Page 56 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)

Robert Langdon had stalled in the very first chamber…

surrounded by panicked images of himself.

Pavel is right behind you. It took Langdon a moment to see that one of the reflections was slightly smaller than the others, and he ran toward it, finding the mirror recessed by several feet, hiding a cleverly disguised opening, beyond which a mirrored hallway extended in both directions.

Left or right, Langdon wondered, having always disliked the random guessing game of mazes.

Statistically speaking, in a right-hand-biased world, when presented with a choice of right or left, the overwhelming majority turned right, which meant maze designers usually ensured the first right-hand turn was a circuitous mistake.

Langdon dashed to the left. As he did, he placed his right hand against the wall, letting his fingers run along the mirrors. Never lose touch with the wall.

He had learned the trick as a child, thanks to his passion for Greek mythology and the legend of Crete’s famed Minotaur’s Labyrinth.

The labrys double ax was a symbol of choice, and indeed it was choice that made the Labyrinth so challenging.

But the savvy Minoans removed the burden of choice with the hand-on-the-wall strategy; without needing to deliberate, a maze-goer simply followed whichever direction the hand on the wall led.

It didn’t guarantee the shortest route out, but it did guarantee never having to make the same choice twice, resulting in a faster escape…

and, in their case, avoiding death at the hands of the Minotaur.

When Langdon reached the next intersection, instead of hesitating to make a choice, he kept his hand on the mirror as he ran, turning immediately to his left, committed to following wherever it guided him. Over and over, Langdon turned, hand on the wall, moving deeper into the maze.

He could hear Pavel lumbering through passageways somewhere nearby, his loud breathing sometimes only a thin mirror’s breadth away.

Langdon ran as quietly as he could, knowing that if he’d made the wrong initial guess by turning left, then this hand-on-the-wall strategy would eventually lead him back along this same hallway in the opposite direction… potentially directly into Pavel’s path.

Langdon burst into a larger chamber whose mirrors were twisted and distorted like those in a carnival fun house.

Several of the mirrors here were freestanding, disrupting Langdon’s wall strategy.

He could hear the úZSI agent eerily close now, and as he scanned the new space, Langdon spotted an unmistakable grayish glow at the far end of a hallway.

Daylight! He pulled his hand from the wall and rushed toward the light.

But he never made it.

The hulking form of Lieutenant Pavel materialized ahead on his right. As their eyes locked, Pavel raised his weapon and took dead aim at Langdon’s chest.

“Wait!” Langdon yelled, lurching to a stop, his arms reaching skyward.

But Pavel pulled the trigger.

The gun roared, and Langdon staggered backward, expecting impact, but instead there was the crash of shattering glass. The image of Pavel disintegrated before Langdon’s eyes.

Somewhere nearby Pavel screamed in frustration.

Without waiting to figure out what convoluted series of reflections had created the illusion that he and Pavel were face-to-face, Langdon took off.

He charged toward the grayish opening again, nearly crashing into yet another mirror.

He could now see that the actual exit was just ahead to his left, and he burst through it into the light.

With lengthening strides, he dashed down the paved walkway away from the castle. Behind him, the sound of gunfire and shattering glass filled the air. Three shots. The lieutenant was apparently creating his own exit.

The walkway curved deeper into the woods, and Langdon sprinted past a handful of elderly tourists ascending the path.

For a moment, he thought they had climbed Pet?ín Hill, but then he saw where they had come from.

Ahead, a small stucco building sat beside a steeply descending train track on which a lone train car was sitting, pitched downward at an alarming incline.

The Pet?ín Funicular.

Langdon had never taken the cable car, but this seemed like a good moment for his maiden voyage. The doors were just closing as he arrived breathless and slipped inside. The train began its descent, and Langdon realized that his decision to enter the Mirror Maze might just have saved his life.

Maybe the universe was right after all.

The Golěm pulled the rubber skullcap down over his head and retrieved the bucket of wet Vltava clay that he kept beneath the bathroom sink.

Plunging his hand through a layer of water, he scooped out a fistful of silky, soggy earth.

With ritualistic care, he began smearing a thick layer across his skullcap and eventually his face, covering everything except his eyes.

Once he was entirely masked, only then did he reach into the drawer and extract the shard of reflective glass—the only mirror in his home. Using the glass and a palette knife, he carefully etched the three sacred letters into his forehead.

???

Truth.

Truth was something The Golěm had experienced in abundance recently.

He had long suspected that Brigita Gessner was not the selfless, benevolent soul Sasha seemed to regard her as. In an effort to learn more about Gessner, The Golěm had orchestrated various ways to surveil the neuroscientist and better understand what was fueling her generosity toward Sasha.

The truth he uncovered was unexpectedly disturbing.

He considered relaying it all to Sasha, but the trauma would be too great for her.

Sasha desperately needs a mentor…someone to believe in.

The truth about Michael Harris was even worse. The Golěm had watched the handsome American’s calculated advances on Sasha and seen through them in an instant. But Sasha was too naive to realize that a man like Harris would never have chosen her.

Now their treachery has been repaid.

As he carefully checked the clay around his mouth and nostrils, The Golěm reveled in his experience with Gessner the night before.

He had tailed her to Katherine Solomon’s lecture, then to the bar at the Four Seasons, and finally back to her lab…

where he violently overwhelmed the neuroscientist and improvised a devastatingly effective interrogation technique.

Gessner’s forced confession had filled in the gaps in his understanding…and the betrayals were even more depraved than The Golěm had ever suspected. She had revealed the identity of her influential partners, as well as the chilling details of what they had built beneath Prague.

Threshold.

The Golěm was enraged. Upon leaving her lab, he immediately began to plan. The head of the snake was an American man named Finch, to whom Gessner answered directly. Finch operated from the safety of an office in London and moved around the world.

I will first destroy your creation in Prague…and then I will take pleasure in hunting you, wherever you may be.

Gessner had revealed the location of the underground facility, but unfortunately her personal key card had proven insufficient authorization to enter.

I require something more. He had already made one failed attempt to obtain it from Crucifix Bastion, but on this visit he would be far better prepared for anything he might encounter.

As The Golěm stepped into the windy alley outside his home, he could feel the wet clay on his face drying fast, pulling at his skin. His platform boots were still damp from last night, but he ignored the discomfort. His enemies could be watching…and he could take no chances being recognized.

I move now as my true self.

I feel the force of that truth.

He knew his mission today would require extraordinary focus.

For this reason, he would first need to replenish his energy by visiting the site where he felt the pulse of Prague’s most mystical power.

There, in a hallowed field of the dead, The Golěm would kneel on the cold earth and draw strength from his namesake and inspiration… the golem who came before.