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My profound thanks to three dear friends with whom I have the great luxury of working: my editor, Jason

Kaufman; my agent, Heide Lange; and my counselor, Michael Rudell. In addition, I would like to express

my immense gratitude to Doubleday, to my publishers around the world, and, of course, to my readers.

This novel could not have been written without the generous assistance of countless individuals who shared

their knowledge and expertise. To all of you, I extend my deep appreciation.

To live in the world without becoming

aware of the meaning of the world is

like wandering about in a great library

without touching the books.

The Secret Teachings

of All Ages



In 1991, a document was locked in the safe of the director of the CIA. The document is still there today. Its

cryptic text includes references to an ancient portal and an unknown location underground. The document

also contains the phrase "It's buried out there somewhere."

All organizations in this novel exist, including the Freemasons, the Invisible College, the Office of Security,

the SMSC, and the Institute of Noetic Sciences.

All rituals, science, artwork, and monuments in this novel are real.



House of the Temple

8:33 P.M.

The secret is how to die.

Since the beginning of time, the secret had always been how to die.

The thirty-four-year-old initiate gazed down at the human skull cradled in his palms. The skull was hollow,

like a bowl, filled with bloodred wine.

Drink it, he told himself. You have nothing to fear.

As was tradition, he had begun this journey adorned in the ritualistic garb of a medieval heretic being led to

the gallows, his loose-fitting shirt gaping open to reveal his pale chest, his left pant leg rolled up to the knee,

and his right sleeve rolled up to the elbow. Around his neck hung a heavy rope noose-a "cable-tow" as the

brethren called it. Tonight, however, like the brethren bearing witness, he was dressed as a master.

The assembly of brothers encircling him all were adorned in their full regalia of lambskin aprons, sashes, and

white gloves. Around their necks hung ceremonial jewels that glistened like ghostly eyes in the muted light.

Many of these men held powerful stations in life, and yet the initiate knew their worldly ranks meant nothing

within these walls. Here all men were equals, sworn brothers sharing a mystical bond.

As he surveyed the daunting assembly, the initiate wondered who on the outside would ever believe that this

lost symbolBu hikayeyi ÜCRETSİZ oku!