Page 20 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)

In London, Finch had just received confirmation that his contingency plans were now in motion, in both Prague and New York.

The news had arrived via a military-grade communication platform known as Signal, required for all field communications, as it provided end-to-end encryption of all texts and voice.

Finch, an American, held a covert position within the European headquarters of a global organization known by insiders as “Q.” The firm’s enigmatic nickname derived from a character in James Bond novels—the technologist-inventor “Q” who created deadly innovations in service to Her Majesty the Queen.

Having spent the last decade in a position of power within Q’s formidable parent organization, Finch had been tapped three years ago for a confidential assignment within Q’s London office.

He was also informed he would be spearheading the development of one of the most ambitious and secretive endeavors ever undertaken… by anyone, anywhere.

Threshold.

He was told the project required a certain flexibility with regard to legal and moral constraints, and Finch had been chosen for his expertise with “success-weighted ethical rubrics”—moral frameworks that prioritized success over purity of conscience.

Finch was not surprised when his letter of appointment read:

It is impossible to overstate the importance of Threshold. It warrants whatever extraordinary measures you deem necessary to ensure its success.

Message received, Finch thought. There are no rules.

Thirty minutes had passed since The Golěm had entered Hotel U Prince and descended to the subterranean Black Angel’s Bar. He had found the bar closed, with cleaning crew sweeping the floors, polishing the leather couches, and pulling cigarette butts from the rough-hewn ancient stone walls.

Before being spotted by anyone, The Golěm continued past the bar, around the corner, to a closet-like space that contained a desk and two old computers whose faded displays glowed with the Black Angel’s logo.

The bar’s offering of twenty-four-hour Internet to patrons was a quaint relic of the days when foreign cell phones barely worked in Prague, and tourists would choose to drink at Black Angel’s just to send an email.

Earlier today, when The Golěm realized he required specific technical information to carry out his plan, he immediately thought of Black Angel’s. Nobody would be monitoring this machine.

And now I’ve found what I came for, he thought, eyeing the technical information on the screen before him. Many of the details were beyond his understanding, but that did not matter; firing a gun did not require a degree in ballistic science…only access to a trigger.

And that trigger had now been located.

Gessner had revealed many secrets in the attempt to save her own life—among them, the presence of a surprisingly powerful piece of technology located within the deepest reaches of their underground lab, sealed inside an airtight vault with walls of reinforced concrete two meters thick.

A piece of technology that could bring their entire world crashing down.

With the information he had just obtained, he now knew exactly how to make that happen.

The Golěm quickly cleared the browser’s search history and rebooted the computer. When he ascended and stepped back out into the square, he felt alive with the prospect of a revenge so bold that its shock waves would be felt thousands of miles from Prague…by all those responsible.