Lost Symbol

CHAPTER 8

Robert Langdon stood frozen in the doorway of the National Statuary Hall and studied the startling scene

before him. The room was precisely as he remembered it—a balanced semicircle built in the style of a Greek

amphitheater. The graceful arched walls of sandstone and Italian plaster were punctuated by columns of

variegated breccia, interspersed with the nation’s statuary collection—life-size statues of thirty-eight great

Americans standing in a semicircle on a stark expanse of black-and-white marble tile.

It was exactly as Langdon had recalled from the lecture he had once attended here.

Except for one thing.

Tonight, the room was empty.

No chairs. No audience. No Peter Solomon. Just a handful of tourists milling around aimlessly, oblivious to

Langdon’s grand entrance. Did Peter mean the Rotunda? He peered down the south corridor toward the

Rotunda and could see tourists milling around in there, too.

The echoes of the clock chime had faded. Langdon was now officially late.

He hurried back into the hallway and found a docent. “Excuse me, the lecture for the Smithsonian event

tonight? Where is that being held?”

The docent hesitated. “I’m not sure, sir. When does it start?”

“Now!”

The man shook his head. “I don’t know about any Smithsonian event this evening—not here, at least.”

Bewildered, Langdon hurried back toward the center of the room, scanning the entire space. Is Solomon

playing some kind of joke? Langdon couldn’t imagine it. He pulled out his cell phone and the fax page from

this morning and dialed Peter’s number.

His phone took a moment to locate a signal inside the enormous building. Finally, it began to ring.

The familiar southern accent answered. “Peter Solomon’s office, this is Anthony. May I help you?”

“Anthony!” Langdon said with relief. “I’m glad you’re still there. This is Robert Langdon. There seems to be

some confusion about the lecture. I’m standing in the Statuary Hall, but there’s nobody here. Has the lecture...