“Interesting,” Langdon replied. “And is this why you spent two hours grilling me about religion over lunch in Boston last year?”
“It is. You may remember my personal guarantee to you—that in our lifetime, the myths of religion would be all but demolished by scientific breakthroughs.”
Langdon nodded. Hard to forget. The boldness of Kirsch’s declaration had emblazoned itself word for word in Langdon’s eidetic memory. “I do. And I countered that religion had survived advances in science for millennia, and that it served an important purpose in society, and while religion might evolve, it would never die.”
“Exactly. I also told you that I had found the purpose of my life—to employ the truth of science to eradicate the myth of religion.”
“Yes, strong words.”
“And you challenged me on them, Robert. You argued that whenever I came across a ‘scientific truth’ that conflicted with or undermined the tenets of religion, I should discuss it with a religious scholar in hopes I might realize that science and religion are often attempting to tell the same story in two different languages.”
“I do remember. Scientists and spiritualists often use different vocabularies to describe the exact same mysteries of the universe. The conflicts are frequently over semantics, not substance.”
“Well, I followed your advice,” Kirsch said. “And I consulted with spiritual leaders about my latest discovery.”
“Oh?”
“Are you familiar with the Parliament of the World’s Religions?”
“Of course.” Langdon was a great admirer of the group’s efforts to promote interfaith discourse.
“By chance,” Kirsch said, “the parliament held their meeting outside Barcelona this year, about an hour from my home, at the Abbey of Montserrat.”
Spectacular spot, Langdon thought, having visited the mountaintop sanctuary many years ago.
“When I heard it was taking place during the same week I had planned to make this major scientific announcement, I don’t know, I…”
“Wondered if it might be a sign from God?”
Kirsch laughed. “Something like that. So I called them.”
Langdon was impressed. “You addressed the entire parliament?”
“No! Too dangerous. I didn’t want this information leaking out before I could announce it myself, so I scheduled a meeting with only three of them—one representative each from Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. The four of us met in private in the library.”
“I’m amazed they let you in the library,” Langdon said with surprise. “I hear that’s hallowed ground.”
“I told them I needed a secure meeting place, no phones, no cameras, no intruders. They took me to that library. Before I told them anything, I asked them to agree to a vow of silence. They complied. To date, they are the only people on earth who know anything about my discovery.”
“Fascinating. And how did they react when you told them?”
Kirsch looked sheepish. “I may not have handled it perfectly. You know me, Robert, when my passions flare, diplomacy is not my métier.”
“Yes, I’ve read that you could use some sensitivity training,” Langdon said with a laugh. Just like Steve Jobs and so many genius visionaries.
“So in keeping with my outspoken nature, I began our talk by simply telling them the truth—that I had always considered religion a form of mass delusion, and that as a scientist, I found it difficult to accept the fact that billions of intelligent people rely on their respective faiths to comfort and guide them. When they asked why I was consulting with people for whom I apparently had little respect, I told them I was there to gauge their reactions to my discovery so I could get some sense of how it would be received by the world’s faithful once I made it public.”
“Always the diplomat,” Langdon said, wincing. “You do know that sometimes honesty is not the best policy?”
Kirsch waved his hand dismissively. “My thoughts on religion are widely publicized. I thought they would appreciate the transparency. Nonetheless, after that, I presented my work to them, explaining in detail what I had discovered and how it changed everything. I even took out my phone and showed them some video that I admit is quite startling. They were speechless.”
“They must have said something,” Langdon prompted, feeling even more curious to know what Kirsch possibly could have discovered.
“I was hoping for a conversation, but the Christian cleric silenced the other two before they could say a word. He urged me to reconsider making the information public. I told him I would think about it for the next month.”
“But you’re going public tonight.”
“I know. I told them my announcement was still several weeks away so they wouldn’t panic or try to interfere.”
“And when they find out about tonight’s presentation?” Langdon asked.
“They will not be amused. One of them in particular.” Kirsch locked eyes with Langdon. “The cleric who convened our meeting was Bishop Antonio Valdespino. Do you know of him?”
Langdon tensed. “From Madrid?”
Kirsch nodded. “One and the same.”
Probably not the ideal audience for Edmond’s radical atheism, Langdon thought. Valdespino was a powerful figure in the Spanish Catholic Church, known for his deeply conservative views and strong influence over the king of Spain.
“He was host of the parliament this year,” Kirsch said, “and therefore the one I spoke to about arranging a meeting. He offered to come personally, and I asked him to bring representatives from Islam and Judaism.”
The lights overhead faded again.
Kirsch sighed heavily, lowering his voice further. “Robert, the reason I wanted to speak to you before my presentation is that I need your advice. I need to know if you believe that Bishop Valdespino is dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Langdon said. “In what way?”
“What I showed him threatens his world, and I want to know if you think I’m in any physical danger from him.”
Langdon immediately shook his head. “No, impossible. I’m not sure what you said to him, but Valdespino is a pillar of Spanish Catholicism, and his ties to the Spanish royal family make him extremely influential…but he’s a priest, not a hit man. He wields political power. He may preach a sermon against you, but I would find it very hard to believe that you are in any physical danger from him.”
Kirsch looked unconvinced. “You should have seen the way he looked at me as I left Montserrat.”
“You sat in that monastery’s sacrosanct library and told a bishop that his entire belief system is delusional!” Langdon exclaimed. “Did you expect him to serve you tea and cake?”
“No,” Edmond admitted, “but I also didn’t expect him to leave me a threatening voice mail after our meeting.”
“Bishop Valdespino called you?”
Kirsch reached into his leather jacket and pulled out an unusually large smartphone. It had a bright turquoise case adorned with a repeating hexagonal pattern, which Langdon recognized as a famous tiled pattern designed by the modernist Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí.
“Have a listen,” Kirsch said, pressing a few buttons and holding up the phone. An elderly man’s voice crackled tersely out of the speaker, his tone severe and dead serious:
Mr. Kirsch, this is Bishop Antonio Valdespino. As you know, I found our meeting this morning profoundly disturbing—as did my two colleagues. I urge you to call me immediately so we can discuss this further, and I can again warn you of the dangers of going public with this information. If you do not call, be advised that my colleagues and I will consider a preemptive announcement to share your discoveries, reframe them, discredit them, and attempt to reverse the untold damage you are about to cause the world…damage that you clearly do not foresee. I await your call, and I strongly suggest you not test my resolve.
The message ended.