Page 17 of The Secret of Secrets

Langdon saw little choice but to tell the truth. “I thought there was going to be an explosion.”

The officer’s only reaction was a faint twitch of his furry eyebrows. “Interesting. And what might cause this explosion?”

“I don’t know…perhaps a bomb.”

“I see. Perhaps a bomb. So, you feared there was a bomb in this hotel…and yet you ran back inside the building and upstairs to this suite?”

“To warn my…friend.”

The man pulled a notepad from his jacket and read it. “Your friend is Ms. Katherine Solomon?”

Langdon felt a chill to hear Katherine’s name on the lips of a Czech intelligence officer. The situation was feeling more serious by the moment. “That’s correct. But she was already gone.”

“I see, I see. So, knowing your friend was safe, rather than taking the stairs back out, you risked drowning in an icy river by jumping out the window?”

Langdon had to admit that the action surprised even himself. “I panicked. A church bell suddenly began tolling…It seemed ominous.”

“Ominous?” He looked offended. “It’s called Angelus, Professor. Church bells ring on the hour here as a call to morning prayer. I would have thought you knew that.”

“Yes, of course, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. The bells made it feel like I was…I don’t know…out of time. I had seen police in the lobby earlier—”

“Out of time? So…your bomb was a time bomb? Set for seven a.m.?”

It wasn’t my bomb! Langdon strained to retain his composure. “No, I was just very confused, and I reacted on instinct. Of course, I will pay for the—”

“No need to pay, sir,” the man said, his tone softening. “People get confused. That’s not a problem. I’m just trying to understand why you thought there would be an explosion. Where did you get your information?”

I can’t possibly tell him, Langdon knew. The truth was implausible—unlikely beyond belief—and an honest confession ran a serious risk of backfiring. He’ll never believe me. Langdon suddenly sensed he might need an attorney.

“Mr. Langdon?” the officer pressed.

Langdon shifted, holding his towel around his waist. “As I said, I was confused. I had bad information.”

The captain’s gaze narrowed as he took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Actually, Professor, that is not the problem. The problem is you had good information. Very good information.”

“I don’t understand.”

The officer glared, eyes probing. “No?”

Langdon shook his head.

“Professor,” the captain said icily. “Early this morning, in this very hotel, my team located and defused…a bomb. It was set to detonate at exactly seven a.m.”

Chapter 9

In flickering candlelight, The Golěm glanced once more at her photo on the wall. Then he blew out the candles and exited his sacred space.

I am reborn.

Bathed in the ephemeral glow of his flat, he entered his dressing room. His hooded cloak and platform boots lay crumpled on the floor, hastily jettisoned so he could receive the Ether—a journey he always took unclothed, unadorned, and in total darkness.

The Golěm carefully rehung his costume, brushing off the loose bits of dried clay that clung to the collar. Tourists were often startled by his appearance, but the locals barely even glanced. Prague was a city of drama and fantasy, and revelers regularly walked the streets masquerading as storied characters from her history—famous ghosts, witches, star-crossed lovers, martyred saints…and this hulking monster made of clay.

Prague’s oldest legend.

A mystical guardian…just like me.

The Golěm knew the clay monster’s tale by heart because it was his own—a protective spirit…thrust into physical form…tasked with sacrificing his own comfort to carry another’s pain.