The guard buzzed the intercom at the gate, but got no answer. She typed her override code to open the gate and pulled into the driveway. Leaving her engine running and her bubble light spinning, she walked up to the front door and rang the bell. No answer. She saw no lights and no movement.
Reluctantly following procedure, she flicked on her flashlight to begin her trek around the house to check the doors and windows for signs of break-in. As she rounded the corner, a black stretch limousine drove past the house, slowing for a moment before continuing on. Rubbernecking neighbors.
Bit by bit, she made her way around the house, but saw nothing out of place. The house was bigger than she had imagined, and by the time she reached the backyard, she was shivering from the cold. Obviously there was nobody home.
"Dispatch?" she called in on her radio. "I'm on the Kalorama Heights call? Owners aren't home. No signs of trouble. Finished the perimeter check. No indication of an intruder. False alarm."
"Roger that," the dispatcher replied. "Have a good night."
The guard put her radio back on her belt and began retracing her steps, eager to get back to the warmth of her vehicle. As she did so, however, she spotted something she had missed earlier--a tiny speck of bluish light on the back of the house.
Puzzled, she walked over to it, now seeing the source--a low transom window, apparently to the home's basement. The glass of the window had been blacked out, coated on the inside with an opaque paint. Some kind of darkroom maybe? The bluish glow she had seen was emanating through a tiny spot on the window where the black paint had started to peel.
She crouched down, trying to peer through, but she couldn't see much through the tiny opening. She tapped on the glass, wondering if maybe someone was working down there.
"Hello?" she shouted.
There was no answer, but as she knocked on the window, the paint chip suddenly detached and fell off, affording her a more complete view. She leaned in, nearly pressing her face to the window as she scanned the basement. Instantly, she wished she hadn't.
What in the name of God?!
Transfixed, she remained crouched there for a moment, staring in abject horror at the scene before her. Finally, trembling, the guard groped for the radio on her belt.
She never found it.
A sizzling pair of Taser prongs slammed into the back of her neck, and a searing pain shot through her body. Her muscles seized, and she pitched forward, unable even to close her eyes before her face hit the cold ground.
CHAPTER 61
Tonight was not the first time Warren Bellamy had been blindfolded. Like all of his Masonic brothers, he had worn the ritual "hoodwink" during his ascent to the upper echelons of Masonry. That, however, had taken place among trusted friends. Tonight was different. These rough- handed men had bound him, placed a bag on his head, and were now marching him through the library stacks.
The agents had physically threatened Bellamy and demanded to know the whereabouts of Robert Langdon. Knowing his aging body couldn't take much punishment, Bellamy had told his lie quickly.
"Langdon never came down here with me!" he had said, gasping for air. "I told him to go up to the balcony and hide behind the Moses statue, but I don't know where he is now!" The story apparently had been convincing, because two of the agents had run off in pursuit. Now the remaining two agents were marching him in silence through the stacks.
Bellamy's only solace was in knowing Langdon and Katherine were whisking the pyramid off to safety. Soon Langdon would be contacted by a man who could offer sanctuary. Trust him. The man Bellamy had called knew a great deal about the Masonic Pyramid and the secret it held--the location of a hidden spiral staircase that led down into the earth to the hiding place of potent ancient wisdom buried long ago. Bellamy had finally gotten through to the man as they were escaping the reading room, and he felt confident that his short message would be understood perfectly.
Now, as he moved in total darkness, Bellamy pictured the stone pyramid and golden capstone in Langdon's bag. It has been many years since those two pieces were in the same room.
Bellamy would never forget that painful night. The first of many for Peter. Bellamy had been asked to come to the Solomon estate in Potomac for Zachary Solomon's eighteenth birthday. Zachary, despite being a rebellious child, was a Solomon, which meant tonight, following family tradition, he would receive his inheritance. Bellamy was one of Peter's dearest friends and a trusted Masonic brother, and therefore was asked to attend as a witness. But it was not only the transference of money that Bellamy had been asked to witness. There was far more than money at stake tonight.
Bellamy had arrived early and waited, as requested, in Peter's private study. The wonderful old room smelled of leather, wood fires, and loose-leaf tea. Warren was seated when Peter led his son, Zachary, into the room. When the scrawny eighteen-year-old saw Bellamy, he frowned. "What are you doing here?"
"Bearing witness," Bellamy offered. "Happy birthday, Zachary."
The boy mumbled and looked away. "Sit down, Zach," Peter said.
Zachary sat in the solitary chair facing his father's huge wooden desk. Solomon bolted the study door. Bellamy took a seat off to one side.
Solomon addressed Zachary in a serious tone. "Do you know why you're here?"
"I think so," Zachary said.
Solomon sighed deeply. "I know you and I have not seen eye to eye for quite some time, Zach. I've done my best to be a good father and to prepare you for this moment."
Zachary said nothing.
"As you know, every Solomon child, upon reaching adulthood, is presented with his or her birthright--a share of the Solomon fortune--which is intended to be a seed . . . a seed for you to nurture, make grow, and use to help nourish mankind."
Solomon walked to a vault in the wall, unlocked it, and removed a large black folder. "Son, this portfolio contains everything you need to legally transfer your financial inheritance into your own name." He laid it on the desk. "The aim is that you use this money to build a life of productivity, prosperity, and philanthropy."
Zachary reached for the folder. "Thanks."
"Hold on," his father said, putting his hand on the portfolio. "There's something else I need to explain."
Zachary shot his father a contemptuous look and slumped back down.
"There are aspects of the Solomon inheritance of which you are not yet aware." His father was staring straight into Zachary's eyes now. "You are my firstborn, Zachary, which means you are entitled to a choice."
The teenager sat up, looking intrigued.
"It is a choice that may well determine the direction of your future, and so I urge you to ponder it carefully."
"What choice?"
His father took a deep breath. "It is the choice . . . between wealth or wisdom."
Zachary gave him a blank stare. "Wealth or wisdom? I don't get it." Solomon stood, walking again to the vault, where he pulled out a heavy stone pyramid with Masonic symbols carved into it. Peter heaved the stone onto the desk beside the portfolio. "This pyramid was created long ago and has been entrusted to our family for generations."
"A pyramid?" Zachary didn't look very excited.
"Son, this pyramid is a map . . . a map that reveals the location of one of humankind's greatest lost treasures. This map was created so that the treasure could one day be rediscovered." Peter's voice swelled now with pride. "And tonight, following tradition, I am able to offer it to you . . . under certain conditions."