Chapter 3 Chapter two

"Can I speak to you now?" The man finally heard Langdon pick up the phone. "Yes, sir. Of course you can. Could you introduce yourself first?" "I was going to tell you just now." The man's voice was stiff and rigid, "I'm a physicist and I'm in charge of a research department. There was a murder here, and you've seen the body." "How did you find me?" Langdon was still brooding over this question, but his mind was full of the facsimile map. "Didn't I tell you! It's on the World Wide Web, at the website that contains your book, The Art of the Illuminati."

Langdon tried to figure it out.His work, which is largely unknown in mainstream literary circles, has attracted a lot of attention on the Internet.But what the person on the phone said was a little off the mark. "There is no contact information on the webpage at all." Langdon denied, "I know it all too well." "There are people in my experimental center who are very good at getting all kinds of information about users from the Internet." Langdon was still puzzled: "It seems that the people in your experiment center know a lot about the Internet!" "Of course," the other party retorted, "We invented the World Wide Web."

From the tone of the other party, Langdon could tell that he was not talking nonsense. "I need to see you." The man said persistently, "This is not something we can discuss on the phone. My experimental center is only an hour's flight from Boston." Langdon stood in the dimly lit study, poring over the fax in his hand.This graphic is so shocking that it may become the representative achievement of inscription research in this century, and his ten years of research are confirmed by a symbol. "It's urgent." The man urged. Langdon stared intently at the brand.Illuminati.He read it over and over again.His research has always been based on the equivalent symbols of fossils—ancient texts and historical legends, but the figure in front of him is today.is present tense.Langdon is like a paleontologist who meets a living dinosaur head-on.

"I have sent you a plane on my own initiative," said the man. "The plane will arrive at Boston Airport in twenty minutes." Langdon was momentarily at a loss for words.It's only an hour's flight away... "Excuse me for taking my own way," said the man again. "I need you here." Langdon looked at the fax again—an ancient myth confirmed in black and white, and the secrets in it were truly frightening.He looked absently out of the bay window.The first ray of morning light had shone through the birch trees in his backyard, but the scenery was a little different today.He was both terrified and excited, and this strange psychology enveloped him, and he knew he had no choice.

"You win," Langdon said. "Tell me where to fly."