by Dan Brown
"Shaitan?"
"It’s Islamic. It means ‘adversary’ . . . God’s adversary. The church chose Islam for the name because it was a language they considered dirty." Langdon hesitated. "Shaitan is the root of an English word . . .Satan."
An uneasiness crossed Kohler’s face.
Langdon’s voice was grim. "Mr. Kohler, I do not know how this marking appeared on this man’s chest . . . or why . . . but you are looking at the long-lost symbol of the world’s oldest and most powerful satanic cult."
10
The alley was narrow and deserted. The Hassassin strode quickly now, his black eyes filling with anticipation. As he approached his destination, Janus’s parting words echoed in his mind. Phase two begins shortly. Get some rest.
The Hassassin smirked. He had been awake all night, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. Sleep was for the weak. He was a warrior like his ancestors before him, and his people never slept once a battle had begun. This battle had most definitely begun, and he had been given the honor of spilling first blood. Now he had two hours to celebrate his glory before going back to work.
Sleep? There are far better ways to relax . . .
An appetite for hedonistic pleasure was something bred into him by his ancestors. His ascendants had indulged in hashish, but he preferred a different kind of gratification. He took pride in his body—a well-tuned, lethal machine, which, despite his heritage, he refused to pollute with narcotics. He had developed a more nourishing addiction than drugs . . . a far more healthy and satisfying reward.
Feeling a familiar anticipation swelling within him, the Hassassin moved faster down the alley. He arrived at the nondescript door and rang the bell. A view slit in the door opened, and two soft brown eyes studied him appraisingly. Then the door swung open.
"Welcome," the well-dressed woman said. She ushered him into an impeccably furnished sitting room where the lights were low. The air was laced with expensive perfume and musk. "Whenever you are ready." She handed him a book of photographs. "Ring me when you have made your choice." Then she disappeared.
The Hassassin smiled.
As he sat on the plush divan and positioned the photo album on his lap, he felt a carnal hunger stir. Although his people did not celebrate Christmas, he imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a Christian child, sitting before a stack of Christmas presents, about to discover the miracles inside. He opened the album and examined the photos. A lifetime of sexual fantasies stared back at him.
Marisa. An Italian goddess. Fiery. A young Sophia Loren.
Sachiko. A Japanese geisha. Lithe. No doubt skilled.
Kanara. A stunning black vision. Muscular. Exotic.
He examined the entire album twice and made his choice. He pressed a button on the table beside him. A minute later the woman who had greeted him reappeared. He indicated his selection. She smiled. "Follow me."
After handling the financial arrangements, the woman made a hushed phone call. She waited a few minutes and then led him up a winding marble staircase to a luxurious hallway. "It’s the gold door on the end," she said. "You have expensive taste."
I should, he thought. I am a connoisseur.
The Hassassin padded the length of the hallway like a panther anticipating a long overdue meal. When he reached the doorway he smiled to himself. It was already ajar . . . welcoming him in. He pushed, and the door swung noiselessly open.
When he saw his selection, he knew he had chosen well. She was exactly as he had requested . . . nude, lying on her back, her arms tied to the bedposts with thick velvet cords.
He crossed the room and ran a dark finger across her ivory abdomen. I killed last night, he thought. You are my reward.
11
"Satanic?" Kohler wiped his mouth and shifted uncomfortably. "This is the symbol of a satanic cult?"
Langdon paced the frozen room to keep warm. "The Illuminati were satanic. But not in the modern sense."
Langdon quickly explained how most people pictured satanic cults as devil-worshiping fiends, and yet Satanists historically were educated men who stood as adversaries to the church. Shaitan. The rumors of satanic black-magic animal sacrifices and the pentagram ritual were nothing but lies spread by the church as a smear campaign against their adversaries. Over time, opponents of the church, wanting to emulate the Illuminati, began believing the lies and acting them out. Thus, modern Satanism was born.
Kohler grunted abruptly. "This is all ancient history. I want to know how this symbol got here."
Langdon took a deep breath. "The symbol itself was created by an anonymous sixteenth-century Illuminati artist as a tribute to Galileo’s love of symmetry—a kind of sacred Illuminati logo. The brotherhood kept the design secret, allegedly planning to reveal it only when they had amassed enough power to resurface and carry out their final goal."
Kohler looked unsettled. "So this symbol means the Illuminati brotherhood is resurfacing?"
Langdon frowned. "That would be impossible. There is one chapter of Illuminati history that I have not yet explained."
Kohler’s voice intensified. "Enlighten me."
Langdon rubbed his palms together, mentally sorting through the hundreds of documents he’d read or written on the Illuminati. "The Illuminati were survivors," he explained. "When they fled Rome, they traveled across Europe looking for a safe place to regroup. They were taken in by another secret society . . . a brotherhood of wealthy Bavarian stone craftsmen called the Freemasons."
Kohler looked startled. "The Masons?"
Langdon nodded, not at all surprised that Kohler had heard of the group. The brotherhood of the Masons currently had over five million members worldwide, half of them residing in the United States, and over one million of them in Europe.
"Certainly the Masons are not satanic," Kohler declared, sounding suddenly skeptical.
"Absolutely not. The Masons fell victim of their own benevolence. After harboring the fleeing scientists in the 1700s, the Masons unknowingly became a front for the Illuminati. The Illuminati grew within their ranks, gradually taking over positions of power within the lodges. They quietly reestablished their scientific brotherhood deep within the Masons—a kind of secret society within a secret society. Then the Illuminati used the worldwide connection of Masonic lodges to spread their influence."
Langdon drew a cold breath before racing on. "Obliteration of Catholicism was the Illuminati’s central covenant. The brotherhood held that the superstitious dogma spewed forth by the church was mankind’s greatest enemy. They feared that if religion continued to promote pious myth as absolute fact, scientific progress would halt, and mankind would be doomed to an ignorant future of senseless holy wars."
"Much like we see today."
Langdon frowned. Kohler was right. Holy wars were still making headlines. My God is better than your God. It seemed there was always close correlation between true believers and high body counts.
"Go on," Kohler said.
Langdon gathered his thoughts and continued. "The Illuminati grew more powerful in Europe and set their sights on America, a fledgling government many of whose leaders were Masons—George Washington, Ben Franklin—honest, God-fearing men who were unaware of the Illuminati stronghold on the Masons. The Illuminati took advantage of the infiltration and helped found banks, universities, and industry to finance their ultimate quest." Langdon paused. "The creation of a single unified world state—a kind of secular New World Order."
Kohler did not move.
"A New World Order," Langdon repeated, "based on scientific enlightenment. They called it their Luciferian Doctrine. The church claimed Lucifer was a reference to the devil, but the brotherhood insisted Lucifer was intended in its literal Latin meaning—bringer of light. Or Illuminator."
Kohler sighed, and his voice grew suddenly solemn. "Mr. Langdon, please sit down."
Langdon sat tentatively on a frost-covered chair.
Kohler moved his wheelchair closer. "I am not sure I understand eve
rything you have just told me, but I do understand this. Leonardo Vetra was one of CERN’s greatest assets. He was also a friend. I need you to help me locate the Illuminati."
Langdon didn’t know how to respond. "Locate the Illuminati?" He’s kidding, right? "I’m afraid, sir, that will be utterly impossible."
Kohler’s brow creased. "What do you mean? You won’t—"
"Mr. Kohler." Langdon leaned toward his host, uncertain how to make him understand what he was about to say. "I did not finish my story. Despite appearances, it is extremely unlikely that this brand was put here by the Illuminati. There has been no evidence of their existence for over half a century, and most scholars agree the Illuminati have been defunct for many years."
The words hit silence. Kohler stared through the fog with a look somewhere between stupefaction and anger. "How the hell can you tell me this group is extinct when their name is seared into this man!"
Langdon had been asking himself that question all morning. The appearance of the Illuminati ambigram was astonishing. Symbologists worldwide would be dazzled. And yet, the academic in Langdon understood that the brand’s reemergence proved absolutely nothing about the Illuminati.
"Symbols," Langdon said, "in no way confirm the presence of their original creators."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that when organized philosophies like the Illuminati go out of existence, their symbols remain . . . available for adoption by other groups. It’s called transference. It’s very common in symbology. The Nazis took the swastika from the Hindus, the Christians adopted the cruciform from the Egyptians, the—"
"This morning," Kohler challenged, "when I typed the word ‘Illuminati’ into the computer, it returned thousands of current references. Apparently a lot of people think this group is still active."
"Conspiracy buffs," Langdon replied. He had always been annoyed by the plethora of conspiracy theories that circulated in modern pop culture. The media craved apocalyptic headlines, and self-proclaimed "cult specialists" were still cashing in on millennium hype with fabricated stories that the Illuminati were alive and well and organizing their New World Order. Recently the New York Times had reported the eerie Masonic ties of countless famous men—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the Duke of Kent, Peter Sellers, Irving Berlin, Prince Philip, Louis Armstrong, as well as a pantheon of well-known modern-day industrialists and banking magnates.
Kohler pointed angrily at Vetra’s body. "Considering the evidence, I would say perhaps the conspiracy buffs are correct."
"I realize how it appears," Langdon said as diplomatically as he could. "And yet a far more plausible explanation is that some other organization has taken control of the Illuminati brand and is using it for their own purposes."
"What purposes? What does this murder prove?"
Good question, Langdon thought. He also was having trouble imagining where anyone could have turned up the Illuminati brand after 400 years. "All I can tell you is that even if the Illuminati were still active today, which I am virtually positive they are not, they would never be involved in Leonardo Vetra’s death."
"No?"
"No. The Illuminati may have believed in the abolition of Christianity, but they wielded their power through political and financial means, not through terrorists acts. Furthermore, the Illuminati had a strict code of morality regarding who they saw as enemies. They held men of science in the highest regard. There is no way they would have murdered a fellow scientist like Leonardo Vetra."
Kohler’s eyes turned to ice. "Perhaps I failed to mention that Leonardo Vetra was anything but an ordinary scientist."
Langdon exhaled patiently. "Mr. Kohler, I’m sure Leonardo Vetra was brilliant in many ways, but the fact remains—"
Without warning, Kohler spun in his wheelchair and accelerated out of the living room, leaving a wake of swirling mist as he disappeared down a hallway.
For the love of God, Langdon groaned. He followed. Kohler was waiting for him in a small alcove at the end of the hallway.
"This is Leonardo’s study," Kohler said, motioning to the sliding door. "Perhaps when you see it you’ll understand things differently." With an awkward grunt, Kohler heaved, and the door slid open.
Langdon peered into the study and immediately felt his skin crawl. Holy mother of Jesus, he said to himself.
12
In another country, a young guard sat patiently before an expansive bank of video monitors. He watched as images flashed before him—live feeds from hundreds of wireless video cameras that surveyed the sprawling complex. The images went by in an endless procession.
An ornate hallway.
A private office.
An industrial-size kitchen.
As the pictures went by, the guard fought off a daydream. He was nearing the end of his shift, and yet he was still vigilant. Service was an honor. Someday he would be granted his ultimate reward.
As his thoughts drifted, an image before him registered alarm. Suddenly, with a reflexive jerk that startled even himself, his hand shot out and hit a button on the control panel. The picture before him froze.
His nerves tingling, he leaned toward the screen for a closer look. The reading on the monitor told him the image was being transmitted from camera #86—a camera that was supposed to be overlooking a hallway.
But the image before him was most definitely not a hallway.
13
Langdon stared in bewilderment at the study before him. "What is this place?" Despite the welcome blast of warm air on his face, he stepped through the door with trepidation.
Kohler said nothing as he followed Langdon inside.
Langdon scanned the room, not having the slightest idea what to make of it. It contained the most peculiar mix of artifacts he had ever seen. On the far wall, dominating the decor, was an enormous wooden crucifix, which Langdon placed as fourteenth-century Spanish. Above the cruciform, suspended from the ceiling, was a metallic mobile of the orbiting planets. To the left was an oil painting of the Virgin Mary, and beside that was a laminated periodic table of elements. On the side wall, two additional brass cruciforms flanked a poster of Albert Einstein, his famous quote reading, GOD DOES NOT PLAY DICE WITH THE UNIVERSE.
Langdon moved into the room, looking around in astonishment. A leather-bound Bible sat on Vetra’s desk beside a plastic Bohr model of an atom and a miniature replica of Michelangelo’s Moses.
Talk about eclectic, Langdon thought. The warmth felt good, but something about the decor sent a new set of chills through his body. He felt like he was witnessing the clash of two philosophical titans . . . an unsettling blur of opposing forces. He scanned the titles on the bookshelf:
The God Particle
The Tao of Physics
God: The Evidence
One of the bookends was etched with a quote:
TRUE SCIENCE DISCOVERS GOD
WAITING BEHIND EVERY DOOR.
—POPE PIUS XII
"Leonardo was a Catholic priest," Kohler said.
Langdon turned. "A priest? I thought you said he was a physicist."
"He was both. Men of science and religion are not unprecedented in history. Leonardo was one of them. He considered physics ‘God’s natural law.’ He claimed God’s handwriting was visible in the natural order all around us. Through science he hoped to prove God’s existence to the doubting masses. He considered himself a theo-physicist."
Theo-physicist? Langdon thought it sounded impossibly oxymoronic.
"The field of particle physics," Kohler said, "has made some shocking discoveries lately—discoveries quite spiritual in implication. Leonardo was responsible for many of them."
Langdon studied CERN’s director, still trying to process the bizarre surroundings. "Spirituality and physics?" Langdon had spent his career studying religious history, and if there was one recurring theme, it was that science and religion had been oil and water since day one . . . archenemies . . . unmixable.
"Vetra was on the cutting
edge of particle physics," Kohler said. "He was starting to fuse science and religion . . . showing that they complement each other in most unanticipated ways. He called the field New Physics." Kohler pulled a book from the shelf and handed it to Langdon.
Langdon studied the cover. God, Miracles, and the New Physics—by Leonardo Vetra.
"The field is small," Kohler said, "but it’s bringing fresh answers to some old questions—questions about the origin of the universe and the forces that bind us all. Leonardo believed his research had the potential to convert millions to a more spiritual life. Last year he categorically proved the existence of an energy force that unites us all. He actually demonstrated that we are all physically connected . . . that the molecules in your body are intertwined with the molecules in mine . . . that there is a single force moving within all of us."
Langdon felt disconcerted. And the power of God shall unite us all. "Mr. Vetra actually found a way to demonstrate that particles are connected?"
"Conclusive evidence. A recent Scientific American article hailed New Physics as a surer path to God than religion itself."
The comment hit home. Langdon suddenly found himself thinking of the antireligious Illuminati. Reluctantly, he forced himself to permit a momentary intellectual foray into the impossible. If the Illuminati were indeed still active, would they have killed Leonardo to stop him from bringing his religious message to the masses? Langdon shook off the thought. Absurd! The Illuminati are ancient history! All academics know that!
"Vetra had plenty of enemies in the scientific world," Kohler went on. "Many scientific purists despised him. Even here at CERN. They felt that using analytical physics to support religious principles was a treason against science."
"But aren’t scientists today a bit less defensive about the church?"
Kohler grunted in disgust. "Why should we be? The church may not be burning scientists at the stake anymore, but if you think they’ve released their reign over science, ask yourself why half the schools in your country are not allowed to teach evolution. Ask yourself why the U.S. Christian Coalition is the most influential lobby against scientific progress in the world. The battle between science and religion is still raging, Mr. Langdon. It has moved from the battlefields to the boardrooms, but it is still raging."
