Inferno

Although Langdon sensed his mind now working at normal speed, he still felt as if he were struggling to catch up. I’ve been carrying a biometrically sealed canister.

“When I discovered this canister in your jacket, I wanted to show Dr. Marconi privately, but I didn’t have an opportunity before you woke up. I considered trying your thumb on the pad while you were unconscious, but I had no idea what was in the tube, and—”

“MY thumb?!” Langdon shook his head. “There’s no way this thing is programmed for me to open it. I don’t know anything about biochemistry. I’d never have anything like this.”

“Are you sure?”

Langdon was damned sure. He reached out and placed his thumb on the finger pad. Nothing happened. “See?! I told—”

The titanium tube clicked loudly, and Langdon yanked his hand back as if it had been burned. Holy shit. He stared at the canister as if it were about to unscrew itself and start emitting a deadly gas. After three seconds, it clicked again, apparently relocking itself.

Speechless, Langdon turned to Sie

The young doctor exhaled, looking u

For Langdon, the entire scenario felt incongruous. “That’s impossible. First of all, how would I get this chunk of metal through airport security?”

“Maybe you flew in on a private jet? Or maybe it was given to you when you arrived in Italy?”

“Sie

“You don’t think we should open it first?”

Langdon had taken some ill-advised actions in his life, but opening a hazardous materials container in this woman’s kitchen would not be one of them. “I’m handing this thing over to the authorities. Now.”

Sie

Langdon looked Sie

She gave a grateful nod and walked over to the window, gazing down at the street below. “Okay, this is how we should do it.”

Sie

Langdon waited as she turned on her cell phone’s caller-ID blocking and dialed. Her fingers were delicate and yet moved purposefully.

“Informazioni abbonati?” Sie

She waited and then quickly wrote down a phone number.

“Grazie mille,” she said, and hung up.

Sie

“My memory is fine,” he said with a smile as he dialed the number on the slip of paper. The line began to ring.

Here goes nothing.

He switched the call to speaker and set the phone on the table so Sie

Langdon checked the clock on the cell. It was only 6 A.M.

“If this is an emergency,” the automated recording said, “you may dial seven-seven to speak to the night duty officer.”

Langdon immediately dialed the extension.

The line was ringing again.

“Consolato americano,” a tired voice answered. “Sono il funzionario di turno.”

“Lei parla inglese?” Langdon asked.

“Of course,” the man said in American English. He sounded vaguely a

“I’m an American visiting Florence and I was attacked. My name is Robert Langdon.”

“Passport number, please.” The man yawned audibly.

“My passport is missing. I think it was stolen. I was shot in the head. I’ve been in the hospital. I need help.”

The attendant suddenly woke up. “Sir!? Did you say you were shot? What was your full name again, please?”

“Robert Langdon.”

There was a rustling on the line and then Langdon could hear the man’s fingers typing on a keyboard. The computer pinged. A pause. Then more fingers on the keyboard. Another ping. Then three high-pitched pings.

A longer pause.

“Sir?” the man said. “Your name is Robert Langdon?”

“Yes, that’s right. And I’m in trouble.”

“Okay, sir, your name has an action flag on it, which is directing me to transfer you immediately to the consul general’s chief administrator.” The man paused, as if he himself couldn’t believe it. “Just hold the line.”

“Wait! Can you tell me—”

The line was already ringing.

It rang four times and co

“This is Collins,” a hoarse voice answered.

Langdon took a deep breath and spoke as calmly and clearly as possible. “Mr. Collins, my name is Robert Langdon. I’m an American visiting Florence. I’ve been shot. I need help. I want to come to the U.S. Consulate immediately. Can you help me?”

Without hesitation, the deep voice replied, “Thank heavens you’re alive, Mr. Langdon. We’ve been looking for you.”

CHAPTER 12

The consulate knows I’m here?

For Langdon, the news brought an instantaneous flood of relief. Mr. Collins — who had introduced himself as the consul general’s chief administrator — spoke with a firm, professional cadence, and yet there was urgency in his voice. “Mr. Langdon, you and I need to speak immediately. And obviously not on the phone.”

Nothing was obvious to Langdon at this point, but he wasn’t about to interrupt.

“I’ll have someone pick you up right away,” Collins said. “What is your location?”

Sie

“I’m in a small hotel called Pensione la Fiorentina,” Langdon said, glancing across the street at the drab hotel that Sie

“Got it,” the man replied. “Don’t move. Stay in your room. Someone will be there right away. Room number?”

Langdon made one up. “Thirty-nine.”

“Okay. Twenty minutes.” Collins lowered his voice. “And, Mr. Langdon, it sounds like you may be injured and confused, but I need to know … are you still in possession?”

In possession. Langdon sensed the question, while cryptic, could have only one meaning. His eyes moved to the biotube on the kitchen table. “Yes, sir. I’m still in possession.”

Collins exhaled audibly. “When we didn’t hear from you, we assumed … well, frankly, we assumed the worst. I’m relieved. Stay where you are. Don’t move. Twenty minutes. Someone will knock on your door.”

Collins hung up.

Langdon could feel his shoulders relaxing for the first time since he’d woken up in the hospital. The consulate knows what’s going on, and soon I’ll have answers. Langdon closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, feeling almost human now. His headache had all but passed.

“Well, that was all very MI6,” Sie

At the moment Langdon had no idea what he was. The notion that he could lose two days of memory and find himself in an unrecognizable situation felt incomprehensible, and yet here he was … twenty minutes away from a rendezvous with a U.S. Consulate official in a run-down hotel.

What’s happening here?

He glanced over at Sie