Page 62 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)
In Prague, U.S. Ambassador Heide Nagel stood at her office window and gazed wearily at the Alchymist Hotel across Tr?i?tě Street.
Having just finished briefing Dana Daněk on the covert operation she had unwittingly stumbled upon this morning, the ambassador had sent the media liaison back to her office to await further orders.
Not surprisingly, Dana had been frightened by what she had learned.
Good, Nagel thought. Fear may be the only way to control her.
A quiet knock at the door drew Nagel’s attention. She turned to see a U.S. Marine standing at attention in his traditional blue-white dress uniform. An eight-man Marine Corps embassy security group was part of the team that secured U.S. embassies and key diplomats around the world.
“Madam Ambassador,” the Marine said. “We have a situation.”
The more the merrier…I’ve already got a goddamned situation, she thought, but waved him in.
The man stepped into her office. “Ma’am, úZSI Captain Janá?ek has issued a public alert for an American citizen.” He checked a note card. “His name is Robert Langdon.”
Nagel closed her eyes, incredulous that her threat to expose Janá?ek had not stopped the captain in his tracks. Janá?ek is going all in on Robert Langdon? Shit. Clearly, she had not been as persuasive or intimidating as she had imagined.
“And the APB is a Blue Alert,” the Marine added, “meaning úZSI is claiming Langdon killed one of their own.”
“What!” she exploded. “That’s a goddamned lie!”
“If we don’t find Langdon right away…” the Marine said quietly, “someone’s going to take him down.”
Nagel took several breaths and gave him a tight nod of thanks. “I’ll have orders for you shortly. Please close the door on your way out.”
The Marine spun and departed.
Nagel immediately placed a Signal call to Mr. Finch.
“Go ahead,” he said, answering on the first ring.
Nagel gave him the rundown on the deteriorating situation in Prague:
úZSI is pursuing Robert Langdon with lethal force.
Katherine Solomon is missing.
Attaché Harris went to Crucifix Bastion but is no longer answering his phone.
Finch, as anticipated, was furious. “I thought you handled úZSI! What kind of half-assed operation are you running there?!”
“This is your operation!” Nagel fired back. “And this situation is your own goddamned fault!”
Even as she spoke the words, Nagel knew she had overstepped.
Finch’s voice grew uncharacteristically quiet. “Heide,” he whispered, eschewing her formal title as if to remind her she was a mere pawn in his world. “I suggest you remember who placed you in this position…and why. ”
Field Officer Housemore had slept less than an hour.
She was now standing bleary-eyed at her sink, having just been awoken by a new call from Mr. Finch issuing updated orders.
Go to Crucifix Bastion immediately.
Secure Gessner’s lab.
Housemore’s knowledge of the Prague operation was “compartmentalized.” While she knew Gessner was integral to Threshold, she also knew the underground facility Finch had built was located somewhere else in the city. So why secure Gessner’s lab?
In addition to the new directive, Finch gave her the startling news that he was coming to Prague in person. If the overlord himself was on his way to Prague, then Housemore knew that this mission had definitely gone haywire.
As The Golěm crossed Old Town Square, he passed near a throng of tourists huddled around a bronze statue and sipping hot sva?ák out of plastic cups. The voice of their tour guide blared loudly over a handheld megaphone.
“This Art Nouveau masterpiece,” the guide declared, “depicts the leader of the Czech reform movement—Jan Hus—who was burned at the stake in 1415 for refusing to obey papal orders.”
The guide was about to continue, when he spotted The Golěm’s dark form passing by. Even though Prague was overrun with costumed actors posing for tips, the guide apparently decided to seize the moment to create a little drama for his customers.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced excitedly. “We have an unexpected guest this morning! One of Prague’s most famous celebrities!”
The tourists spun around as if expecting to see Ivan Lendl or Martina Navratilova. Instead, they saw a cloaked figure with a clay-caked face.
“The golem monster!” a young boy exclaimed. “You just told us about him in the synagogue!”
“Excellent,” the guide said, turning to the boy. “And do you remember the meaning of the Hebrew letters on his head?”
“Truth!” said the kid. “Until the rabbi erased one letter and killed him!”
“Excellent,” the guide said as The Golěm passed by. “Okay, well it looks like no photo op with the golem today, but who can name the second -most-famous monster in Prague?”
Nobody answered.
“The cockroach !” the guide said dramatically. “Franz Kafka wrote a novella, right here in this city, called The Metamorphosis —in which a young man wakes up in bed one morning and discovers he’s been transformed…into a giant cockroach!”
The Golěm quickly left the group behind, exiting the square and heading north. As he walked, he found himself thinking of Franz Kafka and recalling the first time he had seen Prague’s famously eerie statue of the author—a cloaked giant with no head…carrying on his shoulders a much smaller man.
A faceless creature who carries the burden of a weaker soul.
The Golěm had felt an immediate kinship with the statue.
The tiny supported man represented Kafka, who, in his story Description of a Struggle, had been supported by a protective friend called his “acquaintance.”
The acquaintance carried Kafka, The Golěm had realized, just as the golem carried the Jewish people. Just as I carry Sasha.
Thoughts of Sasha drew his mind back to the task at hand.
Today I will infiltrate Threshold.
Sasha had not been their first victim…nor would she be their last. It all had to be destroyed. Forever.