The Secret of Secrets: A Novel (Robert Langdon Book 6) - 10

T hey defused a bomb?!

Robert Langdon’s thoughts spun wildly as he got dressed in the hotel bedroom. He could not fathom that a bomb attack had actually been thwarted this morning, much less the event with the woman on the bridge.

Minutes ago, Langdon had requested a closer look at the Czech officer’s ID, which the man had begrudgingly granted, confirming that he was Oldřich Janáček, a sixty-one-year-old captain at ÚZSI. The acronym, he informed Langdon, stood for Úřad pro zahraniční styky a informace—the Office for Foreign Relations and Information—and was pronounced “exactly like the submachine gun—Uzi.”

The agency’s logo of the Lion Rampant was accompanied by the motto Sine Ira et Studio, which meant “Without Anger or Bias,” although the captain’s demeanor seemed to suggest the presence of both.

Janáček had been standing in Langdon’s bedroom doorway for the last three minutes, arguing in Czech on his phone while keeping one eye on Langdon.

Does he think I’m going to run?

Langdon finished dressing, finally feeling warm in his heavy chinos, turtleneck, and thick Dale sweater. He grabbed his antique Mickey Mouse watch off the dresser and strapped it on, sensing that today he might need a constant reminder to remain light of heart.

“Ne!” Janáček shouted angrily into the phone. “Tady velím já!”

He hung up and turned to Langdon. “That was your chůva. He’s coming up to the room.”

My chůva? Langdon had no idea what the word meant, but clearly Janáček was not happy about his arrival.

Janáček was unusually lanky, with an inclined posture that gave him the appearance he might pitch forward at any moment. Langdon followed him into the living room, where the man made himself at home, igniting the gas fireplace, settling into a leather club chair, and crossing his spidery legs.

As he settled in, the suite’s door chime rang.

Janáček pointed to the foyer. “Let him in.”

My chůva? Langdon wondered again, heading down the hallway and opening the door.

Standing in the foyer was a handsome, perhaps thirty-year-old Black man who was Langdon’s height—slightly over six feet—with a shaved head, a bright smile, and a chiseled face. Immaculately dressed in a blue blazer, pink shirt, and Foulard necktie, the man looked more like a male model than someone with whom Captain Janáček had just been arguing in Czech.

“Michael Harris,” the man said, extending his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Professor Langdon.” His accent was American, maybe Main Line.

“Thank you,” Langdon said, shaking the man’s hand. Whoever you are.

“First, I would like to apologize. Captain Janáček should have called my office before questioning you.”

“I see,” Langdon said, not seeing at all. “And your office is…?”

Harris looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he said you were my chůva. ”

Harris frowned, making no move to enter the suite. “Janáček was amusing himself. Chůva means nanny. I’m the U.S. embassy’s legal attaché. I’m here to assist you.”

Langdon was deeply relieved to have some legal support, although he hoped the attaché wouldn’t notice that Langdon had already killed the expensive arrangement of tulips the ambassador had sent over as a welcome gift.

“My job,” the attaché said, speaking quietly, “is to safeguard your rights as an American overseas, which, from all I’ve heard so far, have been trampled this morning.”

Langdon shrugged. “Captain Janáček has been aggressive, but considering the circumstances, I can understand his actions.”

“That’s generous of you,” Harris whispered. “But I warn you to be circumspect with your kindness. Captain Janáček is skilled at exploiting courtesies as weaknesses, and it sounds like this situation is…unusual?”

You have no idea, Langdon thought, still bewildered by what he had seen on the bridge.

“A word of advice,” Harris added. “This hotel and Charles Bridge are both heavily monitored by security cameras, which means Janáček already knows every detail of what happened. So you must tell the truth. Do not lie. ”

“Harris!” Janáček’s voice boomed from within. “Čekám!”

“Už jdeme!” Harris yelled back in what sounded like perfect Czech and then gave Langdon a reassuring look. “Shall we?”

They found Janáček seated in front of the fire, calmly puffing on a local Petra cigarette, tipping his head back and blowing smoke up into the air.

So much for our nonsmoking suite.

“Everyone sit,” Janáček commanded, tapping his cigarette into a potted plant on the floor. “Professor, before we get started, I would like your phone.” He held out a spindly hand.

“No, Captain,” Harris intervened. “You have no legal—”

“My phone’s gone,” Langdon said. “I lost it in the river.”

“Of course you did,” Janáček grunted, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “How convenient for you. Sit.”

Langdon and Harris took seats facing Janáček.

“Professor,” the captain began, “while you were getting dressed, you questioned my handling of this situation. You told me you were shocked that I did not evacuate the hotel as soon as we found the bomb.”

“I was surprised, but I wasn’t questioning your—”

“Mr. Harris?” Janáček prompted, turning to the attaché and taking another pull on his cigarette. “Perhaps you could enlighten our professor?”

“Of course,” Harris said calmly. “That’s a reasonable question, and while I cannot speak directly to Captain Janáček’s procedural methods, I can certainly confirm that his actions do match general counterterrorism strategy. Widely publicized attacks, even failed attacks, only embolden terrorists. The correct response, when possible, is to defuse the threat, pretend it never happened, and deny the terrorists any publicity whatsoever.”

“Okay.” Langdon wondered how many terrorist attacks were thwarted every day without the public’s knowledge.

Janáček leaned toward Langdon, elbows on knees. “Any other questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Good, then let us move to my question…because I have only one. And it is one that, so far, you have refused to answer.” Janáček took another pull on his cigarette and drew out his question as if talking to a child. “Professor… how did you know about the bomb?”

“I didn’t know, ” Langdon replied. “I just—”

“You pulled the alarm!” Janáček exploded. “You knew something ! And Professor, please don’t say again, ‘It’s complicated.’ I appreciate that you are a famous scholar, but I too am a smart man. I believe I am capable of understanding your complications.”

“Mr. Langdon,” Harris said calmly. “This is your moment; just tell the truth.”

Langdon took a deep breath and hoped that John the Evangelist had been correct when he promised “the truth will set you free.”