Or the large pistol clutched in his hand.

  CHAPTER 50

  Lieutenant Pavel burst into the Petřín Tower visitor’s hall with his gun already drawn.

  “Kde je ten Američan?!” he shouted in Czech to the attendant behind the counter.

  The frightened woman backed up, dropping the stack of brochures she was arranging in the countertop display. She pointed overhead as Pavel described Langdon. “He went up!” she exclaimed, cowering.

  Pavel could hear the elevator moving in the shaft, the sound growing louder. Descending. The staircase was cordoned off and closed. Perfect.

  The elevator pinged, and Pavel set his feet wide and raised his weapon. When the door slid open, he found himself aiming at a young Indian couple, both of whom leaped back at the sight of Pavel’s gun.

  “Get out!” Pavel commanded.

  As the couple scurried away, Pavel charged into the lift and stabbed the button for his lone option—the top. In his hand, the captain’s weapon was loaded and ready to fire.

  Ascending, Pavel paced the tiny compartment like a wild animal until finally the lift lurched to a stop and the doors opened, springing him free. He stormed out of the elevator with his gun raised. Finger on the trigger, he wheeled left and right, scanning the platform for his target. Nobody. Knowing there was only one place Langdon could be, Pavel sprinted clockwise around the elevator shaft to the other side of the tower. Strangely, he found nobody there either. Pressing on, Pavel ran all the way around the small platform and arrived right back where he had started.

  The elevator stood open. And empty.

  Where the hell did he go?!

  Pavel stopped, lowering his gun.

  The platform was deserted.

  The throbbing in Pavel’s skull suddenly intensified on account of his exertion, and with it surged a fresh wave of rage. The wind gusted, whistling loudly, but above that plaintive howl, Pavel heard something else—a repetitive pounding somewhere beneath the platform. For a moment, he thought a workman was hammering metal, but the rate was too frantic and fast.

  Then Pavel saw it.

  At the top of the descending spiral staircase, the NO ENTRY swag was lying on the ground…along with fresh footprints on the metal stairs.

  Bad move, Professor.

  Pavel leaped into the elevator just as the doors were starting to close. Even if Langdon managed the perilous descent without plunging over the railings, there would be nowhere to run once he reached the bottom.

  Sixty feet below the observation deck, Langdon feared he’d made a terrible mistake. He was bounding down the tight spiral of the open-air staircase at breakneck speed with almost no traction from his hard-soled loafers, which were clanging loudly on the icy metal treads. Somewhere above him, the elevator was already whirring back into motion, descending loudly through the enclosed shaft around which Langdon was spiraling.

  Faster, Robert.

  Langdon’s hands were quickly freezing as they slid along the metal railings on either side of the treacherous stairs, the only way to steady his descent on such perilous footing. Overhead, the elevator sounded like it was gaining on him, and Langdon questioned if he could win the race to the bottom. A tie would go in Pavel’s favor; the lieutenant was carrying a gun, and Langdon somehow doubted that the blow to Pavel’s head had imbued the man with any additional self-restraint.

  Where would I even run? He clearly won’t hesitate to shoot me.

  The only option Langdon had seen was Petřín Park behind the welcome center. And the only way to reach it would be to sprint through the visitor’s center and out of the building before the elevator doors opened.

  A moment later, however, he realized he was too late.

  As he spiraled down the staircase, the elevator shaft beside him began shuddering with an unmistakable sound—the grating scrape of the elevator passing him by.

  Lieutenant Pavel exploded into the visitor’s center like a bull entering a ring. The attendant and Indian couple were huddled to one side.

  “Kde je?!” Pavel shouted. “The American! Where?”

  The frightened attendant shook her head and shrugged.

  Good, Pavel thought. You’re still above me.

  He moved to the bottom of the spiral staircase and trained his weapon up into the void, awaiting Langdon’s arrival. After ten seconds passed, however, he quickly realized it was entirely too quiet above him. The clanging of Langdon’s footsteps had stopped.

  Dead silence.

  And then…he heard a heavy thud directly overhead.

  Langdon landed harder than anticipated on the roof of the visitor’s center. Having halted his descent where the stairs entered the rooftop, he had gripped the handrail and swung his legs up and to the left, launching his body over the low railing and sticking an inelegant landing on the gently sloped roof.

  He rolled onto his stomach, slid down to the edge, and lowered himself feetfirst over the gutter, dropping the short distance to the ground on the backside of the building. Langdon assumed his amateur gymnastics had not gone undetected inside, and he wasted no time dashing into the woods and moving away from the tower as fast as he could.

  Barely thirty yards from the structure, Langdon heard Pavel yelling and crashing through the snowy forest behind him. That was fast. Langdon had hoped for a longer head start. He also wished his footwear had been made by Nike rather than Tod’s.

  As he sprinted through the trees, Langdon had the uneasy sense that Petřín Tower had all been a setup. Within a few minutes of Langdon’s arrival, ÚZSI had appeared. He wondered if perhaps the note had been left by Pavel? Was he trying to isolate me so he could shoot me? Does someone actually want me dead?!

  I have Katherine. Come to Petřín Tower.

  Clearly, Katherine was not here, and it seemed unlikely that she had been. Nothing was making much sense—including Katherine’s Enochian email.

  LXXEDOC?

  What is she trying to tell me?!

  Not far ahead, Langdon saw a clearing with several of the park’s attractions—carousel, pony stable, rose garden, chapel. Breaking free of the forest, he dashed onto the gravel courtyard, grateful for the firmer footing, though he could hear the heavy footfalls of his pursuer behind him.

  Langdon raced past the stable and garden to the chapel, whose rooftop belvedere was historically a symbol of “sanctuary,” although the padlock on its door sent a different message. Without breaking stride, he scanned the plaza for any other shelter. He saw three buildings ahead and made his decision in an instant.

  The first two structures were most likely locked at this hour—Calvary Chapel and the Church of St. Lawrence—both part of a program to Christianize this pagan hill. The third structure was a kitschy, bright yellow, fairy-tale castle whose faux turrets flew colorful coat-of-arm banners on rooked fortress walls. Beyond the fake drawbridge, a man in a medieval costume was just now hoisting the iron gate, apparently opening the castle for the day. Over the entrance hung a banner that read: Vítejte / Welcome.

  Sometimes the universe points the way, Langdon thought.

  Whether or not the sign was a cosmic nudge in the right direction, Langdon saw no other options for cover. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Pavel had already emerged from the woods at the far end of the plaza, and he seemed to be gaining ground. Digging in, Langdon dashed across the faux drawbridge, past the startled attendant, skidding into a small anteroom whose unmanned ticket booth bore a sign:

  ZRCADLOVÉ BLUDIŠTĚ

  Langdon had no idea what the words meant, but it didn’t matter; the anteroom contained a single turnstile that blocked what appeared to be the only entrance into the castle—a narrow archway into a darkened hallway.

  Forgive me, Cinderella, Langdon thought, vaulting over the turnstile and rushing through the opening. He sprinted down a stone corridor, took a hard left, and plunged into a glistening six-sided room. Langdon skidded to a halt, stunned by what he saw surrounding him.

  What the…?!

  Six men stood in a circle, evenly spaced around Langdon, all staring directly at him.

  Stranger still, all six men were Robert Langdon himself.

  Langdon now realized the meaning of ZRCADLOVÉ BLUDIŠTĚ, and he desperately wished he had made a different choice.

  CHAPTER 51

  The purple glow of The Golěm’s apartment felt soothing after the violent episode of Michael Harris’s death. Having taken a quick shower and donned a robe, The Golěm now kneeled silently in his darkened sanctuary to his svatyně—the sacred room in which he kept the shrine he had erected to her.

  A tribute to the woman I was born to protect.

  Kneeling in the darkness, he struck a match and lit the three votive candles that were arranged among the dried flowers on the table. As the flickering light grew brighter, he raised his eyes to the photo hanging above the shrine.

  The Golěm smiled lovingly at her face.

  I am here to watch over you…and yet you don’t even know me.

  The details of the woman’s face were not classically beautiful. She had strong Slavic features, shoulder-length blond hair, and a broken nose…but Sasha Vesna was The Golěm’s entire world.

  I am your protector, Sasha.

  Although she didn’t know it, Sasha’s soul had collided with his years ago in a Russian mental institution…in a moment of horrific violence. Sasha had been alone and unprotected, enduring a brutal beating from the wicked night nurse, a woman called Malvina, when The Golěm had appeared in the room, unable to bear the abuse any longer. Fueled by an upwelling of outrage, The Golěm had intervened, lashing out with brutal force and breaking the nurse’s neck.

  Mercifully, Sasha had been unconscious and never discovered what had truly transpired that night. The Golěm had slipped silently back into the darkness undetected…but in that moment, their two souls had become forever intertwined, and he had pledged to protect her.

  The night I saved her life…is the night I became her protector.

  Before his act of compassion, he had been an empty vessel, a ghostly spirit. But in that instant, as if struck by a beam of energy from another realm, he felt his life begin, immediately understanding who he was and the nature of his mystical connection to Sasha Vesna.

  I am her guardian angel.

  She is my entire reason for living, for suffering, for being.

  And yet…she must never know.

  To this day, Sasha Vesna had no idea The Golěm even existed…much less that he was involved in her life, watching from the shadows, protecting her innocent soul from the stark horrors of the world.

  Sasha’s body and mind had been abused by Brigita Gessner. Michael Harris, on the other hand, had betrayed Sasha’s heart—the cruelest of all deceptions.

  “Michael…” The Golěm had whispered only twenty minutes earlier, gripping the neck of the unconscious man to secure the plastic bag tightly over his face. “Your betrayal was the harshest of all. I watched you prey on Sasha’s loneliness. I watched you lie in bed, wrapped in her arms, pretending to love her.”

  The Golěm had tightened his grip without remorse, feeling his fingertips burrow into Harris’s flesh.

  “Sasha will be heartbroken to learn of your death,” he whispered, “but that would be nothing compared to her learning the truth…that the only man she ever loved was using her…deceiving her…spying on her.”

  As the pulse in Michael Harris’s neck grew faint, The Golěm knew, from his own deaths, that the man was leaving his body now, hovering in this room, bearing witness to his own demise.

  The Golěm had turned his eyes upward at the ceiling, addressing Harris directly. “She is a child, Michael…Abandoned by her parents…Locked in an asylum…Lured to Prague by a monster. Everyone in her life betrayed her…except me!”

  When the last trace of life had been wrung from Harris’s body, The Golěm leaned down and coldly whispered the same words he had heard Sasha whisper to Harris as he fell asleep in her arms. “Spokoynoy nochi, milyy. Good night, sweetheart.”

  This piece of The Golěm’s plan had been a success. Michael Harris had been cornered alone. Sasha was safely locked away. And the American professor, Robert Langdon, had been sent off. Langdon did not deserve to die, but the man’s presence at Sasha’s apartment would have made it impossible for The Golěm to execute Harris. And so The Golěm had improvised, leaving a note at Sasha’s door that would cause Langdon to scramble in search of Katherine Solomon.

  Langdon would not find her at Petřín Tower, of course.

  There’s a good chance he will never find her, The Golěm thought, recalling what Gessner had confessed last night while ice-cold saline tore through her body.

  “Katherine has no idea the danger she is in…” Gessner had uttered through the pain. “The people I work for…they will stop at nothing to silence her.”

  CHAPTER 52

  MetLife Stadium is located several miles south of Teterboro Airport in East Rutherford, New Jersey, and is one of the highest-grossing stadiums in the world. Home to both the New York Giants and New York Jets football teams, the stadium was built with transformation in mind, regularly swapping out banners, field logos, and lighting schemes from Giants Blue to Jets Green each week to host the home team.

  Tonight, as the deserted stadium loomed to Faukman’s right, it looked foreign to him—like some kind of dark mother ship abandoned in the middle of a sprawling parking lot. He checked his rearview mirror for any sign of pursuit, and seeing nobody, Faukman pulled the stolen SUV off Route 17, swung around behind the stadium, and parked in one of nearly thirty thousand available spaces.

  Take a minute, Jonas. Think.

  He had been white-knuckling the SUV at ninety mph, and his nerves were frayed. This moment of calm was a welcome respite, especially as the warmth of the seat heater finally began permeating his body.

  Alone now in the deserted parking lot, Faukman checked his phone, concerned that Langdon had not called back. He’s got to be awake by now…it’s nine in the morning in Prague. Faukman’s call history showed no missed calls except for several from a Penguin Random House IT extension, which at this hour Faukman imagined could only be the security technician, Alex.

  Faukman tapped the button to call the tech back, hoping he might have information that could shed some light on what was going on here. The familiar voice of Alex Conan answered on the first ring.

  “Mr. Faukman! Where have you been? Are you okay?!”

  I’m nowhere near okay, kid.

  “I need to warn you,” Alex continued breathlessly. “The hackers who deleted your manuscript…I think they may be very dangerous.”

  No shit, Faukman thought, unconsciously touching his sore abdomen where he’d been punched. “I came to the same conclusion, Alex.”

  “And…well…I’m just so sorry to have to tell you this, but…” The tech’s voice cracked, and Faukman felt a rising alarm.

  Tell me what?

  “I…I think they might have killed one of your authors.”

  The editor hoped he had misheard the words.

  As the young tech shared what he had learned, Faukman listened in shock, thinking he would be sick.

  One mile away, having tracked Faukman’s phone from a safe distance, the two operatives—Auger and Chinburg—were now parked on a quiet residential street in East Rutherford, New Jersey, adjacent to MetLife Stadium. They were listening to the phone call through their iPad.

  What they heard was alarming to them as well.

  One of the American authors had been killed in Prague? Was it Langdon or Solomon? Clearly, something has gone terribly wrong.

  Then again, Mr. Finch had made it abundantly clear that the recovery of Katherine Solomon’s manuscript was of vital importance. And Finch always accomplished his mission, whatever the cost.

  CHAPTER 53

  Prague’s historic Zrcadlové Bludiště—Mirror Maze—was built in 1891 for the Prague Jubilee Exhibition, and to this day it remains a popular spot for tourists and children. Despite being a short labyrinth by modern standards, the maze can still be difficult to navigate due to the disorienting nature of its layout and angled reflective walls.

  Robert Langdon had stalled in the very first chamber…surrounded by panicked images of himself. Pavel is right behind you. It took Langdon a moment to see that one of the reflections was slightly smaller than the others, and he ran toward it, finding the mirror recessed by several feet, hiding a cleverly disguised opening, beyond which a mirrored hallway extended in both directions.

  Left or right, Langdon wondered, having always disliked the random guessing game of mazes. Statistically speaking, in a right-hand-biased world, when presented with a choice of right or left, the overwhelming majority turned right, which meant maze designers usually ensured the first right-hand turn was a circuitous mistake.

  Langdon dashed to the left. As he did, he placed his right hand against the wall, letting his fingers run along the mirrors. Never lose touch with the wall.

  He had learned the trick as a child, thanks to his passion for Greek mythology and the legend of Crete’s famed Minotaur’s Labyrinth. The labrys double ax was a symbol of choice, and indeed it was choice that made the Labyrinth so challenging. But the savvy Minoans removed the burden of choice with the hand-on-the-wall strategy; without needing to deliberate, a maze-goer simply followed whichever direction the hand on the wall led. It didn’t guarantee the shortest route out, but it did guarantee never having to make the same choice twice, resulting in a faster escape…and, in their case, avoiding death at the hands of the Minotaur.

  When Langdon reached the next intersection, instead of hesitating to make a choice, he kept his hand on the mirror as he ran, turning immediately to his left, committed to following wherever it guided him. Over and over, Langdon turned, hand on the wall, moving deeper into the maze.

  He could hear Pavel lumbering through passageways somewhere nearby, his loud breathing sometimes only a thin mirror’s breadth away. Langdon ran as quietly as he could, knowing that if he’d made the wrong initial guess by turning left, then this hand-on-the-wall strategy would eventually lead him back along this same hallway in the opposite direction…potentially directly into Pavel’s path.