There in the darkness, a brilliant white light shone like a gleaming jewel.
Langdon now understood it all — the barricade on the access road. . the guards at the main entrance. . the heavy metal door outside. . the automatic doors that rumbled open and closed. . the heaviness in his stomach. . the lightness in his head. . and now this tiny stone chamber.
«Robert,» Peter whispered behind him, «sometimes a change of perspective is all it takes to see the light.»
Speechless, Langdon stared out through the window. His gaze traveled into the darkness of the night, traversing more than a mile of empty space, dropping lower. . lower. . through the darkness. . until it came to rest atop the brilliantly illuminated, stark white dome of the U.S. Capitol Building.
Langdon had never seen the Capitol from this perspective — hovering 555 feet in the air atop America’s great Egyptian obelisk. Tonight, for the first time in his life, he had ridden the elevator up to the tiny viewing chamber. . at the pinnacle of the Washington Monument.
CHAPTER 129
Robert Langdon stood mesmerized at the glass portal, absorbing the power of the landscape below him. having ascended unknowingly hundreds of feet into the air, he was now admiring one of the most spectacular vistas he had ever seen.
The shining dome of the U.S. Capitol rose like a mountain at the east end of the National Mall. On either side of the building, two parallel lines of light stretched toward him. . the illuminated facades of the Smithsonian museums. . beacons of art, history, science, culture.
Langdon now realized to his astonishment that much of what Peter had declared to be true. . was in fact true.
More startling, however, was the knowledge that this capstone’s ultimate peak, the zenith of this obelisk, was crowned by a tiny, polished tip of aluminum — a metal as precious as gold in its day. The shining apex of the Washington Monument was only about a foot tall, the same size as the Masonic Pyramid. Incredibly, this small metal pyramid bore a famous engraving —
The simplest of ciphers.
«Praise God,» Peter said behind him, flipping on the soft lighting in the chamber. «The Masonic Pyramid’s final code.»
Langdon turned. His friend was grinning broadly, and Langdon recalled that Peter had actually
Langdon felt a chill to realize how apt it was that the legendary Masonic Pyramid had guided him
In a state of wonder, Langdon began moving counterclockwise around the perimeter of the tiny square room, arriving now at another viewing window.
Through this northward-facing window, Langdon gazed down at the familiar silhouette of the White House directly in front of him. He raised his eyes to the horizon, where the straight line of Sixteenth Street ran due north toward the House of the Temple.
He continued around the perimeter to the next window. Looking west, Langdon’s eyes traced the long rectangle of the reflecting pool to the Lincoln Memorial, its classical Greek architecture inspired by the Parthenon in Athens, Temple to Athena — goddess of heroic undertakings.
Continuing to the final window, Langdon gazed southward across the dark waters of the Tidal Basin, where the Jefferson Memorial shone brightly in the night. The gently sloping cupola, Langdon knew, was modeled after the Pantheon, the original home to the great Roman gods of mythology.
having looked in all four directions, langdon now thought about the aerial photos he had seen of the national mall — her four arms outstretched from the washington monument toward the cardinal points of the compass.
Langdon continued back around to where Peter was standing. His mentor was beaming. «Well, Robert, this is it. The Lost Word.
Langdon did a double take. He had all but forgotten about the Lost Word.
«Robert, I know of nobody more trustworthy than you. And after a night like tonight, I believe you deserve to know what this is all about. As promised in legend, the Lost Word is indeed buried at the bottom of a winding staircase.» He motioned to the mouth of the monument’s long stairwell.
Langdon had finally started to get his feet back under him, but now he was puzzled.
Peter quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. «Do you remember this?»
Langdon took the cube-shaped box that Peter had entrusted to him long ago. «Yes. . but I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of protecting it.»
Solomon chuckled. «Perhaps the time had come for it to see the light of day.»
Langdon eyed the stone cube, wondering why Peter had just handed it to him.
«What does this look like to you?» Peter asked.
Langdon eyed the 1514 and recalled his first impression when Katherine had unwrapped the package. «A cornerstone.»
«Exactly,» Peter replied. «Now, there are a few things you might not know about cornerstones. First, the
Langdon nodded. «The Book of Psalms.»
«Correct. And a true cornerstone is always
Langdon glanced out at the Capitol, recalling that its cornerstone was buried so deep in the foundation that, to this day, excavations had been unable to find it.
