Page 13 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)

Editor Jonas Faukman clicked his computer mouse repeatedly, willing his terminal to boot up faster. Only two people on earth were supposed to have access to Katherine Solomon’s private SVW—Katherine herself and, as of this afternoon, Faukman.

How could someone on the outside have gained access?!

Faukman felt physically ill imagining what might have been compromised—all of Katherine’s scientific research, her notes, and, most importantly, the manuscript itself. Hurry up! he urged, waiting for his machine to power on.

Behind him, the young data technician was peering over Faukman’s shoulder, fretfully humming to himself, which did little to calm Faukman’s nerves.

When the computer finally came to life, Faukman navigated to the proper folder and clicked on the alias for the server partition named “SUM”: Solomon—Untitled Manuscript.

Faukman had written Katherine’s access code on a file card and stored it safely in a drawer, but before he could move to retrieve it, the computer made an unfamiliar sound—three staccato beeps.

Faukman turned back to the screen, expecting to see Katherine’s log-in window, but instead he was looking at a bright red error message.

Partition Not Found .

“What the…?” Faukman clicked again on the SUM icon. There were three short beeps and the same error message. Partition not found? Faukman spun to Alex. “The entire partition is… gone ?!” The partition had been there this afternoon when Faukman tested Katherine’s password. Where did it go?!

Wide-eyed, the tech knelt down beside Faukman and commandeered his keyboard and mouse. Faukman held his breath as the tech worked, fingers flying. Attempt after attempt, the tech got the same result. Three loud beeps.

Partition Not Found.

“Don’t panic,” the kid said, sounding utterly panicked. “This just means that in an effort to cover their tracks, they purged the partition.”

“Purged?”

“Yes, sir, it means deleted. Your data—”

“Thanks, I’m familiar with the definition of ‘purged.’ Are you saying someone deleted all the research and manuscript drafts associated with this title?”

“Yes, sir. Purging is a common post-hack protocol. It makes tracking the hackers more difficult.” He began typing again.

“But don’t worry, Mr. Faukman, we have redundant systems, and all your data will still exist on PRH’s off-site backup.

It’s located in our distribution warehouse in Maryland. I’m logging in now to recover it.”

Alex’s fingertips were a blur. “We just have to access the remote partition and migrate—”

The computer pinged three short beeps again. A familiar dialogue box flashed on the screen.

Partition Not Found.

The tech’s eyes went wider as he tried the redundant server again.

Partition Not Found.

“Oh…no,” the kid said.

Faukman felt suddenly weak. Katherine’s partition is deleted from both servers?! Along with her manuscript and notes?

Alex Conan jumped up and headed for the door. “I need to get to my terminal, sir. I’ve never seen anything like this before—it’s a serious breach.”

No shit!

Faukman sat numbly at his chair as the kid’s footsteps receded down the empty hallway. “I need those files, Alex!” he called after him. “My author entrusted me with a year’s worth of her work!”

Throughout the night in London, Mr. Finch had been monitoring a changing landscape.

First had been Brigita Gessner. The neuroscientist had sent Finch a deeply troubling message about Katherine Solomon’s manuscript and then had seemingly evaporated. Total radio silence.

Second had been Katherine Solomon herself. Thirty-five minutes earlier in Prague, Solomon had done something so unexpected that it could not be ignored. Immediate action had been required.

Finch had considered alerting his superior in the U.S., but it was the middle of the night there, and they had given him “unilateral operative control” to make strategic decisions. His superiors’ positions of power also required plausible deniability from operations that were ethically ambiguous.

Operations like this one, Finch thought, knowing his colleagues preferred not to know how Finch achieved his results.

And so, within minutes of learning of Solomon’s actions, he had followed his instincts and pulled the trigger, transmitting two words into the field.

Execute now.

The order had been confirmed by his contacts standing by in Prague and New York City.