Inferno. let you go until you close the book.

With these words echoing in his head, eminent Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon awakes in a hospital bed with no recollection of where he is or how he got there. Nor can he explain the origin of the macabre object that is found hidden in his belongings. A threat to his life will propel him and a young doctor, Sienna Brooks, into a breakneck chase across the city of Florence. Only Langdon’s knowledge of hidden passageways and ancient secrets that lie behind its historic facade can save them from the clutches of their unknown pursuers. With only a few lines from Dante’s dark and epic masterpiece, The Inferno, to guide them, they must decipher a sequence of codes buried deep within some of the most celebrated artefacts of the Renaissance – sculptures, paintings, buildings – to find the answers to a puzzle which may, or may not, help them save the world from a terrifying threat… Set against an extraordinary landscape inspired by one of history’s most ominous literary classics, Inferno is Dan Brown’s most compelling and thoughtprovoking novel yet, a breathless raceagainst time thriller that will grab you from page one and not let you go until you close the book.

About the Book

‘Seek and ye shall find.’

With these words echoing in hishead, eminent Harvard symbologistRobert Langdon awakes in a hospitalbed with no recollection of where he

is or how he got there Nor can heexplain the origin of the macabreobject that is found hidden in hisbelongings

A threat to his life will propel him and

a young doctor, Sienna Brooks, into abreakneck chase across the city ofFlorence Only Langdon’s knowledge

of hidden passageways and ancientsecrets that lie behind its historicfacade can save them from theclutches of their unknown pursuers.

With only a few lines from Dante’sdark and epic masterpiece, The Inferno, to guide them, they mustdecipher a sequence of codes burieddeep within some of the mostcelebrated artefacts of theRenaissance – sculptures, paintings,buildings – to find the answers to apuzzle which may, or may not, helpthem save the world from a terrifyingthreat…

Set against an extraordinary

landscape inspired by one of history’smost ominous literary classics,

Inferno is Dan Brown’s mostcompelling and thought-provokingnovel yet, a breathless race-against-time thriller that will grab you frompage one and not let you go until youclose the book

Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17

Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31

Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45

Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57Chapter 58Chapter 59

Chapter 60Chapter 61Chapter 62Chapter 63Chapter 64Chapter 65Chapter 66Chapter 67Chapter 68Chapter 69Chapter 70Chapter 71Chapter 72Chapter 73

Chapter 74Chapter 75Chapter 76Chapter 77Chapter 78Chapter 79Chapter 80Chapter 81Chapter 82Chapter 83Chapter 84Chapter 85Chapter 86Chapter 87

Chapter 88Chapter 89Chapter 90Chapter 91Chapter 92Chapter 93Chapter 94Chapter 95Chapter 96Chapter 97Chapter 98Chapter 99Chapter 100Chapter 101

FOR MY PARENTS …

My extraordinary wife, Blythe, forher love and patience with thewriting process, and also for hersuperb instincts and candor as afront-line editor.

My tireless agent and trustedfriend Heide Lange, for expertly

navigating more conversations, inmore countries, on more topics than Iwill ever know For her skills andenergy, I am eternally grateful.

The entire team at Doubleday forits enthusiasm, creativity, and efforts

on behalf of my books, with veryspecial thanks to Suzanne Herz (forwearing so many hats … and wearingthem so well), Bill Thomas, MichaelWindsor, Judy Jacoby, Joe Gallagher,Rob Bloom, Nora Reichard, BethMeister, Maria Carella, LorraineHyland, and also to the unendingsupport of Sonny Mehta, TonyChirico, Kathy Trager, Anne Messitte,and Markus Dohle To the incrediblepeople of the Random House sales

department … you are unrivaled.

My sage counsel Michael Rudell, forhis pitch-perfect instincts on allmatters, large and small, as well asfor his friendship

My irreplaceable assistant SusanMorehouse, for her grace and vitality,and without whom all things descendinto chaos

All of my friends at Transworld, inparticular Bill Scott-Kerr for hiscreativity, support, and good cheer,and also to Gail Rebuck for hersuperb leadership

My Italian publisher Mondadori,especially Ricky Cavallero, PieraCusani, Giovanni Dutto, AntonioFranchini, and Claudia Scheu; and my

Turkish publisher Altin Kitaplar,particularly Oya Alpar, Erden Heper,and Batu Bozkurt, for the specialservices provided in connection withthe locations in this book.

My exceptional publishers aroundthe world for their passion, hardwork, and commitment

For their impressive management

of the London and Milan translationsites, Leon Romero-Montalvo andLuciano Guglielmi

The bright Dr Marta AlvarezGonzález for spending so much timewith us in Florence and for bringing

to life the city’s art and architecture.The peerless Maurizio Pimponi forall he did to enhance our visit to

All the historians, guides, andspecialists who generously spenttime with me in Florence and Venice,sharing their expertise: Giovanna Raoand Eugenia Antonucci at theBiblioteca Medicea Laurenziana,Serena Pini and staff at the PalazzoVecchio; Giovanna Giusti at the UffiziGallery; Barbara Fedeli at theBaptistery and Il Duomo; Ettore Vitoand Massimo Bisson at St Mark’sBasilica; Giorgio Tagliaferro at theDoge’s Palace; Isabella di Lenardo,Elizabeth Carroll Consavari, andElena Svalduz throughout all ofVenice; Annalisa Bruni and staff atthe Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana;

and to the many others whom I’vefailed to mention in this abbreviatedlist, my sincere thanks.

Rachael Dillon Fried and StephanieDelman at Sanford J GreenburgerAssociates for everything they doboth here and abroad

The exceptional minds of Dr.George Abraham, Dr John Treanor,and Dr Bob Helm for their scientificexpertise

My early readers, who providedperspective along the way: GregBrown, Dick and Connie Brown,Rebecca Kaufman, Jerry and OliviaKaufman, and John Chaffee

The web-savvy Alex Cannon, who,along with the team at Sanborn

Media Factory, keeps thingshumming in the online world.

Judd and Kathy Gregg for providing

me quiet sanctuary within GreenGables as I wrote the final chapters

of this book

The superb online resources of thePrinceton Dante Project, DigitalDante at Columbia University, andthe World of Dante

The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis.

FACT:

All artwork, literature,science, and historicalreferences in this novel arereal

“The Consortium” is aprivate organization withoffices in seven countries

changed for considerations

of security and privacy

Inferno is the underworld

as described in DanteAlighieri’s epic poem The Divine Comedy, whichportrays hell as anelaborately structuredrealm populated by entities

bodiless souls trappedbetween life and death

I AM THE Shade.

Through the dolent city, I flee Through the eternal woe, I take flight.

Along the banks of the river Arno, Iscramble, breathless … turning leftonto Via dei Castellani, making myway northward, huddling in theshadows of the Uffizi

And still they pursue me

Their footsteps grow louder now as

determination

For years they have pursued me

Their persistence has kept meunderground … forced me to live inpurgatory … laboring beneath theearth like a chthonic monster.

I am the Shade.

Here aboveground, I raise my eyes

to the north, but I am unable to find

a direct path to salvation … for theApennine Mountains are blotting outthe first light of dawn

I pass behind the palazzo with itscrenellated tower and one-handedclock … snaking through the early-morning vendors in Piazza di SanFirenze with their hoarse voicessmelling of lampredotto and roastedolives Crossing before the Bargello, Icut west toward the spire of the

Badia and come up hard against theiron gate at the base of the stairs.

Here all hesitation must be left behind.

I turn the handle and step into thepassage from which I know there will

be no return I urge my leaden legs

up the narrow staircase … spiralingskyward on soft marble treads, pittedand worn

The voices echo from below.Beseeching

They are behind me, unyielding,closing in

They do not understand what is coming … nor what I have done for them!

Ungrateful land!

As I climb, the visions come hard …the lustful bodies writhing in fieryrain, the gluttonous souls floating inexcrement, the treacherous villainsfrozen in Satan’s icy grasp.

I climb the final stairs and arrive atthe top, staggering near dead intothe damp morning air I rush to thehead-high wall, peering through theslits Far below is the blessed citythat I have made my sanctuary fromthose who exiled me

The voices call out, arriving closebehind me “What you’ve done ismadness!”

Madness breeds madness.

“For the love of God,” they shout,

“tell us where you’ve hidden it!”

For precisely the love of God, I will not.

I stand now, cornered, my back tothe cold stone They stare deep into

my clear green eyes, and theirexpressions darken, no longercajoling, but threatening “You know

we have our methods We can forceyou to tell us where it is.”

For that reason, I have climbed halfway to heaven.

Without warning, I turn and reach

up, curling my fingers onto the highledge, pulling myself up, scramblingonto my knees, then standing …unsteady at the precipice Guide me, dear Virgil, across the void.

They rush forward in disbelief,

wanting to grab at my feet, butfearing they will upset my balanceand knock me off They beg now, inquiet desperation, but I have turned

my back I know what I must do.

Beneath me, dizzyingly far beneath

me, the red tile roofs spread out like

a sea of fire on the countryside,illuminating the fair land upon whichgiants once roamed … Giotto,

Michelangelo, Botticelli

I inch my toes to the edge

“Come down!” they shout “It’s nottoo late!”

O, willful ignorants! Do you not see the future? Do you not grasp the splendor of my creation? The

I will gladly make this ultimatesacrifice … and with it I willextinguish your final hope of findingwhat you seek

You will never locate it in time.

Hundreds of feet below, thecobblestone piazza beckons like atranquil oasis How I long for moretime … but time is the onecommodity even my vast fortunescannot afford

In these final seconds, I gaze down

at the piazza, and I behold a sightthat startles me

I see your face

You are gazing up at me from theshadows Your eyes are mournful,

and yet in them I sense a venerationfor what I have accomplished Youunderstand I have no choice For thelove of Mankind, I must protect mymasterpiece.

It grows even now … waiting … simmering beneath the bloodred waters of the lagoon that reflects no stars.

And so, I lift my eyes from yoursand I contemplate the horizon Highabove this burdened world, I make

my final supplication

Dearest God, I pray the world remembers my name not as a monstrous sinner, but as the glorious savior you know I truly am I pray Mankind will understand the gift I

by a shroud In her hand she gripped

a blue tainia cloth, which she nowraised in honor of the sea of corpses

at her feet The smell of death hungeverywhere

Seek, the woman whispered And

Time grows short, she whispered

Seek and find.

Langdon took a step toward theriver, but he could see the waterswere bloodred and too deep totraverse When Langdon raised hiseyes again to the veiled woman, thebodies at her feet had multiplied.There were hundreds of them now,maybe thousands, some still alive,writhing in agony, dying unthinkabledeaths … consumed by fire, buried in

feces, devouring one another Hecould hear the mournful cries ofhuman suffering echoing across thewater.

The woman moved toward him,holding out her slender hands, as ifbeckoning for help

“Who are you?!” Langdon againshouted

In response, the woman reached

up and slowly lifted the veil from herface She was strikingly beautiful,and yet older than Langdon hadimagined—in her sixties perhaps,stately and strong, like a timelessstatue She had a sternly set jaw,deep soulful eyes, and long, silver-gray hair that cascaded over her

shoulders in ringlets An amulet oflapis lazuli hung around her neck—asingle snake coiled around a staff.

Langdon sensed he knew her …trusted her But how? Why?

She pointed now to a writhing pair

of legs, which protruded upside downfrom the earth, apparently belonging

to some poor soul who had beenburied headfirst to his waist Theman’s pale thigh bore a single letter

—written in mud—R

R? Langdon thought, uncertain As

in … Robert? “Is that … me?”

The woman’s face revealednothing Seek and find, she repeated.Without warning, she beganradiating a white light … brighter and

brighter Her entire body startedvibrating intensely, and then, in arush of thunder, she exploded into athousand splintering shards of light.

Langdon bolted awake, shouting.The room was bright He wasalone The sharp smell of medicinalalcohol hung in the air, andsomewhere a machine pinged inquiet rhythm with his heart Langdontried to move his right arm, but asharp pain restrained him He lookeddown and saw an IV tugging at theskin of his forearm

His pulse quickened, and themachines kept pace, pinging morerapidly

Where am I? What happened?

The back of Langdon’s headthrobbed, a gnawing pain Gingerly,

he reached up with his free arm andtouched his scalp, trying to locate thesource of his headache Beneath hismatted hair, he found the hard nubs

of a dozen or so stitches caked withdried blood

He closed his eyes, trying toremember an accident

Nothing A total blank

Think.

Only darkness

A man in scrubs hurried in,apparently alerted by Langdon’sracing heart monitor He had ashaggy beard, bushy mustache, andgentle eyes that radiated a

thoughtful calm beneath hisovergrown eyebrows.

“What … happened?” Langdonmanaged “Did I have an accident?”

The bearded man put a finger tohis lips and then rushed out, callingfor someone down the hall

Langdon turned his head, but themovement sent a spike of painradiating through his skull He tookdeep breaths and let the pain pass.Then, very gently and methodically,

he surveyed his sterile surroundings.The hospital room had a singlebed No flowers No cards Langdonsaw his clothes on a nearby counter,folded inside a clear plastic bag.They were covered with blood

My God It must have been bad.

Now Langdon rotated his headvery slowly toward the windowbeside his bed It was dark outside.Night All Langdon could see in the

g l a s s was his own reflection—anashen stranger, pale and weary,attached to tubes and wires,surrounded by medical equipment

Voices approached in the hall, andLangdon turned his gaze back towardthe room The doctor returned, nowaccompanied by a woman

She appeared to be in her earlythirties She wore blue scrubs andhad tied her blond hair back in athick ponytail that swung behind her

as she walked