As the killer walked, he imagined his ancestors smiling down on him. Today he was fighting their battle, he was fighting the same enemy they had fought for ages, as far back as the eleventh century . . . when the enemy’s crusading armies had first pillaged his land, raping and killing his people, declaring them unclean, defiling their temples and gods.

His ancestors had formed a small but deadly army to defend themselves. The army became famous across the land as protectors-skilled executioners who wandered the countryside slaughtering any of the enemy they could find. They were renowned not only for their brutal killings, but also for celebrating their slayings by plunging themselves into drug-induced stupors. Their drug of choice was a potent intoxicant they called hashish.

As their notoriety spread, these lethal men became known by a single word-Hassassin-literally “the followers of hashish.” The name Hassassin became synonymous with death in almost every language on earth. The word was still used today, even in modern English . . . but like the craft of killing, the word had evolved.

It was now pronounced assassin.

Langdon paused to make his point. He looked directly into Kohler’s dead eyes. “The Illuminati went deep underground, where they began mixing with other refugee groups fleeing the Catholic purges-mystics, alchemists, occultists, Muslims, Jews. Over the years, the Illuminati began absorbing new members. A new Illuminati emerged. A darker Illuminati. A deeply anti-Christian Illuminati. They grew very powerful, employing mysterious rites, deadly secrecy, vowing someday to rise again and take revenge on the Catholic Church. Their power grew to the point where the church considered them the single most dangerous anti-Christian force on earth. The Vatican denounced the brotherhood as Shaitan.”

“Shaitan?”

“It’s Islamic. It means ‘adversary’ . . . God’s adversary. The church chose Islam for the name because it was a language they considered dirty.” Langdon hesitated.

“Shaitan is the root of an English word . . .Satan.”

“I became fascinated with the cult when I first learned that U.S. currency is covered with Illuminati symbology.”

Vittoria’s eyes narrowed, apparently not knowing whether or not to take him seriously.

Langdon handed her the bill. “Look at the back. See the Great Seal on the left?”

Vittoria turned the one-dollar bill over. “You mean the pyramid?”

“The pyramid. Do you know what pyramids have to do with U.S. history?”

Vittoria shrugged.

“Exactly,” Langdon said. “Absolutely nothing.”

Vittoria frowned. “So why is it the central symbol of your Great Seal?”

“An eerie bit of history,” Langdon said. “The pyramid is an occult symbol representing a convergence upward, toward the ultimate source of Illumination. See what’s above it?”

Vittoria studied the bill. “An eye inside a triangle.”

“It’s called the trinacria. Have you ever seen that eye in a triangle anywhere else?”

Vittoria was silent a moment. “Actually, yes, but I’m not sure . . .”

“It’s emblazoned on Masonic lodges around the world.”

“The symbol is Masonic?”

“Actually, no. It’s Illuminati. They called it their ‘shining delta.’ A call for enlightened change. The eye signifies the Illuminati’s ability to infiltrate and watch all things. The shining triangle represents enlightenment. And the triangle is also the Greek letter delta, which is the mathematical symbol for-”

“Change. Transition.”

Langdon smiled. “I forgot I was talking to a scientist.”

“So you’re saying the U.S. Great Seal is a call for enlightened, all-seeing change?”

“Some would call it a New World Order.”

Vittoria seemed startled. She glanced down at the bill again. “The writing under the pyramid says Novus . . . Ordo . . .”

“Novus Ordo Seculorum,” Langdon said. “It means New Secular Order.”

“Secular as in nonreligious?”

“Nonreligious. The phrase not only clearly states the Illuminati objective, but it also blatantly contradicts the phrase beside it. In God We Trust.”

The Great Castration, Langdon thought.

It was one of the most horrific tragedies in Renaissance art. In 1857, Pope Pius IX decided that the accurate representation of the male form might incite lust inside the Vatican. So he got a chisel and mallet and hacked off the genitalia of every single male statue inside Vatican City. He defaced works by Michelangelo, Bramante, and Bernini. Plaster fig leaves were used to patch the damage. Hundreds of sculptures had been emasculated. Langdon had often wondered if there was a huge crate of stone penises someplace.

“Why would Christians want their tombs to face the rising sun? We’re talking about Christianity . . . not sun worship!”

Langdon smiled, pacing before the blackboard, chewing an apple. “Mr. Hitzrot!” he shouted.

A young man dozing in back sat up with a start. “What! Me?”

Langdon pointed to a Renaissance art poster on the wall. “Who is that man kneeling before God?”

“Um . . . some saint?”

“Brilliant. And how do you know he’s a saint?”

“He’s got a halo?”

“Excellent, and does that golden halo remind you of anything?”

Hitzrot broke into a smile. “Yeah! Those Egyptian things we studied last term. Those . . . um . . . sun disks!”

“Thank you, Hitzrot. Go back to sleep.” Langdon turned back to the class. “Halos, like much of Christian symbology, were borrowed from the ancient Egyptian religion of sun worship. Christianity is filled with examples of sun worship.”

“Excuse me?” the girl in front said. “I go to church all the time, and I don’t see much sun worshiping going on!”

“Really? What do you celebrate on December twenty-fifth?”

“Christmas. The birth of Jesus Christ.”

“And yet according to the Bible, Christ was born in March, so what are we doing celebrating in late December?”

Silence.

Langdon smiled. “December twenty-fifth, my friends, is the ancient pagan holiday of sol invictus-Unconquered Sun-coinciding with the winter solstice. It’s that wonderful time of year when the sun returns, and the days start getting longer.”

[...]

Now the girl in front looked furious. “You’re implying Christianity is just some kind of . . . repackaged sun worship!”

“Not at all. Christianity did not borrow only from sun worship. The ritual of Christian canonization is taken from the ancient ‘god-making’ rite of Euhemerus. The practice of ‘god-eating’-that is, Holy Communion-was borrowed from the Aztecs. Even the concept of Christ dying for our sins is arguably not exclusively Christian; the self-sacrifice of a young man to absolve the sins of his people appears in the earliest tradition of the Quetzalcoatl.”

“Um . . . hold on,” Hitzrot ventured, sounding awake now. “I know something Christian that’s original. How about our image of God? Christian art never portrays God as the hawk sun god, or as an Aztec, or as anything weird. It always shows God as an old man with a white beard. So our image of God is original, right?”

Langdon smiled. “When the early Christian converts abandoned their former deities-pagan gods, Roman gods, Greek, sun, Mithraic, whatever-they asked the church what their new Christian God looked like. Wisely, the church chose the most feared, powerful . . . and familiar face in all of recorded history.”

Hitzrot looked skeptical. “An old man with a white, flowing beard?”

Langdon pointed to a hierarchy of ancient gods on the wall. At the top sat an old man with a white, flowing beard. “Does Zeus look familiar?”

And it was not as if Popes had never been murdered. Countless rumors of treachery abounded, although with no autopsy, none was ever confirmed. Until recently. Academics not long ago had gotten permission to X-ray the tomb of Pope Celestine V, who had allegedly died at the hands of his overeager successor, Boniface VIII. The researchers had hoped the X-ray might reveal some small hint of foul play-a broken bone perhaps. Incredibly, the X-ray had revealed a ten-inch nail driven into the Pope’s skull.