the capitol visitor center was not at all what he had expected. because the space was underground, langdon had been apprehensive about passing through it. a childhood accident had left him stranded at the bottom of a deep well overnight, and langdon now lived with an almost crippling aversion to enclosed spaces. but this underground space was. . airy somehow.
The ceiling was a vast expanse of glass with a series of dramatic light fixtures that threw a muted glow across the pearl-colored interior finishes.
Normally, Langdon would have taken a full hour in here to admire the architecture, but with five minutes until showtime, he put his head down and dashed through the main hall toward the security checkpoint and escalators.
At the security point, a young Hispanic guard chatted with him while Langdon emptied his pockets and removed his vintage watch.
«Mickey Mouse?» the guard said, sounding mildly amused.
Langdon nodded, accustomed to the comments. The collector’s edition Mickey Mouse watch had been a gift from his parents on his ninth birthday. «I wear it to remind me to slow down and take life less seriously.»
«I don’t think it’s working,» the guard said with a smile. «You look like you’re in a serious hurry.»
Langdon smiled and put his daybag through the X-ray machine. «Which way to the Statuary Hall?»
The guard motioned toward the escalators. «You’ll see the signs.»
«Thanks.» Langdon grabbed his bag off the conveyor and hurried on.
As the escalator ascended, Langdon took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. He gazed up through the rain-speckled glass ceiling at the mountainous form of the illuminated Capitol Dome overhead. It was an astonishing building. High atop her roof, almost three hundred feet in the air, the Statue of Freedom peered out into the misty darkness like a ghostly sentinel. Langdon always found it ironic that the workers who hoisted each piece of the nineteen-and-a-half-foot bronze statue to her perch were slaves — a Capitol secret that seldom made the syllabi of high school history classes.
This entire building, in fact, was a treasure trove of bizarre arcana that included a «killer bathtub» responsible for the pneumonic murder of Vice President Henry Wilson, a staircase with a permanent bloodstain over which an inordinate number of guests seemed to trip, and a sealed basement chamber in which workers in 1930 discovered General John Alexander Logan’s long-deceased stuffed horse.
no legends were as enduring, however, as the claims of thirteen different ghosts that haunted this building. the spirit of city designer pierre l’enfant frequently was reported wandering the halls, seeking payment of his bill, now two hundred years overdue. the ghost of a worker who fell from the capitol dome during construction was seen wandering the corridors with a tray of tools. and, of course, the most famous apparition of all, reported numerous times in the capitol basement — an ephemeral black cat that prowled the substructure’s eerie maze of narrow passageways and cubicles.
Langdon stepped off the escalator and again checked his watch.
It was no secret that D.C. had a rich Masonic history. The cornerstone of this very building had been laid in a full Masonic ritual by George Washington himself. This city had been conceived and designed by Master Masons — George Washington, Ben Franklin, and Pierre L’Enfant — powerful minds who adorned their new capital with Masonic symbolism, architecture, and art.
Many conspiracy theorists claimed the Masonic forefathers had concealed powerful secrets throughout Washington along with symbolic messages hidden in the city’s layout of streets. Langdon never paid any attention. Misinformation about the Masons was so commonplace that even educated Harvard students seemed to have surprisingly warped conceptions about the brotherhood.
Last year, a freshman had rushed wild-eyed into Langdon’s classroom with a printout from the Web. It was a street map of D.C. on which certain streets had been highlighted to form various shapes — satanic pentacles, a Masonic compass and square, the head of Baphomet — proof apparently that the Masons who designed Washington, D.C., were involved in some kind of dark, mystical conspiracy.
«Fun,» Langdon said, «but hardly convincing. If you draw enough intersecting lines on a map, you’re bound to find all kinds of shapes.»
«But this can’t be coincidence!» the kid exclaimed.
Langdon patiently showed the student that the same exact shapes could be formed on a street map of Detroit.
The kid seemed sorely disappointed.
«don’t be disheartened,» langdon said. «washington
The young man perked up. «Secrets? Like what?»
«Every spring I teach a course called Occult Symbols. I talk a lot about D.C. You should take the course.»
«
Langdon smiled. «Sorry, but the word
«Oh.» The kid slumped.
Nonetheless, that spring, Langdon spotted the freshman seated in the front row as five hundred students bustled into Harvard’s Sanders Theatre, a hollow old lecture hall with creaking wooden benches.
«Good morning, everybody,» Langdon shouted from the expansive stage. He turned on a slide projector, and an image materialized behind him. «As you’re getting settled, how many of you recognize the building in this picture?»
«U.S. Capitol!» dozens of voices called out in unison. «Washington, D.C.!»
«Yes. There are nine million pounds of ironwork in that dome. An unparalleled feat of architectural ingenuity for the 1850s.»
«Awesome!» somebody shouted.
Langdon rolled his eyes, wishing somebody would ban that word. «Okay, and how many of you have ever been to Washington?»
A scattering of hands went up.
«So few?» Langdon feigned surprise. «And how many of you have been to Rome, Paris, Madrid, or London?»
Almost all the hands in the room went up.
«No drinking age in Europe!» someone in back shouted.
Langdon smiled. «As if the drinking age
Everyone laughed.
It was the first day of school, and the students were taking longer than usual to get settled, shifting and creaking in their wooden pews. Langdon loved teaching in this hall because he always knew how engaged the students were simply by listening to how much they fidgeted in their pews.
«Seriously,» Langdon said, «Washington, D.C., has some of the world’s finest architecture, art, and symbolism. Why would you go overseas before visiting your own capital?»
«Ancient stuff is cooler,» someone said.
«And by ancient stuff,» Langdon clarified, «I assume you mean castles, crypts, temples, that sort of thing?»
