André Vernet—president of the Paris branch of the Depository Bank of Zurich—lived in a lavishflat above the bank. Despite his plush accommodations, he had always dreamed of owning ariverside apartment on L'lle Saint-Louis, where he could rub shoulders with the true cognoscenti,rather than here, where he simply met the filthy1 rich.
When I retire, Vernet told himself, I will fill my cellar with rare Bordeaux, adorn2 my salon3 with aFragonard and perhaps a Boucher, and spend my days hunting for antique furniture and rarebooks in the Quartier Latin.
Tonight, Vernet had been awake only six and a half minutes. Even so, as he hurried through thebank's underground corridor, he looked as if his personal tailor and hairdresser had polished him toa fine sheen. Impeccably dressed in a silk suit, Vernet sprayed some breath spray in his mouth andtightened his tie as he walked. No stranger to being awoken to attend to his international clientsarriving from different time zones, Vernet modeled his sleep habits after the Maasai warriors—theAfrican tribe famous for their ability to rise from the deepest sleep to a state of total battlereadiness in a matter of seconds.
Battle ready, Vernet thought, fearing the comparison might be uncharacteristically apt tonight. Thearrival of a gold key client always required an extra flurry of attention, but the arrival of a gold keyclient who was wanted by the Judicial4 Police would be an extremely delicate matter. The bank hadenough battles with law enforcement over the privacy rights of their clients without proof thatsome of them were criminals.
Five minutes, Vernet told himself. I need these people out of my bank before the police arrive.
If he moved quickly, this impending5 disaster could be deftly6 sidestepped. Vernet could tell thepolice that the fugitives7 in question had indeed walked into his bank as reported, but because theywere not clients and had no account number, they were turned away. He wished the damnedwatchman had not called Interpol. Discretion9 was apparently10 not part of the vocabulary of a 15-euro-per-hour watchman.
Stopping at the doorway11, he took a deep breath and loosened his muscles. Then, forcing a balmysmile, he unlocked the door and swirled12 into the room like a warm breeze.
"Good evening," he said, his eyes finding his clients. "I am André Vernet. How can I be of serv—"The rest of the sentence lodged13 somewhere beneath his Adam's apple. The woman before him wasas unexpected a visitor as Vernet had ever had.
"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Sophie asked. She did not recognize the banker, but he for amoment looked as if he'd seen a ghost.
"No...," the bank president fumbled14. "I don't... believe so. Our services are anonymous15." Heexhaled and forced a calm smile. "My assistant tells me you have a gold key but no accountnumber? Might I ask how you came by this key?""My grandfather gave it to me," Sophie replied, watching the man closely. His uneasiness seemedmore evident now.
"Really? Your grandfather gave you the key but failed to give you the account number?""I don't think he had time," Sophie said. "He was murdered tonight."Her words sent the man staggering backward. "Jacques Saunière is dead?" he demanded, his eyesfilling with horror. "But... how?!"Now it was Sophie who reeled, numb8 with shock. "You knew my grandfather?"Banker André Vernet looked equally astounded16, steadying himself by leaning on an end table.
"Jacques and I were dear friends. When did this happen?""Earlier this evening. Inside the Louvre."Vernet walked to a deep leather chair and sank into it. "I need to ask you both a very importantquestion." He glanced up at Langdon and then back to Sophie. "Did either of you have anything todo with his death?""No!" Sophie declared. "Absolutely not."Vernet's face was grim, and he paused, pondering. "Your pictures are being circulated by Interpol.
This is how I recognized you. You're wanted for a murder."Sophie slumped17. Fache ran an Interpol broadcast already? It seemed the captain was moremotivated than Sophie had anticipated. She quickly told Vernet who Langdon was and what hadhappened inside the Louvre tonight.
Vernet looked amazed. "And as your grandfather was dying, he left you a message telling you tofind Mr. Langdon?""Yes. And this key." Sophie laid the gold key on the coffee table in front of Vernet, placing thePriory seal face down.
Vernet glanced at the key but made no move to touch it. "He left you only this key? Nothing else?
No slip of paper?"Sophie knew she had been in a hurry inside the Louvre, but she was certain she had seen nothingelse behind Madonna of the Rocks. "No. Just the key."Vernet gave a helpless sigh. "I'm afraid every key is electronically paired with a ten-digit accountnumber that functions as a password. Without that number, your key is worthless."Ten digits18. Sophie reluctantly calculated the cryptographic odds19. Over ten billion possible choices.
Even if she could bring in DCPJ's most powerful parallel processing computers, she still wouldneed weeks to break the code. "Certainly, monsieur, considering the circumstances, you can helpus.""I'm sorry. I truly can do nothing. Clients select their own account numbers via a secure terminal,meaning account numbers are known only to the client and computer. This is one way we ensureanonymity. And the safety of our employees."Sophie understood. Convenience stores did the same thing. EMPLOYEES DO NOT HAVE KEYSTO THE SAFE. This bank obviously did not want to risk someone stealing a key and then holdingan employee hostage for the account number.
Sophie sat down beside Langdon, glanced down at the key and then up at Vernet. "Do you haveany idea what my grandfather is storing in your bank?""None whatsoever20. That is the definition of a Geldschrank bank.""Monsieur Vernet," she pressed, "our time tonight is short. I am going to be very direct if I may."She reached out to the gold key and flipped21 it over, watching the man's eyes as she revealed thePriory of Sion seal. "Does the symbol on this key mean anything to you?"Vernet glanced down at the fleur-de-lis seal and made no reaction. "No, but many of our clientsemboss corporate22 logos or initials onto their keys."Sophie sighed, still watching him carefully. "This seal is the symbol of a secret society known asthe Priory of Sion."Vernet again showed no reaction. "I know nothing of this. Your grandfather was a friend, but wespoke mostly of business." The man adjusted his tie, looking nervous now.
"Monsieur Vernet," Sophie pressed, her tone firm. "My grandfather called me tonight and told mehe and I were in grave danger. He said he had to give me something. He gave me a key to yourbank. Now he is dead. Anything you can tell us would be helpful."Vernet broke a sweat. "We need to get out of the building. I'm afraid the police will arrive shortly.
My watchman felt obliged to call Interpol."Sophie had feared as much. She took one last shot. "My grandfather said he needed to tell me thetruth about my family. Does that mean anything to you?""Mademoiselle, your family died in a car accident when you were young. I'm sorry. I know yourgrandfather loved you very much. He mentioned to me several times how much it pained him thatyou two had fallen out of touch."Sophie was uncertain how to respond.
Langdon asked, "Do the contents of this account have anything to do with the Sangreal?"Vernet gave him an odd look. "I have no idea what that is." Just then, Vernet's cell phone rang, andhe snatched it off his belt. "Oui?" He listened a moment, his expression one of surprise andgrowing concern. "La police? Si rapidement?" He cursed, gave some quick directions in French,and said he would be up to the lobby in a minute.
Hanging up the phone, he turned back to Sophie. "The police have responded far more quickly thanusual. They are arriving as we speak."Sophie had no intention of leaving empty-handed. "Tell them we came and went already. If theywant to search the bank, demand a search warrant. That will take them time.""Listen," Vernet said, "Jacques was a friend, and my bank does not need this kind of press, so forthose two reasons, I have no intention of allowing this arrest to be made on my premises23. Give mea minute and I will see what I can do to help you leave the bank undetected. Beyond that, I cannotget involved." He stood up and hurried for the door. "Stay here. I'll make arrangements and be rightback.""But the safe-deposit box," Sophie declared. "We can't just leave.""There's nothing I can do," Vernet said, hurrying out the door. "I'm sorry."Sophie stared after him a moment, wondering if maybe the account number was buried in one ofthe countless24 letters and packages her grandfather had sent her over the years and which she hadleft unopened.
Langdon stood suddenly, and Sophie sensed an unexpected glimmer25 of contentment in his eyes.
"Robert? You're smiling.""Your grandfather was a genius.""I'm sorry?""Ten digits?"Sophie had no idea what he was talking about.
"The account number," he said, a familiar lopsided grin now craning his face. "I'm pretty sure heleft it for us after all.""Where?"Langdon produced the printout of the crime scene photo and spread it out on the coffee table.
Sophie needed only to read the first line to know Langdon was correct.
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5O, Draconian26 devil!
P.S. Find Robert Langdon
苏黎世储蓄银行巴黎支行行长安德烈。韦尔内住在银行顶层的一间豪华公寓里。虽然他的房子富丽堂皇，但他却一直梦想着能在圣路易斯河畔拥有一所住宅。在那里他可以跟人们促膝交谈，而不用每天都在这里面对那些浑身充满了铜臭气的富人。
等我退了休，韦尔内心想，我就把酒窖里塞满上好的波尔多葡萄酒，用福拉哥纳尔或布歇的名画装饰我的客厅，然后整日四处搜罗古董家具和拉丁区的宝贵书籍。
韦尔内在醒来六分钟后就急急忙忙地穿过银行的地下通道。他看上去依然神采奕奕，好像他的私人裁缝和发型师早已把他修饰得尽善尽美。他穿着一件得体的丝质西装，边走边向嘴里喷了些口气清新剂，然后紧了紧领带。由于经常在夜间被突然叫醒去接待那些来自其他时区的外国客户，韦尔内已经养成了马萨士兵的睡眠习惯--那些非洲部落以能在醒来后几秒钟就能进入战斗状态而闻名。
"战斗开始了。"韦尔内想道，但又觉得用这个比喻来形容今晚的事不一定贴切。虽说每位持金钥匙的客户的光临都需要一些额外的关注，但一位被通缉的客户的到来确实是一件不同寻常的事。在没有证据证明客户是罪犯的情况下，银行已与执法者就客户的隐私权多次发生争执。
"给我五分钟。"韦尔内心想。"我要这些人在警察来之前离开银行。"
如果他行动够快的话，他的银行就可以巧妙地躲过眼前的这场灾难。韦尔内可以告诉警察这两个被迫查的逃犯确实进了银行，可是因为他们并不是银行的客户，而且又没有账号，于是被赶了出去。他真希望那个该死的警卫没有打电话给国际刑警组织。一个每小时只拿15 欧元的警卫显然不会知道还有"判断力"这个词。
他在门口停了停，深吸了一口气，放松了一下全身的肌肉。然后，他满脸堆笑地打开门，像一阵暖意融融的清风那样飘然而人。
"晚上好。"他说道，眼睛搜寻着他的客户。"我是安德烈。韦尔内，我能帮您……"下半截话被卡在了喉头。他面前的这个女人是他有生以来最意想不到的来访者。
"对不起，我们以前见过面吗？"索菲问道。她根本就不认识这个人，可他刚才一刹那的表情就像看到了鬼似的。
"没有……"行长结结巴巴地说道。"我想……没有。我们的业务都是匿名的。"他长出了一口气，挤出镇定的笑容，说道："我的助理告诉我说您有一把金钥匙却没有账号，是吗？
那么，我能知道您是怎样得到这把钥匙的吗？"
"是祖父给我的。"索菲答道，眼睛紧紧地盯着他。
他显得更加不安了。"真的吗？您祖父给了您这把钥匙却没告诉您账号？"
"我想他没来得及。"索菲说道。"他今晚被人谋杀了。"
听到这话，那人倒退了几步。"雅克。索尼埃死了？"他大声问道，眼里充满了恐惧。"但是……这是怎么回事？"
索菲大吃一惊，也倒退几步，浑身发抖。"你认识我祖父？"
安德烈。韦尔内也大惊失色。他靠着桌角站稳，说道："雅克和我是好朋友。他什么时候死的？"
"今晚早些时候。在卢浮宫。"
韦尔内走到一个宽大的皮椅旁，一屁股坐了进去。他看了看兰登，又看了看索菲，然后问道："我要问你们一个非常重要的问题。你们中任何一个人跟他的死有关吗？"
"没有！"索菲叫道。"绝对没有。"
韦尔内脸色凝重，停了一下，若有所思地说道："你们的照片已被国际刑警组织贴了出来。这就是刚才我认出你的原因。你们正因涉嫌谋杀而被通缉。"索菲的心一沉。法希已经通知国际刑警组织了？他似乎比索菲预料的更加卖力。她简单地向韦尔内说明了兰登的身份，以及今晚在卢浮宫发生的事。
韦尔内感到非常惊异。"你祖父快死的时候留下了暗号让你去找兰登先生？"
"是的。还有这把钥匙。"索菲把金钥匙放到韦尔内面前的咖啡桌上，故意让有隐修会标志的那面朝下。
韦尔内看了一眼那把钥匙，却没有去动它。"他只给你留下了这把钥匙？没有别的？没有小纸条什么的？"
索菲知道她在卢浮宫的时候非常匆忙，但她可以肯定在《岩间圣母》后面除了这把钥匙没有别的东西。
"没有。只有这把钥匙。"
韦尔内无奈地叹了一口气："很遗憾。每把钥匙都跟一组作为密码的十位数账号相匹配。没有账号，你的钥匙毫无价值。"十位数！索菲无奈地计算了一下破解那个密码的可能性。有100 多亿种可能。即使她把警署里处理能力最强的并联计算机带来，也要用好几个礼拜才能破解这个密码。"当然了，先生，鉴于当前的局面，你会帮我们的。""对不起。我真的帮不上忙。客户通过安全可靠的计算机来选择他们的账号，这意味着只有计算机和客户自己知道账号。这是我们保证客户得以匿名处理业务的一个方法。另外，这样做也是为了我们员工的安全着想。"索菲完全明白。便利店也是这样做的。员工不能拿保险柜的钥匙！这家银行显然不会让人钻空子，让偷走钥匙的人扣押一个员工作为人质来索要账号。
索菲坐在兰登身边，低头看了看钥匙，又抬头看了看韦尔内。"您猜想我祖父会在您的银行里放些什么东西呢？"
"一无所知。这就是所谓的匿名银行。"
"韦尔内先生。"她坚持道。"我们今晚在这里的时间有限。那我有话直说了。"她拿起那把金钥匙，翻了过来，露出隐修会的标志。她盯着韦尔内的眼睛，问道："这个钥匙上的标记对你来说意味着什么吗？"
韦尔内低头看了看那个法国百合标记，没作任何反应。"没什么。不过我们许多客户都会把他们社团的徽标或首字母的缩略词刻在他们的钥匙上。"索菲叹了一口气，可是她依然紧紧地盯着韦尔内。"这个印记是一个叫做隐修会的秘密组织的标志。"韦尔内仍没作任何反应。"我对此一无所知。你祖父跟我确实是好期友，但我们大部分时间都在讨论生意上的事。"他整了整领带，流露出一丝不安。
"韦尔内先生。"索菲坚持道。"我祖父今晚给我打电话，说他和我的处境都极度危险。他说必须得给我点什么东西。结果他给了我你们银行的一把钥匙。现在他死了。您提供的任何线索都会很有帮助。"韦尔内冒出了冷汗，说道："我们得离开这座大楼。恐怕警察马上就会来。警卫忠于职守，向国际刑警组织报了警。"索菲确实害怕，可她还是做了最后一次努力。"祖父说他要告诉我家庭的真相。您知道些什么吗？"
"小姐，你的家人在你小时候出车祸死了。我很抱歉。我知道你祖父非常爱你。他多次向我提到你们关系破裂对他来说是件多么痛苦的事。"索菲不知如何作答。
兰登问道："用这个账号保存的东西跟圣杯有关吗？"
韦尔内古怪地看了他一眼。"我不知道那是什么。"这时，韦尔内的手机响了起来。他把手机从腰带上拿下来。"喂？"他的神情有些诧异，继而又变得很关注。"警察？这么快？"他骂了几句，快速地用法语下了几个命令，然后告诉对方他马上就会去大厅。
他挂上电话，转过身对索菲说："警察比平常行动得快。我们在这里讲话的时候，他们就赶过来了。"索菲不想两手空空地离开这里。"告诉他们我们来过，并且已经走了。如果他们想要搜查银行，就向他们要搜查令。他们得花一些时间才能拿到搜查令。""听着。"韦尔内说道。"雅克是我的朋友，而且我的银行也不允许警察那样做。我不会允许他们在我的大楼里逮捕你们。给我一分钟，我会想办法让你们悄悄地离开这里。除此之外，恕我无能为力。"他站起来，快步走向门口。"呆在这里。我去作些安排，马上回来。""但是，保险箱怎么办？"索菲叫道。"我们不能就这么走。"
"我一点办法都没有，抱歉。"韦尔内边说边急匆匆地走出门口。
索菲看着他的背影从门口消失，心想账号也许就在祖父这些年来寄给她的那些数不清的信件和包裹里，而她却一件也没打开过！
兰登突然站了起来。索菲感到他眼里闪烁出莫名其妙的快乐光芒。
"罗伯特！你笑什么？"
"你祖父真是个天才。"
"对不起，你说什么？"
"十位数？"
索菲根本就不知道他在说什么。
他的嘴咧向一边，露出了熟悉的笑容。"账号！我敢肯定他把账号留给了我们。"
"在哪儿？"
兰登拿出那张犯罪现场的电脑打印照扩，铺在咖啡桌上。索菲只看了一眼，就知道兰登说得没错。
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5啊，严酷的魔王！
噢，瘸腿的圣徒！
P.S.：找到罗伯特。兰登。
收听单词发音 |
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filthy
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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judicial
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impending
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deftly
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fugitives
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numb
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discretion
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apparently
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doorway
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swirled
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lodged
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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anonymous
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astounded
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slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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digits
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| n.数字( digit的名词复数 )；手指，足趾 | |
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odds
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whatsoever
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flipped
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corporate
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| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
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23
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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24
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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25
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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draconian
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| adj.严苛的；苛刻的；严酷的；龙一样的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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