Page 29 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)

At the far end of Crucifix Bastion’s courtyard, Captain Janá?ek ended his phone calls and peered over the low stone enclosure wall into the deep ravine below.

Strangely, in this moment, he felt totally alive.

Whether it was his perilous downward view or the morning’s events that he found so thrilling didn’t really matter.

It has been a good day.

His years in law enforcement had been increasingly frustrating as Prague became overrun with tourists. Everyone demanded a safe city, and Janá?ek did what he could do, but he was constantly being reprimanded—either for lack of results or for being too aggressive.

Choose one or the other, Janá?ek argued. Iron rule. Or chaos.

He had been passed over numerous times for the chief position at úZSI after his handling of a group of carousing American college students a few years back.

When confronted by Janá?ek, the kids had pushed back—drunk, entitled, and belligerent.

Disgusted, Janá?ek threw them in prison for the night, determined to teach them a lesson.

As misfortune would have it, one of the boys was the son of a U.S. senator, who immediately placed a livid call to the U.S. embassy. The boys were released on the spot, and a lawsuit was promptly filed against Janá?ek for “excessive force” and “emotional damage.”

Janá?ek had never recovered professionally.

Today I’m showing the Americans who is in control.

The demolition team had just confirmed their imminent arrival, and Janá?ek had arranged a press conference for an hour from now. He could already envision the photos of himself escorting a prominent Harvard professor and a top American scientist out of Crucifix Bastion—both in handcuffs.

These two Americans put lives at risk today, he would announce austerely. All in the name of seeking publicity for a book.

Admittedly, Janá?ek’s allegations were not entirely honest, but he was confident his lie would remain hidden.

His nephew Pavel had helped cover Janá?ek’s tracks.

úZSI was a brotherhood, and it was understood that in law enforcement, sometimes one had to bend the rules in order to enforce them, especially in the face of the U.S.

embassy’s appalling influence in this country.

As Janá?ek relished his impending vindication, his phone began to ring.

When he saw the caller ID, he gave a self-assured smile.

Speak of the devil. Janá?ek had clashed with this woman on numerous occasions and had always lost their battles. Not today.

“Madam Ambassador,” Janá?ek answered. “It’s always an honor.” He made no effort to hide his sarcasm from the American diplomat.

“Captain Janá?ek,” the ambassador said. “Are you at Crucifix Bastion?”

“I am indeed,” Janá?ek said arrogantly. “I am waiting for a demolition team and plan to take at least one American into custody.”

“Attaché Harris is here with me,” the ambassador said, her voice forceful, “and he is convinced that there is no way Katherine Solomon or Robert Langdon had anything to do with planting a bomb.”

“Then why is Ms. Solomon resisting arrest?”

“Captain Janá?ek, I will say this only once. There are intricacies to this situation of which you’re not aware—”

“Fuck your American intricacies, Madam Ambassador! What I am aware of is that you have no jurisdiction at Crucifix Bastion, and there is nothing you can do to stop me from enter—”

“A DOST!” the ambassador exploded, her outburst in Czech startling Janá?ek.

Having silenced him, the ambassador continued in a fierce whisper.

She spoke six words…and six words only.

Janá?ek felt like he’d been hit by a truck.

In that instant, everything changed.