Chapter 6

           Sixty-fourminuteshadpassedwhenanincredulousandslightlyair-sickRobertLangdonsteppeddownthegangplankontothesun-drenchedrunway.Acrispbreezerustledthelapelsofhistweedjacket.Theopenspacefeltwonderful.Hesquintedoutatthelushgreenvalleyrisingtosnowcappedpeaksallaroundthem.

           I’mdreaming,hetoldhimself.AnyminutenowI’llbewakingup.

           "WelcometoSwitzerland,"thepilotsaid,yellingovertheroaroftheX-33’smisted-fuelHEDMengineswindingdownbehindthem.

           Langdoncheckedhiswatch.Itread7:07A.M.

           "Youjustcrossedsixtimezones,"thepilotoffered."It’salittlepast1P.M.here."

           Langdonresethiswatch.

           "Howdoyoufeel?"

           Herubbedhisstomach."LikeI’vebeeneatingStyrofoam."

           Thepilotnodded."Altitudesickness.Wewereatsixtythousandfeet.You’rethirtypercentlighterupthere.Luckyweonlydidapuddlejump.Ifwe’dgonetoTokyoI’dhavetakenherallthewayup—ahundredmiles.Nowthat’llgetyourinsidesrolling."

           Langdongaveawannodandcountedhimselflucky.Allthingsconsidered,theflighthadbeenremarkablyordinary.Asidefromabone-crushingaccelerationduringtakeoff,theplane’smotionhadbeenfairlytypical—occasionalminorturbulence,afewpressurechangesasthey’dclimbed,butnothingatalltosuggesttheyhadbeenhurtlingthroughspaceatthemind-numbingspeedof11,000milesperhour.

           AhandfuloftechniciansscurriedontotherunwaytotendtotheX-33.ThepilotescortedLangdontoablackPeugeotsedaninaparkingareabesidethecontroltower.