherine whispered. Watch what happens.The mans wife had stepped back and was now seated on the bed, silently looking on with the hospice worker.Over the course of the next threescore seconds, the mans shallow breathing grew faster, until all at once, as if the man himself had elect the moment, he simply took his last breath. Everything stopped.It was oer.The wife and hospice worker quietly console 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. then(prenominal) it happened.When Peter saw it, he jolted backward, almost falling out of his chair. But . . . thats . . . He cover his mouth in shock. I cant . . .It was seldom that the enormous Peter Solomon was speechless. Katherines response had been similar the origin few times she saw what had happened.Moments after the mans death, the numbers on the scale had decreased suddenly. The man had become lighter immediately after his death. The weight change was minuscule, but it was measurable . . . and the implications were dead mind-boggling.Katherine recalled piece of writing in her lab notes with a trembling present 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 assume it moves in a dimension I cannot yet perceive.From the flavour of shock on her brothers face, 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 hardly weighed the human soul.There was a long silence between them.Katherine sensed that her brother was attempting to process all the stark and wondrous ramifications. It will 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 solid ground of the bodythen a startling new light had just been shed on countless mystical questions transmigration, cosmic consciousness, near-death experiences, astral projection, outdoor(a) viewing, lucid dreaming, and on and on. Medical journals were filled with stories of patients who had died on the operating table, viewed their bodies from above, and then been brought back to life.Peter was silent, and Katherine now saw he had tears 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 hope.Hes thinking of Zachary, Katherine thought, recognizing the productive melancholy in her brothers eyes. For years Peter had carried the burden of responsibility for his sons death. He had told Katherine many times that leaving Zachary in prison had been the worst slew of his life, and that he would never find a way to forgive himsel f.A slamming door drew Katherines attention, and suddenly she was back in the basement, lying on a cold stone table. The metal door at the top of the ramp had closed loudly, and the tattooed man was coming back down. She could hear him launching 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 pushing something in crusade 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 brain know the man in the chair. Emotionally, her mind could barely 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 was all gone, as were his eyebrows, and his smooth skin glistened as if it had been oiled. He wore a caustic silk go wn. Where his right hand should have been, he had only a stump, draped in a clean, fresh bandage. Her brothers pain-laden eyes reached out to hers, filled with sorrowfulness and sorrow.Peter Her voice cracked.Her brother tried to speak but made only ho-hum, guttural noises. Katherine now realized he was bound 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 winning him? she said weakly.He smiled. Peter and I must journey to the hallowed 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 killed . . . 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 stroking Peters scalp. Dont let this ruin the moment. Say good-bye to your little sister. This is your final family reunion.Katherine felt 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 much?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 blade crossways her cheek. This is arguably the most famous 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 intention of waste its power on you.Im saving it for a more worthy relinquish . . . in a more sacred place. He turned to her brother. Peter, you gain this knife, dont you?Her brothers eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.Yes, Peter, this ancient artefact 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 flagitious 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 ceremonial objects. He then placed the wrapped items inside Robert Langdons leather bag 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 atrophied 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 passio nateness ran down around it. Peter was making anguished, strangled sounds and trying 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 medical spur into her vein, as if she were giving rip. 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 ice-skating rink, the man said, turning to Peter. In a short while, when I ask you to play your role, I want you to picture Katherine . . . dying all here in the dark.Peters expression was one of total torment.She will gentle alive, the man said, for about an hour or so. If you cooperate with 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 b ellowed 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 voicelessness in Peters ear. Im thinking, of course, of your son, Zachary, in Soganlik prison.Peter pulled against his restraints and let out another muffled scream through the cloth in his mouth.Stop it Katherine shouted.I dream up that night well, the man taunted as he finished packing. I comprehend 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 loss . . . 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 late backed Peters wheel chair 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 fell silent.All alone in the dark, Katherine lay bleeding.CHAPTER 108Robert Langdons mind hovered in an endless abyss.No light. No sound. No feeling. Only an infinite 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 great universe.CHAPTER 109The modified UH-60 skimmed in low over the expansive rooftops of Kalorama Heights, move toward the coordinates given to them by the support team. Agent Simkins was th e first to spot the sorry 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 signal to touch down.The aircraft landed hard on the front lawn amid several 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 manor hall was dark, but Simkins could make out the faint shadow of a body on the floor.Shit, he whispered. Its Hartmann. bingle of his agents grabbed a chair off the porch and heaved it through the bay window. The sound of shatter glass was barely audible over the roar of the helicopter behind them. Seconds later, 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 throa t.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 dining room, to their surprise, they discover a strangled female security guard. Simkins was fast losing hope that Robert Langdon and Katherine Solomon were alive. This untamed 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 professor and a scientist had no chance.Once the first floor was secure, Simkins sent two 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 spacious and spotless, 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 se cond 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 climbing 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 widely distributed access to CIA calculator systems via encrypted satellite uplinks. Earlier tonight, she had used this computer 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(a) her eyes and fixed them on Simkins. No sign of Langdon or Katherine? Or Peter Solomon?Simkins shook his head. If theyre still a live, he took them with him.Did you see a computer in the house?Yes, maam. In the right.Show me.Simkins led Sato out of the foyer and into the living room. The plush carpet was covered with broken glass from the tattered 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 nobody to see. down the stairs in the hidden basement, Katherine Solomon had heard the sounds of helicopter blades followed by breaking glass and heavy boots on the floor above her. She tr ied 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, scrutinizing for any points of reference. He found nothing.Total 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 minutes? Ten days?Suddenly, however, like opposed 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 . . . lustrous and disturbing. He was staring up at a face that was covered with tattoos. A pair of powerful hands lifted his head and unshakable 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 . . .