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"I loved your last book." " You must have been the only one who did," he muttered. "Good evening, Professor Langdon," said a stewardess. Would he deliver the annual Smithsonian lecture in the National Statuary Hall that evening? Mr Solomon would send his private jet to fly him from Boston. It was from the office of Peter Solomon, his former mentor and richest man on the planet.
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Only hours earlier he had just finished his usual morning ritual of swimming 35 miles to keep his figure trim, when his phone had rung. Robert Langdon looked out the window of the private jet as it prepared to land in Washington. Aha, he thought, within hours I will have the secrets of the universe. We must be deep in the heart of the Freemason's Hall, only yards from Capitol Hill in Washington, where an unnamed initiate is drinking wine from a skull. The race against narcolepsy had begun.Ģ.30pm: A rash of italics mysteriously appears across the page. The courier stepped back, his face blanched with fear. Instead I drew a hand, the Hand of Mysteries.
THE LOST SYMBOL DAN BROWN SUMMARY FREE
So what difference should an extra three and a half hours have made? And yet I sensed there was not a minute to lose if I was to save the free world from the Rogue Freemasons. "I was being followed."įive long years have I been waiting for this moment, years in which the Christian church has been strangely indifferent to the news that the body of Mary Magdalene has been found under the pyramid outside the Louvre. One leg of his trousers is rolled up to the knee. 12.01pm: The motorcycle courier arrives at the door.