Page 218 of The Secret of Secrets

“I’m hoping you’ll forgive me…” he entreated. “It was a tough secret to keep.”

Katherine stared at him indecipherably and then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, melting into his body. “Paperwork…? Really?”

“Important paperwork,” he clarified. “Far too important to burn.”

She hugged him tighter. “There is one thing I just can’t believe—the esteemed Professor Langdon actually tore vellum pages out of an ancient book?”

“Blank pages,” he retorted. “They will never be missed. And as my prep school English teacher Mr. Lelchuk used to tell us: ‘The right book at the right time can save your life.’ ”

She laughed. “I’m fairly certain that’s not what he meant.”

“Probably not,” Langdon said, pulling her body closer to his.

Katherine had no idea how long they had been embracing on the pulpit of St. Vitus Cathedral when the cathedral bells overhead began to toll. She was lost in the joy of having her manuscript back…along with the waves of affection she was feeling for the man in her arms.

“I love you, Robert Langdon,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

Epilogue

Robert Langdon awoke to the sound of military drumming—a lone rhythmic snare, playing a battle cadence as if leading a small army. When he opened his eyes, he was looking out over the wintry expanse of a wooded park. In the distance, dawn’s first light was breaking, filtering through a maze of skyscrapers.

Manhattan, he remembered as his mind slowly sharpened. Mandarin Oriental Hotel. Fifty-second floor.

The drumming continued. It seemed close.

Langdon sat up in bed, now seeing that Katherine was awake beside him, propped up on her elbow, smiling playfully, her hair tousled and loose. She was tinkering with her new phone, which Langdon now realized was the source of the drumming.

“I got tired of Grieg’s ‘Morning Mood,’ ” she said. “I changed our wakeup call.”

To a military march? Langdon now heard a single flute join the drum, playing a familiar melody. “Wait…is that Boléro?”

She gave an innocent shrug. “Maybe.”

Ravel’s orchestral masterpiece was widely considered the most erotic piece of classical music ever written. Often called “the perfect soundtrack for lovemaking,” Boléro was fifteen minutes of insistent, pulsing rhythm that crescendoed into a full orchestra fortissimo climax that reviewers had referred to as a C-major orgasm.

“Subtle, you are not,” Langdon said, grabbing Katherine’s phone, turning up the volume, and playfully pinning her to the bed. For the next ten seconds, he gazed into her eyes and did absolutely nothing but listen to the snare and flute duet.

“Um, Robert?” Katherine finally said. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for the clarinet entrance in measure eighteen,” he replied. “I’m not a savage.”

An hour later, Langdon and Katherine were lounging in plush terry cloth robes, enjoying a room service breakfast in the sunlight that streamed in over Central Park.

Langdon’s body was sublimely content, and yet his mind was restless, eager for their afternoon meeting with Jonas Faukman at Random House Tower.

He still has no idea we have the manuscript.

Katherine’s book was safely stowed in their room’s safe, bound by two large rubber bands. Before leaving Prague, they had made three photocopies and securely sent one to Katherine, one to Langdon, and one to Jonas. With luck, they would not need any of them; Penguin Random House was only a few blocks away.

“Do you have a title yet?” Langdon asked. “Jonas will want to know.”

Katherine glanced up. “For my book? Nothing yet…”

“I ask only because you said something in Prague that’s been bouncing around in my mind. I think you might have landed on the perfect title.”

“Oh?”

“You told me that if science can prove there is indeed something beyond death, then we should be shouting that message from the mountaintops. You called it the secret of all secrets…and you claimed it would have enormous impact on the future of humanity.”