Page 122 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)

Three hundred meters from the epicenter of devastation, the subterranean tram tunnel back to Crucifix Bastion had survived more or less intact, despite no longer having power or lights. The small platform outside the entrance to Threshold was strewn with debris and dust.

Lying at the bottom of the concrete channel that housed the rails, a figure stirred.

In total darkness, The Golěm slowly rose to his knees, knowing he was lucky to be alive. His flight from Threshold had not gone as planned, and he had barely reached the tram before the blast had hurled him down into the concrete channel.

The question now was whether The Golěm would be able to exit this underground tomb.

The route behind him was undoubtedly destroyed and blocked by rubble.

The way forward, through the long, pitch-black tunnel, could easily have collapsed from the pressure wave, and there was no way to know if the elevator shaft leading to Crucifix Bastion was still intact.

Despite his profound exhaustion, The Golěm knew he could not afford to perish down here.

I must escape so I can release Sasha.

Fueled by this knowledge, The Golěm located the side of the channel, placed a hand on it, and then forced himself onward into the blackness.

Dragging his hand along the wall for guidance, he fell into a steady rhythm, his platform boots crunching on the uneven surface that was littered with occasional blast debris, his legs feeling heavier with every step.

A guardian angel cannot sleep.

Shaken and bruised, Langdon and Katherine inched through the murky garage, navigating the shattered edges of demolished vehicles and fallen concrete, moving toward the lone source of illumination—a sliver of daylight that grew brighter as the dust continued to settle.

When they finally reached the light, Langdon could see the garage’s massive sliding door had been knocked from its track. The bottom of the panel was bent outward, creating a low, narrow gap. Langdon crouched down and peered through, able to see a few feet of the inclined driveway beyond.

Unsure what they would find on the other side, Langdon went first, lying on his side and shimmying into the gap.

Inch by inch, he pulled himself headfirst through the opening.

The breach was tighter than imagined, and halfway through he felt another wave of claustrophobia grip him.

Desperately, he bucked his body until his hips finally cleared, enabling him to roll onto his hands and knees and scramble out into the open air.

The relief he felt to be free, however, was quickly dampened by the two black-clad soldiers standing over him with assault rifles aimed at his chest.

That went well.

Before Langdon could warn Katherine, she was already slithering through the opening, pulling her slender frame out onto the driveway with much less difficulty. As she looked up, the second soldier shifted his aim to her.

“Identification!” he shouted. “Now!”

Langdon squinted at his surroundings, seeing precisely what he feared—the heavily guarded construction entrance they had seen earlier, enclosed within the triangle of fencing.

“Identification!” the soldier repeated, stepping closer. “I’ll give you precisely—”

“STAND DOWN, SOLDIER!” an authoritative American voice shouted from the top of the driveway. An imposing U.S. Marine in full dress blues came striding down the incline. “THOSE TWO ARE WITH ME!”

The startled guards took a step back from Langdon and Katherine to engage with the Marine, who apparently outranked them. Their conversation was brief, and the two soldiers, clearly displeased at having been overruled, retreated back up the incline.

Langdon appreciated no longer having guns aimed at him, but he now feared he and Katherine might have fallen into an even more serious situation.

Who is this Marine? CIA? One of Finch’s cronies?

As the soldiers departed, the Marine’s stern demeanor softened, his affable expression now out of synch with his rigid attire. “Mr. Langdon…Ms. Solomon,” he said as he helped them to their feet. “I’m Scott Kerble. I work for Ambassador Nagel.”

Langdon hoped he was telling the truth. “We need to see her right away.”

The Marine was about to respond when one of the army guards came back down the incline, took a snapshot of all three of them together, and then marched back up, placing a call as he went.

Kerble cursed under his breath. “I’ve got to get you out of here right away.”

“To the embassy?” Langdon asked.

“We can talk about that in the car,” he said, starting up the incline. “Follow me.”

Talk about it? The comment made Langdon doubly wary. “Actually, before we go anywhere, we’d like to speak to Ambassador Nagel.”

“I agree,” Katherine said. “If we—”

“Both of you, listen,” the Marine snapped, spinning back to them and standing close, his affable demeanor vanishing. “The ambassador has been detained on orders from the CIA director himself. And I’m fairly certain you two are next on his list.”