Page 101 of The Lost Symbol

“I assume the layout looks familiar now?” Langdon asked.

“Four-by-four square.”

Langdon picked up the pencil and carefully transcribed Dürer’s numbered magic square onto the slip of paper, directly beside the lettered square. Katherine was now seeing just how easy this was going to be. He stood poised, pencil in hand, and yet . . . strangely, after all this enthusiasm, he seemed to hesitate.

“Robert?”

He turned to her, his expression one of trepidation. “Are you sure we want to do this? Peter expressly—”

“Robert, if you don’t want to decipher this engraving, then I will.” She held out her hand for the pencil.

Langdon could tell there would be no deterring her and so he acquiesced, turning his attention back to the pyramid. Carefully, he superimposed the magic square over the pyramid’s grid of letters and assigned each letter a number. Then he created a new grid, placing the Masonic cipher’s letters in the new order as defined by the sequence in Dürer’s magic square.

When Langdon was finished, they both examined the result.

Katherine immediately felt confused. “It’s still gibberish.”

Langdon remained silent a long moment. “Actually, Katherine, it’s not gibberish.” His eyes brightened again with the thrill of discovery. “It’s . . . Latin.”

In a long, dark corridor, an old blind man shuffled as quickly as he could toward his office. When he finally arrived, he collapsed in his desk chair, his old bones grateful for the reprieve. His answering machine was beeping. He pressed the button and listened.

“It’s Warren Bellamy,” said the hushed whisper of his friend and Masonic brother. “I’m afraid I have alarming news . . .”

Katherine Solomon’s eyes shot back to the grid of letters, reexamining the text. Sure enough, a Latin word now materialized before her eyes. Jeova.

Katherine had not studied Latin, but this word was familiar from her reading of ancient Hebrew texts. Jeova. Jehovah. As her eyes continued to trace downward, reading the grid like a book, she was surprised to realize she could read the entire text of the pyramid.

Jeova Sanctus Unus.

She knew its meaning at once. This phrase was ubiquitous in modern translations of Hebrew scripture. In the Torah, the God of the Hebrews was known by many names—Jeova, Jehovah, Jeshua, Yahweh, the Source, the Elohim—but many Roman translations had consolidated the confusing nomenclature into a single Latin phrase: Jeova Sanctus Unus.

“One true God?” she whispered to herself. The phrase certainly did not seem like something that would help them find her brother. “That’s this pyramid’s secret message? One true God? I thought this was a map.”

Langdon looked equally perplexed, the excitement in his eyes evaporating. “This decryption obviously is correct, but . . .”

“The man who has my brother wants to know a location.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “This is not going to make him very happy.”

“Katherine,” Langdon said, heaving a sigh. “I’ve been afraid of this. All night, I’ve had a feeling we’re treating as reality a collection of myths and allegories. Maybe this inscription is pointing to a metaphorical location—telling us that the true potential of man can be accessed only through the one true God.”

“But that makes no sense!” Katherine replied, her jaw now clenched in frustration. “My family protected this pyramid for generations! One true God? That’s the secret? And the CIA considers this an issue of national security? Either they’re lying or we’re missing something!”

Langdon shrugged in accord.

Just then, his phone began to ring.

In a cluttered office lined with old books, the old man hunched over his desk, clutching a phone receiver in his arthritic hand.

The line rang and rang.

At last, a tentative voice answered. “Hello?” The voice was deep but uncertain.

The old man whispered, “I was told you require sanctuary.”

The man on the line seemed startled. “Who is this? Did Warren Bell—”

“No names, please,” the old man said. “Tell me, have you successfully protected the map that was entrusted to you?”

A startled pause. “Yes . . . but I don’t think it matters. It doesn’t say much. If it is a map, it seems to be more metaphorical than—”