The Lost Symbol Chapter 58-61

Part 58 The hesitantly nicknamed unstable Key4 had been created by Special Forces explicitly for opening bolted entryways with negligible inadvertent blow-back. Comprising basically of cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine with a diethylhexyl plasticizer, it was basically a bit of C-4 folded into paper-flimsy sheets for inclusion into doorjambs. On account of the library's understanding room, the hazardous had worked impeccably. Activity pioneer Agent Turner Simkins ventured over the destruction of the entryways and filtered the gigantic octagonal space for any indications of development. Nothing. â€Å"Kill the lights,† Simkins said. A subsequent specialist found the divider board, tossed the switches, and dove the room into dimness. As one, each of the four men came to up and yanked as the night progressed vision headgear, changing the goggles over their eyes. They stood unmoving, looking over the understanding room, which currently appeared in shades of luminescent green inside their goggles. The scene stayed unaltered. No one made a scramble for it in obscurity. The escapees were likely unarmed, but then the field group went into the stay with weapons raised. In the obscurity, their guns anticipated four threatening poles of laser light. The men washed the shafts every which way, over the floor, up the far dividers, into the galleries, testing the obscurity. Generally, an insignificant look at a laser-located weapon in an obscured room was sufficient to prompt moment give up. Obviously not today around evening time. Still no development. Operator Simkins lifted his hand, motioning his group into the space. Quietly, the men fanned out. Moving circumspectly up the middle passageway, Simkins came to up and flipped a switch on his goggles, initiating the most up to date expansion to the CIA's stockpile. Warm imaging had been around for a considerable length of time, yet late advances in scaling down, differential affectability, and double source joining had encouraged another age of vision improving gear that gave field specialists vision that verged on superhuman. We find in obscurity. We see through dividers. What's more, presently . . . we see back in time. Warm imaging hardware had gotten so touchy to warm differentials that it could recognize not just an individual's area . . . be that as it may, their past areas. The capacity to see into the past regularly demonstrated the most important resource of all. Furthermore, this evening, indeed, it demonstrated its value. Specialist Simkins now saw a warm signature at one of the understanding work areas. The two wooden seats luminesced in his goggles, enrolling a rosy purple shading, showing those seats were hotter than different seats in the room. The work area light's bulb sparkled orange. Clearly the two men had been sitting at the work area, however the inquiry presently was in which heading they had gone. He discovered his answer on the focal counter that encompassed the huge wooden reassure in the room. A spooky impression, shining red. Weapon raised, Simkins pushed toward the octagonal bureau, preparing his laser sight over the surface. He hovered until he saw an opening in the side of the support. Did they truly corner themselves in a bureau? The specialist examined the trim around the opening and saw another gleaming impression on it. Unmistakably somebody had gotten the doorjamb as he dodged inside the comfort. The ideal opportunity for quietness was finished. â€Å"Thermal signature!† Simkins yelled, pointing at the opening. â€Å"Flanks converge!† His two flanks moved in from inverse sides, viably encompassing the octagonal reassure. Simkins advanced toward the opening. Still ten feet away, he could see a light source inside. â€Å"Light inside the console!† he yelled, trusting the sound of his voice may persuade Mr. Bellamy and Mr. Langdon to leave the bureau with their hands up. Nothing occurred. Fine, we'll do this the other way. As Simkins moved nearer to the opening, he could hear a surprising murmur thundering from inside. It seemed like apparatus. He delayed, attempting to envision what could be making such a clamor in such a little space. He crept nearer, presently hearing voices over the sound of hardware. At that point, similarly as he showed up at the opening, the lights inside went out. Much thanks to you, he thought, altering his night vision. Favorable position, us. Remaining at the limit, he looked through the opening. What lay past was surprising. The reassure was to a lesser degree a bureau than a raised roof over a lofty arrangement of steps that plummeted into a room beneath. The specialist pointed his weapon down the steps and started dropping. The murmur of apparatus became stronger with each progression. What the heck is this spot? The room underneath the perusing room was a little, mechanical looking space. The murmur he heard was for sure hardware, in spite of the fact that he was uncertain about whether it was running on the grounds that Bellamy and Langdon had enacted it, or on the grounds that it went nonstop. In any case, it plainly had no effect. The outlaws had left their obvious warmth marks on the room's solitary exitâ€a overwhelming steel entryway whose keypad demonstrated four clear fingerprints shining on the numbers. Around the entryway, bits of sparkling orange shone underneath the doorjamb, showing that lights were lit up on the opposite side. â€Å"Blow the door,† Simkins said. â€Å"This was their getaway route.† It took eight seconds to embed and explode a sheet of Key4. At the point when the smoke cleared, the field-group operators ended up peering into an abnormal underground world referred to here as â€Å"the stacks.† The Library of Congress had miles and miles of shelves, the vast majority of them underground. The unlimited lines of racks resembled a â€Å"infinity† optical fantasy made with mirrors. A sign declared TEMPERATURE-CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENT Keep this entryway shut consistently. Simkins pushed through the damaged entryways and felt cool air past. He really wanted to grin. Could this get any simpler? Warmth marks in controlled conditions appeared like sun oriented flares, and as of now his goggles uncovered a shining red smear on a railing up ahead, which Bellamy or Langdon had taken hold of while running past. â€Å"You can run,† he murmured to himself, â€Å"but you can't hide.† As Simkins and his group progressed into the labyrinth of stacks, he understood the playing field was tipped so intensely in support of himself that he would not require his goggles to follow his prey. Under typical conditions, this labyrinth of stacks would have been a good concealing spot, however the Library of Congress utilized movement actuated lights to spare vitality, and the criminals' getaway course was presently lit up like a runway. A tight piece of light extended into the separation, evading and weaving as it went. All the men ripped off their goggles. Flooding ahead on very much prepared legs, the field group followed the path of lights, zigging and crossing through an apparently interminable maze of books. Before long Simkins started seeing lights flashing on in the obscurity up ahead. We're picking up. He pushed more diligently, quicker, until he heard strides and toiled breathing ahead. At that point he saw an objective. €Å"i have visual!† he shouted. The slender type of Warren Bellamy was evidently raising the back. The demurely dressed African American stumbled through the stacks, clearly winded. It's no utilization, elderly person. â€Å"Stop in that spot, Mr. Bellamy!† Simkins hollered. Bellamy continued running, turning sharp corners, weaving through the lines of books. Every step of the way, the lights continued going ahead over his head. As the group drew inside twenty yards, they yelled again to stop, yet Bellamy ran on. â€Å"Take him down!† Simkins told. The specialist conveying the group's nonlethal rifle raised it and discharged. The shot that propelled down the passageway and folded itself over Bellamy's legs was nicknamed Silly String, yet there was nothing senseless about it. A military innovation concocted at Sandia National Laboratories, this nonlethal â€Å"incapacitant† was a string of gooey polyurethane that turned stone hard on contact, making an unbending trap of plastic over the rear of the criminal's knees. The impact on a running objective was that of sticking a stick into the spokes of a moving bicycle. The man's legs seized midstride, and he pitched forward, colliding with the floor. Bellamy slid another ten feet down an obscured passageway before grinding to a halt, the lights above him glinting unceremoniously to life. â€Å"I'll manage Bellamy,† Simkins yelled. â€Å"You prop up after Langdon! He should be up ahead someâ€â€  The group chief halted, presently observing that the library stacks in front of Bellamy were all completely dark. Clearly, there was nobody else running before Bellamy. He's distant from everyone else? Bellamy was still on his chest, breathing vigorously, his legs and lower legs all went head to head with solidified plastic. The operator strolled over and utilized his foot to turn the elderly person over onto his back. â€Å"Where is he?!† the specialist requested. Bellamy's lip was seeping from the fall. â€Å"Where is who?† Specialist Simkins lifted his foot and put his boot unequivocally on Bellamy's immaculate silk tie. At that point he inclined in, applying some weight. â€Å"Believe me, Mr. Bellamy, you would prefer not to play this game with me.† Part 59 Robert Langdon felt like a carcass. He lay recumbent, hands collapsed on his chest, in complete haziness, caught in the most limited of spaces. In spite of the fact that Katherine lay close by in a comparable situation close to his head, Langdon couldn't see her. He had his eyes shut to keep himself from getting even a passing look at his startling pickle. The space around him was little. Small. Sixty seconds back, with the swinging doors of the perusing room smashing down, he and Katherine had followed Bellamy into the octagonal comfort, down a precarious arrangement of steps, and into the surprising space underneath. Langdon had acknowledged without a moment's delay where they were. The core of the library's dissemination framework. Looking like a little air terminal stuff dissemination focus, the flow room had various transport b