The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon, #6)

by Dan Brown

“You don’t have a family,” the man said flatly. “You’re not married, you work six days a week, and you haven’t left the country in more than four years.”

“I mean no disrespect to noetics, but legitimate scientists like myself give no credence to ethereal notions like the soul, spiritual visions, or cosmic consciousness.

Did she just call herself legitimate and Katherine delusional?

Yeah, pretentious.

“As you wish, but at least let me invite you to my private lab tomorrow to show you some of my work. I think you’ll find it eye-opening. I’d love the chance to enlighten you.”

I do not like this impression of Dr. Gessner.

All Langdon could do was watch, his heart aching for her. Clearly, this woman’s grief at seeing Dr. Gessner was as overwhelming as Langdon’s relief that it was not Katherine.

However, Katherine was expected to meet her at the lab. So where is Katherine?

Katherine had mentioned epilepsy in her talk last night as one of the human mind’s naturally occurring “altered states” of consciousness. Apparently, when viewed in an MRI machine, seizures displayed a stunning electrical signature that was similar to certain hallucinogens, near-death experiences, and even orgasm.

Remarkably, some of humankind’s most creative minds had been epileptic—Vincent van Gogh, Agatha Christie, Socrates, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

The Russian novelist had once proclaimed his epileptic seizures to be “a happiness and harmony unthinkable in the normal state.” Others described their seizures as “opening a gateway to the divine”…“blissfully freeing the mind from the confines of its physic...

We know there was no bomb. Janáček’s claim that ÚZSI had found a small bomb had indeed been a lie…an embellishment to help him take total control of the situation. I did what I was ordered to do.

Strangely, the captain now felt as if he were moving farther away…from himself. He was pleasantly detached from his broken physical form, untroubled by pain or injury, as if he were rising and leaving the complications of the world behind him. There was no fear…only a swell of serenity. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced in life.

So he was killed, that is an interesting turn.

“There is no cure. Sasha will die with seizures…but not of them.”

Doctors eventually diagnosed Sasha with chronic syncope and acute mental illness and suggested she be institutionalized.

That is a bit extreme.

Sasha was assigned a new nighttime attendant—a pitiless nurse named Malvina—who amused herself in the desolate hours by withholding Sasha’s seizure medications and then watching her spasmodic episodes like a circus sideshow before beating her.

Gold, what a cunt.

“My name is Dr. Brigita Gessner,” the woman said. “I’m here to help you. I’m a neurosurgeon from Europe.”

“I’m sorry for that. It’s only because they don’t understand your condition.” “I have insanity and seizures.” The woman emphatically shook her head. “No, Sasha, you are perfectly sane. You have a condition known as TLE—temporal lobe epilepsy—which is the cause of your seizures. It’s entirely curable. I have a facility in Prague, and I’d like to take you there.”

I am so glad; though, that someone saw her for who she was.

From where The Golěm was located, he had a perfect view of the American professor slipping awkwardly down the wooded slope toward Folimanka Park. Robert Langdon’s unanticipated presence at the bastion this morning, along with that of ÚZSI, was one of numerous wrinkles in The Golěm’s plan.

“It is very much my concern,” Dana replied, finding her voice. “I am an employee of the U.S. embassy, and you’re aiming a gun at me. Moreover, it appears you’re searching the hotel room of two American citizens.” “As I said,” she repeated, stepping forward with the gun still leveled. “This is not your concern.” Who in the world are you?!

“I know what happened on that bridge this morning. Where’s your crown of thorns?” The woman with the gun did not so much as flinch. She took yet another step toward Dana. “Whoever you are,” she said firmly, “I would strongly recommend you return to the embassy and speak to your ambassador before you mention this to anyone at all.”

Field Officer Susan Housemore waited until the door had clicked shut before she lowered her weapon and placed it into the discreet holster at the small of her back. Then she pulled out her phone and placed a secure call to Mr. Finch in London.

What the fuck is US intelligence doing on this?

For the past three days, he and Katherine hadn’t spent a moment apart, and it amazed Langdon that after nearly thirty-five years, their casual friendship had ignited into such a natural, passionate romance, catching them both off guard.

“And it’s been decades,” Katherine continued, “since we’ve proven repeatedly that human thought, when focused, can quite literally alter one’s body chemistry. And yet…the notion of remote healing is skeptically debunked by medical experts as voodoo.”

“I’ve got a student with a one forty-eight IQ,” Langdon recounted, “who insists the earth is six thousand years old. So, I took her down the hall to the geology department and showed her a three-million-year-old fossil. She simply shrugged and said, ‘I believe God placed that fossil on earth as a trick…to test my faith.’ ”

Creationists can be smart, but are often not rational.

Katherine laughed. “If you think religious zealots are irrationally tied to their worldviews, you should meet the tenured academics of higher education.”

“Careful…” she said, flashing a devastating smile. “You took my undergrad seminar twice, lover boy, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my slideshow you were staring at.”

Okay, I do not like the way that is spelled out.

Smart. “Sounds like you know him well.” She nodded, looking almost embarrassed. “A couple of months now.”

Michael gets around...

The third scenario—while disturbing—seemed to be the only remaining rational explanation. According to Sherlock Holmes: When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. The improbable truth, in this instance, was that someone else had learned about Katherine’s dream…and had orchestrated the spectacle.

I think this may be the answer.

Blasted by frigid winter air, the flowers were drooping prematurely, their flaccid stalks leaning outward in all directions, barely concealing the electronic device that had been hidden among them. Housemore reached in and carefully extracted the Sennheiser parabolic surveillance microphone and FM transmitter. The listening device had been placed there by the U.S. ambassador’s office, at Mr. Finch’s request.

And that's how thet found out about the dream. Why Katherine though?

“As I have stated many times,” Gessner jumped in, “I view life after death as an empty fantasy—an illusion sold by religion to recruit the faint of heart and weak of mind.”

“Katherine has stated publicly that she believes out-of-body experiences are strong evidence that consciousness resides outside the brain and therefore can survive death. In other words…the afterlife is real.”

“So which is it, Professor?” “I have no definitive idea,” he replied. “I’ve taught thanatology, but it’s not really my field—”

“If you were dying, and you found yourself looking down at your own body on an operating table, would you classify that as evidence of an afterlife? Or as hypoxic hallucination?”

DAMN, she certainly ate those words.

And with respect to wanting, Langdon imagined that most people in the throes of dying wanted the same basic thing: not to die. And the fear of death, of course, was not reserved for the dying. It was a universal fear…perhaps the universal fear.

The "light at the end of the tunnel."

Timor mortis est pater religionis, Langdon mused, recalling the ancient saying made famous by Upton Sinclair. Fear of death is the father of religion.

Langdon let it go, but he felt quite certain Gessner was hiding something. A shielded RFID card seemed an unusually high-tech passkey for a health club, and Gessner hardly seemed like someone who would tolerate exercising with the unclean masses.

Besides, a local health club would most likely use the Czech spelling, “PRAHA,” rather than English.

“That one’s Sally. He’s Harry. I named them after my favorite movie.”

I LOVE that movie!

Unfortunately, Harris felt increasingly uncomfortable about their deepening relationship. If she ever discovers the real reason I’m seeing her, it will destroy her. Burdened by guilt, Harris chided himself for ever agreeing to do this. It’s time I end this charade.

Oh no, even then they were looking into Gessner?

“As I’ve reported, ma’am, Sasha Vesna is a naive young woman who was horribly mistreated as a child and is simply doing the best she can to live a normal life. There’s nothing more for me to learn. At this point, I just feel that continuing to lie to her is, well…morally wrong.”

Okay, he has a conscious. I knew I liked him, but I hate that he is being used as a pawn.

“Relax,” Nagel said calmly, “I’m not looking to have you fired. I’m simply exploiting a weakness in service to my country.” “That’s quite a euphemism for ‘coercion,’ ”

“First off, the White House is not the only powerful entity to whom I answer. Secondly, my superiors have not told me precisely what their interest is in Sasha Vesna, only that they want to be apprised of what secrets she is telling those people she trusts.”

The interest isn't in Sasha it is in Dr. Gessner and Katherine Solomon.

No matter the repercussions, this will be my last visit with Sasha Vesna…ever.

Langdon had already witnessed Sasha’s spontaneous capacity for abrupt violence, and he could not afford to show up at Petřín Tower accompanied by a wild card.

For an instant, Faukman felt relief that he was not on a military base, but then, as the truth started to settle, he wondered if this might be even worse. At least the military had certain protocols, and Faukman was a U.S. civilian.

If these thugs were actually mercenaries working for a rich, international whoever-the-hell-it was, there were no rules of engagement. They could fly me out of the country…and nobody would even know I was gone!

“Sorry about my partner,” the man said. “Auger can be a bit…intense.”

Good Cop -- Bad Cop

Attempting to escape men with guns was borderline crazy…but not as crazy as letting them abduct him to a foreign country without a fight.

A hundred yards away, the operative named Chinburg stopped running, finished zipping up his fly, and calmly watched the SUV disappear into the night. Once the vehicle was out of sight, he walked back to the van. “All clear,” he announced.

So, that was the plan. It seemed too easy.

There was no plane waiting, no flight to Prague. They had simply parked their van on an access road adjacent to Teterboro’s Signature Aviation services, called in a third operative to pose as a chauffeur, and then created the illusion of a perfect escape moment.

Langdon closed his eyes and hummed the country song “Wide Open Spaces.”

“Sasha cannot hear you,” a deep, hollow voice said above him. “Not where she is now.”

Please tell me that she is not dead. Alsp, Harris isn't the golem.