"I’ve taken the liberty of sending a plane for you," the voice said. "It will be in Boston in twenty minutes."
Langdon felt his mouth go dry. An hour’s flight…
"Please forgive my presumption," the voice said. "I need you here."
Langdon looked again at the fax—an ancient myth confirmed in black and white. The implications were frightening. He gazed absently through the bay window. The first hint of dawn was sifting through the birch trees in his backyard, but the view looked somehow different this morning. As an odd combination of fear and exhilaration settled over him, Langdon knew he had no choice.
"You win," he said. "Tell me where to meet the plane."
3
Thousands of miles away, two men were meeting. The chamber was dark. Medieval. Stone.
"Benvenuto," the man in charge said. He was seated in the shadows, out of sight. "Were you successful?"
"Si," the dark figure replied. "Perfectamente." His words were as hard as the rock walls.
"And there will be no doubt who is responsible?"
"None."
"Superb. Do you have what I asked for?"
The killer’s eyes glistened, black like oil. He produced a heavy electronic device and set it on the table.
The man in the shadows seemed pleased. "You have done well."
"Serving the brotherhood is an honor," the killer said.
"Phase two begins shortly. Get some rest. Tonight we change the world."
4
Robert Langdon’s Saab 900S tore out of the Callahan Tunnel and emerged on the east side of Boston Harbor near the entrance to Logan Airport. Checking his directions Langdon found Aviation Road and turned left past the old Eastern Airlines Building. Three hundred yards down the access road a hangar loomed in the darkness. A large number 4 was painted on it. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car.