Václav Havel International Airport – Prague – 8:10 p.m.
The private jet, chartered under the alias provided by Janus, hummed with quiet readiness on the tarmac. Inside, Langdon sat by the window, the ancient scroll spread across the tray table, its parchment curling slightly at the edges as if resisting exposure to the open world.
Katherine sat across from him, eyes scanning a digital star chart on her tablet, comparing celestial alignments with the scroll's concentric rings. "It's Franklin's original urban design for New York," she said, tapping on an overlay. "The five-point harmonic structure—based on the pentagram, but altered." Langdon nodded, brow furrowed. "It's not just a pentagram… it's a resonant web.
Franklin buried intentional asymmetry into the grid to create acoustic interference—like a tuning fork." Katherine leaned in. "But why would Franklin hide it? Why wait centuries?" "Because," Langdon said, tapping the date ring on the scroll, "it wasn't meant for his time. It was meant for ours." Outside, the rain intensified, slapping against the fuselage like impatient fingers.
The pilot's voice crackled through the intercom. "Cleared for departure. Wheels up in three minutes." As the jet ascended into the stormy Prague sky, Langdon glanced down at the pendant Janus had pressed into his hand before they parted.
The Janus Seal.
On closer inspection, he noticed something new: the dual faces—one organic, one mechanical—were surrounded by twelve radial spokes.
A zodiac. But the faces were aligned not with traditional signs… but with frequencies—measured in hertz.
"Sound," Katherine whispered, seeing it too. "Encoded thought." Langdon blinked. "The cube isn't just a receiver. It's a tuning device. And New York's grid is the resonant box." Katherine's eyes widened. "That's why he built it that way. The city is the amplifier." Suddenly, the jet lurched—turbulence—and Langdon caught the scroll as it slid forward. But something fluttered loose from its folds.
A smaller page. Torn. A ciphered diagram.
Langdon recognized the symbol immediately.
The Eye of Providence—but unlike the Masonic version, this one had a pupil shaped like a labyrinth.
Katherine read the Latin beneath it aloud.
"Mens in urbe, vox in aether." "The mind in the city, the voice in the ether." Langdon met her gaze. "It's Franklin's final key."
Meanwhile…
An undisclosed location – New York City – 2:15 p.m. local time
In the shadowed vaults beneath an unmarked Manhattan brownstone, a council of men stood in silence around a glowing table.
A red dot blinked in Prague. Then moved westward.
"Langdon has taken the bait," said a man in a midnight-blue suit.
Another figure, face obscured by the reflection on his tablet screen, spoke coldly.
"Let him run. He has four days." "And then?" The man smiled.
"Then we tune the world."