Page 18 of The Secret of Secrets

According to sixteenth-century legend, a powerful rabbi named Judah Loew dug wet clay from the banks of the Vltava River and used it to build a monster that he hoped would protect his people. Using Kabbalistic magic, the rabbi inscribed the Hebrew word into the forehead of the lifeless guardian, and the clay monster immediately sprang to life, infused with a soul from another realm.

The word on his forehead was אמת—emet. Truth.

The rabbi called his creation a golem—meaning “raw material” in Hebrew—a reference to the earthen clay from which the monster had been forged. Thereafter, the golem patrolled the streets of the Jewish Ghetto, protecting those in danger, killing evildoers, and ensuring the safety of the community.

But here, the legend took a dark turn.

The monster became lonely and confused by its own violence, eventually turning on its creator. The rabbi barely managed to survive the monster’s attack by desperately reaching up and smearing away one of the Hebrew letters on the creature’s forehead.

By erasing the letter aleph, א, the Hebrew word for truth—emet—was transformed into something far darker—met—the Hebrew word for dead.

אמת became מת.

Truth became…Death.

The monster collapsed in a heap, lifeless.

Standing over his fallen creation, the rabbi took no chances. He quickly dismantled the clay body and hid the pieces in the attic of Prague’s Old-New Synagogue, where the earthen shards were said to remain to this day, overlooking the ancient cemetery where Rabbi Loew was now buried.

That cemetery is where my journey began, The Golěm thought, regarding his own dark costume hanging inanimately. I am The Golěm. Another incarnation…in the cycle of souls.

He too had been summoned as a protector—a guardian of the woman whose photo hung on the wall in his svatyně. She could never know he existed or what he had done for her. Nor, especially, what I soon will do.

He had already killed one of her most devious betrayers, Brigita Gessner. He could still hear the echoes of her voice as she desperately divulged everything she and her coconspirators had done.

Some of her fellow betrayers were here in Prague, well within The Golěm’s reach. Others were thousands of miles away—power brokers who moved in the shadows.

I will not rest until all are punished.

The Golěm knew of only one way to accomplish that.

I will destroy everything they have created.

Chapter 10

They defused a bomb?!

Robert Langdon’s thoughts spun wildly as he got dressed in the hotel bedroom. He could not fathom that a bomb attack had actually been thwarted this morning, much less the event with the woman on the bridge.

Minutes ago, Langdon had requested a closer look at the Czech officer’s ID, which the man had begrudgingly granted, confirming that he was Oldřich Janáček, a sixty-one-year-old captain at ÚZSI. The acronym, he informed Langdon, stood for Úřad pro zahraniční styky a informace—the Office for Foreign Relations and Information—and was pronounced “exactly like the submachine gun—Uzi.”

The agency’s logo of the Lion Rampant was accompanied by the motto Sine Ira et Studio, which meant “Without Anger or Bias,” although the captain’s demeanor seemed to suggest the presence of both.

Janáček had been standing in Langdon’s bedroom doorway for the last three minutes, arguing in Czech on his phone while keeping one eye on Langdon.

Does he think I’m going to run?

Langdon finished dressing, finally feeling warm in his heavy chinos, turtleneck, and thick Dale sweater. He grabbed his antique Mickey Mouse watch off the dresser and strapped it on, sensing that today he might need a constant reminder to remain light of heart.

“Ne!” Janáček shouted angrily into the phone. “Tady velím já!”

He hung up and turned to Langdon. “That was your chůva. He’s coming up to the room.”

My chůva? Langdon had no idea what the word meant, but clearly Janáček was not happy about his arrival.

Janáček was unusually lanky, with an inclined posture that gave him the appearance he might pitch forward at any moment. Langdon followed him into the living room, where the man made himself at home, igniting the gas fireplace, settling into a leather club chair, and crossing his spidery legs.

As he settled in, the suite’s door chime rang.