Page 111 of The Secret of Secrets

Langdon looked surprised. “Why?”

Katherine shrugged. “Maybe she thought it would be more welcoming?”

From the troubled look on Langdon’s face, she could see he found this change to be the exact opposite of welcoming. “Special protections for U.S. citizens take effect only inside the embassy itself,” he whispered. “The ambassador knows that. Meeting at her residence means you and I are still…unprotected. Exposed.”

Katherine felt a stab of panic. What could they possibly want from us? She wished she’d never accepted Gessner’s request to speak in Prague.

“For whatever reason, this all revolves around your book, Katherine.” Langdon leaned forward, his eyes holding hers. “You need to talk to me. We’ve only got a few minutes alone, and you need to tell me everything. What’s in the manuscript? What did you discover?”

Katherine had wanted Langdon to read about her experiments and conclusions in full detail, but that luxury was no longer an option.

There is no manuscript…and there is no time.

“Okay,” she whispered, sliding closer to him. “I’ll tell you.”

Chapter 71

In the midst of Prague’s ritzy retail district, a small plot of earth stands untouched, encircled by a stone fortification. For five centuries, this sacred ground had been a somber chronicle to the intolerance of humankind.

The Old Jewish Cemetery, The Golěm thought as he stepped through the gate into the mossy, tree-dotted sanctuary.

The ghostly landscape before him was packed wall to wall with headstones—more than twelve thousand of them in this tiny space. The ancient tombstones were crowded in so tightly that many were touching one another…pitched over in all directions. The scene looked more like a storage area for headstones than any kind of sacred burial ground.

Incredibly, there were over one hundred thousand bodies buried in this three-acre plot of land. Jews in fifteenth-century Prague were relegated to the peripheries of societal acceptance and cordoned off into their own ghetto. When they needed to bury their dead, as was Jewish custom, those in power allotted them only a very small piece of land to do so.

Because Jewish custom forbade the exhumation of a buried body, when space in the cemetery was at capacity, the Jewish leaders merely brought in a new layer of earth, building it over the original graveyard and moving the existing tombstones up to the new ground level. This process was repeated many times over the centuries, each time resulting in a new layer of bodies and a new group of tombstones. In some places, the bodies were buried twelve deep, and without its retaining walls, it was said the Old Cemetery would have long ago spilled out into the surrounding streets, strewing five centuries of bones in all directions.

As he moved into the graveyard, The Golěm stopped at the large wooden box and selected a kippa—the traditional Jewish “dome” or skullcap worn by cemetery visitors as a symbol of humility and reverence. He lowered the hood of his cloak and placed the kippa on his clay-caked skull, ignoring the glances and whispers of the handful of visitors nearby. He could understand how his presence here in costume might be perceived as disrespectful, but in fact he felt only respect for this sacred place…and for the rabbi who had created the first of his kind.

Advancing with deliberation, The Golěm navigated the chaotic clutter of tombstones, careful not to slip on the mossy cobblestone pathway. Moving toward the fringes of the cemetery and the western wall, The Golěm made his way to the tomb of Rabbi Loew.

The rabbi’s gravestone stood almost two meters tall and was ornately decorated with the symbol of a lion, attesting to Rabbi Loew’s surname—“Löw” or “Lion.” The narrow ledge across the top of the monument was littered with dozens of tiny, folded slips of paper on which prayers had been written and left behind by visitors. Those who didn’t have paper had left pebbles, in keeping with Jewish tradition.

Alone before the elegant tomb, The Golěm reverently knelt on the cold ground and opened his mind to the unseen connections of the universe…the unity of souls that so many failed to perceive…and refused to believe.

We are as one.

Separation is an illusion.

Minutes passed, and The Golěm could feel himself absorbing power from this mystical place. Slowly, he began to feel a growing presence, and the strength of the original golem flowed up through the earth and filled his soul.

Chapter 72

As the embassy limousine turned left onto Mánesův Bridge, Katherine opened a bottle of Kofola cola from the limousine’s bar and took a long sip. Langdon waited as she gazed out at the spires of Prague Castle. She seemed to be organizing her thoughts for what she was about to say.

I want to hear everything, he thought, still unable to imagine what Katherine could have discovered that would trigger someone to destroy her manuscript. Or commit murder…

“Okay,” Katherine said, lowering the bottle and turning to him. “There’s a scientific phenomenon called the replication crisis. Are you familiar with it?”

Langdon had heard the term bandied about by his colleagues in the science department. “If I’m not mistaken, it refers to any experimental result that occurs once and cannot be replicated.”

“Precisely,” she said. “And over the past fifty years, dozens of highly respected scientists have produced a range of laboratory results that strongly support nonlocal consciousness. Some of these experiments have yielded results that are truly mind-boggling…and yet attempts to repeat them have either failed or produced inconclusive results.”

Like cold fusion, Langdon thought.

“It’s actually quite maddening,” Katherine said, frustration in her voice. “Most of these nonrepeatable results stem from meticulously executed, peer-reviewed experiments, carried out by skilled, reputable scientists.”

“Even so, their results are discredited?”