The Book of Fate - Brad Meltzer [77]
“We are, but—”
“Then let’s not be stupid.” He heads for the door and slams it shut for privacy. “Instead of rushing in like imbeciles, let’s make sure we’re ready for once.” Reading my reaction, he adds, “What? You do want me to come, right?”
“No . . . of course,” I stutter, sinking slightly in my seat. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”
43
Kingsland, Georgia
THE Thomas Jefferson?
“A trinity—can’t you see it?” Nico asked, both hands on the six o’clock position of the steering wheel. Motioning Edmund to the map on the dashboard between them, he added, “Washington, Jefferson, L’Enfant. The original Three.”
The original three what?
“The Three, Edmund. From the earliest days, there have always been The Three. The Three who were born to destroy—and today, The Three who’re here to save.”
So The Three are chasing The Three—sorta like a circle . . .
“Exactly! Exactly a circle,” Nico said, already excited as he reached up to the sun visor above his seat and pulled out a pen. “That’s how they picked the symbol!” Holding the steering wheel and leaning over toward the dashboard, Nico sketched furiously on the corner of the map.
A circle with a star?
“Five-pointed star, also known as a pentagram—the most widely used religious symbol in history—vital to every culture, from the Mayans to the Egyptians to the Chinese.”
And Washington and Jefferson somehow unearthed this?
No, no, no—pay attention—Washington was a Freemason . . . Jefferson was rumored to be one too. D’you really think they didn’t know what they were doing? This wasn’t something they unearthed. This was something they were taught. Five points on the star, right? In ancient Greece, five was the number of man. And the number of elements: fire, water, air, earth, and psyche. Even the church used to embrace the pentagram—just look at it—the five wounds of Jesus,” Nico said, giving a quick glance to the wood rosary on the rearview. “But when the symbol is inverted—turned upside down— it becomes the opposite of that. A sign embraced by witches, by the occult, and by . . .
. . . the Freemasons.
“You see it, don’t you? I knew you would, Edmund! They’ve been invoking the symbol for centuries—placing it on their buildings . . . above their archways . . . even here,” Nico said, jabbing down at the map, his pointer finger stabbing the most well known block of Pennsylvania Avenue.
The White House?
“They tried it for centuries all over the world. Fortresses in Spain, castles in Ireland, even in the old stone churches in Chicago. But for the doorway to open, they needed more than just the right symbols and incantations . . .
. . . they needed power.
“Supreme power. That was the lesson of the pyramids and Solomon’s Temples—centers of power—to this day, the Freemasons still call Solomon their first grand master! That’s why they collected all of history’s leaders! The access to power! I knew you’d see it! Praise be all!” Just watching Edmund’s reaction, Nico could barely contain himself. “I knew you’d see!”
But . . . how could no one in the White House notice there was a door with a pentagram on it?
“Door? Doors can be removed and replaced, Edmund. Even the White House has been burned and renovated. No, for this, the Masons marked something far more permanent . . .” Nico again turned to the map. “Follow the landmarks,” he explained, already circling each point on the map. “One—Dupont Circle . . . two—Logan Circle . . . three—Washington Circle . . . four—Mount Vernon Square . . . and five—” He lifted his pen and jabbed down at the final spot: “1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.”
“The building is the door. Right in front of us for over two hundred years,” he added as he connected the dots. Just as The Three had done for him.
Oh, God.
“God had nothing to do with it, Edmund. Monsters,” Nico insisted. “That’s who we’re fighting. To mark the territory, Jefferson even branded it with their own emblem.”
On the edge of the map, Nico again started