Acknowledgments
First and foremost, to my friend and editor, Jason Kaufman, for working so hard on this project and for truly understanding what this book is all about. And to the incomparable Heide Lange—tireless champion of The Da Vinci Code, agent extraordinaire, and trusted friend.
I cannot fully express my gratitude to the exceptional team at Doubleday, for their generosity, faith, and superb guidance. Thank you especially to Bill Thomas and Steve Rubin, who believed in this book from the start. My thanks also to the initial core of early in-house supporters, headed by Michael Palgon, Suzanne Herz, Janelle Moburg, Jackie Everly, and Adrienne Sparks, as well as to the talented people of Doubleday's sales force.
For their generous assistance in the research of the book, I would like to acknowledge the Louvre Museum, the French Ministry of Culture, Project Gutenberg, Bibliothèque Nationale, the Gnostic Society Library, the Department of Paintings Study and Documentation Service at the Louvre, Catholic World News, Royal Observatory Greenwich, London Record Society, the Muniment Collection at Westminster Abbey, John Pike and the Federation of American Scientists, and the five members of Opus Dei (three active, two former) who recounted their stories, both positive and negative, regarding their experiences inside Opus Dei.
My gratitude also to Water Street Bookstore for tracking down so many of my research books, my father Richard Brown—mathematics teacher and author—for his assistance with the Divine Proportion and the Fibonacci Sequence, Stan Planton, Sylvie Baudeloque, Peter McGuigan, Francis McInerney, Margie Wachtel, André Vernet, Ken Kelleher at Anchorball Web Media, Cara Sottak, Karyn Popham, Esther Sung, Miriam Abramowitz, William Tunstall-Pedoe, and Griffin Wooden Brown.
And finally, in a novel drawing so heavily on the sacred feminine, I would be remiss if I did not mention the two extraordinary women who have touched my life. First, my mother, Connie Brown—fellow scribe, nurturer, musician, and role model. And my wife, Blythe—art historian, painter, front-line editor, and without a doubt the most astonishingly talented woman I have ever known.
Chapter 1
Robert Langdon awoke slowly.
A telephone was ringing in the darkness—a tinny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Squinting at his surroundings he saw a plush Renaissance bedroom with Louis XVI furniture, hand-frescoed walls, and a colossal mahogany four-poster bed.
Where the hell am I?
The jacquard bathrobe hanging on his bedpost bore the monogram: HOTEL RITZ PARIS.
Slowly, the fog began to lift.
Langdon picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Monsieur Langdon?" a man's voice said. "I hope I have not awoken you?"
Dazed, Langdon looked at the bedside clock. It was 12:32 A.M. He had been asleep only an hour, but he felt like the dead.
"This is the concierge, monsieur. I apologize for this intrusion, but you have a visitor. He insists it is urgent."
Langdon still felt fuzzy. A visitor? His eyes focused now on a crumpled flyer on his bedside table.
THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY OF PARIS
proudly presents
AN EVENING WITH ROBERT LANGDON
PROFESSOR OF RELIGIOUS SYMBOLOGY,
HARVARD UNIVERSITY
 
Langdon groaned. Tonight's lecture—a slide show about pagan symbolism hidden in the stones of Chartres Cathedral—had probably ruffled some conservative feathers in the audience. Most likely, some religious scholar had trailed him home to pick a fight.
"I'm sorry," Langdon said, "but I'm very tired and—"
"Mais, monsieur," the concierge pressed, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. "Your guest is an important man."
Langdon had little doubt. His books on religious paintings and cult symbology had made him a reluctant celebrity in the art world, and last year Langdon's visibility had increased a hundredfold after his involvement in a widely publicized incident at the Vatican. Since then, the stream of self-important historians and art buffs arriving at his door had seemed never-ending.
"If you would be so kind," Langdon said, doing his best to remain polite, "could you take the man's name and number, and tell him I'll try to call him before I leave Paris on Tuesday? Thank you." He hung up before the concierge could protest.
Sitting up now, Langdon frowned at his bedside Guest Relations Handbook, whose cover boasted: SLEEP LIKE A BABY IN THE CITY OF LIGHTS. SLUMBER AT THE PARIS RITZ. He turned and gazed tiredly into the full-length mirror across the room. The man staring back at him was a stranger—tousled and weary.
You need a vacation, Robert.
The past year had taken a heavy toll on him, but he didn't appreciate seeing proof in the mirror. His usually sharp blue eyes looked hazy and drawn tonight. A dark stubble was shrouding his strong jaw and dimpled chin. Around his temples, the gray highlights were advancing, making their way deeper into his thicket of coarse black hair. Although his female colleagues insisted the gray only accentuated his bookish appeal, Langdon knew better.
If Boston Magazine could see me now.
Last month, much to Langdon's embarrassment, Boston Magazine had listed him as one of that city's top ten most intriguing people—a dubious honor that made him the brunt of endless ribbing by his Harvard colleagues. Tonight, three thousand miles from home, the accolade had resurfaced to haunt him at the lecture he had given.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." the hostess had announced to a full house at the American University of Paris's Pavilion Dauphine, "Our guest tonight needs no introduction. He is the author of numerous books: The Symbology of Secret Sects, The An of the Illuminati, The Lost Language of Ideograms, and when I say he wrote the book on Religious Iconology, I mean that quite literally. Many of you use his textbooks in class."
The students in the crowd nodded enthusiastically.
"I had planned to introduce him tonight by sharing his impressive curriculum vitae. However..." She glanced playfully at Langdon, who was seated onstage. "An audience member has just handed me a far more, shall we say... intriguing introduction."
She held up a copy of Boston Magazine.
Langdon cringed. Where the hell did she get that?
The hostess began reading choice excerpts from the inane article, and Langdon felt himself sinking lower and lower in his chair. Thirty seconds later, the crowd was grinning, and the woman showed no signs of letting up. "And Mr. Langdon's refusal to speak publicly about his unusual role in last year's Vatican conclave certainly wins him points on our intrigue-o-meter." The hostess goaded the crowd. "Would you like to hear more?"
The crowd applauded.
Somebody stop her, Langdon pleaded as she dove into the article again.
"Although Professor Langdon might not be considered hunk-handsome like some of our younger awardees, this forty-something academic has more than his share of scholarly allure. His captivating presence is punctuated by an unusually low, baritone speaking voice, which his female students describe as 'chocolate for the ears.' "
The hall erupted in laughter.
Langdon forced an awkward smile. He knew what came next—some ridiculous line about "Harrison Ford in Harris tweed"—and because this evening he had figured it was finally safe again to wear his Harris tweed and Burberry turtleneck, he decided to take action.
"Thank you, Monique," Langdon said, standing prematurely and edging her away from the podium. "Boston Magazine clearly has a gift for fiction." He turned to the audience with an embarrassed sigh. "And if I find which one of you provided that article, I'll have the consulate deport you."
The crowd laughed.
"Well, folks, as you all know, I'm here tonight to talk about the power of symbols..."
 
The ringing of Langdon's hotel phone once again broke the silence.
Groaning in disbelief, he picked up. "Yes?"
As expected, it was the concierge. "Mr. Langdon, again my apologies. I am calling to inform you that your guest is now en route to your room. I thought I should alert you."
Langdon was wide awake now. "You sent someone to my room?"
"I apologize, monsieur, but a man like this... I cannot presume the authority to stop him."
"Who exactly is he?"
But the concierge was gone.
Almost immediately, a heavy fist pounded on Langdon's door.
Uncertain, Langdon slid off the bed, feeling his toes sink deep into the savonniere carpet. He donned the hotel bathrobe and moved toward the door. "Who is it?"
"Mr. Langdon? I need to speak with you." The man's English was accented—a sharp, authoritative bark. "My name is Lieutenant Jerome Collet. Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire."
Langdon paused. The Judicial Police? The DCPJ was the rough equivalent of the U.S. FBI.
Leaving the security chain in place, Langdon opened the door a few inches. The face staring back at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally lean, dressed in an official-looking blue uniform.
"May I come in?" the agent asked.
Langdon hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's sallow eyes studied him. "What is this all about?"
"My capitaine requires your expertise in a private matter."
"Now?" Langdon managed. "It's after midnight."
"Am I correct that you were scheduled to meet with the curator of the Louvre this evening?"
Langdon felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. He and the revered curator Jacques Saunière had been slated to meet for drinks after Langdon's lecture tonight, but Saunière had never shown up. "Yes. How did you know that?"
"We found your name in his daily planner."
"I trust nothing is wrong?"
The agent gave a dire sigh and slid a Polaroid snapshot through the narrow opening in the door.
When Langdon saw the photo, his entire body went rigid.
"This photo was taken less than an hour ago. Inside the Louvre."
As Langdon stared at the bizarre image, his initial revulsion and shock gave way to a sudden upwelling of anger. "Who would do this!"
"We had hoped that you might help us answer that very question, considering your knowledge in symbology and your plans to meet with him."
Langdon stared at the picture, his horror now laced with fear. The image was gruesome and profoundly strange, bringing with it an unsettling sense of déjà vu. A little over a year ago, Langdon had received a photograph of a corpse and a similar request for help. Twenty-four hours later, he had almost lost his life inside Vatican City. This photo was entirely different, and yet something about the scenario felt disquietingly familiar.
The agent checked his watch. "My capitaine is waiting, sir."
Langdon barely heard him. His eyes were still riveted on the picture. "This symbol here, and the way his body is so oddly..."
"Positioned?" the agent offered.
Langdon nodded, feeling a chill as he looked up. "I can't imagine who would do this to someone."
The agent looked grim. "You don't understand, Mr. Langdon. What you see in this photograph..." He paused. "Monsieur Saunière did that to himself."
 
罗伯特。兰登慢慢醒来。
黑暗中电话铃响了起来--一种微弱的、不熟悉的响声。他伸手去摸床头灯，把灯打开。他眯着眼打量了一下环境，发现这是一间文艺复兴风格的豪华卧室，路易十六世的家俱，装饰有手工壁面的墙面，还有一张宽大的四柱红木床。
我到底是在什么地方？
挂在床柱上提花浴衣上写着：巴黎里茨酒店。
雾在慢慢散去。
兰登拿起听筒。"您好！"
"兰登先生吗？"一个男人的声音问道："但愿我没有吵醒您！"
他睡眼惺忪地看了看床边的钟。午夜12时32分。他刚睡了一个小时，但感觉如昏死过去一般。
"我是酒店门房接待员，先生。打扰您了，很抱歉，但是有位客人要见您。他非坚持说事情非常紧急。"
兰登还是丈二和尚摸不着头脑。客人？这时他的目光汇聚到床头柜上一页皱皱巴巴的宣传单：巴黎美国大学 将举办一场学术晚会 哈佛大学宗教符号学教授 罗伯特。兰登将莅临赐教兰登哼了一声。今晚的报告-一幅有关隐藏于沙特尔大教堂基石上的异教符号幻灯片很可能呛了哪位保守听众的肺管了。极有可能是有宗教学者上门找碴儿来了。
"对不起，我累了，而且……"兰登说。
"可是，先生。"接待员赶紧打断了他，压低了声音，急迫地耳语道："您的客人是位重要人物。"
毫无疑问，他的那些关于宗教绘画和邪教符号学的书使他不太情愿地成了艺术圈子里的名人。去年他与一个在梵蒂冈的广为流传的事件有牵连，此后他露面的频率提高了上百倍。打那以后，自认为了不起的历史学家和艺术迷们便似乎源源不断地涌向他家门口。
兰登尽量保持礼貌的言语："麻烦您记下那人的姓名和电话号码，告诉他我在周二离开巴黎前会给他打电话的。谢谢。"接待员还没来得及回话，他便挂上了电话。
兰登坐了起来，对着旁边的客人关系手册蹙着眉头。手册封面上自吹自擂地写道：如婴儿般沉睡在灯火辉煌的城市，酣睡在巴黎里茨。他转过头疲倦地凝视着对面的大镜子。回望着他的是个陌生人，头发乱蓬蓬的，疲惫不堪。
你需要休假，罗伯特。
去年他可损失惨重，憔悴了许多。但他不愿意在镜子里得到证明。他本来锐利的眼睛今晚看起来模糊呆滞。硕大干瘪的下巴上满是黑黑的胡茬儿。在太阳穴周围，花白的毛发显得一天比一天多，正深深地钻进他那浓密的又粗又黑的头发中。虽然他的女同事们一直说花白的头发使他显得更儒雅，可兰登不那么想。
幸亏波士顿杂志不是现在采访的我。
颇使兰登感到尴尬的是，上个月波士顿杂志把他列进该市十大最引人注目的人，--莫名其妙的荣誉使他不断成为哈佛同事们的首当其冲调笑的对象。
今晚在离家三千英里的地方，他作报告时，那种赞扬再度出现令他惴惴不安。
女主持人向巴黎美国大学的妃子亭里满满一屋子人宣布道："女士们，先生们，我们今晚的客人不需要介绍。他写了好多本书，如：《秘密教派符号学》、《光照派的艺术》和《表意符号语言的遗失》等。我说他写了《宗教符号学》一书，其实我也只是知道书名，你们许多人上课都用他的书。"
人群中的学生们拼命点头。
"我本打算通过与大家分享他不凡的履历来介绍他，然而……"，她以调侃的眼神瞥了一眼坐在台上的兰登。"一位听众刚递给我一个……什么呢？……可以说是更有趣的介绍。"
她举起了一本波士顿杂志。
兰登缩了缩身子。她到底从哪搞到的那玩意？
女主持人开始从那篇空洞的文章中有选择地朗读已选取的片断。兰登感到自己在椅子上越陷越深。三十秒钟后，人们龇着牙笑了起来，而那女人还没有停下来的意思。"兰登先生拒绝公开谈及去年他在梵蒂冈秘密会议上所起的非凡作用，这使人们对他越发产生了兴趣。"女主持人进一步挑逗听众说："大家想不想多听一些？"
大家一齐鼓掌。
但愿能有人让她停下来。兰登默默祈祷道。但她又继续念那篇文章。
"虽然兰登教授可能不像有些年轻的崇拜者认为的那样风流倜傥，可这位四十几岁学者却拥有他这个年龄不多见的学术魅力。他只要露面就能吸引许多人，而他那极低的男中音更是使他魅力大增，他的女学生把他的声音描述为"供耳朵享用的巧克力。"大厅内爆发出一阵大笑。
兰登有些尴尬，只能强装笑脸。他知道她马上又会说出"哈里森。福特穿着哈里斯花格尼"这样不着边际的句话，因为他穿着哈里斯花格尼裤子和博贝利高领绒衣。他原以为今晚终于可以安全地这么穿而不致惹出那样荒谬的说法来。他决定采取措施。
"谢谢您，莫尼卡。"兰登提前站了起来，并把女主持挤下讲台。"波士顿杂志显然非常会编故事。"他转向听众并发出了窘迫的叹息声。"如果我知道你们谁提供了那篇文章，我就请领事把他驱逐出境。"
听众又大笑起来。
"好喽，伙计们，你们知道，我今晚到这儿是要谈谈符号的重要作用。"
兰登房间的电话铃再一次打破沉寂。
他拿起电话，迟疑地咕哝道："喂！"
不出所料，正是门房接待员。"兰登先生，真抱歉，又打扰您。我打电话是想告诉您，您的客人正在去您房间的路上，我想我应该提醒您一下。"
兰登现在一点睡意也没有了。"是你把那个人打发到我房间的？"
"抱歉，先生，但像他这样的人……，我想我不敢冒昧地阻止他。"
"到底是谁？"
但是门房接待员已挂断了电话。
话音未落，已有人用拳头重重地敲门。
兰登感到一阵不安。他匆忙下床，感到脚趾头深深地陷到地上的萨伏纳里地毯里。他穿上酒店提供的睡衣朝门口走去。"哪一位？"
"兰登先生吗？我需要和您谈谈。"对方以尖利的、颇具权威的口吻大声喊道。他说英语有很重的口音。"我是中央司法警察部的杰罗姆。科莱上尉。"
兰登怔了一下。司法警察？这大致相当于美国的联邦调查局。
把安全链放好后，兰登把门开了几英寸宽的小缝。盯着他望的那个人的脸削瘦而苍白。那人极瘦，身着蓝制服，看样子像个当官的。
"我可以进来吗？"那特工问道。
那陌生人灰黄的眼睛打量着兰登，使他感到局促不安。"到底是怎么回事？"
"我们的警务局长在一件私事上需要您发挥一下您的专长。"
"现在吗？深更半夜的。"兰登挤出一句话来。
"你本打算今晚和卢浮宫博物馆长会面的，是吧？"
兰登突然感到一阵不安。他和那位德高望重的博物馆长雅克。索尼埃本来约定在今晚的报告后见一面，小酌一番，可索尼埃根本就没露面。"你怎么知道的。"
"我们在他的‘每日计划’中看到了你的名字。"
"但愿没出什么乱子。"
特工沉重地叹了一口气，从窄窄的门缝里塞进一张宝丽莱快照。
看了照片，兰登浑身都僵住了。
"照片是不足半小时前拍的--在卢浮宫内拍的。"
凝望这奇怪的照片，他先是感受到恶心和震惊，继而感到怒不可遏。
"谁竟然干出这种事！"
"鉴于你是符号学方面的专家，且你原打算见他，我们希望你能帮助我们回答这个问题。"
兰登看着照片，既恐惧又担心。那景象奇怪得让人不寒而栗，他有一种不安的，似曾相识的感觉。一年多以前兰登也看到过一具尸体的照片，也遇到了类似的求助。二十四小时后，他险些在梵蒂冈城丧了命。这幅照片和那幅完全不同，但情景却是那样相似，使人不安。
特工看了看表说："我们局长正在等您，先生。"
兰登没太听清他说什么。他的眼睛还在盯着那张照片。"这个符号，尸体如此奇怪地……"
"放置。"特工接着说道。 兰登点了点头，又抬起头来，感觉到有一股逼人的寒气袭来。"这是谁竟会对人干出这等事来。"
特工似乎面无表情。"您不知道，兰登先生，你在照片上看到的……"，他顿了顿说道。"那是索尼埃先生自己干的。"
Chapter 2
One mile away, the hulking albino named Silas limped through the front gate of the luxurious brownstone residence on Rue La Bruyère. The spiked cilice belt that he wore around his thigh cut into his flesh, and yet his soul sang with satisfaction of service to the Lord.
Pain is good.
His red eyes scanned the lobby as he entered the residence. Empty. He climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to awaken any of his fellow numeraries. His bedroom door was open; locks were forbidden here. He entered, closing the door behind him.
The room was spartan—hardwood floors, a pine dresser, a canvas mat in the corner that served as his bed. He was a visitor here this week, and yet for many years he had been blessed with a similar sanctuary in New York City.
The Lord has provided me shelter and purpose in my life.
Tonight, at last, Silas felt he had begun to repay his debt. Hurrying to the dresser, he found the cell phone hidden in his bottom drawer and placed a call.
"Yes?" a male voice answered.
"Teacher, I have returned."
"Speak," the voice commanded, sounding pleased to hear from him.
"All four are gone. The three sénéchaux... and the Grand Master himself."
There was a momentary pause, as if for prayer. "Then I assume you have the information?"
"All four concurred. Independently."
"And you believed them?"
"Their agreement was too great for coincidence."
An excited breath. "Excellent. I had feared the brotherhood's reputation for secrecy might prevail."
"The prospect of death is strong motivation."
"So, my pupil, tell me what I must know."
Silas knew the information he had gleaned from his victims would come as a shock. "Teacher, all four confirmed the existence of the clef de vo?te... the legendary keystone."
He heard a quick intake of breath over the phone and could feel the Teacher's excitement. "The keystone. Exactly as we suspected."
According to lore, the brotherhood had created a map of stone—a clef de vo?te... or keystone—an engraved tablet that revealed the final resting place of the brotherhood's greatest secret... information so powerful that its protection was the reason for the brotherhood's very existence.
"When we possess the keystone," the Teacher said, "we will be only one step away."
"We are closer than you think. The keystone is here in Paris."
"Paris? Incredible. It is almost too easy."
Silas relayed the earlier events of the evening... how all four of his victims, moments before death, had desperately tried to buy back their godless lives by telling their secret. Each had told Silas the exact same thing—that the keystone was ingeniously hidden at a precise location inside one of Paris's ancient churches—the Eglise de Saint-Sulpice.
"Inside a house of the Lord," the Teacher exclaimed. "How they mock us!"
"As they have for centuries."
The Teacher fell silent, as if letting the triumph of this moment settle over him. Finally, he spoke. "You have done a great service to God. We have waited centuries for this. You must retrieve the stone for me. Immediately. Tonight. You understand the stakes."
Silas knew the stakes were incalculable, and yet what the Teacher was now commanding seemed impossible. "But the church, it is a fortress. Especially at night. How will I enter?"
With the confident tone of a man of enormous influence, the Teacher explained what was to be done.
 
When Silas hung up the phone, his skin tingled with anticipation.
One hour, he told himself, grateful that the Teacher had given him time to carry out the necessary penance before entering a house of God. I must purge my soul of today's sins. The sins committed today had been holy in purpose. Acts of war against the enemies of God had been committed for centuries. Forgiveness was assured.
Even so, Silas knew, absolution required sacrifice.
Pulling his shades, he stripped naked and knelt in the center of his room. Looking down, he examined the spiked cilice belt clamped around his thigh. All true followers of The Way wore this device—a leather strap, studded with sharp metal barbs that cut into the flesh as a perpetual reminder of Christ's suffering. The pain caused by the device also helped counteract the desires of the flesh.
Although Silas already had worn his cilice today longer than the requisite two hours, he knew today was no ordinary day. Grasping the buckle, he cinched it one notch tighter, wincing as the barbs dug deeper into his flesh. Exhaling slowly, he savored the cleansing ritual of his pain.
Pain is good, Silas whispered, repeating the sacred mantra of Father Josemaría Escrivá—the Teacher of all Teachers. Although Escrivá had died in 1975, his wisdom lived on, his words still whispered by thousands of faithful servants around the globe as they knelt on the floor and performed the sacred practice known as "corporal mortification."
Silas turned his attention now to a heavy knotted rope coiled neatly on the floor beside him. The Discipline. The knots were caked with dried blood. Eager for the purifying effects of his own agony, Silas said a quick prayer. Then, gripping one end of the rope, he closed his eyes and swung it hard over his shoulder, feeling the knots slap against his back. He whipped it over his shoulder again, slashing at his flesh. Again and again, he lashed.
Castigo corpus meum.
Finally, he felt the blood begin to flow.
 
一英里外，那位叫塞拉斯的白化病人一瘸一拐地走入位于拉布律大街的一座豪华的褐砂石大宅的门口。他束在大腿上的带刺的苦修带扎进了肉里。然而，由于他侍奉了上帝，所以他的灵魂在心满意足地歌唱。
疼痛对人有好处。
走进大宅时，他红红的眼睛迅速扫视了一下大厅。空无一人。他蹑手蹑脚地上了楼梯，不想吵醒任何一位同伴。他卧室的门开着，因为这里门不许上锁。他了屋进，顺手关了门。
房间陈设简单--硬木地板，松木衣橱，拐角处有一张当床用的帆布垫子。这一周他都住在这里。他还算运气，多年来，他一直在纽约市享用着这样的栖身之所。
上帝给了我庇护所，为我指出了生存的目的。
今夜，塞拉斯感到他终于得以回报了上帝。他匆忙走向衣橱，从最底部抽屉里找到藏在里面的手机拨打电话。
"喂？"接电话的是个男的声音。
"大师，我回来了。"
"讲"那声音命令道，感觉他听到这消息似乎很高兴。
"四个全完了。三个执事……再加上那个主事本人。"
对方停了一会，好像是在祷告"那么，我想你是搞到情报了。"
"四个人说的都一样。分别说出的。"
"你相信他们？"
"他们说的都一样，不可能是巧合。"
他听到一阵激动的呼吸声。
"好极了。他们一般会严守秘密，他们可是名声在外。我原来还担心他们会保守修士会的秘密而不讲的。"
"逼近的死神是会令他们开口的强大动因。"
"那么，弟子，快把我该知道的情况告诉我。"
塞拉斯知道他从他那几位受害者那里搞到的情报会令人震惊不已。"大师，四个人都证实了拱顶石--那个传奇的拱顶石的存在。"
通过电话，他听到对方立刻倒吸了一口气，他能感觉到大师的激动心情。"拱顶石，正如我们原来猜想的一样。"
据传，修士会制作了一个石头地图，即拱顶石，或曰塞缝石。这是一块石板，上面雕刻着修士会最大的秘密被隐藏的地方。这秘密太重要了，修士会就是为了保护它而存在。
"一旦我们拥有拱顶石，我们离成功就只有一步之遥。"大师道。
"我们比你想象的更接近。拱顶石就在巴黎。"
"巴黎？真令人难以置信，简直太容易了。"
塞拉斯继续描述那晚上早些时候发生的事情：那四名受害者如何在临死前试图通过告密来买回自己罪恶的生命。每个人对塞拉斯所说都一模一样：拱顶石被巧妙地藏在一个巴黎古教堂--圣叙尔皮斯教堂内一个确切的地方。
"就在上帝的圣所内。"大师惊叹道。"他们真会嘲弄我们！" "已好几个世纪了！"
大师突然非常肃静，似乎是要让此刻的胜利永驻心间。最后他说："你侍主有功，做了件了不起的事情。我们已苦等了好几百年。你必须找到那块石板--立刻--就在今夜。你知道这事事关重大。"
塞拉斯知道这事至关重要，可大师的命令似乎无法执行。
"但那教堂看管甚严。尤其是现在，是夜间，我怎么进去？" 大师以有着重大影响力人物的口吻开始面授机宜。 塞拉斯挂上电话，期待着，激动得连皮肤都发红了。
一个小时。
他告诉自己，同时感谢导师给了他时间，让他在进入上帝的圣所之前有时间作苦修。我必须清除今日我灵魂中的罪恶，今天的犯罪目的是神圣的，反抗上帝之敌的战争已进行了百年了，肯定会得到原谅的。
塞拉斯知道，即便如此，获得赦免的同时，也须做出奉献。
他取下墨镜，脱得赤条条地跪在房子中央。他低下头，仔细看着紧紧束扎在大腿上的带刺的苦修带。《路》的全部真正的信徒们都带这种东西。这是一根皮带，上面钉有锋利的金属倒钩刺，倒钩刺扎进肉里，以永远提醒人们不要忘记耶稣所受的苦难。这种东西引起的刺痛也有助于压制肉体的欲望。
虽然塞拉斯今天带苦修带的时间已超过规定的两小时，但他知道今天非同寻常。他抓住扣环，又缩紧了一扣。当倒钩刺扎得更深时，他的肌肉本能地收缩着。他缓缓地吐出一口气，品味着这给他带来疼痛的净化仪式。
疼痛对人有好处，塞拉斯小声嘀咕着。
他是在重复他们导师何塞玛利亚。埃斯克里瓦神圣的祷文。虽然埃斯克里瓦1979年就仙逝了，他的智慧永存。当全世界成千上万的信徒跪在地上进行被人称作"肉体苦行"的神圣仪式时，信徒们还在小声重复着他的话语。
塞拉斯此时将自己的注意力转向他身旁地板上的一根卷得工工整整打着很笨重的结的大绳。要克制。绳结上涂有干血。由于急于想得到因极度痛苦而获得的净化效果，塞拉斯很快地祷告完毕。然后，他抓住绳子的一头，闭上眼睛，使劲地将绳子甩过肩膀。他能感到绳结在击打他的后背。他再次将绳子甩过肩膀抽打自己，抽打自己的肉体。就这样，他反复鞭打着自己。
这叫鞭笞肉体。
终于，他感到血开始流了出来。
Chapter 3
The crisp April air whipped through the open window of the Citro?n ZX as it skimmed south past the Opera House and crossed Place Vend?me. In the passenger seat, Robert Langdon felt the city tear past him as he tried to clear his thoughts. His quick shower and shave had left him looking reasonably presentable but had done little to ease his anxiety. The frightening image of the curator's body remained locked in his mind.
Jacques Saunière is dead.
Langdon could not help but feel a deep sense of loss at the curator's death. Despite Saunière's reputation for being reclusive, his recognition for dedication to the arts made him an easy man to revere. His books on the secret codes hidden in the paintings of Poussin and Teniers were some of Langdon's favorite classroom texts. Tonight's meeting had been one Langdon was very much looking forward to, and he was disappointed when the curator had not shown.
Again the image of the curator's body flashed in his mind. Jacques Saunière did that to himself? Langdon turned and looked out the window, forcing the picture from his mind.
Outside, the city was just now winding down—street vendors wheeling carts of candied amandes, waiters carrying bags of garbage to the curb, a pair of late night lovers cuddling to stay warm in a breeze scented with jasmine blossom. The Citro?n navigated the chaos with authority, its dissonant two-tone siren parting the traffic like a knife.
"Le capitaine was pleased to discover you were still in Paris tonight," the agent said, speaking for the first time since they'd left the hotel. "A fortunate coincidence."
Langdon was feeling anything but fortunate, and coincidence was a concept he did not entirely trust. As someone who had spent his life exploring the hidden interconnectivity of disparate emblems and ideologies, Langdon viewed the world as a web of profoundly intertwined histories and events. The connections may be invisible, he often preached to his symbology classes at Harvard, but they are always there, buried just beneath the surface.
"I assume," Langdon said, "that the American University of Paris told you where I was staying?"
The driver shook his head. "Interpol."
Interpol, Langdon thought. Of course. He had forgotten that the seemingly innocuous request of all European hotels to see a passport at check-in was more than a quaint formality—it was the law. On any given night, all across Europe, Interpol officials could pinpoint exactly who was sleeping where. Finding Langdon at the Ritz had probably taken all of five seconds.
As the Citro?n accelerated southward across the city, the illuminated profile of the Eiffel Tower appeared, shooting skyward in the distance to the right. Seeing it, Langdon thought of Vittoria, recalling their playful promise a year ago that every six months they would meet again at a different romantic spot on the globe. The Eiffel Tower, Langdon suspected, would have made their list. Sadly, he last kissed Vittoria in a noisy airport in Rome more than a year ago.
"Did you mount her?" the agent asked, looking over.
Langdon glanced up, certain he had misunderstood. "I beg your pardon?"
"She is lovely, no?" The agent motioned through the windshield toward the Eiffel Tower. "Have you mounted her?"
Langdon rolled his eyes. "No, I haven't climbed the tower."
"She is the symbol of France. I think she is perfect."
Langdon nodded absently. Symbologists often remarked that France—a country renowned for machismo, womanizing, and diminutive insecure leaders like Napoleon and Pepin the Short—could not have chosen a more apt national emblem than a thousand-foot phallus.
When they reached the intersection at Rue de Rivoli, the traffic light was red, but the Citro?n didn't slow. The agent gunned the sedan across the junction and sped onto a wooded section of Rue Castiglione, which served as the northern entrance to the famed Tuileries Gardens—Paris's own version of Central Park. Most tourists mistranslated Jardins des Tuileries as relating to the thousands of tulips that bloomed here, but Tuileries was actually a literal reference to something far less romantic. This park had once been an enormous, polluted excavation pit from which Parisian contractors mined clay to manufacture the city's famous red roofing tiles—or tuiles.
As they entered the deserted park, the agent reached under the dash and turned off the blaring siren. Langdon exhaled, savoring the sudden quiet. Outside the car, the pale wash of halogen headlights skimmed over the crushed gravel parkway, the rugged whir of the tires intoning a hypnotic rhythm. Langdon had always considered the Tuileries to be sacred ground. These were the gardens in which Claude Monet had experimented with form and color, and literally inspired the birth of the Impressionist movement. Tonight, however, this place held a strange aura of foreboding.
The Citro?n swerved left now, angling west down the park's central boulevard. Curling around a circular pond, the driver cut across a desolate avenue out into a wide quadrangle beyond. Langdon could now see the end of the Tuileries Gardens, marked by a giant stone archway.
Arc du Carrousel.
Despite the orgiastic rituals once held at the Arc du Carrousel, art aficionados revered this place for another reason entirely. From the esplanade at the end of the Tuileries, four of the finest art museums in the world could be seen... one at each point of the compass.
Out the right-hand window, south across the Seine and Quai Voltaire, Langdon could see the dramatically lit facade of the old train station—now the esteemed Musée d'Orsay. Glancing left, he could make out the top of the ultramodern Pompidou Center, which housed the Museum of Modern Art. Behind him to the west, Langdon knew the ancient obelisk of Ramses rose above the trees, marking the Musée du Jeu de Paume.
But it was straight ahead, to the east, through the archway, that Langdon could now see the monolithic Renaissance palace that had become the most famous art museum in the world.
Musée du Louvre.
Langdon felt a familiar tinge of wonder as his eyes made a futile attempt to absorb the entire mass of the edifice. Across a staggeringly expansive plaza, the imposing facade of the Louvre rose like a citadel against the Paris sky. Shaped like an enormous horseshoe, the Louvre was the longest building in Europe, stretching farther than three Eiffel Towers laid end to end. Not even the million square feet of open plaza between the museum wings could challenge the majesty of the facade's breadth. Langdon had once walked the Louvre's entire perimeter, an astonishing three-mile journey.
Despite the estimated five days it would take a visitor to properly appreciate the 65,300 pieces of art in this building, most tourists chose an abbreviated experience Langdon referred to as "Louvre Lite"—a full sprint through the museum to see the three most famous objects: the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, and Winged Victory. Art Buchwald had once boasted he'd seen all three masterpieces in five minutes and fifty-six seconds.
The driver pulled out a handheld walkie-talkie and spoke in rapid-fire French. "Monsieur Langdon est arrivé. Deux minutes."
An indecipherable confirmation came crackling back.
The agent stowed the device, turning now to Langdon. "You will meet the capitaine at the main entrance."
The driver ignored the signs prohibiting auto traffic on the plaza, revved the engine, and gunned the Citro?n up over the curb. The Louvre's main entrance was visible now, rising boldly in the distance, encircled by seven triangular pools from which spouted illuminated fountains.
La Pyramide.
The new entrance to the Paris Louvre had become almost as famous as the museum itself. The controversial, neomodern glass pyramid designed by Chinese-born American architect I. M. Pei still evoked scorn from traditionalists who felt it destroyed the dignity of the Renaissance courtyard. Goethe had described architecture as frozen music, and Pei's critics described this pyramid as fingernails on a chalkboard. Progressive admirers, though, hailed Pei's seventy-one-foot-tall transparent pyramid as a dazzling synergy of ancient structure and modern method—a symbolic link between the old and new—helping usher the Louvre into the next millennium.
"Do you like our pyramid?" the agent asked.
Langdon frowned. The French, it seemed, loved to ask Americans this. It was a loaded question, of course. Admitting you liked the pyramid made you a tasteless American, and expressing dislike was an insult to the French.
"Mitterrand was a bold man," Langdon replied, splitting the difference. The late French president who had commissioned the pyramid was said to have suffered from a "Pharaoh complex." Singlehandedly responsible for filling Paris with Egyptian obelisks, art, and artifacts.
Fran?ois Mitterrand had an affinity for Egyptian culture that was so all-consuming that the French still referred to him as the Sphinx.
"What is the captain's name?" Langdon asked, changing topics.
"Bezu Fache," the driver said, approaching the pyramid's main entrance. "We call him le Taureau."
Langdon glanced over at him, wondering if every Frenchman had a mysterious animal epithet. "You call your captain the Bull?"
The man arched his eyebrows. "Your French is better than you admit, Monsieur Langdon."
My French stinks, Langdon thought, but my zodiac iconography is pretty good. Taurus was always the bull. Astrology was a symbolic constant all over the world.
The agent pulled the car to a stop and pointed between two fountains to a large door in the side of the pyramid. "There is the entrance. Good luck, monsieur."
"You're not coming?"
"My orders are to leave you here. I have other business to attend to."
Langdon heaved a sigh and climbed out. It's your circus.
The agent revved his engine and sped off.
As Langdon stood alone and watched the departing taillights, he realized he could easily reconsider, exit the courtyard, grab a taxi, and head home to bed. Something told him it was probably a lousy idea.
As he moved toward the mist of the fountains, Langdon had the uneasy sense he was crossing an imaginary threshold into another world. The dreamlike quality of the evening was settling around him again. Twenty minutes ago he had been asleep in his hotel room. Now he was standing in front of a transparent pyramid built by the Sphinx, waiting for a policeman they called the Bull.
I'm trapped in a Salvador Dali painting, he thought.
Langdon strode to the main entrance—an enormous revolving door. The foyer beyond was dimly lit and deserted.
Do I knock?
Langdon wondered if any of Harvard's revered Egyptologists had ever knocked on the front door of a pyramid and expected an answer. He raised his hand to bang on the glass, but out of the darkness below, a figure appeared, striding up the curving staircase. The man was stocky and dark, almost Neanderthal, dressed in a dark double-breasted suit that strained to cover his wide shoulders. He advanced with unmistakable authority on squat, powerful legs. He was speaking on his cell phone but finished the call as he arrived. He motioned for Langdon to enter.
"I am Bezu Fache," he announced as Langdon pushed through the revolving door. "Captain of the Central Directorate Judicial Police." His tone was fitting—a guttural rumble... like a gathering storm.
Langdon held out his hand to shake. "Robert Langdon."
Fache's enormous palm wrapped around Langdon's with crushing force.
"I saw the photo," Langdon said. "Your agent said Jacques Saunière himself did—"
"Mr. Langdon," Fache's ebony eyes locked on. "What you see in the photo is only the beginning of what Saunière did."
 
当雪铁龙ZX向南急驰掠过歌剧院，穿过旺多姆广场时，清冷的四月风透过车窗向车内袭来。罗伯特。兰登正坐在客座上，试图理清思绪，却只感到城市从他身旁飞驰而过。他已匆匆地冲了沐浴，刮了胡子，这使外表看上去倒也说得过去，但他无法减轻自己的焦虑感。那令人恐惧的博物馆长尸体的样子一直锁定在他的脑海里。
雅克。索尼埃死了。
对于馆长的死，兰登禁不住有一种怅然若失的感受。尽管大家都知道索尼埃离群索居，但他对艺术的那份奉献精神却很容易使人们对他肃然起敬。他有关普桑和特尼尔斯画中隐藏密码的书籍是兰登上课时最喜欢用的课本。对今晚的会面，兰登抱有很大的期望，馆长没来他非常失望。
馆长尸体的那幅图景再次在他脑海闪过。雅克。索尼埃把自己弄成那样？兰登转身向窗外望去，使劲地把那景象从脑子中挤出去。
车外，城市街道曲曲折折地延伸。街头小贩推着车沿街叫卖桃脯，服务生正抱垃圾袋要把他们放在路边，一对深夜恋人在溢满茉莉花香的微风里拥抱在一起取暖。雪铁龙以居高临下的姿态穿过这一片混乱，那刺耳的双声调警笛像刀子一样把车流划开。
"我们局长发现你今晚还在巴黎后非常高兴。"那特工说道。这是他离开酒店后第一次开口。
"真凑巧，太幸运了。"
兰登一点也不觉得幸运，他不十分相信机缘巧合这种说法。作为一个终生都有在探索孤立的象征符号或观念之间隐含的相关性的人，兰登把这个世界视为一张由历史和事件相互交织而成的深不可测的大网。他经常在哈佛的符号学课上鼓吹说，各种关联性也许看不到，但他们却一直在那儿，伏在表层下面。
"我想是巴黎美国大学告诉你们我的住处的。"兰登说。
开车人摇摇头说："国际刑警组织"。
国际刑警组织，兰登心里想。当然，他忘了，所有欧洲酒店都要求看客人的护照。这无关痛痒的请求其实不仅仅是一个古怪的登记手续，那是法律。在任何一个晚上，在整个欧洲，国际刑警组织都能准确地定位谁睡在什么地方。弄清楚兰登住在里茨酒店恐怕只花了五秒钟时间。
雪铁龙继续加速向南穿越城区。这时被照亮的埃菲尔铁塔的轮廓开始显现出来。在车右边铁塔直插云霄。看到铁塔，兰登想起了维多利亚，想起了他一年前玩笑般的承诺。他说他们每六个月都要在全球范围内换一个浪漫的地方约会。兰登想，当时埃菲尔铁塔一定是上了他们的名单的。遗憾的是，他一年前是在罗马一个喧闹的机场和维多利亚吻别的。
"你上过她吗？"特工看着远方问。
兰登抬头看了他一眼，确信自己没听懂他的话。"对不起，你说什么？" "她很可爱，不是吗？"特工透过挡风玻璃指向埃菲尔铁塔。"你上过她吗？"
兰登的眼珠转了转。"没有，我还没爬过那铁塔。"
"她是法国的象征。我认为她完美无瑕。"
兰登心不在焉地点了点头。
符号学家常说，法国是一个因那些有男子汉气概、沉溺于女色的、像拿破仑和矮子那样危险的小个子领袖的出名的国家。它选择一个一千英尺高的男性生殖器作为国家的象征再合适不过了。
他们到里沃利路口时遇到了红灯，但雪铁龙并未减速。特工加大油门驰过路口，快速冲入卡斯蒂哥亚诺路有林荫的那一段。这一部分路段被用作著名的杜伊勒里花园--法国版的中央公园的北入口。许多游客都误以为杜伊勒里这个名字和这里几千珠盛开的丁香有关，因为二者发音有相似的地方，但杜伊勒里字面意思的确指的是多少有些浪漫的东西。这个公园曾经是一个被污染的大坑，黎承包商从这里挖粘土烧制巴黎著名的房顶红瓦--这个词的法语语音为杜伊勒里。
他们进入这空无一人的公园时，特工把手伸到仪表板下面把吵人的警笛关掉。兰登出了口气，体味着这瞬间到来的宁静。车外，泛白的车头晕光灯一晃一晃地照着前方碎砂砾停车道，轮胎发出难听的、有节奏的沙沙声，使人昏昏欲睡。
兰登一直把杜伊勒里当作一块圣地。正是在这些花园里，克劳德•莫内对形式和颜色作了实验，实际上是催生了印象派运动。然而，今晚这个地方被不祥的氛围笼罩着。
雪铁龙现在开始左拐，沿公园的中心大道向西驰去。轿车沿着一个环形池塘在奔驰，穿过了一条废弃的大道驶进远处的一块四边形场地。兰登现在可以看到杜伊勒里花园的边界，边界处有一块巨大的石拱门--小凯旋门。
尽管在小凯旋门曾举行过狂欢节，但艺术迷们是出于另一个完全不同的原因而对其景仰不已。从杜伊勒里花园尽头处的空地上可以看到全球四个最好的艺术博物馆--指南针的四个方向上各有一个。
在右车窗外边，朝南跨过塞纳河和凯伏尔泰大道，兰登可以看到灯火通明的老火车站，即现在著名的道赛美术博物馆的正面。他往左一瞥，看到了那超级现代的蓬皮杜中心的顶部，蓬皮杜中心是现代艺术博物馆所在地。在他身后西部，他看到古老的高过树顶的拉美西斯方尖碑，那是裘德。波姆国立美术馆的标志。
但朝正东，透过石拱门，兰登可以看到耸立着独石柱碑的文艺复兴时的宫殿，现在已成为举世闻名的艺术博物馆--卢浮宫美术馆。
当兰登的眼睛徒劳地试图看完整整个大厦时，他感觉到一些似曾有过的惊奇。在极宽大的广场对面，宏伟的卢浮宫正面在巴黎的天空映衬下像个城堡一样矗立着。卢浮宫形如一个巨大的马掌，它是欧洲最长的建筑，其长度比三个平放的对接起来的埃菲尔铁塔都要长。就是在美术馆翼楼之间的百万平方英尺开放广场，在宽度上也无法和它正面的宽度相比。兰登有一次曾漫步于卢浮宫的各个角落，令人吃惊的是，竟然有三英里的路程。
尽管要想好好地欣赏馆藏的653，000件艺术品估计需要五天，大部分游客都选择一种被兰登称作"轻型卢浮宫"的不完全游的方式--急匆匆地去看宫里最有名的三样东西--蒙娜丽莎、米罗的维纳斯和胜利女神。阿特。布奇华德曾骄傲地说他曾在五分五十六秒内就看完了这三大杰作。
开车人拿出手提式步话机用法语连珠炮式地说："先生，兰登到了。两分钟。"
步话机传回对方尖利急促的回话声，别人听不懂他在说什么。
特工收好步话机后转向兰登说："你会在大门口见到局长。"
开车人丝毫不理会广场上禁止车辆通行的标志牌，把雪铁龙发动起来，快速驶过路边的镶边石。此时能看到卢浮宫的大门很显眼地立在远方，正门被七个长方形的水池围住，水池射出的喷泉被灯光照得通体发亮。
金字塔。
巴黎卢浮宫的这个新入口现在几乎和卢浮宫美术馆一样有名。这座由生于中国的美国建筑家贝聿铭设计的引起诸多争议的全新的现代玻璃金字塔，现在仍受到传统派的嘲讽。因为他们觉得它破坏了这个文艺复兴时期王宫的尊严。歌德曾把建筑描述为冻结了的音乐，批评贝聿铭的人把这金字塔描述为光洁黑板上的指甲划痕。然而激进的崇拜者们认为贝聿铭这七十一英尺高的透明金字塔将古老的结构和现代方法结合起来，艳丽多姿，二者相得益彰--它是一种连接新与旧的象征，它有助于将卢浮宫推进下一个千年。
"你喜欢我们的金字塔吗？"特工问。
兰登皱起了眉头。好像法国人很喜欢问美国人这个问题。这当然不是一个轻而易举就回答得了的问题。承认你喜欢这个金字塔，别人倒觉得你是个很没品味的美国人，说你讨厌它，这又是对法国的大不敬。
"密特朗是个很大胆的人。"兰登回答道，也避开了两难的回答。这位授权建造这个金字塔的前总统据说患有"法老情结"。弗朗索瓦。密特朗独自负责把巴黎填满埃及的尖塔，艺术和工艺品。他很喜欢那些耗资费时的埃及文化，所以现在法国人还称他为司芬克斯。
"局长叫什么？"兰登改换话题问道。
"贝祖。法希。"开车人道。他们已接近金字塔的大门口。"我们叫他LeTaureau."
兰登瞥了他一眼，心想是不是每个法国人都有个奇怪的动物名称。"你们叫局长公牛？"
那人皱起了眉毛。"你的法语比你自己承认的要好，兰登先生。"
我的法语很臭，兰登心里想。可我对星座图谱很了解。Taurus是金牛座。全世界的星相学符号都是一致的。
特工把车停了下来，从两股喷泉中间指向金字塔一侧的大门说："入口处到了。祝您好运，先生。"
"你不去？"
"我奉命把你送到这儿，我还有其他任务。"
兰登叹了一口气下了车。这是你的杂耍。
特工迅速地把车发动起来，一溜烟地开走了。
兰登独自站在那里，望着渐渐远离的汽车尾灯。他知道他可以轻易地重新策划一下，走出这院子，拦一辆出租车回家睡觉。但隐约中他又觉得这很可能是下策。
当兰登走向喷泉发出的水雾时，他惴惴不安地感到自己正穿越一个虚幻的门槛而步入另一个世界。在这种夜的氛围中，他犹如做梦一般。二十分钟以前他还在酒店酣睡。此刻他却在司芬克斯建造的透明金字塔前等待一位被他们称作公牛的警察。
他心想，我这仿佛是被困在萨尔瓦多。达利的一幅画作中。
兰登大步流星迈向正门---个巨大的旋转门。远处的门厅里灯光昏暗，空无一人。
我要敲门吗？
兰登不知道是否曾有德高望重的哈佛大学的埃及学专家敲过金字塔的前门并期望有人开门。他举手去拍玻璃，但在黑暗中，一个人影从下面出现了，大步走上旋转楼梯。那人矮胖身材，皮肤黝黑，差不多就像原始的尼安德特人。他身着黑色的双胸兜套装，套装扯得很紧，罩住了他宽厚的肩膀。他迈着短粗有力的腿，带着不容质疑的权威向前走去。他正在用手机通话，但到兰登面前时正好通话完毕。他示意兰登进去。
兰登穿过旋转门时他自我介绍说："我是贝祖。法希，中央司法警察总管。"他说话的语气倒与他长相挺相称--从喉头处发出低沉的声音……象暴风前的闷雷。
兰登伸手和他握手："罗伯特。兰登。"
法希的大手紧裹着兰登的手，那力量似乎能把兰登的手攥碎。
"我看到了相片。"兰登说。"你的特工说雅克。索尼埃自己把自己弄成--"
法希的黑亮的眼睛看着兰登。"兰登先生，你在照片上看到的才只是索尼埃所作所为的开始。"
Chapter 4
Captain Bezu Fache carried himself like an angry ox, with his wide shoulders thrown back and his chin tucked hard into his chest. His dark hair was slicked back with oil, accentuating an arrow-like widow's peak that divided his jutting brow and preceded him like the prow of a battleship. As he advanced, his dark eyes seemed to scorch the earth before him, radiating a fiery clarity that forecast his reputation for unblinking severity in all matters.
Langdon followed the captain down the famous marble staircase into the sunken atrium beneath the glass pyramid. As they descended, they passed between two armed Judicial Police guards with machine guns. The message was clear: Nobody goes in or out tonight without the blessing of Captain Fache.
Descending below ground level, Langdon fought a rising trepidation. Fache's presence was anything but welcoming, and the Louvre itself had an almost sepulchral aura at this hour. The staircase, like the aisle of a dark movie theater, was illuminated by subtle tread-lighting embedded in each step. Langdon could hear his own footsteps reverberating off the glass overhead. As he glanced up, he could see the faint illuminated wisps of mist from the fountains fading away outside the transparent roof.
"Do you approve?" Fache asked, nodding upward with his broad chin.
Langdon sighed, too tired to play games. "Yes, your pyramid is magnificent."
Fache grunted. "A scar on the face of Paris."
Strike one. Langdon sensed his host was a hard man to please. He wondered if Fache had any idea that this pyramid, at President Mitterrand's explicit demand, had been constructed of exactly 666 panes of glass—a bizarre request that had always been a hot topic among conspiracy buffs who claimed 666 was the number of Satan.
Langdon decided not to bring it up.
As they dropped farther into the subterranean foyer, the yawning space slowly emerged from the shadows. Built fifty-seven feet beneath ground level, the Louvre's newly constructed 70,000-square-foot lobby spread out like an endless grotto. Constructed in warm ocher marble to be compatible with the honey-colored stone of the Louvre facade above, the subterranean hall was usually vibrant with sunlight and tourists. Tonight, however, the lobby was barren and dark, giving the entire space a cold and crypt-like atmosphere.
"And the museum's regular security staff?" Langdon asked.
"En quarantaine," Fache replied, sounding as if Langdon were questioning the integrity of Fache's team. "Obviously, someone gained entry tonight who should not have. All Louvre night wardens are in the Sully Wing being questioned. My own agents have taken over museum security for the evening."
Langdon nodded, moving quickly to keep pace with Fache.
"How well did you know Jacques Saunière?" the captain asked.
"Actually, not at all. We'd never met."
Fache looked surprised. "Your first meeting was to be tonight?"
"Yes. We'd planned to meet at the American University reception following my lecture, but he never showed up."
Fache scribbled some notes in a little book. As they walked, Langdon caught a glimpse of the Louvre's lesser-known pyramid—La Pyramide Inversée—a huge inverted skylight that hung from the ceiling like a stalactite in an adjoining section of the entresol. Fache guided Langdon up a short set of stairs to the mouth of an arched tunnel, over which a sign read: DENON. The Denon Wing was the most famous of the Louvre's three main sections.
"Who requested tonight's meeting?" Fache asked suddenly. "You or he?"
The question seemed odd. "Mr. Saunière did," Langdon replied as they entered the tunnel. "His secretary contacted me a few weeks ago via e-mail. She said the curator had heard I would be lecturing in Paris this month and wanted to discuss something with me while I was here."
"Discuss what?"
"I don't know. Art, I imagine. We share similar interests."
Fache looked skeptical. "You have no idea what your meeting was about?"
Langdon did not. He'd been curious at the time but had not felt comfortable demanding specifics. The venerated Jacques Saunière had a renowned penchant for privacy and granted very few meetings; Langdon was grateful simply for the opportunity to meet him.
"Mr. Langdon, can you at least guess what our murder victim might have wanted to discuss with you on the night he was killed? It might be helpful."
The pointedness of the question made Langdon uncomfortable. "I really can't imagine. I didn't ask. I felt honored to have been contacted at all. I'm an admirer of Mr. Saunière's work. I use his texts often in my classes."
Fache made note of that fact in his book.
The two men were now halfway up the Denon Wing's entry tunnel, and Langdon could see the twin ascending escalators at the far end, both motionless.
"So you shared interests with him?" Fache asked.
"Yes. In fact, I've spent much of the last year writing the draft for a book that deals with Mr. Saunière's primary area of expertise. I was looking forward to picking his brain."
Fache glanced up. "Pardon?"
The idiom apparently didn't translate. "I was looking forward to learning his thoughts on the topic."
"I see. And what is the topic?"
Langdon hesitated, uncertain exactly how to put it. "Essentially, the manuscript is about the iconography of goddess worship—the concept of female sanctity and the art and symbols associated with it."
Fache ran a meaty hand across his hair. "And Saunière was knowledgeable about this?"
"Nobody more so."
"I see."
Langdon sensed Fache did not see at all. Jacques Saunière was considered the premiere goddess iconographer on earth. Not only did Saunière have a personal passion for relics relating to fertility, goddess cults, Wicca, and the sacred feminine, but during his twenty-year tenure as curator, Saunière had helped the Louvre amass the largest collection of goddess art on earth—labrys axes from the priestesses' oldest Greek shrine in Delphi, gold caducei wands, hundreds of Tjet ankhs resembling small standing angels, sistrum rattles used in ancient Egypt to dispel evil spirits, and an astonishing array of statues depicting Horus being nursed by the goddess Isis.
"Perhaps Jacques Saunière knew of your manuscript?" Fache offered. "And he called the meeting to offer his help on your book."
Langdon shook his head. "Actually, nobody yet knows about my manuscript. It's still in draft form, and I haven't shown it to anyone except my editor."
Fache fell silent.
Langdon did not add the reason he hadn't yet shown the manuscript to anyone else. The three-hundred-page draft—tentatively titled Symbols of the Lost Sacred Feminine—proposed some very unconventional interpretations of established religious iconography which would certainly be controversial.
Now, as Langdon approached the stationary escalators, he paused, realizing Fache was no longer beside him. Turning, Langdon saw Fache standing several yards back at a service elevator.
"We'll take the elevator," Fache said as the lift doors opened. "As I'm sure you're aware, the gallery is quite a distance on foot."
Although Langdon knew the elevator would expedite the long, two-story climb to the Denon Wing, he remained motionless.
"Is something wrong?" Fache was holding the door, looking impatient.
Langdon exhaled, turning a longing glance back up the open-air escalator. Nothing's wrong at all, he lied to himself, trudging back toward the elevator. As a boy, Langdon had fallen down an abandoned well shaft and almost died treading water in the narrow space for hours before being rescued. Since then, he'd suffered a haunting phobia of enclosed spaces—elevators, subways, squash courts. The elevator is a perfectly safe machine, Langdon continually told himself, never believing it. It's a tiny metal box hanging in an enclosed shaft! Holding his breath, he stepped into the lift, feeling the familiar tingle of adrenaline as the doors slid shut. Two floors. Ten seconds.
"You and Mr. Saunière," Fache said as the lift began to move, "you never spoke at all? Never corresponded? Never sent each other anything in the mail?"
Another odd question. Langdon shook his head. "No. Never." Fache cocked his head, as if making a mental note of that fact. Saying nothing, he stared dead ahead at the chrome doors.
As they ascended, Langdon tried to focus on anything other than the four walls around him. In the reflection of the shiny elevator door, he saw the captain's tie clip—a silver crucifix with thirteen embedded pieces of black onyx. Langdon found it vaguely surprising. The symbol was known as a crux gemmata—a cross bearing thirteen gems—a Christian ideogram for Christ and His twelve apostles. Somehow Langdon had not expected the captain of the French police to broadcast his religion so openly. Then again, this was France; Christianity was not a religion here so much as a birthright.
"It's a crux gemmata" Fache said suddenly.
Startled, Langdon glanced up to find Fache's eyes on him in the reflection.
The elevator jolted to a stop, and the doors opened.
Langdon stepped quickly out into the hallway, eager for the wide-open space afforded by the famous high ceilings of the Louvre galleries. The world into which he stepped, however, was nothing like he expected.
Surprised, Langdon stopped short.
Fache glanced over. "I gather, Mr. Langdon, you have never seen the Louvre after hours?"
I guess not, Langdon thought, trying to get his bearings.
Usually impeccably illuminated, the Louvre galleries were startlingly dark tonight. Instead of the customary flat-white light flowing down from above, a muted red glow seemed to emanate upward from the baseboards—intermittent patches of red light spilling out onto the tile floors.
As Langdon gazed down the murky corridor, he realized he should have anticipated this scene. Virtually all major galleries employed red service lighting at night—strategically placed, low-level, noninvasive lights that enabled staff members to navigate hallways and yet kept the paintings in relative darkness to slow the fading effects of overexposure to light. Tonight, the museum possessed an almost oppressive quality. Long shadows encroached everywhere, and the usually soaring vaulted ceilings appeared as a low, black void.
"This way," Fache said, turning sharply right and setting out through a series of interconnected galleries.
Langdon followed, his vision slowly adjusting to the dark. All around, large-format oils began to materialize like photos developing before him in an enormous darkroom... their eyes following as he moved through the rooms. He could taste the familiar tang of museum air—an arid, deionized essence that carried a faint hint of carbon—the product of industrial, coal-filter dehumidifiers that ran around the clock to counteract the corrosive carbon dioxide exhaled by visitors.
Mounted high on the walls, the visible security cameras sent a clear message to visitors: We see you. Do not touch anything.
"Any of them real?" Langdon asked, motioning to the cameras.
Fache shook his head. "Of course not."
Langdon was not surprised. Video surveillance in museums this size was cost-prohibitive and ineffective. With acres of galleries to watch over, the Louvre would require several hundred technicians simply to monitor the feeds. Most large museums now used "containment security." Forget keeping thieves out. Keep them in. Containment was activated after hours, and if an intruder removed a piece of artwork, compartmentalized exits would seal around that gallery, and the thief would find himself behind bars even before the police arrived.
The sound of voices echoed down the marble corridor up ahead. The noise seemed to be coming from a large recessed alcove that lay ahead on the right. A bright light spilled out into the hallway.
"Office of the curator," the captain said.
As he and Fache drew nearer the alcove, Langdon peered down a short hallway, into Saunière's luxurious study—warm wood, Old Master paintings, and an enormous antique desk on which stood a two-foot-tall model of a knight in full armor. A handful of police agents bustled about the room, talking on phones and taking notes. One of them was seated at Saunière's desk, typing into a laptop. Apparently, the curator's private office had become DCPJ's makeshift command post for the evening.
"Messieurs," Fache called out, and the men turned. "Ne nous dérangez pas sous aucun prétexte. Entendu?"
Everyone inside the office nodded their understanding.
Langdon had hung enough NE PAS DERANGER signs on hotel room doors to catch the gist of the captain's orders. Fache and Langdon were not to be disturbed under any circumstances.
Leaving the small congregation of agents behind, Fache led Langdon farther down the darkened hallway. Thirty yards ahead loomed the gateway to the Louvre's most popular section—la Grande Galerie—a seemingly endless corridor that housed the Louvre's most valuable Italian masterpieces. Langdon had already discerned that this was where Saunière's body lay; the Grand Gallery's famous parquet floor had been unmistakable in the Polaroid.
As they approached, Langdon saw the entrance was blocked by an enormous steel grate that looked like something used by medieval castles to keep out marauding armies.
"Containment security," Fache said, as they neared the grate.
Even in the darkness, the barricade looked like it could have restrained a tank. Arriving outside, Langdon peered through the bars into the dimly lit caverns of the Grand Gallery.
"After you, Mr. Langdon," Fache said.
Langdon turned. After me, where?
Fache motioned toward the floor at the base of the grate.
Langdon looked down. In the darkness, he hadn't noticed. The barricade was raised about two feet, providing an awkward clearance underneath.
"This area is still off limits to Louvre security," Fache said. "My team from Police Technique et Scientifique has just finished their investigation." He motioned to the opening. "Please slide under."
Langdon stared at the narrow crawl space at his feet and then up at the massive iron grate. He's kidding, right? The barricade looked like a guillotine waiting to crush intruders.
Fache grumbled something in French and checked his watch. Then he dropped to his knees and slithered his bulky frame underneath the grate. On the other side, he stood up and looked back through the bars at Langdon.
Langdon sighed. Placing his palms flat on the polished parquet, he lay on his stomach and pulled himself forward. As he slid underneath, the nape of his Harris tweed snagged on the bottom of the grate, and he cracked the back of his head on the iron.
Very suave, Robert, he thought, fumbling and then finally pulling himself through. As he stood up, Langdon was beginning to suspect it was going to be a very long night.
 
贝祖。法希局长外表像一头发怒的公牛。他宽厚的肩膀向后倾，下巴向胸部伸得很厉害。他乌黑的头发向后梳得整整齐齐，油光可鉴，像战舰舰头一样的V形发尖与突出的前额隔开来，看起来更像是个箭头。往前走时，他黑色的眼睛似乎能把面前的地面烤焦。他眼里喷射出的火清澈透明，那种清澈使人感到他有一股干什么事都决不含糊的认真劲。
兰登跟随着局长沿着那个有名的楼梯往下走，进入深藏在金字塔下面的正厅。在他们往下走的过程中，他们从两个握有机枪的武装司法警察中间穿过。这传递的信息非常明了：没有法希局长的恩准，今夜谁也进不来，出不去。
下到地平面以下后，兰登就和不断袭来的惶恐作斗争。法希的存在一点也不受欢迎。此刻的卢浮宫本身似乎有种墓穴的气氛。楼梯像黑暗中的电影院通道一样，每迈一步都有反应灵敏的脚踏灯照亮。兰登能听到他自己的脚步声在头顶的玻璃上回响。朝上望去，他可以看到从喷泉散出的带着些许亮光的水雾正在透明房顶外散去。
"你赞成这种做法吗？"法希边问边用他宽大的下巴指向上方。
兰登叹了口气他太累了，不想演戏了。"你们的金字塔真宏伟。"
法希咕哝了一声，然后说："巴黎脸上的一块疤。"
得罪了一位。作为客人的兰登感到他的主人不好取悦。他不明白法希是否知道，在密特朗总统明确要求下，这个金字塔正好由666块玻璃构成。这种奇怪的要求一直是喜欢研究阴谋事件的人们的一个热点话题。他们说666恰好是撒旦的代码。
兰登决定不提这事。
他们继续往下走，来到地下的正厅，一个宽大的空间渐渐从阴影中显露出来。卢浮宫新落成的岩洞。地下大厅是用暖色的赭色大理石建成，以便和上面卢浮宫正面的蜜色石头相协调。这地下大厅从早到晚大都人声鼎沸。今夜则不然，大厅空无一人，漆黑一片，整个大厅笼罩在阴冷、墓穴般的气氛里。
"美术馆常规保安人员呢？"兰登问道。
"隔离起来了。"法希答道，听口气他好像认为兰登怀疑他手下人员的诚实。显然，今晚有不该进来的人进来了。卢浮宫所有的看守人员都有在萨利厅里接受询问。我的人已接管了卢浮宫今晚的安全守卫工作。
兰登点点头，快步跟上法希。
"你对雅克。索尼埃有多少了解？"局长问道。
"事实上，一点也不了解，我们从未见过面。"
法希显得非常吃惊。"你们的初次会面是在今晚？"
"是的。我们原计划在我作完报告后的巴黎美国大会举行的招待会上见面的，可他一直就没露面。" 法希在他的小本本上草草记下一些文字。他们继续往前走。这时兰登看到了卢浮宫那个名气稍小一些的金字塔--倒金字塔。它是一个巨大的倒置的天窗，好像钟乳石一样在楼面夹层处悬着。法希领着兰登走上一段楼梯，来到拱型隧道的洞口。洞口上方用大写字母写着德农两个字。德农厅是卢浮宫三个主区中最重要的一区。
"谁提出要今晚见面的？是你，还是他？"法希突然问道。
这个问题似乎有点怪。"是索尼埃先生。"兰登在进洞时回答道。"他的秘书几周前通过电子邮件和我取得联系。她说馆长听说我本月要来巴黎讲学，希望在我在巴黎期间和我讨论一些事情。"
"讨论什么？"
"我不知道。艺术，我想。我们有共同的兴趣。"
法希将信将疑。"你不知道你们见面后要谈写什么？"
兰登的确不知道。他当时有些好奇，但觉得问得过细不太合适。人们都有知道倍受尊敬的雅克。索尼埃喜欢深居简出的生活，很少答应和别人见面。兰登因这次见面的机会简直对他感激不尽。
"兰登先生，你能不能至少猜一猜我们这位受害者在被害的晚上想和你讨论些什么？这对我们可能有些帮助。"
这个直截了当的问题使兰登感觉很不自在。"我无法想象。我没问过。他和我联系，我倍感荣幸。我很欣赏索尼埃先生的作品。我上课选用他的文章。"
法希在本子上记下了这些。
二人此刻刚好处在通往德农厅的隧道的一半的路程上。兰登看到了尽头的一对向上的扶手电梯，但两个扶手梯都一动不动。
"你和他有共同的兴趣？"法希问。
"是的。事实上我去年花了许多时间写一部书的初稿。书中涉及索尼埃先生的主要专业领域。我期待着能够挖他的脑子。"
法希往上看了一眼。"对不起，我没听懂。"
这俗语显然没传达清楚意思。"我期待着在那方面向他请教。"
"我明白了。哪个方面？"
兰登犹豫了一下，拿不准该怎样确切地表达它。"书稿主要是关于女神崇拜的图像符号的--一种女性崇拜的概念以及与其相关的艺术和象征符号。
法希把一只肥嘟嘟的手插进头发。"索尼埃在这方面很有学问？"
"没有谁比他更有学问。"
"我明白了。"
兰登认为法希一点也不明白。雅克。索尼埃被认为是全球有关女性崇拜图像符号学的第一专家。索尼埃不仅自己非常喜爱与生育、女神教派、巫术崇拜和圣女相关的文物，还帮助卢浮宫收集了全世界大量的女神艺术品--从德尔菲古老的神殿中女祭司手中的拉布里斯斧头、金质的墨丘利魔杖、好几百只像站立的小天使似的饰有小圆环的T型器物，到古希腊用来驱鬼神用的叉铃，还有一大堆描述何鲁斯被女神伊希斯哺育的情景的小雕像，简直令人难以置信。
"或许雅克。索尼埃听说过你的书稿吧？"法希说道。"他想约见你，为你写书提供帮助。"
兰登摇摇头。"事实上，没人知道我的书稿。现在还只是草稿，除了我的编辑处，我从未给人看过。"
法希不说话了。
兰登没有说明他未将手稿给任何人看的原因。这三百页的草稿题目初步定为圣女遗失的符号。它提出要对约定俗成的宗教符号学做出的非传统解析，这肯定会引起争议。
快到静止的扶手电梯时，兰登停了下来。他意识到法希已不再在他身边。转身回望，兰登发现法希站在几码远外的电梯旁。
"我们乘电梯，我相信你知道步行去大画廊挺远的。"法希在电梯门打开时说道。
虽然兰登知道乘电梯去德农厅要比爬两层楼梯快得多，他还是站着没动。
"怎么啦？"法希按着门不让它关上，显得很不耐烦。 兰登喘了口气，充满期待地看了一眼上面的并不密封的扶手电梯。一切都好。他骗自己，慢吞吞地走回电梯。还是个孩子时，兰登掉进了一个废弃的深井里，他在那狭窄的空间踩水好几个小时后才获救，差点死在那里。打那以后，他就对封闭的空间，如电梯、地铁、壁式网球场等充满恐惧。电梯是极安全的机器。兰登反复这样告诫自己，却一点也不相信它安全。它是个悬在封闭的筒子中的小小的金属盒子！他屏住呼吸，走进电梯。当电梯关上时，他心中感到一阵颤栗，这颤栗以前也感受过。
两层楼。十秒钟。
电梯开动时法希说："你和索尼埃先生，你们从未说过话吗？从未通信？有没有互相寄过邮件什么的？"
又是一个古怪的问题。兰登摇摇头。"没有。从没有过。"
法希扬起头，好像要把这事实记在脑子里。他一言不发，死盯着眼前的铬钢门。
在上升过程中，兰登尽力把注意力集中到其它东西上，他不敢想他周围的四面墙。光洁的电梯门能照出人影，从反射的影像中，兰登看到局长的领带夹--一个镶有十三颗黑色缟玛瑙的银质十字架。兰登感觉到有一些说不清道不明的惊奇。这种标志被称作宝石十字架--带有十三颗宝石的十字架--是基督教关于耶稣和他的十二个门徒的表意符号。这位法国警察局长这么公开地宣扬自己所信奉的宗教，倒有点出乎兰登的预料。而且，这是在法国，基督教并不是那么一个一生下来就得信奉的宗教。
"这是宝石十字架。"法希突然说。
兰登吓了一跳，抬头看了一眼，从反射中可以看到法希的眼睛正盯着他。
电梯一顿，停了下来。门开了。
兰登迅速走出电梯，走进厅廊。他渴望享受卢浮宫画廊高得出名的天花板下那宽敞的空间。然而，刚才他所步入的那个狭小空间可一点也不是他想要的那种。
兰登怔住了，突然停了下来。
法希扫了他一眼。"兰登先生，我想你从未在卢浮宫不开放的时候进来过。"
我想我是没来过。兰登心里想，尽量使自己不失态。
卢浮宫大画廊通常光线极充足，但今夜却是惊人的黑暗。今夜没有平常从上面倾泻而下的柔和的灯光，只有踢脚线处似乎有微微的红光发出，这一处，那一处，断断续续照在地板上。
兰登怔怔地望着阴森森的走廊，他意识到他本该预想到这种情形。几乎所有的主要画廊夜间都用这种耐用灯照明。这些灯放的位置很巧，都在低处，不刺眼，有利于工作人员夜间走过廊道，同时也使这些画作处于相对阴暗的地方，减缓因强光照射而褪色的速度。今夜，这地方简直使人压抑得透不气来，到外是长长的阴影，原来高高拱起的天花板今夜却像是一片低垂的空窟窿。
"这边走。"法希说。他向右急转身，走进一个段段相互联接的画廊。
兰登紧跟着，他的视力慢慢适应了黑暗。四周的巨幅油画变得清晰具体了，他们好像是在一个巨大的暗室里冲洗出的照片，展现在他面前……他在房间里走到哪里，他们的眼睛就跟到哪里。他能闻到博物馆里常有的干燥剂、除湿剂的刺鼻的气味。除湿剂带有些微的碳的气味。碳是一种工业用品，是一种过滤煤用的除湿装置，以消除游客呼出的二氧化碳所产生的腐蚀作用。高高安置在墙上的安全摄像机赫然可见，它向游客清楚地传达这样的信息：我们看着你呢，别动手触摸任何东西。
"有真的吗？"兰登边问边指向摄像机。
法希摇头说："当然没有。" 兰登一点也不觉得奇怪。在这么大的美术馆实施录像监视，成本太高，很难做到，而且效果也不好。要监视这数公顷的画廊，单负责信息传输的技术人员，整个卢浮宫就得要好几百人。大多数大型的博物馆现在都使用一种叫"封闭保护"的防范措施。别想着不让贼进来，要让他们出不去。封闭装置在闭馆后启动。如果侵入者拿走一件艺术品，自动封闭的出口就会将画廊封死，即便在警察没赶来之前，贼就已被挡在栅栏里面出不去了。
声音在上面的大理石走廊内回响。嘈杂声好像是从右前方隐蔽处的小房间里传出来的。那里有一束亮光倾泻在走廊里。
"馆长办公室。"局长说。
和法希走近那个小室后，顺着一条又低又短的走廊望去，兰登能看到索尼埃豪华的书房--暖色木材的家具，从前的大师们的画作，还有一个巨大的古色古香的写字台，写字台上立着个两英尺高的全身铠甲的武士模型。房间里几个警察正在忙忙碌着，其中一个坐在索尼埃的桌子前正往手提电脑里输入东西。显然，馆长的私人办公室已成了中央司法警察今晚的临时指挥部了。
"先生们。"法希用法语大声喊道，人们转向他。"不要以任何理由来打扰我们，听到了吗？"
办公室里的人都点头表示明白。
兰登在宾馆的门上曾多次挂过法语写的"请勿打扰"的牌子，所以刚才大致听懂局长"请勿打扰"之类的话。无论如何都不许打搅法希和兰登。
法希把一帮警察抛在身后，带着兰登沿着黑暗的走廊继续向前走。三十码开外的地方出现了通往卢浮宫大画廊的入口。大画廊是卢浮宫最受欢迎的地方--像个走不到头的长廊。长廊里藏有卢浮宫最有价值的意大利杰作。兰登发觉索尼埃的尸体卧躺之地正是此处。大画廊里的嵌木拼花地板明白无误地显现在宝丽莱快照里。
他们走近后，兰登看到入口被一个巨大的钢铁栅栏堵住了。钢栅栏看去像是中世纪城堡中人用来把强盗挡在外面的防御工具。
"封闭保护"法希走近栅栏后说。
即使是在黑暗中，这道封锁线看上去也能抵挡住一辆坦克。到了外边，兰登透过钢栅栏往昏暗的，硕大的洞穴般的大画廊里探视。
"你先进，兰登先生。"法希说。
"我先进？进哪儿？"兰登转过身来。 法希指向钢栅栏基部的地板。
兰登低头望去。在黑暗中他什么也没有看到。封锁栅栏被抬起了两英尺，下面有个进出很不方便的间隙。
"卢浮宫的保安现在还不能进入这个区域，我手下的技术警察刚刚在这调查完毕。"法希说。"从底下爬进去。"
兰登盯着脚下窄窄的空隙，又抬眼看着那巨大的铁栅栏。他是开玩笑吧？那铁栅栏像个断头台一样，时刻等待着把入侵者压碎。
法希用法语咕哝了一句，又看了看表。然后他双膝跪下，挪动着肥胖的身子从栅栏下爬了进去，站起身，透过栅栏回望着兰登。
兰登叹了口气。他把手掌平放在光滑的嵌木拼花地板上，肚子趴上去，使劲往前挪。他爬到栅栏底下时，他的哈里斯花格尼上衣的背部被栅栏的底部挂刮开了，后脑勺碰到了铁栅栏上。
真够斯文的，罗伯特，他想。他伸手摸了摸，最后终于把自己挪进去了。兰登站起后便意识到这一夜可短不了。
Chapter 5
Murray Hill Place—the new Opus Dei World Headquarters and conference center—is located at 243 Lexington Avenue in New York City. With a price tag of just over $47 million, the 133,000-square-foot tower is clad in red brick and Indiana limestone. Designed by May & Pinska, the building contains over one hundred bedrooms, six dining rooms, libraries, living rooms, meeting rooms, and offices. The second, eighth, and sixteenth floors contain chapels, ornamented with mill-work and marble. The seventeenth floor is entirely residential. Men enter the building through the main doors on Lexington Avenue. Women enter through a side street and are "acoustically and visually separated" from the men at all times within the building.
Earlier this evening, within the sanctuary of his penthouse apartment, Bishop Manuel Aringarosa had packed a small travel bag and dressed in a traditional black cassock. Normally, he would have wrapped a purple cincture around his waist, but tonight he would be traveling among the public, and he preferred not to draw attention to his high office. Only those with a keen eye would notice his 14-karat gold bishop's ring with purple amethyst, large diamonds, and hand-tooled mitre-crozier appliqué. Throwing the travel bag over his shoulder, he said a silent prayer and left his apartment, descending to the lobby where his driver was waiting to take him to the airport.
Now, sitting aboard a commercial airliner bound for Rome, Aringarosa gazed out the window at the dark Atlantic. The sun had already set, but Aringarosa knew his own star was on the rise. Tonight the battle will be won, he thought, amazed that only months ago he had felt powerless against the hands that threatened to destroy his empire.
As president-general of Opus Dei, Bishop Aringarosa had spent the last decade of his life spreading the message of "God's Work"—literally, Opus Dei. The congregation, founded in 1928 by the Spanish priest Josemaría Escrivá, promoted a return to conservative Catholic values and encouraged its members to make sweeping sacrifices in their own lives in order to do the Work of God.
Opus Dei's traditionalist philosophy initially had taken root in Spain before Franco's regime, but with the 1934 publication of Josemaría Escrivá's spiritual book The Way—999 points of meditation for doing God's Work in one's own life—Escrivá's message exploded across the world. Now, with over four million copies of The Way in circulation in forty-two languages, Opus Dei was a global force. Its residence halls, teaching centers, and even universities could be found in almost every major metropolis on earth. Opus Dei was the fastest-growing and most financially secure Catholic organization in the world. Unfortunately, Aringarosa had learned, in an age of religious cynicism, cults, and televangelists, Opus Dei's escalating wealth and power was a magnet for suspicion.
"Many call Opus Dei a brainwashing cult," reporters often challenged. "Others call you an ultraconservative Christian secret society. Which are you?"
"Opus Dei is neither," the bishop would patiently reply. "We are a Catholic Church. We are a congregation of Catholics who have chosen as our priority to follow Catholic doctrine as rigorously as we can in our own daily lives."
"Does God's Work necessarily include vows of chastity, tithing, and atonement for sins through self-flagellation and the cilice?"
"You are describing only a small portion of the Opus Dei population," Aringarosa said. "There are many levels of involvement. Thousands of Opus Dei members are married, have families, and do God's Work in their own communities. Others choose lives of asceticism within our cloistered residence halls. These choices are personal, but everyone in Opus Dei shares the goal of bettering the world by doing the Work of God. Surely this is an admirable quest."
Reason seldom worked, though. The media always gravitated toward scandal, and Opus Dei, like most large organizations, had within its membership a few misguided souls who cast a shadow over the entire group.
Two months ago, an Opus Dei group at a midwestern university had been caught drugging new recruits with mescaline in an effort to induce a euphoric state that neophytes would perceive as a religious experience. Another university student had used his barbed cilice belt more often than the recommended two hours a day and had given himself a near lethal infection. In Boston not long ago, a disillusioned young investment banker had signed over his entire life savings to Opus Dei before attempting suicide.
Misguided sheep, Aringarosa thought, his heart going out to them.
Of course the ultimate embarrassment had been the widely publicized trial of FBI spy Robert Hanssen, who, in addition to being a prominent member of Opus Dei, had turned out to be a sexual deviant, his trial uncovering evidence that he had rigged hidden video cameras in his own bedroom so his friends could watch him having sex with his wife. "Hardly the pastime of a devout Catholic," the judge had noted.
Sadly, all of these events had helped spawn the new watch group known as the Opus Dei Awareness Network (ODAN). The group's popular website—www.odan.org—relayed frightening stories from former Opus Dei members who warned of the dangers of joining. The media was now referring to Opus Dei as "God's Mafia" and "the Cult of Christ."
We fear what we do not understand, Aringarosa thought, wondering if these critics had any idea how many lives Opus Dei had enriched. The group enjoyed the full endorsement and blessing of the Vatican. Opus Dei is a personal prelature of the Pope himself.
Recently, however, Opus Dei had found itself threatened by a force infinitely more powerful than the media... an unexpected foe from which Aringarosa could not possibly hide. Five months ago, the kaleidoscope of power had been shaken, and Aringarosa was still reeling from the blow.
"They know not the war they have begun," Aringarosa whispered to himself, staring out the plane's window at the darkness of the ocean below. For an instant, his eyes refocused, lingering on the reflection of his awkward face—dark and oblong, dominated by a flat, crooked nose that had been shattered by a fist in Spain when he was a young missionary. The physical flaw barely registered now. Aringarosa's was a world of the soul, not of the flesh.
As the jet passed over the coast of Portugal, the cell phone in Aringarosa's cassock began vibrating in silent ring mode. Despite airline regulations prohibiting the use of cell phones during flights, Aringarosa knew this was a call he could not miss. Only one man possessed this number, the man who had mailed Aringarosa the phone.
Excited, the bishop answered quietly. "Yes?"
"Silas has located the keystone," the caller said. "It is in Paris. Within the Church of Saint-Sulpice."
Bishop Aringarosa smiled. "Then we are close."
"We can obtain it immediately. But we need your influence."
"Of course. Tell me what to do."
When Aringarosa switched off the phone, his heart was pounding. He gazed once again into the void of night, feeling dwarfed by the events he had put into motion.
 
Five hundred miles away, the albino named Silas stood over a small basin of water and dabbed the blood from his back, watching the patterns of red spinning in the water. Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean, he prayed, quoting Psalms. Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Silas was feeling an aroused anticipation that he had not felt since his previous life. It both surprised and electrified him. For the last decade, he had been following The Way, cleansing himself of sins... rebuilding his life... erasing the violence in his past. Tonight, however, it had all come rushing back. The hatred he had fought so hard to bury had been summoned. He had been startled how quickly his past had resurfaced. And with it, of course, had come his skills. Rusty but serviceable.
Jesus' message is one of peace... of nonviolence... of love. This was the message Silas had been taught from the beginning, and the message he held in his heart. And yet this was the message the enemies of Christ now threatened to destroy. Those who threaten God with force will be met with force. Immovable and steadfast.
For two millennia, Christian soldiers had defended their faith against those who tried to displace it. Tonight, Silas had been called to battle.
Drying his wounds, he donned his ankle-length, hooded robe. It was plain, made of dark wool, accentuating the whiteness of his skin and hair. Tightening the rope-tie around his waist, he raised the hood over his head and allowed his red eyes to admire his reflection in the mirror. The wheels are in motion.
 
默里山广场--天主事工会新的全球总部和会议中心，位于纽约市的莱克星屯大街243 号。这个耗资超过47，000，000 美元，面积达133，000 平方英尺的塔楼是用红砖和印地安那石灰岩砌成的，由梅与品斯卡公司设计。大楼里有一百多间卧室，六个餐厅，有图书馆、会客厅、会议室和办公室。第二、第八、第十六层有装饰着木饰品和大理石的小教堂。第十七层全部为居住房。男人从莱克星屯大街上的正门进，女人从侧面的一条街的侧门进。在这座大楼里，男人女人始终是分开的，彼此看不见也听不着。
今晚早些时候，在顶层豪华客房里，曼努埃尔。阿林加洛沙主教已收拿好一个小旅行包，穿上了传统的黑色长袍。通常他会在腰间系一条紫色束带，但今晚他是和普通大众一道旅行，他不想让人注意到他如此高的职位。只有眼尖的人才会注意到他14 克拉的主教金戒指。戒指上嵌有紫水晶，大钻石和手工制作的主教冠和主教牧杖嵌花。他把旅行包往背后一甩，默默祷告后，便离开了公寓，下了楼。他的司机正在大堂里等他，要把他送到机场。
此刻阿林加洛沙正坐在飞往罗马的商业客机上。他凝视着窗外黑暗的大西洋。太阳已经落山了，但阿林加洛沙自己的星星正在升起。今晚这一仗是会打赢的，他心里想。想起几个月前他对那些威胁要摧毁他帝国的家伙束手无策时，他还心有余悸。
作为天主事工会的总统帅，阿林加洛沙主教已经花了十年时间传播"上帝的善行"的音讯--即天主事工会要遵循的训示。这个教派于1928 年由西班牙牧师何塞马利亚。埃斯克里瓦创立，倡导回归到保守的罗马天主教价值观上来，鼓励信徒做出巨大的牺牲以便能做"上帝的善行"。天主事工会中的传统主义者的哲学在弗朗哥王朝以前就在西班牙扎下了根。但在1934 年，随着何塞马利亚。埃斯克里瓦神圣的《路》一书的出版--书中记载着人一生中做"上帝的善行"时的999 点沉思录--埃斯克里瓦的思想顿时风靡全球。现在，由于有四十二种语言的四百万册《路》的发行量，天主事工会成为全球性的力量。它所建成的住宅用房，教学中心，甚至大学，遍及世界各大主要城市。天主事工会是全世界发展迅速、经济最有保证的罗马天主教组织。不幸的是，阿林加洛沙了解到，在一个充斥着宗教的玩世不恭主义、邪教和广播电视福音传道者的年代，天主事工会迅速增长的财富和影响力成了人们怀疑的焦点。
经常会有记者尖锐地问："许多人称天主事工会是一个给人洗脑的邪教组织。有人称你们是一个极端保守的基督教秘密社团。你们是到底是哪一种？"
主教会耐心地回答说："天主事工会不是其中的任何一种，我们是罗马天主教。我们是罗马天主教信徒，我们把在日常生活中恪守天主教教义这一点视为头等重要的事情。""‘上帝的善行’非得包括要对自己的贞洁起誓、征收什么税和通过自我鞭笞，还有带苦修带来赎罪这类东西吗？"
"你所描述只是天主事工会中的少数人。"阿林加洛沙说，"可以有多种层次的参与。成千上万的天主事工会会员都结婚、生子，并在他们的社区内做着上帝的善行。有些人自愿选择住在我们修堂里做苦行主义者。这些都是个人意愿，但每位会员都把做‘上帝的善行’和使这个世界更美好作为自己的目标。这当然是一种值得钦佩的追求。"然而，这些解释却无济于事。媒体总喜欢盯着丑闻不放。而且，像其他任何规模宏大的组织一样，天主事工会内部总有几个迷途的灵魂往整个团体身上投下些阴影。
两个月前，有人发现中西部的一所大学的一帮天主事工会成员让新入教者服用一种叫仙人球碱的致幻剂，以达到欣快异常的状态。新入教者可能会将这种状态视为一种宗教经历。还有一个大学生使用带回刺的苦修带的时间要比推荐的一天两小时长得多，结果差点感染至死。不久前，在波士顿，一位幻想破灭的年轻投资银行家在试图自杀之前把自己终生的积蓄都转签给了天主事工会。
迷途的羔羊，阿林加洛沙这样认为。他很同情他们。
当然，最令他们尴尬的还是一桩广为流传审判事件。被审判的是联邦调查局间谍罗伯特。哈桑，他不单单是天主事工会会员中的知名人士，而且还是个性变态狂。审判过程中发现的证据表明，他还在自己的卧室里安装摄像机以便让他的朋友看他与老婆做爱的情形。
"一个虔诚的天主教徒几乎得不到快乐。"法官说。
不幸的是，这些事件促成了一个名为"认清天主事工会网络"的新观察组织的产生。这个组织在其颇受欢迎的网站 上不断发布原天主事工会会员讲述的骇人听闻的事件。这些前会员们还警告人们不要加入天主事工会。现在，媒体称天主事工会为"上帝的黑手党"或"基督的邪教。"我们对自己不了解的东西总是很恐惧，阿林加洛沙这样想。他不知道那些批评者是不是明白天主事工会曾使多少人的生活多姿多彩。天主事工会得到了梵蒂冈的完全认可和恩准。天主事工会是一个教皇个人的教区。
近来，天主事工会发现自己被一种比媒体威力更大的力量威胁着。阿林加洛沙躲都躲不开这突然冒出来的敌人。虽然五个月前，这股不稳定的力量被粉碎了，但阿林加洛沙现在还感到心有余悸。
"他们不知道他们已挑起了战争。"阿林加洛沙一边望着机窗下黑暗的大西洋一边小声嘀咕着。突然，他的目光停在机窗反射的自己的那张难看的面孔--又黑又斜，还有一个又扁又歪的大鼻子。那是他年轻时在西班牙作传教士时被人用拳头打的。这种身体上的缺陷现在基本上无所谓了。因为阿林加洛沙的世界是心灵的世界，不是肉体的世界。
在飞机飞越葡萄牙海岸时，阿林加洛沙的教士服里的手机在无声状态震动起来。虽然航空公司禁止在飞机飞行期间使用手机，但阿林加洛沙知道这个电话他不能不接。只有一个人有这个号码，这个人就是给阿林加洛沙邮寄手机的人。
主教一阵激动，轻声回话："喂？"
"塞拉斯已经知道拱顶石在什么地方了。在巴黎。在圣叙尔皮斯教堂里。"打电话的人说。
阿林加洛沙主教微笑着说："我们接近成功了。"
"我们马上就能得到它。但我们需要你施加影响。"
"没问题。说吧，要我做什么？"
关掉手机后，阿林加洛沙心还在怦怦跳。他再次凝望那空洞洞的黑夜，感到与他要做的事相比自己非常渺小。
在五百英里外的地方，那个叫塞那斯的白化病人正站在一小盆水前。他轻轻擦掉后背上的鲜血，观察着血在水中打旋的方式。他引用《旧约。诗篇》中的句子祷告：求你用牛膝草洁净我，我就干净；求你洗涤我，我就比雪更白。
塞拉斯感到有一股以前从未被激起过的期待。这使他震惊又令他激动。在过去的十年中，他一直按《路》的要求行事，清除自己的罪恶，重建自己的生活……抹去过去的暴力。然而，今夜，这一切又突然回来了。他极力压抑的恨又被召回了。看到过去这么快地浮现起来，他觉得非常震惊。当然，和过去一同回来的还有他的功夫。虽然有些"生锈"，但尚且能用。
耶稣传播的是和平……是非暴力……是爱。从一开始，塞拉斯就被这样教导，并将教诲铭记在心。可这是基督的敌人威胁要毁掉的训戒。用武力威胁上帝的人定会受到武力的回击，坚定不移的回击。
两千年来，基督教卫士们一直保卫着他们的信仰，抗击着企图取代它的各种信仰。今夜，塞拉斯已应征参战。
擦干了伤口，他穿上了齐踝的长的有兜帽的长袍。在平纹织的黑毛羊料子做的长袍的映衬下，他的皮肤和头发被衬托得更白。他系紧了腰间的袍带，把兜帽套在头上，只露出双睛来欣赏镜子中的自己。车轮已经转起来了。
Chapter 6
Having squeezed beneath the security gate, Robert Langdon now stood just inside the entrance to the Grand Gallery. He was staring into the mouth of a long, deep canyon. On either side of the gallery, stark walls rose thirty feet, evaporating into the darkness above. The reddish glow of the service lighting sifted upward, casting an unnatural smolder across a staggering collection of Da Vincis, Titians, and Caravaggios that hung suspended from ceiling cables. Still lifes, religious scenes, and landscapes accompanied portraits of nobility and politicians.
Although the Grand Gallery housed the Louvre's most famous Italian art, many visitors felt the wing's most stunning offering was actually its famous parquet floor. Laid out in a dazzling geometric design of diagonal oak slats, the floor produced an ephemeral optical illusion—a multi-dimensional network that gave visitors the sense they were floating through the gallery on a surface that changed with every step.
As Langdon's gaze began to trace the inlay, his eyes stopped short on an unexpected object lying on the floor just a few yards to his left, surrounded by police tape. He spun toward Fache. "Is that... a Caravaggio on the floor?"
Fache nodded without even looking.
The painting, Langdon guessed, was worth upward of two million dollars, and yet it was lying on the floor like a discarded poster. "What the devil is it doing on the floor!"
Fache glowered, clearly unmoved. "This is a crime scene, Mr. Langdon. We have touched nothing. That canvas was pulled from the wall by the curator. It was how he activated the security system."
Langdon looked back at the gate, trying to picture what had happened.
"The curator was attacked in his office, fled into the Grand Gallery, and activated the security gate by pulling that painting from the wall. The gate fell immediately, sealing off all access. This is the only door in or out of this gallery."
Langdon felt confused. "So the curator actually captured his attacker inside the Grand Gallery?"
Fache shook his head. "The security gate separated Saunière from his attacker. The killer was locked out there in the hallway and shot Saunière through this gate." Fache pointed toward an orange tag hanging from one of the bars on the gate under which they had just passed. "The PTS team found flashback residue from a gun. He fired through the bars. Saunière died in here alone."
Langdon pictured the photograph of Saunière's body. They said he did that to himself. Langdon looked out at the enormous corridor before them. "So where is his body?"
Fache straightened his cruciform tie clip and began to walk. "As you probably know, the Grand Gallery is quite long."
The exact length, if Langdon recalled correctly, was around fifteen hundred feet, the length of three Washington Monuments laid end to end. Equally breathtaking was the corridor's width, which easily could have accommodated a pair of side-by-side passenger trains. The center of the hallway was dotted by the occasional statue or colossal porcelain urn, which served as a tasteful divider and kept the flow of traffic moving down one wall and up the other.
Fache was silent now, striding briskly up the right side of the corridor with his gaze dead ahead. Langdon felt almost disrespectful to be racing past so many masterpieces without pausing for so much as a glance.
Not that I could see anything in this lighting, he thought.
The muted crimson lighting unfortunately conjured memories of Langdon's last experience in noninvasive lighting in the Vatican Secret Archives. This was tonight's second unsettling parallel with his near-death in Rome. He flashed on Vittoria again. She had been absent from his dreams for months. Langdon could not believe Rome had been only a year ago; it felt like decades. Another life. His last correspondence from Vittoria had been in December—a postcard saying she was headed to the Java Sea to continue her research in entanglement physics... something about using satellites to track manta ray migrations. Langdon had never harbored delusions that a woman like Vittoria Vetra could have been happy living with him on a college campus, but their encounter in Rome had unlocked in him a longing he never imagined he could feel. His lifelong affinity for bachelorhood and the simple freedoms it allowed had been shaken somehow... replaced by an unexpected emptiness that seemed to have grown over the past year.
They continued walking briskly, yet Langdon still saw no corpse. "Jacques Saunière went this far?"
"Mr. Saunière suffered a bullet wound to his stomach. He died very slowly. Perhaps over fifteen or twenty minutes. He was obviously a man of great personal strength."
Langdon turned, appalled. "Security took fifteen minutes to get here?"
"Of course not. Louvre security responded immediately to the alarm and found the Grand Gallery sealed. Through the gate, they could hear someone moving around at the far end of the corridor, but they could not see who it was. They shouted, but they got no answer. Assuming it could only be a criminal, they followed protocol and called in the Judicial Police. We took up positions within fifteen minutes. When we arrived, we raised the barricade enough to slip underneath, and I sent a dozen armed agents inside. They swept the length of the gallery to corner the intruder."
"And?"
"They found no one inside. Except..." He pointed farther down the hall. "Him."
Langdon lifted his gaze and followed Fache's outstretched finger. At first he thought Fache was pointing to a large marble statue in the middle of the hallway. As they continued, though, Langdon began to see past the statue. Thirty yards down the hall, a single spotlight on a portable pole stand shone down on the floor, creating a stark island of white light in the dark crimson gallery. In the center of the light, like an insect under a microscope, the corpse of the curator lay naked on the parquet floor.
"You saw the photograph," Fache said, "so this should be of no surprise."
Langdon felt a deep chill as they approached the body. Before him was one of the strangest images he had ever seen.
 
The pallid corpse of Jacques Saunière lay on the parquet floor exactly as it appeared in the photograph. As Langdon stood over the body and squinted in the harsh light, he reminded himself to his amazement that Saunière had spent his last minutes of life arranging his own body in this strange fashion.
Saunière looked remarkably fit for a man of his years... and all of his musculature was in plain view. He had stripped off every shred of clothing, placed it neatly on the floor, and laid down on his back in the center of the wide corridor, perfectly aligned with the long axis of the room. His arms and legs were sprawled outward in a wide spread eagle, like those of a child making a snow angel... or, perhaps more appropriately, like a man being drawn and quartered by some invisible force.
Just below Saunière's breastbone, a bloody smear marked the spot where the bullet had pierced his flesh. The wound had bled surprisingly little, leaving only a small pool of blackened blood.
Saunière's left index finger was also bloody, apparently having been dipped into the wound to create the most unsettling aspect of his own macabre deathbed; using his own blood as ink, and employing his own naked abdomen as a canvas, Saunière had drawn a simple symbol on his flesh—five straight lines that intersected to form a five-pointed star.
The pentacle.
The bloody star, centered on Saunière's navel, gave his corpse a distinctly ghoulish aura. The photo Langdon had seen was chilling enough, but now, witnessing the scene in person, Langdon felt a deepening uneasiness.
He did this to himself.
"Mr. Langdon?" Fache's dark eyes settled on him again.
"It's a pentacle," Langdon offered, his voice feeling hollow in the huge space. "One of the oldest symbols on earth. Used over four thousand years before Christ."
"And what does it mean?"
Langdon always hesitated when he got this question. Telling someone what a symbol "meant" was like telling them how a song should make them feel—it was different for all people. A white Ku Klux Klan headpiece conjured images of hatred and racism in the United States, and yet the same costume carried a meaning of religious faith in Spain.
"Symbols carry different meanings in different settings," Langdon said. "Primarily, the pentacle is a pagan religious symbol."
Fache nodded. "Devil worship."
"No," Langdon corrected, immediately realizing his choice of vocabulary should have been clearer.
Nowadays, the term pagan had become almost synonymous with devil worship—a gross misconception. The word's roots actually reached back to the Latin paganus, meaning country-dwellers. "Pagans" were literally unindoctrinated country-folk who clung to the old, rural religions of Nature worship. In fact, so strong was the Church's fear of those who lived in the rural villes that the once innocuous word for "villager"—villain—came to mean a wicked soul.
"The pentacle," Langdon clarified, "is a pre-Christian symbol that relates to Nature worship. The ancients envisioned their world in two halves—masculine and feminine. Their gods and goddesses worked to keep a balance of power. Yin and yang. When male and female were balanced, there was harmony in the world. When they were unbalanced, there was chaos." Langdon motioned to Saunière's stomach. "This pentacle is representative of the female half of all things—a concept religious historians call the 'sacred feminine' or the 'divine goddess.' Saunière, of all people, would know this."
"Saunière drew a goddess symbol on his stomach?"
Langdon had to admit, it seemed odd. "In its most specific interpretation, the pentacle symbolizes Venus—the goddess of female sexual love and beauty."
Fache eyed the naked man, and grunted.
"Early religion was based on the divine order of Nature. The goddess Venus and the planet Venus were one and the same. The goddess had a place in the nighttime sky and was known by many names—Venus, the Eastern Star, Ishtar, Astarte—all of them powerful female concepts with ties to Nature and Mother Earth."
Fache looked more troubled now, as if he somehow preferred the idea of devil worship.
Langdon decided not to share the pentacle's most astonishing property—the graphic origin of its ties to Venus. As a young astronomy student, Langdon had been stunned to learn the planet Venus traced a perfect pentacle across the ecliptic sky every four years. So astonished were the ancients to observe this phenomenon, that Venus and her pentacle became symbols of perfection, beauty, and the cyclic qualities of sexual love. As a tribute to the magic of Venus, the Greeks used her four-year cycle to organize their Olympiads. Nowadays, few people realized that the four-year schedule of modern Olympic Games still followed the cycles of Venus. Even fewer people knew that the five-pointed star had almost become the official Olympic seal but was modified at the last moment—its five points exchanged for five intersecting rings to better reflect the games' spirit of inclusion and harmony.
"Mr. Langdon," Fache said abruptly. "Obviously, the pentacle must also relate to the devil. Your American horror movies make that point clearly."
Langdon frowned. Thank you, Hollywood. The five-pointed star was now a virtual cliché in Satanic serial killer movies, usually scrawled on the wall of some Satanist's apartment along with other alleged demonic symbology. Langdon was always frustrated when he saw the symbol in this context; the pentacle's true origins were actually quite godly.
"I assure you," Langdon said, "despite what you see in the movies, the pentacle's demonic interpretation is historically inaccurate. The original feminine meaning is correct, but the symbolism of the pentacle has been distorted over the millennia. In this case, through bloodshed."
"I'm not sure I follow."
Langdon glanced at Fache's crucifix, uncertain how to phrase his next point. "The Church, sir. Symbols are very resilient, but the pentacle was altered by the early Roman Catholic Church. As part of the Vatican's campaign to eradicate pagan religions and convert the masses to Christianity, the Church launched a smear campaign against the pagan gods and goddesses, recasting their divine symbols as evil."
"Go on."
"This is very common in times of turmoil," Langdon continued. "A newly emerging power will take over the existing symbols and degrade them over time in an attempt to erase their meaning. In the battle between the pagan symbols and Christian symbols, the pagans lost; Poseidon's trident became the devil's pitchfork, the wise crone's pointed hat became the symbol of a witch, and Venus's pentacle became a sign of the devil." Langdon paused. "Unfortunately, the United States military has also perverted the pentacle; it's now our foremost symbol of war. We paint it on all our fighter jets and hang it on the shoulders of all our generals." So much for the goddess of love and beauty.
"Interesting." Fache nodded toward the spread-eagle corpse. "And the positioning of the body? What do you make of that?"
Langdon shrugged. "The position simply reinforces the reference to the pentacle and sacred feminine."
Fache's expression clouded. "I beg your pardon?"
"Replication. Repeating a symbol is the simplest way to strengthen its meaning. Jacques Saunière positioned himself in the shape of a five-pointed star." If one pentacle is good, two is better.
Fache's eyes followed the five points of Saunière's arms, legs, and head as he again ran a hand across his slick hair. "Interesting analysis." He paused. "And the nudity?" He grumbled as he spoke the word, sounding repulsed by the sight of an aging male body. "Why did he remove his clothing?"
Damned good question, Langdon thought. He'd been wondering the same thing ever since he first saw the Polaroid. His best guess was that a naked human form was yet another endorsement of Venus—the goddess of human sexuality. Although modern culture had erased much of Venus's association with the male/female physical union, a sharp etymological eye could still spot a vestige of Venus's original meaning in the word "venereal." Langdon decided not to go there.
"Mr. Fache, I obviously can't tell you why Mr. Saunière drew that symbol on himself or placed himself in this way, but I can tell you that a man like Jacques Saunière would consider the pentacle a sign of the female deity. The correlation between this symbol and the sacred feminine is widely known by art historians and symbologists."
"Fine. And the use of his own blood as ink?"
"Obviously he had nothing else to write with."
Fache was silent a moment. "Actually, I believe he used blood such that the police would follow certain forensic procedures."
"I'm sorry?"
"Look at his left hand."
Langdon's eyes traced the length of the curator's pale arm to his left hand but saw nothing. Uncertain, he circled the corpse and crouched down, now noting with surprise that the curator was clutching a large, felt-tipped marker.
"Saunière was holding it when we found him," Fache said, leaving Langdon and moving several yards to a portable table covered with investigation tools, cables, and assorted electronic gear. "As I told you," he said, rummaging around the table, "we have touched nothing. Are you familiar with this kind of pen?"
Langdon knelt down farther to see the pen's label.
STYLO DE LUMIERE NOIRE.
He glanced up in surprise.
The black-light pen or watermark stylus was a specialized felt-tipped marker originally designed by museums, restorers, and forgery police to place invisible marks on items. The stylus wrote in a noncorrosive, alcohol-based fluorescent ink that was visible only under black light. Nowadays, museum maintenance staffs carried these markers on their daily rounds to place invisible "tick marks" on the frames of paintings that needed restoration.
As Langdon stood up, Fache walked over to the spotlight and turned it off. The gallery plunged into sudden darkness.
Momentarily blinded, Langdon felt a rising uncertainty. Fache's silhouette appeared, illuminated in bright purple. He approached carrying a portable light source, which shrouded him in a violet haze.
"As you may know," Fache said, his eyes luminescing in the violet glow, "police use black-light illumination to search crime scenes for blood and other forensic evidence. So you can imagine our surprise..." Abruptly, he pointed the light down at the corpse.
Langdon looked down and jumped back in shock.
His heart pounded as he took in the bizarre sight now glowing before him on the parquet floor. Scrawled in luminescent handwriting, the curator's final words glowed purple beside his corpse. As Langdon stared at the shimmering text, he felt the fog that had surrounded this entire night growing thicker.
Langdon read the message again and looked up at Fache. "What the hell does this mean!"
Fache's eyes shone white. "That, monsieur, is precisely the question you are here to answer."
 
Not far away, inside Saunière's office, Lieutenant Collet had returned to the Louvre and was huddled over an audio console set up on the curator's enormous desk. With the exception of the eerie, robot-like doll of a medieval knight that seemed to be staring at him from the corner of Saunière's desk, Collet was comfortable. He adjusted his AKG headphones and checked the input levels on the hard-disk recording system. All systems were go. The microphones were functioning flawlessly, and the audio feed was crystal clear.
Le moment de vérité, he mused.
Smiling, he closed his eyes and settled in to enjoy the rest of the conversation now being taped inside the Grand Gallery.
 
从封锁门下挤过去后，罗伯特。兰登此刻正站在通往大画廊的入口处。他正在朝一个长长的"大峡谷"口凝望。画廊两边，陡峭的墙壁有三十英尺高，直插上面的黑暗之中。微红的耐用灯光向上散开，把些许不自然的暗光投射到许多从天花板绳子垂下的达。芬奇、提香和卡拉瓦乔的画作上。
静物画、宗教场面、风景画伴着贵族和政治家的画像。
虽然大画廊里藏有卢浮宫最负盛名的意大利艺术品，但不少游客认为这个侧厅所奉献的最令人惊叹不已的东西却是它著名的嵌木拼花地板。它是由对顶的橡木块按着一种令人眼花缭乱的几何图案铺制而成的，能使人产生一种瞬间的视角幻觉，感觉它是一个立体网络，游客每移动一步都觉得是在大画廊里漂游。
兰登开始观看地板的镶饰。他的眼睛突然停留在他左边几码远处的地板上被警察用条带围起来的一个物体上。他没想到会看到这个。他匆忙跑向法希。"那，那地板上是一幅卡拉瓦乔的画作吗？"
法希点了点头，却并没看它。
兰登猜想这幅画作的价值可高达两百万美元，可现在它却象被丢弃的海报一样躺在地上。"见鬼，怎么会在地上！"
法希看了一眼，显然是无动于衷。"这是犯罪现场，兰登先生。我们什么也没动。那画是馆长自己扯下来的。他就是那样启动安全系统的。"兰登转身看看大门，努力想象当时的情形。
"馆长在办公室里受到了袭击，他逃往大画廊，从墙上扯下这幅画，启动了防护门。防护门立刻落下，谁也无法进出，这是进出大画廊的唯一出口。"兰登被弄糊涂了。"那么馆长实际上抓住了袭击他的人，把他关在大画廊里面喽？"
法希摇摇了头说："防护门把索尼埃和袭击者隔开了。杀手被关在外面的走廊里，他通过这个门开枪打死索尼埃。"法希指着悬挂在他们刚爬过的那个门上的一个桔黄色的碎片说："技术警察发现了枪回火时的残留物。他是透过栅栏射击的。索尼埃临终前，这里没有别人。"兰登想起了索尼埃尸体的照片。他们说索尼埃自己把自己弄成那样。兰登望着前方的巨大的长廊说："那么尸体在哪里？"
法希扶正了自己的十字架领带夹开始往前走。"你很可能知道，画廊很长。"
如果兰登没记错的话，确切的长度是约1，500 英尺，是三个华盛顿纪念碑对接后平放的长度。同样令人惊异的是长廊的宽度，可以轻而易举地容纳两列平行的火车客车。走廊的中央间或点缀着雕像和巨大的瓷瓮，这些雕像和瓷瓮正好形成一条很有品味的分界线，把人流分开，一边沿墙而前，一边沿墙而回。
法希不说话，沿着走廊右边大步疾驶，两眼盯着正前方。这么匆匆忙忙的从如此多的杰作旁走过，都没停下来看一眼，兰登觉得有失恭敬。
不是因为在这种光线下，我什么也看不到，他想。
很不幸，暗红的灯光使兰登回忆起他上次在灯光柔和的梵蒂冈秘密档案室的经历。今晚和上次他险些丧命罗马一样使人忐忑不安。维多利亚又闪现在他脑海里。他已好几个月没有梦到维多利亚了。兰登不敢想念在罗马的那桩子事过去才一年；他觉得晃如几十年。
又活一辈子。他最后一次收到维多利亚的邮件是十二月份，那是一张明信片，她说她在动身去爪哇海以便继续在跟踪物理学方面的研究--用卫星追踪蝠鲼的迁徙情况。兰登从未幻想像维多利亚那样的女人会和他一起生活在校园里，但他们在巴黎的邂逅激发了一种他以前从未感受过的渴望。他多年来对单身生活的好感以及单身生活带来的自由感都被击得粉碎，取而代之的是过去的一年中与日俱增、始料未及的空虚感。
他们继续快步向前，但兰登还没看到尸体。"索尼埃跑这么远？"
"索尼埃腹部中弹后过了一段时间以后才死去的，或许十五到二十分钟。他显然是个很坚强的人。"兰登吃惊地转过身。"保安十五分钟才赶到这儿？"
"当然不是。卢浮宫的保安听到警报后，立即做出了反应，但发现大画廊的门被封住了。透过门，他们能听到有人在长廊的那一头挪动，但他们看不清到底是谁。他们大声喊，但没人应答。他们想唯一可能是罪犯，于是他们按规定叫来了司法警察。我们到达后把封锁门抬高了一些以便人能爬过去。我派了十来个警察进去。他们迅速搜遍长廊，希望抓住罪犯。
"结果呢？"
"他们发现里面没人。除了……"他朝长廊远处指去。"他"。
兰登抬起头顺着法希的手指望去。起初他以为法希在指长廊中间的巨型大理石雕像。
但他们继续往前走时，兰登能够看清比雕像更远的东西。在三十码开外的廊厅里，一只挂在便携式灯杆上的聚光灯照在地板上，形成了这暗红色画廊里一座极为光亮的"岛屿"。在光环的中央，索尼埃赤裸的尸体躺在嵌木拼花地板上，像显微镜下的一只昆虫。
"你看到过照片，所以不太吃惊了吧。"法希说。
雅克。索尼埃苍白的尸体躺在拼花地板上，和照片看到的一模一样。兰登站在尸体旁，在强光下眯着眼观察着。在惊愕中，他提醒自己，索尼埃在生命的最后几分钟把自己的身体摆成了这个奇怪的样子。
就他这个年龄的人而言，索尼埃看起来健康极了，他所有的肌肉系统分布分明。他已脱下了身上的每一丝衣服，并把它整齐地放在地板上，躺在走廊的中央，和房间的长轴线完全处于同一条线上。他的手臂和腿向外张开，像一只完全展开的鹰，又像孩子们做的雪天使那样手腿叉开，或许更准确的说是像一个人被看不见的力量向四个方向拉扯着。
在索尼埃的胸骨稍下一点有一块血渍，子弹从这里穿过了他的肌肉。奇怪的是，伤口流血极少，地下只淤积一小片已变黑的血液。
索尼埃食指也有血迹，显然他把食指插进了伤口，来制作他那最令人毛骨悚然的灵床。用自己的血作墨，以赤裸的腹部作画布，索尼埃画了非常简单的符号--五条直线相交而成的五角星。
五角形护身符。
这颗血星以索尼埃的肚脐为中心，这使尸体更显得令人恐怖。照片已令兰登不寒而栗，现在亲自到了现场，兰登更是吓得魂不附体。
他自己弄成这样。
"兰登先生？"法希的黑眼睛又在盯着他。
"这是巫术中的五角形护身符。"兰登说。他的声音在这么大的空间里显得有些沉闷。"这是世界上最早的一个符号，公元前四千年以前使用的。""它代表什么？"
在回答这个问题时兰登总是有些犹豫。告诉一个人一个符号"意味"着什么就如同告诉人家听一首歌时感受如何一样不好说--各人的感觉都不一样。三K 党的白巾在美国是仇恨和种族主义的形象，而在西班牙同样的服饰则表示一种宗教信仰。
"符号在不同的环境下表示的意思也不一样。"兰登说。"五角形主要是一种异教符号。"
法希点点头。"魔鬼崇拜。"
"不对。"兰登纠正道。他马上就意识到自己的用词应该更准确一些。
当今，表示异教的词pagan 几乎成了"魔鬼崇拜"的同义词--这是一种完全错误的观念。这个词的词根可以追溯到拉丁语的paganus，它指的是住在乡下的人。"异教徒"本来的字面意思是指那些没有接受任何宗教灌输，还恪守古老的自然神崇拜的乡下人。事实上，教会非常害怕那些住在乡下村镇（villes）里的人，以至于原本那个表示村民的词vilain 后来竟用来表示"恶棍"了。
"五角形"，兰登解释说。"是一个在基督教产生之前，有关自然崇拜的符号。"古人认为世界由两部分组成--一半雄性，一半雌性。神和女神共同作用保持力量平衡，即阴阳平衡。当阴阳平衡时，世界就处于和蔼的状态下。不平衡时，世界就一片混乱。然后兰登又指向索尼埃的肚子说："这个五角形代表万物中阴性的那一半--一个宗教史学家称为‘神圣女性’或‘神圣女神’概念。索尼埃应该知道这个。""索尼埃在自己肚子上画了女神符号？"
兰登必须承认，这似乎有点怪。"最具体的解释，五角星象征维纳斯--代表女人性爱和美的女神。"法希看了看那裸休男人，咕哝了一声。
"早期宗教都是基于大自然神性的秩序之上的，女神维纳斯（Venus）和金星（Venus）是同一的。女神在夜空中也有一席之地，夜空中的女神有许多名字--金星、东方之星、伊师塔、阿斯塔蒂等，都是些充满活力的与自然和大地母亲密切相关的阴性概念。"兰登决定不告诉他五角星形最令人吃惊的特征--它的形状源于金星。当兰登还是个初出茅庐的天文学专业的学生时，他就吃惊地了解到金星每四年在空中的运行轨迹正是一个正五角形。古人观察到这种现象，对之敬畏之至，于是金星和五角星便成了至善至美和周期性的性爱的象征。为礼赞金星的神奇，希腊人以四年为一个循环来组织奥林匹克运动会。现今很少有人知道现在每四年一届的现代奥林匹克运动会是沿袭了金星的周期。更少有人知道五角星差点成了奥运会的正式标志，只是到了最后一刻才将五个尖角换成了五个相互联结的环以更好地体现奥运会包容与和谐的精神。
法希突然说："兰登先生，五角星显然也和恶魔有关。你们美国的恐怖电影清楚地表明了这一点。"兰登皱起了眉头。真谢谢你，好莱坞。在系列恶魔杀手电影中，五角星几乎每次都出现，它通常和其他被指责为恶魔符号的东西一道被胡乱地画在某些恶魔杀手住所的墙上。
每当在这种情形下看到这个符号，兰登就感到非常不快。五角星真正的起源是神圣的。
"我可以肯定地告诉你。"兰登说。"尽管如你在电影中所见，把五角星被解读为恶魔，但从史学的角度讲，这并不准确。它起初的女性含义是正确的。但一千年来，五角星的象征意义被歪曲了。在这个案子上，还流了血。""我不敢肯定我听懂了。"
兰登看了一眼法希的十字架。他下面的表达有些语无伦次。"教会，先生，象征符号是很弹性的，五角星符号的意义被早期的罗马天主教会给更改了。作为梵蒂冈清除异教并使大众皈依基督教的运动的一部分，天主教会掀起了一个污蔑异教神和异教女神的运动，把他们的神圣的象征符号重新解释为邪恶的符号。""讲下去。"
"这种现象在混乱年代也是常见的。"兰登接着说。"一种新出现的力量会取代现存的象征符号并长期贬损它们以图彻底抹掉它们的意义。在异教象征和基督教象征的争斗中，异教徒输了。海神波塞冬的三叉戟成了恶魔的草叉，象征智慧的锥形尖顶帽成了女巫的象征，金星的五角形成了邪恶的象征。"兰登停了停。"不幸的是，美国军方也曲解了五角星，现在他成了最重要的战争符号。我们把它涂在战斗机上，挂在将军们的肩膀上。"爱与美女神竟承受这么多不幸。
"有意思。"法希边说边朝像展开的鹰一样的尸体点了点头。"那么，尸体的放置？你从中看到了什么？"
兰登耸耸肩。"这种放置只是巩固了五角星和阴性神灵的关联。"
法希脸茫然。"对不起，我没明白。"
"复制。重复一个符号是强化它的意义最简单的方法。雅克。索尼埃把自己放置成了五角星的形状。"一个五角星很好，两个更好。
法希又把手插进了油光光的头发里，眼睛朝索尼埃的五个角看去--胳膊、腿和头。
"有意思的分析。"他停了一下又说："那为什么裸体？"他有些不满地说道，好像很讨厌看到一个老年男人的裸体。"他为什么把衣服都脱了？"
兰登心想，真是好问题。从第一眼看到宝丽莱快照，他就一直对这个问题疑惑不解。
他最接近的猜测是，裸体是性爱女神维纳斯赞许的事情。虽然现代文化已基本清除维纳斯与男女身体结合的关联，但对词源有研究的人，仍然可以敏锐地发觉"维纳斯（Venus）"
本意中有与"性交"（Venereal）有关联的蛛丝马迹。不过，兰登不打算讨论那些。
"法希先生，显然我说不出为什么索尼埃在自己身上画那样的符号，也说不清为什么他那样放置自己，但是我可以告诉你，像雅克。索尼埃那样的人会视五角星符号为一种阴性神灵。这个符号和阴性神灵之间的关联是广为艺术史学家和符号象征学专家所知的。""好的。那么他为什么用自己的血当墨？"
"但显然，他没有别的东西可供写字。"
法希沉默了片刻。"我认为事实上他使用血和警察履行某些法医检查程序有相似之处。"
"我不明白。"
"看他的左手。"
兰登顺着馆长苍白的手臂一直看到他的左手，但什么也没有看到。他不敢肯定是否的确什么也看不到，于是围着尸体转了一圈，最后蹲下了，这时他才吃惊地发现馆长手里抓着一只很大的毡头标记笔。
"我们找到索尼埃时，他手里就攥着它。"法希边说边离开兰登，走过几码，走到一张摊满调查工具、电线和配套的电子设备的便携式桌子旁。"我给你讲过。"他边说边在桌子上翻弄东西。"我们什么都没动。你熟悉这种笔吗？"
兰登跪得更近一些，以便能看清笔的牌子。笔上有法文：黑光笔。
他吃惊地向上看了一眼。
黑光笔或曰水印笔是一种特殊毡头标记笔，原由博物馆、修复专家或反赝品警察设计用来在物品上作隐形标记用的。这种笔用的是一种非腐蚀性的，以酒精为主料的荧光墨水。这种墨水只有在紫外线、红外线等"黑光"下才可见。现在博物馆的维护人员在日常工作中也常带这种笔，以方便在需要修复的画作的画框上打个勾，作个标记。
兰登站起来后，法希走到聚光灯前把它关掉了。画廊顿时一片漆黑。
一时间，兰登什么也看不见，一种莫名的感觉突然袭来。法希的轮廓在强烈的紫光下显现出来。他拿着一个手提式光源走来，浑身裹在紫罗兰色的薄雾中。
"你也许知道。"法希说。他的眼睛在微暗的紫罗兰光中发着光。"警察用黑光照明，在犯罪现场找血渍和其他法医证据。所以你可以想象得出我们是多么吃惊……。"突然他把灯指向尸体。
兰登低头看了一眼，吓得往后一跳。
当他看到拼花地板上奇怪的发光现象，他的心脏怦怦直跳。馆长潦潦草草用荧光笔最后写下的字在尸体旁冷冷地发着紫光。
兰登看着发着光的文字段落，感到今晚笼罩在他周围的迷雾更浓了。
兰登又一次读完那些文字后抬头看法希。"见鬼，这到底是什么意思？"
法希的眼睛发着白光。"先生，那正是你今晚到这儿来要回答的问题。"
在不远处索尼埃的办公室里，科莱中尉正倚着一个架在馆长的大办公桌上的录音架。
要不是有怪异的、机器人似的中世纪武士玩具在盯着他，科莱会感受到很舒服。他调整好自己的AKG 耳机，检查了硬盘录音系统上的输入电平情况。所有系统一切正常，麦克风半点毛病也没有，声音传输极为清晰。
此刻声音完全真实，他思忖着。
他面带微笑，闭上双眼，坐下来欣赏今天在大画廊内正在被录进去的谈话。
Chapter 7
The modest dwelling within the Church of Saint-Sulpice was located on the second floor of the church itself, to the left of the choir balcony. A two-room suite with a stone floor and minimal furnishings, it had been home to Sister Sandrine Bieil for over a decade. The nearby convent was her formal residence, if anyone asked, but she preferred the quiet of the church and had made herself quite comfortable upstairs with a bed, phone, and hot plate.
As the church's conservatrice d'affaires, Sister Sandrine was responsible for overseeing all nonreligious aspects of church operations—general maintenance, hiring support staff and guides, securing the building after hours, and ordering supplies like communion wine and wafers.
Tonight, asleep in her small bed, she awoke to the shrill of her telephone. Tiredly, she lifted the receiver.
"Soeur Sandrine. Eglise Saint-Sulpice."
"Hello, Sister," the man said in French.
Sister Sandrine sat up. What time is it? Although she recognized her boss's voice, in fifteen years she had never been awoken by him. The abbé was a deeply pious man who went home to bed immediately after mass.
"I apologize if I have awoken you, Sister," the abbé said, his own voice sounding groggy and on edge. "I have a favor to ask of you. I just received a call from an influential American bishop. Perhaps you know him? Manuel Aringarosa?"
"The head of Opus Dei?" Of course I know of him. Who in the Church doesn't? Aringarosa's conservative prelature had grown powerful in recent years. Their ascension to grace was jump-started in 1982 when Pope John Paul II unexpectedly elevated them to a "personal prelature of the Pope," officially sanctioning all of their practices. Suspiciously, Opus Dei's elevation occurred the same year the wealthy sect allegedly had transferred almost one billion dollars into the Vatican's Institute for Religious Works—commonly known as the Vatican Bank—bailing it out of an embarrassing bankruptcy. In a second maneuver that raised eyebrows, the Pope placed the founder of Opus Dei on the "fast track" for sainthood, accelerating an often century-long waiting period for canonization to a mere twenty years. Sister Sandrine could not help but feel that Opus Dei's good standing in Rome was suspect, but one did not argue with the Holy See.
"Bishop Aringarosa called to ask me a favor," the abbé told her, his voice nervous. "One of his numeraries is in Paris tonight...."
As Sister Sandrine listened to the odd request, she felt a deepening confusion. "I'm sorry, you say this visiting Opus Dei numerary cannot wait until morning?"
"I'm afraid not. His plane leaves very early. He has always dreamed of seeing Saint-Sulpice."
"But the church is far more interesting by day. The sun's rays through the oculus, the graduated shadows on the gnomon, this is what makes Saint-Sulpice unique."
"Sister, I agree, and yet I would consider it a personal favor if you could let him in tonight. He can be there at... say one o'clock? That's in twenty minutes."
Sister Sandrine frowned. "Of course. It would be my pleasure."
The abbé thanked her and hung up.
Puzzled, Sister Sandrine remained a moment in the warmth of her bed, trying to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. Her sixty-year-old body did not awake as fast as it used to, although tonight's phone call had certainly roused her senses. Opus Dei had always made her uneasy. Beyond the prelature's adherence to the arcane ritual of corporal mortification, their views on women were medieval at best. She had been shocked to learn that female numeraries were forced to clean the men's residence halls for no pay while the men were at mass; women slept on hardwood floors, while the men had straw mats; and women were forced to endure additional requirements of corporal mortification... all as added penance for original sin. It seemed Eve's bite from the apple of knowledge was a debt women were doomed to pay for eternity. Sadly, while most of the Catholic Church was gradually moving in the right direction with respect to women's rights, Opus Dei threatened to reverse the progress. Even so, Sister Sandrine had her orders.
Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood slowly, chilled by the cold stone on the soles of her bare feet. As the chill rose through her flesh, she felt an unexpected apprehension.
Women's intuition?
A follower of God, Sister Sandrine had learned to find peace in the calming voices of her own soul. Tonight, however, those voices were as silent as the empty church around her.
 
圣叙尔皮斯教堂内那个不大的寓所位于教堂二楼，在唱诗厅的左侧。这是一套二居室的住所，石地板，极简单的装修，修女桑德琳。比埃尔已在那儿住了十多年了。附近的女修道院才是她正式的住所，可能有人要问，她怎么住在这里？因为她喜欢这个教堂的宁静，这里只有一张床、一部电话和一个简易灶，但她觉得生活得很自在。她是教堂的后勤事务负责人，负责督管教堂的所有非宗教性事务--大修、雇用临时工作人员和导游，负责每天教堂圣工后的安全以及定购圣餐所用的酒和圣饼等物品。
今夜，刺耳的电话铃声突然把熟睡在小床上的她惊醒。她有气无力地拿起听筒。"我是桑德琳修女。这是圣叙尔皮斯教堂。""你好，桑德琳。"那人用法语说。
桑德琳坐了起来。几点钟了？虽然她听出了是她老板的声音，但十五年来他从未在夜间打电话把她叫醒过。那位修道院院长非常虔诚，弥撒过后立即回家睡觉。
"对不起把你吵醒了，桑德琳。"修道院院长说。从声音听他本人也有些昏头昏脑，心烦意乱。"我得请你帮个忙，我刚刚接到美国一位颇有影响的主教的电话。你可能知道他，曼努埃尔。阿林加洛沙，知道吗？"
"是天主事工会主教吗？"教会中人谁会不知道他？阿林加洛沙保守的教派近年来愈来愈有势力。1982 年教皇约翰。保罗二世出人意料地将天主事工会提升为自己的个人直辖教派，正式恩准了他们所有的行为。从此，他们的地位突然飙升了许多。令人起疑的是，天主事工会地位提升的这一年，正是这个富有的教派被指控划拨给通常被称作梵蒂冈银行的梵蒂冈宗教著作研究院十亿美元，并将其从破产的窘境中挽救出来的那一年。第二件让人蹙眉的事是，教皇把天主事工会创始人圣徒化的过程推上了"快车道"，把获得"圣徒"的时限从通常的一个世纪缩短至二十年。桑德琳禁不住要怀疑天主事工会为什么在罗马有这么高的地位，但一般人是不与神圣的罗马教皇发生龃龉的。
"阿林加洛沙主教打电话要我帮忙。"修道院院长声音紧张地告诉她说。"他的一个手下今晚到巴黎……"桑德琳听着这个古怪的请求，感到丈二和尚摸不着头脑。"对不起，你是说这个天主事工会客人等天亮也等不及？"
"恐怕等不及。他的飞机很早就起飞了。他正期待着见到圣叙尔皮斯教堂。"
"但是白天看教堂要有意思得多。太阳的光线透过眼洞窗照射进来，逐渐倾斜的阴影落在圭表上，这些才是使圣叙尔皮斯教堂与众不同之处呀。""桑德琳，这我知道，就算你帮我私人一个忙，今晚让他进去。他可能差不多一点钟到。也就是二十分钟后。"修女桑德琳蹙起眉头。"当然。我很乐意。"修道院院长对她表示了感谢，挂上了电话。
桑德琳还是疑惑不解。她又在暖和的被窝里躺了一会儿，同时又尽力赶走睡意。她六十五岁的身体不如从前醒得快，虽然今晚的电话无疑已唤醒了她的感官。天主事工会一直令她心里不舒服。且不说这个教派固守着肉体惩罚的秘密仪式，他们对女人的看法充其量也只是中世纪的。她曾非常吃惊地了解到男会员在作弥撒时，女会员得被迫无偿地为他清洁住所；女人睡在硬木地板上，而男人却有干草床垫；女人被迫做额外的肉体惩罚--都是为了抵赎原罪。似乎夏娃在智慧树上咬的那一口成了女人注定要永远偿还的债务。令人伤心的是，虽然世界上大多数天主教堂都朝着尊重妇女权力的正确方向发展，而天主事工会却威胁要将这趋势逆转过来。即使有这些想法，修女桑德琳还是接受了命令。
她抬腿下床，慢慢站起来，光着脚踩在鞋里冰冷的石头上，觉得刺骨的凉。这冷意沿着她的身体上升，一种突如其来的恐惧感向她袭来。
女人的直觉吗？
作为上帝的信徒，修女桑德琳已经学会从自己灵魂的冷静的声音中找到安宁。但今夜，那些声音全没了，像她周围空空的教堂一样寂静。
Chapter 8
Langdon couldn't tear his eyes from the glowing purple text scrawled across the parquet floor. Jacques Saunière's final communication seemed as unlikely a departing message as any Langdon could imagine.
The message read:
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5
O, Draconian devil!
Oh, lame saint!
 
Although Langdon had not the slightest idea what it meant, he did understand Fache's instinct that the pentacle had something to do with devil worship.
O, Draconian devil!
Saunière had left a literal reference to the devil. Equally as bizarre was the series of numbers. "Part of it looks like a numeric cipher."
"Yes," Fache said. "Our cryptographers are already working on it. We believe these numbers may be the key to who killed him. Maybe a telephone exchange or some kind of social identification. Do the numbers have any symbolic meaning to you?"
Langdon looked again at the digits, sensing it would take him hours to extract any symbolic meaning. If Saunière had even intended any. To Langdon, the numbers looked totally random. He was accustomed to symbolic progressions that made some semblance of sense, but everything here—the pentacle, the text, the numbers—seemed disparate at the most fundamental level.
"You alleged earlier," Fache said, "that Saunière's actions here were all in an effort to send some sort of message... goddess worship or something in that vein? How does this message fit in?"
Langdon knew the question was rhetorical. This bizarre communiqué obviously did not fit Langdon's scenario of goddess worship at all.
O, Draconian devil? Oh, lame saint?
Fache said, "This text appears to be an accusation of some sort. Wouldn't you agree?"
Langdon tried to imagine the curator's final minutes trapped alone in the Grand Gallery, knowing he was about to die. It seemed logical. "An accusation against his murderer makes sense, I suppose."
"My job, of course, is to put a name to that person. Let me ask you this, Mr. Langdon. To your eye, beyond the numbers, what about this message is most strange?"
Most strange? A dying man had barricaded himself in the gallery, drawn a pentacle on himself, and scrawled a mysterious accusation on the floor. What about the scenario wasn't strange?
"The word 'Draconian'?" he ventured, offering the first thing that came to mind. Langdon was fairly certain that a reference to Draco—the ruthless seventh-century B.C. politician—was an unlikely dying thought. " 'Draconian devil' seems an odd choice of vocabulary."
"Draconian?" Fache's tone came with a tinge of impatience now. "Saunière's choice of vocabulary hardly seems the primary issue here."
Langdon wasn't sure what issue Fache had in mind, but he was starting to suspect that Draco and Fache would have gotten along well.
"Saunière was a Frenchman," Fache said flatly. "He lived in Paris. And yet he chose to write this message..."
"In English," Langdon said, now realizing the captain's meaning.
Fache nodded. "Précisément. Any idea why?"
Langdon knew Saunière spoke impeccable English, and yet the reason he had chosen English as the language in which to write his final words escaped Langdon. He shrugged.
Fache motioned back to the pentacle on Saunière's abdomen. "Nothing to do with devil worship? Are you still certain?"
Langdon was certain of nothing anymore. "The symbology and text don't seem to coincide. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
"Perhaps this will clarify." Fache backed away from the body and raised the black light again, letting the beam spread out in a wider angle. "And now?"
To Langdon's amazement, a rudimentary circle glowed around the curator's body. Saunière had apparently lay down and swung the pen around himself in several long arcs, essentially inscribing himself inside a circle.
In a flash, the meaning became clear.
"The Vitruvian Man," Langdon gasped. Saunière had created a life-sized replica of Leonardo da Vinci's most famous sketch.
Considered the most anatomically correct drawing of its day, Da Vinci's The Vitruvian Man had become a modern-day icon of culture, appearing on posters, mouse pads, and T-shirts around the world. The celebrated sketch consisted of a perfect circle in which was inscribed a nude male... his arms and legs outstretched in a naked spread eagle.
Da Vinci. Langdon felt a shiver of amazement. The clarity of Saunière's intentions could not be denied. In his final moments of life, the curator had stripped off his clothing and arranged his body in a clear image of Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man.
The circle had been the missing critical element. A feminine symbol of protection, the circle around the naked man's body completed Da Vinci's intended message—male and female harmony. The question now, though, was why Saunière would imitate a famous drawing.
"Mr. Langdon," Fache said, "certainly a man like yourself is aware that Leonardo da Vinci had a tendency toward the darker arts."
Langdon was surprised by Fache's knowledge of Da Vinci, and it certainly went a long way toward explaining the captain's suspicions about devil worship. Da Vinci had always been an awkward subject for historians, especially in the Christian tradition. Despite the visionary's genius, he was a flamboyant homosexual and worshipper of Nature's divine order, both of which placed him in a perpetual state of sin against God. Moreover, the artist's eerie eccentricities projected an admittedly demonic aura: Da Vinci exhumed corpses to study human anatomy; he kept mysterious journals in illegible reverse handwriting; he believed he possessed the alchemic power to turn lead into gold and even cheat God by creating an elixir to postpone death; and his inventions included horrific, never-before-imagined weapons of war and torture.
Misunderstanding breeds distrust, Langdon thought.
Even Da Vinci's enormous output of breathtaking Christian art only furthered the artist's reputation for spiritual hypocrisy. Accepting hundreds of lucrative Vatican commissions, Da Vinci painted Christian themes not as an expression of his own beliefs but rather as a commercial venture—a means of funding a lavish lifestyle. Unfortunately, Da Vinci was a prankster who often amused himself by quietly gnawing at the hand that fed him. He incorporated in many of his Christian paintings hidden symbolism that was anything but Christian—tributes to his own beliefs and a subtle thumbing of his nose at the Church. Langdon had even given a lecture once at the National Gallery in London entitled: "The Secret Life of Leonardo: Pagan Symbolism in Christian Art."
"I understand your concerns," Langdon now said, "but Da Vinci never really practiced any dark arts. He was an exceptionally spiritual man, albeit one in constant conflict with the Church." As Langdon said this, an odd thought popped into his mind. He glanced down at the message on the floor again. O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint!
"Yes?" Fache said.
Langdon weighed his words carefully. "I was just thinking that Saunière shared a lot of spiritual ideologies with Da Vinci, including a concern over the Church's elimination of the sacred feminine from modern religion. Maybe, by imitating a famous Da Vinci drawing, Saunière was simply echoing some of their shared frustrations with the modern Church's demonization of the goddess."
Fache's eyes hardened. "You think Saunière is calling the Church a lame saint and a Draconian devil?"
Langdon had to admit it seemed far-fetched, and yet the pentacle seemed to endorse the idea on some level. "All I am saying is that Mr. Saunière dedicated his life to studying the history of the goddess, and nothing has done more to erase that history than the Catholic Church. It seems reasonable that Saunière might have chosen to express his disappointment in his final good-bye."
"Disappointment?" Fache demanded, sounding hostile now. "This message sounds more enraged than disappointed, wouldn't you say?"
Langdon was reaching the end of his patience. "Captain, you asked for my instincts as to what Saunière is trying to say here, and that's what I'm giving you."
"That this is an indictment of the Church?" Fache's jaw tightened as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Mr. Langdon, I have seen a lot of death in my work, and let me tell you something. When a man is murdered by another man, I do not believe his final thoughts are to write an obscure spiritual statement that no one will understand. I believe he is thinking of one thing only." Fache's whispery voice sliced the air. "La vengeance. I believe Saunière wrote this note to tell us who killed him." Langdon stared. "But that makes no sense whatsoever."
"No?"
"No," he fired back, tired and frustrated. "You told me Saunière was attacked in his office by someone he had apparently invited in."
"Yes."
"So it seems reasonable to conclude that the curator knew his attacker."
Fache nodded. "Go on."
"So if Saunière knew the person who killed him, what kind of indictment is this?" He pointed at the floor. "Numeric codes? Lame saints? Draconian devils? Pentacles on his stomach? It's all too cryptic."
Fache frowned as if the idea had never occurred to him. "You have a point."
"Considering the circumstances," Langdon said, "I would assume that if Saunière wanted to tell you who killed him, he would have written down somebody's name."
As Langdon spoke those words, a smug smile crossed Fache's lips for the first time all night. "Précisément," Fache said. "Précisément."
 
I am witnessing the work of a master, mused Lieutenant Collet as he tweaked his audio gear and listened to Fache's voice coming through the headphones. The agent supérieur knew it was moments like these that had lifted the captain to the pinnacle of French law enforcement.
Fache will do what no one else dares.
The delicate art of cajoler was a lost skill in modern law enforcement, one that required exceptional poise under pressure. Few men possessed the necessary sangfroid for this kind of operation, but Fache seemed born for it. His restraint and patience bordered on the robotic.
Fache's sole emotion this evening seemed to be one of intense resolve, as if this arrest were somehow personal to him. Fache's briefing of his agents an hour ago had been unusually succinct and assured. I know who murdered Jacques Saunière, Fache had said. You know what to do. No mistakes tonight.
And so far, no mistakes had been made.
Collet was not yet privy to the evidence that had cemented Fache's certainty of their suspect's guilt, but he knew better than to question the instincts of the Bull. Fache's intuition seemed almost supernatural at times. God whispers in his ear, one agent had insisted after a particularly impressive display of Fache's sixth sense. Collet had to admit, if there was a God, Bezu Fache would be on His A-list. The captain attended mass and confession with zealous regularity—far more than the requisite holiday attendance fulfilled by other officials in the name of good public relations. When the Pope visited Paris a few years back, Fache had used all his muscle to obtain the honor of an audience. A photo of Fache with the Pope now hung in his office. The Papal Bull, the agents secretly called it.
Collet found it ironic that one of Fache's rare popular public stances in recent years had been his outspoken reaction to the Catholic pedophilia scandal. These priests should be hanged twice! Fache had declared. Once for their crimes against children. And once for shaming the good name of the Catholic Church. Collet had the odd sense it was the latter that angered Fache more.
Turning now to his laptop computer, Collet attended to the other half of his responsibilities here tonight—the GPS tracking system. The image onscreen revealed a detailed floor plan of the Denon Wing, a structural schematic uploaded from the Louvre Security Office. Letting his eyes trace the maze of galleries and hallways, Collet found what he was looking for.
Deep in the heart of the Grand Gallery blinked a tiny red dot.
La marque.
Fache was keeping his prey on a very tight leash tonight. Wisely so. Robert Langdon had proven himself one cool customer.
 
兰登无法使自己的眼睛从拼花地板上微微发着紫光上的文字上移开。兰登似乎不可能弄懂雅克。索尼埃的离别留言。文字是这样的：13－3－2－21－1－1－8－5啊，严酷的（Draconian）魔王！
噢，瘸腿的圣徒！
虽然兰登一点也不明白这到底是什么意思，但他倒理解了为什么法希的直觉告诉他五角星形与魔鬼崇拜有关。
啊，德拉古式的魔王！
索尼埃写下了"魔王"这两个字。同样奇怪的是这一组数字。"有点像数字密码。"
"是的。"法希说。"我们的密码人员正试图破译它。我们相信这些数字或许能告诉我们谁杀了他。或许是电话号码或某种社会编码。你觉得这些数字有什么象征意义吗？"
兰登又看了看这些数字，知道一时半会儿是猜不出什么象征意义的，即便是索尼埃的确预设了象征意义。对兰登而言，这些数字看起来没有任何规律。他习惯于解释那些意义相关的，有一定规律的象征，但这里的一切--五角星形、文字、数字等似乎一点也不相干。
"你刚才断言。"法希说。"索尼埃那样做是在试图传达某种信息……女神崇拜或类似的东西，是吗？这种说法讲得通吗？"
兰登知道这个问题并不需他作答。这种怪异的信息显然和女神崇拜的情形对不上号。
法希说："这些文字似乎是一种指责？你同意吗？"
兰登试图想象馆长被困在大画廊里的最后几分钟，知道自己要死时的情形。这似乎合乎逻辑。"说这是对谋杀者的指责，我想这合乎情理。"
"我的任务当然是找到那个人的名字。请问，兰登先生，在你看来，除了这些数字，有关这个信息，最奇怪的是什么？"
最奇怪的？一个濒临死亡的人把自己封在画廊里，用自己的身体画个五角星，在地板上写下神秘的控告，这哪一样不奇怪？
"德拉古式的这个词。"他试探着说出他脑子里想到的第一样东西。兰登相当肯定，一个人在临死前不太可能想到德拉古--一位公元前十七世纪残酷的政治家。"‘德拉古式的魔鬼’似乎是一个很奇怪的措辞。""德拉古式的？"法希的语气中带着一点不耐烦。"索尼埃的措辞似乎不是最重要的问题。"兰登拿不准法希在考虑什么问题，但是他开始觉得德拉古和法希是一路货色。
"索尼埃是法国人。"法希硬邦邦地说。"他住在巴黎，而写这些东西时，却选择用……""英语。"兰登接过话说。此时他明白了警务局长的意思。
法希点点头。"对极了。知道为什么吗？"兰登知道索尼埃的英语说得极漂亮，但索尼埃选择用英语写临终遗言却没引起兰登的注意。他耸耸肩。
法希又指着索尼埃肚子上的五角星说："与魔鬼崇拜没关系？你还这么肯定？"
兰登现在什么也肯定不了。"符号学似乎无法解释这段内容。对不起，我帮不了你。"
"也许这样能解释清楚。"法希从尸体旁向后退了退身，再次高举起黑光灯，使光线从更大的角度散发出来。"现在怎么样？"
这令兰登惊呆了，一个基本成形的圆圈围着馆长的尸体微微发光。显然是索尼埃倒地后用笔在自己四周划了几个长弧，大致把自己划在一个圆圈里。
突然，意思变得清晰了。
"《维特鲁威人》。"兰登急促地说。索尼埃用真人复制了那幅列昂纳多。达。芬奇的名画达。芬奇的《维特鲁威人》被认为是当时在生理结构上最准确的画作，现在已成为一个现代文化的偶像而出现在世界各地的招贴画上、鼠标垫上和T 恤衫上。这幅名画上有个极圆的圆圈，圆圈里面是一个裸体男人……胳膊和腿向外展开像一只被拔光了羽毛的鹰。
达。芬奇。兰登惊得打了个寒颤。不可否认，索尼埃有明确的意图。在人生的最后时刻，馆长脱光了衣服，明白无误地用自己的身体摆成了达。芬奇《维特鲁威人》的样子。
这个圆圈是起初被漏掉的关键因素。圆圈是一个女性保护符号，它围在了裸体男人躯体周围。这实现了达。芬奇想表达的信息--男女之间的和谐。然而，现在的问题是，索尼埃为什么模仿这样一幅名作。
"兰登先生。"法希说。"像你这样的人当然知道列昂纳多。达。芬奇喜欢画比较神秘隐晦的作品。"兰登没想到法希这么了解达。芬奇。要解释清楚为什么法希局长认为那是魔鬼崇拜，不是三言两语就说得清的。历史学家们，尤其是遵循基督教传统的历史学家们一直认为达。芬奇是个尴尬的角色。他是个绘画天才，但他也是一位非常惹眼的同性恋者和自然的神圣秩序的崇拜者，这两点使他永远背上冒犯上帝和作奸犯科的罪名。另外，这位艺术家的怪异行为无疑也投射出恶魔色彩：达。芬奇偷盗尸体来作人体解剖学研究；他神秘的日记是用别人看不懂的颠倒的字母记下的；他相信自己拥有一种点石成金的本领，可以把铅变成黄金，甚至可以靠研制出一种灵丹妙药推迟死亡而欺骗上帝；他所发明的东西中包括可怕的、前人想都未敢想过的带来如此多痛苦的战争武器。
误解滋生不信任，兰登心里想。
达。芬奇那些多得令人称奇的基督教画作也只能使画家"精神虚伪"的名声更广为流传。
他从梵蒂冈接受了数百项赢利性的工作。在画基督教题材的画时，他并不是要表达自己对它的信仰，而是将其视为商业行为---一种可以支付他奢侈生活的手段。不幸的是，达。芬奇喜欢恶作剧，他常默默地在递给他食物的手上咬一口以取乐。他在许多基督教画作中塞进了与基督教一点不相干的符号以表达对自己信仰的礼赞，也巧妙地表达了对基督教的蔑视。兰登曾在美国国家美术馆作过一次题为"达。芬奇的秘密生活：基督教画作中的异教象征"的讲座。
"我理解你的想法。"兰登现在这样说。"但达。芬奇从未将那些神秘阴暗的东西付诸实践，虽然他和教会冲突不断，是纯粹精神层面的人。"说着说着，一个怪异的想法从他脑子里突然蹦了出来。他又低头看了看地板上的文字内容。啊，德拉古式的恶魔！噢！瘸腿的圣徒！
"真的吗？"法希说。
兰登谨慎地说："我刚才在想，索尼埃和达。芬奇的精神观念有许多共同之处，包括对教会把阴性圣灵从现代宗教中驱逐出去这类事情的看法。或许，通过模仿达。芬奇的名画，索尼埃只是想回应达。芬奇对教会妖魔化女神的不满和恼怒。"听到这个，法希的眼都直了。
"你是说索尼埃把教会称作瘸腿的圣徒和严酷的魔王？"
兰登不得不承认这有些牵强，而且五角星符号在某种程度上似乎要表示一个什么思想。
"我只是说索尼埃先生一生致力于女神史的研究，在清除女神历史方面，没有什么比天主教会做得更过分了。索尼埃先生在和这个世界道别时想表达一下自己的失望，这倒是可以理解的。""失望？"法希问道，语气中充满敌意。"这些文字表达更多的是愤怒，而不是失望，你不觉得是这样吗？"
兰登也没了耐心。"局长，你想就索尼埃在试图表达什么这一点征求我本人的想法，我能告诉你的就这些。""那是控告教会，是吗？"法希咬紧牙关，从牙缝里挤出一句话来。"兰登先生，因工作关系，我见到过许多死亡的情形。你听我说，当一个人被别人谋杀时，我想他最后的想法不是写一句谁也弄不懂的纯精神方面的句子。我相信他只考虑一件事情---"法希低沉的声音透过空气传来。"复仇，我相信写下这些是要告诉我们谁杀了他。"
兰登瞪着他。"可这种解释根本站不住脚。"
"站不住脚？"
"站不住脚。"他回击道，显然非常厌倦和恼火。"你跟我说过索尼埃在办公室里遭到一个显然是他邀请来的人的袭击。""没错。"
"那么我们理应得出结论，馆长认识攻击他的人。"
法希点点头："继续讲下去。"
"因此，如果索尼埃认识杀死他的那个人，还用这种方式这么指控？"他指着地板说。"数字密码？瘸腿的圣徒？严酷的魔王？肚子上的五角星？这也太有点不可思议了吧。"法希皱起眉头，似乎以前从未想到这一点。"你说得有道理。"
"鉴于当时的情况。"兰登说。"我认为如果索尼埃想告诉我们谁杀了他，他应该写那个人的名字。"当兰登说这些时，法希的嘴角今晚第一次掠过一丝得意的笑意。"对极了。"法希说。"对极了。"在扭动调音轮听到法希的声音从耳机里传来时，上尉警官科莱想，我在见证一位大师的杰作。这位警官知道在这种情况下，他们的警务局长会以极端的手段把法国法律执行到极致。
法希敢干别人不敢干的事情。
在现代执法过程中，那种巧妙的诱导谈话技巧已经不存在了，这种技巧需要人在重压下有极好的心理准备。很少有人拥有从事这项工作的所必需的沉着，但法希天生是干这个的料。他的节制和耐心几乎全能自动控制。
法希今晚唯一的情感似乎是一种坚定的决心，今晚的行动好像是他的私事一样。法希一小时以前对手下的通令也非常简洁、肯定。法希一小时以前对手下的通令也非常简洁、肯定。"我知道谁谋杀了雅克。索尼埃。"法希说。"你们知道该怎么办。今晚不许出错。"
到目前为止，还没有出过任何差错。
科莱并不知道是什么证据让法希认定嫌疑人有罪，但他知道不要质疑公牛的直觉。法希的直觉几乎是超自然的。有一次，在法希展示了那令人敬佩的第六感觉以后，一位特工人员坚持说，有上帝在法希耳畔嘀咕。科莱不得不承认，如果有上帝的话，贝祖。法希肯定会上他的甲等选民名单。局长以极大的热情定期参加弥撒和忏悔--与从事公共事务的其他官员只在假日必须参加时才参加相比，法希去得要经常、有规律得多。几年前教皇莅临巴黎时，作为听众，法希使出浑身解数得到了一个殊荣。法希和教皇的合影现在就挂在他的办公室里。特工们暗地里称那幅照片为教皇公牛。颇具讽刺意味的是，在最近几年中法希难得的与大众相同的一个立场是他对天主教恋童癖丑闻的直率的反对。这些牧师应该被处绞刑两次。一次为那些孩子们，另一次是因他们让上帝的威名蒙羞。科莱有个怪念头，总是感觉到还是后者更让法希气愤。
科莱转向笔记本电脑，他得履行他今晚的另一半职责---操纵全球卫星定位跟踪系统。屏幕上的图像可清楚地显示出德农厅的地面设计。在屏幕上，德农厅像一个叠加在卢浮宫安全保卫部上的结构图。科莱的视线穿梭在迷宫般的画廊和廊道内，他发现了他要找的东西。
在大画廊中心地带有一个小红点在闪烁。
那个记号。
法希今晚把自己的猎物拴得很紧。这样做很高明。罗伯特。兰登被证明是个沉着冷静的家伙。
Chapter 9
To ensure his conversation with Mr. Langdon would not be interrupted, Bezu Fache had turned off his cellular phone. Unfortunately, it was an expensive model equipped with a two-way radio feature, which, contrary to his orders, was now being used by one of his agents to page him.
"Capitaine?" The phone crackled like a walkie-talkie.
Fache felt his teeth clench in rage. He could imagine nothing important enough that Collet would interrupt this surveillance cachée—especially at this critical juncture.
He gave Langdon a calm look of apology. "One moment please." He pulled the phone from his belt and pressed the radio transmission button. "Oui?"
"Capitaine, un agent du Département de Cryptographie est arrivé."
Fache's anger stalled momentarily. A cryptographer? Despite the lousy timing, this was probably good news. Fache, after finding Saunière's cryptic text on the floor, had uploaded photographs of the entire crime scene to the Cryptography Department in hopes someone there could tell him what the hell Saunière was trying to say. If a code breaker had now arrived, it most likely meant someone had decrypted Saunière's message.
"I'm busy at the moment," Fache radioed back, leaving no doubt in his tone that a line had been crossed. "Ask the cryptographer to wait at the command post. I'll speak to him when I'm done."
"Her," the voice corrected. "It's Agent Neveu."
Fache was becoming less amused with this call every passing moment. Sophie Neveu was one of DCPJ's biggest mistakes. A young Parisian déchiffreuse who had studied cryptography in England at the Royal Holloway, Sophie Neveu had been foisted on Fache two years ago as part of the ministry's attempt to incorporate more women into the police force. The ministry's ongoing foray into political correctness, Fache argued, was weakening the department. Women not only lacked the physicality necessary for police work, but their mere presence posed a dangerous distraction to the men in the field. As Fache had feared, Sophie Neveu was proving far more distracting than most.
At thirty-two years old, she had a dogged determination that bordered on obstinate. Her eager espousal of Britain's new cryptologic methodology continually exasperated the veteran French cryptographers above her. And by far the most troubling to Fache was the inescapable universal truth that in an office of middle-aged men, an attractive young woman always drew eyes away from the work at hand.
The man on the radio said, "Agent Neveu insisted on speaking to you immediately, Captain. I tried to stop her, but she's on her way into the gallery."
Fache recoiled in disbelief. "Unacceptable! I made it very clear—"
 
For a moment, Robert Langdon thought Bezu Fache was suffering a stroke. The captain was mid-sentence when his jaw stopped moving and his eyes bulged. His blistering gaze seemed fixated on something over Langdon's shoulder. Before Langdon could turn to see what it was, he heard a woman's voice chime out behind him.
"Excusez-moi, messieurs."
Langdon turned to see a young woman approaching. She was moving down the corridor toward them with long, fluid strides... a haunting certainty to her gait. Dressed casually in a knee-length, cream-colored Irish sweater over black leggings, she was attractive and looked to be about thirty. Her thick burgundy hair fell unstyled to her shoulders, framing the warmth of her face. Unlike the waifish, cookie-cutter blondes that adorned Harvard dorm room walls, this woman was healthy with an unembellished beauty and genuineness that radiated a striking personal confidence.
To Langdon's surprise, the woman walked directly up to him and extended a polite hand. "Monsieur Langdon, I am Agent Neveu from DCPJ's Cryptology Department." Her words curved richly around her muted Anglo-Franco accent. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
Langdon took her soft palm in his and felt himself momentarily fixed in her strong gaze. Her eyes were olive-green—incisive and clear.
Fache drew a seething inhalation, clearly preparing to launch into a reprimand.
"Captain," she said, turning quickly and beating him to the punch, "please excuse the interruption, but—"
"Ce n'est pas le moment!" Fache sputtered.
"I tried to phone you." Sophie continued in English, as if out of courtesy to Langdon. "But your cell phone was turned off."
"I turned it off for a reason," Fache hissed. "I am speaking to Mr. Langdon."
"I've deciphered the numeric code," she said flatly.
Langdon felt a pulse of excitement. She broke the code?
Fache looked uncertain how to respond.
"Before I explain," Sophie said, "I have an urgent message for Mr. Langdon."
Fache's expression turned to one of deepening concern. "For Mr. Langdon?"
She nodded, turning back to Langdon. "You need to contact the U.S. Embassy, Mr. Langdon. They have a message for you from the States."
Langdon reacted with surprise, his excitement over the code giving way to a sudden ripple of concern. A message from the States? He tried to imagine who could be trying to reach him. Only a few of his colleagues knew he was in Paris.
Fache's broad jaw had tightened with the news. "The U.S. Embassy?" he demanded, sounding suspicious. "How would they know to find Mr. Langdon here?"
Sophie shrugged. "Apparently they called Mr. Langdon's hotel, and the concierge told them Mr. Langdon had been collected by a DCPJ agent."
Fache looked troubled. "And the embassy contacted DCPJ Cryptography?"
"No, sir," Sophie said, her voice firm. "When I called the DCPJ switchboard in an attempt to contact you, they had a message waiting for Mr. Langdon and asked me to pass it along if I got through to you."
Fache's brow furrowed in apparent confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sophie had already turned back to Langdon.
"Mr. Langdon," she declared, pulling a small slip of paper from her pocket, "this is the number for your embassy's messaging service. They asked that you phone in as soon as possible." She handed him the paper with an intent gaze. "While I explain the code to Captain Fache, you need to make this call."
Langdon studied the slip. It had a Paris phone number and extension on it. "Thank you," he said, feeling worried now. "Where do I find a phone?"
Sophie began to pull a cell phone from her sweater pocket, but Fache waved her off. He now looked like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt. Without taking his eyes off Sophie, he produced his own cell phone and held it out. "This line is secure, Mr. Langdon. You may use it."
Langdon felt mystified by Fache's anger with the young woman. Feeling uneasy, he accepted the captain's phone. Fache immediately marched Sophie several steps away and began chastising her in hushed tones. Disliking the captain more and more, Langdon turned away from the odd confrontation and switched on the cell phone. Checking the slip of paper Sophie had given him, Langdon dialed the number.
The line began to ring.
One ring... two rings... three rings...
Finally the call connected.
Langdon expected to hear an embassy operator, but he found himself instead listening to an answering machine. Oddly, the voice on the tape was familiar. It was that of Sophie Neveu.
"Bonjour, vous êtes bien chez Sophie Neveu," the woman's voice said. "Je suis absenle pour le moment, mais..."
Confused, Langdon turned back toward Sophie. "I'm sorry, Ms. Neveu? I think you may have given me—"
"No, that's the right number," Sophie interjected quickly, as if anticipating Langdon's confusion. "The embassy has an automated message system. You have to dial an access code to pick up your messages."
Langdon stared. "But—"
"It's the three-digit code on the paper I gave you."
Langdon opened his mouth to explain the bizarre error, but Sophie flashed him a silencing glare that lasted only an instant. Her green eyes sent a crystal-clear message.
Don't ask questions. Just do it.
Bewildered, Langdon punched in the extension on the slip of paper: 454.
Sophie's outgoing message immediately cut off, and Langdon heard an electronic voice announce in French: "You have one new message." Apparently, 454 was Sophie's remote access code for picking up her messages while away from home.
I'm picking up this woman's messages?
Langdon could hear the tape rewinding now. Finally, it stopped, and the machine engaged. Langdon listened as the message began to play. Again, the voice on the line was Sophie's.
"Mr. Langdon," the message began in a fearful whisper. "Do not react to this message. Just listen calmly. You are in danger right now. Follow my directions very closely."
 
为了确保他和兰登先生的谈话不被打断，贝祖。法希已关掉了手机。不幸的是，这个昂贵的机型装备有双向无线电通讯功能，而他一个手下违反命令，正在使用这个功能呼他。
"局长吗？"电话里传来像步话机那样的"噼噼啪啪"的声音。法希气得牙齿都要咬碎了。他不能想象出到底有什么重要的事情可以让科莱中断这个秘密监视--尤其是在这个关键时刻。
他沉着而充满歉意地看了兰登一眼。"请稍等片刻。"他从腰带上拔出电话，摁下了无线传输键，用法语说："谁？"
"局长，密码破译部的一位特工到了。"对方用法语说。
法希把怒火暂时压了下去。一位密码破译人员？尽管来的不是什么时候，但这很可能是个好消息。法希发现了索尼埃写在地板上的神秘文字后，就把大堆的犯罪现场照片都送到了密码破译部，希望有人能告诉他索尼埃到底想说什么。如果是来了一位密码破译者，很可能是那个人已弄懂了索尼埃的意思。
"我现在正忙着呢。"法希回话说，他的语气明白无误告诉对方，他在忙着应付另一部电话。"告诉密码破译者在指挥部等着。等我忙完了再和他说话。"
"她。"对方纠正道。"是警察奈芙。"
电话那头越说，法希越没兴致。接收索菲。奈芙是中央司法警察局最大的错误之一。奈芙是一个年轻的译电员，她是巴黎人，曾在英国皇家霍洛威大学学习过密码破译技术。两年前，部里尝试在警察队伍中多加入些女性，因此，索菲。奈芙被塞给了法希。部里要达到"政治上正确"的尝试还在进行之中，但法希争辩说这其实是弱化这个部门。女人不仅缺乏从事警察工作所需要的体力，而且她们的出现往往使这个行当的男人们心猿意马，这是很危险的。正如法希所担心的那样，事实证明，奈芙最不能让人省心。
她三十二岁，意志坚定得几近固执。她太急于盲目相信英国的新方法，所以总是惹恼她上面那些老资格的法国密码破译人员。当然最令法希心烦的是那个放之四海而皆准的公理：在一群中年男人的办公室里，一位颇有魅力的年轻女郎总是把人们的眼球从手边的工作上吸走。
无线通讯中的那个男人说："奈芙警官非要立刻和您谈话，局长。我尽最大的努力阻止她，但她现在已经朝画廊这边走来了。"法希心头一缩，简直不敢相信会是这样。"简直令人无法容忍，我已讲清楚--"
罗伯特。兰登感觉法希好像在瞬间中了风。局长下颌突然不动了，眼球突出，只能说半截句子。他鼓起的水泡眼好像固定在兰登肩后的什么东西上。兰登还没来得及转身看是怎么回事，就听到一个女人的声音在他背后响起。
"对不起，先生们。"她用法语说。兰登转过身，发现是一位年轻女郎，正迈着矫健的步伐大步流星地朝他们走来，随意穿着的齐膝的奶黄色爱尔兰毛衣，刚好到她黑皮靴的上方。她很有魅力，浓密的葡萄酒色的头发自然地飘落在肩头，却露出了面部的温和。与贴在哈佛大学宿舍墙上的那些弱不禁风的甜姐儿不同，这个女人有一种不加粉饰的健康美，浑身散发出惊人的自信。
兰登没想到的是，那女人直接朝他走来并礼貌地伸出手来。"兰登先生，我是中央司法警察密码部的警察奈芙。"她说起话来抑扬顿挫，从她的英语中能听出法国口音。"很高兴见到您。"兰登握住她柔软的手掌，发现对方正使劲看着自己。她的眼睛是橄榄绿色的--锐利而清澈。法希使劲吸了一口气，显然是准备开始批评她。
"局长。"她急忙转身，先发制人地说。"请原谅我打断了你们的谈话，但--"
"现在不是时候！"法希气急败坏地用法语说。"我本想给你打电话。"好像是出于对兰登的礼貌，她还继续用英语说。"但是你电话关机了。"
"我关机是有原因的。"他愤怒地朝她嘘了一声。"我在和兰登先生谈话。"
"我已经破译了那个数字密码。"她干脆地说。
从法希的表情看，他有点拿不准该对此做出何种反应。
"在我解释之前。"索菲说。"我得先给兰登先生递个紧急的口信。"
法希的表情显得越来越焦虑。"给兰登先生的口信？"
她点点头，转回兰登。"您得和美国大使馆联系一下，兰登先生。他们有从美国来的留言给您。"兰登很吃惊，他刚才因密码引起的激动现在突然变成了一阵不安。来自美国的留言？
他使劲想到底会是谁想找到他，只有很少几位同事知道他在巴黎。
听到这个消息，法希也惊得嘴巴张得老大。"美国大使馆？"法希很怀疑地问了一声。"他们怎么知道到这儿来找兰登先生？"
索菲耸耸肩。"显然，他们把电话打到兰登先生住的酒店，但接待员告诉他们兰登先生被一个中央司法警察给叫走了。"法希显得更不解了。"难道大使馆和中央司法警察密码部联系上了？"
"不是，先生。"索菲语气坚定地说。"我在给中央司法警察局总机打电话联系您时，他们正好有一个口信要传给兰登先生。他们说如果我能接通您的电话，就让我把口信传给他。"法希眉头紧锁，一脸困惑。他想说话，但索菲已经转向兰登。
她从衣袋里拿出一张小纸条大声说："兰登先生，这是你们大使馆提供的留言服务号码。他们要求你尽可能早地打进电话。"她把纸条递给他，又意味深长地看了他一眼。"在我向法希局长解释密码时，你得打电话。"兰登仔细看了纸条，上面有一个巴黎的电话号码和分机号。"谢谢。"他感到非常担忧。"我到哪里找电话呢？"
索菲从毛衣口袋里取出手机，但法希示意她不要给他用。现在看起来他就像即将爆发的维苏威火山。他盯着索菲，拿出自己的手机递了过去。
兰登对法希向索菲发火这事感到疑惑不解。他很紧张地接过局长的电话。法希立即把索菲推开几步远，开始低声严厉责备她。兰登越来越讨厌法希，他转身避开另两人之间令人不解的冲突，打开了手机。兰登核对了一下索菲给他的号码后，开始拨号。
电话里传来了拨号声。
一声……，两声……，三声……
终于接通了。
兰登原想自己会听到大使馆接线员的声音，没想到自己听到的却是一个语音信箱的录音。奇怪的是，录音带上的声音很熟悉，是索菲。奈芙的声音。
"您好，这里是索菲。奈芙家。"一个女人用法语说道。"我现在不在家，但……"兰登被弄糊涂了，他转向索菲。"对不起，奈芙小姐，我想你可能给我--"
"没错，就是那号码。"索菲迅速插话，好像已经预测到了兰登的困惑。"大使馆有自动留言服务系统，但您得先拨进入系统的号码，然后才能接收您的留言。"兰登怔住了。"但是--"
"是我给您那张纸上的三位数号码。"
兰登想开口解释这个滑稽的错误，索菲向他递了一个只持续片刻的、严厉的、让他沉默的眼色。她绿色的眼睛发出了一个非常明了的信息。
别多问。按要求做。
兰登疑惑不解地拨了纸上的分机号454.索菲的语音信箱里的话立刻中断了。兰登听到电脑录制的声音用法语说："你有一条新的留言。"显然，454 是索菲不在家时接听留言的远程进入密码。
我要收听这个女人的留言？
兰登能听到录音带倒带的声音。它终于停下来了，语音信箱也开始工作了。兰登听到机器开始播放的留言了。这次又是索菲的声音。
"兰登先生。"留言里传出令人恐惧的低语声。"听到留言后，千万不要有什么反应，只管冷静地听。您现在处境危险，请严格遵守我的指令。"
Chapter 10
Silas sat behind the wheel of the black Audi the Teacher had arranged for him and gazed out at the great Church of Saint-Sulpice. Lit from beneath by banks of floodlights, the church's two bell towers rose like stalwart sentinels above the building's long body. On either flank, a shadowy row of sleek buttresses jutted out like the ribs of a beautiful beast.
The heathens used a house of God to conceal their keystone. Again the brotherhood had confirmed their legendary reputation for illusion and deceit. Silas was looking forward to finding the keystone and giving it to the Teacher so they could recover what the brotherhood had long ago stolen from the faithful.
How powerful that will make Opus Dei.
Parking the Audi on the deserted Place Saint-Sulpice, Silas exhaled, telling himself to clear his mind for the task at hand. His broad back still ached from the corporal mortification he had endured earlier today, and yet the pain was inconsequential compared with the anguish of his life before Opus Dei had saved him.
Still, the memories haunted his soul.
Release your hatred, Silas commanded himself. Forgive those who trespassed against you.
Looking up at the stone towers of Saint-Sulpice, Silas fought that familiar undertow... that force that often dragged his mind back in time, locking him once again in the prison that had been his world as a young man. The memories of purgatory came as they always did, like a tempest to his senses... the reek of rotting cabbage, the stench of death, human urine and feces. The cries of hopelessness against the howling wind of the Pyrenees and the soft sobs of forgotten men.
Andorra, he thought, feeling his muscles tighten.
Incredibly, it was in that barren and forsaken suzerain between Spain and France, shivering in his stone cell, wanting only to die, that Silas had been saved.
He had not realized it at the time.
The light came long after the thunder.
His name was not Silas then, although he didn't recall the name his parents had given him. He had left home when he was seven. His drunken father, a burly dockworker, enraged by the arrival of an albino son, beat his mother regularly, blaming her for the boy's embarrassing condition. When the boy tried to defend her, he too was badly beaten.
One night, there was a horrific fight, and his mother never got up. The boy stood over his lifeless mother and felt an unbearable up-welling of guilt for permitting it to happen.
This is my fault!
As if some kind of demon were controlling his body, the boy walked to the kitchen and grasped a butcher knife. Hypnotically, he moved to the bedroom where his father lay on the bed in a drunken stupor. Without a word, the boy stabbed him in the back. His father cried out in pain and tried to roll over, but his son stabbed him again, over and over until the apartment fell quiet.
The boy fled home but found the streets of Marseilles equally unfriendly. His strange appearance made him an outcast among the other young runaways, and he was forced to live alone in the basement of a dilapidated factory, eating stolen fruit and raw fish from the dock. His only companions were tattered magazines he found in the trash, and he taught himself to read them. Over time, he grew strong. When he was twelve, another drifter—a girl twice his age—mocked him on the streets and attempted to steal his food. The girl found herself pummeled to within inches of her life. When the authorities pulled the boy off her, they gave him an ultimatum—leave Marseilles or go to juvenile prison.
The boy moved down the coast to Toulon. Over time, the looks of pity on the streets turned to looks of fear. The boy had grown to a powerful young man. When people passed by, he could hear them whispering to one another. A ghost, they would say, their eyes wide with fright as they stared at his white skin. A ghost with the eyes of a devil!
And he felt like a ghost... transparent... floating from seaport to seaport.
People seemed to look right through him.
At eighteen, in a port town, while attempting to steal a case of cured ham from a cargo ship, he was caught by a pair of crewmen. The two sailors who began to beat him smelled of beer, just as his father had. The memories of fear and hatred surfaced like a monster from the deep. The young man broke the first sailor's neck with his bare hands, and only the arrival of the police saved the second sailor from a similar fate.
Two months later, in shackles, he arrived at a prison in Andorra.
You are as white as a ghost, the inmates ridiculed as the guards marched him in, naked and cold. Mira el espectro! Perhaps the ghost will pass right through these walls!
Over the course of twelve years, his flesh and soul withered until he knew he had become transparent.
I am a ghost.
I am weightless.
Yo soy un espectro... palido coma una fantasma... caminando este mundo a solas.
One night the ghost awoke to the screams of other inmates. He didn't know what invisible force was shaking the floor on which he slept, nor what mighty hand was trembling the mortar of his stone cell, but as he jumped to his feet, a large boulder toppled onto the very spot where he had been sleeping. Looking up to see where the stone had come from, he saw a hole in the trembling wall, and beyond it, a vision he had not seen in over ten years. The moon.
Even while the earth still shook, the ghost found himself scrambling through a narrow tunnel, staggering out into an expansive vista, and tumbling down a barren mountainside into the woods. He ran all night, always downward, delirious with hunger and exhaustion.
Skirting the edges of consciousness, he found himself at dawn in a clearing where train tracks cut a swath across the forest. Following the rails, he moved on as if dreaming. Seeing an empty freight car, he crawled in for shelter and rest. When he awoke the train was moving. How long? How far? A pain was growing in his gut. Am I dying? He slept again. This time he awoke to someone yelling, beating him, throwing him out of the freight car. Bloody, he wandered the outskirts of a small village looking in vain for food. Finally, his body too weak to take another step, he lay down by the side of the road and slipped into unconsciousness.
The light came slowly, and the ghost wondered how long he had been dead. A day? Three days? It didn't matter. His bed was soft like a cloud, and the air around him smelled sweet with candles. Jesus was there, staring down at him. I am here, Jesus said. The stone has been rolled aside, and you are born again.
He slept and awoke. Fog shrouded his thoughts. He had never believed in heaven, and yet Jesus was watching over him. Food appeared beside his bed, and the ghost ate it, almost able to feel the flesh materializing on his bones. He slept again. When he awoke, Jesus was still smiling down, speaking. You are saved, my son. Blessed are those who follow my path.
Again, he slept.
It was a scream of anguish that startled the ghost from his slumber. His body leapt out of bed, staggered down a hallway toward the sounds of shouting. He entered into a kitchen and saw a large man beating a smaller man. Without knowing why, the ghost grabbed the large man and hurled him backward against a wall. The man fled, leaving the ghost standing over the body of a young man in priest's robes. The priest had a badly shattered nose. Lifting the bloody priest, the ghost carried him to a couch.
"Thank you, my friend," the priest said in awkward French. "The offertory money is tempting for thieves. You speak French in your sleep. Do you also speak Spanish?"
The ghost shook his head.
"What is your name?" he continued in broken French.
The ghost could not remember the name his parents had given him. All he heard were the taunting gibes of the prison guards.
The priest smiled. "No hay problema. My name is Manuel Aringarosa. I am a missionary from Madrid. I was sent here to build a church for the Obra de Dios."
"Where am I?" His voice sounded hollow.
"Oviedo. In the north of Spain."
"How did I get here?"
"Someone left you on my doorstep. You were ill. I fed you. You've been here many days."
The ghost studied his young caretaker. Years had passed since anyone had shown any kindness. "Thank you, Father."
The priest touched his bloody lip. "It is I who am thankful, my friend."
When the ghost awoke in the morning, his world felt clearer. He gazed up at the crucifix on the wall above his bed. Although it no longer spoke to him, he felt a comforting aura in its presence. Sitting up, he was surprised to find a newspaper clipping on his bedside table. The article was in French, a week old. When he read the story, he filled with fear. It told of an earthquake in the mountains that had destroyed a prison and freed many dangerous criminals.
His heart began pounding. The priest knows who I am! The emotion he felt was one he had not felt for some time. Shame. Guilt. It was accompanied by the fear of being caught. He jumped from his bed. Where do I run?
"The Book of Acts," a voice said from the door.
The ghost turned, frightened.
The young priest was smiling as he entered. His nose was awkwardly bandaged, and he was holding out an old Bible. "I found one in French for you. The chapter is marked."
Uncertain, the ghost took the Bible and looked at the chapter the priest had marked.
Acts 16.
The verses told of a prisoner named Silas who lay naked and beaten in his cell, singing hymns to God. When the ghost reached Verse 26, he gasped in shock.
"...And suddenly, there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and all the doors fell open."
His eyes shot up at the priest.
The priest smiled warmly. "From now on, my friend, if you have no other name, I shall call you Silas."
The ghost nodded blankly. Silas. He had been given flesh. My name is Silas.
"It's time for breakfast," the priest said. "You will need your strength if you are to help me build this church."
 
Twenty thousand feet above the Mediterranean, Alitalia flight 1618 bounced in turbulence, causing passengers to shift nervously. Bishop Aringarosa barely noticed. His thoughts were with the future of Opus Dei. Eager to know how plans in Paris were progressing, he wished he could phone Silas. But he could not. The Teacher had seen to that.
"It is for your own safety," the Teacher had explained, speaking in English with a French accent. "I am familiar enough with electronic communications to know they can be intercepted. The results could be disastrous for you."
Aringarosa knew he was right. The Teacher seemed an exceptionally careful man. He had not revealed his own identity to Aringarosa, and yet he had proven himself a man well worth obeying. After all, he had somehow obtained very secret information. The names of the brotherhood's four top members! This had been one of the coups that convinced the bishop the Teacher was truly capable of delivering the astonishing prize he claimed he could unearth.
"Bishop," the Teacher had told him, "I have made all the arrangements. For my plan to succeed, you must allow Silas to answer only to me for several days. The two of you will not speak. I will communicate with him through secure channels."
"You will treat him with respect?"
"A man of faith deserves the highest."
"Excellent. Then I understand. Silas and I shall not speak until this is over."
"I do this to protect your identity, Silas's identity, and my investment."
"Your investment?"
"Bishop, if your own eagerness to keep abreast of progress puts you in jail, then you will be unable to pay me my fee."
The bishop smiled. "A fine point. Our desires are in accord. Godspeed."
Twenty million euro, the bishop thought, now gazing out the plane's window. The sum was approximately the same number of U.S. dollars. A pittance for something so powerful.
He felt a renewed confidence that the Teacher and Silas would not fail. Money and faith were powerful motivators.
 
塞拉斯坐在导师早已为他安排好的黑色奥迪轿车的驾驶座上，看着窗外的圣叙尔皮斯教堂。几排泛光灯从下面照射上去，教堂的两个钟楼像两个威武高大的哨兵矗立在教堂长长的躯体之上。两翼阴影处各有一排光滑的扶垛突出出来，像一个漂亮的胸脯上的根根肋骨。
异教徒利用上帝的圣所来藏匿他们的拱顶石。他们的"兄弟会"再次证实了他们的确如人们盛传的那样欺世盗名。塞拉斯期待着找到拱顶石并把它交给导师，以便他们可以重新找到兄弟会很早以前从信徒那里偷走的东西。那会使天主事工会多么强大啊！
塞拉斯把奥迪车停在空无一人的圣叙尔皮斯教堂的广场上，喘了口气，并告诫自己要清除杂念，一心一意地完成手头上的这个任务。由于他今天早些时候承受的"肉体惩罚"，所以他宽大的后背现在还在痛，但这与他未被天主教工会拯救之前所受的煎熬相比太微不足道了。
在他灵魂深处依然有挥之不去的记忆。
放下你的仇恨，塞拉斯命令自己，宽恕那些冒犯你的人。
仰望着圣叙尔皮斯教堂的石塔，此时他又在和那股回头浪抗争，那是一股把他的思绪拉回过去的力量，使他想起曾被关进的监牢---他年轻时的世界。痛苦的记忆总是像暴风雨一样冲击着他的思想……腐烂的大白菜的臭气，死尸、人尿和粪便的恶臭，无望的哭泣和着比利牛斯山脉咆哮的狂风，还有被遗忘的男人的抽泣声。
安道尔，他想起来了，感到肌肉也绷紧了。
塞拉斯当时整日在一个石头牢房里颤栗，唯一的念头就是死。令人难以置信的是，正是在这个介于西班牙和法国之间的荒凉的、无人关注的大公国里，塞拉斯被拯救了。
当时他并没有认识到这一点。
雷声过后很久才来了闪电。
他的名字当时还不叫塞拉斯，虽然他也记不起父母给他起的名字。他的醉鬼父亲，一个粗壮的码头工人，看到这个白化病儿子的降生很恼火，经常打孩子母亲，埋怨她使儿子处于窘境。当儿子试图保护她时，他连儿子一起打。
一天夜里，家里的架打得很凶。母亲永久地躺下了。他站在死去的母亲旁边，感到一种无法遏制的内疚感升腾起来，因为他觉得自己没能阻止这一切发生。
都是我的罪过。
好像有个恶魔在他体内控制着他。他走到厨房抄起一把切肉刀，精神恍惚地走到醉得不省人事的父亲床边，一句话也没说，照着父亲的背部捅去。他父亲痛得大叫，想转过身下床，但儿子一刀一刀地捅过去，直到房内寂静无声。
这孩子逃离了家，但发现马赛的街头同样不友好。其他流浪的孩子嫌弃他奇怪的外表，因此把他摞在一边。他被迫住在一个工厂破旧的地下室里，用偷来的水果和从码头偷来的生鱼果腹。他唯一的伙伴就是那些从垃圾堆里捡来的破烂杂志。他通过自学来阅读这些杂志。时间一天天过去，他长得越来越壮实。十二岁那年，另一个流浪者--一个二十四岁的女孩子取笑他并想偷她的食物。结果这女孩子差点被打死。有关当局把他从那个女孩子身上拉起来，给他下了最后通牒--要么离开马赛，要么进少年犯监狱。
这孩子转移到沿海的土伦市。久而久之，人们脸上的怜悯变成了恐惧。他已长成了一个彪形大汉。人们从他身旁走过时，他能听到他们彼此小声嘀咕。鬼！他们会说，而且当他们看着他那浑身发白的皮肤时，他们会吓得眼睛睁得老大。一个长着妖魔眼睛的鬼魂！
而且他自己也感觉自己像个鬼……一个很易被觉察的鬼魂，从一个港口游荡到另一个港口。
人们似乎看穿了他。
十八岁那年，在一个港口小城，他在从一艘货船上偷一箱腌火腿时，被两个船员当场拿获，那两个喷着酒气的海员开始打他，就像他父亲当年一样。恐惧和仇恨的记忆像海怪一样从海底浮现出来。年轻人赤手空拳就扭断了一个海员的脖子。幸亏警察及时赶到，第二名海员才免遭类似的厄运。
两个月以后，他拖着脚镣手铐来到了安道尔的一座监狱。
当狱卒将冷得哆哆嗦嗦、赤身裸体的他推进牢房时，他同狱房的犯人对他说，你白得像个鬼。看这个鬼魂啊！或许他能钻过这些墙！
十二年过去了，他终于发现他是这么惹眼，他的灵魂和肉体都要枯萎了。
我是一个鬼魂。
我没有份量。
我是幽灵……如鬼一样面无血色……走向东方太阳的世界。
一天夜里。"鬼"被同牢犯人的惊叫声惊醒。他不知道到底是什么无形的力量在摇晃着他睡觉的地板，也不知道是怎样的一双有力的大手在抖动他石头牢房的泥灰板，但当他站起来时，一块巨石正好落在他原来睡觉的那个地方。他抬头看看石头是从哪里落下的，结果看到抖动的墙上有个洞，洞外有一个他十多年都没看到的东西--月亮。
当地还在摇动时。"鬼"挤出一个窄窄的地道，跌跌撞撞地进入了开阔地带，然后他又沿着光秃秃的山坡滚进了森林。他一直往下跑了一整夜，又饿又累，精神恍惚。
黎明时，就在他差不多要失去知觉时，他发现自己到了铁路旁的空地上。他梦游似地沿着铁轨方向走下去。他看到一节空的货车车厢便爬进去避避风，休息一下。他醒来时，火车正在运行中。过了多长时间？走了多远？他肚子开始疼了起来。我会死吗？他跳下了货车。他浑身是血，走到了一个小村边，希望能找点吃的，可是没找到。最后，他身体太虚弱了，一步也走不动了，在路边倒下，失去了知觉。
光慢慢地来了。"鬼"在想他已死了多久。一天？三天？这都不重要。他的床像云朵一般柔软，周围的空气散发出蜡烛的甜香味。耶稣在此，正凝望着他。我在你身边，耶稣说。
石头已被推滚到一边了，你再生了。
他醒了睡，睡了醒。他的知觉被一团雾裹着。他从未相信过上帝，然而耶稣一直在天上看着他。食物出现在他旁边。"鬼"把它吃掉，几乎能感到骨头上在长肉。他又睡着了。他再次醒来时，耶稣还在微笑着看着他，正对他说话。孩子，你得救了。保佑那些跟随我的人们。
他又睡着了。
是一阵痛苦的尖叫声把"鬼"从沉睡中惊醒。他跳下床，沿着走廊踉踉跄跄地朝有喊叫声传来的地方走去。走进厨房，发现一个大块头在打一个小个子。"鬼"不分青红皂白地抓住大个子，使劲把他向后推，抵住墙。那人逃跑了，留下"鬼"站在穿着牧师服的年轻人的躯体旁。牧师的鼻子被打伤得非常严重。"鬼"抱起浑身是血的牧师，把他放在一个长沙发上。
"谢谢你，朋友。"牧师用不熟练的法语说。"做礼拜时得的捐款很招引贼。你睡梦中说法语。你也会说西班牙语吗？"
"鬼"摇摇头。
"你叫什么名字？"他还继续用不连贯的法语问。
"鬼"已记不住父母给他起的名字。他所听到的都是狱卒的嘲骂声。
牧师笑了。"别担心。我叫曼努埃尔。阿林加洛沙。我是来自马德里的一名传教士。我被派到这里为奥卜拉德迪奥斯建一座教堂。""我这是在哪儿？"他声音低沉地问。
"奥维尼德。在西班牙南部。"
"我怎么到这里的？"
"有人把你放在我门口。你病了，我喂你食物。你到我这儿好多天了。"
"鬼"认真打量着这位照顾他的年轻人。已好多年没有人这样关爱过他了。"谢谢您，神父。"
牧师摸了摸自己满是血迹的嘴。"该道谢的是我，朋友。"
当"鬼"翌日醒来时，他的世界变得清朗了许多。他凝望着床上方墙上的十字架，虽然十字架是无声的，但它的出现却让他感到一种慰藉。他起身坐起来，吃惊地发现床头柜上有一张剪报。是一周以前的报纸，文章是用法语写的。他读了那个故事，心里恐惧得要死。它讲的是山区的一场地震震坏了监狱，跑了许多危险的犯人的事。
他的心怦怦直跳。牧师知道我是谁！他有一种许久不曾有过的感觉。羞耻。内疚。羞耻、内疚和怕被抓的恐惧伴着他。他从床上跳了下来。我逃往何处？
"《使徒行传》。"一个声音从门口传来。
"鬼"转过身来，吓坏了。
年轻的牧师微笑着走进来。他的鼻子包扎得很难看。他手里捧着一本旧的《圣经》。"我为你找到一本法文版的。那一章已做好记号。""鬼"将信将疑拿起《圣经》，开始寻找牧师作过记号的那一章。
第16 章
这一章讲的是一个名叫塞拉斯的囚犯被剥光了衣服遭毒打后躺在牢房里向上帝唱着赞美诗的故事。
当"鬼"读到第26 句时，他惊得倒吸一口凉气。
"……突然有大地震，监牢的地基都摇动了，牢门立即全开。"
他往上瞟了一眼牧师。
牧师温和地笑了。"朋友，从今往后，如果你没有别的名字，我就叫你塞拉斯。"
"鬼"茫然地点了点头。塞拉斯。他有了肉体。我名叫塞拉斯。
"该吃早饭了。"牧师说。"你要是帮我建教堂，可得恢复气力啊。"
在地中海上空两千英尺，阿利塔利亚航空公司1618 号航班因空气湍流的出现而上下颠簸。乘客都紧张不停地抖动着。但阿林加洛沙主教几乎没注意到这些。他始终在考虑着天主事工会的未来。他非常想知道巴黎的计划进展如何了。他非常想给塞拉斯打个电话。
但他不能，因为导师负责这事。
"这是为你的安全考虑。"导师曾用带法国口音的英语解释道。"我很了解电子通讯设备，我知道他们是可以被截获的，那样的结果对你而言可是灾难性的。"阿林加洛沙知道导师是正确的。导师似乎是一个极为谨慎的人。他没有向阿林加洛沙透露自己的身份，但事实证明他的命令是值得遵守的。不管怎么说，正是他获得了这个秘密情报。兄弟会四个上层人物。这次行动只是导师的许多干得干脆利落的漂亮行动之一。
这使主教深信导师的确能得到那个他宣称能找到的、令人震惊的战利品。
导师曾告诉他。"主教，我已一切安排就绪。为了使我的计划成功，你必须允许塞拉斯这几天只和我联系，听我调遣。你们两个不许交谈。我将通过安全讯道和他联系。""你会尊重他，善待他吗？"
"一个诚信的人应该得到最高的敬重。"
"好极了，我明白了。这次行动不结束，我和塞拉斯就不相互交谈。"
"我这样做是为了掩护你的身份，还有塞拉斯的身份和我的投资。"
"你的投资？"
"主教，如果你因太急于同步了解事情的进展而进了监狱，那么你就没法付给我费用。"
主教笑了。"正是。我们的愿望是一致的，愿我们成功。"
两千万欧元。主教望着机窗外，思忖着。这个数目和美元数目差不多。
想弄点钱的动力真大。
他又一次确信导师和塞拉斯不会失败。金钱和信仰是强有力的动因。
Chapter 11
"Une plaisanterie numérique?" Bezu Fache was livid, glaring at Sophie Neveu in disbelief. A numeric joke? "Your professional assessment of Saunière's code is that it is some kind of mathematical prank?"
Fache was in utter incomprehension of this woman's gall. Not only had she just barged in on Fache without permission, but she was now trying to convince him that Saunière, in his final moments of life, had been inspired to leave a mathematical gag?
"This code," Sophie explained in rapid French, "is simplistic to the point of absurdity. Jacques Saunière must have known we would see through it immediately." She pulled a scrap of paper from her sweater pocket and handed it to Fache. "Here is the decryption."
Fache looked at the card.
1-1-2-3-5-8-13-21
 
"This is it?" he snapped. "All you did was put the numbers in increasing order!"
Sophie actually had the nerve to give a satisfied smile. "Exactly."
Fache's tone lowered to a guttural rumble. "Agent Neveu, I have no idea where the hell you're going with this, but I suggest you get there fast." He shot an anxious glance at Langdon, who stood nearby with the phone pressed to his ear, apparently still listening to his phone message from the U.S. Embassy. From Langdon's ashen expression, Fache sensed the news was bad.
"Captain," Sophie said, her tone dangerously defiant, "the sequence of numbers you have in your hand happens to be one of the most famous mathematical progressions in history."
Fache was not aware there even existed a mathematical progression that qualified as famous, and he certainly didn't appreciate Sophie's off-handed tone.
"This is the Fibonacci sequence," she declared, nodding toward the piece of paper in Fache's hand. "A progression in which each term is equal to the sum of the two preceding terms."
Fache studied the numbers. Each term was indeed the sum of the two previous, and yet Fache could not imagine what the relevance of all this was to Saunière's death.
"Mathematician Leonardo Fibonacci created this succession of numbers in the thirteenth-century. Obviously there can be no coincidence that all of the numbers Saunière wrote on the floor belong to Fibonacci's famous sequence."
Fache stared at the young woman for several moments. "Fine, if there is no coincidence, would you tell me why Jacques Saunière chose to do this. What is he saying? What does this mean?"
She shrugged. "Absolutely nothing. That's the point. It's a simplistic cryptographic joke. Like taking the words of a famous poem and shuffling them at random to see if anyone recognizes what all the words have in common."
Fache took a menacing step forward, placing his face only inches from Sophie's. "I certainly hope you have a much more satisfying explanation than that."
Sophie's soft features grew surprisingly stern as she leaned in. "Captain, considering what you have at stake here tonight, I thought you might appreciate knowing that Jacques Saunière might be playing games with you. Apparently not. I'll inform the director of Cryptography you no longer need our services."
With that, she turned on her heel, and marched off the way she had come.
Stunned, Fache watched her disappear into the darkness. Is she out of her mind? Sophie Neveu had just redefined le suicide professionnel.
Fache turned to Langdon, who was still on the phone, looking more concerned than before, listening intently to his phone message. The U.S. Embassy. Bezu Fache despised many things... but few drew more wrath than the U.S. Embassy.
Fache and the ambassador locked horns regularly over shared affairs of state—their most common battleground being law enforcement for visiting Americans. Almost daily, DCPJ arrested American exchange students in possession of drugs, U.S. businessmen for soliciting underage Prostitutes, American tourists for shoplifting or destruction of property. Legally, the U.S. Embassy could intervene and extradite guilty citizens back to the United States, where they received nothing more than a slap on the wrist.
And the embassy invariably did just that.
L'émasculation de la Police Judiciaire, Fache called it. Paris Match had run a cartoon recently depicting Fache as a police dog, trying to bite an American criminal, but unable to reach because it was chained to the U.S. Embassy.
Not tonight, Fache told himself. There is far too much at stake.
By the time Robert Langdon hung up the phone, he looked ill.
"Is everything all right?" Fache asked.
Weakly, Langdon shook his head.
Bad news from home, Fache sensed, noticing Langdon was sweating slightly as Fache took back his cell phone.
"An accident," Langdon stammered, looking at Fache with a strange expression. "A friend..." He hesitated. "I'll need to fly home first thing in the morning."
Fache had no doubt the shock on Langdon's face was genuine, and yet he sensed another emotion there too, as if a distant fear were suddenly simmering in the American's eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that," Fache said, watching Langdon closely. "Would you like to sit down?" He motioned toward one of the viewing benches in the gallery.
Langdon nodded absently and took a few steps toward the bench. He paused, looking more confused with every moment. "Actually, I think I'd like to use the rest room."
Fache frowned inwardly at the delay. "The rest room. Of course. Let's take a break for a few minutes." He motioned back down the long hallway in the direction they had come from. "The rest rooms are back toward the curator's office."
Langdon hesitated, pointing in the other direction toward the far end of the Grand Gallery corridor. "I believe there's a much closer rest room at the end."
Fache realized Langdon was right. They were two thirds of the way down, and the Grand Gallery dead-ended at a pair of rest rooms. "Shall I accompany you?"
Langdon shook his head, already moving deeper into the gallery. "Not necessary. I think I'd like a few minutes alone."
Fache was not wild about the idea of Langdon wandering alone down the remaining length of corridor, but he took comfort in knowing the Grand Gallery was a dead end whose only exit was at the other end—the gate under which they had entered. Although French fire regulations required several emergency stairwells for a space this large, those stairwells had been sealed automatically when Saunière tripped the security system. Granted, that system had now been reset, unlocking the stairwells, but it didn't matter—the external doors, if opened, would set off fire alarms and were guarded outside by DCPJ agents. Langdon could not possibly leave without Fache knowing about it.
"I need to return to Mr. Saunière's office for a moment," Fache said. "Please come find me directly, Mr. Langdon. There is more we need to discuss."
Langdon gave a quiet wave as he disappeared into the darkness.
Turning, Fache marched angrily in the opposite direction. Arriving at the gate, he slid under, exited the Grand Gallery, marched down the hall, and stormed into the command center at Saunière's office.
"Who gave the approval to let Sophie Neveu into this building!" Fache bellowed.
Collet was the first to answer. "She told the guards outside she'd broken the code."
Fache looked around. "Is she gone?"
"She's not with you?"
"She left." Fache glanced out at the darkened hallway. Apparently Sophie had been in no mood to stop by and chat with the other officers on her way out.
For a moment, Fache considered radioing the guards in the entresol and telling them to stop Sophie and drag her back up here before she could leave the premises. He thought better of it. That was only his pride talking... wanting the last word. He'd had enough distractions tonight.
Deal with Agent Neveu later, he told himself, already looking forward to firing her.
Pushing Sophie from his mind, Fache stared for a moment at the miniature knight standing on Saunière's desk. Then he turned back to Collet. "Do you have him?"
Collet gave a curt nod and spun the laptop toward Fache. The red dot was clearly visible on the floor plan overlay, blinking methodically in a room marked TOILETTES PUBLIQUES.
"Good," Fache said, lighting a cigarette and stalking into the hall. I've got a phone call to make. Be damned sure the rest room is the only place Langdon goes."
 
"只是一个数字玩笑？"贝祖。法希脸色铁青，怒视着索菲。奈芙，一点也不相信这种说法。？"你对索尼埃密码所做出的职业判断就是一种数学恶作剧？"
法希一点也不明白为什么这个女人如此莽撞。她不仅不经允许擅自闯入画廊来找法希，而且还在试图让他相信索尼埃在生命的最后时刻还突发灵感，为世人留下一个数学玩笑？
"这个密码。"索菲很快用法语解释道。"简直容易到荒唐的地步。雅克。索尼埃一定知道我们很快就会破译它。"她从羊毛衫口袋里取出一张小纸片递给法希。"这是破译结果。"法希看了看纸片：1－1－2－3－5－8－13－21"就这个"，他厉斥道。"你只是把这些数字按升序排列起来。"
索菲却满不在乎地、满意地微笑道："正是这样。"
法希压低了嗓门，声音如滚滚闷雷似的说："奈芙警士，我不明白这究竟能说明什么问题。但是我建议你立刻到那边去。"他焦虑地看了兰登一眼。兰登正站在附近，手机紧贴着耳朵，显然还在听美国大使馆的留言。从兰登煞白的脸色，法希能感觉到消息不妙。
"局长。"索菲冒险以挑战性的语气说。"你手里的这一组数字正好是数学史上最著名的一个数列。"法希不知道竟然还有称得上"著名"的数列，而且他当然不喜欢索菲简慢的语气。
"这是斐波那契数列。"她朝法希手里的纸片点头说。"这是一个整数数列，其中每个数等于前面的两数之和。"法希研究了一下这些数字。每个数字的确是前两项之和，但法希想象不出这和索尼埃的死有什么联系。
"数学家列奥那多。斐波那契在13 世纪创设了这个数列。索尼埃写在地板上的所有数字都属于斐波那契数列，显然，这绝非巧合。"法希盯着这位年轻女人看了一会儿。"好极了，如果不是巧合，那么请你告诉我，雅克。索尼埃为什么非要那样做？他到底想说什么？这表示什么？"
她耸耸肩。"什么也不表示。问题就在这儿。它只是一个极简单的密码玩笑。这正如把一首名诗的词重新随机打乱看看是否有人能辨认出这些词有什么共同之处一样。"法希威胁性地向前迈了一步，他的脸离索菲的脸只有几英寸远。"我真希望你能给出一个比那更令人满意的解释。"索菲也同样倾斜着身子，本来温柔的面孔变得异常严峻。"局长，鉴于你今夜在此的窘境，我本以为你或许乐意知道雅克。索尼埃或许在和你玩个游戏。看来，显然你不喜欢这个解释。我会告诉密码部主任你不再需要我们的服务。"说完这些，她转身往她来的方向走了。
法希呆住了，看着她消失在黑暗之中。她疯了吗？索菲。奈芙刚刚重新解释过"职业自杀"。
法希又转向兰登。兰登还在认真听电话留言，看起来比刚才更焦虑。美国大使馆，贝祖。法希讨厌很多东西，但没有比美国大使馆更令他恼火的了。
法希和大使经常在涉及双方的事情上较劲--最常见的"战场"是在对美国游客的执法问题上。几乎天天法国司法警察都会逮捕私自拥有毒品的美国留学生、勾引雏妓的生意人、偷窃或毁坏财物的游客。在从法律上来讲，美国大使馆可以干预并将犯罪的美国公民引渡回国，而在美国他们只受到些轻描淡写的惩罚。大使馆总是把犯罪的美国人引渡回国。
这是阉割司法警察，法希总是这样说。《巴黎赛事》最近曾登载了一幅漫画，把法希描绘成一条狗，它试图咬一名美国罪犯，可是够不着，因为它被拴在美国大使馆。
今夜可不是这样，法希这样告诉自己。今天我会是个大赢家。
兰登挂上电话后显得很不自在。"一切都好吗？"法希问。兰登微微地摇摇头。
从国内传来的坏消息，法希想。他在拿回手机时注意到兰登在微微冒汗。
"一个事故。"兰登表情不自然地看着兰登说。"一个朋友……"他犹豫了一下。"我明天一大早就得飞回国内。"法希一点也不怀疑兰登脸上的震惊之情是真的，但他还有另一种感觉。他感觉到好像这个美国人的眼里有一丝不愿流露出来的恐惧感。"听到这个消息我很难过。"法希边说边密切地观察着兰登。"请坐。"他指向大画廊内供人站在上面看画的长凳。
兰登茫然地点点头，迈步朝长凳走去。他停了下来，显得越来越不知所措。"事实上，我想用一下洗手间。"法希皱起眉头，对这种拖延有些不悦。"洗手间。当然，咱们休息几分钟吧。"他指向身后他们刚才走过的走廊。"洗手间在后面，在馆长办公室方向。"
兰登犹豫了一下，指向大画廊另一端说："我想，那边的洗手间近得多。"
法希意识到兰登说得对。他们已经走过大画廊三分之二的距离，大画廊尽头有两个洗手间。"我陪你好吗？"
兰登摇头。他已经往画廊更深处走去了。"不必了。我想我得单独在那儿呆上几分钟。"
法希对兰登要独自沿着走廊走下去倒不恼火，他很放心，因为他知道大画廊那一端是死路一条，没有出口。大画廊惟一的出口在另一端--他们刚刚钻过来的那个门。虽然法国消防法要求像这么大的空间必须有好几个楼梯井，但当索尼埃启动安全防护系统后，那些楼梯井就自动封闭了。就算安全防护系统现在被解除，打开楼梯井，那也没关系--那些外边的门一旦打开，就会弄响警报，门就会被司法警察守卫起来，兰登不可能在法希不知情的情况下离开。
"我得回到索尼埃先生的办公室呆一会。"法希说。"请直接来找我，兰登先生。我们还有很多东西要讨论。"
兰登静静地挥一下手，消失在黑暗之中。
法希转身气哼哼地朝相反方向走去。到铁栅处，他从底下钻了过去，出了大画廊，径直沿大厅气冲冲地冲向设在索尼埃办公室的指挥部。
"谁批准让索菲。奈芙进来的？"法希咆哮道。
科莱先生回答道："她告诉外面的警卫说她已破译了密码。"
法希四处打量了一番。"她走了吗？"
"她不是和你在一起吗？"
"她走了。"法希望了望远处阴森森的走廊。索菲显然没情趣停下来和她在外出路上碰到的其他警官聊天。
一时间，他考虑要呼叫入口处的卫兵，告诉他们在索菲离开卢浮宫之前把她拖回到指挥部来。但又一想，他放弃了这个念头。那只是他的大话……想要说了算。他今晚够烦的了。以后再找奈芙算账，他这么说，心里已经想着要炒她鱿鱼了。
法希把索菲抛到脑后。他盯着索尼埃桌子上的武士小雕像看了一番。过一会他转向科莱问："他还在吗？"
科莱急忙点头并把手提电脑转向法希。一个红点在地板图饰上分明地显现出来，在标有"公共厕所"的房间有条不紊地闪烁着。
"很好。"法希说。他点燃一支香烟大步走进大厅。
"我得打个电话。要确保兰登不能去除洗手间之外的其他任何地方。"
Chapter 12
Robert Langdon felt light-headed as he trudged toward the end of the Grand Gallery. Sophie's phone message played over and over in his mind. At the end of the corridor, illuminated signs bearing the international stick-figure symbols for rest rooms guided him through a maze-like series of dividers displaying Italian drawings and hiding the rest rooms from sight.
Finding the men's room door, Langdon entered and turned on the lights.
The room was empty.
Walking to the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and tried to wake up. Harsh fluorescent lights glared off the stark tile, and the room smelled of ammonia. As he toweled off, the rest room's door creaked open behind him. He spun.
Sophie Neveu entered, her green eyes flashing fear. "Thank God you came. We don't have much time."
Langdon stood beside the sinks, staring in bewilderment at DCPJ cryptographer Sophie Neveu. Only minutes ago, Langdon had listened to her phone message, thinking the newly arrived cryptographer must be insane. And yet, the more he listened, the more he sensed Sophie Neveu was speaking in earnest. Do not react to this message. Just listen calmly. You are in danger right now. Follow my directions very closely. Filled with uncertainty, Langdon had decided to do exactly as Sophie advised. He told Fache that the phone message was regarding an injured friend back home. Then he had asked to use the rest room at the end of the Grand Gallery.
Sophie stood before him now, still catching her breath after doubling back to the rest room. In the fluorescent lights, Langdon was surprised to see that her strong air actually radiated from unexpectedly soft features. Only her gaze was sharp, and the juxtaposition conjured images of a multilayered Renoir portrait... veiled but distinct, with a boldness that somehow retained its shroud of mystery.
"I wanted to warn you, Mr. Langdon..." Sophie began, still catching her breath, "that you are sous surveillance cachée. Under a guarded observation." As she spoke, her accented English resonated off the tile walls, giving her voice a hollow quality.
"But... why?" Langdon demanded. Sophie had already given him an explanation on the phone, but he wanted to hear it from her lips.
"Because," she said, stepping toward him, "Fache's primary suspect in this murder is you."
Langdon was braced for the words, and yet they still sounded utterly ridiculous. According to Sophie, Langdon had been called to the Louvre tonight not as a symbologist but rather as a suspect and was currently the unwitting target of one of DCPJ's favorite interrogation methods—surveillance cachée—a deft deception in which the police calmly invited a suspect to a crime scene and interviewed him in hopes he would get nervous and mistakenly incriminate himself.
"Look in your jacket's left pocket," Sophie said. "You'll find proof they are watching you."
Langdon felt his apprehension rising. Look in my pocket? It sounded like some kind of cheap magic trick.
"Just look."
Bewildered, Langdon reached his hand into his tweed jacket's left pocket—one he never used. Feeling around inside, he found nothing. What the devil did you expect? He began wondering if Sophie might just be insane after all. Then his fingers brushed something unexpected. Small and hard. Pinching the tiny object between his fingers, Langdon pulled it out and stared in astonishment. It was a metallic, button-shaped disk, about the size of a watch battery. He had never seen it before. "What the...?"
"GPS tracking dot," Sophie said. "Continuously transmits its location to a Global Positioning System satellite that DCPJ can monitor. We use them to monitor people's locations. It's accurate within two feet anywhere on the globe. They have you on an electronic leash. The agent who picked you up at the hotel slipped it inside your pocket before you left your room."
Langdon flashed back to the hotel room... his quick shower, getting dressed, the DCPJ agent politely holding out Langdon's tweed coat as they left the room. It's cool outside, Mr. Langdon, the agent had said. Spring in Paris is not all your song boasts. Langdon had thanked him and donned the jacket.
Sophie's olive gaze was keen. "I didn't tell you about the tracking dot earlier because I didn't want you checking your pocket in front of Fache. He can't know you've found it."
Langdon had no idea how to respond.
"They tagged you with GPS because they thought you might run." She paused. "In fact, they hoped you would run; it would make their case stronger."
"Why would I run!" Langdon demanded. "I'm innocent!"
"Fache feels otherwise."
Angrily, Langdon stalked toward the trash receptacle to dispose of the tracking dot.
"No!" Sophie grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Leave it in your pocket. If you throw it out, the signal will stop moving, and they'll know you found the dot. The only reason Fache left you alone is because he can monitor where you are. If he thinks you've discovered what he's doing..." Sophie did not finish the thought. Instead, she pried the metallic disk from Langdon's hand and slid it back into the pocket of his tweed coat. "The dot stays with you. At least for the moment."
Langdon felt lost. "How the hell could Fache actually believe I killed Jacques Saunière!"
"He has some fairly persuasive reasons to suspect you." Sophie's expression was grim. "There is a piece of evidence here that you have not yet seen. Fache has kept it carefully hidden from you."
Langdon could only stare.
"Do you recall the three lines of text that Saunière wrote on the floor?"
Langdon nodded. The numbers and words were imprinted on Langdon's mind.
Sophie's voice dropped to a whisper now. "Unfortunately, what you saw was not the entire message. There was a fourth line that Fache photographed and then wiped clean before you arrived."
Although Langdon knew the soluble ink of a watermark stylus could easily be wiped away, he could not imagine why Fache would erase evidence.
"The last line of the message," Sophie said, "was something Fache did not want you to know about." She paused. "At least not until he was done with you."
Sophie produced a computer printout of a photo from her sweater pocket and began unfolding it. "Fache uploaded images of the crime scene to the Cryptology Department earlier tonight in hopes we could figure out what Saunière's message was trying to say. This is a photo of the complete message." She handed the page to Langdon.
Bewildered, Langdon looked at the image. The close-up photo revealed the glowing message on the parquet floor. The final line hit Langdon like a kick in the gut.
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5
O, Draconian devil!
Oh, lame saint!
P.S. Find Robert Langdon
 
罗伯特。兰登深一脚浅一脚地朝长廊尽头走去，他感到头重脚轻。索菲的电话留言在他脑子里一遍遍地重复。在长廊的尽头，亮着灯的牌子上有国际通行的用来标示卫生间的线条人物，他沿着这些指示牌走过一系列迷宫一样的分隔区。这些分隔区一面展示意大利画作，同时也把洗手间遮藏于人们看不见的地方。
兰登找到男卫生间的门，进去打开了灯。卫生间里空无一人。
他走到水盆旁往自己脸上溅冷水，想使自己清醒些。刺眼的灯光从光滑的瓷砖上反射出耀眼的光芒，卫生间里一股氨味。他擦手时，卫生间的门突然"吱呀"一声开了。他吓得急忙转过身。索菲。奈芙进来了，她绿色的眼睛里闪着担心和恐惧。"谢天谢地，你来了！我们时间不多了。"兰登站在水盆旁，疑惑不解地望着中央司法警察的密码破译员索菲。奈芙。几分钟前，兰登听了她的电话留言，认为这位新来的密码破译员一定是脑子不正常。然而，他越听越觉得索菲。奈芙语气恳切。"听到留言后，千万不要有什么反应。只管冷静地听。您现在处境危险。请严格遵守我的指令。"兰登虽然将信将疑，但他还是决定严格按索菲建议的那样做。他告诉法希留言是关于国内的一个受伤的朋友。后来他又要求使用大画廊尽头的卫生间。
索菲此刻站到了他面前，因为折回到卫生间的缘故，她还在上气不接下气地喘着。在日光灯下，兰登惊异地发现她强有力的气息实际上是从那极温柔的嘴唇和鼻孔里散发出的。只是她目光锐利，这些五官的组合使人想起雷诺阿的多层肖像画……罩着纱，但又依稀可见，大胆开放却又保留着一层神秘。
"我刚才想提醒您，兰登先生……"索菲开始说话，不过还是上气不接下气。"你被秘密监视了--在严密监视之下。"说话时，她有口音的英语在贴着瓷砖的墙上有回声，使她的声音显得有些沉闷。
"但是……为什么？"兰登追问道。索菲已经在电话留言里向他解释过了，但他还是想听到她亲口说出来。
"因为。"她向前迈一步说。"法希把你列为这个谋杀案中的首要嫌疑犯。"
兰登听到这话后愣住了，但那听起来太荒谬了。索菲讲，兰登今晚并不是作为一个象征符号学家而是作为嫌疑犯被召进卢浮宫的。这是中央司法警察当前最喜欢使用的一个审讯方法。嫌疑犯在不知情的情况下被监视。这种秘密监视是一种巧妙的骗局。警察若无其事地把嫌疑犯邀请到犯罪现场和他面谈，希望嫌疑人紧张失色，无意中暴露自己的罪行。
"掏掏你上衣的左衣袋，你就能找到他们监视你的证据。"索菲说。
兰登突然感到一股恐惧从他心头升起。掏掏我的衣袋？听起来像某种低劣的咒语。
"你掏掏呀！"
兰登满腹狐疑地把手伸进花格呢上衣的左衣袋--他从未用过这个衣袋。他在里边摸了摸，什么也没摸到。你到底指望得到什么？他开始怀疑索菲是不是真的疯了。可就在这时，他的手指头碰到了一个他意想不到的东西--又小又硬。兰登用手指把那小玩意儿捏了出来，惊恐地盯着它。那是一个金属的、纽扣状的小圆盘，大约和手表电池那般大小。
他以前从未见过这东西。"这是？……"
"全球卫星定位跟踪器。"索菲说。"它能不停地把它的位置传输给中央司法警察可以监控的全球卫星定位系统。在全球任何地方，它的误差不会超过两英尺。他们已经把你拴在这个电子绳索上了。去酒店接你的那个警察在您离开房间之前就把它塞进了你的上衣衣袋里。"兰登回忆起了他在酒店客房里的情形--他很快地冲了淋浴，穿上衣服，中央司法警察在出门时礼貌地把他的花格呢上衣递给他。外面很冷，兰登先生。警察说。巴黎的春天一点也不像你们歌中赞叹的那样好。兰登谢了他，把上衣穿上了。
索菲橄榄色的眼神显得很敏锐。"我之所以没有告诉您这个跟踪器，是因为我不想让您当着法希的面检查您的衣袋。法希不可能知道你现在已经发现了它。"兰登不知道该作何应答。
"他们用卫星定位系统把你锁定，因为他们认为你或许会逃跑。"她停了停又说。"事实上，他们倒希望你逃跑；那样会使他们感到罪证更确凿。""我为什么要逃跑？"兰登问。"我是无辜的！"
"法希可不这样想。"
兰登生气地走向垃圾筒，想把跟踪器扔掉。
"不行！"索菲抓住他的胳膊。"把它留在你衣袋里。如果扔掉，信号就会停止运动，他们就会知道你已发现了这个跟踪器。法希让你在这里的唯一原因是因为他可以监控你的行动。如果他发现你已经知道了他所做的……"索菲没把话说完，而是把那金属小圆盘从兰登手里夺过来，把它塞到他的花格呢外套衣袋里。"把这个跟踪器放在你身上，至少目前得这样。"兰登感到非常不解。"法希怎么就认定是我杀死了雅克。索尼埃！"
"他有极具说服力的理由来怀疑你。"索菲表情严肃。"有一条证据你还没看到。法希已谨慎地把它藏了起来，没让你看到。"兰登只能睁大眼睛，无话可说。
"你还能记起索尼埃写在地上的那三行东西吗？"
兰登点点头。那些数字和文字已深深地印在他的脑海里。
索菲的声音现在低得像耳语一样。"不幸的是，你所看到的并不是信息的全部。法希的照片上本来有第四行，但在你来之前被彻底清除掉了。"虽然兰登知道那种水印笔的可溶性墨水可以很容易被清除掉，他还是不能想出为什么法希要擦掉证据。
"那遗言的最后一行。"索菲说。"法希不想让你知道。"索菲稍停了一下又说："至少在他把你拿下之前是这样。"索菲从她的毛衣衣袋里取出一张电脑打印的照片后开始把它展开。"法希今晚早些时候给密码破译部送去一堆犯罪现场的照片，希望我们能破译出索尼埃的文字到底试图说明什么。这是一幅有完整信息的照片。"她把照片递给了兰登。
兰登不解地看着图片。这张特写照片上显示出拼花地板上发光的文字。看到最后一行，兰登感觉犹如肚子上被人踹了一脚一样：13－3－2－21－1－1－8－5啊，严酷的魔王！
噢，瘸腿的圣徒！
附言：找到罗伯特。兰登。（译者注：附言的英文缩写是P.S.）
Chapter 13
For several seconds, Langdon stared in wonder at the photograph of Saunière's postscript. P.S. Find Robert Langdon. He felt as if the floor were tilting beneath his feet. Saunière left a postscript with my name on it? In his wildest dreams, Langdon could not fathom why.
"Now do you understand," Sophie said, her eyes urgent, "why Fache ordered you here tonight, and why you are his primary suspect?"
The only thing Langdon understood at the moment was why Fache had looked so smug when Langdon suggested Saunière would have accused his killer by name.
Find Robert Langdon.
"Why would Saunière write this?" Langdon demanded, his confusion now giving way to anger. "Why would I want to kill Jacques Saunière?"
"Fache has yet to uncover a motive, but he has been recording his entire conversation with you tonight in hopes you might reveal one."
Langdon opened his mouth, but still no words came.
"He's fitted with a miniature microphone," Sophie explained. "It's connected to a transmitter in his pocket that radios the signal back to the command post."
"This is impossible," Langdon stammered. "I have an alibi. I went directly back to my hotel after my lecture. You can ask the hotel desk."
"Fache already did. His report shows you retrieving your room key from the concierge at about ten-thirty. Unfortunately, the time of the murder was closer to eleven. You easily could have left your hotel room unseen."
"This is insanity! Fache has no evidence!"
Sophie's eyes widened as if to say: No evidence? "Mr. Langdon, your name is written on the floor beside the body, and Saunière's date book says you were with him at approximately the time of the murder." She paused. "Fache has more than enough evidence to take you into custody for questioning."
Langdon suddenly sensed that he needed a lawyer. "I didn't do this."
Sophie sighed. "This is not American television, Mr. Langdon. In France, the laws protect the police, not criminals. Unfortunately, in this case, there is also the media consideration. Jacques Saunière was a very prominent and well-loved figure in Paris, and his murder will be news in the morning. Fache will be under immediate pressure to make a statement, and he looks a lot better having a suspect in custody already. Whether or not you are guilty, you most certainly will be held by DCPJ until they can figure out what really happened."
Langdon felt like a caged animal. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because, Mr. Langdon, I believe you are innocent." Sophie looked away for a moment and then back into his eyes. "And also because it is partially my fault that you're in trouble."
"I'm sorry? It's your fault Saunière is trying to frame me?"
"Saunière wasn't trying to frame you. It was a mistake. That message on the floor was meant for me."
Langdon needed a minute to process that one. "I beg your pardon?"
"That message wasn't for the police. He wrote it for me. I think he was forced to do everything in such a hurry that he just didn't realize how it would look to the police." She paused. "The numbered code is meaningless. Saunière wrote it to make sure the investigation included cryptographers, ensuring that I would know as soon as possible what had happened to him."
Langdon felt himself losing touch fast. Whether or not Sophie Neveu had lost her mind was at this point up for grabs, but at least Langdon now understood why she was trying to help him. P.S. Find Robert Langdon. She apparently believed the curator had left her a cryptic postscript telling her to find Langdon. "But why do you think his message was for you?"
"The Vitruvian Man," she said flatly. "That particular sketch has always been my favorite Da Vinci work. Tonight he used it to catch my attention."
"Hold on. You're saying the curator knew your favorite piece of art?" She nodded. "I'm sorry. This is all coming out of order. Jacques Saunière and I..."
Sophie's voice caught, and Langdon heard a sudden melancholy there, a painful past, simmering just below the surface. Sophie and Jacques Saunière apparently had some kind of special relationship. Langdon studied the beautiful young woman before him, well aware that aging men in France often took young mistresses. Even so, Sophie Neveu as a "kept woman" somehow didn't seem to fit.
"We had a falling-out ten years ago," Sophie said, her voice a whisper now. "We've barely spoken since. Tonight, when Crypto got the call that he had been murdered, and I saw the images of his body and text on the floor, I realized he was trying to send me a message."
"Because of The Vitruvian Man?"
"Yes. And the letters P.S."
"Post Script?"
She shook her head. "P.S. are my initials."
"But your name is Sophie Neveu."
She looked away. "P.S. is the nickname he called me when I lived with him." She blushed. "It stood for Princesse Sophie"
Langdon had no response.
"Silly, I know," she said. "But it was years ago. When I was a little girl."
"You knew him when you were a little girl?"
"Quite well," she said, her eyes welling now with emotion. "Jacques Saunière was my grandfather."
 
兰登惊愕地看着有索尼埃附言的照片，半晌无语。附言：找到罗伯特。兰登。他感到脚下的地板在倾斜。索尼埃在附言中留下我的名字。任凭他怎么想象，兰登也弄不懂为什么。
"现在你明白为什么法希今晚把你叫到这儿，为什么你是首要嫌疑犯了吧？"
此刻，兰登唯一明白的，是为什么当兰登说索尼埃写下的应该是谋杀者的名字时，法希看起来是那么得意啦。
找到罗伯特。兰登。
"索尼埃为什么要这样写？"兰登问道。此时他的困惑已经变成了愤怒。"我为什么要杀雅克。索尼埃？"
"法希还没有找到作案动机，但他已经把今晚你们谈话的全部内容都录了音，他希望你能泄露出动机。"兰登张大了嘴，却说不出话来。
"他身上带着一个微型麦克风。"索菲解释说。"麦克风和他衣袋里的发射机相连接，发射机把无线电信号发回指挥部。""这不可能。"兰登结结巴巴地说。"我有不在场的证据，讲座过后我就立即回酒店了，你可以问酒店服务台。""法希已经询问过了。""他的报告表明你在大约十点半从门房那里取回你房间的钥匙。
不幸的是，谋杀的时间更接近十一点钟。你可以在别人看不到的情况下轻易地离开酒店。""胡说八道！法希没有证据！"
索菲的眼睛睁得老大，似乎在说：没有证据？"兰登先生，你的名字写在尸体旁的地板上，而且索尼埃的每日记事本上也说他大约是在谋杀发生的那段时间和您在一起。"她停了停。"法希有足够的证据拘留你，审问你。"
兰登突然意识到他需要一名律师。"我没干这事。"
索菲叹了一口气。"这不是美国电视，兰登先生。在法国，法律保护警察而不是犯人。
不幸的是，在这个案子中，还得考虑媒体。在巴黎，雅克。索尼埃是一位杰出的、深受爱戴的人物，他被谋杀的消息明天一早就会传开去。法希将在重压之下陈述案情。有一个嫌疑犯可拘押，他现在看起来好过多了。不管你是否有罪，你都肯定被中央司法警察拘押，一直到他们弄清事实真相。"兰登感觉自己像一只笼中兽。"你为什么给我讲这些？"
"因为，兰登先生，我相信你是无辜的。"索菲转过脸望着别处片刻后又看着他说："而且也部分是由于我的过错给你惹了这麻烦。""你说什么？索尼埃圈定我是你的过错？"
"索尼埃并不是要圈定你。这是个误会。地板上的那段文字是写给我看的。"
兰登花了好一段时间也没弄懂这句话的意思。"我没听懂！"
"那段文字并不是给警察看的，他是写给我的。我想他在匆忙中只能这么做，他根本没想到警察看到会怎么想。"她歇了口气。"那个数字密码没有意义。索尼埃那样写是想确保案件调查人员中会包括密码破译人员，确保我会尽快知道他出了什么事。"兰登感觉自己实在弄不明白其中复杂的关系，马上就糊涂了。姑且不论索菲。奈芙这会儿是不是真的疯了，但至少兰登明白为什么她在尽力帮助他。附言：找到兰登。她显然是相信馆长给她留下的一个秘密附言，告诉她去找兰登。"但为什么你认为那段文字是写给你的？"
"维特鲁威人。"她干脆地说。"那幅画是达。芬奇画作中我最喜欢的一幅，今晚他用它来引起我的注意。""停一下，你说馆长知道你最喜欢的艺术品是什么？"
她点点头。"对不起，一切都乱了套。雅克。索尼埃和我……"
索菲哽咽了，兰登听得出有一段伤感、痛苦的过去在她内心深处炙烤着她。索菲和雅克。索尼埃显然有某种特殊的关系。兰登又仔细打量了站在他面前的这个年轻女人。他非常清楚法国上了些年纪的男人经常找年轻的情人。即使是这样，索菲。奈芙看起来也不像是一个"被包养的女人"。
"我们十年前闹翻了。"索菲声音低得像耳语。"从那以后，我们几乎没说过话。今夜，密码破译部接到电话说他被谋杀了，我看了他的尸体的照片和地板上的文字，就意识到他在试图给我传达一个信息。""因为维特鲁威人？"
"是的，还有字母P.S."
"PostScript--附言？"
她摇摇头。"P.S 是我的名字的首字母。"
"但你的名字是索菲。奈芙--SophieNeveu."
她把脸转到一边。"P.S 是我和他住在一起时他给我起的绰号。"她红着脸说。"它代表Princess Sophie--索菲公主。"兰登默不做声。
"很傻的，我知道。"她说。"但那是多年以前的事了。我那时还是个小姑娘。"
"你还是个小姑娘时就认识他？"
"太熟悉他了。"她动了感情，泪水夺眶而出。"雅克。索尼埃是我祖父。"
Chapter 14
    "Where's Langdon？" Fache demanded， exhaling the last of a cigarette as he paced back into the command post.
    "Still in the men's room， sir." Lieutenant Collet had been expecting the question.
    Fache grumbled， "Taking his time， I see."
    The captain eyed the GPS dot over Collet's shoulder， and Collet could almost hear the wheels turning. Fache was fighting the urge to go check on Langdon. Ideally， the subject of an observation was allowed the most time and freedom possible， lulling him into a false sense of security. Langdon needed to return of his own volition. Still， it had been almost ten minutes.
    Too long.
    "Any chance Langdon is onto us？" Fache asked.
    Collet shook his head. "We're still seeing small movements inside the men's room， so the GPS dot is obviously still on him. Perhaps he feels ill？ If he had found the dot， he would have removed it and tried to run."
    Fache checked his watch. "Fine."
    Still Fache seemed preoccupied. All evening， Collet had sensed an atypical intensity in his captain. Usually detached and cool under pressure， Fache tonight seemed emotionally engaged，as if this were somehow a personal matter for him.
    Not surprising， Collet thought. Fache needs this arrest desperately. Recently the Board of Ministers and the media had become more openly critical of Fache's aggressive tactics， his clashes with powerful foreign embassies， and his gross overbudgeting on new technologies. Tonight， a high-tech，  high-profile arrest of an American would go a long way to silence Fache's critics， helping him secure the job a few more years until he could retire with the lucrative pension. God knows he needs the pension， Collet thought. Fache's zeal for technology had hurt him both professionally and personally. Fache was rumored to have invested his entire savings in the technology craze a few years back and lost his shirt. And Fache is a man who wears only the finest shirts.
    Tonight， there was still plenty of time. Sophie Neveu's odd interruption， though unfortunate，had been only a minor wrinkle. She was gone now， and Fache still had cards to play. He had yet to inform Langdon that his name had been scrawled on the floor by the victim. P.S. Find Robert Langdon. The American's reaction to that little bit of evidence would be telling indeed.
    "Captain？" one of the DCPJ agents now called from across the office. "I think you better take this call." He was holding out a telephone receiver， looking concerned.
    "Who is it？" Fache said.
    The agent frowned. "It's the director of our Cryptology Department."
    "And？"
    "It's about Sophie Neveu， sir. Something is not quite right."
"兰登在哪里？"法希吐掉最后一口烟回到指挥部时问道。
"还在男洗手间，长官。"科莱中尉已料到他会问这个问题。
法希咕哝道："看得出，他在磨时间。"
局长从科莱肩头上方观察那个卫星定位点。科莱几乎能听到车轮已经转了起来。法希努力克制住自己，不去检查兰登。最理想的是，观察的对象被给予最充足的时间和自由，以便引诱他获得一种虚假的安全感。兰登得自愿回来。然而，差不多有十分钟了。
太长了。
"兰登有可能觉察到我们了吗？"法希问。
科莱摇头说："我们还可以看到男卫生间里有些小的移动，所以卫星定位跟踪器显然还在他身上。或许他感到不舒服？如果他发现了跟踪器，他会扔掉它，试图逃跑的。"法希看了一下表说："很好。"
法希还是显得非常专注。整个晚上，科莱都感到局长有一种不同于往常的紧张心情。
通常在压力下，他都显得事不关己的样子，非常冷漠，但今晚法希似乎是动了感情，好像是他个人的事情。
也难怪，科莱心里想。法希太需要拘捕这个家伙了。最近部长们和媒体越来越公开批判法希太过分的策略、与大国使馆的冲突以及在新技术的投入大大超过预算等。今夜，他将利用高科技准确地逮捕一位美国人。这将会让那些批判他的人闭嘴，也有助于他在退休前稳坐自己的位置，以便退休时可以拿到不菲的退休金。老天爷知道，他需要这份退休金，科莱想。法希对高技术的狂热使他在职业上和自身上都受到了很大的伤害。谣传在几年前的技术热中，法希把自己所有的积蓄都投了进去，结果血本无归。但法希是最要面子、最不认输的人。
今夜还有足够的时间。索菲。奈芙的莫名其妙的干扰，虽然算倒霉，但只是一个小波折，很快就过去了。她现在已经走了。法希还有牌出。他会告诉兰登他的名字被写在受害者身旁的地板上。附言：找到罗伯特。兰登。那美国人对这个小小证据的反应将会说明一切。
"局长。"一个中央司法警察从办公室里喊道。"我想你还是接一下这个电话。"他正拿着听筒，显得非常不安。
"谁打的？"法希问。
那警察皱了一下眉。"是我们密码破译部主任。"
"说了什么？"
"是关于索菲。奈芙的，长官，好像出了点问题。"
Chapter 15
    It was time.
    Silas felt strong as he stepped from the black Audi， the nighttime breeze rustling his loose- fitting robe. The winds of change are in the air. He knew the task before him would require more finesse than force， and he left his handgun in the car. The thirteen-round Heckler Koch USP 40 had been provided by the Teacher.
    A weapon of death has no place in a house of God.
    The plaza before the great church was deserted at this hour， the only visible souls on the far side of Place Saint-Sulpice a couple of teenage hookers showing their wares to the late night tourist traffic. Their nubile bodies sent a familiar longing to Silas's loins. His thigh flexed instinctively， causing the barbed cilice belt to cut painfully into his flesh.
    The lust evaporated instantly. For ten years now， Silas had faithfully denied himself all sexual indulgence， even self-administered. It was The Way. He knew he had sacrificed much to follow Opus Dei， but he had received much more in return. A vow of celibacy and the relinquishment of all personal assets hardly seemed a sacrifice. Considering the poverty from which he had come and the sexual horrors he had endured in prison， celibacy was a welcome change.
    Now， having returned to France for the first time since being arrested and shipped to prison in Andorra， Silas could feel his homeland testing him， dragging violent memories from his redeemed soul. You have been reborn， he reminded himself. His serv ice to God today had required the sin of murder， and it was a sacrifice Silas knew he would have to hold silently in his heart for all eternity.
    The measure of your faith is the measure of the pain you can endure， the Teacher had told him. Silas was no stranger to pain and felt eager to prove himself to the Teacher， the one who had assured him his actions were ordained by a higher power.
    "Hago la obra de Dios，" Silas whispered， moving now toward the church entrance.
    Pausing in the shadow of the massive doorway， he took a deep breath. It was not until this instant that he truly realized what he was about to do， and what awaited him inside.
    The keystone. It will lead us to our final goal.
    He raised his ghost-white fist and banged three times on the door.
    Moments later， the bolts of the enormous wooden portal began to move.
正是时候。
奥迪车里出来后，塞拉斯感到浑身是劲，晚风轻拂着他宽大的教士服。不断变换的风在吹着。他知道他手头的这个任务需要更多的精细而不是暴力，所以把手枪留在了车里。
这把十三转的赫克勒。克奇USP40 型手枪是导师提供的。
教堂前广场上这个时候没有什么人了，唯一能见到的是圣叙尔皮斯教堂广场远处的一两个向夜游客们展示各自器物的十几岁的妓女。她们已发育的身体引得塞拉斯两股间产生一种放肆的冲动。
那种欲望转眼便烟消云散。十年了，塞拉斯完全克制住自己的性欲，甚至连自慰也不曾有过。这是路途。他知道为信守天主事工会教义，他牺牲了许多东西，但他得到的回报更多。宣誓要独身和放弃个人的全部财产几乎算不上什么牺牲。如果考虑到他以前的贫穷和在狱中忍受的性恐怖，独身实在是没什么不好。
此刻，自从被捕、被押送到安道尔的监狱以来，他还是第一次回到法国。
你能忍耐多少痛苦，你就有多少信仰，导师曾经这样告诫过他。塞拉斯可没少忍受痛苦，他非常急于向导师证明自己。导师曾告诉他，他的所作所为都是经一个更伟大的力量授权的。
"天主事工会。"塞拉斯用西班牙语小声唠叨着，并开始向教堂入口处走去。
他在门廊巨大的阴影里停了下来，深深地吸了一口气。直到此时此刻他才真正意识到自己要做什么，里面有什么在等着他。
拱顶石！它将引导我们走向我们最终的目标。
他举起煞白的拳头，在门上猛捶了三下。
过好一会儿，那巨大的木门的门栓开始松动。
Chapter 16
Sophie wondered how long it would take Fache to figure out she had not left the building. Seeingthat Langdon was clearly overwhelmed, Sophie questioned whether she had done the right thing bycornering him here in the men's room.
　　What else was I supposed to do?
　　She pictured her grandfather's body, naked and spread-eagle on the floor. There was a time whenhe had meant the world to her, yet tonight, Sophie was surprised to feel almost no sadness for theman. Jacques Saunière was a stranger to her now. Their relationship had evaporated in a singleinstant one March night when she was twenty-two. Ten years ago. Sophie had come home a fewdays early from graduate university in England and mistakenly witnessed her grandfather engagedin something Sophie was obviously not supposed to see. It was an image she barely could believeto this day.
　　If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes...
　　Too ashamed and stunned to endure her grandfather's pained attempts to explain, Sophieimmediately moved out on her own, taking money she had saved, and getting a small flat withsome roommates. She vowed never to speak to anyone about what she had seen. Her grandfathertried desperately to reach her, sending cards and letters, begging Sophie to meet him so he couldexplain. Explain how!? Sophie never responded except once—to forbid him ever to call her or tryto meet her in public. She was afraid his explanation would be more terrifying than the incidentitself.
　　Incredibly, Saunière had never given up on her, and Sophie now possessed a decade's worth ofcorrespondence unopened in a dresser drawer. To her grandfather's credit, he had never oncedisobeyed her request and phoned her.
　　Until this afternoon.
　　"Sophie?" His voice had sounded startlingly old on her answering machine. "I have abided by yourwishes for so long... and it pains me to call, but I must speak to you. Something terrible hashappened."Standing in the kitchen of her Paris flat, Sophie felt a chill to hear him again after all these years.
　　His gentle voice brought back a flood of fond childhood memories.
　　"Sophie, please listen." He was speaking English to her, as he always did when she was a little girl.
　　Practice French at school. Practice English at home. "You cannot be mad forever. Have you notread the letters that I've sent all these years? Do you not yet understand?" He paused. "We mustspeak at once. Please grant your grandfather this one wish. Call me at the Louvre. Right away. Ibelieve you and I are in grave danger." Sophie stared at the answering machine. Danger? Whatwas he talking about?
　　"Princess..." Her grandfather's voice cracked with an emotion Sophie could not place. "I know I'vekept things from you, and I know it has cost me your love. But it was for your own safety. Nowyou must know the truth. Please, I must tell you the truth about your family."Sophie suddenly could hear her own heart. My family? Sophie's parents had died when she wasonly four. Their car went off a bridge into fast-moving water. Her grandmother and youngerbrother had also been in the car, and Sophie's entire family had been erased in an instant. She had abox of newspaper clippings to confirm it.
　　His words had sent an unexpected surge of longing through her bones. My family! In that fleetinginstant, Sophie saw images from the dream that had awoken her countless times when she was alittle girl: My family is alive! They are coming home! But, as in her dream, the pictures evaporatedinto oblivion.
　　Your family is dead, Sophie. They are not coming home.
　　"Sophie..." her grandfather said on the machine. "I have been waiting for years to tell you. Waitingfor the right moment, but now time has run out. Call me at the Louvre. As soon as you get this. I'llwait here all night. I fear we both may be in danger. There's so much you need to know."The message ended.
　　In the silence, Sophie stood trembling for what felt like minutes. As she considered hergrandfather's message, only one possibility made sense, and his true intent dawned.
　　It was bait.
　　Obviously, her grandfather wanted desperately to see her. He was trying anything. Her disgust forthe man deepened. Sophie wondered if maybe he had fallen terminally ill and had decided toattempt any ploy he could think of to get Sophie to visit him one last time. If so, he had chosenwisely.
　　My family.
　　Now, standing in the darkness of the Louvre men's room, Sophie could hear the echoes of thisafternoon's phone message. Sophie, we both may be in danger. Call me.
　　She had not called him. Nor had she planned to. Now, however, her skepticism had been deeplychallenged. Her grandfather lay murdered inside his own museum. And he had written a code onthe floor.
　　A code for her. Of this, she was certain.
　　Despite not understanding the meaning of his message, Sophie was certain its cryptic nature wasadditional proof that the words were intended for her. Sophie's passion and aptitude forcryptography were a product of growing up with Jacques Saunière—a fanatic himself for codes,word games, and puzzles. How many Sundays did we spend doing the cryptograms and crosswordsin the newspaper?
　　At the age of twelve, Sophie could finish the Le Monde crossword without any help, and hergrandfather graduated her to crosswords in English, mathematical puzzles, and substitution ciphers.
　　Sophie devoured them all. Eventually she turned her passion into a profession by becoming acodebreaker for the Judicial Police.
　　Tonight, the cryptographer in Sophie was forced to respect the efficiency with which hergrandfather had used a simple code to unite two total strangers—Sophie Neveu and RobertLangdon.
　　The question was why?
　　Unfortunately, from the bewildered look in Langdon's eyes, Sophie sensed the American had nomore idea than she did why her grandfather had thrown them together.
　　She pressed again. "You and my grandfather had planned to meet tonight. What about?"Langdon looked truly perplexed. "His secretary set the meeting and didn't offer any specific reason,and I didn't ask. I assumed he'd heard I would be lecturing on the pagan iconography of Frenchcathedrals, was interested in the topic, and thought it would be fun to meet for drinks after thetalk."Sophie didn't buy it. The connection was flimsy. Her grandfather knew more about paganiconography than anyone else on earth. Moreover, he an exceptionally private man, not someoneprone to chatting with random American professors unless there were an important reason.
　　Sophie took a deep breath and probed further. "My grandfather called me this afternoon and toldme he and I were in grave danger. Does that mean anything to you?"Langdon's blue eyes now clouded with concern. "No, but considering what just happened..."Sophie nodded. Considering tonight's events, she would be a fool not to be frightened. Feelingdrained, she walked to the small plate-glass window at the far end of the bathroom and gazed out insilence through the mesh of alarm tape embedded in the glass. They were high up—forty feet atleast.
　　Sighing, she raised her eyes and gazed out at Paris's dazzling landscape. On her left, across theSeine, the illuminated Eiffel Tower. Straight ahead, the Arc de Triomphe. And to the right, highatop the sloping rise of Montmartre, the graceful arabesque dome of Sacré-Coeur, its polishedstone glowing white like a resplendent sanctuary.
　　Here at the westernmost tip of the Denon Wing, the north-south thoroughfare of Place du Carrouselran almost flush with the building with only a narrow sidewalk separating it from the Louvre'souter wall. Far below, the usual caravan of the city's nighttime delivery trucks sat idling, waitingfor the signals to change, their running lights seeming to twinkle mockingly up at Sophie.
　　"I don't know what to say," Langdon said, coming up behind her. "Your grandfather is obviouslytrying to tell us something. I'm sorry I'm so little help."Sophie turned from the window, sensing a sincere regret in Langdon's deep voice. Even with all thetrouble around him, he obviously wanted to help her. The teacher in him, she thought, having readDCPJ's workup on their suspect. This was an academic who clearly despised not understanding.
　　We have that in common, she thought.
　　As a codebreaker, Sophie made her living extracting meaning from seemingly senseless data.
　　Tonight, her best guess was that Robert Langdon, whether he knew it or not, possessed informationthat she desperately needed. Princesse Sophie, Find Robert Langdon. How much clearer could hergrandfather's message be? Sophie needed more time with Langdon. Time to think. Time to sort outthis mystery together. Unfortunately, time was running out.
　　Gazing up at Langdon, Sophie made the only play she could think of. "Bezu Fache will be takingyou into custody at any minute. I can get you out of this museum. But we need to act now."Langdon's eyes went wide. "You want me to run?""It's the smartest thing you could do. If you let Fache take you into custody now, you'll spendweeks in a French jail while DCPJ and the U.S. Embassy fight over which courts try your case. Butif we get you out of here, and make it to your embassy, then your government will protect yourrights while you and I prove you had nothing to do with this murder."Langdon looked not even vaguely convinced. "Forget it! Fache has armed guards on every singleexit! Even if we escape without being shot, running away only makes me look guilty. You need totell Fache that the message on the floor was for you, and that my name is not there as anaccusation.""I will do that," Sophie said, speaking hurriedly, "but after you're safely inside the U.S. Embassy.
　　It's only about a mile from here, and my car is parked just outside the museum. Dealing with Fachefrom here is too much of a gamble. Don't you see? Fache has made it his mission tonight to proveyou are guilty. The only reason he postponed your arrest was to run this observance in hopes youdid something that made his case stronger.""Exactly. Like running!"The cell phone in Sophie's sweater pocket suddenly began ringing. Fache probably. She reached inher sweater and turned off the phone.
　　"Mr. Langdon," she said hurriedly, "I need to ask you one last question." And your entire futuremay depend on it. "The writing on the floor is obviously not proof of your guilt, and yet Fache toldour team he is certain you are his man. Can you think of any other reason he might be convincedyou're guilty?"Langdon was silent for several seconds. "None whatsoever."Sophie sighed. Which means Fache is lying. Why, Sophie could not begin to imagine, but that washardly the issue at this point. The fact remained that Bezu Fache was determined to put RobertLangdon behind bars tonight, at any cost. Sophie needed Langdon for herself, and it was thisdilemma that left Sophie only one logical conclusion.
　　I need to get Langdon to the U.S. Embassy.
　　Turning toward the window, Sophie gazed through the alarm mesh embedded in the plate glass,down the dizzying forty feet to the pavement below. A leap from this height would leave Langdonwith a couple of broken legs. At best.
　　Nonetheless, Sophie made her decision.
　　Robert Langdon was about to escape the Louvre, whether he wanted to or not.
法希什么时候才能揣度出自己并没有离开卢浮宫，索菲不得而知。看着兰登的窘态，她也开始怀疑把他逼到男厕所的一角，是否是恰当之举。
她的脑海中浮现出祖父尸体的样子，像一只展翅的老鹰而又一丝不挂。曾几何时，祖父是她生活中最重要的人，但奇怪的是，她现在却并不为祖父之死感到悲伤。他们已成了陌路人，他们的关系在一个三月的夜晚就决裂了。那件事发生在十年前，当时索菲二十二岁。正在英国一所研究生院读书的索菲提前几天回到了家，目睹了祖父所做的一些事情，而这些事是她不应看到的。那天她几乎无法相信自己的眼睛。
如果不是我亲眼所见……
震惊而蒙羞的索菲不接受祖父煞费苦心的辩解，立即带着自己的积蓄搬了出去，找了间小公寓与几个人合住在一起。她发誓永远也不向别人提起她的所见所闻。祖父又是寄明信片又是寄信，想尽一切办法要与她取得联系，乞求索菲给他一个当面解释的机会。如何解释？
索菲仅做了一次回复--让祖父不要再打电话给她，也不要在公众场合等她。索菲担心他的解释会比事情本身更可怕。
令人难以置信的是，祖父一直没有放弃努力。如今，索菲衣橱抽屉里还原封不动地存放着十年来祖父写给她的信。祖父恪守承诺，满足索菲的要求，再也没有打电话给她。
直到今天下午。
"索菲吗？"祖父的声音从留言机中传来显得格外苍老。"很久以来，我一直尊重你的意愿……我也不愿打这个电话，但我必须告诉你，可怕的事情发生了。"这么多年以后，又一次听到祖父的声音，索菲站在公寓的厨房里不寒而栗。祖父温柔的声音带回了许多童年的美好回忆。
"索菲，请听我说。"祖父用英语说道。索菲小时候，祖父就对她说英语。在校练法语，在家练英语。"你应该理智起来。读过我给你写的那些信了吗？你还不明白吗？"他停了一下，接着说。"我们必须立刻谈一谈。请满足祖父的这个愿望。立刻打电话到卢浮宫来找我。我认为你我的处境都极其危险。"索菲目不转睛地望着留言机。危险？他在说什么？
"公主……"不知是出于什么样的感情，祖父的声音哽咽了。"我知道我对你隐瞒了一些事情，这让我失去了你的爱。但这次是为了你自身的安全。现在，你必须知道真相。求你了，我必须告诉你关于你家庭的事实。"突然，索菲紧张得可以听见自己的心跳。我的家庭？索菲四岁的时候就失去了双亲。
他们乘坐的汽车从桥上掉入水流湍急的河里。索菲的祖母和弟弟也在车上。这样，索菲的整个家庭在刹那间就不复存在了。她有一箱的剪报可以证明这件事。
索菲没有料到，祖父的话在她内心深处激起了一阵渴望。我的家庭！转瞬间，无数次将儿时的索菲惊醒的梦又浮现在她眼前：我的家人还活着！他们要回家了！但这个梦已经渐渐地消失，渐渐地被淡忘了。
索菲，你的家人死了。他们再也不会回来了。
"索菲……"留言机中传来祖父的声音。"为了告诉你真相，我等了很久。我等待着一个合适的时机，可是现在不能再等了。你听到留言后，立即打电话到卢浮宫来找我。一整晚我都会在这里等你。我担心我们的处境都很危险。你需要知道很多东西。"留言结束了。
索菲默默地站在那里，几分钟后才停止了颤抖。她琢磨着祖父的留言，猜测着他的真正意图，想到了一种可能：这是个圈套。
显然，祖父迫切地想见到她，并动用了一切伎俩。索菲对他更加厌恶起来。索菲怀疑是因为他患了绝症，而不择手段地让索菲去见他最后一面。如果真是这样，他找这样的理由倒是很聪明。
索菲没有打电话，也根本没有这个打算。但是现在，她的想法受到了质疑。祖父在其掌管的博物馆里被谋杀了，还在地板上写下了一串密码。
她可以肯定，这是为她留下的密码。
索菲虽然还不清楚密码的含义，但她肯定密码的神秘性本身就可以证明这是为她而留的。雅克。索尼埃是个密码、拼字游戏和谜语的爱好者，由他抚养长大的索菲自然对密码学充满了热情，并且在这方面颇具天赋。无数个星期天，他们曾在一起做报纸上的密码游戏和拼字游戏。十二岁的时候，索菲已经可以独立地完成《世界报》上的拼字游戏了。祖父让她做更难的英语拼字游戏、数字谜语和密码替换，索菲也将它们统统完成。后来，索菲将她的爱好变成了职业，成为了司法部门的一名密码破译员。
今晚，作为密码破译员，索菲佩服祖父仅用一个简单的密码就把两个完全陌生的人联系在了一起-他们就是索菲。奈芙和罗伯特。兰登。
可他为什么要这样做呢？
不幸的是，从兰登那迷惑的眼神中，索菲看得出这个美国人也和她一样，为此大惑不解。
Chapter 17
"What do you mean she's not answering?" Fache looked incredulous. "You're calling her cellphone, right? I know she's carrying it."Collet had been trying to reach Sophie now for several minutes. "Maybe her batteries are dead. Orher ringer's off."Fache had looked distressed ever since talking to the director of Cryptology on the phone. Afterhanging up, he had marched over to Collet and demanded he get Agent Neveu on the line. NowCollet had failed, and Fache was pacing like a caged lion.
　　"Why did Crypto call?" Collet now ventured.
　　Fache turned. "To tell us they found no references to Draconian devils and lame saints.""That's all?""No, also to tell us that they had just identified the numerics as Fibonacci numbers, but theysuspected the series was meaningless."Collet was confused. "But they already sent Agent Neveu to tell us that."Fache shook his head. "They didn't send Neveu.""What?""According to the director, at my orders he paged his entire team to look at the images I'd wiredhim. When Agent Neveu arrived, she took one look at the photos of Saunière and the code and leftthe office without a word. The director said he didn't question her behavior because she wasunderstandably upset by the photos.""Upset? She's never seen a picture of a dead body?"Fache was silent a moment. "I was not aware of this, and it seems neither was the director until acoworker informed him, but apparently Sophie Neveu is Jacques Saunière's granddaughter."Collet was speechless.
　　"The director said she never once mentioned Saunière to him, and he assumed it was because sheprobably didn't want preferential treatment for having a famous grandfather."No wonder she was upset by the pictures. Collet could barely conceive of the unfortunatecoincidence that called in a young woman to decipher a code written by a dead family member.
　　Still, her actions made no sense. "But she obviously recognized the numbers as Fibonacci numbersbecause she came here and told us. I don't understand why she would leave the office withouttelling anyone she had figured it out."Collet could think of only one scenario to explain the troubling developments: Saunière had writtena numeric code on the floor in hopes Fache would involve cryptographers in the investigation, andtherefore involve his own granddaughter. As for the rest of the message, was Saunièrecommunicating in some way with his granddaughter? If so, what did the message tell her? Andhow did Langdon fit in?
　　Before Collet could ponder it any further, the silence of the deserted museum was shattered by analarm. The bell sounded like it was coming from inside the Grand Gallery.
　　"Alarme!" one of the agents yelled, eyeing his feed from the Louvre security center. "GrandeGalerie! Toilettes Messieurs!"Fache wheeled to Collet. "Where's Langdon?""Still in the men's room!" Collet pointed to the blinking red dot on his laptop schematic. "He musthave broken the window!" Collet knew Langdon wouldn't get far. Although Paris fire codesrequired windows above fifteen meters in public buildings be breakable in case of fire, exiting aLouvre second-story window without the help of a hook and ladder would be suicide. Furthermore,there were no trees or grass on the western end of the Denon Wing to cushion a fall. Directlybeneath that rest room window, the two-lane Place du Carrousel ran within a few feet of the outerwall. "My God," Collet exclaimed, eyeing the screen. "Langdon's moving to the window ledge!"But Fache was already in motion. Yanking his Manurhin MR-93 revolver from his shoulderholster, the captain dashed out of the office.
　　Collet watched the screen in bewilderment as the blinking dot arrived at the window ledge and thendid something utterly unexpected. The dot moved outside the perimeter of the building.
　　What's going on? he wondered. Is Langdon out on a ledge or—"Jesu!" Collet jumped to his feet as the dot shot farther outside the wall. The signal seemed toshudder for a moment, and then the blinking dot came to an abrupt stop about ten yards outside theperimeter of the building.
　　Fumbling with the controls, Collet called up a Paris street map and recalibrated the GPS. Zoomingin, he could now see the exact location of the signal.
　　It was no longer moving.
　　It lay at a dead stop in the middle of Place du Carrousel.
　　Langdon had jumped.
她再次逼问道："你和祖父计划在今晚会面，你们打算谈些什么？"
兰登摸不着头脑。"他的秘书安排了这次会面，但没有告诉我有什么特别的原因，我也没问。"索菲不接受这样的解释。这样的联系太牵强。祖父比任何人都了解异教圣像。再说，他是个注重隐私的人，不会随便找个美国教授就聊上天，除非有什么重要的原因。
索菲深深地吸了一口气，进一步试探道："今天下午祖父打电话给我，说他和我的处境都极其危险。你知道这是什么意思吗？"
兰登那双蔚蓝的眼睛笼罩上了一层忧虑。"我不知道，但从已经发生的事情看来……"
索菲点了点头。想到今晚发生的事情，她当然会很害怕。她绞尽脑汁，也不能理解今晚发生的一切。她向厕所尽头那扇装着小块平板玻璃的窗户走去，默默地透过嵌在玻璃中的警报网向外望去。他们离地面很远--至少有四十英尺。
她叹了口气，举目凝望窗外巴黎眩目的景色。左边，在赛纳河的对岸，耸立着灯光闪耀的埃菲尔铁塔；正前方，是凯旋门；右边，在蒙马特山丘的上方，可以看见圣心堂别致的圆形屋顶，那光滑的石头闪耀着白色的光芒，使整个建筑看上去像一座华丽的圣殿。
这里是德农馆的最西端。卡尔赛广场上南北向的交通干线与这里平行，它们与卢浮宫的外墙之间只隔着一条人行道。德农馆下方的街道上，夜间送货的卡车队停在那里，悠闲地等候着信号灯变色。那些闪亮的车灯似乎在用嘲弄的眼神冲索菲眨眼。
"我不知道该说些什么。"兰登说着，走到她的身后。"很显然，你的祖父试图告诉我们些什么。很遗憾，我帮不上什么忙。"索菲从兰登低沉的声音中感觉到了他内心的遗憾。虽然他遇到了许多麻烦，但很显然，他希望助索菲一臂之力。索菲转过身来，想道：他果然具备教师的素养。索菲是从警署的嫌疑人调查记录中了解到他的基本情况的。他是尊重事实的学者。
我们有共同点，索菲想道。
作为一名密码破译员，索菲的工作就是从那些看似杂乱无章的数据中提取出含义。今晚，索菲所能做出的最好猜测就是兰登拥有她迫切想得到的信息，无论兰登本人是否意识到这一点。索菲公主，去找罗伯特。兰登。祖父所传达的信息非常明了。索菲需要更多与兰登共处的时间，需要思考问题的时间，需要与他一起破解这个谜团的时间。不幸的是，没有时间了。
索菲凝视着兰登，终于想出了个主意。"贝祖。法希随时都可能将你逮捕。我能帮你逃出博物馆。但我们必须现在就行动。"兰登吃惊地睁大眼睛："你想让我逃跑？"
"这是明智之举。如果现在法希逮捕了你，你就得在法国监狱呆上几个星期。与此同时，法国警署和美国大使馆会开始争论由哪个国家来审判你。但如果我们现在逃出去，设法逃到美国大使馆，美国政府就可以保护你的权利。与此同时，我们可以想办法证明你与这桩谋杀案无关。"兰登毫不动摇。"算了吧！法希在每个出口都布下了警卫！就算我们不被打死，逃了出去，这也只会更让人觉得我是有罪的。你应该告诉法希，地上的信息是为你而留的，你祖父写下我的名字并不是为了告发我。""我会这样做。"索菲急切地说。"不过那要等你安全地进入美国使馆。使馆距这里只有一英里，我的车就停在博物馆外面。在这里与法希周旋几乎没有胜算。你没看到吗？法希将找出你的罪证作为今晚的任务。他之所以推迟逮捕，是想观察你的行为，希望你的某些言行能让他的指控更有力。""不错。就比如说逃跑！"
索菲毛衣口袋里的手机突然响了起来。可能是法希。她把手伸进口袋，关掉了手机。
"兰登先生。"她急切地说。"我问你最后一个问题。它将决定你的整个未来。地板上的文字显然不是你的罪证，但法希已经宣称你就是他要抓的人。你能找出他为你定罪的理由吗？"
兰登沉默了片刻，说道："不能。"
索菲叹了口气，显然法希故意说谎。索菲无法想象这是为什么，但这不是眼前的问题。事实就是贝祖。法希决定不惜一切代价，要在今晚将兰登投入大牢。
但是，索菲需要兰登。这样的两难境遇使索菲得出了一个结论：我得让兰登去美国大使馆。
索菲转向窗户，透过平板玻璃中镶嵌的警报网，从令人晕眩的四十英尺高处俯视马路。要是兰登从这么高的地方跳下去，至少也会摔断腿。
但不管怎样，索菲已经做了决定。
无论兰登是否情愿，他必须逃出卢浮宫。
"你说她不接听是什么意思？"法希看上去并不相信。"你打的是她的手机，没错吧？我知道她带着呢。"科莱已经打了好几分钟电话，试图找到索菲。"可能手机没电了，或者是她把铃声关了。"
接到密码破译部门局长的电话后，法希就一直忧心忡忡。挂上电话，他大步走到科莱跟前，要他打电话找到奈芙警官。现在，科莱没有打通电话，法希急得像头困兽，在屋里踱来踱去。
"密码破译部门说什么？"科莱冒失地问。
法希转过身来："告诉我们他们没有找到‘严酷的魔王’和‘瘸腿的圣徒’的出处。"
"就讲了这些？"
"不，还告诉我们他们刚刚确认那串数字是斐波那契数列，但他们怀疑那串数字并无含义。"科莱迷惑了。"但他们已经派奈芙警官来告诉过我们了。"
法希摇了摇头："他们没有派奈芙警官来。"
"什么？"
"局长说，接到我的命令后，他叫来全队的人看我电传过去的图片。奈芙警官赶来后，看了一眼索尼埃和密码的照片，就一言不发地离开了办公室。局长说，他没有对奈芙的行为产生疑问，因为她的不安情绪是可以理解的。""不安？她没有看过死者的照片吗？"
法希沉默了片刻。"众所周知，索菲。奈芙是雅克。索尼埃的孙女。我原来并没有意识到这一点，局长也是在一名同事的提醒下才想起来的。"科莱无言。
"局长说，奈芙从来没有向他提起过索尼埃，这可能是因为她不想因为有这样一位有名的祖父而受到优待。"无疑，她为那张照片感到不安。让一个年青女子去破解死去的家人所留下的密码-科莱简直无法相信还有这样不幸的巧合。而且，她的行为也不合常理。"但她显然认出了那串数字是费波那契数列，因为她这样告诉过我们。但我不明白她为什么默默地离开办公室，而不把她的发现告诉任何人。"科莱想，这件怪事只有一种解释：萨尼尔在地板上写下一串数字密码以期让密码破译员也参与到案件的调查中来，这样他的孙女也自然有机会参与其中。其余的信息，萨尼尔是否会通过某种特殊的方式与其孙女交流？如果是这样，萨尼尔要告诉她些什么呢？兰登又是如何被卷入的呢？
科莱还没来得及深思，一阵警报打破了博物馆的沉寂。警报声听上去是从艺术大画廊中传来的。
"警报！"一名警官看着卢浮宫安全中心的反馈信息，叫道。"艺术大画廊！男厕所！"
法希迅速转向科莱，问道："兰登在哪里？"
"还在男厕所！"科莱指着电脑屏幕上闪烁的小红点说道。"他一定打破了窗户玻璃！"科莱知道兰登不会走远。虽然，巴黎消防法规规定公共建筑离地十五米以上的窗户要安装可以打破的玻璃，以备火灾时人们逃生之用，但如果不借助钩子或梯子，从卢浮宫二楼的窗户跳出去则无异于自杀。再说，德农馆最西端的下方既没有树也没有草可以起缓冲作用。
厕所的下方，距卢浮宫外墙几米远，就是两车道的卡尔赛广场。"我的天哪！"科莱看着屏幕叫道："兰登在向窗沿移动！"
这时，法希已经开始行动了。他从肩上的枪套里抽出马努汉MR93 左轮手枪，冲出了办公室。
科莱仍大惑不解地盯着屏幕。小红点移动到了窗户的边缘，然后出人意料地移出了建筑的边界。
将会发生什么？他感到很惊奇。兰登是站到了窗沿上还是-"我的天！"看着小红点迅速远离了建筑物边界，科莱吃惊得跳了起来。信号抖动了一阵，忽然停在了距建筑物约十码远的地方。
科莱手忙脚乱地操作着电脑，调出了一幅巴黎街区地图，又重新调整了一下"全球定位系统"。这样，只要把画面拉近放大，他就可以看到信号所在的确切地点。
小红点不动了。
它停在卡尔赛广场的中心一动也不动。
兰登跳了下去。
Chapter 18
Fache sprinted down the Grand Gallery as Collet's radio blared over the distant sound of the alarm.
　　"He jumped!" Collet was yelling. "I'm showing the signal out on Place du Carrousel! Outside thebathroom window! And it's not moving at all! Jesus, I think Langdon has just committed suicide!"Fache heard the words, but they made no sense. He kept running. The hallway seemed never-ending. As he sprinted past Saunière's body, he set his sights on the partitions at the far end of theDenon Wing. The alarm was getting louder now.
　　"Wait!" Collet's voice blared again over the radio. "He's moving! My God, he's alive. Langdon'smoving!"Fache kept running, cursing the length of the hallway with every step.
　　"Langdon's moving faster!" Collet was still yelling on the radio. "He's running down Carrousel.
　　Wait... he's picking up speed. He's moving too fast!"Arriving at the partitions, Fache snaked his way through them, saw the rest room door, and ran forit.
　　The walkie-talkie was barely audible now over the alarm. "He must be in a car! I think he's in acar! I can't—"Collet's words were swallowed by the alarm as Fache finally burst into the men's room with his gundrawn. Wincing against the piercing shrill, he scanned the area.
　　The stalls were empty. The bathroom deserted. Fache's eyes moved immediately to the shatteredwindow at the far end of the room. He ran to the opening and looked over the edge. Langdon wasnowhere to be seen. Fache could not imagine anyone risking a stunt like this. Certainly if he haddropped that far, he would be badly injured.
　　The alarm cut off finally, and Collet's voice became audible again over the walkie-talkie.
　　"...moving south... faster... crossing the Seine on Pont du Carrousel!"Fache turned to his left. The only vehicle on Pont du Carrousel was an enormous twin-bed Trailordelivery truck moving southward away from the Louvre. The truck's open-air bed was coveredwith a vinyl tarp, roughly resembling a giant hammock. Fache felt a shiver of apprehension. Thattruck, only moments ago, had probably been stopped at a red light directly beneath the rest roomwindow.
　　An insane risk, Fache told himself. Langdon had no way of knowing what the truck was carryingbeneath that tarp. What if the truck were carrying steel? Or cement? Or even garbage? A forty-footleap? It was madness.
　　"The dot is turning!" Collet called. "He's turning right on Pont des Saints-Peres!"Sure enough, the Trailor truck that had crossed the bridge was slowing down and making a rightturn onto Pont des Saints-Peres. So be it, Fache thought. Amazed, he watched the truck disappeararound the corner. Collet was already radioing the agents outside, pulling them off the Louvreperimeter and sending them to their patrol cars in pursuit, all the while broadcasting the truck'schanging location like some kind of bizarre play-by-play.
　　It's over, Fache knew. His men would have the truck surrounded within minutes. Langdon was notgoing anywhere.
　　Stowing his weapon, Fache exited the rest room and radioed Collet. "Bring my car around. I wantto be there when we make the arrest."As Fache jogged back down the length of the Grand Gallery, he wondered if Langdon had evensurvived the fall.
　　Not that it mattered.
　　Langdon ran. Guilty as charged.
　　Only fifteen yards from the rest room, Langdon and Sophie stood in the darkness of the GrandGallery, their backs pressed to one of the large partitions that hid the bathrooms from the gallery.
　　They had barely managed to hide themselves before Fache had darted past them, gun drawn, anddisappeared into the bathroom.
　　The last sixty seconds had been a blur.
　　Langdon had been standing inside the men's room refusing to run from a crime he didn't commit,when Sophie began eyeing the plate-glass window and examining the alarm mesh running throughit. Then she peered downward into the street, as if measuring the drop.
　　"With a little aim, you can get out of here," she said.
　　Aim? Uneasy, he peered out the rest room window.
　　Up the street, an enormous twin-bed eighteen-wheeler was headed for the stoplight beneath thewindow. Stretched across the truck's massive cargo bay was a blue vinyl tarp, loosely covering thetruck's load. Langdon hoped Sophie was not thinking what she seemed to be thinking.
　　"Sophie, there's no way I'm jump—""Take out the tracking dot."Bewildered, Langdon fumbled in his pocket until he found the tiny metallic disk. Sophie took itfrom him and strode immediately to the sink. She grabbed a thick bar of soap, placed the trackingdot on top of it, and used her thumb to push the disk down hard into the bar. As the disk sank intothe soft surface, she pinched the hole closed, firmly embedding the device in the bar.
　　Handing the bar to Langdon, Sophie retrieved a heavy, cylindrical trash can from under the sinks.
　　Before Langdon could protest, Sophie ran at the window, holding the can before her like abattering ram. Driving the bottom of the trash can into the center of the window, she shattered theglass.
　　Alarms erupted overhead at earsplitting decibel levels.
　　"Give me the soap!" Sophie yelled, barely audible over the alarm.
　　Langdon thrust the bar into her hand.
　　Palming the soap, she peered out the shattered window at the eighteen-wheeler idling below. Thetarget was plenty big—an expansive, stationary tarp—and it was less than ten feet from the side ofthe building. As the traffic lights prepared to change, Sophie took a deep breath and lobbed the barof soap out into the night.
　　The soap plummeted downward toward the truck, landing on the edge of the tarp, and slidingdownward into the cargo bay just as the traffic light turned green.
　　"Congratulations," Sophie said, dragging him toward the door. "You just escaped from theLouvre."Fleeing the men's room, they moved into the shadows just as Fache rushed past.
　　Now, with the fire alarm silenced, Langdon could hear the sounds of DCPJ sirens tearing awayfrom the Louvre. A police exodus. Fache had hurried off as well, leaving the Grand Gallerydeserted.
　　"There's an emergency stairwell about fifty meters back into the Grand Gallery," Sophie said.
　　"Now that the guards are leaving the perimeter, we can get out of here."Langdon decided not to say another word all evening. Sophie Neveu was clearly a hell of a lotsmarter than he was.
法希沿着艺术大画廊全速奔跑。这时，科莱的声音从无线电对讲机中传来，盖过了远处的警报声。
"他跳下去了！"科莱喊道。"我这里的显示表明信号已经到卡尔赛广场上去了！出了厕所的窗户！现在它一动也不动！天哪，兰登刚才自杀了！"法希听到了科莱的喊话，但觉得这不合常理。他继续奔跑。画廊似乎没有尽头。当飞奔过萨尼尔的尸体时，他把目光投向了远处德农馆尽头的隔板。警报越来越响了。
"等一下！"科莱的声音又从对讲机里传来，"他在动！天哪，他还活着！兰登在动！"
法希一边继续奔跑，一边埋怨着画廊太长。
"兰登的动作更快了！"科莱继续叫道。"他正沿着卡尔赛广场的街道逃跑。等一等……
他正在加速。他跑得太快了！"来到隔板前，法希蜷身从间隔中钻了过去。他看到了厕所门，冲那里跑了过去。
此时，对讲机的声音几乎被警报声盖过了。"他一定是在车上！我想他是在车上！我无法-"当法希最终举枪冲进男厕所时，科莱的声音完全被警报声淹没了。顶着刺耳的警报声，他扫视了一下这里。
隔间都是空的。厕所里没有人。法希立即将目光转向了厕所尽头那扇被打碎的玻璃窗。他跑到玻璃缺口处，顺着窗沿向下望去，兰登已经无影无踪了。法希无法想象有人可以冒险表演出这样的特技。真的有人从这么高的地方跳下去，那么他不死也得重伤。
警报声终于停了下来，法希又可以听见对讲机里的声音了。
"向南移动……更快了……正由卡鲁索桥横穿塞纳河！"
法希扭头向左看，只见卡鲁索桥上唯一的车辆是一辆拖挂着两节车厢的大卡车，它正朝南行驶，远离卢浮宫。车厢没有顶，上面覆盖着塑料布，整个卡车就像一台大吊车。法希恍然大悟。几分钟前，这辆卡车可能正停在厕所窗户的下方等红灯。
一次疯狂的冒险，法希想。兰登不可能知道塑料布下放的是什么。如果卡车运送的是钢铁，怎么办？要是水泥呢？或者是垃圾？从四十英尺高处跳下？简直是疯了。
"红点改变方向了！"科莱叫道。"它向右转，上了圣佩勒斯桥。"
科莱已通过无线电对讲机将警员调出了卢浮宫，派他们用巡逻车追击。
法希知道，一切都该结束了。几分钟内，他手下人就会将卡车包围。
兰登无处可逃。
法希收起枪，走出厕所，通过对讲机对科莱说："把我的车开过来。逮捕他时，我要在现场。"法希一边沿着艺术画廊向回小跑，一边猜想着兰登跳下去后是否还活着。
但这无关紧要。
兰登逃跑，罪名成立。
在距厕所约十五码远的地方，兰登和索菲站在艺术画廊的黑暗中。他们的背紧紧地靠着分隔厕所与画廊的隔板。当法希拿着枪从他们身边冲过，奔向厕所的时候，他们差点儿被发现。
六十秒之前的那一幕：兰登站在男厕所里，拒绝为了莫须有的罪名而逃跑。索菲则看着窗户，审视着镶嵌在平板玻璃里的警报网。然后，她向下瞅了一眼，好像在估摸着厕所到地面的距离。
"瞄准一个小目标，你可以离开这里。"她说。
目标？兰登不安地朝窗外望去。
街道上，一辆拖着两节车厢的八轮大卡车正在窗户的正下方等待信号灯变色。卡车装载的巨大货物上松松垮垮地覆盖着蓝色的塑料布。兰登猜想索菲是想让他跳下去，真希望她能断了这样的念头，想些别的办法。
"索菲，我不可能跳下去-"
"把跟踪器拿出来。"
迷惑不解的兰登伸手在口袋里摸索了一阵，找出了那个小金属扣。索菲拿过跟踪器，大步走向水池。她抓起一块厚厚的肥皂，把跟踪器放在上面，然后用拇指将跟踪器压入了肥皂。跟踪器嵌入肥皂后，她将洞口捏上，把跟踪器严严实实地封在了肥皂里。
索菲将肥皂递给兰登，从水池的下方取出一个圆柱形的垃圾桶。还没等兰登提出异议，索菲就抱着垃圾筒，像公羊一般向窗户冲去。她用垃圾桶的底部猛击窗户的中心部位，将玻璃砸碎。震耳欲聋的警报声响了起来。
"把肥皂给我！"索菲的声音在刺耳的警报声中依稀可辨。
兰登迅速地将肥皂递给她。
索菲拿着肥皂，看了看停在下面马路上的八轮卡车。目标是一块大而静止的塑料布，离建筑物的外墙还不到十英尺。信号灯即将变色的时候，索菲深吸了一口气，将肥皂向窗外扔去。
肥皂落向卡车，掉在塑料布的边缘，又滑到了货箱里面。正在这时，绿灯亮了。
"恭喜你，"索菲边说边把兰登朝门口拉。"你刚刚逃出了卢浮宫。"
索菲和兰登离开男厕所后，就躲在隔板边的阴影中，而法希就从他们的身边跑过。
现在，警报声停了，法希可以听见警车拉响的警笛声正离卢浮宫远去。全体警察都离开了。法希也已经匆匆地离去。卢浮宫空荡荡的。
"艺术大画廊里有一段大约五十米长的紧急楼梯通道，"索菲说，"现在警卫走了，我们可以离开这里了。"兰登决定保持沉默，因为他看出索菲要比他聪明得多。
Chapter 19
The Church of Saint-Sulpice, it is said, has the most eccentric history of any building in Paris. Builtover the ruins of an ancient temple to the Egyptian goddess Isis, the church possesses anarchitectural footprint matching that of Notre Dame to within inches. The sanctuary has playedhost to the baptisms of the Marquis de Sade and Baudelaire, as well as the marriage of VictorHugo. The attached seminary has a well-documented history of unorthodoxy and was once theclandestine meeting hall for numerous secret societies.
　　Tonight, the cavernous nave of Saint-Sulpice was as silent as a tomb, the only hint of life the faintsmell of incense from mass earlier that evening. Silas sensed an uneasiness in Sister Sandrine'sdemeanor as she led him into the sanctuary. He was not surprised by this. Silas was accustomed topeople being uncomfortable with his appearance.
　　"You're an American," she said.
　　"French by birth," Silas responded. "I had my calling in Spain, and I now study in the UnitedStates."Sister Sandrine nodded. She was a small woman with quiet eyes. "And you have never seen Saint-Sulpice?""I realize this is almost a sin in itself.""She is more beautiful by day.""I am certain. Nonetheless, I am grateful that you would provide me this opportunity tonight.""The abbé requested it. You obviously have powerful friends."You have no idea, Silas thought.
　　As he followed Sister Sandrine down the main aisle, Silas was surprised by the austerity of thesanctuary. Unlike Notre Dame with its colorful frescoes, gilded altar-work, and warm wood, Saint-Sulpice was stark and cold, conveying an almost barren quality reminiscent of the asceticcathedrals of Spain. The lack of decor made the interior look even more expansive, and as Silasgazed up into the soaring ribbed vault of the ceiling, he imagined he was standing beneath the hullof an enormous overturned ship.
　　A fitting image, he thought. The brotherhood's ship was about to be capsized forever. Feeling eagerto get to work, Silas wished Sister Sandrine would leave him. She was a small woman whom Silascould incapacitate easily, but he had vowed not to use force unless absolutely necessary. She is awoman of the cloth, and it is not her fault the brotherhood chose her church as a hiding place fortheir keystone. She should not be punished for the sins of others.
　　"I am embarrassed, Sister, that you were awoken on my behalf.""Not at all. You are in Paris a short time. You should not miss Saint-Sulpice. Are your interests inthe church more architectural or historical?""Actually, Sister, my interests are spiritual."She gave a pleasant laugh. "That goes without saying. I simply wondered where to begin yourtour."Silas felt his eyes focus on the altar. "A tour is unnecessary. You have been more than kind. I canshow myself around.""It is no trouble," she said. "After all, I am awake."Silas stopped walking. They had reached the front pew now, and the altar was only fifteen yardsaway. He turned his massive body fully toward the small woman, and he could sense her recoil asshe gazed up into his red eyes. "If it does not seem too rude, Sister, I am not accustomed to simplywalking into a house of God and taking a tour. Would you mind if I took some time alone to praybefore I look around?"Sister Sandrine hesitated. "Oh, of course. I shall wait in the rear of the church for you."Silas put a soft but heavy hand on her shoulder and peered down. "Sister, I feel guilty already forhaving awoken you. To ask you to stay awake is too much. Please, you should return to bed. I canenjoy your sanctuary and then let myself out."She looked uneasy. "Are you sure you won't feel abandoned?""Not at all. Prayer is a solitary joy.""As you wish."Silas took his hand from her shoulder. "Sleep well, Sister. May the peace of the Lord be with you.""And also with you." Sister Sandrine headed for the stairs. "Please be sure the door closes tightlyon your way out.""I will be sure of it." Silas watched her climb out of sight. Then he turned and knelt in the frontpew, feeling the cilice cut into his leg.
　　Dear God, I offer up to you this work I do today....
　　Crouching in the shadows of the choir balcony high above the altar, Sister Sandrine peered silentlythrough the balustrade at the cloaked monk kneeling alone. The sudden dread in her soul made ithard to stay still. For a fleeting instant, she wondered if this mysterious visitor could be the enemythey had warned her about, and if tonight she would have to carry out the orders she had beenholding all these years. She decided to stay there in the darkness and watch his every move.
据说，在巴黎，圣叙尔皮斯教堂的历史最为奇异。它是在一座古庙的废墟上建立起来的，而那座古庙原先是为埃及女神爱塞丝而修建的。圣叙尔皮斯教堂的建筑风格与巴黎圣母院的风格极其相似。这座教堂曾主持过马尔。德。萨特和波德莱尔的洗礼仪式和雨果的婚礼。它的附属神学院见证过一段异教发展史，曾被作为许多秘密团体的地下集会场所。
今晚，圣叙尔皮斯那洞穴般幽深的中殿寂静得好似一座坟墓。傍晚人们焚香时残留的气味，是这里唯一的一丝生气。当桑德琳嬷嬷将塞拉斯领进教堂时，塞拉斯从她的举止中感觉到了不安。他并不感到奇怪。人们看见他的样子都会觉得不舒服，塞拉斯对此早已习以为常了。
"你是美国人吧。"她说。
"我出生在法国。"塞拉斯回答道。"在西班牙入教，现在在美国学习。"
桑德琳嬷嬷身材矮小，目光安详。"你第一次来这个教堂吧？"
"以前没来过，我想这就是个罪过。"
"白天时，她看上去更美丽。"
"我相信。无论如何，感谢您这么晚还让我进来。"
"院长下了命令。你肯定有一些有权势的朋友吧。"
你一无所知，塞拉斯想。
当塞拉斯在桑德琳嬷嬷的引导下沿着走道前行时，他为中殿的朴素感到惊讶。这里没有巴黎圣母院里那种色彩缤纷的壁画，也没有光彩夺目的圣坛，更没有用来取暖的柴火。
圣叙尔皮斯让人感到荒凉而寒冷，让人回想起西班牙禁欲者的大教堂。由于缺乏装饰，大殿显得更加空旷。塞拉斯仰望着拱顶，觉得自己仿佛置身于许多倒扣着的船身下。
这个样子正合我意，塞拉斯想。兄弟会的人就要翻船了，他们都将永沉海底。塞拉斯迫不及待地想开始执行他的任务，希望把桑德琳嬷嬷支开。虽然塞拉斯可以轻而易举地废了这个矮小瘦弱的女人，但他已经发过誓不在迫不得已时绝不使用暴力。她也不知情，兄弟会将楔石藏在她所在的教堂，这也不是她的错。她不应该为别人的罪过而受到惩罚。
"真不好意思，我把您吵醒了。"
"没关系。你刚来到巴黎，不应该错过到这里的机会。你对教堂的建筑感兴趣，还是对教堂的历史感兴趣呢？"
"嬷嬷，其实我只是为信仰而来的。"
嬷嬷高兴地笑了起来。"这还用说？不过，带你从哪里开始参观呢？"
塞拉斯注视着圣坛。"不用参观了。您不必这么客气。我可以自己逛逛。"
"没关系，反正我已经醒了。"嬷嬷说。
这时，他们已走到了教堂的前排座位，距圣坛不足十五码远了。塞拉斯停住了脚步，转过庞大的身躯，面对着嬷嬷。他可以感觉到嬷嬷正畏惧地看着他那发红的眼睛。"嬷嬷，请原谅我的粗鲁。我不习惯走进教堂这样神圣的地方就四处闲逛。我想在参观前独自做一下祷告，您不介意吧？请您回去睡觉吧！我可以独自欣赏一下您的圣殿，然后自己离开。"桑德琳嬷嬷犹豫了一下，说："哦，当然不介意。我在后排座位上等你。"
塞拉斯将他那柔软而又厚重的大手放在嬷嬷身上，俯视着她，说道："嬷嬷，把您吵醒我已经很不好意思了，再不让您去睡觉更是过意不去。请您回去睡觉吧！我可以独自欣赏一下您的圣殿，然后自己离开。"嬷嬷看上去很不安。"你肯定自己不会有种被遗弃般的孤独吗？"
"不会的。祷告是一个人享受的快乐。"
"那你就自便吧。"
塞拉斯将手从她的肩膀上移开。"睡个好觉，嬷嬷。愿上帝保佑你平安。"
"也保佑你平安。"桑德琳嬷嬷朝楼梯走去。"走的时候一定要把门关紧。"
"我一定会的。"塞拉斯看着桑德琳嬷嬷爬上了楼梯，消失在他的视线中。然后，他转过身来，跪在前排的座位上。
亲爱的上帝，我今晚的工作是为您而做的……
桑德琳嬷嬷蹲在圣坛上方的唱诗班站台的阴影中，透过栏杆，静静地注视着独自跪在下方的那个伪装的修道士。突然袭上她心头的恐惧使她难以平静。刹那间，她觉得这个神秘的来访者可能就是兄弟会提醒她要注意的敌人，可能今晚她必须执行多年来她一直肩负着的使命。她决定躲在黑暗中，观察他的一举一动。
Chapter 20
Emerging from the shadows, Langdon and Sophie moved stealthily up the deserted Grand Gallerycorridor toward the emergency exit stairwell.
　　As he moved, Langdon felt like he was trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle in the dark. The newestaspect of this mystery was a deeply troubling one: The captain of the Judicial Police is trying toframe me for murder"Do you think," he whispered, "that maybe Fache wrote that message on the floor?"Sophie didn't even turn. "Impossible."Langdon wasn't so sure. "He seems pretty intent on making me look guilty. Maybe he thoughtwriting my name on the floor would help his case?""The Fibonacci sequence? The P.S.? All the Da Vinci and goddess symbolism? That had to be mygrandfather."Langdon knew she was right. The symbolism of the clues meshed too perfectly—the pentacle, TheVitruvian Man, Da Vinci, the goddess, and even the Fibonacci sequence. A coherent symbolic set,as iconographers would call it. All inextricably tied.
　　"And his phone call to me this afternoon," Sophie added. "He said he had to tell me something. I'mcertain his message at the Louvre was his final effort to tell me something important, something hethought you could help me understand."Langdon frowned. O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint.! He wished he could comprehend themessage, both for Sophie's well-being and for his own. Things had definitely gotten worse since hefirst laid eyes on the cryptic words. His fake leap out the bathroom window was not going to helpLangdon's popularity with Fache one bit. Somehow he doubted the captain of the French policewould see the humor in chasing down and arresting a bar of soap.
　　"The doorway isn't much farther," Sophie said.
　　"Do you think there's a possibility that the numbers in your grandfather's message hold the key tounderstanding the other lines?" Langdon had once worked on a series of Baconian manuscripts thatcontained epigraphical ciphers in which certain lines of code were clues as to how to decipher theother lines.
　　"I've been thinking about the numbers all night. Sums, quotients, products. I don't see anything.
　　Mathematically, they're arranged at random. Cryptographic gibberish.""And yet they're all part of the Fibonacci sequence. That can't be coincidence.""It's not. Using Fibonacci numbers was my grandfather's way of waving another flag at me—likewriting the message in English, or arranging himself like my favorite piece of art, or drawing apentacle on himself. All of it was to catch my attention.""The pentacle has meaning to you?""Yes. I didn't get a chance to tell you, but the pentacle was a special symbol between mygrandfather and me when I was growing up. We used to play Tarot cards for fun, and my indicatorcard always turned out to be from the suit of pentacles. I'm sure he stacked the deck, but pentaclesgot to be our little joke."Langdon felt a chill. They played Tarot? The medieval Italian card game was so replete withhidden heretical symbolism that Langdon had dedicated an entire chapter in his new manuscript tothe Tarot. The game's twenty-two cards bore names like The Female Pope, The Empress, and TheStar. Originally, Tarot had been devised as a secret means to pass along ideologies banned by theChurch. Now, Tarot's mystical qualities were passed on by modern fortune-tellers.
　　The Tarot indicator suit for feminine divinity is pentacles, Langdon thought, realizing that ifSaunière had been stacking his granddaughter's deck for fun, pentacles was an apropos inside joke.
　　They arrived at the emergency stairwell, and Sophie carefully pulled open the door. No alarmsounded. Only the doors to the outside were wired. Sophie led Langdon down a tight set ofswitchback stairs toward the ground level, picking up speed as they went.
　　"Your grandfather," Langdon said, hurrying behind her, "when he told you about the pentacle, didhe mention goddess worship or any resentment of the Catholic Church?"Sophie shook her head. "I was more interested in the mathematics of it—the Divine Proportion,PHI, Fibonacci sequences, that sort of thing."Langdon was surprised. "Your grandfather taught you about the number PHI?""Of course. The Divine Proportion." Her expression turned sheepish. "In fact, he used to joke that Iwas half divine... you know, because of the letters in my name."Langdon considered it a moment and then groaned.
　　s-o-PHI-e.
　　Still descending, Langdon refocused on PHI. He was starting to realize that Saunière's clues wereeven more consistent than he had first imagined.
　　Da Vinci... Fibonacci numbers... the pentacle.
　　Incredibly, all of these things were connected by a single concept so fundamental to art history thatLangdon often spent several class periods on the topic.
　　PHI.
　　He felt himself suddenly reeling back to Harvard, standing in front of his "Symbolism in Art" class,writing his favorite number on the chalkboard.
　　1.618Langdon turned to face his sea of eager students. "Who can tell me what this number is?"A long-legged math major in back raised his hand. "That's the number PHI." He pronounced it fee.
　　"Nice job, Stettner," Langdon said. "Everyone, meet PHI.""Not to be confused with PI," Stettner added, grinning. "As we mathematicians like to say: PHI isone H of a lot cooler than PI!"Langdon laughed, but nobody else seemed to get the joke.
　　Stettner slumped.
　　"This number PHI," Langdon continued, "one-point-six-one-eight, is a very important number inart. Who can tell me why?"Stettner tried to redeem himself. "Because it's so pretty?"Everyone laughed.
　　"Actually," Langdon said, "Stettner's right again. PHI is generally considered the most beautifulnumber in the universe."The laughter abruptly stopped, and Stettner gloated.
　　As Langdon loaded his slide projector, he explained that the number PHI was derived from theFibonacci sequence—a progression famous not only because the sum of adjacent terms equaled thenext term, but because the quotients of adjacent terms possessed the astonishing property ofapproaching the number 1.618—PHI!
　　Despite PHI's seemingly mystical mathematical origins, Langdon explained, the truly mind-boggling aspect of PHI was its role as a fundamental building block in nature. Plants, animals, andeven human beings all possessed dimensional properties that adhered with eerie exactitude to theratio of PHI to 1.
　　"PHI's ubiquity in nature," Langdon said, killing the lights, "clearly exceeds coincidence, and sothe ancients assumed the number PHI must have been preordained by the Creator of the universe.
　　Early scientists heralded one-point-six-one-eight as the Divine Proportion.""Hold on," said a young woman in the front row. "I'm a bio major and I've never seen this DivineProportion in nature.""No?" Langdon grinned. "Ever study the relationship between females and males in a honeybeecommunity?""Sure. The female bees always outnumber the male bees.""Correct. And did you know that if you divide the number of female bees by the number of malebees in any beehive in the world, you always get the same number?""You do?""Yup. PHI."The girl gaped. "NO WAY!""Way!" Langdon fired back, smiling as he projected a slide of a spiral seashell. "Recognize this?""It's a nautilus," the bio major said. "A cephalopod mollusk that pumps gas into its chambered shellto adjust its buoyancy.""Correct. And can you guess what the ratio is of each spiral's diameter to the next?"The girl looked uncertain as she eyed the concentric arcs of the nautilus spiral.
　　Langdon nodded. "PHI. The Divine Proportion. One-point-six-one-eight to one."The girl looked amazed.
　　Langdon advanced to the next slide—a close-up of a sunflower's seed head. "Sunflower seeds growin opposing spirals. Can you guess the ratio of each rotation's diameter to the next?""PHI?" everyone said.
　　"Bingo." Langdon began racing through slides now—spiraled pinecone petals, leaf arrangement onplant stalks, insect segmentation—all displaying astonishing obedience to the Divine Proportion.
　　"This is amazing!" someone cried out.
　　"Yeah," someone else said, "but what does it have to do with art?""Aha!" Langdon said. "Glad you asked." He pulled up another slide—a pale yellow parchmentdisplaying Leonardo da Vinci's famous male nude—The Vitruvian Man—named for MarcusVitruvius, the brilliant Roman architect who praised the Divine Proportion in his text DeArchitectura.
　　"Nobody understood better than Da Vinci the divine structure of the human body. Da Vinciactually exhumed corpses to measure the exact proportions of human bone structure. He was thefirst to show that the human body is literally made of building blocks whose proportional ratiosalways equal PHI."Everyone in class gave him a dubious look.
　　"Don't believe me?" Langdon challenged. "Next time you're in the shower, take a tape measure."A couple of football players snickered.
　　"Not just you insecure jocks," Langdon prompted. "All of you. Guys and girls. Try it. Measure thedistance from the tip of your head to the floor. Then divide that by the distance from your bellybutton to the floor. Guess what number you get.""Not PHI!" one of the jocks blurted out in disbelief.
　　"Yes, PHI," Langdon replied. "One-point-six-one-eight. Want another example? Measure thedistance from your shoulder to your fingertips, and then divide it by the distance from your elbowto your fingertips. PHI again. Another? Hip to floor divided by knee to floor. PHI again. Fingerjoints. Toes. Spinal divisions. PHI. PHI. PHI. My friends, each of you is a walking tribute to theDivine Proportion."Even in the darkness, Langdon could see they were all astounded. He felt a familiar warmth inside.
　　This is why he taught. "My friends, as you can see, the chaos of the world has an underlying order.
　　When the ancients discovered PHI, they were certain they had stumbled across God's buildingblock for the world, and they worshipped Nature because of that. And one can understand why.
　　God's hand is evident in Nature, and even to this day there exist pagan, Mother Earth-reveringreligions. Many of us celebrate nature the way the pagans did, and don't even know it. May Day isa perfect example, the celebration of spring... the earth coming back to life to produce her bounty.
　　The mysterious magic inherent in the Divine Proportion was written at the beginning of time. Manis simply playing by Nature's rules, and because art is man's attempt to imitate the beauty of theCreator's hand, you can imagine we might be seeing a lot of instances of the Divine Proportion inart this semester."Over the next half hour, Langdon showed them slides of artwork by Michelangelo, Albrecht Dürer,Da Vinci, and many others, demonstrating each artist's intentional and rigorous adherence to theDivine Proportion in the layout of his compositions. Langdon unveiled PHI in the architecturaldimensions of the Greek Parthenon, the pyramids of Egypt, and even the United Nations Buildingin New York. PHI appeared in the organizational structures of Mozart's sonatas, Beethoven's FifthSymphony, as well as the works of Bartók, Debussy, and Schubert. The number PHI, Langdon toldthem, was even used by Stradivarius to calculate the exact placement of the f-holes in theconstruction of his famous violins.
　　"In closing," Langdon said, walking to the chalkboard, "we return to symbols" He drew fiveintersecting lines that formed a five-pointed star. "This symbol is one of the most powerful imagesyou will see this term. Formally known as a pentagram—or pentacle, as the ancients called it—thissymbol is considered both divine and magical by many cultures. Can anyone tell me why thatmight be?"Stettner, the math major, raised his hand. "Because if you draw a pentagram, the linesautomatically divide themselves into segments according to the Divine Proportion."Langdon gave the kid a proud nod. "Nice job. Yes, the ratios of line segments in a pentacle allequal PHI, making this symbol the ultimate expression of the Divine Proportion. For this reason,the five-pointed star has always been the symbol for beauty and perfection associated with thegoddess and the sacred feminine."The girls in class beamed.
　　"One note, folks. We've only touched on Da Vinci today, but we'll be seeing a lot more of him thissemester. Leonardo was a well-documented devotee of the ancient ways of the goddess.
　　Tomorrow, I'll show you his fresco The Last Supper, which is one of the most astonishing tributesto the sacred feminine you will ever see.""You're kidding, right?" somebody said. "I thought The Last Supper was about Jesus!"Langdon winked. "There are symbols hidden in places you would never imagine.""Come on," Sophie whispered. "What's wrong? We're almost there. Hurry!"Langdon glanced up, feeling himself return from faraway thoughts. He realized he was standing ata dead stop on the stairs, paralyzed by sudden revelation.
　　O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint!
　　Sophie was looking back at him.
　　It can't be that simple, Langdon thought.
　　But he knew of course that it was.
　　There in the bowels of the Louvre... with images of PHI and Da Vinci swirling through his mind,Robert Langdon suddenly and unexpectedly deciphered Saunière's code.
　　"O, Draconian devil!" he said. "Oh, lame saint! It's the simplest kind of code!"Sophie was stopped on the stairs below him, staring up in confusion. A code? She had beenpondering the words all night and had not seen a code. Especially a simple one.
　　"You said it yourself." Langdon's voice reverberated with excitement. "Fibonacci numbers onlyhave meaning in their proper order. Otherwise they're mathematical gibberish."Sophie had no idea what he was talking about. The Fibonacci numbers? She was certain they hadbeen intended as nothing more than a means to get the Cryptography Department involved tonight.
　　They have another purpose? She plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out the printout,studying her grandfather's message again.
　　13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5O, Draconian devil!
　　Oh, lame saint!
　　What about the numbers?
　　"The scrambled Fibonacci sequence is a clue," Langdon said, taking the printout. "The numbers area hint as to how to decipher the rest of the message. He wrote the sequence out of order to tell us toapply the same concept to the text. O, Draconian devil? Oh, lame saint? Those lines mean nothing.
　　They are simply letters written out of order."Sophie needed only an instant to process Langdon's implication, and it seemed laughably simple.
　　"You think this message is... une anagramme?" She stared at him. "Like a word jumble from anewspaper?"Langdon could see the skepticism on Sophie's face and certainly understood. Few people realizedthat anagrams, despite being a trite modern amusement, had a rich history of sacred symbolism.
　　The mystical teachings of the Kabbala drew heavily on anagrams—rearranging the letters ofHebrew words to derive new meanings. French kings throughout the Renaissance were soconvinced that anagrams held magic power that they appointed royal anagrammatists to help themmake better decisions by analyzing words in important documents. The Romans actually referredto the study of anagrams as ars magna—"the great art."Langdon looked up at Sophie, locking eyes with her now. "Your grandfather's meaning was rightin front of us all along, and he left us more than enough clues to see it."Without another word, Langdon pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and rearranged the letters ineach line.
　　O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint!
　　was a perfect anagram of...
　　Leonardo da Vinci! The Mona Lisa!
兰登和索菲从阴影中走了出来，蹑手蹑脚地沿着空荡荡的艺术大画廊向紧急楼梯通道走去。
兰登边走边觉得自己好像在做一个智力游戏。眼前的问题很棘手：司法局长要给我扣上凶手的罪名。
兰登低声问索菲："你认为地上的信息会不会是法希留下的？"
索菲头也不回地说："不可能。"
兰登没有她那么肯定，又说道："看上去他一心想把罪名加在我身上。也许他认为在地上写上我的名字会有助于他的指控？"
"那么斐波那契数列呢？还有P.S.？还有达。芬奇和女神的象征意义？那一定是我祖父留下的。"兰登知道她说得对。五角星、《维特鲁威人》、达。芬奇、女神以及斐波那契数列--这些线索的象征意义完美地结合在一起。圣像研究者会把这称为一个连贯的象征系统。所有的一切结合得天衣无缝。
索菲补充说："今天下午，祖父打电话给我。他说有重要的事情要告诉我。我肯定，为了让我知道这些重要的事情，他临死时在卢浮宫留下了这些信息。他认为你可以帮助我弄清这些重要的事情。"兰登皱起了眉头。啊，严酷的魔王！噢，瘸腿的圣徒！他真希望，为了索菲也为了自己，他可以破解这则密码的含义。毫无疑问，从他第一眼看到密码起，事情就变得越来越不妙。他从厕所的窗户"假跳"出去，会给法希留下更坏的印象。不过，也许可让这位法国警察局的局长感受一下追逐并逮捕一块肥皂的幽默。
"我们离楼梯口不远了。"索菲说。
"密码中的数字是否是破解另几行信息的关键呢？有这种可能吗？"兰登曾经研究过一系列培根的手稿，那里边记录的一些密码就为破译其他的密码提供了线索。
"一整晚，我都在想这些数字。加、减、乘、除，都得不出什么有含义的结果。从纯数学的角度来看，它们是随机排列的。这是一串乱码。""但它们是斐波那契数列的一部分。那不会是巧合。"
"当然不是巧合。祖父要借助斐波那契数列给我们一些提示--就像他用英语来书写信息、模仿他最喜爱的艺术作品中的画面和摆出五角星形状的姿势一样。这只是要引起我们的注意。""你知道五角星形状的含义吗？"
"知道。我还没来得及告诉过你，小时候，五角星在我和祖父之间有特殊的含义。过去，我们常玩塔罗牌，我的主牌都是五角星的。我知道那是因为祖父洗牌时作弊，但五角星成了我们之间的小笑话。"兰登打了个冷战。他们玩塔罗牌？这种中世纪意大利的纸牌隐含着异教的象征体系，兰登曾在他的新手稿中花费了整章的篇幅来讲述塔罗牌。塔罗牌由二十二张纸牌组成，包括"女教宗"、"皇后"、"星星"等。塔罗牌原本是用来传递被教会封禁的思想的，现在的占卜者们沿用了塔罗牌的神秘特质。
塔罗牌用五角星花色来象征女神，兰登想道，如果索尼埃通过洗牌作弊来和小孙女逗乐，选择五角星真是再合适不过了。
他们来到了紧急楼梯通道口，索菲小心翼翼地打开了门。没有警报声，只有通往卢浮宫外面的门连着警报网。索菲领着兰登顺着Z 字形的楼梯往一楼走。他们加快了脚步。
兰登一边急匆匆地跟上索菲的脚步，一边问道："当你祖父谈论五角星的时候，他有没有提及女神崇拜或对天主教会的怨恨？"
索菲摇了摇头。"我更倾向于从数学的角度来分析它--黄金分割、PHI、斐波那契数列那一类东西。"兰登感到很惊奇："你祖父教过你PHI 吗？"
"当然，黄金分割。"她有点儿害羞地说。"其实，他曾开玩笑说我有一半符合黄金分割……那是因为我名字的拼写方法。"兰登想了片刻，嘀咕着："so－PHI－e."
兰登一边下楼，一边再次琢磨起PHI.他开始意识到索尼埃留下的线索比他想象中更有整体性。
达。芬奇……斐波那契数列……五角星。
令人难以置信，所有这些都通过一个艺术史上的概念联系在一起，兰登经常花费好几个课时来讲解这个非常基本的概念。
PHI他忽然产生了一种幻觉，仿佛自己又回到了哈佛，站在教室的讲台上讲解"艺术中的象征"，在黑板上写下他最喜爱的数字：1.618.
兰登转向台下众多求知若渴的学生，问道："谁能告诉我这是个什么数字？"
一个坐在后排的大个儿的数学系学生举起手："那是PHI."他把它读做"fei"。
"说得好，斯提勒。"兰登说。"大家都知道PHI."
斯提勒笑着补充道："别把它跟PI（π）弄混了。我们搞数学的喜欢说：PHI 多一个H，却比PI 棒多了！"兰登大笑起来，其他人却不解其意。
斯提勒"咚"地一声坐了下去。
兰登继续说道："PHI，1.618 在艺术中有极其重要的地位。谁能告诉我这是为什么？"
"因为它非常美？"斯提勒试图挽回自己的面子。
大家哄堂大笑起来。
兰登说道："其实，斯提勒又说对了。PHI 通常被认为是世上最美丽的数字。"
笑声戛然而止。斯提勒则沾沾自喜。
兰登在幻灯机上放上图片，解释说，PHI 源于斐波那契数列--这个数列之所以非常有名，不仅是因为数列中相邻两项之和等于后一项，而且因为相邻两项相除所得的商竟然约等于1.618，也就是PHI.
兰登继续解释道，从数学角度看，PHI 的来源颇为神秘，但更令人费解的是它在自然界的构成中也起着极为重要的作用。植物、动物甚至人类都具有与这个比率惊人相似的特质。
兰登关上教室里的灯，说道："PHI 在自然界中无处不在，这显然不是巧合，所以祖先们估计PHI 是造物主事先定下的。早期的科学家把1.618 称为黄金分割。""等一下。"一名坐在前排的女生说。"我是生物专业的学生，我从来没有在自然界中见到黄金分割。""没有吗？"兰登咧嘴笑了。"研究过一个蜂巢里的雄蜂和雌蜂吗？"
"当然。雌蜂总是比雄蜂多。"
"对。你知道吗？如果你将世界上任何一个蜂巢里的雄蜂和雌蜂分开数，你将得到一个相同的比率。""真的吗？"
"是的，就是PHI."
女生目瞪口呆。"这不可能。"
"可能！"兰登反驳道。他微笑着放出一张螺旋形贝壳的幻灯片。"认识这吗？"
"鹦鹉螺。"那个学生回答。"一种靠吸入壳内的空气调节自身浮力的软体动物。"
"说得对。你能猜想到它身上每圈罗纹的直径与相邻罗纹直径之比是多少吗？"
那名女生看着螺旋形鹦鹉螺身上的同心弧圈，说不出确切的答案。
兰登点了点头，说道："PHI.黄金分割。1.618."
女生露出惊讶的表情。
兰登接着放出下一张幻灯片--向日葵的特写。"葵花籽在花盘上呈相反的弧线状排列。你能猜想到相邻两圈之间的直径之比吗？"
"PHI？"有人说。
"猜对了。"兰登开始快速地播放幻灯片--螺旋形的松果、植物茎上叶子的排列、昆虫身上的分节--所有这些竟然都完全符合黄金分割。
"真不可思议！"有人叫了起来。
"不错，可这和艺术有什么关系呢？"另外一个人说。
"啊！问得好。"兰登说着，放出另一张幻灯片--列昂纳多。达。芬奇的著名男性裸体画《维特鲁威人》。这幅画画在一张羊皮纸上，羊皮纸已微微泛黄。画名是根据罗马杰出的建筑家马克。维特鲁威的名字而取的，这位建筑家曾在他的著作《建筑》中盛赞黄金分割。
"没有人比达。芬奇更了解人体的精妙结构。实际上，达。芬奇曾挖掘出人的尸体来测量人体骨骼结构的确切比例，他是宣称人体的结构比例完全符合黄金分割率的第一人。"在座的人都向兰登投来怀疑的目光。
"不相信？"兰登说。"下次你们洗澡的时候，带上一根皮尺。"
几个足球队的学生窃笑起来。
"不仅是你们几个开始坐不住的运动员。"兰登提示道。"你们所有人，男生和女生，试试看。测量一下你们的身高，再用身高除以你们肚脐到地面的距离。猜一猜结果是多少。""不会是PHI 吧！"一名体育生用怀疑的口吻说。
"就是PHI."兰登回答道。"正是1.618.想再看一个例子吗？量一下你肩膀到指尖的距离，然后用它除以肘关节到指尖的距离，又得到了PHI.用臀部到地面的距离除以膝盖到地面的距离，又可以得到PHI.再看看手指关节、脚趾、脊柱的分节，你都可以从中得到PHI.朋友们，我们每个人都是离不开黄金分割的生物。"虽然教室里的灯都关了，但兰登可以看得出大家都很震惊。一股暖流涌上他的心头，这正是他热爱教学的原因。"朋友们，正如你们所见，纷繁复杂的自然界隐藏着规则。当古人发现PHI 时，他们肯定自己已经偶然发现了上帝造物的大小比例，也正因为这一点他们对自然界充满了崇拜之情。上帝的杰作可以在自然界中找到印证，直至今日还存在着一个异教组织--大地母亲教。我们中的许多人也像异教徒一样赞颂着自然，只不过我们自己没有意识到。比如说我们庆祝五朔节就是一个很好的例证。五朔节是赞颂春天的节日，人们通过它来庆祝大地复苏，给予人类馈赠。从一开始，黄金分割的神秘特质就已经被确定了。人们只能按自然规则活动，而艺术又是人们试图模仿造物主创造之美的一种尝试，所以这学期我们将在艺术作品中看到许多黄金分割的实例。"在接下来的半个小时中，兰登给学生们播放了米开朗基罗、阿尔布莱希特。丢勒、达。芬奇和许多其他艺术家作品的幻灯片，这些艺术家在设计创作其作品时都有意识地、严格地遵循了黄金分割比率。兰登向大家揭示了希腊巴特农神殿、埃及金字塔甚至纽约联合国大楼在建筑设计中所运用的黄金分割率，并指出PHI 也被运用在莫扎特的奏鸣曲、贝多芬的《第五交响曲》以及巴托克、德彪西、舒伯特等音乐家的创作中。兰登还告诉大家，甚至斯特拉迪瓦里在制造他那有名的小提琴时也运用了黄金分割来确定f 形洞的确切位置。
兰登边走向黑板，边说："让我们回到象征符号上面来。"他在黑板上画了个由五条直线组成的五角星。"这是本学期中你们将学习到的最具象征意义的图形。五角星--古人称五芒星--在许多文化中被看作是神圣而神奇的。谁能告诉我这是为什么？"
斯提勒--那个数学专业的学生--又举起了手。"因为如果你画一个五角星，那么那几条线段会自动将它们自己按黄金分割的比率截为几段。"兰登冲那小伙子点了点头，为他感到骄傲。"回答得好。五角星中线段的比率都符合黄金分割率，这使得它成为了黄金分割的首要代表。正是因为这个原因，五角星总是被作为美丽与完美的象征，并与女神和神圣的女性联系在一起。"班上的女生都满脸笑容。
"大家注意，今天我们只提及了一点儿关于达。芬奇的内容，在本学期中我们还将对他作更多的探讨。列昂纳多确实以古老的方式信奉着女神。明天，我将会给你们讲解他的壁画《最后的晚餐》，这将是你们所见过的奉献给神圣女性的最惊人的杰作。""你在开玩笑吧？"有人说。"我想《最后的晚餐》是关于耶稣的！"
兰登挤了挤眼睛，说道："有一些象征符号藏在你无论如何也想不到的地方。"
"加油。"索菲小声说。"怎么了？我们快到了。快一点！"
兰登仰起头，从那遥远的想象中又回到了现实。
他在楼梯上停了下来，一动不动，恍然大悟。
"啊，严酷的魔王"！"噢，瘸腿的圣徒"！
索菲回头望着兰登。
不可能这么简单，兰登想。
但他肯定应该是那样。
置身于卢浮宫，反复回想着有关PHI 和达。芬奇的画面，兰登忽然出乎意料地破解了索尼埃的密码。
"啊，严酷的魔王！"他嘀咕着。"噢，瘸腿的圣徒！这是最简单的密码！"
索菲停住了脚步，不解地看着兰登。
密码？她一整晚都在思考地板上的字，并没有发现任何密码，更不用说简单的密码了。
"你自己说过的。"兰登兴奋得声音都颤抖了。"斐波那契数列的各项只有按顺序排列才有意义。"
索菲不解其意。斐波那契数列？她肯定祖父写下这个数列只是为了让密码破译部门也参与到今晚的侦破工作中来，别无他意。难道祖父还有其他的用意？她伸手从口袋中掏出祖父所留信息的打印稿，再次端详：13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5啊，严酷的魔王！
噢，瘸腿的圣徒！
这些数字怎么了？
"这被打乱的斐波那契数列是一条线索。"兰登边说，边接过打印稿。"这些数字是破译其他信息的线索。他将数列的顺序打乱，是想让我们用同样的方法去破译信息中的文字部分。信息中的文字只是一些次序被打乱的字母。"索菲立刻明白了兰登的意思，因为这样的解释简单得可笑。"你认为信息是……一个字谜？"她盯着兰登，说道。"就像报纸上的重排字母组词的字谜游戏？"
兰登从索菲的表情中可以看出她的怀疑，但对此他完全可以理解。很少人知道字谜--这种老套的现代游戏还有与神圣的象征系统有关的历史。
犹太神秘学的神秘楔石中有许多关于字谜的内容--将希伯来词语中的字母重新排序，从而得出新的意义。文艺复兴时期的法国国王们都深信字谜有神奇的魔力，所以他们任命皇室字谜家来分析重要文件中的词语，以便做出更好的决策。实际上，罗马人字谜的研究工作称为"大术办"，即"伟大的艺术"。
兰登抬眼看着索菲，目不转睛。"你祖父的信息就快被我们破解了，他给我们留下了许多破解的线索。"兰登不再多言，从夹克衫的口袋中掏出一支钢笔，将每行的字母重新排列来：O，Draconiandevil！（啊，严酷的魔王！）
Oh，LameSaint！（噢，瘸腿的圣徒！）
恰好可以被一字不差地拼成：LeonardodaVinci！（列昂纳多。达。芬奇！）
TheMonaLisa！（蒙娜丽莎！）
Chapter 21
The Mona Lisa.
　　For an instant, standing in the exit stairwell, Sophie forgot all about trying to leave the Louvre.
　　Her shock over the anagram was matched only by her embarrassment at not having deciphered themessage herself. Sophie's expertise in complex cryptanalysis had caused her to overlook simplisticword games, and yet she knew she should have seen it. After all, she was no stranger toanagrams—especially in English.
　　When she was young, often her grandfather would use anagram games to hone her Englishspelling. Once he had written the English word "planets" and told Sophie that an astonishing sixty-two other English words of varying lengths could be formed using those same letters. Sophie hadspent three days with an English dictionary until she found them all.
　　"I can't imagine," Langdon said, staring at the printout, "how your grandfather created such anintricate anagram in the minutes before he died."Sophie knew the explanation, and the realization made her feel even worse. I should have seen this!
　　She now recalled that her grandfather—a wordplay aficionado and art lover—had entertainedhimself as a young man by creating anagrams of famous works of art. In fact, one of his anagramshad gotten him in trouble once when Sophie was a little girl. While being interviewed by anAmerican art magazine, Saunière had expressed his distaste for the modernist Cubist movement bynoting that Picasso's masterpiece Les Demoiselles d'Avignon was a perfect anagram of vilemeaningless doodles. Picasso fans were not amused.
　　"My grandfather probably created this Mona Lisa anagram long ago," Sophie said, glancing up atLangdon. And tonight he was forced to use it as a makeshift code. Her grandfather's voice hadcalled out from beyond with chilling precision.
　　Leonardo da Vinci!
　　The Mona Lisa!
　　Why his final words to her referenced the famous painting, Sophie had no idea, but she could thinkof only one possibility. A disturbing one.
　　Those were not his final words....
　　Was she supposed to visit the Mona Lisa? Had her grandfather left her a message there? The ideaseemed perfectly plausible. After all, the famous painting hung in the Salle des Etats—a privateviewing chamber accessible only from the Grand Gallery. In fact, Sophie now realized, the doorsthat opened into the chamber were situated only twenty meters from where her grandfather hadbeen found dead.
　　He easily could have visited the Mona Lisa before he died.
　　Sophie gazed back up the emergency stairwell and felt torn. She knew she should usher Langdonfrom the museum immediately, and yet instinct urged her to the contrary. As Sophie recalled herfirst childhood visit to the Denon Wing, she realized that if her grandfather had a secret to tell her,few places on earth made a more apt rendezvous than Da Vinci's Mona Lisa.
　　"She's just a little bit farther," her grandfather had whispered, clutching Sophie's tiny hand as he ledher through the deserted museum after hours.
　　Sophie was six years old. She felt small and insignificant as she gazed up at the enormous ceilingsand down at the dizzying floor. The empty museum frightened her, although she was not about tolet her grandfather know that. She set her jaw firmly and let go of his hand.
　　"Up ahead is the Salle des Etats," her grandfather said as they approached the Louvre's mostfamous room. Despite her grandfather's obvious excitement, Sophie wanted to go home. She hadseen pictures of the Mona Lisa in books and didn't like it at all. She couldn't understand whyeveryone made such a fuss.
　　"C'est ennuyeux," Sophie grumbled.
　　"Boring," he corrected. "French at school. English at home.""Le Louvre, c'est pas chez moi!" she challenged.
　　He gave her a tired laugh. "Right you are. Then let's speak English just for fun."Sophie pouted and kept walking. As they entered the Salle des Etats, her eyes scanned the narrowroom and settled on the obvious spot of honor—the center of the right-hand wall, where a loneportrait hung behind a protective Plexiglas wall. Her grandfather paused in the doorway andmotioned toward the painting.
　　"Go ahead, Sophie. Not many people get a chance to visit her alone."Swallowing her apprehension, Sophie moved slowly across the room. After everything she'd heardabout the Mona Lisa, she felt as if she were approaching royalty. Arriving in front of the protectivePlexiglas, Sophie held her breath and looked up, taking it in all at once.
　　Sophie was not sure what she had expected to feel, but it most certainly was not this. No jolt ofamazement. No instant of wonder. The famous face looked as it did in books. She stood in silencefor what felt like forever, waiting for something to happen.
　　"So what do you think?" her grandfather whispered, arriving behind her. "Beautiful, yes?""She's too little."Saunière smiled. "You're little and you're beautiful."I am not beautiful, she thought. Sophie hated her red hair and freckles, and she was bigger than allthe boys in her class. She looked back at the Mona Lisa and shook her head. "She's even worsethan in the books. Her face is... brumeux.""Foggy," her grandfather tutored.
　　"Foggy," Sophie repeated, knowing the conversation would not continue until she repeated her newvocabulary word.
　　"That's called the sfumato style of painting," he told her, "and it's very hard to do. Leonardo daVinci was better at it than anyone."Sophie still didn't like the painting. "She looks like she knows something... like when kids at schoolhave a secret."Her grandfather laughed. "That's part of why she is so famous. People like to guess why she issmiling.""Do you know why she's smiling?""Maybe." Her grandfather winked. "Someday I'll tell you all about it."Sophie stamped her foot. "I told you I don't like secrets!""Princess," he smiled. "Life is filled with secrets. You can't learn them all at once.""I'm going back up," Sophie declared, her voice hollow in the stairwell.
　　"To the Mona Lisa?" Langdon recoiled. "Now?"Sophie considered the risk. "I'm not a murder suspect. I'll take my chances. I need to understandwhat my grandfather was trying to tell me.""What about the embassy?"Sophie felt guilty turning Langdon into a fugitive only to abandon him, but she saw no otheroption. She pointed down the stairs to a metal door. "Go through that door, and follow theilluminated exit signs. My grandfather used to bring me down here. The signs will lead you to asecurity turnstile. It's monodirectional and opens out." She handed Langdon her car keys. "Mine isthe red SmartCar in the employee lot. Directly outside this bulkhead. Do you know how to get tothe embassy?"Langdon nodded, eyeing the keys in his hand.
　　"Listen," Sophie said, her voice softening. "I think my grandfather may have left me a message atthe Mona Lisa—some kind of clue as to who killed him. Or why I'm in danger." Or what happenedto my family. "I have to go see.""But if he wanted to tell you why you were in danger, why wouldn't he simply write it on the floorwhere he died? Why this complicated word game?""Whatever my grandfather was trying to tell me, I don't think he wanted anyone else to hear it. Noteven the police." Clearly, her grandfather had done everything in his power to send a confidentialtransmission directly to her. He had written it in code, included her secret initials, and told her tofind Robert Langdon—a wise command, considering the American symbologist had deciphered hiscode. "As strange as it may sound," Sophie said, "I think he wants me to get to the Mona Lisabefore anyone else does.""I'll come.""No! We don't know how long the Grand Gallery will stay empty. You have to go."Langdon seemed hesitant, as if his own academic curiosity were threatening to override soundjudgment and drag him back into Fache's hands.
　　"Go. Now." Sophie gave him a grateful smile. "I'll see you at the embassy, Mr. Langdon."Langdon looked displeased. "I'll meet you there on one condition," he replied, his voice stern.
　　She paused, startled. "What's that?""That you stop calling me Mr. Langdon."Sophie detected the faint hint of a lopsided grin growing across Langdon's face, and she felt herselfsmile back. "Good luck, Robert."When Langdon reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs, the unmistakable smell of linseedoil and plaster dust assaulted his nostrils. Ahead, an illuminated SORTIE/EXIT displayed an arrowpointing down a long corridor.
　　Langdon stepped into the hallway.
　　To the right gaped a murky restoration studio out of which peered an army of statues in variousstates of repair. To the left, Langdon saw a suite of studios that resembled Harvard artclassrooms—rows of easels, paintings, palettes, framing tools—an art assembly line.
　　As he moved down the hallway, Langdon wondered if at any moment he might awake with a startin his bed in Cambridge. The entire evening had felt like a bizarre dream. I'm about to dash out ofthe Louvre... a fugitive.
　　Saunière's clever anagrammatic message was still on his mind, and Langdon wondered whatSophie would find at the Mona Lisa... if anything. She had seemed certain her grandfather meantfor her to visit the famous painting one more time. As plausible an interpretation as this seemed,Langdon felt haunted now by a troubling paradox.
　　P.S. Find Robert Langdon.
　　Saunière had written Langdon's name on the floor, commanding Sophie to find him. But why?
　　Merely so Langdon could help her break an anagram?
　　It seemed quite unlikely.
　　After all, Saunière had no reason to think Langdon was especially skilled at anagrams. We've nevereven met. More important, Sophie had stated flat out that she should have broken the anagram onher own. It had been Sophie who spotted the Fibonacci sequence, and, no doubt, Sophie who, ifgiven a little more time, would have deciphered the message with no help from Langdon.
　　Sophie was supposed to break that anagram on her own. Langdon was suddenly feeling morecertain about this, and yet the conclusion left an obvious gaping lapse in the logic of Saunière'sactions.
　　Why me? Langdon wondered, heading down the hall. Why was Saunière's dying wish that hisestranged granddaughter find me? What is it that Saunière thinks I know?
　　With an unexpected jolt, Langdon stopped short. Eyes wide, he dug in his pocket and yanked outthe computer printout. He stared at the last line of Saunière's message.
　　P.S. Find Robert Langdon.
　　He fixated on two letters.
　　P.S.
　　In that instant, Langdon felt Saunière's puzzling mix of symbolism fall into stark focus. Like a pealof thunder, a career's worth of symbology and history came crashing down around him. EverythingJacques Saunière had done tonight suddenly made perfect sense.
　　Langdon's thoughts raced as he tried to assemble the implications of what this all meant. Wheeling,he stared back in the direction from which he had come.
　　Is there time?
　　He knew it didn't matter.
　　Without hesitation, Langdon broke into a sprint back toward the stairs.
《蒙娜丽莎》。
半晌，索菲愣在楼梯上，完全忘记了要逃出卢浮宫的事儿。
她对这个字谜感到极为震惊，同时也为自己没有能够亲自破解信息感到万分尴尬。索菲精通复杂的密码分析，而这却让她忽略了那些简单的文字游戏，其实她知道她早就该破解出这则信息的。毕竟，她对字谜并不陌生，特别是英文字谜。
索菲小时候，祖父经常用字谜游戏来锻炼她的英文拼写能力。有一次，他写下了英文单词"planets"，并告诉索菲排列重组这几个字母就可以得到六十二个不同长度的英文单词。索菲花了三天时间查英文词典，将这些单词全部找了出来。
"真难以想象。"兰登盯着打印稿说道。"你祖父在死前的几分钟内竟能想出这么复杂的字谜。"索菲知道这其中原由，但这使她更加不好受。我早该想到了！现在，她回忆起来，祖父既是个文字游戏迷又是个艺术爱好者，他年轻时常通过创作有关艺术名作的字谜自娱自乐。索菲小时候，祖父还曾因为他所创作的一个字谜遇上了麻烦。在接受一家美国艺术杂志采访的时候，索尼埃提出毕加索的名画《亚威农少女》（LesDemoisellesd’Avignon）
做成字谜游戏正好可以得出"讨厌而无意义的蠢人"（vilemeaninglessdoodles），表明他对"现代立体派运动"并不欣赏。此举引起了毕加索迷的不满。
"祖父可能早就想好这个‘蒙娜丽莎’的字谜了。"索菲看着兰登，说道。今晚他迫不得已用它作为密码。祖父的声音从天际传来，清晰得让人不寒而栗。
列昂纳多。达。芬奇！
《蒙娜丽莎》！
索菲不知道为什么祖父在最后的遗言中要提到那幅名画，但她可以想到一种可能--一种让人不安的可能。
那不是祖父的最后遗言……
祖父是不是想让她去看一看《蒙娜丽莎》？索菲现在才意识到，通往那间展厅的门距祖父的尸体只有二十米远。
他完全可能在死前去过名画《蒙娜丽莎》那里。
索菲扭头望了一眼紧急楼梯通道，感到非常为难。她知道她应该立即将兰登带出博物馆，但她的本能却阻止她这样做。索菲意识到，要是祖父有秘密要告诉她，没有什么比达。芬奇的《蒙娜丽莎》那里更合适的地方了。
"再走一点儿就到了。"祖父搀着索菲稚嫩的小手，在空荡荡的博物馆中已经穿行了几个小时。
那时索菲只有六岁。她仰望巨大的屋顶，俯视眩目的地板，觉得自己很渺小。空旷的博物馆使她感到害怕，但她不想让祖父看出来。她咬紧牙关，放开了祖父的手。
他们走近卢浮宫最著名的那间展厅，祖父说："前面就是国家展厅。"虽然此时祖父变得非常兴奋，但索菲却只想回家。她已经在书中看过了《蒙娜丽莎》，但一点儿也不喜欢那幅画。她不明白为什么所有人都那么喜爱这幅画。
"无聊。"索菲用法语低声嘀咕着。
"无聊。"祖父用英语纠正道。"在校说法语，在家说英语。"
"这里是卢浮宫，不是家。"索菲用法语反驳道。
祖父无奈地笑了笑，说："你说得对。那么我们就说英语玩。"
索菲噘着嘴，继续往前走。来到国家展厅后，索菲扫视了一下这个狭窄的房间，目光停留在了展览馆引以为骄傲的地方--右边墙的中间，防护玻璃之后悬挂着的那幅肖像画。祖父在门口停住了脚步，转身面向那幅画。
"往前走，索菲。很少人有机会单独参观这幅画。"
索菲压抑着心中的不安，慢慢地走进房间。由于听说过种种关于《蒙娜丽莎》的事，她觉得自己仿佛在走近一样无比神圣的东西。她来到防护玻璃前，屏住呼吸，抬头望去，一下子就喜欢上了这幅画。
索菲忘了自己预期的感觉是怎样的，但她肯定那与她的实际感觉不同。她没有丝毫惊奇和赞叹，因为那张大名远扬的脸庞看上去就和书中的一模一样。不知过了多久，她一直默默地站在那里，等待着什么将要发生的事。
"怎么样？"祖父来到她身后，轻声说道："很美，对吗？"
"她太小了。"
索尼埃微笑着说："你很小，但你很美丽。"
我不美丽，索菲想。索菲讨厌自己的红发和雀斑，她还比班上的所有男孩儿都高大。
索菲回头看看《蒙娜丽莎》，摇了摇头。"她比书上的还糟。她的脸上……"索菲顿了顿，用法语接着说。"好像有一层雾。"
"雾蒙蒙的。"祖父把这个新英文单词教给她。
"雾蒙蒙的。"索菲跟读道。她知道只有她把这个新单词再读一遍，祖父才会继续说下去。
"那是晕染法。"祖父告诉索菲。"那是一种很难掌握的手法。达。芬奇运用得最好。"
索菲还是不喜欢那幅画。"她好像知道些什么……就像学校里的小朋友知道一个秘密那样。"祖父大笑起来。"这就是她如此著名的原因之一。人们喜欢猜她为什么而微笑。"
"您知道她为什么而微笑吗？"
"也许吧。"祖父挤了挤眼睛说。"有一天我会告诉你。"
索菲跺着脚说："我说过我不喜欢秘密！"
"公主。"祖父微笑着说。"生活中充满了秘密。你不能一下把它们全部解开。"
"我要回到上面去。"索菲大声宣布，她的声音在楼梯通道中回响。
"到《蒙娜丽莎》那里？"兰登反问道。"现在吗？"
索菲掂量着此举的危险性。"我不是谋杀案的嫌疑人，我要抓住机会。我要知道祖父想告诉我的事。""那么还去大使馆吗？"
把兰登变成了逃犯，又把他抛下，索菲为此感到内疚，但她别无选择。她指着楼梯下方的一扇金属门，说道："穿过那扇门，然后看那些亮着的出口指向牌。祖父过去就是从这里把我带下去。按照指向牌的提示，你会发现装着一个旋转栅门的安全出口。它单向旋转，通向宫外。"说着，她把车钥匙递给兰登。"我的车是一辆红色的‘都会精灵’，停在公务停车区。就在这堵墙的外面。你知道去大使馆的路吗？"
兰登看着手中的钥匙，点了点头。
"听我说。"索菲柔声说。"我想祖父在《蒙娜丽莎》那里给我留下了信息--关于杀人凶手的信息，或是能解释为什么我处境危险的信息，或是关于我家庭的信息。我必须去看看。""但如果他想告诉你为什么你处境危险，为何不直接写在地板上？为什么要做复杂的文字游戏？"
"无论祖父想告诉我些什么，他都不会愿意让旁人知道，甚至包括警察。"显然，祖父是想抓住主动权，把机密直接传达给她。他将对索菲的秘密称呼的首字母写在密码中，并让她去找兰登。从这位美国象征学专家已经破译了密码的事实来看，这确实是个明智之举。
"听起来奇怪。"索菲说。"我认为他想让我赶在别人之前去看一看《蒙娜丽莎》。"
"我也去。"
"不！我们不知道什么时候会来人。你必须走。"
兰登犹豫不决，似乎他对学术问题的好奇心有可能战胜理智的判断，把他拖回到法希的手中。
"赶快走。"索菲的微笑中充满了感激之情。"兰登先生，使馆见。"
兰登看上去有点儿不高兴。他严肃地答道："只有在一种条件下，我才会见你。"
索菲愣了一下，吃惊地问："什么条件？"
"除非你不再叫我兰登先生。"
索菲觉察出兰登的笑有点儿不自然，自己也笑不出来了。"祝你好运，罗伯特。"
兰登走下了楼梯，一股亚麻油和石膏的气味扑鼻而来。前方，有一块亮着的出口指向牌，牌上的箭头指向一条长长的走廊。
兰登走在长廊中，怀疑他是否会随时从这场梦中醒来，发现自己还躺在剑桥大学里的床上。整个夜晚就像一场奇异的梦。"我将飞快地跑出卢浮宫……作为一名逃犯。"
索尼埃那设计巧妙的信息还留在他的脑海中，他想知道索菲是否会在《蒙娜丽莎》那里发现些什么。显然，她坚信祖父要让她再去看一次《蒙娜丽莎》。虽然她的想法看上去很合理，但兰登却为一个与此相反的想法困扰着。
公主：去找罗伯特。兰登。（P.S.FindRobertLangdon.）
索尼埃在地板上写下兰登的名字，让索菲去找他。为什么呢？难道仅仅是为了让他帮助索菲破解一个字谜？
好像并非如此。毕竟，索尼埃不会认为兰登擅长字谜游戏。我们素未谋面。更重要的是，索菲曾坦言她自己应该可以解开那个字谜。是索菲认出了斐波那契数列，毫无疑问，如果再花一点儿时间，她可以独立地破解密码。
索菲本应独立地破解密码。兰登忽然更加确信这一点，但这样的结论与索尼埃的行为逻辑似乎不太吻合。
为什么要找我呢？兰登边走边思量着。为什么索尼埃的遗愿是让与他失和的孙女来找我？他认为我会知道些什么？
兰登忽然一惊，停下了脚步。他把手伸进口袋，猛地掏出那张电脑打印稿，瞪大眼睛盯着那最后一行信息：公主：去找罗伯特。兰登。（P.S.FindRobertLangdon.）
他的目光停在两个字母上：P.S.
那一刻，兰登感到索尼埃留下的所有令人费解的象征符号有了明确的意义。象征学和历史研究的意义顷刻间呈现出来。雅克。索尼埃的所作所为得到了完全合理的解释。
兰登在脑海中快速地将所有符号的象征含义联系在一起。他转过身，看着来时的方向。
还有时间吗？
他知道这并不重要。他毫不犹豫地冲着楼梯跑了回去。
Chapter 22
Kneeling in the first pew, Silas pretended to pray as he scanned the layout of the sanctuary. Saint-Sulpice, like most churches, had been built in the shape of a giant Roman cross. Its long centralsection—the nave—led directly to the main altar, where it was transversely intersected by a shortersection, known as the transept. The intersection of nave and transept occurred directly beneath themain cupola and was considered the heart of the church... her most sacred and mystical point.
　　Not tonight, Silas thought. Saint-Sulpice hides her secrets elsewhere.
　　Turning his head to the right, he gazed into the south transept, toward the open area of floor beyondthe end of the pews, to the object his victims had described.
　　There it is.
　　Embedded in the gray granite floor, a thin polished strip of brass glistened in the stone... a goldenline slanting across the church's floor. The line bore graduated markings, like a ruler. It was agnomon, Silas had been told, a pagan astronomical device like a sundial. Tourists, scientists,historians, and pagans from around the world came to Saint-Sulpice to gaze upon this famous line.
　　The Rose Line.
　　Slowly, Silas let his eyes trace the path of the brass strip as it made its way across the floor fromhis right to left, slanting in front of him at an awkward angle, entirely at odds with the symmetry ofthe church. Slicing across the main altar itself, the line looked to Silas like a slash wound across abeautiful face. The strip cleaved the communion rail in two and then crossed the entire width of thechurch, finally reaching the corner of the north transept, where it arrived at the base of a mostunexpected structure.
　　A colossal Egyptian obelisk.
　　Here, the glistening Rose Line took a ninety-degree vertical turn and continued directly up the faceof the obelisk itself, ascending thirty-three feet to the very tip of the pyramidical apex, where itfinally ceased.
　　The Rose Line, Silas thought. The brotherhood hid the keystone at the Rose Line.
　　Earlier tonight, when Silas told the Teacher that the Priory keystone was hidden inside Saint-Sulpice, the Teacher had sounded doubtful. But when Silas added that the brothers had all givenhim a precise location, with relation to a brass line running through Saint-Sulpice, the Teacher hadgasped with revelation. "You speak of the Rose Line!"The Teacher quickly told Silas of Saint-Sulpice's famed architectural oddity—a strip of brass thatsegmented the sanctuary on a perfect north-south axis. It was an ancient sundial of sorts, a vestigeof the pagan temple that had once stood on this very spot. The sun's rays, shining through theoculus on the south wall, moved farther down the line every day, indicating the passage of time,from solstice to solstice.
　　The north-south stripe had been known as the Rose Line. For centuries, the symbol of the Rose hadbeen associated with maps and guiding souls in the proper direction. The Compass Rose—drawnon almost every map—indicated North, East, South, and West. Originally known as the WindRose, it denoted the directions of the thirty-two winds, blowing from the directions of eight majorwinds, eight half-winds, and sixteen quarter-winds. When diagrammed inside a circle, these thirty-two points of the compass perfectly resembled a traditional thirty-two petal rose bloom. To thisday, the fundamental navigational tool was still known as a Compass Rose, its northernmostdirection still marked by an arrowhead... or, more commonly, the symbol of the fleur-de-lis.
　　On a globe, a Rose Line—also called a meridian or longitude—was any imaginary line drawn fromthe North Pole to the South Pole. There were, of course, an infinite number of Rose Lines becauseevery point on the globe could have a longitude drawn through it connecting north and south poles.
　　The question for early navigators was which of these lines would be called the Rose Line—the zerolongitude—the line from which all other longitudes on earth would be measured.
　　Today that line was in Greenwich, England.
　　But it had not always been.
　　Long before the establishment of Greenwich as the prime meridian, the zero longitude of the entireworld had passed directly through Paris, and through the Church of Saint-Sulpice. The brassmarker in Saint-Sulpice was a memorial to the world's first prime meridian, and althoughGreenwich had stripped Paris of the honor in 1888, the original Rose Line was still visible today.
　　"And so the legend is true," the Teacher had told Silas. "The Priory keystone has been said to lie'beneath the Sign of the Rose.' "Now, still on his knees in a pew, Silas glanced around the church and listened to make sure no onewas there. For a moment, he thought he heard a rustling in the choir balcony. He turned and gazedup for several seconds. Nothing.
　　I am alone.
　　Standing now, he faced the altar and genuflected three times. Then he turned left and followed thebrass line due north toward the obelisk.
　　At that moment, at Leonardo da Vinci International Airport in Rome, the jolt of tires hitting therunway startled Bishop Aringarosa from his slumber.
　　I drifted off, he thought, impressed he was relaxed enough to sleep.
　　"Benvenuto a Roma," the intercom announced.
　　Sitting up, Aringarosa straightened his black cassock and allowed himself a rare smile. This wasone trip he had been happy to make. I have been on the defensive for too long. Tonight, however,the rules had changed. Only five months ago, Aringarosa had feared for the future of the Faith.
　　Now, as if by the will of God, the solution had presented itself.
　　Divine intervention.
　　If all went as planned tonight in Paris, Aringarosa would soon be in possession of something thatwould make him the most powerful man in Christendom.
塞拉斯跪在前排的座位上，一边假装祷告，一边扫视着圣殿的结构布局。与大多数教堂一样，圣叙尔皮斯教堂呈巨大的十字形。中间的较长的区域--中殿--直接通向圣坛，在圣坛处有较短的区域与中殿垂直交叉，这一区域叫做翼部。中殿与翼部在教堂圆顶中心的正下方相交，相交处被视为教堂的心脏--教堂中最为神圣和神秘的一点。
今晚例外，塞拉斯想。圣叙尔皮斯把秘密藏在了其他地方。
塞拉斯扭头向教堂的南翼望去，看着座位那头的地面--遇害者们所描述的目标。
就在那里。
一根光滑而又细长的铜条嵌在灰色的花岗岩地面中闪闪发光--这条金线斜穿教堂地面。这条线上标有刻度，就像一把尺。有人告诉过塞拉斯，这是指时针，是异教的一种天文仪器，与日晷相似。全世界的旅游者、科学家、历史学家和异教徒都来到圣叙尔皮斯教堂参观这条著名的金属线。
玫瑰线。
塞拉斯的目光慢慢地随着铜条的轨迹移动，铜条在地面的石砖中从他的右侧延伸至左侧，在他的面前折成一个难看的角，完全与教堂的对称设计格格不入。在塞拉斯看来，那穿越过圣坛地面的铜条，就像美丽的脸庞上的一道疤痕。铜条横贯教堂，将纵向的走道截为两段，最终延伸至教堂北翼的角落。在那个角落，树立着一座碑，这让人颇感意外。
一座巨大的埃及方尖碑。
闪闪发光的玫瑰线在方尖碑的基石处向上转了个九十度的弯，顺着碑面继续向上延伸了三十三米，终结于石碑的尖顶处。
玫瑰线，塞拉斯想，兄弟会的人将楔石藏在了玫瑰线的下面。
傍晚，当塞拉斯告诉教父，修道院的楔石藏在圣叙尔皮斯教堂里时，教父似乎有点儿不相信。但当塞拉斯补充说兄弟会的人已经交代了确切地点，那地点与横贯教堂地面的一条铜线有关时，教父立即明白过来。"你说的是玫瑰线。"
教父告诉塞拉斯，圣叙尔皮斯教堂有一奇异处赫赫有名--在南北轴线上的一根铜条分割了中殿。那是一种古代的日晷，是异教古庙的遗迹。每天，太阳光通过南墙上的洞眼照射进来，光束会顺铜线上的刻度一点一点地移动，这样就可以计量时间了。
这条南北向的铜线被称为玫瑰线。几个世纪以来，玫瑰的象征意义一直与地图或为灵魂指引方向有关。例如，每张地图上都会有"罗盘玫瑰"，指明东、南、西、北。它由"风向玫瑰"演变而来，那是一种可以指明三十二种风向的仪器，通过它可以辨别四面八方的来风。罗盘图上有个圆圈，圈上有三十二个点，酷似玫瑰花的三十二片花瓣。直到今天，最基本的航海工具依然被叫做"罗盘玫瑰"，它的正北方向一般会有一个法国百合的标志，当然，有时是一个箭头的标志。
地球仪上的玫瑰线--也叫做子午线或经线--是想象中连接南北两极的线。当然，玫瑰线有无数条，因为经过地球仪上的任意一点都可以画出条连接南北两极的经线。于是，早期的航海者就遇到了这样一个问题--如何确定玫瑰线，即零度经线，并依此来确定其他的经线的度数。
现在，玫瑰线在英国的格林威治。
但过去并非如此。
在将格林威治天文台确定为本初子午线所经过的一点之前，零度经线正好穿过巴黎，穿过圣叙尔皮斯教堂。为了纪念那根铜条的制作者，本初子午线最初被这样确定。虽然，格林威治于1888 年从巴黎手中夺走了这项殊荣，但当初的玫瑰线依然可见。
教父告诉塞拉斯："据说，修道院的楔石被藏在有玫瑰象征的东西下面。看来，这个传闻属实。"塞拉斯依旧跪在那里，他环视了一下教堂，又竖起耳朵听了听周围的动静，以确定周围是否真的没人。忽然，他好像听见唱诗班站台上有"沙沙"的响动。他转过头，盯着那里看了好几秒钟，但什么也没看见。
只有我一个人。
他这才起身，又向圣坛曲膝三次。接着，他向左转身，沿着铜线向北面的方尖碑走去。
此刻，在列昂纳多。达。芬奇机场，阿林加洛沙主教被飞机轮胎撞击跑道的震动惊醒了。
我飘了下来，他想着，还清楚地记得自己刚才放松得睡着了。
"欢迎您来到罗马。"飞机的扬声器里传来这样的语句。
阿林加洛沙坐直身体，拉了拉他的黑色长袍，露出了他那难得一见的微笑。他很乐意做这次旅行。我处于守势很久了。但今晚，规则改变了。五个月前，阿林加洛沙还在为这个宗教的前途而担忧，但现在，好像如有神助，出路自动呈现在他面前。
来得正好。
如果巴黎那头的事态发展顺利，阿林加洛沙很快就会拥有他想要的东西，那东西可以让他成为基督教界中最有权力的人。
Chapter 23
Sophie arrived breathless outside the large wooden doors of the Salle des Etats—the room thathoused the Mona Lisa. Before entering, she gazed reluctantly farther down the hall, twenty yards orso, to the spot where her grandfather's body still lay under the spotlight.
　　The remorse that gripped her was powerful and sudden, a deep sadness laced with guilt. The manhad reached out to her so many times over the past ten years, and yet Sophie had remainedimmovable—leaving his letters and packages unopened in a bottom drawer and denying his effortsto see her. He lied to me! Kept appalling secrets! What was I supposed to do? And so she hadblocked him out. Completely.
　　Now her grandfather was dead, and he was talking to her from the grave.
　　The Mona Lisa.
　　She reached for the huge wooden doors, and pushed. The entryway yawned open. Sophie stood onthe threshold a moment, scanning the large rectangular chamber beyond. It too was bathed in a softred light. The Salle des Etats was one of this museum's rare culs-de-sac—a dead end and the onlyroom off the middle of the Grand Gallery. This door, the chamber's sole point of entry, faced adominating fifteen-foot Botticelli on the far wall. Beneath it, centered on the parquet floor, animmense octagonal viewing divan served as a welcome respite for thousands of visitors to rest theirlegs while they admired the Louvre's most valuable asset.
　　Even before Sophie entered, though, she knew she was missing something. A black light. Shegazed down the hall at her grandfather under the lights in the distance, surrounded by electronicgear. If he had written anything in here, he almost certainly would have written it with thewatermark stylus.
　　Taking a deep breath, Sophie hurried down to the well-lit crime scene. Unable to look at hergrandfather, she focused solely on the PTS tools. Finding a small ultraviolet penlight, she slipped itin the pocket of her sweater and hurried back up the hallway toward the open doors of the Salle desEtats.
　　Sophie turned the corner and stepped over the threshold. Her entrance, however, was met by anunexpected sound of muffled footsteps racing toward her from inside the chamber. There'ssomeone in here! A ghostly figure emerged suddenly from out of the reddish haze. Sophie jumpedback.
　　"There you are!" Langdon's hoarse whisper cut the air as his silhouette slid to a stop in front of her.
　　Her relief was only momentary. "Robert, I told you to get out of here! If Fache—""Where were you?""I had to get the black light," she whispered, holding it up. "If my grandfather left me a message—""Sophie, listen." Langdon caught his breath as his blue eyes held her firmly. "The letters P.S.... dothey mean anything else to you? Anything at all?"Afraid their voices might echo down the hall, Sophie pulled him into the Salle des Etats and closedthe enormous twin doors silently, sealing them inside. "I told you, the initials mean PrincessSophie.""I know, but did you ever see them anywhere else? Did your grandfather ever use P.S. in any otherway? As a monogram, or maybe on stationery or a personal item?"The question startled her. How would Robert know that? Sophie had indeed seen the initials P.S.
　　once before, in a kind of monogram. It was the day before her ninth birthday. She was secretlycombing the house, searching for hidden birthday presents. Even then, she could not bear secretskept from her. What did Grand-père get for me this year? She dug through cupboards and drawers.
　　Did he get me the doll I wanted? Where would he hide it?
　　Finding nothing in the entire house, Sophie mustered the courage to sneak into her grandfather'sbedroom. The room was off-limits to her, but her grandfather was downstairs asleep on the couch.
　　I'll just take a fast peek!
　　Tiptoeing across the creaky wood floor to his closet, Sophie peered on the shelves behind hisclothing. Nothing. Next she looked under the bed. Still nothing. Moving to his bureau, she openedthe drawers and one by one began pawing carefully through them. There must be something for mehere! As she reached the bottom drawer, she still had not found any hint of a doll. Dejected, sheopened the final drawer and pulled aside some black clothes she had never seen him wear. She wasabout to close the drawer when her eyes caught a glint of gold in the back of the drawer. It lookedlike a pocket watch chain, but she knew he didn't wear one. Her heart raced as she realized what itmust be.
　　A necklace!
　　Sophie carefully pulled the chain from the drawer. To her surprise, on the end was a brilliant goldkey. Heavy and shimmering. Spellbound, she held it up. It looked like no key she had ever seen.
　　Most keys were flat with jagged teeth, but this one had a triangular column with little pockmarksall over it. Its large golden head was in the shape of a cross, but not a normal cross. This was aneven-armed one, like a plus sign. Embossed in the middle of the cross was a strange symbol—twoletters intertwined with some kind of flowery design.
　　"P.S.," she whispered, scowling as she read the letters. Whatever could this be?
　　"Sophie?" her grandfather spoke from the doorway.
　　Startled, she spun, dropping the key on the floor with a loud clang. She stared down at the key,afraid to look up at her grandfather's face. "I... was looking for my birthday present," she said,hanging her head, knowing she had betrayed his trust.
　　For what seemed like an eternity, her grandfather stood silently in the doorway. Finally, he let out along troubled breath. "Pick up the key, Sophie."Sophie retrieved the key.
　　Her grandfather walked in. "Sophie, you need to respect other people's privacy." Gently, he kneltdown and took the key from her. "This key is very special. If you had lost it..."Her grandfather's quiet voice made Sophie feel even worse. "I'm sorry, Grand-père. I really am."She paused. "I thought it was a necklace for my birthday."He gazed at her for several seconds. "I'll say this once more, Sophie, because it's important. Youneed to learn to respect other people's privacy.""Yes, Grand-père.""We'll talk about this some other time. Right now, the garden needs to be weeded."Sophie hurried outside to do her chores.
　　The next morning, Sophie received no birthday present from her grandfather. She hadn't expectedone, not after what she had done. But he didn't even wish her happy birthday all day. Sadly, shetrudged up to bed that night. As she climbed in, though, she found a note card lying on her pillow.
　　On the card was written a simple riddle. Even before she solved the riddle, she was smiling. I knowwhat this is! Her grandfather had done this for her last Christmas morning.
　　A treasure hunt!
　　Eagerly, she pored over the riddle until she solved it. The solution pointed her to another part of thehouse, where she found another card and another riddle. She solved this one too, racing on to thenext card. Running wildly, she darted back and forth across the house, from clue to clue, until atlast she found a clue that directed her back to her own bedroom. Sophie dashed up the stairs,rushed into her room, and stopped in her tracks. There in the middle of the room sat a shining redbicycle with a ribbon tied to the handlebars. Sophie shrieked with delight.
　　"I know you asked for a doll," her grandfather said, smiling in the corner. "I thought you might likethis even better."The next day, her grandfather taught her to ride, running beside her down the walkway. WhenSophie steered out over the thick lawn and lost her balance, they both went tumbling onto thegrass, rolling and laughing.
　　"Grand-père," Sophie said, hugging him. "I'm really sorry about the key.""I know, sweetie. You're forgiven. I can't possibly stay mad at you. Grandfathers andgranddaughters always forgive each other."Sophie knew she shouldn't ask, but she couldn't help it. "What does it open? I never saw a key likethat. It was very pretty."Her grandfather was silent a long moment, and Sophie could see he was uncertain how to answer.
　　Grand-père never lies. "It opens a box," he finally said. "Where I keep many secrets."Sophie pouted. "I hate secrets!""I know, but these are important secrets. And someday, you'll learn to appreciate them as much as Ido.""I saw letters on the key, and a flower.""Yes, that's my favorite flower. It's called a fleur-de-lis. We have them in the garden. The whiteones. In English we call that kind of flower a lily.""I know those! They're my favorite too!""Then I'll make a deal with you." Her grandfather's eyebrows raised the way they always did whenhe was about to give her a challenge. "If you can keep my key a secret, and never talk about it everagain, to me or anybody, then someday I will give it to you."Sophie couldn't believe her ears. "You will?""I promise. When the time comes, the key will be yours. It has your name on it."Sophie scowled. "No it doesn't. It said P.S. My name isn't P.S.!"Her grandfather lowered his voice and looked around as if to make sure no one was listening.
　　"Okay, Sophie, if you must know, P.S. is a code. It's your secret initials."Her eyes went wide. "I have secret initials?""Of course. Granddaughters always have secret initials that only their grandfathers know.""P.S.?"He tickled her. "Princesse Sophie."She giggled. "I'm not a princess!"He winked. "You are to me."From that day on, they never again spoke of the key. And she became his Princess Sophie.
　　Inside the Salle des Etats, Sophie stood in silence and endured the sharp pang of loss.
　　"The initials," Langdon whispered, eyeing her strangely. "Have you seen them?"Sophie sensed her grandfather's voice whispering in the corridors of the museum. Never speak ofthis key, Sophie. To me or to anyone. She knew she had failed him in forgiveness, and shewondered if she could break his trust again. P.S. Find Robert Langdon. Her grandfather wantedLangdon to help. Sophie nodded. "Yes, I saw the initials P.S. once. When I was very young.""Where?"Sophie hesitated. "On something very important to him."Langdon locked eyes with her. "Sophie, this is crucial. Can you tell me if the initials appeared witha symbol? A fleur-de-lis?"Sophie felt herself staggering backward in amazement. "But... how could you possibly know that!"Langdon exhaled and lowered his voice. "I'm fairly certain your grandfather was a member of asecret society. A very old covert brotherhood."Sophie felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She was certain of it too. For ten years she had tried toforget the incident that had confirmed that horrifying fact for her. She had witnessed somethingunthinkable. Unforgivable.
　　"The fleur-de-lis," Langdon said, "combined with the initials P.S., that is the brotherhood's officialdevice. Their coat of arms. Their logo.""How do you know this?" Sophie was praying Langdon was not going to tell her that he himselfwas a member.
　　"I've written about this group," he said, his voice tremulous with excitement. "Researching thesymbols of secret societies is a specialty of mine. They call themselves the Prieuré de Sion—thePriory of Sion. They're based here in France and attract powerful members from all over Europe. Infact, they are one of the oldest surviving secret societies on earth."Sophie had never heard of them.
　　Langdon was talking in rapid bursts now. "The Priory's membership has included some of history'smost cultured individuals: men like Botticelli, Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo." He paused, hisvoice brimming now with academic zeal. "And, Leonardo da Vinci."Sophie stared. "Da Vinci was in a secret society?""Da Vinci presided over the Priory between 1510 and 1519 as the brotherhood's Grand Master,which might help explain your grandfather's passion for Leonardo's work. The two men share ahistorical fraternal bond. And it all fits perfectly with their fascination for goddess iconology,paganism, feminine deities, and contempt for the Church. The Priory has a well-documentedhistory of reverence for the sacred feminine.""You're telling me this group is a pagan goddess worship cult?""More like the pagan goddess worship cult. But more important, they are known as the guardiansof an ancient secret. One that made them immeasurably powerful."Despite the total conviction in Langdon's eyes, Sophie's gut reaction was one of stark disbelief. Asecret pagan cult? Once headed by Leonardo da Vinci? It all sounded utterly absurd. And yet, evenas she dismissed it, she felt her mind reeling back ten years—to the night she had mistakenlysurprised her grandfather and witnessed what she still could not accept. Could that explain—?
　　"The identities of living Priory members are kept extremely secret," Langdon said, "but the P.S.
　　and fleur-de-lis that you saw as a child are proof. It could only have been related to the Priory."Sophie realized now that Langdon knew far more about her grandfather than she had previouslyimagined. This American obviously had volumes to share with her, but this was not the place. "Ican't afford to let them catch you, Robert. There's a lot we need to discuss. You need to go!"Langdon heard only the faint murmur of her voice. He wasn't going anywhere. He was lost inanother place now. A place where ancient secrets rose to the surface. A place where forgottenhistories emerged from the shadows.
　　Slowly, as if moving underwater, Langdon turned his head and gazed through the reddish hazetoward the Mona Lisa.
　　The fleur-de-lis... the flower of Lisa... the Mona Lisa.
　　It was all intertwined, a silent symphony echoing the deepest secrets of the Priory of Sion andLeonardo da Vinci.
　　A few miles away, on the riverbank beyond Les Invalides, the bewildered driver of a twin-bedTrailor truck stood at gunpoint and watched as the captain of the Judicial Police let out a gutturalroar of rage and heaved a bar of soap out into the turgid waters of the Seine.
索菲气喘吁吁地来到国家展厅的那扇大木门外---这就是收藏《蒙娜丽莎》的地方。她忍不住向大厅方向望去，在大约二十码远的地方，祖父的尸体静静地躺在聚光灯下。
她忽然感到深深的悔恨---那是一种伴随着负罪感的悲伤。在过去的十年中，祖父无数次主动与她联系，但索菲一直无动于衷--她将信件和包裹都原封不动地放在衣橱最下面的抽屉里，并拒绝与祖父见面。他对我说谎！他有不可告人的秘密！他想让我做什么？索菲抱着这样的想法将他拒之于千里之外。
现在，祖父死了，他死后还在对索菲说话。
《蒙娜丽莎》。
索菲伸手推开了那扇巨大的木门，入口展现在她的眼前。她在门口站了片刻，扫视了一下眼前这个长方形的展厅。整个展厅沐浴在柔和的红色灯光下。国家展厅只有一个出入口，这样的结构在博物馆中很少见，而且它也是唯一在艺术大画廊中单独辟出的展厅。木门是进入这个展厅的唯一入口，它对着远处墙上那幅高达十五米的波提切利的名画。在那下面，拼花地板上放着一个巨大的八边形沙发，供成千上万的游客在欣赏卢浮宫的镇馆之宝前小憩片刻。
索菲还没有进入展厅，就想起她忘了带一样东西。黑光灯。她朝远处祖父的尸体望去，那尸体周围放置着电器装置。如果祖父在展厅里写了些什么，那么他一定是用水笔写的。
索菲深吸了一口气，急匆匆地走到被灯光照得通亮的谋杀现场。她不忍将目光投向祖父，强迫自己将注意力集中在寻找PTS 工具上。她找到了一支小巧的紫外线笔，将它放入毛衣的口袋中，又匆忙沿着画廊向国家展厅那敞开的大门走去。
索菲刚转身跨过门槛，就意外地听见展厅中有低沉的脚步声，那脚步声正离她越来越近。里面有人！在如雾一般的红色灯光中忽然出现了一个鬼影。索菲吓得倒退几步。
"你来了！"兰登嘶哑的声音打破了恐怖的气氛，他那黑色的身影滑到索菲跟前，停了下来。
索菲松了口气，又担心起来："罗伯特，我让你离开这里！如果法希--"
"你刚才到哪里去了？"
"我必须去拿一个黑光灯。"索菲低声说着，掏出那支紫外线笔。"如果祖父给我留了信息--"" 索菲， 听我说。" 兰登屏住呼吸， 用蔚蓝色的眼睛凝视着索菲。" 你知道字母P.S.……的其他含义吗？一点儿也想不起来吗？"
索菲生怕他们的声音会在长廊中回响，便把兰登向展厅内部推去，然后轻轻地关上那敞开的巨大木门，并将门从里面栓好。"我告诉过你，这是索菲公主（PrincessSophie）的首字母缩写。""我知道，但你有没有在其他地方见到过它？你祖父是否曾经以其他的方式用过它？比如说作为写在文具或私人物品上的花押字？"
这个问题让索菲颇感震惊。兰登怎么会知道？ 索菲确实曾经见过首字母缩写P.S.被用作花押字。那是在她九岁生日的前一天，她悄悄地在家四处寻找被藏起来的生日礼物。祖父今年会送给我什么呢？她翻腾着壁橱和抽屉。他会送我想要的娃娃吗？他把它藏哪儿了？
在翻遍了整座房子却一无所获之后，索菲鼓足勇气溜进祖父的房间。这间房本来是不允许进入的，但当时祖父在楼下的长沙发上睡着了，不会知道索菲的所作所为。
我就迅速地偷看一下！
索菲踮着脚向壁橱走去，地板在她的脚下嘎嘎作响。她看了看被祖父的衣物挡住的搁板，却什么也没有发现。索菲又走向祖父的书桌，将抽屉一一打开，仔细地翻看。这里一定有为我而藏的东西！可她一直没有看到玩具娃娃的影子。她沮丧地打开最后一个抽屉，翻动着一些祖父从来没有穿过的黑衣服。正当她要关上抽屉的时候，她看见在抽屉的深处有一样闪闪发光的东西。这东西看上去像一根怀表链，但她知道祖父从不带怀表。当她猜想到这是什么的时候，她的心狂跳了起来。
一条项链！
索菲小心翼翼地从抽屉中把这条链子取出，并惊奇地发现链子末端还挂坠着一把金钥匙。金钥匙沉甸甸的，闪闪发光。索菲恍恍忽忽地握住这把与众不同的钥匙。大多数钥匙都是扁平的，钥匙边参差不齐，但这把钥匙却呈三棱柱形，上面布满小孔。金色的大钥匙柄呈十字形，但交叉的两条线段一样长，像一个加号。在十字的中心镶嵌着一个奇特的标志--两个相互交织在一起的字母和一朵花的图案。
"P.S.."索菲皱着眉头轻声念道。这到底是什么呢？
"索菲？"祖父的声音从门口传来。
索菲吓得一愣，钥匙"当"的一声掉落在地。她盯着地板上的钥匙，不敢抬头看祖父。
"我……在找我的生日礼物。"索菲低着头说，她知道自己辜负了祖父的信任。
祖父在门口站了良久，一言不发。最后，他终于不安地叹了口气，说："索菲，把钥匙捡起来。"索菲捡起钥匙。
祖父走了进来。"索菲，你应该尊重别人的隐私。"祖父蹲下身，轻轻地拿起钥匙。"这把钥匙很特别，要是你把它弄丢了……"祖父轻柔的声音让索菲觉得更加难受。"对不起，祖父。我真的……以为这是一条项链，是我的生日礼物。"祖父凝视着索菲。"我再说一遍，索菲。它非常重要。你应该学会尊重别人的隐私。"
"知道了，祖父。"
"我们有时间再谈这件事。现在，去给花园除草吧。"
索菲赶紧出去做杂务。
第二天早晨，索菲没有收到祖父的生日礼物。做了错事，索菲也没有指望会得到生日礼物，但祖父竟然一整天都没有祝她生日快乐。晚上，她伤心地去睡觉，刚爬上床，就在枕头底下发现了一张卡片，卡片上写着一条谜语。还没有解开谜语，她就笑了。我知道这是什么！去年圣诞节的早晨，祖父也这样做过。
寻找财宝的游戏！
索菲如饥似渴地破解这个谜语，最后终于得到了答案。谜底指引她到房子的一处地方去，在那里她发现了另外一张写着谜语的卡片。她解开了那则谜语，又向下一张卡片跑去。索菲依照一条条线索在房中奔跑穿梭，最后她发现了一条线索指引她回到卧室。索菲冲上楼，奔向她的房间。她忽然停住了脚步，因为她看见房间中央正停着一辆崭新的红色自行车，车把上还系着丝带。索菲兴奋得尖叫起来。
"我知道你想要个玩具娃娃。"祖父站在角落微笑着说。"但我想你会更喜欢这个。"
第二天，祖父教索菲如何骑车。索菲坐在车上，祖父则在一边沿着车道跑。索菲不小心将车龙头歪向了厚厚的草坪，失去了平衡，祖孙俩就一起摔倒在草坪上，一边打滚，一边大笑。
"祖父。"索菲抱着祖父说。"真对不起，我看了那把钥匙。"
"我知道，宝贝儿。原谅你了。我不能一直对你生气。祖父和孙女总是互相谅解的。"
"那是用来开什么的？我从来没有见过那样的钥匙。真漂亮。"索菲忍不住要问。
祖父沉默了许久。索菲知道一定是他不知道如何回答。祖父从来不说谎。最后，他终于开口说道。"它是用来开一个盒子的，在那盒子里藏着我的许多秘密。"
索菲噘着嘴说："我讨厌秘密。"
"我知道，但它们是非常重要的秘密。有一天，你会学会像我一样欣赏它们。"
"我看见钥匙上有两个字母，还有一朵花。"
"那是我最喜欢的花。它叫法国百合。我们的花园中就有，白色的那种。英语中叫‘lily’。""我知道那种花！那也是我最喜欢的！"
"那么我们做个交易。"祖父扬起眉头---这是他向索菲提出挑战时的一贯表情。"如果你保守这个秘密，再也不向我和任何人提起这把钥匙，有一天，我会将它给你。"索菲不敢相信自己的耳朵。"你会把它给我？"
"我发誓。到时候，我会把钥匙给你。那上面有你的名字。"
索菲皱起眉头："不，那上面没有。那上面写的是P.S.，不是我的名字。"
祖父环顾了一下四周，好像是要确认没有人在听他们的谈话。他压低声音说道。"好吧，索菲，如果你一定要问，我就告诉你，P.S.是一个密码，是你的秘密称呼的缩写。"索菲瞪大了眼睛。"我有秘密称呼的缩写？"
"当然。孙女总是有秘密称呼的缩写，那只有祖父才会知道。"
"P.S.？"
"索菲公主（Princess Sophie）。"祖父呵索菲痒。
索菲咯咯地笑着："我不是公主！"
祖父挤了挤眼睛。"你是我的公主。"
从那天起，他们再也没有提起过钥匙，索菲也变成了祖父的"索菲公主"。
索菲站在国家展厅中，默默地承受着失去祖父的剧痛。
兰登不解地望着她，说道："你见过这个首字母缩写吗？"
索菲仿佛感到祖父的低语从博物馆的走廊那头传来。再也不向我和任何人提起这把钥匙。她知道自己没有谅解祖父，她不知道自己是否应该再次辜负他的信任。P.S.：去找罗伯特。兰登。祖父希望兰登能提供帮助。索菲点了点头。"在我很小的时候，我曾看到过一次。""在什么地方看到的？"
索菲犹豫了一下，答道："在一件对祖父来说很重要的东西上。"
兰登盯着索菲。"索菲，这很关键。这个缩写字母旁边是否还有其他标志？是否有一朵法国百合？"
索菲惊讶得倒退了两步。"你……你是怎么知道的？"
兰登呼了口气，压低声音说。"我非常肯定你祖父是一个秘密团体的成员。一个古老而隐秘的教会。"索菲觉得心被揪得更紧了。她也可以肯定这一点。十年来，她一直想忘记那个能确认这一事实的事件。她目睹过一件出人意料的、让人无法原谅的事。
兰登说："法国百合和P.S.放在一起，是他们的组织标志，是他们的徽章和图标。"
"你是怎么知道这些的？"索菲真不希望兰登回答说他自己也是其中的一员。
"我曾经写过有关这个组织的书。"兰登兴奋得声音都有些颤抖。"秘密团体的标志是我的一个研究方向。它自称‘郇山隐修会’。它以法国为基地，有实力的会员遍及欧洲。实际上，它是世界上现存的最古老的秘密团体。"索菲从来没有听说过这些。
兰登已加快了语速："历史上许多著名的人物都是隐修会的成员，像波提切利、牛顿、雨果等。"他顿了一下。"还有列昂纳多。达。芬奇。"他的话语中饱含着对学术研究的热情。
索菲盯着兰登："达。芬奇也是秘密团体的成员？"
"1510 年到1519 年，达。芬奇担任大主教主持隐修会的工作。这也正是你祖父酷爱列昂纳多的作品的原因。他们虽然身处不同的历史时期，但都是教会的兄弟。他们都酷爱女神圣像学，信仰异教、女神，蔑视天主教。对于隐修会信奉神圣的女神，有详细的历史记载。""你是说这个团体是异教女神狂热崇拜者的组织？"
"很像异教女神狂热崇拜者的组织。但更重要的是，据说他们保守着一个古老的秘密。
这使得他们有无比巨大的力量。"虽然兰登的眼神无比坚定，但索菲打心眼儿里怀疑这种说法。一个秘密的异教狂热崇拜者组织？曾以达。芬奇为首？这听起来十分荒唐。她情不自禁地回想起十年前的那个夜晚---她无意的早归让祖父惊讶万分，她看到了那令她至今无法接受的事实。难道这就是为什么……
"还活着的成员的身份是机密。"兰登说。"但你小时候所见到的P.S.和法国百合图案是一个有力的证明。它只可能与隐修会有关。"索菲这才意识到兰登对她祖父的了解超乎她的想象。这个美国人可以告诉她许多东西，但这里显然不是说话的地方。"我可不能让他们把你抓走，罗伯特。我们还有很多东西要谈。你必须离开这里！"索菲的声音在兰登的脑海中变得模糊。他哪儿也不想去。他又陷入了沉思。古老的秘密浮现在他的眼前，那些被人遗忘的历史又呈现在他的脑海中。
兰登慢慢转过头，透过红色的光雾凝视《蒙娜丽莎》。
法国百合……法国百合……《蒙娜丽莎》。
这一切交织在一起，像一支无声的交响曲，是有关郇山隐修会和达。芬奇的古老秘密的回响。
几英里外，荣军院前的河畔，拖挂卡车的司机大惑不解地站在警察的枪口前，看着警长怒吼着将一块肥皂投入水位正高的塞纳河中。
Chapter 24
Silas gazed upward at the Saint-Sulpice obelisk, taking in the length of the massive marble shaft.
　　His sinews felt taut with exhilaration. He glanced around the church one more time to make sure hewas alone. Then he knelt at the base of the structure, not out of reverence, but out of necessity.
　　The keystone is hidden beneath the Rose Line.
　　At the base of the Sulpice obelisk.
　　All the brothers had concurred.
　　On his knees now, Silas ran his hands across the stone floor. He saw no cracks or markings toindicate a movable tile, so he began rapping softly with his knuckles on the floor. Following thebrass line closer to the obelisk, he knocked on each tile adjacent to the brass line. Finally, one ofthem echoed strangely.
　　There's a hollow area beneath the floor!
　　Silas smiled. His victims had spoken the truth.
　　Standing, he searched the sanctuary for something with which to break the floor tile.
　　High above Silas, in the balcony, Sister Sandrine stifled a gasp. Her darkest fears had just beenconfirmed. This visitor was not who he seemed. The mysterious Opus Dei monk had come to Saint-Sulpice for another purpose.
　　A secret purpose.
　　You are not the only one with secrets, she thought.
　　Sister Sandrine Bieil was more than the keeper of this church. She was a sentry. And tonight, theancient wheels had been set in motion. The arrival of this stranger at the base of the obelisk was asignal from the brotherhood.
　　It was a silent call of distress.
塞拉斯抬头看着圣叙尔皮斯方尖碑，估量着巨大的大理石碑面的高度。他身上的肌肉因为兴奋绷得紧紧的。他再次环视了一下教堂，确认四周无人。然后，他跪倒在石碑的基座前。当然，这并非是出于尊敬，只是出于实际需要。
楔石藏在玫瑰线下。
在圣叙尔皮斯方尖碑的基座处。
所有隐修会的成员都这么说。
塞拉斯跪在地上，双手在石块铺就的地面上摸索着。他没有发现哪块地砖上有表明可以移动的裂纹或标记，于是就开始用指关节敲击地面。他沿着铜线敲击着方尖碑附近的每一块地砖，最后终于发现有一块地砖的回音与众不同。
地砖下是空的！
塞拉斯笑了起来，看来他杀的那几个人都说了实话。
他站起身来，在圣殿里寻找可以用来撬开地砖的东西。
桑德琳嬷嬷蹲在塞拉斯上方那高高的唱诗班站台上，屏住了呼吸。她最担心的事终于发生了。这个来访者的身份与他的表象不符。这个神秘的天主事工会的僧侣另有所图。
为了一个秘密的目的。
有秘密的又何止你一人呢，她想。
桑德琳嬷嬷不仅是这所教堂的看守人，还是一名卫士。今晚，那古老的隐修会机制又开始运行了。陌生人来到方尖碑的基座边是教友们发出的信号。
那是无声的痛苦呼唤。
Chapter 25
The U.S. Embassy in Paris is a compact complex on Avenue Gabriel, just north of the Champs-Elysées. The three-acre compound is considered U.S. soil, meaning all those who stand on it aresubject to the same laws and protections as they would encounter standing in the United States.
　　The embassy's night operator was reading Time magazine's International Edition when the sound ofher phone interrupted.
　　"U.S. Embassy," she answered.
　　"Good evening." The caller spoke English accented with French. "I need some assistance." Despitethe politeness of the man's words, his tone sounded gruff and official. "I was told you had a phonemessage for me on your automated system. The name is Langdon. Unfortunately, I have forgottenmy three-digit access code. If you could help me, I would be most grateful."The operator paused, confused. "I'm sorry, sir. Your message must be quite old. That system wasremoved two years ago for security precautions. Moreover, all the access codes were five-digit.
　　Who told you we had a message for you?""You have no automated phone system?""No, sir. Any message for you would be handwritten in our services department. What was yourname again?"But the man had hung up.
　　Bezu Fache felt dumbstruck as he paced the banks of the Seine. He was certain he had seenLangdon dial a local number, enter a three-digit code, and then listen to a recording. But if Langdondidn't phone the embassy, then who the hell did he call?
　　It was at that moment, eyeing his cellular phone, that Fache realized the answers were in the palmof his hand. Langdon used my phone to place that call.
　　Keying into the cell phone's menu, Fache pulled up the list of recently dialed numbers and foundthe call Langdon had placed.
　　A Paris exchange, followed by the three-digit code 454.
　　Redialing the phone number, Fache waited as the line began ringing.
　　Finally a woman's voice answered. "Bonjour, vous êtes bien chez Sophie Neveu," the recordingannounced. "Je suis absente pour le moment, mais..."Fache's blood was boiling as he typed the numbers 4... 5... 4.
巴黎的美国大使馆设在一幢综合楼内，它位于香榭丽舍大街北面的一条大道上。这块三英亩的土地被视为美国的领土，也就是说这块土地上的人与在美国国土上的人受同样的法律的约束和保护。
大使馆的晚间接线员正在阅读国际版的《时代》杂志，忽然电话铃声响了起来。
"美国大使馆。"她接起电话。
"晚上好。"打电话的人用带着法国口音的英文说道。"我需要一些帮助。"那人虽然措辞有礼，但语调生硬，官腔实足。"有人告诉我你们的电话自动操作系统中有我的电话语音信息。我叫兰登。但不巧的是，我忘记了进入语音信箱的三位数密码。如果您能帮助我，我将万分感激。"接线员迷惑地愣在那里。"对不起，先生。您的语音信息一定是很久以前的了。那个系统已经在两年前为了安全防范而撤销了，而且所有的密码都是五位数的。是谁告诉您有语音信息的？"
"你们没有电话自动操作系统？"
"没有，先生。信息都由我们的服务部笔录下来。可以再说一下您的姓名吗？"
那人挂上了电话。
贝祖。法希在塞纳河边踱步，一言不发。他明明看见兰登拨了个当地的区号，又键入了三位数的密码，然后接听了录音留言。如果兰登没有打电话到大使馆，那么他到底打电话给谁了呢？
法希看着自己的手机，忽然意识到答案就在自己的手中。兰登是用我的手机打的那个电话。
法希打开手机菜单，调出新近拨出的号码，找到了兰登拨的那个电话。
一个巴黎的交换台，接着是三位数密码454.
法希重拨了这个号码。铃声响了起来，法希等待着。
终于电话那头传来了一个女人的声音。"您好，索菲。奈芙。"那是录音留言。"我现在不在，……"法希再拨4……5……4 的时候，觉得全身的血液都沸腾了。
Chapter 26
Despite her monumental reputation, the Mona Lisa was a mere thirty-one inches by twenty-oneinches—smaller even than the posters of her sold in the Louvre gift shop. She hung on thenorthwest wall of the Salle des Etats behind a two-inch-thick pane of protective Plexiglas. Paintedon a poplar wood panel, her ethereal, mist-filled atmosphere was attributed to Da Vinci's masteryof the sfumato style, in which forms appear to evaporate into one another.
　　Since taking up residence in the Louvre, the Mona Lisa—or La Jaconde as they call her inFrance—had been stolen twice, most recently in 1911, when she disappeared from the Louvre's"satte impénétrable"—Le Salon Carre. Parisians wept in the streets and wrote newspaper articlesbegging the thieves for the painting's return. Two years later, the Mona Lisa was discovered hiddenin the false bottom of a trunk in a Florence hotel room.
　　Langdon, now having made it clear to Sophie that he had no intention of leaving, moved with heracross the Salle des Etats. The Mona Lisa was still twenty yards ahead when Sophie turned on theblack light, and the bluish crescent of penlight fanned out on the floor in front of them. She swungthe beam back and forth across the floor like a minesweeper, searching for any hint of luminescentink.
　　Walking beside her, Langdon was already feeling the tingle of anticipation that accompanied hisface-to-face reunions with great works of art. He strained to see beyond the cocoon of purplishlight emanating from the black light in Sophie's hand. To the left, the room's octagonal viewingdivan emerged, looking like a dark island on the empty sea of parquet.
　　Langdon could now begin to see the panel of dark glass on the wall. Behind it, he knew, in theconfines of her own private cell, hung the most celebrated painting in the world.
　　The Mona Lisa's status as the most famous piece of art in the world, Langdon knew, had nothing todo with her enigmatic smile. Nor was it due to the mysterious interpretations attributed her bymany art historians and conspiracy buffs. Quite simply, the Mona Lisa was famous becauseLeonardo da Vinci claimed she was his finest accomplishment. He carried the painting with himwhenever he traveled and, if asked why, would reply that he found it hard to part with his mostsublime expression of female beauty.
　　Even so, many art historians suspected Da Vinci's reverence for the Mona Lisa had nothing to dowith its artistic mastery. In actuality, the painting was a surprisingly ordinary sfumato portrait. DaVinci's veneration for this work, many claimed, stemmed from something far deeper: a hiddenmessage in the layers of paint. The Mona Lisa was, in fact, one of the world's most documentedinside jokes. The painting's well-documented collage of double entendres and playful allusions hadbeen revealed in most art history tomes, and yet, incredibly, the public at large still considered hersmile a great mystery.
　　No mystery at all, Langdon thought, moving forward and watching as the faint outline of thepainting began to take shape. No mystery at all.
　　Most recently Langdon had shared the Mona Lisa's secret with a rather unlikely group—a dozeninmates at the Essex County Penitentiary. Langdon's jail seminar was part of a Harvard outreachprogram attempting to bring education into the prison system—Culture for Convicts, as Langdon'scolleagues liked to call it.
　　Standing at an overhead projector in a darkened penitentiary library, Langdon had shared the MonaLisa's secret with the prisoners attending class, men whom he found surprisingly engaged—rough,but sharp. "You may notice," Langdon told them, walking up to the projected image of the MonaLisa on the library wall, "that the background behind her face is uneven." Langdon motioned to theglaring discrepancy. "Da Vinci painted the horizon line on the left significantly lower than theright.""He screwed it up?" one of the inmates asked.
　　Langdon chuckled. "No. Da Vinci didn't do that too often. Actually, this is a little trick Da Vinciplayed. By lowering the countryside on the left, Da Vinci made Mona Lisa look much larger fromthe left side than from the right side. A little Da Vinci inside joke. Historically, the concepts ofmale and female have assigned sides—left is female, and right is male. Because Da Vinci was a bigfan of feminine principles, he made Mona Lisa look more majestic from the left than the right.""I heard he was a fag," said a small man with a goatee.
　　Langdon winced. "Historians don't generally put it quite that way, but yes, Da Vinci was ahomosexual.""Is that why he was into that whole feminine thing?""Actually, Da Vinci was in tune with the balance between male and female. He believed that ahuman soul could not be enlightened unless it had both male and female elements.""You mean like chicks with dicks?" someone called.
　　This elicited a hearty round of laughs. Langdon considered offering an etymological sidebar aboutthe word hermaphrodite and its ties to Hermes and Aphrodite, but something told him it would belost on this crowd.
　　"Hey, Mr. Langford," a muscle-bound man said. "Is it true that the Mona Lisa is a picture of DaVinci in drag? I heard that was true.""It's quite possible," Langdon said. "Da Vinci was a prankster, and computerized analysis of theMona Lisa and Da Vinci's self-portraits confirm some startling points of congruency in their faces.
　　Whatever Da Vinci was up to," Langdon said, "his Mona Lisa is neither male nor female. It carriesa subtle message of androgyny. It is a fusing of both.""You sure that's not just some Harvard bullshit way of saying Mona Lisa is one ugly chick."Now Langdon laughed. "You may be right. But actually Da Vinci left a big clue that the paintingwas supposed to be androgynous. Has anyone here ever heard of an Egyptian god named Amon?""Hell yes!" the big guy said. "God of masculine fertility!"Langdon was stunned.
　　"It says so on every box of Amon condoms." The muscular man gave a wide grin. "It's got a guywith a ram's head on the front and says he's the Egyptian god of fertility."Langdon was not familiar with the brand name, but he was glad to hear the prophylacticmanufacturers had gotten their hieroglyphs right. "Well done. Amon is indeed represented as a manwith a ram's head, and his promiscuity and curved horns are related to our modern sexual slang'horny.' ""No shit!""No shit," Langdon said. "And do you know who Amon's counterpart was? The Egyptian goddessof fertility?"The question met with several seconds of silence.
　　"It was Isis," Langdon told them, grabbing a grease pen. "So we have the male god, Amon." Hewrote it down. "And the female goddess, Isis, whose ancient pictogram was once called L'ISA."Langdon finished writing and stepped back from the projector.
　　AMON L'ISA"Ring any bells?" he asked.
　　"Mona Lisa... holy crap," somebody gasped.
　　Langdon nodded. "Gentlemen, not only does the face of Mona Lisa look androgynous, but hername is an anagram of the divine union of male and female. And that, my friends, is Da Vinci'slittle secret, and the reason for Mona Lisa's knowing smile.""My grandfather was here," Sophie said, dropping suddenly to her knees, now only ten feet fromthe Mona Lisa. She pointed the black light tentatively to a spot on the parquet floor.
　　At first Langdon saw nothing. Then, as he knelt beside her, he saw a tiny droplet of dried liquidthat was luminescing. Ink? Suddenly he recalled what black lights were actually used for. Blood.
　　His senses tingled. Sophie was right. Jacques Saunière had indeed paid a visit to the Mona Lisabefore he died.
　　"He wouldn't have come here without a reason," Sophie whispered, standing up. "I know he left amessage for me here." Quickly striding the final few steps to the Mona Lisa, she illuminated thefloor directly in front of the painting. She waved the light back and forth across the bare parquet.
　　"There's nothing here!"At that moment, Langdon saw a faint purple glimmer on the protective glass before the Mona Lisa.
　　Reaching down, he took Sophie's wrist and slowly moved the light up to the painting itself.
　　They both froze.
　　On the glass, six words glowed in purple, scrawled directly across the Mona Lisa's face.
虽然《蒙娜丽莎》大名远扬，可它实际上只有三十一英寸长，二十一英寸宽，比卢浮宫礼品店中出售的《蒙娜丽莎》招贴画还小。它被挂在国家展厅西北墙那两英寸厚的防护玻璃框内。这幅画画在一块白杨木板上，达。芬奇的晕染法使它看上去飘逸而朦胧，事物的边界相互交融在一起。
自从被卢浮宫收藏以来，《蒙娜丽莎》已经两次被盗。最近的一次是在1911 年，它从卢浮宫的"神秘之室"--正方形展厅中消失了。巴黎人在街道上哭泣，在报纸上发表文章，乞求窃贼将画还回来。两年后，在佛罗伦萨饭店的一个房间中，有人在一个旅行箱的夹层中发现了这幅画。
现在，兰登已经向索菲表明他根本就不打算离开，他和索菲一起向国家展厅深处走去。在距离《蒙娜丽莎》还有二十码的时候，索菲打开了紫外线灯。紫外线灯在他们前方的地板上投射出一片扇形的青色光亮。索菲将光束在地板上前后晃动，寻找着感光墨水的痕迹，就像一艘扫雷艇在搜寻着水雷。
兰登走在索菲身边，为能与伟大的艺术作品面对面而兴奋不已。他瞪大眼睛，把目光投向紫外线灯的光影所不及的地方。在他们的左边，拼花地板上放着供参观者小憩的八边形大沙发，看上去就像广阔的海洋中有一座黑暗的孤岛。
此时，兰登已经可以看见那深色的防护玻璃框了。他知道，在那后面，悬挂着世界上最著名的油画。
兰登明白，《蒙娜丽莎》之所以成为世界艺术名品，并不是因为蒙娜丽莎拥有神秘微笑，也不是因为众多艺术史学家对它作出了神秘的说明，而仅仅是因为列昂纳多。达。芬奇声称这是他的得意之作。无论到哪里，他都带着这幅画，他说自己无法与它分离，因为它是对女性美的最完美表达。
尽管如此，许多艺术史学家认为达。芬奇对于《蒙娜丽莎》的喜爱与其艺术技法无关。
实际上，它不过是一幅运用了晕染法的普通肖像画。许多人认为达。芬奇对于这幅画的喜爱源于更深层的原因：它隐藏着信息。事实上，《蒙娜丽莎》是世界上记载最详实的玩笑之一。尽管多数艺术史的大部头专著都揭示了它那巧妙的影射和含义，但令人难以置信的是，大多数人还是认为她的微笑非常神秘。
一点儿都不神秘，兰登边想，边朝那幅画走去，那模糊的轮廓在他的眼中变得渐渐清晰起来。根本不神秘。
最近，兰登刚与一群人分享了《蒙娜丽莎》的秘密。这群人的身份出人意料--他们是埃塞克斯县监狱的囚犯。兰登的这场狱中研讨会是哈佛大学"送教育进监狱"项目的一个组成部分，兰登的同事们把这个项目称为"囚犯文化"。
收容所图书馆的灯都熄灭了。兰登站在幻灯机前与前来上课的囚犯们一起分享《蒙娜丽莎》的秘密。这些人的专注出乎他的意料--他们虽然长得粗壮，但很敏锐。兰登将《蒙娜丽莎》的图片投射到图书馆的墙壁上，说道。"你们可以发现蒙娜丽莎身后的背景不在一条水平线上。"兰登指着这明显的差异说："达。芬奇将左边的地平线画得明显高于右边的地平线。""他把画挂歪了？"一个囚犯问道。
兰登暗自发笑。"不，达。芬奇可不常犯这样的错误。实际上，这是他玩的一个小把戏。
他把左边乡村景色的地平线画得低一些，这样就使得蒙娜丽莎的左侧看上去比右侧大一些。这是达。芬奇开的小玩笑。历史上，人们曾给男女指定了方位--左边代表女性，右边代表男性。因为达。芬奇是女性主义的信仰者，所以他让蒙娜丽莎从左边看上去更庄重美丽。""我听说达。芬奇是个同性恋男人。"一个留着山羊胡子的小个子男人说。
兰登不得不承认。"虽然历史学家们通常不提，但达。芬奇确实是一个同性恋者。"
"这就是他全身心投入女性崇拜中的原因吗？"
"实际上，达。芬奇也赞同男性与女性之间的和谐。他相信，只有男性元素和女性元素共存，人的心灵才能被照亮。""就像少妇身上长阴茎吧？"有人喊道。
这一问引得众人捧腹大笑。兰登本想指出单词"阴阳人（hermaphrodite）"的词根划分，并说明它与赫尔墨斯（Hermes）和阿芙洛蒂忒（Aphrodite）的联系，但他看出大家似乎无法接受，于是作罢。
"嗨，兰登先生。"一个肌肉发达的男人问。"《蒙娜丽莎》画的就是达。芬奇，这是真的吗？听说是真的。""很有可能。"兰登答道。"达。芬奇是个爱搞恶作剧的人。电脑分析显示，《蒙娜丽莎》和达。芬奇自画像在人物的脸部有许多相似之处。无论达。芬奇是怎么想的，他的蒙娜丽莎既不是男性也不是女性。她巧妙地隐藏着双性信息。她是两性的融合体。""你肯定，那些认为蒙娜丽莎是个丑陋少妇的说法不是哈佛大学的观点。"
兰登笑了起来。"说得对。其实，达。芬奇留下了一条重大的线索暗示人物是双性的。有没有人听说过有一个埃及传说中的神叫做阿蒙（Amon）？"
"知道！"那个大高个儿说。"代表男性生殖的神！"
兰登颇为吃惊。
"每一盒阿蒙牌避孕套上都这么写着。"那个肌肉发达的男人咧嘴笑了。"盒子上画着一个长着公羊头的家伙，还写着他是埃及传说中代表男性生殖的神。"兰登对这个牌子并不熟悉，但他还是很高兴，因为生产厂家没把象征意义弄错。"说得对。阿蒙的形象是一个长着公羊头的男人。我们现在所说的‘性冲动’的俚语，就与他那卷曲的羊角和性乱交行为有关。""他妈的，真想不到！"
"他妈的，想不到吧。"兰登说。"你们知道谁是与阿蒙对应的神吗？谁是埃及传说中代表女性生殖的神？"
好几秒钟的沉默。
"是伊西丝（Isis）"，兰登告诉众人。他拿起一支水笔，边说边把话写了下来。"代表男性生殖的神叫阿蒙（Amon）。代表女性生殖的神叫伊西丝（Isis），古代文字曾将其读做L‘ISA.’兰登写完，退到幻灯机后。
AMONL’ISA"得到些什么启示？"兰登问。
"蒙娜丽莎（MonaLisa）……狗屁胡扯。"有人低声说。
兰登点点头。"先生们，不仅蒙娜丽莎的脸看上去是双性的，就连她的名字也是由男性元素和女性元素结合而成的。朋友们，这就是达。芬奇的小秘密，也是蒙娜丽莎为何总在会意地微笑的原因。""祖父在这里。"索菲突然在距《蒙娜丽莎》只有十英尺处蹲下身来。她将紫外线灯指向地板的一点。
起初，兰登什么也没看见。当他在索菲身边蹲下后，发现地板上有一小滴已经干掉的感光液体。墨水？忽然他意识到紫外线灯的用处。血。他激动起来。索菲说得对，雅克。索尼埃死前确实来过这里。
"他不会无缘无故地来到这里。"索菲轻声说着站起身来。"我知道他一定给我留下了信息。"她大步走到《蒙娜丽莎》跟前，用灯照亮画的正前方。她将光束在画前的地板上来回晃动。
"这儿什么也没有！"
正在这时，兰登发现《蒙娜丽莎》前面的防护玻璃框上有一个模糊的紫色亮点。兰登抓住索菲的手腕，将光束向上移，指向《蒙娜丽莎》本身。
两人都愣住了。
在蒙娜丽莎脸部前方的防护玻璃上，有六个潦草的单词闪着紫色的光。
Chapter 27
Seated at Saunière's desk, Lieutenant Collet pressed the phone to his ear in disbelief. Did I hearFache correctly? "A bar of soap? But how could Langdon have known about the GPS dot?""Sophie Neveu," Fache replied. "She told him.""What! Why?""Damned good question, but I just heard a recording that confirms she tipped him off."Collet was speechless. What was Neveu thinking? Fache had proof that Sophie had interfered witha DCPJ sting operation? Sophie Neveu was not only going to be fired, she was also going to jail.
　　"But, Captain... then where is Langdon now?""Have any fire alarms gone off there?""No, sir.""And no one has come out under the Grand Gallery gate?""No. We've got a Louvre security officer on the gate. Just as you requested.""Okay, Langdon must still be inside the Grand Gallery.""Inside? But what is he doing?""Is the Louvre security guard armed?""Yes, sir. He's a senior warden.""Send him in," Fache commanded. "I can't get my men back to the perimeter for a few minutes,and I don't want Langdon breaking for an exit." Fache paused. "And you'd better tell the guardAgent Neveu is probably in there with him.""Agent Neveu left, I thought.""Did you actually see her leave?""No, sir, but—""Well, nobody on the perimeter saw her leave either. They only saw her go in."Collet was flabbergasted by Sophie Neveu's bravado. She's still inside the building?
　　"Handle it," Fache ordered. "I want Langdon and Neveu at gunpoint by the time I get back."As the Trailor truck drove off, Captain Fache rounded up his men. Robert Langdon had proven anelusive quarry tonight, and with Agent Neveu now helping him, he might be far harder to cornerthan expected.
　　Fache decided not to take any chances.
　　Hedging his bets, he ordered half of his men back to the Louvre perimeter. The other half he sent toguard the only location in Paris where Robert Langdon could find safe harbor.
科莱中尉坐在索尼埃的桌前，吃惊地将电话紧紧贴在耳朵上。我没有听错法希的话吧？"一块肥皂？可是兰登是怎么会知道有全球定位系统跟踪器的？"
"索菲。奈芙。"法希说道。"是索菲。奈芙告诉他的。"
"什么？怎么会这样？"
"他妈的，问得好，我刚刚听了一段电话录音，证实是索菲教唆的。"
科莱惊讶得说不出话来。奈芙到底是怎么想的？法希已经掌握了她妨碍警务的证据，她不仅将被开除，而且将被投入监狱。"警长……兰登现在在哪里呢？"
"火警有没有响起过？"
"没有，先生。"
"没有人走出艺术大画廊的大门？"
"没有。按您的吩咐，我们已经派了一个卢浮宫的保安人员守住大门。"
"好的，那么兰登一定还在艺术大画廊里面。"
"还在里面？可他在里面做什么呢？"
"卢浮宫的保安人员有武器吗？"
"有，先生。他是一名高级保卫人员。"
"让他进来。"法希命令道。"我无法在几分钟之内将我的人调回来，我可不想让兰登夺路而逃。"法希顿了顿，接着说。"你最好告诉那个保卫人员，索菲。奈芙说不定正和兰登在一起。""我想，奈芙警官已经走了。"
"你确实看见她走了吗？"
"没有，但是--"
"也没有警卫看见她离开。他们只看见她走了进去。"
科莱被虚张声势的索菲蒙住了。她还在卢浮宫里？
"你去办这件事。"法希命令道。"我希望回来的时候可以看到兰登和奈芙在枪口前。"
拖挂卡车开走后，法希探长将手下人集合起来。今晚的事已经证明了兰登是个难以捉摸的追捕目标，现在他又得到了奈芙警官的帮助，追捕工作将比想像中困难得多。
法希决定一切行动要稳扎稳打。
他把赌注一分为二，将一半人派回卢浮宫把守出口，将另一半人派往兰登在巴黎可以找到的惟一的避风港。
Chapter 28
Inside the Salle des Etats, Langdon stared in astonishment at the six words glowing on thePlexiglas. The text seemed to hover in space, casting a jagged shadow across Mona Lisa'smysterious smile.
　　"The Priory," Langdon whispered. "This proves your grandfather was a member!"Sophie looked at him in confusion. "You understand this?""It's flawless," Langdon said, nodding as his thoughts churned. "It's a proclamation of one of thePriory's most fundamental philosophies!"Sophie looked baffled in the glow of the message scrawled across the Mona Lisa's face.
　　SO DARK THE CON OF MAN"Sophie," Langdon said, "the Priory's tradition of perpetuating goddess worship is based on a beliefthat powerful men in the early Christian church 'conned' the world by propagating lies thatdevalued the female and tipped the scales in favor of the masculine."Sophie remained silent, staring at the words.
　　"The Priory believes that Constantine and his male successors successfully converted the worldfrom matriarchal paganism to patriarchal Christianity by waging a campaign of propaganda thatdemonized the sacred feminine, obliterating the goddess from modern religion forever."Sophie's expression remained uncertain. "My grandfather sent me to this spot to find this. He mustbe trying to tell me more than that."Langdon understood her meaning. She thinks this is another code. Whether a hidden meaningexisted here or not, Langdon could not immediately say. His mind was still grappling with the boldclarity of Saunière's outward message.
　　So dark the con of man, he thought. So dark indeed.
　　Nobody could deny the enormous good the modern Church did in today's troubled world, and yetthe Church had a deceitful and violent history. Their brutal crusade to "reeducate" the pagan andfeminine-worshipping religions spanned three centuries, employing methods as inspired as theywere horrific.
　　The Catholic Inquisition published the book that arguably could be called the most blood-soakedpublication in human history. Malleus Maleficarum—or The Witches' Hammer—indoctrinated theworld to "the dangers of freethinking women" and instructed the clergy how to locate, torture, anddestroy them. Those deemed "witches" by the Church included all female scholars, priestesses,gypsies, mystics, nature lovers, herb gatherers, and any women "suspiciously attuned to the naturalworld." Midwives also were killed for their heretical practice of using medical knowledge to easethe pain of childbirth—a suffering, the Church claimed, that was God's rightful punishment forEve's partaking of the Apple of Knowledge, thus giving birth to the idea of Original Sin. Duringthree hundred years of witch hunts, the Church burned at the stake an astounding five millionwomen.
　　The propaganda and bloodshed had worked.
　　Today's world was living proof.
　　Women, once celebrated as an essential half of spiritual enlightenment, had been banished from thetemples of the world. There were no female Orthodox rabbis, Catholic priests, nor Islamic clerics.
　　The once hallowed act of Hieros Gamos—the natural sexual union between man and womanthrough which each became spiritually whole—had been recast as a shameful act. Holy men whohad once required sexual union with their female counterparts to commune with God now fearedtheir natural sexual urges as the work of the devil, collaborating with his favorite accomplice...
　　woman.
　　Not even the feminine association with the left-hand side could escape the Church's defamation. InFrance and Italy, the words for "left"—gauche and sinistra—came to have deeply negativeovertones, while their right-hand counterparts rang of righteousness, dexterity, and correctness. Tothis day, radical thought was considered left wing, irrational thought was left brain, and anythingevil, sinister.
　　The days of the goddess were over. The pendulum had swung. Mother Earth had become a man'sworld, and the gods of destruction and war were taking their toll. The male ego had spent twomillennia running unchecked by its female counterpart. The Priory of Sion believed that it was thisobliteration of the sacred feminine in modern life that had caused what the Hopi Native Americanscalled koyanisquatsi—"life out of balance"—an unstable situation marked by testosterone-fueledwars, a plethora of misogynistic societies, and a growing disrespect for Mother Earth.
　　"Robert!" Sophie said, her whisper yanking him back. "Someone's coming!"He heard the approaching footsteps out in the hallway.
　　"Over here!" Sophie extinguished the black light and seemed to evaporate before Langdon's eyes.
　　For an instant he felt totally blind. Over where! As his vision cleared he saw Sophie's silhouetteracing toward the center of the room and ducking out of sight behind the octagonal viewing bench.
　　He was about to dash after her when a booming voice stopped him cold.
　　"Arrêtez!" a man commanded from the doorway.
　　The Louvre security agent advanced through the entrance to the Salle des Etats, his pistoloutstretched, taking deadly aim at Langdon's chest.
　　Langdon felt his arms raise instinctively for the ceiling.
　　"Couchez-vous!" the guard commanded. "Lie down!"Langdon was face first on the floor in a matter of seconds. The guard hurried over and kicked hislegs apart, spreading Langdon out.
　　"Mauvaise idée, Monsieur Langdon," he said, pressing the gun hard into Langdon's back.
　　"Mauvaise idée."Face down on the parquet floor with his arms and legs spread wide, Langdon found little humor inthe irony of his position. The Vitruvian Man, he thought. Face down.
国家展厅里，兰登惊讶地望着防护玻璃上那闪着紫光的六个单词。这文字像是飘荡在天际，在蒙娜丽莎那神秘的微笑上投下了依稀可见的阴影。
"隐修会。"兰登低声说。"这证明你的祖父是隐修会成员。"
索菲大惑不解地望着他。"你看得懂？"
"一点都不差。"兰登点头说着，思绪万千。"这宣扬了隐修会的最基本理念。"
索菲困惑地看着蒙娜丽莎脸上那潦草写就的信息。
男人的欺骗是多么黑暗。
兰登解释说："索菲，隐修会违规崇拜女神是基于这样一个信念：早期基督教中的强权男性散布贬低女性的谣言惑众，唆使大众偏爱男性。"索菲看着那几个单词，保持沉默。
"隐修会认为，君士坦丁大帝和他的男性继位者们通过将女性神灵邪恶化的宣传活动，成功地将基督教转变为男性统治的宗教，将女神的地位从现代宗教中抹去了。"索菲还是将信将疑。"祖父让我到这里来发现这些文字，他一定不仅仅想告诉我这些。"
兰登明白她的意思，她认为这又是一个密码。兰登无法立即判断出这里面是否还有其他什么意义，他的注意力还在那清晰明了的字面意义上。
男人的欺骗是多么黑暗，他想，的确是很黑暗。
不可否认，现代的基督教为当今麻烦重重的世界做了许多有益的事，但它却有一段充满欺骗和暴力的历史。他们对异教和女性崇拜宗教组织的残忍圣战延续了三个世纪，采用的手段既鼓动人心，同时又是耸人听闻的。
由天主教裁判所发行的《巫婆之锤》无疑堪称人类历史上最血腥的出版物。它向人们灌输"自由思考的女人们给世界带来威胁"的思想，并教导神职人员如何去识别、折磨并消灭她们。教会所指认的"女巫"包括所有的女学者、女神职人员、吉普赛女人、女巫师、自然爱好者、草本采集者以及任何"涉嫌与自然世界协调一致的女性"。助产士们也被杀害，因为她们用医学知识来缓解分娩的疼痛被视为异教徒的做法--教会声称，生育的痛苦是上帝为夏娃偷食禁果而给予她的正当惩罚，这样生育和原罪的思想就紧密地联系在一起了。在追捕女巫的三百年中，被教会绑在柱子上烧死的女性多达五百万。
今天的世界就是活生生的例证。
女性曾被认为对文明开化作出了不容忽视的贡献，发挥了与男性同等的作用，但世界各地的神庙却将她们抹去了。犹太教、天主教和伊斯兰教中都没有女性神职人员。就连每年产生春季生殖力的神圣婚礼--巴比伦生殖神塔模斯教派的宗教礼仪，即男女通过肉体上的结合实现心灵的融合--也被视为是羞耻之举。曾经把与女性进行性融合视为遵从上帝旨意的男性们，现在则担心这是性冲动魔鬼在作祟，而这些魔鬼的最好帮凶就是……女人。
甚至就连与女性有关联的方位"左"也难逃教会的诽谤。法语和意大利语中表示"左"的单词--gauche 和sinistra--都包含着贬义，而表示"右"的单词则包含着褒义，暗示着"正直"、"机敏"、"正确"。直到今天，激进的思想被称为左翼，大凡邪恶、阴险、不理智的东西都与"左"有关联。
女神的时代结束了。随着时间的推移，大地母亲已经变成了男人的世界，毁灭之神和战争正在夺去无数人的生命。男性时代已经延续了两千多年，而没有受到女性的阻挠。郇山隐修会认为，正是由于女性的神圣地位在现代生活中的被剥夺才造成了"生活的不平衡"--即霍皮族印第安人所说的"koyanisquatsi"。这种"不平衡"状态的显著表现是由睾丸激素诱发的战争不时打响，各种神秘组织团体泛滥，人们对于大地母亲愈发不敬。
"罗伯特！"索菲的低语将兰登从沉思中唤醒。"有人来了！"
兰登听到走廊里的脚步声在向这里逼近。
"到这儿来！"索菲熄灭了紫外线灯，消失在兰登的视线中。
好几秒钟，兰登两眼一片漆黑。到哪儿？兰登适应了黑暗后，他看见索菲的影子朝展厅中央跑去，躲到了八边形长沙发的后面。他正想跟着跑过去，有人冷冷地喝住了他。
"站住！"那个人站在门口，叫道。
卢浮宫的保卫人员举枪进入国家展厅，用枪口直指兰登的胸口。
兰登本能地将双手高举过头。
"趴下！"保卫人员命令。
兰登立即脸冲地板趴在地上。保卫人员匆忙走过来，将他的双腿踢分开，让兰登四肢伸展。
"老实点儿，兰登先生。"他用枪顶着兰登的背。"老实点儿。
兰登脸冲地板，四肢伸展着趴在那里，觉得这样的姿势颇具幽默感。《维特鲁威人》，他想道，不过是脸冲下的。
Chapter 29
Inside Saint-Sulpice, Silas carried the heavy iron votive candle holder from the altar back towardthe obelisk. The shaft would do nicely as a battering ram. Eyeing the gray marble panel thatcovered the apparent hollow in the floor, he realized he could not possibly shatter the coveringwithout making considerable noise.
　　Iron on marble. It would echo off the vaulted ceilings.
　　Would the nun hear him? She should be asleep by now. Even so, it was a chance Silas preferrednot to take. Looking around for a cloth to wrap around the tip of the iron pole, he saw nothingexcept the altar's linen mantle, which he refused to defile. My cloak, he thought. Knowing he wasalone in the great church, Silas untied his cloak and slipped it off his body. As he removed it, hefelt a sting as the wool fibers stuck to the fresh wounds on his back.
　　Naked now, except for his loin swaddle, Silas wrapped his cloak over the end of the iron rod. Then,aiming at the center of the floor tile, he drove the tip into it. A muffled thud. The stone did notbreak. He drove the pole into it again. Again a dull thud, but this time accompanied by a crack. Onthe third swing, the covering finally shattered, and stone shards fell into a hollow area beneath thefloor.
　　A compartment!
　　Quickly pulling the remaining pieces from the opening, Silas gazed into the void. His bloodpounded as he knelt down before it. Raising his pale bare arm, he reached inside.
　　At first he felt nothing. The floor of the compartment was bare, smooth stone. Then, feeling deeper,reaching his arm in under the Rose Line, he touched something! A thick stone tablet. Getting hisfingers around the edge, he gripped it and gently lifted the tablet out. As he stood and examined hisfind, he realized he was holding a rough-hewn stone slab with engraved words. He felt for aninstant like a modern-day Moses.
　　As Silas read the words on the tablet, he felt surprise. He had expected the keystone to be a map, ora complex series of directions, perhaps even encoded. The keystone, however, bore the simplest ofinscriptions.
　　Job 38:11A Bible verse? Silas was stunned with the devilish simplicity. The secret location of that whichthey sought was revealed in a Bible verse? The brotherhood stopped at nothing to mock therighteous!
　　Job. Chapter thirty-eight. Verse eleven.
　　Although Silas did not recall the exact contents of verse eleven by heart, he knew the Book of Jobtold the story of a man whose faith in God survived repeated tests. Appropriate, he thought, barelyable to contain his excitement.
　　Looking over his shoulder, he gazed down the shimmering Rose Line and couldn't help but smile.
　　There atop the main altar, propped open on a gilded book stand, sat an enormous leather-boundBible.
　　Up in the balcony, Sister Sandrine was shaking. Moments ago, she had been about to flee and carryout her orders, when the man below suddenly removed his cloak. When she saw his alabaster-whiteflesh, she was overcome with a horrified bewilderment. His broad, pale back was soaked withblood-red slashes. Even from here she could see the wounds were fresh.
　　This man has been mercilessly whipped!
　　She also saw the bloody cilice around his thigh, the wound beneath it dripping. What kind of Godwould want a body punished this way? The rituals of Opus Dei, Sister Sandrine knew, were notsomething she would ever understand. But that was hardly her concern at this instant. Opus Dei issearching for the keystone. How they knew of it, Sister Sandrine could not imagine, although sheknew she did not have time to think.
　　The bloody monk was now quietly donning his cloak again, clutching his prize as he moved towardthe altar, toward the Bible.
　　In breathless silence, Sister Sandrine left the balcony and raced down the hall to her quarters.
　　Getting on her hands and knees, she reached beneath her wooden bed frame and retrieved thesealed envelope she had hidden there years ago.
　　Tearing it open, she found four Paris phone numbers.
　　Trembling, she began to dial.
　　Downstairs, Silas laid the stone tablet on the altar and turned his eager hands to the leather Bible.
　　His long white fingers were sweating now as he turned the pages. Flipping through the OldTestament, he found the Book of Job. He located chapter thirty-eight. As he ran his finger down thecolumn of text, he anticipated the words he was about to read.
　　They will lead the way!
　　Finding verse number eleven, Silas read the text. It was only seven words. Confused, he read itagain, sensing something had gone terribly wrong. The verse simply read:
　　HITHERTO SHALT THOU COME, BUT NO FURTHER.
圣叙尔皮斯教堂中，塞拉斯从圣坛上取下烛台，走回方尖碑前。烛台架正好可以用来敲碎地砖。塞拉斯瞅了瞅那块下面有空洞的大理石地砖，意识到要想敲碎它而不发出声音是不可能的。
用铁家伙敲大理石，一定会在这圆拱屋顶下产生很大的回响。
会不会让修女听见？她现在一定睡着了。即使这样，塞拉斯也不想冒险。他环顾四周，想找块布把铁棒头包起来。他所能发现的，只有圣坛上的那块亚麻遮布，但那是他不愿玷污的。我的披风，他想道。塞拉斯知道这里没有旁人，于是解下了披风。当他脱下披风时，羊毛纤维刺痛了他背部的新伤口。
此时，塞拉斯赤裸着身体，只系着一根腰带。他将披风包在铁棒头上，然后瞄准那块地砖的中心，将铁棒砸了下去。一声闷响。地砖并没有破。他又砸了一下。这次的闷响伴随着石块开裂的声音。当他砸到第三下时，地砖终于碎了，碎石片纷纷落入下面的空洞中。
一个隔层！
塞拉斯迅速地拨开残留在洞口的碎石，向空洞里张望。他跪在那里，热血沸腾，将赤裸的白手臂伸进了洞里。
起先，他什么也没有摸到。隔层是空的，只有光溜溜的石头。他又向深处摸去，在玫瑰线的下方，他摸到了些什么！一块厚厚的石板。他抓住石板边缘，轻轻地把石板抬了出来。他站起身来，仔细地打量自己的发现，只见这是一块边缘粗糙、刻着文字的石板。好一阵子，他觉得自己成了当代的摩西。
塞拉斯定睛看那文字，颇感惊奇。他本以为这上面会刻着一幅地图，或一系列复杂的指令或是一串密码，但实际上石板上所刻的文字再简单不过了。
Job38：11《圣经》中的一节？这也太简略了，塞拉斯惊讶不已。他们所追寻的那个秘密地点竟由《圣经》的一节来揭示。隐修会的教友们不顾一切地掩饰真相！
《约伯记》第三十八章，十一节。
虽然塞拉斯背诵不出第十一节的内容，但他知道《约伯记》讲述的是一个上帝的信徒经历了种种考验，生存下来的故事。很符合实际情况，塞拉斯想着，抑制不住兴奋之情。
他低头看着闪光的玫瑰线，忍不住笑了起来。圣坛上支着一个金光闪闪的书架，书架上放着一本巨大的皮革封面的《圣经》。
桑德琳嬷嬷在唱诗班站台上不住地颤抖。几分钟前，当那个男人脱掉披风时，她正想逃走，去执行她的任务。当她看见他那雪白的肌肉时，感到无比震惊。他那宽厚而又苍白的后背上布满血红的伤痕。即使相距甚远，她也可以看出那都是新伤。
那个人被无情地鞭打过！
她还看见他的大腿上缠着印着血迹的纱布，纱布下的伤口还在流血。什么样的神灵想让人的肉体受到这样的惩罚？桑德琳嬷嬷知道，她永远也无法理解天主事工会的宗教礼仪。但那不是她现在要考虑的事。天主事工会在寻找拱顶石。他们是怎么知道的，桑德琳嬷嬷想不到答案，也没有时间去想。
那个浑身血淋淋的僧侣又穿上披风，拿着他的战利品向着圣坛，向着《圣经》走去。
在一片死寂中，桑德琳嬷嬷离开了唱诗班站台，快速返回她的房间。她趴在地上，从木板床下摸出一个信封，拆开了封口。那个信封是她三年前就藏到那里的。
打开信封后，她发现了四个巴黎市内的电话号码。
她用颤抖的手开始拨打电话。
楼下，塞拉斯将石板放到圣坛上，迫不及待地伸手去取《圣经》。当他翻阅书页时，那细长而苍白的手指渗出汗来。他从"旧约"部分翻出了《约伯记》，又找到了第三十八章。他一边用手指顺行向下指，一边猜想着他将会看到的文字。
那将为我们指路！
找到了第十一节，可那里面只有七个词。他不解地重读了一遍，感到大事不妙。这一节中只写着：你将到此，但切莫前行。（HITHERTOSHALTTHOUCOME，BUTNOFURTHER.）
Chapter 30
Security warden Claude Grouard simmered with rage as he stood over his prostrate captive in frontof the Mona Lisa. This bastard killed Jacques Saunière! Saunière had been like a well-loved fatherto Grouard and his security team.
　　Grouard wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger and bury a bullet in Robert Langdon's back.
　　As senior warden, Grouard was one of the few guards who actually carried a loaded weapon. Hereminded himself, however, that killing Langdon would be a generous fate compared to the miseryabout to be communicated by Bezu Fache and the French prison system.
　　Grouard yanked his walkie-talkie off his belt and attempted to radio for backup. All he heard wasstatic. The additional electronic security in this chamber always wrought havoc with the guards'
　　communications. I have to move to the doorway. Still aiming his weapon at Langdon, Grouardbegan backing slowly toward the entrance. On his third step, he spied something that made himstop short.
　　What the hell is that!
　　An inexplicable mirage was materializing near the center of the room. A silhouette. There wassomeone else in the room? A woman was moving through the darkness, walking briskly toward thefar left wall. In front of her, a purplish beam of light swung back and forth across the floor, as ifshe were searching for something with a colored flashlight.
　　"Qui est là?" Grouard demanded, feeling his adrenaline spike for a second time in the last thirtyseconds. He suddenly didn't know where to aim his gun or what direction to move.
　　"PTS," the woman replied calmly, still scanning the floor with her light.
　　Police Technique et Scientifique. Grouard was sweating now. I thought all the agents were gone!
　　He now recognized the purple light as ultraviolet, consistent with a PTS team, and yet he could notunderstand why DCPJ would be looking for evidence in here.
　　"Votre nom!" Grouard yelled, instinct telling him something was amiss. "Répondez!""C'est mot," the voice responded in calm French. "Sophie Neveu."Somewhere in the distant recesses of Grouard's mind, the name registered. Sophie Neveu? Thatwas the name of Saunière's granddaughter, wasn't it? She used to come in here as a little kid, butthat was years ago. This couldn't possibly be her! And even if it were Sophie Neveu, that washardly a reason to trust her; Grouard had heard the rumors of the painful falling-out betweenSaunière and his granddaughter.
　　"You know me," the woman called. "And Robert Langdon did not kill my grandfather. Believeme."Warden Grouard was not about to take that on faith. I need backup! Trying his walkie-talkie again,he got only static. The entrance was still a good twenty yards behind him, and Grouard beganbacking up slowly, choosing to leave his gun trained on the man on the floor. As Grouard inchedbackward, he could see the woman across the room raising her UV light and scrutinizing a largepainting that hung on the far side of the Salle des Etats, directly opposite the Mona Lisa.
　　Grouard gasped, realizing which painting it was.
　　What in the name of God is she doing?
　　Across the room, Sophie Neveu felt a cold sweat breaking across her forehead. Langdon was stillspread-eagle on the floor. Hold on, Robert. Almost there. Knowing the guard would never actuallyshoot either of them, Sophie now turned her attention back to the matter at hand, scanning theentire area around one masterpiece in particular—another Da Vinci. But the UV light revealednothing out of the ordinary. Not on the floor, on the walls, or even on the canvas itself.
　　There must be something here!
　　Sophie felt totally certain she had deciphered her grandfather's intentions correctly.
　　What else could he possibly intend?
　　The masterpiece she was examining was a five-foot-tall canvas. The bizarre scene Da Vinci hadpainted included an awkwardly posed Virgin Mary sitting with Baby Jesus, John the Baptist, andthe Angel Uriel on a perilous outcropping of rocks. When Sophie was a little girl, no trip to theMona Lisa had been complete without her grandfather dragging her across the room to see thissecond painting.
　　Grand-père, I'm here! But I don't see it!
　　Behind her, Sophie could hear the guard trying to radio again for help.
　　Think!
　　She pictured the message scrawled on the protective glass of the Mona Lisa. So dark the con ofman. The painting before her had no protective glass on which to write a message, and Sophieknew her grandfather would never have defaced this masterpiece by writing on the painting itself.
　　She paused. At least not on the front. Her eyes shot upward, climbing the long cables that dangledfrom the ceiling to support the canvas.
　　Could that be it? Grabbing the left side of the carved wood frame, she pulled it toward her. Thepainting was large and the backing flexed as she swung it away from the wall. Sophie slipped herhead and shoulders in behind the painting and raised the black light to inspect the back.
　　It took only seconds to realize her instinct had been wrong. The back of the painting was pale andblank. There was no purple text here, only the mottled brown backside of aging canvas and—Wait.
　　Sophie's eyes locked on an incongruous glint of lustrous metal lodged near the bottom edge of theframe's wooden armature. The object was small, partially wedged in the slit where the canvas metthe frame. A shimmering gold chain dangled off it.
　　To Sophie's utter amazement, the chain was affixed to a familiar gold key. The broad, sculptedhead was in the shape of a cross and bore an engraved seal she had not seen since she was nineyears old. A fleur-de-lis with the initials P.S. In that instant, Sophie felt the ghost of her grandfatherwhispering in her ear. When the time comes, the key will be yours. A tightness gripped her throat asshe realized that her grandfather, even in death, had kept his promise. This key opens a box, hisvoice was saying, where I keep many secrets.
　　Sophie now realized that the entire purpose of tonight's word game had been this key. Hergrandfather had it with him when he was killed. Not wanting it to fall into the hands of the police,he hid it behind this painting. Then he devised an ingenious treasure hunt to ensure only Sophiewould find it.
　　"Au secours!" the guard's voice yelled.
　　Sophie snatched the key from behind the painting and slipped it deep in her pocket along with theUV penlight. Peering out from behind the canvas, she could see the guard was still tryingdesperately to raise someone on the walkie-talkie. He was backing toward the entrance, still aimingthe gun firmly at Langdon.
　　"Au secours!" he shouted again into his radio.
　　Static.
　　He can't transmit, Sophie realized, recalling that tourists with cell phones often got frustrated inhere when they tried to call home to brag about seeing the Mona Lisa. The extra surveillancewiring in the walls made it virtually impossible to get a carrier unless you stepped out into the hall.
　　The guard was backing quickly toward the exit now, and Sophie knew she had to act immediately.
　　Gazing up at the large painting behind which she was partially ensconced, Sophie realized thatLeonardo da Vinci, for the second time tonight, was there to help.
　　Another few meters, Grouard told himself, keeping his gun leveled.
　　"Arrêtez! Ou je la détruis!" the woman's voice echoed across the room.
　　Grouard glanced over and stopped in his tracks. "Mon dieu, non!"Through the reddish haze, he could see that the woman had actually lifted the large painting off itscables and propped it on the floor in front of her. At five feet tall, the canvas almost entirely hid herbody. Grouard's first thought was to wonder why the painting's trip wires hadn't set off alarms, butof course the artwork cable sensors had yet to be reset tonight. What is she doing!
　　When he saw it, his blood went cold.
　　The canvas started to bulge in the middle, the fragile outlines of the Virgin Mary, Baby Jesus, andJohn the Baptist beginning to distort.
　　"Non!" Grouard screamed, frozen in horror as he watched the priceless Da Vinci stretching. Thewoman was pushing her knee into the center of the canvas from behind! "NON!"Grouard wheeled and aimed his gun at her but instantly realized it was an empty threat. The canvaswas only fabric, but it was utterly impenetrable—a six-million-dollar piece of body armor.
　　I can't put a bullet through a Da Vinci!
　　"Set down your gun and radio," the woman said in calm French, "or I'll put my knee through thispainting. I think you know how my grandfather would feel about that."Grouard felt dizzy. "Please... no. That's Madonna of the Rocks!" He dropped his gun and radio,raising his hands over his head.
　　"Thank you," the woman said. "Now do exactly as I tell you, and everything will work out fine."Moments later, Langdon's pulse was still thundering as he ran beside Sophie down the emergencystairwell toward the ground level. Neither of them had said a word since leaving the tremblingLouvre guard lying in the Salle des Etats. The guard's pistol was now clutched tightly in Langdon'shands, and he couldn't wait to get rid of it. The weapon felt heavy and dangerously foreign.
　　Taking the stairs two at a time, Langdon wondered if Sophie had any idea how valuable a paintingshe had almost ruined. Her choice in art seemed eerily pertinent to tonight's adventure. The DaVinci she had grabbed, much like the Mona Lisa, was notorious among art historians for itsplethora of hidden pagan symbolism.
　　"You chose a valuable hostage," he said as they ran.
　　"Madonna of the Rocks," she replied. "But I didn't choose it, my grandfather did. He left me a littlesomething behind the painting."Langdon shot her a startled look. "What!? But how did you know which painting? Why Madonnaof the Rocks?""So dark the con of man." She flashed a triumphant smile. "I missed the first two anagrams,Robert. I wasn't about to miss the third."
保安人员克劳德。格鲁阿尔站在《蒙娜丽莎》前，看着这个被制服的俘虏无比愤怒。这个杂种杀了雅克。索尼埃。对格鲁阿尔和整个保安队的队员来说，索尼埃就像一位慈爱的父亲。
格鲁阿尔想立即扣动扳机，对罗伯特。兰登的后背来上一枪。格鲁阿尔是为数不多的真正荷枪实弹的高级保安人员之一。但他提醒自己，如果不让兰登接受贝祖。法希的审问，也不经受牢狱之苦就杀了他，倒是便宜了他。
格鲁阿尔拔出腰间的对讲机，大声请求派人支援。但对讲机中只有嘈杂的静电干扰声。这间展厅中附加的安全装置总是对保安人员的通讯产生干扰。我必须到门口去。格鲁阿尔一边用枪指着兰登，一边向门口退去。刚退出几步，他察觉到了些什么，停了下来。
那是什么？
在展厅的中间出现了一个奇怪的幻影。一个人影。还有其他人在？一个女人快步地在黑暗中穿行，向远处左边墙走去。她拿着紫光灯在身前来回晃动，好像在找什么感光的东西。
"什么人？"格鲁阿尔大喝道，又极度紧张起来。他一时间不知道应该将枪指向谁，也不知道应该往哪里移步了。
"PTS."那个女人镇静地回答，仍晃动着紫光灯，扫视着地面。
科技警察（PoliceTechniqueetScientifique）。格鲁阿尔冒出了冷汗。我还以为所有的警察都走了呢！他这才想起来，那紫光灯是紫外线灯，科技警察总是带着那家伙，但他还是不明白为什么警署要在这里寻找证据。
"你叫什么名字？"直觉告诉格鲁阿尔，此事蹊跷。"快说！"
"我叫索菲。奈芙。"那人用法语平静地回答。
这个名字在格鲁阿尔记忆深处留有一点儿印象。索菲。奈芙？这不是索尼埃孙女的名字吗？她很小的时候曾经来过这里，但那是很久以前的事了。不可能是她！就算她是索菲。奈芙，也不能信任她，因为格鲁阿尔已经听说索尼埃和孙女的关系决裂了。
"你知道我是谁。"那个女人大声说道。"罗伯特不是凶手。请相信我。"
克劳德。格鲁阿尔可没打算把她的话当真。我需要支援！他又听了听对讲机，里面还是静电干扰声。他离出口还足有二十码，他仍用枪指着趴在地上的兰登，向后退去。他一边退，一边注意着索菲，她正举着紫外线灯细细地打量着挂在《蒙娜丽莎》对面的那张大幅油画。
格鲁阿尔意识到那是什么画，倒吸了一口凉气。上帝呀，她到底想干什么？
索菲站在展厅的那头，额角直冒冷汗。兰登还趴在地上--像一只展翅的老鹰。坚持住，罗伯特。索菲知道格鲁阿尔不会向他们开枪，就又将注意力转到了手头的问题上。她特意用紫外线灯扫视达。芬奇的另一幅作品。她扫视了画前的地板，画周围的墙壁以及油画本身，但什么也没有发现。这儿一定会有些什么！
索菲坚信她可以正确地理解祖父的意图。他还可能会告诉我些什么呢？她正在审视的这幅油画有五英尺高，上面画的是坐在那里抱着婴儿耶稣的圣母玛丽娅、施洗者约翰和站在峭壁上的乌列天使。小时候，每次来看《蒙娜丽莎》，祖父都会把索菲拉到展厅这头也看一看这幅画。
祖父，我来了！可是我什么也没看见！
索菲听见格鲁阿尔又在通过对讲机请求支援了。
快点想！
她的脑海中又浮现出了《蒙娜丽莎》防护玻璃上的潦草字迹。男人的欺骗是多么黑暗。
眼前的这幅画前却没有可供写信息的防护玻璃，而索菲知道祖父绝不会直接在画上写字而损坏艺术品的。她愣了一下。至少不会在正面。她抬头看了看那从屋顶上垂下、用以悬挂油画的钢丝绳。
可能在画后面吗？她抓住油画木框，用力把画向自己身前拽。画很大，索菲将其从墙上掀起时，画布向前弯曲。索菲把头和肩膀都伸到了画布后面，举着紫外线灯审视画的背面。
很快，索菲就意识到自己想错了。油画背后一片空白，没有紫色的感光文字，只有陈旧画布上的点点棕褐的色斑--等一等。
索菲突然看见在靠近油画底部的木框上，有一个金属物发出耀眼的光。那个东西很小，嵌在木框与画布的空隙中，还拖着一条闪光的金链。索菲极为震惊，那正是挂在那把金钥匙上的链子。钥匙柄呈十字形，正面还刻着法国百合的图案和首字母缩写P.S.，这是索菲九岁以后第一次重见它。那一刻，索菲仿佛听见祖父的鬼魂在她耳边低语：有一天，我会将它给你。索菲的喉头像被什么东西哽住了，祖父死了，还不忘履行他的诺言。她听见祖父在说，它是用来开一个盒子的，在那盒子里藏着我的许多秘密。
索菲这才明白过来，今晚的那些文字游戏都是为这把钥匙而设的。祖父被害时，还带着那把钥匙。他不想让钥匙落人警方手中，所以将它藏到了这里，并精心设计了"寻宝"的密码，以确保索菲--也只有索菲--可以发现它。
"请求支援！"格鲁阿尔喊道。
索菲从油画背后拿起钥匙，将它连同紫外线灯一起放入口袋的深处。她向后瞟了一眼，发现格鲁阿尔还在拼命地试图通过对讲机找来援助。他背对着出口，仍然用枪指着兰登。
"请求支援！"格鲁阿尔再次大喊道。
只有静电的干扰声。
他无法与别人取得联系，索菲可以肯定，因为她知道，那些在这里想通过手机向家人炫耀自己看到了《蒙娜丽莎》的游客往往不能如愿。墙壁上特别附加的监控线路使移动通讯设备无法正常工作，要想通话，只有走出展厅，站到走廊中去。格鲁阿尔快步走出了展厅大门，这时索菲意识到她应该立刻采取行动。
抬头望了这幅遮住了她一部分身躯的大油画，索菲暗自思忖：看来今晚达。芬奇要帮我们第二次了。再走几米，格鲁阿尔暗暗告诫自己，要把枪端稳。
"别动！否则，我就毁了它！"那个女人的声音在展厅中回响。
格鲁阿尔循声望去，停住了脚步。"我的上帝呀，不！"
透过那雾蒙蒙的红色灯光，他看见那个女人已经将大幅油画从吊绳上取下，支在她面前。那五英尺高的画几乎把她整个人都挡住了。起先格鲁阿尔感到惊异--为什么吊绳上的电线没有接通警报呢？接着，他想起来今晚艺术展厅的警报系统还没有重新启动过。
她在干什么！
格鲁阿尔看着眼前的一切，惊讶得血液都要凝固了。
画布中间开始鼓了起来，那勾勒圣母玛丽娅、婴儿耶稣和施洗者约翰的细致线条开始扭曲了。
"不！"格鲁阿尔看着达。芬奇的无价画作被这样折腾，惊恐地叫道，那女人正用膝盖从背面抵着画布！
"不！"格鲁阿尔迅速转身，将枪对准索菲，但他又立即明白过来这是徒劳。画布虽然是纤维制成的，但实际上它是牢不可破的--它外面加了价值六百万美元的防护层。
我可不能对着达。芬奇的作品打一枪！
"把你的枪和对讲机都放下。"索菲用法语平静地说道。"否则我将用膝盖顶破这幅画。你一定知道如果祖父在天有灵的话，会有什么样的感受。"格鲁阿尔不知所措。"求你……不要。那是《岩间圣母》！"他把枪和对讲机扔在了地上，把手举过头顶。
"谢谢。"索菲说道。"现在照我说的做，一切都会很顺利的。"
几分钟后，当兰登和索菲逃到紧急楼梯通道里时，兰登的心还在怦怦地狂跳，他们离开那浑身打颤的保安人员，逃出国家展厅后，一句话也没说。兰登还紧紧地攥着保安人员的手枪，不过他迫不及待地想把它扔掉，因为那又沉又危险，感觉怪怪的。
兰登一边三步并做两步地逃，一边暗自猜测索菲是否知道那幅差点儿被她毁掉的画有多大的价值。她选的那幅画倒是与今晚的历险颇有关联。她所拿的那幅画，就像《蒙娜丽莎》一样，由于隐藏着太多的异教象征符号，而遭致了历史学家们的许多负面评价。
"你选的‘人质’价值连城呀。"兰登边跑边说。
"男人的欺骗是多么黑暗。"索菲得意地一笑。"罗伯特，我没解开前两个字谜，但我不会错过第三个。"
Chapter 31
"They're dead!" Sister Sandrine stammered into the telephone in her Saint-Sulpice residence. Shewas leaving a message on an answering machine. "Please pick up! They're all dead!"The first three phone numbers on the list had produced terrifying results—a hysterical widow, adetective working late at a murder scene, and a somber priest consoling a bereaved family. Allthree contacts were dead. And now, as she called the fourth and final number—the number she wasnot supposed to call unless the first three could not be reached—she got an answering machine.
　　The outgoing message offered no name but simply asked the caller to leave a message.
　　"The floor panel has been broken!" she pleaded as she left the message. "The other three are dead!"Sister Sandrine did not know the identities of the four men she protected, but the private phonenumbers stashed beneath her bed were for use on only one condition.
　　If that floor panel is ever broken, the faceless messenger had told her, it means the upper echelonhas been breached. One of us has been mortally threatened and been forced to tell a desperate lie.
　　Call the numbers. Warn the others. Do not fail us in this.
　　It was a silent alarm. Foolproof in its simplicity. The plan had amazed her when she first heard it. Ifthe identity of one brother was compromised, he could tell a lie that would start in motion amechanism to warn the others. Tonight, however, it seemed that more than one had beencompromised.
　　"Please answer," she whispered in fear. "Where are you?""Hang up the phone," a deep voice said from the doorway.
　　Turning in terror, she saw the massive monk. He was clutching the heavy iron candle stand.
　　Shaking, she set the phone back in the cradle.
　　"They are dead," the monk said. "All four of them. And they have played me for a fool. Tell mewhere the keystone is.""I don't know!" Sister Sandrine said truthfully. "That secret is guarded by others." Others who aredead!
　　The man advanced, his white fists gripping the iron stand. "You are a sister of the Church, and yetyou serve them?""Jesus had but one true message," Sister Sandrine said defiantly. "I cannot see that message inOpus Dei."A sudden explosion of rage erupted behind the monk's eyes. He lunged, lashing out with the candlestand like a club. As Sister Sandrine fell, her last feeling was an overwhelming sense offoreboding.
　　All four are dead.
　　The precious truth is lost forever.
"他们都死了！"桑德琳嬷嬷在圣叙尔皮斯教堂的房间中结结巴巴地对着留言机说。"请接听电话！他们都死了！"桑德琳嬷嬷拨通了前三个号码，得到的结果却非常可怕--第一个接听的是一个歇斯底里的寡妇，第二个接听的是正在谋杀现场加班工作的侦探，还有一个是正在安慰死者家属的牧师。三个联系人都死了。现在，她又拨通了第四个--也是最后一个--的电话号码。只有在她找不到其他三个联系人时，才可以拨打那个号码。电话接通的是对方的留言机，留言机并没有说机主的姓名，只是让对方留言。
"地砖已经被打碎了！"她又补充解释道。"其他三个人都死了！"
桑德琳嬷嬷并不知道她要保护的那四个人是谁，但她知道只有在一种情况下，才能打开藏在床底下的那个信封。
那个没有露面的人捎信给她说，地砖一旦被打破，就说明上层组织遭到了破坏。我们其中的一个人受到了生命威胁，并被迫说了一个谎。你就拨打这些电话，提醒其他人。千万要帮我们办成。
起初，她听到这样的安排时，十分诧异，但后来明白这再简单不过了。如果一个教友的身份被发现了，他可以撒一个谎，这样可以启动警报机制。但今晚，被发现的教友不只一个。
"请回答。"她惊恐地问。"你在哪里？"
"把电话挂了。"一个低沉的声音从门口传来。
桑德琳嬷嬷惊恐地转过头，看见了那个身材魁梧的僧侣正手握着烛台站在门口。她颤抖着挂上了电话。
Chapter 32
The security alarm on the west end of the Denon Wing sent the pigeons in the nearby TuileriesGardens scattering as Langdon and Sophie dashed out of the bulkhead into the Paris night. As theyran across the plaza to Sophie's car, Langdon could hear police sirens wailing in the distance.
　　"That's it there," Sophie called, pointing to a red snub-nosed two-seater parked on the plaza.
　　She's kidding, right? The vehicle was easily the smallest car Langdon had ever seen.
　　"SmartCar," she said. "A hundred kilometers to the liter."Langdon had barely thrown himself into the passenger seat before Sophie gunned the SmartCar upand over a curb onto a gravel divider. He gripped the dash as the car shot out across a sidewalk andbounced back down over into the small rotary at Carrousel du Louvre.
　　For an instant, Sophie seemed to consider taking the shortcut across the rotary by plowing straightahead, through the median's perimeter hedge, and bisecting the large circle of grass in the center.
　　"No!" Langdon shouted, knowing the hedges around Carrousel du Louvre were there to hide theperilous chasm in the center—La Pyramide Inversée—the upside-down pyramid skylight he hadseen earlier from inside the museum. It was large enough to swallow their Smart-Car in a singlegulp. Fortunately, Sophie decided on the more conventional route, jamming the wheel hard to theright, circling properly until she exited, cut left, and swung into the northbound lane, acceleratingtoward Rue de Rivoli.
　　The two-tone police sirens blared louder behind them, and Langdon could see the lights now in hisside view mirror. The SmartCar engine whined in protest as Sophie urged it faster away from theLouvre. Fifty yards ahead, the traffic light at Rivoli turned red. Sophie cursed under her breath andkept racing toward it. Langdon felt his muscles tighten.
　　"Sophie?"Slowing only slightly as they reached the intersection, Sophie flicked her headlights and stole aquick glance both ways before flooring the accelerator again and carving a sharp left turn throughthe empty intersection onto Rivoli. Accelerating west for a quarter of a mile, Sophie banked to theright around a wide rotary. Soon they were shooting out the other side onto the wide avenue ofChamps-Elysées.
　　As they straightened out, Langdon turned in his seat, craning his neck to look out the rear windowtoward the Louvre. The police did not seem to be chasing them. The sea of blue lights wasassembling at the museum.
　　His heartbeat finally slowing, Langdon turned back around. "That was interesting."Sophie didn't seem to hear. Her eyes remained fixed ahead down the long thoroughfare of Champs-Elysées, the two-mile stretch of posh storefronts that was often called the Fifth Avenue of Paris.
　　The embassy was only about a mile away, and Langdon settled into his seat. So dark the con ofman. Sophie's quick thinking had been impressive. Madonna of the Rocks.
　　Sophie had said her grandfather left her something behind the painting. A final message? Langdoncould not help but marvel over Saunière's brilliant hiding place; Madonna of the Rocks was yetanother fitting link in the evening's chain of interconnected symbolism. Saunière, it seemed, atevery turn, was reinforcing his fondness for the dark and mischievous side of Leonardo da Vinci.
　　Da Vinci's original commission for Madonna of the Rocks had come from an organization knownas the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception, which needed a painting for the centerpiece ofan altar triptych in their church of San Francesco in Milan. The nuns gave Leonardo specificdimensions, and the desired theme for the painting—the Virgin Mary, baby John the Baptist, Uriel,and Baby Jesus sheltering in a cave. Although Da Vinci did as they requested, when he deliveredthe work, the group reacted with horror. He had filled the painting with explosive and disturbingdetails.
　　The painting showed a blue-robed Virgin Mary sitting with her arm around an infant child,presumably Baby Jesus. Opposite Mary sat Uriel, also with an infant, presumably baby John theBaptist. Oddly, though, rather than the usual Jesus-blessing-John scenario, it was baby John whowas blessing Jesus... and Jesus was submitting to his authority! More troubling still, Mary washolding one hand high above the head of infant John and making a decidedly threateninggesture—her fingers looking like eagle's talons, gripping an invisible head. Finally, the mostobvious and frightening image: Just below Mary's curled fingers, Uriel was making a cuttinggesture with his hand—as if slicing the neck of the invisible head gripped by Mary's claw-likehand.
　　Langdon's students were always amused to learn that Da Vinci eventually mollified theconfraternity by painting them a second, "watered-down" version of Madonna of the Rocks inwhich everyone was arranged in a more orthodox manner. The second version now hung inLondon's National Gallery under the name Virgin of the Rocks, although Langdon still preferredthe Louvre's more intriguing original.
　　As Sophie gunned the car up Champs-Elysées, Langdon said, "The painting. What was behind it?"Her eyes remained on the road. "I'll show you once we're safely inside the embassy.""You'll show it to me?" Langdon was surprised. "He left you a physical object?"Sophie gave a curt nod. "Embossed with a fleur-de-lis and the initials P.S."Langdon couldn't believe his ears.
　　We're going to make it, Sophie thought as she swung the SmartCar's wheel to the right, cuttingsharply past the luxurious H.tel de Crillon into Paris's tree-lined diplomatic neighborhood. Theembassy was less than a mile away now. She was finally feeling like she could breathe normallyagain.
　　Even as she drove, Sophie's mind remained locked on the key in her pocket, her memories ofseeing it many years ago, the gold head shaped as an equal-armed cross, the triangular shaft, theindentations, the embossed flowery seal, and the letters P.S.
　　Although the key barely had entered Sophie's thoughts through the years, her work in theintelligence community had taught her plenty about security, and now the key's peculiar tooling nolonger looked so mystifying. A laser-tooled varying matrix. Impossible to duplicate. Rather thanteeth that moved tumblers, this key's complex series of laser-burned pockmarks was examined byan electric eye. If the eye determined that the hexagonal pockmarks were correctly spaced,arranged, and rotated, then the lock would open.
　　Sophie could not begin to imagine what a key like this opened, but she sensed Robert would beable to tell her. After all, he had described the key's embossed seal without ever seeing it. Thecruciform on top implied the key belonged to some kind of Christian organization, and yet Sophieknew of no churches that used laser-tooled varying matrix keys.
　　Besides, my grandfather was no Christian....
　　Sophie had witnessed proof of that ten years ago. Ironically, it had been another key—a far morenormal one—that had revealed his true nature to her.
　　The afternoon had been warm when she landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport and hailed a taxihome. Grand-père will be so surprised to see me, she thought. Returning from graduate school inBritain for spring break a few days early, Sophie couldn't wait to see him and tell him all about theencryption methods she was studying.
　　When she arrived at their Paris home, however, her grandfather was not there. Disappointed, sheknew he had not been expecting her and was probably working at the Louvre. But it's Saturdayafternoon, she realized. He seldom worked on weekends. On weekends, he usually—Grinning, Sophie ran out to the garage. Sure enough, his car was gone. It was the weekend. JacquesSaunière despised city driving and owned a car for one destination only—his vacation chateau inNormandy, north of Paris. Sophie, after months in the congestion of London, was eager for thesmells of nature and to start her vacation right away. It was still early evening, and she decided toleave immediately and surprise him. Borrowing a friend's car, Sophie drove north, winding into thedeserted moon-swept hills near Creully. She arrived just after ten o'clock, turning down the longprivate driveway toward her grandfather's retreat. The access road was over a mile long, and shewas halfway down it before she could start to see the house through the trees—a mammoth, oldstone chateau nestled in the woods on the side of a hill.
　　Sophie had half expected to find her grandfather asleep at this hour and was excited to see thehouse twinkling with lights. Her delight turned to surprise, however, when she arrived to find thedriveway filled with parked cars—Mercedeses, BMWs, Audis, and a Rolls-Royce.
　　Sophie stared a moment and then burst out laughing. My grand-père, the famous recluse! JacquesSaunière, it seemed, was far less reclusive than he liked to pretend. Clearly he was hosting a partywhile Sophie was away at school, and from the looks of the automobiles, some of Paris's mostinfluential people were in attendance.
　　Eager to surprise him, she hurried to the front door. When she got there, though, she found itlocked. She knocked. Nobody answered. Puzzled, she walked around and tried the back door. It toowas locked. No answer.
　　Confused, she stood a moment and listened. The only sound she heard was the cool Normandy airletting out a low moan as it swirled through the valley.
　　No music.
　　No voices.
　　Nothing.
　　In the silence of the woods, Sophie hurried to the side of the house and clambered up on awoodpile, pressing her face to the living room window. What she saw inside made no sense at all.
　　"Nobody's here!"The entire first floor looked deserted.
　　Where are all the people?
　　Heart racing, Sophie ran to the woodshed and got the spare key her grandfather kept hidden underthe kindling box. She ran to the front door and let herself in. As she stepped into the deserted foyer,the control panel for the security system started blinking red—a warning that the entrant had tenseconds to type the proper code before the security alarms went off.
　　He has the alarm on during a party?
　　Sophie quickly typed the code and deactivated the system.
　　Entering, she found the entire house uninhabited. Upstairs too. As she descended again to thedeserted living room, she stood a moment in the silence, wondering what could possibly behappening.
　　It was then that Sophie heard it.
　　Muffled voices. And they seemed to be coming from underneath her. Sophie could not imagine.
　　Crouching, she put her ear to the floor and listened. Yes, the sound was definitely coming frombelow. The voices seemed to be singing, or... chanting? She was frightened. Almost more eeriethan the sound itself was the realization that this house did not even have a basement.
　　At least none I've ever seen.
　　Turning now and scanning the living room, Sophie's eyes fell to the only object in the entire housethat seemed out of place—her grandfather's favorite antique, a sprawling Aubusson tapestry. Itusually hung on the east wall beside the fireplace, but tonight it had been pulled aside on its brassrod, exposing the wall behind it.
　　Walking toward the bare wooden wall, Sophie sensed the chanting getting louder. Hesitant, sheleaned her ear against the wood. The voices were clearer now. People were definitely chanting...
　　intoning words Sophie could not discern.
　　The space behind this wall is hollow!
　　Feeling around the edge of the panels, Sophie found a recessed fingerhold. It was discreetlycrafted. A sliding door. Heart pounding, she placed her finger in the slot and pulled it. Withnoiseless precision, the heavy wall slid sideways. From out of the darkness beyond, the voicesechoed up.
　　Sophie slipped through the door and found herself on a rough-hewn stone staircase that spiraleddownward. She'd been coming to this house since she was a child and yet had no idea this staircaseeven existed!
　　As she descended, the air grew cooler. The voices clearer. She heard men and women now. Herline of sight was limited by the spiral of the staircase, but the last step was now rounding into view.
　　Beyond it, she could see a small patch of the basement floor—stone, illuminated by the flickeringorange blaze of firelight.
　　Holding her breath, Sophie inched down another few steps and crouched down to look. It took herseveral seconds to process what she was seeing.
　　The room was a grotto—a coarse chamber that appeared to have been hollowed from the granite ofthe hillside. The only light came from torches on the walls. In the glow of the flames, thirty or sopeople stood in a circle in the center of the room.
　　I'm dreaming, Sophie told herself. A dream. What else could this be?
　　Everyone in the room was wearing a mask. The women were dressed in white gossamer gowns andgolden shoes. Their masks were white, and in their hands they carried golden orbs. The men worelong black tunics, and their masks were black. They looked like pieces in a giant chess set.
　　Everyone in the circle rocked back and forth and chanted in reverence to something on the floorbefore them... something Sophie could not see.
　　The chanting grew steady again. Accelerating. Thundering now. Faster. The participants took astep inward and knelt. In that instant, Sophie could finally see what they all were witnessing. Evenas she staggered back in horror, she felt the image searing itself into her memory forever.
　　Overtaken by nausea, Sophie spun, clutching at the stone walls as she clambered back up the stairs.
　　Pulling the door closed, she fled the deserted house, and drove in a tearful stupor back to Paris.
　　That night, with her life shattered by disillusionment and betrayal, she packed her belongings andleft her home. On the dining room table, she left a note.
　　I WAS THERE. DON'T TRY TO FIND ME.
　　Beside the note, she laid the old spare key from the chateau's woodshed.
　　"Sophie! Langdon's voice intruded. "Stop! Stop!"Emerging from the memory, Sophie slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt. "What? Whathappened?!"Langdon pointed down the long street before them.
　　When she saw it, Sophie's blood went cold. A hundred yards ahead, the intersection was blockedby a couple of DCPJ police cars, parked askew, their purpose obvious. They've sealed off AvenueGabriel!
　　Langdon gave a grim sigh. "I take it the embassy is off-limits this evening?"Down the street, the two DCPJ officers who stood beside their cars were now staring in theirdirection, apparently curious about the headlights that had halted so abruptly up the street fromthem.
　　Okay, Sophie, turn around very slowly.
　　Putting the SmartCar in reverse, she performed a composed three-point turn and reversed herdirection. As she drove away, she heard the sound of squealing tires behind them. Sirens blared tolife.
　　Cursing, Sophie slammed down the accelerator.
当索菲和兰登逃出卢浮宫，跑进巴黎的夜色中时，德农馆西侧的警报把杜伊勒里花园里的鸽子吓得四处飞散。他们穿过广场，向索菲的汽车跑去，兰登听见远处传来了警笛声。
"在那里。"索菲指着停在广场上的一辆红色平头双人座汽车喊道。
她不是在开玩笑吧？兰登还从来没有见过这么小的车。
"都市精灵。"她说。"开一百公里就扔了。"
兰登刚钻到乘客席上，索菲就把"都市精灵"发动了起来，而后又缓速驶过了碎石隔离线。汽车冲下了人行道，颠簸了一下，驶入了环行的卢浮宫卡鲁塞勒商廊。兰登紧紧地抓住车里的隔栏。
索菲似乎一度想抄近路，冲破中间的防护栏，从圆形草坪中间开过去。
"不！"兰登叫道，他知道卢浮宫卡鲁塞勒商廊周围的防护栏遮挡着草坪中心的一个危险的坑洞--倒置的玻璃金字塔。刚才，兰登已经在博物馆里看到了通过这个玻璃金字塔照射进去的光线。它就像一张大嘴，可以一口将他们的"都市精灵"吞下去。幸亏索菲又决定按常规路线行驶，她将方向盘向左猛转，又出了商廊，然后向左拐进一条朝北的街道，向着利沃里街急速行驶。后面传来的警笛声离他们越来越近了，兰登已经可以从车边镜中看到闪烁的警灯。索菲急着要加速离开卢浮宫的时候，都市精灵的发动机已经发出闷响开始抗议了。前方五十码的地方，利沃里街口又亮起了红灯。索菲轻声骂了几句，继续驾车向前冲。
"索菲？"
到达十字路口，索菲只稍微地放慢了一点车速，打亮了车灯，然后迅速地扫视了一下左右，又踩下了油门。汽车向左拐了个大弯，穿过空荡荡的十字路口，驶进了利沃里街。
向西加速行驶了一公里后，索菲将车开向右边的高架。很快，他们从环形高架的另一边下来，驶入了宽阔的香榭丽舍大街。
汽车开始径直行驶，兰登转过身，伸长了脖子，透过后窗朝卢浮宫方向张望。好像警察并没有追他们。远处那蓝色的警灯聚集在博物馆前像是一片海洋。
他那颗悬在半空的心终于放了下来，他回过头来说道。"这还真有趣。"
索菲像是没有听见。她注视着前方长长的香榭丽舍大街。眼前这条有许多时尚小店的路段通常被叫做巴黎第五大街。离使馆大约只有一英里了，兰登在座位上放松了下来。
男人的欺骗是多么黑暗。
索菲敏捷的思维已经给兰登留下了深刻的印象。
《岩间圣母》。
索菲说她的祖父在油画后留下了些东西。最终的信息？兰登不禁为索尼埃能找到这样的藏宝之处而赞叹不已。《岩间圣母》那相互关联的象征符号之链上的又一个环节。看来，索尼埃在每个环节上都愈发表现出对达。芬奇的反叛和恶作剧的欣赏。
《岩间圣母》原本是达。芬奇受净念慈善会的委托为米兰圣弗朗切斯科教堂的礼拜堂所作的祭坛画。修女们事先确定了油画的尺寸和主题--山洞中的圣母玛丽娅、施洗者约翰、乌列和婴儿耶稣。虽然达。芬奇按照她们的要求来做画，但当他交上画作的时候，引起了慈善会里的一片惊恐。这幅画作中充满了引发争议的、令人不安的细节。
画作描绘了身着蓝袍的圣母玛丽娅抱着一个婴儿坐在那里，那个婴儿应该就是耶稣。
乌列坐在玛丽娅的对面，也怀抱着婴儿，那个婴儿应该就是施洗者约翰。奇怪的是，画作却一反常理，画的是约翰为耶稣祈福，而不是耶稣为约翰祈福……耶稣正服从于约翰的权威！更成问题的是，画中玛丽娅一手置于约翰头上，另一只手则做出一个威胁的手势--她的手指看上去像鹰爪，仿佛正抓着一个无形的人头。最明显而又最令人毛骨悚然的形象要数玛丽娅弯曲的手指下方的乌列--他做出一个砍东西的手势，仿佛要把玛丽娅抓住的那个无形的人头从脖颈处砍下来。
后来，为了安慰慈善会，达。芬奇又为其画了第二幅"岩间圣母"，画面的安排比较正统。第二幅画现藏于伦敦国立美术馆，取名为《岩间的玛丽娅》。兰登的学生每每听到这里，就会一片哗然。不过，兰登还是比较偏爱卢浮宫里暗藏玄机的那一幅。
车飞奔在香榭丽舍大街上，兰登问索菲："那幅画后面藏了什么。"
"我们安全进入使馆后，我会给你看的。"索菲仍注视着前方的道路。
"你会给我看？"兰登诧异地问。"那是一件物品？"
索菲点了点头。"上面刻着法国百合和首字母缩写P.S."。
兰登简直不敢相信自己的耳朵。
我们马上就到了，索菲想着，将方向盘向右打，驶过豪华的克里昂士饭店，进入巴黎三车道的使馆区。离使馆不到一公里了。她终于感到自己又可以正常地呼吸了。
索菲一边驾车，一边惦记着口袋里的那把钥匙，她的脑海中浮现出许多年前关于那把钥匙的记忆，那加号形的金色钥匙柄，那三棱柱形的匙身，那钥匙上的小孔，以及那雕刻在钥匙柄上的花纹和字母P.S这么多年来，她很少想起这把钥匙，但多年来在科技安全部门工作的经验告诉她这样的钥匙设计并不神秘。激光塑模，无法复制。那种锁不是靠钥匙上的锯齿来转动制动栓，而是通过一个电子孔来检测钥匙上用激光烧制而成的小孔。如果电子孔检测出匙身六个截面上的小孔是按要求旋转排列的，那么锁就会开启。
索菲想不到这把钥匙会打开什么，但她感觉到罗伯特一定能告诉她答案。毕竟，他还没有看到钥匙就可以描绘出那上面的图案了。那十字架形的钥匙柄暗示着钥匙一定与某个基督教组织有关，但据索菲所知，并没有哪个教堂在使用激光塑模的钥匙。再说，祖父也不是基督教徒……
她十年前的所见所闻可以证实这一点。颇具讽刺意义的是，向她揭示出祖父本性的是另一把钥匙--比眼下的这把要普通得多的钥匙。
她到达戴高乐机场的那天下午，天气暖洋洋的。她拦了一辆出租车，祖父看到我一定会大吃一惊的，她想。她从英国的研究生院提前几天回家度春假，正迫不及待地想告诉祖父她新学到的加密方法。
当她赶到巴黎的家中时，却发现祖父不在家。她颇为失望。她知道祖父不知道她要回来，可能还在卢浮宫工作。但现在是礼拜天下午呀，她想起来。祖父很少在周末工作。周末的时候，他一般都会--索菲一笑，向车库跑去。可以肯定，他的车被开走了。现在是周末。雅克。索尼埃不喜欢在城市中开车，他驾车只会去一个地方，那就是他那位于巴黎北面的诺曼底的度假别墅。索菲已经在拥挤的伦敦呆了好几个月，正渴望去感受一下大自然的气息，于是决定到那里去度假。当时正值傍晚，时候尚早，索菲决定立即动身，给祖父一个惊喜。她向朋友借了一辆车，向北开，在克鲁里附近的盘山公路上行驶--那些寂静无人的小山丘上洒满了月光。当她到达别墅时，刚刚十点多钟。她将车开上一英里长的私家车道，向别墅驶去。当她开到一半，就可以透过树木看见那座房子了--那是一座用古老的石块搭建成的大房子，坐落在山腰上的树丛中。索菲原本猜想祖父可能已经睡下了，当她看到屋里还闪烁着灯光时非常兴奋。随即，她的兴奋之情又被惊异所取代，因为她看见车道上停满了汽车--奔驰、宝马、奥迪，还有罗尔斯。罗伊斯。
索菲瞧了瞧，忍不住笑出声来。我的祖父是著名的隐士！雅克。索尼埃这个隐士实在名不符实。显然，他趁索菲在校读书时在这里举行晚会，从车道上的车看来，一些巴黎名流也前来参加了。
索菲迫不及待地想给祖父一个惊喜，于是她急匆匆地来到前门。可是，前门却锁着。
她敲了敲，没人应答。她迷惑不解地转到后门，推了推，后门也锁着。没有人开门。
索菲不解地站在那里，竖起耳朵倾听周围的动静。她只听到诺曼底那凉飕飕的空气在山谷中回旋，发出低沉的呻吟。
没有音乐。
没有说话声。
什么声音也没有。
索菲急匆匆地赶到房子的侧面，爬上了一个木材堆，将脸紧紧地贴在客厅的窗户上。
她简直无法理解她所看到的景象。
"一个人也没有！"
整个一楼楼面都空荡荡的。
这些人都到哪里去了？
索菲的心怦怦直跳，她跑到柴房里，从引火柴底下取出祖父藏在那里的备用钥匙。她跑到前门，开锁进屋。当她走进空空如也的客厅时，安全系统控制板上的红灯闪烁了起来--那是在提醒来访者在十秒钟之内输入正确的密码，否则警报就会被拉响。
开晚会还用警报？
索菲迅速地键入了密码，不让警报拉响。
她再往里走，发现整幢房子，包括楼上，都空无一人。当她从楼上下来，回到空荡荡的客厅时，她默默地站了一会儿，思忖着这到底是怎么回事。
就在那时，索菲听见有声音传来。
沉闷的声音。那声音听上去是从索菲自己的脚下传来的。索菲大惑不解，趴在地板上，把耳朵紧紧地贴近地面。没错，声音就是从地下传来的。好像有人在唱歌或者……在唱赞歌？索菲觉得有点儿害怕。当她想起这幢房子并没有地下室的时候，更感到恐惧。
至少我没见有地下室。
索菲转身扫视了一下客厅，将目光锁定在那块皇宫挂毯上--那是祖父最喜爱的古董，但今天它是整幢房中唯一挪了位的东西。它原本是挂在火炉边的东墙上的，但今晚它却被拉到了挂竿的一边，把原本被挡住的墙壁暴露在外。
索菲朝那堵空白的木质墙壁走去，她感到赞歌的声音响了一些。她犹豫了一下，将耳朵贴近木墙。这下，声音变得很清晰。那些人一定是在唱赞歌……但索菲听不出曲调和歌词。
这堵墙后面有隔间！
索菲摸索着墙壁，发现了一个凹陷的、制作精致的扣指处。一扇滑门。索菲的心怦怦直跳，她将手指扣入那个小槽，移开了滑门。厚重的滑门悄无声息地向两侧移开了。赞歌在眼前的这一片黑暗中回响。
索菲闪进门内，站在了用石块搭建而成的盘旋而下的楼梯上。她小时候就常来别墅，可从来也不知道还有这么一个楼梯通道！
沿着楼梯，越往下走，空气就越凉，人声也越清晰。她现在可以分辨出那里面既有男人的声音，也有女人的声音。盘旋的楼梯挡住了她的部分视野，但她现在可以看到最后一级台阶了。台阶前，是地下室的一小块地面--石块铺就，被闪烁的橘红色火焰照得通亮。
索菲屏住呼吸，又向下走了几级台阶，俯身望去。好一阵子，她才明白过来自己看到了些什么。
地下室实际上是一个洞穴，是掏空了山坡上的岩体而形成的洞室。唯一的光源是墙上的火把。在那闪亮的火焰中，大约有三十个人围成圈，站在洞室的中间。
我是在做梦吧，索菲自语道。这难道不是一个梦吗？
洞室里的每个人都戴着面纱。女人们穿着白色的游丝长袍，穿着金黄色的鞋子。她们的面纱是白色的，她们手握着金黄色的宝珠。男人们则穿着黑色的及膝短袖衣，戴着黑色的面纱。他们看上去就像一个大棋盘上的棋子。他们前后晃动着身体，充满敬意地对身前地板上的一样东西唱着赞歌……索菲看不见那是什么东西。
赞歌的曲调舒缓了下来，接着又渐渐激昂起来，最后节奏加快，非常高亢。那些人向前迈了一步，跪倒在地。那一刻，索菲终于看到了他们注视的东西。在她吓得倒退几步的同时，那场景也永远留在了她的记忆中。她感到强烈的恶心，站起身来，抓着墙上的石块，顺着楼梯往回走。她拉上了滑门，逃离了空空的别墅，泪汪汪地驾车返回了巴黎。
那天晚上，她感到生活的理想由于亲人的背叛而被打碎了。她收拾了自己的东西，离开了家。她在餐桌上留下了一张纸条。
我去过那里了。不要来找我。
她把从别墅柴房里取出的那把陈旧的备用钥匙放在了纸条旁边。
"索菲！"兰登打断了她的回忆。"停车！停车！"
索菲这才回过神来，猛地踩下刹车，将车停了下来。"怎么了？发生什么事了？"
兰登指向前方那长长的街道。
索菲举目望去，心都凉了。前面一百码处，几辆警署的车斜堵在了十字路口，其意图显而易见。他们已经封住了加布里埃尔大街！
兰登板着脸，叹道。"看来今晚大使馆成了禁区了？"
街道尽头，站在车旁的警察们正注视着这个方向，他们显然发现了前方街道上有辆车突然停下，并对此产生了怀疑。
"好吧。"索菲慢慢地调转车头。
索菲向后倒了一下车，转了个弯，将车头调转过来。当她开动汽车时，听见后方传来轮胎摩擦地面发出的尖锐声响，警笛声大作。
"该死。"索菲踩下了油门。
Chapter 33
Sophie's SmartCar tore through the diplomatic quarter, weaving past embassies and consulates,finally racing out a side street and taking a right turn back onto the massive thoroughfare ofChamps-Elysées.
　　Langdon sat white-knuckled in the passenger seat, twisted backward, scanning behind them for anysigns of the police. He suddenly wished he had not decided to run. You didn't, he reminded himself.
　　Sophie had made the decision for him when she threw the GPS dot out the bathroom window.
　　Now, as they sped away from the embassy, serpentining through sparse traffic on Champs-Elysées,Langdon felt his options deteriorating. Although Sophie seemed to have lost the police, at least forthe moment, Langdon doubted their luck would hold for long.
　　Behind the wheel Sophie was fishing in her sweater pocket. She removed a small metal object andheld it out for him. "Robert, you'd better have a look at this. This is what my grandfather left mebehind Madonna of the Rocks."Feeling a shiver of anticipation, Langdon took the object and examined it. It was heavy and shapedlike a cruciform. His first instinct was that he was holding a funeral pieu—a miniature version of amemorial spike designed to be stuck into the ground at a gravesite. But then he noted the shaftprotruding from the cruciform was prismatic and triangular. The shaft was also pockmarked withhundreds of tiny hexagons that appeared to be finely tooled and scattered at random.
　　"It's a laser-cut key," Sophie told him. "Those hexagons are read by an electric eye."A key? Langdon had never seen anything like it.
　　"Look at the other side," she said, changing lanes and sailing through an intersection.
　　When Langdon turned the key, he felt his jaw drop. There, intricately embossed on the center ofthe cross, was a stylized fleur-de-lis with the initials P.S.! "Sophie," he said, "this is the seal I toldyou about! The official device of the Priory of Sion."She nodded. "As I told you, I saw the key a long time ago. He told me never to speak of it again."Langdon's eyes were still riveted on the embossed key. Its high-tech tooling and age-oldsymbolism exuded an eerie fusion of ancient and modern worlds.
　　"He told me the key opened a box where he kept many secrets."Langdon felt a chill to imagine what kind of secrets a man like Jacques Saunière might keep. Whatan ancient brotherhood was doing with a futuristic key, Langdon had no idea. The Priory existedfor the sole purpose of protecting a secret. A secret of incredible power. Could this key havesomething to do with it? The thought was overwhelming. "Do you know what it opens?"Sophie looked disappointed. "I was hoping you knew."Langdon remained silent as he turned the cruciform in his hand, examining it.
　　"It looks Christian," Sophie pressed.
　　Langdon was not so sure about that. The head of this key was not the traditional long-stemmedChristian cross but rather was a square cross—with four arms of equal length—which predatedChristianity by fifteen hundred years. This kind of cross carried none of the Christian connotationsof crucifixion associated with the longer-stemmed Latin Cross, originated by Romans as a torturedevice. Langdon was always surprised how few Christians who gazed upon "the crucifix" realizedtheir symbol's violent history was reflected in its very name: "cross" and "crucifix" came from theLatin verb cruciare—to torture.
　　"Sophie," he said, "all I can tell you is that equal-armed crosses like this one are consideredpeaceful crosses. Their square configurations make them impractical for use in crucifixion, andtheir balanced vertical and horizontal elements convey a natural union of male and female, makingthem symbolically consistent with Priory philosophy."She gave him a weary look. "You have no idea, do you?"Langdon frowned. "Not a clue.""Okay, we have to get off the road." Sophie checked her rearview mirror. "We need a safe place tofigure out what that key opens."Langdon thought longingly of his comfortable room at the Ritz. Obviously, that was not an option.
　　"How about my hosts at the American University of Paris?""Too obvious. Fache will check with them.""You must know people. You live here.""Fache will run my phone and e-mail records, talk to my coworkers. My contacts arecompromised, and finding a hotel is no good because they all require identification."Langdon wondered again if he might have been better off taking his chances letting Fache arresthim at the Louvre. "Let's call the embassy. I can explain the situation and have the embassy sendsomeone to meet us somewhere.""Meet us?" Sophie turned and stared at him as if he were crazy. "Robert, you're dreaming. Yourembassy has no jurisdiction except on their own property. Sending someone to retrieve us would beconsidered aiding a fugitive of the French government. It won't happen. If you walk into yourembassy and request temporary asylum, that's one thing, but asking them to take action againstFrench law enforcement in the field?" She shook her head. "Call your embassy right now, and theyare going to tell you to avoid further damage and turn yourself over to Fache. Then they'll promiseto pursue diplomatic channels to get you a fair trial." She gazed up the line of elegant storefronts onChamps-Elysées. "How much cash do you have?"Langdon checked his wallet. "A hundred dollars. A few euro. Why?""Credit cards?""Of course."As Sophie accelerated, Langdon sensed she was formulating a plan. Dead ahead, at the end ofChamps-Elysées, stood the Arc de Triomphe—Napoleon's 164-foot-tall tribute to his own militarypotency—encircled by France's largest rotary, a nine-lane behemoth.
　　Sophie's eyes were on the rearview mirror again as they approached the rotary. "We lost them forthe time being," she said, "but we won't last another five minutes if we stay in this car."So steal a different one, Langdon mused, now that we're criminals. "What are you going to do?"Sophie gunned the SmartCar into the rotary. "Trust me."Langdon made no response. Trust had not gotten him very far this evening. Pulling back the sleeveof his jacket, he checked his watch—a vintage, collector's-edition Mickey Mouse wristwatch thathad been a gift from his parents on his tenth birthday. Although its juvenile dial often drew oddlooks, Langdon had never owned any other watch; Disney animations had been his firstintroduction to the magic of form and color, and Mickey now served as Langdon's daily reminderto stay young at heart. At the moment, however, Mickey's arms were skewed at an awkward angle,indicating an equally awkward hour.
　　2:51 A.M.
　　"Interesting watch," Sophie said, glancing at his wrist and maneuvering the SmartCar around thewide, counterclockwise rotary.
　　"Long story," he said, pulling his sleeve back down.
　　"I imagine it would have to be." She gave him a quick smile and exited the rotary, heading duenorth, away from the city center. Barely making two green lights, she reached the third intersectionand took a hard right onto Boulevard Malesherbes. They'd left the rich, tree-lined streets of thediplomatic neighborhood and plunged into a darker industrial neighborhood. Sophie took a quickleft, and a moment later, Langdon realized where they were.
　　Gare Saint-Lazare.
　　Ahead of them, the glass-roofed train terminal resembled the awkward offspring of an airplanehangar and a greenhouse. European train stations never slept. Even at this hour, a half-dozen taxisidled near the main entrance. Vendors manned carts of sandwiches and mineral water while grungykids in backpacks emerged from the station rubbing their eyes, looking around as if trying toremember what city they were in now. Up ahead on the street, a couple of city policemen stood onthe curb giving directions to some confused tourists.
　　Sophie pulled her SmartCar in behind the line of taxis and parked in a red zone despite plenty oflegal parking across the street. Before Langdon could ask what was going on, she was out of thecar. She hurried to the window of the taxi in front of them and began speaking to the driver.
　　As Langdon got out of the SmartCar, he saw Sophie hand the taxi driver a big wad of cash. Thetaxi driver nodded and then, to Langdon's bewilderment, sped off without them.
　　"What happened?" Langdon demanded, joining Sophie on the curb as the taxi disappeared.
　　Sophie was already heading for the train station entrance. "Come on. We're buying two tickets onthe next train out of Paris."Langdon hurried along beside her. What had begun as a one-mile dash to the U.S. Embassy hadnow become a full-fledged evacuation from Paris. Langdon was liking this idea less and less.
索菲的"都市精灵"与大使馆和领事馆飞速地擦肩而过，穿越了使馆区，最后冲上一条人行道，右转返回到宽阔的香榭丽舍大街。
兰登攥着拳头坐在乘客席上，扭身向后张望，看看是否有警察的踪迹。忽然，他希望自己没有做出逃跑的决定。实际上，你也没做过这样的决定，他提醒自己。当索菲将全球定位系统跟踪器扔出厕所时，她已经替兰登做出了决定。现在，他们正加速离开大使馆，穿行在车辆行人稀少的香榭丽舍大街上。兰登觉得他刚才选择返回国家展厅的决定，使事情变得更糟了。虽然眼下索菲甩掉了警察，但谁知道这好运能停留多久呢。
索菲一手操纵着方向盘，一手在毛衣口袋中摸索。她拿出了一个金属小玩意儿，递给兰登。"罗伯特，你最好看看这个。这是祖父留在《岩间圣母》后面的。"
兰登急切地接过那个东西，仔细端详起来。它是十字形的，沉甸甸的。兰登感觉自己仿佛拿着一个微型的坟前十字架--那种插在墓前，用来纪念死者的十字桩。但他又注意到，十字形钥匙柄下的钥匙身是三棱柱形的，上面随机排列着上百个精致的小洞。
"这是一把激光塑模的钥匙。"索菲告诉他。"锁上的电子孔会读取钥匙身上小洞的排列信息。"一把钥匙？兰登从来没有见过这样的钥匙。
"看看另一面。"索菲将车开过一个十字路口，驶入另一条街道。
兰登将钥匙翻转过来，变得目瞪口呆，只见那十字形钥匙柄的中心刻着法国百合的花样和首字母缩写P.S.！"索菲。"他说。"这就是我说过的那个图案，这是郇山隐修会的标志。"索菲点了点头："我说过，我很久以前就见过这把钥匙。祖父让我不要再提起它。"
兰登仍死死地盯着那把刻着图案的钥匙。它运用高科技制造而成，却刻着古老的象征符号，反映了古今世界的奇妙融合。
"他告诉我这把钥匙可以打开一个盒子，盒子里藏着他的许多秘密。"
雅克。索尼埃这样的人会保守什么样的秘密呢？兰登想到这个问题，不禁打了个冷战。
他无法理解为什么一个古老教会要使用如此现代化的钥匙。隐修会的存在只为了一个目的，那就是保守一个秘密--一个有巨大威力的秘密。这把钥匙会不会与此有关呢？兰登不禁要这样揣测。"你知道它是用来开什么的吗？"
索菲看上去很失望："我希望你会知道。"
兰登不说话了，只是翻动、打量着手中的十字形钥匙。
"它看上去与基督教有关。"索菲接着说。
兰登无法确认这说法是否属实。钥匙柄并不是传统的基督教十字形，而是一个正方十字形--像交叉的两条线段那样长。这种符号的诞生比基督教的成立早了一千五百年。传统的基督教十字形源于罗马的一种刑具，但正方十字形则完全与此无关。兰登总是惊奇地发现，很少会有基督教徒知道他们的象征符号的名称反映了一段暴力的历史：英文单词十字架‘cross’、‘十字形crucifix’源于拉丁文"cruciare"，而这个单词就表示"酷刑"、"折磨"。
"索菲。"兰登说道。"据我所知，这种正方十字形被视为‘和平’的十字。它的外形使得它不可能被用做刑具，交叉的两条线段一样长，暗含着男女自然融合的寓意。它的象征意义与隐修会的思想是一致的。"索菲不耐烦地看了他一眼。"你不知道它是用来开什么的吗？"
兰登皱了皱眉头。"一点儿也看不出来。"
"好吧，我们必须把车停了。"索菲对车后镜看了看。"我们必须找个地方来想想这钥匙到底是用来开什么的。"兰登非常渴望回到丽兹酒店的舒适客房中去，但很显然那是不可能的。
"去找驻巴黎的美国大学接待人怎么样？"
"太容易暴露目标了。法希会去检查他们的。"
"你一定认识人的。你住在这里呀。"
"法希会根据我的电话和电子邮件记录与我的同事取得联系，他们都会听法希的。找饭店也不行，那得要身份证。"兰登再次觉得被法希在卢浮宫逮捕会比现在更好些。"那我们打电话给大使馆。我可以向他们解释情况，让大使馆派人到什么地方接应我们。""接应我们？"索菲扭头看着兰登，那眼神仿佛在问兰登是否在说疯话。
"罗伯特，别做梦了。你们的大使馆在领地之外没有司法权。派人来接应我们就等于援助法国政府的逃犯。那是不可能的。如果你走进大使馆请求临时避难，那另当别论，但要让他们在这方面采取行动对抗法国的法律？"索菲摇了摇头。"如果你现在打电话给大使馆，他们只会让你避免更大的损失，向法希自首。然后，他们会保证将通过外交途径让你受到公正的审判。"她看了看香榭丽舍大街上那排优雅的时尚店。"你带了多少现金？"
兰登看了看钱包。"一百美元。还有一点儿欧元。怎么了？"
"带信用卡了吗？"
"当然。"
索菲加快了车速。兰登凭直觉知道她又在构想一个计划。前面是死路了，香榭丽舍大街的尽头矗立着凯旋门--那是拿破仑为炫耀其战果而建的高达164 英尺的拱门。它被法国最大的环行公路围绕着，那是拥有九车道的庞然大物。
当行驶到环行公路时，索菲又看了看车后镜。"我们暂时甩掉了他们。"索菲说。"但如果我们不下车的话，不出五分钟他们又会发现我们了。"那就偷一辆车，兰登暗自思忖，反正我们是罪犯。
索菲踩下油门，将车开上环行公路。"相信我。"
兰登没有回答。"相信"让他今晚遇到了太多的麻烦。他拉起夹克衫的袖子，看了看表，那是一块珍藏版的米奇老鼠手表，是兰登十岁生日时父母送给他的生日礼物。虽然那孩子气的表盘经常引来怪异的目光，但这是兰登所拥有的唯一的一块手表。是迪斯尼的动画把他引入了形象和颜色的神奇世界，现在米奇老鼠还每天提醒兰登永葆一颗童心。此刻，米奇的两个手臂形成了一个不自然的夹角，表明的时间：2：51 A.M.
"有趣的手表。"索菲边说，边让车顺着环行公路拐了一个逆时针的大弯。
"说来话长。"兰登把袖口拉了下来。
"我想也是。"她冲兰登一笑，把车开下了环行公路，又继续向北开去，离开了市中心。
他们穿过两个亮着绿灯的十字路口，来到第三个十字路口时，他们向右急转弯，驶上了梅尔歇布大道。他们已经离开了豪华的三车道使馆区，驶入了稍稍有点儿昏暗的工业区。索菲向左来了个急转弯，几分钟后，兰登方才辨认出他们的方位。
圣拉查尔火车站。
在他们前方，那玻璃屋顶的火车终点站聚集着刚下火车的人群。欧洲的火车站是通宵开放的。即使是在此时，还有很多出租车在出口处接客。小贩们推着小车叫卖三明治和矿泉水，刚从车站里出来的被大人背着的小家伙眨巴着眼睛，似乎要努力地记住眼前的这个城市。在路口，有几个警察站在路沿上，为找不着北的旅游者们指路。
虽然街对面有足够的停车空间，索菲还是将"都市精灵"停在于那排出租车的后面。还没等兰登问这是怎么回事，索菲已经跳下了车。她急匆匆地跑到一辆出租车的窗前，和司机交谈起来。
当兰登跳下车时，看见索菲正将一大叠现金交给出租车司机。司机点了点头。令兰登大惑不解的是，司机并没有带上他们，而是自个儿把车开走了。
"怎么了？"兰登跨上路沿，站到索菲跟前。这时那辆车已经从他们的视线中消失了。
索菲又向火车站人口走去。"来，我们买两张票，搭下一班车离开巴黎。"
兰登急匆匆地跟在她身旁。现在，到美国使馆的一英里冲刺已经彻头彻尾地变成了从巴黎向外潜逃。兰登越来越不喜欢这个主意了。
Chapter 34
The driver who collected Bishop Aringarosa from Leonardo da Vinci International Airport pulledup in a small, unimpressive black Fiat sedan. Aringarosa recalled a day when all Vatican transportswere big luxury cars that sported grille-plate medallions and flags emblazoned with the seal of theHoly See. Those days are gone. Vatican cars were now less ostentatious and almost alwaysunmarked. The Vatican claimed this was to cut costs to better serve their dioceses, but Aringarosasuspected it was more of a security measure. The world had gone mad, and in many parts ofEurope, advertising your love of Jesus Christ was like painting a bull's-eye on the roof of your car.
　　Bundling his black cassock around himself, Aringarosa climbed into the back seat and settled in forthe long drive to Castel Gandolfo. It would be the same ride he had taken five months ago.
　　Last year's trip to Rome, he sighed. The longest night of my life.
　　Five months ago, the Vatican had phoned to request Aringarosa's immediate presence in Rome.
　　They offered no explanation. Your tickets are at the airport. The Holy See worked hard to retain aveil of mystery, even for its highest clergy.
　　The mysterious summons, Aringarosa suspected, was probably a photo opportunity for the Popeand other Vatican officials to piggyback on Opus Dei's recent public success—the completion oftheir World Headquarters in New York City. Architectural Digest had called Opus Dei's building"a shining beacon of Catholicism sublimely integrated with the modern landscape," and lately theVatican seemed to be drawn to anything and everything that included the word "modern."Aringarosa had no choice but to accept the invitation, albeit reluctantly. Not a fan of the currentpapal administration, Aringarosa, like most conservative clergy, had watched with grave concernas the new Pope settled into his first year in office. An unprecedented liberal, His Holiness hadsecured the papacy through one of the most controversial and unusual conclaves in Vatican history.
　　Now, rather than being humbled by his unexpected rise to power, the Holy Father had wasted notime flexing all the muscle associated with the highest office in Christendom. Drawing on anunsettling tide of liberal support within the College of Cardinals, the Pope was now declaring hispapal mission to be "rejuvenation of Vatican doctrine and updating Catholicism into the thirdmillennium."The translation, Aringarosa feared, was that the man was actually arrogant enough to think hecould rewrite God's laws and win back the hearts of those who felt the demands of true Catholicismhad become too inconvenient in a modern world.
　　Aringarosa had been using all of his political sway—substantial considering the size of the OpusDei constituency and their bankroll—to persuade the Pope and his advisers that softening theChurch's laws was not only faithless and cowardly, but political suicide. He reminded them thatprevious tempering of Church law—the Vatican II fiasco—had left a devastating legacy: Churchattendance was now lower than ever, donations were drying up, and there were not even enoughCatholic priests to preside over their churches.
　　People need structure and direction from the Church, Aringarosa insisted, not coddling andindulgence!
　　On that night, months ago, as the Fiat had left the airport, Aringarosa was surprised to find himselfheading not toward Vatican City but rather eastward up a sinuous mountain road. "Where are wegoing?" he had demanded of his driver.
　　"Alban Hills," the man replied. "Your meeting is at Castel Gandolfo."The Pope's summer residence? Aringarosa had never been, nor had he ever desired to see it. Inaddition to being the Pope's summer vacation home, the sixteenth-century citadel housed theSpecula Vaticana—the Vatican Observatory—one of the most advanced astronomicalobservatories in Europe. Aringarosa had never been comfortable with the Vatican's historical needto dabble in science. What was the rationale for fusing science and faith? Unbiased science couldnot possibly be performed by a man who possessed faith in God. Nor did faith have any need forphysical confirmation of its beliefs.
　　Nonetheless, there it is, he thought as Castel Gandolfo came into view, rising against a star-filledNovember sky. From the access road, Gandolfo resembled a great stone monster pondering asuicidal leap. Perched at the very edge of a cliff, the castle leaned out over the cradle of Italiancivilization—the valley where the Curiazi and Orazi clans fought long before the founding ofRome.
　　Even in silhouette, Gandolfo was a sight to behold—an impressive example of tiered, defensivearchitecture, echoing the potency of this dramatic cliffside setting. Sadly, Aringarosa now saw, theVatican had ruined the building by constructing two huge aluminum telescope domes atop the roof,leaving this once dignified edifice looking like a proud warrior wearing a couple of party hats.
　　When Aringarosa got out of the car, a young Jesuit priest hurried out and greeted him. "Bishop,welcome. I am Father Mangano. An astronomer here."Good for you. Aringarosa grumbled his hello and followed his host into the castle's foyer—a wide-open space whose decor was a graceless blend of Renaissance art and astronomy images.
　　Following his escort up the wide travertine marble staircase, Aringarosa saw signs for conferencecenters, science lecture halls, and tourist information services. It amazed him to think the Vaticanwas failing at every turn to provide coherent, stringent guidelines for spiritual growth and yetsomehow still found time to give astrophysics lectures to tourists.
　　"Tell me," Aringarosa said to the young priest, "when did the tail start wagging the dog?"The priest gave him an odd look. "Sir?"Aringarosa waved it off, deciding not to launch into that particular offensive again this evening.
　　The Vatican has gone mad. Like a lazy parent who found it easier to acquiesce to the whims of aspoiled child than to stand firm and teach values, the Church just kept softening at every turn,trying to reinvent itself to accommodate a culture gone astray.
　　The top floor's corridor was wide, lushly appointed, and led in only one direction—toward a hugeset of oak doors with a brass sign.
　　BIBLIOTECA ASTRONOMICAAringarosa had heard of this place—the Vatican's Astronomy Library—rumored to contain morethan twenty-five thousand volumes, including rare works of Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton,and Secchi. Allegedly, it was also the place in which the Pope's highest officers held privatemeetings... those meetings they preferred not to hold within the walls of Vatican City.
　　Approaching the door, Bishop Aringarosa would never have imagined the shocking news he wasabout to receive inside, or the deadly chain of events it would put into motion. It was not until anhour later, as he staggered from the meeting, that the devastating implications settled in. Six monthsfrom now! he had thought. God help us!
　　Now, seated in the Fiat, Bishop Aringarosa realized his fists were clenched just thinking about thatfirst meeting. He released his grip and forced a slow inhalation, relaxing his muscles.
　　Everything will be fine, he told himself as the Fiat wound higher into the mountains. Still, hewished his cell phone would ring. Why hasn't the Teacher called me? Silas should have thekeystone by now.
　　Trying to ease his nerves, the bishop meditated on the purple amethyst in his ring. Feeling thetextures of the mitre-crozier appliqué and the facets of the diamonds, he reminded himself that thisring was a symbol of power far less than that which he would soon attain.
到列昂纳多。达。芬奇国际机场来接阿林加洛沙的司机开来的是一辆不起眼的黑色菲亚特小轿车。阿林加洛沙想起了过去。那时，梵蒂冈的车都是大型的豪华轿车，上面有栏杆和圆形雕饰，插着印有梵蒂冈城邦标志的旗帜。那个时代一去不复返了。梵蒂冈城的车辆现在已没有那么多的装饰了，有时候连标志都没有。梵蒂冈城声称这是为了缩减开支，以便更好地为教区服务，但阿林加洛沙则认为这可能是为了求安稳。整个世界都疯了，在欧洲的许多地方，公然表达对基督教的热爱，往往被视为像在自己的车顶上画个公牛眼一样，让人无法接受。
阿林加洛沙裹着黑色长袍，爬到车的后座上，准备开始前往岗道尔夫堡的漫长旅途。
五个月前他已经去过一次了。
他感叹道，去年的罗马之行，是我有生以来经历的最漫长的一个黑夜。
五个月前，梵蒂冈城打来电话，让阿林加洛沙立即到罗马来，但没有做任何的解释说明。已经为你订好了飞机票。梵蒂冈城邦竭力保持着一层神秘的色彩，即使对最高级的神职人员也不例外。
阿林加洛沙怀疑，这次神秘的聚会是为了让主教和其他梵蒂冈的官员有一个机会，展示天主事工会最近的一项杰作--他们完成了纽约总部的建设。《建筑文摘》称天主事工会的建筑是"将天主教精神与现代风景精妙融合的光辉典范"。近来，梵蒂冈似乎和什么都能扯上点关系，包括"现代"这个词。
阿林加洛沙别无选择，只好无奈地接受了这个邀请。阿林加洛沙像许多保守派的神职人员一样，并不是现任天主教会管理层的衷心拥护者，新教皇上任的第一年，他们就忧心忡忡地观望着教会的发展。在梵蒂冈历史上最有争议、最不同寻常的一次选举会议上，新教皇登上了宝座，这是一次史无前例的变革。现在，教皇并没有因为他的当选来得突然而表现谦逊，他立即与基督教最高管理组织一起准备采取行动。新教皇获取了枢机团中革新力量的支持，宣布他任期中的使命是"恢复梵蒂冈楔石的活力，使天主教适应第三个世纪"。
阿林加洛沙担心这恐怕意味着新教皇会自以为可以重写上帝的旨意，将那些认为天主教戒律已经不合时宜的人重新吸引回来。
阿林加洛沙以他辖区的选民和选民的财力为后盾，竭力劝告主教和他的顾问，告诉他们放宽教堂的法规不仅是不忠于上帝的怯懦表现，而且是等于放弃一切权力的自杀。他提醒他们上次放宽教堂法规的行动--颁布《梵蒂冈Ⅱ》--不仅遭遇了重大失败而且留下了极坏的影响：来教堂的人比以往任何时候都少，捐赠物匮乏，甚至没有足够多的牧师去主持教堂活动。
阿林加洛沙坚持认为，人们需要从教堂得到教育和指导，而不是溺爱和纵容。
但几个月前的那个晚上，当菲亚特离开机场的时候，阿林加洛沙惊异地发现车不是开向梵蒂冈城的，而是向东开上了弯曲的山路。"我们这是要去哪儿？"他问司机。
"奥尔本山。"司机回答。"你们的会议在岗道尔夫堡举行。"
主教的避暑山庄？阿林加洛沙从来没有去过，也没有想过要去。那座16 世纪的古堡不仅是主教的避暑山庄，而且也是梵蒂冈天文台--欧洲最先进的天文台--的所在地。阿林加洛沙一想到梵蒂冈的古迹要和科学沾上边，心里就觉得不舒服。把科学和信仰搀和在一起有何道理？人们没有对上帝的信仰，就找不到科学真理。信仰也不需要任何形式来证明自己。
尽管如此，它还是存在着，阿林加洛沙正想着，岗道尔夫堡已经浮现在眼前，它高耸在十一月的星空下。城堡坐落在悬崖的边缘，并向外倾斜着。从路上望去，它就像一个企图跳崖自尽的僧侣的石像。悬崖下面是意大利文明的发源地--罗马帝国成立前库里亚兹与奥拉齐两个苏格兰民族交战的地方。
岗道尔夫堡的外形轮廓十分引人注目，那一排防御用的城墙，与它坐落在崖边的险要位置共同展现出古堡的威严。令阿林加洛沙难过的是，现在架在古堡顶上的两个巨大的铝制望远镜将梵蒂冈城堡的形象毁于一旦，使这个曾经威严的建筑就像一个顶着怪帽子的骄傲武士。
阿林加洛沙下车后，一个年轻的基督教牧师急忙迎了上来，问候道："主教，欢迎您。我是曼古拉教父，也是这里的天文工作者。"
你还真行。阿林加洛沙敷衍地打了个招呼，跟随着接待人进入了城堡的前厅--那是一个开阔的空间，但装修却并不高雅，那文艺复兴时期的艺术风格中还夹杂进了天文学的元素。他跟随着陪同者走上了宽阔的大理石台阶，看到了会议室的标牌、科学讲堂的标牌以及旅行服务台的标牌。令他难以置信的是一贯为人们的精神升华提供指引的梵蒂冈城堡还会为旅游者提供天体物理学的讲座。
"你说说看。"阿林加洛沙问那个年轻的牧师。"尾巴什么时候开始摇狗了？"
牧师用惊异的眼光看着他："先生，您说什么？"
阿林加洛沙摆手不再提这个话题，他决定今晚不再冒犯什么人。整个梵蒂冈城都疯了。就像一些懒惰的父母，认为默许孩子的娇纵任性比对他严加管教来得省事，教堂处处放宽法规，想重塑自己，去适应那迷乱的文化。
顶楼的走廊很宽阔，两旁有许多房间。它通往一扇挂着铜牌的橡木门，铜牌上写着：天文学图书馆。
阿林加洛沙听说过这个地方--梵蒂冈城的天文学图书馆--谣传那里有两万五千多卷藏书，其中包括哥白尼、伽利略、开普勒、牛顿和赛奇的珍贵著作。据说那也是教皇的最高级官员召开秘密集会的地方……他们不想在梵蒂冈城内召开那种会议。
走向那扇门的时候，阿林加洛沙主教无论如何也想象不到他将会听到怎样令人震惊的消息，也想象不到那消息将引起怎样的连锁反应。一个小时不到，他跌跌撞撞地从里面走出来，脑海中回荡着那个可怕的消息。从现在算起还有六个月！他想着，上帝救救我们吧！
此时，坐在菲亚特轿车中的阿林加洛沙意识到自己正在回想那次会议，拳头都捏得咯咯作响。他吐了口气，又慢慢地吸了口气，放松了一下肌肉。
一切都会好起来的，他自语道，此时菲亚特轿车正沿着蜿蜒的公路向山上行驶。导师怎么还不打电话给我？现在塞拉斯应该已经找到那块石头了。
为了缓解一下紧张的情绪，阿林加洛沙把玩着戒指上的那块紫水晶。抚摸着戒指上那教冠和教杖的花纹和宝石，他提醒自己，这个戒指所象征的权力可远远比不上他即将获得的大权。
Chapter 35
The inside of Gare Saint-Lazare looked like every other train station in Europe, a gaping indoor-outdoor cavern dotted with the usual suspects—homeless men holding cardboard signs, collectionsof bleary-eyed college kids sleeping on backpacks and zoning out to their portable MP3 players,and clusters of blue-clad baggage porters smoking cigarettes.
　　Sophie raised her eyes to the enormous departure board overhead. The black and white tabsreshuffled, ruffling downward as the information refreshed. When the update was finished,Langdon eyed the offerings. The topmost listing read: LYON—RAPIDE—3:06"I wish it left sooner," Sophie said, "but Lyon will have to do." Sooner? Langdon checked hiswatch 2:59 A.M. The train left in seven minutes and they didn't even have tickets yet.
　　Sophie guided Langdon toward the ticket window and said, "Buy us two tickets with your creditcard.""I thought credit card usage could be traced by—""Exactly."Langdon decided to stop trying to keep ahead of Sophie Neveu. Using his Visa card, he purchasedtwo coach tickets to Lyon and handed them to Sophie.
　　Sophie guided him out toward the tracks, where a familiar tone chimed overhead and a P.A.
　　announcer gave the final boarding call for Lyon. Sixteen separate tracks spread out before them. Inthe distance to the right, at quay three, the train to Lyon was belching and wheezing in preparationfor departure, but Sophie already had her arm through Langdon's and was guiding him in the exactopposite direction. They hurried through a side lobby, past an all-night cafe, and finally out a sidedoor onto a quiet street on the west side of the station.
　　A lone taxi sat idling by the doorway.
　　The driver saw Sophie and flicked his lights.
　　Sophie jumped in the back seat. Langdon got in after her.
　　As the taxi pulled away from station, Sophie took out their newly purchased train tickets and torethem up.
　　Langdon sighed. Seventy dollars well spent.
　　It was not until their taxi had settled into a monotonous northbound hum on Rue de Clichy thatLangdon felt they'd actually escaped. Out the window to his right, he could see Montmartre and thebeautiful dome of Sacré-Coeur. The image was interrupted by the flash of police lights sailing pastthem in the opposite direction.
　　Langdon and Sophie ducked down as the sirens faded.
　　Sophie had told the cab driver simply to head out of the city, and from her firmly set jaw, Langdonsensed she was trying to figure out their next move.
　　Langdon examined the cruciform key again, holding it to the window, bringing it close to his eyesin an effort to find any markings on it that might indicate where the key had been made. In theintermittent glow of passing streetlights, he saw no markings except the Priory seal.
　　"It doesn't make sense," he finally said.
　　"Which part?""That your grandfather would go to so much trouble to give you a key that you wouldn't knowwhat to do with.""I agree.""Are you sure he didn't write anything else on the back of the painting?""I searched the whole area. This is all there was. This key, wedged behind the painting. I saw thePriory seal, stuck the key in my pocket, then we left."Langdon frowned, peering now at the blunt end of the triangular shaft. Nothing. Squinting, hebrought the key close to his eyes and examined the rim of the head. Nothing there either. "I thinkthis key was cleaned recently.""Why?""It smells like rubbing alcohol."She turned. "I'm sorry?""It smells like somebody polished it with a cleaner." Langdon held the key to his nose and sniffed.
　　"It's stronger on the other side." He flipped it over. "Yes, it's alcohol-based, like it's been buffedwith a cleaner or—" Langdon stopped.
　　"What?"He angled the key to the light and looked at the smooth surface on the broad arm of the cross. Itseemed to shimmer in places... like it was wet. "How well did you look at the back of this keybefore you put it in your pocket?""What? Not well. I was in a hurry."Langdon turned to her. "Do you still have the black light?"Sophie reached in her pocket and produced the UV penlight. Langdon took it and switched it on,shining the beam on the back of the key.
　　The back luminesced instantly. There was writing there. In penmanship that was hurried butlegible.
　　"Well," Langdon said, smiling. "I guess we know what the alcohol smell was."Sophie stared in amazement at the purple writing on the back of the key.
　　24 Rue HaxoAn address! My grandfather wrote down an address!
　　"Where is this?" Langdon asked.
　　Sophie had no idea. Facing front again, she leaned forward and excitedly asked the driver,"Connaissez-vous la Rue Haxo?"The driver thought a moment and then nodded. He told Sophie it was out near the tennis stadiumon the western outskirts of Paris. She asked him to take them there immediately.
　　"Fastest route is through Bois de Boulogne," the driver told her in French. "Is that okay?"Sophie frowned. She could think of far less scandalous routes, but tonight she was not going to bepicky. "Oui." We can shock the visiting American.
　　Sophie looked back at the key and wondered what they would possibly find at 24 Rue Haxo. Achurch? Some kind of Priory headquarters?
　　Her mind filled again with images of the secret ritual she had witnessed in the basement grotto tenyears ago, and she heaved a long sigh. "Robert, I have a lot of things to tell you." She paused,locking eyes with him as the taxi raced westward. "But first I want you to tell me everything youknow about this Priory of Sion."
圣拉查尔火车站和其他的欧洲火车站没有什么两样，一个装着大门的洞里散布着犯罪嫌疑人--无家可归者举着硬纸板，枕在背包上的睡眼朦胧的学生听着MP3，还有一群群身穿蓝色制服的行李搬运工在抽烟。
索菲抬头看了看那块巨大的列车时刻牌。那白底黑字的表单一直在刷新。当最新的信息显示在表单上的时候，兰登举目搜寻可供选择的车次。表单的最上方写着：利立--特快--3：06"我希望它可以早点儿开。"索菲说。"但那是到利立的最早一班车了。"
早点儿开？兰登看了看表--2：59A.M.还有七分钟车就要开了，可他们还没有买票。
索菲把兰登带到购票窗口前，说道。"用你的信用卡买两张票。"
"我想使用信用卡会为警察的追捕提供线索--"
"一点儿不错。"
兰登已决定不在索菲。奈芙面前显示聪明了。他用Visa 卡买了两张去利立的车票交给索菲。
索菲将兰登领向站台。站台上响起了熟悉的报时声，闭路广播中播报着开往利立的特快即将发车的消息。他们眼前横着十六条铁轨。在远处右边的三号站台旁，开往利立的特快正喷着蒸汽，准备出发。但是，索菲却挎着兰登的胳膊，领着他往相反的方向走。他们匆匆地穿过一条边廊，经过一个通宵营业的餐厅，最后从边门出站，来到了车站西侧一条僻静的街道上。
一辆出租车在门口等候着。
司机看见索菲，打亮了车灯。
索菲跳上车的后排座位，兰登也随后钻进车内。
出租车离开了车站，索菲拿出新买的车票，把它们撕得粉碎。
兰登感叹道，七十美元花得真是地方。
出租车开始在克里希街上平稳而单调地行驶，兰登这才感觉他们真正逃脱了追捕。透过右边的车窗，他可以看见蒙马特高地和圣心堂美丽的圆形屋顶。忽闪着的警灯打破这美丽的画卷，几辆警车正朝着相反方向驶去。
索菲和兰登低下身，直到警报声渐渐消失。
索菲只告诉司机把他们送出城。兰登见她抿着嘴，知道她正在考虑下一步行动。
兰登将那把十字形的钥匙举到窗边，再次端详，试图找到产地的标记。路灯向车内投来忽闪忽闪的光亮，除了那隐修会的标志，兰登什么也没有发现。
"这不合常理。"最后，他说道。
"为什么？"
"你祖父想方设法地把钥匙留给你，而你却不知道这把钥匙的用途。"
"是呀。"
"你肯定他没有在画背后留下其他什么信息？"
"我查看过了，就发现了这个。这把钥匙是嵌在画框上的。我看见了上面的图案，把它放进了口袋，然后我们就离开了那间展厅。"兰登皱着眉头，端详着三角形的钥匙尖。他又斜着眼睛打量了一下钥匙柄的边缘。还是没有发现什么。"我想这把钥匙最近被清洗过。"
"为什么？"
"它闻上去像被酒精擦拭过。"
索菲扭过头："对不起，你说什么？"
"它闻上去像被用清洁剂擦洗过。"兰登把钥匙放到鼻子前面嗅了嗅。"另外一面味道更浓。"他把钥匙翻转过来。"是的，有股酒精的味道，就像被用清洁剂擦洗过或者--"兰登愣了一下。
"或者什么？"
兰登在灯光下转动着钥匙，端详着十字形较宽的那条边。那上面有些闪亮的地方……
就像被弄湿了一样。"你在把它放入口袋前仔细看过朝匙的背面吗？"
"什么？没有仔细看。太匆忙了。"
兰登把头转向索菲："你还带着紫外线灯吗？"
索菲将手伸进口袋，掏出了紫外线灯。兰登接过灯，打开开关，照了照钥匙背面十字形较宽的那条边。
在紫外线灯的照射下，钥匙背面立即显现出了文字。那文字匆匆写就，但仍可以辨认。
豪克斯街24 号地址！祖父留下了一个地址！
"是什么地方？"兰登问。
索菲也不知道。她转向司机，身体前倾，兴奋地问："您知道豪克斯街吗？"
司机想了想，点点头。他告诉索菲那条街位于巴黎西郊网球馆附近。索菲让他立即开到那里去。
"要走最快的路，就得穿过布劳涅森林。"司机用法语问道。"行吗？"
索菲皱了皱眉头。她可以想到其他走法来取代那条讨厌的路线，但今晚她不想很挑剔。
"好的。"我们可以让这位美国的来访者大吃一惊。
她又看了看那把钥匙，猜想着他们会在豪克斯街24 号发现些什么。一个教堂？隐修会的总部？
她又回想起十年前自己在地下洞室目睹的那个秘密仪式，长长地叹了口气。"罗伯特，我有很多事要告诉你。"她顿了顿，看着兰登。这时出租车开始向西行驶。"但首先，请把你对郇山隐修会的了解全部告诉我。"
Chapter 36
Outside the Salle des Etats, Bezu Fache was fuming as Louvre warden Grouard explained howSophie and Langdon had disarmed him. Why didn't you just shoot the blessed painting!
　　"Captain?" Lieutenant Collet loped toward them from the direction of the command post. "Captain,I just heard. They located Agent Neveu's car.""Did she make the embassy?""No. Train station. Bought two tickets. Train just left."Fache waved off warden Grouard and led Collet to a nearby alcove, addressing him in hushedtones. "What was the destination?""Lyon.""Probably a decoy." Fache exhaled, formulating a plan. "Okay, alert the next station, have the trainstopped and searched, just in case. Leave her car where it is and put plainclothes on watch in casethey try to come back to it. Send men to search the streets around the station in case they fled onfoot. Are buses running from the station?""Not at this hour, sir. Only the taxi queue.""Good. Question the drivers. See if they saw anything. Then contact the taxi company dispatcherwith descriptions. I'm calling Interpol."Collet looked surprised. "You're putting this on the wire?"Fache regretted the potential embarrassment, but he saw no other choice.
　　Close the net fast, and close it tight.
　　The first hour was critical. Fugitives were predictable the first hour after escape. They alwaysneeded the same thing. Travel. Lodging. Cash. The Holy Trinity. Interpol had the power to makeall three disappear in the blink of an eye. By broadcast-faxing photos of Langdon and Sophie toParis travel authorities, hotels, and banks, Interpol would leave no options—no way to leave thecity, no place to hide, and no way to withdraw cash without being recognized. Usually, fugitivespanicked on the street and did something stupid. Stole a car. Robbed a store. Used a bank card indesperation. Whatever mistake they committed, they quickly made their whereabouts known tolocal authorities.
　　"Only Langdon, right?" Collet said. "You're not flagging Sophie Neveu. She's our own agent.""Of course I'm flagging her!" Fache snapped. "What good is flagging Langdon if she can do all hisdirty work? I plan to run Neveu's employment file—friends, family, personal contacts—anyone shemight turn to for help. I don't know what she thinks she's doing out there, but it's going to cost herone hell of a lot more than her job!""Do you want me on the phones or in the field?""Field. Get over to the train station and coordinate the team. You've got the reins, but don't make amove without talking to me.""Yes, sir." Collet ran out.
　　Fache felt rigid as he stood in the alcove. Outside the window, the glass pyramid shone, itsreflection rippling in the windswept pools. They slipped through my fingers. He told himself torelax.
　　Even a trained field agent would be lucky to withstand the pressure that Interpol was about toapply.
　　A female cryptologist and a schoolteacher?
　　They wouldn't last till dawn.
贝祖。法希站在国家展厅外，火冒三丈地听着卢浮宫保安人员讲述他被索菲和兰登夺去手枪的经过。你为什么不冲着那宝贝的油画开一枪呢！
"警长。"科莱中尉从指挥部方向小跑了过来。"警长，我刚得到消息，他们找到了奈芙警官的车。""她进入大使馆了吗？"
"没有。在火车站发现的。他们买了两张票，那列火车刚刚开走。"
法希挥手示意保安人员格鲁阿尔离开，把科莱拉到附近一个墙角边，小声地问："目的地是哪里？"
"利立。"
"可能是个骗局。"法希吁了口气，想了个主意。"好吧，通知下一站，将火车拦下搜查，以防他们真上了火车。把他们的车留在原地，并派便衣监视，以防他们回头用车。派人搜查火车站附近的街道，以防他们步行逃跑。有从火车站开出的公共汽车吗？"
"这会儿没有，先生。只有出租车在排队接客。"
"好。去盘问司机，看看他们是否能提供些线索。然后，和出租车公司的调度取得联系，向他们解释情况。我现在打电话给国际刑警组织。"科莱一脸惊异："你要通报这件事吗？"
法希对这可能造成的尴尬也表示遗憾，但他别无选择。
收网要快，收网要紧。
追捕的第一个小时是很关键的。逃犯在逃跑后一小时内的行动是可以预测的。他们都有"交通、旅馆、现金"这三位一体的需要。国际刑警组织有能力在眨眼间使这些化为泡影。他们可以向巴黎的交管部门、饭店、银行传送索菲和兰登的照片，布下天罗地网，让他们无法离开这个城市，无处藏身，也无法顺利地提取现金。通常，惊恐的逃犯会做出些傻事，比如说偷汽车、抢商店或在绝望之中铤而走险使用银行卡。无论他们犯什么样的错误，都会向当地的警署暴露他们的行踪。
"只通缉兰登，是吗？"科莱说。"你不会通缉索菲。奈芙吧，她是我们自己人。"
"当然要通缉她！"法希打了个响指。"如果她能帮助兰登做所有的坏事，光通缉兰登有什么用？我要查看一下奈芙的人事档案，查找一下她可能求助的亲朋好友。我不知道她在干什么，但她的所作所为将不止让她丢了饭碗。""你想让我接听电话，还是出去？"
"出去。去火车站与警队合作。你有发布指令的权力，但事先要向我汇报。"
"是，先生。"科莱跑了出去。
法希站在墙角，浑身僵硬。窗外闪闪发光的玻璃金字塔倒映在微风拂过的水面。他们从我的指缝中溜走了。他告诫自己要放松。
即使是一个训练有素的干警也难以承受国际刑警组织即将施加的压力。
一个女密码破译员和一个教师？
他们坚持不到天亮。
Chapter 37
The heavily forested park known as the Bois de Boulogne was called many things, but the Parisiancognoscenti knew it as "the Garden of Earthly Delights." The epithet, despite sounding flattering,was quite to the contrary. Anyone who had seen the lurid Bosch painting of the same nameunderstood the jab; the painting, like the forest, was dark and twisted, a purgatory for freaks andfetishists. At night, the forest's winding lanes were lined with hundreds of glistening bodies forhire, earthly delights to satisfy one's deepest unspoken desires—male, female, and everything inbetween.
　　As Langdon gathered his thoughts to tell Sophie about the Priory of Sion, their taxi passed throughthe wooded entrance to the park and began heading west on the cobblestone crossfare. Langdonwas having trouble concentrating as a scattering of the park's nocturnal residents were alreadyemerging from the shadows and flaunting their wares in the glare of the headlights. Ahead, twotopless teenage girls shot smoldering gazes into the taxi. Beyond them, a well-oiled black man in aG-string turned and flexed his buttocks. Beside him, a gorgeous blond woman lifted her miniskirtto reveal that she was not, in fact, a woman.
　　Heaven help me! Langdon turned his gaze back inside the cab and took a deep breath.
　　"Tell me about the Priory of Sion," Sophie said.
　　Langdon nodded, unable to imagine a less congruous a backdrop for the legend he was about totell. He wondered where to begin. The brotherhood's history spanned more than a millennium... anastonishing chronicle of secrets, blackmail, betrayal, and even brutal torture at the hands of anangry Pope.
　　"The Priory of Sion," he began, "was founded in Jerusalem in 1099 by a French king namedGodefroi de Bouillon, immediately after he had conquered the city."Sophie nodded, her eyes riveted on him.
　　"King Godefroi was allegedly the possessor of a powerful secret—a secret that had been in hisfamily since the time of Christ. Fearing his secret might be lost when he died, he founded a secretbrotherhood—the Priory of Sion—and charged them with protecting his secret by quietly passing iton from generation to generation. During their years in Jerusalem, the Priory learned of a stash ofhidden documents buried beneath the ruins of Herod's temple, which had been built atop the earlierruins of Solomon's Temple. These documents, they believed, corroborated Godefroi's powerfulsecret and were so explosive in nature that the Church would stop at nothing to get them." Sophielooked uncertain.
　　"The Priory vowed that no matter how long it took, these documents must be recovered from therubble beneath the temple and protected forever, so the truth would never die. In order to retrievethe documents from within the ruins, the Priory created a military arm—a group of nine knightscalled the Order of the Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon." Langdon paused.
　　"More commonly known as the Knights Templar."Sophie glanced up with a surprised look of recognition. Langdon had lectured often enough on theKnights Templar to know that almost everyone on earth had heard of them, at least abstractedly.
　　For academics, the Templars' history was a precarious world where fact, lore, and misinformationhad become so intertwined that extracting a pristine truth was almost impossible. Nowadays,Langdon hesitated even to mention the Knights Templar while lecturing because it invariably led toa barrage of convoluted inquiries into assorted conspiracy theories.
　　Sophie already looked troubled. "You're saying the Knights Templar were founded by the Priory ofSion to retrieve a collection of secret documents? I thought the Templars were created to protectthe Holy Land.""A common misconception. The idea of protection of pilgrims was the guise under which theTemplars ran their mission. Their true goal in the Holy Land was to retrieve the documents frombeneath the ruins of the temple.""And did they find them?"Langdon grinned. "Nobody knows for sure, but the one thing on which all academics agree is this:
　　The Knights discovered something down there in the ruins... something that made them wealthyand powerful beyond anyone's wildest imagination."Langdon quickly gave Sophie the standard academic sketch of the accepted Knights Templarhistory, explaining how the Knights were in the Holy Land during the Second Crusade and toldKing Baldwin II that they were there to protect Christian pilgrims on the roadways. Althoughunpaid and sworn to poverty, the Knights told the king they required basic shelter and requested hispermission to take up residence in the stables under the ruins of the temple. King Baldwin grantedthe soldiers' request, and the Knights took up their meager residence inside the devastated shrine.
　　The odd choice of lodging, Langdon explained, had been anything but random. The Knightsbelieved the documents the Priory sought were buried deep under the ruins—beneath the Holy ofHolies, a sacred chamber where God Himself was believed to reside. Literally, the very center ofthe Jewish faith. For almost a decade, the nine Knights lived in the ruins, excavating in totalsecrecy through solid rock.
　　Sophie looked over. "And you said they discovered something?""They certainly did," Langdon said, explaining how it had taken nine years, but the Knights hadfinally found what they had been searching for. They took the treasure from the temple andtraveled to Europe, where their influence seemed to solidify overnight.
　　Nobody was certain whether the Knights had blackmailed the Vatican or whether the Churchsimply tried to buy the Knights' silence, but Pope Innocent II immediately issued an unprecedentedpapal bull that afforded the Knights Templar limitless power and declared them "a law untothemselves"—an autonomous army independent of all interference from kings and prelates, bothreligious and political.
　　With their new carte blanche from the Vatican, the Knights Templar expanded at a staggering rate,both in numbers and political force, amassing vast estates in over a dozen countries. They beganextending credit to bankrupt royals and charging interest in return, thereby establishing modernbanking and broadening their wealth and influence still further.
　　By the 1300s, the Vatican sanction had helped the Knights amass so much power that PopeClement V decided that something had to be done. Working in concert with France's King PhilippeIV, the Pope devised an ingeniously planned sting operation to quash the Templars and seize theirtreasure, thus taking control of the secrets held over the Vatican. In a military maneuver worthy ofthe CIA, Pope Clement issued secret sealed orders to be opened simultaneously by his soldiers allacross Europe on Friday, October 13 of 1307.
　　At dawn on the thirteenth, the documents were unsealed and their appalling contents revealed.
　　Clement's letter claimed that God had visited him in a vision and warned him that the KnightsTemplar were heretics guilty of devil worship, homosexuality, defiling the cross, sodomy, andother blasphemous behavior. Pope Clement had been asked by God to cleanse the earth byrounding up all the Knights and torturing them until they confessed their crimes against God.
　　Clement's Machiavellian operation came off with clockwork precision. On that day, countlessKnights were captured, tortured mercilessly, and finally burned at the stake as heretics. Echoes ofthe tragedy still resonated in modern culture; to this day, Friday the thirteenth was consideredunlucky.
　　Sophie looked confused. "The Knights Templar were obliterated? I thought fraternities of Templarsstill exist today?""They do, under a variety of names. Despite Clement's false charges and best efforts to eradicatethem, the Knights had powerful allies, and some managed to escape the Vatican purges. TheTemplars' potent treasure trove of documents, which had apparently been their source of power,was Clement's true objective, but it slipped through his fingers. The documents had long since beenentrusted to the Templars' shadowy architects, the Priory of Sion, whose veil of secrecy had keptthem safely out of range of the Vatican's onslaught. As the Vatican closed in, the Priory smuggledtheir documents from a Paris preceptory by night onto Templar ships in La Rochelle.""Where did the documents go?"Langdon shrugged. "That mystery's answer is known only to the Priory of Sion. Because thedocuments remain the source of constant investigation and speculation even today, they arebelieved to have been moved and rehidden several times. Current speculation places the documentssomewhere in the United Kingdom."Sophie looked uneasy.
　　"For a thousand years," Langdon continued, "legends of this secret have been passed on. The entirecollection of documents, its power, and the secret it reveals have become known by a singlename—Sangreal. Hundreds of books have been written about it, and few mysteries have caused asmuch interest among historians as the Sangreal.""The Sangreal? Does the word have anything to do with the French word sang or Spanishsangre—meaning 'blood'?"Langdon nodded. Blood was the backbone of the Sangreal, and yet not in the way Sophie probablyimagined. "The legend is complicated, but the important thing to remember is that the Prioryguards the proof, and is purportedly awaiting the right moment in history to reveal the truth.""What truth? What secret could possibly be that powerful?"Langdon took a deep breath and gazed out at the underbelly of Paris leering in the shadows.
　　"Sophie, the word Sangreal is an ancient word. It has evolved over the years into another term... amore modern name." He paused. "When I tell you its modern name, you'll realize you alreadyknow a lot about it. In fact, almost everyone on earth has heard the story of the Sangreal."Sophie looked skeptical. "I've never heard of it.""Sure you have." Langdon smiled. "You're just used to hearing it called by the name 'Holy Grail.' "
"布劳涅森林"是一个树荫浓密的公园，它有许多绰号，巴黎人把它叫做"尘世乐土"。
实际上，它与这样的溢美之辞毫不相符。大凡看过波希的同名油画的人，就会理解这颇具讽刺意味的命名原由：那幅颓废的油画就像这片树林一样，是一片黑暗而扭曲的景象，里面尽是些畸形变态和装神弄鬼的人。夜晚，树林里蜿蜒的小径上聚集着上百个全裸或半裸的人等待着满足肉体最深处难以言表的欲望--他们中有男人，有女人，也有非男非女的人。
正当兰登凝神要向索菲讲述郇山隐修会的情况时，出租车驶入了公园的木门，开始在鹅卵石铺成的小径上向西行驶。此时，兰登无法再集中注意力了，因为一群公园里的"夜游鬼"从树丛里跳了出来，在车灯的光亮下展示他们的把戏。前方，有两个袒胸露乳的女孩正向车内投来挑逗的目光。在她们后面，一个满身抹油只用一根布条系在裆下的黑人男子转身扭动着臀部。在他身边，有一个迷人的金发女郎掀起了她的迷你裙，向人展示她实际上并不是一个女人。
我的天呀！兰登急忙将目光转进车内，深深地吸了口气。
"说说郇山隐修会。"索菲催促道。
兰登点点头，心想：这样的背景真是再合适不过了。他一时不知从何说起。隐修会有长达一个多世纪的历史……那里面有秘密、有敲诈、有背叛，甚至还有教皇一怒之下实施的酷刑。
他开始说道："1099 年，一个叫戈弗提的国王攻占了耶路撒冷，并在那里创建了郇山隐修会。"索菲点了点头，聚精会神地听着。
"据说，戈弗提国王继承了一个具有极大威力的秘密--从基督时代起这个秘密就在他的家族中世代流传。国王怕他死后秘密失传，就指定了一个秘密的教会组织--郇山隐修会--来保守这个秘密。在耶路撒冷的时候，隐修会得知希律神庙的废墟下埋藏着一些文件，而希律神庙则是在索罗门神庙的废墟上建立起来的。据他们所知，这些文件可以用来确认戈弗提国王的那个威力极大的秘密，正因如此，天主教会将不遗余力地要把它弄到手。"索菲将信将疑。
"隐修会发誓无论过多久也要将这些文件挖掘出来，让它们永远流传下去。为了保护废墟中的文件，他们成立了一支武装队伍--由九名骑士组成的‘基督和所罗门神庙的骑士团’。"兰登停了停，接着说。"就是众所周知的‘圣殿武士团’。"索菲用惊异的眼光看了看兰登，确实曾对此有所耳闻。
兰登经常做关于"圣殿"的讲座，所以他知道几乎每个人都会对此有所耳闻。在学术界。"圣殿武士团"的历史几乎是研究的禁区，因为这方面的事实、理论和讹传交织在一起，使人无法弄清真相。现在，兰登甚至不怎么想在讲座中提及"圣殿武土团"，因为那势必会诱导听众围绕那些别有用心的理论展开无休止的提问。
索菲看上去很困惑："你是说郇山隐修会成立了‘圣殿武士团’来保护秘密文件？我原本以为‘圣殿武士团’是保护圣地的。""这是一个普遍存在的误解。‘圣殿武士团’打着保护朝圣者的旗号，实则在完成他们的使命。他们的真正目标是取出埋藏在神庙废墟下的文件。""他们找到文件了吗？"
兰登冷笑道："没有人知道，但学者们一致认为：武士团在废墟下发现了些什么……这一发现使他们变得极为富有，极为有权势。"兰登开始快速地用标准的学术观点向索菲介绍"圣殿武士团"的历史。他解释道，武士团参与了第二次圣战，他们告诉国王鲍德温二世说他们是为了保护赶路的朝圣者。他们分文不取，但却向国王提出基本的驻扎要求，请求国王允许他们住在神庙废墟的马厩中。鲍德温国王答应了他们的要求，于是武士团就住进了荒废的神殿中。
兰登解释道，武士团选择这样奇怪的驻扎地绝非偶然。武士团相信隐修会所追寻的文件就深深地埋藏在废墟下面--在圣地下面一个神圣的密室内，这个密室既是上帝所在的地方，也是犹太教的中心圣地。九名骑士在废墟中住了将近十年，秘密地在坚硬的石块中发掘文件。
索菲望着兰登。"你说过他们发现了些什么？"
"他们确实有所发现。"兰登说完又继续解释道，骑士们花了九年时间终于找到了他们所要搜寻的东西。他们带着发现的珍宝去了欧洲，在那里他们一夜之间就声名远扬。
不知是武士团敲诈了梵蒂冈城邦，还是天主教会想买通他们，伊诺森八世教皇立即下达了一个通告，赋予"圣殿武士团"至高无上的权力，宣布"他们的意志就是法律"，国王、教士都不得以宗教或政治手段干涉这支独立自主的军队。这样的通告是史无前例的。
有了这样的新通告，武士团的人员迅速增加，政治势力急剧膨胀，在许多国家都有数量惊人的财产。他们开始向破产的王室贵族借贷，从中渔利。这样他们不仅创建了现代银行业，而且进一步增强了自身实力。
到13 世纪的时候，梵蒂冈的通告已经为武士团的扩张提供了极大的帮助，这让克莱蒙五世教皇下定决心对此采取一些遏制措施。他与法国国王菲利浦四世联手策划了镇压武士团、限制其财富扩张的一系列行动，以便将秘密控制在梵蒂冈城邦的手中。在一次秘密的军事演习中，克莱蒙五世教皇下达了一个命令。这个命令被事先密封了起来，欧洲各地的士兵必须等到1307 年10 月13 日--星期五--才能拆封这个命令。
十三号的清晨，士兵们拆封了命令，读到了可怕的内容。克莱蒙教皇声称他梦见了上帝，上帝警告他说"圣殿武士团"是崇拜魔鬼的异教徒，同性恋者，他们玷污了十字架，并有鸡奸和其他渎神行为。上帝让克莱蒙教皇清理世界，围歼武士团并严刑逼供他们亵渎上帝的罪行。克莱蒙教皇的阴谋按计划顺利进展。那一天，无数的武士团成员被逮捕，被施以酷刑，而后又作为异端分子被绑在柱子上烧死。那场悲剧在现代文化中还留有印记：时至今日，人们还认为星期五和十三很晦气。
索菲满脸疑惑："‘圣殿武士团’被撤销了吗？现在不是还有武士团的兄弟会吗？"
"是的，他们还以各种名义存在着。虽然克莱蒙教皇捏造了他们的罪行，并竭力要斩草除根，但武士团有强大的同盟者，其中的一些成员逃过了梵蒂冈的屠杀。武士团拥有的威力无比的文件--也是他们的力量之源--是克莱蒙教皇真正想要得到的东西，但这些文件却从他的指缝中溜走了。长期以来，那些文件由武士团的缔造者一一郇山隐修会--保管着，而郇山隐修会的神秘面纱使得它在梵蒂冈的屠杀中安然无恙。梵蒂冈封城的时候，隐修会偷偷用船将其运往了拉罗舍尔。""后来文件到哪里去了？"
兰登耸了耸肩说道："只有郇山隐修会知道这个神秘的答案。因为时至今日，人们还在调查、揣测这些文件的下落，并普遍认为这些文件已被转移，并被重新隐藏多次。现在它们可能被藏在英国的某个地方。"索菲看上去有点儿不安。
兰登继续说道："有关这个秘密的传说已经流传了千年。所有的文件，以及它们所具有的威力，所包含的秘密都与一样东西有关--圣杯（Sangreal）。有关圣杯的书成百上千，历史学家们对其也抱有极大的兴趣。""圣杯？这个单词与法语和西班牙语中表示"鲜血"的词"sang"和"sangre"有关吗？"
兰登点了点头。圣杯与鲜血密不可分，不过那倒不是索菲想象中的那种关系。"这个传说很复杂，但最重要的是隐修会守护着这个秘密，并等待着一个恰当的历史时机来公布真相。""什么真相？那个秘密真的威力无比吗？"
兰登深吸了一口气，看着窗外巴黎最难堪的景象。"索菲，圣杯（Sangreal）是个古语词。随着时间的推移，它演变成了另外一个词--一个更加现代的名称。"他停了一下。"如果我告诉你它的现代名称，你就会意识到其实你很熟悉它。实际上，几乎所有的人都听说过圣杯的故事。"索菲不相信："我就从来都没有听说过。"
"你一定听说过。"兰登微笑着说。"你习惯听到的叫法是圣杯（HolyGrail）。"
Chapter 38
Sophie scrutinized Langdon in the back of the taxi. He's joking. "The Holy Grail?"Langdon nodded, his expression serious. "Holy Grail is the literal meaning of Sangreal. The phrasederives from the French Sangraal, which evolved to Sangreal, and was eventually split into twowords, San Greal."Holy Grail. Sophie was surprised she had not spotted the linguistic ties immediately. Even so,Langdon's claim still made no sense to her. "I thought the Holy Grail was a cup. You just told methe Sangreal is a collection of documents that reveals some dark secret.""Yes, but the Sangreal documents are only half of the Holy Grail treasure. They are buried with theGrail itself... and reveal its true meaning. The documents gave the Knights Templar so much powerbecause the pages revealed the true nature of the Grail."The true nature of the Grail? Sophie felt even more lost now. The Holy Grail, she had thought, wasthe cup that Jesus drank from at the Last Supper and with which Joseph of Arimathea later caughtHis blood at the crucifixion. "The Holy Grail is the Cup of Christ," she said. "How much simplercould it be?""Sophie," Langdon whispered, leaning toward her now, "according to the Priory of Sion, the HolyGrail is not a cup at all. They claim the Grail legend—that of a chalice—is actually an ingeniouslyconceived allegory. That is, that the Grail story uses the chalice as a metaphor for something else,something far more powerful." He paused. "Something that fits perfectly with everything yourgrandfather has been trying to tell us tonight, including all his symbologic references to the sacredfeminine."Still unsure, Sophie sensed in Langdon's patient smile that he empathized with her confusion, andyet his eyes remained earnest. "But if the Holy Grail is not a cup," she asked, "what is it?"Langdon had known this question was coming, and yet he still felt uncertain exactly how to tellher. If he did not present the answer in the proper historical background, Sophie would be left witha vacant air of bewilderment—the exact expression Langdon had seen on his own editor's face afew months ago after Langdon handed him a draft of the manuscript he was working on.
　　"This manuscript claims what?" his editor had choked, setting down his wineglass and staringacross his half-eaten power lunch. "You can't be serious.""Serious enough to have spent a year researching it."Prominent New York editor Jonas Faukman tugged nervously at his goatee. Faukman no doubt hadheard some wild book ideas in his illustrious career, but this one seemed to have left the manflabbergasted.
　　"Robert," Faukman finally said, "don't get me wrong. I love your work, and we've had a great runtogether. But if I agree to publish an idea like this, I'll have people picketing outside my office formonths. Besides, it will kill your reputation. You're a Harvard historian, for God's sake, not a popschlockmeister looking for a quick buck. Where could you possibly find enough credible evidenceto support a theory like this?"With a quiet smile Langdon pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his tweed coat and handed itto Faukman. The page listed a bibliography of over fifty titles—books by well-known historians,some contemporary, some centuries old—many of them academic bestsellers. All the book titlessuggested the same premise Langdon had just proposed. As Faukman read down the list, he lookedlike a man who had just discovered the earth was actually flat. "I know some of these authors.
　　They're... real historians!"Langdon grinned. "As you can see, Jonas, this is not only my theory. It's been around for a longtime. I'm simply building on it. No book has yet explored the legend of the Holy Grail from asymbologic angle. The iconographic evidence I'm finding to support the theory is, well,staggeringly persuasive."Faukman was still staring at the list. "My God, one of these books was written by Sir LeighTeabing—a British Royal Historian.""Teabing has spent much of his life studying the Holy Grail. I've met with him. He was actually abig part of my inspiration. He's a believer, Jonas, along with all of the others on that list.""You're telling me all of these historians actually believe..." Faukman swallowed, apparentlyunable to say the words.
　　Langdon grinned again. "The Holy Grail is arguably the most sought-after treasure in humanhistory. The Grail has spawned legends, wars, and lifelong quests. Does it make sense that it ismerely a cup? If so, then certainly other relics should generate similar or greater interest—theCrown of Thorns, the True Cross of the Crucifixion, the Titulus—and yet, they do not. Throughouthistory, the Holy Grail has been the most special." Langdon grinned. "Now you know why."Faukman was still shaking his head. "But with all these books written about it, why isn't this theorymore widely known?""These books can't possibly compete with centuries of established history, especially when thathistory is endorsed by the ultimate bestseller of all time."Faukman's eyes went wide. "Don't tell me Harry Potter is actually about the Holy Grail.""I was referring to the Bible."Faukman cringed. "I knew that.""Laissez-le!" Sophie's shouts cut the air inside the taxi. "Put it down!"Langdon jumped as Sophie leaned forward over the seat and yelled at the taxi driver. Langdoncould see the driver was clutching his radio mouthpiece and speaking into it.
　　Sophie turned now and plunged her hand into the pocket of Langdon's tweed jacket. BeforeLangdon knew what had happened, she had yanked out the pistol, swung it around, and waspressing it to the back of the driver's head. The driver instantly dropped his radio, raising his onefree hand overhead.
　　"Sophie!" Langdon choked. "What the hell—""Arrêtez!" Sophie commanded the driver.
　　Trembling, the driver obeyed, stopping the car and putting it in park.
　　It was then that Langdon heard the metallic voice of the taxi company's dispatcher coming from thedashboard. "...qui s'appette Agent Sophie Neveu..." the radio crackled. "Et un Américain, RobertLangdon..."Langdon's muscles turned rigid. They found us already?
　　"Descendez," Sophie demanded.
　　The trembling driver kept his arms over his head as he got out of his taxi and took several stepsbackward.
　　Sophie had rolled down her window and now aimed the gun outside at the bewildered cabbie.
　　"Robert," she said quietly, "take the wheel. You're driving."Langdon was not about to argue with a woman wielding a gun. He climbed out of the car andjumped back in behind the wheel. The driver was yelling curses, his arms still raised over his head.
　　"Robert," Sophie said from the back seat, "I trust you've seen enough of our magic forest?"He nodded. Plenty.
　　"Good. Drive us out of here."Langdon looked down at the car's controls and hesitated. Shit. He groped for the stick shift andclutch. "Sophie? Maybe you—""Go!" she yelled.
　　Outside, several hookers were walking over to see what was going on. One woman was placing acall on her cell phone. Langdon depressed the clutch and jostled the stick into what he hoped wasfirst gear. He touched the accelerator, testing the gas.
　　Langdon popped the clutch. The tires howled as the taxi leapt forward, fishtailing wildly andsending the gathering crowd diving for cover. The woman with the cell phone leapt into the woods,only narrowly avoiding being run down.
　　"Doucement!" Sophie said, as the car lurched down the road. "What are you doing?""I tried to warn you," he shouted over the sound of gnashing gears. "I drive an automatic!"
索菲盯着汽车后座上的兰登。他一定是在开玩笑。"圣杯（HolyGrail）？"
兰登点子点头，表情严肃。"HolyGrail 就是Sangreal 的字面意义。Sangreal 由法语词Sangral 演变而来，最后分解为两个单词"SanGreal"。"圣杯。索菲为自己没能立即辨认出这几个词在语言学上的联系而感到惊奇。就算兰登所言不假，她还是难解其意。"我还以为圣杯是一个杯子。你刚才却说圣杯是揭示那些不可告人的秘密的文件。""是的，但那些文件只是圣杯珍宝的一部分。它们和圣杯埋藏在一起……它们可以揭示圣杯的真正意义。那些文件之所以能够赋予武土团极大的威力，就是因为它们揭示了圣杯的本质。"圣杯的本质？这下，索菲更加摸不着头脑了。她本以为圣杯是耶稣在"最后的晚餐"上用过的杯子，后来，阿里马西斯的约瑟夫曾到十字架前用这个杯子装过耶稣的鲜血。"圣杯是"基督之杯"，索菲说。"这再简单不过了。""索菲。"兰登将身体侧向索菲，小声说道。"郇山隐修会可不认为圣杯是个杯子。他们认为那个关于圣杯的传说是个精心编造的谎言。圣杯的故事另有寓意，意指一些更具威力的东西。"他停了一下。"那正是你祖父今晚竭力要告诉我们的东西。"索菲还是不大明白，但她从兰登那耐心的微笑和真诚的眼神中看出他正在针对她的疑惑作答。"如果圣杯不是个杯子，那它是什么呢？"索菲问道。
虽然兰登早就意料到她会提出这样的问题，但还是一时不知从何说起。如果他不适当地结合历史背景来解释，索菲还是会一脸迷惑--几个月前，当兰登向编辑递上自己的研究报告时，就从编辑的脸上看到过这样的表情。
"这份稿件说了些什么？"正在吃午餐的编辑被噎住了，喝了口葡萄酒。"你一定是在开玩笑吧。""我可不是在开玩笑，我花费了一年的时间来研究它。"
《纽约时报》的著名编辑琼纳斯。福克曼紧张地捏着他的山羊胡。无疑，他在光辉的职业生涯中已经见识过一些极为大胆的创作思想，但这次兰登递上的稿子还是让他大吃一惊。
"罗伯特。"福克曼最终开口说道。"请不要误解。我很喜欢你的作品，我们也很成功地合作过。但是，如果我同意将这样的观点发表出去的话，一定会有人聚集在我的办公室前抗议好几个月。而且，这也会毁了你的名声。看在上帝的份上，你是哈佛大学的历史学家，可不是什么梦想一夜成名的通俗撰稿人。你是从哪里找到确凿的证据来证明这个理论的？"
兰登淡淡一笑，从呢大衣口袋里拿出一张纸递给福克曼。那张纸上开列了五十多条参考书目--都是著名历史学家的著作，既包括现代的作品也包括几个世纪之前的作品--其中有许多是学术界的畅销书。所有的著作所提出的前提都与兰登的观点一致。福克曼读着这个目录，就好像突然发现地球是扁的一样。"我听说过其中的一些作者。他们是……真正的历史学家。"兰登咧嘴笑了。"正如您所见，这不仅仅是我个人的理论。它已经存在很长时间了。我只是在前人的基础上加以总结。还没有什么书从象征学的角度研究过有关圣杯的传说。我从肖像学上所找来的这些论据是很有说服力的。"福克曼仍盯着那张书单："我的上帝呀，还有一本书是雷。提彬先生写的--他可是英国皇家历史学家。""提彬一生花费了大量时间研究圣杯。我曾经与他会过面。他的大部分观点都与我的想法一致。琼纳斯，他和目录中的其他历史学家都赞同我的观点。""你是说这些历史学家都赞同……"福克曼把话又咽了回去，显然他不能再往下说了。
兰登又咧嘴一笑："有人认为，圣杯是人类历史上最为人向往的珍宝。有许多传说围绕着圣杯展开，有许多战争因为圣杯而打响，有许多人为了圣杯一生都在追寻。那么它可能仅仅只是一个杯子吗？如果是这样，那么其他的古物一定能引起人们同样的关注，甚至是更大的兴趣--比如说荆棘皇冠、耶稣受难的十字架和领衔堂--但事实并非如此。有史以来，圣杯一直是极为特殊的。"兰登笑了笑。"现在你知道原因了。"福克曼还是一个劲地摇头："既然有这么多书都这样写，为什么这个理论还不为人所知呢？"
"这些书当然比不过几世纪以来已成定论的历史，特别是当那些历史一直被作为畅销书的写作背景时，它给人们的印象已经根深蒂固了。"福克曼瞪大了眼睛："你可别告诉我《哈利。波特》实际上写的是有关圣杯的故事。"
"我参看了《圣经》。"
福克曼不得不承认："这，我知道。"
"住口！"索菲的叫喊打破了车内的平静。"把它放下！"
索菲趴到前排座位上，冲着司机大喊，把兰登吓了一跳。兰登看见司机正拿着无线电话筒，说着些什么。
索菲转过身来，将手伸进兰登的夹克衫口袋中。还没等兰登反应过来，她已经拔出了兰登口袋中的手枪，将其一晃，顶住了司机的后脑勺。司机立即扔掉了话筒，举起了不握方向盘的那只手。
"索菲！"兰登紧张地说。"这到底是怎么回事--"
"不许动！"索菲命令司机。
司机哆嗦着按索菲的命令将车停在了公园里。
这时兰登听见汽车的仪器板上传出出租车公司调度那铿锵有力的声音："……是索菲。奈芙警官……"声音暂时中断了一下。"和美国人罗伯特。兰登……"兰登僵在那里。他们已经发现我们了吗？
浑身打颤的司机将双手高举过头，下了出租车，向后退了几步。
索菲摇下了车窗，用枪指着那个摸不着头脑的司机。"罗伯特。"她平静地说。"到驾驶座上去。你来开车。"兰登可不想和一个挥舞着手枪的女人争辩些什么。于是，他下了车，绕到靠驾驶座的车门边，开门上了车。司机一边高举双手，一边咒骂着他们。
"罗伯特。"索菲坐在后排座位上说。"我相信你已经看够了我们的神奇树林？"
兰登点了点头。足够了。
"好的。把车开出这里。"
兰登低头看了看控制仪器板，犹豫了一下。他XX 的。他摸索到了变速杆，一把抓住它。"索菲？也许你--"
"走呀！"索菲大喊。
车外，有几个妓女正朝这边走来，想看看这里究竟发生了什么事。其中一个女人正用手机打电话。兰登压下了手柄，把变速杆推到了猜想中的最高速档位置。他踩下油门，看了看还剩多少汽油。
他猛地将手柄一松，伴随着车轮与地面的尖厉摩擦声，出租车疯狂地摆动着车尾向前冲去，把那群妓女惊得四散逃窜。那个拿着手机的女人跳人树丛，险些被车撞倒。
"真糟糕！"汽车东歪西斜地开上公路，索菲问。"你在干什么？"
兰登在车内的轰鸣声中喊道："我可要提醒你，这是辆自动排档汽车。"
Chapter 39
Although the spartan room in the brownstone on Rue La Bruyère had witnessed a lot of suffering,Silas doubted anything could match the anguish now gripping his pale body. I was deceived.
　　Everything is lost.
　　Silas had been tricked. The brothers had lied, choosing death instead of revealing their true secret.
　　Silas did not have the strength to call the Teacher. Not only had Silas killed the only four peoplewho knew where the keystone was hidden, he had killed a nun inside Saint-Sulpice. She wasworking against God! She scorned the work of Opus Dei!
　　A crime of impulse, the woman's death complicated matters greatly. Bishop Aringarosa had placedthe phone call that got Silas into Saint-Sulpice; what would the abbé think when he discovered thenun was dead? Although Silas had placed her back in her bed, the wound on her head was obvious.
　　Silas had attempted to replace the broken tiles in the floor, but that damage too was obvious. Theywould know someone had been there.
　　Silas had planned to hide within Opus Dei when his task here was complete. Bishop Aringarosawill protect me. Silas could imagine no more blissful existence than a life of meditation and prayerdeep within the walls of Opus Dei's headquarters in New York City. He would never again set footoutside. Everything he needed was within that sanctuary. Nobody will miss me. Unfortunately,Silas knew, a prominent man like Bishop Aringarosa could not disappear so easily.
　　I have endangered the bishop. Silas gazed blankly at the floor and pondered taking his own life.
　　After all, it had been Aringarosa who gave Silas life in the first place... in that small rectory inSpain, educating him, giving him purpose.
　　"My friend," Aringarosa had told him, "you were born an albino. Do not let others shame you forthis. Do you not understand how special this makes you? Were you not aware that Noah himselfwas an albino?""Noah of the Ark?" Silas had never heard this.
　　Aringarosa was smiling. "Indeed, Noah of the Ark. An albino. Like you, he had skin white like anangel. Consider this. Noah saved all of life on the planet. You are destined for great things, Silas.
　　The Lord has freed you for a reason. You have your calling. The Lord needs your help to do Hiswork."Over time, Silas learned to see himself in a new light. I am pure. White. Beautiful. Like an angel.
　　At the moment, though, in his room at the residence hall, it was his father's disappointed voice thatwhispered to him from the past.
　　Tu es un désastre. Un spectre.
　　Kneeling on the wooden floor, Silas prayed for forgiveness. Then, stripping off his robe, hereached again for the Discipline.
虽然布吕耶尔街上那褐色的斯巴达克式石屋已经见证了无数的苦难，但塞拉斯却觉得他现在的痛苦才是世间最难堪的。我被骗了。一切都完了。
塞拉斯被骗了。隐修会的教友们宁愿选择死亡也不愿泄露秘密。塞拉斯连打电话给主教的力气都没有了。他不仅杀了知道楔石隐藏地的四个人，还杀了一个圣叙尔皮斯教堂的修女。她与上帝作对！她蔑视天主事工会！
修女之死把问题变得更加复杂了，这都是塞拉斯一时冲动惹的祸。阿林加洛沙主教曾打电话向修道院院长打了招呼，让塞拉斯进入圣叙尔皮斯教堂；但如果修道院院长发现修女死了，又会怎么想呢？虽然塞拉斯已经将她的尸体放在了床上，但她头部的伤痕是非常明显的。他也曾试图修复那块被砸碎的地砖，但那破坏的痕迹无法掩饰。他们一定会看出有人去过那里。
塞拉斯本想在完成任务后躲进天主事工会。阿林加洛沙主教会保护我的。在塞拉斯眼中，最幸福的生活方式莫过于整日在纽约的天主事工会总部里冥思和祈祷。他将再也不踏出那里半步。他的所有需求都可以在那个圣地得到满足。没有人会想起我。但此时，塞拉斯意识到，让阿林加洛沙主教那样的名人消失在人们的视线中可不容易。
我给主教带来了危险。塞拉斯茫然地看着地面，琢磨着如何逃生。毕竟，是阿林加洛沙给了塞拉斯新生……在西班牙的那个小教区时，阿林加洛沙教育他，给了他生活的目标。
"我的朋友。"阿林加洛沙告诉他。"你生来就是一个白化病人。不要让别人因此而瞧不起你。你不知道这让你多么地与众不同吗？你还不知道诺亚就是个白化病人吧？"
"是"诺亚方舟"传说里的那个诺亚吗？"塞拉斯从来没有听说过。
阿林加洛沙微笑着说："没错，就是"诺亚方舟"里的那个诺亚。和你一样，他的皮肤像天使一样白。想想看，诺亚挽救了地球上的所有生命。塞拉斯，你注定要做出壮举。上帝将你解救出来，就是因为你有你的使命。上帝需要你去完成他的旨意。"一时间，塞拉斯学会了以新的眼光来看待自己。我是纯洁的，我是洁白的，我是美丽的，就像一个天使。
此时，父亲那失望的声音又从遥远的过去传来，传到他的房间里。
你是个祸星，一个幽灵。
塞拉斯跪在地板上祈求宽恕。然后，他解下长袍，伸手去拿那本戒律。
Chapter 40
Struggling with the gear shift, Langdon managed to maneuver the hijacked taxi to the far side ofthe Bois de Boulogne while stalling only twice. Unfortunately, the inherent humor in the situationwas overshadowed by the taxi dispatcher repeatedly hailing their cab over the radio.
　　"Voiture cinq-six-trois. Où êtes-vous? Répondez!"When Langdon reached the exit of the park, he swallowed his machismo and jammed on thebrakes. "You'd better drive."Sophie looked relieved as she jumped behind the wheel. Within seconds she had the car hummingsmoothly westward along Allée de Longchamp, leaving the Garden of Earthly Delights behind.
　　"Which way is Rue Haxo?" Langdon asked, watching Sophie edge the speedometer over a hundredkilometers an hour.
　　Sophie's eyes remained focused on the road. "The cab driver said it's adjacent to the Roland Garrostennis stadium. I know that area."Langdon pulled the heavy key from his pocket again, feeling the weight in his palm. He sensed itwas an object of enormous consequence. Quite possibly the key to his own freedom.
　　Earlier, while telling Sophie about the Knights Templar, Langdon had realized that this key, inaddition to having the Priory seal embossed on it, possessed a more subtle tie to the Priory of Sion.
　　The equal-armed cruciform was symbolic of balance and harmony but also of the Knights Templar.
　　Everyone had seen the paintings of Knights Templar wearing white tunics emblazoned with redequal-armed crosses. Granted, the arms of the Templar cross were slightly flared at the ends, butthey were still of equal length.
　　A square cross. Just like the one on this key.
　　Langdon felt his imagination starting to run wild as he fantasized about what they might find. TheHoly Grail. He almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. The Grail was believed to besomewhere in England, buried in a hidden chamber beneath one of the many Templar churches,where it had been hidden since at least 1500.
　　The era of Grand Master Da Vinci.
　　The Priory, in order to keep their powerful documents safe, had been forced to move them manytimes in the early centuries. Historians now suspected as many as six different Grail relocationssince its arrival in Europe from Jerusalem. The last Grail "sighting" had been in 1447 whennumerous eyewitnesses described a fire that had broken out and almost engulfed the documentsbefore they were carried to safety in four huge chests that each required six men to carry. Afterthat, nobody claimed to see the Grail ever again. All that remained were occasional whisperingsthat it was hidden in Great Britain, the land of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.
　　Wherever it was, two important facts remained:
　　Leonardo knew where the Grail resided during his lifetime.
　　That hiding place had probably not changed to this day.
　　For this reason, Grail enthusiasts still pored over Da Vinci's art and diaries in hopes of unearthing ahidden clue as to the Grail's current location. Some claimed the mountainous backdrop in Madonnaof the Rocks matched the topography of a series of cave-ridden hills in Scotland. Others insistedthat the suspicious placement of disciples in The Last Supper was some kind of code. Still othersclaimed that X rays of the Mona Lisa revealed she originally had been painted wearing a lapislazuli pendant of Isis—a detail Da Vinci purportedly later decided to paint over. Langdon hadnever seen any evidence of the pendant, nor could he imagine how it could possibly reveal theHoly Grail, and yet Grail aficionados still discussed it ad nauseum on Internet bulletin boards andworldwide-web chat rooms.
　　Everyone loves a conspiracy.
　　And the conspiracies kept coming. Most recently, of course, had been the earthshaking discoverythat Da Vinci's famed Adoration of the Magi was hiding a dark secret beneath its layers of paint.
　　Italian art diagnostician Maurizio Seracini had unveiled the unsettling truth, which the New YorkTimes Magazine carried prominently in a story titled "The Leonardo Cover-Up."Seracini had revealed beyond any doubt that while the Adoration's gray-green sketchedunderdrawing was indeed Da Vinci's work, the painting itself was not. The truth was that someanonymous painter had filled in Da Vinci's sketch like a paint-by-numbers years after Da Vinci'sdeath. Far more troubling, however, was what lay beneath the impostor's paint. Photographs takenwith infrared reflectography and X ray suggested that this rogue painter, while filling in Da Vinci'ssketched study, had made suspicious departures from the underdrawing... as if to subvert DaVinci's true intention. Whatever the true nature of the underdrawing, it had yet to be made public.
　　Even so, embarrassed officials at Florence's Uffizi Gallery immediately banished the painting to awarehouse across the street. Visitors at the gallery's Leonardo Room now found a misleading andunapologetic plaque where the Adoration once hung.
　　THIS WORK IS UNDERGOINGDIAGNOSTIC TESTS IN PREPARATIONFOR RESTORATION.
　　In the bizarre underworld of modern Grail seekers, Leonardo da Vinci remained the quest's greatenigma. His artwork seemed bursting to tell a secret, and yet whatever it was remained hidden,perhaps beneath a layer of paint, perhaps enciphered in plain view, or perhaps nowhere at all.
　　Maybe Da Vinci's plethora of tantalizing clues was nothing but an empty promise left behind tofrustrate the curious and bring a smirk to the face of his knowing Mona Lisa.
　　"Is it possible," Sophie asked, drawing Langdon back, "that the key you're holding unlocks thehiding place of the Holy Grail?"Langdon's laugh sounded forced, even to him. "I really can't imagine. Besides, the Grail is believedto be hidden in the United Kingdom somewhere, not France." He gave her the quick history.
　　"But the Grail seems the only rational conclusion," she insisted. "We have an extremely secure key,stamped with the Priory of Sion seal, delivered to us by a member of the Priory of Sion—abrotherhood which, you just told me, are guardians of the Holy Grail."Langdon knew her contention was logical, and yet intuitively he could not possibly accept it.
　　Rumors existed that the Priory had vowed someday to bring the Grail back to France to a finalresting place, but certainly no historical evidence existed to suggest that this indeed had happened.
　　Even if the Priory had managed to bring the Grail back to France, the address 24 Rue Haxo near atennis stadium hardly sounded like a noble final resting place. "Sophie, I really don't see how thiskey could have anything to do with the Grail.""Because the Grail is supposed to be in England?""Not only that. The location of the Holy Grail is one of the best kept secrets in history. Priorymembers wait decades proving themselves trustworthy before being elevated to the highestechelons of the fraternity and learning where the Grail is. That secret is protected by an intricatesystem of compartmentalized knowledge, and although the Priory brotherhood is very large, onlyfour members at any given time know where the Grail is hidden—the Grand Master and his threesénéchaux. The probability of your grandfather being one of those four top people is very slim."My grandfather was one of them, Sophie thought, pressing down on the accelerator. She had animage stamped in her memory that confirmed her grandfather's status within the brotherhoodbeyond any doubt.
　　"And even if your grandfather were in the upper echelon, he would never be allowed to revealanything to anyone outside the brotherhood. It is inconceivable that he would bring you into theinner circle."I've already been there, Sophie thought, picturing the ritual in the basement. She wondered if thiswere the moment to tell Langdon what she had witnessed that night in the Normandy chateau. Forten years now, simple shame had kept her from telling a soul. Just thinking about it, she shuddered.
　　Sirens howled somewhere in the distance, and she felt a thickening shroud of fatigue settling overher.
　　"There!" Langdon said, feeling excited to see the huge complex of the Roland Garros tennisstadium looming ahead.
　　Sophie snaked her way toward the stadium. After several passes, they located the intersection ofRue Haxo and turned onto it, driving in the direction of the lower numbers. The road became moreindustrial, lined with businesses.
　　We need number twenty-four, Langdon told himself, realizing he was secretly scanning the horizonfor the spires of a church. Don't be ridiculous. A forgotten Templar church in this neighborhood?
　　"There it is," Sophie exclaimed, pointing.
　　Langdon's eyes followed to the structure ahead.
　　What in the world?
　　The building was modern. A squat citadel with a giant, neon equal-armed cross emblazoned atopits facade. Beneath the cross were the words:
　　DEPOSITORY BANK OF ZURICHLangdon was thankful not to have shared his Templar church hopes with Sophie. A career hazardof symbologists was a tendency to extract hidden meaning from situations that had none. In thiscase, Langdon had entirely forgotten that the peaceful, equal-armed cross had been adopted as theperfect symbol for the flag of neutral Switzerland.
　　At least the mystery was solved.
　　Sophie and Langdon were holding the key to a Swiss bank deposit box.
兰登竭力试图换档。出租车在熄了两次火后，终于被开到了路边。然而，此刻的轻松却被出租车调度员的声音打破了。
"喂？听到请回答。"
兰登勉强将车开到公园门口，实在开不下去了。于是，他不得不放下男子汉的架子，对索菲说："还是由你来开吧。"
索菲跳到驾驶座上，长吁了一口气。几秒钟之后，出租车就平稳地驶离了"尘世乐土"。
索菲越开越快，渐渐地把车速提到了一百公里以上。兰登问道："你知道路吗？"
索菲盯着前方的路，说道："根据出租车司机的描述，我应该是知道那个地方的。"
兰登又掏出了那把钥匙，觉得它沉甸甸的。他意识到这把钥匙事关重大，也许还关系到自己的自由。
刚才在给索菲讲述圣殿武士团故事的时候，他就忽然意识到这把钥匙除了带有隐修会的标记外，还跟隐修会有着更微妙的关系。等边十字架除了代表圣殿武士外，也象征着平衡与和谐。凡是见过圣殿武土肖像的人，都会发现他们的白色战袍上绣着红色的等边十字图案。
等边十字。跟这把钥匙上的图案一模一样。
兰登一边猜想着他们可能会发现什么，一边感叹自己的想象力真是太丰富了。圣杯。
他不禁为自己的荒唐猜测笑出了声。要知道，人们都认为1500 多年以来，圣杯一直被藏在英国某个教堂的地底下。
从达。芬奇时代以来就一直被藏在那里。
早期的几百年里，隐修会为了保护那些具有神奇力量的文件，曾多次被迫迁址。据历史学家估计，自隐修会从耶路撒冷迁到欧洲以后，曾先后六次更换埋藏圣杯的地方。圣杯的最后一次"露面"是在1447 年。当时，许多人都证实说一场大火险些把那些文件吞没，幸亏它们被装进了几个六个人才能抬动的大箱子里，随后被运到了安全的地方。从那以后，没有人再见过圣杯的踪迹。只是偶尔有些传说，说它被藏在了养育亚瑟王和他的圆桌骑土的地方--大英帝国。
不管它被藏在哪里，有两点重要事实可以肯定：达。芬奇在世的时候知道圣杯藏在哪里！
那个埋藏圣杯的地点极有可能至今未变！
因此，那些圣杯的狂热追寻者依然痴狂地钻研着达。芬奇的艺术作品和日记，试图找出有关圣杯埋藏地的蛛丝马迹。有人声称，《岩间圣母》那山峦连绵的背景，好像画的是苏格兰境内某个布满了山洞的小山群。而有人则坚持，《最后的晚餐》中耶稣门徒们的位置安排令人生疑，那是暗示圣杯埋藏地的密码。而另外还有人宣称，通过对《蒙娜丽莎》进行X光检查可以发现，蒙娜丽莎原本戴着青金石的耳环，耳环上有古埃及生育女神伊希斯的肖像。可是，传说后来达。芬奇又把耳环用油彩涂上了。兰登从来就没发现那幅画上有什么耳环的迹象，也想象不出它跟圣杯有什么关系。然而，那些圣杯迷们还是在国际互联网的留言版和聊天室里激烈地讨论着这一假想。
人人都喜欢带有传奇色彩的秘密。
这样的神奇秘密还有许多。最近揭开的一个秘密要数对达。芬奇名画《受膜拜的麦琪》的新发现。意大利艺术家毛瑞梓里奥。萨拉斯尼揭开了一个鲜为人知的真相，而纽约《时代》杂志则以《列昂纳多掩盖的秘密》为题对此作了大篇幅的报道。
萨拉斯尼肯定地指出，虽然《受膜拜的麦琪》是达。芬奇起草的，但他却并没有完成创作。事实上，那是一位匿名画家在达。芬奇去世多年之后利用那幅草图完成的。而且那位匿名画家在画中还隐藏了秘密。用红外线反射仪和X 光照出的照片显示，这个调皮的画家，在完成达。芬奇的草图时，对原作作了令人费解的改动，好像要故意改变达。芬奇的真正意图。不管原画的意图是什么，它都应该被公之于众。然而，这个报道发表之后，佛罗伦萨幽夫斯展览馆的官员们还是停止了这幅画的展出，把它放到了街对面的储藏室里。现在去那个展览馆参观"达。芬奇展厅"的游客只能在原来挂画的地方看到一块敷衍游客的牌子，上面写着：此画正在接受检测，以备修复。
对圣杯的追寻者们而言，列昂纳多。达。芬奇始终是最大的谜团。他的作品里似乎充满了秘密，但所有的秘密都被掩藏着：也许藏在油彩的下面，也许藏在平面图的密码里，也许根本就不藏在任何地方。也许那么多的捉弄人的线索只不过是留着难为好奇的游客的，让他们冲着《蒙娜丽莎》傻笑。
索菲拽了拽兰登问道："那有可能是打开圣杯埋藏地的钥匙吗？"
兰登笑道："我想，根本就没有这种可能。另外，据说圣杯被藏在英国的某个地方，而不是法国。"然后，他简短地给索菲介绍了一下圣杯的历史。
"可是，通过这把钥匙能找到圣杯是唯一合理的解释呀。"她坚持道，我们有一把非常保险的钥匙，而这把钥匙上面印着隐修会的标记。另外，这把钥匙还是隐修会成员亲自留给我们的，而刚才你也说了，隐修会就是圣杯的保护人。"兰登觉得她的观点非常符合逻辑，可是出于本能，他还是无法接受这个推论。有谣传说隐修会曾发誓把圣杯带回法国，并将其永远埋藏在那里。然而，这并没有确凿的历史证据。即便隐修会确实把圣杯带回了法国。"豪克斯街24 号"听起来也不像是圣杯的永久埋藏地呀。"索菲，我真很难想象这把钥匙会和圣杯有关。"
"就是因为人们都认为圣杯藏在英国吗？"
"不仅如此。圣杯的埋藏地是历史上被保守得最好的秘密之一。人们必须等待好几十年以证明自己值得信任，才会被选人这个隐修会的最高领导层，从而得知圣杯的埋藏地。这个秘密一直通过间接的方式传递。而且，虽然隐修会很庞大，然而在任何时候，只有大导师和其他的三个高层领导才知道这个秘密。你祖父是高层领导的可能性微乎其微。"祖父是高层领导，索菲想道。她加大了油门。脑海中的烙印，使她确信祖父就是隐修会的高层领导。
"即使你祖父是高层领导之一，他也决不会向隐修会之外的人透露这个秘密。他不可能把你引入核心领导层。""我早已进入核心层了。"索菲想道，她又回忆起了地下室里的那个仪式。她举棋不定，不知道应不应该把她在诺曼底经历的那个夜晚讲给兰登听。十年过去了，出于羞愧，她从未向任何人提起过她的所见所闻。一想到那个夜晚，她就浑身打颤。远处传来了警笛声，一阵强烈的倦意向她袭来。
"看！"兰登兴奋地叫了起来，他看见罗兰德。伽罗斯网球馆就在前方。
索菲把车朝网球馆开了过去。过了几个路口，他们找到了豪克斯街。并开始在街上找门牌。街道两边显得越来越繁华，商店也多了起来。
"我们要找24 号。"兰登自言自语道。突然，他意识到自己正下意识地在搜寻教堂的尖顶。别傻了！在这么繁华的地段怎么会有个被遗忘的教堂？
"就在那儿！"索菲指着前方，大声喊道。
兰登举目望去。
那究竟是什么呀？
那是一座现代化的建筑。那座堡垒的正上方安装着一个硕大的等边霓虹十字架。十字架的下面有几个大字：苏黎世储蓄银行兰登庆幸自己没跟索菲一样，把那里当作圣殿武士教堂。作为一个符号学家，很容易为事物强加上隐含意义。刚才，兰登完全忘记了这个祥和的等边十字架也正是中立国瑞土的国旗图案。
谜团已经解开了。
索菲和兰登正拿着一把瑞士银行保险箱的钥匙。
Chapter 41
Outside Castel Gandolfo, an updraft of mountain air gushed over the top of the cliff and across thehigh bluff, sending a chill through Bishop Aringarosa as he stepped from the Fiat. I should haveworn more than this cassock, he thought, fighting the reflex to shiver. The last thing he needed toappear tonight was weak or fearful.
　　The castle was dark save the windows at the very top of the building, which glowed ominously.
　　The library, Aringarosa thought. They are awake and waiting. He ducked his head against the windand continued on without so much as a glance toward the observatory domes.
　　The priest who greeted him at the door looked sleepy. He was the same priest who had greetedAringarosa five months ago, albeit tonight he did so with much less hospitality. "We were worriedabout you, Bishop," the priest said, checking his watch and looking more perturbed than worried.
　　"My apologies. Airlines are so unreliable these days."The priest mumbled something inaudible and then said, "They are waiting upstairs. I will escortyou up."The library was a vast square room with dark wood from floor to ceiling. On all sides, toweringbookcases burgeoned with volumes. The floor was amber marble with black basalt trim, ahandsome reminder that this building had once been a palace.
　　"Welcome, Bishop," a man's voice said from across the room.
　　Aringarosa tried to see who had spoken, but the lights were ridiculously low—much lower thanthey had been on his first visit, when everything was ablaze. The night of stark awakening.
　　Tonight, these men sat in the shadows, as if they were somehow ashamed of what was about totranspire.
　　Aringarosa entered slowly, regally even. He could see the shapes of three men at a long table onthe far side of the room. The silhouette of the man in the middle was immediatelyrecognizable—the obese Secretariat Vaticana, overlord of all legal matters within Vatican City.
　　The other two were high-ranking Italian cardinals.
　　Aringarosa crossed the library toward them. "My humble apologies for the hour. We're on differenttime zones. You must be tired.""Not at all," the secretariat said, his hands folded on his enormous belly. "We are grateful you havecome so far. The least we can do is be awake to meet you. Can we offer you some coffee orrefreshments?""I'd prefer we don't pretend this is a social visit. I have another plane to catch. Shall we get tobusiness?""Of course," the secretariat said. "You have acted more quickly than we imagined.""Have I?""You still have a month.""You made your concerns known five months ago," Aringarosa said. "Why should I wait?""Indeed. We are very pleased with your expediency."Aringarosa's eyes traveled the length of the long table to a large black briefcase. "Is that what Irequested?""It is." The secretariat sounded uneasy. "Although, I must admit, we are concerned with therequest. It seems quite...""Dangerous," one of the cardinals finished. "Are you certain we cannot wire it to you somewhere?
　　The sum is exorbitant."Freedom is expensive. "I have no concerns for my own safety. God is with me."The men actually looked doubtful.
　　"The funds are exactly as I requested?"The secretariat nodded. "Large-denomination bearer bonds drawn on the Vatican Bank. Negotiableas cash anywhere in the world."Aringarosa walked to the end of the table and opened the briefcase. Inside were two thick stacks ofbonds, each embossed with the Vatican seal and the title PORTATORE, making the bondsredeemable to whoever was holding them.
　　The secretariat looked tense. "I must say, Bishop, all of us would feel less apprehensive if thesefunds were in cash."I could not lift that much cash, Aringarosa thought, closing the case. "Bonds are negotiable as cash.
　　You said so yourself."The cardinals exchanged uneasy looks, and finally one said, "Yes, but these bonds are traceabledirectly to the Vatican Bank."Aringarosa smiled inwardly. That was precisely the reason the Teacher suggested Aringarosa getthe money in Vatican Bank bonds. It served as insurance. We are all in this together now. "This isa perfectly legal transaction," Aringarosa defended. "Opus Dei is a personal prelature of VaticanCity, and His Holiness can disperse monies however he sees fit. No law has been broken here.""True, and yet..." The secretariat leaned forward and his chair creaked under the burden. "We haveno knowledge of what you intend to do with these funds, and if it is in any way illegal...""Considering what you are asking of me," Aringarosa countered, "what I do with this money is notyour concern."There was a long silence.
　　They know I'm right, Aringarosa thought. "Now, I imagine you have something for me to sign?"They all jumped, eagerly pushing the paper toward him, as if they wished he would simply leave.
　　Aringarosa eyed the sheet before him. It bore the papal seal. "This is identical to the copy you sentme?""Exactly."Aringarosa was surprised how little emotion he felt as he signed the document. The three menpresent, however, seemed to sigh in relief.
　　"Thank you, Bishop," the secretariat said. "Your service to the Church will never be forgotten."Aringarosa picked up the briefcase, sensing promise and authority in its weight. The four menlooked at one another for a moment as if there were something more to say, but apparently therewas not. Aringarosa turned and headed for the door.
　　"Bishop?" one of the cardinals called out as Aringarosa reached the threshold.
　　Aringarosa paused, turning. "Yes?""Where will you go from here?"Aringarosa sensed the query was more spiritual than geographical, and yet he had no intention ofdiscussing morality at this hour. "Paris," he said, and walked out the door.
岗道尔夫堡外，一股由下而上的山风刮过悬崖，穿过峭壁，直直地吹向刚从菲亚特轿车上下来的阿林加洛沙主教，让他感到阵阵寒意。我应该在这件法衣之外再加点衣服，他想道，竭力控制着不让自己打寒颤。他今晚决不能表现出软弱。
除了顶层的几扇窗户里透出几缕不祥的灯光外，整个城堡一片漆黑。那肯定是图书馆，阿林加洛沙想。他们还没睡，正等着我呢。他扫视了一下天文台的圆形屋顶，低下头，迎着风继续往前走。
在门口迎接他的教土睡眼惺忪。他就是五个月前迎接阿林加洛沙的那个教士，只是今晚他显得没有以前那么热情。"我们正为您担心呢，主教大人。"那个教士看了一下手表，说道。他那副表情与其说是担忧，倒不如说是忐忑不安。
"非常抱歉。最近的航班时刻表老是靠不住。"
教士小声地嘟囔了些什么，接着说道："他们在楼上等着您呢。我陪您上去。"
图书馆设在一个宽敞的方形房间里，地板和天花板上都由深色的木材装饰。墙壁的四周摆放着高大的书柜，上面摆满了书。琥珀色大理石地砖和地面边缘的黑色玄武岩，仿佛在提醒人们这里曾是皇宫。
"欢迎您，主教大人。"一个男人的声音从房间那头传来。
阿林加洛沙试图找到讲话的人，可是灯光出奇地暗，远比上次他来访时暗得多。那时灯光耀眼。彻底觉醒之夜。今晚，这些人坐在阴影里，像为将要发生的事情感到羞愧似的。
阿林加洛沙慢慢地踱进房门，看上去像个帝王。他隐约地看到房间那头的长桌子边有三个男人的身影。他一眼就从轮廓辨认出了中间的那个人，那是梵蒂冈的肥胖秘书，全权负责梵蒂冈城的所有法律事务。另外两个人是意大利的高级主教。
阿林加洛沙向他们走去。"我非常抱歉这时候来找你们。我们的时区不同，你们一定很累了吧。""没关系。"那位秘书说着，双手交叉着放在他肥大的肚子上。"我们非常感激您能这么远赶来。我们只不过是起床迎接您罢了，谈不上辛苦。您要不要喝杯咖啡，或是来些点心？"
"不必客套。我还要去赶另一班飞机。我们谈正事吧？"
"当然可以。"秘书说道。"没想到您行动这么快。"
"是吗？"
"您还有一个月的时间呢。"
"你们五个月之前就告诉了我你们关心的事情。"阿林加洛沙说："我为什么要等呢？"
"确实。您的快速的行动让我们非常高兴。"
阿林加洛沙望着长桌那头的黑色大公文包，问道："那就是我要的？"
"是的。""秘书不太自然地回答道。"虽然我不得不承认我们非常尊重您的要求，可是那也太……""危险。"一位红衣主教接下去说道。"您要知道我们不能寄给您。数目太庞大。"
"自由是昂贵的！我已将生死置之度外，上帝会保佑我。"
那帮人看上去有点儿怀疑。
"是我要的数目吗？"
秘书点了点头："梵蒂冈银行签发的大额持票人证券。跟现金一样，世界通用。"
阿林加洛沙走到桌子的尽头，打开公文包。里面有两叠厚厚的证券，每张上面都有梵蒂冈的印章和教堂的字样，那确保了任何持票人都可将其兑换成现金。
秘书看上去有些局促不安。"我不得不承认，主教大人，假如这笔款子是现金的话，我们都会稍稍安心一些。"
我可拿不动那么多现金，阿林加洛沙想道。他合上公文包，说道："证券跟现金一样可以在各地流通。这可是你们说的。"几个红衣主教交换了一下不安的眼神，最后说道："是的。可是通过这些证券可以追查到梵蒂冈银行。"阿林加洛沙暗笑，这正是那位导师让阿林加洛沙要梵蒂冈银行证券的原因。这是为保险起见，我们的命运被绑在一起了。"这说明我们的交易是完全合法的。"阿林加洛沙辩解道。
"天主事工会是梵蒂冈的最高统领，它有权处置这笔钱。况且，我们所做的一切都在法律许可的范围之内。""确实如此，可是……"秘书身体前倾，椅子被他压得吱吱作响。"我们并不知道你究竟会怎样处置这笔款子。假如有任何违法行为的话……""考虑到你们对我的要求。"阿林加洛沙反驳道："我怎样处理这笔款子与你们无关。"
房间里顿时鸦雀无声。
他们知道我是对的，阿林加洛沙想。"那么现在，有什么东西需要我签字吗？"
他们一跃而起，急切地把一份文件推到他面前，好像都盼望着他快点离开。
阿林加洛沙扫视了一下面前那张薄薄的纸，只见上面盖着教皇的大印。"这份文件跟你们给我的那张复印件一模一样吗？"
"完全一样。"
阿林加洛沙签上了名，他为自己能如此平静而颇感意外。那三个人看上去松了一口气。
"感谢您，主教。"秘书说。"您对教会的贡献将永远被人们铭记。"
阿林加洛沙拿起公文包，此刻他真切地感受到了承诺和权威的分量。四个人面面相觑，好像有什么话要说，但显然又说不出什么。
阿林加洛沙走到门口时，一位红衣主教喊住了他。
阿林加洛沙停下脚步，转身问道："什么事？"
"离开这里后，您打算去哪儿？"
阿林加洛沙知道他问的应该是灵魂的归属，不是地理方位，而他现在不想讨论精神道德的问题。"巴黎。"他说着，走出了房门。
Chapter 42
The Depository Bank of Zurich was a twenty-four-hour Geldschrank bank offering the full modernarray of anonymous services in the tradition of the Swiss numbered account. Maintaining offices inZurich, Kuala Lumpur, New York, and Paris, the bank had expanded its services in recent years tooffer anonymous computer source code escrow services and faceless digitized backup.
　　The bread and butter of its operation was by far its oldest and simplest offering—the anonymeLager—blind drop services, otherwise known as anonymous safe-deposit boxes. Clients wishing tostore anything from stock certificates to valuable paintings could deposit their belongingsanonymously, through a series of high-tech veils of privacy, withdrawing items at any time, also intotal anonymity.
　　As Sophie pulled the taxi to a stop in front of their destination, Langdon gazed out at the building'suncompromising architecture and sensed the Depository Bank of Zurich was a firm with little senseof humor. The building was a windowless rectangle that seemed to be forged entirely of dull steel.
　　Resembling an enormous metal brick, the edifice sat back from the road with a fifteen-foot-tall,neon, equilateral cross glowing over its facade.
　　Switzerland's reputation for secrecy in banking had become one of the country's most lucrativeexports. Facilities like this had become controversial in the art community because they provided aperfect place for art thieves to hide stolen goods, for years if necessary, until the heat was off.
　　Because deposits were protected from police inspection by privacy laws and were attached tonumbered accounts rather than people's names, thieves could rest easily knowing their stolen goodswere safe and could never be traced to them.
　　Sophie stopped the taxi at an imposing gate that blocked the bank's driveway—a cement-linedramp that descended beneath the building. A video camera overhead was aimed directly at them,and Langdon had the feeling that this camera, unlike those at the Louvre, was authentic.
　　Sophie rolled down the window and surveyed the electronic podium on the driver's side. An LCDscreen provided directions in seven languages. Topping the list was English.
　　INSERT KEY.
　　Sophie took the gold laser-pocked key from her pocket and turned her attention back to thepodium. Below the screen was a triangular hole.
　　"Something tells me it will fit," Langdon said.
　　Sophie aligned the key's triangular shaft with the hole and inserted it, sliding it in until the entireshaft had disappeared. This key apparently required no turning. Instantly, the gate began to swingopen. Sophie took her foot off the brake and coasted down to a second gate and podium. Behindher, the first gate closed, trapping them like a ship in a lock.
　　Langdon disliked the constricted sensation. Let's hope this second gate works too.
　　This second podium bore familiar directions.
　　INSERT KEY.
　　When Sophie inserted the key, the second gate immediately opened. Moments later they werewinding down the ramp into the belly of the structure.
　　The private garage was small and dim, with spaces for about a dozen cars. At the far end, Langdonspied the building's main entrance. A red carpet stretched across the cement floor, welcomingvisitors to a huge door that appeared to be forged of solid metal.
　　Talk about mixed messages, Langdon thought. Welcome and keep out.
　　Sophie pulled the taxi into a parking space near the entrance and killed the engine. "You'd betterleave the gun here."With pleasure, Langdon thought, sliding the pistol under the seat.
　　Sophie and Langdon got out and walked up the red carpet toward the slab of steel. The door had nohandle, but on the wall beside it was another triangular keyhole. No directions were posted thistime.
　　"Keeps out the slow learners," Langdon said.
　　Sophie laughed, looking nervous. "Here we go." She stuck the key in the hole, and the door swunginward with a low hum. Exchanging glances, Sophie and Langdon entered. The door shut with athud behind them.
　　The foyer of the Depository Bank of Zurich employed as imposing a decor as any Langdon hadever seen. Where most banks were content with the usual polished marble and granite, this one hadopted for wall-to-wall metal and rivets.
　　Who's their decorator? Langdon wondered. Allied Steel?
　　Sophie looked equally intimidated as her eyes scanned the lobby.
　　The gray metal was everywhere—the floor, walls, counters, doors, even the lobby chairs appearedto be fashioned of molded iron. Nonetheless, the effect was impressive. The message was clear:
　　You are walking into a vault.
　　A large man behind the counter glanced up as they entered. He turned off the small television hewas watching and greeted them with a pleasant smile. Despite his enormous muscles and visiblesidearm, his diction chimed with the polished courtesy of a Swiss bellhop.
　　"Bonsoir," he said. "How may I help you?"The dual-language greeting was the newest hospitality trick of the European host. It presumednothing and opened the door for the guest to reply in whichever language was more comfortable.
　　Sophie replied with neither. She simply laid the gold key on the counter in front of the man.
　　The man glanced down and immediately stood straighter. "Of course. Your elevator is at the end ofthe hall. I will alert someone that you are on your way."Sophie nodded and took her key back. "Which floor?"The man gave her an odd look. "Your key instructs the elevator which floor."She smiled. "Ah, yes."The guard watched as the two newcomers made their way to the elevators, inserted their key,boarded the lift, and disappeared. As soon as the door had closed, he grabbed the phone. He wasnot calling to alert anyone of their arrival; there was no need for that. A vault greeter already hadbeen alerted automatically when the client's key was inserted outside in the entry gate.
　　Instead, the guard was calling the bank's night manager. As the line rang, the guard switched thetelevision back on and stared at it. The news story he had been watching was just ending. It didn'tmatter. He got another look at the two faces on the television.
　　The manager answered. "Oui?""We have a situation down here.""What's happening?" the manager demanded.
　　"The French police are tracking two fugitives tonight.""So?""Both of them just walked into our bank."The manager cursed quietly. "Okay. I'll contact Monsieur Vernet immediately."The guard then hung up and placed a second call. This one to Interpol.
　　Langdon was surprised to feel the elevator dropping rather than climbing. He had no idea howmany floors they had descended beneath the Depository Bank of Zurich before the door finallyopened. He didn't care. He was happy to be out of the elevator.
　　Displaying impressive alacrity, a host was already standing there to greet them. He was elderly andpleasant, wearing a neatly pressed flannel suit that made him look oddly out of place—an old-world banker in a high-tech world.
　　"Bonsoir," the man said. "Good evening. Would you be so kind as to follow me, s'il vous plait?"Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and strode briskly down a narrow metalcorridor.
　　Langdon walked with Sophie down a series of corridors, past several large rooms filled withblinking mainframe computers.
　　"Voici," their host said, arriving at a steel door and opening it for them. "Here you are."Langdon and Sophie stepped into another world. The small room before them looked like a lavishsitting room at a fine hotel. Gone were the metal and rivets, replaced with oriental carpets, dark oakfurniture, and cushioned chairs. On the broad desk in the middle of the room, two crystal glassessat beside an opened bottle of Perrier, its bubbles still fizzing. A pewter pot of coffee steamedbeside it.
　　Clockwork, Langdon thought. Leave it to the Swiss.
　　The man gave a perceptive smile. "I sense this is your first visit to us?"Sophie hesitated and then nodded.
　　"Understood. Keys are often passed on as inheritance, and our first-time users are invariablyuncertain of the protocol." He motioned to the table of drinks. "This room is yours as long as youcare to use it.""You say keys are sometimes inherited?" Sophie asked.
　　"Indeed. Your key is like a Swiss numbered account, which are often willed through generations.
　　On our gold accounts, the shortest safety-deposit box lease is fifty years. Paid in advance. So wesee plenty of family turnover."Langdon stared. "Did you say fifty years?""At a minimum," their host replied. "Of course, you can purchase much longer leases, but barringfurther arrangements, if there is no activity on an account for fifty years, the contents of that safe-deposit box are automatically destroyed. Shall I run through the process of accessing your box?"Sophie nodded. "Please."Their host swept an arm across the luxurious salon. "This is your private viewing room. Once Ileave the room, you may spend all the time you need in here to review and modify the contents ofyour safe-deposit box, which arrives... over here." He walked them to the far wall where a wideconveyor belt entered the room in a graceful curve, vaguely resembling a baggage claim carousel.
　　"You insert your key in that slot there...." The man pointed to a large electronic podium facing theconveyor belt. The podium had a familiar triangular hole. "Once the computer confirms themarkings on your key, you enter your account number, and your safe-deposit box will be retrievedrobotically from the vault below for your inspection. When you are finished with your box, youplace it back on the conveyor belt, insert your key again, and the process is reversed. Becauseeverything is automated, your privacy is guaranteed, even from the staff of this bank. If you needanything at all, simply press the call button on the table in the center of the room."Sophie was about to ask a question when a telephone rang. The man looked puzzled andembarrassed. "Excuse me, please." He walked over to the phone, which was sitting on the tablebeside the coffee and Perrier.
　　"Oui?" he answered.
　　His brow furrowed as he listened to the caller. "Oui... oui... d'accord." He hung up, and gave theman uneasy smile. "I'm sorry, I must leave you now. Make yourselves at home." He moved quicklytoward the door.
　　"Excuse me," Sophie called. "Could you clarify something before you go? You mentioned that weenter an account number?"The man paused at the door, looking pale. "But of course. Like most Swiss banks, our safe-depositboxes are attached to a number, not a name. You have a key and a personal account number knownonly to you. Your key is only half of your identification. Your personal account number is the otherhalf. Otherwise, if you lost your key, anyone could use it."Sophie hesitated. "And if my benefactor gave me no account number?"The banker's heart pounded. Then you obviously have no business here! He gave them a calmsmile. "I will ask someone to help you. He will be in shortly."Leaving, the banker closed the door behind him and twisted a heavy lock, sealing them inside.
　　Across town, Collet was standing in the Gare du Nord train terminal when his phone rang.
　　It was Fache. "Interpol got a tip," he said. "Forget the train. Langdon and Neveu just walked intothe Paris branch of the Depository Bank of Zurich. I want your men over there right away.""Any leads yet on what Saunière was trying to tell Agent Neveu and Robert Langdon?"Fache's tone was cold. "If you arrest them, Lieutenant Collet, then I can ask them personally."Collet took the hint. "Twenty-four Rue Haxo. Right away, Captain." He hung up and radioed hismen.
苏黎世储蓄银行24 小时营业，它以瑞士传统的账号开户方式经营全套的现代化不记名业务。苏黎世、科伦坡、纽约以及巴黎都设有其分支机构，它们运用计算机标识码来办理不记名业务，拥有先进的数字支持系统。
这个银行的业务操作方式其实是最古老也是最简单的--为客户提供匿名储藏箱。客户能够以匿名的方式存储任何物品--从证券到价值连城的名画--也可以在任何时候以匿名的方式提取这些物品，这一操作完全通过一整套保护隐私的高科技手段完成。
索菲将出租车停在银行门前，兰登从车窗里探出头来，望了望这座高大结实的建筑，觉得这真是个严肃的地方，让人活泼不得。大厦是长方形的，没有一扇窗，是个钢铁铸的庞然大物。这个"大铁块"耸立在马路边。前方还闪烁着十五英尺高的等边十字形霓虹灯。
瑞士的银行以其良好的保密措施闻名世界，吸引了全球各地的客户。这也在艺术界引起了极大的争议，因为它们也为艺术品偷盗者提供了隐藏赃物的最佳场所。他们可以把赃物放上几年，避避风头。由于储存的物品受隐私法保护不受警方的检查，又加上储存时只需开设数字账户，不需登记储户姓名，因此，那些偷盗者可以高枕无忧，既不用担心赃物的安全，也不必害怕被警方顺藤摸瓜地追查。
一扇大门挡住了银行的车道，门后那条水泥斜坡车道直通大楼的地下室。在大门上方，有一个摄像镜头。兰登估摸这个摄像镜头可不像卢浮宫里面的那些假货，是个真家伙。
索菲摇下车窗，看了看右手边的电子指示装置。液晶屏上有一条用七种不同语言显示的指令。最上面一行是英语：插入钥匙。
索菲从口袋里掏出那把用激光塑孔的金钥匙，又再次审视显示屏，只见屏幕下方有个三角形的钥匙孔。
"我感觉，它肯定能打开。"兰登说。
索菲将三棱柱形的钥匙身对准钥匙孔插了进去，然后慢慢往里推，把整个钥匙身都塞人了孔中。无需转动钥匙，门就自动打开了。索菲一松刹车，将车滑到第二个门和电子指示装置前。第一个门缓缓地合上了，就像一道闭合的船闸。
兰登不喜欢这种压抑的感觉，希望第二道门也能打开！第二条指令是同样的：插入钥匙。
索菲插入钥匙，第二道门也立即打开了。于是，他们就顺着斜坡转到了大楼下面。
私人停车库规模不大，灯光昏暗，停着十几辆车。车库的那头是大楼的中心人口。水泥地上的红地毯一直延伸到一扇厚厚的金属大门前。
兰登觉得这真是自相矛盾，欢迎来客又不轻易让人进入。
索菲把车开进人口旁的一个车位，熄灭了发动机。"你最好把枪放在这儿。"
"再好不过了。"兰登想着，把枪扔到车座下面。
索菲和兰登下了车，踏上红地毯朝着大铁门走去。铁门没有把手，门边的墙上也有一个三角形的钥匙孔。这次没有任何指令。
"没有悟性的人还进不去。"兰登说。
索菲笑了起来，显得有些紧张。"来吧。"她把钥匙插进那个孔里。门"嗡嗡"地向里转开。他俩交换了个眼神，走了进去。门在他们身后"砰"地一声关上了。
这家储蓄银行的装饰气势逼人。大部分的银行通常只选用光亮的大理石和花岗岩作为装饰材料，而这家银行的墙壁上却尽是金属块和铆钉。
这是谁装修的？兰登颇感惊奇。是联合钢铁公司吗？
地上、墙上、柜台上、门上，到处都是灰色的金属，就连走廊里的椅子也是铁制的。
这向人们表明：你走进了金库！
柜台后面的一个高大强壮的男人抬起头来看了他们一眼。他关掉小电视机，微笑着向他们打招呼。虽然他肌肉发达，随身携带的武器隐约可配，但这并没有影响他那彬彬有礼的形象。
"先生。"他用一半英文一半法文的句子问道："需要我为您做点什么吗？"
双语的问候是欧洲银行招呼客人的最新方式，让客人用感觉舒适的语言作答。
索菲什么也没有说，只是把那把金钥匙搁在柜台上。
那个男人低头看了一眼，马上站得更加笔直了。"明白了，您的电梯在大厅那头。您先去，我马上叫人。"索菲点了点头，拿回钥匙。"在哪一层？"
那人用古怪的眼神看了看索菲："您的钥匙不是告诉您了吗？"
她笑道："啊，是啊。"
警卫目送着两个人走向电梯，插进钥匙，走了进去。电梯门一关上，他就拿起电话。
他可不是打电话通知另外的人，因为根本就没有这个必要。因为客户的钥匙插进外面的大门时，通报装置就自动打开了。
实际上，这个电话是打给夜间值班经理的。等待接听时，警卫重新打开电视，眼睛紧紧盯着屏幕。他刚才看的新闻刚刚结束。但这没关系。他刚刚见到了屏幕上出现过的那两个人。
"喂。"电话里传来值班经理的声音。
"下面有情况。"
"发生了什么事？"值班经理赶紧问道。
"法国警方今晚正在追查两个逃犯。"
"那又怎样？"
"那两个人刚进了我们银行。"
值班经理轻轻地骂了几句。"好吧。我马上跟韦尔内先生联系。"
警卫挂断电话，又拨了一次。这次是给国际刑警组织。
兰登惊奇地发现电梯不是在上升而是在下降。电梯不停地下降，也不知道过了几层，终于停了下来。他才不管这是第几层呢！能从电梯里出来，他就非常高兴了。
接待人员早就笑盈盈地站在那里等着他们。他看上去上了年纪，穿着一件熨烫整齐的法兰绒西装，这使得他看上去很古怪，跟这个地方一点也不相配--一个高科技世界里的老式银行工作人员。
"先生。"他说道。"晚上好。请跟我来，好吗？"没等回答，他转过身，大步走向一个狭窄的金属通道。
兰登和索菲向下穿过几个通道，走过几个摆放着大型计算机的房间。
"就是这里。"接待员说着，为他们打开一扇铁门。"到了。"
兰登和索菲踏人了另一个世界。这个小房间看上去就像是高级宾馆的豪华起居室。这里没有钢铁和铆钉，有的是东方的地毯、黑色的橡木家具和配置了坐垫的椅子。房间中央的宽大桌子上，两个水晶玻璃杯边放着一瓶矿泉水，矿泉水还冒着气泡，桌上还有一壶冒着热气的咖啡。
兰登不禁感叹道："瑞士人真是按部就班的典型。"
那人会心地一笑："你们是第一次来吧？"
索菲犹豫了一下，点了点头。
"可以理解。钥匙经常被作为遗产传给下一代。第一次到我们这里来的客户大多不明白协议。"他指了指放着饮料的桌子说。"只要你们想用，这个房间就一直是你们的。"
"钥匙有时是世代相传的？"索菲问道。
"没错。客户的钥匙就像瑞士银行的数字账号，经常会被作为遗产一代一代地传下去。
在我们的账户上，最短的保险箱租期是五十年，要求提前付款，所以我们会看到许多家族的后代。"兰登睁大双眼。"你刚才是说五十年吗？"
"至少。"接待员答道。"当然，你也可以租用更长的时间。但除非有进一步的安排，否则，如果一个账户五十年未用，我们就会自动地把保险箱里的东西销毁。需要我启动程序来拿出您的箱子吗？"
索菲点了点头。"好的。"
接待员指着这个豪华的房间，说道："这是供你们查看保险箱的密室。我一离开这里，你们就可以在这里查看或更换保险箱里的东西，想呆多长时间都行。而箱子就在这儿。"他把他们带到对面的墙边，那里有一个宽大的传送带，看上去有点像行李提取处。"请把钥匙插进这个小孔。"那人指着传送带对面一个很大的电子指示装置说。装置上有个熟悉的三角形的钥匙孔。"计算机确认是这把钥匙后，请输入你的账号。然后，你的保险箱就会由机器自动地从下面的金库里传送过来，你就可以查看了。查看完箱子后，请把它放在传送带上，再把钥匙插到这个孔里，程序就会自动重复一遍。由于整个过程是自动的，因此你们的隐私完全可以得到保证，即使是本银行的工作人员也完全不知情。如果你们有什么需要，就请按一下桌子中央的那个呼叫键。"索菲正想提问，突然电话铃声响了起来。接待员显得有点迷惑。尴尬地说道："请原谅。"他走向咖啡壶和矿泉水瓶边上的电话。
"喂？"他拿起电话。
听着话筒那头传来的声音，他皱起了眉头。"是……是……"挂上电话，他局促不安地对兰登和索菲笑了笑，说道："对不起，我现在得出去一下。请随意。"然后，快步走了出去。
"对不起。"索菲喊道。"走之前能不能给我们解释一下？您刚才是不是提到我们要输入账号数字？"
那人在门口停了下来，脸色煞白。"当然。跟其他瑞士银行一样。我们的储蓄保险箱业务开设数字账号，而不是姓名账号。你应该有一把钥匙和只有自己知道的账号。否则，假如你丢了钥匙，谁捡去了都可以用。"索菲犹豫地问道："要是我的赠送人没告诉我账号怎么办？"
接待员的心"咚咚"直跳。那显然你与保险箱无关！他故作镇静地对他们笑了一下，说道："那我去找个人来帮你。他马上就来。"
接待员出门转身将门关上，然后转动着一个粗大的钥匙，把他们严严实实地锁在了房间里。
在城市的那一头，科莱正在火车北站。突然，他的电话响了起来。
是法希打来的。"国际刑警找到了线索。"他在电话里说道。"别管火车了。兰登和奈芙刚到苏黎世储蓄银行的巴黎支行。我要你的人马上去那里。""是不是索尼埃想告诉奈芙和罗伯特。兰登些什么呢？"
法希冷冷地答道。"科莱，如果你抓住他们，我就能亲自审问他们了！"
科莱明白了他的意思："豪克斯街24 号。马上就到，局长。"
他挂上电话，用对讲机把手下人召集起来。
Chapter 43
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 filthy rich.
　　When I retire, Vernet told himself, I will fill my cellar with rare Bordeaux, adorn my salon 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 Judicial 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 impending disaster could be deftly sidestepped. Vernet could tell thepolice that the fugitives 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. Discretion was apparently not part of the vocabulary of a 15-euro-per-hour watchman.
　　Stopping at the doorway, he took a deep breath and loosened his muscles. Then, forcing a balmysmile, he unlocked the door and swirled 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 lodged 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 fumbled. "I don't... believe so. Our services are anonymous." 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, numb with shock. "You knew my grandfather?"Banker André Vernet looked equally astounded, 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 slumped. 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 digits. Sophie reluctantly calculated the cryptographic odds. 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 whatsoever. 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 flipped 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 corporate 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 premises. 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 countless letters and packages her grandfather had sent her over the years and which she hadleft unopened.
　　Langdon stood suddenly, and Sophie sensed an unexpected glimmer 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, Draconian devil!
　　Oh, lame saint!
　　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。
Chapter 44
"Ten digits," Sophie said, her cryptologic senses tingling as she studied the printout.
　　13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5Grand-père wrote his account number on the Louvre floor!
　　When Sophie had first seen the scrambled Fibonacci sequence on the parquet, she had assumed itssole purpose was to encourage DCPJ to call in their cryptographers and get Sophie involved. Later,she realized the numbers were also a clue as to how to decipher the other lines—a sequence out oforder... a numeric anagram. Now, utterly amazed, she saw the numbers had a more importantmeaning still. They were almost certainly the final key to opening her grandfather's mysterious safe-deposit box.
　　"He was the master of double-entendres," Sophie said, turning to Langdon. "He loved anythingwith multiple layers of meaning. Codes within codes."Langdon was already moving toward the electronic podium near the conveyor belt. Sophie grabbedthe computer printout and followed.
　　The podium had a keypad similar to that of a bank ATM terminal. The screen displayed the bank'scruciform logo. Beside the keypad was a triangular hole. Sophie wasted no time inserting the shaftof her key into the hole.
　　The screen refreshed instantly.
　　ACCOUNT NUMBER: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _The cursor blinked. Waiting.
　　Ten digits. Sophie read the numbers off the printout, and Langdon typed them in.
　　ACCOUNT NUMBER: 1332211185When he had typed the last digit, the screen refreshed again. A message in several languagesappeared. English was on top.
　　CAUTION:
　　Before you strike the enter key, please check the accuracy of youraccount number.
　　For your own security, if the computer does not recognize youraccount number, this system will automatically shut down.
　　"Fonction terminer," Sophie said, frowning. "Looks like we only get one try." Standard ATMmachines allowed users three attempts to type a PIN before confiscating their bank card. This wasobviously no ordinary cash machine.
　　"The number looks right," Langdon confirmed, carefully checking what they had typed andcomparing it to the printout. He motioned to the ENTER key. "Fire away."Sophie extended her index finger toward the keypad, but hesitated, an odd thought now hitting her.
　　"Go ahead," Langdon urged. "Vernet will be back soon.""No." She pulled her hand away. "This isn't the right account number.""Of course it is! Ten digits. What else would it be?""It's too random."Too random? Langdon could not have disagreed more. Every bank advised its customers to choosePINs at random so nobody could guess them. Certainly clients here would be advised to choosetheir account numbers at random.
　　Sophie deleted everything she had just typed in and looked up at Langdon, her gaze self-assured.
　　"It's far too coincidental that this supposedly random account number could be rearranged to formthe Fibonacci sequence."Langdon realized she had a point. Earlier, Sophie had rearranged this account number into theFibonacci sequence. What were the odds of being able to do that?
　　Sophie was at the keypad again, entering a different number, as if from memory. "Moreover, withmy grandfather's love of symbolism and codes, it seems to follow that he would have chosen anaccount number that had meaning to him, something he could easily remember." She finishedtyping the entry and gave a sly smile. "Something that appeared random... but was not." Langdonlooked at the screen.
　　ACCOUNT NUMBER: 1123581321It took him an instant, but when Langdon spotted it, he knew she was right.
　　The Fibonacci sequence.
　　1-1-2-3-5-8-13-21When the Fibonacci sequence was melded into a single ten-digit number, it became virtuallyunrecognizable. Easy to remember, and yet seemingly random. A brilliant ten-digit code thatSaunière would never forget. Furthermore, it perfectly explained why the scrambled numbers onthe Louvre floor could be rearranged to form the famous progression.
　　Sophie reached down and pressed the ENTER key.
　　Nothing happened.
　　At least nothing they could detect.
　　At that moment, beneath them, in the bank's cavernous subterranean vault, a robotic claw sprang tolife. Sliding on a double-axis transport system attached to the ceiling, the claw headed off in searchof the proper coordinates. On the cement floor below, hundreds of identical plastic crates layaligned on an enormous grid... like rows of small coffins in an underground crypt.
　　Whirring to a stop over the correct spot on the floor, the claw dropped down, an electric eyeconfirming the bar code on the box. Then, with computer precision, the claw grasped the heavyhandle and hoisted the crate vertically. New gears engaged, and the claw transported the box to thefar side of the vault, coming to a stop over a stationary conveyor belt.
　　Gently now, the retrieval arm set down the crate and retracted.
　　Once the arm was clear, the conveyor belt whirred to life....
　　Upstairs, Sophie and Langdon exhaled in relief to see the conveyor belt move. Standing beside thebelt, they felt like weary travelers at baggage claim awaiting a mysterious piece of luggage whosecontents were unknown.
　　The conveyor belt entered the room on their right through a narrow slit beneath a retractable door.
　　The metal door slid up, and a huge plastic box appeared, emerging from the depths on the inclinedconveyor belt. The box was black, heavy molded plastic, and far larger than she imagined. Itlooked like an air-freight pet transport crate without any airholes.
　　The box coasted to a stop directly in front of them.
　　Langdon and Sophie stood there, silent, staring at the mysterious container.
　　Like everything else about this bank, this crate was industrial—metal clasps, a bar code sticker ontop, and molded heavy-duty handle. Sophie thought it looked like a giant toolbox.
　　Wasting no time, Sophie unhooked the two buckles facing her. Then she glanced over at Langdon.
　　Together, they raised the heavy lid and let it fall back.
　　Stepping forward, they peered down into the crate.
　　At first glance, Sophie thought the crate was empty. Then she saw something. Sitting at the bottomof the crate. A lone item.
　　The polished wooden box was about the size of a shoebox and had ornate hinges. The wood was alustrous deep purple with a strong grain. Rosewood, Sophie realized. Her grandfather's favorite.
　　The lid bore a beautiful inlaid design of a rose. She and Langdon exchanged puzzled looks. Sophieleaned in and grabbed the box, lifting it out.
　　My God, it's heavy!
　　She carried it gingerly to a large receiving table and set it down. Langdon stood beside her, both ofthem staring at the small treasure chest her grandfather apparently had sent them to retrieve.
　　Langdon stared in wonderment at the lid's hand-carved inlay—a five-petal rose. He had seen thistype of rose many times. "The five-petal rose," he whispered, "is a Priory symbol for the HolyGrail."Sophie turned and looked at him. Langdon could see what she was thinking, and he was thinking ittoo. The dimensions of the box, the apparent weight of its contents, and a Priory symbol for theGrail all seemed to imply one unfathomable conclusion. The Cup of Christ is in this wooden box.
　　Langdon again told himself it was impossible.
　　"It's a perfect size," Sophie whispered, "to hold... a chalice."It can't be a chalice.
　　Sophie pulled the box toward her across the table, preparing to open it. As she moved it, though,something unexpected happened. The box let out an odd gurgling sound.
　　Langdon did a double take. There's liquid inside?
　　Sophie looked equally confused. "Did you just hear...?"Langdon nodded, lost. "Liquid."Reaching forward, Sophie slowly unhooked the clasp and raised the lid.
　　The object inside was unlike anything Langdon had ever seen. One thing was immediately clear toboth of them, however. This was definitely not the Cup of Christ.
"确实是十位数。"索菲说道。当她仔细地查看那张照片时，对密码学的感觉被唤醒了。
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5祖父把账号写在了卢浮宫的地板上！
当索菲第一次在卢浮宫的木地板上看到这个凌乱的斐波那契数列时，以为这串数字的唯一目的只是让警署请密码员来参与侦破，从而让索菲有机会参与其中。后来，她认识到这些数字还是破解另外几行词句的线索--一个打破顺序的序列……一个数字之谜。现在，更加使她惊异的是，她发现这些数字还有一个更重要的含意。几乎可以肯定，这些数字肯定是打开祖父的神秘保险箱的关键。
"他是使用双关语的大师。"索菲转过身对兰登说道。"他喜欢有多层意思的东西。喜欢在密码里套密码。"此时，兰登已走近了传送带边上的计算机装置。索菲抓起那张电脑打印的照片，跟了上去。
那个装置的键盘和银行自动取款机的键盘相似。显示屏上显示着十字形标志。键盘旁边有一个三角形的孔。索菲毫不犹豫地把钥匙插进那个孔里。
屏幕马上刷新了。
账号：----------光标闪烁等待着。
十位数。索菲念着照片上的数字，兰登把它们输了进去。
账号：1332211185最后一个数字输入完毕后，屏幕又刷新了，出现了用几种不同的语言写成的信息。最上面的一段是英语。
注意：在按确认键之前，请核对您输入的账号是否准确。
如果计算机无法识别您的账号，为了安全，系统将自动关闭。
"终审判决。"索菲皱着眉头说道。"看来我们只有一次机会。"普通的自动提款机一般都会允许用户输入三次密码，然后才会没收他们的银行卡。不过，这一台显然不是普通的取款机。
兰登对照着照片上的数字仔细地核对输入，确认无误后，他说道："数字没错。"
他指了指确认键。"按吧。"
索菲把食指伸向键盘，但一种奇怪的感觉突然袭来，她犹豫了。
"按呀。"兰登催促道。"韦尔内马上就回来了。"
"不对。"她把手指拿开。"这个账号不正确。"
"肯定对！十位数。还会是什么？"
"这个账号太没有规律了。"
太没有规律？兰登不同意这个说法。每家银行都会建议他们的用户随机选择密码，这样就不会被人猜到。这家银行当然也会建议用户随机选择密码。
索菲删除了刚刚输进去的所有数字，抬头看着兰登，目光中流露出自信。"这个理应很随意的账号竟能重新排列成斐波那契数列，这也太偶然了吧？"
兰登明白她已有了主意。来这里之前，索菲就曾把这组数字排成了斐波那契数列。随便一组数字能排列成斐波那契数列的可能性有大呢？
索菲又敲起了键盘，边回忆边输入了一组不同的数字。"而且，就祖父对符号学和密码的偏爱来说，他应该会选择一组对他来说有意义的、容易记住的数字。"把数字全部输进去之后，她狡猾地笑了一下。"看上去很随意，但实际不然。"
兰登看了看屏幕。
账号：1123581321兰登一时没看懂。可是当他回过神，就明白索菲所言极是。
斐波那契数列：1-1-2-3-5-8-13-2l当斐波那契数列混合成一组十项数字的组合时，根本就无法辨认。容易记住，但从表面看却很随意！这是一个永远都不会被忘记的极为巧妙的十位数密码。而且，这也充分说明了为什么卢浮宫地板上那组凌乱的数字可以重新排列成这著名的数列。
索菲伸出手按下确认键。
毫无动静。
至少他们没有觉察出有什么动静。
就在那一刻，在他们脚下的那个巨大地下金库里，一个机械手被激活了。这个机械手在双轴传送装置上滑动着，寻找与输入账号相匹配的保险箱。金库里，上千个一模一样的塑料箱子在巨大的铁架上排成一行，看上去就像教堂地下室里的一排排灵柩。
机械手迅速地移动到正确方位，然后垂了下来，用电子眼确认了一下上面的条形码。
接着，机械手非常准确地抓起箱子沉重的把手，把箱子直直地提了起来。传送装置上的齿轮转动着，机械手把箱子运到金库的另一头，然后在一个静止的传送带上方停了下来。
机械手轻轻地放下箱子，收了回去。
紧接着，传送带迅速地转动了起来……
兰登和索菲看到传送带转了起来，长出了一口气。他们站在传送带旁，就像在行李提取处等待神秘行李的疲惫旅客。
传送带从一个伸缩门下面的窄缝里穿进来，延伸到他们右侧。铁门滑了开来，一个很大的塑料箱子从倾斜的传送带上运了过来。那个箱子是个笨重的黑色塑料箱，比索菲想象的要大得多，就像一个没有气孔的宠物空运箱。
箱子沿斜坡滑到他们面前。
兰登和索菲静静地站在那里注视着这个神秘的箱子。
跟这家银行的其他东西一样，这个箱子的所有零部件--从铁扣到顶端的不干胶条形码以及结实的把手一一-都是由机械制造的。索菲觉得它就像一个巨大的工具箱。
索菲迅速地打开箱子上面的两个扣，看了一眼兰登。然后，两个人一起抬起沉重的盖子，向后掀开。
他们走上前，朝箱子里望去。
索菲看第一眼时，还以为箱子是空的。不过，接下来她在箱子底上看到了一件东西。
那是个打磨光滑的木盒，有鞋盒那么大，配着精美的合页。木头是深紫色的，发着黯淡的光，上面有粗线条的纹理。紫檀木，索菲认了出来。这是祖父最喜爱的木材。盒盖上镶嵌着一朵美丽的玫瑰花图案。她和兰登交换了一下困惑的眼神。索菲侧过身，拿起盒子仔细端详。
天哪，它竟然很沉！
索菲小心翼翼地把盒子放到大桌子上。兰登站到她身边，和她一起目不转睛地盯着这个小小的财宝箱。这就是祖父要他们来拿的东西！
兰登惊异地看着盒盖上手工雕刻的图案--那是一朵五瓣玫瑰。他以前曾多次看到过这种玫瑰的图案。他低声说道："五瓣玫瑰。这是隐修会用来代表圣杯的标志呀。"
索菲转过身，看着他。兰登看得出索菲的心思，他也有相同的疑虑。盒子的大小、重量以及隐修会代表圣杯的标志似乎都暗示着一个不可思议的结论。耶稣的圣杯就在这个木盒子里！兰登再一次告诉自己这是不可能的。
索菲低声说道："这个盒子倒是挺适合放圣杯。"
但里面不可能是圣杯。
索菲把盒子拽过来，准备打开。可是，就在她拖动盒子的时候，意想不到的事情发生了。盒子里传出汩汩的水声。
兰登把盒子拿起来。里面有液体？
索菲也感到迷惑不解。"刚才你有没有听到……"
兰登困惑地点点头。"液体。"
索菲伸手慢慢地打开盒扣，掀起盖子。
里面的东西是兰登从没见过的。然而，可以肯定的是那绝对不是圣杯。
Chapter 45
"The police are blocking the street," André Vernet said, walking into the waiting room. "Gettingyou out will be difficult." As he closed the door behind him, Vernet saw the heavy-duty plasticcase on the conveyor belt and halted in his tracks. My God! They accessed Saunière's account?
　　Sophie and Langdon were at the table, huddling over what looked to be a large wooden jewelrybox. Sophie immediately closed the lid and looked up. "We had the account number after all," shesaid.
　　Vernet was speechless. This changed everything. He respectfully diverted his eyes from the boxand tried to figure out his next move. I have to get them out of the bank! But with the police alreadyhaving set up a roadblock, Vernet could imagine only one way to do that. "Mademoiselle Neveu, ifI can get you safely out of the bank, will you be taking the item with you or returning it to the vaultbefore you leave?"Sophie glanced at Langdon and then back to Vernet. "We need to take it."Vernet nodded. "Very well. Then whatever the item is, I suggest you wrap it in your jacket as wemove through the hallways. I would prefer nobody else see it."As Langdon shed his jacket, Vernet hurried over to the conveyor belt, closed the now empty crate,and typed a series of simple commands. The conveyor belt began moving again, carrying theplastic container back down to the vault. Pulling the gold key from the podium, he handed it toSophie.
　　"This way please. Hurry."When they reached the rear loading dock, Vernet could see the flash of police lights filteringthrough the underground garage. He frowned. They were probably blocking the ramp. Am I reallygoing to try to pull this off? He was sweating now.
　　Vernet motioned to one of the bank's small armored trucks. Transport s.r was another serviceoffered by the Depository Bank of Zurich.
　　"Get in the cargo hold," he said, heaving open the massive rear door and motioning to theglistening steel compartment. "I'll be right back."As Sophie and Langdon climbed in, Vernet hurried across the loading dock to the dock overseer'soffice, let himself in, collected the keys for the truck, and found a driver's uniform jacket and cap.
　　Shedding his own suit coat and tie, he began to put on the driver's jacket. Reconsidering, he donneda shoulder holster beneath the uniform. On his way out, he grabbed a driver's pistol from the rack,put in a clip, and stuffed it in the holster, buttoning his uniform over it. Returning to the truck,Vernet pulled the driver's cap down low and peered in at Sophie and Langdon, who were standinginside the empty steel box.
　　"You'll want this on," Vernet said, reaching inside and flicking a wall switch to illuminate the lonecourtesy bulb on the hold's ceiling. "And you'd better sit down. Not a sound on our way out thegate."Sophie and Langdon sat down on the metal floor. Langdon cradled the treasure wadded in histweed jacket. Swinging the heavy doors closed, Vernet locked them inside. Then he got in behindthe wheel and revved the engine.
　　As the armored truck lumbered toward the top of the ramp, Vernet could feel the sweat alreadycollecting beneath his driver's cap. He could see there were far more police lights in front than hehad imagined. As the truck powered up the ramp, the interior gate swung inward to let him pass.
　　Vernet advanced and waited while the gate behind him closed before pulling forward and trippingthe next sensor. The second gate opened, and the exit beckoned.
　　Except for the police car blocking the top of the ramp.
　　Vernet dabbed his brow and pulled forward.
　　A lanky officer stepped out and waved him to a stop a few meters from the roadblock. Four patrolcars were parked out front.
　　Vernet stopped. Pulling his driver's cap down farther, he effected as rough a facade as his culturedupbringing would allow. Not budging from behind the wheel, he opened the door and gazed downat the agent, whose face was stern and sallow.
　　"Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Vernet asked, his tone rough.
　　"Je suis Jérome Collet," the agent said. "Lieutenant Police Judiciaire." He motioned to the truck'scargo hold. "Qu'est-ce qu'ily a là dedans?""Hell if I know," Vernet replied in crude French. "I'm only a driver."Collet looked unimpressed. "We're looking for two criminals."Vernet laughed. "Then you came to the right spot. Some of these bastards I drive for have so muchmoney they must be criminals."The agent held up a passport picture of Robert Langdon. "Was this man in your bank tonight?"Vernet shrugged. "No clue. I'm a dock rat. They don't let us anywhere near the clients. You need togo in and ask the front desk.""Your bank is demanding a search warrant before we can enter."Vernet put on a disgusted look. "Administrators. Don't get me started.""Open your truck, please." Collet motioned toward the cargo hold.
　　Vernet stared at the agent and forced an obnoxious laugh. "Open the truck? You think I have keys?
　　You think they trust us? You should see the crap wages I get paid."The agent's head tilted to one side, his skepticism evident. "You're telling me you don't have keysto your own truck?"Vernet shook his head. "Not the cargo area. Ignition only. These trucks get sealed by overseers onthe loading dock. Then the truck sits in dock while someone drives the cargo keys to the drop-off.
　　Once we get the call that the cargo keys are with the recipient, then I get the okay to drive. Not asecond before. I never know what the hell I'm lugging.""When was this truck sealed?""Must have been hours ago. I'm driving all the way up to St. Thurial tonight. Cargo keys arealready up there."The agent made no response, his eyes probing as if trying to read Vernet's mind.
　　A drop of sweat was preparing to slide down Vernet's nose. "You mind?" he said, wiping his nosewith his sleeve and motioning to the police car blocking his way. "I'm on a tight schedule.""Do all the drivers wear Rolexes?" the agent asked, pointing to Vernet's wrist.
　　Vernet glanced down and saw the glistening band of his absurdly expensive watch peeking outfrom beneath the sleeve of his jacket. Merde. "This piece of shit? Bought it for twenty euro from aTaiwanese street vendor in St. Germain des Prés. I'll sell it to you for forty."The agent paused and finally stepped aside. "No thanks. Have a safe trip."Vernet did not breathe again until the truck was a good fifty meters down the street. And now hehad another problem. His cargo. Where do I take them?
"警察正在封锁街道。"安德烈。韦尔内边说边走进房间。"让你们出去很困难。"关上门后，他发现了传送带上的那个结实的塑料箱。上帝！他们找到了索尼埃的账号？
索菲和兰登正挤在桌旁看着一个大大的木头珠宝盒。索菲合上盖子，抬头说道："我们终究还是找到了账号。"韦尔内一句话也没说。一切都为之改变了。他敬畏地把眼光从盒子上移开，计划着下一步的行动。"我必须得把他们送出银行！"由于警察已经设置了路障，韦尔内只能想出一个办法把他们弄出去。"奈芙小姐，如果我能把你们安全地送出银行，你是要把这个东西带上呢，还是在走之前把它重新放回金库？"
索菲看了兰登一眼，对韦尔内说："我们得把它带走。"
韦尔内点点头，说道："好的。那么，不管那是什么，我建议你们穿过通道时用夹克衫把它包起来。我不希望让别人看到。"兰登脱下夹克衫，韦尔内快步走到传送带旁关上那个空箱子，然后输入了几个简单的指令。于是，传送带又开始转动，把那个塑料箱运回金库。他从电子装置上拔出钥匙递给索菲。
"这边走。快！"
他们到达装货台时，韦尔内可以看到从地下车库里透过来的闪烁的警灯。他皱起了眉头。他们也许正在封锁坡道。我能把他们成功地带出去吗？他浑身冷汗直冒。
他走向一辆银行的小型装甲车。安全运输是苏黎世储蓄银行提供的另一项服务。"快进货舱。"他打开沉重的后门，指着闪闪发亮的铁车厢说。"我马上就回来。"索菲和兰登往车厢里爬，韦尔内则急匆匆地穿过装货台，走进装货台那头的办公室，拿起一串钥匙，找出一件司机穿的工装夹克衫和一顶帽子。他脱下自己的西装外套，解下领带，换上司机穿的夹克衫。转念一想，他又在制服里面系上了枪套。出来时，他从行李架上抓起一把司机用的手枪，装上子弹，把枪塞进枪套，然后扣上制服的纽扣。他走回装甲车，拉低帽檐，瞅了瞅站在空荡荡的铁车厢里的索菲和兰登。
"你们需要把这个打开。"韦尔内边说边伸手进货舱按了一下墙上的开关，打开了舱顶上的照明灯。"你们最好坐下。出大门时千万别出声。"
索菲和兰登坐在货舱的金属地板上。兰登抱着那个用斜纹呢夹克裹着的宝贝。韦尔内"砰"地一声把大铁门关上，把他们锁在了里面。然后，他坐到方向盘后，启动了装甲车。
当装甲车轰隆隆地顺着坡道往上开时，韦尔内感到帽子里已经满是汗水。前方的警灯远比想象的要多。当装甲车加速爬上坡道时，第一道门朝里打开了。韦尔内开了过去。门在车后关上了。他继续把车开到第二道门前。第二道门也打开了。马上就可以出去了。
除非警车把坡道口封住了。
韦尔内轻轻地擦了擦眉头的汗，继续前进。
一个瘦高个的警察走上前来，挥手让他把车停在路障前。前面远一点的地方停着四辆巡逻车。
韦尔内把车停下。他把帽檐压得低低的，尽量掩饰起平时温文尔雅的风度，装出一副粗暴冷酷的样子。他推开车门，坐在方向盘后俯视着那个脸色铁青的警察。
"这不是我们自己的通道吗？"韦尔内粗声问道。
"我是科莱，警署中尉。"那个警察说道。他指着装甲车的货舱问："这里面是什么？"
韦尔内用粗鲁的法语回答："见鬼！我怎么知道那是什么东西。我只不过是个司机。"
科莱不动声色，继续说道："我们正在寻找两个罪犯。"
韦尔内放声大笑起来："那你就来对地方了。雇我开车的几个混蛋这么有钱，他们肯定是罪犯。"
那个警察拿出一张罗伯特。兰登护照上的照片，问道："这个人今天晚上是不是在你们银行？"
韦尔内耸耸肩说："不知道。我只是装货台上的小老鼠。他们不让我们接近客户。你应该进去问一下前台。""银行非要我们出示搜查令才让我们进。"
韦尔内露出厌烦的表情。"别拿当官的吓唬人。"
"请打开车厢。"科莱指着货舱说。
韦尔内瞪了他一眼，发出一阵怪笑。"打开车厢？你以为我有钥匙？你以为他们这么信任我们？他XX 的，你看看我拿的那一丁点薪水就知道了。"警察歪着头，显然不相信他的话。"你说你没有自己车上的钥匙？"
韦尔内摇摇头。"没有货舱的钥匙。只有开车用的。工头把货舱在装车的地方锁好后，让车等在那里，然后派人另外开着车把钥匙交给收货人。我们这边接到电话说收货人已经拿到钥匙后，才能发车。提前一秒钟都不行。他妈的，我从来都不知道我拉的是什么东西。""这辆车是什么时候锁上的？"
"肯定是在几个小时之前。我今晚要一直把车开到圣。塞瑞，货舱的钥匙早就到那儿了。"警察不吱声，只是死死地盯着他，好像要看出他的心思。
一颗汗珠眼看就要滑下韦尔内的鼻子了。"你不介意把它开走吧？"他用袖子擦了一下鼻子，顺势指着那辆挡在路上的警车说。"我要赶时间。"
"所有的司机都戴劳力士手表吗？"警察指着韦尔内的手腕问道。
韦尔内低头一看，发现他那块闪闪发亮的昂贵的名表从夹克衫的袖子下面露了出来。
"他妈的，这个东西吗？在圣。塞瑞时从一个台湾小贩那里用20 欧元买的。你要的话，我40块钱卖给你。"警察犹豫了一下，终于还是放行了。"不用，谢谢。路上注意安全。"
韦尔内把车开出足足50 米后，才长出了一口气。现在，他又要面对另外一个问题--他的货物。我把他们送到哪里去呢？
Chapter 46
Silas lay prone on the canvas mat in his room, allowing the lash wounds on his back to clot in theair. Tonight's second session with the Discipline had left him dizzy and weak. He had yet toremove the cilice belt, and he could feel the blood trickling down his inner thigh. Still, he could notjustify removing the strap.
　　I have failed the Church.
　　Far worse, I have failed the bishop.
　　Tonight was supposed to be Bishop Aringarosa's salvation. Five months ago, the bishop hadreturned from a meeting at the Vatican Observatory, where he had learned something that left himdeeply changed. Depressed for weeks, Aringarosa had finally shared the news with Silas.
　　"But this is impossible!" Silas had cried out. "I cannot accept it!""It is true," Aringarosa said. "Unthinkable, but true. In only six months."The bishop's words terrified Silas. He prayed for deliverance, and even in those dark days, his trustin God and The Way never wavered. It was only a month later that the clouds parted miraculouslyand the light of possibility shone through.
　　Divine intervention, Aringarosa had called it.
　　The bishop had seemed hopeful for the first time. "Silas," he whispered, "God has bestowed uponus an opportunity to protect The Way. Our battle, like all battles, will take sacrifice. Will you be asoldier of God?"Silas fell to his knees before Bishop Aringarosa—the man who had given him a new life—and hesaid, "I am a lamb of God. Shepherd me as your heart commands."When Aringarosa described the opportunity that had presented itself, Silas knew it could only bethe hand of God at work. Miraculous fate! Aringarosa put Silas in contact with the man who hadproposed the plan—a man who called himself the Teacher. Although the Teacher and Silas nevermet face-to-face, each time they spoke by phone, Silas was awed, both by the profundity of theTeacher's faith and by the scope of his power. The Teacher seemed to be a man who knew all, aman with eyes and ears in all places. How the Teacher gathered his information, Silas did notknow, but Aringarosa had placed enormous trust in the Teacher, and he had told Silas to do thesame. "Do as the Teacher commands you," the bishop told Silas. "And we will be victorious."Victorious. Silas now gazed at the bare floor and feared victory had eluded them. The Teacher hadbeen tricked. The keystone was a devious dead end. And with the deception, all hope had vanished.
　　Silas wished he could call Bishop Aringarosa and warn him, but the Teacher had removed all theirlines of direct communication tonight. For our safety.
　　Finally, overcoming enormous trepidation, Silas crawled to his feet and found his robe, which layon the floor. He dug his cell phone from the pocket. Hanging his head in shame, he dialed.
　　"Teacher," he whispered, "all is lost." Silas truthfully told the man how he had been tricked.
　　"You lose your faith too quickly," the Teacher replied. "I have just received news. Mostunexpected and welcome. The secret lives. Jacques Saunière transferred information before hedied. I will call you soon. Our work tonight is not yet done."
塞拉斯趴在屋内的帆布毯子上，好让鞭打的伤口凝结。今晚第二次接受戒律的鞭策让他感到眩晕，浑身无力。他必须把粗布腰带解开，他能感觉到血从大腿内侧汩汩地流下来。可他却始终无法解开腰带。
我辜负了教会。
我更辜负了主教。
今晚理应是阿林加洛沙主教的拯救日。五个月之前，主教去梵蒂冈天文台开会，得到了一个令他震惊的消息。压抑了几个礼拜之后，他最终还是告诉了塞拉斯。
"不可能！"塞拉斯大叫道。"我决不能接受！"
"是真的。"阿林加洛沙说道。"意想不到，但却是真的。在短短的6 个月里。"
主教的话让塞拉斯惊恐不已。他祈祷能够得到解脱。即便在那些黑暗日子里，他对上帝和教会的信仰也从未动摇过。但是，仅仅一个月之后，乌云奇迹般地散去，希望的光芒呈现在眼前。
神的力量，阿林加洛沙这样解释道。
主教第一次看到了希望。"塞拉斯。"他轻声说道。"上帝给了我们一次千载难逢的机会去捍卫我们的信仰。像所有战争一样，我们的战争也会有牺牲。你愿做上帝的士兵吗？"
塞拉斯跪倒在赋予他新生的阿林加洛沙主教的面前，说道："我是上帝的羔羊。按照上帝旨意指引我前进吧。"阿林加洛沙向他讲述了那个摆在眼前的机会，塞拉斯明白了这只能是上帝的旨意。神奇的命运！阿林加洛沙让塞拉斯跟提出这个计划的人联系--那人自称"导师"。虽然塞拉斯和"导师"素未谋面，但每次通电话时，塞拉斯都对"导师"虔诚的信仰和广大的神通表示深深的敬畏。"导师"好像知道所有的事情，在每个地方都有眼线。塞拉斯不知道"导师"是怎样收集信息的，但是阿林加洛沙非常信任"导师"，并且要塞拉斯也这么做。他对塞拉斯说："按照"导师"的命令做，我们就能胜利。"
胜利。塞拉斯看着光光的地板，害怕胜利就将离他们而去。导师上当了。寻找楔石之路根本就走不通。这个骗局将所有的希望都打破了。
塞拉斯真希望他能给阿林加洛沙主教打电话，发出警报。可是今晚导师已经切断了他们直接联系的途径。为了我们的安全。
最终，塞拉斯止住了颤抖，慢慢地站了起来，拿起地板上的长袍。他从口袋里摸出手机，羞愧地拨打着号码。
"导师。"他低声说道。"一切都完了。"塞拉斯原原本本地叙述了自己受骗的经过。
"你怎么能这么快就丧失信心呢。"导师答道。"我刚得到一些出乎意料，但令人欣慰的消息。神秘的命运。雅克。索尼埃临死之前留下了信息。我等会儿再打给你。今晚的工作还没结束。"
Chapter 47
Riding inside the dimly lit cargo hold of the armored truck was like being transported inside a cellfor solitary confinement. Langdon fought the all too familiar anxiety that haunted him in confinedspaces. Vernet said he would take us a safe distance out of the city. Where? How far?
　　Langdon's legs had gotten stiff from sitting cross-legged on the metal floor, and he shifted hisposition, wincing to feel the blood pouring back into his lower body. In his arms, he still clutchedthe bizarre treasure they had extricated from the bank.
　　"I think we're on the highway now," Sophie whispered.
　　Langdon sensed the same thing. The truck, after an unnerving pause atop the bank ramp, hadmoved on, snaking left and right for a minute or two, and was now accelerating to what felt like topspeed. Beneath them, the bulletproof tires hummed on smooth pavement. Forcing his attention tothe rosewood box in his arms, Langdon laid the precious bundle on the floor, unwrapped his jacket,and extracted the box, pulling it toward him. Sophie shifted her position so they were sitting sideby side. Langdon suddenly felt like they were two kids huddled over a Christmas present.
　　In contrast to the warm colors of the rosewood box, the inlaid rose had been crafted of a pale wood,probably ash, which shone clearly in the dim light. The Rose. Entire armies and religions had beenbuilt on this symbol, as had secret societies. The Rosicrucians. The Knights of the Rosy Cross.
　　"Go ahead," Sophie said. "Open it."Langdon took a deep breath. Reaching for the lid, he stole one more admiring glance at theintricate woodwork and then, unhooking the clasp, he opened the lid, revealing the object within.
　　Langdon had harbored several fantasies about what they might find inside this box, but clearly hehad been wrong on every account. Nestled snugly inside the box's heavily padded interior ofcrimson silk lay an object Langdon could not even begin to comprehend.
　　Crafted of polished white marble, it was a stone cylinder approximately the dimensions of a tennisball can. More complicated than a simple column of stone, however, the cylinder appeared to havebeen assembled in many pieces. Six doughnut-sized disks of marble had been stacked and affixedto one another within a delicate brass framework. It looked like some kind of tubular, multiwheeledkaleidoscope. Each end of the cylinder was affixed with an end cap, also marble, making itimpossible to see inside. Having heard liquid within, Langdon assumed the cylinder was hollow.
　　As mystifying as the construction of the cylinder was, however, it was the engravings around thetube's circumference that drew Langdon's primary focus. Each of the six disks had been carefullycarved with the same unlikely series of letters—the entire alphabet. The lettered cylinder remindedLangdon of one of his childhood toys—a rod threaded with lettered tumblers that could be rotatedto spell different words.
　　"Amazing, isn't it?" Sophie whispered.
　　Langdon glanced up. "I don't know. What the hell is it?"Now there was a glint in Sophie's eye. "My grandfather used to craft these as a hobby. They wereinvented by Leonardo da Vinci."Even in the diffuse light, Sophie could see Langdon's surprise.
　　"Da Vinci?" he muttered, looking again at the canister.
　　"Yes. It's called a cryptex. According to my grandfather, the blueprints come from one of DaVinci's secret diaries.""What is it for?"Considering tonight's events, Sophie knew the answer might have some interesting implications.
　　"It's a vault," she said. "For storing secret information."Langdon's eyes widened further.
　　Sophie explained that creating models of Da Vinci's inventions was one of her grandfather's best-loved hobbies. A talented craftsman who spent hours in his wood and metal shop, Jacques Saunièreenjoyed imitating master craftsmen—Fabergé, assorted cloisonne artisans, and the less artistic, butfar more practical, Leonardo da Vinci.
　　Even a cursory glance through Da Vinci's journals revealed why the luminary was as notorious forhis lack of follow-through as he was famous for his brilliance. Da Vinci had drawn up blueprintsfor hundreds of inventions he had never built. One of Jacques Saunière's favorite pastimes wasbringing Da Vinci's more obscure brainstorms to life—timepieces, water pumps, cryptexes, andeven a fully articulated model of a medieval French knight, which now stood proudly on the deskin his office. Designed by Da Vinci in 1495 as an outgrowth of his earliest anatomy andkinesiology studies, the internal mechanism of the robot knight possessed accurate joints andtendons, and was designed to sit up, wave its arms, and move its head via a flexible neck whileopening and closing an anatomically correct jaw. This armor-clad knight, Sophie had alwaysbelieved, was the most beautiful object her grandfather had ever built... that was, until she had seenthe cryptex in this rosewood box.
　　"He made me one of these when I was little," Sophie said. "But I've never seen one so ornate andlarge."Langdon's eyes had never left the box. "I've never heard of a cryptex."Sophie was not surprised. Most of Leonardo's unbuilt inventions had never been studied or evennamed. The term cryptex possibly had been her grandfather's creation, an apt title for this devicethat used the science of cryptology to protect information written on the contained scroll or codex.
　　Da Vinci had been a cryptology pioneer, Sophie knew, although he was seldom given credit.
　　Sophie's university instructors, while presenting computer encryption methods for securing data,praised modern cryptologists like Zimmerman and Schneier but failed to mention that it wasLeonardo who had invented one of the first rudimentary forms of public key encryption centuriesago. Sophie's grandfather, of course, had been the one to tell her all about that.
　　As their armored truck roared down the highway, Sophie explained to Langdon that the cryptexhad been Da Vinci's solution to the dilemma of sending secure messages over long distances. In anera without telephones or e-mail, anyone wanting to convey private information to someone faraway had no option but to write it down and then trust a messenger to carry the letter.
　　Unfortunately, if a messenger suspected the letter might contain valuable information, he couldmake far more money selling the information to adversaries than he could delivering the letterproperly.
　　Many great minds in history had invented cryptologic solutions to the challenge of data protection:
　　Julius Caesar devised a code-writing scheme called the Caesar Box; Mary, Queen of Scots createda transposition cipher and sent secret communiqués from prison; and the brilliant Arab scientistAbu Yusuf Ismail al-Kindi protected his secrets with an ingeniously conceived polyalphabeticsubstitution cipher.
　　Da Vinci, however, eschewed mathematics and cryptology for a mechanical solution. The cryptex.
　　A portable container that could safeguard letters, maps, diagrams, anything at all. Once informationwas sealed inside the cryptex, only the individual with the proper password could access it.
　　"We require a password," Sophie said, pointing out the lettered dials. "A cryptex works much like abicycle's combination lock. If you align the dials in the proper position, the lock slides open. Thiscryptex has five lettered dials. When you rotate them to their proper sequence, the tumblers insidealign, and the entire cylinder slides apart.""And inside?""Once the cylinder slides apart, you have access to a hollow central compartment, which can hold ascroll of paper on which is the information you want to keep private."Langdon looked incredulous. "And you say your grandfather built these for you when you wereyounger?""Some smaller ones, yes. A couple times for my birthday, he gave me a cryptex and told me ariddle. The answer to the riddle was the password to the cryptex, and once I figured it out, I couldopen it up and find my birthday card.""A lot of work for a card.""No, the cards always contained another riddle or clue. My grandfather loved creating elaboratetreasure hunts around our house, a string of clues that eventually led to my real gift. Each treasurehunt was a test of character and merit, to ensure I earned my rewards. And the tests were neversimple."Langdon eyed the device again, still looking skeptical. "But why not just pry it apart? Or smash it?
　　The metal looks delicate, and marble is a soft rock."Sophie smiled. "Because Da Vinci is too smart for that. He designed the cryptex so that if you tryto force it open in any way, the information self-destructs. Watch." Sophie reached into the box andcarefully lifted out the cylinder. "Any information to be inserted is first written on a papyrusscroll.""Not vellum?"Sophie shook her head. "Papyrus. I know sheep's vellum was more durable and more common inthose days, but it had to be papyrus. The thinner the better.""Okay.""Before the papyrus was inserted into the cryptex's compartment, it was rolled around a delicateglass vial." She tipped the cryptex, and the liquid inside gurgled. "A vial of liquid.""Liquid what?"Sophie smiled. "Vinegar."Langdon hesitated a moment and then began nodding. "Brilliant."Vinegar and papyrus, Sophie thought. If someone attempted to force open the cryptex, the glassvial would break, and the vinegar would quickly dissolve the papyrus. By the time anyoneextracted the secret message, it would be a glob of meaningless pulp.
　　"As you can see," Sophie told him, "the only way to access the information inside is to know theproper five-letter password. And with five dials, each with twenty-six letters, that's twenty-six tothe fifth power." She quickly estimated the permutations. "Approximately twelve millionpossibilities.""If you say so," Langdon said, looking like he had approximately twelve million questions runningthrough his head. "What information do you think is inside?""Whatever it is, my grandfather obviously wanted very badly to keep it secret." She paused, closingthe box lid and eyeing the five-petal Rose inlaid on it. Something was bothering her. "Did you sayearlier that the Rose is a symbol for the Grail?""Exactly. In Priory symbolism, the Rose and the Grail are synonymous."Sophie furrowed her brow. "That's strange, because my grandfather always told me the Rose meantsecrecy. He used to hang a rose on his office door at home when he was having a confidentialphone call and didn't want me to disturb him. He encouraged me to do the same." Sweetie, hergrandfather said, rather than lock each other out, we can each hang a rose—la fleur dessecrets—on our door when we need privacy. This way we learn to respect and trust each other.
　　Hanging a rose is an ancient Roman custom.
　　"Sub rosa," Langdon said. "The Romans hung a rose over meetings to indicate the meeting wasconfidential. Attendees understood that whatever was said under the rose—or sub rosa—had toremain a secret."Langdon quickly explained that the Rose's overtone of secrecy was not the only reason the Prioryused it as a symbol for the Grail. Rosa rugosa, one of the oldest species of rose, had five petals andpentagonal symmetry, just like the guiding star of Venus, giving the Rose strong iconographic tiesto womanhood. In addition, the Rose had close ties to the concept of "true direction" andnavigating one's way. The Compass Rose helped travelers navigate, as did Rose Lines, thelongitudinal lines on maps. For this reason, the Rose was a symbol that spoke of the Grail on manylevels—secrecy, womanhood, and guidance—the feminine chalice and guiding star that led tosecret truth.
　　As Langdon finished his explanation, his expression seemed to tighten suddenly.
　　"Robert? Are you okay?"His eyes were riveted to the rosewood box. "Sub... rosa," he choked, a fearful bewildermentsweeping across his face. "It can't be.""What?"Langdon slowly raised his eyes. "Under the sign of the Rose," he whispered. "This cryptex... Ithink I know what it is."
坐在装甲车那光线昏暗的货舱里就像在小房间里关禁闭一样。兰登极力克制自己的焦急，这种感觉太熟悉了，每次他被关起来时，都会有这种感觉。韦尔内说要把我们送到一个远离城市的安全的地带。那是什么地方呢？有多远呀？
长时间盘腿而坐的姿势使兰登的双腿都僵硬了。他换了个姿势，疼得向后一仰，感觉血又重新流回到了下半身。他仍然紧紧抱着那个从银行里拯救出来的奇异宝贝。
"我想我们已经上了高速公路。"索菲轻声说。
兰登也有同感。装甲车爬上银行的坡道后，停了老大一会儿，让人捏了一把汗。然后，车又左右迂回地前行了一两分钟，现在则好像在全速前进。防弹轮胎在乎坦的公路上转动，发出"轰隆隆"的声响。兰登又将注意力转到怀中的紫檀木盒子上。他把这宝贝盒子放在车厢地板上，打开包裹在外面的夹克衫，取出盒子，拉到自己面前。索菲转身，靠到他身边。兰登突然觉得他俩就像挤在一起看圣诞礼物的孩子。
与暖色调的紫檀木盒子不同，嵌在上面的玫瑰是用浅色的木头--可能是白腊木--刻成的。玫瑰在昏暗的灯光下清晰可辨。玫瑰。整个军队、宗教组织和秘密团体都是以它为基础建立起来的。蔷薇十字会员。玫瑰十字社的骑士。
"来啊，打开。"索菲说。
兰登深吸了一口气，把手伸向盒盖，用欣赏的目光看了看精致的盒子，打开扣钩，掀开盖子。里面的东西露了出来。
兰登曾猜想过盒子里究竟是什么东西，可是现在看来，他原有的猜测都是错的。盒内厚厚的紫红色丝绸衬里上放着一个兰登根本就不认识的东西。
那是个光滑的白色大理石圆筒，有网球罐那么大，非常精致。它看上去远比普通的圆柱形石头复杂，因为它好像是由好几块小石头拼凑成的。一个精致的铜框里叠放着六个大理石圆盘，就像一个管状的万花筒、圆筒的两端也用大理石粘着，根本无法看到圆柱内部。因为听到过液体的声音，所以兰登推测这个圆筒应该是中空的。
圆筒不仅外形神秘，周围还雕刻着许多图案，这引起了兰登的极大兴趣。每个小圆盘上都雕刻着一系列精致的字母--这些字母组成了完整的字母表。这样的圆筒使兰登想起了儿时的一种玩具--一根木棍上穿着刻有字母的转筒，转筒一转，就能拼出不同的单词。
"不可思议，是吧？"索菲小声问道。
兰登抬起头。"我不知道这到底是个什么鬼东西。"
索菲的眼睛闪闪发亮。"祖父过去特别喜欢制作这种东西。它是由达。芬奇发明的。"
即便在微弱的灯光下，索菲也能看到兰登脸上吃惊的表情。
"达。芬奇？"他又瞅了瞅那个圆筒，喃喃地说。
"是的。这叫做密码筒。祖父说，这个东西的设计图来自于达。芬奇的秘密日记。"
"这有什么用呢？"
想起今晚发生的事情，索菲觉得自己的回答也许会包含一些有趣的暗示。"这是个宝库，是用来保存秘密信息的。"兰登把眼睛睁得更大了。
索菲解释说，祖父最大的爱好之一就是根据达。芬奇的发明制作模型。雅克。索尼埃是个很有天分的工匠，经常会在放满木料和金属的工作室里呆上半天。他喜爱模仿工匠大师--精通景泰蓝的各种制作工艺的费伯奇，和艺术感略逊一筹，但更注重实用性的列昂纳多。达。芬奇。
只要浏览一下达。芬奇的日记，就会明白为什么这个博学的人在以聪明睿智而闻名于世的同时，会因做事虎头蛇尾而名声狼藉。达。芬奇曾画了上千张设计图纸，但从来也没有把它们付诸实践。雅克。索尼埃的消遣之一就是把达。芬奇的突发奇想变成现实--他制作了时间机器、水泵、密码筒，甚至还做了一个完全用铰链连接的中世纪法国骑士的模型。那个模型骑士现在正骄傲地站在他办公室的桌上。这个模型是达。芬奇于1495 年设计的。它以达。芬奇早年对解剖学和运动机能学的研究为基础，因此这个模型人有非常准确的关节和肌腱机构。根据设计，这个模型人可以坐起来，并能挥动手臂，还能转动脖子，同时张开下巴。在没看见这个密码筒之前，索菲还以为那个穿着盔甲的骑士是祖父的最佳作品。
"我小时候，他就给我做过一个这样的东西。"索菲说。"只是没有这么大，这么精美。"
兰登目不转睛地看着盒子："我从没听说过密码筒。"
索菲完全可以理解他的反应。很少人研究达。芬奇那些纸上谈兵的发明，而且一些发明连名字都没有。"密码筒"这个名字可能也是祖父起的。这个名称还是很贴切的，因为这个装置是运用密码术来保存信息的。
虽然达。芬奇对密码学的研究鲜为人知，但索菲确信他确实是这方面的先锋人物。索菲的大学老师在演示电脑编写密码的方法时，曾高度赞扬了斯莫曼和史格涅尔等当代密码学家，但没有指出实际上是达。芬奇在几百年前就发明了最基本的公众密码的编写方法。当然，索菲的祖父早就跟她说过这些。
装甲车在公路上呼啸着疾驰。索菲解释道："密码筒是达。芬奇为长途运送秘密情报而设计的。在那个没有电话和电子邮件的时代，人们要想把私人信息传递给远方朋友的话，就只能把要说的话写下来然后拜托信使送去。然而，如果送信人知道信里有重要信息，为了能赚更多的钱，就会把这个消息卖给发信者的敌人。"历史上有许多著名人物都曾尝试利用密码来保护信息。朱利亚斯。凯萨设计过一个叫做"凯萨盒"的密码保护工具；苏格兰女王马路亚创造过一种换位密码，成功地将秘密报告从监狱里送了出去；著名的阿拉伯科学家阿布曾运用字母替换密码保护他的秘密。
然而，达。芬奇却避开了数学和密码学而采用了"机械"的方法来保护信息。他发明了密码筒--一个可以保护信件、地图、图表等任何东西的便携容器。一旦把秘密放进这个密码筒，那么就只有知道密码的人才能将它取出。
"我们需要密码。"索菲指着刻满字母的转盘说。"密码筒的工作原理跟自行车上的号码锁一样。如果你把这些转盘上的字母正确地排成一行，锁就打开了。这个密码筒有五个转盘。把它们转到正确的位置，整个圆筒就会自动打开了。""那么里面呢？"
"圆筒一打开，你就能看到中间有个隔层，隔层里可以放下一卷纸，你可以把秘密写在上面。"兰登不解地问道："你说你小时候祖父给你做过这些东西？"
"是的，不过都比这个小。有几次是为了我的生日。他会给我一个密码筒，然后再让我猜一个谜语。谜底就是密码筒的密码。一旦我猜出谜底，就能打开密码筒找到生日卡片了。""要找到生日卡片，还真得费一番功夫。"
"不仅如此，卡片上总是写着另一个谜语或线索。祖父喜欢在房子周围精心地设计"寻宝行动"，提供一连串的线索让我去寻找真正的礼物。每次的寻宝行动都是对个性和品德的测试，以确保我有资格得到那个礼物，而且每次的测验都不简单。"兰登转头用怀疑的眼神打量着这个装置。"但是，为什么不把它撬开呢？或者干脆把它砸开？这金属看上去不算结实，大理石也不硬。"索菲笑道："达。芬奇那么聪明，怎么会想不到这一点呢。如果你把它强行打开，里面的信息会自动销毁。看。"索菲把手伸进盒子，小心翼翼地拿起那个圆筒。"放进去的任何信息都要先写在一张草质纸卷上。""不是羊皮纸？"
索菲摇摇头。"草质的纸张。我知道羊皮纸更耐用，而且在那个年代更普遍。但是必须得用草质的纸张，而且越薄越好。""接着说。"
"把草质纸张放进密码筒的隔层之前，得先把它绕在一个玻璃小瓶上。"她敲了一下密码筒，筒里的液体汩汩作响。"瓶里是液体。"
"什么液体？"
索菲笑道："醋。"
兰登愣了一会儿，然后点头称赞："聪明。"
醋和草质纸张，索菲想。如果有人强行打开密码器，就会弄破玻璃瓶，瓶里的醋就会迅速溶解草质纸张。等密码筒被打开的时候，那卷纸早已化作了一团纸浆。
"正如你所见。"索菲说。"得到秘密的唯一方法就是要知道一个正确的五位数密码。这上面有五个转盘，每个转盘上有26 个字母，那可能作为密码的数字就有26 的5 次方……"她迅速地估算。"约有1，200 万个。"
"这么说来。"兰登边说，边琢磨着那1，200 万种可能的排列。"你认为里面藏着什么秘密呢？"
"不管是什么，显然祖父非常想保守这个秘密。"她合上盖子看着那朵五瓣玫瑰，突然愣住了。"你刚才说这个玫瑰是圣杯的标志？"
"一点没错。对隐修会来说，五瓣玫瑰就意味着圣杯。"
索菲皱起眉头："那就太奇怪了，因为祖父一直对我说玫瑰代表着"秘密"。过去他在家里打秘密的电话，不想让我打搅时，总是在他办公室门上挂一朵玫瑰。他让我也学他这么做。祖父会说："宝贝，当我们需要独处的时候，与其把对方锁在门外，倒不如在自己的门上挂一朵代表秘密的玫瑰。这样我们就会学会尊重和信任对方。"要知道，在门上挂玫瑰可是古罗马人的习俗哪。"兰登说道："罗马人开会时在门上挂玫瑰表示会议需要保密。与会者明白凡是在挂玫瑰的会议上通报的内容都是机密的。"兰登又继续解释说，玫瑰暗示着秘密并不是隐修会把它作为圣杯的标志的唯一原因。
一种最古老的玫瑰--五瓣玫瑰--呈对称的五边形，就像维纳斯女神指路的明星，这样玫瑰在形状上就与"女性气质"产生了关联。而且，玫瑰还代表了"正确的方向"。罗盘可以为旅客导航，而"玫瑰线"，也就是地图上的经线也可以帮助人们确定方位。因此，玫瑰从多个层面上代表着圣杯的特质--秘密、女性气质、指引方向--就像指引人们寻求真理的明星。
兰登说完，突然僵在了那里。
"罗伯特，你没事吧？"
兰登死死地盯着紫檀木的盒子。"五瓣玫瑰。"他的喉咙突然哽住了，险上闪过一丝疑惑。
"这不可能。"
"什么？"
兰登慢慢抬起头，轻声说道："在玫瑰标记下面，这个密码筒……我想我知道了。"
Chapter 48
Langdon could scarcely believe his own supposition, and yet, considering who had given this stonecylinder to them, how he had given it to them, and now, the inlaid Rose on the container, Langdoncould formulate only one conclusion.
　　I am holding the Priory keystone.
　　The legend was specific.
　　The keystone is an encoded stone that lies beneath the sign of the Rose.
　　"Robert?" Sophie was watching him. "What's going on?"Langdon needed a moment to gather his thoughts. "Did your grandfather ever speak to you ofsomething called la clef de vo.te?""The key to the vault?" Sophie translated.
　　"No, that's the literal translation. Clef de vo.te is a common architectural term. Vo.te refers not to abank vault, but to a vault in an archway. Like a vaulted ceiling.""But vaulted ceilings don't have keys.""Actually they do. Every stone archway requires a central, wedge-shaped stone at the top whichlocks the pieces together and carries all the weight. This stone is, in an architectural sense, the keyto the vault. In English we call it a keystone." Langdon watched her eyes for any spark ofrecognition.
　　Sophie shrugged, glancing down at the cryptex. "But this obviously is not a keystone."Langdon didn't know where to begin. Keystones as a masonry technique for building stonearchways had been one of the best-kept secrets of the early Masonic brotherhood. The Royal ArchDegree. Architecture. Keystones. It was all interconnected. The secret knowledge of how to use awedged keystone to build a vaulted archway was part of the wisdom that had made the Masonssuch wealthy craftsmen, and it was a secret they guarded carefully. Keystones had always had atradition of secrecy. And yet, the stone cylinder in the rosewood box was obviously somethingquite different. The Priory keystone—if this was indeed what they were holding—was not at allwhat Langdon had imagined.
　　"The Priory keystone is not my specialty," Langdon admitted. "My interest in the Holy Grail isprimarily symbologic, so I tend to ignore the plethora of lore regarding how to actually find it."Sophie's eyebrows arched. "Find the Holy Grail?"Langdon gave an uneasy nod, speaking his next words carefully. "Sophie, according to Priory lore,the keystone is an encoded map... a map that reveals the hiding place of the Holy Grail."Sophie's face went blank. "And you think this is it?"Langdon didn't know what to say. Even to him it sounded unbelievable, and yet the keystone wasthe only logical conclusion he could muster. An encrypted stone, hidden beneath the sign of theRose.
　　The idea that the cryptex had been designed by Leonardo da Vinci—former Grand Master of thePriory of Sion—shone as another tantalizing indicator that this was indeed the Priory keystone. Aformer Grand Master's blueprint... brought to life centuries later by another Priory member. Thebond was too palpable to dismiss.
　　For the last decade, historians had been searching for the keystone in French churches. Grailseekers, familiar with the Priory's history of cryptic double-talk, had concluded la clef de vo.te wasa literal keystone—an architectural wedge—an engraved, encrypted stone, inserted into a vaultedarchway in a church. Beneath the sign of the Rose. In architecture, there was no shortage of roses.
　　Rose windows. Rosette reliefs. And, of course, an abundance of cinquefoils—the five-petaleddecorative flowers often found at the top of archways, directly over the keystone. The hiding placeseemed diabolically simple. The map to the Holy Grail was incorporated high in an archway ofsome forgotten church, mocking the blind churchgoers who wandered beneath it.
　　"This cryptex can't be the keystone," Sophie argued. "It's not old enough. I'm certain mygrandfather made this. It can't be part of any ancient Grail legend.""Actually," Langdon replied, feeling a tingle of excitement ripple through him, "the keystone isbelieved to have been created by the Priory sometime in the past couple of decades."Sophie's eyes flashed disbelief. "But if this cryptex reveals the hiding place of the Holy Grail, whywould my grandfather give it to me? I have no idea how to open it or what to do with it. I don'teven know what the Holy Grail is!"Langdon realized to his surprise that she was right. He had not yet had a chance to explain toSophie the true nature of the Holy Grail. That story would have to wait. At the moment, they werefocused on the keystone.
　　If that is indeed what this is....
　　Against the hum of the bulletproof wheels beneath them, Langdon quickly explained to Sophieeverything he had heard about the keystone. Allegedly, for centuries, the Priory's biggestsecret—the location of the Holy Grail—was never written down. For security's sake, it wasverbally transferred to each new rising sénéchal at a clandestine ceremony. However, at some pointduring the last century, whisperings began to surface that the Priory policy had changed. Perhaps itwas on account of new electronic eavesdropping capabilities, but the Priory vowed never againeven to speak the location of the sacred hiding place.
　　"But then how could they pass on the secret?" Sophie asked.
　　"That's where the keystone comes in," Langdon explained. "When one of the top four membersdied, the remaining three would choose from the lower echelons the next candidate to ascend assénéchal. Rather than telling the new sénéchal where the Grail was hidden, they gave him a testthrough which he could prove he was worthy."Sophie looked unsettled by this, and Langdon suddenly recalled her mentioning how hergrandfather used to make treasure hunts for her—preuves de mérite. Admittedly, the keystone wasa similar concept. Then again, tests like this were extremely common in secret societies. The bestknown was the Masons', wherein members ascended to higher degrees by proving they could keepa secret and by performing rituals and various tests of merit over many years. The tasks becameprogressively harder until they culminated in a successful candidate's induction as thirty-second-degree Mason.
　　"So the keystone is a preuve de mérite," Sophie said. "If a rising Priory sénéchal can open it, heproves himself worthy of the information it holds."Langdon nodded. "I forgot you'd had experience with this sort of thing.""Not only with my grandfather. In cryptology, that's called a 'self-authorizing language.' That is, ifyou're smart enough to read it, you're permitted to know what is being said."Langdon hesitated a moment. "Sophie, you realize that if this is indeed the keystone, yourgrandfather's access to it implies he was exceptionally powerful within the Priory of Sion. Hewould have to have been one of the highest four members."Sophie sighed. "He was powerful in a secret society. I'm certain of it. I can only assume it was thePriory."Langdon did a double take. "You knew he was in a secret society?""I saw some things I wasn't supposed to see ten years ago. We haven't spoken since." She paused.
　　"My grandfather was not only a ranking top member of the group... I believe he was the topmember."Langdon could not believe what she had just said. "Grand Master? But... there's no way you couldknow that!""I'd rather not talk about it." Sophie looked away, her expression as determined as it was pained.
　　Langdon sat in stunned silence. Jacques Saunière? Grand Master? Despite the astonishingrepercussions if it were true, Langdon had the eerie sensation it almost made perfect sense. Afterall, previous Priory Grand Masters had also been distinguished public figures with artistic souls.
　　Proof of that fact had been uncovered years ago in Paris's Bibliothèque Nationale in papers thatbecame known as Les Dossiers Secrets.
　　Every Priory historian and Grail buff had read the Dossiers. Cataloged under Number 4° lm1 249,the Dossiers Secrets had been authenticated by many specialists and incontrovertibly confirmedwhat historians had suspected for a long time: Priory Grand Masters included Leonardo da Vinci,Botticelli, Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, and, more recently, Jean Cocteau, the famous Parisianartist.
　　Why not Jacques Saunière?
　　Langdon's incredulity intensified with the realization that he had been slated to meet Saunièretonight. The Priory Grand Master called a meeting with me. Why? To make artistic small talk? Itsuddenly seemed unlikely. After all, if Langdon's instincts were correct, the Grand Master of thePriory of Sion had just transferred the brotherhood's legendary keystone to his granddaughter andsimultaneously commanded her to find Robert Langdon.
　　Inconceivable!
　　Langdon's imagination could conjure no set of circumstances that would explain Saunière'sbehavior. Even if Saunière feared his own death, there were three sénéchaux who also possessedthe secret and therefore guaranteed the Priory's security. Why would Saunière take such anenormous risk giving his granddaughter the keystone, especially when the two of them didn't getalong? And why involve Langdon... a total stranger?
　　A piece of this puzzle is missing, Langdon thought.
　　The answers were apparently going to have to wait. The sound of the slowing engine caused themboth to look up. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. Why is he pulling over already? Langdonwondered. Vernet had told them he would take them well outside the city to safety. The truckdecelerated to a crawl and made its way over unexpectedly rough terrain. Sophie shot Langdon anuneasy look, hastily closing the cryptex box and latching it. Langdon slipped his jacket back on.
　　When the truck came to a stop, the engine remained idling as the locks on the rear doors began toturn. When the doors swung open, Langdon was surprised to see they were parked in a woodedarea, well off the road. Vernet stepped into view, a strained look in his eye. In his hand, he held apistol.
　　"I'm sorry about this," he said. "I really have no choice."
兰登简直不敢相信自己的假设。但是，考虑到密码筒主人的身份，以及密码筒的传递方式，再加上盒盖上的玫瑰标记，他只能得出一个结论。
我拿着的是隐修会的楔石！
传说是真的。
楔石是一块放在玫瑰标记下的有编码的石头。
"罗伯特？"索菲看着他，问道。"怎么了？"
兰登定了定神。"祖父有没有告诉过你一个叫"拱门钥匙"（laclefdevoute）的东西？"
索菲把那个词译成英语："你是说"金库的钥匙"（thekeytothevault）吗？"
"不是，那只是字面意思。"拱门钥匙"是一个很普通的建筑术语。"voute"不是指银行的金库，而是指拱形顶部，比如说拱状的屋顶。""但是拱状的屋顶不需要钥匙呀。"
"实际上它们有钥匙。在每个拱顶的中央都有一个楔子形的石块。这个承重石块是用来固定所有石块的。因此，从建筑学的角度看，这个石块就是拱门的钥匙。在英语里我们把它叫做"楔石"。"兰登紧紧地盯着她的眼睛，看她是否明白。
索菲耸了耸肩，低头看着密码筒。说道："可是，这个显然不是楔石。"
兰登一时不知道从何说起。运用楔石建造拱状屋顶的技术是早期石匠行会严守的秘密之一。皇家拱顶弧度、建筑学以及楔石，都是相互关联的概念。掌握用楔石来建造拱门的秘密知识是石匠们致富的途径之一，因此他们都非常谨慎地保守着这个秘密，一贯有保守楔石秘密的传统。可是，紫檀木盒里的这个石筒显然跟一般的楔石不太一样。假如这个真是隐修会的楔石，那只能说明，隐修会的楔石跟他想象的完全不一样。
"我对隐修会的楔石并没有做过深人的研究。"兰登承认。"我是从象征学的角度来研究圣杯的，因此我一般不太会注意如何寻获圣杯的知识。"索菲睁大双眼，惊奇地问道："寻获圣杯？"
兰登点点头，一字一句地说："索菲，根据隐修会的说法，楔石是-个编有密码的地图。而这个地图标明的就是埋藏圣杯的地点。"索菲一脸茫然。"你认为这就是那个楔石？"
兰登不知道该说些什么，连他自己都觉得这让人难以置信。但是，断定这个东西是楔石，是他能做出的唯一结论。一块藏在玫瑰标记下的刻着密码的石头。
这个密码筒是由前隐修会的导师列昂纳多。达。芬奇设计的，这一事实更证明了这个圆筒就是隐修会的楔石。一个前导师的设计……几百年后隐修会的另一个成员付诸实施。这样的联系太紧密了。
在过去的十年里，历史学家们一直在法国的教堂里寻找着楔石。那些熟悉隐修会密码史的圣杯追寻者一直以为"拱门钥匙"就是真正意义上的楔石，而且这个刻着密码的石头楔子就塞在某个教堂的拱门上。就在玫瑰标记的下面。许多建筑物上都不乏玫瑰标记。玫瑰花形的窗格。玫瑰花形的浮雕。当然还有大量的五边形装饰，拱门的顶上经常会有这种五瓣玫瑰花形的装饰，就在楔石的上面。这些藏宝地似乎太招眼了。标明圣杯埋藏地的地图就塞在某个被人遗忘的教堂拱门上，嘲笑着下面来来往往的无知过客。
索菲争辩道："这个密码筒不可能是楔石，它的年代不够久远。我敢肯定这是祖父做的。这不可能是历史悠久的圣杯传说的一部分。"兰登突然感到一阵兴奋。他回答道："据说楔石实际上是由隐修会在几十年前造出来的。"索菲眨了眨眼，怀疑地说："可是，如果这个密码筒表明了圣杯的埋藏地，祖父为什么把它给我呢？我既不知道怎样打开它，也不知道怎样处置它。我甚至不知道圣杯究竟是什么！"兰登惊异地发现她所言极是。到现在为止，他还没有机会向她解释圣杯的真正意义。
那必须等一等。现在，他们的注意力在楔石上。
如果那是真的……
在防弹轮胎"轰隆隆"的转动声中，兰登快速地向索菲讲解了他所知道的关于圣杯的一切。据他所知，隐修会的最大秘密--也就是圣杯的埋藏地--几百年来从没有文字记载。为了安全起见，这个秘密都是在一个仪式上口头密传给新主教的。然而，在上个世纪，传说隐修会的策略有所改变。这也许是出于对新的电子窃听技术的防备，但不管怎样，隐修会发誓再也不"说出"那个神圣的埋藏地。
索菲问道："那他们怎样把这个秘密传下去呢？"
兰登解释说："这就是楔石出现的原因。当四个最高领导中的一个去世之后，剩下的三个得从低一级的成员中选出下一界的主教候选人。他们不是直接"告诉"候选人圣杯的埋藏地，而是对这个候选人进行测试来确证他有资格知道这个秘密。"索菲看上去有些将信将疑。兰登的话突然使她想起了祖父让她寻宝的往事。无可否认，这次得到楔石也是一次寻宝活动。这样的测试在秘密团体里也非常普遍。最著名的要算石匠行会。在行会里，一个人要想获得更高的职位就要证明他能够保守秘密，而且要在很多年里参加一些仪式并通过各种各样的品德测试。测试越来越难，对准备就任三十二级石匠的候选人的测试难度最大。
索菲说道："因此，楔石就是一个证明。如果隐修会的领导候选人能打开它，就能证明他自己有资格知道楔石里的秘密。"兰登点了点头："我忘了你有这方面的经验。"
"这些不仅仅是从与祖父在一起的经历中得知的。在密码学里，那叫做"自我认可语言"。就是说，如果你够聪明，能看懂密码，你就被允许知道密码的含意。"兰登犹豫了一会儿，说道："索菲，你要知道，如果这确实是楔石，而你祖父能拿到它，则说明他在隐修会里的权势是非常大的。他肯定是四个高层领导中的一个。"索菲叹了一口气，说道："我想他肯定是某个秘密组织里非常有权势的人物，而那个组织就是隐修会。"兰登又试探道："你过去就知道他加入了秘密组织？"
"十年前我看到了一些不该看到的东西。从那以后，我就再也没有跟祖父讲过一句话。
"她停顿了一下，继续说道。"祖父不仅是高层领导人之一，我想他是……那个组织的最高领袖。"兰登简直不敢相信她的话。"你是说他是掌门人？可是……你根本就不可能知道呀！"
"我不想谈论这个了。"索菲把头转向一边，脸上的表情很痛苦，但很坚定。
兰登坐在那儿，目瞪口呆。雅克。索尼埃？掌门人？虽然兰登对此惊讶万分，但他却有种奇怪的感觉，觉得这极有可能是真的。毕竟，历届的隐修会掌门人都是艺术修养很高的社会名流。多年之前，报上一篇题为《莱斯。都司耳斯的秘密》的文章就曾指出了这一点。
早期的隐修会历史学家和圣杯迷们都读过《莱斯。都司耳斯的秘密》这篇文章。这篇文章回答了历史学界悬而未决的问题--隐修会的历任大导师分别是列昂纳多。达。芬奇，鲍特赛里，伊萨克。牛顿爵士，维克多。雨果，以及最近的巴黎著名艺术家基恩。考克图。
为什么就不会有雅克。索尼埃呢？
兰登想起今晚索尼埃与自己安排的会见，觉得此事更加令人难以置信了。隐修会的掌门人打电话说要见我！为什么？难道是为了闲聊些艺术方面的事情吗？显然不可能。毕竟，如果兰登的感觉没错的话，隐修会的掌门人会把传说中的楔石交给他的孙女索菲，同时命令她去找兰登。
这太不可思议了。
兰登实在无法理解索尼埃这样做的动机。即使索尼埃预感到自己即将大祸临头，可还有其他三个领导人知道圣杯的秘密，他们照样可以保证隐修会的安全呀。为什么索尼埃要冒这么大的风险，把楔石交给孙女呢？更何况他们已经断绝联系多年了？而且，为什么要把兰登牵扯进来呢？他可是个陌生人呀。
"这个谜团中肯定有一环脱节了。"兰登想道。
很显然，答案还有待于继续探寻。装甲车的发动机突然减速，轮胎碾碎沙石的声音传进货舱，索菲和兰登抬起了头。"韦尔内为什么要把车停在路边？"兰登疑惑道。韦尔内告诉过他们，会把他们带到远离城市的安全地带。车速慢了下来，装甲车被开上一条颠簸的土路。索菲不安地看了一眼兰登，快速盖上了盒子，扣上搭扣。兰登赶紧脱下夹克，重新把盒子裹了起来。
装甲车停了下来，发动机空转着。后门上的锁眼转动了一下，门被打开了。兰登惊讶地发现，他们被带到了一片远离公路的树林里。韦尔内神情紧张地把头伸了进来，手里拿着一把枪。
"非常抱歉。"他说道。"但我别无选择。"
Chapter 49
André Vernet looked awkward with a pistol, but his eyes shone with a determination that Langdonsensed would be unwise to test.
　　"I'm afraid I must insist," Vernet said, training the weapon on the two of them in the back of theidling truck. "Set the box down."Sophie clutched the box to her chest. "You said you and my grandfather were friends.""I have a duty to protect your grandfather's assets," Vernet replied. "And that is exactly what I amdoing. Now set the box on the floor.""My grandfather entrusted this to me!" Sophie declared.
　　"Do it," Vernet commanded, raising the gun.
　　Sophie set the box at her feet.
　　Langdon watched the gun barrel swing now in his direction.
　　"Mr. Langdon," Vernet said, "you will bring the box over to me. And be aware that I'm asking youbecause you I would not hesitate to shoot."Langdon stared at the banker in disbelief. "Why are you doing this?""Why do you imagine?" Vernet snapped, his accented English terse now. "To protect my client'sassets.""We are your clients now," Sophie said.
　　Vernet's visage turned ice-cold, an eerie transformation. "Mademoiselle Neveu, I don't know howyou got that key and account number tonight, but it seems obvious that foul play was involved.
　　Had I known the extent of your crimes, I would never have helped you leave the bank.""I told you," Sophie said, "we had nothing to do with my grandfather's death!"Vernet looked at Langdon. "And yet the radio claims you are wanted not only for the murder ofJacques Saunière but for those of three other men as well?""What!" Langdon was thunderstruck. Three more murders? The coincidental number hit himharder than the fact that he was the prime suspect. It seemed too unlikely to be a coincidence. Thethree sénéchaux? Langdon's eyes dropped to the rosewood box. If the sénéchaux were murdered,Saunière had no options. He had to transfer the keystone to someone.
　　"The police can sort that out when I turn you in," Vernet said. "I have gotten my bank involved toofar already."Sophie glared at Vernet. "You obviously have no intention of turning us in. You would have drivenus back to the bank. And instead you bring us out here and hold us at gunpoint?""Your grandfather hired me for one reason—to keep his possessions both safe and private.
　　Whatever this box contains, I have no intention of letting it become a piece of cataloged evidencein a police investigation. Mr. Langdon, bring me the box."Sophie shook her head. "Don't do it."A gunshot roared, and a bullet tore into the wall above him. The reverberation shook the back ofthe truck as a spent shell clinked onto the cargo floor.
　　Shit! Langdon froze.
　　Vernet spoke more confidently now. "Mr. Langdon, pick up the box."Langdon lifted the box.
　　"Now bring it over to me." Vernet was taking dead aim, standing on the ground behind the rearbumper, his gun outstretched into the cargo hold now.
　　Box in hand, Langdon moved across the hold toward the open door.
　　I've got to do something! Langdon thought. I'm about to hand over the Priory keystone! AsLangdon moved toward the doorway, his position of higher ground became more pronounced, andhe began wondering if he could somehow use it to his advantage. Vernet's gun, though raised, wasat Langdon's knee level. A well-placed kick perhaps? Unfortunately, as Langdon neared, Vernetseemed to sense the dangerous dynamic developing, and he took several steps back, repositioninghimself six feet away. Well out of reach.
　　Vernet commanded, "Place the box beside the door."Seeing no options, Langdon knelt down and set the rosewood box at the edge of the cargo hold,directly in front of the open doors.
　　"Now stand up."Langdon began to stand up but paused, spying the small, spent pistol shell on the floor beside thetruck's precision-crafted doorsill.
　　"Stand up, and step away from the box."Langdon paused a moment longer, eyeing the metal threshold. Then he stood. As he did, hediscreetly brushed the shell over the edge onto the narrow ledge that was the door's lower sill. Fullyupright now, Langdon stepped backward.
　　"Return to the back wall and turn around."Langdon obeyed.
　　Vernet could feel his own heart pounding. Aiming the gun with his right hand, he reached nowwith his left for the wooden box. He discovered that it was far too heavy. I need two hands.
　　Turning his eyes back to his captives, he calculated the risk. Both were a good fifteen feet away, atthe far end of the cargo hold, facing away from him. Vernet made up his mind. Quickly, he laiddown the gun on the bumper, lifted the box with two hands, and set it on the ground, immediatelygrabbing the gun again and aiming it back into the hold. Neither of his prisoners had moved.
　　Perfect. Now all that remained was to close and lock the door. Leaving the box on the ground forthe moment, he grabbed the metal door and began to heave it closed. As the door swung past him,Vernet reached up to grab the single bolt that needed to be slid into place. The door closed with athud, and Vernet quickly grabbed the bolt, pulling it to the left. The bolt slid a few inches andcrunched to an unexpected halt, not lining up with its sleeve. What's going on? Vernet pulledagain, but the bolt wouldn't lock. The mechanism was not properly aligned. The door isn't fullyclosed! Feeling a surge of panic, Vernet shoved hard against the outside of the door, but it refusedto budge. Something is blocking it! Vernet turned to throw full shoulder into the door, but this timethe door exploded outward, striking Vernet in the face and sending him reeling backward onto theground, his nose shattering in pain. The gun flew as Vernet reached for his face and felt the warmblood running from his nose.
　　Robert Langdon hit the ground somewhere nearby, and Vernet tried to get up, but he couldn't see.
　　His vision blurred and he fell backward again. Sophie Neveu was shouting. Moments later, Vernetfelt a cloud of dirt and exhaust billowing over him. He heard the crunching of tires on gravel andsat up just in time to see the truck's wide wheelbase fail to navigate a turn. There was a crash as thefront bumper clipped a tree. The engine roared, and the tree bent. Finally, it was the bumper thatgave, tearing half off. The armored car lurched away, its front bumper dragging. When the truckreached the paved access road, a shower of sparks lit up the night, trailing the truck as it sped away.
　　Vernet turned his eyes back to the ground where the truck had been parked. Even in the faintmoonlight he could see there was nothing there.
　　The wooden box was gone.
虽然安德烈。韦尔内拿着枪有些不自然，但目光坚定。因此，兰登觉得还是不要冒险试探为妙。
韦尔内从车后用枪指着他们，说道："恐怕我必须坚持要你们这样做。把盒子放下。"
索菲把盒子抱在胸前："你说过你和祖父是朋友。"
韦尔内回答："我有责任保护你祖父的财产。我正在这么做。现在，把盒子放在车上。"
索菲大声说道："可我祖父把这个委托给我保管了！"
韦尔内举枪，命令道："放下。"
索菲把盒子放在脚边。
韦尔内又把枪对准了兰登。
韦尔内说道："兰登先生，把盒子拿过来。注意，我让你拿，是因为我可以毫不犹豫地向你开枪。"兰登看着这位行长，简直不敢相信眼前的一切。"你为什么要这样做？"
韦尔内呵斥道："这还用问吗？"他用法国腔的英语简洁地说。"当然是保护客户的财产。"
索菲说："可我们现在也是你的客户呀。"
韦尔内的脸色骤然变得冷酷无情。"奈芙小姐，我不知道你今晚是如何得到钥匙和账号的，但这里面显然有肮脏的交易。如果我知道你们有这么大的罪过，我才不会带你们离开银行呢。"索菲说道："我告诉过你，我们跟祖父的死无关！"
韦尔内看了看兰登说："可是，为什么收音机里却说通缉你不仅是因为你杀死了雅克。索尼埃，还因为你杀死了其他三个人？"
"什么！"兰登觉得五雷轰顶。还有其他三宗谋杀？这个数字远比知道自己是嫌疑犯更令他震惊。这绝不可能是巧合。"三个人？"兰登看着那个紫檀木盒子，想道。"如果其他三个人也被谋杀了，雅克。索尼埃就别无选择了，他必须得把这个楔石传给别人。"韦尔内说道："我把你送进警察局之后，警察会弄明白的。我已经让我的银行陷得太深了。"索菲盯着韦尔内，说道："你显然没打算把我们送去警察局，否则你会把我们送回银行的。相反，你把我们带到这里，然后用枪指着我们。""你祖父雇佣我就是为了让我保证他的财产安全，并为他保密。因此，不管这个盒子里装的是什么，我都不想让警察拿去调查，成为他们登记在册的证据。兰登先生，把盒子拿过来。"索菲摇着头说道："别拿过去。"
一声枪响，子弹穿过兰登头上的车顶。一个弹壳"哨"的一声掉在了车厢里，回音萦绕着货舱。
"他妈的！"兰登吓得一动也不敢动。
韦尔内更坚定地说："兰登先生，拿起盒子。"
兰登拿起了盒子。
"现在，把盒子拿给我。"韦尔内站在车后，把枪伸进货舱，瞄准兰登的心脏。
兰登把盒子拿在手里，朝车门移动。
"我得做点什么！"兰登想。"眼看就要把隐修会的楔石交出去了！"兰登越朝门口移，他那居高临下的优越位置就越明显。他开始盘算着要怎样利用这个优势。虽然韦尔内举着枪，可是只能够到兰登的膝盖。"也许我可以飞起一脚把枪踢掉？"兰登想。然而，当兰登靠近车门时，韦尔内似乎感觉到了兰登的位置所带来的危险。他向后退了几步，站到了六英尺开外的地方。兰登根本就够不着他了。
韦尔内命令道："把盒子放在门边上。"
兰登已经别无选择，只好蹲下，把紫檀木盒子放在货舱的门口。
"现在，站起来。"
兰登慢慢起身。可是，他突然发现那个弹壳就落在车门边上。他停了下来。
"站起来，离开那个盒子。"
兰登盯着铁门槛，迟疑了一会儿。他慢慢地站了起来，小心地用手把子弹壳拨到了车门边。然后，他站直了身子，向后退去。
"回车厢后面去，脸对着里头！"
兰登照办。
韦尔内能感觉到自己的心脏在剧烈地跳动。他右手握枪，左手伸向那个木盒。可是他发现那个盒子实在太重了。得用两只手！看着他的两个俘虏，他估算了一下风险。他们都在十五英尺之外的货舱那头，而且脸都朝着里头。韦尔内做出了决定。他迅速地把枪放在保险杠上，用双手拿起那个木盒，放在地上，然后飞速地抓起枪，指着货舱里的两个人。
那两个俘虏一动不动。
太棒了。现在要做的只是关上车门，然后锁上。他向前一步，抓住车门，向里推去。
门"砰"的一声关上了。韦尔内迅速地抓住门闩，要把它闩上。门闩滑动了几英寸，突然停了下来。插不动了。怎么回事？韦尔内又向里推了一下，可是门闩就是插不进去。门关不上了。韦尔内慌了，他用力地将门从外往里推，可就是推不动。肯定是有东西把门卡住了！于是韦尔内再次用尽全力将门向里推，这时门却"砰"的一声向外弹开来，狠狠地打在他的脸上，把他击倒在地。他感到鼻子一阵剧痛。韦尔内扔掉枪，捂住脸，一股温热的鲜血从鼻子里汩汩地流了出来。
兰登跳到了韦尔内身旁。韦尔内挣扎着站起来，可是头晕目眩，眼前一片漆黑。"嘭"的一声又摔倒在地，只模模糊糊地听到索菲在喊叫。过了一会儿，他感到头上有尘土和废气在翻腾，听到轮胎轧在沙石上发出的"咔嚓咔嚓""的声响。他挣扎着坐了起来，刚好看到装甲车直直地向前开去。由于两轮之间的轴距太大，装甲车转起弯来特别困难。前保险杠猛的一下碰到了一棵树上，把树顶弯了。保险杠也被顶下了一半。装甲车拖着摇摇欲坠的保险杠向前开去，转上了公路。保险杠与地面摩擦着发出耀眼的火花。最后，装甲车消失在夜幕中。
韦尔内看着原先停车的地方。虽然月光微弱，但他知道那里已经空空如也。
木盒被他们带走了！
Chapter 50
The unmarked Fiat sedan departing Castel Gandolfo snaked downward through the Alban Hillsinto the valley below. In the back seat, Bishop Aringarosa smiled, feeling the weight of the bearerbonds in the briefcase on his lap and wondering how long it would be before he and the Teachercould make the exchange.
　　Twenty million euro.
　　The sum would buy Aringarosa power far more valuable than that.
　　As his car sped back toward Rome, Aringarosa again found himself wondering why the Teacherhad not yet contacted him. Pulling his cell phone from his cassock pocket, he checked the carriersignal. Extremely faint.
　　"Cell service is intermittent up here," the driver said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Inabout five minutes, we'll be out of the mountains, and service improves.""Thank you." Aringarosa felt a sudden surge of concern. No service in the mountains? Maybe theTeacher had been trying to reach him all this time. Maybe something had gone terribly wrong.
　　Quickly, Aringarosa checked the phone's voice mail. Nothing. Then again, he realized, the Teachernever would have left a recorded message; he was a man who took enormous care with hiscommunications. Nobody understood better than the Teacher the perils of speaking openly in thismodern world. Electronic eavesdropping had played a major role in how he had gathered hisastonishing array of secret knowledge.
　　For this reason, he takes extra precautions.
　　Unfortunately, the Teacher's protocols for caution included a refusal to give Aringarosa any kind ofcontact number. I alone will initiate contact, the Teacher had informed him. So keep your phoneclose. Now that Aringarosa realized his phone might not have been working properly, he fearedwhat the Teacher might think if he had been repeatedly phoning with no answer.
　　He'll think something is wrong.
　　Or that I failed to get the bonds.
　　The bishop broke a light sweat.
　　Or worse... that I took the money and ran!
没有牌照的菲亚特轿车启程离开了岗道尔夫堡，沿着奥尔本山蜿蜒的盘山公路向山下行驶，进入了山谷。车后座上，阿林加洛沙主教面带微笑，琢磨着还要等多久才能和导师交易，他的膝盖可以感受到公文包里无记名支票的分量。
两千万欧元。
这笔钱能够为阿林加洛沙带来远比其本身更重要的权力。
在飞奔向罗马的车上，阿林加洛沙再次琢磨着为什么导师到现在还没有和他联络。于是他拿出手机来看，发现信号非常微弱。
"在这里，手机的信号总是断断续续的。"司机从后视镜里瞥了他一眼说。"再过五分钟，出了山区，信号就会好了。""谢谢。"阿林加洛沙突然担忧起来：山区没有信号？也许导师一直在试图联系他，也许出什么大乱子了。
阿林加洛沙迅速地检查了语音信箱，结果一无所获。他这才想起导师根本就不可能给他留下什么信息记录。导师是一个对通讯交流极为谨慎的人，他深谙在现代化社会中口无遮拦的危险性。他之所以能收集到令人惊讶的秘密信息，电子窃听功不可没。
因此，他总是格外警惕。
不幸的是，不留联系电话给阿林加洛沙正是导师的防范措施之一。我会主动联系你的，导师曾经告诉过他。所以把你的手机带在身边。当阿林加洛沙发现他的手机可能无法接通时，他真担心导师会误以为他一直不接听电话。
他可能会以为出了什么事。
也许会以为我没有弄到支票。
主教出了一身冷汗。
或许更糟……他可能认为我卷了钱跑了！
Chapter 51
Even at a modest sixty kilometers an hour, the dangling front bumper of the armored truck gratedagainst the deserted suburban road with a grinding roar, spraying sparks up onto the hood.
　　We've got to get off the road, Langdon thought.
　　He could barely even see where they were headed. The truck's lone working headlight had beenknocked off-center and was casting a skewed sidelong beam into the woods beside the countryhighway. Apparently the armor in this "armored truck" referred only to the cargo hold and not thefront end.
　　Sophie sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the rosewood box on her lap.
　　"Are you okay?" Langdon asked.
　　Sophie looked shaken. "Do you believe him?""About the three additional murders? Absolutely. It answers a lot of questions—the issue of yourgrandfather's desperation to pass on the keystone, as well as the intensity with which Fache ishunting me.""No, I meant about Vernet trying to protect his bank."Langdon glanced over. "As opposed to?""Taking the keystone for himself."Langdon had not even considered it. "How would he even know what this box contains?""His bank stored it. He knew my grandfather. Maybe he knew things. He might have decided hewanted the Grail for himself."Langdon shook his head. Vernet hardly seemed the type. "In my experience, there are only tworeasons people seek the Grail. Either they are naive and believe they are searching for the long-lostCup of Christ...""Or?""Or they know the truth and are threatened by it. Many groups throughout history have sought todestroy the Grail."The silence between them accentuated the sound of the scraping bumper. They had driven a fewkilometers now, and as Langdon watched the cascade of sparks coming off the front of the truck,he wondered if it was dangerous. Either way, if they passed another car, it would certainly drawattention. Langdon made up his mind.
　　"I'm going to see if I can bend this bumper back."Pulling onto the shoulder, he brought the truck to a stop.
　　Silence at last.
　　As Langdon walked toward the front of the truck, he felt surprisingly alert. Staring into the barrelof yet another gun tonight had given him a second wind. He took a deep breath of nighttime air andtried to get his wits about him. Accompanying the gravity of being a hunted man, Langdon wasstarting to feel the ponderous weight of responsibility, the prospect that he and Sophie mightactually be holding an encrypted set of directions to one of the most enduring mysteries of all time.
　　As if this burden were not great enough, Langdon now realized that any possibility of finding away to return the keystone to the Priory had just evaporated. News of the three additional murdershad dire implications. The Priory has been infiltrated. They are compromised. The brotherhoodwas obviously being watched, or there was a mole within the ranks. It seemed to explain whySaunière might have transferred the keystone to Sophie and Langdon—people outside thebrotherhood, people he knew were not compromised. We can't very well give the keystone back tothe brotherhood. Even if Langdon had any idea how to find a Priory member, chances were goodthat whoever stepped forward to take the keystone could be the enemy himself. For the moment, atleast, it seemed the keystone was in Sophie and Langdon's hands, whether they wanted it or not.
　　The truck's front end looked worse than Langdon had imagined. The left headlight was gone, andthe right one looked like an eyeball dangling from its socket. Langdon straightened it, and itdislodged again. The only good news was that the front bumper had been torn almost clean off.
　　Langdon gave it a hard kick and sensed he might be able to break it off entirely.
　　As he repeatedly kicked the twisted metal, Langdon recalled his earlier conversation with Sophie.
　　My grandfather left me a phone message, Sophie had told him. He said he needed to tell me thetruth about my family. At the time it had meant nothing, but now, knowing the Priory of Sion wasinvolved, Langdon felt a startling new possibility emerge.
　　The bumper broke off suddenly with a crash. Langdon paused to catch his breath. At least the truckwould no longer look like a Fourth of July sparkler. He grabbed the bumper and began dragging itout of sight into the woods, wondering where they should go next. They had no idea how to openthe cryptex, or why Saunière had given it to them. Unfortunately, their survival tonight seemed todepend on getting answers to those very questions.
　　We need help, Langdon decided. Professional help.
　　In the world of the Holy Grail and the Priory of Sion, that meant only one man. The challenge, ofcourse, would be selling the idea to Sophie.
　　Inside the armored car, while Sophie waited for Langdon to return, she could feel the weight of therosewood box on her lap and resented it. Why did my grandfather give this to me? She had not theslightest idea what to do with it.
　　Think, Sophie! Use your head. Grand-père is trying to tell you something!
　　Opening the box, she eyed the cryptex's dials. A proof of merit. She could feel her grandfather'shand at work. The keystone is a map that can be followed only by the worthy. It sounded like hergrandfather to the core.
　　Lifting the cryptex out of the box, Sophie ran her fingers over the dials. Five letters. She rotated thedials one by one. The mechanism moved smoothly. She aligned the disks such that her chosenletters lined up between the cryptex's two brass alignment arrows on either end of the cylinder. Thedials now spelled a five-letter word that Sophie knew was absurdly obvious.
　　G-R-A-I-L.
　　Gently, she held the two ends of the cylinder and pulled, applying pressure slowly. The cryptexdidn't budge. She heard the vinegar inside gurgle and stopped pulling. Then she tried again.
　　V-I-N-C-IAgain, no movement.
　　V-O-U-T-ENothing. The cryptex remained locked solid.
　　Frowning, she replaced it in the rosewood box and closed the lid. Looking outside at Langdon,Sophie felt grateful he was with her tonight. P.S. Find Robert Langdon. Her grandfather's rationalefor including him was now clear. Sophie was not equipped to understand her grandfather'sintentions, and so he had assigned Robert Langdon as her guide. A tutor to oversee her education.
　　Unfortunately for Langdon, he had turned out to be far more than a tutor tonight. He had becomethe target of Bezu Fache... and some unseen force intent on possessing the Holy Grail.
　　Whatever the Grail turns out to be.
　　Sophie wondered if finding out was worth her life.
　　As the armored truck accelerated again, Langdon was pleased how much more smoothly it drove.
　　"Do you know how to get to Versailles?"Sophie eyed him. "Sightseeing?""No, I have a plan. There's a religious historian I know who lives near Versailles. I can't rememberexactly where, but we can look it up. I've been to his estate a few times. His name is LeighTeabing. He's a former British Royal Historian.""And he lives in Paris?""Teabing's life passion is the Grail. When whisperings of the Priory keystone surfaced about fifteenyears ago, he moved to France to search churches in hopes of finding it. He's written some bookson the keystone and the Grail. He may be able to help us figure out how to open it and what to dowith it."Sophie's eyes were wary. "Can you trust him?""Trust him to what? Not steal the information?""And not to turn us in.""I don't intend to tell him we're wanted by the police. I'm hoping he'll take us in until we can sortall this out.""Robert, has it occurred to you that every television in France is probably getting ready tobroadcast our pictures? Bezu Fache always uses the media to his advantage. He'll make itimpossible for us to move around without being recognized."Terrific, Langdon thought. My French TV debut will be on "Paris's Most Wanted." At least JonasFaukman would be pleased; every time Langdon made the news, his book sales jumped.
　　"Is this man a good enough friend?" Sophie asked.
　　Langdon doubted Teabing was someone who watched television, especially at this hour, but stillthe question deserved consideration. Instinct told Langdon that Teabing would be totallytrustworthy. An ideal safe harbor. Considering the circumstances, Teabing would probably tripover himself to help them as much as possible. Not only did he owe Langdon a favor, but Teabingwas a Grail researcher, and Sophie claimed her grandfather was the actual Grand Master of thePriory of Sion. If Teabing heard that, he would salivate at the thought of helping them figure thisout.
　　"Teabing could be a powerful ally," Langdon said. Depending on how much you want to tell him.
　　"Fache probably will be offering a monetary reward."Langdon laughed. "Believe me, money is the last thing this guy needs." Leigh Teabing waswealthy in the way small countries were wealthy. A descendant of Britain's First Duke ofLancaster, Teabing had gotten his money the old-fashioned way—he'd inherited it. His estateoutside of Paris was a seventeenth-century palace with two private lakes.
　　Langdon had first met Teabing several years ago through the British Broadcasting Corporation.
　　Teabing had approached the BBC with a proposal for a historical documentary in which he wouldexpose the explosive history of the Holy Grail to a mainstream television audience. The BBCproducers loved Teabing's hot premise, his research, and his credentials, but they had concerns thatthe concept was so shocking and hard to swallow that the network might end up tarnishing itsreputation for quality journalism. At Teabing's suggestion, the BBC solved its credibility fears bysoliciting three cameos from respected historians from around the world, all of whom corroboratedthe stunning nature of the Holy Grail secret with their own research.
　　Langdon had been among those chosen.
　　The BBC had flown Langdon to Teabing's Paris estate for the filming. He sat before cameras inTeabing's opulent drawing room and shared his story, admitting his initial skepticism on hearing ofthe alternate Holy Grail story, then describing how years of research had persuaded him that thestory was true. Finally, Langdon offered some of his own research—a series of symbologicconnections that strongly supported the seemingly controversial claims.
　　When the program aired in Britain, despite its ensemble cast and well-documented evidence, thepremise rubbed so hard against the grain of popular Christian thought that it instantly confronted afirestorm of hostility. It never aired in the States, but the repercussions echoed across the Atlantic.
　　Shortly afterward, Langdon received a postcard from an old friend—the Catholic Bishop ofPhiladelphia. The card simply read: Et tu, Robert?
　　"Robert," Sophie asked, "you're certain we can trust this man?""Absolutely. We're colleagues, he doesn't need money, and I happen to know he despises theFrench authorities. The French government taxes him at absurd rates because he bought a historiclandmark. He'll be in no hurry to cooperate with Fache."Sophie stared out at the dark roadway. "If we go to him, how much do you want to tell him?"Langdon looked unconcerned. "Believe me, Leigh Teabing knows more about the Priory of Sionand the Holy Grail than anyone on earth."Sophie eyed him. "More than my grandfather?""I meant more than anyone outside the brotherhood.""How do you know Teabing isn't a member of the brotherhood?""Teabing has spent his life trying to broadcast the truth about the Holy Grail. The Priory's oath is tokeep its true nature hidden.""Sounds to me like a conflict of interest."Langdon understood her concerns. Saunière had given the cryptex directly to Sophie, and althoughshe didn't know what it contained or what she was supposed to do with it, she was hesitant toinvolve a total stranger. Considering the information potentially enclosed, the instinct was probablya good one. "We don't need to tell Teabing about the keystone immediately. Or at all, even. Hishouse will give us a place to hide and think, and maybe when we talk to him about the Grail, you'llstart to have an idea why your grandfather gave this to you.""Us," Sophie reminded.
　　Langdon felt a humble pride and wondered yet again why Saunière had included him.
　　"Do you know more or less where Mr. Teabing lives?" Sophie asked.
　　"His estate is called Chateau Villette."Sophie turned with an incredulous look. "The Chateau Villette?""That's the one.""Nice friends.""You know the estate?""I've passed it. It's in the castle district. Twenty minutes from here."Langdon frowned. "That far?""Yes, which will give you enough time to tell me what the Holy Grail really is."Langdon paused. "I'll tell you at Teabing's. He and I specialize in different areas of the legend, sobetween the two of us, you'll get the full story." Langdon smiled. "Besides, the Grail has beenTeabing's life, and hearing the story of the Holy Grail from Leigh Teabing will be like hearing thetheory of relativity from Einstein himself.""Let's hope Leigh doesn't mind late-night visitors.""For the record, it's Sir Leigh." Langdon had made that mistake only once. "Teabing is quite acharacter. He was knighted by the Queen several years back after composing an extensive historyon the House of York."Sophie looked over. "You're kidding, right? We're going to visit a knight?"Langdon gave an awkward smile. "We're on a Grail quest, Sophie. Who better to help us than aknight?"
就算只以60 公里的时速前行，装甲车上摇摇欲坠的保险杠在沙土路面上拖行，还是摩擦出了巨大的声响，擦出的火花不断飞溅到引擎盖上。
我们必须离开这条路，兰登寻思道。
他甚至看不清前进的方向。装甲车那唯一能亮的车头灯被撞歪了，一条横梁也飞进了乡村公路边的树林里。显然，这辆车所谓的"装甲"指的不过是货舱而并非车头。
索菲坐在乘客席上，面无表情地看着膝上的木盒。
"你没事吧？"兰登问道。
索菲看起来有些动摇："你相信他么？"
"你指的是另外三宗谋杀？当然。这解释了很多事情--为什么你祖父拼命要将楔石传下来，为什么法希要极力追捕我。""不，我指的是韦尔内竭力要保全他的银行。"
兰登瞥了索菲一眼："而不是……？"
"把楔石据为已有。"
兰登根本没有考虑这个问题："他怎么可能知道这盒子里装的到底是什么呢？"
"楔石被保存在他的银行，他认识祖父，也许他知道些什么，可能他下定决心一定要把圣杯搞到手。"兰登摇了摇头。韦尔内不像这种人。"依我看，人们寻找圣杯只有两个原因：不是他们幼稚地以为自己正在追寻遗失已久的耶稣用过的杯子……""就是？"
"就是他们了解真相，并因此受到威胁。历史上有很多组织曾经寻找并试图销毁圣杯。"
车内的沉默使破保险杠发出的摩擦声更响了。现在他们已经开出了好几公里。兰登看着那瀑布般溅落在车头的火花，担心那会给行驶造成危险。再说，这一定会引起过往车辆的注意。于是兰登打定子主意。
"我下去看看能不能把保险杠扳回原位。"
他把车靠边，开进一个车站。
噪音终于消失了。
兰登走向车头时极其警觉。现在，他不用再盯着枪管，终于能够自由地呼吸了。他深吸了一口夜晚的空气，让头脑恢复清醒。他不仅背负着被迫捕的压力，也开始感到一份沉甸甸的责任。他和索菲的命运将与一个历史上最重要的秘密联系在一起。
兰登感到肩头的担子沉重，因为他知道他们不能再将楔石送还隐修会了。另外三个人遇害的消息说明已经有外人打人了隐修会内部，他们妥协了。显然，隐修会的成员被人监视着，要么就是组织里混进了奸细。看来这就是索尼埃把楔石交给索菲和兰登的原因--他们不是隐修会的成员，他们是不会妥协的人。把楔石交还给隐修会是不妥当的。即使兰登有办法找到隐修会的成员，但很有可能来拿楔石的人恰恰就是敌人。至少现在，不管索菲和兰登想不想要，楔石还在他们手里。
装甲车的车头看上去比兰登想象的还要糟。左边的车头灯已经不见了，右边的那个就像在眼窝里晃荡的眼球。兰登把它塞回原处，它又滚落出来，唯一让人高兴的就是前保险杠就快要掉下来了。兰登飞起一脚，想把它踢掉。
他一边踹那块扭曲的金属，一边回忆着和索菲的谈话。索菲曾告诉他。"祖父在电话中给我留言，说他要告诉我关于我家庭的真相"。这句话在当时听来似乎毫无意义，但现在，当了解到郇山隐修会与此有关之后，兰登想出了一种令人吃惊的可能性。
前保险杠完全脱落了下来。兰登喘了口气。至少这辆车不会再好像燃放国庆节的烟花了。他拎起那条保险杠，把它拖到树林的隐蔽处，盘算着接下来的去向。他们不知道如何打开密码筒，也不知道为什么索尼埃会把这个交给他们。但不幸的是，他们今晚的生死存亡就取决于能否找到这些问题的答案。
兰登想道：我们需要专业的帮助。
在圣杯与郇山隐修会的研究领域，只有一个人可以帮上这个忙了。当然，最麻烦的问题是首先必须要说服索菲。
索菲呆在货舱里等着兰登，她感到膝盖上的紫檀木盒子沉沉的，对它心生厌恶。为什么祖父要给我这个？她百思不得其解。
思考，索菲！动动脑筋。祖父想告诉你什么？
索菲打开盒子，取出密码筒，仔细端详。她甚至可以感触到祖父制作密码筒的双手。
楔石是一个只有杰出的人才能读懂的地图。祖父就是那样一个"杰出的人"。
索菲抚摸着转筒。五个字母。石盘在她手中流畅地转动着。她把五个字母对准了石筒两端的铜箭头。这一举动看似荒谬，那五个字母组成了一个单词。
G-R-A-I-L.
她轻轻地抓着圆柱体的两端往外拉。密码筒一动不动。她听见筒内响起醋的流动声，于是停了下来。她又试了一次。
V-I-N-C-I.
还是没有动静。
V-O-U-T-E.
密码筒依旧紧锁。
她皱着眉头把密码筒放回盒里。看着车外的兰登，索菲很感激他能够陪伴自己。附言：去找罗伯特。兰登。祖父要把他也拉进来的原因已经很清楚了。索菲还不知如何理解祖父的意图，因此祖父指定罗伯特。兰登做她的向导。一个全面指导她的老师。不幸的是，对兰登来说，他今晚可远远不止是老师，他变成了贝祖。法希的猎物……而且还有某些未知势力也在企图夺取圣杯。
圣杯到底是什么？
索菲怀疑最终的发现是否值得他们牺牲性命。
装甲车再次上路了。兰登觉得心情舒畅，因为驾驶变得轻松多了。"你认识去凡尔赛的路吗？"
索菲看着他："观光？"
"不，我有个计划。我认识的一个宗教史学家住在凡尔赛附近。虽然我不记得具体的地址，但是我们可以去找找，我曾经去过他的庄园几次。他叫雷。提彬，是前英国皇家历史学家。""他住在巴黎？"
"提彬的生活激情就来自于圣杯。十五年前当隐修会楔石现身的传说散布开来时，他搬到法国，希望能够在教堂里找到圣杯。他也写过一些关于楔石和圣杯的书。也许他可以帮助我们打开这个密码筒并且告诉我们如何处置它。"索菲的眼神中充满警惕："你信任他么？"
"相信他什么？不会盗窃信息？"
"而且不会把我们交出去。"
"我并不打算告诉他我们正被警方通缉。我希望他会收留我们直到真相大白。"
"罗伯特，不要忘了，法国的每一台电视机都可能正在播出咱们的照片。贝祖。法希经常利用媒体，他会让我们寸步难行。"太棒了，兰登想。我的荧屏处女秀就要献给"巴黎通缉犯"节目了。至少琼纳斯。福克曼要幸灾乐祸了：每次兰登弄出什么新闻来，他的书一定会卖疯的。
"他真的是靠得住的朋友吗？"索菲问。
兰登也拿不准提彬是不是会看电视，特别是在这个时段，不过直觉告诉兰登，提彬是完全值得信任的。一个理想的避风港。鉴于当前的情况，提彬应该会全力帮助他们的。这不仅是因为他欠兰登一个人情，而且也因为提彬是一个执着的圣杯研究者。索菲声称她祖父是郇山隐修会的掌门人，而提彬一旦知道这些，定会渴望帮助他们揭开谜底。
"提彬将会是一个有力的盟友。"兰登说。"不过，这还要看你打算告诉他多少实情。"
"法希很可能会悬赏。"
兰登笑了。"相信我，钱对此人来说是最次要的需求。"雷。提彬富可敌国，作为英国兰卡斯特公爵一世的后代，提彬用传统的方法--继承--获得了钱财。他在巴黎郊外的庄园是一座拥有两个私人湖泊的十七世纪宫殿。
兰登是在几年前通过BBC 第一次见到提彬的。提彬找到BBC，想通过主流媒体向人们揭示一段关于圣杯的爆炸性历史事实。BBC 的制片人对提彬的假设、研究和证据都非常感兴趣，但是他认为这些观点实在太令人难以接受，担心节目会影响广播网在新闻界的盛名。在提彬的建议下，BBC 恳请世界各地的著名历史学家帮助解决信任危机，请他们通过各自的研究证实那则令人震惊的圣杯秘密。
兰登就是被选中的学者之一。
BBC 曾经让兰登飞去提彬的庄园协助拍摄。他在提彬富丽堂皇的画室里面对着摄像机讲述他的观点，从他对圣杯故事的怀疑讲到数年来自己对这个问题的研究。最后，兰登提供了一些自己的研究成果--一系列象征性的联系有力地支持了提彬的主张。
虽然这个节目在英国拍摄时排出了强大的拍摄阵容并提供了充分的证据，可还是由于它跟大多数基督徒的看法有激烈冲突而招致了强烈的不满。这个节目没有在大西洋彼岸的美国播出，可却也在那里引起了强烈的反响。节目在英国播出后不久，兰登接到了来自老朋友、费城基督教主教的一张明信片。上面简单地写道："是你干的吗，罗伯特？"
"罗伯特。"索菲问道。"你肯定那个人值得信任吗？"
"绝对肯定。我们是朋友，而且他不缺钱。碰巧，他很讨厌法国政府。法国政府向他征收高得出奇的地皮税，理由是他买的那块地是著名的风景区。他绝对不会和法希合作的。"索菲望着车窗外漆黑的公路，问道："要是我们去找他的话，你打算告诉他多少情况呢？"
兰登满不在乎地说："相信我，关于隐修会和圣杯，雷。提彬知道得比世界上任何人都多。"索菲看着他问道："比祖父知道得多吗？"
"我是说比隐修会之外的人知道得多。"
"那你怎么知道提彬不是隐修会的人呢？"
"提彬一生都在试图告诉人们圣杯的真相。而隐修会则是要隐藏圣杯的实质。"
"听上去似乎有利益上的冲突。"
兰登明白她的担忧。索尼埃把密码筒交给了索菲，虽然索菲不知道里面装着什么，也不知道如何处置它，可她不会情愿把一个陌生人牵扯到这件事里来。密码筒里可能隐藏着重大秘密，凭直觉办事也许没错。"我们不需要马上告诉提彬关于楔石的事。或者根本就不告诉他。我们可以藏在他家，同时也可以好好思考一下。也许当我们跟他谈论圣杯的时候。你能搞明白祖父把楔石交给你的原因呢。""祖父是把它交给了你和我。"索菲提醒道。
兰登感到有些自豪，不过也再一次为索尼埃把他牵扯进来而大惑不解。
"你应该对提彬先生的住处有所了解吧？"索菲问道。
"他住的地方叫维莱特庄园。"
索菲以怀疑的眼光看着他："你是说那曾是皇室的维莱特庄园吗？"
"正是。"
"那他可是个友善的人啊。"
"你知道那个地方？"
"我以前从那里经过。在城堡区。离这里有20 分钟的路程。"
兰登皱着眉头问道："这么远啊？"
"是啊。不过这正好可以让你有足够的时间来告诉我圣杯到底是什么。"
兰登停了一下，说道："我会在提彬的住处告诉你的。他和我对圣杯的研究各有专攻，因此如果同时听我们两人讲，你会了解得更加全面。"兰登微笑着继续说道："另外，圣杯就是提彬的命根子。他会把圣杯的故事讲得精彩无比，就像爱因斯坦讲相对论一样。""希望雷不会介意我们在深夜拜访他。"
"他可是正宗的"雷爵士"。"兰登很清楚。"提彬是个有个性的人。他是在写了一本详尽的约克家族史后被英国女王封为爵士的。"索菲直视着他。"你在开玩笑吧？我们要去拜访一位爵士？"
兰登尴尬地笑了一下，说道："我们在寻找圣杯，索菲。还有谁能比一位爵士能为我们提供更多的帮助呢？"
Chapter 52
The Sprawling 185-acre estate of Chateau Villette was located twenty-five minutes northwest ofParis in the environs of Versailles. Designed by Fran.ois Mansart in 1668 for the Count of Aufflay,it was one of Paris's most significant historical chateaux. Complete with two rectangular lakes andgardens designed by Le N.tre, Chateau Villette was more of a modest castle than a mansion. Theestate fondly had become known as la Petite Versailles.
　　Langdon brought the armored truck to a shuddering stop at the foot of the mile-long driveway.
　　Beyond the imposing security gate, Sir Leigh Teabing's residence rose on a meadow in thedistance. The sign on the gate was in English: PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING.
　　As if to proclaim his home a British Isle unto itself, Teabing had not only posted his signs inEnglish, but he had installed his gate's intercom entry system on the right-hand side of thetruck—the passenger's side everywhere in Europe except England.
　　Sophie gave the misplaced intercom an odd look. "And if someone arrives without a passenger?""Don't ask." Langdon had already been through that with Teabing. "He prefers things the way theyare at home."Sophie rolled down her window. "Robert, you'd better do the talking."Langdon shifted his position, leaning out across Sophie to press the intercom button. As he did, analluring whiff of Sophie's perfume filled his nostrils, and he realized how close they were. Hewaited there, awkwardly prone, while a telephone began ringing over the small speaker.
　　Finally, the intercom crackled and an irritated French accent spoke. "Chateau Villette. Who iscalling?""This is Robert Langdon," Langdon called out, sprawled across Sophie's lap. "I'm a friend of SirLeigh Teabing. I need his help.""My master is sleeping. As was I. What is your business with him?""It is a private matter. One of great interest to him.""Then I'm sure he will be pleased to receive you in the morning."Langdon shifted his weight. "It's quite important.""As is Sir Leigh's sleep. If you are a friend, then you are aware he is in poor health."Sir Leigh Teabing had suffered from polio as a child and now wore leg braces and walked withcrutches, but Langdon had found him such a lively and colorful man on his last visit that it hardlyseemed an infirmity. "If you would, please tell him I have uncovered new information about theGrail. Information that cannot wait until morning."There was a long pause.
　　Langdon and Sophie waited, the truck idling loudly.
　　A full minute passed.
　　Finally, someone spoke. "My good man, I daresay you are still on Harvard Standard Time." Thevoice was crisp and light.
　　Langdon grinned, recognizing the thick British accent. "Leigh, my apologies for waking you at thisobscene hour.""My manservant tells me that not only are you in Paris, but you speak of the Grail.""I thought that might get you out of bed.""And so it has.""Any chance you'd open the gate for an old friend?""Those who seek the truth are more than friends. They are brothers."Langdon rolled his eyes at Sophie, well accustomed to Teabing's predilection for dramatic antics.
　　"Indeed I will open the gate," Teabing proclaimed, "but first I must confirm your heart is true. Atest of your honor. You will answer three questions."Langdon groaned, whispering at Sophie. "Bear with me here. As I mentioned, he's something of acharacter.""Your first question," Teabing declared, his tone Herculean. "Shall I serve you coffee, or tea?"Langdon knew Teabing's feelings about the American phenomenon of coffee. "Tea," he replied.
　　"Earl Grey.""Excellent. Your second question. Milk or sugar?"Langdon hesitated.
　　"Milk," Sophie whispered in his ear. "I think the British take milk.""Milk," Langdon said.
　　Silence.
　　"Sugar?"Teabing made no reply.
　　Wait! Langdon now recalled the bitter beverage he had been served on his last visit and realizedthis question was a trick. "Lemon!" he declared. "Earl Grey with lemon""Indeed." Teabing sounded deeply amused now. "And finally, I must make the most grave ofinquiries." Teabing paused and then spoke in a solemn tone. "In which year did a Harvard scullerlast outrow an Oxford man at Henley?"Langdon had no idea, but he could imagine only one reason the question had been asked. "Surelysuch a travesty has never occurred."The gate clicked open. "Your heart is true, my friend. You may pass."
维莱特庄园位于凡尔赛近郊，占地185 公顷，从巴黎驱车25 分钟就可以到达。它最早是由弗兰西斯。曼萨特于1668 年为奥弗提伯爵设计的，是巴黎附近的历史名址之一。维莱特庄园里有两个四边形的湖泊和众多的花园，这些都是勒。瑙特设计的。与其说这座庄园看上去像座大厦，倒不如说它像个现代化的城堡。
兰登把车停在长达一英里的车道前。透过那扇气派的防盗大门，可以看到远处草坪边上雷。提彬爵士居住的那座城堡。门上的告示牌用英语写着："私人领地，非请勿入。"
为了表明这是英国人的领地，提彬不仅在告示牌上写上英语，还把对讲电话安装在了车辆的右侧。除了英国，在整个欧洲那可是乘客坐的方位。
索菲诧异地看了看对讲电话，问道："要是有人没带乘客怎么办？"
"别管这么多了。"兰登很熟悉提彬那套我行我素的做法。"他喜欢按英国的规矩行事。"
索菲摇下车窗："罗伯特，最好由你来叫门。"
兰登从索菲的身前倾过身子，去按对讲电话的按钮。这时，他闻到了索菲身上诱人的香水味，突然意识到他们俩已紧紧地靠在了一起。他尴尬地等在那儿，听对讲机不停地振铃。
最后，对讲机里终于传来"咔嗒"一声，接着传出带法国口音的声音："这里是维莱特庄园。是谁在按铃？"
"我是罗伯特。兰登。"兰登俯在索菲的膝盖上，答道："我是雷。提彬爵士的朋友。我需要他的帮助。""主人正在睡觉。我也是。你找他有什么事？"
"有点私事。他会非常感兴趣的。"
"那么，我敢肯定他会非常愉快地在早上会见您。"
兰登变换了一个姿势，坚持道："这件事非常重要，我需要马上见他。"
"可是雷爵士正在睡觉。如果您是他朋友，您应该知道他身体不好，经不起折腾。"
雷。提彬爵士小时候得过脑灰质炎，现在腿上还绑着矫形器，走路得用拐杖。可是兰登上次见他时，发现他是那么活泼风趣，一点也不像有病的样子。"如果可以，请告诉他我找到了有关圣杯的新线索。非常紧急，不能等到早上。"接下来就是一片沉寂。
兰登和索菲等在那里，耳边只有装甲车发动机的隆隆响声。
足足过了一分钟。
终于对讲机那头传来了清脆而温和说话声。"好家伙，我敢说你现在还在按照美国哈佛大学的标准时间来行事呢。"兰登听出话里浓重的英国口音，笑了起来。"雷，非常抱歉在这个不合适的时间把你吵醒。""我的男佣告诉我你不仅来到了巴黎，而且还带来了圣杯的消息。"
"我想那样会把你从床上喊起来。"
"不错。"
"能为老朋友开开门吗？"
"寻求真理的人不仅仅是朋友，而且是兄弟。"
兰登看了看索菲。提彬喜欢用戏剧里的古怪台词，这一点他早就习惯了。
"我会打开大门的。"提彬宣称道。"但是首先我得确认你的心是否真诚。为了测试一下你的道义，你得回答三个问题。"兰登叹了一口气，在索菲的耳边低声说道："请忍耐一会儿。我跟你说过，他是个有个性的人。"
这时，提彬大声说道："第一个问题。你是要喝茶还是咖啡？"
兰登知道提彬讨厌美国人喝咖啡的习惯，于是说道："茶，而且是伯爵红茶。"
"很好。第二个问题。要加牛奶还是糖？"
兰登犹豫了一下。
"牛奶。"索菲低声说。"我想英国人喜欢加牛奶。"
"牛奶。"兰登答道。
沉默。
"要不，就加糖吧？"
提彬仍旧没有回答。
等一下。兰登突然想起了上次来访时喝的苦茶，意识到这个问题是个圈套。"柠檬！"他大声说道："伯爵红茶加柠檬。"
"好的。"提彬听起来非常开心。"我要问最后一个非常严肃的问题。"提彬停顿了一下，然后用庄重的语气问："哈佛大学的划桨手，于哪一年在英国亨利市举办的划船比赛中胜过了牛津的划桨手？"
兰登对此一无所知，但他却非常明了提彬提出这个问题的原因。于是，他答道："这种滑稽事从来就没有发生过。"大门"嗒"的一声打开了。"你有一颗真诚的心，我的朋友。你可以进来了。"
Chapter 53
"Monsieur Vernet!" The night manager of the Depository Bank of Zurich felt relieved to hear thebank president's voice on the phone. "Where did you go, sir? The police are here, everyone iswaiting for you!""I have a little problem," the bank president said, sounding distressed. "I need your help rightaway."You have more than a little problem, the manager thought. The police had entirely surrounded thebank and were threatening to have the DCPJ captain himself show up with the warrant the bankhad demanded. "How can I help you, sir?""Armored truck number three. I need to find it."Puzzled, the manager checked his delivery schedule. "It's here. Downstairs at the loading dock.""Actually, no. The truck was stolen by the two individuals the police are tracking.""What? How did they drive out?""I can't go into the specifics on the phone, but we have a situation here that could potentially beextremely unfortunate for the bank.""What do you need me to do, sir?""I'd like you to activate the truck's emergency transponder."The night manager's eyes moved to the LoJack control box across the room. Like many armoredcars, each of the bank's trucks had been equipped with a radio-controlled homing device, whichcould be activated remotely from the bank. The manager had only used the emergency systemonce, after a hijacking, and it had worked flawlessly—locating the truck and transmitting thecoordinates to the authorities automatically. Tonight, however, the manager had the impression thepresident was hoping for a bit more prudence. "Sir, you are aware that if I activate the LoJacksystem, the transponder will simultaneously inform the authorities that we have a problem."Vernet was silent for several seconds. "Yes, I know. Do it anyway. Truck number three. I'll hold. Ineed the exact location of that truck the instant you have it.""Right away, sir."Thirty seconds later, forty kilometers away, hidden in the undercarriage of the armored truck, a tinytransponder blinked to life.
银行夜间值班经理听到行长的声音从电话中传来，长吁了一口气。"韦尔内先生！您到哪儿去了？警察来了，大家都在等您呢！""我碰到个小问题。"行长有些哀伤地说道。"我现在急需你的帮助。"
你的问题可不小，经理想。警察已经把银行包围了，并威胁说会让警署上尉亲自把银行搜查令带来。"您要我怎样帮您，先生？"
"三号装甲车不见了。我得找到它。"
经理疑惑地核对了一下发货时刻表。"它在这里呀。就在地下装货台。"
"实际上不在。那辆车被警察正在追捕的人偷走了。"
"什么？他们是怎么开走的？"
"电话里说不清楚，但这件事有可能会对我们银行造成非常不利的影响。"
"那您要我做什么呢？先生。"
"你启动那辆车的紧急雷达监视器。"
经理看着对面墙边上的控制箱。跟其他装甲车一样，这家银行的装甲车也安装了无线电控制的自动导引装置，这个装置可以由银行自动开启。这位经理只在银行遭到抢劫后用过一次这个紧急启动系统。那次，系统情况运转良好，很快地找到了那辆车，并自动把车的方位报告给了警方。可是今晚，经理觉得行长理应更谨慎一点。"先生，您要知道，如果我启动了自动搜索系统，那个雷达监视器就会自动通知警方我们这里出了事。"韦尔内沉默了一会儿，然后说道："是的，我知道。开吧。三号车。我不挂电话。发现那辆车的确切位置就马上告诉我。""我马上启动，先生。"
三十秒钟之后，四十公里外，一辆装甲车下的小雷达启动了。
Chapter 54
As Langdon and Sophie drove the armored truck up the winding, poplar-lined driveway toward thehouse, Sophie could already feel her muscles relaxing. It was a relief to be off the road, and shecould think of few safer places to get their feet under them than this private, gated estate owned bya good-natured foreigner.
　　They turned into the sweeping circular driveway, and Chateau Villette came into view on theirright. Three stories tall and at least sixty meters long, the edifice had gray stone facing illuminatedby outside spotlights. The coarse facade stood in stark juxtaposition to the immaculatelylandscaped gardens and glassy pond.
　　The inside lights were just now coming on.
　　Rather than driving to the front door, Langdon pulled into a parking area nestled in the evergreens.
　　"No reason to risk being spotted from the road," he said. "Or having Leigh wonder why we arrivedin a wrecked armored truck."Sophie nodded. "What do we do with the cryptex? We probably shouldn't leave it out here, but ifLeigh sees it, he'll certainly want to know what it is.""Not to worry," Langdon said, removing his jacket as he stepped out of the car. He wrapped thetweed coat around the box and held the bundle in his arms like a baby.
　　Sophie looked dubious. "Subtle.""Teabing never answers his own door; he prefers to make an entrance. I'll find somewhere inside tostash this before he joins us." Langdon paused. "Actually, I should probably warn you before youmeet him. Sir Leigh has a sense of humor that people often find a bit... strange."Sophie doubted anything tonight would strike her as strange anymore.
　　The pathway to the main entrance was hand-laid cobblestone. It curved to a door of carved oak andcherry with a brass knocker the size of a grapefruit. Before Sophie could grasp the knocker, thedoor swung open from within.
　　A prim and elegant butler stood before them, making final adjustments on the white tie and tuxedohe had apparently just donned. He looked to be about fifty, with refined features and an austereexpression that left little doubt he was unamused by their presence here.
　　"Sir Leigh will be down presently," he declared, his accent thick French. "He is dressing. Heprefers not to greet visitors while wearing only a nightshirt. May I take your coat?" He scowled atthe bunched-up tweed in Langdon's arms.
　　"Thank you, I'm fine.""Of course you are. Right this way, please."The butler guided them through a lush marble foyer into an exquisitely adorned drawing room,softly lit by tassel-draped Victorian lamps. The air inside smelled antediluvian, regal somehow,with traces of pipe tobacco, tea leaves, cooking sherry, and the earthen aroma of stone architecture.
　　Against the far wall, flanked between two glistening suits of chain mail armor, was a rough-hewnfireplace large enough to roast an ox. Walking to the hearth, the butler knelt and touched a match toa pre-laid arrangement of oak logs and kindling. A fire quickly crackled to life.
　　The man stood, straightening his jacket. "His master requests that you make yourselves at home."With that, he departed, leaving Langdon and Sophie alone.
　　Sophie wondered which of the fireside antiques she was supposed to sit on—the Renaissancevelvet divan, the rustic eagle-claw rocker, or the pair of stone pews that looked like they'd beenlifted from some Byzantine temple.
　　Langdon unwrapped the cryptex from his coat, walked to the velvet divan, and slid the wooden boxdeep underneath it, well out of sight. Then, shaking out his jacket, he put it back on, smoothed thelapels, and smiled at Sophie as he sat down directly over the stashed treasure.
　　The divan it is, Sophie thought, taking a seat beside him.
　　As she stared into the growing fire, enjoying the warmth, Sophie had the sensation that hergrandfather would have loved this room. The dark wood paneling was bedecked with Old Masterpaintings, one of which Sophie recognized as a Poussin, her grandfather's second-favorite painter.
　　On the mantel above the fireplace, an alabaster bust of Isis watched over the room.
　　Beneath the Egyptian goddess, inside the fireplace, two stone gargoyles served as andirons, theirmouths gaping to reveal their menacing hollow throats. Gargoyles had always terrified Sophie as achild; that was, until her grandfather cured her of the fear by taking her atop Notre Dame Cathedralin a rainstorm. "Princess, look at these silly creatures," he had told her, pointing to the gargoylerainspouts with their mouths gushing water. "Do you hear that funny sound in their throats?"Sophie nodded, having to smile at the burping sound of the water gurgling through their throats.
　　"They're gargling," her grandfather told her. "Gargariser! And that's where they get the silly name'gargoyles.' " Sophie had never again been afraid.
　　The fond memory caused Sophie a pang of sadness as the harsh reality of the murder gripped heragain. Grand-père is gone. She pictured the cryptex under the divan and wondered if LeighTeabing would have any idea how to open it. Or if we even should ask him. Sophie's grandfather'sfinal words had instructed her to find Robert Langdon. He had said nothing about involving anyoneelse. We needed somewhere to hide, Sophie said, deciding to trust Robert's judgment.
　　"Sir Robert!" a voice bellowed somewhere behind them. "I see you travel with a maiden."Langdon stood up. Sophie jumped to her feet as well. The voice had come from the top of a curledstaircase that snaked up to the shadows of the second floor. At the top of the stairs, a form movedin the shadows, only his silhouette visible.
　　"Good evening," Langdon called up. "Sir Leigh, may I present Sophie Neveu.""An honor." Teabing moved into the light.
　　"Thank you for having us," Sophie said, now seeing the man wore metal leg braces and usedcrutches. He was coming down one stair at a time. "I realize it's quite late.""It is so late, my dear, it's early." He laughed. "Vous n'êtes pas Américaine?"Sophie shook her head. "Parisienne.""Your English is superb.""Thank you. I studied at the Royal Holloway.""So then, that explains it." Teabing hobbled lower through the shadows. "Perhaps Robert told you Ischooled just down the road at Oxford." Teabing fixed Langdon with a devilish smile. "Of course, Ialso applied to Harvard as my safety school."Their host arrived at the bottom of the stairs, appearing to Sophie no more like a knight than SirElton John. Portly and ruby-faced, Sir Leigh Teabing had bushy red hair and jovial hazel eyes thatseemed to twinkle as he spoke. He wore pleated pants and a roomy silk shirt under a paisley vest.
　　Despite the aluminum braces on his legs, he carried himself with a resilient, vertical dignity thatseemed more a by-product of noble ancestry than any kind of conscious effort.
　　Teabing arrived and extended a hand to Langdon. "Robert, you've lost weight."Langdon grinned. "And you've found some."Teabing laughed heartily, patting his rotund belly. "Touché. My only carnal pleasures these daysseem to be culinary." Turning now to Sophie, he gently took her hand, bowing his head slightly,breathing lightly on her fingers, and diverting his eyes. "M'lady."Sophie glanced at Langdon, uncertain whether she'd stepped back in time or into a nuthouse.
　　The butler who had answered the door now entered carrying a tea service, which he arranged on atable in front of the fireplace.
　　"This is Rémy Legaludec," Teabing said, "my manservant."The slender butler gave a stiff nod and disappeared yet again.
　　"Rémy is Lyonais," Teabing whispered, as if it were an unfortunate disease. "But he does saucesquite nicely."Langdon looked amused. "I would have thought you'd import an English staff?""Good heavens, no! I would not wish a British chef on anyone except the French tax collectors."He glanced over at Sophie. "Pardonnez-moi, Mademoiselle Neveu. Please be assured that mydistaste for the French extends only to politics and the soccer pitch. Your government steals mymoney, and your football squad recently humiliated us."Sophie offered an easy smile.
　　Teabing eyed her a moment and then looked at Langdon. "Something has happened. You both lookshaken."Langdon nodded. "We've had an interesting night, Leigh.""No doubt. You arrive on my doorstep unannounced in the middle of the night speaking of theGrail. Tell me, is this indeed about the Grail, or did you simply say that because you know it is thelone topic for which I would rouse myself in the middle of the night?"A little of both, Sophie thought, picturing the cryptex hidden beneath the couch.
　　"Leigh," Langdon said, "we'd like to talk to you about the Priory of Sion."Teabing's bushy eyebrows arched with intrigue. "The keepers. So this is indeed about the Grail.
　　You say you come with information? Something new, Robert?""Perhaps. We're not quite sure. We might have a better idea if we could get some information fromyou first."Teabing wagged his finger. "Ever the wily American. A game of quid pro quo. Very well. I am atyour service. What is it I can tell you?"Langdon sighed. "I was hoping you would be kind enough to explain to Ms. Neveu the true natureof the Holy Grail."Teabing looked stunned. "She doesn't know?"Langdon shook his head.
　　The smile that grew on Teabing's face was almost obscene. "Robert, you've brought me a virgin?"Langdon winced, glancing at Sophie. "Virgin is the term Grail enthusiasts use to describe anyonewho has never heard the true Grail story."Teabing turned eagerly to Sophie. "How much do you know, my dear?"Sophie quickly outlined what Langdon had explained earlier—the Priory of Sion, the KnightsTemplar, the Sangreal documents, and the Holy Grail, which many claimed was not a cup... butrather something far more powerful.
　　"That's all?" Teabing fired Langdon a scandalous look. "Robert, I thought you were a gentleman.
　　You've robbed her of the climax!""I know, I thought perhaps you and I could..." Langdon apparently decided the unseemly metaphorhad gone far enough.
　　Teabing already had Sophie locked in his twinkling gaze. "You are a Grail virgin, my dear. Andtrust me, you will never forget your first time."
装甲车顺着那条两旁排列着白杨树的蜿蜒车道驶向别墅。索菲觉得浑身紧绷的肌肉放松了下来。能离开公路，她感到很欣慰。除了这个篱笆包围中的外国人的私家庄园，她再也想不出其他什么避难所了。
车转入了宽阔的弧形车道后，别墅就映人了他们的眼帘。那座房子有三层，六十英尺长，耀眼的聚光灯照耀着灰色的石块墙面。外观粗糙的楼房前面是优美洁净的花园和波光粼粼的池塘。
楼房里亮起了灯。
兰登没把车开到前门，而是把它停在了常春藤环绕的停车场上。他说道："没必要冒险被公路上的人发现，也没有必要让雷为我们开来一辆破破烂烂的装甲车而疑惑。"索菲点点头："那我们怎么处置密码筒呢？我们不能把它留在这里，可是如果让雷看到了，他肯定想知道这是什么东西。""不用担心。"兰登说。他跳下车，脱下身上的夹克衫，把盒子裹了起来，然后像抱婴儿似的把那捆衣服小心翼翼地搂在怀中。
索菲不放心地看着他："小心一点。"
"提彬从不亲自给客人开门，他喜欢让客人自己进去。等进去后，在他没来招呼我们之前，我会找个地方把它藏起来。"兰登停了一下，接着说道："实际上，我得在你见他之前提醒你一下：许多人都觉得他的幽默有些……奇特。"索菲暗想，还能有什么比今晚发生的事更奇特呢？
弧形的鹅卵石小路通向一座刻有橡树和樱桃图案的门，门上的铜门环有葡萄那么大。
索菲正想去抓那个门环，门就打开了。
一个穿着整洁得体的男管家站在他们面前，整理着刚刚才穿戴上的白领带和晚礼服。
他看上去五十岁左右，举止优雅，可是表情严肃，显然对他们的到来不太欢迎。
"雷先生马上就下来。"他朗声说道，法语口音很重。"他在更衣。他不喜欢穿着睡衣迎接客人。要我为您拿外套吗？"他皱着眉头，看着兰登怀中的衣服，说道。
"谢谢，我自己来。"
"当然。请这边走。"
管家领着他们穿过一个铺着大理石的豪华大厅，走进了一间装修精美的客厅，在那里垂着缨穗的维多利亚时代灯具投射着柔和的灯光。空气有些陈腐--烟草、茶叶、煮葡萄酒的味道和石质建筑发出的泥土气息混合在一起--但颇有帝王气息。在对面的墙上，有一个大得能烤牛的壁炉。男管家走到壁炉前，弯下腰，划了一根火柴，点燃了里面的橡木。不一会儿，木头就"噼噼啪啪"地燃烧了起来。
管家站起来，整了一下衣服，说道："先生希望你们随意。"说完，他转身走了，只留下索菲和兰登独自在屋里。
索菲发现壁炉旁边有许多古董式的座位--一个文艺复兴时期的天鹅绒长沙发，一个乡村鹰爪形摇椅，还有一对好像是从拜占庭古庙里搬来的靠背长凳--一时竟不知应该坐在哪里。
兰登把木盒从外套里拿出来，塞到了天鹅绒长沙发里。从外面一点也看不到木盒的影子。然后，他抖了一下夹克衫，穿在了身上，整了整衣领，一屁股坐在那个藏着宝贝的沙发上面，笑盈盈地看着索菲。
就坐沙发吧，索菲想着，靠着兰登坐了下来。
索菲看着燃烧的火焰，感受着温暖，心想要是祖父在的话，肯定会喜欢这个房间。黑色的木板墙上装饰着早期绘画大师的作品。索菲认出其中一幅是祖父最喜欢的画家之一普桑的作品。壁炉架上放着一尊古埃及生育女神伊希斯的半身石膏像。
埃及女神像下面，有两个在壁炉里当柴架的石质"怪兽滴水嘴"，它们大张着嘴巴，露出了吓人的喉咙。小时候，索菲总是很害怕怪兽状的滴水嘴。有一次，在暴风雨大作的时候，祖父把她带到了巴黎圣母院的房顶上。他指着那些嘴里不断涌出雨水的怪兽状排水口，说道："我的小公主，看看这些蠢家伙，你听到它们嘴里发出的有趣声音了吗？"索菲点点头，觉得它们好像在打嗝，不禁笑了起来。祖父说："它们在漱口呢。这就是把它们叫做"怪兽滴水嘴"的原因。"从那以后，索菲再也没怕过"怪兽滴水嘴"了。
美好的回忆使索菲感到一阵悲伤，祖父被谋杀的现实又一次被摆到了她的面前。祖父死了。她想到了长沙发下的密码筒，想知道兰登能否打开它，想知道雷爵士究竟能否帮上忙。祖父去世前留下话，让她去找罗伯特。兰登，可没说要把其他人也牵扯进来。可是，我们需要藏身之处呀，索菲自言自语道，她决定相信罗伯特的判断。
"罗伯特先生！"他们身后传来一声咆哮。"我看到你在跟一位少女一起旅行。"
兰登站了起来。索菲也一跃而起。声音来自通向二楼阴暗处的螺旋形楼梯。楼梯上面，一个身影在阴影里移动着，只能看到他的轮廓。
兰登说道："晚上好。雷先生。请允许我给您介绍索菲。奈芙。"
提彬边向灯光处走来，边说道："非常荣幸见到您。"
"非常感谢您接待我们。"索菲说道。现在她看清了那个男子腿上装着金属假肢，拄着拐杖。他一次只能下一级台阶。她又说道："我想现在来打搅您，实在是太晚了。"
"是太早了，亲爱的。都是早上了。"他大笑着说道。"你是美国人吗？"
索菲摇摇头说："巴黎人。"
"你的英语很棒啊。"
"谢谢。我是在英国皇家霍洛威大学念的书。"
"啊！怪不得。"提彬从阴影里蹒跚着走下来。"也许罗伯特告诉过你，我是在贵校旁边的牛津上的学。"提彬看着兰登，调皮地笑了起来。"当然了。我也申请了哈佛大学。做候补学校。"
提彬来到楼下。索菲认为他和埃尔顿。约翰爵士一样是典型的骑士。他身材魁伟，面色红润。长着一头浓密的红发，说话时一双淡褐色眼睛快活地眨动着。他穿着笔挺的裤子，宽大的真丝衬衫外套着一件佩斯利螺旋花纹呢背心。虽然他腿上绑着铝制假肢，但他看上去乐观开朗。腰杆笔直。言行举止问自然地流露出一种贵族气质。
提彬走过来，握住兰登的手说："罗伯特，你瘦了。"
兰登笑着说："你胖了。"
提彬拍着他那圆鼓鼓的肚子，开心地大笑了起来。"讲得好！近来我的肉体快乐只有在厨房里才能得到满足。"他转向索菲，温柔地拿起她的手，微微地低下头，在她手指上轻轻地吹了一下，然后看着她说："我的小姐。"
索菲疑惑地看着兰登，不知道自己是应该及时地向后退一步呢，还是停在原地。
这时，男管家把茶点端了进来，放在了壁炉旁边的桌子上。
"这是雷米。莱格鲁德。"提彬说道。"我的男佣。"
那位瘦长的管家僵硬地点了一下头，走了出去。
"雷米是里昂人。"提彬轻声说道，好像提到了可怕的疾病。"可是他擅长做汤。"
兰登被逗笑了。"我还以为你会从英国招一个佣人呢！"
"天哪！决不！我只会让英国厨子去侍奉那些法国税务官。"他抬头看着索菲说道："请原谅，奈芙小姐。请放心，我对法国的憎恨仅限于政治和足球。你们的政府偷走了我的钱，而你们的球队刚刚羞辱了我们。"索菲轻声地笑了一下。
提彬瞪着眼看了她一会儿，然后看了看兰登，说道："肯定出了什么事。你们看上去都很惊慌。"兰登点点头，说道："雷，我刚刚度过了一个有趣的夜晚。"
"毫无疑问。你们招呼也不打，半夜三更跑到我家，要跟我谈论圣杯的事情，难道这还不够有趣吗？你们要说的事确实跟圣杯有关吗？还是你们知道只有跟圣杯有关的事才能让我半夜从床上爬起来，才这样说的？"
"两个原因都有。"索菲惦记着垫子下面的密码筒。
兰登说道："雷，我们想跟你谈谈关于隐修会的事。"
提彬好奇地抬起浓密的眉毛，睁大了双眼。"秘密保守人？那么，这确实跟圣杯有关了。你们说带来了一些消息。是新消息吗，罗伯特？"
"也许是，我们不肯定。如果你能先告诉我们一些消息，我们会作出更好的判断。"
提彬指着他，轻蔑地说："你可真是个老谋深算的美国人。那么，就让我们一物换一物。好吧，乐意为你们服务。你们想知道什么呢？"
兰登叹了口气，说道："你能否好心地向奈芙小姐讲解一下圣杯的实质？"
提彬目瞪口呆："她不知道？"
兰登摇了摇头。
提彬笑了起来，脸上浮现出看似猥亵的表情。"罗伯特，你给我带来了一个"处女"？"
兰登挥了一下手，看着索菲说：""处女"是圣杯的狂热追随者对从未听过圣杯故事的人的称呼。"提彬急切地转向索菲，问道："亲爱的，关于圣杯你知道多少呢？"
索菲把兰登早些时候告诉她的一些东西简要地说了一下：从隐修会到圣殿武士团，从圣杯文件到圣杯拥有神奇力量的传说。
提彬震惊地看着兰登，不怀好意地说道："就这些？罗伯特，我还以为你是个绅士呢。
你根本就没有让她达到高潮！""我知道，我想你和我或许可以用更……"兰登显然觉得这个比喻太过火了。
提彬早已盯住了索菲，双眼冒光："亲爱的，你是个圣杯处女。请相信，你永远都忘不了你的第一次。"
Chapter 55
Seated on the divan beside Langdon, Sophie drank her tea and ate a scone, feeling the welcomeeffects of caffeine and food. Sir Leigh Teabing was beaming as he awkwardly paced before theopen fire, his leg braces clicking on the stone hearth.
　　"The Holy Grail," Teabing said, his voice sermonic. "Most people ask me only where it is. I fearthat is a question I may never answer." He turned and looked directly at Sophie. "However... the farmore relevant question is this: What is the Holy Grail?"Sophie sensed a rising air of academic anticipation now in both of her male companions.
　　"To fully understand the Grail," Teabing continued, "we must first understand the Bible. How welldo you know the New Testament?"Sophie shrugged. "Not at all, really. I was raised by a man who worshipped Leonardo da Vinci."Teabing looked both startled and pleased. "An enlightened soul. Superb! Then you must be awarethat Leonardo was one of the keepers of the secret of the Holy Grail. And he hid clues in his art.""Robert told me as much, yes.""And Da Vinci's views on the New Testament?""I have no idea."Teabing's eyes turned mirthful as he motioned to the bookshelf across the room. "Robert, wouldyou mind? On the bottom shelf. La Storia di Leonardo."Langdon went across the room, found a large art book, and brought it back, setting it down on thetable between them. Twisting the book to face Sophie, Teabing flipped open the heavy cover andpointed inside the rear cover to a series of quotations. "From Da Vinci's notebook on polemics andspeculation," Teabing said, indicating one quote in particular. "I think you'll find this relevant toour discussion."Sophie read the words.
　　Many have made a trade of delusionsand false miracles, deceiving the stupid multitude.
　　—LEONARDO DA VINCI"Here's another," Teabing said, pointing to a different quote.
　　Blinding ignorance does mislead us.
　　O! Wretched mortals, open your eyes!
　　—LEONARDO DA VINCISophie felt a little chill. "Da Vinci is talking about the Bible?"Teabing nodded. "Leonardo's feelings about the Bible relate directly to the Holy Grail. In fact, DaVinci painted the true Grail, which I will show you momentarily, but first we must speak of theBible." Teabing smiled. "And everything you need to know about the Bible can be summed up bythe great canon doctor Martyn Percy." Teabing cleared his throat and declared, "The Bible did notarrive by fax from heaven.""I beg your pardon?""The Bible is a product of man, my dear. Not of God. The Bible did not fall magically from theclouds. Man created it as a historical record of tumultuous times, and it has evolved throughcountless translations, additions, and revisions. History has never had a definitive version of thebook.""Okay.""Jesus Christ was a historical figure of staggering influence, perhaps the most enigmatic andinspirational leader the world has ever seen. As the prophesied Messiah, Jesus toppled kings,inspired millions, and founded new philosophies. As a descendant of the lines of King Solomonand King David, Jesus possessed a rightful claim to the throne of the King of the Jews.
　　Understandably, His life was recorded by thousands of followers across the land." Teabing pausedto sip his tea and then placed the cup back on the mantel. "More than eighty gospels wereconsidered for the New Testament, and yet only a relative few were chosen forinclusion—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John among them.
　　"Who chose which gospels to include?" Sophie asked.
　　"Aha!" Teabing burst in with enthusiasm. "The fundamental irony of Christianity! The Bible, as weknow it today, was collated by the pagan Roman emperor Constantine the Great.""I thought Constantine was a Christian," Sophie said.
　　"Hardly," Teabing scoffed. "He was a lifelong pagan who was baptized on his deathbed, too weakto protest. In Constantine's day, Rome's official religion was sun worship—the cult of Sol Invictus,or the Invincible Sun—and Constantine was its head priest. Unfortunately for him, a growingreligious turmoil was gripping Rome. Three centuries after the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, Christ'sfollowers had multiplied exponentially. Christians and pagans began warring, and the conflict grewto such proportions that it threatened to rend Rome in two. Constantine decided something had tobe done. In 325 A.D., he decided to unify Rome under a single religion. Christianity."Sophie was surprised. "Why would a pagan emperor choose Christianity as the official religion?"Teabing chuckled. "Constantine was a very good businessman. He could see that Christianity wason the rise, and he simply backed the winning horse. Historians still marvel at the brilliance withwhich Constantine converted the sun-worshipping pagans to Christianity. By fusing pagansymbols, dates, and rituals into the growing Christian tradition, he created a kind of hybrid religionthat was acceptable to both parties.""Transmogrification," Langdon said. "The vestiges of pagan religion in Christian symbology areundeniable. Egyptian sun disks became the halos of Catholic saints. Pictograms of Isis nursing hermiraculously conceived son Horus became the blueprint for our modern images of the Virgin Marynursing Baby Jesus. And virtually all the elements of the Catholic ritual—the miter, the altar, thedoxology, and communion, the act of "God-eating"—were taken directly from earlier paganmystery religions."Teabing groaned. "Don't get a symbologist started on Christian icons. Nothing in Christianity isoriginal. The pre-Christian God Mithras—called the Son of God and the Light of the World—wasborn on December 25, died, was buried in a rock tomb, and then resurrected in three days. By theway, December 25 is also the birthday of Osiris, Adonis, and Dionysus. The newborn Krishna waspresented with gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Even Christianity's weekly holy day was stolen fromthe pagans.""What do you mean?""Originally," Langdon said, "Christianity honored the Jewish Sabbath of Saturday, but Constantineshifted it to coincide with the pagan's veneration day of the sun." He paused, grinning. "To thisday, most churchgoers attend services on Sunday morning with no idea that they are there onaccount of the pagan sun god's weekly tribute—Sunday."Sophie's head was spinning. "And all of this relates to the Grail?""Indeed," Teabing said. "Stay with me. During this fusion of religions, Constantine needed tostrengthen the new Christian tradition, and held a famous ecumenical gathering known as theCouncil of Nicaea."Sophie had heard of it only insofar as its being the birthplace of the Nicene Creed.
　　"At this gathering," Teabing said, "many aspects of Christianity were debated and voted upon—thedate of Easter, the role of the bishops, the administration of sacraments, and, of course, the divinityof Jesus.""I don't follow. His divinity?""My dear," Teabing declared, "until that moment in history, Jesus was viewed by His followers asa mortal prophet... a great and powerful man, but a man nonetheless. A mortal.""Not the Son of God?""Right," Teabing said. "Jesus' establishment as 'the Son of God' was officially proposed and votedon by the Council of Nicaea.""Hold on. You're saying Jesus' divinity was the result of a vote?""A relatively close vote at that," Teabing added. "Nonetheless, establishing Christ's divinity wascritical to the further unification of the Roman empire and to the new Vatican power base. Byofficially endorsing Jesus as the Son of God, Constantine turned Jesus into a deity who existedbeyond the scope of the human world, an entity whose power was unchallengeable. This not onlyprecluded further pagan challenges to Christianity, but now the followers of Christ were able toredeem themselves only via the established sacred channel—the Roman Catholic Church."Sophie glanced at Langdon, and he gave her a soft nod of concurrence.
　　"It was all about power," Teabing continued. "Christ as Messiah was critical to the functioning ofChurch and state. Many scholars claim that the early Church literally stole Jesus from His originalfollowers, hijacking His human message, shrouding it in an impenetrable cloak of divinity, andusing it to expand their own power. I've written several books on the topic.""And I assume devout Christians send you hate mail on a daily basis?""Why would they?" Teabing countered. "The vast majority of educated Christians know the historyof their faith. Jesus was indeed a great and powerful man. Constantine's underhanded politicalmaneuvers don't diminish the majesty of Christ's life. Nobody is saying Christ was a fraud, ordenying that He walked the earth and inspired millions to better lives. All we are saying is thatConstantine took advantage of Christ's substantial influence and importance. And in doing so, heshaped the face of Christianity as we know it today."Sophie glanced at the art book before her, eager to move on and see the Da Vinci painting of theHoly Grail.
　　"The twist is this," Teabing said, talking faster now. "Because Constantine upgraded Jesus' statusalmost four centuries after Jesus' death, thousands of documents already existed chronicling Hislife as a mortal man. To rewrite the history books, Constantine knew he would need a bold stroke.
　　From this sprang the most profound moment in Christian history." Teabing paused, eyeing Sophie.
　　"Constantine commissioned and financed a new Bible, which omitted those gospels that spoke ofChrist's human traits and embellished those gospels that made Him godlike. The earlier gospelswere outlawed, gathered up, and burned.""An interesting note," Langdon added. "Anyone who chose the forbidden gospels overConstantine's version was deemed a heretic. The word heretic derives from that moment in history.
　　The Latin word haereticus means 'choice.' Those who 'chose' the original history of Christ were theworld's first heretics.""Fortunately for historians," Teabing said, "some of the gospels that Constantine attempted toeradicate managed to survive. The Dead Sea Scrolls were found in the 1950s hidden in a cave nearQumran in the Judean desert. And, of course, the Coptic Scrolls in 1945 at Nag Hammadi. Inaddition to telling the true Grail story, these documents speak of Christ's ministry in very humanterms. Of course, the Vatican, in keeping with their tradition of misinformation, tried very hard tosuppress the release of these scrolls. And why wouldn't they? The scrolls highlight glaringhistorical discrepancies and fabrications, clearly confirming that the modern Bible was compiledand edited by men who possessed a political agenda—to promote the divinity of the man JesusChrist and use His influence to solidify their own power base.""And yet," Langdon countered, "it's important to remember that the modern Church's desire tosuppress these documents comes from a sincere belief in their established view of Christ. TheVatican is made up of deeply pious men who truly believe these contrary documents could only befalse testimony."Teabing chuckled as he eased himself into a chair opposite Sophie. "As you can see, our professorhas a far softer heart for Rome than I do. Nonetheless, he is correct about the modern clergybelieving these opposing documents are false testimony. That's understandable. Constantine's Biblehas been their truth for ages. Nobody is more indoctrinated than the indoctrinator.""What he means," Langdon said, "is that we worship the gods of our fathers.""What I mean," Teabing countered, "is that almost everything our fathers taught us about Christ isfalse. As are the stories about the Holy Grail."Sophie looked again at the Da Vinci quote before her. Blinding ignorance does mislead us. O!
　　Wretched mortals, open your eyes!
　　Teabing reached for the book and flipped toward the center. "And finally, before I show you DaVinci's paintings of the Holy Grail, I'd like you to take a quick look at this." He opened the book toa colorful graphic that spanned both full pages. "I assume you recognize this fresco?"He's kidding, right? Sophie was staring at the most famous fresco of all time—The LastSupper—Da Vinci's legendary painting from the wall of Santa Maria delle Grazie near Milan. Thedecaying fresco portrayed Jesus and His disciples at the moment that Jesus announced one of themwould betray Him. "I know the fresco, yes.""Then perhaps you would indulge me this little game? Close your eyes if you would."Uncertain, Sophie closed her eyes.
　　"Where is Jesus sitting?" Teabing asked.
　　"In the center.""Good. And what food are He and His disciples breaking and eating?""Bread." Obviously.
　　"Superb. And what drink?""Wine. They drank wine.""Great. And one final question. How many wineglasses are on the table?"Sophie paused, realizing it was the trick question. And after dinner, Jesus took the cup of wine,sharing it with His disciples. "One cup," she said. "The chalice." The Cup of Christ. The HolyGrail. "Jesus passed a single chalice of wine, just as modern Christians do at communion."Teabing sighed. "Open your eyes."She did. Teabing was grinning smugly. Sophie looked down at the painting, seeing to herastonishment that everyone at the table had a glass of wine, including Christ. Thirteen cups.
　　Moreover, the cups were tiny, stemless, and made of glass. There was no chalice in the painting.
　　No Holy Grail.
　　Teabing's eyes twinkled. "A bit strange, don't you think, considering that both the Bible and ourstandard Grail legend celebrate this moment as the definitive arrival of the Holy Grail. Oddly, DaVinci appears to have forgotten to paint the Cup of Christ.""Surely art scholars must have noted that.""You will be shocked to learn what anomalies Da Vinci included here that most scholars either donot see or simply choose to ignore. This fresco, in fact, is the entire key to the Holy Grail mystery.
　　Da Vinci lays it all out in the open in The Last Supper"Sophie scanned the work eagerly. "Does this fresco tell us what the Grail really is?""Not what it is," Teabing whispered. "But rather who it is. The Holy Grail is not a thing. It is, infact... a person"
索菲靠着兰登坐在长沙发上，喝着茶吃着烤饼，享受着食物的美味。雷。提彬爵士微笑着，在炉火前面笨拙地踱来踱去。假肢敲在地面上，发出"叮叮"的声响。
"关于圣杯。"提彬用布道式的口吻说道。"许多人只想知道它在哪里，恐怕这个问题我永远都无法回答。"他转过身，盯着索菲："然而，更重要的问题应该是：圣杯是什么？"
索菲感觉出两位男士都对此非常关注。
提彬继续说道："要完全了解圣杯，就首先要了解《圣经》。你对《新约》了解多少？"
索菲耸耸肩，说道："一点也不了解，真的。我被一个信奉列昂纳多。达。芬奇的人抚养长大。"提彬对此既惊讶又颇为赞赏。"真是个开明的人。好极了！那么，你一定知道列昂纳多是圣杯秘密的守护人之一。他把秘密藏在了他的作品当中。""是的，罗伯特也这么说。"
"那么，你知道达。芬奇对《新约》的看法吗？"
"不知道。"
提彬开心地指着对面的书架，说道："罗伯特，请从书架的底层把那本《达。芬奇的故事》拿过来。"兰登穿过房间，在书架上找到了一本很大的艺术书籍，拿了回来，放在桌子上。提彬把书转过来朝着索菲，翻开沉重的封面，指着封底上的几行引言说道："这些摘自达。芬奇所作的有关辩论术和思考方法的笔记。"他指着其中的一行说道："我想你会发现这一行跟我们讨论的话题有关。"索菲念着上面的字。
许多人故意制造错觉和虚假的奇迹，来欺骗大众。
---列昂纳多。达。芬奇提彬指着另外一行："还有。"
无知遮蔽了我们的眼睛，让我们误入歧途。啊！尘世间可怜的人们啊，睁开眼睛吧！
--列昂纳多。达。芬奇索菲感到一阵寒意。"达。芬奇在谈论《圣经》吗？"
提彬点点头，说道："列昂纳多对《圣经》的看法跟圣杯有直接的关系。实际上，达。芬奇画出了真正的圣杯，一会儿我就拿给你看。不过，我们必须先讲一下《圣经》。"提彬停了一下，然后微笑着说道："你对《圣经》所需了解的一切可以用伟大的教会医生马丁。珀玺的一句话来概括。"提彬清了清喉咙，大声说道："《圣经》不是来自天堂的传真。""您说什么？"
"亲爱的，《圣经》是人造出来的，不是上帝创造的。《圣经》不是神奇地从云彩里掉下来的。人类为了记录历史上那些喧嚣的时代而创造了它。多年以来，它历经了无数次翻译和增补修订。历史上从来就没有过一本确定的《圣经》。""哦。"
"耶稣是一个非常有影响的历史人物，也许称得上是迄今为止世界上最高深莫测和最有灵气的领袖。作为预言中的救世主，他倾倒了众多君王，激励了千万民众，创立了新的哲学。作为所罗门王和大卫王的后代，耶稣完全有权要求获得犹太国王的王位。那么，他的一生被成千上万的追随者记录也就不足为奇了。"提彬停下来，喝了一口茶，然后把茶杯放回到壁炉架上，接着说道："人们认为原来的《新约》有八十多个福音，可是后来只有很少的几个被保存了下来，其中有《马太福音》、《马克福音》、《路德福音》和《约翰福音》等。"索菲问道："收录福音的工作是谁完成的呢？"
"啊哈！"提彬突然进发出了极大的热情。"这是对基督教最大的讽刺！我们今天所知道的《圣经》是由罗马的异教徒皇帝康斯坦丁大帝整理的。"索菲说道："我还以为康斯坦丁是个基督徒呢。"
提彬不屑地说："根本就不是。他一生都是个异教徒，只是在临终的时候才接受了洗礼，因为那时他已经无力反抗了。康斯坦丁在世时，罗马的官方宗教是拜日教--信奉"无敌的太阳"的宗教，而康斯坦丁是当时的大主教。然而不幸的是，在罗马发生的一场宗教骚乱愈演愈烈。耶稣被钉上十字架三百年后，他的追随者成几何倍数地增长。基督徒和异教徒开始冲突，矛盾加剧，最后双方甚至威胁要把罗马一分为二。康斯坦丁决心干预此事。
公元325 年，他决定用一个宗教来统一罗马。那就是基督教。"索菲吃惊地问："为什么一个信仰异教的皇帝要把基督教作为国教呢？"
提彬笑了起来："康斯坦丁是个非常精明的商人。因为他看到基督教正处于上升阶段，他无非就是要支持能获胜的一方。历史学家们至今仍对康斯坦丁表现出的雄才伟略极为赞赏，因为他竟然让那些拜日教的教徒转而信仰了基督教。他把异教的标记、纪年和仪式都融入正在不断壮大的基督教，从而创立了一个双方都能接受的混合宗教。"兰登说："实际上是变形。基督教的标记中可以找到许多异教的痕迹埃及的太阳圆盘变成了天主教圣人头上的光环。古埃及生育女神伊希斯怀抱儿子光明之神荷露丝的壁画为圣母玛丽娅抱着小耶稣的画像提供了蓝本。几乎所有天主教的仪式--如主教加戴法冠、圣坛、礼拜式上唱荣光赞歌以及领圣餐等等--都直接来自那些早期的神秘异教。"提彬叹息道："千万不要让一个符号学家去研究基督教的圣像。那些圣像没有一个是基督教自己的。基督教之前的神灵密斯拉--波斯神话中被称之为"上帝的儿子"或"世界之光"的光明之神--出生于十二月二十五号。他死后被埋进了石墓，三天后就复活了。另外，十二月二十五号还是古埃及冥神、古希腊神话中的美男子阿多尼斯以及酒神狄俄尼索斯的生日。而新出生的奎师那神也会被供奉上黄金和乳香。甚至基督教每周的礼拜日也是从异教那里偷来的。""为什么这样说呢？"
兰登说："本来基督教遵奉的是犹太人的礼拜六安息日，但康斯坦丁却把它改成了异教徒们敬奉太阳的那一天。"他停了一下，笑着说道："时至今日，大部分人都会在星期天早上去教堂做礼拜。但他们都不知道，那是异教徒们每周一次供奉太阳神的日子，也就是"太阳日"。"索菲听得头脑发昏。"那么，这些都跟圣杯有关吗？"
提彬说道："一点关系也没有。请听我说下去。在这次宗教大融合中，康斯坦丁需要强化新基督教的基石，因此他组建了著名的"尼西亚联合会"，联合全球的教会。"索菲知道尼西亚是《尼西亚信经》的产地。
提彬说道："在这次大会上人们就基督教许多方面的问题都进行了辩论和投票，比如像复活节的日期、主教的职责和圣礼的管理，当然也包括耶稣的神性。""我不大明白。神性是什么意思？"
提彬大声说道："亲爱的，在那个时候之前，耶稣的追随者们认为他是一个凡人预言家，一个伟大而能力超群的人。但无论如何，他是一个人，一个凡人。""不是上帝的儿子？"
提彬说道："不是。"耶稣是上帝的儿子"是由官方提出的，这一说法在尼西亚联合会上被投票通过。""等一等。你说耶稣的神性是投票的结果？"
提彬补充道："投票结果比较接近，险些没被通过。但不管怎样，确立耶稣的神性，对罗马帝国的进一步统一以及增强梵蒂冈中心的权力都至关重要。通过确立耶稣神性的手段，康斯坦丁把耶稣变成了一个超脱于人类世界、权力不容侵犯的神。这不仅揭开了异教徒们进一步挑战基督教的序幕，还使得基督的追随者们只能通过罗马天主教堂--这个唯一确定的神圣途径--来给自己赎罪。"索菲看了兰登一眼，点了点头，表示认可。
提彬继续说道："把耶稣确立为救世主对充分发挥罗马教堂和罗马帝国的政府职能非常关键。许多学者都宣称，早期的罗马教堂把耶稣从他原来的追随者那里偷走了，抹杀了他作为人类的要旨，把他裹进不可侵犯的神的斗篷里，以此来扩大他们自己的权力。我就此写过好几本书。""那些虔敬的基督徒每天都会给您发一封充满仇恨的信吧？"
提彬不同意："为什么他们要发那种信？绝大多数受过教育的基督徒都知道基督教的历史，都知道耶稣是个伟大而能力超群的人。康斯坦丁卑鄙的政治花招一点也抹杀不了耶稣的伟大。没人会说耶稣是个骗子，或否认他曾行走世界各地，激励了千千万万的人过上更美好的生活。我们所说的只是康斯坦丁通过利用耶稣的重大的影响和尊贵的地位，塑造了今天的基督教。"索菲瞅了瞅她面前的那本艺术书，急着想离开，去看一下达。芬奇画的圣杯。
提彬加快了语速："其中的曲折在于，由于康斯坦丁是在耶稣去世四百年后才把他说成神的，因此有成千上万份记录着耶稣的凡人生活的文件依然流传着。为了改写历史，康斯坦丁知道他必须采取大胆的行动。由此，基督教历史上影响最为深远的事件发生了。"提彬停了一下，盯着索菲，继续说道："康斯坦丁下令并出资编写一本新的《圣经》。这本《圣经》删掉了那些夸赞耶稣作为一个凡人所表现出来的美德的福音，而将那些把他描述得像神一样的福音添油加醋了一番。早先的福音书被查禁焚烧掉了。"兰登接过话茬："非常有趣的是，那些选择禁书，而不看康斯坦丁制定的《圣经》的人被称为异教徒。"异教徒"这个词就是从那时候来的。拉丁语中"异教徒"的意思是"选择"。那些"选择"了基督教真正历史的人反而成了世界上的第一批被排除在基督教之外的"异教徒"。"提彬说道："让历史学家们庆幸的是，康斯坦丁试图销毁的福音书中有一部分竟流传了下来。《死海古卷》于20 世纪50 年代，在犹太沙漠库姆巴勒斯坦古村庄附近的一个山洞里被发现。当然了，还有1945 年在那格。哈纳地发现的《科普特教徒古卷》。这些文件不仅讲述了圣杯的真实故事，还毫不含糊地表明了耶稣是一个凡人牧师。当然，梵蒂冈为了保持它那欺骗民众的传统，竭力制止这些古卷的发表。他们为什么要这样做？原因很简单，这些古卷明显地展示了历史上存在的分歧和摩擦，明白无误地确认了现在的《圣经》实际上是由那些别有用心的人编写而成的。那些人把凡人耶稣基督说成是神，从而利用他的影响来巩固自己的权力。"兰登对此提出了不同意见。"可是，也要知道，当代的罗马教廷压制这些文件的愿望确实是出于他们对耶稣的真诚信仰。当然，这样的信仰是从他们既定的角度出发的。今日的梵蒂冈中心是由那些非常虔诚的教徒组成，他们确实相信这些反面材料是些伪证。"提彬舒舒服服地坐到索菲对面的椅子上，笑着说："你也看到了，比起我来，咱们的教授对罗马教会可是仁慈多了！可是不管怎样，他说的没错，现在的教士们确实认为这些反面材料是伪证。然而，这也可以理解。毕竟，千百年来康斯坦丁制定的那本《圣经》是他们唯一的真理。没有能比那些教化者得到更多的教化。"兰登说道："他的意思是，我们信奉的是父辈们传给我们的上帝。"
提彬反驳道："不对，我的意思是，父辈们教导我们的关于耶稣的一切都是假的。关于圣杯的事也不例外。"索菲又看了看书上达。芬奇的话。
无知遮蔽了我们的双眼，让我们误人歧途。啊！尘世间可怜的人们啊，睁开你们的眼睛吧！
提彬拿起书，翻到中间。"最后，在我给你看达。芬奇画的圣杯之前，你先看一下这个。
"他翻到一幅彩色的图片，那个图片整整占了两页纸。"我想你肯定认识这幅壁画。"他在开玩笑吧？索菲看到的是世界名画--达。芬奇为米兰附近的感恩堂创作的壁画--《最后的晚餐》。那幅已遭风化的壁画描述的是耶稣对他的门徒宣布会有人背叛他时的情景。
"我知道这幅画。"
"那就请允许我耍个小小的把戏。请合上眼。"
索菲合上了眼，不知道他会耍什么花样。
提彬问道："耶稣坐在哪儿？"
"中间。"
"好的。那么，他们在分发和享用什么食物呢？"
"面包。这还用问？ "
"很好。那么，他们在喝什么呢？"
"酒，他们在喝酒。"
"非常好。最后一个问题。桌子上有多少个酒杯呢？"
索菲愣了一下，马上意识到这是个圈套。饭后，耶稣拿起酒杯，轮流传给他的门徒，共享美酒。她说道："一个。而且是高脚酒杯。"耶稣的杯子。圣杯。"耶稣传递的是一个高脚酒杯，就像现在的基督徒在圣餐礼上所用的那样。"提彬叹了一口气，说道："那就睁开眼吧。"
索菲睁开眼，看到提彬在得意地冲着她笑。她低下头看着那幅画，让她大吃一惊的是，桌子旁边的每个人手里都拿着一个杯子，连耶稣也不例外。有十三个杯子。而且这些杯子都是平底的玻璃小酒杯。画上根本就没有高脚酒杯。没有圣杯。
提彬眨着眼，说道："很奇怪是吧？根据《圣经》和圣杯传说，圣杯应该在这个时候出现。可奇怪的是，达。芬奇好像忘了把圣杯画上去。""艺术专家们肯定注意到这个问题了。"
"你会吃惊地发现，大部分的专家对画中的异常要么没发现，要么就故意视而不见。实际上，这幅壁画是通向圣杯秘密的关键所在。达。芬奇把这个秘密堂而皇之地画在了《最后的晚餐》上。"索菲急切地打量着那幅画。"这幅壁画告诉我们圣杯是什么东西了吗？"
提彬轻声说道："不是什么东西，而是什么人。圣杯不是一件物品。实际上，它是……一个人。"
Chapter 56
Sophie stared at Teabing a long moment and then turned to Langdon. "The Holy Grail is a person?"Langdon nodded. "A woman, in fact." From the blank look on Sophie's face, Langdon could tellthey had already lost her. He recalled having a similar reaction the first time he heard thestatement. It was not until he understood the symbology behind the Grail that the feminineconnection became clear.
　　Teabing apparently had a similar thought. "Robert, perhaps this is the moment for the symbologistto clarify?" He went to a nearby end table, found a piece of paper, and laid it in front of Langdon.
　　Langdon pulled a pen from his pocket. "Sophie, are you familiar with the modern icons for maleand female?" He drew the common male symbol mail and female symbol female.
　　"Of course," she said.
　　"These," he said quietly, "are not the original symbols for male and female. Many peopleincorrectly assume the male symbol is derived from a shield and spear, while the female symbolrepresents a mirror reflecting beauty. In fact, the symbols originated as ancient astronomicalsymbols for the planet-god Mars and planet-goddess Venus. The original symbols are far simpler."Langdon drew another icon on the paper.
　　/\"This symbol is the original icon for male," he told her. "A rudimentary phallus.""Quite to the point," Sophie said.
　　"As it were," Teabing added.
　　Langdon went on. "This icon is formally known as the blade, and it represents aggression andmanhood. In fact, this exact phallus symbol is still used today on modern military uniforms todenote rank.""Indeed." Teabing grinned. "The more penises you have, the higher your rank. Boys will be boys."Langdon winced. "Moving on, the female symbol, as you might imagine, is the exact opposite." Hedrew another symbol on the page. "This is called the chalice."\/Sophie glanced up, looking surprised.
　　Langdon could see she had made the connection. "The chalice," he said, "resembles a cup orvessel, and more important, it resembles the shape of a woman's womb. This symbolcommunicates femininity, womanhood, and fertility." Langdon looked directly at her now.
　　"Sophie, legend tells us the Holy Grail is a chalice—a cup. But the Grail's description as a chaliceis actually an allegory to protect the true nature of the Holy Grail. That is to say, the legend usesthe chalice as a metaphor for something far more important.""A woman," Sophie said.
　　"Exactly." Langdon smiled. "The Grail is literally the ancient symbol for womanhood, and theHoly Grail represents the sacred feminine and the goddess, which of course has now been lost,virtually eliminated by the Church. The power of the female and her ability to produce life wasonce very sacred, but it posed a threat to the rise of the predominantly male Church, and so thesacred feminine was demonized and called unclean. It was man, not God, who created the conceptof 'original sin,' whereby Eve tasted of the apple and caused the downfall of the human race.
　　Woman, once the sacred giver of life, was now the enemy.""I should add," Teabing chimed, "that this concept of woman as life-bringer was the foundation ofancient religion. Childbirth was mystical and powerful. Sadly, Christian philosophy decided toembezzle the female's creative power by ignoring biological truth and making man the Creator.
　　Genesis tells us that Eve was created from Adam's rib. Woman became an offshoot of man. And asinful one at that. Genesis was the beginning of the end for the goddess.""The Grail," Langdon said, "is symbolic of the lost goddess. When Christianity came along, the oldpagan religions did not die easily. Legends of chivalric quests for the lost Grail were in fact storiesof forbidden quests to find the lost sacred feminine. Knights who claimed to be "searching for thechalice" were speaking in code as a way to protect themselves from a Church that had subjugatedwomen, banished the Goddess, burned nonbelievers, and forbidden the pagan reverence for thesacred feminine."Sophie shook her head. "I'm sorry, when you said the Holy Grail was a person, I thought youmeant it was an actual person.""It is," Langdon said.
　　"And not just any person," Teabing blurted, clambering excitedly to his feet. "A woman whocarried with her a secret so powerful that, if revealed, it threatened to devastate the very foundationof Christianity!"Sophie looked overwhelmed. "Is this woman well known in history?""Quite." Teabing collected his crutches and motioned down the hall. "And if we adjourn to thestudy, my friends, it would be my honor to show you Da Vinci's painting of her."Two rooms away, in the kitchen, manservant Rémy Legaludec stood in silence before a television.
　　The news station was broadcasting photos of a man and woman... the same two individuals towhom Rémy had just served tea.
索菲盯着提彬看了好一会儿，然后转身看着兰登问道："圣杯是个人吗？"
兰登点点头。"实际上是个女人。"从索菲茫然的表情中，兰登知道她已经被弄得晕头转向了。他记得自己第一次听到这个说法时，也有这样的反应。直到明白了圣杯的象征意义，他才搞清了圣杯和女性之间的联系。
提彬显然也是这么想的。"罗伯特，也许现在是你这位象征学专家把事情说明白的时候了。"他走到桌子一头，找了一张纸，放在兰登面前。
兰登从口袋里拿出一支笔，说道："索菲，你熟悉代表女性和男性的图示吗？"说着，他在纸上画了一个很常见的代表男性的图示含和一个代表女性的图示早。
"当然了。"索菲说。
兰登平静地说道："可是这并不是最早代表男性和女性的图示。许多人都误认为这个代表男性的图示源于盾牌和长矛，而这个代表女性的图示则源于能照出她们美丽容貌的镜子。实际上这些标记源自古代天文学用来代表行星的男神马尔斯和女神维纳斯的标记。原来的标记更加简单。"兰登在纸上又画了一个图示。
／＼他接着说道："这是最早代表男性的图示。男性生殖器的基本形状。"
索菲说道："确实很像。"
提彬补充道："原本如此。"
兰登接着说道："这个图示的正式名称为"刀刃"，它代表着进攻和男子气。实际上，时至今日，这个图示还被用在军队的制服上来表示军衔。"提彬笑着说道："确实如此。你的生殖器越多，军衔就越高。男人真是本性难移啊。"
兰登不由得皱了一下眉头。"让我们继续。可以想象，代表女性的标志方向完全相反。
"他在纸上又画了一个图示。
＼／
"这个叫做圣餐杯。"
索菲抬头看着他，满脸惊讶。
兰登看出她已经开始联想了。他说道："圣餐杯就像一个酒杯或容器。但更重要的是，它还像妇女的子宫。"兰登盯着她说道："索菲，根据传说，圣杯是一个圣餐杯，一个酒杯。
但是，这样的描述隐藏了圣杯的实质。也就是说，传说只是把圣杯作为一个重要事物的比喻。""女人。"索菲说道。
兰登微笑着说道："一点没错。杯子实际上是古代代表女性的标记。那么圣杯代表的就是神圣的女性和女神了。她现在已经消失得无影无踪，实际上是被教廷毁灭了。女性的力量和创造生命的能力非常神奇，而这对当时正在崛起的男性统治的罗马教廷构成了严重的威胁。于是他们就把神圣的女性说成是魔鬼，并说她们不圣洁。按照他们的说法，是男人而不是上帝创造了"原罪"，而夏娃则偷尝了禁果，招致了人类的堕落。一度被奉为神圣的生命创造者的女性现在成了敌人。"提彬附和道："认为女性是生命缔造者的观点是很多古代宗教的基础。生育后代是件非常神奇而又充满了力量的事。然而，令人伤心的是，基督教的哲学决定通过忽略女性的生理特征来抹灭女性的创造力量，而把男性尊为"创造者"。《创世纪》告诉世人夏娃是用亚当的肋骨做成的。女人成了男人的衍生物，而且还是罪人。《创世纪》结束了对女神的崇拜。"兰登说道："圣杯代表着失落的女神。当基督教产生时，所谓的邪教并没有轻易地消亡。关于骑士们寻找圣杯的传说实际上是关于寻找圣女的故事。那些宣称"寻找圣杯"的骑士是以此来掩盖真相，以免受到罗马教廷的迫害。当时的教廷欺压妇女，驱逐女神，烧死不信奉基督教的人，而且还禁止异教徒崇拜圣女。"索菲摇摇头，说道："对不起，当您说圣杯是个人时，我还以为那是个真人呢。"
兰登说道："是个真人。"
提彬兴奋得站了起来，脱口而出："但并不是指所有人。那位特殊的女性携带着一个重大的秘密，一旦秘密泄露，将会动摇基督教的根基！"索菲激动地问道："这位妇女在历史上很有名吗？"
"非常有名。"提彬拿起拐杖，向走廊走去："朋友们，到我的书房去继续讨论吧，我将很荣幸地给你们看一幅达。芬奇为她画的肖像。"厨房里，男佣雷米。莱格鲁德一言不发地站在电视机前。新闻中正播放着一个男人和一个女人的照片……雷米刚刚为这两个人送过茶。
Chapter 57
Standing at the roadblock outside the Depository Bank of Zurich, Lieutenant Collet wondered whatwas taking Fache so long to come up with the search warrant. The bankers were obviously hidingsomething. They claimed Langdon and Neveu had arrived earlier and were turned away from thebank because they did not have proper account identification.
　　So why won't they let us inside for a look?
　　Finally, Collet's cellular phone rang. It was the command post at the Louvre. "Do we have a searchwarrant yet?" Collet demanded.
　　"Forget about the bank, Lieutenant," the agent told him. "We just got a tip. We have the exactlocation where Langdon and Neveu are hiding."Collet sat down hard on the hood of his car. "You're kidding.""I have an address in the suburbs. Somewhere near Versailles.""Does Captain Fache know?""Not yet. He's busy on an important call.""I'm on my way. Have him call as soon as he's free." Collet took down the address and jumped inhis car. As he peeled away from the bank, Collet realized he had forgotten to ask who had tippedDCPJ off to Langdon's location. Not that it mattered. Collet had been blessed with a chance toredeem his skepticism and earlier blunders. He was about to make the most high-profile arrest ofhis career.
　　Collet radioed the five cars accompanying him. "No sirens, men. Langdon can't know we'recoming."Forty kilometers away, a black Audi pulled off a rural road and parked in the shadows on the edgeof a field. Silas got out and peered through the rungs of the wrought-iron fence that encircled thevast compound before him. He gazed up the long moonlit slope to the chateau in the distance.
　　The downstairs lights were all ablaze. Odd for this hour, Silas thought, smiling. The informationthe Teacher had given him was obviously accurate. I will not leave this house without the keystone,he vowed. I will not fail the bishop and the Teacher.
　　Checking the thirteen-round clip in his Heckler Koch, Silas pushed it through the bars and let it fallonto the mossy ground inside the compound. Then, gripping the top of the fence, he heavedhimself up and over, dropping to the ground on the other side. Ignoring the slash of pain from hiscilice, Silas retrieved his gun and began the long trek up the grassy slope.
科莱中尉站在苏黎世储蓄银行外的路障旁，琢磨着究竟是什么耽搁了法希，让他拿一个搜查令也用了这么长时间。那些银行的高级职员显然隐瞒了什么。他们声称兰登和奈芙早些时候来过银行，但是由于不能提供正确的账号，被赶了出去。
那为什么不让我们进去搜查呢？
科莱的手机终于响了起来。不过，电话却是从卢浮宫案发现场的指挥部打来的。"拿到搜查令了吗？"科莱急忙问。
那个警察说道："中尉，别管银行了。我们刚刚得到线索，知道兰登和奈芙的藏身之处了。"科莱一屁股坐在车盖上。"你在开玩笑吧？"
"我得到一个郊区的地址，在凡尔赛附近。"
"法希局长知道这件事吗？"
"还不知道。他在忙着接一个重要的电话。"
"我马上去。他打完电话，就马上通知他。"他记下那地址，跳上了车。当他开着车离开银行时，他突然想起刚才竟忘了问是谁向警署透露了兰登的藏身之地。但那并不重要。他现在遇到良机来弥补因多疑而犯下的大错了。他要开始职业生涯中最令人注目的一次逮捕行动。
他用无线电对讲机通知其他五辆车上的人。"别拉警报，伙计们。兰登不可能知道我们要去。"五十公里以外的一条乡间公路上，一辆黑色的奥迪车停在了田地旁的树影里。塞拉斯下了车，透过大院外的铁栅栏朝里张望。月光下，他顺着长长的斜坡向上望去，看到了远处的别墅。
别墅的底楼灯火通明。"这个时候还亮着灯，定有蹊跷。"塞拉斯想着，不禁偷笑了起来。
"导师"告诉他的消息一点儿也没错。"我一定要拿到楔石才能离开这里。"他发誓道。"我决不能辜负了主教和"导师"的期望。"塞拉斯检查了一下赫克勒。克奇手枪的子弹夹，子弹夹中装着十三发子弹。他把手枪塞过栅栏，扔到院子里那长满青苔的地面上。接着，他抓住栅栏，一跃而起，翻了过去，落到栅栏内。他顾不得毛布衬衫里鞭伤引起的阵阵疼痛，捡起枪，顺着长满青草的长长斜坡向上走去。
Chapter 58
 Teabing's "study" was like no study Sophie had ever seen. Six or seven times larger than even themost luxurious of office spaces, the knight's cabinet de travail resembled an ungainly hybrid ofscience laboratory, archival library, and indoor flea market. Lit by three overhead chandeliers, theboundless tile floor was dotted with clustered islands of worktables buried beneath books, artwork,artifacts, and a surprising amount of electronic gear—computers, projectors, microscopes, copymachines, and flatbed scanners.
　　"I converted the ballroom," Teabing said, looking sheepish as he shuffled into the room. "I havelittle occasion to dance."Sophie felt as if the entire night had become some kind of twilight zone where nothing was as sheexpected. "This is all for your work?""Learning the truth has become my life's love," Teabing said. "And the Sangreal is my favoritemistress."The Holy Grail is a woman, Sophie thought, her mind a collage of interrelated ideas that seemed tomake no sense. "You said you have a picture of this woman who you claim is the Holy Grail.""Yes, but it is not I who claim she is the Grail. Christ Himself made that claim.""Which one is the painting?" Sophie asked, scanning the walls.
　　"Hmmm..." Teabing made a show of seeming to have forgotten. "The Holy Grail. The Sangreal.
　　The Chalice." He wheeled suddenly and pointed to the far wall. On it hung an eight-foot-long printof The Last Supper, the same exact image Sophie had just been looking at. "There she is!"Sophie was certain she had missed something. "That's the same painting you just showed me."He winked. "I know, but the enlargement is so much more exciting. Don't you think?"Sophie turned to Langdon for help. "I'm lost."Langdon smiled. "As it turns out, the Holy Grail does indeed make an appearance in The LastSupper. Leonardo included her prominently.""Hold on," Sophie said. "You told me the Holy Grail is a woman. The Last Supper is a painting ofthirteen men.""Is it?" Teabing arched his eyebrows. "Take a closer look."Uncertain, Sophie made her way closer to the painting, scanning the thirteen figures—Jesus Christin the middle, six disciples on His left, and six on His right. "They're all men," she confirmed.
　　"Oh?" Teabing said. "How about the one seated in the place of honor, at the right hand of theLord?"Sophie examined the figure to Jesus' immediate right, focusing in. As she studied the person's faceand body, a wave of astonishment rose within her. The individual had flowing red hair, delicatefolded hands, and the hint of a bosom. It was, without a doubt... female.
　　"That's a woman!" Sophie exclaimed.
　　Teabing was laughing. "Surprise, surprise. Believe me, it's no mistake. Leonardo was skilled atpainting the difference between the sexes."Sophie could not take her eyes from the woman beside Christ. The Last Supper is supposed to bethirteen men. Who is this woman? Although Sophie had seen this classic image many times, shehad not once noticed this glaring discrepancy.
　　"Everyone misses it," Teabing said. "Our preconceived notions of this scene are so powerful thatour mind blocks out the incongruity and overrides our eyes.""It's known as skitoma," Langdon added. "The brain does it sometimes with powerful symbols.""Another reason you might have missed the woman," Teabing said, "is that many of thephotographs in art books were taken before 1954, when the details were still hidden beneath layersof grime and several restorative repaintings done by clumsy hands in the eighteenth century. Now,at last, the fresco has been cleaned down to Da Vinci's original layer of paint." He motioned to thephotograph. "Et voilà!"Sophie moved closer to the image. The woman to Jesus' right was young and pious-looking, with ademure face, beautiful red hair, and hands folded quietly. This is the woman who singlehandedlycould crumble the Church?
　　"Who is she?" Sophie asked.
　　"That, my dear," Teabing replied, "is Mary Magdalene."Sophie turned. "The prostitute?"Teabing drew a short breath, as if the word had injured him personally. "Magdalene was no suchthing. That unfortunate misconception is the legacy of a smear campaign launched by the earlyChurch. The Church needed to defame Mary Magdalene in order to cover up her dangeroussecret—her role as the Holy Grail.""Her role?""As I mentioned," Teabing clarified, "the early Church needed to convince the world that themortal prophet Jesus was a divine being. Therefore, any gospels that described earthly aspects ofJesus' life had to be omitted from the Bible. Unfortunately for the early editors, one particularlytroubling earthly theme kept recurring in the gospels. Mary Magdalene." He paused. "Morespecifically, her marriage to Jesus Christ.""I beg your pardon?" Sophie's eyes moved to Langdon and then back to Teabing.
　　"It's a matter of historical record," Teabing said, "and Da Vinci was certainly aware of that fact.
　　The Last Supper practically shouts at the viewer that Jesus and Magdalene were a pair."Sophie glanced back to the fresco.
　　"Notice that Jesus and Magdalene are clothed as mirror images of one another." Teabing pointed tothe two individuals in the center of the fresco.
　　Sophie was mesmerized. Sure enough, their clothes were inverse colors. Jesus wore a red robe andblue cloak; Mary Magdalene wore a blue robe and red cloak. Yin and yang.
　　"Venturing into the more bizarre," Teabing said, "note that Jesus and His bride appear to be joinedat the hip and are leaning away from one another as if to create this clearly delineated negativespace between them."Even before Teabing traced the contour for her, Sophie saw it—the indisputable V shape at thefocal point of the painting. It was the same symbol Langdon had drawn earlier for the Grail, thechalice, and the female womb.
　　"Finally," Teabing said, "if you view Jesus and Magdalene as compositional elements rather thanas people, you will see another obvious shape leap out at you." He paused. "A letter of thealphabet."Sophie saw it at once. To say the letter leapt out at her was an understatement. The letter wassuddenly all Sophie could see. Glaring in the center of the painting was the unquestionable outlineof an enormous, flawlessly formed letter M.
　　"A bit too perfect for coincidence, wouldn't you say?" Teabing asked.
　　Sophie was amazed. "Why is it there?"Teabing shrugged. "Conspiracy theorists will tell you it stands for Matrimonio or Mary Magdalene.
　　To be honest, nobody is certain. The only certainty is that the hidden M is no mistake. CountlessGrail-related works contain the hidden letter M—whether as watermarks, underpaintings, orcompositional allusions. The most blatant M, of course, is emblazoned on the altar at Our Lady ofParis in London, which was designed by a former Grand Master of the Priory of Sion, JeanCocteau."Sophie weighed the information. "I'll admit, the hidden M's are intriguing, although I assumenobody is claiming they are proof of Jesus' marriage to Magdalene.""No, no," Teabing said, going to a nearby table of books. "As I said earlier, the marriage of Jesusand Mary Magdalene is part of the historical record." He began pawing through his bookcollection. "Moreover, Jesus as a married man makes infinitely more sense than our standardbiblical view of Jesus as a bachelor.""Why?" Sophie asked.
　　"Because Jesus was a Jew," Langdon said, taking over while Teabing searched for his book, "andthe social decorum during that time virtually forbid a Jewish man to be unmarried. According toJewish custom, celibacy was condemned, and the obligation for a Jewish father was to find asuitable wife for his son. If Jesus were not married, at least one of the Bible's gospels would havementioned it and offered some explanation for His unnatural state of bachelorhood."Teabing located a huge book and pulled it toward him across the table. The leather-bound editionwas poster-sized, like a huge atlas. The cover read: The Gnostic Gospels. Teabing heaved it open,and Langdon and Sophie joined him. Sophie could see it contained photographs of what appearedto be magnified passages of ancient documents—tattered papyrus with handwritten text. She didnot recognize the ancient language, but the facing pages bore typed translations.
　　"These are photocopies of the Nag Hammadi and Dead Sea scrolls, which I mentioned earlier,"Teabing said. "The earliest Christian records. Troublingly, they do not match up with the gospels inthe Bible." Flipping toward the middle of the book, Teabing pointed to a passage. "The Gospel ofPhilip is always a good place to start." Sophie read the passage:
　　And the companion of the Saviour is Mary Magdalene. Christ loved her more thanall the disciples and used to kiss her often on her mouth. The rest of the discipleswere offended by it and expressed disapproval. They said to him, "Why do you loveher more than all of us?"The words surprised Sophie, and yet they hardly seemed conclusive. "It says nothing of marriage.""Au contraire." Teabing smiled, pointing to the first line. "As any Aramaic scholar will tell you,the word companion, in those days, literally meant spouse."Langdon concurred with a nod.
　　Sophie read the first line again. And the companion of the Saviour is Mary Magdalene.
　　Teabing flipped through the book and pointed out several other passages that, to Sophie's surprise,clearly suggested Magdalene and Jesus had a romantic relationship. As she read the passages,Sophie recalled an angry priest who had banged on her grandfather's door when she was aschoolgirl.
　　"Is this the home of Jacques Saunière?" the priest had demanded, glaring down at young Sophiewhen she pulled open the door. "I want to talk to him about this editorial he wrote." The priest heldup a newspaper.
　　Sophie summoned her grandfather, and the two men disappeared into his study and closed thedoor. My grandfather wrote something in the paper? Sophie immediately ran to the kitchen andflipped through that morning's paper. She found her grandfather's name on an article on the secondpage. She read it. Sophie didn't understand all of what was said, but it sounded like the Frenchgovernment, under pressure from priests, had agreed to ban an American movie called The LastTemptation of Christ, which was about Jesus having sex with a lady called Mary Magdalene. Hergrandfather's article said the Church was arrogant and wrong to ban it.
　　No wonder the priest is mad, Sophie thought.
　　"It's pornography! Sacrilege!" the priest yelled, emerging from the study and storming to the frontdoor. "How can you possibly endorse that! This American Martin Scorsese is a blasphemer, andthe Church will permit him no pulpit in France!" The priest slammed the door on his way out.
　　When her grandfather came into the kitchen, he saw Sophie with the paper and frowned. "You'requick."Sophie said, "You think Jesus Christ had a girlfriend?""No, dear, I said the Church should not be allowed to tell us what notions we can and can'tentertain.""Did Jesus have a girlfriend?"Her grandfather was silent for several moments. "Would it be so bad if He did?"Sophie considered it and then shrugged. "I wouldn't mind."Sir Leigh Teabing was still talking. "I shan't bore you with the countless references to Jesus andMagdalene's union. That has been explored ad nauseum by modern historians. I would, however,like to point out the following." He motioned to another passage. "This is from the Gospel of MaryMagdalene."Sophie had not known a gospel existed in Magdalene's words. She read the text:
　　And Peter said, "Did the Saviour really speak with a woman without our knowledge?
　　Are we to turn about and all listen to her? Did he prefer her to us?"And Levi answered, "Peter, you have always been hot-tempered. Now I see youcontending against the woman like an adversary. If the Saviour made her worthy,who are you indeed to reject her? Surely the Saviour knows her very well. That iswhy he loved her more than us.""The woman they are speaking of," Teabing explained, "is Mary Magdalene. Peter is jealous ofher.""Because Jesus preferred Mary?""Not only that. The stakes were far greater than mere affection. At this point in the gospels, Jesussuspects He will soon be captured and crucified. So He gives Mary Magdalene instructions on howto carry on His Church after He is gone. As a result, Peter expresses his discontent over playingsecond fiddle to a woman. I daresay Peter was something of a sexist."Sophie was trying to keep up. "This is Saint Peter. The rock on which Jesus built His Church.""The same, except for one catch. According to these unaltered gospels, it was not Peter to whomChrist gave directions with which to establish the Christian Church. It was Mary Magdalene."Sophie looked at him. "You're saying the Christian Church was to be carried on by a woman?""That was the plan. Jesus was the original feminist. He intended for the future of His Church to bein the hands of Mary Magdalene.""And Peter had a problem with that," Langdon said, pointing to The Last Supper. "That's Peterthere. You can see that Da Vinci was well aware of how Peter felt about Mary Magdalene."Again, Sophie was speechless. In the painting, Peter was leaning menacingly toward MaryMagdalene and slicing his blade-like hand across her neck. The same threatening gesture as inMadonna of the Rocks!
　　"And here too," Langdon said, pointing now to the crowd of disciples near Peter. "A bit ominous,no?"Sophie squinted and saw a hand emerging from the crowd of disciples. "Is that hand wielding adagger?""Yes. Stranger still, if you count the arms, you'll see that this hand belongs to... no one at all. It'sdisembodied. Anonymous."Sophie was starting to feel overwhelmed. "I'm sorry, I still don't understand how all of this makesMary Magdalene the Holy Grail.""Aha!" Teabing exclaimed again. "Therein lies the rub!" He turned once more to the table andpulled out a large chart, spreading it out for her. It was an elaborate genealogy. "Few people realizethat Mary Magdalene, in addition to being Christ's right hand, was a powerful woman already."Sophie could now see the title of the family tree.
　　THE TRIBE OF BENJAMIN"Mary Magdalene is here," Teabing said, pointing near the top of the genealogy.
　　Sophie was surprised. "She was of the House of Benjamin?""Indeed," Teabing said. "Mary Magdalene was of royal descent.""But I was under the impression Magdalene was poor."Teabing shook his head. "Magdalene was recast as a whore in order to erase evidence of herpowerful family ties."Sophie found herself again glancing at Langdon, who again nodded. She turned back to Teabing.
　　"But why would the early Church care if Magdalene had royal blood?"The Briton smiled. "My dear child, it was not Mary Magdalene's royal blood that concerned theChurch so much as it was her consorting with Christ, who also had royal blood. As you know, theBook of Matthew tells us that Jesus was of the House of David. A descendant of KingSolomon—King of the Jews. By marrying into the powerful House of Benjamin, Jesus fused tworoyal bloodlines, creating a potent political union with the potential of making a legitimate claim tothe throne and restoring the line of kings as it was under Solomon."Sophie sensed he was at last coming to his point.
　　Teabing looked excited now. "The legend of the Holy Grail is a legend about royal blood. WhenGrail legend speaks of 'the chalice that held the blood of Christ'... it speaks, in fact, of MaryMagdalene—the female womb that carried Jesus' royal bloodline."The words seemed to echo across the ballroom and back before they fully registered in Sophie'smind. Mary Magdalene carried the royal bloodline of Jesus Christ? "But how could Christ have abloodline unless...?" She paused and looked at Langdon.
　　Langdon smiled softly. "Unless they had a child."Sophie stood transfixed.
　　"Behold," Teabing proclaimed, "the greatest cover-up in human history. Not only was Jesus Christmarried, but He was a father. My dear, Mary Magdalene was the Holy Vessel. She was the chalicethat bore the royal bloodline of Jesus Christ. She was the womb that bore the lineage, and the vinefrom which the sacred fruit sprang forth!"Sophie felt the hairs stand up on her arms. "But how could a secret that big be kept quiet all ofthese years?""Heavens!" Teabing said. "It has been anything but quiet! The royal bloodline of Jesus Christ is thesource of the most enduring legend of all time—the Holy Grail. Magdalene's story has beenshouted from the rooftops for centuries in all kinds of metaphors and languages. Her story iseverywhere once you open your eyes.""And the Sangreal documents?" Sophie said. "They allegedly contain proof that Jesus had a royalbloodline?""They do.""So the entire Holy Grail legend is all about royal blood?""Quite literally," Teabing said. "The word Sangreal derives from San Greal—or Holy Grail. But inits most ancient form, the word Sangreal was divided in a different spot." Teabing wrote on a pieceof scrap paper and handed it to her.
　　She read what he had written.
　　Sang RealInstantly, Sophie recognized the translation. Sang Real literally meant Royal Blood.
提彬的"书房"跟索菲曾见过的其他书房不一样。这位爵士的书房比最豪华的办公室还要大六七倍，是个由试验室、档案馆和跳蚤市场组合而成的混合物。天花板上垂下的三个树枝形吊灯照耀着房间，瓷砖地板上摆放着巨大的工作台。工作台的上面堆着许多书籍、艺术品、仿制品和多得让人吃惊的电子设备：电脑、投影仪、显微镜、复印机和附带着平面印刷机的扫描仪，真是样样俱备。
提彬快步走了进去，有些羞怯地说："这是由舞厅改造的，因为我很少跳舞。"
索菲觉得整个夜晚都在神奇世界中漫游，一切都是那么新鲜。"这些都是您用来工作的吗？"
提彬说道："探索真理是我的最爱，而圣杯则是我最爱的情人。"
"圣杯是名女性。"索菲的脑海里闪过那些相互交织的概念。"您说您有一幅圣杯的画？"
"确实有一幅。但不是我把她称为圣杯的，是耶稣自己这么称呼她的。"
索菲扫视着墙壁，问道："是哪一幅啊？"
"嗯……"提彬作出一副好像忘记了的样子。"圣杯，耶稣在最后的晚餐上用的杯子，圣餐杯。"他突然转过身，指向远处的一面墙。那是一张八英尺长的《最后的晚餐》的放大照片，跟索菲刚才看过的那幅一模一样。"她在那儿！"
索菲肯定刚才她错过了什么。"这就是您刚才给我看的那一幅啊。"
提彬调皮地眨眨眼："我知道，不过，这幅放大的照片看起来更加让人激动。难道不是吗？"
索菲转过身，向兰登求助道："我糊涂了。"
兰登微笑着说："没错，圣杯确实出现在《最后的晚餐》上。达。芬奇把她放在了显著的位置上。"
索菲说："等一下。您说圣杯是个女的，可《最后的晚餐》画的是十二个男人呀。"
提彬面带疑惑地问道："是吗？你再仔细地看一下。"
索菲有些吃不准了，她走到那幅画跟前，逐个端详那十三个人物：耶稣基督在中间，六个门徒在左边，其余六个在右边。"都是男的。"索菲肯定地说。
"哦？"提彬说道。"站在显要位置的那个人呢？就是耶稣右手边上的那个。"
索菲仔细地观察着耶稣右手边上的那个人。她审视着那个人的脸型和身材，不由得惊诧万分。那人长着一头飘逸的红发，两只手纤细白皙，乳房的轮廓隐约可见。没错，那是个女人。
索菲叫道："那是个女人！"
提彬放声大笑起来："太吃惊了，太吃惊了。相信我，没错的。达。芬奇非常善于刻画男女的差异。"索菲简直无法再把视线从那个女人身上移开。《最后的晚餐》理应画的是十三个男人！
这个女人是谁？虽然索菲曾多次看过这幅画，可她从未注意到这么明显的异常之处。
提彬说道："没有人能注意到。我们多年来形成的对这幅画的认识已经根深蒂固，它蒙蔽了我们的双眼，使得我们忽视了这些异常之处。"兰登补充道："我们对很多事情都司空见惯，大脑有时是凭印象来工作的。"
提彬说道："你忽视了这个女人的另外一个原因是，许多艺术书籍上的照片都是1954年之前拍的。那时这些细微之处被层层的污垢掩盖着，而且大量的修复工作都是由18 世纪的一些笨拙的工匠完成的。现在。这幅壁画终于被清理得跟原作一模一样了。"他指着那张照片说道："就是她。"
索菲走近那张大照片。耶稣边上的那个女人看上去很年轻，满脸度诚。她体态端庄，满头漂亮的红发，正安详地握着双手。这就是那个能乔手空拳粉碎罗马教廷的女人？
索菲问道："她是谁？"
提彬答道："亲爱的，那就是抹大拉的玛利亚。"
索菲转身问道："那个妓女？"
提彬倒吸了一口气，好像被这句话刺痛了。"她不是妓女。这个不幸的误解是早年罗马教廷发动的那场战争留下的。罗马教廷不得不诋毁玛利亚，以此掩盖她所携带的危险秘密，掩盖她作为圣杯的角色。""她的角色？"
提彬说道："正如我刚才所说的，早年的罗马教廷告诉世人生活在尘世间的耶稣是个神。因此，任何描述耶稣凡人生活的福音都必须从《圣经》中删除。然而不幸的是，那些早期的编写者发现福音中有个反复出现的主题，这一主题描绘了耶稣的尘世生活，令他们感到非常棘手。那就是有关抹大拉的玛利亚的福音。"他停顿了一下，接着说："更确切地说，是关于她和耶稣的婚姻的主题。""您说什么？"索菲转过脸去看了看兰登，又看了看提彬。
提彬说："这是有历史纪录的。达。芬奇肯定知道这一事实。《最后的晚餐》实际上就在向人们宣告"耶稣和抹大拉的玛利亚是一对"。"索菲回头看着那幅壁画。
提彬指着壁画中间的两个人，对索菲说："看，耶稣和她穿的衣服正好对应。"
索菲一看，惊得目瞪口呆。确实，他们衣服的颜色是对应的。耶稣穿着一件红罩衣，披着一件蓝斗篷；玛利亚。抹大拉则穿着一件蓝罩衣，披着一件红斗篷。一阴一阳。
提彬说："还有更奇妙的。看这里，耶稣的臀部和她的臀部靠在一起，而且正准备分开来为他们之间这个明显的实体留出空间。"还没等提彬指明，索菲已经注意到那幅画的焦点上有一个明显的V 形--和那个代表圣杯和女性子宫的图示一模一样。
"最后。"提彬说道。"如果你不把耶稣和抹大拉看作是人物，而只看作是构图的要素的话，你就会注意到一个明显的轮廓。"他停顿了一下，接着说："一个字母的轮廓。"索菲马上就辨认了出来。而且，与其说她看出了那个字母，倒不如说突然之间，她的眼中只有那个字母的轮廓了。毫无疑问，在这幅画的正中间有个巨大而完美的"M"的轮廓。
提彬问道："这太完美了，绝对不是巧合。你说呢？"
索菲惊呆了。"为什么会这样？"
提彬耸耸肩说道："理论家们会说那代表着"婚姻"（Matrimonio）或"玛利亚。抹大拉"（MaryMagdalene）。但说实话，没人能肯定。唯一能确定的就是画上确实隐藏着一个"M"。
许多跟圣杯有关的事物都包含着隐形的M，不管是水印，还是底层色或构图暗示。当然了，最耀眼的"M"要算伦敦"我们的巴黎女士"圣坛上的那个了。那是由隐修会的前任掌门纪恩。考克图设计的。"索菲想了想，说道："我得承认，隐形M 的故事确实很引人人胜。但我认为，没人有足够的证据来证明耶稣跟抹大拉的婚姻。""不。"提彬边说边走到一张堆满了书的桌子旁。"正如我刚才说过的，耶稣和抹大拉的婚姻是有历史记载的。"他开始在藏书里费力地寻找着。"而且，说耶稣是个已婚男人，比《圣经》里说他是个单身汉的观点更站得住脚。"索菲问道："为什么呢？"
提彬忙着找书，兰登接过话茬。"耶稣是个犹太人，而按照当时的传统，犹太男人是必须结婚的。根据犹太人的习俗，独身是要受到谴责的，一位犹太父亲有义务为他儿子找一个合适的妻子。如果耶稣没结婚，至少《圣经》中会有福音提到这件事，并为耶稣的独身作些解释。"提彬找到一本大书，把它拽到跟前。那本皮革封面的书有海报那么大，像一本大地图。书的封面上写着：《诺斯替教徒福音书》。提彬打开书，兰登和索菲走了过去。索菲发现书中是一些古代文件的放大照片，那些文件是写在破烂的草质纸张上的。索菲看不懂那些古代文字，但每页的边缘都印有译文。
提彬说："这些是我刚刚提到的《科普特教徒古卷》和《死海古卷》的照片，都是基督教最早的文件。让人头疼的是，它们跟《圣经》上的福音不一致。"提彬把书翻到中间，指着一篇文章说道："最好从《菲利普福音》开始。"
索菲读着那段文字：救世主的同伴是玛利亚。抹大拉。耶稣经常亲吻她，爱她胜过其他门徒。其他的门徒很气恼，表达了他们的不满。他们问耶稣："你为什么爱她胜过爱我们所有人呢？"
这段话让索菲很吃惊，但它也没说明什么。"这上面没提到婚姻呀。"
提彬指着第一行，微笑着说道："恰恰相反，任何一位亚拉姆语的学者都会告诉你，在那个时候"同伴"实际上是指"配偶"。"兰登点头表示同意。
索菲又把第一行读了一遍。救世主的配偶是玛利亚。抹大拉。
提彬翻着书页，把另外几篇文章指给索菲看。文章都明白无误地记载了抹大拉和耶稣的浪漫关系。对此，索菲惊讶万分。读着这些文章，她突然回忆起了儿时发生的一件事。
那天，一个怒气冲冲的教士拼命地砸她家的大门。小索菲打开门后，那个教士低头愤怒地盯着她，大声问道："这是雅克。索尼埃家吗？我要跟他讨论一下他写的这篇文章。"教士举起手里的一份报纸。
索菲叫来祖父，祖父带着那个人走进书房，关上了门。"祖父在报纸上写了些什么呀？"
索菲立刻跑进厨房，迅速地翻阅着早上来的报纸。她在第二页上找到了祖父写的那篇文章，读了起来。索菲并不完全明白文章的内容，只是大约地知道好像当时法国政府迫于教士们的压力，查封了一部叫做《耶稣最后的诱惑》的美国电影，那部电影讲述的是耶稣和一位名为玛利亚。抹大拉的女士发生性关系的故事。而祖父评论说罗马教廷太自大了，不应该查封这部电影。
索菲想道，怪不得那个教士当时那么激动。
"这是色情！是渎神！"教士从书房里出来，冲向前门。"你怎么能认可这种事！这个叫马丁。司高斯的美国人是个渎神者，教会绝对不会允许他在法国宣传这种东西的！"教士冲了出去。"嘭"的一声关上了门。
祖父走进厨房时，发现索菲在看报纸，皱着眉头说道："你的动作还挺快。"
索菲问道："是因为您认为耶稣有女朋友吗？"
"不，亲爱的。我是说教会不应该对我们指手画脚，告诉我们什么应该信，什么不应该信。""那么，耶稣有女朋友吗？"
祖父沉默了片刻，说道："如果有，会很糟吗？"
索菲想了一会儿，耸耸肩说道："我不在乎。"
雷。提彬爵士继续说道："我不想再多谈耶稣和抹大拉的婚姻，那已经被当代历史学家研究烂了。相反，我要告诉你这个。"他指着另一篇文章说道。"这是从《玛利亚。抹大拉福音》上摘抄下来的。"索菲还从未听说过有关于抹大拉的福音。她读着那段文字：彼得说道："救世主真的背着我们跟一个女人讲话了吗？我们需要掉转方向，都听她的吗？比起我们来，他是不是更喜欢她啊？"
莱维回答："彼得，你的脾气总是这么暴躁。现在，我发现你正在跟那个女人斗争，简直把她视作敌人。如果主认为她值得爱，你又有什么资格来反对她呢？主当然了解她了。
那也是他爱她胜过爱我们的原因。"提彬解释道："他们说的那个女人就是玛利亚，抹大拉。"
"就因为耶稣更喜欢玛利亚吗？"
"不仅如此。除了喜爱还有其他的利害关系。福音指出，耶稣怀疑他将会被捕并被钉上十字架。因此，他就告诉玛利亚。抹大拉应该怎样在他死后继续掌管他的教堂。结果，彼得对听从一个女人的命令非常不满。我敢说他是一个男性至上主义者。"索菲辩解说："那可是圣彼得！耶稣依靠他才建立起了教堂呀。"
"没错。但根据这些未经篡改的福音，耶稣没有命令彼得去建立基督教堂，而是让玛利亚。抹大拉去做。"索菲惊异地看着他，说道："您是说基督教堂是由一个女人建立的吗？"
"原计划是这样的。耶稣实际上是一个女权主义者。他想让玛利亚。抹大拉来掌管他的教堂。"兰登指着《最后的晚餐》说道："彼得对此很不满。他在这里。你可以看出达。芬奇完全意识到了彼得对玛利亚。抹大拉的憎恨。"索菲又一次无言以对。画上的彼得恶狠狠地斜靠着玛利亚，他的手像刀刃一样横在她的脖子上。跟《岩间圣母》上的那个威胁的姿势一模一样。
兰登指着彼得旁边的几个门徒，说道："看这里，有些不吉利，是吧？"
索菲眯起眼，看到有一只手从那群门徒中间伸了出来。"这就是那只握着匕首的手吗？"
"是的。还有更奇怪的。如果你数一下他们的胳膊，就会发现这只于属于……它不属于任何人。一只无名之手。"
索菲不知所措。"对不起。我还是不明白，所有这些是怎样使玛利亚。抹大拉成为圣杯的。"提彬又一次叫道："啊！原来如此！"他转向桌子，拽过一张大图纸，铺在索菲面前。
那是一张精心制作的家谱。"很少有人知道，玛利亚不仅是耶稣的左右手，而且早就是一个很有权势的女人了。"索菲看到了那本族谱的名称。
《本杰明家族》提彬指着家谱的顶端，说道："玛利亚。抹大拉在这里。"
索菲大吃一惊。"她竟然是本杰明家族的人？"
"没错。"提彬说道。"玛利亚。抹大拉是王室的后代。"
"可是我总以为抹大拉很穷。"
提彬摇摇头："把玛利亚。抹大拉说成妓女，就是要掩盖她跟她那权倾朝野的家族的关系。"索菲转头看着兰登，兰登点点头。她看着提彬，问道："为什么早年的罗马教廷会在乎抹大拉是否有皇家血统呢？"
提彬微笑着说道："亲爱的孩子，与其说罗马教廷关心玛利亚是否有皇家血统，还不如说他们更关心她跟同样有着皇家血统的耶稣的夫妻关系。正如你所知道的，根据《马太福音》，耶稣属于大卫王家族，是犹太王所罗门的后代。跟权势极大的本杰明家族联姻后，耶稣就把两个家族联合了起来，从而结成了有效的政治联盟。这样，他就有可能合法地要求继承王位，恢复所罗门王的皇族。"索菲感到他终于要切人正题了。
提彬看上去很兴奋。"关于圣杯的传说实际上是关于王室血统的传说。圣杯传说中提到的"盛着耶稣鲜血的杯子"……实际上说的是玛利亚。抹大拉--传承耶稣王室血统的女性。"这话好像穿越了整个书房，又传了回来，最后才完全进入索菲耳中。玛利亚。抹大拉传承耶稣的王室血统？"但是，耶稣怎么可能有后代呢？除非……"她突然停了下来，看着兰登。
兰登温柔地笑着："除非他们有孩子。"
索菲愣住了。
"等一等。"提彬宣布道。"下面要揭开的就是人类历史上最大的秘密。耶酥基督不仅结了婚，他还当了父亲。亲爱的，玛利亚。抹大拉就是圣杯。她是生下了耶稣基督王室后代的圣杯。她是传承耶稣王室血统的女性，是孕育神圣果实的那条蔓藤。"索菲觉得浑身的汗毛都竖了起来。"可是，那么重大的秘密怎么可能被默默地保守这么多年呢？"
提彬叫道："天啊！这个秘密从未被"默默地"保守过！经久不衰的圣杯传说一直围绕着耶稣基督的王室后代。抹大拉的故事也被用形形色色的比喻和各种各样的语言公开宣传了几百年。只要你注意看，有关她的传说到处都有。"索菲说道："那么，那些有关圣杯的文件呢？据说那里面藏着耶稣有后代的证据，是吗？"
"是的。"
"那么，圣杯传说都是关于王室血统的了？"
提彬说道："确实如此。圣杯这个词来自于"SanGreal"。最早的时候，"Sangreal"是在不同的地方断词的。"提彬在一张小纸条上写了两个字，然后递给她。
索菲看着纸条。
SangReal她立刻明白了它的含义。
"SangReal"的字面意义是"RoyalBlood"（王室血统）。
Chapter 59
The male receptionist in the lobby of the Opus Dei headquarters on Lexington Avenue in NewYork City was surprised to hear Bishop Aringarosa's voice on the line. "Good evening, sir.""Have I had any messages?" the bishop demanded, sounding unusually anxious.
　　"Yes, sir. I'm very glad you called in. I couldn't reach you in your apartment. You had an urgentphone message about half an hour ago.""Yes?" He sounded relieved by the news. "Did the caller leave a name?""No, sir, just a number." The operator relayed the number.
　　"Prefix thirty-three? That's France, am I right?""Yes, sir. Paris. The caller said it was critical you contact him immediately.""Thank you. I have been waiting for that call." Aringarosa quickly severed the connection.
　　As the receptionist hung up the receiver, he wondered why Aringarosa's phone connection soundedso crackly. The bishop's daily schedule showed him in New York this weekend, and yet hesounded a world away. The receptionist shrugged it off. Bishop Aringarosa had been acting verystrangely the last few months.
　　My cellular phone must not have been receiving, Aringarosa thought as the Fiat approached theexit for Rome's Ciampino Charter Airport. The Teacher was trying to reach me. DespiteAringarosa's concern at having missed the call, he felt encouraged that the Teacher felt confidentenough to call Opus Dei headquarters directly.
　　Things must have gone well in Paris tonight.
　　As Aringarosa began dialing the number, he felt excited to know he would soon be in Paris. I'll beon the ground before dawn. Aringarosa had a chartered turbo prop awaiting him here for the shortflight to France. Commercial carriers were not an option at this hour, especially considering thecontents of his briefcase.
　　The line began to ring.
　　A female voice answered. "Direction Centrale Police Judidaire."Aringarosa felt himself hesitate. This was unexpected. "Ah, yes... I was asked to call this number?""Qui êtes-vous?" the woman said. "Your name?"Aringarosa was uncertain if he should reveal it. The French Judicial Police?
　　"Your name, monsieur?" the woman pressed.
　　"Bishop Manuel Aringarosa.""Un moment." There was a click on the line.
　　After a long wait, another man came on, his tone gruff and concerned. "Bishop, I am glad I finallyreached you. You and I have much to discuss."
纽约市莱克星顿大街的天主事工会总部里，男接待员意外地接到了阿林加洛沙主教的电话，于是他问候道："晚上好，先生。"
"有我的口信吗？"主教急切地问道。
"是的，先生。很高兴您打了过来。我往您的房间里打电话，可是没人接。半小时之前有您的一个紧急电话留言。""是吗？"阿林加洛沙的声音听上去有点欣慰。"打电话的人留下名字了吗？"
"没有，先生。只留下了一个电话号码。"接待员把那个号码复述了一遍。
"区号是337 那是法国，对吗？"
"是的，先生。是巴黎。打电话的人说情况紧急，请您立刻跟他联络。"
"谢谢你。我一直在等这个电话。"说完，阿林加洛沙迅速地挂上了电话。
接待员边挂电话边琢磨："怎么阿林加洛沙主教的电话里有"噼哩啪啦"的干扰声？日程安排显示他这个周末在纽约，可是他的声音听起来却像是从世界的另一端传来的。"他耸了耸肩。"近几个月来，阿林加洛沙主教的举动一直都很古怪！"
我的手机肯定一直没信号，阿林加洛沙坐在菲亚特轿车中琢磨着，此时他们正直奔罗马的洽米皮诺机场。"导师"一直在试图跟我联系。虽然阿林加洛沙为错过了电话而担忧，但依然倍受鼓舞，因为"导师"直接把电话打到教会总部去了，说明他充满了信心。
今晚巴黎的事一定进展顺利。
阿林加洛沙激动地拨打起号码，他知道自己不久就可以到巴黎了。天亮之前我就能飞到那里。阿林加洛沙为这次法国之行包用的飞机已经在机场等候了。这个时候不宜坐客机，特别是考虑到他的公文包里装的东西，就更不能去坐客机了。
电话接通了。
一个女人的声音问道："这里是中央警署。请问您找谁？"
阿林加洛沙不禁犹豫了一下。这太意外了。"啊。请问是谁用这个号码给我打了电话？"
那个女的问道："请问您的名字？"
阿林加洛沙一时不知道是否应该说出自己的真名。那里是法国警署？
"您的名字，先生？"那个女人又问道。
"曼努埃尔。阿林加洛沙主教。"
"请等一下。"电话里传来"嗒"的一声。
过了好一会儿，电话里传来一个男人粗哑而不安的声音。"主教，很高兴终于找到你了。我们有很多事要商量。"
Chapter 60
Sangreal... Sang Real... San Greal... Royal Blood... Holy Grail.
　　It was all intertwined.
　　The Holy Grail is Mary Magdalene... the mother of the royal bloodline of Jesus Christ. Sophie felta new wave of disorientation as she stood in the silence of the ballroom and stared at RobertLangdon. The more pieces Langdon and Teabing laid on the table tonight, the more unpredictablethis puzzle became.
　　"As you can see, my dear," Teabing said, hobbling toward a bookshelf, "Leonardo is not the onlyone who has been trying to tell the world the truth about the Holy Grail. The royal bloodline ofJesus Christ has been chronicled in exhaustive detail by scores of historians." He ran a finger downa row of several dozen books.
　　Sophie tilted her head and scanned the list of titles:
　　THE TEMPLAR REVELATION:
　　Secret Guardians of the True Identity of ChristTHE WOMAN WITH THE ALABASTER JAR:
　　Mary Magdalene and the Holy GrailTHE GODDESS IN THE GOSPELSReclaiming the Sacred Feminine"Here is perhaps the best-known tome," Teabing said, pulling a tattered hardcover from the stackand handing it to her. The cover read:
　　HOLY BLOOD, HOLY GRAILThe Acclaimed International BestsellerSophie glanced up. "An international bestseller? I've never heard of it.""You were young. This caused quite a stir back in the nineteen eighties. To my taste, the authorsmade some dubious leaps of faith in their analysis, but their fundamental premise is sound, and totheir credit, they finally brought the idea of Christ's bloodline into the mainstream.""What was the Church's reaction to the book?""Outrage, of course. But that was to be expected. After all, this was a secret the Vatican had tried tobury in the fourth century. That's part of what the Crusades were about. Gathering and destroyinginformation. The threat Mary Magdalene posed to the men of the early Church was potentiallyruinous. Not only was she the woman to whom Jesus had assigned the task of founding the Church,but she also had physical proof that the Church's newly proclaimed deity had spawned a mortalbloodline. The Church, in order to defend itself against the Magdalene's power, perpetuated herimage as a whore and buried evidence of Christ's marriage to her, thereby defusing any potentialclaims that Christ had a surviving bloodline and was a mortal prophet."Sophie glanced at Langdon, who nodded. "Sophie, the historical evidence supporting this issubstantial.""I admit," Teabing said, "the assertions are dire, but you must understand the Church's powerfulmotivations to conduct such a cover-up. They could never have survived public knowledge of abloodline. A child of Jesus would undermine the critical notion of Christ's divinity and thereforethe Christian Church, which declared itself the sole vessel through which humanity could accessthe divine and gain entrance to the kingdom of heaven.""The five-petal rose," Sophie said, pointing suddenly to the spine of one of Teabing's books. Thesame exact design inlaid on the rosewood box.
　　Teabing glanced at Langdon and grinned. "She has a good eye." He turned back to Sophie. "That isthe Priory symbol for the Grail. Mary Magdalene. Because her name was forbidden by the Church,Mary Magdalene became secretly known by many pseudonyms—the Chalice, the Holy Grail, andthe Rose." He paused. "The Rose has ties to the five-pointed pentacle of Venus and the guidingCompass Rose. By the way, the word rose is identical in English, French, German, and many otherlanguages.""Rose," Langdon added, "is also an anagram of Eros, the Greek god of sexual love."Sophie gave him a surprised look as Teabing plowed on.
　　"The Rose has always been the premiere symbol of female sexuality. In primitive goddess cults,the five petals represented the five stations of female life—birth, menstruation, motherhood,menopause, and death. And in modern times, the flowering rose's ties to womanhood areconsidered more visual." He glanced at Robert. "Perhaps the symbologist could explain?"Robert hesitated. A moment too long.
　　"Oh, heavens!" Teabing huffed. "You Americans are such prudes." He looked back at Sophie.
　　"What Robert is fumbling with is the fact that the blossoming flower resembles the femalegenitalia, the sublime blossom from which all mankind enters the world. And if you've ever seenany paintings by Georgia O'Keeffe, you'll know exactly what I mean.""The point here," Langdon said, motioning back to the bookshelf, "is that all of these bookssubstantiate the same historical claim.""That Jesus was a father." Sophie was still uncertain.
　　"Yes," Teabing said. "And that Mary Magdalene was the womb that carried His royal lineage. ThePriory of Sion, to this day, still worships Mary Magdalene as the Goddess, the Holy Grail, theRose, and the Divine Mother."Sophie again flashed on the ritual in the basement.
　　"According to the Priory," Teabing continued, "Mary Magdalene was pregnant at the time of thecrucifixion. For the safety of Christ's unborn child, she had no choice but to flee the Holy Land.
　　With the help of Jesus' trusted uncle, Joseph of Arimathea, Mary Magdalene secretly traveled toFrance, then known as Gaul. There she found safe refuge in the Jewish community. It was here inFrance that she gave birth to a daughter. Her name was Sarah."Sophie glanced up. "They actually know the child's name?""Far more than that. Magdalene's and Sarah's lives were scrutinously chronicled by their Jewishprotectors. Remember that Magdalene's child belonged to the lineage of Jewish kings—David andSolomon. For this reason, the Jews in France considered Magdalene sacred royalty and revered heras the progenitor of the royal line of kings. Countless scholars of that era chronicled MaryMagdalene's days in France, including the birth of Sarah and the subsequent family tree."Sophie was startled. "There exists a family tree of Jesus Christ?""Indeed. And it is purportedly one of the cornerstones of the Sangreal documents. A completegenealogy of the early descendants of Christ.""But what good is a documented genealogy of Christ's bloodline?" Sophie asked. "It's not proof.
　　Historians could not possibly confirm its authenticity."Teabing chuckled. "No more so than they can confirm the authenticity of the Bible.""Meaning?""Meaning that history is always written by the winners. When two cultures clash, the loser isobliterated, and the winner writes the history books—books which glorify their own cause anddisparage the conquered foe. As Napoleon once said, 'What is history, but a fable agreed upon?' "He smiled. "By its very nature, history is always a one-sided account."Sophie had never thought of it that way.
　　"The Sangreal documents simply tell the other side of the Christ story. In the end, which side of thestory you believe becomes a matter of faith and personal exploration, but at least the informationhas survived. The Sangreal documents include tens of thousands of pages of information.
　　Eyewitness accounts of the Sangreal treasure describe it as being carried in four enormous trunks.
　　In those trunks are reputed to be the Purist Documents—thousands of pages of unaltered, pre-Constantine documents, written by the early followers of Jesus, revering Him as a wholly humanteacher and prophet. Also rumored to be part of the treasure is the legendary "Q" Document—amanuscript that even the Vatican admits they believe exists. Allegedly, it is a book of Jesus'
　　teachings, possibly written in His own hand.""Writings by Christ Himself?""Of course," Teabing said. "Why wouldn't Jesus have kept a chronicle of His ministry? Mostpeople did in those days. Another explosive document believed to be in the treasure is a manuscriptcalled The Magdalene Diaries—Mary Magdalene's personal account of her relationship withChrist, His crucifixion, and her time in France."Sophie was silent for a long moment. "And these four chests of documents were the treasure thatthe Knights Templar found under Solomon's Temple?""Exactly. The documents that made the Knights so powerful. The documents that have been theobject of countless Grail quests throughout history.""But you said the Holy Grail was Mary Magdalene. If people are searching for documents, whywould you call it a search for the Holy Grail?"Teabing eyed her, his expression softening. "Because the hiding place of the Holy Grail includes asarcophagus."Outside, the wind howled in the trees.
　　Teabing spoke more quietly now. "The quest for the Holy Grail is literally the quest to kneel beforethe bones of Mary Magdalene. A journey to pray at the feet of the outcast one, the lost sacredfeminine."Sophie felt an unexpected wonder. "The hiding place of the Holy Grail is actually... a tomb?"Teabing's hazel eyes got misty. "It is. A tomb containing the body of Mary Magdalene and thedocuments that tell the true story of her life. At its heart, the quest for the Holy Grail has alwaysbeen a quest for the Magdalene—the wronged Queen, entombed with proof of her family's rightfulclaim to power."Sophie waited a moment as Teabing gathered himself. So much about her grandfather was still notmaking sense. "Members of the Priory," she finally said, "all these years have answered the chargeof protecting the Sangreal documents and the tomb of Mary Magdalene?""Yes, but the brotherhood had another, more important duty as well—to protect the bloodline itself.
　　Christ's lineage was in perpetual danger. The early Church feared that if the lineage were permittedto grow, the secret of Jesus and Magdalene would eventually surface and challenge thefundamental Catholic doctrine—that of a divine Messiah who did not consort with women orengage in sexual union." He paused. "Nonetheless, Christ's line grew quietly under cover in Franceuntil making a bold move in the fifth century, when it intermarried with French royal blood andcreated a lineage known as the Merovingian bloodline."This news surprised Sophie. Merovingian was a term learned by every student in France. "TheMerovingians founded Paris.""Yes. That's one of the reasons the Grail legend is so rich in France. Many of the Vatican's Grailquests here were in fact stealth missions to erase members of the royal bloodline. Have you heardof King Dagobert?"Sophie vaguely recalled the name from a grisly tale in history class. "Dagobert was a Merovingianking, wasn't he? Stabbed in the eye while sleeping?""Exactly. Assassinated by the Vatican in collusion with Pepin d'Heristal. Late seventh century.
　　With Dagobert's murder, the Merovingian bloodline was almost exterminated. Fortunately,Dagobert's son, Sigisbert, secretly escaped the attack and carried on the lineage, which laterincluded Godefroi de Bouillon—founder of the Priory of Sion.""The same man," Langdon said, "who ordered the Knights Templar to recover the Sangrealdocuments from beneath Solomon's Temple and thus provide the Merovingians proof of theirhereditary ties to Jesus Christ."Teabing nodded, heaving a ponderous sigh. "The modern Priory of Sion has a momentous duty.
　　Theirs is a threefold charge. The brotherhood must protect the Sangreal documents. They mustprotect the tomb of Mary Magdalene. And, of course, they must nurture and protect the bloodlineof Christ—those few members of the royal Merovingian bloodline who have survived into moderntimes."The words hung in the huge space, and Sophie felt an odd vibration, as if her bones werereverberating with some new kind of truth. Descendants of Jesus who survived into modern times.
　　Her grandfather's voice again was whispering in her ear. Princess, I must tell you the truth aboutyour family.
　　A chill raked her flesh.
　　Royal blood.
　　She could not imagine.
　　Princess Sophie.
　　"Sir Leigh?" The manservant's words crackled through the intercom on the wall, and Sophiejumped. "If you could join me in the kitchen a moment?"Teabing scowled at the ill-timed intrusion. He went over to the intercom and pressed the button.
　　"Rémy, as you know, I am busy with my guests. If we need anything else from the kitchen tonight,we will help ourselves. Thank you and good night.""A word with you before I retire, sir. If you would."Teabing grunted and pressed the button. "Make it quick, Rémy.""It is a household matter, sir, hardly fare for guests to endure."Teabing looked incredulous. "And it cannot wait until morning?""No, sir. My question won't take a minute."Teabing rolled his eyes and looked at Langdon and Sophie. "Sometimes I wonder who is servingwhom?" He pressed the button again. "I'll be right there, Rémy. Can I bring you anything when Icome?""Only freedom from oppression, sir.""Rémy, you realize your steak au poivre is the only reason you still work for me.""So you tell me, sir. So you tell me."
Sangreal……SangReal……SanGreal……王室血统……圣杯。
所有的一切都纠缠在一起。
圣杯是玛利亚。抹大拉……传承耶稣王室血统的女性。当索菲静静的站在书房里，疑惑地盯着罗伯特。兰登，脑海中又浮现出了新的疑惑。兰登和提彬往桌上堆的资料越多，索菲就越感到这个谜团令人难以捉摸。
"正如你看到的，亲爱的。"提彬边说，边蹒跚着走向书架。"兰登并不是唯一竭力想告诉世人关于圣杯真相的人。耶稣基督有后代的事早就被大批的历史学家详详细细地写进编年史了。"他指了指那一大排书。
索菲转过头浏览着书名：《圣殿武士启示录》--耶稣真正身份的神秘守护者《举着雪花石膏罐子的女人》--玛利亚。抹大拉和圣杯《福音中的女神》--感化圣女"这本也许是最有名的。"提彬边说边从书堆里拽出一本破旧不堪的精装书，递给她。
《王室血统和圣杯》--备受欢迎世界畅销书索菲抬眼看着提彬，说道："世界畅销书？我可从没听说过。"
"那时候你还小。这本书在20 世纪80 年代引起了极大的震动。在我看来，这本书的几个作者在分析基督教的基石时观点有些暧昧不清，不过们的基本前提还是合理的。值得称赞的是，他们最终还是把耶稣有后代这个观点介绍给了大众。""罗马教会对这本书作何反应？"
"当然是非常愤怒了。可那也在情理之中。毕竟，这是梵蒂冈竭力保守了三百多年的秘密呀。而这也是当年十字军东征的部分原因，那就是收集秘密，然后把它们销毁。玛利亚。抹大拉对早年罗马教会的那些人极具威胁。她不仅受命于耶稣建立罗马教廷，而且还有物证来证明教廷当时所宣称的神是有凡人后代的。为了对抗抹大拉的权势，教廷长期大肆宣扬，说她是个娼妓，并销毁隐瞒耶稣和她结婚的证据，从而压制消除耶稣是凡人并且有后代的说法。"索菲看了一眼兰登。他点点头说："索菲，有充分的历史资料证明事实确实如此。"
"我承认。"提彬说："这个说法确实很恐怖。但你必须搞清楚教会竭力隐瞒此事的强烈动机。假如公众知道耶稣有后代，那教会就完蛋了。耶稣有后代的事会破坏耶稣至高无上的神性，那么，自称是人类亲近神和进入天堂的唯一途径的教会也会随之瓦解。"突然，索菲指着提彬的那堆书说道："五瓣玫瑰。"跟镶在紫檀木盒上的那个一模一样。
提彬看了兰登一眼，说道："她的观察力可真不错啊！"然后转过身。对索菲说："那是隐修会标志圣杯的记号，也代表着玛利亚。抹大拉。由于教廷不允许人们叫她的名字，于是，人们就以许多假名来称呼抹大拉一如查利斯、圣杯和玫瑰。"他停了一下，接着说道："
玫瑰与维纳斯的五角星和指路的罗盘玫瑰有关。另外，玫瑰这个词在英语、法语、德语等语言中的读写都可以轻易地被辨认。"兰登接着说道："而且，玫瑰（Rose）颠倒一下字母顺序就成了希腊神话中的爱神厄洛斯（Eros）的名字。"索菲吃惊地看了看提彬，而提彬则继续讲解着。
"玫瑰一直是女性生殖能力的首选标志。在原始的女神崇拜时期，五个花瓣代表女性生命中的五个阶段---出生，首次月经来潮，做母亲，绝经和死亡。而且在当代，用玫瑰花来代表女性的例子屡见不鲜。"他看了罗伯特一眼，说道："也许符号学家能对此作出解释吧？"
罗伯特犹豫不决，一时不知如何作答。
"阿，天哪。"提彬生气地说："你们美国人真是假正经。"他回头看着索菲："罗伯特吞吞吐吐不肯说出的事实，是开放的玫瑰花象征着女性的外生殖器，而所有的人都是从那个神圣的花朵里来到世间的。如果你看过乔治亚。奥基夫的画，就会完全明白我的意思。""问题在于。"兰登指着书架说："是否这里所有的书都能充分证明同一个历史事实。"
"也就是耶稣是位父亲的说法。"索菲依然对此事不太肯定。
"是的。"提彬说："而且还能证明玛利亚。抹大拉就是为耶稣生下王室后代的女人。直到今天，郇山隐修会仍然信奉玛利亚。抹大拉，认为她是女神、圣杯、玫瑰和圣母。"索菲又一次回想起了地下室里的仪式。
提彬接着说道："根据隐修会的说法，玛利亚。抹大拉是在耶稣受难时怀孕的。为了耶稣后代的安全，她不得不逃离圣地耶路撒冷。在耶稣的叔叔约瑟夫的帮助下，玛利亚偷偷地逃到了当时被称为高卢的法国。在那里她受到了犹太人的庇护。正是在法国，她生下了一个女儿，名叫萨拉。"索菲抬头望着他，说道："他们确实知道那个孩子的名字？"
"不仅如此。抹大拉和萨拉的生活还被她们的犹太保护者详细地记录了下来。要知道，抹大拉的孩子是拥有犹太王大卫和所罗门的血脉的。因此，法国的犹太人认为抹大拉是神圣的王族，王室血脉传承人。当时有无数关于玛利亚在法生活的记录，其中包括萨拉的出世和后来的家谱。"索菲大为吃惊："竟然有耶稣基督的家谱？"
"确实如此。据说那还是圣杯文件的重要部分之一。那是一本耶稣直系子嗣的详细家谱。"提彬回答道。
"但是，一本耶稣后代的家谱有什么用呢？"索菲问道。"那并不能证明什么呀。历史学家恐怕不能证实它的可信性。"
提彬咯咯笑了起来。"恰恰相反。他们完全能够证明它的可信度不亚于《圣经》。"
"什么意思？"
提彬微笑着回答："历史总是由胜利者来谱写的。当两个文明交锋时，失败者的文明史就会被删除，胜利者会编写颂扬自己而贬低被征服者的历史。正如拿破仑所言"什么是历史？
只不过是编造的谎言罢了"。历史的本质就是一家之言。"索菲从未朝那方面想过。
"有关圣杯的文件只不过讲述了耶稣的另外一面而已。你相信的那一面就成了你信仰的来源，但至少，这个信息流传了下来。圣杯文件有上万页。曾看到过圣杯宝藏的人说这些文件被装在四个巨大的箱子里。据说，那些都是原始文件--包括上万页未经修改的资料，那是由早期的耶稣追随者在康斯坦丁大帝统治罗马之前写的，他们衷心地崇拜耶稣，认为他是全人类的导师和预言家。宝藏的另外一部分是传说中的"Q"文件，那是连梵蒂冈都承认存在的手稿。按照他们的说法，那是一本记录耶稣楔石的书，而且可能是他亲笔所写。""耶稣自己写的书？"
"当然了。"提彬说道："为什么耶稣就不能保留一本记录他自己传经布道的书呢？当时有很多人都那么做。宝藏的另外一部分是《抹大拉日记》的手稿，里面是她跟耶稣交往过程的自述，记录了耶稣受难以及她在法国的经历。"索菲沉默了半晌。"这四个装满了文件的箱子就是圣殿武土在所罗门神殿下面发现的宝藏？"
"正是。正是这些文件使得圣殿武士拥有了神奇的力量。这些文件也正是千百年来无数圣杯追寻者所要找的东西。""可是你说过圣杯就是玛利亚。抹大拉呀。如果人们都在寻找这些文件，那你为什么说他们是在寻找圣杯呢？"
提彬看着她，口气温和地说："因为圣杯藏在一个石棺里。"
屋外，呼号的狂风摇动着树枝。
提彬平静地说道："寻找圣杯实际上就是寻找玛利亚。抹大拉的尸骨，然后对其顶礼膜拜，在一个被遗弃的失去了神力的女人脚下祈祷。"索菲感到异常惊异："藏圣杯的地方实际上是……一个坟墓？"
提彬淡褐色的眼睛湿润了："是的。是一个坟墓，里面埋藏着玛利亚。抹大拉的遗骨和记录她的一生的文件。从本质上说，寻找圣杯就是寻找玛利亚。抹大拉，寻找受尽冤枉的女王。冤枉她的人把她和大批证据一起埋入坟墓，而这些证据完全可以证明她的家族有正当的理由获得权力。"索菲等待提彬镇静下来。许多关于祖父的事还没搞清楚呢！终于，她说道："隐修会一直致力于保护圣杯文件和玛利亚。抹大拉的坟墓吗？"
"是的，但隐修会还有一项更重要的任务，那就是保护耶稣的后人。他们一直处于危险之中。早年的罗马教廷害怕耶稣的后代一旦长大成人，耶稣和抹大拉的事就会浮出水面。
这样，基督教的基石就会被动摇；要知道，一个神圣的救世主是不会与女子同床共枕或发生性关系的。"他停了一会儿，接着说道："虽然如此，耶稣的后人还是在犹太人的保护下在法国悄悄地长大了。直到公元5 世纪他们才作出了一个大胆的举动--他们与法国的皇族结了亲并生下了被称为"梅罗文加王朝"的后代。"索菲吃了一惊。"梅罗文加王朝"，在法国无人不知。"梅罗文加王朝建造了巴黎。"
"是的。这也是圣杯的传说在法国广为流传的原因之一。梵蒂冈的圣杯寻找者的行动实际上都是杀害王室后人的秘密行动。你听说过达构贝国王吧？"
索菲模糊地记起她曾在历史课上的一个恐怖故事里听到过这个名字。"达构贝是梅罗文加王朝的一个国王，对吗？他是不是在熟睡的时候被人刺瞎了眼睛？"
"一点儿不错。他是在公元7 世纪晚期被梵蒂冈与蓬皮宾。荷里斯特合谋刺杀的。达构贝遇害后，梅罗文加王朝的后人几乎被消灭殆尽。值得庆幸的是，达构贝的儿子斯基斯伯特偷偷地逃离了魔爪，沿续了香火，他的后代中就有郇山隐修会的创始人。"兰登接着说道："也就是这个人命令圣殿武士从所罗门圣殿下面抢救出圣杯的文件，从而为梅罗文加王朝找出证据，证明他们跟耶稣有血缘关系。"提彬长长地叹了一口气，点点头说道："现在隐修会的责任非常重大。他们必须完成三个任务。首先隐修会必须要保护圣杯文件。其次，要保护好玛利亚。抹大拉的坟墓。最后，他们必须保护好耶稣的后人并把他们抚养成人。现在还有为数不多的梅罗文加王朝的后人存活着。"这些话在空中回响。索菲感到一阵奇怪的震动，好像她的骨头随着某个真相的揭开而发出巨大的回响。耶稣的后代仍然存活着！祖父的话又在她耳边响起。公主，我必须要把你家庭的真相告诉你。
她打了个寒战。
王室血统。
她简直无法相信。
索菲公主。
"雷先生！"墙上的对讲机里突然传来男佣的声音，把索菲吓了一跳。"您能到厨房来一下吗？"
提彬对男仆的打搅很恼怒。他走到对讲机前，按了一下按钮，说道："雷米，你应该知道，我正忙着招待客人。如果我们需要从厨房里拿什么东西，我们会自己去的。谢谢你。晚安！""先生，我只想在就寝之前跟您说句话。如果您允许的话。"
提彬嘟囔着，又按了一下按钮。"有话快说，雷米。"
"只是些家务事，先生。不需要在对讲机里讲出来打搅客人的雅兴。"
提彬简直难以置信。"不能等到明天？"
"不行，先生。我有句话想问您，一会儿也等不得。"
提彬圆睁双眼，转过头看着兰登和索菲说："有时我真怀疑到底是谁侍候谁？"他又按了一下按钮。"我马上就过去，雷米。需要我从这里给你带点什么吗？"
"只要不是虐待就行，先生。"
"雷米，要知道要不是你做的胡椒牛排好吃，我早就辞退你了。"
"我知道，先生。您说过。"
Chapter 61
Princess Sophie.
　　Sophie felt hollow as she listened to the clicking of Teabing's crutches fade down the hallway.
　　Numb, she turned and faced Langdon in the deserted ballroom. He was already shaking his head asif reading her mind.
　　"No, Sophie," he whispered, his eyes reassuring. "The same thought crossed my mind when Irealized your grandfather was in the Priory, and you said he wanted to tell you a secret about yourfamily. But it's impossible." Langdon paused. "Saunière is not a Merovingian name."Sophie wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Earlier, Langdon had asked an unusualpassing question about Sophie's mother's maiden name. Chauvel. The question now made sense.
　　"And Chauvel?" she asked, anxious.
　　Again he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know that would have answered some questions for you.
　　Only two direct lines of Merovingians remain. Their family names are Plantard and Saint-Clair.
　　Both families live in hiding, probably protected by the Priory."Sophie repeated the names silently in her mind and then shook her head. There was no one in herfamily named Plantard or Saint-Clair. A weary undertow was pulling at her now. She realized shewas no closer than she had been at the Louvre to understanding what truth her grandfather hadwanted to reveal to her. Sophie wished her grandfather had never mentioned her family thisafternoon. He had torn open old wounds that felt as painful now as ever. They are dead, Sophie.
　　They are not coming back. She thought of her mother singing her to sleep at night, of her fathergiving her rides on his shoulders, and of her grandmother and younger brother smiling at her withtheir fervent green eyes. All that was stolen. And all she had left was her grandfather.
　　And now he is gone too. I am alone.
　　Sophie turned quietly back to The Last Supper and gazed at Mary Magdalene's long red hair andquiet eyes. There was something in the woman's expression that echoed the loss of a loved one.
　　Sophie could feel it too.
　　"Robert?" she said softly.
　　He stepped closer.
　　"I know Leigh said the Grail story is all around us, but tonight is the first time I've ever heard anyof this."Langdon looked as if he wanted to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but he refrained.
　　"You've heard her story before, Sophie. Everyone has. We just don't realize it when we hear it.""I don't understand.""The Grail story is everywhere, but it is hidden. When the Church outlawed speaking of theshunned Mary Magdalene, her story and importance had to be passed on through more discreetchannels... channels that supported metaphor and symbolism.""Of course. The arts."Langdon motioned to The Last Supper. "A perfect example. Some of today's most enduring art,literature, and music secretly tell the history of Mary Magdalene and Jesus."Langdon quickly told her about works by Da Vinci, Botticelli, Poussin, Bernini, Mozart, andVictor Hugo that all whispered of the quest to restore the banished sacred feminine. Enduringlegends like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, King Arthur, and Sleeping Beauty were Grailallegories. Victor Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame and Mozart's Magic Flute were filled withMasonic symbolism and Grail secrets.
　　"Once you open your eyes to the Holy Grail," Langdon said, "you see her everywhere. Paintings.
　　Music. Books. Even in cartoons, theme parks, and popular movies."Langdon held up his Mickey Mouse watch and told her that Walt Disney had made it his quietlife's work to pass on the Grail story to future generations. Throughout his entire life, Disney hadbeen hailed as "the Modern-Day Leonardo da Vinci." Both men were generations ahead of theirtimes, uniquely gifted artists, members of secret societies, and, most notably, avid pranksters. LikeLeonardo, Walt Disney loved infusing hidden messages and symbolism in his art. For the trainedsymbologist, watching an early Disney movie was like being barraged by an avalanche of allusionand metaphor.
　　Most of Disney's hidden messages dealt with religion, pagan myth, and stories of the subjugatedgoddess. It was no mistake that Disney retold tales like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and SnowWhite—all of which dealt with the incarceration of the sacred feminine. Nor did one need abackground in symbolism to understand that Snow White—a princess who fell from grace afterpartaking of a poisoned apple—was a clear allusion to the downfall of Eve in the Garden of Eden.
　　Or that Sleeping Beauty's Princess Aurora—code-named "Rose" and hidden deep in the forest toprotect her from the clutches of the evil witch—was the Grail story for children.
　　Despite its corporate image, Disney still had a savvy, playful element among its employees, andtheir artists still amused themselves by inserting hidden symbolism in Disney products. Langdonwould never forget one of his students bringing in a DVD of The Lion King and pausing the film toreveal a freeze-frame in which the word SEX was clearly visible, spelled out by floating dustparticles over Simba's head. Although Langdon suspected this was more of a cartoonist'ssophomoric prank than any kind of enlightened allusion to pagan human sexuality, he had learnednot to underestimate Disney's grasp of symbolism. The Little Mermaid was a spellbinding tapestryof spiritual symbols so specifically goddess-related that they could not be coincidence.
　　When Langdon had first seen The Little Mermaid, he had actually gasped aloud when he noticedthat the painting in Ariel's underwater home was none other than seventeenth-century artistGeorges de la Tour's The Penitent Magdalene—a famous homage to the banished MaryMagdalene—fitting decor considering the movie turned out to be a ninety-minute collage of blatantsymbolic references to the lost sanctity of Isis, Eve, Pisces the fish goddess, and, repeatedly, MaryMagdalene. The Little Mermaid's name, Ariel, possessed powerful ties to the sacred feminine and,in the Book of Isaiah, was synonymous with "the Holy City besieged." Of course, the LittleMermaid's flowing red hair was certainly no coincidence either.
　　The clicking of Teabing's crutches approached in the hallway, his pace unusually brisk. When theirhost entered the study, his expression was stern.
　　"You'd better explain yourself, Robert," he said coldly. "You have not been honest with me."
索菲公主。
索菲听着提彬的拐杖声消失在走廊的尽头，感到一阵空虚。她怅然若失地转身望着兰登。兰登摇摇头，好像猜到了她的想法。
"是的，索菲。"他轻声说，目光异常坚定。"当我意识到你祖父是隐修会的成员时，我也有同样的想法。你说他要告诉你一个关于你家庭的秘密。"兰登停顿了一下。"索尼埃不是梅罗文加王朝的姓氏。"索菲不知自己是欣慰还是失望。早先，兰登曾很突兀地询问她母亲的名字。现在，这个问题变得很有意义了。"肖维尔。她可能是梅罗文加王朝的后代吗？"她焦急地问。
他又摇了摇头。"对不起，我不能确定。梅罗文加王朝的子嗣只有两个家族姓氏--普兰塔得和圣。卡莱尔。后人都躲藏了起来，也许是被隐修会保护了起来。"索菲默念着那几个名字，摇了摇头。她家里没人姓普兰塔得或圣，卡莱尔。她感到疲惫，觉得更加困惑了，更加不明白祖父要告诉她些什么。索菲真希望祖父没有提及家庭。
他撕开了旧伤口，那伤口依旧疼痛。他们死了，索菲。他们不会回来了。她回想起了妈妈唱歌哄她入睡的情景；回想起了骑在爸爸肩上玩耍的时光；回想起了祖母和弟弟用绿色的眼睛看着她，冲她微笑的样子。这一切都被偷走了。她只拥有祖父了。
而现在祖父也离开了。只有我一个人了！
索菲默默地转过身，看着墙上的那幅《最后的晚餐》，凝视着抹大拉那火红的长发和安详的眼睛。索菲能感觉到抹大拉的眼里有种失去爱人的茫然。
"罗伯特？"她轻声说。
兰登走了过来。
"虽然今晚我第一次听到圣杯的故事，但我觉得它跟我的家庭有关。"
兰登想把手放到索菲肩上，安慰她一下，可最终还是没有那样做。他说道："索菲，你应该听说过抹大拉的故事。那样的故事广为流传，只是我们没有意识到它们的存在而已。""我不明白。"
"圣杯的故事无处不在，只不过被隐藏了起来，不易被发现罢了。罗马教廷不许人们公开谈论逃亡的玛利亚，于是人们便以隐秘的方法记录她的故事。这些方法包括比喻和象征等。""当然了，是通过艺术作品。"
兰登指着墙上的《最后的晚餐》，说道："这就是一个完美的例子。许多不朽的文学、音乐作品中都暗含着玛利亚。抹大拉和耶稣的故事。"兰登简要地向索菲介绍了达。芬奇、波提切利、莫扎特和维克多。雨果的一些作品。那些作品都以隐秘的方法表达了恢复圣女玛利亚地位的希望。那些美丽的传说--如圆桌骑士、亚瑟王和睡美人等--都源于圣杯的故事。维克多。雨果的《巴黎圣母院》和莫扎特的《魔笛》都运用了象征手法来将圣杯的故事暗含其中。
"一旦你睁开眼睛寻找圣杯。"兰登说道。"你就会发现她无处不在。绘画、音乐、书籍，甚至是卡通片、主题公园和卖座的电影里都有她的身影。"兰顿举起手腕上的米奇手表，告诉索菲："沃尔特。迪斯尼一生都在默默地致力于圣杯故事的保存和宣扬。他被人们誉为"当代的列昂纳多。达。芬奇"。"这两个人都是时代的先锋，都是举世无双的天才艺术家，都是隐修会成员，而且都以喜欢恶作剧而闻名。像达。芬奇一样，沃尔特。迪斯尼也喜欢运用象征手法并在其作品中藏人秘密。对于一个训练有素的符号学家来说，观看迪斯尼早期的电影就像是在观看欣赏无数的暗示和比喻。
迪斯尼的大部分电影里都有异教传说、圣杯故事的影子。迪斯尼公司将"灰姑娘"、"睡美人""和"白雪公主""的故事搬上银幕，就是因为它们描述的都是遭受迫害的神圣女性的故事。人们无需象征学的知识就能明白，那里公主吃了毒苹果变成丑八怪的情节明显地影射了夏娃的堕落。人们也很容易看出，人称"玫瑰"的奥罗拉公主和躲避追杀的"睡美人"的故事，实际上就是儿童版的圣杯故事。
迪斯尼公司的工作人员常常会在电影制作中掺进一些隐含的象征意义。兰登还记得，有一次，一个学生带来了一盘《狮子王》DVD.在播放碟片时，那个学生突然按了暂停键，给大家看了一个定格画面。画面上，飘浮在"辛巴"头上的尘土组成了"SEX"（性）的字样。在兰登看来，这与其说这是制作者对享受性生活的暗示，倒不如说是他们的恶作剧。
兰登还发现迪斯尼对象征手法的运用能力不可低估。电影《美人鱼》中的多彩画面包含了大量象征元素，这些象征大多都跟女神有关，这绝对不可能是巧合。
兰登第一次看到《美人鱼》时，大吃一惊。他发现电影中"水下住宅"的样子跟十七世纪画家乔治。德拉。图尔所画的《悔过的抹大拉》上的建筑一模一样。那幅画是为被驱逐的玛利亚。抹大拉而作的，只不过与原作相比，电影中的画面有些艳丽。小美人鱼的名字--阿日耳--跟神圣的女性也有紧密的联系，它在《伊沙梅尔的书》中表示"被围困的圣城"。当然了，小美人鱼那一头飘动的红发也有独特的象征意义。
这时，提彬的拐杖声从走廊里传来。他的步伐听起来特别快。他面色铁青地走进书房，冷漠地说道："罗伯特，你最好作一下解释。你一直没跟我说实话。"
Chapter 62
"I'm being framed, Leigh," Langdon said, trying to stay calm. You know me. I wouldn't kill anyone.
　　Teabing's tone did not soften. "Robert, you're on television, for Christ's sake. Did you know youwere wanted by the authorities?""Yes.""Then you abused my trust. I'm astonished you would put me at risk by coming here and asking meto ramble on about the Grail so you could hide out in my home.""I didn't kill anyone.""Jacques Saunière is dead, and the police say you did it." Teabing looked saddened. "Such acontributor to the arts...""Sir?" The manservant had appeared now, standing behind Teabing in the study doorway, his armscrossed. "Shall I show them out?""Allow me." Teabing hobbled across the study, unlocked a set of wide glass doors, and swungthem open onto a side lawn. "Please find your car, and leave."Sophie did not move. "We have information about the clef de vo.te. The Priory keystone."Teabing stared at her for several seconds and scoffed derisively. "A desperate ploy. Robert knowshow I've sought it.""She's telling the truth," Langdon said. "That's why we came to you tonight. To talk to you aboutthe keystone."The manservant intervened now. "Leave, or I shall call the authorities.""Leigh," Langdon whispered, "we know where it is."Teabing's balance seemed to falter a bit.
　　Rémy now marched stiffly across the room. "Leave at once! Or I will forcibly—""Rémy!" Teabing spun, snapping at his servant. "Excuse us for a moment."The servant's jaw dropped. "Sir? I must protest. These people are—""I'll handle this." Teabing pointed to the hallway.
　　After a moment of stunned silence, Rémy skulked out like a banished dog.
　　In the cool night breeze coming through the open doors, Teabing turned back to Sophie andLangdon, his expression still wary. "This better be good. What do you know of the keystone?"In the thick brush outside Teabing's study, Silas clutched his pistol and gazed through the glassdoors. Only moments ago, he had circled the house and seen Langdon and the woman talking inthe large study. Before he could move in, a man on crutches entered, yelled at Langdon, threwopen the doors, and demanded his guests leave. Then the woman mentioned the keystone, andeverything changed. Shouts turned to whispers. Moods softened. And the glass doors were quicklyclosed.
　　Now, as he huddled in the shadows, Silas peered through the glass. The keystone is somewhereinside the house. Silas could feel it.
　　Staying in the shadows, he inched closer to the glass, eager to hear what was being said. He wouldgive them five minutes. If they did not reveal where they had placed the keystone, Silas wouldhave to enter and persuade them with force.
　　Inside the study, Langdon could sense their host's bewilderment.
　　"Grand Master?" Teabing choked, eyeing Sophie. "Jacques Saunière?"Sophie nodded, seeing the shock in his eyes.
　　"But you could not possibly know that!""Jacques Saunière was my grandfather."Teabing staggered back on his crutches, shooting a glance at Langdon, who nodded. Teabingturned back to Sophie. "Miss Neveu, I am speechless. If this is true, then I am truly sorry for yourloss. I should admit, for my research, I have kept lists of men in Paris whom I thought might begood candidates for involvement in the Priory. Jacques Saunière was on that list along with manyothers. But Grand Master, you say? It's hard to fathom." Teabing was silent a moment and thenshook his head. "But it still makes no sense. Even if your grandfather were the Priory Grand Masterand created the keystone himself, he would never tell you how to find it. The keystone reveals thepathway to the brotherhood's ultimate treasure. Granddaughter or not, you are not eligible toreceive such knowledge.""Mr. Saunière was dying when he passed on the information," Langdon said. "He had limitedoptions.""He didn't need options," Teabing argued. "There exist three sénéchaux who also know the secret.
　　That is the beauty of their system. One will rise to Grand Master and they will induct a newsénéchal and share the secret of the keystone.""I guess you didn't see the entire news broadcast," Sophie said. "In addition to my grandfather,three other prominent Parisians were murdered today. All in similar ways. All looked like they hadbeen interrogated."Teabing's jaw fell. "And you think they were...""The sénéchaux," Langdon said.
　　"But how? A murderer could not possibly learn the identities of all four top members of the Prioryof Sion! Look at me, I have been researching them for decades, and I can't even name one Priorymember. It seems inconceivable that all three sénéchaux and the Grand Master could be discoveredand killed in one day.""I doubt the information was gathered in a single day," Sophie said. "It sounds like a well-planneddécapiter. It's a technique we use to fight organized crime syndicates. If DCPJ wants to move on acertain group, they will silently listen and watch for months, identify all the main players, and thenmove in and take them all at the same moment. Decapitation. With no leadership, the group fallsinto chaos and divulges other information. It's possible someone patiently watched the Priory andthen attacked, hoping the top people would reveal the location of the keystone."Teabing looked unconvinced. "But the brothers would never talk. They are sworn to secrecy. Evenin the face of death.""Exactly," Langdon said. "Meaning, if they never divulged the secret, and they were killed..."Teabing gasped. "Then the location of the keystone would be lost forever!""And with it," Langdon said, "the location of the Holy Grail."Teabing's body seemed to sway with the weight of Langdon's words. Then, as if too tired to standanother moment, he flopped in a chair and stared out the window.
　　Sophie walked over, her voice soft. "Considering my grandfather's predicament, it seems possiblethat in total desperation he tried to pass the secret on to someone outside the brotherhood. Someonehe thought he could trust. Someone in his family."Teabing was pale. "But someone capable of such an attack... of discovering so much about thebrotherhood..." He paused, radiating a new fear. "It could only be one force. This kind ofinfiltration could only have come from the Priory's oldest enemy."Langdon glanced up. "The Church.""Who else? Rome has been seeking the Grail for centuries."Sophie was skeptical. "You think the Church killed my grandfather?"Teabing replied, "It would not be the first time in history the Church has killed to protect itself. Thedocuments that accompany the Holy Grail are explosive, and the Church has wanted to destroythem for years."Langdon was having trouble buying Teabing's premise that the Church would blatantly murderpeople to obtain these documents. Having met the new Pope and many of the cardinals, Langdonknew they were deeply spiritual men who would never condone assassination. Regardless of thestakes.
　　Sophie seemed to be having similar thoughts. "Isn't it possible that these Priory members weremurdered by someone outside the Church? Someone who didn't understand what the Grail reallyis? The Cup of Christ, after all, would be quite an enticing treasure. Certainly treasure hunters havekilled for less.""In my experience," Teabing said, "men go to far greater lengths to avoid what they fear than toobtain what they desire. I sense a desperation in this assault on the Priory.""Leigh," Langdon said, "the argument is paradoxical. Why would members of the Catholic clergymurder Priory members in an effort to find and destroy documents they believe are false testimonyanyway?"Teabing chuckled. "The ivory towers of Harvard have made you soft, Robert. Yes, the clergy inRome are blessed with potent faith, and because of this, their beliefs can weather any storm,including documents that contradict everything they hold dear. But what about the rest of theworld? What about those who are not blessed with absolute certainty? What about those who lookat the cruelty in the world and say, where is God today? Those who look at Church scandals andask, who are these men who claim to speak the truth about Christ and yet lie to cover up the sexualabuse of children by their own priests?" Teabing paused. "What happens to those people, Robert, ifpersuasive scientific evidence comes out that the Church's version of the Christ story is inaccurate,and that the greatest story ever told is, in fact, the greatest story ever sold"Langdon did not respond.
　　"I'll tell you what happens if the documents get out," Teabing said. "The Vatican faces a crisis offaith unprecedented in its two-millennia history."After a long silence, Sophie said, "But if it is the Church who is responsible for this attack, whywould they act now? After all these years? The Priory keeps the Sangreal documents hidden. Theypose no immediate threat to the Church."Teabing heaved an ominous sigh and glanced at Langdon. "Robert, I assume you are familiar withthe Priory's final charge?"Langdon felt his breath catch at the thought. "I am.""Miss Neveu," Teabing said, "the Church and the Priory have had a tacit understanding for years.
　　That is, the Church does not attack the Priory, and the Priory keeps the Sangreal documentshidden." He paused. "However, part of the Priory history has always included a plan to unveil thesecret. With the arrival of a specific date in history, the brotherhood plans to break the silence andcarry out its ultimate triumph by unveiling the Sangreal documents to the world and shouting thetrue story of Jesus Christ from the mountaintops."Sophie stared at Teabing in silence. Finally, she too sat down. "And you think that date isapproaching? And the Church knows it?""A speculation," Teabing said, "but it would certainly provide the Church motivation for an all-outattack to find the documents before it was too late."Langdon had the uneasy feeling that Teabing was making good sense. "Do you think the Churchwould actually be capable of uncovering hard evidence of the Priory's date?""Why not—if we're assuming the Church was able to uncover the identities of the Priory members,then certainly they could have learned of their plans. And even if they don't have the exact date,their superstitions may be getting the best of them.""Superstitions?" Sophie asked.
　　"In terms of prophecy," Teabing said, "we are currently in an epoch of enormous change. Themillennium has recently passed, and with it has ended the two-thousand-year-long astrological Ageof Pisces—the fish, which is also the sign of Jesus. As any astrological symbologist will tell you,the Piscean ideal believes that man must be told what to do by higher powers because man isincapable of thinking for himself. Hence it has been a time of fervent religion. Now, however, weare entering the Age of Aquarius—the water bearer—whose ideals claim that man will learn thetruth and be able to think for himself. The ideological shift is enormous, and it is occurring rightnow."Langdon felt a shiver. Astrological prophecy never held much interest or credibility for him, but heknew there were those in the Church who followed it very closely. "The Church calls thistransitional period the End of Days."Sophie looked skeptical. "As in the end of the world? The Apocalypse?""No." Langdon replied. "That's a common misconception. Many religions speak of the End ofDays. It refers not to the end of the world, but rather the end of our current age—Pisces, whichbegan at the time of Christ's birth, spanned two thousand years, and waned with the passing of themillennium. Now that we've passed into the Age of Aquarius, the End of Days has arrived.""Many Grail historians," Teabing added, "believe that if the Priory is indeed planning to releasethis truth, this point in history would be a symbolically apt time. Most Priory academics, myselfincluded, anticipated the brotherhood's release would coincide precisely with the millennium.
　　Obviously, it did not. Admittedly, the Roman calendar does not mesh perfectly with astrologicalmarkers, so there is some gray area in the prediction. Whether the Church now has insideinformation that an exact date is looming, or whether they are just getting nervous on account ofastrological prophecy, I don't know. Anyway, it's immaterial. Either scenario explains how theChurch might be motivated to launch a preemptive attack against the Priory." Teabing frowned.
　　"And believe me, if the Church finds the Holy Grail, they will destroy it. The documents and therelics of the blessed Mary Magdalene as well." His eyes grew heavy. "Then, my dear, with theSangreal documents gone, all evidence will be lost. The Church will have won their age-old war torewrite history. The past will be erased forever."Slowly, Sophie pulled the cruciform key from her sweater pocket and held it out to Teabing.
　　Teabing took the key and studied it. "My goodness. The Priory seal. Where did you get this?""My grandfather gave it to me tonight before he died."Teabing ran his fingers across the cruciform. "A key to a church?"She drew a deep breath. "This key provides access to the keystone."Teabing's head snapped up, his face wild with disbelief. "Impossible! What church did I miss? I'vesearched every church in France!""It's not in a church," Sophie said. "It's in a Swiss depository bank."Teabing's look of excitement waned. "The keystone is in a bank?""A vault," Langdon offered.
　　"A bank vault?" Teabing shook his head violently. "That's impossible. The keystone is supposed tobe hidden beneath the sign of the Rose.""It is," Langdon said. "It was stored in a rosewood box inlaid with a five-petal Rose."Teabing looked thunderstruck. "You've seen the keystone?"Sophie nodded. "We visited the bank."Teabing came over to them, his eyes wild with fear. "My friends, we must do something. Thekeystone is in danger! We have a duty to protect it. What if there are other keys? Perhaps stolenfrom the murdered sénéchaux? If the Church can gain access to the bank as you have—""Then they will be too late," Sophie said. "We removed the keystone.""What! You removed the keystone from its hiding place?""Don't worry," Langdon said. "The keystone is well hidden.""Extremely well hidden, I hope!""Actually," Langdon said, unable to hide his grin, "that depends on how often you dust under yourcouch."The wind outside Chateau Villette had picked up, and Silas's robe danced in the breeze as hecrouched near the window. Although he had been unable to hear much of the conversation, theword keystone had sifted through the glass on numerous occasions.
　　It is inside.
　　The Teacher's words were fresh in his mind. Enter Chateau Villette. Take the keystone. Hun noone.
　　Now, Langdon and the others had adjourned suddenly to another room, extinguishing the studylights as they went. Feeling like a panther stalking prey, Silas crept to the glass doors. Findingthem unlocked, he slipped inside and closed the doors silently behind him. He could hear muffledvoices from another room. Silas pulled the pistol from his pocket, turned off the safety, and incheddown the hallway.
"雷，我是被冤枉的。"兰登说道，尽量保持着镇定。"你是了解我的。我绝对不会杀人。"
提彬的口气依然严厉。"罗伯特，你杀人的事已经上了电视。上帝啊，你知道当局正在通缉你吗？"
"知道。"
"那你就滥用了我对你的信任。你竟然跑到我这里来，还藏在我家里跟我大谈圣杯。你这样给我带来危险，真让我吃惊。""可我没杀人。"
"雅克。索尼埃遇害了，警察说是你干的。"提彬看上去非常伤心。"这样一个对艺术作出巨大贡献的人……""先生？""男佣走到书房的门口，抱着胳膊站在提彬身后。"要我把他们赶出去吗？"
"请允许我这样做。"提彬蹒跚着穿过书房，打开玻璃门上的锁，猛地将门向外推开。"请去找你们的车，然后离开。"索菲没有动。"我们有关于隐修会楔石的消息。"
提彬瞪着她看了几秒钟，轻蔑地说："垂死挣扎。兰登知道我非常想找到它。"
兰登说道："她说的是真的。这就是我们来找你的原因。我们想跟你讨论关于楔石的事情。"男佣插话道："离开这里，否则我要报警了。"
兰登轻声说："雷，我们知道它在哪里。"
提彬浑身颤抖了一下，几乎失去平衡。
雷米气势汹汹地穿过房间，走了过来。"马上离开！否则我要强行……"
"雷米！"提彬转过身，呵斥道。"让我们单独呆一会儿。"
男佣张口结舌。"先生？我必须要保护您。这些人是……"
"你先出去，我自己处理这事。"提彬指着走廊说道。
雷米愣了一会儿，像丧家之犬一样垂头丧气地走了。
清凉的晚风从打开的门里吹进来。提彬转过身，将信将疑地问索菲和兰登："你们最好说真话。关于楔石，你们都知道些什么呢？"
书房外面茂密的灌木丛中，塞拉斯紧紧地攥着手枪，瞪大双眼朝玻璃门里张望。他刚刚绕着这座房子转了一圈，发现兰登和那个女人正在那间宽大的书房里谈话。他正想往里闯，一个拄着拐杖的男人走了进去，冲着兰登大声喊叫并猛地推开房门，叫他们离开。然后，那个女人提到了楔石，接着一切都改变了。喊叫变成了低声私语。气氛融洽了。而且玻璃门也迅速地被关上了。
现在，塞拉斯蜷缩在阴影里，透过玻璃朝里偷窥着。楔石就在这座房子里。塞拉斯能感觉到。
他在阴影里朝玻璃门慢慢地挪动，急切地想听到他们在说些什么。他将给他们五分钟。如果到时他们还没能表明楔石在什么地方，他就闯进去逼他们说出来。
兰登站在书房里，完全能理解提彬的疑惑。
"隐修会领导人？"提彬看着索菲，吃惊地问道："雅克。索尼埃？"
索菲点点头，看得出他很惊讶。
"但你不可能知道这种事！"
"雅克。索尼埃是我祖父。"
提彬拄着拐杖向后倒退了几步，疑惑地看着兰登。兰登点点头。提彬转身对索菲说："奈芙小姐，我无话可说。如果这是真的，我为你失去亲人而感到难过。我得承认，为了研究的需要，我这里保存着许多名单，名单上的人极有可能是巴黎的隐修会成员。但是你说"隐修会领导人"？这太不可思议了。"提彬沉默了一会儿，又摇摇头说道："但这仍然没什么意义。即使你祖父是隐修会的领导人并且制作了楔石，他也绝对不可能告诉你怎样找到它。
楔石表明的是通往隐修会的宝藏的路线。就算你是他的孙女，也没有资格知道这个秘密。"兰登说："索尼埃先生讲出这个秘密的时候，就快要死了。他别无选择。"
提彬争辩道："他根本就不需要选择。还有三个隐修会成员也知道这个秘密。这就是隐修会制度的好处。三个人中的一个会升任领导人，然后再选一个候选人来共同保守楔石的秘密。"索菲说："我想您没有看完电视上的新闻报道。除了祖父，其他三位巴黎的社会名流也在今天被害了，而且看得出他们都被审讯拷打过。"提彬惊讶地张大了嘴巴。"你认为他们都是……"
兰登说道："隐修会成员。"
"但是，这怎么可能呢？一个凶手是不可能知道郇山隐修会四个头号人物的真实身份的！虽然我已经找了他们好几十年，可是到现在连一个隐修会成员的名字都不知道。三个头号人物和领导人在一天之内被发现然后被杀害，这简直太不可思议了。"索菲说："我怀疑这些信息不是在一天之内收集起来的。这看上去像是一个安排周密的行动。我们用一种技术来打击组织严密的犯罪集团。如果警方想打击某个团伙，会先悄悄地窃听和监视几个月。等确定了所有的犯罪头目后，他们就突然出动，同时袭击这些头目，把他们当场击毙。没有了首领，这个团伙就会乱得一团糟，其他的秘密就会被泄露出来。所以我认为，极有可能是有人耐心地监视了隐修会的活动，然后突然袭击，期望那些领袖人物能泄露出楔石的所在地。"提彬看上去并不相信。"可是那些人是不会说的。他们都发过誓要保守秘密。即便是面对死亡，也不会吐露秘密。"
兰登说道："没错。但设想一下：如果他们都没有泄露这个秘密，而且全部遇害"，那么……"提彬吃惊地说道："那么，就永远没人能知道楔石的隐藏地了。"
兰登补充道："以及圣杯的埋藏地。"
提彬的身体似乎随着兰登沉重的话语晃动起来。他似乎累得站不住了，一屁股坐在沙发上，两眼直勾勾地望着窗外。
索菲走过去，温柔地说："祖父在彻底绝望时，有可能把这个秘密告诉隐修会之外的人。一个他可以信任的人。一个家里人。"提彬的脸色煞白，他喃喃地说："但是，能够发动这样的袭击的人…"，能够发现这么多关于隐修会秘密的人……"他突然停了下来，一阵新的恐惧笼罩着他。"只有一种力量能做到。这样的袭击只能来自隐修会的宿敌。"兰登抬起头："罗马教廷。"
"还能是谁？几个世纪以来，罗马教廷一直在寻找圣杯。"
索菲对此表示怀疑："你认为是罗马教廷杀害了祖父？"
提彬答道："这已不是罗马教廷第一次通过杀人来保护自己了。圣杯文件就像烈性炸药，罗马教廷多年以来一直想把它们销毁。"兰登不同意提彬的推断，认为罗马教廷不会大张旗鼓地通过杀人来获取文件。兰登曾见过新教皇和其他红衣主教，觉得他们都是很高尚的人，绝对不会采用暗杀的手段。无论成败都不会采用这一手段。
索菲似乎也有同样的想法："有没有可能是罗马教廷以外的人杀害了隐修会的成员呢？
那些不理解圣杯含义的人？毕竟，耶稣的圣杯是个非常诱人的宝贝。那些寻宝者肯定会杀死跟他们争宝贝的人。"提彬说道："根据我的经验，人们宁可压抑自己的欲望，也不会靠近恐惧。我感到这次对隐修会的袭击是绝望的挣扎。"兰登说道："雷，你的说法自相矛盾。为什么天主教的牧师们会为了寻找他们眼中的伪证而杀害隐修会的人呢？"
提彬抿嘴笑道："罗伯特，象牙塔把你变得愚蠢了。没错，罗马的牧师们是有着非常虔诚的信仰。他们的信仰可以经历任何风雨，包括与他们的信仰完全相抵触的那些文件。可是，世界上的其他人呢？那些信仰没有如此坚定的人会怎么想呢？那些看尽了世间的冷漠而询问"上帝在哪里"的人会怎么想呢？那些发现了罗马教廷的丑闻而质问"宣讲耶稣真理的人，为何撒谎掩盖牧师对儿童进行性侵犯"的人会怎么想呢？"提彬停顿了一下，接着说道："罗伯特，如果有人发现足够的科学证据来证明罗马教廷关于耶稣的故事是不准确的，而且能证明被传诵的耶稣的伟大事迹不过是谎言，他们会怎么想呢？"
兰登没有回答。
提彬说道："我来告诉你那些文件被发掘出来的后果。梵蒂冈将会面临两千年来从未有过的信仰危机。"兰登沉默了良久，说道："但是，如果确实是罗马教廷发动了这次袭击，那他们为什么到现在才动手呢？为什么要等这么多年呢？这些年来隐修会一直收藏着圣杯文件。他们对罗马教廷并没有构成直接的威胁啊。"提彬叹息道："罗伯特，我想你应该很熟悉隐修会的最终职责。"
想到这点，兰登噎住了。"是的。"
提彬说："奈芙小姐，这么多年来罗马教廷和隐修会一直保持着一种默契。那就是：罗马教廷不进攻隐修会，而隐修会则保守着圣杯文件，不向外界宣扬。"他停了一下，接着说道："然而，隐修会一直都有揭露这个秘密的计划。当特定的历史时刻来临时，隐修会就会打破沉默，向世人宣布圣杯文件的存在并宣讲耶稣基督的真实故事，从而获得彻底的胜利。"索菲默默地看着提彬。最后，她也坐了下来。"而且您认为那个历史时刻就要来临了，是吗？并且罗马教廷也知道此事？"
提彬说道："只是一种推测。但这足以促使罗马教廷来发动一场全面的进攻，从而在为时未晚的情况下找到圣杯文件。"兰登颇感不安，他认为提彬说的没错。"你认为罗马教廷真的能够找到足够的证据来证明隐修会披露秘密的时间？"
"为什么不能呢？如果罗马教廷能发现隐修会成员的真实身份，那他们肯定已经知道丁隐修会的计划。即使他们不知道确切的时间，他们的迷信也会帮他们的大忙。""迷信？"索菲不解地问。
提彬说道："根据预言，我们正处在一个发生巨大变化的时代。千禧年刚过去，随之而结束的是长达两千年的双鱼时代，要知道鱼也是耶稣的标记。正如星宿符号学者所言，双鱼星座的理念是，人类必须由比他们更强大的事物来告诉他们应该做些什么，因为人类自己不会思考。因此，那是一个充斥着强烈宗教信仰的时代。可是现在，我们进入了宝瓶时代。而这个时代的理念是人类会掌握真理，会独立思考。观念上的转变是如此之大，而这种转变正在发生。"兰登颤抖了一下。他对星宿预言一直不感兴趣，而且也不太相信。但他知道罗马教廷里有些人对此深信不疑。"罗马教廷把这个转变时期称作"末日"。"
索菲疑惑地问道："你是说宝瓶时代就是世界末日吗？"
兰登说道："不是。这是很常见的误解。许多的宗教都会提到"末日"，但那不是指世界的末日，而是指时代--双鱼时代--的终结。要知道，这个双鱼时代是从耶稣降生的那年开始的，历经两千年，在千禧年过后就结束了。现在，我们已进入了宝瓶时代，双鱼时代的末日已经到了。"提彬补充道："许多研究圣杯的历史学家认为，如果隐修会真的打算披露这个秘密，那么，这一历史时刻确实是具有象征意义的时机。许多研究隐修会的学者，包括我在内，曾预测隐修会在千禧年披露这个秘密。现在看来，他们并没有那么做。当然，罗马日历并不能和星宿标志完全吻合，所以预测结果还悬而未决。是否现在罗马教廷得到了内幕消息说确切的日期即将来临，或只是由于对星宿预言的迷信使他们变得非常紧张，对此我不能确定。然而这并不重要。这两个假定中的任何一个都足以说明为什么罗马教廷要对隐修会发动先发制人的袭击。"提彬皱起了眉头。"相信我，如果罗马教廷找到了圣杯，他们会毁了它。他们会把那些文件和可敬的玛利亚。抹大拉的遗骨一起销毁。"他眼圈红了。"然后，亲爱的，随着圣杯文件的消失，所有的证据都没了。罗马教廷将会打赢这场世纪之战，从而改写历史。历史的真相将永远被抹去。"索菲缓缓地从毛衣口袋里拿出那个十字形的钥匙，递给提彬。
提彬接过来，仔细端详着。"上帝啊，隐修会的标志。你是从哪里得到它的？"
"今晚祖父临死之前给我的。"
提彬摸着这把十字形的钥匙。"这是一把教堂的钥匙吧？"
她深吸了一口气："这把钥匙让我们找到了楔石。"
提彬猛地抬起头，简直无法相信自己的耳朵。"这不可能！我错过了哪个教堂？我把法国所有的教堂都搜遍了！"索菲说道："楔石没在教堂里，在一家瑞士储蓄银行里。"
提彬脸上的兴奋消失了。"楔石在一家银行里？"
兰登说道："在一个金库里。"
提彬使劲地摇着头。"银行的金库？不可能。楔石应该藏在玫瑰标记的下面。"
兰登说道："没错。它在一个镶着五瓣玫瑰的紫檀木盒子里。"
提彬大吃一惊。"你们看到过楔石？"
索菲点点头。"我们去了银行。"
提彬朝他们走过来，眼里充满了恐惧。"朋友们，我们得做点什么。楔石正处于危险之中！我们有责任保护好楔石。如果还有别的钥匙怎么办？也许是从其他死者身上偷来的。
如果罗马教廷能像你们一样进入银行……"索菲说道："那他们就晚了一步。我们拿到了楔石。""什么！你们已经把楔石从原来的地方拿走了？"
兰登说道："别担心。楔石现在藏在一个很安全的地方。"
"我希望绝对安全！"
兰登抑制不住脸上得意的笑容。"那要看你多长时间打扫一次沙发了。"
别墅外面的风大了起来。塞拉斯趴在窗户边上，长袍在风中飘舞着。虽然他没听到多少谈话的内容，但"楔石"这个词却无数次地透过玻璃飘了出来。
它就在里面。
"导师"的话依然在他耳边回响。"潜入别墅。拿走楔石。不要伤害任何人。"
现在，兰登和其他人突然停止了谈话，转移到另外一个房间里去了。走之前，他们把书房的灯关了。塞拉斯像猎豹蹑手蹑脚地靠近猎物一样，慢慢地爬到玻璃门前。他发现门没锁。"嗖"地钻了进去，然后把门悄悄地掩上。他能隐隐约约地听到从隔壁房间里传来的声音。塞拉斯从口袋里掏出手枪，拔掉保险栓，慢慢地向走廊挪去。
Chapter 63
Lieutenant Collet stood alone at the foot of Leigh Teabing's driveway and gazed up at the massivehouse. Isolated. Dark. Good ground cover. Collet watched his half-dozen agents spreading silentlyout along the length of the fence. They could be over it and have the house surrounded in a matterof minutes. Langdon could not have chosen a more ideal spot for Collet's men to make a surpriseassault.
　　Collet was about to call Fache himself when at last his phone rang.
　　Fache sounded not nearly as pleased with the developments as Collet would have imagined. "Whydidn't someone tell me we had a lead on Langdon?""You were on a phone call and—""Where exactly are you, Lieutenant Collet?"Collet gave him the address. "The estate belongs to a British national named Teabing. Langdondrove a fair distance to get here, and the vehicle is inside the security gate, with no signs of forcedentry, so chances are good that Langdon knows the occupant.""I'm coming out," Fache said. "Don't make a move. I'll handle this personally."Collet's jaw dropped. "But Captain, you're twenty minutes away! We should act immediately. Ihave him staked out. I'm with eight men total. Four of us have field rifles and the others havesidearms.""Wait for me.""Captain, what if Langdon has a hostage in there? What if he sees us and decides to leave on foot?
　　We need to move now! My men are in position and ready to go.""Lieutenant Collet, you will wait for me to arrive before taking action. That is an order." Fachehung up.
　　Stunned, Lieutenant Collet switched off his phone. Why the hell is Fache asking me to wait? Colletknew the answer. Fache, though famous for his instinct, was notorious for his pride. Fache wantscredit for the arrest. After putting the American's face all over the television, Fache wanted to besure his own face got equal time. Collet's job was simply to hold down the fort until the bossshowed up to save the day.
　　As he stood there, Collet flashed on a second possible explanation for this delay. Damage control.
　　In law enforcement, hesitating to arrest a fugitive only occurred when uncertainty had arisenregarding the suspect's guilt. Is Fache having second thoughts that Langdon is the right man? Thethought was frightening. Captain Fache had gone out on a limb tonight to arrest RobertLangdon—surveillance cachée, Interpol, and now television. Not even the great Bezu Fache wouldsurvive the political fallout if he had mistakenly splashed a prominent American's face all overFrench television, claiming he was a murderer. If Fache now realized he'd made a mistake, then itmade perfect sense that he would tell Collet not to make a move. The last thing Fache needed wasfor Collet to storm an innocent Brit's private estate and take Langdon at gunpoint.
　　Moreover, Collet realized, if Langdon were innocent, it explained one of this case's strangestparadoxes: Why had Sophie Neveu, the granddaughter of the victim, helped the alleged killerescape? Unless Sophie knew Langdon was falsely charged. Fache had posited all kinds ofexplanations tonight to explain Sophie's odd behavior, including that Sophie, as Saunière's soleheir, had persuaded her secret lover Robert Langdon to kill off Saunière for the inheritance money.
　　Saunière, if he had suspected this, might have left the police the message P.S. Find RobertLangdon. Collet was fairly certain something else was going on here. Sophie Neveu seemed far toosolid of character to be mixed up in something that sordid.
　　"Lieutenant?" One of the field agents came running over. "We found a car."Collet followed the agent about fifty yards past the driveway. The agent pointed to a wide shoulderon the opposite side of the road. There, parked in the brush, almost out of sight, was a black Audi.
　　It had rental plates. Collet felt the hood. Still warm. Hot even.
　　"That must be how Langdon got here," Collet said. "Call the rental company. Find out if it'sstolen.""Yes, sir."Another agent waved Collet back over in the direction of the fence. "Lieutenant, have a look atthis." He handed Collet a pair of night vision binoculars. "The grove of trees near the top of thedriveway."Collet aimed the binoculars up the hill and adjusted the image intensifier dials. Slowly, thegreenish shapes came into focus. He located the curve of the driveway and slowly followed it up,reaching the grove of trees. All he could do was stare. There, shrouded in the greenery, was anarmored truck. A truck identical to the one Collet had permitted to leave the Depository Bank ofZurich earlier tonight. He prayed this was some kind of bizarre coincidence, but he knew it couldnot be.
　　"It seems obvious," the agent said, "that this truck is how Langdon and Neveu got away from thebank."Collet was speechless. He thought of the armored truck driver he had stopped at the roadblock. TheRolex. His impatience to leave. I never checked the cargo hold.
　　Incredulous, Collet realized that someone in the bank had actually lied to DCPJ about Langdon andSophie's whereabouts and then helped them escape. But who? And why? Collet wondered if maybethis were the reason Fache had told him not to take action yet. Maybe Fache realized there weremore people involved tonight than just Langdon and Sophie. And if Langdon and Neveu arrived inthe armored truck, then who drove the Audi?
　　Hundreds of miles to the south, a chartered Beechcraft Baron 58 raced northward over theTyrrhenian Sea. Despite calm skies, Bishop Aringarosa clutched an airsickness bag, certain hecould be ill at any moment. His conversation with Paris had not at all been what he had imagined.
　　Alone in the small cabin, Aringarosa twisted the gold ring on his finger and tried to ease hisoverwhelming sense of fear and desperation. Everything in Paris has gone terribly wrong. Closinghis eyes, Aringarosa said a prayer that Bezu Fache would have the means to fix it.
科莱中尉独自站在雷。提彬家的车道前，仰望着这座大宅子。偏僻。黑暗。结实的城堡。科莱手下的人沿篱笆散开。他们几分钟之内就会到达指定位置把房子围起来。兰登选的这个地方太理想了，太适合科莱来个突然袭击了。
科莱正想给法希打电话，手机却响了起来。
出乎科莱意料，法希对案子的进展并不满意。"有了兰登线索，为什么没有人告诉我？"
"当时您在打电话，而且……"
"科莱中尉，你到底在哪里？"。
科莱汇报了他的方位。"这栋房子属于一个名叫提彬的英国人。兰登开了很长时间的车才到这里。车现在就在防盗门里面，没有强行进入的迹象，所以兰登很可能认识房子的主人。"法希说道："我马上过来。先不要行动，我要亲自指挥。"
科莱大吃一惊。"可是上尉，您二十分钟后才能到达这里呢！我们应该立即行动。我已经把他监视住了。我这里总共有八个人。四个人有步枪，另外四个有手枪。""等着我。"
"可是上尉，如果兰登在里面挟持了人质怎么办？如果他发现了我们，逃走了怎么办？
我们应该立即行动！我的人已经就位，随时可以行动。""科莱中尉，你必须要等我到达现场。在此之前，不准有任何行动。这是命令！"法希挂上了电话。
科莱目瞪口呆，无可奈何地关掉了手机。他XX 的，法希为什么让我等他？科莱知道，虽然法希天资聪颖，但他也因高傲自大而臭名昭著。法希想通过逮捕兰登来提高自己的声誉。他在电视上发布了通缉令，想在电视上露把脸。科莱要做的就是守住堡垒，然后等着头儿降临来拯救世界。
他站在那里，脑海中闪过法希让他推迟行动的第二种解释。破坏控制。在执法时，推迟逮捕一个逃犯只会在不确定嫌疑犯的罪行时才会发生。法希在重新考虑兰登是不是凶手吗？这个想法太可怕了。如果今晚法希上尉不能逮捕罗伯特。兰登，那他就太尴尬了，因为他早巳通知了警方监控人员、国际刑警组织而且还在电视上发了通缉令。如果贝祖。法希错误地把一个美国社会名流的头像展示在法国电视上，说他是谋杀犯的话，那么不管他有多伟大，也无法承担可怕的政治后果。如果法希现在意识到了错误，那他让科莱停止行动就太有意义了。法希可不希望看到科莱冲进一位无辜的英国公民的私宅，然后用枪指着兰登。
科莱还意识到，如果兰登是无辜的，那么就澄清了这个案子里最自相矛盾的一件事：为什么索菲。奈芙--被害人的孙女--要帮助那个所谓的凶手逃跑。除非索菲知道兰登是被冤枉的。法希作出了各种各样的解释来说明她的行为：作为雅克，索尼埃的唯一的继承人，索菲为了得到遗产而唆使她的秘密情人罗伯特。兰登杀死了雅克。索尼埃。如果雅克。索尼埃对此早有怀疑的话，那就会给警察留下信息：P.S.：去找罗伯特。兰登。可是科莱总觉得此事另有蹊跷。索菲看上去很纯洁，应该不会参与这样的肮脏交易。
"中尉！"一个警察跑了过来。"我们发现了一辆车。"
科莱跟着那个警察顺着车道走了约五十码。那个警察指向车道的一侧。在灌木丛里停着一辆黑色的奥迪车，不仔细看的话，根本就发现不了。车上挂的是出租牌照。科莱摸了一下车盖。还是热的，甚至有些烫手。
科莱说："兰登肯定是坐这辆车来的。给出租公司打电话，看看是不是偷来的。"
"是，警官。"
另外一个警察在篱笆那边挥手要科莱过去。他递给科莱一副夜视双筒望远镜，说道："中尉，看那边。车道尽头的小树林。"科莱把望远镜对着小山丘，调节着镜筒。慢慢地，那些绿乎乎的东四进入了眼帘。他先找到车道的拐弯处，然后顺着车道慢慢往上望去。最后把视野定在了那片小树林上。他被自己的所见惊呆了。那里有辆用草盖着的装甲车。那车竟然跟早些时候他在苏黎世储蓄银行放行的那辆-模一样。他希望这只是某种奇特的巧合，但他知道那是不可能的。
那个警察说："显然，兰登和奈芙就是坐着这辆车从银行里逃出来的。"
科莱一言不发。他回想起他在路障前面拦住的装甲车司机、那块劳力士手表以及他急于离开的样子。我竟然没有检查货舱。
简直不可思议，科莱意识到银行里有人向警署撒了谎。他们没有说出兰登和索菲藏身之处而是帮助他们逃了出来。但是，是谁干的呢？又是为什么呢？科莱怀疑这才是法希阻止采取行动的真正原因。也许法希意识到了参与这个案子的人不仅仅是兰登和索菲。如果兰登和索菲是坐这辆装甲车来的，那么是谁开来的奥迪呢？
几百英里以外的法国南部，一架比齐卡拉夫特。男爵58 飞机正在第勒尼安海高空向北高速飞行。虽然飞机飞得很平稳，可是阿林加洛沙还是紧紧地抓着晕机袋，觉得自己随时都会呕吐。他跟巴黎方面的通话大大出乎他的意料。
阿林加洛沙独自坐在小机舱里，不停地转动着手上的戒指，竭力使自已从无法抗拒的恐惧和绝望之中解脱出来。巴黎的一切都弄砸了！阿林加洛沙闭上眼，祈祷着法希能够有办法扭转败局。
Chapter 64
Teabing sat on the divan, cradling the wooden box on his lap and admiring the lid's intricate inlaidRose. Tonight has become the strangest and most magical night of my life.
　　"Lift the lid," Sophie whispered, standing over him, beside Langdon.
　　Teabing smiled. Do not rush me. Having spent over a decade searching for this keystone, hewanted to savor every millisecond of this moment. He ran a palm across the wooden lid, feeling thetexture of the inlaid flower.
　　"The Rose," he whispered. The Rose is Magdalene is the Holy Grail. The Rose is the compass thatguides the way. Teabing felt foolish. For years he had traveled to cathedrals and churches all overFrance, paying for special access, examining hundreds of archways beneath rose windows,searching for an encrypted keystone. La clef de vo.te—a stone key beneath the sign of the Rose.
　　Teabing slowly unlatched the lid and raised it.
　　As his eyes finally gazed upon the contents, he knew in an instant it could only be the keystone. Hewas staring at a stone cylinder, crafted of interconnecting lettered dials. The device seemedsurprisingly familiar to him.
　　"Designed from Da Vinci's diaries," Sophie said. "My grandfather made them as a hobby."Of course, Teabing realized. He had seen the sketches and blueprints. The key to finding the HolyGrail lies inside this stone. Teabing lifted the heavy cryptex from the box, holding it gently.
　　Although he had no idea how to open the cylinder, he sensed his own destiny lay inside. Inmoments of failure, Teabing had questioned whether his life's quest would ever be rewarded. Nowthose doubts were gone forever. He could hear the ancient words... the foundation of the Graillegend:
　　Vous ne trouvez pas le Saint-Graal, c'est le Saint-Graal qui vous trouve.
　　You do not find the Grail, the Grail finds you.
　　And tonight, incredibly, the key to finding the Holy Grail had walked right through his front door.
　　While Sophie and Teabing sat with the cryptex and talked about the vinegar, the dials, and what thepassword might be, Langdon carried the rosewood box across the room to a well-lit table to get abetter look at it. Something Teabing had just said was now running through Langdon's mind.
　　The key to the Grail is hidden beneath the sign of the Rose.
　　Langdon held the wooden box up to the light and examined the inlaid symbol of the Rose.
　　Although his familiarity with art did not include woodworking or inlaid furniture, he had justrecalled the famous tiled ceiling of the Spanish monastery outside of Madrid, where, threecenturies after its construction, the ceiling tiles began to fall out, revealing sacred texts scrawled bymonks on the plaster beneath.
　　Langdon looked again at the Rose.
　　Beneath the Rose.
　　Sub Rosa.
　　Secret.
　　A bump in the hallway behind him made Langdon turn. He saw nothing but shadows. Teabing'smanservant most likely had passed through. Langdon turned back to the box. He ran his finger overthe smooth edge of the inlay, wondering if he could pry the Rose out, but the craftsmanship wasperfect. He doubted even a razor blade could fit in between the inlaid Rose and the carefully carveddepression into which it was seated.
　　Opening the box, he examined the inside of the lid. It was smooth. As he shifted its position,though, the light caught what appeared to be a small hole on the underside of the lid, positioned inthe exact center. Langdon closed the lid and examined the inlaid symbol from the top. No hole.
　　It doesn't pass through.
　　Setting the box on the table, he looked around the room and spied a stack of papers with a paperclip on it. Borrowing the clip, he returned to the box, opened it, and studied the hole again.
　　Carefully, he unbent the paper clip and inserted one end into the hole. He gave a gentle push. Ittook almost no effort. He heard something clatter quietly onto the table. Langdon closed the lid tolook. It was a small piece of wood, like a puzzle piece. The wooden Rose had popped out of the lidand fallen onto the desk.
　　Speechless, Langdon stared at the bare spot on the lid where the Rose had been. There, engraved inthe wood, written in an immaculate hand, were four lines of text in a language he had never seen.
　　The characters look vaguely Semitic, Langdon thought to himself, and yet I don't recognize thelanguage!
　　A sudden movement behind him caught his attention. Out of nowhere, a crushing blow to the headknocked Langdon to his knees.
　　As he fell, he thought for a moment he saw a pale ghost hovering over him, clutching a gun. Theneverything went black.
提彬坐在靠背长沙发上，把那个木盒揽在膝盖上。慢慢地欣赏着镶在盒盖上的那朵精美的玫瑰。今晚成了我一生中最奇特、最不可思议的夜晚。
索菲靠着兰登站在提彬的身后，轻声说道："打开盖子吧。"
提彬微笑了起来。别催我呀。他已经花了十几年时间来寻找楔石了，现在要好好地珍惜每一秒。他抚摸着木质的盒盖，感觉着玫瑰花纹的质地。
"玫瑰花。"他轻声念道。玫瑰就代表着抹大拉，就代表着圣杯。玫瑰就是指引方向的罗盘。提彬觉得自己真愚蠢。多年以来，他遍访了法国的天主教堂和基督教礼拜堂，为他那附带特殊要求的参观花费了大量的金钱。他仔细地查看了几千个玫瑰窗格下的拱门，为的就是寻找一块刻着密码的楔石。玫瑰花标记下的一把石头钥匙。
提彬拔开盒盖上的闩子，将盒盖掀开。
当他看到盒里的东西时，马上就肯定那是楔石。那是一个石头做成的圆筒，由几个刻满字母的环形转盘叠加而成。出乎意料，他竟觉得自己对这个装置非常熟悉。
索菲说道："这是根据达.芬奇日记上的记载制作的。祖父非常喜爱制作这种东西。"
当然了，提彬一下子明白了过来。他见过密码筒草图和后来的设计图。寻找圣杯的关键线索就在这个石筒里。提彬把沉甸甸的密码筒从盒子里轻轻地取出，慢慢地举起来。虽然他不知道怎样打开它，可他觉得自己的命运也藏在里面。当遭受挫折的时候，提彬曾怀疑他毕生的追求能否得到回报。现在，这些疑惑都烟消云散了。圣杯传说创立时的古老的词句在他耳边响起：你不用去找圣杯，圣杯会来找你。
令人难以置信的是，今晚，圣杯的秘密主动进了自己家门。
索菲和提彬坐在沙发上拿着密码筒讨论里面的醋、外面的转盘和破解它的密码，兰登则拿起那个紫檀木的盒子，穿过房间，走到一个光线很好的桌子旁，仔细地端详起来。提彬的话在他耳边回响：寻找圣杯的线索就藏在玫瑰的标记下面。
兰登端起木盒，凑近灯光，仔细地查看着盒盖上的玫瑰。虽然他对木工和镶嵌艺术不是很在行，但看着这朵玫瑰，他还是回想起了马德里城外一座西班牙寺庙里的瓦片天花板。那里的天花板世界闻名，因为在寺庙建成三百年之后，天花板上的瓦片开始脱落，露出了三百年前书写在石膏下面的经文。
兰登又看了看这朵玫瑰。
玫瑰下面。
五瓣玫瑰。
秘密。
他身后的走廊里突然传来"嘭"的一声，兰登转身一看，除了阴影什么也没有。"可能是提彬的男佣刚刚走了过去。"兰登想道。他转回身看着盒子。他用手指摸着那朵光滑的玫瑰，心想："能不能把玫瑰撬出来呢？"，可是盒子制作精良，兰登怀疑只有用剃须刀那样薄的刀片才能伸进玫瑰和盒盖之间的缝隙里。
他打开盒子，仔细地查看了盖子的里层。里面也很光滑。他把盒子转了一个方向，突然，他发现好像有束光从盒子正中央穿了进来。他合上盖子，从外侧检查那朵嵌进去的玫瑰。没有孔。
它不透光。
兰登把盒子放在桌上，扫视了一下周围，看见堆纸上有一把裁纸刀。他拿起裁纸刀，走回盒子旁边，打开盒盖，又仔细地研究起那个小孔来。他将刀头塞进小孔里，轻轻一推。根本没费什么劲，他就听到一个东西"嗒"一声轻轻落在桌上。他盖上盒盖，打量那个掉落下来的小玩意儿。那是一块小小的木头，有骰子那么大。原来镶嵌在盒盖上的木质玫瑰弹了出来，落到了桌上。
兰登惊异地望着原先镶嵌玫瑰的地方。那里刻着四行隽秀的文字，而这些文字兰登从未见过。
兰登琢磨着，这像是闪族语，可我不认识。
突然，兰登发觉身后有动静。不知什么东西猛地击中了他的头部，使他跪倒在地。
倒下的瞬间，他好像看到一个举枪的白面鬼在头顶上盘旋。接着，他失去了知觉。
Chapter 65
Sophie Neveu, despite working in law enforcement, had never found herself at gunpoint untiltonight. Almost inconceivably, the gun into which she was now staring was clutched in the palehand of an enormous albino with long white hair. He looked at her with red eyes that radiated afrightening, disembodied quality. Dressed in a wool robe with a rope tie, he resembled a medievalcleric. Sophie could not imagine who he was, and yet she was feeling a sudden newfound respectfor Teabing's suspicions that the Church was behind this.
　　"You know what I have come for," the monk said, his voice hollow.
　　Sophie and Teabing were seated on the divan, arms raised as their attacker had commanded.
　　Langdon lay groaning on the floor. The monk's eyes fell immediately to the keystone on Teabing'slap.
　　Teabing's tone was defiant. "You will not be able to open it.""My Teacher is very wise," the monk replied, inching closer, the gun shifting between Teabing andSophie.
　　Sophie wondered where Teabing's manservant was. Didn't he hear Robert fall?
　　"Who is your teacher?" Teabing asked. "Perhaps we can make a financial arrangement.""The Grail is priceless." He moved closer.
　　"You're bleeding," Teabing noted calmly, nodding to the monk's right ankle where a trickle ofblood had run down his leg. "And you're limping.""As do you," the monk replied, motioning to the metal crutches propped beside Teabing. "Now,hand me the keystone.""You know of the keystone?" Teabing said, sounding surprised.
　　"Never mind what I know. Stand up slowly, and give it to me.""Standing is difficult for me.""Precisely. I would prefer nobody attempt any quick moves."Teabing slipped his right hand through one of his crutches and grasped the keystone in his left.
　　Lurching to his feet, he stood erect, palming the heavy cylinder in his left hand, and leaningunsteadily on his crutch with his right.
　　The monk closed to within a few feet, keeping the gun aimed directly at Teabing's head. Sophiewatched, feeling helpless as the monk reached out to take the cylinder.
　　"You will not succeed," Teabing said. "Only the worthy can unlock this stone."God alone judges the worthy, Silas thought.
　　"It's quite heavy," the man on crutches said, his arm wavering now. "If you don't take it soon, I'mafraid I shall drop it!" He swayed perilously.
　　Silas stepped quickly forward to take the stone, and as he did, the man on crutches lost his balance.
　　The crutch slid out from under him, and he began to topple sideways to his right. No! Silas lungedto save the stone, lowering his weapon in the process. But the keystone was moving away fromhim now. As the man fell to his right, his left hand swung backward, and the cylinder tumbled fromhis palm onto the couch. At the same instant, the metal crutch that had been sliding out from underthe man seemed to accelerate, cutting a wide arc through the air toward Silas's leg.
　　Splinters of pain tore up Silas's body as the crutch made perfect contact with his cilice, crushing thebarbs into his already raw flesh. Buckling, Silas crumpled to his knees, causing the belt to cutdeeper still. The pistol discharged with a deafening roar, the bullet burying itself harmlessly in thefloorboards as Silas fell. Before he could raise the gun and fire again, the woman's foot caught himsquare beneath the jaw.
　　At the bottom of the driveway, Collet heard the gunshot. The muffled pop sent panic through hisveins. With Fache on the way, Collet had already relinquished any hopes of claiming personalcredit for finding Langdon tonight. But Collet would be damned if Fache's ego landed him in frontof a Ministerial Review Board for negligent police procedure.
　　A weapon was discharged inside a private home! And you waited at the bottom of the driveway?
　　Collet knew the opportunity for a stealth approach had long since passed. He also knew if he stoodidly by for another second, his entire career would be history by morning. Eyeing the estate's irongate, he made his decision.
　　"Tie on, and pull it down."In the distant recesses of his groggy mind, Robert Langdon had heard the gunshot. He'd also hearda scream of pain. His own? A jackhammer was boring a hole into the back of his cranium.
　　Somewhere nearby, people were talking.
　　"Where the devil were you?" Teabing was yelling.
　　The manservant hurried in. "What happened? Oh my God! Who is that? I'll call the police!""Bloody hell! Don't call the police. Make yourself useful and get us something with which torestrain this monster.""And some ice!" Sophie called after him.
　　Langdon drifted out again. More voices. Movement. Now he was seated on the divan. Sophie washolding an ice pack to his head. His skull ached. As Langdon's vision finally began to clear, hefound himself staring at a body on the floor. Am I hallucinating? The massive body of an albinomonk lay bound and gagged with duct tape. His chin was split open, and the robe over his rightthigh was soaked with blood. He too appeared to be just now coming to.
　　Langdon turned to Sophie. "Who is that? What... happened?"Teabing hobbled over. "You were rescued by a knight brandishing an Excalibur made by AcmeOrthopedic."Huh? Langdon tried to sit up.
　　Sophie's touch was shaken but tender. "Just give yourself a minute, Robert.""I fear," Teabing said, "that I've just demonstrated for your lady friend the unfortunate benefit ofmy condition. It seems everyone underestimates you."From his seat on the divan, Langdon gazed down at the monk and tried to imagine what hadhappened.
　　"He was wearing a cilice," Teabing explained.
　　"A what?"Teabing pointed to a bloody strip of barbed leather that lay on the floor. "A Discipline belt. Hewore it on his thigh. I took careful aim."Langdon rubbed his head. He knew of Discipline belts. "But how... did you know?"Teabing grinned. "Christianity is my field of study, Robert, and there are certain sects who weartheir hearts on their sleeves." He pointed his crutch at the blood soaking through the monk's cloak.
　　"As it were.""Opus Dei," Langdon whispered, recalling recent media coverage of several prominent Bostonbusinessmen who were members of Opus Dei. Apprehensive coworkers had falsely and publiclyaccused the men of wearing Discipline belts beneath their three-piece suits. In fact, the three mendid no such thing. Like many members of Opus Dei, these businessmen were at the"supernumerary" stage and practiced no corporal mortification at all. They were devout Catholics,caring fathers to their children, and deeply dedicated members of the community. Not surprisingly,the media spotlighted their spiritual commitment only briefly before moving on to the shock valueof the sect's more stringent "numerary" members... members like the monk now lying on the floorbefore Langdon.
　　Teabing was looking closely at the bloody belt. "But why would Opus Dei be trying to find theHoly Grail?"Langdon was too groggy to consider it.
　　"Robert," Sophie said, walking to the wooden box. "What's this?" She was holding the small Roseinlay he had removed from the lid.
　　"It covered an engraving on the box. I think the text might tell us how to open the keystone."Before Sophie and Teabing could respond, a sea of blue police lights and sirens erupted at thebottom of the hill and began snaking up the half-mile driveway.
　　Teabing frowned. "My friends, it seems we have a decision to make. And we'd better make it fast."
索菲。奈芙本是个执法人员，可今天晚上倒好，她发现黑洞洞的枪口正对着自己。这几乎让人感到不可思议。她紧盯着枪，此刻，它正被一个头发又长又白、块头肥大的白化病患者抓在苍白的手中。那人红眼瞪着她，目光里流露出一种令人恐惧的、空洞的神情。他身穿带有绳领结的羊毛长袍，看上去就像中世纪的牧师。索菲想象不出他到底是谁，然而她顿时对提彬生出几分新的敬意来，因为他首先怀疑天主教会就是此人幕后的操纵者。
"你知道我来干什么。"修道士说，声音听起来很飘渺。
索菲和提彬坐在长沙发椅上，按照袭击者的要求举起双手。兰登瘫倒在地板上，痛苦地呻吟。修道士立刻注意到了提彬膝盖上的拱心石。
"你打不开的。"提彬的语调里流露出一种轻蔑的味道。
"我师父聪明得很呢。"修道士答道，一步步逼近。他一会儿将手枪对准了索菲，一会儿又对准了提彬。
"你师父是谁？"提彬问道。"或许我们可以做一笔交易呢。"
"可圣杯是无价的。"他逼得更近了。
"你出血了。"提彬平静地说，一边向修道士右边的脚踝点了点头--鲜血正从他腿上流了下来。"你还瘸了腿呢。"
"你也好不了多少。"修道士没好气地回答，同时向放在提彬旁边的金属离合器走去。"好了，把拱心石交给我。""你知道我有拱心石？"提彬惊讶地问道。
"你甭管我知道什么。你慢慢站起来，再把它交给我。"
"可是我站不起来。"
"那好，眼下我倒是不喜欢别人能够敏捷地行来动去呢。"
提彬的右手从拐杖上滑落，但他的左手却紧紧攥住了拱心石。他挣扎着站起来，站得笔直笔直的，他把那沉重的圆石筒攥在手心，将身子颤颤巍巍地靠在右手的拐杖上。
修道士现在离他们只有几英尺远了，他一直用枪对准提彬的头。索菲眼看着修道士伸手去抓那圆石筒，却爱莫能助，无可奈何。
"你不会得逞的。"提彬喊道。"只有配得上的人才能把它打开。"
配不配得上，还不是只有上帝说了算。塞拉斯心想。
"太重了。"那个拄拐杖的人说，他胳膊颤抖着。"如果你还不快点接住，我担心它马上要掉下来了。"他摇摇晃晃，一副快要倒地的样子。
塞拉斯飞跃上前，去接那块石头，然而就在此时，那个拄拐杖的人身体忽然失去了平衡，拐杖从他胳膊下滑了出来，他本人斜着身子开始向右边倒了下去。糟糕！塞拉斯急忙伸手去接住那块石头，同时将高举在手中的武器放了下来，然而他眼瞅着拱心石从身边飞了开去。那人向右边倒下，左手则往后仰，于是那圆石筒立刻从他手里弹了出去，掉落到沙发里。与此同时，从男人胳膊底下滑出来的那根拐杖似乎也加快了速度，在空中画了一圈很大的弧线，朝塞拉斯的脚上袭来。
拐杖恰好与他的粗布衣服碰个正着，将他衣服上的毛刺撞个粉碎，一直嵌入到他原本就很粗糙的皮肉里，一股钻心的疼痛顿时在塞拉斯的体内弥漫开来。塞拉斯扭着身子，痛苦得将双膝蜷缩起来，这使他身上卡进皮肤里的腰带卡得更深了。他倒在地上，手枪走火了，发出震耳欲聋的响声。不过，幸运的是子弹射进了地板里，因而没有造成人员的伤亡。他还没来得及再次举起枪，女人的一只脚就不偏不倚地踏了上来，踩在他下巴以下的地方。
科莱是在车道的尽头听到枪声的。那沉闷的枪声使他全身的神经因为恐惧而紧绷起来。跟法希一道走在途中的科莱，已经完全放弃了任何欲在今晚找到兰登并借此提高个人声誉的打算。不过，如果法希出于自私而以玩忽职守的名义把他告到警署纪律检查部门去的话，那科莱必受处罚无疑。
竟然放纵他人在私人住宅里开枪！而你却在车道尽头消极地等待？！
科莱知道，偷偷采取行动的机会早就没有了，他也深知如果继续袖手旁观，哪怕只是多耽搁一秒，那么到明天早上，他的前程就会毁于一旦。他注视着那座府邸的铁门，随即做出了决定。
"将它包围起来，堵住各个通道。"
罗伯特。兰登昏昏沉沉的，他隐约听到了枪声，也听到了痛苦的喊叫。是他自己在喊吗？
他的头盖骨后面被人用锤子敲了一个口子。从附近的某个地方，传来有人说话的声音。
"你到底在哪里？"提彬大声喊道。
男仆人匆匆跑了进来。"出什么事啦？哦，上帝！那是谁？我去报警吧！"
"去死！报警就不必了。你帮帮忙，给我们拿些东西来，制服这个家伙。"
"再拿些冰块来。"索菲在他身后叫道。
兰登感到整个身子开始漂浮起来。声音更嘈杂了。有人在跑来跑去。终于，他坐到长沙发上。索菲将一包冰块举到兰登的头上。他头痛极了。等到他的视线变得逐渐清晰起来，才发现自己正盯着横倒在地板上的一具人的躯体。我不是在做梦吧？那个患了白化病的修道士躺在地板上，硕大的身子被绑了起来，他的嘴里塞满了电缆线，下巴裂开了，而膝盖以上的袍子则沾满了血迹。他似乎很快就会苏醒过来。
兰登转身问索菲："那人是谁？出--出什么事啦？"
提彬蹒跚着走过来。"是一位佩带了埃克姆公司铸造的亚瑟王神剑的骑士救了你的。"
"是吗？"兰登拼命想坐起来。
索菲温柔地抚摸着他，手却在不停地颤抖。"罗伯特，你别急，慢慢来。"
"我刚才还担心向你这位女性朋友暴露了我的狼狈呢。现在看来大家都低估你了。"
兰登坐在长沙发上，低头盯着躺在地上的修道士，努力想象刚才发生的事情。
"他穿了件粗布衣服呢。"提彬解释道。
"你说什么？"
提彬用手指着地上一条血迹斑斑的带钩刺的皮带说："这是一条戒律带。他把它系在膝盖上，我是小心瞄准好才击中的。"兰登摸了摸头，他听说过戒律带。"可是，你是怎么知道的？"
提彬咧嘴笑了笑。"罗伯特，基督教可是我研究的专长啊。有些教派是坦诚相见，对外公开的。"他用拐杖指了指从那个修道士衣领上渗出来的血。"好像就是这样。""是天主事工会的呀。"兰登低声自语道，他想起最近有些媒体报导了几位有名的波斯顿商人，他们都是天主事工会的人。有些忧心忡忡的同伙曾背信弃义并公开地告发这三位商人，说他们将粗布腰带系在三件衣服以下。事实上，这三人根本就没有那样做。这些商人，跟天主事工会的其他许多成员一样，显得多余而无足轻重，却也从未有过禁欲的行为。他们是虔诚的天主教徒，是孩子们慈爱的父亲，是所在团体中最有奉献精神的成员。
各家媒体，在将注意力转移到发生在教派里那些行为更严谨的成员--就像眼下躺在兰登面前的那位修道士--身上的爆炸性新闻之前，多半只是轻描淡写地将他们精神上的苦修行为曝光一下而已，这点并不使人感到奇怪。
提彬紧盯着那条沾满血迹的皮带。"可是，天主事工会的人为何要殚精竭虑地去寻找圣杯呢？"
兰登昏昏沉沉的，他想不下去了。
索菲走到木盒边，说："罗伯特，你看这是什么？"她手里正拿着他从盖子上取下来的镶嵌的玫瑰图案。
"盒子上雕刻了图案呢。我想那上面的文字，也许会告诉我们怎么打开这个拱心石吧？"
索菲和提彬还没来得及作出反应，突然，蓝色的警灯在山脚下亮了起来，警笛声骤起，汇成了一片光与声的海洋。警车开始沿着大约有半英里的车道盘旋而上。
提彬皱了皱眉。"朋友们，看来我们必须做出决定，而且要快。"
Chapter 66
Collet and his agents burst through the front door of Sir Leigh Teabing's estate with their gunsdrawn. Fanning out, they began searching all the rooms on the first level. They found a bullet holein the drawing room floor, signs of a struggle, a small amount of blood, a strange, barbed leatherbelt, and a partially used roll of duct tape. The entire level seemed deserted.
　　Just as Collet was about to divide his men to search the basement and grounds behind the house, heheard voices on the level above them.
　　"They're upstairs!"Rushing up the wide staircase, Collet and his men moved room by room through the huge home,securing darkened bedrooms and hallways as they closed in on the sounds of voices. The soundseemed to be coming from the last bedroom on an exceptionally long hallway. The agents incheddown the corridor, sealing off alternate exits.
　　As they neared the final bedroom, Collet could see the door was wide open. The voices hadstopped suddenly, and had been replaced by an odd rumbling, like an engine.
　　Sidearm raised, Collet gave the signal. Reaching silently around the door frame, he found the lightswitch and flicked it on. Spinning into the room with men pouring in after him, Collet shouted andaimed his weapon at... nothing.
　　An empty guest bedroom. Pristine.
　　The rumbling sounds of an automobile engine poured from a black electronic panel on the wallbeside the bed. Collet had seen these elsewhere in the house. Some kind of intercom system. Heraced over. The panel had about a dozen labeled buttons:
　　STUDY... KITCHEN... LAUNDRY... CELLAR...
　　So where the hell do I hear a car?
　　MASTER BEDROOM... SUN ROOM... BARN... LIBRARY...
　　Barn! Collet was downstairs in seconds, running toward the back door, grabbing one of his agentson the way. The men crossed the rear lawn and arrived breathless at the front of a weathered graybarn. Even before they entered, Collet could hear the fading sounds of a car engine. He drew hisweapon, rushed in, and flicked on the lights.
　　The right side of the barn was a rudimentary workshop—lawn-mowers, automotive tools,gardening supplies. A familiar intercom panel hung on the wall nearby. One of its buttons wasflipped down, transmitting.
　　GUEST BEDROOM II.
　　Collet wheeled, anger brimming. They lured us upstairs with the intercom! Searching the other sideof the barn, he found a long line of horse stalls. No horses. Apparently the owner preferred adifferent kind of horsepower; the stalls had been converted into an impressive automotive parkingfacility. The collection was astonishing—a black Ferrari, a pristine Rolls-Royce, an antique AstinMartin sports coupe, a vintage Porsche 356.
　　The last stall was empty.
　　Collet ran over and saw oil stains on the stall floor. They can't get off the compound. The drivewayand gate were barricaded with two patrol cars to prevent this very situation.
　　"Sir?" The agent pointed down the length of the stalls.
　　The barn's rear slider was wide open, giving way to a dark, muddy slope of rugged fields thatstretched out into the night behind the barn. Collet ran to the door, trying to see out into thedarkness. All he could make out was the faint shadow of a forest in the distance. No headlights.
　　This wooded valley was probably crisscrossed by dozens of unmapped fire roads and huntingtrails, but Collet was confident his quarry would never make the woods. "Get some men spread outdown there. They're probably already stuck somewhere nearby. These fancy sports cars can'thandle terrain.""Um, sir?" The agent pointed to a nearby pegboard on which hung several sets of keys. The labelsabove the keys bore familiar names.
　　DAIMLER... ROLLS-ROYCE... ASTIN MARTIN... PORSCHE...
　　The last peg was empty.
　　When Collet read the label above the empty peg, he knew he was in trouble.
科莱和他手下的特工人员拔出枪，从雷。提彬先生的房子前门蜂拥而入。他们成扇形状散开，开始在底楼所有房间里逐一进行排查。在客厅里的地板上，他们发现了一颗子弹留下的洞眼，一小摊血迹，一条模样古怪带钩刺的皮带，还有一卷部分被用过的电缆线，显然这里曾有过搏斗的迹象。然而眼下，整栋楼房似乎已空无一人。
科莱正打算派手下到地下室以及屋后面的空地里去搜查，这时，他听到楼上有声音。
"他们在楼上！"
科莱带着手下迅速跳上宽阔的楼梯，朝声音传来的方向奔去，他们从这座豪宅的一个房间转移到另一个房间，以确保不漏过任何藏在暗处的床位以及光线黯淡的走廊。声音似乎是从一条特别长的走廊尽头的最后一个房间里传来的。特工们沿着走廊步步紧逼，并封锁了所有的通道。
他们靠近了最后的那个卧室，科莱看到房门洞开着。声音戛然而止，取而代之的是沉闷单调的类似马达的轰鸣声。
科莱举起随身携带的武器，向他手下示意，然后蹑手蹑脚地走到门槛边。在那里，他发现了电灯开关，便"啪"的一声将灯打开了。旋即他和紧跟其后的部下风一般地冲进房里。他大声地喊着，并用枪瞄准……然而他们发现，房子里面什么东西也没有。
这间空荡荡的客房，给人一种极质朴的印象。
类似汽车马达的轰鸣声，不断地从床边墙上的一块黑色电板中传了出来。科莱曾在这宅邸的某些地方见过。这些东西，大概是一些用于内部通信联络的系统装置。他急奔过去。电板上大约有十多个带标签的按钮，上面写着：书房……厨房……洗衣房……地下室……
见鬼，我到底是在哪里听到汽车的声音呢？
……主人卧室……太阳房……谷仓……家庭图书馆……
对了，是在谷仓！科莱在楼下耽搁了数秒，便顺势拖了他的部下，往后门奔去。他的手下则穿过了后面的草坪，屏住呼吸，来到了一间历经多年风雨的灰头土脸的谷仓前。科莱他们人还没进去，就听到了微弱的汽车马达声。他拔出枪，冲了进去，并拉亮了灯。
谷仓右面是一个初级作坊--里面有割草机、机动车工具，还有些园艺专用设备。附近的墙上挂着一块让人觉得很是眼熟的内部通信系统电板。电板上的一个按钮被震落下来，并发出微弱的电波信号。第二号客房。
科莱突然转身，火气腾地窜了上来。原来那些人是在利用内部通信系统装置骗我们上楼啊！科莱又搜查了谷仓的另一边，并发现了一排长长的马厩。然而里面却没有一匹马。
很明显，马厩的主人更偏爱使用另一种马力。他把所有的马厩房都改造成令人印象深刻的汽车展览室。其收藏的数目也蔚为大观：一辆法拉利牌的轿车，一辆古朴的罗尔斯。罗伊思小汽车，一辆老古董的阿斯顿。马丁牌双人小赛车，还有一辆过时的保时捷356.
然而位于最末端的那个马厩却是空的。
科莱跑过去，看到地上沾有油迹。他们不可能是从这院子里跑走的吧！为了防止这种情况发生，他已经派了两辆巡逻车将车道和大门堵住了。
"阁下，你看！"一位侦探指着长长的一排马厩说。
谷仓的后门洞开着，他们从那里可以看到一道黑手乎的泥泞的山坡，山坡上崎岖不平的田地一直延伸到谷仓后面苍茫的黑夜尽头。科莱跑到门边，想看看外面到底有些什么，然而他只看到远处一片树林投下的模糊的暗影，并没有看到什么汽车的头灯。在这个林木茂盛的山谷里，也许横七竖八布满了数十条在地图上根本找不到的道路和狩猎的小径许已经陷在附近的某个地方了。这种豪华赛车，对付这种地形可就不中用了。
"嘿，头儿，你看！"那侦探指了指附近一块挂了几把钥匙的小栓板。钥匙上方的标签上写了一些很熟悉的名字：戴姆勒……罗尔斯。罗伊思……阿斯顿。马丁……保时捷……
但最后的栓子里却是空的。
科莱读了空栓上面的标签，马上明白自己碰上了麻烦。
Chapter 67
The Range Rover was Java Black Pearl, four-wheel drive, standard transmission, with high-strength polypropylene lamps, rear light cluster fittings, and the steering wheel on the right.
　　Langdon was pleased he was not driving.
　　Teabing's manservant Rémy, on orders from his master, was doing an impressive job ofmaneuvering the vehicle across the moonlit fields behind Chateau Villette. With no headlights, hehad crossed an open knoll and was now descending a long slope, moving farther away from theestate. He seemed to be heading toward a jagged silhouette of wooded land in the distance.
　　Langdon, cradling the keystone, turned in the passenger seat and eyed Teabing and Sophie in theback seat.
　　"How's your head, Robert?" Sophie asked, sounding concerned.
　　Langdon forced a pained smile. "Better, thanks." It was killing him.
　　Beside her, Teabing glanced over his shoulder at the bound and gagged monk lying in the crampedluggage area behind the back seat. Teabing had the monk's gun on his lap and looked like an oldphoto of a British safari chap posing over his kill.
　　"So glad you popped in this evening, Robert," Teabing said, grinning as if he were having fun forthe first time in years.
　　"Sorry to get you involved in this, Leigh.""Oh, please, I've waited my entire life to be involved." Teabing looked past Langdon out thewindshield at the shadow of a long hedgerow. He tapped Rémy on the shoulder from behind.
　　"Remember, no brake lights. Use the emergency brake if you need it. I want to get into the woods abit. No reason to risk them seeing us from the house."Rémy coasted to a crawl and guided the Range Rover through an opening in the hedge. As thevehicle lurched onto an overgrown pathway, almost immediately the trees overhead blotted out themoonlight.
　　I can't see a thing, Langdon thought, straining to distinguish any shapes at all in front of them. Itwas pitch black. Branches rubbed against the left side of the vehicle, and Rémy corrected in theother direction. Keeping the wheel more or less straight now, he inched ahead about thirty yards.
　　"You're doing beautifully, Rémy," Teabing said. "That should be far enough. Robert, if you couldpress that little blue button just below the vent there. See it?"Langdon found the button and pressed it.
　　A muted yellow glow fanned out across the path in front of them, revealing thick underbrush oneither side of the pathway. Fog lights, Langdon realized. They gave off just enough light to keepthem on the path, and yet they were deep enough into the woods now that the lights would not givethem away.
　　"Well, Rémy," Teabing chimed happily. "The lights are on. Our lives are in your hands.""Where are we going?" Sophie asked.
　　"This trail continues about three kilometers into the forest," Teabing said. "Cutting across the estateand then arching north. Provided we don't hit any standing water or fallen trees, we shall emergeunscathed on the shoulder of highway five."Unscathed. Langdon's head begged to differ. He turned his eyes down to his own lap, where thekeystone was safely stowed in its wooden box. The inlaid Rose on the lid was back in place, andalthough his head felt muddled, Langdon was eager to remove the inlay again and examine theengraving beneath more closely. He unlatched the lid and began to raise it when Teabing laid ahand on his shoulder from behind.
　　"Patience, Robert," Teabing said. "It's bumpy and dark. God save us if we break anything. If youdidn't recognize the language in the light, you won't do any better in the dark. Let's focus on gettingaway in one piece, shall we? There will be time for that very soon."Langdon knew Teabing was right. With a nod, he relatched the box.
　　The monk in back was moaning now, struggling against his trusses. Suddenly, he began kickingwildly.
　　Teabing spun around and aimed the pistol over the seat. "I can't imagine your complaint, sir. Youtrespassed in my home and planted a nasty welt on the skull of a dear friend. I would be wellwithin my rights to shoot you right now and leave you to rot in the woods."The monk fell silent.
　　"Are you sure we should have brought him?" Langdon asked.
　　"Bloody well positive!" Teabing exclaimed. "You're wanted for murder, Robert. This scoundrel isyour ticket to freedom. The police apparently want you badly enough to have tailed you to myhome.""My fault," Sophie said. "The armored car probably had a transmitter.""Not the point," Teabing said. "I'm not surprised the police found you, but I am surprised that thisOpus Dei character found you. From all you've told me, I can't imagine how this man could havetailed you to my home unless he had a contact either within the Judicial Police or within the ZurichDepository."Langdon considered it. Bezu Fache certainly seemed intent on finding a scapegoat for tonight'smurders. And Vernet had turned on them rather suddenly, although considering Langdon wasbeing charged with four murders, the banker's change of heart seemed understandable.
　　"This monk is not working alone, Robert," Teabing said, "and until you learn who is behind all this,you both are in danger. The good news, my friend, is that you are now in the position of power.
　　This monster behind me holds that information, and whoever is pulling his strings has got to bequite nervous right now."Rémy was picking up speed, getting comfortable with the trail. They splashed through some water,climbed a small rise, and began descending again.
　　"Robert, could you be so kind as to hand me that phone?" Teabing pointed to the car phone on thedash. Langdon handed it back, and Teabing dialed a number. He waited for a very long time beforesomeone answered. "Richard? Did I wake you? Of course, I did. Silly question. I'm sorry. I have asmall problem. I'm feeling a bit off. Rémy and I need to pop up to the Isles for my treatments.
　　Well, right away, actually. Sorry for the short notice. Can you have Elizabeth ready in about twentyminutes? I know, do the best you can. See you shortly." He hung up.
　　"Elizabeth?" Langdon said.
　　"My plane. She cost me a Queen's ransom."Langdon turned full around and looked at him.
　　"What?" Teabing demanded. "You two can't expect to stay in France with the entire Judicial Policeafter you. London will be much safer."Sophie had turned to Teabing as well. "You think we should leave the country?""My friends, I am far more influential in the civilized world than here in France. Furthermore, theGrail is believed to be in Great Britain. If we unlock the keystone, I am certain we will discover amap that indicates we have moved in the proper direction.""You're running a big risk," Sophie said, "by helping us. You won't make any friends with theFrench police."Teabing gave a wave of disgust. "I am finished with France. I moved here to find the keystone.
　　That work is now done. I shan't care if I ever again see Chateau Villette."Sophie sounded uncertain. "How will we get through airport security?"Teabing chuckled. "I fly from Le Bourget—an executive airfield not far from here. French doctorsmake me nervous, so every fortnight, I fly north to take my treatments in England. I pay for certainspecial privileges at both ends. Once we're airborne, you can make a decision as to whether or notyou'd like someone from the U.S. Embassy to meet us."Langdon suddenly didn't want anything to do with the embassy. All he could think of was thekeystone, the inscription, and whether it would all lead to the Grail. He wondered if Teabing wasright about Britain. Admittedly most modern legends placed the Grail somewhere in the UnitedKingdom. Even King Arthur's mythical, Grail-rich Isle of Avalon was now believed to be noneother than Glastonbury, England. Wherever the Grail lay, Langdon never imagined he wouldactually be looking for it. The Sangreal documents. The true history of Jesus Christ. The tomb ofMary Magdalene. He suddenly felt as if he were living in some kind of limbo tonight... a bubblewhere the real world could not reach him.
　　"Sir?" Rémy said. "Are you truly thinking of returning to England for good?""Rémy, you needn't worry," Teabing assured. "Just because I am returning to the Queen's realmdoes not mean I intend to subject my palate to bangers and mash for the rest of my days. I expectyou will join me there permanently. I'm planning to buy a splendid villa in Devonshire, and we'llhave all your things shipped up immediately. An adventure, Rémy. I say, an adventure!"Langdon had to smile. As Teabing railed on about his plans for a triumphant return to Britain,Langdon felt himself caught up in the man's infectious enthusiasm.
　　Gazing absently out the window, Langdon watched the woods passing by, ghostly pale in theyellow blush of the fog lights. The side mirror was tipped inward, brushed askew by branches, andLangdon saw the reflection of Sophie sitting quietly in the back seat. He watched her for a longwhile and felt an unexpected upwelling of contentment. Despite his troubles tonight, Langdon wasthankful to have landed in such good company.
　　After several minutes, as if suddenly sensing his eyes on her, Sophie leaned forward and put herhands on his shoulders, giving him a quick rub. "You okay?""Yeah," Langdon said. "Somehow."Sophie sat back in her seat, and Langdon saw a quiet smile cross her lips. He realized that he toowas now grinning.
　　Wedged in the back of the Range Rover, Silas could barely breathe. His arms were wrenchedbackward and heavily lashed to his ankles with kitchen twine and duct tape. Every bump in theroad sent pain shooting through his twisted shoulders. At least his captors had removed the cilice.
　　Unable to inhale through the strip of tape over his mouth, he could only breathe through hisnostrils, which were slowly clogging up due to the dusty rear cargo area into which he had beencrammed. He began coughing.
　　"I think he's choking," the French driver said, sounding concerned.
　　The British man who had struck Silas with his crutch now turned and peered over the seat,frowning coldly at Silas. "Fortunately for you, we British judge man's civility not by hiscompassion for his friends, but by his compassion for his enemies." The Brit reached down andgrabbed the duct tape on Silas's mouth. In one fast motion, he tore it off.
　　Silas felt as if his lips had just caught fire, but the air pouring into his lungs was sent from God.
　　"Whom do you work for?" the British man demanded.
　　"I do the work of God," Silas spat back through the pain in his jaw where the woman had kickedhim.
　　"You belong to Opus Dei," the man said. It was not a question.
　　"You know nothing of who I am.""Why does Opus Dei want the keystone?"Silas had no intention of answering. The keystone was the link to the Holy Grail, and the HolyGrail was the key to protecting the faith.
　　I do the work of God. The Way is in peril.
　　Now, in the Range Rover, struggling against his bonds, Silas feared he had failed the Teacher andthe bishop forever. He had no way even to contact them and tell them the terrible turn of events.
　　My captors have the keystone! They will reach the Grail before we do! In the stifling darkness,Silas prayed. He let the pain of his body fuel his supplications.
　　A miracle, Lord. I need a miracle. Silas had no way of knowing that hours from now, he would getone.
　　"Robert?" Sophie was still watching him. "A funny look just crossed your face."Langdon glanced back at her, realizing his jaw was firmly set and his heart was racing. Anincredible notion had just occurred to him. Could it really be that simple an explanation? "I need touse your cell phone, Sophie.""Now?""I think I just figured something out.""What?""I'll tell you in a minute. I need your phone."Sophie looked wary. "I doubt Fache is tracing, but keep it under a minute just in case." She gavehim her phone.
　　"How do I dial the States?""You need to reverse the charges. My service doesn't cover transatlantic."Langdon dialed zero, knowing that the next sixty seconds might answer a question that had beenpuzzling him all night.
"陆虎揽胜"车采用了旧金山软件制造商"黑珍珠"公司开发的Java 技术。它有四个轮子，一台标准传送器，几盏高能量的聚丙烯灯，一盏后聚光灯，方向盘则安放在车子的右边。
兰登很高兴不是他在开车。
提彬的仆人雷米，按照主人的吩咐，正在做一项能给人留下深刻印象的工作。他驾着车，穿过维莱特庄园后面月光笼罩的田野。他没有打开车的头灯，此刻他已经翻过了一座小山，正顺着一道斜坡而下，因而离他们刚才所停留的房子越来越远了。他似乎正朝着远处影影绰绰、凹凸不平而又草木繁盛的远处树林驶去。
兰登将拱心石抱在怀中，从座椅上转过身来，注视着坐在后座的提彬与索菲两人。
"罗伯特，你的头怎么样了？"索菲关切地问道。
兰登勉强苦笑了一下："谢谢，比刚才要好得多啦。"事实上，他正被疼痛折磨得半死。
坐在她身边的提彬，回头瞥了那名被五花大绑并被堵上嘴的修道士一眼，他正躺在最末一排座位后面专供存放行李之用的巴掌大的一块地方。提彬将那位修道士的枪放在膝盖上，那神情犹如某张旧照片中的英国历险者踩在捕获的猎物上摆出的那种酷酷的模样。
"罗伯特，我真高兴你今晚突然跑到我家来。"提彬咧着嘴，笑了笑，仿佛这些年来，平生第一次感到如此的快活。
"雷，很抱歉是我连累了你。"
"咳，行了，为这个机会的到来，我已经等了一辈子啦。"提彬从兰登的肩膀上看过去，望着挡风玻璃外面灌木丛林投下的长长的暗影。突然，他从后面拍了拍雷米的肩，轻声叮嘱："记住，刹车时别开灯，万一刹车，就动用紧急刹车设备。我想再往树林里头开进一点。我们没理由冒险，让他们从房子里看见我们。"
雷米依着车的惯性，缓缓移动，驾着那辆"陆虎揽胜"车在灌木丛林中闯出一条路来。
然后车子猛然冲上一条杂树丛生的小路，于是车上方的树木，几乎立刻就将月光挡住了。
我什么也看不见啊，兰登心想。他欠起身子想看看前面有些什么东西，然而外面漆黑一团。树枝摩擦着左侧的车身，于是雷米掉转车头，开往另一个方向。终于，他好歹将车身摆正了一些，亦步亦趋地往前行驶了大约三十码的距离。
"雷米，你干得真棒！"提彬夸道："这应该够了吧。罗伯特，你能不能按一按那边孔塞下面的蓝色小按钮？你看到了没有？"
兰登找到按钮，便按了下去。
一束黄色的亮光，顿时无声地扩散开来，照着他们的前方。小路两边稠密的丛林依稀可辨。兰登意识到这是晨雾散发出来的亮光。这些光线，足以使他们能够继续往前赶路了，而且由于他们已经深入到树林里面，因此也就用不着担心被别人看见。
"好啦，雷米。"提彬快活地喊道。"光线亮着呢。现在，我们的小命就全掌握在你手上了。""那我们去哪里呢？"索菲冷不防地问道。
"这条通往森林的小路，大约有三公里长。我们抄庄园的近路，然后再往北走。只要不遇上死水潭或者倒下来的树什么的，我们就可以安然无恙地把车开到五号高速公路上。"安然无恙？兰登可不这么想。他把视线投到膝盖上，拱心石安稳地躺在他膝盖上的木盒子里。那朵镶嵌在盖子上的玫瑰，被置于后面适当的位置。尽管他的头脑混沌一片，然而他还是急于想再次把镶嵌在盖子上的东西拿下来，以便能更仔细地将下面的雕饰研究一番。他打开盖子，举了起来。这时，提彬从身后将手搭在他的肩膀上。
"耐心点，罗伯特。道路崎岖不平，天色又这么黑，万一我们把它弄坏，那就只能祈求上帝的保佑了。这种文字，要是你在光线里都认不出来，那在黑暗中就更不用说了。我们还是专心赶路吧，你看怎样？更何况你即使要看，也用不着这么猴急。"兰登知道提彬说得对，于是他点了点头，重新将盒子盖上。
后面的修道士此刻正在呻吟，胡乱撕扯着绑在他身上的东西，突然，他的双脚疯狂的乱蹬乱踢。
提彬迅速掉过身子，俯在座位上用手枪径直瞄准了修道士。"阁下，我看你没什么好抱怨的了。你不但非法闯进我家，而且还在我朋友的头上敲了个洞。我现在完全有权一枪毙了你，任由你的尸骨烂在这树林里。"修道士顿时安静下来。
"你确定我们必须带上他吗？"兰登问道。
"那还用说，罗伯特，你被指控犯有谋杀罪，而这家伙就是让你通向自由的通行证。很明显，警察跟踪你跑到我家就是冲你来的。"提彬大声说。
"这都是我的错。这辆装甲车可能有传话机对吧？"
"话不能这样说。"提彬接口说："警方找到你们，我丝毫不觉得有什么奇怪。让我奇怪的是这个天主事工会的家伙竟找上门来。从你们告诉我的情况来看，我无法想象他怎能跟着你跑到我家，除非他跟警察署或者苏黎世储蓄银行的工作人员有往来。"兰登考虑了片刻。贝祖。法希一定是在蓄意为今晚的谋杀事件找一只替罪羊。不过，韦尔内突然将攻击的矛头指向他们--尽管考虑到兰登被指控犯有四桩谋杀案在身，这位银行家态度的转变似乎是可以理解的。
"罗伯特，这位修道士可不是单枪匹马行事。而且，在你们知道谁是幕后操纵者之前，你们两人目前的处境都很危险，好在你们现在取得了主动权。躺在我后面的那个混蛋，就知道其中的内幕。现在，那个躲在幕后的操纵者肯定很紧张呢。"雷米加快了车速，这样，车在小路上开得更平稳了。他们趟过一些水洼地，朝山坡上驶了一段距离，然后又开始走下坡路。
"罗伯特，你能不能把电话递给我？"提彬指指放在仪器板上的电话。于是兰登把电话往后递了过去。提彬拨了一个号码，但他等了很久才有人接电话。"是理查德吗？我吵醒你了吧？我当然吵醒了你啦。我怎么问这么愚蠢的问题？！对不起，有件小事我想求你帮忙。我觉得情况有点不正常，我和雷米得赶快坐飞机到英国去接受治疗。好吧，你马上过来。我很抱歉没时间跟你详细解释。你能不能在大约二十分钟之内把我的"伊丽莎白"准备好？我知道了，快点，呆会儿见。"说完他就把电话挂了。
""伊丽莎白"？"兰登问道。
"是我飞机的名字，它花去了我一半家产呢。"
兰登将整个身子转了过去，两眼紧盯着他。
"怎么啦？"提彬询问道："你们两个该不会留在法国，让警察署在后面穷追不舍吧？要知道比起法国来，伦敦要安全的多啦。"索菲也转过身，面对着他："你是说要我们离开这个国家？"
"朋友们，我在伦敦的上流社会的影响比我在巴黎更大。更何况，大家都认为圣杯是在英国。如果我们能打开拱心石，我敢保证我们会找到一张地图，它会告诉我们选择的方向是对的。""你是在冒很大的风险帮我们呢。你该不会跟法国警方套上交情吧？"索菲说。
提彬不满的摆了摆手。"我在法国生活的岁月将结束了。我之所以搬到法国来，原本就是想寻找拱心石，但现在任务已经完成，我也就不在乎还能不能见到维莱特庄园了。"索菲的语气里有些不安："我们怎样才能通过机场的安全检查呢？"
提彬呵呵的笑起来。"我是从离这里不远的布尔歇机场坐飞机来的。法国的医生们总是搞得我很紧张，所以每隔两个星期，我都要坐飞机往北飞到英国去接受治疗。结果呢，我总得为享受某些特别的优惠而两头付钱。等我们登上机，你就可以做出决定，比如说愿不愿意去见一位来自美国大使馆的人。"突然，兰登不想与美国大使馆搭上任何关系，他一心一意的想着拱心石、碑文，以及它们能否帮他们找到圣杯。他在想，提彬提到关于英国方面的情况是不是真的。必须承认，现代传说大都声称圣杯就在英国的某个地方，甚至还有人相信，亚瑟王传说中虚构的极乐世界阿瓦隆岛就在今天英格兰的格拉斯顿伯里。先不管圣杯在哪里，兰登从没想过有朝一日会真地去寻找它。《圣杯文献》、《耶稣基督正传》、《抹大拉的玛利亚之墓》。他突然觉得，今天晚上他似乎生活在地狱的边缘……生活在现实世界无法企及的空想里。
"阁下。"雷米问道："你真的想永远回到英格兰去吗？"
"雷米，你别担心。"提彬肯定地说："我即使回到女王管辖的领土，也并不意味着在今后的日子里，我会将我的口味仅仅局限在香肠和马铃薯上。我希望你能长久的跟我呆在那里。我打算在德文郡买一栋华美的别墅，然后马上把你所有的东西航运过去。这是在冒险，雷米。你听我说，我们是在冒险。"兰登勉强地笑了。提彬在一边大谈特谈他衣锦还乡回英国后的各种计划，而兰登也觉得，自己已经被这个男人富有感染力的热情所感染了。
兰登心不在焉地望着窗外，注视着向后退去的树林，在黄红色的夜雾里，散发出幽灵般惨淡的光。车前的镜子被压得向里倾斜，树枝儿从车身擦边而过，弄得它歪歪斜斜的。
兰登从镜子里看到索菲安静的坐在后排的座位上，他注视了她好一会儿，心中陡然升腾起一股无比的满足感。尽管今晚遇到了一些麻烦，兰登还是很感谢一路上有这么好的朋友相伴。
过了几分钟，索菲似乎突然发觉他在盯着她，便俯身向前，将手放在他的肩膀上，飞快地捏了一下。"你没事吧？"
"嗯，还行。"兰登回应道。
索菲坐回到座位上，兰登看到她的嘴角掠过一丝恬静的微笑，他发觉自己也张嘴笑了起来。
塞拉斯被塞在"陆虎揽胜"车的后面，几乎难以呼吸。他的胳膊被人扭向后面，并被人用厨房里的麻绳以及电缆线重重地鞭打过，就连他的脚踝也不放过。车子在路上每颠簸一下，他那扭曲的肩膀就痛的半死。好在至少他的征服者将他身上穿的粗布衣服脱去了。他的嘴巴由于被堵了个严严实实而无法吸气，所以只能通过鼻孔呼吸。然而他的鼻孔也被慢慢地堵上了，因为他被塞在满是尘埃的车后存货区里。于是他开始咳嗽起来。
"我看他在咳嗽呢。"法国司机的语气中透出了几分关切。
这个刚才用拐杖袭击了塞拉斯的英国人，此刻转过身子，趴在座位上，双眉紧锁，冷冷地打量着他。"你够走运的了。我们英国人衡量一个人有没有教养，不是看他对朋友有无关切之情，而是看他对敌人是否有怜悯之心。"英国人一边说，一边伸下手去，猛地将堵在塞拉斯嘴里的电缆线拔出来，很快地撕了个粉碎。
塞拉斯感觉双唇像着了火，不过，沁人肺腑的空气，就是上帝给他最好的恩赐。
"你到底是在为谁卖命？"英国人质问道。
"我在为上帝。"塞拉斯忍住疼痛说--因为那女人才踢了他的下巴，并向后面吐了一口唾沫。
"你是天主事工会的人对吧？"英国人明知故问。
"你别想从我嘴里得到什么。"
"天主事工会为什么要寻找拱心石？"
塞拉斯不想回答，拱心石是找到圣杯的重要一环，而后者又是使信仰不至于遭到亵渎的关键。
我为上帝效劳。世道却在沦落。
此时，塞拉斯躺在"陆虎揽胜"车里，竭力想挣脱强加在他身上的束缚，他担心自己会永远辜负教主以及主教的委托。他现在甚至没有任何办法与他们取得联系，向他们汇报这突如其来发生的可怕的转折性事件。拱心石现已落入敌人之手。他们将赶在我们之前找到圣杯！塞拉斯在令人窒息的黑暗中祈祷。他想通过肉体的痛苦来增强他祈祷的动力。
上帝啊，给我奇迹吧，我现在需要奇迹。虽然塞拉斯无从知道何时会有奇迹出现，但他相信奇迹终究会出现。
"罗伯特？"索菲还在望着他："刚才你脸上的神情真逗。"
兰登回头瞥了她一眼，意识到他的表情过于严肃，而他的内心其实却在翻江倒海。他的海中刚刚闪过一个令人难以置信的念头。真会有这么简单的解释吗？"索菲，借你的手机给我用用。""你是说现在？"
"是的，我刚想到了一些东西。"
"是什么？"
"待会儿再告诉你。你先把手机给我。"
索菲面露警惕的神色。"我怀疑法希在跟踪我们，只是以防万一而暂时忍耐罢了。"
她把手机递给了他。
"我要拨美国的电话号码，该怎么拨？"
"那你恐怕得拨打对方付费电话，我的手机不提供越洋电话服务。"
兰登先拨了个零，他知道，接下来的这一分钟将会帮他解答困扰了他整个晚上的所有问题。
Chapter 68
New York editor Jonas Faukman had just climbed into bed for the night when the telephone rang.
　　A little late for callers, he grumbled, picking up the receiver.
　　An operator's voice asked him, "Will you accept charges for a collect call from Robert Langdon?"Puzzled, Jonas turned on the light. "Uh... sure, okay."The line clicked. "Jonas?""Robert? You wake me up and you charge me for it?""Jonas, forgive me," Langdon said. "I'll keep this very short. I really need to know. The manuscriptI gave you. Have you—""Robert, I'm sorry, I know I said I'd send the edits out to you this week, but I'm swamped. NextMonday. I promise.""I'm not worried about the edits. I need to know if you sent any copies out for blurbs withouttelling me?"Faukman hesitated. Langdon's newest manuscript—an exploration of the history of goddessworship—included several sections about Mary Magdalene that were going to raise someeyebrows. Although the material was well documented and had been covered by others, Faukmanhad no intention of printing Advance Reading Copies of Langdon's book without at least a fewendorsements from serious historians and art luminaries. Jonas had chosen ten big names in the artworld and sent them all sections of the manuscript along with a polite letter asking if they would bewilling to write a short endorsement for the jacket. In Faukman's experience, most people jumpedat the opportunity to see their name in print.
　　"Jonas?" Langdon pressed. "You sent out my manuscript, didn't you?"Faukman frowned, sensing Langdon was not happy about it. "The manuscript was clean, Robert,and I wanted to surprise you with some terrific blurbs."A pause. "Did you send one to the curator of the Paris Louvre?""What do you think? Your manuscript referenced his Louvre collection several times, his books arein your bibliography, and the guy has some serious clout for foreign sales. Saunière was a no-brainer."The silence on the other end lasted a long time. "When did you send it?""About a month ago. I also mentioned you would be in Paris soon and suggested you two chat. Didhe ever call you to meet?" Faukman paused, rubbing his eyes. "Hold on, aren't you supposed to bein Paris this week?""I am in Paris."Faukman sat upright. "You called me collect from Paris?""Take it out of my royalties, Jonas. Did you ever hear back from Saunière? Did he like themanuscript?""I don't know. I haven't yet heard from him.""Well, don't hold your breath. I've got to run, but this explains a lot Thanks.""Robert—"But Langdon was gone.
　　Faukman hung up the phone, shaking his head in disbelief Authors, he thought. Even the sane onesare nuts.
　　Inside the Range Rover, Leigh Teabing let out a guffaw. "Robert, you're saying you wrote amanuscript that delves into a secret society, and your editor sent a copy to that secret society?"Langdon slumped. "Evidently.""A cruel coincidence, my friend."Coincidence has nothing to do with it, Langdon knew. Asking Jacques Saunière to endorse amanuscript on goddess worship was as obvious as asking Tiger Woods to endorse a book on golf.
　　Moreover, it was virtually guaranteed that any book on goddess worship would have to mention thePriory of Sion.
　　"Here's the million-dollar question," Teabing said, still chuckling. "Was your position on the Prioryfavorable or unfavorable?"Langdon could hear Teabing's true meaning loud and clear. Many historians questioned why thePriory was still keeping the Sangreal documents hidden. Some felt the information should havebeen shared with the world long ago. "I took no position on the Priory's actions.""You mean lack thereof."Langdon shrugged. Teabing was apparently on the side of making the documents public. "I simplyprovided history on the brotherhood and described them as a modern goddess worship society,keepers of the Grail, and guardians of ancient documents."Sophie looked at him. "Did you mention the keystone?"Langdon winced. He had. Numerous times. "I talked about the supposed keystone as an example ofthe lengths to which the Priory would go to protect the Sangreal documents."Sophie looked amazed. "I guess that explains P.S. Find Robert Langdon."Langdon sensed it was actually something else in the manuscript that had piqued Saunière'sinterest, but that topic was something he would discuss with Sophie when they were alone.
　　"So," Sophie said, "you lied to Captain Fache.""What?" Langdon demanded.
　　"You told him you had never corresponded with my grandfather.""I didn't! My editor sent him a manuscript.""Think about it, Robert. If Captain Fache didn't find the envelope in which your editor sent themanuscript, he would have to conclude that you sent it." She paused. "Or worse, that you hand-delivered it and lied about it."When the Range Rover arrived at Le Bourget Airfield, Rémy drove to a small hangar at the far endof the airstrip. As they approached, a tousled man in wrinkled khakis hurried from the hangar,waved, and slid open the enormous corrugated metal door to reveal a sleek white jet within.
　　Langdon stared at the glistening fuselage. "That's Elizabeth?"Teabing grinned. "Beats the bloody Chunnel."The man in khakis hurried toward them, squinting into the headlights. "Almost ready, sir," hecalled in a British accent. "My apologies for the delay, but you took me by surprise and—" Hestopped short as the group unloaded. He looked at Sophie and Langdon, and then Teabing.
　　Teabing said, "My associates and I have urgent business in London. We've no time to waste. Pleaseprepare to depart immediately." As he spoke, Teabing took the pistol out of the vehicle and handedit to Langdon.
　　The pilot's eyes bulged at the sight of the weapon. He walked over to Teabing and whispered, "Sir,my humble apologies, but my diplomatic flight allowance provides only for you and yourmanservant. I cannot take your guests.""Richard," Teabing said, smiling warmly, "two thousand pounds sterling and that loaded gun sayyou can take my guests." He motioned to the Range Rover. "And the unfortunate fellow in theback."
《纽约时报》编辑琼纳斯。福克曼刚爬上床，准备睡觉，电话铃就响了起来。现在还打电话来，未免太晚了点吧。他嘟哝着，抓起了话筒。
接线员在电话另一端问他："你要不要把罗伯特，兰登打给你的对方付款电话转过来？"
琼纳斯一脸疑惑，拧亮了电灯："哦……当然，接过来吧。"
电话线里传来滴滴答答的声音。
"是琼纳斯吗？"
"罗伯特，哪有这个道理：你吵醒了我，还要我为你付电话费？"
"对不起，琼纳斯。我很快就会说完的。不过我真的想知道，我的手稿你是不是……？"
"很抱歉，罗伯特。我知道我说过会在这周将校对好的样稿寄给你，不过我实在太忙了。下星期一吧，我答应你。""我倒不是担心这个，我只想知道你是否没告诉我就把书稿寄出大肆宣扬去了？"
福克曼踌躇了一下。最近，兰登写的一部作品是探索女神崇拜历史的力作，其中包括几篇关于抹大拉的玛利亚的章节，这无疑将会吸引读者的注意力。虽然这部作品史料翔实，并获得其他人的好评，但如果没得到正统历史学家以及艺术大师的肯定，福克曼还是不想急于将它出版。因此，他在艺术界选择了十位大名鼎鼎的人物，将所有的书稿复印件寄给他们，并附上了一封措辞谦恭的信，询问他们能否给该书的封套写一段简短的评述性文字。不过，按照福克曼过去的经验，大多数人，是不会轻易放过这个使自己扬名的机会的。
"琼纳斯，你把我的文稿寄出去了是不是？"兰登的语气有点咄咄逼人。
福克曼皱了皱眉，察觉到兰登对此很不乐意。
"罗伯特，你的书稿本身没有问题，不过我也是想通过为此书大作宣传来给你一个惊喜。"对方短暂地沉默。
"那，你有没有将书稿寄给卢浮宫艺术博物馆的馆长？"
"你是怎么想的？你在书稿里几次三番提到卢浮宫收藏的艺术作品，况且他写的书也出现在你的参考书目里，偏偏索尼埃对这种事又很精明！这家伙可不是容易对付的人呐。"罗伯特沉默良久："那你是什么时候寄出去的？"
"大约有一个月了吧。我还告诉他你不久会去巴黎，并建议你们两人私下里聊聊，他打电话约你见面了吗"福克曼停下来，擦了擦眼睛："耐心点儿，你不是说这个星期要去巴黎吗？"
"我已经在巴黎了。"
福克曼惊的挺起了身子："这么说你是从巴黎打来的电话？"
"至于电话费，你从我版税里扣掉就是了。琼纳斯，那索尼埃有没有给你回音？他喜不喜欢我的作品？"
"不知道，我还没收到他的回信呢！"
"那好，你也别那么紧张。我要挂了，不过这足以说明问题了，谢谢。"
"罗伯特--"
然而罗伯特已经挂了。
福克曼挂了电话，满腹狐疑地摇了摇头。就算是心智都很健全的作家，大概有时候也免不了犯傻劲吧，他想。
在"陆虎揽胜"车里，雷。提彬捧腹大笑："罗伯特，你刚才不是说你写了一部调查某个秘密组织的书稿，可你的编辑竟然把复印好的书稿寄给了那个秘密组织吗？"
兰登沮丧的倒在椅子上。"是这样啊。"
"朋友，这真是令人痛苦的巧合。"
不过，兰登很清楚这跟巧合没有任何的关系。很显然，邀请雅克。索尼埃莱给女神崇拜的书稿作出评价，简直就像请泰格。伍兹给高尔夫球的书籍写评论那样得心应手。更何况，任何涉及到女神崇拜的作品实际上都会提到郇山隐修会。
"这可是个棘手的问题呢。"提彬仍然在咯咯地笑。"对于郇山隐修会，你是支持，还是反对？"
兰登其实明白提彬想说什么。许多历史学家还在怀疑，郇山隐修会为什么至今还要将《圣杯文献》隐藏起来。有人认为这些文献早该拿出来与世人分享了。"我对郇山隐修会的做法说不上有什么看法。""你是说没有必要对它评头论足了？"
兰登耸了耸肩，看得出提彬是赞成将《圣杯文献》公开的。
"我只是提供了有关该组织的一些历史背景，并将他们描述成一个当代女神崇拜的组织、圣杯的监护者、古代文献的保护人罢了。"索菲注视着他："那你提到了拱心石没有？"
兰登退缩了一下。他提到过，而且是无数次地提到过。"我谈到所谓的拱心石，是把它当作郇山隐修会将会出面保护圣杯文件的详尽的例子提出来的。"索菲大为惊奇："我还以为可以用来解释"P.S.：找到罗伯特。兰登"的原因呢。"
兰登感到是文稿里的其他一些东西引起了索尼埃的兴趣，但这种话题，只有在他与索菲单独相处时他才会谈起。
索菲说道："这么说你向法希上尉撒谎了。"
"你说什么？"兰登反问。
"你不是说你从未跟我祖父联系过吗？"
"我确实没有，是我的编辑寄书稿给他，又不是我。"
"罗伯特，你仔细想想吧。如果法希上尉没有找到你的编辑用来寄书稿的信封，他肯定会以为是你寄给他的。"她停了停："更糟糕的是，他甚至会认为是你亲手交给索尼埃的，却回过头来跟他撒了个弥天大谎。"雷米驾着"陆虎揽胜"车来到了布尔歇机场，他把车开到离飞机跑道很远的停机库。等他们靠近时，一个衣着邋遢、身穿满是皱褶的咔叽尼衣服的男子匆匆忙忙地从机库里跑了出来，他摆了摆手，然后推开了一扇巨大的、上面满是波纹的铁门。铁门启开处，露出了一架时髦的白色喷气式飞机。
兰登盯着闪闪发亮的机身："那就是你的"伊丽莎白"吗？"
提彬咧开嘴笑了。"它可比英吉利海峡隧道还要便捷管用呢。"
穿咔叽呢衣服的男人急忙向他们走来，一边眯着眼睛瞅着汽车的前灯。
"先生，差不多准备好了。"他操着英国人的口音说道："我很抱歉耽误了你的时间，不过你真让我吃惊--"等他看到那些人下了车，他猛然打住了。他先是看了看索菲和兰登，然后又望了望提彬。
提彬开口了："我和朋友现有急事要去伦敦。我们就别在这里浪费时间了。快点做准备，赶快出发吧。"提彬说着，从车里取出手枪，递给了兰登。
那位驾驶员一见手枪，顿时将眼睛睁得好大，他走到提彬跟前，低声说："阁下，我很抱歉我只能带上你和你的仆人，而不包括你的客人。"提彬温和的微笑着说："理查德，我给你两千英镑，再用这支上了膛的枪给你一粒子儿，你就会说你能把我的客人--"他走到"陆虎揽胜"车旁边。"还有这绑在车后面的倒霉鬼带上。"
Chapter 69
The Hawker 731's twin Garrett TFE-731 engines thundered, powering the plane skyward with gut-wrenching force. Outside the window, Le Bourget Airfield dropped away with startling speed.
　　I'm fleeing the country, Sophie thought, her body forced back into the leather seat. Until thismoment, she had believed her game of cat and mouse with Fache would be somehow justifiable tothe Ministry of Defense. I was attempting to protect an innocent man. I was trying to fulfill mygrandfather's dying wishes. That window of opportunity, Sophie knew, had just closed. She wasleaving the country, without documentation, accompanying a wanted man, and transporting abound hostage. If a "line of reason" had ever existed, she had just crossed it. At almost the speed ofsound.
　　Sophie was seated with Langdon and Teabing near the front of the cabin—the Fan Jet ExecutiveElite Design, according to the gold medallion on the door. Their plush swivel chairs were bolted totracks on the floor and could be repositioned and locked around a rectangular hardwood table. Amini-boardroom. The dignified surroundings, however, did little to camouflage the less thandignified state of affairs in the rear of the plane where, in a separate seating area near the rest room,Teabing's manservant Rémy sat with the pistol in hand, begrudgingly carrying out Teabing's ordersto stand guard over the bloody monk who lay trussed at his feet like a piece of luggage.
　　"Before we turn our attention to the keystone," Teabing said, "I was wondering if you would permitme a few words." He sounded apprehensive, like a father about to give the birds-and-the-beeslecture to his children. "My friends, I realize I am but a guest on this journey, and I am honored assuch. And yet, as someone who has spent his life in search of the Grail, I feel it is my duty to warnyou that you are about to step onto a path from which there is no return, regardless of the dangersinvolved." He turned to Sophie. "Miss Neveu, your grandfather gave you this cryptex in hopes youwould keep the secret of the Holy Grail alive.""Yes.""Understandably, you feel obliged to follow the trail wherever it leads."Sophie nodded, although she felt a second motivation still burning within her. The truth about myfamily. Despite Langdon's assurances that the keystone had nothing to do with her past, Sophie stillsensed something deeply personal entwined within this mystery, as if this cryptex, forged by hergrandfather's own hands, were trying to speak to her and offer some kind of resolution to theemptiness that had haunted her all these years.
　　"Your grandfather and three others died tonight," Teabing continued, "and they did so to keep thiskeystone away from the Church. Opus Dei came within inches tonight of possessing it. Youunderstand, I hope, that this puts you in a position of exceptional responsibility. You have beenhanded a torch. A two-thousand-year-old flame that cannot be allowed to go out. This torch cannotfall into the wrong hands." He paused, glancing at the rosewood box. "I realize you have beengiven no choice in this matter, Miss Neveu, but considering what is at stake here, you must eitherfully embrace this responsibility... or you must pass that responsibility to someone else.""My grandfather gave the cryptex to me. I'm sure he thought I could handle the responsibility."Teabing looked encouraged but unconvinced. "Good. A strong will is necessary. And yet, I amcurious if you understand that successfully unlocking the keystone will bring with it a far greatertrial.""How so?""My dear, imagine that you are suddenly holding a map that reveals the location of the Holy Grail.
　　In that moment, you will be in possession of a truth capable of altering history forever. You will bethe keeper of a truth that man has sought for centuries. You will be faced with the responsibility ofrevealing that truth to the world. The individual who does so will be revered by many and despisedby many. The question is whether you will have the necessary strength to carry out that task."Sophie paused. "I'm not sure that is my decision to make."Teabing's eyebrows arched. "No? If not the possessor of the keystone, then who?""The brotherhood who has successfully protected the secret for so long.""The Priory?" Teabing looked skeptical. "But how? The brotherhood was shattered tonight.
　　Decapitated, as you so aptly put it. Whether they were infiltrated by some kind of eavesdropping orby a spy within their ranks, we will never know, but the fact remains that someone got to them anduncovered the identities of their four top members. I would not trust anyone who stepped forwardfrom the brotherhood at this point.""So what do you suggest?" Langdon asked.
　　"Robert, you know as well as I do that the Priory has not protected the truth all these years to haveit gather dust until eternity. They have been waiting for the right moment in history to share theirsecret. A time when the world is ready to handle the truth.""And you believe that moment has arrived?" Langdon asked.
　　"Absolutely. It could not be more obvious. All the historical signs are in place, and if the Priory didnot intend to make their secret known very soon, why has the Church now attacked?"Sophie argued, "The monk has not yet told us his purpose.""The monk's purpose is the Church's purpose," Teabing replied, "to destroy the documents thatreveal the great deception. The Church came closer tonight than they have ever come, and thePriory has put its trust in you, Miss Neveu. The task of saving the Holy Grail clearly includescarrying out the Priory's final wishes of sharing the truth with the world."Langdon intervened. "Leigh, asking Sophie to make that decision is quite a load to drop onsomeone who only an hour ago learned the Sangreal documents exist."Teabing sighed. "I apologize if I am pressing, Miss Neveu. Clearly I have always believed thesedocuments should be made public, but in the end the decision belongs to you. I simply feel it isimportant that you begin to think about what happens should we succeed in opening the keystone.""Gentlemen," Sophie said, her voice firm. "To quote your words, 'You do not find the Grail, theGrail finds you.' I am going to trust that the Grail has found me for a reason, and when the timecomes, I will know what to do."Both of them looked startled.
　　"So then," she said, motioning to the rosewood box. "Let's move on."
"猎鹰者"731 的"加勒特"TFE 一731 双引擎轰鸣起来，产生一股强大的动力，推动着飞机向空中飞去。从飞机的窗口看去，布尔歇机场飞速地向后退去。
我要逃离这个国家，索菲心想，一种强大的外力迫使她将身子紧靠在皮椅上。直到此时，她才明白她一直在跟法希玩猫捉老鼠的游戏，不论怎样，对国防部来说都是情有可原的。索菲深知，机会的的窗口已经向她关上了。我只是想救一个无辜的人，我只是在努力完成我祖父的宿愿罢了。她要离开这个国家，没有携带任何文献，陪着一个被警察追踪的人，并且还要带上一名被绑的人质。如果真有什么"理智之线"的话，那她刚才就已经跨过了，而且几乎是以声音的速度跨过的。
索菲、兰登，还有提彬坐在靠近机舱前头的位置，根据门边的金色奖章的提示，该飞机机舱采用了螺旋桨飞机精英设计的样式。他们所坐的高级旋转椅，被人用插销固定在机舱地面的轨道上，能够重新调换位置，并被锁在一张矩形的硬木桌子上，俨然是一个小型的会议室。然而舱内高雅的布局却丝毫掩藏不了机舱后面远算不上体面的情形--在机舱的尾部，靠近卫生间的一个被隔离的就座区，提彬的仆人雷米握着手枪，很不情愿地执行着主人分派给他的任务。他站在那位全身是血、被人像行李那样捆起来的修道士跟前，监视着他。
"我们在将注意力集中到拱心石上之前，不知能否让我说上几句。"提彬开了腔，听得出他很忧虑，仿佛是一位父亲，正打算给孩子传授性方面的知识。"朋友们，我发现在这旅途上我只是一位客人，而我为此也深感荣幸。不过，作为一个毕生都在寻找圣杯的人，我觉得有责任提醒你们。不管前方有多大的艰难险阻，你们即将踏上永无回头之路的征程。"他向索菲转过身。"奈芙小姐，你祖父把这密码盒给了你，就是希望你在有生之年，会严守圣杯的秘密。"
"你说得对。"
"所以，如果你觉得有必要沿着这条既定方向的道路走下去，我们也是可以理解的。"
索菲点了点头，尽管她觉得还有另一个动机在驱使着她，那就是查明她家族的真相。
虽然兰登已经很明确地告诉了她，拱心石与她的过去毫无关系，但她依旧觉得有一些很隐秘的东西跟这个秘密纠缠在一起，仿佛这只由他祖父一手制造的密码盒，试图告诉她什么，并为这些年来一直困扰着她的种种疑问，提供某些解决的途径。
"今天晚上，你祖父和另外三人都死了。"提彬继续说道："他们这样做就是不想让拱心石落入天主教会之手，天主事工会今晚也差点将拱心石弄到手。我希望你会明白，这样一来，你身上的责任可就大了。你现在手里拿着一把火炬，这把火炬燃烧了两千多年，我们是不能让它熄灭的。这把火炬也不能落入图谋不轨者的手中。"他稍停片刻，瞥了紫檀木盒子一眼。"奈芙小姐，依我看这件事情你是别无选择了。不过考虑到这里的形势还不太稳定，你要么把责任全部承担起来，要么把责任一概推给别人。""我祖父既然把这个密码盒给了我，我想他肯定认为，我能够承担起这个责任。"
提彬露出鼓励的神情，但还是有点不太相信。"很好，坚强的意志固然必不可少。不过，让我感兴趣的是，你是否知道，如果你要成功地开启拱心石，你将会面临更加艰巨的考验。""你说这话是什么意思？"
"亲爱的，试想你手中突然有一张地图标明了圣杯位置，此时此刻，你会了解到一个可以永远改写历史的真相。你将是人类苦苦追寻了数百年而未得的真相的主人，你将担负起向世人披露真相的责任。这样做的人，将会赢得许多人的尊敬，也会招致许多人的嫉恨。问题是，你有没有必要的勇气承担起这份责任。"索菲稍停了一下："我还是不敢肯定要不要做这样的决定。"
提彬皱起了眉："不敢肯定？如果连得到拱心石的人都办不到，那还有谁能够办得到？"
"那个成功地将秘密保守了这么久的组织就办得到。"
"你是说郇山隐修会吗？"提彬满腹狐疑："那怎么可能呢？这个组织今天晚上被打得七零八落，你要说它被粉碎了也未尝不可。他们是否被人监听，或者内部出现了间谍，我们无从知道。但事实摆在那里，有人混入他们中间，并揭穿了他们四位高级成员的身份。眼下这个时刻，我是不会相信从该组织出来的任何人的。""那你有什么建议没有？"兰登插嘴问。
"罗伯特，你我都知道，郇山隐修会这些年来都不想掩盖真相，让它永远消失在历史的尘埃之中。他们一直在等待合适的机会让别人分享他们的秘密，等待一个让全世界都准备直面那个历史真相的时机。""那你是不是相信这个时机已经来到了？"兰登问。
"绝对相信。没有比这更清楚不过的了。所有的历史迹象表明，现在也正是时候。要是郇山隐修会不想很快让世人知道他们的秘密，那为什么教会要发起攻击呢？"
索菲立即反驳："可是，修道士还没把他们的目的告诉给我们呢。"
"修道士的目的也就是天主教会的目的。"提彬回答说："他们就是要毁掉将会揭露大骗局的那些文件。教会今晚动手要比他们还早，奈芙小姐，要知道郇山隐修会可是信得过你。很清楚，挽救圣杯命运的使命也包括要促成郇山隐修会想把真相与世人分享的最终愿望。"兰登插嘴说道："雷，你让索菲做出那样的决定，这对一小时之前才知道有《圣杯文献》这回事的人来说，真的很难啊。"
提彬叹了口气："奈芙小姐，如果我是在逼迫你，我真的很抱歉。很显然，我一直相信这些文件应该予以公开，但最终得由你自己决定。我只是觉得这很重要--万一我们成功开启了拱心石，你就得开始考虑接下来会发生什么了。""先生们。"索菲用坚定的语气说道："照你们的话说，就是："你不去找圣杯，圣杯自然会去找你。"我相信圣杯已经因为某种理由而找上我的门来了，等时机一来，我知道怎样去应付。"提彬与兰登都吓了一跳。
她走到紫檀木盒子跟前，说："所以，我们还是继续赶路吧。"
Chapter 70
Standing in the drawing room of Chateau Villette, Lieutenant Collet watched the dying fire and feltdespondent. Captain Fache had arrived moments earlier and was now in the next room, yelling intothe phone, trying to coordinate the failed attempt to locate the missing Range Rover.
　　It could be anywhere by now, Collet thought.
　　Having disobeyed Fache's direct orders and lost Langdon for a second time, Collet was gratefulthat PTS had located a bullet hole in the floor, which at least corroborated Collet's claims that ashot had been fired. Still, Fache's mood was sour, and Collet sensed there would be direrepercussions when the dust settled.
　　Unfortunately, the clues they were turning up here seemed to shed no light at all on what was goingon or who was involved. The black Audi outside had been rented in a false name with false creditcard numbers, and the prints in the car matched nothing in the Interpol database.
　　Another agent hurried into the living room, his eyes urgent. "Where's Captain Fache?"Collet barely looked up from the burning embers. "He's on the phone.""I'm off the phone," Fache snapped, stalking into the room. "What have you got?"The second agent said, "Sir, Central just heard from André Vernet at the Depository Bank ofZurich. He wants to talk to you privately. He is changing his story.""Oh?" Fache said.
　　Now Collet looked up.
　　"Vernet is admitting that Langdon and Neveu spent time inside his bank tonight.""We figured that out," Fache said. "Why did Vernet lie about it?""He said he'll talk only to you, but he's agreed to cooperate fully.""In exchange for what?""For our keeping his bank's name out of the news and also for helping him recover some stolenproperty. It sounds like Langdon and Neveu stole something from Saunière's account.""What?" Collet blurted. "How?"Fache never flinched, his eyes riveted on the second agent. "What did they steal?""Vernet didn't elaborate, but he sounds like he's willing to do anything to get it back."Collet tried to imagine how this could happen. Maybe Langdon and Neveu had held a bankemployee at gunpoint? Maybe they forced Vernet to open Saunière's account and facilitate anescape in the armored truck. As feasible as it was, Collet was having trouble believing SophieNeveu could be involved in anything like that.
　　From the kitchen, another agent yelled to Fache. "Captain? I'm going through Mr. Teabing's speeddial numbers, and I'm on the phone with Le Bourget Airfield. I've got some bad news."Thirty seconds later, Fache was packing up and preparing to leave Chateau Villette. He had justlearned that Teabing kept a private jet nearby at Le Bourget Airfield and that the plane had takenoff about a half hour ago.
　　The Bourget representative on the phone had claimed not to know who was on the plane or whereit was headed. The takeoff had been unscheduled, and no flight plan had been logged. Highlyillegal, even for a small airfield. Fache was certain that by applying the right pressure, he could getthe answers he was looking for.
　　"Lieutenant Collet," Fache barked, heading for the door. "I have no choice but to leave you incharge of the PTS investigation here. Try to do something right for a change."
科莱中尉站在维莱特庄园的客厅里，注视着逐渐熄灭的烟火，深感沮丧。法希比他早到了一些时辰，此刻正在隔壁的房间里，对着电话筒大声叫嚷，企图以此调整他没能准确找到那辆失踪的"陆虎揽胜"车的情绪。
现在，那辆车不论在哪里都有可能，科莱心想。
科莱没有直接按照法希吩咐的去做，并再次跟兰登失去了联系，他很感激PTS 往地面打了个弹洞，这至少给他找到一个借口，说他们已经交过火。法希的情绪仍然很低落，科莱感到，等尘埃落定之时，必然会产生一些可怕的反响。
倒霉的是，他们在这里找到的线索似乎根本无助于帮他们弄清楚事态的进展如何，也无助于查明有谁参与其中。门外的黑色"奥迪"牌轿车已经被人冒名使用假信用卡租借走了，而且车牌在国际刑警组织的数据库里也找不到相应的资料。
另一位特工急匆匆地走进起居室，一脸急切的神色。"法希上尉呢？"
科莱头也不抬，眼睛盯着燃烧后余下的灰烬："他在打电话呢。"
"我已经挂了。"法希大步走了进来，厉声说："找我有什么事吗？"
那特工回答说："阁下，总部刚从苏黎世储蓄银行的安德烈。韦尔内那里得到消息，他说想跟你私下里谈谈，要把说过的谎话纠正过来。""哦？"法希说道。
科莱这才抬起头来。
"韦尔内承认兰登与奈芙今晚到过他的银行。"
"我们也想到了。"法希说："不过韦尔内为什么要撒谎呢？"
"他说他只想跟你说，不过他已经同意了全方位的合作。"
"那他都提了什么条件？"
"他要我们别将他银行的名字披露在报纸上，还要我们帮他找回一些被盗的资产。听他的口气，兰登和奈芙似乎从索尼埃的银行账户上偷走了什么东西。""你说什么？"科莱冲口说道："怎么会呢？！"
法希毫不畏缩，他的眼睛一动不动地注视着那名特工。"他们究竟偷了什么东西呢？"
"具体情况韦尔内没有说，但他好像愿意竭尽全力将东西弄回来。"
科莱拼命地想象这件事情是如何发生的。难道有可能是兰登和奈芙用枪威胁了银行的职员？或者有可能是他们强迫韦尔内开启了索尼埃的账户，然后用装甲货车帮助他们逃之夭夭？尽管道理上也说得过去，科莱还是不太相信索菲。奈芙会卷入到那种事件里去。
从厨房里传来另一位特工的声音："上尉在吗？我在拨通提彬先生的缩位号码，我正往布尔歇机场打电话。情况有些不妙了。"三十秒后，法希把东西整理好，准备离开维莱特庄园。他刚得到消息，知道提彬在布尔歇机场附近有一架私人飞机，而那架飞机早在半个小时前就已经飞走了。
那个接听电话的布尔歇机场工作人员声称他并不知道飞机上栽了些什么人，也不知道他们飞往何处。在布尔歇机场，飞机是从不按时间表起飞的，也没有什么飞行日志的记录。即使是一个小型机场，这也是很不合法的。法希确信，只要他施加适当的压力，就会找到所要寻找的答案。
"科莱中尉。"法希一边朝门外走去，一边气急败坏地喊道。"我马上就走，你负责这里的PTS 调查工作。如果情况有变，你就酌情处理一下吧。"第七十一章"猎鹰者"号腾空而起，向英格兰方向飞去。兰登小心翼翼地将紫檀木盒子从膝盖上举起来。刚才飞机起飞时，他就一直把它放在膝盖上，保护着它。他把盒子放到桌上，他才察觉到索菲与提彬都满怀期待地俯过身来。
兰登揭开盖子，把盒子打开，他没把注意力放到密码盒的标有字母的刻度盘上，而是集中到盒盖下侧的小洞上。他用钢笔尖非常谨慎地移开顶部的玫瑰镶嵌物，露出了下面的文字。这可是秘密啊，他沉吟道。他希望如果再把这段文字看上一眼，就能使他豁然开朗。兰登几乎费了九牛二虎之力研究这段怪异的文字。
过了好几秒钟，兰登觉得原先的困扰又重新浮上了水面。"雷爵士，我怎么连一个字也不认识啊。"索菲坐在桌子对面，她坐着的地方是看不到那段文字的，但是兰登不能马上把那段文字辨认出来，这还是令她大为惊讶。我祖父使用的语言就这么难懂？连符号学专家也不能辨认出来？不过，她很快就意识到根本不应该对此大惊小怪。雅克。索尼埃向他的孙女隐瞒秘密，又不是一两次了。
雷。提彬坐在索菲的对面，感到人都快爆炸了。他急于想看看那段文字，由于激动，他全身颤抖起来。他俯过身，努力想看看兰登旁边都有些什么东西，但后者仍然猫着腰趴在盒子上。
"我搞不懂。"兰登目光专注地嘀咕着："一开始我还以为是闪族语，但现在我不太肯定了，因为大多数早期闪族语都有聂库多字符，但这个没有。""可能是很古老的吧。"提彬在一边提醒他。
"聂库多字符？"索菲问道。
提彬的眼睛一刻也没有离开那个盒子。
"大多数现代闪族语字母中没有元音，而用聂库多字符--在辅音字母下面或者中间画上一些很小的圆点和短线条--来标明与它们相对应的元音符号。站在历史的角度上看，聂库多字符是一种对语言的相对先进的补充。"兰登的身子还俯在那手迹上。"莫非是西班牙系犹太人直译过来的文字--？"
提彬再也受不了了，他大声叫嚷起来："或许如果是我……"他伸出手来，一把将盒子从兰登身边挪开，往自己身边拉了过去。诚然，兰登对那些正儿八经的历史陈迹--比如古希腊语、拉丁语还有罗曼史（即传奇文学）什么的--颇有研究，然而提彬只消飞快的看上一眼，便对这种文字有所了解。他觉得这些文字看起来更特别，也许是拉希手迹，或者是顶部带花冠的花蕊。
提彬深吸了一口气，他贪婪的注视着雕刻在盒子上的刻图。很长时间一句话也没有说。随着时光的流逝，提彬觉得信心逐渐消失了。"太让我吃惊了，这种文字我竟然似乎从没有看过。"兰登颓然地倒了下去。
"我可以看看吗？"索菲问道。
提彬假装没有听见。"罗伯特，刚才你不是说你以前好像在哪里见过类似的东西吗？"
兰登颇为为难。"我以为是这样的，可我不敢肯定，不过我总觉得这手稿很眼熟的。"
"雷爵士，我可以看看我祖父的盒子吗？"索菲又问了一遍，似乎对将她冷落在一边而感到很不高兴。
"亲爱的，当然可以。"提彬说着，便把盒子推给了她。他的语气里并没有轻慢的意思，然而索菲。奈芙已经多年没有重操旧业了。如果连英国皇家历史学家以及哈佛大学毕业的符号学家都不能识别这种文字，那么--"啊。"索菲打量了盒子一会，叫道："我本来应该猜到的。"
提彬与兰登齐刷刷的转过身来，直盯着她。
"快说，你猜到啥？"提彬开口问道。
索菲耸了耸肩，说："我还以为是我祖父原本应该采用的文字呢。"
"你是说你能看懂？"提彬喊了起来。
"这很容易。"索菲欢快的叫着，很明显她正沾沾自喜。"我六岁时祖父就教我这种文字了，我熟练的很呢。"她从桌子对面趴下身来，以一种警告的眼神定定的注视着提彬："阁下，坦率地说，亏你对女王陛下还这么忠诚，你竟然没把它认出来，我真感到惊奇。"兰登像闪电一样很快地明白过来。
他妈的怪不得字迹看起来这么熟悉。
几年前，兰登参加了在哈佛大学的霍格博物馆举行的一次活动。比尔。盖茨，一位中途从哈佛大学辍学的学生，回到他的母校，将他购得的极其昂贵的宝贝--最近他从阿曼德。哈默艺术博物馆举行的拍卖会上竞拍得到的18 幅画稿--借给该博物馆。
他竞拍到的价格高的惊人--达30，800，800 美元。
而这些画稿的作者，就是列昂纳多。达。芬奇。
这18 由列昂纳多创作的、以它们的主人莱斯特伯爵命名的、如今被世人称做莱斯特抄本的画稿，是至今尚存的列昂纳多最具魅力的笔记的一部分：他的随笔和绘画勾勒出了他在天文学、地质学、考古学以及水文学方面的进步理论的大致轮廓。
兰登不会忘记他在排队后终于见到那堪称稀世珍品的羊皮纸画稿时所作出的反应。他心里别提有多失望。这些画稿实在令人难以理解。尽管它们保存完好，并以特别清秀的书法写就--是以粉红色的墨水在米色布纸上画成的--该抄本看起来仍然像是胡言乱语。
最初兰登还以为他看不懂达。芬奇的笔记是因为他使用的是已经过时的意大利语。但经过进一步的仔细研究，他意识到他不但连一个意大利语单词都不认识，甚至连一个字母都不认识。
"先生，你先试试这个。"展览台前的女讲解员低声说道。她朝一面附在被链子套住的展览物上的镜子做了个手势。兰登将镜子捡了起来，用它来研究那些难懂的文字。
很快他便弄清楚了。
兰登一直特别渴望能够拜读一些伟大思想家的思想，这种愿望是如此的强烈，以致他竟然忘记，一个人的艺术天分竟然能让它用只有借助镜子才能阅读的字迹书写，事实上，这种字迹就是连他自己也难以辨识。达。芬奇以这样奇特的方式书写是不是为了自得其乐，还是怕别人从背后偷看，从而剽窃他的思想，历史学家们至今对此仍在争论不休，然而这样的争论是没有多少意义的。达。芬奇只是在做他高兴做的事情罢了。
索菲看到罗伯特。兰登明白她的意思，不禁偷偷地笑了："我看得懂前面的几个词语，是用英语写的。"提彬还在唠唠叨叨："是怎么一回事呀？"
"是一段按字母反方向书写的文字，去拿面镜子来。"兰登说。
"不用了，我敢打赌这纸够薄的了。"索菲说着，把紫檀木盒子举起，就着墙上的灯光，查看盒盖的底部。事实上，她祖父不会颠倒顺序写，所以他总是玩一些骗人的把戏。他先按正常的方式书写，然后再把纸翻过来，就使人误以为他在倒着写了。索菲猜他是将用炭笔按正常顺序写就的文字印在一块木头上，然后用磨床将它背面削薄，直到它变得像纸一样薄，并能从木头的后面看到那些炭笔字。随后，他只要将它反转过来，再印上去就行了。
索菲将盖子凑到离灯光更近的地方，很快，她便明白自己的猜测是对的。明亮的灯光从薄薄的一层木板底下透过来，于是字迹就已完全相反的方向出现在盖子的下方。于是立刻一目了然。
"是英语。"提彬哑着嗓子，羞愧地低下了头："还是我的母语呢。"
在飞机的后面，雷米。莱格鲁德伸长着脖子，想听听除了轰鸣的引擎声之外，还有什么声音，然而前面那些人的交谈，一点也听不清。雷米讨厌以这种方式消磨这个晚上，他一点也不喜欢。他低头看着脚边被缚的修道士。这家伙此刻正十分安静的躺着，他似乎已经听从了命运的安排，要么也有可能是在心里默默祈祷能够死里逃生。
Chapter 71
As the Hawker leveled off, with its nose aimed for England, Langdon carefully lifted the rosewoodbox from his lap, where he had been protecting it during takeoff. Now, as he set the box on thetable, he could sense Sophie and Teabing leaning forward with anticipation.
　　Unlatching the lid and opening the box, Langdon turned his attention not to the lettered dials of thecryptex, but rather to the tiny hole on the underside of the box lid. Using the tip of a pen, hecarefully removed the inlaid Rose on top and revealed the text beneath it. Sub Rosa, he mused,hoping a fresh look at the text would bring clarity. Focusing all his energies, Langdon studied thestrange text.
　　strange textAfter several seconds, he began to feel the initial frustration resurfacing. "Leigh, I just can't seem toplace it."From where Sophie was seated across the table, she could not yet see the text, but Langdon'sinability to immediately identify the language surprised her. My grandfather spoke a language soobscure that even a symbologist can't identify it? She quickly realized she should not find thissurprising. This would not be the first secret Jacques Saunière had kept from his granddaughter.
　　Opposite Sophie, Leigh Teabing felt ready to burst. Eager for his chance to see the text, hequivered with excitement, leaning in, trying to see around Langdon, who was still hunched over thebox.
　　"I don't know," Langdon whispered intently. "My first guess is a Semitic, but now I'm not so sure.
　　Most primary Semitics include nekkudot. This has none.""Probably ancient," Teabing offered.
　　"Nekkudot?" Sophie inquired.
　　Teabing never took his eyes from the box. "Most modern Semitic alphabets have no vowels anduse nekkudot—tiny dots and dashes written either below or within the consonants—to indicatewhat vowel sound accompanies them. Historically speaking, nekkudot are a relatively modernaddition to language."Langdon was still hovering over the script. "A Sephardic transliteration, perhaps...?"Teabing could bear it no longer. "Perhaps if I just..." Reaching over, he edged the box away fromLangdon and pulled it toward himself. No doubt Langdon had a solid familiarity with the standardancients—Greek, Latin, the Romances—but from the fleeting glance Teabing had of this language,he thought it looked more specialized, possibly a Rashi script or a STA'M with crowns.
　　Taking a deep breath, Teabing feasted his eyes upon the engraving. He said nothing for a very longtime. With each passing second, Teabing felt his confidence deflating. "I'm astonished," he said.
　　"This language looks like nothing I've ever seen!"Langdon slumped.
　　"Might I see it?" Sophie asked.
　　Teabing pretended not to hear her. "Robert, you said earlier that you thought you'd seen somethinglike this before?"Langdon looked vexed. "I thought so. I'm not sure. The script looks familiar somehow.""Leigh?" Sophie repeated, clearly not appreciating being left out of the discussion. "Might I have alook at the box my grandfather made?""Of course, dear," Teabing said, pushing it over to her. He hadn't meant to sound belittling, and yetSophie Neveu was light-years out of her league. If a British Royal Historian and a Harvardsymbologist could not even identify the language—"Aah," Sophie said, seconds after examining the box. "I should have guessed."Teabing and Langdon turned in unison, staring at her.
　　"Guessed what?" Teabing demanded.
　　Sophie shrugged. "Guessed that this would be the language my grandfather would have used.""You're saying you can read this text?" Teabing exclaimed.
　　"Quite easily," Sophie chimed, obviously enjoying herself now. "My grandfather taught me thislanguage when I was only six years old. I'm fluent." She leaned across the table and fixed Teabingwith an admonishing glare. "And frankly, sir, considering your allegiance to the Crown, I'm a littlesurprised you didn't recognize it."In a flash, Langdon knew.
　　No wonder the script looks so damned familiar!
　　Several years ago, Langdon had attended an event at Harvard's Fogg Museum. Harvard dropoutBill Gates had returned to his alma mater to lend to the museum one of his pricelessacquisitions—eighteen sheets of paper he had recently purchased at auction from the ArmandHammar Estate.
　　His winning bid—a cool $30.8 million.
　　The author of the pages—Leonardo da Vinci.
　　The eighteen folios—now known as Leonardo's Codex Leicester after their famous owner, the Earlof Leicester—were all that remained of one of Leonardo's most fascinating notebooks: essays anddrawings outlining Da Vinci's progressive theories on astronomy, geology, archaeology, andhydrology.
　　Langdon would never forget his reaction after waiting in line and finally viewing the pricelessparchment. Utter letdown. The pages were unintelligible. Despite being beautifully preserved andwritten in an impeccably neat penmanship—crimson ink on cream paper—the codex looked likegibberish. At first Langdon thought he could not read them because Da Vinci wrote his notebooksin an archaic Italian. But after studying them more closely, he realized he could not identify asingle Italian word, or even one letter.
　　"Try this, sir," whispered the female docent at the display case. She motioned to a hand mirroraffixed to the display on a chain. Langdon picked it up and examined the text in the mirror'ssurface.
　　Instantly it was clear.
　　Langdon had been so eager to peruse some of the great thinker's ideas that he had forgotten one ofthe man's numerous artistic talents was an ability to write in a mirrored script that was virtuallyillegible to anyone other than himself. Historians still debated whether Da Vinci wrote this waysimply to amuse himself or to keep people from peering over his shoulder and stealing his ideas,but the point was moot. Da Vinci did as he pleased.
　　Sophie smiled inwardly to see that Robert understood her meaning. "I can read the first fewwords," she said. "It's English."Teabing was still sputtering. "What's going on?""Reverse text," Langdon said. "We need a mirror.""No we don't," Sophie said. "I bet this veneer is thin enough." She lifted the rosewood box up to acanister light on the wall and began examining the underside of the lid. Her grandfather couldn'tactually write in reverse, so he always cheated by writing normally and then flipping the paper overand tracing the reversed impression. Sophie's guess was that he had wood-burned normal text intoa block of wood and then run the back of the block through a sander until the wood was paper thinand the wood-burning could be seen through the wood. Then he'd simply flipped the piece over,and laid it in.
　　As Sophie moved the lid closer to the light, she saw she was right. The bright beam sifted throughthe thin layer of wood, and the script appeared in reverse on the underside of the lid.
　　Instantly legible.
　　"English," Teabing croaked, hanging his head in shame. "My native tongue."At the rear of the plane, Rémy Legaludec strained to hear beyond the rumbling engines, but theconversation up front was inaudible. Rémy did not like the way the night was progressing. Not atall. He looked down at the bound monk at his feet. The man lay perfectly still now, as if in a tranceof acceptance, or perhaps, in silent prayer for deliverance.
“猎鹰者”号腾空而起，向英格兰方向飞去。兰登小心翼翼地将紫檀木盒子从膝盖上举起来。刚才飞机起飞时，他就一直把它放在膝盖上，保护着它。他把盒子放到桌上，他才察觉到索菲与提彬都满怀期待地俯过身来。
兰登揭开盖子，把盒子打开，他没把注意力放到密码盒的标有字母的刻度盘上，而是集中到盒盖下侧的小洞上。他用钢笔尖非常谨慎地移开顶部的玫瑰镶嵌物，露出了下面的文字。这可是秘密啊，他沉吟道。他希望如果再把这段文字看上一眼，就能使他豁然开朗。兰登几乎费了九牛二虎之力研究这段怪异的文字。
过了好几秒钟，兰登觉得原先的困扰又重新浮上了水面。“雷爵士，我怎么连一个字也不认识啊。”
索菲坐在桌子对面，她坐着的地方是看不到那段文字的，但是兰登不能马上把那段文字辨认出来，这还是令她大为惊讶。我祖父使用的语言就这么难懂？连符号学专家也不能辨认出来？不过，她很快就意识到根本不应该对此大惊小怪。雅克•索尼埃向他的孙女隐瞒秘密，又不是一两次了。
雷•提彬坐在索菲的对面，感到人都快爆炸了。他急于想看看那段文字，由于激动，他全身颤抖起来。他俯过身，努力想看看兰登旁边都有些什么东西，但后者仍然猫着腰趴在盒子上。
“我搞不懂。”兰登目光专注地嘀咕着：“一开始我还以为是闪族语，但现在我不太肯定了，因为大多数早期闪族语都有聂库多字符，但这个没有。”
“可能是很古老的吧。”提彬在一边提醒他。
“聂库多字符？”索菲问道。
提彬的眼睛一刻也没有离开那个盒子。
“大多数现代闪族语字母中没有元音，而用聂库多字符——在辅音字母下面或者中间画上一些很小的圆点和短线条——来标明与它们相对应的元音符号。站在历史的角度上看，聂库多字符是一种对语言的相对先进的补充。”
兰登的身子还俯在那手迹上。“莫非是西班牙系犹太人直译过来的文字——？”
提彬再也受不了了，他大声叫嚷起来：“或许如果是我……”他伸出手来，一把将盒子从兰登身边挪开，往自己身边拉了过去。诚然，兰登对那些正儿八经的历史陈迹——比如古希腊语、拉丁语还有罗曼史（即传奇文学）什么的——颇有研究，然而提彬只消飞快的看上一眼，便对这种文字有所了解。他觉得这些文字看起来更特别，也许是拉希手迹，或者是顶部带花冠的花蕊。
提彬深吸了一口气，他贪婪的注视着雕刻在盒子上的刻图。很长时间一句话也没有说。随着时光的流逝，提彬觉得信心逐渐消失了。“太让我吃惊了，这种文字我竟然似乎从没有看过。”
兰登颓然地倒了下去。
“我可以看看吗？”索菲问道。
提彬假装没有听见。“罗伯特，刚才你不是说你以前好像在哪里见过类似的东西吗？”
兰登颇为为难。“我以为是这样的，可我不敢肯定，不过我总觉得这手稿很眼熟的。”
“雷爵士，我可以看看我祖父的盒子吗？”索菲又问了一遍，似乎对将她冷落在一边而感到很不高兴。
“亲爱的，当然可以。”提彬说着，便把盒子推给了她。他的语气里并没有轻慢的意思，然而索菲•奈芙已经多年没有重操旧业了。如果连英国皇家历史学家以及哈佛大学毕业的符号学家都不能识别这种文字，那么——
“啊，”索菲打量了盒子一会，叫道：“我本来应该猜到的。”
提彬与兰登齐刷刷的转过身来，直盯着她。
“快说，你猜到啥？”提彬开口问道。
索菲耸了耸肩，说：“我还以为是我祖父原本应该采用的文字呢。”
“你是说你能看懂？”提彬喊了起来。
“这很容易。”索菲欢快的叫着，很明显她正沾沾自喜。“我六岁时祖父就教我这种文字了，我熟练的很呢。”她从桌子对面趴下身来，以一种警告的眼神定定的注视着提彬：“阁下，坦率地说，亏你对女王陛下还这么忠诚，你竟然没把它认出来，我真感到惊奇。”
兰登像闪电一样很快地明白过来。
他妈的怪不得字迹看起来这么熟悉。
几年前，兰登参加了在哈佛大学的霍格博物馆举行的一次活动。比尔•盖茨，一位中途从哈佛大学辍学的学生，回到他的母校，将他购得的极其昂贵的宝贝——最近他从阿曼德•哈默艺术博物馆举行的拍卖会上竞拍得到的18幅画稿——借给该博物馆。
他竞拍到的价格高的惊人——达30,800,800美元。
而这些画稿的作者，就是列昂纳多•达•芬奇。
这18由列昂纳多创作的、以它们的主人莱斯特伯爵命名的、如今被世人称做莱斯特抄本的画稿，是至今尚存的列昂纳多最具魅力的笔记的一部分：他的随笔和绘画勾勒出了他在天文学、地质学、考古学以及水文学方面的进步理论的大致轮廓。
兰登不会忘记他在排队后终于见到那堪称稀世珍品的羊皮纸画稿时所作出的反应。他心里别提有多失望。这些画稿实在令人难以理解。尽管它们保存完好，并以特别清秀的书法写就——是以粉红色的墨水在米色布纸上画成的——该抄本看起来仍然像是胡言乱语。最初兰登还以为他看不懂达•芬奇的笔记是因为他使用的是已经过时的意大利语。但经过进一步的仔细研究，他意识到他不但连一个意大利语单词都不认识，甚至连一个字母都不认识。
“先生，你先试试这个。”展览台前的女讲解员低声说道。她朝一面附在被链子套住的展览物上的镜子做了个手势。兰登将镜子捡了起来，用它来研究那些难懂的文字。
很快他便弄清楚了。
兰登一直特别渴望能够拜读一些伟大思想家的思想，这种愿望是如此的强烈，以致他竟然忘记，一个人的艺术天分竟然能让它用只有借助镜子才能阅读的字迹书写，事实上，这种字迹就是连他自己也难以辨识。达•芬奇以这样奇特的方式书写是不是为了自得其乐，还是怕别人从背后偷看，从而剽窃他的思想，历史学家们至今对此仍在争论不休，然而这样的争论是没有多少意义的。达•芬奇只是在做他高兴做的事情罢了。
索菲看到罗伯特•兰登明白她的意思，不禁偷偷地笑了：“我看得懂前面的几个词语，是用英语写的。”
提彬还在唠唠叨叨：“是怎么一回事呀？”
“是一段按字母反方向书写的文字，去拿面镜子来。”兰登说。
“不用了，我敢打赌这纸够薄的了。”索菲说着，把紫檀木盒子举起，就着墙上的灯光，查看盒盖的底部。事实上，她祖父不会颠倒顺序写，所以他总是玩一些骗人的把戏。他先按正常的方式书写，然后再把纸翻过来，就使人误以为他在倒着写了。索菲猜他是将用炭笔按正常顺序写就的文字印在一块木头上，然后用磨床将它背面削薄，直到它变得像纸一样薄，并能从木头的后面看到那些炭笔字。随后，他只要将它反转过来，再印上去就行了。
索菲将盖子凑到离灯光更近的地方，很快，她便明白自己的猜测是对的。明亮的灯光从薄薄的一层木板底下透过来，于是字迹就已完全相反的方向出现在盖子的下方。于是立刻一目了然。
“是英语，”提彬哑着嗓子，羞愧地低下了头：“还是我的母语呢。”
在飞机的后面，雷米•莱格鲁德伸长着脖子，想听听除了轰鸣的引擎声之外，还有什么声音，然而前面那些人的交谈，一点也听不清。雷米讨厌以这种方式消磨这个晚上，他一点也不喜欢。他低头看着脚边被缚的修道士。这家伙此刻正十分安静的躺着，他似乎已经听从了命运的安排，要么也有可能是在心里默默祈祷能够死里逃生。
Chapter 72
Fifteen thousand feet in the air, Robert Langdon felt the physical world fade away as all of histhoughts converged on Saunière's mirror-image poem, which was illuminated through the lid of thebox.
　　mirrored textSophie quickly found some paper and copied it down longhand. When she was done, the three ofthem took turns reading the text. It was like some kind of archaeological crossword... a riddle thatpromised to reveal how to open the cryptex. Langdon read the verse slowly.
　　An ancient word of wisdom frees this scroll... and helps us keep her scatter'd family whole... aheadstone praised by templars is the key... and atbash will reveal the truth to thee.
　　Before Langdon could even ponder what ancient password the verse was trying to reveal, he feltsomething far more fundamental resonate within him—the meter of the poem. Iambic pentameter.
　　Langdon had come across this meter often over the years while researching secret societies acrossEurope, including just last year in the Vatican Secret Archives. For centuries, iambic pentameterhad been a preferred poetic meter of outspoken literati across the globe, from the ancient Greekwriter Archilochus to Shakespeare, Milton, Chaucer, and Voltaire—bold souls who chose to writetheir social commentaries in a meter that many of the day believed had mystical properties. Theroots of iambic pentameter were deeply pagan.
　　Iambs. Two syllables with opposite emphasis. Stressed and unstressed. Yin yang. A balanced pair.
　　Arranged in strings of five. Pentameter. Five for the pentacle of Venus and the sacred feminine.
　　"It's pentameter!" Teabing blurted, turning to Langdon. "And the verse is in English! La linguapura!"Langdon nodded. The Priory, like many European secret societies at odds with the Church, hadconsidered English the only European pure language for centuries. Unlike French, Spanish, andItalian, which were rooted in Latin—the tongue of the Vatican—English was linguisticallyremoved from Rome's propaganda machine, and therefore became a sacred, secret tongue for thosebrotherhoods educated enough to learn it.
　　"This poem," Teabing gushed, "references not only the Grail, but the Knights Templar and thescattered family of Mary Magdalene! What more could we ask for?""The password," Sophie said, looking again at the poem. "It sounds like we need some kind ofancient word of wisdom?""Abracadabra?" Teabing ventured, his eyes twinkling.
　　A word of five letters, Langdon thought, pondering the staggering number of ancient words thatmight be considered words of wisdom—selections from mystic chants, astrological prophecies,secret society inductions, Wicca incantations, Egyptian magic spells, pagan mantras—the list wasendless.
　　"The password," Sophie said, "appears to have something to do with the Templars." She read thetext aloud. " 'A headstone praised by Templars is the key.' ""Leigh," Langdon said, "you're the Templar specialist. Any ideas?"Teabing was silent for several seconds and then sighed. "Well, a headstone is obviously a gravemarker of some sort. It's possible the poem is referencing a gravestone the Templars praised at thetomb of Magdalene, but that doesn't help us much because we have no idea where her tomb is.""The last line," Sophie said, "says that Atbash will reveal the truth. I've heard that word. Atbash.""I'm not surprised," Langdon replied. "You probably heard it in Cryptology 101. The AtbashCipher is one of the oldest codes known to man."Of course! Sophie thought. The famous Hebrew encoding system.
　　The Atbash Cipher had indeed been part of Sophie's early cryptology training. The cipher datedback to 500 B.C. and was now used as a classroom example of a basic rotational substitutionscheme. A common form of Jewish cryptogram, the Atbash Cipher was a simple substitution codebased on the twenty-two-letter Hebrew alphabet. In Atbash, the first letter was substituted by thelast letter, the second letter by the next to last letter, and so on.
　　"Atbash is sublimely appropriate," Teabing said. "Text encrypted with Atbash is found throughoutthe Kabbala, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and even the Old Testament. Jewish scholars and mystics arestill finding hidden meanings using Atbash. The Priory certainly would include the Atbash Cipheras part of their teachings.""The only problem," Langdon said, "is that we don't have anything on which to apply the cipher."Teabing sighed. "There must be a code word on the headstone. We must find this headstonepraised by Templars."Sophie sensed from the grim look on Langdon's face that finding the Templar headstone would beno small feat.
　　Atbash is the key, Sophie thought. But we don't have a door.
　　It was three minutes later that Teabing heaved a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "My friends,I'm stymied. Let me ponder this while I get us some nibblies and check on Rémy and our guest."He stood up and headed for the back of the plane.
　　Sophie felt tired as she watched him go.
　　Outside the window, the blackness of the predawn was absolute. Sophie felt as if she were beinghurtled through space with no idea where she would land. Having grown up solving hergrandfather's riddles, she had the uneasy sense right now that this poem before them containedinformation they still had not seen.
　　There is more there, she told herself. Ingeniously hidden... but present nonetheless.
　　Also plaguing her thoughts was a fear that what they eventually found inside this cryptex wouldnot be as simple as "a map to the Holy Grail." Despite Teabing's and Langdon's confidence that thetruth lay just within the marble cylinder, Sophie had solved enough of her grandfather's treasurehunts to know that Jacques Saunière did not give up his secrets easily.
在距地面15，000 英尺的高空，罗伯特。兰登觉得现实世界离他是越来越遥远了。他全神贯注于索尼埃那首唯有依靠镜子才能看出是什么内容来的诗上，而那首诗，透过盒盖也可以看得一清二楚。
索菲很快找了一张纸条，用速记法把它抄了下来。然后，他们三个轮流读上面的那段文字。它就像是考古学上碰到的令人费解的谜……然而却是一个有助于开启密码盒的谜。
兰登慢慢地读那上面的诗句："一个蕴含智慧的古词，能揭开这卷轴的秘密--并帮助我们，将失散的家族重新团聚在一起--开启的钥匙是为圣殿骑士所赞美的基石--而埃特巴什码，将会告诉你历史的真实。"兰登甚至还没来得及考虑这首诗会告诉他们什么样的古老密码，他只觉得有些更重要的东西--那就是这首诗的韵律，激起了他内心的共鸣。五步抑扬格。
兰登在调查遍布欧洲的秘密组织时，就经常碰到这种诗律的格式，其中包括去年他在梵蒂冈秘密档案室调查的那一次。数世纪以来，五步抑扬格历来都是全球那些为人坦率的文人们的最爱，从古希腊的阿尔基洛科斯到莎土比亚，到弥尔顿，到乔叟，到伏尔泰，无一不是如此--这些勇敢的灵魂，选择了当时许多人都相信具有神秘特质的诗律形式，来描写他们所处的社会，针砭时弊。五步抑扬格，究其根源，是深深地打上了异教的烙印的。
所谓抑扬格，是指两个音节对应重读，重读与非重读，阴与阳，形成一种平衡，完美而和谐。这种形式又被安排于五根弦里，即五步格诗行。"五"代表的是维纳斯的五角星号以及神圣的女性美。
"这是五步抑扬格！"提彬转身面对兰登，冲口说道："并且这首诗是用英语写的！很地道的英语啊！"兰登点了点头，表示赞同。郇山隐修会，就像欧洲许多与教会产生冲突的秘密组织一样，长期以来一直将英语视为欧洲唯一纯正的语言。它不像法语、西班牙语，以及意大利语，这几种语言，深深扎根于拉丁语之中--拉丁语是梵蒂冈使用的语言。从语言学的角度上看，英语游离在罗马教廷强大的宣传机器之外，因此，对那些受过足够教育完全可以掌握它的组织来说，它成了一种神圣而神秘的语言。
"这首诗，不仅提到了圣杯，而且提到了圣殿骑土以及四处流散的抹大拉的玛丽亚家族！我们还指望什么呢？"
"至于密码。"索菲又看了那首诗一眼，说："那就得依靠辨认古代文字的智慧了。"
"是咒语吗？"提彬斗胆问道。
是一个由五个字母组成的单词，兰登心想。他琢磨着那些数量惊人的、被认为体现了古代智慧的词汇，那些从神秘圣歌、占星预言、秘密组织的暗语、巫术、埃及神秘咒语以及异教颂歌里挑选出来的词汇，而要将这样的词汇列出来，是无论如何也数不过来的。
"密码好像跟圣殿骑土不无关系。"索菲大声读了出来："圣殿骑士赞扬的基石，就是开启此门的钥匙。""雷爵士，你是研究圣殿骑士的专家，对此你有什么看法？"兰登问道。
提彬沉默了片刻，然后叹了一口气："咳，至于基石，很明显是坟墓的一种标记。这首诗很可能是在暗指圣殿骑土在抹大拉的玛利亚墓前赞扬过的墓碑，不过这对我们毫无帮助，因为我们不知道她的坟墓现在到底在哪里。""诗的最后一行。"索菲继续说道："是说埃特巴什将会使真相暴露无遗。埃特巴什？我听过这个词。"
"我并不奇怪。"兰登在一边回应："你可能是从密码学101 里听到的。埃特巴什码可能是迄今人们所知最古老的密码了。"当然喽！有谁不知道赫赫有名的希伯来编码体系？索菲心想。
埃特巴什码确实是索菲当初接受译码训练的部分内容。这套密码最早可追溯到公元前5 世纪，现被当作基本轮流替换的体系在课堂上作教材使用。作为犹太人密码中的一种常见形式，埃特巴什码是以22 个希伯来字母为基础的简单替换编码。在埃特巴什编码体系中，第一个字母用最后一个字母替换，第二个字母由倒数第二个字母替换，如此等等，依此类推。
"埃特巴什码倒是很不错呀。"提彬说道："用这套密码编制的文本在犹太人的神秘哲学、《死海古卷》甚至在《圣经》的《旧约》中都可以找到。直到今天，犹太学者们和神秘主义者仍在用埃特巴什码寻找隐藏的信息。郇山隐修会定会把埃特巴什码当作他们教学的一部分内容。""现在唯一的问题是。"兰登沉吟道："我们找不到什么东西来套用这套密码。"
提彬叹道："基石上肯定有个充当密码的词。我们得找到这块被圣殿骑士赞扬过的基石。"索菲看到，兰登的脸上露出了严峻的神情，感到要找到这块基石绝非轻而易举之事。
埃特巴什密码就是破译密码的钥匙，但我们却不得其门而入，索菲寻思。
过了大约有三分钟，提彬沮丧地叹了口气，摇摇头，说："朋友们，我考虑不下去了，容我回头再去想想，我先去给大家拿些吃的来，顺便去看看雷米和我们的客人。"他站起来，朝飞机后舱走去。
索菲望着他离去，感到筋疲力尽。
窗外，黎明前的黑暗笼罩了整个世界。索菲觉得自己仿佛漂浮在太空中，不知道将在何处着陆。虽然，她是在猜祖父各种各样的谜语的过程中长大的，但现在，她感到有些不安，觉得摆在面前的这首诗隐藏了一些他们未曾见过的东西。
这些东西或许更多呢，她自言自语道。尽管它隐藏的无比巧妙……然而它确实存在。
同时困扰并使她担心的是，他们最终在密码盒里发现的东西，决不会是"寻找圣杯的地图"那么简单。虽然提彬与兰登都相信，真相就隐藏在这大理石的圆筒里，但索菲已解决了他祖父的诸多难题，因此她知道，她祖父绝不会这么轻易的泄漏他的秘密。
Chapter 73
Bourget Airfield's night shift air traffic controller had been dozing before a blank radar screenwhen the captain of the Judicial Police practically broke down his door.
　　"Teabing's jet," Bezu Fache blared, marching into the small tower, "where did it go?"The controller's initial response was a babbling, lame attempt to protect the privacy of their Britishclient—one of the airfield's most respected customers. It failed miserably.
　　"Okay," Fache said, "I am placing you under arrest for permitting a private plane to take offwithout registering a flight plan." Fache motioned to another officer, who approached withhandcuffs, and the traffic controller felt a surge of terror. He thought of the newspaper articlesdebating whether the nation's police captain was a hero or a menace. That question had just beenanswered.
　　"Wait!" the controller heard himself whimper at the sight of the handcuffs. "I can tell you thismuch. Sir Leigh Teabing makes frequent trips to London for medical treatments. He has a hangarat Biggin Hill Executive Airport in Kent. On the outskirts of London."Fache waved off the man with the cuffs. "Is Biggin Hill his destination tonight?""I don't know," the controller said honestly. "The plane left on its usual tack, and his last radarcontact suggested the United Kingdom. Biggin Hill is an extremely likely guess.""Did he have others onboard?""I swear, sir, there is no way for me to know that. Our clients can drive directly to their hangars,and load as they please. Who is onboard is the responsibility of the customs officials at thereceiving airport."Fache checked his watch and gazed out at the scattering of jets parked in front of the terminal. "Ifthey're going to Biggin Hill, how long until they land?"The controller fumbled through his records. "It's a short flight. His plane could be on the groundby... around six-thirty. Fifteen minutes from now."Fache frowned and turned to one of his men. "Get a transport up here. I'm going to London. Andget me the Kent local police. Not British MI5. I want this quiet. Kent local. Tell them I wantTeabing's plane to be permitted to land. Then I want it surrounded on the tarmac. Nobody deplanesuntil I get there."
布尔歇机场值夜班的调度员在空白的雷达屏幕跟前一直打着盹儿。而警察署来的长官就差一点把门砸破了。
"提彬的飞机呢，到哪里去了？"贝祖。法希快步走进那座小塔，大声吼道。
对此，调度员最初的反应是闪烁其辞，用一些站不住脚的借口搪塞，企图以此来保护他们的英国客户--他是这家机场最令人尊敬的顾客之一--的隐私。然而他的努力却无情地失败了。
"那好。"法希说道："我现在就逮捕你，私人飞机未经申请，你怎能擅自让它飞行？"他向另一位长官打了个手势，那人立刻拿着手铐，走了过来，调度员不由害怕起来。他想起报纸上有些文章在争论者为国家的警官究竟是令人肃然起敬的英雄还是让人心生恐惧的梦魇，而现在，这个问题终于有了明确的答案。
"等等！"调度员看到手铐，便哭起来。"我只知道，雷。提彬先生经常坐飞机去伦敦接受治疗，他在肯特郡的比金山机场有个停机库，就位于伦敦郊外。"法希挥了挥手，将拿手铐的人打发走："那他今晚会去比金山机场吗？"
"我不知道。"调度员老老实实地回答："飞机是在正常情况下航行的，雷达最后一次显示的地点是在英国，我说他会去比金山只是一个很有可能的猜测而已。""那他有没有让其他人登机呢？"
"先生，我发誓，那我就无从知道了。我们这里的顾客可以将飞机直接开到他们自己的停机库，他们爱带什么就可以带什么，我们管不着。至于调查谁在飞机上，是对方机场海关官员的责任。"法希对了一下表，然后凝视着窗外零星停靠在航空集散站前面的飞机说："如果他们去比金山，要多久才能着陆？"
调度员翻了翻手中的航行日志，说："航程很短。飞机有可能在六点半左右……就已经着陆了。距离现在有十五分钟了。"法希双眉紧锁，转身吩咐手下："去给我弄架飞机来。我要去伦敦。帮我联系好肯特郡的警方，而不是英国军事情报部第五局。此事务必低调处理。记住，是跟肯特郡当地警方。你叫他们允许让提彬的飞机着陆，然后在飞机跑道上将它包围起来。在我没到那里之前，谁也不能从飞机里出来。"第七十四章"你怎么不说话呢？"兰登注视着"猎鹰者"号机舱对面的索菲说。
"太累了。还有这首诗，我怎么也看不明白。"
兰登也深有同感。引擎的轰鸣声以及飞机轻微的摇晃无疑起到了催眠的作用，而他的头部，由于遭到修道士的袭击至今仍在狂跳不停。提彬还没从飞机后舱折回来，兰登决定抓住这个与索菲单独在一起的机会，跟她说内心的想法。"我想我知道你祖父为什么要千方百计将我们拉到一块的部分原因了，有些事他想让我跟你好好解释呢。""难道圣杯与抹大拉的玛利亚的历史还嫌不够吗？"
兰登一时不知道该怎样说下去了。"你们之间的裂痕，还有你十年来一直都没跟他说过话。我想也许他希望通过我来给你解释，到底是什么原因导致你俩关系的不和谐，会使情况有所好转。"索菲在座位上移动了一下："可我还没告诉你我们不和的原因呢。"
兰登认真地注视着她："你是不是看到什么性仪式了？"
索菲畏缩了一下："你是怎么知道的？"
"索菲，你告诉过我，说你看到过什么，从而使你相信，你祖父是某个秘密组织的成员。不管你看到什么，那足以使你深感不安，所以从那以后你就再没跟他说过一句话了。
我对秘密组织的情况总算有些了解，所以你看到啥，就算我没有达。芬奇那样聪明也能够猜到。"索菲吃惊地睁大了双眼。
"你是在春季里看到的吧？是春分前后呢，还是三月中旬？"
索菲看着窗外："当时正值大学春假，我提前几天回家休假。"
"你能说说接下来发生的事情吗？"
"我看还是算了吧。"她突然转过身，面对兰登，眼里充满了复杂的感情："我都已经忘记我看到什么了。""你是不是看到了男人，还有女人？"
索菲仿佛被击了一下，她点点头。
"他们都穿着黑色与白色的衣服对吧？"
索菲用手擦了擦眼，然后点点头，她看来愿意说些什么了。"女人们都身披白色轻纱长袍……脚穿金色鞋子，手拿金色圆球。男人们则都裹着长长的外衣，黑色的鞋子。"兰登伸长脖子，竭力想掩饰内心激动的情绪，然而他还是有点不相信自己的耳朵。索菲。奈芙竟然在无意中目睹了一场有着两千年历史的神圣仪式！他努力使自己的语气平静些："他们是不是都戴了面具？戴着让人分不清性别的面具？"
"是的，他们每个人都戴着相同的面具。女人戴白色的，男人戴黑色的。"
兰登以前读过一些描述这种仪式的文章，因此了解它神秘的渊源，于是他低声说道："这种仪式叫做"神婚"，它的历史可追溯到两千多年前，古埃及的祭司与女祭司们定期举行这样的仪式，以此来赞美女性的生殖能力。"他停了一会，向她俯过身去："不过，要是在你事先没做好准备，也不知道其内在涵义的情况下看到"神婚"，我想你一定会很吃惊吧。"索菲一言不发。
"HierosCamos 是希腊语，是"神圣婚礼"的意思。"兰登继续说道。
"可我看到的仪式决不是什么婚礼仪式。"
"那是灵肉交融的婚礼，索菲。"
"你是说性的结合？"
"不对。"
"不对？"她以橄榄色的眼睛质问着他。
兰登向后退缩了一下。"嗯……你可以这么说，但并不像我们今天理解的那样。"他解释说，虽然她那天见到的也许很像是一场性的仪式，然而"神婚"与色情毫无关系。它只是一种精神上的行为。从历史上看，性的结合是男人与女人借以感知上帝存在的行为。古人相信，如果男人对圣洁的女性缺乏肉体上的感性认识，那么他在精神上也必定是不完整的，因此，与女人在肉体上实现结合，也就成了使男人在精神上得以完善并最终获得真知并了解神性的唯一方式。自伊希斯时代以来，性的仪式一直被世人认为是男人从尘世通向天堂的唯一桥梁。
"通过与女人进行肉体上的交流。"兰登说："男人会在瞬间达到高潮，此时，他的大脑完全一片空白，在那瞬间他就有可能感知到上帝。"索菲将信将疑："你是说像祷告词上描述的那种高潮？"
兰登不置可否，他耸了耸肩，尽管实际上索菲说对了。从生理学上讲，男性的性高潮往往会导致思维的短暂停滞，使大脑出现片刻的真空状态。此时此刻，朦胧之间人就可能觉得自己看到了上帝。冥思苦想的高僧们尽管没有性行为，然而同样能够达到类似的忘我状态，因而人们将涅磐比喻为在精神上达到的永无止境的高潮。
"索菲。"兰登轻声地说："重要的是，你要记住古人对性的看法与我们现代人对性的看法是完全不同的。性行为产生了新的生命--这是最重要的奇迹--而奇迹，只有神才能创造奇迹。女人用子宫孕育新的生命，从而使自己变得神圣起来，变成了一尊神。性的结合使人类灵魂的两半--男人与女人得以融为一体，这是一种备受推祟的手段。借助性，男人使他们的灵魂得到完善，并且实现与上帝的对话。你看到的与其说是性行为，倒不如说是一种追求灵魂升华的仪式。"神婚"决不是什么伤风败俗，而是极其神圣的仪式。"他的话似乎拨动了索菲的心弦。整个晚上，她表现得非常镇静。然而兰登此刻第一次感到，她的镇定自若，正逐渐面临崩溃的境地。她的眼里溢出了眼泪，于是她撩起衣袖，拭去了脸上的泪水。
他给了她一些时间，好让她的情绪平静下来。必须承认，将性行为视作走近上帝的手段，这种观念一开始的确令人难以置信。过去，兰登在给他的犹太裔学生讲述早期犹太人的传统--其中就包扩一些性的仪式时，这些学生就总是听得目瞪口呆。在《圣殿》中，类似的情节也不少吧。早期的犹太人相信，在至圣所，即所罗门的圣殿里，不仅居住了上帝，而且还住了与上帝平起平坐势均力敌的女神舍金纳。追求灵魂完整的男人们跑到圣殿里，找那些女祭司或者圣仆们，跟她们性交，并通过肉体的结合感悟神性。犹太人中表示上帝的由四个字母组成的词，YHWH- - 这个神圣的上帝之名，其实就是脱胎于Jehovah（耶和华），它是由代表男性的Jah 与古犹太人给夏娃取的犹太名Havah 构成的雌雄同体。
"对早期的基督教会而言。"兰登低声解释："人类通过性的手段直接与上帝交流，这对天主教的权力基础构成了严重的威严，因为它把教会弃置一边，破坏了他们自封的唯一可以与上帝对话的地位。出于一些很明显的原因，他们竭力诋毁性行为，并重新将它视作令人厌恶的罪恶行为，其他重要的宗教也采取了同样的手段。"索菲沉默了，然而兰登觉得她开始对她祖父有了更深的了解。具有讽刺意味的是，这个学期早些时候，有一次他给学生上课，也发表过同样的高见。他问学生："我们竟然对性反感，这难道不令人感到奇怪吗？可我们老祖宗留下来的传统以及生理学知识告诉我们，性是自然的，是值得珍惜并使人灵魂得以充实的手段。然而现代宗教却对性行为大加挞伐，认为是可耻的行为，使我们把性视同于洪水猛兽。"兰登决定就此打住，因为如果他告诉学生，说全世界大约有十来个--其中多数是很有影响的--秘密团体，至今还在举行性的仪式，并保溜了这种古老的传统的话，他担心会吓坏他们。美国好莱坞演员汤姆。克鲁斯在电影《大开眼界》中扮演的那个角色，偷偷跑去参加由曼哈顿人中间的精英分子举行的私人聚会，却意外目睹了"神婚"。令人悲哀的是，制片人将大多数细节给搞错了，不过就其根本的东西--即秘密组织通过性的交合赞美性的神奇而言--还是没有弄错。
"兰登教授。"一位坐在后排的男学生举起手，满怀希望地问道："你是说我们不要上教堂，只要有更多的性行为就可以了吗？"
兰登轻声地笑了，并不想上他的圈套。他听过许多有关哈佛大学学生聚会的传言，知道这些家伙在性方面颇为放纵。他也明白眼下他正处于下风，于是他说道："先生们，我可不可以给你们一点忠告，那就是，不要轻易的宽容婚前性行为，也不要天真地以为你们都是什么天使，对你们的性生活我将提出这么一些建议。"所有的男生都向前弯着身子，聚精会神地倾听。
"下次你们跟女人在一起时，首先问问自己，看看你有没有把性当作是神秘的精神性行为，然后向自己挑战，去找寻神性的火花，而要获得这种神性，男人只有通过与圣洁的女性实现肉体上的结合。"女生们露出会心的微笑，并不住地点头。男生们面面相觑，半信半疑，咯咯大笑，彼此开一些下流的玩笑。兰登叹了口气，这些大学生，到底还是群孩子啊。
索菲觉得前额一阵冰凉，她将前额紧贴着飞机舷窗，茫然地望向窗外。她拼命地想理出一个头绪来，看看兰登到底跟她说了些什么。她不禁心生几分遗憾。十年呐！她想到了祖父写给她的然而她却从未打开过的成堆的信件。我要把所有的事情都告诉罗伯特。她没有从窗前转过身子，就开始说起来，静静地，让人觉得有点恐怖。她开始讲述那天晚上发生的事情，她觉得自己正向后面漂浮而去……她落到祖父在诺曼底乡间别墅外面的树林里……她漫无目的的找寻那座荒凉的房子……她听到声音从下面传来……然后找到了那扇隐蔽的门，便慢慢沿着石阶，一步一步朝地下室走去。她感受到了泥土的气息，清凉而轻快。时值三月，她躲在台阶投下的暗影里，注视着那些人，在闪烁不定的橘黄色的烛光下，扭来扭去，反复地吟唱。
我是在做梦吧？她自言自语地说。是在做梦。不是梦还会是什么呢？男人们和女人们的身影在交叠，黑与白在相互转换。女人们漂亮的白纱长袍飘了起来，她们用右手将金球举起，并异口同声地唱道："吾与汝自始即相伴兮，在万物神圣之晨曦。长夜漫漫尚未逝兮，汝已孕于吾之体。"女人们把金球放下，每个人都忽而向前、忽而退后地扭动着身体，仿佛着了魔。他们正向圆圈中央的什么东西表达他们的敬意，他们在看什么呢？突然吟颂声又起，而且是越来越大，越来越快了。
"君所见之女，乃君之所求。"女人们高声叫着，再次将金球举了起来。
男人们随即回应道："伊终觅得永恒的归宿！"
吟唱的声音又渐趋平稳，然后加速，声音是更快了，直至电闪雷鸣一般。那些人往里头走了几步，然后跪倒在地。就在那一刻，索菲终于知道他们在注视些什么。在这些人围起的圆圈中央，一尊低矮却装饰华丽的神坛上，躺着一名男子，他光着身子，仰面朝天，还戴着黑色的面具。索菲立刻认出了这名男子和他肩上的胎记，差点没叫出声来。怎么会是祖父！单是这番景象就足以让索菲感到震惊，难以置信了，何况还有更惊人的事情在后头等着她呢！
一位戴着白色面具的裸体女人，骑在她祖父的身上。她茂密的银色头发往脑后拂去。
她体形臃肿，身材看上去远不算完美，然而此刻，她正随着吟唱的节奏扭动着身子--她在向索菲的祖父调情示爱呢。
索菲想转身跑开，然而却挪不动脚步。地下室的石墙也将她禁闭起来了，此时吟唱声已达到白热化。旁边围着的那一圈人似乎也跟着唱起来了，声音到高，逐渐热烈起来。突然，人群中爆发出一阵狂笑，整个屋子似乎进入了高潮。索菲喘不过气来，她突然发现回到了巴黎。
Chapter 74
"You're quiet," Langdon said, gazing across the Hawker's cabin at Sophie.
　　"Just tired," she replied. "And the poem. I don't know."Langdon was feeling the same way. The hum of the engines and the gentle rocking of the planewere hypnotic, and his head still throbbed where he'd been hit by the monk. Teabing was still in theback of the plane, and Langdon decided to take advantage of the moment alone with Sophie to tellher something that had been on his mind. "I think I know part of the reason why your grandfatherconspired to put us together. I think there's something he wanted me to explain to you.""The history of the Holy Grail and Mary Magdalene isn't enough?"Langdon felt uncertain how to proceed. "The rift between you. The reason you haven't spoken tohim in ten years. I think maybe he was hoping I could somehow make that right by explaining whatdrove you apart."Sophie squirmed in her seat. "I haven't told you what drove us apart."Langdon eyed her carefully. "You witnessed a sex rite. Didn't you?"Sophie recoiled. "How do you know that?""Sophie, you told me you witnessed something that convinced you your grandfather was in a secretsociety. And whatever you saw upset you enough that you haven't spoken to him since. I know afair amount about secret societies. It doesn't take the brains of Da Vinci to guess what you saw."Sophie stared.
　　"Was it in the spring?" Langdon asked. "Sometime around the equinox? Mid-March?"Sophie looked out the window. "I was on spring break from university. I came home a few daysearly.""You want to tell me about it?""I'd rather not." She turned suddenly back to Langdon, her eyes welling with emotion. "I don'tknow what I saw.""Were both men and women present?"After a beat, she nodded.
　　"Dressed in white and black?"She wiped her eyes and then nodded, seeming to open up a little. "The women were in whitegossamer gowns... with golden shoes. They held golden orbs. The men wore black tunics and blackshoes."Langdon strained to hide his emotion, and yet he could not believe what he was hearing. SophieNeveu had unwittingly witnessed a two-thousand-year-old sacred ceremony. "Masks?" he asked,keeping his voice calm. "Androgynous masks?""Yes. Everyone. Identical masks. White on the women. Black on the men."Langdon had read descriptions of this ceremony and understood its mystic roots. "It's called HierosGamos," he said softly. "It dates back more than two thousand years. Egyptian priests andpriestesses performed it regularly to celebrate the reproductive power of the female," He paused,leaning toward her. "And if you witnessed Hieros Gamos without being properly prepared tounderstand its meaning, I imagine it would be pretty shocking."Sophie said nothing.
　　"Hieros Gamos is Greek," he continued. "It means sacred marriage.""The ritual I saw was no marriage.""Marriage as in union, Sophie.""You mean as in sex.""No.""No?" she said, her olive eyes testing him.
　　Langdon backpedaled. "Well... yes, in a manner of speaking, but not as we understand it today."He explained that although what she saw probably looked like a sex ritual, Hieros Gamos hadnothing to do with eroticism. It was a spiritual act. Historically, intercourse was the act throughwhich male and female experienced God. The ancients believed that the male was spirituallyincomplete until he had carnal knowledge of the sacred feminine. Physical union with the femaleremained the sole means through which man could become spiritually complete and ultimatelyachieve gnosis—knowledge of the divine. Since the days of Isis, sex rites had been consideredman's only bridge from earth to heaven. "By communing with woman," Langdon said, "man couldachieve a climactic instant when his mind went totally blank and he could see God."Sophie looked skeptical. "Orgasm as prayer?"Langdon gave a noncommittal shrug, although Sophie was essentially correct. Physiologicallyspeaking, the male climax was accompanied by a split second entirely devoid of thought. A briefmental vacuum. A moment of clarity during which God could be glimpsed. Meditation gurusachieved similar states of thoughtlessness without sex and often described Nirvana as a never-ending spiritual orgasm.
　　"Sophie," Langdon said quietly, "it's important to remember that the ancients' view of sex wasentirely opposite from ours today. Sex begot new life—the ultimate miracle—and miracles couldbe performed only by a god. The ability of the woman to produce life from her womb made hersacred. A god. Intercourse was the revered union of the two halves of the human spirit—male andfemale—through which the male could find spiritual wholeness and communion with God. Whatyou saw was not about sex, it was about spirituality. The Hieros Gamos ritual is not a perversion.
　　It's a deeply sacrosanct ceremony."His words seemed to strike a nerve. Sophie had been remarkably poised all evening, but now, forthe first time, Langdon saw the aura of composure beginning to crack. Tears materialized in hereyes again, and she dabbed them away with her sleeve.
　　He gave her a moment. Admittedly, the concept of sex as a pathway to God was mind-boggling atfirst. Langdon's Jewish students always looked flabbergasted when he first told them that the earlyJewish tradition involved ritualistic sex. In the Temple, no less. Early Jews believed that the Holyof Holies in Solomon's Temple housed not only God but also His powerful female equal, Shekinah.
　　Men seeking spiritual wholeness came to the Temple to visit priestesses—or hierodules—withwhom they made love and experienced the divine through physical union. The Jewishtetragrammaton YHWH—the sacred name of God—in fact derived from Jehovah, an androgynousphysical union between the masculine Jah and the pre-Hebraic name for Eve, Havah.
　　"For the early Church," Langdon explained in a soft voice, "mankind's use of sex to communedirectly with God posed a serious threat to the Catholic power base. It left the Church out of theloop, undermining their self-proclaimed status as the sole conduit to God. For obvious reasons,they worked hard to demonize sex and recast it as a disgusting and sinful act. Other major religionsdid the same."Sophie was silent, but Langdon sensed she was starting to understand her grandfather better.
　　Ironically, Langdon had made this same point in a class lecture earlier this semester. "Is itsurprising we feel conflicted about sex?" he asked his students. "Our ancient heritage and our veryphysiologies tell us sex is natural—a cherished route to spiritual fulfillment—and yet modernreligion decries it as shameful, teaching us to fear our sexual desire as the hand of the devil."Langdon decided not to shock his students with the fact that more than a dozen secret societiesaround the world—many of them quite influential—still practiced sex rites and kept the ancienttraditions alive. Tom Cruise's character in the film Eyes Wide Shut discovered this the hard waywhen he sneaked into a private gathering of ultraelite Manhattanites only to find himself witnessingHieros Gamos. Sadly, the filmmakers had gotten most of the specifics wrong, but the basic gist wasthere—a secret society communing to celebrate the magic of sexual union.
　　"Professor Langdon?" A male student in back raised his hand, sounding hopeful. "Are you sayingthat instead of going to chapel, we should have more sex?"Langdon chuckled, not about to take the bait. From what he'd heard about Harvard parties, thesekids were having more than enough sex. "Gentlemen," he said, knowing he was on tender ground,"might I offer a suggestion for all of you. Without being so bold as to condone premarital sex, andwithout being so naive as to think you're all chaste angels, I will give you this bit of advice aboutyour sex lives."All the men in the audience leaned forward, listening intently.
　　"The next time you find yourself with a woman, look in your heart and see if you cannot approachsex as a mystical, spiritual act. Challenge yourself to find that spark of divinity that man can onlyachieve through union with the sacred feminine."The women smiled knowingly, nodding.
　　The men exchanged dubious giggles and off-color jokes.
　　Langdon sighed. College men were still boys.
　　Sophie's forehead felt cold as she pressed it against the plane's window and stared blankly into thevoid, trying to process what Langdon had just told her. She felt a new regret well within her. Tenyears. She pictured the stacks of unopened letters her grandfather had sent her. I will tell Roberteverything. Without turning from the window, Sophie began to speak. Quietly. Fearfully.
　　As she began to recount what had happened that night, she felt herself drifting back... alighting inthe woods outside her grandfather's Normandy chateau... searching the deserted house inconfusion... hearing the voices below her... and then finding the hidden door. She inched down thestone staircase, one step at a time, into that basement grotto. She could taste the earthy air. Cooland light. It was March. In the shadows of her hiding place on the staircase, she watched as thestrangers swayed and chanted by flickering orange candles.
　　I'm dreaming, Sophie told herself. This is a dream. What else could this be?
　　The women and men were staggered, black, white, black, white. The women's beautiful gossamergowns billowed as they raised in their right hands golden orbs and called out in unison, "I was withyou in the beginning, in the dawn of all that is holy, I bore you from the womb before the start ofday."The women lowered their orbs, and everyone rocked back and forth as if in a trance. They wererevering something in the center of the circle.
　　What are they looking at?
　　The voices accelerated now. Louder. Faster.
　　"The woman whom you behold is love!" The women called, raising their orbs again.
　　The men responded, "She has her dwelling in eternity!"The chanting grew steady again. Accelerating. Thundering now. Faster. The participants steppedinward and knelt.
　　In that instant, Sophie could finally see what they were all watching.
　　On a low, ornate altar in the center of the circle lay a man. He was naked, positioned on his back,and wearing a black mask. Sophie instantly recognized his body and the birthmark on his shoulder.
　　She almost cried out. Grand-père! This image alone would have shocked Sophie beyond belief,and yet there was more.
　　Straddling her grandfather was a naked woman wearing a white mask, her luxuriant silver hairflowing out behind it. Her body was plump, far from perfect, and she was gyrating in rhythm to thechanting—making love to Sophie's grandfather.
　　Sophie wanted to turn and run, but she couldn't. The stone walls of the grotto imprisoned her as thechanting rose to a fever pitch. The circle of participants seemed almost to be singing now, the noiserising in crescendo to a frenzy. With a sudden roar, the entire room seemed to erupt in climax.
　　Sophie could not breathe. She suddenly realized she was quietly sobbing. She turned and staggeredsilently up the stairs, out of the house, and drove trembling back to Paris.
“你怎么不说话呢?”兰登注视着“猎鹰者”号机舱对面的索菲说。
“太累了。还有这首诗，我怎么也看不明白。”
兰登也深有同感。引擎的轰鸣声以及飞机轻微的摇晃无疑起到了催眠的作用，而他的头部，由于遭到修道士的袭击至今仍在狂跳不停。提彬还没从飞机后舱折回来，兰登决定抓住这个与索菲单独在一起的机会，跟她说内心的想法。“我想我知道你祖父为什么要千方百计将我们拉到一块的部分原因了，有些事他想让我跟你好好解释呢。”
“难道圣杯与抹大拉的玛利亚的历史还嫌不够吗?”
兰登一时不知道该怎样说下去了。“你们之间的裂痕，还有你十年来一直都没跟他说过话。我想也许他希望通过我来给你解释，到底是什么原因导致你俩关系的不和谐，会使情况有所好转。”
索菲在座位上移动了一下：“可我还没告诉你我们不和的原因呢。”
兰登认真地注视着她：“你是不是看到什么性仪式了？”
索菲畏缩了一下：“你是怎么知道的？”
“索菲，你告诉过我，说你看到过什么，从而使你相信，你祖父是某个秘密组织的成员。不管你看到什么，那足以使你深感不安，所以从那以后你就再没跟他说过一句话了。我对秘密组织的情况总算有些了解，所以你看到啥，就算我没有达•芬奇那样聪明也能够猜到。”
索菲吃惊地睁大了双眼。
“你是在春季里看到的吧？是春分前后呢，还是三月中旬？”
索菲看着窗外：“当时正值大学春假，我提前几天回家休假。”
“你能说说接下来发生的事情吗？”
“我看还是算了吧。”她突然转过身，面对兰登，眼里充满了复杂的感情：“我都已经忘记我看到什么了。”
“你是不是看到了男人，还有女人？”
索菲仿佛被击了一下，她点点头。
“他们都穿着黑色与白色的衣服对吧？”
索菲用手擦了擦眼，然后点点头，她看来愿意说些什么了。“女人们都身披白色轻纱长袍……脚穿金色鞋子，手拿金色圆球。男人们则都裹着长长的外衣，黑色的鞋子。”
兰登伸长脖子，竭力想掩饰内心激动的情绪，然而他还是有点不相信自己的耳朵。索菲•奈芙竟然在无意中目睹了一场有着两千年历史的神圣仪式！他努力使自己的语气平静些：“他们是不是都戴了面具？戴着让人分不清性别的面具？”
“是的，他们每个人都戴着相同的面具。女人戴白色的，男人戴黑色的。”
兰登以前读过一些描述这种仪式的文章，因此了解它神秘的渊源，于是他低声说道：“这种仪式叫做‘神婚’，它的历史可追溯到两千多年前，古埃及的祭司与女祭司们定期举行这样的仪式，以此来赞美女性的生殖能力。”他停了一会，向她俯过身去：“不过，要是在你事先没做好准备，也不知道其内在涵义的情况下看到‘神婚’，我想你一定会很吃惊吧。”
索菲一言不发。
“Hieros Camos是希腊语，是‘神圣婚礼’的意思。”兰登继续说道。
“可我看到的仪式决不是什么婚礼仪式。”
“那是灵肉交融的婚礼，索菲。”
“你是说性的结合？”
“不对。”
“不对？”她以橄榄色的眼睛质问着他。
兰登向后退缩了一下。“嗯……你可以这么说，但并不像我们今天理解的那样。”他解释说，虽然她那天见到的也许很像是一场性的仪式，然而“神婚”与色情毫无关系。它只是一种精神上的行为。从历史上看，性的结合是男人与女人借以感知上帝存在的行为。古人相信，如果男人对圣洁的女性缺乏肉体上的感性认识，那么他在精神上也必定是不完整的，因此，与女人在肉体上实现结合，也就成了使男人在精神上得以完善并最终获得真知并了解神性的唯一方式。自伊希斯时代以来，性的仪式一直被世人认为是男人从尘世通向天堂的唯一桥梁。“通过与女人进行肉体上的交流，”兰登说：“男人会在瞬间达到高潮，此时，他的大脑完全一片空白，在那瞬间他就有可能感知到上帝。”
索菲将信将疑：“你是说像祷告词上描述的那种高潮？”
兰登不置可否，他耸了耸肩，尽管实际上索菲说对了。从生理学上讲，男性的性高潮往往会导致思维的短暂停滞，使大脑出现片刻的真空状态。此时此刻，朦胧之间人就可能觉得自己看到了上帝。冥思苦想的高僧们尽管没有性行为，然而同样能够达到类似的忘我状态，因而人们将涅磐比喻为在精神上达到的永无止境的高潮。
“索菲，”兰登轻声地说：“重要的是，你要记住古人对性的看法与我们现代人对性的看法是完全不同的。性行为产生了新的生命——这是最重要的奇迹——而奇迹，只有神才能创造奇迹。女人用子宫孕育新的生命，从而使自己变得神圣起来，变成了一尊神。性的结合使人类灵魂的两半——男人与女人得以融为一体，这是一种备受推祟的手段。借助性，男人使他们的灵魂得到完善，并且实现与上帝的对话。你看到的与其说是性行为，倒不如说是一种追求灵魂升华的仪式。‘神婚’决不是什么伤风败俗，而是极其神圣的仪式。”
他的话似乎拨动了索菲的心弦。整个晚上，她表现得非常镇静。然而兰登此刻第一次感到，她的镇定自若，正逐渐面临崩溃的境地。她的眼里溢出了眼泪，于是她撩起衣袖，拭去了脸上的泪水。
他给了她一些时间，好让她的情绪平静下来。必须承认，将性行为视作走近上帝的手段，这种观念一开始的确令人难以置信。过去，兰登在给他的犹太裔学生讲述早期犹太人的传统——其中就包扩一些性的仪式时，这些学生就总是听得目瞪口呆。在《圣殿》中，类似的情节也不少吧。早期的犹太人相信，在至圣所，即所罗门的圣殿里，不仅居住了上帝，而且还住了与上帝平起平坐势均力敌的女神舍金纳。追求灵魂完整的男人们跑到圣殿里，找那些女祭司或者圣仆们，跟她们性交，并通过肉体的结合感悟神性。犹太人中表示上帝的由四个字母组成的词，YHWH——这个神圣的上帝之名，其实就是脱胎于Jehovah(耶和华)，它是由代表男性的Jah与古犹太人给夏娃取的犹太名Havah构成的雌雄同体。
“对早期的基督教会而言，”兰登低声解释：“人类通过性的手段直接与上帝交流，这对天主教的权力基础构成了严重的威严，因为它把教会弃置一边，破坏了他们自封的唯一可以与上帝对话的地位。出于一些很明显的原因，他们竭力诋毁性行为，并重新将它视作令人厌恶的罪恶行为，其他重要的宗教也采取了同样的手段。”
索菲沉默了，然而兰登觉得她开始对她祖父有了更深的了解。具有讽刺意味的是，这个学期早些时候，有一次他给学生上课，也发表过同样的高见。他问学生：“我们竟然对性反感，这难道不令人感到奇怪吗?可我们老祖宗留下来的传统以及生理学知识告诉我们，性是自然的，是值得珍惜并使人灵魂得以充实的手段。然而现代宗教却对性行为大加挞伐，认为是可耻的行为，使我们把性视同于洪水猛兽。”
兰登决定就此打住，因为如果他告诉学生，说全世界大约有十来个——其中多数是很有影响的——秘密团体，至今还在举行性的仪式，并保溜了这种古老的传统的话，他担心会吓坏他们。美国好莱坞演员汤姆•克鲁斯在电影《大开眼界》中扮演的那个角色，偷偷跑去参加由曼哈顿人中间的精英分子举行的私人聚会，却意外目睹了“神婚”。令人悲哀的是，制片人将大多数细节给搞错了，不过就其根本的东西——即秘密组织通过性的交合赞美性的神奇而言——还是没有弄错。
“兰登教授，”一位坐在后排的男学生举起手，满怀希望地问道：“你是说我们不要上教堂，只要有更多的性行为就可以了吗？”
兰登轻声地笑了，并不想上他的圈套。他听过许多有关哈佛大学学生聚会的传言，知道这些家伙在性方面颇为放纵。他也明白眼下他正处于下风，于是他说道：“先生们，我可不可以给你们一点忠告，那就是，不要轻易的宽容婚前性行为，也不要天真地以为你们都是什么天使，对你们的性生活我将提出这么一些建议。”
所有的男生都向前弯着身子，聚精会神地倾听。
“下次你们跟女人在一起时，首先问问自己，看看你有没有把性当作是神秘的精神性行为，然后向自己挑战，去找寻神性的火花，而要获得这种神性，男人只有通过与圣洁的女性实现肉体上的结合。”
女生们露出会心的微笑，并不住地点头。
男生们面面相觑，半信半疑，咯咯大笑，彼此开一些下流的玩笑。
兰登叹了口气，这些大学生，到底还是群孩子啊。
索菲觉得前额一阵冰凉，她将前额紧贴着飞机舷窗，茫然地望向窗外。她拼命地想理出一个头绪来，看看兰登到底跟她说了些什么。她不禁心生几分遗憾。十年呐！她想到了祖父写给她的然而她却从未打开过的成堆的信件。我要把所有的事情都告诉罗伯特。她没有从窗前转过身子，就开始说起来，静静地，让人觉得有点恐怖。
她开始讲述那天晚上发生的事情，她觉得自己正向后面漂浮而去……她落到祖父在诺曼底乡间别墅外面的树林里……她漫无目的的找寻那座荒凉的房子……她听到声音从下面传来……然后找到了那扇隐蔽的门，便慢慢沿着石阶，一步一步朝地下室走去。她感受到了泥土的气息，清凉而轻快。时值三月，她躲在台阶投下的暗影里，注视着那些人，在闪烁不定的橘黄色的烛光下，扭来扭去，反复地吟唱。
我是在做梦吧？她自言自语地说。是在做梦。不是梦还会是什么呢？
男人们和女人们的身影在交叠，黑与白在相互转换。女人们漂亮的白纱长袍飘了起来，她们用右手将金球举起，并异口同声地唱道：“吾与汝自始即相伴兮，在万物神圣之晨曦。长夜漫漫尚未逝兮，汝已孕于吾之体。”
女人们把金球放下，每个人都忽而向前、忽而退后地扭动着身体，仿佛着了魔。他们正向圆圈中央的什么东西表达他们的敬意，
他们在看什么呢？
突然吟颂声又起，而且是越来越大，越来越快了。
“君所见之女，乃君之所求。”女人们高声叫着，再次将金球举了起来。
男人们随即回应道：“伊终觅得永恒的归宿！”
吟唱的声音又渐趋平稳，然后加速，声音是更快了，直至电闪雷鸣一般。那些人往里头走了几步，然后跪倒在地。
就在那一刻，索菲终于知道他们在注视些什么。
在这些人围起的圆圈中央，一尊低矮却装饰华丽的神坛上，躺着一名男子，他光着身子，仰面朝天，还戴着黑色的面具。索菲立刻认出了这名男子和他肩上的胎记，差点没叫出声来。怎么会是祖父！单是这番景象就足以让索菲感到震惊，难以置信了，何况还有更惊人的事情在后头等着她呢！
一位戴着白色面具的裸体女人，骑在她祖父的身上。她茂密的银色头发往脑后拂去。她体形臃肿，身材看上去远不算完美，然而此刻，她正随着吟唱的节奏扭动着身子——她在向索菲的祖父调情示爱呢。
索菲想转身跑开，然而却挪不动脚步。地下室的石墙也将她禁闭起来了，此时吟唱声已达到白热化。旁边围着的那一圈人似乎也跟着唱起来了，声音到高，逐渐热烈起来。突然，人群中爆发出一阵狂笑，整个屋子似乎进入了高潮。索菲喘不过气来，她突然发现回到了巴黎。
Chapter 75
The chartered turboprop was just passing over the twinkling lights of Monaco when Aringarosahung up on Fache for the second time. He reached for the airsickness bag again but felt too drainedeven to be sick.
　　Just let it be over!
　　Fache's newest update seemed unfathomable, and yet almost nothing tonight made sense anymore.
　　What is going on? Everything had spiraled wildly out of control. What have I gotten Silas into?
　　What have I gotten myself into!
　　On shaky legs, Aringarosa walked to the cockpit. "I need to change destinations."The pilot glanced over his shoulder and laughed. "You're joking, right?""No. I have to get to London immediately.""Father, this is a charter flight, not a taxi.""I will pay you extra, of course. How much? London is only one hour farther north and requiresalmost no change of direction, so—""It's not a question of money, Father, there are other issues.""Ten thousand euro. Right now."The pilot turned, his eyes wide with shock. "How much? What kind of priest carries that kind ofcash?"Aringarosa walked back to his black briefcase, opened it, and removed one of the bearer bonds. Hehanded it to the pilot.
　　"What is this?" the pilot demanded.
　　"A ten-thousand-euro bearer bond drawn on the Vatican Bank."The pilot looked dubious.
　　"It's the same as cash.""Only cash is cash," the pilot said, handing the bond back.
　　Aringarosa felt weak as he steadied himself against the cockpit door. "This is a matter of life ordeath. You must help me. I need to get to London."The pilot eyed the bishop's gold ring. "Real diamonds?"Aringarosa looked at the ring. "I could not possibly part with this."The pilot shrugged, turning and focusing back out the windshield.
　　Aringarosa felt a deepening sadness. He looked at the ring. Everything it represented was about tobe lost to the bishop anyway. After a long moment, he slid the ring from his finger and placed itgently on the instrument panel.
　　Aringarosa slunk out of the cockpit and sat back down. Fifteen seconds later, he could feel the pilotbanking a few more degrees to the north.
　　Even so, Aringarosa's moment of glory was in shambles.
　　It had all begun as a holy cause. A brilliantly crafted scheme. Now, like a house of cards, it wascollapsing in on itself... and the end was nowhere in sight.
阿林加洛沙主教再次把法希打来的电话挂了时，他乘坐的那架可供住宿的涡轮螺旋桨飞机，正飞越过灯火闪烁的摩纳哥城上空。他又一次跑到专为晕机者准备的袋子前，然而他太累了，即使想吐也吐不出来。就让它结束吧！
最近法希花样百出，似乎总让人难以预测。不过今晚，一切差不多都变得毫无意义了。事情进展得如何？所有的事情变化之迅速，实在令人难以控制。我让塞拉斯去干了些什么？！我自己又干了些什么？！
阿林加洛沙双腿颤抖着，走到飞机的座舱。"你给我掉转方向吧。"
飞机驾驶员转身瞥了他一眼，笑道："你是在开玩笑，对吧？"
"不，我要马上到伦敦去。"
"神父，你是在包机，又不是坐出租汽车。"
"当然，我会给你补偿的。你要多少？从这里往北飞伦敦只要一个小时，而且几乎不要改变方向，所以--""神父，这不光是钱的问题，还有别的一些东西。"
"我给你一万欧元，你马上给我换个航向吧。"
驾驶员转过身，吃惊地睁大了双眼："你说多少？你是什么神父啊，怎么带这么多的现金？"
阿林加洛沙折回到他的黑色公文包前，将它打开，拿出一张不记名债券，然后递给飞机驾驶员。
"这是什么？"驾驶员问道。
"梵蒂冈银行开具的不记名债券，面值一万欧元。"
驾驶员一脸疑惑。
"它跟现金一样可以通用。"
"可我要的是现金。"驾驶员说着，把债券递了回来。
阿林加洛沙主教紧挨着座舱门才没有倒下，他太虚弱了。"这关系到生死存亡的问题。
你得帮帮我。我必须马上到伦敦去。"驾驶员一眼看到这位主教手上戴着的金戒指："给我来点货真价实的东西怎么样？"
阿林加洛沙主教看了看戒指："我可少不了这戒指啊。"
驾驶员耸了耸肩，转过身，一动不动地望着后面挡风玻璃窗的外面。
阿林加洛沙内心涌起一股浓浓的悲哀。他看了看戒指。不管怎么说，它所代表的一切，对他这位主教来说，很快就会不存在了。过了很长很长时间，他才把戒指从手指上摘下来，轻轻地放在飞机的仪表板上。
阿林加洛沙主教悄悄地从座舱溜了出去，到后面的座位上一屁股坐了下来。十五秒后，他感觉到驾驶员往北倾斜了几度。
即便如此，阿林加洛沙主教还是看不出前景有多么的美妙。
所有的一切都源于一个神圣的目标，一次精心策划的安排。然而现在，它就像一座纸牌做的房子，顷刻间坍塌了……至于结局如何，谁也不能预料。
Chapter 76
Langdon could see Sophie was still shaken from recounting her experience of Hieros Gamos. Forhis part, Langdon was amazed to have heard it. Not only had Sophie witnessed the full-blownritual, but her own grandfather had been the celebrant... the Grand Master of the Priory of Sion. Itwas heady company. Da Vinci, Botticelli, Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, Jean Cocteau... JacquesSaunière.
　　"I don't know what else I can tell you," Langdon said softly.
　　Sophie's eyes were a deep green now, tearful. "He raised me like his own daughter."Langdon now recognized the emotion that had been growing in her eyes as they spoke. It wasremorse. Distant and deep. Sophie Neveu had shunned her grandfather and was now seeing him inan entirely different light.
　　Outside, the dawn was coming fast, its crimson aura gathering off the starboard. The earth was stillblack beneath them.
　　"Victuals, my dears?" Teabing rejoined them with a flourish, presenting several cans of Coke and abox of old crackers. He apologized profusely for the limited fare as he doled out the goods. "Ourfriend the monk isn't talking yet," he chimed, "but give him time." He bit into a cracker and eyedthe poem. "So, my lovely, any headway?" He looked at Sophie. "What is your grandfather trying totell us here? Where the devil is this headstone? This headstone praised by Templars."Sophie shook her head and remained silent.
　　While Teabing again dug into the verse, Langdon popped a Coke and turned to the window, histhoughts awash with images of secret rituals and unbroken codes. A headstone praised by Templarsis the key. He took a long sip from the can. A headstone praised by Templars. The cola was warm.
　　The dissolving veil of night seemed to evaporate quickly, and as Langdon watched thetransformation, he saw a shimmering ocean stretch out beneath them. The English Channel. Itwouldn't be long now.
　　Langdon willed the light of day to bring with it a second kind of illumination, but the lighter itbecame outside, the further he felt from the truth. He heard the rhythms of iambic pentameter andchanting, Hieros Gamos and sacred rites, resonating with the rumble of the jet.
　　A headstone praised by Templars.
　　The plane was over land again when a flash of enlightenment struck him. Langdon set down hisempty can of Coke hard. "You won't believe this," he said, turning to the others. "The Templarheadstone—I figured it out."Teabing's eyes turned to saucers. "You know where the headstone is?"Langdon smiled. "Not where it is. What it is."Sophie leaned in to hear.
　　"I think the headstone references a literal stone head," Langdon explained, savoring the familiarexcitement of academic breakthrough. "Not a grave marker.""A stone head?" Teabing demanded.
　　Sophie looked equally confused.
　　"Leigh," Langdon said, turning, "during the Inquisition, the Church accused the Knights Templarof all kinds of heresies, right?""Correct. They fabricated all kinds of charges. Sodomy, urination on the cross, devil worship, quitea list.""And on that list was the worship of false idols, right? Specifically, the Church accused theTemplars of secretly performing rituals in which they prayed to a carved stone head... the pagangod—""Baphomet!" Teabing blurted. "My heavens, Robert, you're right! A headstone praised byTemplars!"Langdon quickly explained to Sophie that Baphomet was a pagan fertility god associated with thecreative force of reproduction. Baphomet's head was represented as that of a ram or goat, acommon symbol of procreation and fecundity. The Templars honored Baphomet by encircling astone replica of his head and chanting prayers.
　　"Baphomet," Teabing tittered. "The ceremony honored the creative magic of sexual union, butPope Clement convinced everyone that Baphomet's head was in fact that of the devil. The Popeused the head of Baphomet as the linchpin in his case against the Templars."Langdon concurred. The modern belief in a horned devil known as Satan could be traced back toBaphomet and the Church's attempts to recast the horned fertility god as a symbol of evil. TheChurch had obviously succeeded, although not entirely. Traditional American Thanksgiving tablesstill bore pagan, horned fertility symbols. The cornucopia or "horn of plenty" was a tribute toBaphomet's fertility and dated back to Zeus being suckled by a goat whose horn broke off andmagically filled with fruit. Baphomet also appeared in group photographs when some joker raisedtwo fingers behind a friend's head in the V-symbol of horns; certainly few of the prankstersrealized their mocking gesture was in fact advertising their victim's robust sperm count.
　　"Yes, yes," Teabing was saying excitedly. "Baphomet must be what the poem is referring to. Aheadstone praised by Templars.""Okay," Sophie said, "but if Baphomet is the headstone praised by Templars, then we have a newdilemma." She pointed to the dials on the cryptex. "Baphomet has eight letters. We only have roomfor five."Teabing grinned broadly. "My dear, this is where the Atbash Cipher comes into play"
兰登看到，索菲还沉浸在讲述目睹"神婚"经历时颤栗的情绪里。对他而言，他听到她的讲述后大为惊奇。索菲不但亲眼看到仪式的整个过程，而且还亲眼看到她祖父自始至终是该仪式的参与者……郇山隐修会的大师。这可是很有智慧的一帮人。达。芬奇、波提切利、埃撒克。牛顿、维克多。雨果、让。考克托……还有雅克。索尼埃。
"我不知道我还能跟你说些什么。"兰登轻轻地说。
索菲双眼放出绿光，充满了恐惧。"他待我就像待自己的亲生女儿一样。"
兰登终于明白他们谈话时索菲眼里流露出的情感--是懊悔，让人觉得寥远而又深沉。此前，索菲。奈芙一直在回避她的祖父，然而现在，她总算学会以一种全新的眼光去看待他了。
舱外，黎明的脚步是越来越快了，那粉红色的氤氲，正从飞机的右舷弥漫开来。而他们下面的那个星球，依旧是漆黑的一片。
"我说伙计，要不要吃点什么？"提彬又回到他们中间，颇有几分自得。他拿来了几听可乐，还有一盒陈放了很久的饼干。他一边分东西给他们，一边为东西不多而拼命地道歉。
"我们的伙计修道士还没开口招认呢。"他唱歌似地说道："不过，还是多给他一点时间吧。
"他咬了口饼干，看着那首诗："亲爱的，有什么进展没有？"他望着索菲："你祖父到底想告诉我们什么呢？那块基石，那块被圣殿骑士歌颂过的基石究竟在哪里呢？"
索菲摇摇头，一言不发。
就在提彬再次揣摩那首诗的当儿，兰登开了一罐可乐，转身面对着窗户。他的脑海里又浮现出那些秘密仪式和尚待破译的密码。"圣殿骑士赞美的基石，就是开启此门的钥匙。
"他呷了一大口可乐。圣殿骑士赞美的基石。可乐还有点热呢。黑夜的面纱很快被曙光揭去，兰登目睹了昼夜的更换，他看到了飞机下面波光粼粼的海洋。到了英吉利海峡，就不用等上那么久了。
兰登倒是希望这黎明的曙光能够将他混沌一片的思维点亮，然而舱外越是明亮，他对真相的把握就越是迷惘。他仿佛听到了五步抑扬格的节奏以及人们反复的吟唱。"神婚"与神圣仪式上的声音，在和着飞机的轰鸣声回响。圣殿骑士赞美的基石。
飞机再次着陆了。这时，兰登的脑海里突然闪过感悟的光芒。他狠命的把喝光的可乐罐子砸了下去。"你不会相信的。"他转身对其他人说："这块圣殿骑士赞美的基石--我知道是怎么一回事了。"提彬看着着碟子："这么说你知道基石在哪里了？"
兰登笑了笑："我不知道它在哪里，可我知道它是什么。"
索菲俯身过来倾听。
"我认为headstone 就取它的字面意义，是指石头，而不是什么坟墓的基石。"兰登解释说，内心充满了某人在学术上取得突破进展时特有的那种熟悉的喜悦。
"你是说石头？"提彬紧跟着问。
索菲似乎同样感到茫然。
"雷爵士，在宗教法庭肆意镇压异教徒期间，教会不是诬蔑圣殿骑士们都是异教徒吗？"兰登转过身子说。
"对呀，他们罗列了许多罪名，什么鸡奸啦，往十字架上撒尿啦，瞎搞鬼神崇拜啦，等等等等，不一而足。""在这些罪名里不是还提到盲目崇拜神像这一项吗？具体说来，就是教会指责圣殿骑士们秘密举行向石像祈祷的仪式……而这座石像，就是异教神……""你是指鲍芙默神！"提彬失声叫了出来："天哪，罗伯特，你说得太对了！你说的就是那块被圣殿骑士赞美过的石头！"
兰登赶快给索菲解释，告诉她鲍芙默神是异教徒掌管生殖的神，是与人类的生殖能力联系在一起的。鲍芙默神的头是羊的形状，羊是具有旺盛生命力的普遍标志。圣殿骑士们围着它的头部石像，念着祈祷词，以此来表达他们对鲍芙默神的敬意。
"鲍芙默神。"提彬嗤嗤地笑道："举行这种仪式就是歌颂通过性的结合来创造生命的神奇，可是克雷芒教皇却让大家相信鲍芙默神的头其实是魔鬼的头。这位教皇利用鲍芙默神的头大做文章，把它当作反对圣殿骑士的重要突破口。"兰登对此表示赞同。现代人信仰一种长角的被称作撒旦的鬼神，其历史可追溯到对鲍芙默神的崇拜上，教会企图将这尊长角的象征生命力的神贬为邪恶的标志。教会很明显取得了成功，尽管不是全面意义上的。在美国人庆祝传统的"感恩节"的餐桌上，仍然可以看到带有异教色彩的、各种长角的具有旺盛生命力的东西。装满花果象征丰饶的羊角，是献给鲍芙默神生命力的礼赞，这在天神宙斯受到一只山羊的哺育以后就有了。这只山羊折断了角，但它的角却变戏法似的装满了水果。鲍芙默神也出现在群像里，有些爱开玩笑的人，在朋友的脑后伸出两根手指，作出V 字形的手势。当然，这些爱搞恶作剧的人，又有几人会意识到他们作出俏皮的手势，其实是在为被他们嘲弄的人的旺盛的生命力做广告呢？
"是的，是的。"提彬激动地说。"鲍芙默神一定是诗里所提到的，那块被圣殿骑士们赞美过的基石。""好啦。"索菲接过话："但如果鲍芙默神就是那块被圣殿骑士们赞美过的基石的话，那我们就又碰上了一个进退两难的难题了。"她指着密码盒上的刻度盘。"鲍芙默这个词有八个字母，但我们要找的只是五个字母的词呢。"提彬笑得更欢了。"亲爱的，这样一来，埃特巴什码就能派上用场了。"
Chapter 77
Langdon was impressed. Teabing had just finished writing out the entire twenty-two-letter Hebrewalphabet—alef-beit—from memory. Granted, he'd used Roman equivalents rather than Hebrewcharacters, but even so, he was now reading through them with flawless pronunciation.
　　A B G D H V Z Ch T Y K L M N S O P Tz Q R Sh Th"Alef, Beit, Gimel, Dalet, Hei, Vav, Zayin, Chet, Tet, Yud, Kaf, Lamed, Mem, Nun, Samech, Ayin,Pei, Tzadik, Kuf, Reish, Shin, and Tav." Teabing dramatically mopped his brow and plowed on. "Informal Hebrew spelling, the vowel sounds are not written. Therefore, when we write the wordBaphomet using the Hebrew alphabet, it will lose its three vowels in translation, leaving us—""Five letters," Sophie blurted.
　　Teabing nodded and began writing again. "Okay, here is the proper spelling of Baphomet inHebrew letters. I'll sketch in the missing vowels for clarity's sake.
　　B a P V o M e Th"Remember, of course," he added, "that Hebrew is normally written in the opposite direction, butwe can just as easily use Atbash this way. Next, all we have to do is create our substitution schemeby rewriting the entire alphabet in reverse order opposite the original alphabet.""There's an easier way," Sophie said, taking the pen from Teabing. "It works for all reflectionalsubstitution ciphers, including the Atbash. A little trick I learned at the Royal Holloway." Sophiewrote the first half of the alphabet from left to right, and then, beneath it, wrote the second half,right to left. "Cryptanalysts call it the fold-over. Half as complicated. Twice as clean."ABGDHVZChTYKThShRQTzPOSNMLTeabing eyed her handiwork and chuckled. "Right you are. Glad to see those boys at the Hollowayare doing their job."Looking at Sophie's substitution matrix, Langdon felt a rising thrill that he imagined must haverivaled the thrill felt by early scholars when they first used the Atbash Cipher to decrypt the nowfamous Mystery of Sheshach. For years, religious scholars had been baffled by biblical referencesto a city called Sheshach. The city did not appear on any map nor in any other documents, and yetit was mentioned repeatedly in the Book of Jeremiah—the king of Sheshach, the city of Sheshach,the people of Sheshach. Finally, a scholar applied the Atbash Cipher to the word, and his resultswere mind-numbing. The cipher revealed that Sheshach was in fact a code word for another verywell-known city. The decryption process was simple.
　　Sheshach, in Hebrew, was spelled: Sh-Sh-K.
　　Sh-Sh-K, when placed in the substitution matrix, became B-B-L.
　　B-B-L, in Hebrew, spelled Babel.
　　The mysterious city of Sheshach was revealed as the city of Babel, and a frenzy of biblicalexamination ensued. Within weeks, several more Atbash code words were uncovered in the OldTestament, unveiling myriad hidden meanings that scholars had no idea were there.
　　"We're getting close," Langdon whispered, unable to control his excitement.
　　"Inches, Robert," Teabing said. He glanced over at Sophie and smiled. "You ready?"She nodded.
　　"Okay, Baphomet in Hebrew without the vowels reads: B-P-V-M-Th. Now we simply apply yourAtbash substitution matrix to translate the letters into our five-letter password."Langdon's heart pounded. B-P-V-M-Th. The sun was pouring through the windows now. He lookedat Sophie's substitution matrix and slowly began to make the conversion. B is Sh... P is V...
　　Teabing was grinning like a schoolboy at Christmas. "And the Atbash Cipher reveals..." Hestopped short. "Good God!" His face went white.
　　Langdon's head snapped up.
　　"What's wrong?" Sophie demanded.
　　"You won't believe this." Teabing glanced at Sophie. "Especially you.""What do you mean?" she said.
　　"This is... ingenious," he whispered. "Utterly ingenious!" Teabing wrote again on the paper.
　　"Drumroll, please. Here is your password." He showed them what he had written.
　　Sh-V-P-Y-ASophie scowled. "What is it?"Langdon didn't recognize it either.
　　Teabing's voice seemed to tremble with awe. "This, my friend, is actually an ancient word ofwisdom."Langdon read the letters again. An ancient word of wisdom frees this scroll. An instant later he gotit. He had newer seen this coming. "An ancient word of wisdom!"Teabing was laughing. "Quite literally!"Sophie looked at the word and then at the dial. Immediately she realized Langdon and Teabing hadfailed to see a serious glitch. "Hold on! This can't be the password," she argued. "The cryptexdoesn't have an Sh on the dial. It uses a traditional Roman alphabet.""Read the word," Langdon urged. "Keep in mind two things. In Hebrew, the symbol for the soundSh can also be pronounced as S, depending on the accent. Just as the letter P can be pronounced F."SVFYA? she thought, puzzled.
　　"Genius!" Teabing added. "The letter Vav is often a placeholder for the vowel sound O!"Sophie again looked at the letters, attempting to sound them out.
　　"S...o...f...y...a."She heard the sound of her voice, and could not believe what she had just said. "Sophia? Thisspells Sophia?"Langdon was nodding enthusiastically. "Yes! Sophia literally means wisdom in Greek. The root ofyour name, Sophie, is literally a 'word of wisdom.' "Sophie suddenly missed her grandfather immensely. He encrypted the Priory keystone with myname. A knot caught in her throat. It all seemed so perfect. But as she turned her gaze to the fivelettered dials on the cryptex, she realized a problem still existed. "But wait... the word Sophia hassix letters."Teabing's smile never faded. "Look at the poem again. Your grandfather wrote, 'An ancient wordof wisdom.' ""Yes?"Teabing winked. "In ancient Greek, wisdom is spelled S-O-F-I-A."
兰登记得很清楚，提彬刚刚凭记忆写完了为数22 个的所有的希伯来字母。经过允许，他采用了相应的罗马字母，而不是希伯来字母，但即使如此，他还是用准确无误的希伯来式的发音来朗读这些字母。
ABGDHVZChTYKLMNSOPTzQRShTh提彬念道："阿勒夫（Alef），贝特（Belt），达勒（Dalet），赫依（Hei），维夫（Vav），扎因（Zayin），切特（Chet），特德（Tet），尤德（Yud），卡夫（Kaf），拉姆德（Lamed），墨姆（Mem），纳恩（Nun），萨姆西（Samech），阿因（Ayin），佩因（Pei），扎迪克（Tzadik），库夫（Kuf），雷希（Reish），希因（shin），塔夫（TaV）。"提彬夸张地擦了擦眉头，然后继续费力地钻研下去。"在正式的希伯来书写体系里，元音字母是不需要写出来的。所以，如果用希伯来字母拼写鲍芙默神这个单词，就会失去三个元音，只剩下--""五个字母。"索菲脱口叫道。
提彬点了点头，又开始写起来。"好了，这就是用希伯来字母拼写鲍芙默神这个单词的正确形式。为了清楚起见，我把省略的三个元音字母也在这里写出来。"BaPVoMeTh"当然，你得记住。"他继续补充道："希伯来语一般是从相反的方向写起的，但这里我们照样能够运用埃特巴什码。接下来，我们必须将所有的这些字母，按照与原先排列方向相反的顺序重写一遍，用这种方式来创造我们自己的替换系统。""还有一个更简便的方法。"索菲把笔从提彬的手里拿过来："它对所有反射性的，包括埃特巴什码在内的替换密码都很管用。这是我在皇家霍洛威大学学到的小把戏。"她先从左到右写了字母的前一半，然后又在下面从右到左写剩下的那部分字母。"密码分析专家把它称作重影，单看部分很复杂，再看就容易明白了。"
┌─┬─┬─┬─┬─┬─┬─┬─┬─┬─┬─┐│A│B│G│D│H│V│Z│Ch│T│Y│K│├─┼─┼─┼─┼─┼─┼─┼─┼─┼─┼─┤│Th│Sh│R│Q│Tz│P│O│S│N│M│L│└─┴─┴─┴─┴─┴─┴─┴─┴─┴─┴─┘提彬瞄了索菲写的东西一眼，笑着说："不错嘛。看到霍洛威大学的后生们术业有专攻，我真的很高兴呐。"兰登看着索菲画的替换矩阵，不禁越发颤栗起来。他想，以前最早使用埃特巴什码的那些学者，在破译当今很出名的什萨克城（Sheshach）之谜的时候，其激动兴奋之情，也不过是如此吧。多年来宗教学者们一直对《圣经》上提到的什萨克城的说法颇为不解。
因为查遍所有的地图，翻遍所有的文献，也找不到这个城市，但它却多次在《圣经》中的《耶利米书》里提到，如什萨克城的国王啦，什萨克城啦，以及什萨克城的臣民等。
最后，有位学者运用埃特巴什码进行分析，而显示出来的结果几乎让人要晕厥过去。
分析表明，什萨克城实际上就是另一个特别有名的城市的代名词。其解析过程非常简单。
什萨克城，用希伯来语拼写就是：Sh-Sh-K.
Sh-Sh-K，如果用以上的密码矩阵来加以替换，就变成了B-B-L.
B-B-L，用希伯来语的话来讲，就是巴比伦城。
分析表明，神秘的Sheshach 城就是通常所说的巴比伦城，自此引起了一场《圣经》考据热。几周之内，通过采用埃特巴什码进行分析，《旧约》里好几个令人费解的词又相继找到了解释，使原先那些学者连想都没想过的许多隐藏的含义浮出了水面。
"我们也差不多了。"兰登低声地说，按捺不住内心激动的情绪。
"还差一点呢，罗伯特。"提彬说。他扫了索菲一眼，笑道："你准备好了没有？"
索菲点了点头。
"好的，鲍芙默神，如果用无元音字母的希伯来语，就是这样：B-P-V-M-Th.现在，我们简单运用你画的埃特巴什替换矩阵，将这些字母转换成五个字母的密码。"兰登的心"咚咚"地跳起来。B-P-V-M-Th.阳光正从窗户外倾泻进来。他看着索菲的密码替换矩阵，开始慢慢地进行转换。B 是Sh……P 是V……
提彬高兴得像圣诞节晚会上快乐的小孩。"还有，埃特巴什码显示--"他突然停住了。
"天哪！"他的脸色刷地苍白起来。
兰登立刻抬起头来。
"你怎么啦？"索菲赶忙问。
"你们不会相信吧。"他看了看索菲。"特别是你。"
"你这是什么意思？"
"这个--真是聪明。"他喃喃自语："聪明绝顶了！"提彬重新在纸上写了一遍。"来，鼓励一下。这就是你要的密码！"他把刚写过的东西给他们看：Sh-V-P-Y-A.
索菲有点不悦："什么玩意嘛？"
兰登也没有立刻看出来。
提彬的声音颤抖起来，似乎充满了敬畏："其实，这个宇在古代就是智慧的意思。"
兰登又看了这些字母。"一个蕴含智慧的古词，能揭开这卷轴的秘密。"过了一会，他总算明白过来。他从未想到会是这样。"一个蕴含智慧的古词！"
提彬大笑起来："非常正确！"
索非看着那个词，又看了那个刻度盘，很快便意识到兰登与提彬都犯了同样严重错误。
"这不可能是密码。"她争辩道："刻度盘上的密码盒没有Sh.它用的是传统罗马字母。"
"你看看这个。"提彬在一旁敦促道。"有两点请你记住。第一，希伯来语中代表Sh 音的符号也可以发S 音，这可以根据方言口音而定，就像字母P 也可以读作F 那样。""SVFYA？"索菲想，大惑不解。
"真是天才！"提彬补充说："人们经常用字母V 来替换元音字母O 的！"
索菲看那几个字母，试着把它们读了出来："S-o-f-y-a."
她听到自己读的声音， 简直不敢相信自己的耳朵： "Sophia ？ 这个词拼作Sophia？！"兰登热切的点了点头。"对呀！Sophia 在希腊语中字面义就是智慧的意思。你的名字，究其根源，其字面义就是智慧的意思。"索菲突然非常想念起祖父来。他竟然用我的名字来编制这密码！她的喉咙似乎被打上了个结。一切似乎是那么的完美。然而当她扭头去看那五个字母时，她意识到还有一个问题。
"等等--Sophia 有六个字母呢！"
提彬始终面带着微笑："你再看看这首诗吧。你祖父是这么写的："一个蕴含智慧的古词。""提彬眨了眨眼："在古希腊语里，"智慧"这个词就拼作S-O-F-I-A."
Chapter 78
Sophie felt a wild excitement as she cradled the cryptex and began dialing in the letters. An ancientword of wisdom frees this scroll. Langdon and Teabing seemed to have stopped breathing as theylooked on.
　　S... O... F...
　　"Carefully," Teabing urged. "Ever so carefully."...I... A.
　　Sophie aligned the final dial. "Okay," she whispered, glancing up at the others. "I'm going to pull itapart.""Remember the vinegar," Langdon whispered with fearful exhilaration. "Be careful."Sophie knew that if this cryptex were like those she had opened in her youth, all she would need todo is grip the cylinder at both ends, just beyond the dials, and pull, applying slow, steady pressurein opposite directions. If the dials were properly aligned with the password, then one of the endswould slide off, much like a lens cap, and she could reach inside and remove the rolled papyrusdocument, which would be wrapped around the vial of vinegar. However, if the password they hadentered were incorrect, Sophie's outward force on the ends would be transferred to a hinged leverinside, which would pivot downward into the cavity and apply pressure to the glass vial, eventuallyshattering it if she pulled too hard.
　　Pull gently, she told herself.
　　Teabing and Langdon both leaned in as Sophie wrapped her palms around the ends of the cylinder.
　　In the excitement of deciphering the code word, Sophie had almost forgotten what they expected tofind inside. This is the Priory keystone. According to Teabing, it contained a map to the Holy Grail,unveiling the tomb of Mary Magdalene and the Sangreal treasure... the ultimate treasure trove ofsecret truth.
　　Now gripping the stone tube, Sophie double-checked that all of the letters were properly alignedwith the indicator. Then, slowly, she pulled. Nothing happened. She applied a little more force.
　　Suddenly, the stone slid apart like a well-crafted telescope. The heavy end piece detached in herhand. Langdon and Teabing almost jumped to their feet. Sophie's heart rate climbed as she set theend cap on the table and tipped the cylinder to peer inside.
　　A scroll!
　　Peering down the hollow of the rolled paper, Sophie could see it had been wrapped around acylindrical object—the vial of vinegar, she assumed. Strangely, though, the paper around thevinegar was not the customary delicate papyrus but rather, vellum. That's odd, she thought, vinegarcan't dissolve a lambskin vellum. She looked again down the hollow of the scroll and realized theobject in the center was not a vial of vinegar after all. It was something else entirely.
　　"What's wrong?" Teabing asked. "Pull out the scroll."Frowning, Sophie grabbed the rolled vellum and the object around which it was wrapped, pullingthem both out of the container.
　　"That's not papyrus," Teabing said. "It's too heavy.""I know. It's padding.""For what? The vial of vinegar?""No." Sophie unrolled the scroll and revealed what was wrapped inside. "For this."When Langdon saw the object inside the sheet of vellum, his heart sank.
　　"God help us," Teabing said, slumping. "Your grandfather was a pitiless architect."Langdon stared in amazement. I see Saunière has no intention of making this easy.
　　On the table sat a second cryptex. Smaller. Made of black onyx. It had been nested within the first.
　　Saunière's passion for dualism. Two cryptexes. Everything in pairs. Double entendres. Male female.
　　Black nested within white. Langdon felt the web of symbolism stretching onward. White gives birthto black.
　　Every man sprang from woman.
　　White—female.
　　Black—male.
　　Reaching over, Langdon lifted the smaller cryptex. It looked identical to the first, except half thesize and black. He heard the familiar gurgle. Apparently, the vial of vinegar they had heard earlierwas inside this smaller cryptex.
　　"Well, Robert," Teabing said, sliding the page of vellum over to him.
　　"You'll be pleased to hear that at least we're flying in the right direction."Langdon examined the thick vellum sheet. Written in ornate penmanship was another four-lineverse. Again, in iambic pentameter. The verse was cryptic, but Langdon needed to read only as faras the first line to realize that Teabing's plan to come to Britain was going to pay off.
　　IN LONDON LIES A KNIGHT A POPE INTERRED.
　　The remainder of the poem clearly implied that the password for opening the second cryptex couldbe found by visiting this knight's tomb, somewhere in the city.
　　Langdon turned excitedly to Teabing. "Do you have any idea what knight this poem is referringto?"Teabing grinned. "Not the foggiest. But I know in precisely which crypt we should look."At that moment, fifteen miles ahead of them, six Kent police cars streaked down rain-soakedstreets toward Biggin Hill Executive Airport.
索非把密码盒揽在怀里，开始输入这几个字母，她内心充满了喜悦。"一个蕴含智慧的古词。"兰登与提彬在一旁看着，此时仿佛也停止了呼吸。
"S-O-F-"
"小心。"提彬敦促道："一定要小心。"
"I-A-"
索菲输入了最后一个字母。"好了。"她低声地说，抬头望了望其他人："我要把它打开了。""记住里面有醋瓶子。"兰登轻轻地说，既恐惧又喜悦："你要小心才是。"
索菲知道，如果密码盒与她年轻时打开的那些东西一样，那她只要紧紧抓住这圆筒的两头--而不必去管什么字母或号码，然后用力一拉，慢慢的朝相反方向施压。如果输入的数字或字母刚好与密码相符的话，那么圆柱体的一端就会自动滑开。就像打开相机镜头的盒盖，然后她就可以伸进手去，将卷起来的莎草纸写就的文件取出来。而这些文件，都绕着装醋的瓶子包了起来。不过，要是他们输入不正确的密码，索菲在圆石筒两端施加的外力会在里面形成一种推力，它就会向下作用到圆石筒，并对里面的醋玻璃瓶产生压力，如果用力推，最终就会把它损坏。
"要轻轻的拉。"她对自己说。
索菲以手心抱住圆柱体的两端时，提彬和兰登两人都挨了过来。索菲满怀着即将破译密码的喜悦，几乎忘记他们想要在里面找些什么。这就是郇山隐修会的拱心石吧。据提彬讲，它里面有一幅可以帮助我们找寻圣杯的地图，凭这张地图，就能找到抹大拉的玛利亚的坟墓，以及耶稣嫉妒在最后的晚餐上用过的珍贵器皿……还可以揭开无数不为人知的真相。
索菲紧紧抓住圆石筒，再次检查所有的字母是否与指示器上显示的相同。然后她慢慢地一推。然而什么事情也没有发生。她稍微再用力，突然，那圆石筒就像设计精巧的望远镜一样"砰"的一声开了，圆筒重的一头还落在她的手中。兰登和提彬紧张得差点要跳起来。索菲将圆筒的盖子放在桌上，倾斜着圆筒，眯着眼睛看看里面有些什么，她的心急速的跳动起来。
啊，有幅卷轴！
索菲往里瞅着那张卷起来的纸中间的空隙，她发现它被包在圆柱形的物体上，她认为那可能是只醋瓶。不过，奇怪的是，那张包在醋瓶子上的的纸并非通常用的薄莎草纸，而是羊皮纸。那就怪了，她心想。醋可溶解不了羊皮纸啊。她又看了看那幅卷轴的空隙，意识到中间的东西根本不是什么醋瓶子，纯粹是其他东西。
"怎么啦？"提彬问她："快把那卷轴取出来呀。"
索菲皱了皱眉，一把抓住那张卷起来的羊皮纸及被它包住的物品，将它们从圆筒里取出来。
"那不是莎草纸，这么重！"提彬说道。
"我知道，纸里面塞了些东西。"
"那是啥？是醋瓶子吗？"
"不是。"索菲把卷起来的羊皮纸摊开，露出了里面的东西。"是这个。"
兰登看到羊皮纸包住的东西，心不由一沉。
"上帝啊，你祖父是位多么了不起的建筑师！"提彬说着，倒在了座位上。
兰登惊奇地睁大了眼睛。"我看索尼埃才不会把事情弄得这么简单呢。"
桌上现在又多了一个密码盒，但比以前的那个更小，它用黑色玛瑙做就，一直放在前一个密码盒里。想来索尼埃肯定对二元论很感兴趣吧。两个密码盒。什么东西都成双的。
双重含义。男人女人。黑中有白，白中有黑。兰登只觉得由象征性符号编织成的大网正向外撒了开去。白衍生了黑。
每个男人都脱胎于女人。
白色--女人。
黑色--男人。
兰登伸过手去，将那个更小的密码盒举起来。它除了比大的小了一半，而且颜色之外，其外形与前一个并无二致。他听到熟悉的潺潺声。很明显，他们以前听说过的醋瓶子就在这个更小的密码盒里。
"好啦，罗伯特。"提彬一边说，一边把羊皮纸推给他。"你会很高兴听到的，至少方向我们是找对了。"兰登仔细打量羊皮纸。他又看到另一首用精美书法写就的四行诗，而且仍然采用了五步抑扬格。这首诗的含义非常模糊，不过他只需要读第一行，就知道提彬这次到英国来定会不虚此行。诗的第一行是这样的：在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
诗的其余部分清楚地表明：要打开第二个密码盒，就必须去拜访位于这座城市某个地方的骑士坟墓。
兰登激动地转身看着提彬："你认为这首诗指的是什么骑土呢？"
提彬咧嘴笑了笑。"总不会是最难猜的吧。可我知道，答案就在要找的坟墓里。"
就在此时，在他们前方十五英里开外的地方，六辆警车沿着浸满雨水的街道，向比金山机场奔去。
Chapter 79
Lieutenant Collet helped himself to a Perrier from Teabing's refrigerator and strode back outthrough the drawing room. Rather than accompanying Fache to London where the action was, hewas now baby-sitting the PTS team that had spread out through Chateau Villette.
　　So far, the evidence they had uncovered was unhelpful: a single bullet buried in the floor; a paperwith several symbols scrawled on it along with the words blade and chalice; and a bloody spikedbelt that PTS had told Collet was associated with the conservative Catholic group Opus Dei, whichhad caused a stir recently when a news program exposed their aggressive recruiting practices inParis.
　　Collet sighed. Good luck making sense of this unlikely mélange.
　　Moving down a lavish hallway, Collet entered the vast ballroom study, where the chief PTSexaminer was busy dusting for fingerprints. He was a corpulent man in suspenders.
　　"Anything?" Collet asked, entering.
　　The examiner shook his head. "Nothing new. Multiple sets matching those in the rest of the house.""How about the prints on the cilice belt?""Interpol is still working. I uploaded everything we found."Collet motioned to two sealed evidence bags on the desk. "And this?"The man shrugged. "Force of habit. I bag anything peculiar."Collet walked over. Peculiar?
　　"This Brit's a strange one," the examiner said. "Have a look at this." He sifted through the evidencebags and selected one, handing it to Collet.
　　The photo showed the main entrance of a Gothic cathedral—the traditional, recessed archway,narrowing through multiple, ribbed layers to a small doorway.
　　Collet studied the photo and turned. "This is peculiar?""Turn it over."On the back, Collet found notations scrawled in English, describing a cathedral's long hollow naveas a secret pagan tribute to a woman's womb. This was strange. The notation describing thecathedral's doorway, however, was what startled him. "Hold on! He thinks a cathedral's entrancerepresents a woman's..."The examiner nodded. "Complete with receding labial ridges and a nice little cinquefoil clitorisabove the doorway." He sighed. "Kind of makes you want to go back to church."Collet picked up the second evidence bag. Through the plastic, he could see a large glossyphotograph of what appeared to be an old document. The heading at the top read:
　　Les Dossiers Secrets—Number 4° lm1 249"What's this?" Collet asked.
　　"No idea. He's got copies of it all over the place, so I bagged it."Collet studied the document.
　　PRIEURE DE SIGN—LES NAUTONIERS/GRAND MASTERSJEAN DE GISORS1188-1220MARIE DE SAINT-CLAIR1220-1266GUILLAUME DE GlSORS1266-1307EDOUARD DE BAR1307-1336JEANNE DE BAR1336-1351JEAN DE SAINT-CLAIR1351-1366BLANCE D'EVREUX1366-1398NICOLAS FLAMEL1398-1418RENE D'ANJOU1418-1480IOLANDE DE BAR1480-1483SANDRO BOTTICELLI1483-1510LEONARDO DA VINCI1510-1519CONNETABLE DE BOURBON1519-1527FERDINAND DE GONZAQUE1527-1575LOUIS DE NEVERS1575-1595ROBERT FLUDD1595-1637J. VALENTIN ANDREA1637-1654ROBERT BOYLE1654-1691ISAAC NEWTON1691-1727CHARLES RADCLYFFE1727-1746CHARLES DE LORRAINE1746-1780MAXIMILIAN DE LORRAINE1780-1801CHARLES NODIER1801-1844VICTOR HUGO1844-1885CLAUDE DEBUSSY1885-1918JEAN COCTEAU1918-1963Prieuré de Sion? Collet wondered.
　　"Lieutenant?" Another agent stuck his head in. "The switchboard has an urgent call for CaptainFache, but they can't reach him. Will you take it?"Collet returned to the kitchen and took the call.
　　It was André Vernet.
　　The banker's refined accent did little to mask the tension in his voice. "I thought Captain Fache saidhe would call me, but I have not yet heard from him.""The captain is quite busy," Collet replied. "May I help you?""I was assured I would be kept abreast of your progress tonight."For a moment, Collet thought he recognized the timbre of the man's voice, but he couldn't quiteplace it. "Monsieur Vernet, I am currently in charge of the Paris investigation. My name isLieutenant Collet."There was a long pause on the line. "Lieutenant, I have another call coming in. Please excuse me. Iwill call you later." He hung up.
　　For several seconds, Collet held the receiver. Then it dawned on him. I knew I recognized thatvoice! The revelation made him gasp.
　　The armored car driver.
　　With the fake Rolex.
　　Collet now understood why the banker had hung up so quickly. Vernet had remembered the nameLieutenant Collet—the officer he blatantly lied to earlier tonight.
　　Collet pondered the implications of this bizarre development. Vernet is involved. Instinctively, heknew he should call Fache. Emotionally, he knew this lucky break was going to be his moment toshine.
　　He immediately called Interpol and requested every shred of information they could find on theDepository Bank of Zurich and its president, André Vernet.
科莱中尉从提彬家的冰箱里拿了一瓶毕雷矿泉水，然后迈着大步从客厅走回去。他没有跟法希去伦参与这次行动，而是留在维莱特庄园监管已在庄园里展开活动的PTS 工作小组。
到目前为止，他们所找到的证据根本没有任何用处。他们在地板里发现了一发子弹，还找到一张纸，上面潦草地画了些符号，还谢有"剑刃"以及"圣杯"等字样；还有一条血迹斑斑带有钉子的皮带，PTS 曾经告诉过科莱，这跟保守的天主教会团体--天主事工会有联系，该团体最近引起了一阵骚动，因为有媒体披露了他们在巴黎大肆招收教徒的内幕。
科莱叹了口气。但愿好运能让这些杂七杂八的东西变得有意义起来。科莱沿着空旷的走廊走去，进入宽阔的交际舞厅。PTS 的主检察官正在厅里忙着掸去指纹留下的印痕。他是一位体形肥胖、身着背带裤的男人。
"发现了什么没有？"科莱走进去问道。
检察官摇了摇头："我还没发现什么新东西。这栋房子其他地方有的东西这里都有。"
"那粗布带上的印迹呢？"
"国际刑警组织为此还在忙呢。我把找到的东西都交到上面去了。"
科莱向桌上放着的两个封好了的证据袋做了个手势："那这是怎么一回事？"
男人耸了耸肩："习惯使然。我每次看到古怪的玩意儿时，都要用袋子装起来。"
克莱走过去。古怪的玩意儿？
"这位英国人真怪。你看看这个吧。"检察官在证据袋里翻了一通，然后挑出一样东西，递给了科莱。
科莱看到照片上有扇哥特式教堂的大门，这是一座传统的、凹进去的拱门，它被分成了几层，越往上就越窄，直至变成了很小的通道。
科莱端详着张照片，转身问他："你觉得这个奇怪吗？"
"翻过来看看吧。"
科莱在照片背面看到用英语歪歪扭扭写的一些符号，它们把教堂那长而空荡荡的中殿描绘成异教徒私下献给女人子宫的赞礼。这就怪了。不过，那个描述教堂通道的符号倒是让他吃了一惊。"忍耐一下吧！他认为教堂大门代表女人的……"
检察官点点头，说："这个符号，形成了一道完整的向后倾斜的唇齿槽，颇像一个小而好看的梅花形阴蒂刻在大门的上方。"他叹了一口气："它似乎是在召唤你回教堂里去呢。"科莱捡起第二个证据袋。透过塑料袋，他看到一幅巨大而光滑的相片，看起来像是一份年代久远的文件。最顶上的标题是这样的：多西耶秘密--编号4lm"249.
"这是什么？"科莱问道。
"不知道，他这里还有很多份呢，所以我装了一份在袋子里。"
科莱认真地研究那份文件。
郇山隐修会历任长老以及大师的名单：让。德。吉索尔1188-1220玛丽。德。圣辛克莱1220-1266纪尧姆。德。吉索尔1266-1307爱德华。德巴尔1307-1336让娜。德巴尔1336-1351让。德。圣辛科莱1351-1366布朗斯。德。埃夫勒1366-1398尼古拉斯。弗莱默尔1398-1418勒内。德安茹1418-1480约兰德。德巴尔1480-1483桑德罗。波提切利1483-1510列昂纳多。达。芬奇1510-1519科内塔布勒。德。波旁1519-1527费尔迪南。德。贡扎克1527-1575路易。德。内韦尔1575-1595罗伯特。弗拉德1595-1637 J.瓦伦丁。安德烈亚1637-1654罗伯特。博伊尔1654-1691艾撒克。牛顿1691-1727查尔斯。拉德克利夫1727-1746夏尔。德洛兰1746-1780麦克西米莲。德洛兰1780-1801查尔斯。诺迪耶1801-1844维克多。雨果1844-1885克劳德。德彪西1885-1918让。考克托1918-1963郇山隐修会？科莱疑惑不解。
"中尉在吗？"另一位特工从外面探进头来问道。"电话总机处有个紧急电话要找法希上尉，但他们又找不到他，你要不要接一下？"
科莱回到厨房，操起了电话。
电话原来是安德烈。韦尔内打来的。
这位银行家优雅的腔调丝毫掩饰不了他内心的紧张情绪。"我原以为法希上尉会打电话给我呢，可我至今还没听到他的任何消息。""上尉忙得很呐。"科莱回答道："有什么事吗？"
"我相信今晚跟得上你们的进度。"
科莱有一阵子以为听出了这位男人的声音，但一时却难以对上号。"韦尔内先生，我现在巴黎接管调查工作，我是科莱中尉。"韦尔内在电话另一端沉默了良久，才说："中尉，我有电话要接，还请你多多包涵，以后我再给你打电话吧。"说完，他便挂了电话。
科莱将电话听筒握了好几秒钟，接着就想起来。"我认出了那个声音了！"这个新发现令他透不过气来。
他就是那位装甲车司机。戴着一块冒牌的"劳力士"手表。
科莱终于明白了这位银行家为何这么快就挂上电话。韦尔内想必也记起了科莱中尉的名字--今晚早些时候，他曾明目张胆的欺骗了这位警方的官员。
科莱寻思着这种奇异变化所隐藏的各种含义。韦尔内参与进来了。他本能的知道，他应该给法希打个电话，但在感情上，他知道这个幸运的变化将有助于他出尽风头。
他立刻打电话给国际刑警组织，要他们尽其所能帮忙查询任何有关苏黎世储蓄银行及其总裁韦尔内的信息。
Chapter 80
"Seat belts, please," Teabing's pilot announced as the Hawker 731 descended into a gloomymorning drizzle. "We'll be landing in five minutes."Teabing felt a joyous sense of homecoming when he saw the misty hills of Kent spreading widebeneath the descending plane. England was less than an hour from Paris, and yet a world away.
　　This morning, the damp, spring green of his homeland looked particularly welcoming. My time inFrance is over. I am returning to England victorious. The keystone has been found. The questionremained, of course, as to where the keystone would ultimately lead. Somewhere in the UnitedKingdom. Where exactly, Teabing had no idea, but he was already tasting the glory.
　　As Langdon and Sophie looked on, Teabing got up and went to the far side of the cabin, then slidaside a wall panel to reveal a discreetly hidden wall safe. He dialed in the combination, opened thesafe, and extracted two passports. "Documentation for Rémy and myself." He then removed a thickstack of fifty-pound notes. "And documentation for you two."Sophie looked leery. "A bribe?""Creative diplomacy. Executive airfields make certain allowances. A British customs official willgreet us at my hangar and ask to board the plane. Rather than permitting him to come on, I'll tellhim I'm traveling with a French celebrity who prefers that nobody knows she is in England—pressconsiderations, you know—and I'll offer the official this generous tip as gratitude for hisdiscretion."Langdon looked amazed. "And the official will accept?""Not from anyone, they won't, but these people all know me. I'm not an arms dealer, for heaven'ssake. I was knighted." Teabing smiled. "Membership has its privileges."Rémy approached up the aisle now, the Heckler Koch pistol cradled in his hand. "Sir, my agenda?"Teabing glanced at his servant. "I'm going to have you stay onboard with our guest until we return.
　　We can't very well drag him all over London with us."Sophie looked wary. "Leigh, I was serious about the French police finding your plane before wereturn."Teabing laughed. "Yes, imagine their surprise if they board and find Rémy."Sophie looked surprised by his cavalier attitude. "Leigh, you transported a bound hostage acrossinternational borders. This is serious.""So are my lawyers." He scowled toward the monk in the rear of the plane. "That animal broke intomy home and almost killed me. That is a fact, and Rémy will corroborate.""But you tied him up and flew him to London!" Langdon said.
　　Teabing held up his right hand and feigned a courtroom oath. "Your honor, forgive an eccentric oldknight his foolish prejudice for the British court system. I realize I should have called the Frenchauthorities, but I'm a snob and do not trust those laissez-faire French to prosecute properly. Thisman almost murdered me. Yes, I made a rash decision forcing my manservant to help me bring himto England, but I was under great stress. Mea culpa. Mea culpa."Langdon looked incredulous. "Coming from you, Leigh, that just might fly.""Sir?" the pilot called back. "The tower just radioed. They've got some kind of maintenanceproblem out near your hangar, and they're asking me to bring the plane directly to the terminalinstead."Teabing had been flying to Biggin Hill for over a decade, and this was a first. "Did they mentionwhat the problem is?""The controller was vague. Something about a gas leak at the pumping station? They asked me topark in front of the terminal and keep everyone onboard until further notice. Safety precaution.
　　We're not supposed to deplane until we get the all clear from airport authorities."Teabing was skeptical. Must be one hell of a gas leak. The pumping station was a good half milefrom his hangar.
　　Rémy also looked concerned. "Sir, this sounds highly irregular."Teabing turned to Sophie and Langdon. "My friends, I have an unpleasant suspicion that we areabout to be met by a welcoming committee."Langdon gave a bleak sigh. "I guess Fache still thinks I'm his man.""Either that," Sophie said, "or he is too deep into this to admit his error.
　　Teabing was not listening. Regardless of Fache's mind-set, action needed to be taken fast. Don'tlose sight of the ultimate goal. The Grail. We're so dose. Below them, the landing gear descendedwith a clunk.
　　"Leigh," Langdon said, sounding deeply remorseful, "I should turn myself in and sort this outlegally. Leave you all out of it.""Oh, heavens, Robert!" Teabing waved it off. "Do you really think they're going to let the rest of usgo? I just transported you illegally. Miss Neveu assisted in your escape from the Louvre, and wehave a man tied up in the back of the plane. Really now! We're all in this together.""Maybe a different airport?" Sophie said.
　　Teabing shook his head. "If we pull up now, by the time we get clearance anywhere else, ourwelcoming party will include army tanks."Sophie slumped.
　　Teabing sensed that if they were to have any chance of postponing confrontation with the Britishauthorities long enough to find the Grail, bold action had to be taken. "Give me a minute," he said,hobbling toward the cockpit.
　　"What are you doing?" Langdon asked.
　　"Sales meeting," Teabing said, wondering how much it would cost him to persuade his pilot toperform one highly irregular maneuver.
"请大家系好安全带。还有五分钟我们就要着陆了。提彬的飞机驾驶员大声宣布。此时"猎鹰者"731 正在下降，飞入清晨那细雨淅沥的灰蒙蒙的水雾里。
提彬看到，肯特郡雾蒙蒙的群山，正在不断往下降的飞机下面延伸开来。他心里自是充满了回家的喜悦。尽管乘飞机从巴黎到英格兰还用不了一个小时，然而毕竟隔了个世界。今天早上，他家乡那湿气逼人的春绿，看起来也格外的赏心悦目。我在法国的岁月已经结束了。我将回到我亲爱的英格兰，带着胜利的喜悦。拱心石找到了。当然喽，至于拱心石到底会把我们引向何方，这个问题仍没得到解决。也许是在英国的某个地方吧。究竟是什么地方，提彬还不知道，不过眼下，他正在品尝胜利的琼浆。
兰登与索菲在一边观望，提彬站起来，走到飞机座舱离他们很远的那一端，然后推开墙上的仪器板，露出了一个隐藏完好的保险柜。他输入暗码，打开保险柜，拿出两本护照。
"这是给我和雷米两人的。"然后他又拿出一大叠面值五十英镑的钞票。"还有两份是给你们两人的。"索菲一脸警惕的神色："你该不是想贿赂我们吧？"
"办事要灵活些嘛。比金山机场的工作人员会认你手中的钱。等我们一着陆，就会有英国海关官员到停机库招呼我们，还要上飞机来。我可不想让他进来，我会告诉他我在跟法国名人一道旅行呢。不过为避免媒体炒作起见，她不想让别人知道她在英格兰。你知道，作为感谢，我总要付一笔昂贵的小费给这位识相的官员。"兰登非常惊奇："那官员会收下这笔钱吗？"
"他们并不是逢人给钱都会收的，不过他们都认识我。看在上帝的份上，我又不是什么武器经销商。我是一位爵士。"他微微笑了笑："所以有格享受一些特权。"雷米此刻来到走廊，手中攥着德国黑克勒暨科赫公司生产的手枪。"阁下，我的日程表搁在哪儿呢？"
提彬瞥了仆人一眼："我要你和我的客人呆在飞机上等我们回来。我们现在还不能带他到伦敦各处乱跑。"索菲神色很是警惕："雷，我可是认真的，在我们回来之前，法国警方肯定会去找你的飞机的。"提彬朗声笑了起来："是啊，你想他们进得机去，看到雷米该有多吃惊吧！"
索菲对他的豪爽劲儿很是惊奇："雷爵士，你越境偷运了一名被你五花大绑的人质，这可不是小事一桩呐。""我的律师也这么认为。"他皱眉向机舱后面瞅了一眼："不过那畜生闯进我家，差一点把我杀了。那是无法否认的事实，雷米可以作证的。""可你把他捆住，又把他弄到伦敦来！"兰登突然插嘴。
提彬举起右手，仿佛是在法庭宣誓："阁下，请原谅一位古怪的老骑士对英国法庭制度愚蠢的偏见吧。我知道我本应报告法国当局，可我是个势利的人，我不相信你那些自由放任的法国人会做出公正的裁决。这人差点杀了我。是的，我强迫仆人帮我把他带到英格兰来，我的决定确实很草率，可是我的压力很大你知道吗？是我的错，都是我的错。"兰登不肯相信："压力来自你自己，雷，也许它刚刚离你而去了哩。"
"阁下。"驾驶员回头喊道："控制塔刚才发信号来，说在你停机库附近的路上出了些问题，所以他们叫我不要把飞机开往那里，而是直接飞往机场的航空集散站。"提彬架飞机来往比金山机场已经有十多年，然而还是第一次碰上这样的问题。"他们说了是什么问题没有？"
"调度员含糊其词，说大概油泵站泄漏了吧？他们要我把飞机停在航空集散站前，并说在没有得到进一步的通知之前，任何人都不能走下飞机，并说这是为了安全起见。只有等机场当局调查清楚后，我们才可以下机。"提彬半信半疑。去他妈的什么油泵泄漏，该不是里头有什么陷阱吧！油泵站离他的机库足足有半英里远呢。
雷米也很关心地说道："阁下，这似乎很不正常啊。"
提彬转身面对索菲与兰登两人："朋友们，我有一种不祥的预感，我怀疑前面有接机团欢迎我们呢。"兰登凄凉地哀叹一声："也许法希还将我当作是他那边的人呢。"
"要么如此。"索菲说："要么就是他太固执，不愿承认自己的错误。"
提彬没听他们说话。先别管他法希固执不固执，得马上采取措施。我们不能迷失最终的目标。我们离圣杯只剩一步之遥了。飞机在他们下面。"哐"的一声着陆了。
兰登一脸懊悔地说："雷爵士，我真该让警方把我抓起来，然后采用合法手段解决问题。我不该连累你们。""天哪，罗伯特！"提彬挥手打住："你真的以为他们会让其他人走吗？我把你带过来们已是同一条船上的人了。""也许这个机场不一样吧？"索菲说。
提彬摇了摇头："如果我们现在就停下来，那等我们在其他地方得到停机许可之前，接机的代表团就会开着坦克来接我们了。"索菲沮丧地倒在座位上。
提彬感到，如果他们要想推迟与英国当局产生冲突的时间，以便能争取时间找到圣杯，那他们就得大胆采取行动。"给我一点时间。"他说着，步履蹒跚地朝驾驶员座舱走去。
"你要干什么？"兰登问道。
"我得去参加个推销会议。"提彬说，他也不知道，要付出多大的代价，才能说服驾驶员去冒一次极不寻常的险。
Chapter 81
The Hawker is on final approach.
　　Simon Edwards—Executive Services Officer at Biggin Hill Airport—paced the control tower,squinting nervously at the rain-drenched runway. He never appreciated being awoken early on aSaturday morning, but it was particularly distasteful that he had been called in to oversee the arrestof one of his most lucrative clients. Sir Leigh Teabing paid Biggin Hill not only for a privatehangar but a "per landing fee" for his frequent arrivals and departures. Usually, the airfield hadadvance warning of his schedule and was able to follow a strict protocol for his arrival. Teabingliked things just so. The custom-built Jaguar stretch limousine that he kept in his hangar was to befully gassed, polished, and the day's London Times laid out on the back seat. A customs officialwas to be waiting for the plane at the hangar to expedite the mandatory documentation and luggagecheck. Occasionally, customs agents accepted large tips from Teabing in exchange for turning ablind eye to the transport of harmless organics—mostly luxury foods—French escargots, aparticularly ripe unprocessed Roquefort, certain fruits. Many customs laws were absurd, anyway,and if Biggin Hill didn't accommodate its clients, certainly competing airfields would. Teabing wasprovided with what he wanted here at Biggin Hill, and the employees reaped the benefits.
　　Edwards's nerves felt frayed now as he watched the jet coming in. He wondered if Teabing'spenchant for spreading the wealth had gotten him in trouble somehow; the French authoritiesseemed very intent on containing him. Edwards had not yet been told what the charges were, butthey were obviously serious. At the French authorities' request, Kent police had ordered the BigginHill air traffic controller to radio the Hawker's pilot and order him directly to the terminal ratherthan to the client's hangar. The pilot had agreed, apparently believing the far-fetched story of a gasleak.
　　Though the British police did not generally carry weapons, the gravity of the situation had broughtout an armed response team. Now, eight policemen with handguns stood just inside the terminalbuilding, awaiting the moment when the plane's engines powered down. The instant this happened,a runway attendant would place safety wedges under the tires so the plane could no longer move.
　　Then the police would step into view and hold the occupants at bay until the French police arrivedto handle the situation.
　　The Hawker was low in the sky now, skimming the treetops to their right. Simon Edwards wentdownstairs to watch the landing from tarmac level. The Kent police were poised, just out of sight,and the maintenance man waited with his wedges. Out on the runway, the Hawker's nose tipped up,and the tires touched down in a puff of smoke. The plane settled in for deceleration, streaking fromright to left in front of the terminal, its white hull glistening in the wet weather. But rather thanbraking and turning into the terminal, the jet coasted calmly past the access lane and continued ontoward Teabing's hangar in the distance.
　　All the police spun and stared at Edwards. "I thought you said the pilot agreed to come to theterminal!"Edwards was bewildered. "He did!"Seconds later, Edwards found himself wedged in a police car racing across the tarmac toward thedistant hangar. The convoy of police was still a good five hundred yards away as Teabing's Hawkertaxied calmly into the private hangar and disappeared. When the cars finally arrived and skidded toa stop outside the gaping hangar door, the police poured out, guns drawn.
　　Edwards jumped out too.
　　The noise was deafening.
　　The Hawker's engines were still roaring as the jet finished its usual rotation inside the hangar,positioning itself nose-out in preparation for later departure. As the plane completed its 180-degreeturn and rolled toward the front of the hangar, Edwards could see the pilot's face, whichunderstandably looked surprised and fearful to see the barricade of police cars.
　　The pilot brought the plane to a final stop, and powered down the engines. The police streamed in,taking up positions around the jet. Edwards joined the Kent chief inspector, who moved warilytoward the hatch. After several seconds, the fuselage door popped open.
　　Leigh Teabing appeared in the doorway as the plane's electronic stairs smoothly dropped down. Ashe gazed out at the sea of weapons aimed at him, he propped himself on his crutches and scratchedhis head. "Simon, did I win the policemen's lottery while I was away?" He sounded morebewildered than concerned.
　　Simon Edwards stepped forward, swallowing the frog in his throat. "Good morning, sir. I apologizefor the confusion. We've had a gas leak and your pilot said he was coming to the terminal.""Yes, yes, well, I told him to come here instead. I'm late for an appointment. I pay for this hangar,and this rubbish about avoiding a gas leak sounded overcautious.""I'm afraid your arrival has taken us a bit off guard, sir.""I know. I'm off my schedule, I am. Between you and me, the new medication gives me the tinkles.
　　Thought I'd come over for a tune-up."The policemen all exchanged looks. Edwards winced. "Very good, sir.""Sir," the Kent chief inspector said, stepping forward. "I need to ask you to stay onboard foranother half hour or so."Teabing looked unamused as he hobbled down the stairs. "I'm afraid that is impossible. I have amedical appointment." He reached the tarmac. "I cannot afford to miss it."The chief inspector repositioned himself to block Teabing's progress away from the plane. "I amhere at the orders of the French Judicial Police. They claim you are transporting fugitives from thelaw on this plane."Teabing stared at the chief inspector a long moment, and then burst out laughing. "Is this one ofthose hidden camera programs? Jolly good!"The chief inspector never flinched. "This is serious, sir. The French police claim you also may havea hostage onboard."Teabing's manservant Rémy appeared in the doorway at the top of the stairs. "I feel like a hostageworking for Sir Leigh, but he assures me I am free to go." Rémy checked his watch. "Master, wereally are running late." He nodded toward the Jaguar stretch limousine in the far corner of thehangar. The enormous automobile was ebony with smoked glass and whitewall tires. "I'll bring thecar." Rémy started down the stairs.
　　"I'm afraid we cannot let you leave," the chief inspector said. "Please return to your aircraft. Bothof you. Representatives from the French police will be landing shortly."Teabing looked now toward Simon Edwards. "Simon, for heaven's sake, this is ridiculous! Wedon't have anyone else on board. Just the usual—Rémy, our pilot, and myself. Perhaps you couldact as an intermediary? Go have a look onboard, and verify that the plane is empty."Edwards knew he was trapped. "Yes, sir. I can have a look.""The devil you will!" the Kent chief inspector declared, apparently knowing enough aboutexecutive airfields to suspect Simon Edwards might well lie about the plane's occupants in an effortto keep Teabing's business at Biggin Hill. "I will look myself."Teabing shook his head. "No you won't, Inspector. This is private property and until you have asearch warrant, you will stay off my plane. I am offering you a reasonable option here. Mr.
　　Edwards can perform the inspection.""No deal."Teabing's demeanor turned frosty. "Inspector, I'm afraid I don't have time to indulge in your games.
　　I'm late, and I'm leaving. If it is that important to you to stop me, you'll just have to shoot me."With that, Teabing and Rémy walked around the chief inspector and headed across the hangartoward the parked limousine.
　　The Kent chief inspector felt only distaste for Leigh Teabing as the man hobbled around him indefiance. Men of privilege always felt like they were above the law.
　　They are not. The chief inspector turned and aimed at Teabing's back. "Stop! I will fire!""Go ahead," Teabing said without breaking stride or glancing back. "My lawyers will fricasseeyour testicles for breakfast. And if you dare board my plane without a warrant, your spleen willfollow."No stranger to power plays, the chief inspector was unimpressed. Technically, Teabing was correctand the police needed a warrant to board his jet, but because the flight had originated in France,and because the powerful Bezu Fache had given his authority, the Kent chief inspector felt certainhis career would be far better served by finding out what it was on this plane that Teabing seemedso intent on hiding.
　　"Stop them," the inspector ordered. "I'm searching the plane."His men raced over, guns leveled, and physically blocked Teabing and his servant from reachingthe limousine.
　　Now Teabing turned. "Inspector, this is your last warning. Do not even think of boarding thatplane. You will regret it."Ignoring the threat, the chief inspector gripped his sidearm and marched up the plane's gangway.
　　Arriving at the hatch, he peered inside. After a moment, he stepped into the cabin. What the devil?
　　With the exception of the frightened-looking pilot in the cockpit, the aircraft was empty. Entirelydevoid of human life. Quickly checking the bathroom, the chairs, and the luggage areas, theinspector found no traces of anyone hiding... much less multiple individuals.
　　What the hell was Bezu Fache thinking? It seemed Leigh Teabing had been telling the truth.
　　The Kent chief inspector stood alone in the deserted cabin and swallowed hard. Shit. His faceflushed, he stepped back onto the gangway, gazing across the hangar at Leigh Teabing and hisservant, who were now under gunpoint near the limousine. "Let them go," the inspector ordered.
　　"We received a bad tip."Teabing's eyes were menacing even across the hangar. "You can expect a call from my lawyers.
　　And for future reference, the French police cannot be trusted."With that, Teabing's manservant opened the door at the rear of the stretch limousine and helped hiscrippled master into the back seat. Then the servant walked the length of the car, climbed in behindthe wheel, and gunned the engine. Policemen scattered as the Jaguar peeled out of the hangar.
　　"Well played, my good man," Teabing chimed from the rear seat as the limousine accelerated outof the airport. He turned his eyes now to the dimly lit front recesses of the spacious interior.
　　"Everyone comfy?"Langdon gave a weak nod. He and Sophie were still crouched on the floor beside the bound andgagged albino.
　　Moments earlier, as the Hawker taxied into the deserted hangar, Rémy had popped the hatch as theplane jolted to a stop halfway through its turn. With the police closing in fast, Langdon and Sophiedragged the monk down the gangway to ground level and out of sight behind the limousine. Thenthe jet engines had roared again, rotating the plane and completing its turn as the police cars cameskidding into the hangar.
　　Now, as the limousine raced toward Kent, Langdon and Sophie clambered toward the rear of thelimo's long interior, leaving the monk bound on the floor. They settled onto the long seat facingTeabing. The Brit gave them both a roguish smile and opened the cabinet on the limo's bar. "CouldI offer you a drink? Some nibblies? Crisps? Nuts? Seltzer?"Sophie and Langdon both shook their heads.
　　Teabing grinned and closed the bar. "So then, about this knight's tomb..."
"猎鹰者"号飞机终于靠近机场了。
西蒙。爱德华兹，比金山机场负责接待工作的一名长官，在控制塔里走来走去，不时紧张地看着那被雨水浸湿的跑道。他从不喜欢周六早上一大早就被人叫醒，不过特别让他倒胃口的是，竟然叫他负责逮捕一位对他来说好处多多的客户。雷。提彬爵士不但为他租借的私人停机库付了比金山机场一大笔钱，而且每次在他驾机来去时，总要付给他们一笔"着陆费"。机场会将他的飞行日程提前通知他，这样，他来时就可以严格遵照商定的协议执行。
提彬对此很是赞赏。他停靠在停机库里的专门定做的"美洲虎"加长豪华车，总有人给它全部上光并擦拭一新，当天的《伦敦时报》也会有人放在他的车后座上。一位海关官员将在停机库等着他的到来，以方便对他的入境证明以及行李进行检查。这里的海关工作人员不时会从提彬那里得到大笔的小费，作为交换，他们对他从外地运来的无害有机化学物--其中多半是些奢侈食品，如法国食用蜗牛，特别是宜于食用但尚未加工的羊乳干酪，还有一些水果--睁一只眼闭一只眼。不管怎么说，某些海关法律条文本身就很荒谬，而如果比金山机场不给客户提供方便，那肯定会有其他机场来跟它抢生意。比金山机场满足了提彬的要求，也从他那里得到了回报。
爱德华兹看到那架飞机，全身的神经都紧绷起来。他不知道提彬乐善好施的品性是否已莫名其妙地使他陷入麻烦之中。法国当局似乎有意对他进行抵制。但还没人告诉他是因为什么罪名。不过，他们显然太认真了。肯特警方根据法国当局的要求，命令比金山机场的航班调度员用无线电通知"猎鹰者"号的驾驶员，命令他直接把飞机开到机场的航空集散站，而不是此客户的私人停机库。而这位驾驶员竟然也毫无异议，很明显他相信了八辈子也打不着的所谓泄漏事件。
尽管英国警方通常都不携带武器，然而形势的严峻迫使他们组织了一支全副武装的别动队。此刻，八名荷枪实弹的警察就站在机场候车室里，等待飞机的到来。等飞机一着陆，机场的工作人员就会跑过去，在飞机轮胎下面钉上楔子，这样飞机就不能动了。然后警察就会出动，机上的人员就会束手就擒，单等法国警方前来控制局面。
"猎鹰者"号此时已经离地面很近了，它的右舷飞速从树梢上掠过。西蒙。爱德华兹走下楼来，站在停机坪的水平线上注视着飞机的着陆。肯特警方已蓄势待发，只是目前隐藏起来而已。而那名维修工也已经拿着楔子在旁边等待。在跑道的外头。"猎鹰者"号的前端翘了起来，飞机的轮胎刚挨着地面，便冒出一股青烟。飞机逐渐减速，在航空集散站前从右往左地飞奔，它那银色的机身，在这寒冷的清晨，闪烁着冷冷的光。然而飞机并没停下驶入航空集散站，而是平静地沿着机场的跑道滑行，继续往远处提彬的私人停机库驶去。
所有的警察将爱德华兹团团围住，瞪着眼睛看着他："我们还以为驾驶员同意把飞机开到航空集散站来呢。"爱德华兹一脸茫然："他说过的呀。"
很快，爱德华兹被裹挟进警车里，然后警车穿过停机坪向远处的停机库疾驶而去。警察的车队还远在五百码以外，而提彬的"猎鹰者"号飞机已经平稳地滑进私人停机库里，消失了。所有的警车终于来到了停机库，并猛地在开着的门前停住，警察们拔出枪，从车里蜂拥而出。
爱德华兹也跳了出来。
声音震耳欲聋。
那架已经停在机库里的螺旋桨飞机虽然已经停止了旋转，但引擎还在发出震天动地的响声。"猎鹰者"号机身朝外准备再次起飞，飞机来了个180 度大转弯，然后摇晃着向停机库的前面驶去。爱德华兹看到了驾驶员的那张脸，他露出既惊讶又恐惧的神色。面对这么多警车的包围，有这样的反应是完全可以理解的。
驾驶员终于将飞机停了下来，并关小了引擎的声音。警察蜂拥而至，在飞机四周摆好了架势。爱德华兹跟着肯特警察局的检察官小心翼翼地向飞机的舱口走去。过了几秒钟，机舱的门"砰"的一声打开了。
雷。提彬出现在舱口，飞机的电动舷梯平稳地放了下来。他一边紧盯着外面数不清的对准他的枪，一边将身子倚靠在拐杖上。他搔了搔头，说："西蒙，我不在的时候，你是不是中了警察的六合彩票了？"他的语气里，更多的是迷茫，而不是关切。
爱德华兹走上前，他强咽下沁入喉中的雾水。"早上好，爵士，我为造成这样混乱的局面向你道歉。我们发生了泄漏事故，可你的驾驶员答应把飞机开到航空集散站去呢。""是的是的，不过是我让他到这里来。我有个约会要迟到了。我付了停机库的钱，但你们竟胡说什么是为避免油泵泄漏的事故起见，这未免太小心了吧。""爵士，恐怕这次你是趁我们没做准备就跑来的吧。"
"这我知道，我是没作此行安排。我觉得，你我之间的关系，真得用新药方来好好处理一下哩。我还以为我是到这里来休养的呢。"警察们彼此交换着眼色。爱德华兹眨了眨眼睛，说："很好，爵士。"
肯特郡的检察官走上前，说："恐怕你还得在飞机上再等半小时左右。"
提彬并不为之所动，他摇摇晃晃地走下舷梯："这不可能。我跟医生已经约好了。"他来到停机坪，说："如果失约我可担待不起。"
检察官再次挺身挡住了提彬的去路，不让他从飞机上下来。"我是奉法国警署之命而来的。他们说在你的飞机上藏有至今逍遥法外的逃犯。"提彬顶了肯特警察局的检察官很长一段时间，突然大笑起来："你该不是在玩什么暗箱游戏吧？太有意思啦！"检察官毫不退让："先生，我可是认真的。法国警方说你飞机上可能还藏有一名人质。"
仆人雷米出现在舷梯顶端的舱口。"我倒是很想找个人质给雷爵士干活呢，但他向我保证说我随时可以走。"雷米看看表。"先生，我们真的要迟到了。"他朝停机库很远的角落里那辆"美洲虎"加长高级轿车点了点头。这辆庞大的汽车全身漆黑，车窗玻璃呈灰黑色，轮胎是白色的。"我去把车开过来。"雷米开始向舷梯下走来。
"我们不能让你走。"检察官说道："你们两位还是请回吧。法国警方马上会来这里。"
提彬于是望着西蒙。爱德华兹："西蒙，看在上帝的份上，这太荒唐了吧！飞机上根本没其他人。跟往常一样，只有雷米、驾驶员和我三个人。或许你可以做中间人。你到飞机上去瞧瞧，看是否还有其他什么人。"爱德华兹觉得自己身不由己了。"好的，爵士，我去看看。"
"看你个头！"肯特警察局的长官高声叫嚷，很明显他对比金山机场的事早有所闻，所以他怀疑西蒙。爱德华兹可能会撒谎，以便能留住提彬这样的客户，继续与比金山机场交往。"我自己去。"
提彬摇摇头。"你不行的，长官。这可是私人财产。如果你没有搜查令，我看你还是乖乖地呆一边去吧。在此，我也给你一个总算说得过去的机会。我只允许爱德华兹先生到上面去查。""你想得倒美！"
提彬的表情顿时冷淡下来："长官，我想我没时间跟你玩什么把戏。我跟医生的预约已经迟到了，我得走了。如果你非要阻止，就朝我开枪吧。"提彬说着，便和雷米绕过这位长官，穿过停机库，向停靠在角落里的豪华轿车走去。
肯特警察局的长官望着提彬挑衅性地从他身边蹒跚而过，不禁对此人萌生一种说不出来的厌恶。来自特权阶层的人，总觉得自己能凌驾于法律之上。
但他们是不行的。那位长官转过身，瞄准了提彬的背："站住！否则我要开枪了。"
"那你就开吧。"提彬头也不回，继续大步流星向前走。"我的律师会一刀剁了你下面的家伙，煮熟当早饭吃。如果你没搜查证就跑到我的飞机上去，那你是活得不耐烦了。"装腔作势，吓唬谁呀。警察局的检察官对此无动于衷。尽管从正常的法律程序上讲，提彬是对的，警方要登上他的飞机，必须有证件才行，然而由于这次飞行的始发地是在法国，而且神通广大的贝祖。法希给了他这样的权力，所以肯特警察局的这位长官自信，如果他能在飞机上找到提彬似乎刻意隐藏的东西，那他今后的日子就好过多了。
"截住他们。"他大声命令道："我到飞机上去看看。"
他的下属即刻跑过去，拿枪瞄准了提彬和雷米，并用身体挡住了他们走向轿车的去路。
提彬回过头："长官，我可是最后一次警告你。要上我的飞机，你最好想都别想。不然的话，你会后悔的。"然而长官没有理会，他紧抓住扶手，朝飞机的舷梯上爬去。他来到舱口，往里面瞧了几眼。过了一会，他才走进机舱。他到底看到什么了？
只有那个驾驶员满脸恐惧地蜷缩在飞机的座舱里，除此以外，整架飞机都是空荡荡的，连个人影也没有。他快速的在浴室里、椅子中间以及行李区里搜查了一遍，却没有发现任何东西--更不用说有人了。
贝祖。法希上尉究竟在想些什么？雷。提彬似乎并没有撒谎呢。
这位肯特警察局的检察官孤零零地站在空旷的机舱里，拼命地咽下几口气。妈的！他红着脸回到舷梯口，目不转睛地看了对面的提彬与他的仆人几眼。此时，他俩站在豪华汽车的附近，正处在枪口的威胁之下。"放他们走。"长官命令道："我们接到错误的情报了。"
即使隔着那么远，提彬的那双眼睛仍然让人不寒而栗："我的律师会打电话找你的。另外就是，你们以后再也不要随便相信法国的警察了。"
提彬的仆人打开那辆加长豪华车的后门，扶着瘸腿的主人坐到车后的椅子上，接着走到车的前方，挨着车轮钻了进去，然后开动马达。警察们慌忙散开。"美洲虎"飞速地冲出了停机库。
"伙计，戏演的真棒！"等到轿车加快速度离开了机场，提彬在车后高兴的嚷嚷。他又掉转头，看着偌大的车里模糊不清的前方，问了一句："各位，感觉还舒服吧？"
兰登无力的点了点头。他和索菲还蜷缩在地上，那个被绑起来并被堵上嘴的白化病患者，此刻就躺在他们身旁。
早些时候，当"猎鹰者"号驶入空荡荡的停机库时，雷米在飞机中途转弯时还没等它停下来，就已经先把舱口打开了。在警察紧跟而来的那会儿，兰登与索菲一把将修道士拖下舷梯。很快躲到车子的后面，不见了。接着飞机的引擎声又惊天动地地响起来，等警车赶到停车库，飞机已经转了180 度的弯。
此刻，这辆豪华轿车正飞快的向肯特郡奔去，兰登和索菲爬到车后，将绑着的修道士撂在地上。他们找了一张面对着提彬的长椅坐下。那名英国佬狡黠的朝他们一笑，打开车内吧台的橱柜，冲他们说道："两位要不要喝点饮料，比如塞尔查矿泉水，或者吃点饼干、土豆片、果仁什么的？"
索菲和兰登一起摇头。
提彬咧嘴笑了笑，关上了橱柜："那好，那我们开始研究这骑士的坟墓吧……"
Chapter 82
"Fleet Street?" Langdon asked, eyeing Teabing in the back of the limo. There's a crypt on FleetStreet? So far, Leigh was being playfully cagey about where he thought they would find the"knight's tomb," which, according to the poem, would provide the password for opening thesmaller cryptex.
　　Teabing grinned and turned to Sophie. "Miss Neveu, give the Harvard boy one more shot at theverse, will you?"Sophie fished in her pocket and pulled out the black cryptex, which was wrapped in the vellum.
　　Everyone had decided to leave the rosewood box and larger cryptex behind in the plane'sstrongbox, carrying with them only what they needed, the far more portable and discreet blackcryptex. Sophie unwrapped the vellum and handed the sheet to Langdon.
　　Although Langdon had read the poem several times onboard the jet, he had been unable to extractany specific location. Now, as he read the words again, he processed them slowly and carefully,hoping the pentametric rhythms would reveal a clearer meaning now that he was on the ground.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　His labor's fruit a Holy wrath incurred.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　The language seemed simple enough. There was a knight buried in London. A knight who laboredat something that angered the Church. A knight whose tomb was missing an orb that should bepresent. The poem's final reference—Rosy flesh and seeded womb—was a clear allusion to MaryMagdalene, the Rose who bore the seed of Jesus.
　　Despite the apparent straightforwardness of the verse, Langdon still had no idea who this knightwas or where he was buried. Moreover, once they located the tomb, it sounded as if they would besearching for something that was absent. The orb that ought be on his tomb?
　　"No thoughts?" Teabing clucked in disappointment, although Langdon sensed the Royal Historianwas enjoying being one up. "Miss Neveu?"She shook her head.
　　"What would you two do without me?" Teabing said. "Very well, I will walk you through it. It'squite simple really. The first line is the key. Would you read it please?"Langdon read aloud. " 'In London lies a knight a Pope interred.' ""Precisely. A knight a Pope interred." He eyed Langdon. "What does that mean to you?"Langdon shrugged. "A knight buried by a Pope? A knight whose funeral was presided over by aPope?"Teabing laughed loudly. "Oh, that's rich. Always the optimist, Robert. Look at the second line.
　　This knight obviously did something that incurred the Holy wrath of the Church. Think again.
　　Consider the dynamic between the Church and the Knights Templar. A knight a Pope interred?""A knight a Pope killed?" Sophie asked.
　　Teabing smiled and patted her knee. "Well done, my dear. A knight a Pope buried. Or killed."Langdon thought of the notorious Templar round-up in 1307—unlucky Friday thethirteenth—when Pope Clement killed and interred hundreds of Knights Templar. "But there mustbe endless graves of 'knights killed by Popes.' ""Aha, not so! "Teabing said. "Many of them were burned at the stake and tossed unceremoniouslyinto the Tiber River. But this poem refers to a tomb. A tomb in London. And there are few knightsburied in London." He paused, eyeing Langdon as if waiting for light to dawn. Finally he huffed.
　　"Robert, for heaven's sake! The church built in London by the Priory's military arm—the KnightsTemplar themselves!""The Temple Church?" Langdon drew a startled breath. "It has a crypt?""Ten of the most frightening tombs you will ever see."Langdon had never actually visited the Temple Church, although he'd come across numerousreferences in his Priory research. Once the epicenter of all Templar/Priory activities in the UnitedKingdom, the Temple Church had been so named in honor of Solomon's Temple, from which theKnights Templar had extracted their own title, as well as the Sangreal documents that gave them alltheir influence in Rome. Tales abounded of knights performing strange, secretive rituals within theTemple Church's unusual sanctuary. "The Temple Church is on Fleet Street?""Actually, it's just off Fleet Street on Inner Temple Lane." Teabing looked mischievous. "I wantedto see you sweat a little more before I gave it away.""Thanks.""Neither of you has ever been there?"Sophie and Langdon shook their heads.
　　"I'm not surprised," Teabing said. "The church is hidden now behind much larger buildings. Fewpeople even know it's there. Eerie old place. The architecture is pagan to the core."Sophie looked surprised. "Pagan?""Pantheonically pagan!" Teabing exclaimed. "The church is round. The Templars ignored thetraditional Christian cruciform layout and built a perfectly circular church in honor of the sun." Hiseyebrows did a devilish dance. "A not so subtle howdy-do to the boys in Rome. They might as wellhave resurrected Stonehenge in downtown London."Sophie eyed Teabing. "What about the rest of the poem?"The historian's mirthful air faded. "I'm not sure. It's puzzling. We will need to examine each of theten tombs carefully. With luck, one of them will have a conspicuously absent orb."Langdon realized how close they really were. If the missing orb revealed the password, they wouldbe able to open the second cryptex. He had a hard time imagining what they might find inside.
　　Langdon eyed the poem again. It was like some kind of primordial crossword puzzle. A five-letterword that speaks of the Grail? On the plane, they had already tried all the obviouspasswords—GRAIL, GRAAL, GREAL, VENUS, MARIA, JESUS, SARAH—but the cylinder hadnot budged. Far too obvious. Apparently there existed some other five-letter reference to the Rose'sseeded womb. The fact that the word was eluding a specialist like Leigh Teabing signified toLangdon that it was no ordinary Grail reference.
　　"Sir Leigh?" Rémy called over his shoulder. He was watching them in the rearview mirror throughthe open divider. "You said Fleet Street is near Blackfriars Bridge?""Yes, take Victoria Embankment.""I'm sorry. I'm not sure where that is. We usually go only to the hospital."Teabing rolled his eyes at Langdon and Sophie and grumbled, "I swear, sometimes it's like baby-sitting a child. One moment please. Help yourself to a drink and savory snacks." He left them,clambering awkwardly toward the open divider to talk to Rémy.
　　Sophie turned to Langdon now, her voice quiet. "Robert, nobody knows you and I are in England."Langdon realized she was right. The Kent police would tell Fache the plane was empty, and Fachewould have to assume they were still in France. We are invisible. Leigh's little stunt had just boughtthem a lot of time.
　　"Fache will not give up easily," Sophie said. "He has too much riding on this arrest now."Langdon had been trying not to think about Fache. Sophie had promised she would do everythingin her power to exonerate Langdon once this was over, but Langdon was starting to fear it mightnot matter. Fache could easily be pan of this plot. Although Langdon could not imagine theJudicial Police tangled up in the Holy Grail, he sensed too much coincidence tonight to disregardFache as a possible accomplice. Fache is religions, and he is intent on pinning these murders onme. Then again, Sophie had argued that Fache might simply be overzealous to make the arrest.
　　After all, the evidence against Langdon was substantial. In addition to Langdon's name scrawled onthe Louvre floor and in Saunière's date book, Langdon now appeared to have lied about hismanuscript and then run away. At Sophie's suggestion.
　　"Robert, I'm sorry you're so deeply involved," Sophie said, placing her hand on his knee. "But I'mvery glad you're here."The comment sounded more pragmatic than romantic, and yet Langdon felt an unexpected flickerof attraction between them. He gave her a tired smile. "I'm a lot more fun when I've slept."Sophie was silent for several seconds. "My grandfather asked me to trust you. I'm glad I listened tohim for once.""Your grandfather didn't even know me.""Even so, I can't help but think you've done everything he would have wanted. You helped me findthe keystone, explained the Sangreal, told me about the ritual in the basement." She paused.
　　"Somehow I feel closer to my grandfather tonight than I have in years. I know he would be happyabout that."In the distance, now, the skyline of London began to materialize through the dawn drizzle. Oncedominated by Big Ben and Tower Bridge, the horizon now bowed to the Millennium Eye—acolossal, ultramodern Ferris wheel that climbed five hundred feet and afforded breathtaking viewsof the city. Langdon had attempted to board it once, but the "viewing capsules" reminded him ofsealed sarcophagi, and he opted to keep his feet on the ground and enjoy the view from the airybanks of the Thames.
　　Langdon felt a squeeze on his knee, pulling him back, and Sophie's green eyes were on him. Herealized she had been speaking to him. "What do you think we should do with the Sangrealdocuments if we ever find them?" she whispered.
　　"What I think is immaterial," Langdon said. "Your grandfather gave the cryptex to you, and youshould do with it what your instinct tells you he would want done.""I'm asking for your opinion. You obviously wrote something in that manuscript that made mygrandfather trust your judgment. He scheduled a private meeting with you. That's rare.""Maybe he wanted to tell me I have it all wrong.""Why would he tell me to find you unless he liked your ideas? In your manuscript, did you supportthe idea that the Sangreal documents should be revealed or stay buried?""Neither. I made no judgment either way. The manuscript deals with the symbology of the sacredfeminine—tracing her iconography throughout history. I certainly didn't presume to know wherethe Grail is hidden or whether it should ever be revealed.""And yet you're writing a book about it, so you obviously feel the information should be shared.""There's an enormous difference between hypothetically discussing an alternate history of Christ,and..." He paused.
　　"And what?""And presenting to the world thousands of ancient documents as scientific evidence that the NewTestament is false testimony.""But you told me the New Testament is based on fabrications."Langdon smiled. "Sophie, every faith in the world is based on fabrication. That is the definition offaith—acceptance of that which we imagine to be true, that which we cannot prove. Every religiondescribes God through metaphor, allegory, and exaggeration, from the early Egyptians throughmodern Sunday school. Metaphors are a way to help our minds process the unprocessible. Theproblems arise when we begin to believe literally in our own metaphors.""So you are in favor of the Sangreal documents staying buried forever?""I'm a historian. I'm opposed to the destruction of documents, and I would love to see religiousscholars have more information to ponder the exceptional life of Jesus Christ.""You're arguing both sides of my question.""Am I? The Bible represents a fundamental guidepost for millions of people on the planet, in muchthe same way the Koran, Torah, and Pali Canon offer guidance to people of other religions. If youand I could dig up documentation that contradicted the holy stories of Islamic belief, Judaic belief,Buddhist belief, pagan belief, should we do that? Should we wave a flag and tell the Buddhists thatwe have proof the Buddha did not come from a lotus blossom? Or that Jesus was not born of aliteral virgin birth? Those who truly understand their faiths understand the stories aremetaphorical."Sophie looked skeptical. "My friends who are devout Christians definitely believe that Christliterally walked on water, literally turned water into wine, and was born of a literal virgin birth.""My point exactly," Langdon said. "Religious allegory has become a part of the fabric of reality.
　　And living in that reality helps millions of people cope and be better people.""But it appears their reality is false."Langdon chuckled. "No more false than that of a mathematical cryptographer who believes in theimaginary number 'i' because it helps her break codes."Sophie frowned. "That's not fair."A moment passed.
　　"What was your question again?" Langdon asked.
　　"I can't remember."He smiled. "Works every time."
"舰队街？"兰登在车后看着提彬，问道。舰队街藏有墓穴？迄今为止，雷爵士竟然还在耍他的把戏，对将在何处找到那"骑士的坟墓"只字不提。然而据那首诗上讲，要找到密码从而解开那更小密码盒里的谜，就非得找到这座"骑士的坟墓"不可。
提彬张嘴笑了笑，转身对索菲说："奈芙小姐，让这位哈佛大学的高材生再看看那首诗怎么样？"
索菲在口袋里翻了一阵，然后把用羊皮纸包着的黑色密码盒拿出来。大家一致决定将紫檀木盒子以及更大的密码盒搁在一边，放进飞机的保险箱里，只带上他们急需的、更轻便、更让人费脑筋的黑色密码盒。索菲摊开羊皮纸，将纸条递给了兰登。
兰登刚才虽然在飞机上已将这首诗读了好几遍，但他还是未能想出坟墓的具体位置。
这回他又在读着那些诗句，缓慢而又认真地，希望能从五步抑扬格的节奏里找到更为明晰的意义--既然现在，他们已从天空来到了坚实的土地。
诗是这样写的：在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
他的行为触怒了上帝，因为违背了他的旨意。
你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。
它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。
诗的语言似乎简洁明了，说是有一位骑士葬在伦敦，这位骑士大概做了什么事情触怒了天主教会。一个本该在他的坟墓里的圆球不见了。诗在最后提到了"玫瑰般肌肤与受孕的子宫"，显然是指抹大拉的玛丽亚--这朵怀上耶稣基督种的"玫瑰"。
尽管诗歌简单明了，兰登依然不知道这位骑士是谁，葬在哪里。而且一旦确定了坟墓的位置，他们似乎就得寻找什么遗失的东西。那个本该在坟墓里的圆球？
"有什么想法吗？"提彬咂着嘴巴，说。他似乎有些失望，尽管兰登觉得这位皇家学会的历史学家正为自己有了想法而高兴不已。提彬转而问："奈芙小姐，你呢？"
她摇了摇头。
"那你们两个如果没了我，可怎么办啊？"提彬打趣地说："很好，我会陪你们一路玩到底的。其实说来非常简单，第一句就是关键。你读读看怎么样？"
兰登朗声读起来："在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
"很好，一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"他盯着兰登："你认为这是什么意思？"
兰登耸了耸肩："是不是这位骑士是由教皇来埋葬他的？或者是他的葬礼是由教皇来主持的？"
提彬大声笑了起来："哈，真有意思。罗伯特，你总是个乐观主义者。你再看下句。这位骑士很明显做了什么事情触犯了教会的神威。你再想想，考虑一下教会与圣殿骑士之间的关系。你就会明白它的含义。""难道骑士是被教皇处死的？"索菲问道。
提彬微笑着拍拍她的膝盖："亲爱的，你真棒。一位被教皇活埋的骑士，或者是被教皇杀死的骑士。"兰登猛地想起发生在1307 年的那次臭名昭著的围剿圣殿骑士的事件--在那个充满不祥气氛的第十三日，黑色星期五，教皇克雷芒杀害并活埋了成百上千的圣殿骑士。"不过，肯定有无数被教皇杀害的骑士们的坟墓。
"哦，不对不对。"提彬赶忙说道："他们大多数人是被绑在刑柱上烧死的，然后被扔进台伯河，连个仪式也没有。然而这首诗指的是一个坟墓，一个位于伦敦的坟墓，不过在伦敦，很少有骑士是被烧死的啊。"他顿了顿，盯视着兰登，一动也不动，就像在盼着曙光盼着黎明。他终于愤怒了："罗伯特，看在上帝的份上，它就在由郇山隐修会的军队--圣殿骑士们亲自建造于伦敦的教堂里啊！""你是说圣殿教堂？"兰登吃了一惊，不由得倒抽了一口气："它那里有坟墓？"
"当然，在那里，你会看到十个最让你触目惊心的坟墓。"
实际上，兰登从没去过圣殿教堂，尽管他在研究郇山隐修会的过程中，曾无数次参考过有关它的资料。圣殿教堂曾是所有圣殿骑士们和郇山隐修会的活动中心，是为了向所罗门的圣庙表示敬意。圣殿骑士们的头衔，就是这座教堂赐封的。另外，《圣杯文献》也使他们在罗马产生了巨大的影响。有关骑士在圣殿教堂别具一格的礼拜堂里举行神秘而又奇异仪式的传说铺天盖地，层出不穷。
"圣殿教堂位于舰队街？"
"实际上，它就在离圣殿教堂内通道上的舰队街不远的地方。"提彬俏皮地说："我本不打算告诉你，想让你流更多的汗水，费更多的脑筋。""有劳费心了。"
"你俩都没去过那里？"
兰登和索菲都摇了摇头。
"我并不觉得奇怪，教堂现隐藏在比它大得多的建筑物后面。甚至很少有人知道它在那里。那真是阴森可怕的地方。教堂从里到外，都带有异教的建筑色彩。"索菲惊讶地问："带有异教的建筑色彩？"
"绝对是异教徒的建筑风格！"提彬大声说道："教堂的外形呈圆形。圣殿骑士们为了表达对太阳的敬意，抛弃了传统的基督教十字形的建筑布局和模式，建造了这座完全呈圆形的教堂。"他的眉毛狠狠的跳动了一下。"这就触动了罗马教廷的僧侣们敏感的神经。这与他们在伦敦市区复兴史前巨石柱的异教风格，也许没什么区别。"索菲瞄了提彬一眼："那诗的其余部分呢？"
这位皇家历史学家的高兴劲儿逐渐消失了。"我也说不准。这真让人为难。我们还得对那十座坟墓逐一认真检查呢。如果运气好，也许就会找到那座一眼就知道没有圆球的坟墓。"兰登意识到他们现在离目标有多近了。如果那个失踪的圆球会泄露他们要找的密码，那他们就可以打开第二个密码盒。他费了很大的劲，想象着他们会在里面发现什么。
兰登又开始读起子那首诗。它有点类似于原始的纵横字谜游戏。一个能揭开圣杯的秘密，由五个字母组成的词？在飞机上，他们已试过所有明显由五个字母组成的词，如GRAIL，GRAAL，GREAL，VENUS，MARIA，JESUS，SARAH 等等。这些词太明显了，显然还有其他一些由五个字母组成并与这朵圣洁"玫瑰"的子宫有关联的词。即使雷。提彬这样的专家也不能一下找到，对兰登来说，这就意味着它绝不是一个普通的词。
"雷爵士！"雷米回头喊道。他正通过敞开的隔离间，从车上的后视镜注视着他们。"你是说舰队街就在布莱克弗莱尔桥附近？"
"对，要经过维多利亚大堤。"
"对不起，我不知道是在哪里。我们平时只去医院。"
提彬朝兰登和索菲滚动着眼珠子："妈的，有时候我真觉得是在带一个小孩子。你们稍等一会。自己动手喝点饮料，吃点零食吧。"他站起身，笨拙的爬到敞开着的隔离间，去跟雷米说话。
索菲转向兰登，轻轻地说："罗伯特，现在无人知道我们在英格兰呢。"
兰登知道她说的是实话。肯特郡的警察局肯定会告诉法希，飞机里什么东西也没有，因此法希难免会以为他们还没离开法国。我们现在在暗处呢。不过，雷爵士玩弄的把戏却浪费了他们大量的时间。
"法希是决不会轻易放弃的。"索菲说道："他这次是铁了心，非要把我们抓住，才肯罢休。"兰登一直不愿考虑有关法希的事情。尽管索菲曾答应过他，说等这件事办完，她将尽最大的努力，采取一切补救措施为他开脱罪责。然而他开始担心，这样做恐怕无济于事。
法希说不定能轻易成为这次阴谋中的一部分哩。尽管兰登无法想象，警察署竟然会在处理圣杯这事情上乱成一团，但他还是觉得，今天晚上的巧合实在是太多子。因此，他没法不将法希视作隐藏在背后的帮凶。法希是名教徒，然而他却蓄意将谋杀的一系列罪名栽赃到我的头上。还有就是，索菲曾说过，法希也许对这次追捕显得有点热心过头了。然而不管怎样，眼下对兰登不利的证据实在太多了，除了卢浮宫里的地板上、索尼埃的日志里歪歪斜斜地写有他的名字外，这次兰登似乎再次撒了个弥天大谎，然后逃之夭夭。这还是索菲在提醒他呢。
"罗伯特，我很抱歉把你牵扯进来，而且让你陷得这么深。"索菲说着，把手搭在他的膝盖上。"可有你在身边我真的很高兴。"
她的话绝非夸大其词，而纯粹是肺腑之言，然而兰登还是觉得陡然生出几分意想不到的亲近来。他疲惫地给了她一个微笑："等我睡了觉，你会发现我更有意思哩。"
索菲沉默了数秒："我祖父叫我相信你，我很高兴好歹听了他一次。"
"可你祖父甚至还不认识我呢。"
"即使是这样，我也认为你做了他想让你做的一切。你帮我找到了拱心石，给我讲述圣杯的来历，又跟我谈了地下室里的"神婚"仪式。"她停了片刻："不管怎么说，我觉得今晚比以前任何时候跟祖父都靠得近了。我想他老人家肯定会很高兴的。"透过清晨的蒙蒙细雨，远处的伦敦开始隐约可见。以前，伦敦最引人注目的是大笨钟与塔桥，然而现在被抢眼的"千禧眼"所取代了，它是一个硕大而前卫的费里斯大转轮，有五百英尺高，形成了这座城市又一令人叹为观止的景观。兰登曾想爬上去坐坐，但这些观光舱，使他联想到密封起来的肉罐头，因此他最终选择留在了地上，欣赏这泰晤士河水汽氤氲的堤岸两边的无限风光。
兰登忽然觉得有人掐了他膝盖一把，将他往后拖。等他回过头，索菲的绿眼睛正逼视着他。他这才知道，原来索菲一直不停地在跟他说话。"如果我们找到《圣杯文献》，你看该如何处置呢？"她轻声地说。
"我有什么想法并不重要。你祖父把密码盒给了你，你会处理好的。因为直觉告诉你，你祖父会让你这么做的。""我在征求你的意见呢。你显然在书稿里写了什么东西，使我祖父相信你的判断，所以他才打算私下里跟你见面。这很不简单啊。""也许他想跟我说，你把东西全弄错了。"
"要是他不欣赏你的观点，他又何必让我来找你？你在书稿里是赞成将《圣杯文献》公开呢，还是将它藏起来？"
"哪方面我都没有说。我在文稿中谈到神圣女性的象征意义，回顾了它被人崇拜的整部历史。我当然不能武断地说，我知道圣杯藏在哪，应不应该将它公布于天下。""可你在写一本有关它的书呢，所以你显然觉得应该共享有关它的材料。"
"无中生有地讨论耶稣基督的另一番历史跟--"他暂停了一会。
"跟什么？"
"跟把成千上万份古代文献公布于世，并以此作为《新约》是虚假的科学依据，这之间还是有很大的差别。""可你告诉我《新约》是杜撰出来的呢。"
兰登笑了笑："索菲，要我说世界上所有的宗教信仰都是建立在虚构的基础上的。这就是我对宗教信仰的定义--即相信我们想象的真实，盲从我们无法证明的东西。无论是古埃及人还是当代宗教，都是通过隐喻、寓言以及夸张的方式来描绘他们心目中的神或上帝。隐喻是这样一种方式，它可以帮助我们加工原本无法处理的东西。等我们开始完全相信自己为自己编造的隐喻时，问题也就出来了。""所以你赞成将《圣杯文献》永远地隐藏起来？"
"我是历史学家，我反对任何人损坏这些文献，而且我很乐意看到研究宗教的学者们，有更多的历史材料去探索耶稣基督非同寻常的人生。""你对我问题的两个方面都提出了反驳呢。"
"是吗？《圣经》给居住在这个星球上成千上万的人们设置了一个最根本的路标，《可兰经》、《犹太律法》，还有《巴利教规》，也以完全相同的方式，给信仰其它宗教的许多人指点了迷津。假如你我能找到一些与伊斯兰教、犹太教、佛教以及异教的传说相背离的材料，我们会那样做吗？我们会挥舞着手中的旗帜，对那些佛教徒说，我们能证明佛主不是从莲花里生出来的吗？或者告诉那些基督徒，耶稣不是真从处女的子宫里孕育出来的吗？
那些真正理解自身信仰的人，通常也知道这些故事传说是隐喻性的。"索菲半信半疑："我那些虔诚的基督徒朋友相信基督真能在水上行走，能够将水变成真的美酒，并且相信他果真是处女生的。""这完全印证了我的观点。"兰登说道："宗教性的隐喻成了对现实进行虚构的一部分。
而在现实里，又有助于芸芸众生从容应对，完善自我。""但是，他们面对的现实是虚假的现实。"
兰登咯咯地笑了起来："不过，再怎么虚假，总比一位对臆想的数字"i"深信不疑的密码破译专家要来得真实些吧？！因为她竟然相信，这会有助于她破译密码。"索菲皱起了眉："你这么说是不公平的。"
两人沉默了一会。
"你刚才还问了什么问题来着？"兰登突然问。
"我不记得了。"
兰登笑了起来："你可真行啊。"
Chapter 83
Langdon's Mickey Mouse wristwatch read almost seven-thirty when he emerged from the Jaguarlimousine onto Inner Temple Lane with Sophie and Teabing. The threesome wound through amaze of buildings to a small courtyard outside the Temple Church. The rough-hewn stoneshimmered in the rain, and doves cooed in the architecture overhead.
　　London's ancient Temple Church was constructed entirely of Caen stone. A dramatic, circularedifice with a daunting facade, a central turret, and a protruding nave off one side, the churchlooked more like a military stronghold than a place of worship. Consecrated on the tenth ofFebruary in 1185 by Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, the Temple Church survived eight centuriesof political turmoil, the Great Fire of London, and the First World War, only to be heavily damagedby Luftwaffe incendiary bombs in 1940. After the war, it was restored to its original, starkgrandeur.
　　The simplicity of the circle, Langdon thought, admiring the building for the first time. Thearchitecture was coarse and simple, more reminiscent of Rome's rugged Castel Sant'Angelo thanthe refined Pantheon. The boxy annex jutting out to the right was an unfortunate eyesore, althoughit did little to shroud the original pagan shape of the primary structure.
　　"It's early on a Saturday," Teabing said, hobbling toward the entrance, "so I'm assuming we won'thave services to deal with."The church's entryway was a recessed stone niche inside which stood a large wooden door. To theleft of the door, looking entirely out of place, hung a bulletin board covered with concert schedulesand religious service announcements.
　　Teabing frowned as he read the board. "They don't open to sightseers for another couple of hours."He moved to the door and tried it. The door didn't budge. Putting his ear to the wood, he listened.
　　After a moment, he pulled back, a scheming look on his face as he pointed to the bulletin board.
　　"Robert, check the service schedule, will you? Who is presiding this week?"Inside the church, an altar boy was almost finished vacuuming the communion kneelers when heheard a knocking on the sanctuary door. He ignored it. Father Harvey Knowles had his own keysand was not due for another couple of hours. The knocking was probably a curious tourist orindigent. The altar boy kept vacuuming, but the knocking continued. Can't you read? The sign onthe door clearly stated that the church did not open until nine-thirty on Saturday. The altar boyremained with his chores.
　　Suddenly, the knocking turned to a forceful banging, as if someone were hitting the door with ametal rod. The young man switched off his vacuum cleaner and marched angrily toward the door.
　　Unlatching it from within, he swung it open. Three people stood in the entryway. Tourists, hegrumbled. "We open at nine-thirty."The heavyset man, apparently the leader, stepped forward using metal crutches. "I am Sir LeighTeabing," he said, his accent a highbrow, Saxonesque British. "As you are no doubt aware, I amescorting Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Wren the Fourth." He stepped aside, flourishing his arm towardthe attractive couple behind them. The woman was soft-featured, with lush burgundy hair. The manwas tall, dark-haired, and looked vaguely familiar.
　　The altar boy had no idea how to respond. Sir Christopher Wren was the Temple Church's mostfamous benefactor. He had made possible all the restorations following damage caused by theGreat Fire. He had also been dead since the early eighteenth century. "Um... an honor to meetyou?"The man on crutches frowned. "Good thing you're not in sales, young man, you're not veryconvincing. Where is Father Knowles?""It's Saturday. He's not due in until later."The crippled man's scowl deepened. "There's gratitude. He assured us he would be here, but itlooks like we'll do it without him. It won't take long."The altar boy remained blocking the doorway. "I'm sorry, what won't take long?"The visitor's eyes sharpened now, and he leaned forward whispering as if to save everyone someembarrassment. "Young man, apparently you are new here. Every year Sir Christopher Wren'sdescendants bring a pinch of the old man's ashes to scatter in the Temple sanctuary. It is part of hislast will and testament. Nobody is particularly happy about making the trip, but what can we do?"The altar boy had been here a couple of years but had never heard of this custom. "It would bebetter if you waited until nine-thirty. The church isn't open yet, and I'm not finished hoovering."The man on crutches glared angrily. "Young man, the only reason there's anything left of thisbuilding for you to hoover is on account of the gentleman in that woman's pocket.""I'm sorry?""Mrs. Wren," the man on crutches said, "would you be so kind as to show this impertinent youngman the reliquary of ashes?"The woman hesitated a moment and then, as if awaking from a trance, reached in her sweaterpocket and pulled out a small cylinder wrapped in protective fabric.
　　"There, you see?" the man on crutches snapped. "Now, you can either grant his dying wish and letus sprinkle his ashes in the sanctuary, or I tell Father Knowles how we've been treated."The altar boy hesitated, well acquainted with Father Knowles' deep observance of churchtradition... and, more importantly, with his foul temper when anything cast this time-honoredshrine in anything but favorable light. Maybe Father Knowles had simply forgotten these familymembers were coming. If so, then there was far more risk in turning them away than in lettingthem in. After all, they said it would only take a minute. What harm could it do?
　　When the altar boy stepped aside to let the three people pass, he could have sworn Mr. and Mrs.
　　Wren looked just as bewildered by all of this as he was. Uncertain, the boy returned to his chores,watching them out of the corner of his eye.
　　Langdon had to smile as the threesome moved deeper into the church.
　　"Leigh," he whispered, "you lie entirely too well."Teabing's eyes twinkled. "Oxford Theatre Club. They still talk of my Julius Caesar. I'm certainnobody has ever performed the first scene of Act Three with more dedication."Langdon glanced over. "I thought Caesar was dead in that scene."Teabing smirked. "Yes, but my toga tore open when I fell, and I had to lie on stage for half an hourwith my todger hanging out. Even so, I never moved a muscle. I was brilliant, I tell you."Langdon cringed. Sorry I missed it.
　　As the group moved through the rectangular annex toward the archway leading into the mainchurch, Langdon was surprised by the barren austerity. Although the altar layout resembled that ofa linear Christian chapel, the furnishings were stark and cold, bearing none of the traditionalornamentation. "Bleak," he whispered.
　　Teabing chuckled. "Church of England. Anglicans drink their religion straight. Nothing to distractfrom their misery."Sophie motioned through the vast opening that gave way to the circular section of the church. "Itlooks like a fortress in there," she whispered.
　　Langdon agreed. Even from here, the walls looked unusually robust.
　　"The Knights Templar were warriors," Teabing reminded, the sound of his aluminum crutchesechoing in this reverberant space. "A religio-military society. Their churches were theirstrongholds and their banks.""Banks?" Sophie asked, glancing at Leigh.
　　"Heavens, yes. The Templars invented the concept of modern banking. For European nobility,traveling with gold was perilous, so the Templars allowed nobles to deposit gold in their nearestTemple Church and then draw it from any other Temple Church across Europe. All they neededwas proper documentation." He winked. "And a small commission. They were the original ATMs."Teabing pointed toward a stained-glass window where the breaking sun was refracting through awhite-clad knight riding a rose-colored horse. "Alanus Marcel," Teabing said, "Master of theTemple in the early twelve hundreds. He and his successors actually held the Parliamentary chairof Primus Baro Angiae."Langdon was surprised. "First Baron of the Realm?"Teabing nodded. "The Master of the Temple, some claim, held more influence than the kinghimself." As they arrived outside the circular chamber, Teabing shot a glance over his shoulder atthe altar boy, who was vacuuming in the distance. "You know," Teabing whispered to Sophie, "theHoly Grail is said to once have been stored in this church overnight while the Templars moved itfrom one hiding place to another. Can you imagine the four chests of Sangreal documents sittingright here with Mary Magdalene's sarcophagus? It gives me gooseflesh."Langdon was feeling gooseflesh too as they stepped into the circular chamber. His eye traced thecurvature of the chamber's pale stone perimeter, taking in the carvings of gargoyles, demons,monsters, and pained human faces, all staring inward. Beneath the carvings, a single stone pewcurled around the entire circumference of the room.
　　"Theater in the round," Langdon whispered.
　　Teabing raised a crutch, pointing toward the far left of the room and then to the far right. Langdonhad already seen them.
　　Ten stone knights.
　　Five on the left. Five on the right.
　　Lying prone on the floor, the carved, life-sized figures rested in peaceful poses. The knights weredepicted wearing full armor, shields, and swords, and the tombs gave Langdon the uneasysensation that someone had snuck in and poured plaster over the knights while they were sleeping.
　　All of the figures were deeply weathered, and yet each was clearly unique—different armorypieces, distinct leg and arm positions, facial features, and markings on their shields.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　Langdon felt shaky as he inched deeper into the circular room.
　　This had to be the place.
兰登和索菲、提彬三人从"美洲虎"豪华车里钻出来，走到圣殿教堂内通道，他注意到他手腕上的"米奇老鼠"牌手表显示将近七点半了。这三人，犹如在迷宫里行走一般，他们绕过许多建筑物，才来到圣殿教堂外面的小院里。那粗糙的石头，在雨中泛着青光，一群鸽子，在他们头顶的建筑里"咕咕"地歌唱。
伦敦古老的圣殿教堂全部是用法国卡昂地区出产的石头建造的。这是一幢引人注目的圆形建筑，有着撼人心魄的华美外表，中间一座塔楼，塔楼的旁边有个突出来的正殿，教堂看起来不像是供众人崇拜的地方，倒像是一个军事据点。耶路撒冷大主教赫拉克利乌斯曾于1185 年2 月10 日献祭与此，从此，圣殿教堂经历了八百多年政治斗争的风风雨雨，其中历经了伦敦大火灾，第一次世界大战。只是到了1940 年，它才严重被损于德国纳粹空军投放的燃烧弹。战争结束后，它又恢复了原来的模样，重现了昔日的辉煌。
循环往复，如此而已。兰登想，平生第一次对建筑物仰慕起来。这幢建筑显得既粗犷又朴素，更容易使人想起罗马的圣安杰罗城堡，而不是造型精美的希腊帕特农神庙。不过，不幸的是，那矮而窄的、向右面延伸出来的附属建筑物却令人觉得十分别扭，尽管它在企图掩饰其原始建筑的异教建筑风格上并没起到多大的作用。
"今天星期六，我们是来早了点。"提彬摇摇晃晃地走到大门前："所以我想现在什么事情都不用做了。"教堂的入口处是一块凹进去的石头，里面嵌着一扇巨大的木门。在木门的左边，看起来完全不协调地挂着一块公告牌，上面写满了音乐会的日程安排以及宗教仪式的通知。提彬读着公告牌上的告示，眉头紧皱起来："他们要再过两个小时才向游客开放哩。"他走到门前，试着想把它打开，然而那扇门却纹丝不动。于是他把耳朵贴在木板上倾听。过了一会，他抽身走了回来，一脸诡秘的神色，他指着公告牌说："罗伯特，你去查查宗教仪式的日程安排，行么？这个星期由谁来主持仪式的呢？"
在教堂里面，一位祭台助手用吸尘器差不多将所有祭祀用的坐垫上的灰尘吸完，这时他听到有人在敲礼拜堂的门。他充耳不闻，不加理会。哈维。诺尔斯神父自己有钥匙，再说还要等两个小时才能开门呢。敲门的人可能是位好奇的游客，或者是个穷人吧。祭台助手继续用吸尘器吸坐垫里的灰尘，然而敲门声依然不断。难道你不识字？门上不是清清楚楚地写着星期六教堂要到九点半才开门吗？祭台助手依旧忙着干他的事情。
突然，敲门声变成了沉重的撞击声，仿佛有人在用铁棒砸门。这名年轻人关掉吸尘器，怒气冲冲地朝门口奔去。他从里头一把将门"哐"的拉开，看到三人站在门外。是游客吧？他咕哝着说："我们九点半才开门哩。"
那个身材矮胖的男人，很明显是他们里头的领军人物，他拄着拐杖走上前来，说："我是雷。提彬爵士。"听他的口音，倒像是一位颇有身份的正宗英国人。"你肯定知道，我是陪克里斯托夫。雷恩四世及其夫人一道来的。"他走到一边，夸张地朝站在他们背后的那对模样俊秀的夫妇挥了挥手。女人看上去很温和，长着一头茂密的暗红色头发。男人个子挺拔，黑色头发，看上去似乎有点眼熟。
那名祭台助手一时不知如何应付。克里斯托夫。雷恩爵士是圣殿教堂最有名望的赞助者，在圣殿教堂遭受伦敦大火灾的侵袭后，他曾采取了所有的修复措施。不过他早在18世纪初期就已经去世了。"嗯……能有幸认识你吗？"
拄拐杖的男人皱着眉头："还算你识相，不过年轻人，你好像不太相信我们啊。诺尔斯神父呢？"
"今天星期六，他要等会儿才来。"
这位行动有些不便的男人更加不高兴了："就这样向我们表示感谢呐。他向我们保证，说会在这里等我们哩。看来我们只好不管他了。何况我们也不会呆上很久。"
祭台助手仍然将身子堵在门口："对不起，你说什么呆不上多久？"
这位客人的眼神一下子尖锐起来，他俯身向前，低声说着话，似乎是为了避免让大家尴尬。"年轻人，很显然，你是新来的吧？克里斯托夫。雷恩爵士的后代每年都会带一些他老人家的骨灰，撒在圣殿教堂里的内殿里。这是他临终的遗愿。没有谁特别喜欢到这个地方来，但我们又有什么办法呢？"祭台助手在这里呆了数年，但还是第一次听说有这回事。"你们还是等到九点半再说吧。教堂门还没开，再说我还没打扫干净呢。"拄拐杖的人怒视着他："年轻人，要说这房子里还有什么东西用得上你的吸尘器的话，那就是放在这位女土袋子里的他老人家的骨灰了。""难道我应该对你说对不起吗？"
"雷恩夫人。"拄拐杖的人说："你能不能把骨灰盒拿出来，给这位粗鲁的年轻人瞧瞧？"
女人犹豫了一会，然后，似乎是刚从梦里醒来，她把手伸进背心口袋，取出了一个小小的、外面包了一层布的圆柱体。
"喏，你看啊。"拄拐杖的男人喝道："现在，你要么成全他老人家的遗愿，让我们把他的骨灰撒在礼拜堂里，要不然我们就去告诉诺尔斯神父。"祭台助手犹豫起来，他深知诺尔斯神父一向严格要求大家遵守教堂的规矩；而且，更重要的是，他也深知神父的臭脾气。万一怠慢了这座历史悠久的神龛，他可吃罪不起。诺尔斯神父也许只是把这些家族成员要来的事情给忘了。如果是这样，那将他们赶走，肯定要比让他们进来冒的风险还大。不管怎样，他们说不用很长时间。那么让他们进来，又有多大的害处呢？
祭台助手走到一边，让这三人进来时，他敢说雷恩夫妇面对眼前的情景，神情如他一样的茫然。他不安地望着他们走出了他的视线，然后回去继续干他的杂活。
当三人来到教堂深处，兰登勉强地笑了笑。"雷爵士。"他压低嗓门说："你真会撒谎啊。"
提彬双眼闪烁："别忘了我是牛津剧院俱乐部的成员。他们至今还在谈论我扮演的裘利斯。恺撒一角呢。我敢肯定，还没有哪位演员能比我更尽心尽力地表演此剧第三场的第三幕哩。"兰登回头瞥了他一眼："我还以为，恺撒是在那一场就死去了呢。"
提彬得意地笑起来："是的，可我摔倒时长袍被撕开了。这样，我不得不脚尖朝上在台上躺了半小时。但即便如此，我连动也没动一下。我告诉你，我可聪明着呢。""对不起我倒没发现呢。"兰登奉承了一句。
这群人穿过矩形的附属建筑物，朝通往主教堂的拱门走去。兰登对教堂单调而朴素的建筑风格感到十分惊奇。尽管祭坛的构造颇像一座流线型的基督教堂，然而它的外表却显得刻板而冷酷，看不到一丁点传统的装饰。
"太没意思了。"兰登低声地说。
提彬咯咯地笑了。"这就是英国的国教。英国人在此啜饮宗教的琼浆。没有什么能让他们在不幸中迷失方向。"索菲经过宽大的由此可走到教堂圆形区域的入口。
"那边看起来有点像军事要塞哩。"她笑声地说。
兰登对此表示同意。即使从这里看过去，四面的墙壁也显得特别的坚固。
"别忘了，圣殿骑士可是尚武之人。"提彬在一边提醒他们。他那铝制的拐杖，在这方空间里发出清脆的回响。"这是个军事宗教占主导地位的国家，教堂就是他们的军事据点和银行。""银行？"索菲瞥了他一眼，问道。
"天哪，是这样的。圣殿骑士们创造了现代银行的运作理念。对欧洲的达官贵人而言，携带金银出门旅游是非常危险的，因此圣殿骑士允许这些贵族将金子存进离他们最近的圣殿教堂；然后，他们可以从遍布欧洲各地的圣殿教堂里将它们取出来。他们只需要有关的凭证。"他眨了眨眼："并支付一笔佣金就可以了。这些教堂，就是最初的自动取款机。"提彬指着一扇沾满灰尘的玻璃窗，早晨的阳光，正透过窗户，照在一位骑着玫瑰色的骏马、一身白色装束的骑士的塑像上，反射出清凌凌的光。"那是阿拉尼斯。马塞尔，12 纪初这座圣殿教堂的主人。他和他的继承者当时实际上占据了王国第一男爵的席位。"兰登有点吃惊："王国第一男爵？"
提彬点点头："有人说，圣殿教堂的主人，比国王本人的影响还大呢。"他们来到圆形房屋外面，提彬回头看了看远处那位还在摆弄着吸尘器的祭台助手，低声对索菲说："你知道吗？圣殿骑士们四处躲藏时，据说圣杯曾在这教堂里藏了一夜。你能想象到整整放了四抽屉的《圣杯文献》竟然会在这里与抹大拉的玛利亚的尸骨摆在一起吗？一想到此，我就不禁不寒而栗。"等他们走进那个圆形的大厅，兰登也觉得浑身起了鸡皮疙瘩。他的眼睛循着这个大房间用灰白色石头砌成的圆圈看去，顿时被一些雕刻的怪兽、妖魔鬼怪以及因痛苦而扭曲并全朝这里怒目而视的人脸吸引住了。在这些雕刻品的下面，有一张长椅围着整个房间绕了一圈。
"是圆形剧场啊。"兰登轻声地说。
提彬举起一根拐杖，指着房间尽头的左边，接着又指着右边。这时兰登已经看到了它们。
十尊圣殿骑士石像。
左边五尊，右边五尊。
这些真人般大小的雕像，仰卧在地面上，摆出一副祥和的姿态。这些骑士个个披盔戴甲，剑盾在手。兰登有点不快，觉得似乎有人趁骑士们睡着时偷偷溜进来，将石膏泼在他们身上。所有的雕像都严重的风化了，然而每尊雕像看上去却是那么的独特--他们穿着不同的盔甲，腿和胳膊都摆出截然不同的姿势，不同的面部表情，还有他们盾牌的记号也迥然不同。
在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
兰登又向圆形房间里头迈进了几步，身子忍不住发抖。
应该是这个地方了。
Chapter 84
In a rubbish-strewn alley very close to Temple Church, Rémy Legaludec pulled the Jaguarlimousine to a stop behind a row of industrial waste bins. Killing the engine, he checked the area.
　　Deserted. He got out of the car, walked toward the rear, and climbed back into the limousine's maincabin where the monk was.
　　Sensing Rémy's presence, the monk in the back emerged from a prayer-like trance, his red eyeslooking more curious than fearful. All evening Rémy had been impressed with this trussed man'sability to stay calm. After some initial struggles in the Range Rover, the monk seemed to haveaccepted his plight and given over his fate to a higher power.
　　Loosening his bow tie, Rémy unbuttoned his high, starched, wing-tipped collar and felt as if hecould breathe for the first time in years. He went to the limousine's wet bar, where he pouredhimself a Smirnoff vodka. He drank it in a single swallow and followed it with a second.
　　Soon I will be a man of leisure.
　　Searching the bar, Rémy found a standard service wine-opener and flicked open the sharp blade.
　　The knife was usually employed to slice the lead foil from corks on fine bottles of wine, but itwould serve a far more dramatic purpose this morning. Rémy turned and faced Silas, holding upthe glimmering blade.
　　Now those red eyes flashed fear.
　　Rémy smiled and moved toward the back of the limousine. The monk recoiled, struggling againsthis bonds.
　　"Be still," Rémy whispered, raising the blade.
　　Silas could not believe that God had forsaken him. Even the physical pain of being bound Silas hadturned into a spiritual exercise, asking the throb of his blood-starved muscles to remind him of thepain Christ endured. I have been praying all night for liberation. Now, as the knife descended,Silas clenched his eyes shut.
　　A slash of pain tore through his shoulder blades. He cried out, unable to believe he was going todie here in the back of this limousine, unable to defend himself. I was doing God's work. TheTeacher said he would protect me.
　　Silas felt the biting warmth spreading across his back and shoulders and could picture his ownblood, spilling out over his flesh. A piercing pain cut through his thighs now, and he felt the onsetof that familiar undertow of disorientation—the body's defense mechanism against the pain.
　　As the biting heat tore through all of his muscles now, Silas clenched his eyes tighter, determinedthat the final image of his life would not be of his own killer. Instead he pictured a younger BishopAringarosa, standing before the small church in Spain... the church that he and Silas had built withtheir own hands. The beginning of my life.
　　Silas felt as if his body were on fire.
　　"Take a drink," the tuxedoed man whispered, his accent French. "It will help with yourcirculation."Silas's eyes flew open in surprise. A blurry image was leaning over him, offering a glass of liquid.
　　A mound of shredded duct tape lay on the floor beside the bloodless knife.
　　"Drink this," he repeated. "The pain you feel is the blood rushing into your muscles."Silas felt the fiery throb transforming now to a prickling sting. The vodka tasted terrible, but hedrank it, feeling grateful. Fate had dealt Silas a healthy share of bad luck tonight, but God hadsolved it all with one miraculous twist.
　　God has not forsaken me.
　　Silas knew what Bishop Aringarosa would call it.
　　Divine intervention.
　　"I had wanted to free you earlier," the servant apologized, "but it was impossible. With the policearriving at Chateau Villette, and then at Biggin Hill airport, this was the first possible moment. Youunderstand, don't you, Silas?"Silas recoiled, startled. "You know my name?"The servant smiled.
　　Silas sat up now, rubbing his stiff muscles, his emotions a torrent of incredulity, appreciation, andconfusion. "Are you... the Teacher?"Rémy shook his head, laughing at the proposition. "I wish I had that kind of power. No, I am notthe Teacher. Like you, I serve him. But the Teacher speaks highly of you. My name is Rémy."Silas was amazed. "I don't understand. If you work for the Teacher, why did Langdon bring thekeystone to your home?""Not my home. The home of the world's foremost Grail historian, Sir Leigh Teabing.""But you live there. The odds..."Rémy smiled, seeming to have no trouble with the apparent coincidence of Langdon's chosenrefuge. "It was all utterly predictable. Robert Langdon was in possession of the keystone, and heneeded help. What more logical place to run than to the home of Leigh Teabing? That I happen tolive there is why the Teacher approached me in the first place." He paused. "How do you think theTeacher knows so much about the Grail?"Now it dawned, and Silas was stunned. The Teacher had recruited a servant who had access to allof Sir Leigh Teabing's research. It was brilliant.
　　"There is much I have to tell you," Rémy said, handing Silas the loaded Heckler Koch pistol. Thenhe reached through the open partition and retrieved a small, palm-sized revolver from the glovebox. "But first, you and I have a job to do."Captain Fache descended from his transport plane at Biggin Hill and listened in disbelief to theKent chief inspector's account of what had happened in Teabing's hangar.
　　"I searched the plane myself," the inspector insisted, "and there was no one inside." His tone turnedhaughty. "And I should add that if Sir Leigh Teabing presses charges against me, I will—""Did you interrogate the pilot?""Of course not. He is French, and our jurisdiction requires—""Take me to the plane."Arriving at the hangar, Fache needed only sixty seconds to locate an anomalous smear of blood onthe pavement near where the limousine had been parked. Fache walked up to the plane and rappedloudly on the fuselage.
　　"This is the captain of the French Judicial Police. Open the door!"The terrified pilot opened the hatch and lowered the stairs.
　　Fache ascended. Three minutes later, with the help of his sidearm, he had a full confession,including a description of the bound albino monk. In addition, he learned that the pilot sawLangdon and Sophie leave something behind in Teabing's safe, a wooden box of some sort.
　　Although the pilot denied knowing what was in the box, he admitted it had been the focus ofLangdon's full attention during the flight to London.
　　"Open the safe," Fache demanded.
　　The pilot looked terrified. "I don't know the combination!""That's too bad. I was going to offer to let you keep your pilot's license."The pilot wrung his hands. "I know some men in maintenance here. Maybe they could drill it?""You have half an hour."The pilot leapt for his radio.
　　Fache strode to the back of the plane and poured himself a hard drink. It was early, but he had notyet slept, so this hardly counted as drinking before noon. Sitting in a plush bucket seat, he closedhis eyes, trying to sort out what was going on. The Kent police's blunder could cost me dearly.
　　Everyone was now on the lookout for a black Jaguar limousine.
　　Fache's phone rang, and he wished for a moment's peace. "Allo?""I'm en route to London." It was Bishop Aringarosa. "I'll be arriving in an hour."Fache sat up. "I thought you were going to Paris.""I am deeply concerned. I have changed my plans.""You should not have.""Do you have Silas?""No. His captors eluded the local police before I landed."Aringarosa's anger rang sharply. "You assured me you would stop that plane!"Fache lowered his voice. "Bishop, considering your situation, I recommend you not test mypatience today. I will find Silas and the others as soon as possible. Where are you landing?""One moment." Aringarosa covered the receiver and then came back. "The pilot is trying to getclearance at Heathrow. I'm his only passenger, but our redirect was unscheduled.""Tell him to come to Biggin Hill Executive Airport in Kent. I'll get him clearance. If I'm not herewhen you land, I'll have a car waiting for you.""Thank you.""As I expressed when we first spoke, Bishop, you would do well to remember that you are not theonly man on the verge of losing everything."
在离圣殿教堂很近的一条堆满垃圾的巷子里，雷米。莱格鲁德将那辆"美洲虎"豪华轿车停在一排工业垃圾箱后面。他关掉马达，查看周围的动静。巷子里空无一人。他这才踱出车门，向车的尾部走去，然后钻进乘客室，那位修道士就被捆在那里。
当被绑在车子后面的修道士察觉雷米出现在身边时，他仿佛刚从痴迷的祈祷中惊醒过来。他红色的眼睛充满了好奇，而不是恐惧。整个晚上，雷米对这位修道士竟能够如此安之若素留下深刻的印象。一开始，这位修道士在"陆虎揽胜"车里还挣扎了几下，然而此刻，他似乎已经接受了命运的安排，变得听天由命起来了。
雷米松开衣领上的蝴蝶结，解开了高而浆硬的翼状领，感觉仿佛多年来第一次能够如此自由地呼吸。他走到豪华轿车里的吧台，给自己倒了一杯"司木露"牌伏特加酒。他一口气干了一杯，接着又喝了第二杯。
很快我就可以成为有钱的闲人了。
雷米在吧台的橱柜里搜寻了一通，发现了一把用于标准服务的开酒瓶道具，便"啪"的弹出其锋利的刀刃。这种刀具，通常是被用来切开粘贴在高级酒瓶木塞上的金箔片的，但今天早上，它可以用来发挥更大的作用。雷米转过身，面向塞拉斯，将闪烁着寒光的刀刃举起来。
那双红色的眼睛，即刻闪过了一丝恐惧。
雷米微笑着朝车子后面移去。修道士畏缩着，企图挣脱身上的束缚。
"别动。"雷米举起刀，低声地说。
塞拉斯不敢相信上帝对他竟然如此的残忍。尽管在肉体上，他正遭受着被捆绑的痛苦，但他却能将它当成一次精神上的考验。他告诫自己，只要他遭受磨难的脉搏还在跳动，就不能忘记耶稣基督曾经遭受过的苦难。整个晚上他一直在祈祷自由。然而现在，当那把刀就要砍下来时，他不由得紧紧地闭上了眼睛。
钻心的痛苦即刻穿透了他的肩胛骨。他大声哭起来，无法相信自己会死在这辆豪华轿车的后面，却无法保护自己。"我在为上帝效劳。教主曾说过上帝会保护我哩。"
塞拉斯感觉一股使他倍感疼痛的热气正从他的后背与肩膀出弥漫开来，他想象自己鲜血流遍全身的样子。这时，他的膝盖又像被撕裂般的疼起来。他觉得这种熟悉的、能使知觉趋于麻木的痛苦--这是身体抵抗痛苦时产生的自我防御机制--又发作了。
那股令人痛彻心肺的热气此刻已经弥漫了塞拉斯的全身。他将眼睛闭得更紧了，他不愿意在临死之前，看到要杀死自己的凶手。他想到了更加年轻的阿林加洛沙主教，他站在西班牙的小教堂前……那座教堂是他和塞拉斯亲手建造的。那是我生命的起点。
塞拉斯感觉身体像着了火一般。
"喝点什么吧。"这位身着晚礼服的男人操着法国口音低声说道："这有助于改善你的血液循环。"塞拉斯惊讶地睁开了眼睛。他模糊地看到，有人俯过身，递给他一杯液体。地上的刀片并无血迹，旁边躺着一堆被撕得粉碎的电缆线。
"把这个喝了吧。"那人又说了一遍。"你觉得痛，是因为血液都流到你的肌肉里去了。"
塞拉斯觉得自己的身体不再像先前那样剧烈地跳动，只是像被什么东西蜇了一般地疼痛。伏特加的味道实在是不敢恭维，但他还是把它喝了。他的心里充满了感激。命运给了今晚遭受厄运的塞拉斯一个眷顾，但上帝只要舞动他惯于创造奇迹的双手，就能将问题全部解决了。
还好上帝没忘记我呢。
塞拉斯知道，阿林加洛沙主教或许会说："这是上帝在干预啊。"
"我早就想放你走了。"雷米充满歉意地说："但你知道这是不可能的。先是警察来到了维莱特庄园，接着我们又飞到了比金山机场。直到现在，我才有机会把你放了。塞拉斯，你明白吗？"
塞拉斯畏缩了一下，很是惊讶："你认识我？"
仆人笑了。
塞拉斯坐起来，摩挲着僵硬的肌肉，他的情感如翻江倒海一般，其中有难以置信，有感激，也有迷惘。"你--你是教主吧？"
雷米摇摇头，听他这样说，不禁笑起来："我倒希望自己有那般神通。不，我不是。我跟你一样，也在为他效劳。教主经常夸你哩。我叫雷米。"塞拉斯大吃一惊："我不明白，如果你在为教主做事，那兰登为什么要将拱心石带到你家来呢？"
"那不是我的家，是研究圣杯历史、世界最著名的历史学家雷。提彬爵士的家。"
"但你住在那里呀。是不是--"
雷米笑了笑，似乎对兰登躲到提彬爵士家里这种明显的巧合，并不感到有什么为难。
"这完全是可以猜到的。罗伯特。兰登有拱心石，而他又需要别人帮助，于是他跑到雷。提彬爵士家里来，还有什么比这更合情合理的解释吗？我恰好住那里，所以教主才会先来找我。
"他停了停："你怎么知道教主清楚圣杯的来历？"
天色渐渐亮了，而塞拉斯头也有点晕。教主竟找了一位对雷。提彬爵士的行踪了如指掌的仆人。真是聪明过人。
"我还有很多没跟你说。"雷米把那支装满子弹的德国黑克勒暨科赫公司生产的手枪递给了他，然后走进敞开着的隔离间，从手套箱里找出一把小小的、巴掌大的左轮手枪。"不过首先，我们还有许多事情得去做呢。"法希上尉从停泊在比金山机场的运输机里走了下来，他仔细聆听肯特警察局的检查官讲述刚才在提彬的停机库里发生的事情，却是满腹狐疑。
"我亲自到飞机上查过了。"长官辩解道："里面什么人也没有。"他的语调变得专横起来。
"我要再说几句，如果雷。提彬爵士起诉我，那我--"
"那你问过那个驾驶员没有？"
"当然没有，他是个法国人，而我们的权限要求--"
"带我到飞机上去。"
法希来到停机库，不消一分钟，他就在那辆豪华轿车停过的附近过道上找到了一滩可疑的血迹。他走到飞机的旁边，用力地拍打它的机身。
"开门，我是法国警察署的上尉。"
那名受惊的驾驶员慌忙打开机舱，将舷梯放了下去。
法希登上飞机。三分钟以后，他借助手中的武器，终于迫使驾驶员全招认了，其中还提到被绑起来的修道士，即那位白化病患者。此外，他也知道驾驶员看到兰登和索菲把什么东西--好像是木盒子之类的东西--放进了提彬的保险箱。尽管驾驶员说不知道盒子里放了什么，但他承认，这只盒子在从法国飞往伦敦的途中，一直是兰登注目的焦点。
"把保险箱打开。"法希命令道。
驾驶员吓坏了："可我不知道密码啊。"
"那我就帮不了了，我本来还想让你保留驾驶飞机的执照呢！"
驾驶员绞缠着双手："我在这里认识一些维修工。说不定他们可以在上面钻个洞呢。"
"那我给你半小时的时间。"
驾驶员一个箭步跑去找无线电设备。
法希大步走到机舱后，给自己倒了一杯酒。天色尚早，然而他还没有睡个好觉，所以这杯酒很难让他熬到中午。他坐到高级靠背椅上，闭上眼睛，试图将眼下发生的事情理出个头绪来。肯特郡警察局犯下的大错也许会让他付出昂贵的代价。现在，大家都在注意一辆黑色的"美洲虎"豪华车。
法希的电话响了起来，而他是多么希望能有片刻的清静。"喂？"
"我在飞往伦敦的路上。"阿林加洛沙主教说道："一小时后就到。"
法希坐起来："我还以为你是去巴黎呢。"
"我放心不下，所以才改变了计划。"
"你不应该这样的。"
"你找到塞拉斯没有？"
"还没有。绑架他的那些人在我到来之前就骗过了当地警察，跑了。"
阿林加洛沙主教火气腾地冒了上来："可你向我保证，说你会截住那架飞机呐。"
法希压低嗓门："主教，考虑考虑你眼前的处境吧，我告诉你，你今天不要来考验我的耐心。我会尽快找到塞拉斯和其他人的。你在哪里下的飞机？"
"稍等一会。"阿林加洛沙捂住话筒，然后又跑了回来："驾驶员打算通过在伦敦希思罗机场的检查。我是他唯一的乘客，但我们重新改变航向并没列入原来的飞行计划。""那你叫他飞到肯特郡的比金山机场来，我会让他通过检查。如果你着陆时我不在，我会派车去接你。""谢谢。"
"主教，照我刚才说得去做准没错，记住，并不是只有你在冒着失去一切的风险。这样，事情就好办了。"
Chapter 85
You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　Each of the carved knights within the Temple Church lay on his back with his head resting on arectangular stone pillow. Sophie felt a chill. The poem's reference to an "orb" conjured images ofthe night in her grandfather's basement.
　　Hieros Gamos. The orbs.
　　Sophie wondered if the ritual had been performed in this very sanctuary. The circular room seemedcustom-built for such a pagan rite. A stone pew encircled a bare expanse of floor in the middle. Atheater in the round, as Robert had called it. She imagined this chamber at night, filled withmasked people, chanting by torchlight, all witnessing a "sacred communion" in the center of theroom.
　　Forcing the image from her mind, she advanced with Langdon and Teabing toward the first groupof knights. Despite Teabing's insistence that their investigation should be conducted meticulously,Sophie felt eager and pushed ahead of them, making a cursory walk-through of the five knights onthe left.
　　Scrutinizing these first tombs, Sophie noted the similarities and differences between them. Everyknight was on his back, but three of the knights had their legs extended straight out while two hadtheir legs crossed. The oddity seemed to have no relevance to the missing orb. Examining theirclothing, Sophie noted that two of the knights wore tunics over their armor, while the other threewore ankle-length robes. Again, utterly unhelpful. Sophie turned her attention to the only otherobvious difference—their hand positions. Two knights clutched swords, two prayed, and one hadhis arms at his side. After a long moment looking at the hands, Sophie shrugged, having seen nohint anywhere of a conspicuously absent orb.
　　Feeling the weight of the cryptex in her sweater pocket, she glanced back at Langdon and Teabing.
　　The men were moving slowly, still only at the third knight, apparently having no luck either. In nomood to wait, she turned away from them toward the second group of knights.
　　As she crossed the open space, she quietly recited the poem she had read so many times now that itwas committed to memory.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　His labor's fruit a Holy wrath incurred.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　When Sophie arrived at the second group of knights, she found that this second group was similarto the first. All lay with varied body positions, wearing armor and swords.
　　That was, all except the tenth and final tomb.
　　Hurrying over to it, she stared down.
　　No pillow. No armor. No tunic. No sword.
　　"Robert? Leigh?" she called, her voice echoing around the chamber. "There's something missingover here."Both men looked up and immediately began to cross the room toward her.
　　"An orb?" Teabing called excitedly. His crutches clicked out a rapid staccato as he hurried acrossthe room. "Are we missing an orb?""Not exactly," Sophie said, frowning at the tenth tomb. "We seem to be missing an entire knight."Arriving beside her both men gazed down in confusion at the tenth tomb. Rather than a knightlying in the open air, this tomb was a sealed stone casket. The casket was trapezoidal, tapered at thefeet, widening toward the top, with a peaked lid.
　　"Why isn't this knight shown?" Langdon asked.
　　"Fascinating," Teabing said, stroking his chin. "I had forgotten about this oddity. It's been yearssince I was here.""This coffin," Sophie said, "looks like it was carved at the same time and by the same sculptor asthe other nine tombs. So why is this knight in a casket rather than in the open?"Teabing shook his head. "One of this church's mysteries. To the best of my knowledge, nobody hasever found any explanation for it.""Hello?" the altar boy said, arriving with a perturbed look on his face. "Forgive me if this seemsrude, but you told me you wanted to spread ashes, and yet you seem to be sightseeing."Teabing scowled at the boy and turned to Langdon. "Mr. Wren, apparently your family'sphilanthropy does not buy you the time it used to, so perhaps we should take out the ashes and geton with it." Teabing turned to Sophie. "Mrs. Wren?"Sophie played along, pulling the vellum-wrapped cryptex from her pocket.
　　"Now then," Teabing snapped at the boy, "if you would give us some privacy?"The altar boy did not move. He was eyeing Langdon closely now. "You look familiar."Teabing huffed. "Perhaps that is because Mr. Wren comes here every year!"Or perhaps, Sophie now feared, because he saw Langdon on television at the Vatican last year.
　　"I have never met Mr. Wren," the altar boy declared.
　　"You're mistaken," Langdon said politely. "I believe you and I met in passing last year. FatherKnowles failed to formally introduce us, but I recognized your face as we came in. Now, I realizethis is an intrusion, but if you could afford me a few more minutes, I have traveled a great distanceto scatter ashes amongst these tombs." Langdon spoke his lines with Teabing-esque believability.
　　The altar boy's expression turned even more skeptical. "These are not tombs.""I'm sorry?" Langdon said.
　　"Of course they are tombs," Teabing declared. "What are you talking about?"The altar boy shook his head. "Tombs contain bodies. These are effigies. Stone tributes to realmen. There are no bodies beneath these figures.""This is a crypt!" Teabing said.
　　"Only in outdated history books. This was believed to be a crypt but was revealed as nothing of thesort during the 1950 renovation." He turned back to Langdon. "And I imagine Mr. Wren wouldknow that. Considering it was his family that uncovered that fact."An uneasy silence fell.
　　It was broken by the sound of a door slamming out in the annex.
　　"That must be Father Knowles," Teabing said. "Perhaps you should go see?"The altar boy looked doubtful but stalked back toward the annex, leaving Langdon, Sophie, andTeabing to eye one another gloomily.
　　"Leigh," Langdon whispered. "No bodies? What is he talking about?"Teabing looked distraught. "I don't know. I always thought... certainly, this must be the place. Ican't imagine he knows what he is talking about. It makes no sense!""Can I see the poem again?" Langdon said.
　　Sophie pulled the cryptex from her pocket and carefully handed it to him.
　　Langdon unwrapped the vellum, holding the cryptex in his hand while he examined the poem.
　　"Yes, the poem definitely references a tomb. Not an effigy.""Could the poem be wrong?" Teabing asked. "Could Jacques Saunière have made the same mistakeI just did?"Langdon considered it and shook his head. "Leigh, you said it yourself. This church was built byTemplars, the military arm of the Priory. Something tells me the Grand Master of the Priory wouldhave a pretty good idea if there were knights buried here."Teabing looked flabbergasted. "But this place is perfect." He wheeled back toward the knights.
　　"We must be missing something!"Entering the annex, the altar boy was surprised to find it deserted. "Father Knowles?" I know Iheard the door, he thought, moving forward until he could see the entryway.
　　A thin man in a tuxedo stood near the doorway, scratching his head and looking lost. The altar boygave an irritated huff, realizing he had forgotten to relock the door when he let the others in. Nowsome pathetic sod had wandered in off the street, looking for directions to some wedding from thelooks of it. "I'm sorry," he called out, passing a large pillar, "we're closed."A flurry of cloth ruffled behind him, and before the altar boy could turn, his head snappedbackward, a powerful hand clamping hard over his mouth from behind, muffling his scream. Thehand over the boy's mouth was snow-white, and he smelled alcohol.
　　The prim man in the tuxedo calmly produced a very small revolver, which he aimed directly at theboy's forehead.
　　The altar boy felt his groin grow hot and realized he had wet himself.
　　"Listen carefully," the tuxedoed man whispered. "You will exit this church silently, and you willrun. You will not stop. Is that clear?"The boy nodded as best he could with the hand over his mouth.
　　"If you call the police..." The tuxedoed man pressed the gun to his skin. "I will find you."The next thing the boy knew, he was sprinting across the outside courtyard with no plans ofstopping until his legs gave out.
"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。"
圣殿教堂里的骑土石像无一例外地仰面躺着，头靠在呈长方形的石枕上。索菲只觉得一阵透心凉。诗里提到的"圆球"，不禁使她想起那晚在她祖父的地下室里看到的景象。
"神婚"。圆球。
索菲不知道是否有人在这个礼拜堂里举行过这样的仪式。这件圆形房间，似乎是专门为举行这样的仪式而建造的。一张长长的靠背石椅，围着中央一块光秃秃的空地。圆形剧场，就像刚才罗伯特说过的那样。她想象着到了晚上，戴着面具的人挤满了这个房间，举着火把反复地吟唱，在屋中央上演"与上帝交流"的盛况。
她好不容易才强迫自己不去那样想，跟着兰登和提彬一道，走向第一批骑土石像。尽管提彬坚持调查要小心行事，索菲还是急不可耐的跑到他们前面，匆忙把左边五尊骑士石像打量了一遍。
她仔细审视这些坟墓，认真观察起它们之间的共性与差异来。每个骑士都仰面躺着，但有三位骑土将双腿伸得笔直。而其他两名骑士则将腿并拢起来。不过，这种奇怪的差异似乎跟失踪的圆球没有多大关系。她仔细观察他们的衣服，发现其中两位在铠甲外面穿了战袍，而其他三位骑士则穿着长达脚踝的长袍。这同样说明不了什么问题。索菲于是转而去注意他们的另外一个也是唯一的差别--即他们不同的手形位置。两名骑土剑握在手，两名在双手合十虔诚地祈祷，还有一位双手叉腰。索菲看了很长时间，才耸耸肩，她没看到任何表明圆球失踪的线索。
她感到背心口袋里密码盒的分量，便回头瞥了兰登和提彬一眼--那两个男人慢慢地走着，他们还在看第三尊骑土的石像哩，不过他们显然也没交到什么好运。她无心去等，便转过身，向另一组骑士石像走去。她穿过开阔的空地，不停地吟诵那首诗，她不知读过多少遍了，到现在，她已经完全可以凭记忆背诵出来。
"在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
他的行为触怒了上帝，因为违背了他的旨意。
你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。
它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。"索菲来到第二组骑士石像群旁边，她发现这些石像跟第一批没有什么两样。尽管它们躺在地上，披着铠甲，佩戴宝剑，然而姿态却各不相同。
但第十座，也就是最后一座坟墓除外。
她忙跑过去，睁大了眼睛低头打量起来。
没看见有什么石枕，没看见披着铠甲，没看见穿长袍，也没看见它佩带宝剑。
"罗伯特，雷爵士。"她大叫起来，整个房间里都听得到她的回声。"这里有什么东西不见了哩。"那两个人不约而同地抬起头，然后开始从房间的另一头向她奔来。
"你是说圆球吗？"提彬激动地喊着，一边飞快地从对面跑了过来。他的拐杖"笃笃"地发出时断时续的声响。"是不是圆球不见了？"
"不对。"索菲皱眉望着第十座坟墓："我们好像少了一尊骑士石像呢。"
两个男人来到她的身边，低头疑惑地看着这第十座坟墓。他们在这片空地里，没看见躺了什么骑士石像。这座坟墓，根本就是个密封的石盒。这个石盒呈梯形，底部小，往顶部不断加宽，上面一个很尖的盖子。
"这位骑士石像怎么不见了呢？"兰登很是吃惊地问道。
"太有意思了。"提彬摸摸下巴，说道："这种怪事我都忘了。很多年我都没到这里来了。"
"这副棺材。"索菲说。"从外表上看，好像是与其他九座坟墓同时建造的，并且出自同一位雕刻家之手，所以，这尊骑士像为什么不是露天，而是被放进盒子里呢？"
提彬摇摇头："这是教堂的一个谜。据我所知，至今还无人知道其中的缘由呢。"
"没什么事吧？"祭台助手走了过来，神情颇为不安。"如果我冒犯了你们，还请你们多加原谅。不过，你们告诉我是来这里撒骨灰的，可我看你们怎么像是来观光的呢？"
提彬怒气冲冲地看着他，然后转身对兰登说："雷恩先生，显然你家的慷慨并没有像以前那样能给你们换来在此驻足的充足时间啊。所以，我们还是把骨灰拿出来处理算了。"他转向索菲说："雷恩夫人，你说呢？"
索菲跟着一道演戏，她从口袋里把羊皮纸包着的密码盒取出来。
"好啦。"提彬对祭台助手大声喝道："你能不能暂时离开一小会？"
祭台助手站着没动，而是紧盯着兰登，说："你很面熟啊。"
提彬动了怒气："这也许是雷恩先生每年都来这里的缘故吧。"
索菲这时害怕起来。说不定他曾在去年梵蒂冈播出的电视节目里看见过兰登呢。
"我从没见过雷恩先生。"祭台助手声称。
"你弄错了吧。"兰登礼貌地说："我相信我们去年还见过面呢。诺尔斯神父只是没正式介绍我们认识罢了，可我一进来就认出了你。好了，我知道这次多有得罪，不过，如果你多给我几分钟的时间，那我现在可能就会走开很远，并把骨灰撒进坟墓里了。"兰登说起话来一字一顿，提彬不住地点头称是。
祭台助手看来更起了疑心："可这些不是坟墓啊。"
"对不起，你说什么？"兰登接口问道。
"它们当然是坟墓了。"提彬大声地宣称："你在胡说什么呀？"
祭台助手摇了摇头："坟墓埋的是尸体。可这些是雕像。是献给真人的礼物。这些石像下面并没有什么尸体。""但这是个地下墓穴呢。"提彬嚷道。
"只有过时的历史书上才会这么讲。1950 年教堂改造期间，人们都相信这是一个地下墓穴，但结果发现里面什么东西也没有。"他转身对兰登说："我还以为雷恩先生知道这件事情呢，因为就是他家人发现了这个事实啊。"屋内一阵不安的寂静。
直到附属建筑物的门"砰"的被打开，才打破了屋里的寂静。
"一定是诺尔斯神父。"提彬开了口："你要不要去看看？"
祭台助手虽不相信，但还是大摇大摆地向声音传来的地方走去，抛下兰登、索菲与提彬三人，心情抑郁地面面相觑。
"雷。"兰登小声地说："他说什么？坟墓里没有尸体？"
提彬有点心烦意乱："我不清楚，我总以为--当然，肯定是这个地方了。我无法想象他在说些什么。这是毫无意义的。""我可以再看看那首诗吗？"兰登问。
索菲从口袋里拿出密码盒，小心翼翼地递给了他。
兰登展开了羊皮纸，一边读诗，一边将密码盒放在手中。"没错，这首诗肯定是在暗指坟墓，而不会是指雕像。""这首诗有没有可能是错的呢？"提彬问："雅克.索尼埃是否犯了跟我一样的错误？"
兰登考虑了一下，摇了摇头："雷，你在说你自己吧。这座教堂是郇山隐修会的军队圣殿骑士们建造的。有迹象表明，如果把一些圣殿骑士的尸体埋在这里，郇山隐修会的长老定会认为是个不错的主意。"提彬目瞪口呆："不过这地方很好嘛。"他突然转身面向那些骑士石像。"我们发现肯定少什么了！"祭台助手进得附属建筑物里来，却惊讶地发现里头一个人也没有。"诺尔斯神父？"我刚才明明听到开门的声音哪，他想。他继续向前走，直到能看到教堂的入口。
一位穿着晚礼服的瘦男人站在门口，抓着头皮，看起来十分的茫然。祭台助手气得大喊一声，意识到刚才让其他几个人进来后忘了重新关门，这才使可怜兮兮的乡巴佬从外面的街道上跑进来，看他的样子，倒像是在寻找去参加婚礼的路线怎么走呢。"对不起。"他喊道，从一根巨大的石柱旁边跑过去："我们还没开门哩。"
在他背后，突然响起衣服淅淅簌簌的声音。祭台助手还没来得及转身，头却先被扭转了过去。一只强有力的手，从后面紧紧捂住他的口，使他的喊声不至于被人听到。这只捂住他的手雪白雪白的，他还闻到了酒的味道。
那个一本正经穿着晚礼服的男人，平静地拔出一把很小的左轮手枪，径直瞄准了祭台助手的前额。
祭台助手觉得下身热了起来，他意识到是自己失禁了。
"你给我仔细听着。"穿晚礼服的男人低声说道："我要你马上离开这里，不要做声，然后跑掉，不要停。你听清楚了吗？"
祭台助手口不能言，只有拼命地点头。
"要是你报警的话--"穿晚礼服的男人用枪低着他："我们肯定会找你的。"
祭台助手于是迅速从外面院子里跑了出去，一刻也不敢停，直到双腿发软，精疲力竭。
Chapter 86
Like a ghost, Silas drifted silently behind his target. Sophie Neveu sensed him too late. Before shecould turn, Silas pressed the gun barrel into her spine and wrapped a powerful arm across her chest,pulling her back against his hulking body. She yelled in surprise. Teabing and Langdon both turnednow, their expressions astonished and fearful.
　　"What...?" Teabing choked out. "What did you do to Rémy!""Your only concern," Silas said calmly, "is that I leave here with the keystone." This recoverymission, as Rémy had described it, was to be clean and simple: Enter the church, take the keystone,and walk out; no killing, no struggle.
　　Holding Sophie firm, Silas dropped his hand from her chest, down to her waist, slipping it insideher deep sweater pockets, searching. He could smell the soft fragrance of her hair through his ownalcohol-laced breath. "Where is it?" he whispered. The keystone was in her sweater pocket earlier.
　　So where is it now?
　　"It's over here," Langdon's deep voice resonated from across the room.
　　Silas turned to see Langdon holding the black cryptex before him, waving it back and forth like amatador tempting a dumb animal.
　　"Set it down," Silas demanded.
　　"Let Sophie and Leigh leave the church," Langdon replied. "You and I can settle this."Silas pushed Sophie away from him and aimed the gun at Langdon, moving toward him.
　　"Not a step closer," Langdon said. "Not until they leave the building.""You are in no position to make demands.""I disagree." Langdon raised the cryptex high over his head. "I will not hesitate to smash this on thefloor and break the vial inside."Although Silas sneered outwardly at the threat, he felt a flash of fear. This was unexpected. Heaimed the gun at Langdon's head and kept his voice as steady as his hand. "You would never breakthe keystone. You want to find the Grail as much as I do.""You're wrong. You want it much more. You've proven you're willing to kill for it."Forty feet away, peering out from the annex pews near the archway, Rémy Legaludec felt a risingalarm. The maneuver had not gone as planned, and even from here, he could see Silas wasuncertain how to handle the situation. At the Teacher's orders, Rémy had forbidden Silas to fire hisgun.
　　"Let them go," Langdon again demanded, holding the cryptex high over his head and staring intoSilas's gun.
　　The monk's red eyes filled with anger and frustration, and Rémy tightened with fear that Silasmight actually shoot Langdon while he was holding the cryptex. The cryptex cannot fall!
　　The cryptex was to be Rémy's ticket to freedom and wealth. A little over a year ago, he was simplya fifty-five-year-old manservant living within the walls of Chateau Villette, catering to the whimsof the insufferable cripple Sir Leigh Teabing. Then he was approached with an extraordinaryproposition. Rémy's association with Sir Leigh Teabing—the preeminent Grail historian onearth—was going to bring Rémy everything he had ever dreamed of in life. Since then, everymoment he had spent inside Chateau Villette had been leading him to this very instant.
　　I am so close, Rémy told himself, gazing into the sanctuary of the Temple Church and the keystonein Robert Langdon's hand. If Langdon dropped it, all would be lost.
　　Am I willing to show my face? It was something the Teacher had strictly forbidden. Rémy was theonly one who knew the Teacher's identity.
　　"Are you certain you want Silas to carry out this task?" Rémy had asked the Teacher less than halfan hour ago, upon getting orders to steal the keystone. "I myself am capable."The Teacher was resolute. "Silas served us well with the four Priory members. He will recover thekeystone. You must remain anonymous. If others see you, they will need to be eliminated, and therehas been enough killing already. Do not reveal your face."My face will change, Rémy thought. With what you've promised to pay me, I will become anentirely new man. Surgery could even change his fingerprints, the Teacher had told him. Soon hewould be free—another unrecognizable, beautiful face soaking up the sun on the beach.
　　"Understood," Rémy said. "I will assist Silas from the shadows.""For your own knowledge, Rémy," the Teacher had told him, "the tomb in question is not in theTemple Church. So have no fear. They are looking in the wrong place."Rémy was stunned. "And you know where the tomb is?""Of course. Later, I will tell you. For the moment, you must act quickly. If the others figure out thetrue location of the tomb and leave the church before you take the cryptex, we could lose the Grailforever."Rémy didn't give a damn about the Grail, except that the Teacher refused to pay him until it wasfound. Rémy felt giddy every time he thought of the money he soon would have. One third oftwenty million euro. Plenty to disappear forever. Rémy had pictured the beach towns on the C.ted'Azur, where he planned to live out his days basking in the sun and letting others serve him for achange.
　　Now, however, here in the Temple Church, with Langdon threatening to break the keystone,Rémy's future was at risk. Unable to bear the thought of coming this close only to lose it all, Rémymade the decision to take bold action. The gun in his hand was a concealable, small-caliber, J-frame Medusa, but it would be plenty deadly at close range.
　　Stepping from the shadows, Rémy marched into the circular chamber and aimed the gun directly atTeabing's head. "Old man, I've been waiting a long time to do this."Sir Leigh Teabing's heart practically stalled to see Rémy aiming a gun at him. What is he doing!
　　Teabing recognized the tiny Medusa revolver as his own, the one he kept locked in the limousineglove box for safety.
　　"Rémy?" Teabing sputtered in shock. "What is going on?"Langdon and Sophie looked equally dumbstruck.
　　Rémy circled behind Teabing and rammed the pistol barrel into his back, high and on the left,directly behind his heart.
　　Teabing felt his muscles seize with terror. "Rémy, I don't—""I'll make it simple," Rémy snapped, eyeing Langdon over Teabing's shoulder. "Set down thekeystone, or I pull the trigger."Langdon seemed momentarily paralyzed. "The keystone is worthless to you," he stammered. "Youcannot possibly open it.""Arrogant fools," Rémy sneered. "Have you not noticed that I have been listening tonight as youdiscussed these poems? Everything I heard, I have shared with others. Others who know more thanyou. You are not even looking in the right place. The tomb you seek is in another locationentirely!"Teabing felt panicked. What is he saying!
　　"Why do you want the Grail?" Langdon demanded. "To destroy it? Before the End of Days?"Rémy called to the monk. "Silas, take the keystone from Mr. Langdon."As the monk advanced, Langdon stepped back, raising the keystone high, looking fully prepared tohurl it at the floor.
　　"I would rather break it," Langdon said, "than see it in the wrong hands."Teabing now felt a wave of horror. He could see his life's work evaporating before his eyes. All hisdreams about to be shattered.
　　"Robert, no!" Teabing exclaimed. "Don't! That's the Grail you're holding! Rémy would never shootme. We've known each other for ten—"Rémy aimed at the ceiling and fired the Medusa. The blast was enormous for such a small weapon,the gunshot echoing like thunder inside the stone chamber.
　　Everyone froze.
　　"I am not playing games," Rémy said. "The next one is in his back. Hand the keystone to Silas."Langdon reluctantly held out the cryptex. Silas stepped forward and took it, his red eyes gleamingwith the self-satisfaction of vengeance. Slipping the keystone in the pocket of his robe, Silasbacked off, still holding Langdon and Sophie at gunpoint.
　　Teabing felt Rémy's arm clamp hard around his neck as the servant began backing out of thebuilding, dragging Teabing with him, the gun still pressed in his back.
　　"Let him go," Langdon demanded.
　　"We're taking Mr. Teabing for a drive," Rémy said, still backing up. "If you call the police, he willdie. If you do anything to interfere, he will die. Is that clear?""Take me," Langdon demanded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Let Leigh go."Rémy laughed. "I don't think so. He and I have such a nice history. Besides, he still might proveuseful."Silas was backing up now, keeping Langdon and Sophie at gunpoint as Rémy pulled Leigh towardthe exit, his crutches dragging behind him.
　　Sophie's voice was unwavering. "Who are you working for?"The question brought a smirk to the departing Rémy's face. "You would be surprised,Mademoiselle Neveu."
塞拉斯有如幽灵般迅速地绕到进攻目标的背后。等索菲发现他时，已经太迟了。她还来不及转身，塞拉斯已把枪口对准了她的脊梁骨，并用粗壮的胳膊拦腰抱住了她，拼命将她向后拖。她惊叫起来。提彬与兰登这才回过头，他们的脸上，写满了震惊与恐惧。
"你--"提彬结结巴巴地说："你把雷米怎么样了？"
塞拉斯平静地说道："你现在只管让我拿了拱心石离开这里就可以了。"雷米刚才说过，要完成重新夺回拱心石的使命，就必须做得干净利落：进入教堂，把拱心石抢到手，然后就走；不要杀人，也不要与人争斗。
塞拉斯紧抱住索菲不放，又把手从她胸部放下来，移到她的腰间，然后伸进她背心的口袋里，搜索着。透过自己的酒气，他能够闻到索菲头发里散发出来的淡淡的清香。"拱心石呢？"他低声问。拱心石早些时候还在她的背心口袋里。现在到哪里去了呢？
"在这里呢！"兰登低沉的声音从房间另一头传来。
塞拉斯转身看到兰登手拿一只黑色的密码盒，在他面前摇来晃去，就像斗牛士在挑逗不能说话的动物一般。
"把它放下。"塞拉斯命令道。
"你让索菲和提彬离开这里。"兰登回答说："只需我们两人就可以解决问题了。"塞拉斯一把将索菲推开，用枪对准了兰登，向他走去。
"你别过来。"兰登说："先让他们离开。"
"你没资格跟我讲什么条件。"
"话不能这么说。"兰登把密码盒高高地举过头顶："我会毫不犹豫地把它摔到地上，将里面的小瓶子砸个稀巴烂。"尽管塞拉斯表面上对他的威胁不屑一顾，但他内心还是闪过一丝恐惧。这真是始料不及的啊。他用枪对准兰登的头部，故作镇静地说："你绝不会砸坏它。你和我一样，都很想找到圣杯呢。""你弄错了，你比我更想得到它。你已经证明，为了得到它，你甚至愿意去杀人。"
四十码开外，雷米。莱格鲁德从拱门附近的附属建筑物里的靠背椅上探出头，他逐渐恐慌起来。塞拉斯并没按事先的计划采取行动。即使在这里，他也能看到塞拉斯穷于应付眼前的局面。按照教主的命令，雷米是不让塞拉斯开枪的。
"放他们走。"兰登再次下了命令，他把密码盒高高举过头顶，怒视着塞拉斯的枪口。
修道士的眼里既充满了怒气，也饱含了沮丧。雷米的心揪得更紧了。他担心塞拉斯真会朝手里还拿着密码盒的兰登开枪。密码盒可不能掉哇！
密码盒将是雷米通往自由与财富的门票。一年前，他还只是一名时年五十五岁的仆人，居住在维莱特庄园的深宅大院，成天为迎合让人烦透了的瘸子雷。提彬爵士不断冒出来的奇异想法而疲于奔命。但接着就有人想跟他做一笔特别的交易。雷米与雷。提彬爵士--这位闻名全球研究圣杯史的历史学家--之间的特殊关系，将带给他终生梦寐以求的东西。自那以后，他继续在维莱特庄园效劳，终于迎来了眼前这难得的机遇。
我离目标是如此的接近，他对自己说，眼睛一刻不停地盯着圣殿教堂里的礼拜堂，以及罗伯特。兰登手中的拱心石。如果兰登真的把密码盒砸了，那他什么也没有了。
我要不要亲自出面呢？那是教主严格禁止过的。雷米是唯一知道教主身份的人。
"你确定要让塞拉斯去执行任务吗？"不到半小时前，雷米就已经向教主请示过了。当时，他正等着接受去窃取拱心石的命令呢。"我一个人就可以对付了。"
教主的语气非常坚决："塞拉斯跟其他四位郇山隐修会的成员都干得不错。他会把拱心石夺回来的。你还得继续隐匿身份。如果有人知道你的底细，就干掉他，反正我们人也已经杀得不少了。不管怎样，千万别暴露自己的身份。"我可以改头换面啊，雷米心想。你不是答应过给我一笔可观的报酬吗？有了这笔钱，我就会从头到脚变成另外的一个人了。教主曾告诉他，做手术甚至能改变人的指纹哩。很快他就会获得自由--他将换上一幅让熟人认不出来的、英俊的脸孔，沐浴在洒满沙滩的阳光之中。
"我明白了。"雷米说："我会在暗中帮塞拉斯的。"
"雷米，你要知道。"教主告诉过他："那座可疑的坟墓不在圣殿教堂，所以，你不用担心，他们找错地方了。"雷米大吃一惊："这么说你知道坟墓在哪里了？"
"那当然，我以后再告诉你吧。现在你必须赶快采取行动。万一那些人找到了坟墓的确切位置，并抢在你拿到密码盒之前离开教堂，那我们就永远与圣杯失之交臂了。"雷米对圣杯并无什么怨恨，只是如果不能找到它，教主就拒绝给他报酬。每次想到即将到手的那笔钱，他就兴奋不已。这是笔将近六七百万欧元的巨款呢。有了这笔钱，他就可以永远离开这里。雷米的脑海里闪过了法国的蓝岸地区海滩小镇的美丽图景，他将在那里度过余生，晒日光浴，让别人反过来服侍自己。
然而此刻，在圣殿教堂里，兰登威胁说要砸坏拱心石，这样，雷米的前程就未卜了。
想到即将失去的一切，他就特别的难受，于是他决定大胆行事。他手里的枪是一把隐蔽的小口径J 字形"美杜莎"牌左轮手枪，但在小范围内可以造成致命的创伤。
雷米从暗处走出来，快步来到圆形房子的中央，他用手枪直接瞄准了提彬的脑袋："老家伙，我等你已经很久了。"雷。提彬爵士看到雷米用枪对准他，惊得连心跳都快要停止了。他这是干什么？提彬一眼认出了他那把出于安全考虑而锁在豪华轿车手套箱里的左轮手枪。
"雷米，你这是怎么了？"提彬气急败坏地说。
兰登与索菲同样被吓得目瞪口呆。
雷米从背后抱住提彬，用枪管猛击他左面偏高正对着心脏的后背。
提彬得全身肌肉都紧张起来了："雷米，我没--"
"我直说了吧。"雷米抢白道，他从提彬的肩上望过去，看着兰登。"把拱心石放下，要不然我要开枪了。"兰登一时好像变得麻木起来了。"你要拱心石有什么用？"他结结巴巴地说："你又不能把它打开。""一群自以为是的傻瓜。"雷米冷笑道："难道你们没注意到，整个晚上我一直都在听你们谈论这些诗吗？我什么都听到了，我也跟其他比你们懂得还多的人说了。你们甚至连地方都没找对。你们要找的坟墓纯粹在别的地方哩。"提彬惊惶失措。他在胡说什么呀？！
"你要圣杯干啥？"兰登问："你想在世界末日之前毁了它？"
雷米对那位修道士吩咐道："把拱心石从兰登先生那里拿走。"
修道士步步紧逼，兰登则步步后退，他把拱心石高高举起，好像随时准备将它摔在地上。
"我宁愿毁了它，也不愿让它落人非人之手。"
提彬这时感到一阵恐惧。他仿佛看到他终生的事业将在眼前烟消云散，他所有的梦想都将化成尘埃。
"罗伯特，不。"他大声喊道："不要！你手里拿的可是圣杯啊。雷米不会朝我开枪的。
我们认识已经有十个--"雷米朝天花板放了一枪。手枪这么小，但发出的声音实在太大了。枪声回响在石屋子里，简直就像电闪雷鸣。
"我不是开玩笑的。"雷米说："接下来我就要开枪打他的后背了。把拱心石交给塞拉斯。"兰登很不情愿地伸出手，塞拉斯走上去接。他的红眼睛里充满了报复后的快感。他把拱心石放进长袍口袋里，然后向后退去，手枪仍旧瞄准了兰登与索菲两人。
提彬的脖子被雷米抱得紧紧的。雷米拖着他，开始向屋外退去，手枪还抵着他的背。
"放他走。"兰登命令道。
"我要带提彬先生出去兜兜风。"雷米还在往后退。"如果你们报警，我就杀了他。如果你们想干涉，我也会杀了他。听清楚了没有？"
"带我去。"兰登的嗓子因为激动变得嘶哑起来。"放雷爵士走！"
雷米大笑起来："得了吧，我和他关系好着哩，而且他用处也大得很呢。"
提彬将拐杖拖在身后，他被雷米推着往出口处走去。这时塞拉斯也开始向后移动起来，但他的手枪始终对准了兰登与索菲两人。
索菲的语气非常坚决："你是在给谁卖命啊？"
闻听此言，雷米笑得得意忘形："奈芙小姐，说出来会让你大吃一惊的。"
Chapter 87
The fireplace in Chateau Villette's drawing room was cold, but Collet paced before it nonethelessas he read the faxes from Interpol.
　　Not at all what he expected.
　　André Vernet, according to official records, was a model citizen. No police record—not even aparking ticket. Educated at prep school and the Sorbonne, he had a cum laude degree ininternational finance. Interpol said Vernet's name appeared in the newspapers from time to time,but always in a positive light. Apparently the man had helped design the security parameters thatkept the Depository Bank of Zurich a leader in the ultramodern world of electronic security.
　　Vernet's credit card records showed a penchant for art books, expensive wine, and classicalCD's—mostly Brahms—which he apparently enjoyed on an exceptionally high-end stereo systemhe had purchased several years ago.
　　Zero, Collet sighed.
　　The only red flag tonight from Interpol had been a set of fingerprints that apparently belonged toTeabing's servant. The chief PTS examiner was reading the report in a comfortable chair across theroom.
　　Collet looked over. "Anything?"The examiner shrugged. "Prints belong to Rémy Legaludec. Wanted for petty crime. Nothingserious. Looks like he got kicked out of university for rewiring phone jacks to get free service...
　　later did some petty theft. Breaking and entering. Skipped out on a hospital bill once for anemergency tracheotomy." He glanced up, chuckling. "Peanut allergy."Collet nodded, recalling a police investigation into a restaurant that had failed to notate on its menuthat the chili recipe contained peanut oil. An unsuspecting patron had died of anaphylactic shock atthe table after a single bite.
　　"Legaludec is probably a live-in here to avoid getting picked up." The examiner looked amused.
　　"His lucky night."Collet sighed. "All right, you better forward this info to Captain Fache."The examiner headed off just as another PTS agent burst into the living room. "Lieutenant! Wefound something in the barn."From the anxious look on the agent's face, Collet could only guess. "A body.""No, sir. Something more..." He hesitated. "Unexpected."Rubbing his eyes, Collet followed the agent out to the barn. As they entered the musty, cavernousspace, the agent motioned toward the center of the room, where a wooden ladder now ascendedhigh into the rafters, propped against the ledge of a hayloft suspended high above them.
　　"That ladder wasn't there earlier," Collet said.
　　"No, sir. I set that up. We were dusting for prints near the Rolls when I saw the ladder lying on thefloor. I wouldn't have given it a second thought except the rungs were worn and muddy. Thisladder gets regular use. The height of the hayloft matched the ladder, so I raised it and climbed upto have a look."Collet's eyes climbed the ladder's steep incline to the soaring hayloft. Someone goes up thereregularly? From down here, the loft appeared to be a deserted platform, and yet admittedly most ofit was invisible from this line of sight.
　　A senior PTS agent appeared at the top of the ladder, looking down. "You'll definitely want to seethis, Lieutenant," he said, waving Collet up with a latex-gloved hand.
　　Nodding tiredly, Collet walked over to the base of the old ladder and grasped the bottom rungs.
　　The ladder was an antique tapered design and narrowed as Collet ascended. As he neared the top,Collet almost lost his footing on a thin rung. The barn below him spun. Alert now, he moved on,finally reaching the top. The agent above him reached out, offering his wrist. Collet grabbed it andmade the awkward transition onto the platform.
　　"It's over there," the PTS agent said, pointing deep into the immaculately clean loft. "Only one setof prints up here. We'll have an ID shortly."Collet squinted through the dim light toward the far wall. What the hell? Nestled against the farwall sat an elaborate computer workstation—two tower CPUs, a flat-screen video monitor withspeakers, an array of hard drives, and a multichannel audio console that appeared to have its ownfiltered power supply.
　　Why in the world would anyone work all the way up here? Collet moved toward the gear. "Haveyou examined the system?""It's a listening post."Collet spun. "Surveillance?"The agent nodded. "Very advanced surveillance." He motioned to a long project table strewn withelectronic parts, manuals, tools, wires, soldering irons, and other electronic components. "Someoneclearly knows what he's doing. A lot of this gear is as sophisticated as our own equipment.
　　Miniature microphones, photoelectric recharging cells, high-capacity RAM chips. He's even gotsome of those new nano drives."Collet was impressed.
　　"Here's a complete system," the agent said, handing Collet an assembly not much larger than apocket calculator. Dangling off the contraption was a foot-long wire with a stamp-sized piece ofwafer-thin foil stuck on the end. "The base is a high-capacity hard disk audio recording systemwith rechargeable battery. That strip of foil at the end of the wire is a combination microphone andphotoelectric recharging cell."Collet knew them well. These foil-like, photocell microphones had been an enormous breakthrougha few years back. Now, a hard disk recorder could be affixed behind a lamp, for example, with itsfoil microphone molded into the contour of the base and dyed to match. As long as the microphonewas positioned such that it received a few hours of sunlight per day, the photo cells would keeprecharging the system. Bugs like this one could listen indefinitely.
　　"Reception method?" Collet asked.
　　The agent signaled to an insulated wire that ran out of the back of the computer, up the wall,through a hole in the barn roof. "Simple radio wave. Small antenna on the roof."Collet knew these recording systems were generally placed in offices, were voice-activated to savehard disk space, and recorded snippets of conversation during the day, transmitting compressedaudio files at night to avoid detection. After transmitting, the hard drive erased itself and preparedto do it all over again the next day.
　　Collet's gaze moved now to a shelf on which were stacked several hundred audio cassettes, alllabeled with dates and numbers. Someone has been very busy. He turned back to the agent. "Doyou have any idea what target is being bugged?""Well, Lieutenant," the agent said, walking to the computer and launching a piece of software. "It'sthe strangest thing...."
维莱特庄园客厅里的壁炉冷了，然而科莱中尉却在它跟前走来走去，一边读着国际刑警组织给他发来的传真。
一切出乎他的意料。
根据官方所做的记录，安德烈。韦尔内是一位模范市民。警方没有任何有关他的犯罪记录，甚至连一张违规停车的罚款单也没有。他先后在预科学校以及巴黎大学受过教育，并以优异成绩获得国际金融专业的学位。据国际刑警组织说，韦尔内的大名经常出现在各家报纸上，并且都是些正面新闻。很明显，此人曾参与过苏黎世储蓄银行安全系统的设计，从而使它成为当今世界电子安全系统的领头羊。根据韦尔内个人信用卡上的资料显示，他是一位艺术书籍的爱好者，各种名贵酒类的嗜好者；他酷爱古典音乐--他所珍藏的唱片里大多数是勃拉姆斯的作品，显然他是用几年前购置的那一套特别高级的立体声系统来欣赏这些音乐的。
一无所获。科莱不禁叹了口气。
今天晚上，从国际刑警组织提供的情报来看，唯一的亮点显然就是提彬的仆人留下的指纹了。在屋子另一头，PTS 的首席检察官坐在舒服的椅子上，读着交上来的调查材料。
科莱望过去。"有什么新发现没有？"
检察官耸耸肩："这是雷米。莱格鲁德留下的指纹。他因犯了轻微罪行而受到传讯。没什么大不了的。好像是他为了享受打免费电话的便利，重新装了电话插孔而被学校赶出来了……后来又去偷偷摸摸，抓起来放了出去，放出去又被抓起来。有一次做急诊气管切开手术，他还在医院开具的账单上做了手脚。"他抬起头，吃吃地笑。"说什么对花生油产生过敏反应呢。"科莱点了点头，他想起有次警方到一家餐馆去做调查，那家餐馆没在菜单上注明肉辣酱里含有花生油。结果有位客人坐到桌上才吃上一口，就因对花生油产生过敏反应而猝然死去。
"莱格鲁德为避免被人抓起来，可能就住在这里。"检察官一副很开心的样子："他那天晚上够幸运的了。"科莱叹了口气：说："好啦，你最好还是去跟法希上尉说吧。"
检察官阻止了他，就在此时，另一位PTS 的特工人员急匆匆地走了进来。"中尉，我们在谷仓里发现了一些东西。"从那位特工急切的神情来看，科莱只好猜测可能是发现某人的尸体了。
"不是的，阁下，是更多的--"他迟疑了一下："令人感到意外的东西。"
科莱擦擦眼，跟着这位特工来到谷仓。他们进得那散发出霉气、有如洞穴的地方，那特工走到屋子中央，那里有一架木梯，高高地通向屋椽，紧靠在高悬于他们头顶的草棚上。
"梯子原先不在那里吧。"科莱幽幽地说。
"是的，阁下。那梯子是我弄上去的。刚才大家还在罗尔斯轿车附近提取现场留下的脚印时，我看到这架梯子倒在地上。要不是看到梯子中间的横挡坏了发了霉，我才不会多想。梯子没有其他特别的用处。它刚好够着那个草棚，所以我把它竖起来，爬到上面去看。"科莱循着那架倾斜得厉害的梯子望过去，目光终于落在那离地面很高的草棚上。难道经常有人爬到上面去吗？从这里往上看，那草棚宛如一个无人的舞台，不过，从这里显然很难看清它的全貌。
一名PTS 的高级特工出现在木梯的顶端，他正俯身朝下看。"中尉，你肯定很想上来看看吧。"他用那戴着橡胶手套的左手朝科莱挥了挥。
科莱疲惫地点了点头，走到那架破旧的梯子下面，抓住了底部的横档。梯子被设计成旧式的锥形，科莱越往上爬，梯子就变得越窄。科莱快爬到梯子的顶端时，踩在一节细小的横档上，身体几乎失去了平衡，顿时觉得身体下面的谷仓在眼前旋转起来。于是他提高警惕，继续往上爬，终于爬到梯子的顶端。那位已在上面的特工，向他伸出了手。科莱伸手一把抓住，这才勉强地来到草棚的平台上。
"喏，就在那边。"PTS 特工指着里头一尘不染的阁楼，说："从这里往前走，我们只发现几个脚印，不过，我们马上就拿去做鉴定。"科莱借着着微弱的光，斜视着远处的墙。那到底是什么东西呢？在离他们老远的墙壁上，建了一座装备精良的计算机工作站--它由两个铁塔一般的中央处理器、一台带喇叭的平面视频显示器、一台硬盘驱动器，还有一套多频道的似乎已经充好电的音频控制设备组成。
究竟是什么人，竟跑到这地方来干这种勾当？科莱朝对面走去，一边问："你们注意到那套设备没有？"
"那是听音哨啊。"
科莱觉得有些头晕："你是说窃听器吗？"
那名特工点了点头："是的，是非常先进的窃听器。"他向一张堆满电子零件、使用指南、仪器、电线、焊接棒以及其他许多电子组件的设计桌做了个手势。"那人很清楚他在做些什么。这里的许多仪器，跟我们的设备一样先进，这其中有微型话筒、可充电的光电池，还有高容量的随机存贮器芯片等。他甚至还拥有新式微型驱动器呢。"这倒是给科莱留下了深刻的印象。
"这是套很完整的系统。"那名特工说着，递给科莱一件比袖珍计算器大不了多少的装置。从它上面垂下一条大约一英尺长的电线，在线的末端，粘着一块邮票大小、薄如胶纸的金属薄片。"它主要是由配置了充电电池的高容量硬盘录音系统组成。电线末端的金属薄片，就是集话筒与光电充电电池功能于一身的装置。"科莱很了解它们。退回到几年前，这些看似金属薄片、利用光电池的话筒，从技术上讲在当时是一项巨大的突破。而如今，硬盘录音设备就可安放在比如说灯的后面，而金属薄片大小的话筒则可嵌入灯的底座里，并染上与之相匹配的色彩。只要装上这样的话筒，使它每天能接收机小时阳光的照射，光电池就会给系统持续充电，那像这样的窃听器就能继续使用下去，而不受到什么限制。
"那接收方法呢？"科莱问道。
那名特工朝一根绝缘电线做了个手势一一那根线从电脑后面伸出来，沿墙壁而上，穿过了谷仓屋顶上的一个洞眼。"他们是通过简单的电磁波，利用屋顶上的小天线接收的。"
科莱知道，这些录音设备通常安置在办公室里，并利用声音来激活，为的是节省硬盘的空间；白天，它被用来录下别人谈话的片断，到了晚上，为避免被人发现，再把压缩的声音文件发送出去；然后，硬盘会自动进行清理，准备第二天再次录音。
他把目光转移到堆满几百盒音响磁带的架子上，这些磁带都标有日期，也都编了号。
有人一直在忙得不可开交呢。他转身问那名特工："你知道他们在监听谁吗？"
"这个嘛，上尉。"这位特工走到计算机前，并启动了一份软件，说："我觉得最奇怪的是……"
Chapter 88
Langdon felt utterly spent as he and Sophie hurdled a turnstile at the Temple tube station anddashed deep into the grimy labyrinth of tunnels and platforms. The guilt ripped through him.
　　I involved Leigh, and now he's in enormous danger.
　　Rémy's involvement had been a shock, and yet it made sense. Whoever was pursuing the Grail hadrecruited someone on the inside. They went to Teabing's for the same reason I did. Throughouthistory, those who held knowledge of the Grail had always been magnets for thieves and scholarsalike. The fact that Teabing had been a target all along should have made Langdon feel less guiltyabout involving him. It did not. We need to find Leigh and help him. Immediately.
　　Langdon followed Sophie to the westbound District and Circle Line platform, where she hurried toa pay phone to call the police, despite Rémy's warning to the contrary. Langdon sat on a grungybench nearby, feeling remorseful.
　　"The best way to help Leigh," Sophie reiterated as she dialed, "is to involve the London authoritiesimmediately. Trust me."Langdon had not initially agreed with this idea, but as they had hatched their plan, Sophie's logicbegan to make sense. Teabing was safe at the moment. Even if Rémy and the others knew wherethe knight's tomb was located, they still might need Teabing's help deciphering the orb reference.
　　What worried Langdon was what would happen after the Grail map had been found. Leigh willbecome a huge liability.
　　If Langdon were to have any chance of helping Leigh, or of ever seeing the keystone again, it wasessential that he find the tomb first. Unfortunately, Rémy has a big head start.
　　Slowing Rémy down had become Sophie's task.
　　Finding the right tomb had become Langdon's.
　　Sophie would make Rémy and Silas fugitives of the London police, forcing them into hiding or,better yet, catching them. Langdon's plan was less certain—to take the tube to nearby King'sCollege, which was renowned for its electronic theological database. The ultimate research tool,Langdon had heard. Instant answers to any religious historical question. He wondered what thedatabase would have to say about "a knight a Pope interred."He stood up and paced, wishing the train would hurry.
　　At the pay phone, Sophie's call finally connected to the London police.
　　"Snow Hill Division," the dispatcher said. "How may I direct your call?""I'm reporting a kidnapping." Sophie knew to be concise.
　　"Name please?"Sophie paused. "Agent Sophie Neveu with the French Judicial Police."The title had the desired effect. "Right away, ma'am. Let me get a detective on the line for you."As the call went through, Sophie began wondering if the police would even believe her descriptionof Teabing's captors. A man in a tuxedo. How much easier to identify could a suspect be? Even ifRémy changed clothes, he was partnered with an albino monk. Impossible to miss. Moreover, theyhad a hostage and could not take public transportation. She wondered how many Jaguar stretchlimos there could be in London.
　　Sophie's connection to the detective seemed to be taking forever. Come on! She could hear the lineclicking and buzzing, as if she was being transferred.
　　Fifteen seconds passed.
　　Finally a man came on the line. "Agent Neveu?"Stunned, Sophie registered the gruff tone immediately.
　　"Agent Neveu," Bezu Fache demanded. "Where the hell are you?"Sophie was speechless. Captain Fache had apparently requested the London police dispatcher alerthim if Sophie called in.
　　"Listen," Fache said, speaking to her in terse French. "I made a terrible mistake tonight. RobertLangdon is innocent. All charges against him have been dropped. Even so, both of you are indanger. You need to come in."Sophie's jaw fell slack. She had no idea how to respond. Fache was not a man who apologized foranything.
　　"You did not tell me," Fache continued, "that Jacques Saunière was your grandfather. I fully intendto overlook your insubordination last night on account of the emotional stress you must be under.
　　At the moment, however, you and Langdon need to go to the nearest London police headquartersfor refuge."He knows I'm in London? What else does Fache know? Sophie heard what sounded like drilling ormachinery in the background. She also heard an odd clicking on the line. "Are you tracing this call,Captain?"Fache's voice was firm now. "You and I need to cooperate, Agent Neveu. We both have a lot tolose here. This is damage control. I made errors in judgment last night, and if those errors result inthe deaths of an American professor and a DCPJ cryptologist, my career will be over. I've beentrying to pull you back into safety for the last several hours."A warm wind was now pushing through the station as a train approached with a low rumble.
　　Sophie had every intention of being on it. Langdon apparently had the same idea; he was gatheringhimself together and moving toward her now.
　　"The man you want is Rémy Legaludec," Sophie said. "He is Teabing's servant. He just kidnappedTeabing inside the Temple Church and—""Agent Neveu!" Fache bellowed as the train thundered into the station. "This is not something todiscuss on an open line. You and Langdon will come in now. For your own well-being! That is adirect order!"Sophie hung up and dashed with Langdon onto the train.
兰登与索菲跨过圣殿教堂地铁站的旋转栅门，冲进肮脏的隧道与站台组成的迷宫深处时，他感到筋疲力尽，同时也觉得非常的内疚。
是我连累了提彬，他现在真可谓是性命攸关。
雷米的突然卷入虽然令大家深感震惊。不过还是很有意义的。这说明，任何人，只要他们想把圣杯弄到手，都会暗中派人打入到对手内部。基于同样的理由，他们将人安插到提彬的身边。纵观历史，那些了解圣杯史的人，长期以来一直吸引着小偷以及学者那样的人。提彬一直是这些人的众矢之的。这样的事实本可让兰登减少一些拖累他的自责，然而却没有。我们得找到雷爵土，将他解救出来。马上。
兰登跟着索菲来到通往西面的地铁黄线暨绿线的站台，一到那里，她就急忙跑去打公用电话报警--尽管雷米曾威胁她不要去报警。兰登坐在附近一张肮脏的椅子上，心里充满了悔恨。
索菲一边拨电话号码一边不住地重申："请你相信我，眼下解救提彬最好的方法，就是马上让伦敦警方插手进来。"兰登最初并不同意她的主张，不过由于他们已想好了一套计划，这才使索菲的那套逻辑开始变得有意义起来。提彬暂时是安全的。即使雷米与其他人知道骑土坟墓的确切位置，他们还是需要提彬来帮助他们解开圆球之谜。兰登担心的倒是，在圣杯地图找到之后，他们又会做出什么样的事情来呢？一旦找到了地图，雷就会成为他们沉重的包袱。
要是兰登还想有机会解救提彬？或者再看到拱心石，他就得先找到这座骑士坟墓。不幸的是，雷米突然来了个先发制人。
现在，迫使雷米停下来就是索菲承担的任务。
而兰登的责任就是找准骑士的坟墓。
索菲可能会使伦敦警方四处追捕雷米与塞拉斯，迫使他们东躲西藏，惶惶不可终日，如果运气不错，甚至有可能逮住他们。但是，兰登的计划就不敢那么肯定了--他打算坐地铁到附近的国王学院，它因拥有所有神学方面知识的电子数据库而闻名。这是兰登所听过的最重要的研究手段。任何关于宗教方面的历史问题，只要一敲键盘，很快就会找到答案。他不知道该数据库对"一位被教皇杀害的骑士"这样的问题会提供什么样的答案。
他站起来，来回踱着步，盼望火车能马上就来。
在公共电话那头，索菲终于拨通了伦敦警方的电话。
"这里是雪山分局。"调度员在另一头说道："请问你要将电话转往哪个分机？"
"我是来报案的，有人被绑架了。"索菲知道，怎样才能做到不拖泥带水。
"请问尊姓大名？"
索菲停了一下，才说："我是法国警察署的特工索菲。奈芙。"
显然她的头衔起到了预期的效果。"我马上就给你转过去，女士。我去叫一位侦探来跟你通话。"电话接通时，索菲就在怀疑警方会不会相信她对提彬的绑架者的描述。一位穿着晚礼服的男人。还有比这更容易让人辨认的嫌疑人吗？就算雷米改换装束，但他还带了一名患有白化病的修道士。况且他们还裹挟了一名人质，不可能会去搭乘公用的交通工具。她在心里疑惑，伦敦可能会有多少"美洲虎"牌加长豪华轿车。
索菲以乎要等上一辈子的时间才能联系上那名侦探。快点呀！她听得见电话线里发出的"滴答"声和"嗡嗡"声，仿佛她正被电话线传了过去。
十五秒过去了。
终于有人来接电话："是奈芙小姐吗？"
索菲惊得跳了起来，她马上认出了那瓮声瓮气的男音。
"奈芙小姐。"贝祖。法希询问道："你到底在哪里？"
索菲沉默不语。法希上尉显然关照过伦敦警察局的调度员，如果索菲打电话进来，务必要提醒他。
"听着。"法希用法语简练地对她说："今晚我犯了一个可怕的错误。罗伯特。兰登是无辜的。所有针对他的指控都被取消了。但即使是这样，你们两人还是很危险。你们得赶快过来。"索菲的下巴松弛了一下。她不知道该如何作出反应。法希可不是个随随便便向人道歉的人呐。
"你没有告诉我。"法希继续说："雅克，索尼埃是你祖父。考虑到你感情上一定承受了很大的压力，对你昨晚的反抗行为，我也就不打算追究了。不过，你和兰登还得赶快跑到最近的伦敦警察局去避一避。"他知道我在伦敦？他还知道什么？索菲听到对方发出连续不断的"嗡嗡"声，或者是其他机器发出的声音。她也听到电话线里传来古怪的"滴答"声，于是她问道："你是在跟踪我的电话吧，上尉？"
法希的语气变得坚定起来："奈芙小姐，你和我现在必须合作，我俩在这里损失都很惨重，合作的话就可以减少我们的损失了。昨晚我判断失误，如果由于我的错误导致一名美国教授和法国中央警备部解码专家的死亡，那我的前途就完了。"火车终于来了，发出低低的"轰隆隆"的声响。此刻，一阵温暖的风，正吹遍火车站的各个通道。索菲急不可耐地想跳上去，兰登显然也是这么想。他打起精神，朝她走去。
"你要找的人是雷米。莱格鲁德。"索菲还站在那里，说："他是提彬的仆人。他刚才在圣殿教堂里面绑架了提彬，而且--""奈芙小姐！"法希不耐烦地喊道，这时火车"轰隆隆"地开进了车站。"这种事，不适合拿到公用电话上来讨论。为了你们的安全，你和兰登得马上过来避一避。"索菲把电话挂了，与兰登箭一般地跳上了火车。
Chapter 89
The immaculate cabin of Teabing's Hawker was now covered with steel shavings and smelled ofcompressed air and propane. Bezu Fache had sent everyone away and sat alone with his drink andthe heavy wooden box found in Teabing's safe.
　　Running his finger across the inlaid Rose, he lifted the ornate lid. Inside he found a stone cylinderwith lettered dials. The five dials were arranged to spell SOFIA. Fache stared at the word a longmoment and then lifted the cylinder from its padded resting place and examined every inch. Then,pulling slowly on the ends, Fache slid off one of the end caps. The cylinder was empty.
　　Fache set it back in the box and gazed absently out the jet's window at the hangar, pondering hisbrief conversation with Sophie, as well as the information he'd received from PTS in ChateauVillette. The sound of his phone shook him from his daydream.
　　It was the DCPJ switchboard. The dispatcher was apologetic. The president of the Depository Bankof Zurich had been calling repeatedly, and although he had been told several times that the captainwas in London on business, he just kept calling. Begrudgingly Fache told the operator to forwardthe call.
　　"Monsieur Vernet," Fache said, before the man could even speak, "I am sorry I did not call youearlier. I have been busy. As promised, the name of your bank has not appeared in the media. Sowhat precisely is your concern?"Vernet's voice was anxious as he told Fache how Langdon and Sophie had extracted a smallwooden box from the bank and then persuaded Vernet to help them escape. "Then when I heard onthe radio that they were criminals," Vernet said, "I pulled over and demanded the box back, butthey attacked me and stole the truck.""You are concerned for a wooden box," Fache said, eyeing the Rose inlay on the cover and againgently opening the lid to reveal the white cylinder. "Can you tell me what was in the box?""The contents are immaterial," Vernet fired back. "I am concerned with the reputation of my bank.
　　We have never had a robbery. Ever. It will ruin us if I cannot recover this property on behalf of myclient.""You said Agent Neveu and Robert Langdon had a password and a key. What makes you say theystole the box?""They murdered people tonight. Including Sophie Neveu's grandfather. The key and passwordwere obviously ill-gotten.""Mr. Vernet, my men have done some checking into your background and your interests. You areobviously a man of great culture and refinement. I would imagine you are a man of honor, as well.
　　As am I. That said, I give you my word as commanding officer of the Police Judiciaire that yourbox, along with your bank's reputation, are in the safest of hands."
提彬的"猎鹰者"号飞机那几乎称得上完美的机舱，此刻已被覆盖了一层薄薄的钢片。
空气被压缩了，散发出一股丙烷的味道。贝祖。法希将所有人都打发走，他独自一人坐着，手拿着饮料以及在提彬保险柜里找到的沉重的木盒。
他的手指滑过那朵镶嵌的玫瑰，并把那装饰精美的盖子举起来。他在里头发现了一个上面标有字母转盘的圆石筒。这五个字母拼起来就是SOFIA.法希盯着那五个字母，看了很长时间，然后把那圆柱体从衬垫上拿起来仔细的检查，生怕漏掉其中的某个部分。
法希将圆柱体放回了木盒，然后透过飞机的窗口，茫然地看着外面的停机库，脑子里还在想刚才跟索菲进行的简短谈话，以及刚从维莱特庄园PTS 那里发来的消息。突然一阵电话铃响，才将他从白日梦中惊醒过来。
电话是法国中央警署的接线总机转过来的。调度员一上来就不停地道歉，说苏黎世储蓄银行的总裁不断地打电话过来，尽管他们反复地告诉他中尉出差到伦敦去了，但他仍旧打电话来。法希很不情愿地让接线员把电话接过来。
"韦尔内先生。"法希还没等那人开口，就先说道："我很抱歉刚才没打电话给你。我总是很忙。我已经答应过你，不会让你银行的名字出现在各家媒体上。所以，你还有什么放心不下的呢？"
听得出韦尔内的语气里有些不安，他告诉法希，兰登与索菲如何将木盒子从银行里弄出来，又是怎样说服他协助他们逃跑。"然而当我听说他俩有罪在身时，我就把车开到路边，要他们把盒子还给我，但他们却攻击我，并开着我的车走了。""原来你还在关心紫檀木盒子啊。"法希看了看镶嵌在盖子上的玫瑰，然后又轻轻地揭开盖子，露出那白色的圆柱体。"那你告诉我，里面都放了些什么东西？"
"里面倒没有什么好东西。"韦尔内情绪激动起来："我只是担心银行的名声会受到损害。此前我们银行还从没遇到过抢劫事件，从来没有。如果我不能帮客户找回这件东西，我们的名声就会毁了。""你刚才说索菲和兰登有密码，也有钥匙，那你凭什么说他们盗走了盒子呢？"
"他们今晚杀了人，也包括索菲。奈芙的祖父在内。他们的钥匙和密码，很明显是通过非正当手段得到的。""韦尔内先生，你的背景资料和兴趣爱好我手下的人都已经调查的很清楚了。显然你是位颇有教养并且情趣高雅的人。我也想象得出，你跟我一样，是一位很讲信义的正派人。
这样吧，我以警察局上尉的名义向你保证，不单是你的盒子，就连你银行的信誉问题，都不会有丝毫的损失。"
Chapter 90
High in the hayloft at Chateau Villette, Collet stared at the computer monitor in amazement. "Thissystem is eavesdropping on all these locations?""Yes," the agent said. "It looks like data has been collected for over a year now."Collet read the list again, speechless.
　　COLBERT SOSTAQUE—Chairman of the Conseil ConstitutionnelJEAN CHAFFéE—Curator, Musée du Jeu de PaumeEDOUARD DESROCHERS—Senior Archivist, Mitterrand LibraryJACQUES SAUNIèRE—Curator, Musée du LouvreMICHEL BRETON—Head of DAS (French Intelligence)The agent pointed to the screen. "Number four is of obvious concern."Collet nodded blankly. He had noticed it immediately. Jacques Saunière was being bugged. Helooked at the rest of the list again. How could anyone possibly manage to bug these prominentpeople? "Have you heard any of the audio files?""A few. Here's one of the most recent." The agent clicked a few computer keys. The speakerscrackled to life. "Capitaine, un agent du Département de Cryptographie est arrivé."Collet could not believe his ears. "That's me! That's my voice!" He recalled sitting at Saunière'sdesk and radioing Fache in the Grand Gallery to alert him of Sophie Neveu's arrival.
　　The agent nodded. "A lot of our Louvre investigation tonight would have been audible if someonehad been interested.""Have you sent anyone in to sweep for the bug?""No need. I know exactly where it is." The agent went to a pile of old notes and blueprints on theworktable. He selected a page and handed it to Collet. "Look familiar?"Collet was amazed. He was holding a photocopy of an ancient schematic diagram, which depicteda rudimentary machine. He was unable to read the handwritten Italian labels, and yet he knew whathe was looking at. A model for a fully articulated medieval French knight.
　　The knight sitting on Saunière's desk!
　　Collet's eyes moved to the margins, where someone had scribbled notes on the photocopy in redfelt-tipped marker. The notes were in French and appeared to be ideas outlining how best to insert alistening device into the knight.
科莱站在维莱特庄园高高的草棚上，瞪着眼睛看着计算机的显示器，惊奇不已。"所有这些区域，利用该系统都能偷听得到吗？"
"是的。"那名特工回答说："这些数据好像已收集一年多了。"
科莱看了看手中的名单，没说一句话。
科尔贝。索斯塔克--宪法委员会主席让。查菲--裘德。波姆国立美术馆馆长爱德华。德罗什--密特朗图书馆高级档案保管员雅克。索尼埃--卢浮宫博物馆馆长米歇尔。布勒东--法国情报局局长特工指了指电脑屏幕，说："第四个很明显让人关注。"
科莱面无表情地点了点头。他很快注意到了。有人在监听雅克。索尼埃呢。他又看了看那份名单。这样有名望的人，别人怎么可能偷听得到呢？"你听到什么音频文件没有？"
"听到一些。这是最近的一份文件。"那名特工敲了敲键盘，喇叭里便传来清脆而逼真的声音："局长，密码破译部的一位特工到了。"
科莱简直不相信自己的耳朵。"那是我！那是我的声音啊！"他想起了他坐在索尼埃的桌子旁边，用无线电向当时还在卢浮宫艺术大画廊的法希提醒索菲。奈芙到来的情景。
特工点点头："如果有人对我们此次行动感兴趣的话，那今晚我们在卢浮宫调查的大部分内容，都可能被人偷听了去。""那你有没有派人去搜寻那个窃听器呢？"
"我看没这个必要，我知道它在哪里。"特工走到工作台上一堆过时的笔记与设计图前，从中选了一页，递给科莱，说："很面熟吧？"
科莱惊骇万分。他手里拿着的是一张古代示意图的影印件，图上画的是一台机器的原始模型。他看不懂上面手写的意大利语标签号，但他知道他在看什么东西。这是一个组装起来的中世纪法国骑士的模型。
这骑士像眼下就放在索尼埃的办公桌上！
科莱的视线转移到页面空白的地方，有人用红色标签笔潦草的在影印件上作了些注解。这些注解是用法语写的，大意是如何正确地将窃听装置插在这位骑士的身上。
Chapter 91
Silas sat in the passenger seat of the parked Jaguar limousine near the Temple Church. His handsfelt damp on the keystone as he waited for Rémy to finish tying and gagging Teabing in back withthe rope they had found in the trunk.
　　Finally, Rémy climbed out of the rear of the limo, walked around, and slid into the driver's seatbeside Silas.
　　"Secure?" Silas asked.
　　Rémy chuckled, shaking off the rain and glancing over his shoulder through the open partition atthe crumpled form of Leigh Teabing, who was barely visible in the shadows in the rear. "He's notgoing anywhere."Silas could hear Teabing's muffled cries and realized Rémy had used some of the old duct tape togag him.
　　"Ferme ta gueule!" Rémy shouted over his shoulder at Teabing. Reaching to a control panel on theelaborate dash, Rémy pressed a button. An opaque partition raised behind them, sealing off theback. Teabing disappeared, and his voice was silenced. Rémy glanced at Silas. "I've been listeningto his miserable whimpering long enough."Minutes later, as the Jaguar stretch limo powered through the streets, Silas's cell phone rang. TheTeacher. He answered excitedly. "Hello?""Silas," the Teacher's familiar French accent said, "I am relieved to hear your voice. This meansyou are safe."Silas was equally comforted to hear the Teacher. It had been hours, and the operation had veeredwildly off course. Now, at last, it seemed to be back on track. "I have the keystone.""This is superb news," the Teacher told him. "Is Rémy with you?"Silas was surprised to hear the Teacher use Rémy's name. "Yes. Rémy freed me.""As I ordered him to do. I am only sorry you had to endure captivity for so long.""Physical discomfort has no meaning. The important thing is that the keystone is ours.""Yes. I need it delivered to me at once. Time is of the essence."Silas was eager to meet the Teacher face-to-face at last. "Yes, sir, I would be honored.""Silas, I would like Rémy to bring it to me."Rémy? Silas was crestfallen. After everything Silas had done for the Teacher, he had believed hewould be the one to hand over the prize. The Teacher favors Rémy?
　　"I sense your disappointment," the Teacher said, "which tells me you do not understand mymeaning." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You must believe that I would much prefer toreceive the keystone from you—a man of God rather than a criminal—but Rémy must be dealtwith. He disobeyed my orders and made a grave mistake that has put our entire mission at risk."Silas felt a chill and glanced over at Rémy. Kidnapping Teabing had not been part of the plan, anddeciding what to do with him posed a new problem.
　　"You and I are men of God," the Teacher whispered. "We cannot be deterred from our goal." Therewas an ominous pause on the line. "For this reason alone, I will ask Rémy to bring me thekeystone. Do you understand?"Silas sensed anger in the Teacher's voice and was surprised the man was not more understanding.
　　Showing his face could not be avoided, Silas thought. Rémy did what he had to do. He saved thekeystone. "I understand," Silas managed.
　　"Good. For your own safety, you need to get off the street immediately. The police will be lookingfor the limousine soon, and I do not want you caught. Opus Dei has a residence in London, no?""Of course.""And you are welcome there?""As a brother.""Then go there and stay out of sight. I will call you the moment I am in possession of the keystoneand have attended to my current problem.""You are in London?""Do as I say, and everything will be fine.""Yes, sir."The Teacher heaved a sigh, as if what he now had to do was profoundly regrettable. "It's time Ispeak to Rémy."Silas handed Rémy the phone, sensing it might be the last call Rémy Legaludec ever took.
　　As Rémy took the phone, he knew this poor, twisted monk had no idea what fate awaited him nowthat he had served his purpose.
　　The Teacher used you, Silas.
　　And your bishop is a pawn.
　　Rémy still marveled at the Teacher's powers of persuasion. Bishop Aringarosa had trustedeverything. He had been blinded by his own desperation. Aringarosa was far too eager to believe.
　　Although Rémy did not particularly like the Teacher, he felt pride at having gained the man's trustand helped him so substantially. I have earned my payday.
　　"Listen carefully," the Teacher said. "Take Silas to the Opus Dei residence hall and drop him off afew streets away. Then drive to St. James's Park. It is adjacent to Parliament and Big Ben. You canpark the limousine on Horse Guards Parade. We'll talk there."With that, the connection went dead.
塞拉斯坐在停靠于圣殿教堂附近的"美洲虎"豪华轿车的乘客椅上。雷米在车后面他们刚才从汽车尾部的行李箱中找到的绳子将提彬的手绑了，并把他的的嘴堵上。等到他把这些事情做完，这才发现拿着拱心石的手有些潮湿。
雷米终于从车后面爬出来，绕着车走，然后钻到塞拉斯身边的司机座位上。
"你没事吧？"塞拉斯问。
雷米咯咯地笑起来，他擦去身上的雨水，回过头，越过那用铁栅栏隔开的区间，看了被绑起来的雷。提彬一眼，他蜷缩在车后的阴影里，几乎看不见。"他跑不了的。"
塞拉斯听见提彬模糊不清的喊声，这才意识到雷米将刚才堵住他嘴的破电缆线又拿来对付提彬了。
"闭上你的臭嘴！"雷米回头向提彬吼道。他把手放到造型精致的汽车控制板上，按了按钮。一道不透明的隔墙随即在他们身后升起，将车后的隔间封住了。于是提彬消失了，他的声音也听不见了。雷米瞥了塞拉斯一眼："这些年来我实在是受够了。"
几分钟后，正当雷米开着"美洲虎"加长豪华车，加大马力穿过街道时，塞拉斯的手机突然响了起来。是教主。他激动地接起电话："喂？"
"塞拉斯。"教主操着熟悉的法国口音说："听到你的声音，我就放心了。这说明你还没出事。"塞拉斯听到教主的声音，他同样感到释然。已经过去好几个小时了，但他们的行动却疯狂地偏离了原来的轨道。现在好了，一切似乎又回归到正常的轨道。"拱心石到手了。"
"太棒了。"教主问他："雷米在吗？"
听到教主这样称呼雷米，塞拉斯吃了一惊。"在。是雷米刚才救的我。"
"他是按我吩咐去做的。你被他们绑了这么长的时间，我真地感到过意不去。"
"肉体上的痛苦倒不算什么，重要的是把拱心石弄到手。"
"你说的没错，我现在要你们赶快把它送过来。时间真的很宝贵啊。"
塞拉斯想到终于能够见到教主一面，心情急切起来。"好的，阁下。我很荣幸。"
"塞拉斯，我要雷米给我送过来。"
雷米？塞拉斯不由垂头丧气。他为教主赴汤蹈火效犬马之劳，他还以为会让他亲手把拱心石交给教主哩。难道教主偏爱雷米？
"你是不是感到很失望。"教主说道："这说明你还没明白我的意思。"他压低嗓门："你要相信，我很愿意让你这位上帝的子民--而不是让一名罪犯--把拱心石送来，可我必须处理雷米。他没听从我的命令，因而犯下严重的错误，将我们整个的计划都搅乱了。"塞拉斯打了个冷战，他回头瞥了雷米一眼。原来绑架提彬并没列入计划之内，而且如何处理他是他们将要面临的新的难题。
"你我都是上帝的子民。"教主低声地说："所以决不允许别人阻止我们实现自己的目标。
"电话的另一端沉默了片刻，分明有种不祥的预兆。"就因为这个原因，我要雷米把拱心石给我送来。你听懂了我的意思没有？"
塞拉斯察觉教主生气了，他很奇怪这人竟然如此的不近人情。他迟早会露面的，这是不可避免的，塞拉斯心想。雷米只不过是在尽义务罢了，毕竟拱心石是他夺来的。"我明白了。"他敷衍了回去。
"那好，为了你自身的安全，你马上离开街道。警察很快会来寻找你们的汽车。我不想看到你被抓走。天主事工会在伦敦有栋房子对吧？"
"那当然。"
"那里的人喜欢你吗？"
"我跟他们情同手足哩。"
"那你赶快去。等我拿到拱心石，处理好眼前的问题，我再打电话找你。"
"你在伦敦吗？"
"如果你照我吩咐的去做，那就什么事也没有了。"
"那好。"
教主长叹一声，似乎对目前必须做的事情也深感遗憾。"我来跟雷米说几句。"
塞拉斯把电话递给了雷米，觉得这可能是他--雷米。莱格鲁德最后一次接电话了。
雷米接过电话，他明白这个可怜的、备受折磨的修道士还不知道前方会有怎样的命运在等待着他，因为他已经完成了自己的使命，变得毫无用处了。塞拉斯，你是被教主利用了。而你的主教，不过是他的爪牙罢了。
雷米还在为教主说服别人的高超技艺惊奇不已。阿林加洛沙主教相信一切，他完全被自己铤而走险的动机所迷惑了。阿林加洛沙过于心急，让人难以相信。虽然雷米并不是特别喜欢这位教主，但还是为自己赢得了此人的信任而感到自豪，并尽力去帮助他。我的好日子就快到了。
"你给我听好了。"教主开了腔："你先把塞拉斯带到天主事工会的住处，等再过几条街道后才放他下去，然后把车开到圣詹姆斯公园，那里离议会和大笨钟很近。你把车停在骑兵校阅场。我们就在那里碰头。"说完，他就将电话挂了。
Chapter 92
King's College, established by King George IV in 1829, houses its Department of Theology andReligious Studies adjacent to Parliament on property granted by the Crown. King's CollegeReligion Department boasts not only 150 years' experience in teaching and research, but the 1982establishment of the Research Institute in Systematic Theology, which possesses one of the mostcomplete and electronically advanced religious research libraries in the world.
　　Langdon still felt shaky as he and Sophie came in from the rain and entered the library. Theprimary research room was as Teabing had described it—a dramatic octagonal chamber dominatedby an enormous round table around which King Arthur and his knights might have beencomfortable were it not for the presence of twelve flat-screen computer workstations. On the farside of the room, a reference librarian was just pouring a pot of tea and settling in for her day ofwork.
　　"Lovely morning," she said in a cheerful British accent, leaving the tea and walking over. "May Ihelp you?""Thank you, yes," Langdon replied. "My name is—""Robert Langdon." She gave a pleasant smile. "I know who you are."For an instant, he feared Fache had put him on English television as well, but the librarian's smilesuggested otherwise. Langdon still had not gotten used to these moments of unexpected celebrity.
　　Then again, if anyone on earth were going to recognize his face, it would be a librarian in aReligious Studies reference facility.
　　"Pamela Gettum," the librarian said, offering her hand. She had a genial, erudite face and apleasingly fluid voice. The horn-rimmed glasses hanging around her neck were thick.
　　"A pleasure," Langdon said. "This is my friend Sophie Neveu."The two women greeted one another, and Gettum turned immediately back to Langdon. "I didn'tknow you were coming.""Neither did we. If it's not too much trouble, we could really use your help finding someinformation."Gettum shifted, looking uncertain. "Normally our services are by petition and appointment only,unless of course you're the guest of someone at the college?"Langdon shook his head. "I'm afraid we've come unannounced. A friend of mine speaks veryhighly of you. Sir Leigh Teabing?" Langdon felt a pang of gloom as he said the name. "The BritishRoyal Historian."Gettum brightened now, laughing. "Heavens, yes. What a character. Fanatical! Every time hecomes in, it's always the same search strings. Grail. Grail. Grail. I swear that man will die before hegives up on that quest." She winked. "Time and money afford one such lovely luxuries, wouldn'tyou say? A regular Don Quixote, that one.""Is there any chance you can help us?" Sophie asked. "It's quite important."Gettum glanced around the deserted library and then winked at them both. "Well, I can't very wellclaim I'm too busy, now can I? As long as you sign in, I can't imagine anyone being too upset.
　　What did you have in mind?""We're trying to find a tomb in London."Gettum looked dubious. "We've got about twenty thousand of them. Can you be a little morespecific?""It's the tomb of a knight. We don't have a name.""A knight. That tightens the net substantially. Much less common.""We don't have much information about the knight we're looking for," Sophie said, "but this iswhat we know." She produced a slip of paper on which she had written only the first two lines ofthe poem.
　　Hesitant to show the entire poem to an outsider, Langdon and Sophie had decided to share just thefirst two lines, those that identified the knight. Compartmentalized cryptography, Sophie had calledit. When an intelligence agency intercepted a code containing sensitive data, cryptographers eachworked on a discrete section of the code. This way, when they broke it, no single cryptographerpossessed the entire deciphered message.
　　In this case, the precaution was probably excessive; even if this librarian saw the entire poem,identified the knight's tomb, and knew what orb was missing, the information was useless withoutthe cryptex.
　　Gettum sensed an urgency in the eyes of this famed American scholar, almost as if his finding thistomb quickly were a matter of critical importance. The green-eyed woman accompanying him alsoseemed anxious.
　　Puzzled, Gettum put on her glasses and examined the paper they had just handed her.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　His labor's fruit a Holy wrath incurred.
　　She glanced at her guests. "What is this? Some kind of Harvard scavenger hunt?"Langdon's laugh sounded forced. "Yeah, something like that."Gettum paused, feeling she was not getting the whole story. Nonetheless, she felt intrigued andfound herself pondering the verse carefully. "According to this rhyme, a knight did something thatincurred displeasure with God, and yet a Pope was kind enough to bury him in London."Langdon nodded. "Does it ring any bells?"Gettum moved toward one of the workstations. "Not offhand, but let's see what we can pull up inthe database."Over the past two decades, King's College Research Institute in Systematic Theology had usedoptical character recognition software in unison with linguistic translation devices to digitize andcatalog an enormous collection of texts—encyclopedias of religion, religious biographies, sacredscriptures in dozens of languages, histories, Vatican letters, diaries of clerics, anything at all thatqualified as writings on human spirituality. Because the massive collection was now in the form ofbits and bytes rather than physical pages, the data was infinitely more accessible.
　　Settling into one of the workstations, Gettum eyed the slip of paper and began typing. "To begin,we'll run a straight Boolean with a few obvious keywords and see what happens.""Thank you."Gettum typed in a few words:
　　LONDON, KNIGHT, POPEAs she clicked the SEARCH button, she could feel the hum of the massive mainframe downstairsscanning data at a rate of 500 MB/sec. "I'm asking the system to show us any documents whosecomplete text contains all three of these keywords. We'll get more hits than we want, but it's a goodplace to start."The screen was already showing the first of the hits now.
　　Painting the Pope. The Collected Portraits of Sir Joshua Reynolds. London University Press.
　　Gettum shook her head. "Obviously not what you're looking for." She scrolled to the next hit.
　　The London Writings of Alexander Pope by G. Wilson Knight.
　　Again she shook her head.
　　As the system churned on, the hits came up more quickly than usual. Dozens of texts appeared,many of them referencing the eighteenth-century British writer Alexander Pope, whosecounterreligious, mock-epic poetry apparently contained plenty of references to knights andLondon.
　　Gettum shot a quick glance to the numeric field at the bottom of the screen. This computer, bycalculating the current number of hits and multiplying by the percentage of the database left tosearch, provided a rough guess of how much information would be found. This particular searchlooked like it was going to return an obscenely large amount of data.
　　Estimated number of total hits: 2,692"We need to refine the parameters further," Gettum said, stopping the search. "Is this all theinformation you have regarding the tomb? There's nothing else to go on?"Langdon glanced at Sophie Neveu, looking uncertain.
　　This is no scavenger hunt, Gettum sensed. She had heard the whisperings of Robert Langdon'sexperience in Rome last year. This American had been granted access to the most secure library onearth—the Vatican Secret Archives. She wondered what kinds of secrets Langdon might havelearned inside and if his current desperate hunt for a mysterious London tomb might relate toinformation he had gained within the Vatican. Gettum had been a librarian long enough to knowthe most common reason people came to London to look for knights. The Grail.
　　Gettum smiled and adjusted her glasses. "You are friends with Leigh Teabing, you are in England,and you are looking for a knight." She folded her hands. "I can only assume you are on a Grailquest."Langdon and Sophie exchanged startled looks.
　　Gettum laughed. "My friends, this library is a base camp for Grail seekers. Leigh Teabing amongthem. I wish I had a shilling for every time I'd run searches for the Rose, Mary Magdalene,Sangreal, Merovingian, Priory of Sion, et cetera, et cetera. Everyone loves a conspiracy." She tookoff her glasses and eyed them. "I need more information."In the silence, Gettum sensed her guests' desire for discretion was quickly being outweighed bytheir eagerness for a fast result.
　　"Here," Sophie Neveu blurted. "This is everything we know." Borrowing a pen from Langdon, shewrote two more lines on the slip of paper and handed it to Gettum.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　Gettum gave an inward smile. The Grail indeed, she thought, noting the references to the Rose andher seeded womb. "I can help you," she said, looking up from the slip of paper. "Might I ask wherethis verse came from? And why you are seeking an orb?""You might ask," Langdon said, with a friendly smile, "but it's a long story and we have very littletime.""Sounds like a polite way of saying 'mind your own business.' ""We would be forever in your debt, Pamela," Langdon said, "if you could find out who this knightis and where he is buried.""Very well," Gettum said, typing again. "I'll play along. If this is a Grail-related issue, we shouldcross-reference against Grail keywords. I'll add a proximity parameter and remove the titleweighting. That will limit our hits only to those instances of textual keywords that occur near aGrail-related word."Search for: KNIGHT, LONDON, POPE, TOMBWithin 100 word proximity of: GRAIL, ROSE, SANGREAL, CHALICE"How long will this take?" Sophie asked.
　　"A few hundred terabytes with multiple cross-referencing fields?" Gettum's eyes glimmered as sheclicked the SEARCH key. "A mere fifteen minutes."Langdon and Sophie said nothing, but Gettum sensed this sounded like an eternity to them.
　　"Tea?" Gettum asked, standing and walking toward the pot she had made earlier. "Leigh alwaysloves my tea."
国王学院是国王乔治四世于1829 年创建的，里面设有神学及宗教研究所，它离议会很近，是由皇家出资运营的。国王学院的宗教部在宗教教学以及研究方面号称具有150 多年的历史，而且在1982 年，它还创办了系统神学的研究机构，并拥有当今世界上最完善和最先进的宗教研究电子图书馆。
兰登与索菲冒雨来到了图书馆，他还在打着冷战。研究大楼跟提彬描述的一模一样：厅很大，呈八边形，里面一张巨大的圆桌子，煞是抢眼；要不是屋里放了十二个平面计算机工作台，就是亚瑟王和他的圆桌骑士坐上去，也不会觉得有什么不舒服。在离大厅门口很远的另一端，一位图书管理员正在给自己泡一壶茶，开始了当天的准备工作。
"多么美好的早晨啊。"她把茶晾在一边，走了过来，并操着欢快的英国口音说："需要我帮什么忙吗？"
"是的，谢谢。"罗伯特回答说："我叫--"
"罗伯特。兰登。"她开心地笑了笑："我知道你是谁。"
有一阵子，罗伯特担心是法希将他的形象弄进英国的电视节目里去了，然而这位图书管理员的微笑却表明并不是这么一回事。兰登出乎意料地做了回名人，对此，他一点也不习惯。再说，就算世界上还有哪个人能认出他这张脸，那也应该是宗教研究资料室的图书管理员才对呀。
"我叫帕美拉。杰塔姆。"图书管理员伸出手来，温和地说。她有着一张亲切而充满智慧的脸，还有一副甜美的嗓子。她的脖子上挂着一幅角质架的眼镜，看起来度数很深。
"幸会幸会。"兰登有礼貌地说："这是我朋友索菲。奈芙。"
两个女人互相打了个招呼，然后杰塔姆立刻转身对兰登说："我不知道你会到这里来。"
"不要说你，连我们自己都不知道呢。如果你不嫌麻烦，我们真想让你帮忙查些资料。"
杰塔姆动了一下，似乎有些不安。"我们通常只向事先提出申请或预约的人提供服务，当然，如果你是这里的客人除外，你受到邀请了吗？"
兰登摇了摇头："我们到这里来谁也没通知。我有位朋友对你评价很高呢。雷。提彬爵士，英国皇家历史学家，你认识吗？"兰登提到这个名字时，神情有些黯然。
听到这，杰塔姆眼睛一亮，笑了起来："我的天，这还用说吗？他是个多么狂热的人呐！每次他来，总是要查找同样的东西。成天除了圣杯，还是圣杯！我担心他这个人还没有放弃探索就不行了呢。"她眨了眨眼："时间与金钱能给人带来如此高尚的享受，我这样说你不会反对吧？那家伙整个的是个堂。吉诃德。""那你能不能帮帮我们？"索菲问："这对我们真的很重要啊。"
杰塔姆将空荡荡的图书馆扫视了一遍，然后向他们眨了眨眼："那好，眼下我总不能找个借口说我很忙对吧？只要你们签个名，我想也不会有人感到不安的。说吧，你们想干什么？"
"我们到伦敦来是想找一座坟墓。"
杰塔姆满脸疑惑："在伦敦大约有两万座的坟墓，你能不能说得再具体些呢？"
"是一位位骑土的坟墓，可我们不知道他的名字。"
"骑士？那倒是大大缩小了搜索的范围，很不寻常嘛。"
"我们对要找的骑土的坟墓主人了解不多。"索菲说："我们知道的就是这些。"说着，她从口袋里抽出一张纸条，上面只写了那首诗的前两句。
兰登与索菲起初犹豫着要不要把整首诗给一位外人看，最后他们决定，就让她看这首诗的前两句--即可以确定骑士身份的那两句。索菲将它称作"被分隔的密码"。每当情报部门截获了含有敏感信息的密码时，破译密码专家们就会各自对密码的零散部分进行分析处理。这样，等他们将密码破译出来之后，他们当中的任何人都不会拥有完整的解码信息。
不过就此而言，这样的防范也许过分了一些，即使这位图书管理员读了整首诗，确定了这位骑士的坟墓，并且还知道失踪的圆球是什么样子，但如果没有密码盒，那也是无济于事。
杰塔姆从这位著名的美国学者眼中读到了一种急迫感，仿佛尽快找到那座坟墓，就是他生命中最重要的使命。那个和他一起来的、长着一双橄榄绿色眼睛的女人，看上去似乎也一脸的急切。
杰塔姆疑惑不解，她戴上眼镜，仔细审视着他们刚才给她的那张纸上的小诗。
在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
他的行为触怒了上帝，因为违背了他的旨意。
她瞥了客人一眼："这是什么？该不是哈佛大学玩的寻宝游戏吧？"
兰登有些勉强地笑了笑："嗯，我看差不多吧。"
杰塔姆停了下来，她觉得自己看到的只是一些片断，不过她倒是被它吸引住了，于是开始仔细琢磨起这两句诗来。"这首诗说的是一位骑士，他想必做了什么事情触怒了上帝，然而教皇对他还算宽待，将他葬在了伦敦。"兰登点头说："你没有发现其他什么吗？"
杰塔姆走到厅里的一个工作台："暂时还没有，不过我们可以看看在数据库里能够搜索到什么东西。"在过去的二十多年里，国王学院的系统神学研究机构采用了光学人像识别软件以及语言转化手段对大量的文本--诸如宗教百科全书、宗教参考书目、以数十种文字写就的圣贤书稿、历史书籍、梵蒂冈信札、牧师日记以及其他所有涉及到人类精神层面的作品--逐一进行数字化的处理，并编制了新的目录。正因为现在这些数额惊人的收藏典籍是以比特和字节的形式存在，才使得要搜寻有关方面的数据变得格外的容易。
杰塔姆调用了其中一个工作台，她看了看那张纸条，然后开始打字。"首先，我们将直接启动布尔检测系统，先输入几个关键词，看看能找到些什么。""谢谢。"
杰塔姆输入了几个关键词：伦敦、骑士、教皇。
然后她按了搜索键，这时，她能够听到楼上主机以每秒500 兆字节的速度扫描数据时所发出的"嗡嗡"声。"我正在要求系统给我先是在完整文本中包含了这三个词的所有文件。
虽然我们会受到过多的数据干扰，但仍不失为我们寻找想要的东西的好地方。"电脑屏幕上现已出现了第一个匹配的数据。
《给教皇画像》，选自《乔舒亚。雷诺兹爵士收藏油画作品集》，由伦敦大学出版社出版。
杰塔姆摇摇头："这显然不是你要找的东西。"
她又转到第二个数据。
《伦敦亚历山大，蒲柏作品集》，作者：G.威尔逊。耐特。
杰塔姆再次摇了摇头。
电脑继续发出"嗡嗡"的声音，而数据出来的速度却比平常快多了。屏幕上出现了几十篇文章，其中大多是关于18 世纪英国作家亚历山大。蒲柏的，他创作的反宗教、仿史诗的诗歌很明显在许多地方提到了骑士以及伦敦的相关内容。
杰塔姆飞快地瞥了一眼屏幕底部的数字栏。这台电脑，通过计算当前数据的数量并将它乘以尚待搜索的数据库的百分比，大致估算出将要找到的信息数目。这次详细的搜索似乎将会没完没了地向他们提供大量的数据。
估计的数据总数：2692 个。
"我们必须重新设定参数。"杰塔姆停止了搜索，说："有关这座坟墓的资料就这些吗？
还有其他的没有？"
兰登看了看索菲。奈芙，神情有些不安。
杰塔姆觉得这决不是什么寻宝游戏。此前她已听说罗伯特。兰登去年在罗马的一些传闻。这名美国人被允许进入了世界上最安全的图书馆--梵蒂冈秘密档案馆。她不知道兰登是否有可能在那所档案馆里了解到了什么秘密，也不知道他眼下歇斯底里地寻找一座位于伦敦的神秘坟墓，是否跟他在梵蒂冈了解到的秘密很有关系。杰塔姆在图书馆干了多年，凭她多年的经验，她很清楚人们跑到伦敦来寻找骑士是出于什么样的动机--圣杯，就是他们前来的终极目的。
杰塔姆微微笑了笑，扶了扶眼镜，说："你们和提彬是朋友，又跑到了英国来找什么骑士。"她双手绞缠在一起："我敢打赌你们是来找圣杯的吧。"兰登与索菲互相交换了惊讶的神色。
杰塔姆大声笑了起来："各位朋友，这座图书馆就是专门为圣杯寻找者提供的一个探险基地。雷。提彬爵士就是其中的一位。我真希望每次搜索"玫瑰、抹大拉的玛利亚、圣杯、郇山隐修会"等词语的时候，能收费一先令。每个人都喜欢彼此互惠互利嘛。"她取下眼镜，斜视着他们："快给我更多有关的信息。"
在片刻的沉默中，杰塔姆发现两位客人虽然出于谨慎还想考虑考虑，但最终很快做出了决定，因为他们迫切地希望能找出结果来。
"给你。"索菲。奈芙冲口说道："我们知道的就这些了。"她从兰登那里借了一支笔，又在纸条上添上了两行诗句，递给了杰塔姆。
你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。
它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。
杰塔姆会心地一笑。果然是冲着圣杯来的，她想--她注意到诗里有"玫瑰"以及"怀孕子宫"的提示。"我可以帮你。"她将视线从那张纸条上移开，抬起头来，说："我可不可以问问，这首诗是从何而来？你们为什么要寻找圆球呢？"
"当然可以。"兰登友善地笑了笑："不过说来话就长了，可我们又没有那么多的时间啊。""你好像是在委婉地对我说："你别多管闲事"呢！""我们会永远感激你的，帕美拉。"兰登说："假如你能够帮我们找出这位骑士是谁，葬在哪里的话。""很好。"杰塔姆又开始打起字来："我陪你们一起玩。如果这跟圣杯有关，那我们就得前后参照相关的关键词。我要加上一个近似参数，再除掉多余的标题。这样就会将搜寻到的数据仅限制在包含了那些与圣杯有关词语意义相近的关键词的文本范围里。"搜索："骑士、伦敦、教皇、坟墓。"
以及100 个与圣杯有关的词：GRAIL、ROSE、SANGRE、CHALICE……
"这要花多长时间？"索菲问。
"不知是否多达几百千兆的字节，并跨越了多学科的领域？"杰塔姆敲了敲搜索键，眼睛亮了起来："也就大约需要十五分钟吧。"
兰登和索菲一言不发，然而杰塔姆觉得，这对他们来说似乎是一个极其漫长的时刻。
"两位想喝茶吗？"杰塔姆站起来，向刚才她泡好茶的茶壶走去。"雷爵士一向很爱喝我沏的茶呢。"
Chapter 93
London's Opus Dei Centre is a modest brick building at 5 Orme Court, overlooking the North Walkat Kensington Gardens. Silas had never been here, but he felt a rising sense of refuge and asylum ashe approached the building on foot. Despite the rain, Rémy had dropped him off a short distanceaway in order to keep the limousine off the main streets. Silas didn't mind the walk. The rain wascleansing.
　　At Rémy's suggestion, Silas had wiped down his gun and disposed of it through a sewer grate. Hewas glad to get rid of it. He felt lighter. His legs still ached from being bound all that time, butSilas had endured far greater pain. He wondered, though, about Teabing, whom Rémy had leftbound in the back of the limousine. The Briton certainly had to be feeling the pain by now.
　　"What will you do with him?" Silas had asked Rémy as they drove over here.
　　Rémy had shrugged. "That is a decision for the Teacher." There was an odd finality in his tone.
　　Now, as Silas approached the Opus Dei building, the rain began to fall harder, soaking his heavyrobe, stinging the wounds of the day before. He was ready to leave behind the sins of the lasttwenty-four hours and purge his soul. His work was done.
　　Moving across a small courtyard to the front door, Silas was not surprised to find the doorunlocked. He opened it and stepped into the minimalist foyer. A muted electronic chime soundedupstairs as Silas stepped onto the carpet. The bell was a common feature in these halls where theresidents spent most of the day in their rooms in prayer. Silas could hear movement above on thecreaky wood floors.
　　A man in a cloak came downstairs. "May I help you?" He had kind eyes that seemed not even toregister Silas's startling physical appearance.
　　"Thank you. My name is Silas. I am an Opus Dei numerary.""American?"Silas nodded. "I am in town only for the day. Might I rest here?""You need not even ask. There are two empty rooms on the third floor. Shall I bring you some teaand bread?""Thank you." Silas was famished.
　　Silas went upstairs to a modest room with a window, where he took off his wet robe and kneltdown to pray in his undergarments. He heard his host come up and lay a tray outside his door. Silasfinished his prayers, ate his food, and lay down to sleep.
　　Three stories below, a phone was ringing. The Opus Dei numerary who had welcomed Silasanswered the line.
　　"This is the London police," the caller said. "We are trying to find an albino monk. We've had a tip-off that he might be there. Have you seen him?"The numerary was startled. "Yes, he is here. Is something wrong?""He is there now?""Yes, upstairs praying. What is going on?""Leave him precisely where he is," the officer commanded. "Don't say a word to anyone. I'msending officers over right away."
伦敦的天主事工会活动中心位于奥姆宫街5 号，它是一座外表朴素的砖房，从楼上可以俯瞰到肯辛顿花园的北大道。塞拉斯从未到过那里，然而当他以步代车向那栋房子走去时，他的心中逐渐有种越来强烈的前来寻求避难的感觉。尽管下着雨，雷米还是把车停在离房子不远的地方，让他下车，为的是使豪华轿车远离热闹的大街。塞拉斯并不介意走路。雨，正在洗刷着天地间的一切。
塞拉斯听从了雷米的建议，他把枪擦拭干净，把它放进带栅条的炉篦里。他很高兴把它处理掉了，感觉轻松了许多。他的双腿因为一直被绑着，至今还有点疼，然而他曾经承受过的苦难远比这大得多。不过，他倒是在为被雷米绑在车子后面的提彬而感到惊奇。这个英国佬肯定要吃一番苦头了。
"你打算怎么处置他呢？"早在开车到这里来时，塞拉斯就已经问过雷米。
雷米耸耸肩："还是让教主做决定吧。"他以一种奇怪的果断语气说道。
此刻，塞拉斯向天主事工会的房子走去。雨下得更大了，将他身上的长袍淋了个湿透，他前天留下的伤口，因为雨淋的缘故，此时像针一样刺痛了他的神经。他正准备将过去二十四小时的罪孽统统抛诸脑后，以便净化自己的灵魂。如今，他的使命已经完成。
塞拉斯穿过小院，来到大门前。他发现门没有锁，却一点也不感到奇怪。当他从地毯上走过时，楼上的电子钟骤然响了起来。在这些居住者每天要花上大部分时间闭门祷告的大厅里，钟，是在寻常不过的摆设。塞拉斯听到头上的木板发出"吱吱呀呀"的声音。
一位身披大氅的男人走下楼来。"有什么事需要我帮忙吗？"他的目光很和蔼，似乎毫不在意塞拉斯那令人吃惊的外表。
"谢谢。我叫塞拉斯，是天主事工会的成员。"
"你是美国人吗？"
塞拉斯点点头："我来城里就呆一天。我可以在这里歇歇脚吗？"
"那还用说，四楼有两间房子空着呢。要不要我去给你拿些面包与茶来？"
"谢谢。"塞拉斯此时已经饿坏了。
塞拉斯上楼挑了一个有窗户的房间，他脱下身上被雨淋湿的长袍，只穿着贴身的衣服，跪在地上祷告。他听到主人上了楼，将盘子放在门边。塞拉斯做完祷告，吃完东西，便躺下睡觉。
三层楼以下，有人正打电话进来。接电话的，是刚才接待塞拉斯的天主事工会的那个人。
"这里是伦敦警察局，"打电话的人说道："我们在寻找一名患了白化病的修道士。我们已经听说，他可能就在你们那里。你见过他没有？"
天主事工会的人大吃一惊："他是在这里。他闯了什么祸吗？"
"他真的在你们那里？"
"是的，他正在楼上祷告呢。到底出什么事了？"
"你别放他走。"那位警官下了命令："也不要跟任何人说。我马上就派人过来。"
Chapter 94
St. James's Park is a sea of green in the middle of London, a public park bordering the palaces ofWestminster, Buckingham, and St. James's. Once enclosed by King Henry VIII and stocked withdeer for the hunt, St. James's Park is now open to the public. On sunny afternoons, Londonerspicnic beneath the willows and feed the pond's resident pelicans, whose ancestors were a gift toCharles II from the Russian ambassador.
　　The Teacher saw no pelicans today. The stormy weather had brought instead seagulls from theocean. The lawns were covered with them—hundreds of white bodies all facing the same direction,patiently riding out the damp wind. Despite the morning fog, the park afforded splendid views ofthe Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. Gazing across the sloping lawns, past the duck pond andthe delicate silhouettes of the weeping willows, the Teacher could see the spires of the building thathoused the knight's tomb—the real reason he had told Rémy to come to this spot.
　　As the Teacher approached the front passenger door of the parked limousine, Rémy leaned acrossand opened the door. The Teacher paused outside, taking a pull from the flask of cognac he wascarrying. Then, dabbing his mouth, he slid in beside Rémy and closed the door.
　　Rémy held up the keystone like a trophy. "It was almost lost.""You have done well," the Teacher said.
　　"We have done well," Rémy replied, laying the keystone in the Teacher's eager hands.
　　The Teacher admired it a long moment, smiling. "And the gun? You wiped it down?""Back in the glove box where I found it.""Excellent." The Teacher took another drink of cognac and handed the flask to Rémy. "Let's toastour success. The end is near."Rémy accepted the bottle gratefully. The cognac tasted salty, but Rémy didn't care. He and theTeacher were truly partners now. He could feel himself ascending to a higher station in life. I willnever be a servant again. As Rémy gazed down the embankment at the duck pond below, ChateauVillette seemed miles away.
　　Taking another swig from the flask, Rémy could feel the cognac warming his blood. The warmth inRémy's throat, however, mutated quickly to an uncomfortable heat. Loosening his bow tie, Rémytasted an unpleasant grittiness and handed the flask back to the Teacher. "I've probably hadenough," he managed, weakly.
　　Taking the flask, the Teacher said, "Rémy, as you are aware, you are the only one who knows myface. I placed enormous trust in you.""Yes," he said, feeling feverish as he loosened his tie further. "And your identity shall go with meto the grave."The Teacher was silent a long moment. "I believe you." Pocketing the flask and the keystone, theTeacher reached for the glove box and pulled out the tiny Medusa revolver. For an instant, Rémyfelt a surge of fear, but the Teacher simply slipped it in his trousers pocket.
　　What is he doing? Rémy felt himself sweating suddenly.
　　"I know I promised you freedom," the Teacher said, his voice now sounding regretful. "Butconsidering your circumstances, this is the best I can do."The swelling in Rémy's throat came on like an earthquake, and he lurched against the steeringcolumn, grabbing his throat and tasting vomit in his narrowing esophagus. He let out a muted croakof a scream, not even loud enough to be heard outside the car. The saltiness in the cognac nowregistered.
　　I'm being murdered!
　　Incredulous, Rémy turned to see the Teacher sitting calmly beside him, staring straight ahead outthe windshield. Rémy's eyesight blurred, and he gasped for breath. I made everything possible forhim! How could he do this! Whether the Teacher had intended to kill Rémy all along or whether ithad been Rémy's actions in the Temple Church that had made the Teacher lose faith, Rémy wouldnever know. Terror and rage coursed through him now. Rémy tried to lunge for the Teacher, buthis stiffening body could barely move. I trusted you with everything!
　　Rémy tried to lift his clenched fists to blow the horn, but instead he slipped sideways, rolling ontothe seat, lying on his side beside the Teacher, clutching at his throat. The rain fell harder now.
　　Rémy could no longer see, but he could sense his oxygen-deprived brain straining to cling to hislast faint shreds of lucidity. As his world slowly went black, Rémy Legaludec could have sworn heheard the sounds of the soft Riviera surf.
　　The Teacher stepped from the limousine, pleased to see that nobody was looking in his direction. Ihad no choice, he told himself, surprised how little remorse he felt for what he had just done. Rémysealed his own fate. The Teacher had feared all along that Rémy might need to be eliminated whenthe mission was complete, but by brazenly showing himself in the Temple Church, Rémy hadaccelerated the necessity dramatically. Robert Langdon's unexpected visit to Chateau Villette hadbrought the Teacher both a fortuitous windfall and an intricate dilemma. Langdon had delivered thekeystone directly to the heart of the operation, which was a pleasant surprise, and yet he hadbrought the police on his tail. Rémy's prints were all over Chateau Villette, as well as in the barn'slistening post, where Rémy had carried out the surveillance. The Teacher was grateful he had takenso much care in preventing any ties between Rémy's activities and his own. Nobody couldimplicate the Teacher unless Rémy talked, and that was no longer a concern.
　　One more loose end to tie up here, the Teacher thought, moving now toward the rear door of thelimousine. The police will have no idea what happened... and no living witness left to tell them.
　　Glancing around to ensure nobody was watching, he pulled open the door and climbed into thespacious rear compartment.
　　Minutes later, the Teacher was crossing St. James's Park. Only two people now remain. Langdonand Neveu. They were more complicated. But manageable. At the moment, however, the Teacherhad the cryptex to attend to.
　　Gazing triumphantly across the park, he could see his destination. In London lies a knight a Popeinterred. As soon as the Teacher had heard the poem, he had known the answer. Even so, that theothers had not figured it out was not surprising. I have an unfair advantage. Having listened toSaunière's conversations for months now, the Teacher had heard the Grand Master mention thisfamous knight on occasion, expressing esteem almost matching that he held for Da Vinci. Thepoem's reference to the knight was brutally simple once one saw it—a credit to Saunière's wit—andyet how this tomb would reveal the final password was still a mystery.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　The Teacher vaguely recalled photos of the famous tomb and, in particular, its most distinguishingfeature. A magnificent orb. The huge sphere mounted atop the tomb was almost as large as thetomb itself. The presence of the orb seemed both encouraging and troubling to the Teacher. On onehand, it felt like a signpost, and yet, according to the poem, the missing piece of the puzzle was anorb that ought to be on his tomb... not one that was already there. He was counting on his closerinspection of the tomb to unveil the answer.
　　The rain was getting heavier now, and he tucked the cryptex deep in his right-hand pocket toprotect it from the dampness. He kept the tiny Medusa revolver in his left, out of sight. Withinminutes, he was stepping into the quiet sanctuary of London's grandest nine-hundred-year-oldbuilding.
　　Just as the Teacher was stepping out of the rain, Bishop Aringarosa was stepping into it. On therainy tarmac at Biggin Hill Executive Airport, Aringarosa emerged from his cramped plane,bundling his cassock against the cold damp. He had hoped to be greeted by Captain Fache. Insteada young British police officer approached with an umbrella.
　　"Bishop Aringarosa? Captain Fache had to leave. He asked me to look after you. He suggested Itake you to Scotland Yard. He thought it would be safest."Safest? Aringarosa looked down at the heavy briefcase of Vatican bonds clutched in his hand. Hehad almost forgotten. "Yes, thank you."Aringarosa climbed into the police car, wondering where Silas could be. Minutes later, the policescanner crackled with the answer.
　　5 Orme Court.
　　Aringarosa recognized the address instantly.
　　The Opus Dei Centre in London.
　　He spun to the driver. "Take me there at once!"
圣詹姆斯公园坐落在伦敦的市中心，是一片绿色的海洋。它是一座毗邻威斯敏斯特教堂、白金汉宫、圣詹姆斯宫的公园。国王亨利八世曾经把它封锁起来，并在里面养鹿供打猎取乐之用。如今圣詹姆斯公园面向公众开放。天气晴朗的午后，伦敦人在柳树下野餐，给逗留在池里的鹈鹕喂食，这些鹈鹕的祖先，是俄罗斯大使赠送给查理二世的礼物。
然而今天，教主却没看到一只鹈鹕。倒是暴风雨的天气，将一些海鸥从海洋上赶了过来。这些海鸥，密密麻麻地挤满了公园的草坪，成百上千的白色躯体，都面向着同一个方向，耐心地等待这阵潮湿的狂风过去。虽然早晨有雾，但在公园里依然能够看到议会以及大笨钟等建筑的壮观景象。教主望着那倾斜的草坪，然后从鸭池边以及那影影绰绰的垂柳下走过。他看到里头藏着骑士坟墓的建筑那尖尖的塔顶--而这，才是他让雷米到这里来的真正的理由。
教主来到那辆已经停下来的豪华轿车供乘客上下的前门，雷米附过身去，给他开门。
教主在车外停了片刻，拨弄了一下手中的白兰地酒瓶，然后抹抹嘴，侧身钻进车来，坐到雷米身边，并关上门。
雷米一把将拱心石举到他的面前，似乎在炫耀一件战利品："我们差点失手了哩。"
"你干得真不赖！"教主赞许地说。
"我们都做得很不错。"雷米说着，把拱心石放到早已急不可耐的教主的手中。
那位教主把玩了很长时间，才笑着问："枪呢？你把它擦拭干净了吗？"
"我已经把它放回到手套盒里去了。"
"太好了。"教主又呷了一口白兰地酒，然后将酒瓶递给了雷米。"为我们的成功干杯吧。马上就可以了断了。"雷米接过酒瓶，充满了感激。白兰地酒有点咸，然而他并没在意。现在，他和教主成了真正的合作伙伴。他觉得自己的人生即将登上一个更高的起点。我再也不用给人家做仆人了。雷米低头看着下面鸭池的堤坝，维莱特庄园，此时己被他抛到九霄云外去了。
他又喝了一大口白兰地酒，觉得是酒精使他体内的血液沸腾起来。他发热的嗓子，很快变得燥热起来，令他非常的难受。他松开衣服上的领结，心里有种颇为不祥的痛苦滋味，他把酒瓶还给了教主。"也许是喝多了。"他强打起精神，虚弱地说。
教主接过瓶子，说："雷米，你要知道，你是唯一知道我身份的人，我给予了你莫大的信任。""是的。"他觉得热得快不行了，又把领结松开了一些。"我不会把你的身份泄露出去的，一直到死。"教主沉默了良久，才说："这我相信。"他把酒瓶和拱心石放好，将手伸进手套盒里摸索了一阵，然后拔出那把小型"美杜莎"左轮手枪。雷米马上恐惧起来，然而教主却把枪放进了裤子的口袋。
他想干什么？雷米顿时发现全身都冒汗了。
"我说过给你自由。"教主的话里有种懊悔的语调。"但考虑到你目前的状况，我只能这样做了。"雷米的喉咙肿得厉害，仿佛在他体内，发生了一场地震。他斜着身子，靠着汽车的操纵杆，用手扼住自己的喉咙，尝到了想要呕吐的味道。他嘶哑而沉闷地叫着，然而声音不大，车外的人并不能听到。白兰地酒中的药性，终于发作了。
我遭人暗算了呀。
雷米觉得难以置信，他转身看着那位教主，此时，他正平静地坐在他的身边，直视着挡风玻璃的外面。雷米的视线逐渐模糊起来，他张着嘴，大口地喘气。我为他这么卖命！他怎能如此的无情！究竟是教主有心杀他，还是因为教主对他在圣殿教堂里的种种表现早就失去了信心，他不知道，也永远不会知道。恐惧和愤怒攫住了他。他挣扎着想冲到教主身边，然而他僵硬的躯体，却再也不能向前移。枉我凡事都相信你啊！
雷米紧握着拳头，企图向汽车喇叭砸过去。然而他没有砸个正着，他一个趔趄，滚到了座位上，手紧紧地掐着自己的喉咙，侧身倒在教主的旁边。雨下得更大了，然而雷米再也看不到了。他感到大脑里的氧气逐渐枯竭，意识也越来越模糊，直至消失。在周围的世界慢慢走向混沌的时刻，雷米。莱格鲁德或许发过誓，说他听到了南欧避暑胜地维埃拉那温柔的海浪声。
教主走下车，他很高兴无人朝他的方向张望。我也是被逼得没办法啊，他安慰着自己。想到竟然对刚才做过的事情并不觉得有丝毫的懊悔，就连他自己都很吃惊。雷米完全是咎由自取。教主早就担心，一旦任务完成，要不要对雷米做出处理。然而雷米冒冒失失地闯进圣殿教堂，显然使他加强了除掉他的决心。罗伯特。兰登出乎意料地来到维莱特庄园，给教主带来了意想不到的发现，却又使他陷入不可名状的困境。兰登直接把拱心石送到了行动的中心地带，这固然给了他一个惊喜，然而他也引来了一帮警察。雷米在整个维莱特庄园，到处留下了痕迹，即便在他偷听的地方，谷仓的听音柱上，也不例外。教主很庆幸他花了那么多的心思，才使人们没将他与雷米的所作所为联系起来。没有人会将他牵扯进去，除非雷米自己说出来，而这他已经没必要再去担心了。
这里还有一端线要等我去绑紧呢，教主心里想着，便往豪华轿车的后门走去。警察将无法知道这里发生了什么……也没有目击者告诉他们什么。他环顾左右，确信没人在注意他，这才推开门，爬进汽车宽敞的后车厢。
几分钟后，教主穿过圣詹姆斯公园。如今只剩两人需要我去对付了，那就是兰登与奈芙。他们两人的情况要复杂得多，但也不是难以驾驭的。不过眼下，他所关心的只是密码盒。
他得意洋洋地环视了公园一圈，他似乎看到了朝思暮想的目的地就在前头。"在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"一听到这首诗，他就已经知道了答案。但即使是这样，其他人如果还没想出来，那也没什么好奇怪的。我有别人难以比拟的优势。他监听索尼埃已经有好几个月，听到这位大师偶然提到了这位骑士，他所流露出来的敬意几乎可以与他对达。芬奇的尊敬相匹敌。人们一旦洞察了索尼埃的良苦用心，那么此诗对这位骑士的提示就变得非常简单了，不过，这座坟墓最终将会以什么样的方式将密码告诉给他们，目前还是个难解的谜。
"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑土的墓里。"
教主依稀记得那座坟墓的一些照片，他记得特别清楚，坟墓有个最显著的特征，那就是它有个外形华美的圆球，这个硕大的圆球，安放在坟墓的顶上，跟坟墓的大小差不多。
圆球的存在，对教主而言，既给了他鼓励，又增添了他的烦恼。一方面，它就像一个路标，然而据这首诗来看，这个谜的缺失项是一只本应在骑士墓里的圆球，而不是已在那里的圆球。为了解开这个谜，他准备到坟墓上去做进一步的调查。雨越下越大了，他将密码盒塞进右边口袋的深处，以防止雨水将它淋湿。他又将那把"美杜莎"小型左轮手枪藏进左边口袋里，防止让别人看见。没过几分钟，他就走进了这座全伦敦最宏伟的、具有九百年辉煌历史的建筑那静谧的礼拜堂里。
就在教主从雨中走出来的当儿，阿林加洛沙主教却奔进了雨中。飞机停泊在被雨淋湿的比金山机场，阿林加洛沙主教从狭窄的机舱里走了出来，他把身上的长袍扎紧，以抵御这寒冷的湿气。他本以为法希上尉会到机场接他，然而走上前来的却是一位打着雨伞的年轻英国警官。
"你是阿林加洛沙主教吗？法希上尉有事不在。他要我来接你，还要我把你带到苏格兰场，他认为那里是最安全的。"
最安全？阿林加洛沙主教低头看着手中装满了梵蒂冈银行证券的沉重的公文包。他差点把它忘了。"你说得没错，谢谢。"
阿林加洛沙主教爬上警车，寻思着塞拉斯可能会在哪里。没过几分钟，警车的扫描器发出尖锐的响声，紧接着就有了答案。
"奥姆宫街5 号。"
阿林加洛沙主教很快便认出了上面的地址。
伦敦天主事工会活动中心。
于是他掉头对司机说："带我去那儿，马上！"
Chapter 95
Langdon's eyes had not left the computer screen since the search began.
　　Five minutes. Only two hits. Both irrelevant.
　　He was starting to get worried.
　　Pamela Gettum was in the adjoining room, preparing hot drinks. Langdon and Sophie had inquiredunwisely if there might be some coffee brewing alongside the tea Gettum had offered, and from thesound of the microwave beeps in the next room, Langdon suspected their request was about to berewarded with instant Nescafe.
　　Finally, the computer pinged happily.
　　"Sounds like you got another," Gettum called from the next room. "What's the title?"Langdon eyed the screen.
　　Grail Allegory in Medieval Literature: A Treatise on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
　　"Allegory of the Green Knight," he called back.
　　"No good," Gettum said. "Not many mythological green giants buried in London."Langdon and Sophie sat patiently in front of the screen and waited through two more dubiousreturns. When the computer pinged again, though, the offering was unexpected.
　　DIE OPERN VON RICHARD WAGNER"The operas of Wagner?" Sophie asked.
　　Gettum peeked back in the doorway, holding a packet of instant coffee. "That seems like a strangematch. Was Wagner a knight?""No," Langdon said, feeling a sudden intrigue. "But he was a well-known Freemason." Along withMozart, Beethoven, Shakespeare, Gershwin, Houdini, and Disney. Volumes had been written aboutthe ties between the Masons and the Knights Templar, the Priory of Sion, and the Holy Grail. "Iwant to look at this one. How do I see the full text?""You don't want the full text," Gettum called. "Click on the hypertext title. The computer willdisplay your keyword hits along with mono prelogs and triple postlogs for context."Langdon had no idea what she had just said, but he clicked anyway.
　　A new window popped up.
　　...mythological knight named Parsifal who...
　　...metaphorical Grail quest that arguably...
　　...the London Philharmonic in 1855...
　　Rebecca Pope's opera anthology "Diva's...
　　...Wagner's tomb in Bayreuth, Germany...
　　"Wrong Pope," Langdon said, disappointed. Even so, he was amazed by the system's ease of use.
　　The keywords with context were enough to remind him that Wagner's opera Parsifal was a tributeto Mary Magdalene and the bloodline of Jesus Christ, told through the story of a young knight on aquest for truth.
　　"Just be patient," Gettum urged. "It's a numbers game. Let the machine run."Over the next few minutes, the computer returned several more Grail references, including a textabout troubadours—France's famous wandering minstrels. Langdon knew it was no coincidencethat the word minstrel and minister shared an etymological root. The troubadours were thetraveling servants or "ministers" of the Church of Mary Magdalene, using music to disseminate thestory of the sacred feminine among the common folk. To this day, the troubadours sang songsextolling the virtues of "our Lady"—a mysterious and beautiful woman to whom they pledgedthemselves forever.
　　Eagerly, he checked the hypertext but found nothing.
　　The computer pinged again.
　　KNIGHTS, KNAVES, POPES, AND PENTACLES: THE HISTORY OF THE HOLY GRAILTHROUGH TAROT"Not surprising," Langdon said to Sophie. "Some of our keywords have the same names asindividual cards." He reached for the mouse to click on a hyperlink. "I'm not sure if yourgrandfather ever mentioned it when you played Tarot with him, Sophie, but this game is a 'flash-card catechism' into the story of the Lost Bride and her subjugation by the evil Church."Sophie eyed him, looking incredulous. "I had no idea.""That's the point. By teaching through a metaphorical game, the followers of the Grail disguisedtheir message from the watchful eye of the Church." Langdon often wondered how many moderncard players had any clue that their four suits—spades, hearts, clubs, diamonds—were Grail-relatedsymbols that came directly from Tarot's four suits of swords, cups, scepters, and pentacles.
　　Spades were Swords—The blade. Male.
　　Hearts were Cups—The chalice. Feminine.
　　Clubs were Scepters—The Royal Line. The flowering staff.
　　Diamonds were Pentacles—The goddess. The sacred feminine.
　　Four minutes later, as Langdon began feeling fearful they would not find what they had come for,the computer produced another hit.
　　The Gravity of Genius: Biography of a Modern Knight.
　　"Gravity of Genius?" Langdon called out to Gettum. "Bio of a modern knight?"Gettum stuck her head around the corner. "How modern? Please don't tell me it's your Sir RudyGiuliani. Personally, I found that one a bit off the mark."Langdon had his own qualms about the newly knighted Sir Mick Jagger, but this hardly seemed themoment to debate the politics of modern British knighthood. "Let's have a look." Langdonsummoned up the hypertext keywords.
　　... honorable knight, Sir Isaac Newton...
　　... in London in 1727 and...
　　... his tomb in Westminster Abbey...
　　... Alexander Pope, friend and colleague...
　　"I guess 'modern' is a relative term," Sophie called to Gettum. "It's an old book. About Sir IsaacNewton."Gettum shook her head in the doorway. "No good. Newton was buried in Westminster Abbey, theseat of English Protestantism. There's no way a Catholic Pope was present. Cream and sugar?"Sophie nodded.
　　Gettum waited. "Robert?"Langdon's heart was hammering. He pulled his eyes from the screen and stood up. "Sir IsaacNewton is our knight."Sophie remained seated. "What are you talking about?""Newton is buried in London," Langdon said. "His labors produced new sciences that incurred thewrath of the Church. And he was a Grand Master of the Priory of Sion. What more could wewant?""What more?" Sophie pointed to the poem. "How about a knight a Pope interred? You heard Ms.
　　Gettum. Newton was not buried by a Catholic Pope."Langdon reached for the mouse. "Who said anything about a Catholic Pope?" He clicked on the"Pope" hyperlink, and the complete sentence appeared.
　　Sir Isaac Newton's burial, attended by kings and nobles, was presidedover by Alexander Pope, friend and colleague, who gave a stirringeulogy before sprinkling dirt on the tomb.
　　Langdon looked at Sophie. "We had the correct Pope on our second hit. Alexander." He paused.
　　"A. Pope."In London lies a knight A. Pope interred.
　　Sophie stood up, looking stunned.
　　Jacques Saunière, the master of double-entendres, had proven once again that he was afrighteningly clever man.
自打搜索开始，兰登就紧盯着电脑屏幕，一刻也没有离开过。
五分钟，只搜到两个数据项，并且两者无任何的关联。
他开始担心起来。
帕美拉。杰塔姆就在隔壁的一个房间，准备给他们煮上些饮料。兰登和索菲不仅喝了杰塔姆给他们泡的茶水，还极不明智地问她能否再给他们煮上一些咖啡。隔壁的微波炉传来"嘟嘟"的声音，兰登怀疑杰塔姆是在给他们煮速溶"雀巢"咖啡，以此作为对他们提出的无礼要求的奖赏。
终于，电脑欢快的响了起来。
"好像又有了。"杰塔姆在隔壁房间大声喊道。"标题是什么？"
兰登看着屏幕：中世纪文学中关于圣杯的寓言：论加文爵士和他的绿衣骑士。
"是关于绿衣骑士的寓言。"他大声地回答。
"这没用，"杰塔姆说："神话中埋在伦敦的绿衣骑士并没有几个。"
兰登和索菲坐在电脑前静静地等待，却等来了两个更加难以确信的结果。不过，当电脑再次发出声音时，它提供的信息却是很出人意料的。
瓦格纳的歌剧。
"瓦格纳的歌剧？"索菲不解地问。
杰塔姆手拿一袋速溶"雀巢"咖啡，站在门口回头看了他们一眼。"那看起来很怪啊。瓦格纳是骑士吗？"
"不是。"兰登突然来了兴趣。"但他是位著名的同济会会员。"还有莫扎特、贝多芬、莎士比亚、格什温、乌丹尼以及迪斯尼等等。讲述有关石匠们与圣殿骑士、郇山隐修会以及与圣杯之间联系的作品已是汗牛充栋。"我要看看全文，可怎么打开呀？"
"你不必看全文。"杰塔姆喊道。"你只要点击超文本标题，电脑就会显示包含关键词在内的数据，单个的前语境记录以及三倍多的后语境记录。"兰登不知道她刚才说了些什么，但还是点击了一下。
一个新的窗口马上冒了出来。
……神话中名为帕西法尔的骑士，他……
……隐喻意义上的寻找圣杯之旅，可以用来证明……
……1855 年伦敦交响乐团……
……丽贝卡。波普（Pope）的歌剧作品选，迪瓦的……
……位于德国拜罗伊特市的瓦格纳之墓……
"这里的Pope 不是指教皇。"兰登说，有些失望。不过虽然如此，他还是为计算机竟是如此的便利而感到惊奇。带有上千文的关键词给了他足够的信息，提醒他瓦格纳的歌剧《帕西法尔》是一部通过讲述年轻骑士寻找真理的故事，专门献给抹大拉的玛利亚，以及耶稣基督后裔的艺术作品。
"耐心点儿。"杰塔姆敦促道："不过是数字游戏罢了。让电脑忙去吧。"
接下来的几分钟，电脑又反馈了几个关于圣杯的信息，其中一篇是有关法国著名行吟诗人的文章。兰登知道，从词源学的角度上看，minstrel（行吟诗人）与minister（牧师，部长）具有相同词根决不是什么巧合。吟游诗人，本意是指抹大拉的玛利亚教堂里四处游走的圣职人员或者牧师，他们采用音乐的形式在普通民众中间传播有关神圣女性的故事。直到今天，他们还在唱歌赞美"我们的圣母玛利亚"的诸多美德。她是一位神秘而又美丽的女人，人们对她永远充满了敬意。
兰登急切地查看了超文本，然而一无所获。
这时，电脑又"嘟嘟"地响了起来。
骑士、纸牌里的J、教皇以及五角星形：通过占卜纸牌看圣杯的历史。
"这没什么可奇怪的，"兰登对索菲说："有些关键词与单张牌的名字是一模一样的。"
他抓过鼠标，点击了超链接。"我不敢肯定你祖父跟你玩占卜的纸牌时是否提起过它，但这种游戏，类似于对"失踪新娘以及她被邪恶教会镇压"的故事设置问题，然后再抽卡进行回答。"索菲看着他，一脸怀疑地说："我怎么不知道？"
"那就是了。圣杯的追随者们，通过一种隐喻性的游戏方式进行传授，他们将真实的信息隐藏起来，以逃过教会警惕的眼睛。"兰登常常想，玩纸牌游戏的现代人，有多少人会想到纸牌的四种花色--黑桃、红桃、梅花及方块--是与圣杯有关的符号，并且它们的前身，直接脱胎于占卜纸牌，即印有宝剑、金杯、王杖与五角星形符号的四组牌。
黑桃源自宝剑--即剑刃，它代表着男性。
红桃源自金杯--即基督的圣餐酒杯，代表着女性。
梅花源自王杖--即皇家血统，带有花饰的权杖。
方块源自五角星形--它象征着女神，即神圣女性。
四分钟后，就在兰登他们开始担心找不到要找的东西时，电脑里又蹦出了一个数据。
天才的吸引力，一位当代骑士的传记。
"天才的吸引力？"兰登冲着杰塔姆叫道："一位当代骑士的传记？"
杰塔姆从墙角探出头："怎么个当代法？请不要告诉我说这是你的鲁迪，朱利亚尼爵士哦。我看是有点跑题啦。"兰登对新近被封为骑士的米克。贾格尔爵土自有一番疑惑，但眼下似乎还不是对现代英国骑土制度进行争论的时候。"让我看看。"兰登调出了几个关键词。
……尊敬的骑士，艾撒克。牛顿爵士……
……l727 年在伦敦……
……他的墓位于威斯敏斯特教堂……
……亚历山大。蒲柏，朋友及同事……
"我看所谓的"现代"可能是个相对的概念。"索菲大声对杰塔姆说："这是本旧书，是关于艾撒克。牛顿爵士的。"杰塔姆站在门口，摇了摇头。"那也没用，牛顿葬在威斯敏斯特教堂，英国清教的所在地，所以天主教的教皇是不会到那里去的。咖啡里要不要放奶酪和糖？"
索菲点了点头。
杰塔姆等了一会："罗伯特你呢？"
兰登觉得自己的心仿佛被人用锤子敲了一下，他把视线移开电脑屏幕，站了起来。"艾撒克。牛顿爵士是我们的骑士！"索菲依旧坐在椅子上，说："你在胡说什么呀？"
"牛顿葬在伦敦，他在科学上的新发现触怒了天主教会。他还是位郇山隐修会的大师。
有这些难道还不够，我们还想指望什么？"
"你认为够了吗？"索菲指了指那首诗："那"一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士"你如何作出解释？杰塔姆刚才也已经说过，牛顿不是由天主教皇埋葬的。"兰登伸手去摸鼠标："我说了天主教皇什么吗？"他点击了"Pope"超链接，于是一个完整的句子冒了出来。
由王公贵族参加的艾撒克。牛顿爵士的葬礼，是由他的朋友兼同事，亚历山大。蒲柏主持的，他在往坟墓上撒土之前，朗诵了一篇感人肺腑的悼词。
兰登看着索菲："我们在第二个数据里找到了正确的Pope.亚历山大。"他停了停："亚历山大。蒲柏（A.Pope）。""在伦敦葬了一位亚历山大。蒲柏为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
索菲站了起来，大惊失色。
雅克。索尼埃，这位喜欢玩二元论游戏的大师，再次证明了他是位聪明得让人恐惧的大师。
Chapter 96
Silas awoke with a start.
　　He had no idea what had awoken him or how long he had been asleep. Was I dreaming? Sitting upnow on his straw mat, he listened to the quiet breathing of the Opus Dei residence hall, the stillnesstextured only by the soft murmurs of someone praying aloud in a room below him. These werefamiliar sounds and should have comforted him.
　　And yet he felt a sudden and unexpected wariness.
　　Standing, wearing only his undergarments, Silas walked to the window. Was I followed? Thecourtyard below was deserted, exactly as he had seen it when he entered. He listened. Silence. Sowhy am I uneasy? Long ago Silas had learned to trust his intuition. Intuition had kept him alive as achild on the streets of Marseilles long before prison... long before he was born again by the hand ofBishop Aringarosa. Peering out the window, he now saw the faint outline of a car through thehedge. On the car's roof was a police siren. A floorboard creaked in the hallway. A door latchmoved.
　　Silas reacted on instinct, surging across the room and sliding to a stop just behind the door as itcrashed open. The first police officer stormed through, swinging his gun left then right at whatappeared an empty room. Before he realized where Silas was, Silas had thrown his shoulder intothe door, crushing a second officer as he came through. As the first officer wheeled to shoot, Silasdove for his legs. The gun went off, the bullet sailing above Silas's head, just as he connected withthe officer's shins, driving his legs out from under him, and sending the man down, his head hittingthe floor. The second officer staggered to his feet in the doorway, and Silas drove a knee into hisgroin, then went clambering over the writhing body into the hall.
　　Almost naked, Silas hurled his pale body down the staircase. He knew he had been betrayed, but bywhom? When he reached the foyer, more officers were surging through the front door. Silas turnedthe other way and dashed deeper into the residence hall. The women's entrance. Every Opus Deibuilding has one. Winding down narrow hallways, Silas snaked through a kitchen, past terrifiedworkers, who left to avoid the naked albino as he knocked over bowls and silverware, bursting intoa dark hallway near the boiler room. He now saw the door he sought, an exit light gleaming at theend.
　　Running full speed through the door out into the rain, Silas leapt off the low landing, not seeing theofficer coming the other way until it was too late. The two men collided, Silas's broad, nakedshoulder grinding into the man's sternum with crushing force. He drove the officer backward ontothe pavement, landing hard on top of him. The officer's gun clattered away. Silas could hear menrunning down the hall shouting. Rolling, he grabbed the loose gun just as the officers emerged. Ashot rang out on the stairs, and Silas felt a searing pain below his ribs. Filled with rage, he openedfire at all three officers, their blood spraying.
　　A dark shadow loomed behind, coming out of nowhere. The angry hands that grabbed at his bareshoulders felt as if they were infused with the power of the devil himself. The man roared in hisear. SILAS, NO!
　　Silas spun and fired. Their eyes met. Silas was already screaming in horror as Bishop Aringarosafell.
塞拉斯突然被惊醒过来。
他不知道是什么东西惊醒了他，也不知道他睡了多久。我是在做梦吧？他坐起来，半躺在草席上，聆听着天主事工会活动中心大楼里熟睡的人们那平静的呼吸，以及寂静中偶尔传来的由楼下房间里大声祈祷的人们转化而来的温柔的话语声。这些熟悉的声音，本应该给他带来些许的安慰。
然而他却出乎意料地突然警惕起来。
塞拉斯站着，只穿着内衣，他走到窗前。有人在跟踪我吗？楼下的小院空无一人，一如他刚才进来所看到的情景。他仔细地倾听，却没听到什么。那我为什么会感到不安呢？
塞拉斯很早就学会了要相信自己的直觉。早在他进监狱之前--那时，他还是个成天在马赛市的街道上四处瞎逛的孩子……而且也是在阿林加洛沙主教给了他新生之前，他就已经知道要相信自己的直觉。他偷偷地看着窗外，这时，他模模糊糊的看到一辆藏在树篱深处的汽车的轮廓。在它的顶篷上，安装了一个警察应急用的报警器。这时，走廊上的地板发出"咯吱咯吱"的声音，门闩突然被拉开了。
对此，塞拉斯本能地作出了反应。还没等门被撞开，他已经冲到房间对面，飞快地溜到门边，躲在里面。第一位进来的警官如疾风骤雨般的闯了进来，他忽左忽右地晃动着手中的枪，小心翼翼地查看似乎空无一人的房间。他还没来得及弄清楚塞拉斯在哪里。塞拉斯已将胳膊藏到了门后面。第一位进来的警官转身准备开枪，塞拉斯急忙猫下腰。子弹射偏了，从他的头顶呼啸而过。塞拉斯抱住警官的胫骨，将他的双腿拖了过来，把他摁倒在地。不料自己的头却撞倒在地。紧跟着第一位进来的警官踉踉跄跄地站起来，塞拉斯照他下身就是一脚，然后跃过警官扭动的躯体，冲进大厅。
塞拉斯几乎一丝不挂，他拖着苍白的身子拾阶而下。他明白自己被出卖了，但是谁呢？他跌跌撞撞地冲到休息室：看到更多的警察从前门涌了进来。于是他立即掉过头，急速奔向大厅的里头。妇女专用通道。天主事工会修建的每幢建筑，几乎都有这样的通道。
塞拉斯冲过曲折而又狭窄的走廊，像蛇一样钻进厨房，厨房里干活的人都被吓坏了，他们赶忙躲避，以免与这位赤裸着身子的白化病患者撞在一起。塞拉斯把碗和银器餐具撞了个满地，随后一头钻进了锅炉房旁边的一条走廊。他终于看到了要找的门，在他的眼前，终于出现了一线希望。
塞拉斯以最快的速度夺门而出，跑入雨中，跳到更低一点的平地，然而等他注意到迎面赶来的警察时，一切都已经迟了。两个大男人撞在了一起，塞拉斯宽阔而裸露的肩膀狠命地顶在那人的胸脯上，令那人痛苦不已。他逼着警官退到了人行道，狠命地捶打他的头部。警官的枪走火了，"砰砰"的响个不停。塞拉斯听到许多人大喊着从大厅里跑了出来。
就在警官们出现时，他已经滚到一边，迅速捡起走火的手枪。楼梯上有人向他开枪，塞拉斯直觉得肋骨下一阵钻心的疼痛。他勃然大怒，端起枪朝着三名警察就是一阵劲射，刹那间，鲜血溅得满地都是。
这时，一个不知从哪里冒出来的黑影，在他身后若隐若现。那人愤怒地抓住塞拉斯裸露的肩膀，双手仿佛充满了魔鬼的力量。他的吼声在塞拉斯的耳边回响。"塞拉斯，别开枪！"塞拉斯回头就是几枪，他们的目光终于相遇。等他发现倒下的是阿林加洛沙主教时，他不禁失声大叫，惊恐异常。
Chapter 97
More than three thousand people are entombed or enshrined within Westminster Abbey. Thecolossal stone interior burgeons with the remains of kings, statesmen, scientists, poets, andmusicians. Their tombs, packed into every last niche and alcove, range in grandeur from the mostregal of mausoleums—that of Queen Elizabeth I, whose canopied sarcophagus inhabits its ownprivate, apsidal chapel—down to the most modest etched floor tiles whose inscriptions have wornaway with centuries of foot traffic, leaving it to one's imagination whose relics might lie below thetile in the undercroft.
　　Designed in the style of the great cathedrals of Amiens, Chartres, and Canterbury, WestminsterAbbey is considered neither cathedral nor parish church. It bears the classification of royalpeculiar, subject only to the Sovereign. Since hosting the coronation of William the Conqueror onChristmas Day in 1066, the dazzling sanctuary has witnessed an endless procession of royalceremonies and affairs of state—from the canonization of Edward the Confessor, to the marriage ofPrince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson, to the funerals of Henry V, Queen Elizabeth I, and LadyDiana.
　　Even so, Robert Langdon currently felt no interest in any of the abbey's ancient history, save oneevent—the funeral of the British knight Sir Isaac Newton.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　Hurrying through the grand portico on the north transept, Langdon and Sophie were met by guardswho politely ushered them through the abbey's newest addition—a large walk-through metaldetector—now present in most historic buildings in London. They both passed through withoutsetting off the alarm and continued to the abbey entrance.
　　Stepping across the threshold into Westminster Abbey, Langdon felt the outside world evaporatewith a sudden hush. No rumble of traffic. No hiss of rain. Just a deafening silence, which seemed toreverberate back and forth as if the building were whispering to itself.
　　Langdon's and Sophie's eyes, like those of almost every visitor, shifted immediately skyward,where the abbey's great abyss seemed to explode overhead. Gray stone columns ascended likeredwoods into the shadows, arching gracefully over dizzying expanses, and then shooting backdown to the stone floor. Before them, the wide alley of the north transept stretched out like a deepcanyon, flanked by sheer cliffs of stained glass. On sunny days, the abbey floor was a prismaticpatchwork of light. Today, the rain and darkness gave this massive hollow a wraithlike aura... morelike that of the crypt it truly was.
　　"It's practically empty," Sophie whispered.
　　Langdon felt disappointed. He had hoped for a lot more people. A more public place. Their earlierexperience in the deserted Temple Church was not one Langdon wanted to repeat. He had beenanticipating a certain feeling of security in the popular tourist destination, but Langdon'srecollections of bustling throngs in a well-lit abbey had been formed during the peak summertourist season. Today was a rainy April morning. Rather than crowds and shimmering stainedglass, all Langdon saw was acres of desolate floor and shadowy, empty alcoves.
　　"We passed through metal detectors," Sophie reminded, apparently sensing Langdon'sapprehension. "If anyone is in here, they can't be armed."Langdon nodded but still felt circumspect. He had wanted to bring the London police with them,but Sophie's fears of who might be involved put a damper on any contact with the authorities. Weneed to recover the cryptex, Sophie had insisted. It is the key to everything.
　　She was right, of course.
　　The key to getting Leigh back alive.
　　The key to finding the Holy Grail.
　　The key to learning who is behind this.
　　Unfortunately, their only chance to recover the keystone seemed to be here and now... at the tombof Isaac Newton. Whoever held the cryptex would have to pay a visit to the tomb to decipher thefinal clue, and if they had not already come and gone, Sophie and Langdon intended to interceptthem.
　　Striding toward the left wall to get out of the open, they moved into an obscure side aisle behind arow of pilasters. Langdon couldn't shake the image of Leigh Teabing being held captive, probablytied up in the back of his own limousine. Whoever had ordered the top Priory members killedwould not hesitate to eliminate others who stood in the way. It seemed a cruel irony thatTeabing—a modern British knight—was a hostage in the search for his own countryman, Sir IsaacNewton.
　　"Which way is it?" Sophie asked, looking around.
　　The tomb. Langdon had no idea. "We should find a docent and ask."Langdon knew better than to wander aimlessly in here. Westminster Abbey was a tangled warrenof mausoleums, perimeter chambers, and walk-in burial niches. Like the Louvre's Grand Gallery, ithad a lone point of entry—the door through which they had just passed—easy to find your way in,but impossible to find your way out. A literal tourist trap, one of Langdon's befuddled colleagueshad called it. Keeping architectural tradition, the abbey was laid out in the shape of a giant crucifix.
　　Unlike most churches, however, it had its entrance on the side, rather than the standard rear of thechurch via the narthex at the bottom of the nave. Moreover, the abbey had a series of sprawlingcloisters attached. One false step through the wrong archway, and a visitor was lost in a labyrinthof outdoor passageways surrounded by high walls.
　　"Docents wear crimson robes," Langdon said, approaching the center of the church. Peeringobliquely across the towering gilded altar to the far end of the south transept, Langdon saw severalpeople crawling on their hands and knees. This prostrate pilgrimage was a common occurrence inPoets' Corner, although it was far less holy than it appeared. Tourists doing grave rubbings.
　　"I don't see any docents," Sophie said. "Maybe we can find the tomb on our own?"Without a word, Langdon led her another few steps to the center of the abbey and pointed to theright.
　　Sophie drew a startled breath as she looked down the length of the abbey's nave, the full magnitudeof the building now visible. "Aah," she said. "Let's find a docent."At that moment, a hundred yards down the nave, out of sight behind the choir screen, the statelytomb of Sir Isaac Newton had a lone visitor. The Teacher had been scrutinizing the monument forten minutes now.
　　Newton's tomb consisted of a massive black-marble sarcophagus on which reclined the sculptedform of Sir Isaac Newton, wearing classical costume, and leaning proudly against a stack of hisown books—Divinity, Chronology, Opticks, and Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica.
　　At Newton's feet stood two winged boys holding a scroll. Behind Newton's recumbent body rosean austere pyramid. Although the pyramid itself seemed an oddity, it was the giant shape mountedhalfway up the pyramid that most intrigued the Teacher.
　　An orb.
　　The Teacher pondered Saunière's beguiling riddle. You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb. Themassive orb protruding from the face of the pyramid was carved in basso-relievo and depicted allkinds of heavenly bodies—constellations, signs of the zodiac, comets, stars, and planets. Above it,the image of the Goddess of Astronomy beneath a field of stars.
　　Countless orbs.
　　The Teacher had been convinced that once he found the tomb, discerning the missing orb would beeasy. Now he was not so sure. He was gazing at a complicated map of the heavens. Was there amissing planet? Had some astronomical orb been omitted from a constellation? He had no idea.
　　Even so, the Teacher could not help but suspect that the solution would be ingeniously clean andsimple—"a knight a pope interred." What orb am I looking for? Certainly, an advanced knowledgeof astrophysics was not a prerequisite for finding the Holy Grail, was it?
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　The Teacher's concentration was broken by several approaching tourists. He slipped the cryptexback in his pocket and watched warily as the visitors went to a nearby table, left a donation in thecup, and restocked on the complimentary grave-rubbing supplies set out by the abbey. Armed withfresh charcoal pencils and large sheets of heavy paper, they headed off toward the front of theabbey, probably to the popular Poets' Corner to pay their respects to Chaucer, Tennyson, andDickens by rubbing furiously on their graves.
　　Alone again, he stepped closer to the tomb, scanning it from bottom to top. He began with theclawed feet beneath the sarcophagus, moved upward past Newton, past his books on science, pastthe two boys with their mathematical scroll, up the face of the pyramid to the giant orb with itsconstellations, and finally up to the niche's star-filled canopy.
　　What orb ought to be here... and yet is missing? He touched the cryptex in his pocket as if he couldsomehow divine the answer from Saunière's crafted marble. Only five letters separate me from theGrail.
　　Pacing now near the corner of the choir screen, he took a deep breath and glanced up the long navetoward the main altar in the distance. His gaze dropped from the gilded altar down to the brightcrimson robe of an abbey docent who was being waved over by two very familiar individuals.
　　Langdon and Neveu.
　　Calmly, the Teacher moved two steps back behind the choir screen. That was fast. He hadanticipated Langdon and Sophie would eventually decipher the poem's meaning and come toNewton's tomb, but this was sooner than he had imagined. Taking a deep breath, the Teacherconsidered his options. He had grown accustomed to dealing with surprises.
　　I am holding the cryptex.
　　Reaching down to his pocket, he touched the second object that gave him his confidence: theMedusa revolver. As expected, the abbey's metal detectors had blared as the Teacher passedthrough with the concealed gun. Also as expected, the guards had backed off at once when theTeacher glared indignantly and flashed his identification card. Official rank always commanded theproper respect.
　　Although initially the Teacher had hoped to solve the cryptex alone and avoid any furthercomplications, he now sensed that the arrival of Langdon and Neveu was actually a welcomedevelopment. Considering the lack of success he was having with the "orb" reference, he might beable to use their expertise. After all, if Langdon had deciphered the poem to find the tomb, therewas a reasonable chance he also knew something about the orb. And if Langdon knew thepassword, then it was just a matter of applying the right pressure.
　　Not here, of course.
　　Somewhere private.
　　The Teacher recalled a small announcement sign he had seen on his way into the abbey.
　　Immediately he knew the perfect place to lure them.
　　The only question now... what to use as bait.
迄今为止，大约有三千多人的遗体安葬在威斯敏斯特教堂里，供世人凭吊。以石头砌就的庞大内室里遍布了国王、政治要员、科学家、诗人以及音乐家们留下的遗迹。他们的坟墓，遍布在所有壁龛和洞中的凹陷处，从最具皇家气派的陵墓，伊丽莎白一世之墓--她那带有顶棚的石棺安放在私人专用的半圆室的教堂里--到外表最朴素的雕刻过的地面石砖，可谓应有尽有。这些地砖上雕刻的碑文，由于几百年来人们踩踏的关系，到现在已经破败了，让人不由浮想联翩，以为这历史的陈迹，有可能就藏在教堂地下室的地砖里。
威斯敏斯特教堂沿循了法国亚眠、沙特尔以及坎特伯雷大教堂的建筑风格，然而它既不是一般的大教堂，也不是教区里的教堂。它明显打上了皇家的烙印，直接接受国王的管理。自1066 年的圣诞日在这里为"征服者"威廉一世举行加冕仪式以来，这个光彩夺目的礼拜堂，不知亲眼目睹了多少皇家仪式在这里举行，目睹了多少国家事务在这里得到解决--从"忏悔者"爱德华的加冕礼，到安德鲁王子与莎拉。弗格森的婚礼，直到亨利五世、伊丽莎白一世以及黛安娜王妃的葬礼，无一不在此地举行。
虽然如此，罗伯特。兰登眼下对它的古代历史毫无兴趣，不过对艾撒克。牛顿爵士的葬礼除外。
"在伦敦葬了一位亚历山大。蒲柏为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
兰登与索菲急急忙忙经过教堂北面交叉通道上雄伟的门廊，很快就有保卫人员走上前来，彬彬有礼地将他们带到该教堂新增添了一台大型金属检测装置的通道前。这样的检测器。如今在伦敦许多著名的历史建筑物里都能找到。检测器没有发出警报，于是他俩平安无事的经过通道，继续向该寺的入口走去。
兰登跨过门槛，进入威斯敏斯特教堂，他感到外面喧嚣的世界顷刻安静下来。既没有过往车辆的轰鸣声，也听不到"嘀嘀嗒嗒"的雨声，有的是死一般的沉静。这幢古老的建筑，仿佛是在喃喃自语，它的沉寂，在不断发出经久不息的回声。
几乎和其他所有游客一样，兰登和索菲马上抬头张望，威斯敏斯特教堂那巨大的穹窿，仿佛就要在他们的头顶上撒下一张大网。灰色的石柱，宛如红杉一般，一根接一根地向高处延伸，直至消失在阴影里。这些石柱，在令人晕眩的高空里构成优雅的弓形，然后直落而下，嵌入地面的石头里。教堂北面的通道，在他们面前向外伸展开去，就像深不可测的峡谷，两侧都是林立的镶满彩色玻璃的高墙。晴朗的日子里，教堂的地面，会反射出七彩的光芒。然而今天，外面的大雨以及由此带来的无边的黑暗，为这个巨大的空间增添了几许鬼魅般的气氛……使人觉得更像是在真正的地下墓穴里。
"果然是空无一人。"索菲低声地说。
兰登有些失望。他倒希望这里有更多的人，希望这里是一个更热闹的场所。他不想重复在空旷的圣殿教堂里的那次经历。他一直盼望着能在旅游场所里找到某种安全感，但他知道，在光线明亮的寺庙里，游客摩肩接踵，这样的情景只有在夏季旅游高峰期间才有可能出现。而今天--何况是四月里一个下雨的早晨，兰登既没看到熙熙攘攘的人群，也没看到闪烁亮光的彩色玻璃墙，他看到的是一望无垠的空旷的地面，以及若隐若现的空荡荡的洞穴。
"我们通过了检测器的检查，"索菲提醒兰登说，她明显感觉到他的忧虑。"即使这里有人，也不可能有枪的。"兰登点了点头，但还是显得很谨慎。他本想带伦敦警察一块到这里来，但索菲担心警方的参与将会妨碍他们日后与官方的联系。我们需要重新夺回拱心石，索菲一直这样认为。因为拱心石，是可以揭开所有神秘的一把钥匙。
当然，她是对的。
它是使雷。提彬安然无恙回来的一把钥匙。
它是成功寻找到圣杯的一把钥匙。
它是找出谁是幕后操纵者的一把钥匙。
不幸的是，如果他们要夺回拱心石，眼下唯一的机会似乎就得看他们在这里--在埃撒克。牛顿爵士的坟墓旁边--的表现了。不管是谁，只要他有了密码盒，都会找到这座坟墓上来，查询最后的线索。但他们如果还没有来，兰登与索菲就打算在中途阻止他们。
他们大步流星向左面的墙壁走去，出了开阔地带，步入了一排壁龛柱后面的十条昏暗的侧廊。兰登总想起雷。提彬被人抓起来的情景，兴许他正被绑在他自己的汽车后面呢。那些曾经下令暗杀郇山隐修会高层领导人员的人，无论是谁，一旦碰到有人要挡住他们前进的步伐时，是从不会手软的。雷。提彬爵士，一位当代的英国骑士，在寻找自己的同胞艾撒克。牛顿爵士之墓时，竟然沦为别人的人质，这似乎是个有点残忍的讽刺。
"我们该往哪里走呢？"索菲四处看了看。
坟墓到底在哪个方向，兰登自己也不知道。"我们去找个讲解员来问问。"
他知道，在这里漫无目的地游荡并没有什么好处。威斯敏斯特教堂里犬牙交错地遍布着一些大型的陵墓、圆形墓室，以及许多大到能让人进去的坟墓壁龛。与卢浮宫博物馆的艺术大画廊一样，它有一个独立进口--也就是他们刚刚经过的人口--你要进去很容易，但要出来可就难了。正如兰登一位被弄得糊里糊涂的同事所言，它是一个名副其实的旅游陷阱。威斯敏斯特教堂保留了传统的建筑风貌，它的外形呈巨大的十字形。不过，它跟大多数教堂不一样的是，它的入口处设在教堂的一侧，而不是设在经过教堂正殿底部前廊的正后方。并且该教堂还附有许多迂回曲折的游廊。倘若走错一步，走错了拱门，游客就会迷失在四周被高墙围着的户外走廊形成的迷宫里。
"讲解员穿的是绛色长袍。"兰登说着，来到了教堂中央。他斜着眼睛越过那高耸的镀金圣坛，将目光投到教堂的南端，他看到几个人正佝偻着身子，慢慢地往前爬。这般五体投地的朝圣，在"诗人角"是稀松平常的现象，尽管它远没有看上去的那样神圣。都是些在摹拓坟墓碑文的游客呢。
"讲解员我一个也没看到，"索菲说："或许我们还是目己去找，你看怎么样？"
兰登不搭一言，领着她又走了几步，来到教堂的中央，指着右边给她看。
索菲顺着他指的方向，从长长的教堂正殿望过去，终于看到这座巨大的建筑物，不由得倒抽了一口气。"天哪，我么还是去找个讲解员来吧。"
就在此时，一位参观者来到离教堂正殿一百码、内坛后面看不见的地方，庄严肃穆的艾撒克。牛顿爵士的墓旁。这位教主，在这里审视墓碑已经有十分钟了。
艾撒克。牛顿爵士的坟墓，其实是一个用黑色大理石建造的庞大石棺，上面安放着他的雕像，他穿着古典服装，一脸自豪地靠在他自己的一堆作品上--如《论神性》、《论运动》、《光学》以及《自然哲学中的数学原理》等。在他的脚下，站着两个长着翅膀手拿书卷的孩童。在他斜靠的身子后面，耸立着一个肃穆的金字塔。虽然模样看上去有些古怪，但镶嵌在它半中腰的硕大的圆球却激起了教主的浓厚兴趣。
一个圆球。
他思考着索尼埃编造的蛊惑人心的谜。"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。"
这个从金字塔表面突出来的庞大的圆球，上面布满了浮雕，以及各种形状的天体--有各种星座，黄道十二宫，也有彗星、恒星和行星。球的上面，有一位站在群星下的天文女神。
星球，无数的星球。
教主此前一直相信，一旦他找到这座坟墓，就会很容易地找到那个失踪的圆球。但现在，他却不敢那么肯定了。他凝视着一张由各种星球组成的错综复杂的地图。有没有哪个行星不见了？或者在这些星座里，有哪个星体给漏掉了呢？他无从知道。即使是这样，他还是怀疑解决这个谜的方法实既巧妙，又很简洁明了。"一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
我在寻找什么样的星球呢？当然喽，精通天体物理学并不意味着就一定能够找到圣杯。
"它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。"
教主正在聚精会神，突然走来几位游客。他急忙把密码盒放回口袋里，警惕地望着这几位游客走向附近的一张桌子，把钱投进桌上的杯子里，并重新添上一些由教堂免费赠送的专门用于摹拓墓上碑文的文具。这几位游客，手拿着新领来的炭笔和好几张又大又厚的纸，朝教堂前面走去，他们也许是去"诗人角"，到乔叟、丁尼生，以及狄更斯的墓前，兴奋地摹拓他们坟墓上的碑文，以此来表达他们的敬意。
现在又剩下他一个人，他向坟墓走近了几步，自上而下把它打量了一番。他先是观察石棺下面刻有爪子的底部，随即将视线从牛顿的雕像、他的科学论著、两名手拿数学文稿的儿童像上移了过去，他的目光从金字塔的表面移向那刻有无数星体的圆球，最后落到壁龛的刻满星星的天篷上。
什么样的圆球原本应该在这里……然而又失踪了呢？他摸了摸口袋里的密码盒，仿佛他能够从索尼埃制作精巧的大理石上预测出他要寻找的答案。只有找到那由五个字母组成的词语，才能将圣杯弄到手。
他在内坛一角附近来回地踱步，深吸了一口气，随后抬头越过那长长的正殿，将目光落到远处的主圣坛上。他把镀金圣坛打量了好一会儿，然后将视线直落到一位身穿绛色长袍的讲解员身上，他看到两个看上去很熟悉的人，正在向讲解员招手。
他想起来了，他们是罗伯特。兰登和索菲。奈芙。
教主极为镇静地往后退了两步，躲到了内坛的后面。他们未免来得太快些了吧。他早就估计到兰登与索菲最终会破解这首诗的含义，然后跑到牛顿的坟墓上来。但现在看来，这比他想象的还要快。他深吸了一口气，在心里盘算对策。他早已经习惯了如何应付突发事件。
密码盒在我手上哩。
他将手伸进口袋，摸到了另外一件能够长他志气的东西，即他随身带着的"美杜莎"牌左轮手枪。果然不出所料，当他携带这把藏在口袋里的手枪从装有金属检测器的通道经过时，检测器顿时响了起来。同样不出所料，保卫人员们一看到他愤怒地瞪着双眼，飞快地亮出证明其身份的证件，就立刻向后退去。不管怎么说，有地位的人总是让人肃然起敬的。
尽管一开始他想独自解决密码盒的问题，以避免面对更多的麻烦，然而现在，他倒是很欢迎兰登与索菲的到来。考虑到他目前缺乏成功找到失踪圆球的把握，他想也许可以把这两人的专业技能拿来为我所用。不管怎么说，如果兰登能够通过诗来找到牛顿爵士的坟墓，那他对失踪的圆球也应该略知一二。而且，如果兰登知道密码，那么剩下的问题，不过是适当地向他施加压力罢了。
当然不是在这里。
也许是在某个隐秘的地方吧。
教主想起刚才在来威斯敏斯特教堂的路上时，看到一块公告牌。他很快便想到，哪里是引诱他们上钩的最佳地点了。
剩下的问题是--拿什么做诱饵呢？
Chapter 98
Langdon and Sophie moved slowly down the north aisle, keeping to the shadows behind the amplepillars that separated it from the open nave. Despite having traveled more than halfway down thenave, they still had no clear view of Newton's tomb. The sarcophagus was recessed in a niche,obscured from this oblique angle.
　　"At least there's nobody over there," Sophie whispered.
　　Langdon nodded, relieved. The entire section of the nave near Newton's tomb was deserted. "I'll goover," he whispered. "You should stay hidden just in case someone—"Sophie had already stepped from the shadows and was headed across the open floor.
　　"—is watching," Langdon sighed, hurrying to join her.
　　Crossing the massive nave on a diagonal, Langdon and Sophie remained silent as the elaboratesepulchre revealed itself in tantalizing increments... a black-marble sarcophagus... a reclining statueof Newton... two winged boys... a huge pyramid... and... an enormous orb.
　　"Did you know about that?" Sophie said, sounding startled.
　　Langdon shook his head, also surprised.
　　"Those look like constellations carved on it," Sophie said.
　　As they approached the niche, Langdon felt a slow sinking sensation. Newton's tomb was coveredwith orbs—stars, comets, planets. You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb? It could turn out tobe like trying to find a missing blade of grass on a golf course.
　　"Astronomical bodies," Sophie said, looking concerned. "And a lot of them."Langdon frowned. The only link between the planets and the Grail that Langdon could imaginewas the pentacle of Venus, and he had already tried the password "Venus" en route to the TempleChurch.
　　Sophie moved directly to the sarcophagus, but Langdon hung back a few feet, keeping an eye onthe abbey around them.
　　"Divinity," Sophie said, tilting her head and reading the titles of the books on which Newton wasleaning. "Chronology. Opticks. Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica?" She turned tohim. "Ring any bells?"Langdon stepped closer, considering it. "Principia Mathematica, as I remember, has something todo with the gravitation pull of planets... which admittedly are orbs, but it seems a little far-fetched.""How about the signs of the zodiac?" Sophie asked, pointing to the constellations on the orb. "Youwere talking about Pisces and Aquarius earlier, weren't you?"The End of Days, Langdon thought. "The end of Pisces and the beginning of Aquarius wasallegedly the historical marker at which the Priory planned to release the Sangreal documents to theworld." But the millennium came and went without incident, leaving historians uncertain when thetruth was coming.
　　"It seems possible," Sophie said, "that the Priory's plans to reveal the truth might be related to thelast line of the poem."It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb. Langdon felt a shiver of potential. He had not consideredthe line that way before.
　　"You told me earlier," she said, "that the timing of the Priory's plans to unveil the truth about 'theRose' and her fertile womb was linked directly to the position of planets—orbs."Langdon nodded, feeling the first faint wisps of possibility materializing. Even so, his intuition toldhim astronomy was not the key. The Grand Master's previous solutions had all possessed aneloquent, symbolic significance—the Mona Lisa, Madonna of the Rocks, SOFIA. This eloquencewas definitely lacking in the concept of planetary orbs and the zodiac. Thus far, Jacques Saunièrehad proven himself a meticulous code writer, and Langdon had to believe that his finalpassword—those five letters that unlocked the Priory's ultimate secret—would prove to be not onlysymbolically fitting but also crystal clear. If this solution were anything like the others, it would bepainfully obvious once it dawned.
　　"Look!" Sophie gasped, jarring his thoughts as she grabbed his arm. From the fear in her touchLangdon sensed someone must be approaching, but when he turned to her, she was staring aghastat the top of the black marble sarcophagus. "Someone was here," she whispered, pointing to a spoton the sarcophagus near Newton's outstretched right foot.
　　Langdon did not understand her concern. A careless tourist had left a charcoal, grave-rubbingpencil on the sarcophagus lid near Newton's foot. It's nothing. Langdon reached out to pick it up,but as he leaned toward the sarcophagus, the light shifted on the polished black-marble slab, andLangdon froze. Suddenly, he saw why Sophie was afraid.
　　Scrawled on the sarcophagus lid, at Newton's feet, shimmered a barely visible charcoal-pencilmessage:
　　I have Teabing.
　　Go through Chapter House,out south exit, to public garden.
　　Langdon read the words twice, his heart pounding wildly.
　　Sophie turned and scanned the nave.
　　Despite the pall of trepidation that settled over him upon seeing the words, Langdon told himselfthis was good news. Leigh is still alive. There was another implication here too. "They don't knowthe password either," he whispered.
　　Sophie nodded. Otherwise why make their presence known?
　　"They may want to trade Leigh for the password.""Or it's a trap."Langdon shook his head. "I don't think so. The garden is outside the abbey walls. A very publicplace." Langdon had once visited the abbey's famous College Garden—a small fruit orchard andherb garden—left over from the days when monks grew natural pharmacological remedies here.
　　Boasting the oldest living fruit trees in Great Britain, College Garden was a popular spot fortourists to visit without having to enter the abbey. "I think sending us outside is a show of faith. Sowe feel safe."Sophie looked dubious. "You mean outside, where there are no metal detectors?"Langdon scowled. She had a point.
　　Gazing back at the orb-filled tomb, Langdon wished he had some idea about the cryptexpassword... something with which to negotiate. I got Leigh involved in this, and I'll do whatever ittakes if there is a chance to help him.
　　"The note says to go through the Chapter House to the south exit," Sophie said. "Maybe from theexit we would have a view of the garden? That way we could assess the situation before we walkedout there and exposed ourselves to any danger?"The idea was a good one. Langdon vaguely recalled the Chapter House as a huge octagonal hallwhere the original British Parliament convened in the days before the modern Parliament buildingexisted. It had been years since he had been there, but he remembered it being out through thecloister somewhere. Taking several steps back from the tomb, Langdon peered around the choirscreen to his right, across the nave to the side opposite that which they had descended.
　　A gaping vaulted passageway stood nearby, with a large sign.
　　THIS WAY TO:
　　CLOISTERSDEANERYCOLLEGE HALLMUSEUMPYX CHAMBERST. FAITH'S CHAPELCHAPTER HOUSELangdon and Sophie were jogging as they passed beneath the sign, moving too quickly to noticethe small announcement apologizing that certain areas were closed for renovations.
　　They emerged immediately into a high-walled, open-roof courtyard through which morning rainwas falling. Above them, the wind howled across the opening with a low drone, like someoneblowing over the mouth of a bottle. Entering the narrow, low-hanging walkways that bordered thecourtyard perimeter, Langdon felt the familiar uneasiness he always felt in enclosed spaces. Thesewalkways were called cloisters, and Langdon noted with uneasiness that these particular cloisterslived up to their Latin ties to the word claustrophobic.
　　Focusing his mind straight ahead toward the end of the tunnel, Langdon followed the signs for theChapter House. The rain was spitting now, and the walkway was cold and damp with gusts of rainthat blew through the lone pillared wall that was the cloister's only source of light. Another couplescurried past them the other way, hurrying to get out of the worsening weather. The cloisterslooked deserted now, admittedly the abbey's least enticing section in the wind and rain.
　　Forty yards down the east cloister, an archway materialized on their left, giving way to anotherhallway. Although this was the entrance they were looking for, the opening was cordoned off by aswag and an official-looking sign.
　　CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONPYX CHAMBERST. FAITH'S CHAPELCHAPTER HOUSEThe long, deserted corridor beyond the swag was littered with scaffolding and drop cloths.
　　Immediately beyond the swag, Langdon could see the entrances to the Pyx Chamber and St. Faith'sChapel on the right and left. The entrance to the Chapter House, however, was much farther away,at the far end of the long hallway. Even from here, Langdon could see that its heavy wooden doorwas wide open, and the spacious octagonal interior was bathed in a grayish natural light from theroom's enormous windows that looked out on College Garden. Go through Chapter House, outsouth exit, to public garden.
　　"We just left the east cloister," Langdon said, "so the south exit to the garden must be through thereand to the right."Sophie was already stepping over the swag and moving forward.
　　As they hurried down the dark corridor, the sounds of the wind and rain from the open cloisterfaded behind them. The Chapter House was a kind of satellite structure—a freestanding annex atthe end of the long hallway to ensure the privacy of the Parliament proceedings housed there.
　　"It looks huge," Sophie whispered as they approached.
　　Langdon had forgotten just how large this room was. Even from outside the entrance, he couldgaze across the vast expanse of floor to the breathtaking windows on the far side of the octagon,which rose five stories to a vaulted ceiling. They would certainly have a clear view of the gardenfrom in here.
　　Crossing the threshold, both Langdon and Sophie found themselves having to squint. After thegloomy cloisters, the Chapter House felt like a solarium. They were a good ten feet into the room,searching the south wall, when they realized the door they had been promised was not there.
　　They were standing in an enormous dead end.
　　The creaking of a heavy door behind them made them turn, just as the door closed with aresounding thud and the latch fell into place.
　　The lone man who had been standing behind the door looked calm as he aimed a small revolver atthem. He was portly and was propped on a pair of aluminum crutches.
　　For a moment Langdon thought he must be dreaming.
　　It was Leigh Teabing.
兰登与索菲沿着北边的侧廊缓缓而行，他们的身体一直隐没在将侧廊与空旷的教堂正殿分开的诸多石柱后面的阴影里。虽然他们沿着正殿已经走了大半的距离，但还是没能看到牛顿坟墓的踪影。他的石棺隐藏在壁龛里，从这里斜眼看过去，显得模糊不清。
"至少那边应该没人吧。"索菲低声地说。
兰登点点头，轻松了许多。在教堂正殿靠近牛顿坟墓的那整块地方，现在是人影全无。"我先过去看看，"他小声对索菲说："你最好还是躲起来，万一有人--"
索菲已经从石柱的阴影里走了出来，从开阔的地面向对面走去。
"--在盯梢的话。"兰登叹了口气，急忙跟上了她。
他们沿教堂正殿的斜对面走去，当他们看到那造型精致的坟墓一下子冒出来时，彼此都保持着沉默。黑色大理石的石棺、牛顿爵士斜着身子的雕像、两个长有翅膀的孩童像、巨大的金字塔……还有一只庞大的圆球。
"你知道那东西是什么吗？"索菲关切地问。
兰登摇了摇头，也有点惊讶。
"它们像是刻在上面的星球。"索菲说。
他们朝壁龛走去，这时，兰登的心逐渐下沉。牛顿的坟墓上布满了各种各样的星球--有恒星、彗星、还有行星。"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里？"这看起来有点像是在大海里捞针呐。
"星球，都是星球，"索菲满脸关切地说："有很多呢。"
兰登皱起眉头。他能想起来的行星与圣杯的唯一联系，就是金星（Venus）的五角星形，况且他在去圣殿教堂的路上已经试过"Venus"这个词。
索菲径直向石棺走去，然而兰登却在几步之后的地方畏缩不前，他将身边的教堂巡视了一遍。
"《论神性》，"索菲歪着头，读着牛顿倚靠着的那些书的名字。"《论运动》、《光学》以及《自然哲学中的数学原理》？"她转向他说："你听出什么来了吗？"
兰登走上前，仔细斟酌着。"我记得数学原理跟行星之间的引力有点关系。老实说它们也是球体，但总让人觉得有点牵强。""那黄道十二宫呢？"索菲指着圆球上的星体说。"你刚才说的是双鱼和宝瓶星座吧？"
是世界末日，兰登心想。"双鱼座的尾和宝瓶座的头据说是郇山隐修会计划将《圣杯文献》公开给世人的历史性标志。"然而新的千年来了又去了，却平安无事，让历史学家们不能确定真相何时能够大白。
"这有可能，"索菲说："郇山隐修会计划将真相泄露出去也许跟诗的最后一句有关系。
""它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。"兰登不禁打了个冷战。他以前还没有这样想过呢。
"你以前告诉过我，郇山隐修会计划将"圣洁的玫瑰"以及她怀孕的实施泄露出去的时间安排与行星位置直接有联系。"兰登点了点头，表示同意，开始觉得出现了些微的可能性。虽说是这样，但直觉告诉他，天文学并不是揭开真相的一把钥匙。这位大师以前设置的解决方案，都具有说服力且具有象征性的意义---如《蒙娜丽莎》、《岩间圣母》以及SOFIA 等。这种说服力在行星以及黄道十二宫的概念中显然是缺乏的。所以，到目前为止，雅克。索尼埃证明了他是一位细心的编码者，而兰登不得不相信他最后编制的密码--那个未能揭开郇山隐修会绝对隐私的由五个字母组成的词--到头来将不仅很具有象征意义，而且也非常简单明了。假如这种解决方法跟其他一样的话，那么一旦弄清楚，它也许会浅显到令人痛苦的地步。
"快看。"索菲气喘吁吁地说，她一把抓住兰登的胳膊。将他纷飞的思绪给打断了。从她惊恐的触摸里，兰登感到肯定有人向他们走来，然而当他转身面对她时，他发现她正吃惊地瞪大着眼睛，看着黑色大理石棺的顶部。"有人刚来过这里了。"她指着牛顿爵士张开的右脚附近的一个地方，轻声地说。
兰登并不知道她在关心什么。一位粗心的游客，将摹拓碑文的炭笔忘在牛顿脚下附近的石棺盖上了。那算什么。兰登伸出了手，将它捡起来，然而当他向石棺俯过身，一束光线照射在擦拭一新的黑色大理石的石棺上，他顿时呆住了。很快，他明白了索菲害怕的根由。
有人在石棺的棺盖上，牛顿塑像的底部，用炭笔潦草地写了几行几乎难以看清的字，散发着微弱的光。
提彬在我手上。
你们穿过牧师会礼堂，出了南门，再到花园里。
兰登读了两遍，他的心剧烈地跳了起来。
索菲掉转身，迅速地将正殿扫视了一遍。
兰登看到这几行字，虽然恐惧不已，但还是努力说服自己这是一个很不错的消息。
雷。提彬还活着呢；当然其中还有另外一层含义。"他们也不知道密码。"兰登低声地说。
索菲点了点头。要不然他们怎么会让别人知道他们的行踪呢？
"他们可能要拿雷。提彬来交换密码。"
"也许是个陷阱呢。"
兰登摇摇头。"我不这样认为。花园就在教堂外面，是个很公开的地方。"他曾来过该教堂有名的学院花园一次--那是个很小的果园，也是一个种植药草的花园--它是自修道士们种植天然药材之日起留下来的。学院花园号称拥有全英国至今仍然存活的最古老的果树，它是一个极受游客欢迎的地方，不需要跑到教堂里去，在外面就可以看到。"我想把我们叫到外面去是有信用的表现，所以我们用不着担心安全。"索菲却不相信："你是说到外面去对吧？那里可没有什么金属检测器呢。"
兰登满面愁容，因为索菲说到了点子上。
他回头凝视着刻满星球的坟墓，希望能从中找出破译密码盒密码的线索……并想出了一些讨价还价的对策。是我把雷。提彬牵连了进来，如果还有机会，我一定要想方设法救他出来。
"那留言要我们穿过牧师会礼堂再到教堂的南面出口，"索菲说："或许我们从出口处就可以看到花园呢？那样的话，在从那里出去并陷入到危险处境之前，我们也许可见机行事呢。"这倒是个不错的主意。兰登隐约记得，牧师会礼堂是一个偌大的八角形大厅，那里是现代英国议会大厦建成之前最初举行议会的地方。他已经很多年没去那里了，但他记得是从某个游廊穿过去的。他往后退了几步，沿着右边的内坛巡视了一圈，又将目光投向对面他们刚才上来的教堂正殿。
一座带有许多洞眼的拱顶门就在附近，可以看到一块很大的招牌。
从这里通往：各个游廊牧师住宅教士厅博物馆圣体存放室圣费斯教堂牧师会礼堂兰登与索菲是一路小跑从那招牌下经过的，他们跑得太快了，所以没看到告示上阐明有些地方正由于内部装修而暂时关闭的道歉性文字。
他们立刻来到四面都是高墙，没有屋顶的院子里。清晨的雨正下着，风从他们的头上掠过，发出阵阵"嗡嗡"的低鸣，仿佛有人用嘴在对着瓶口吹奏。他们进入那狭窄的、稍微有点倾斜的、紧挨着院子的过道里。兰登感到每次在密闭的空间里时那种熟悉的不安又在心底升腾。这些过道，又叫做游廊。兰登也不安地注意到这些别致的游廊（cloisters）与claustrophobic（幽闭恐怖症）这个拉丁词间的某种联系。
兰登一心朝隧道的尽头走去，他按照招牌上的提示，找寻着通往牧师会礼堂的方向。
春雨霏霏，走廊上又湿又冷。一阵阵雨，从走廊光线的唯一进口--那堵孤单的柱形墙外面灌了进来。这时，有两个人从对面匆匆地跑来，急于摆脱眼下难堪的处境。游廊上现在冷冷清清，诚然，在刮风下雨的日子里，这座教堂最不吸引人的地方，恐怕就是游廊了。
他们沿着东边游廊走上四十码，在他们的左边出现了一座拱门，拱门又通向另一条走廊。尽管这是他们正要寻找的人口，但进口处却被悬挂的饰物和公告牌封闭起来了。牌子上写着：以下几处内部改造，暂停开放：圣体存放室圣费斯教堂牧师会礼堂从那幅悬挂的饰物看过去，那条漫长而又冷清的走廊，乱七八糟堆满了脚手架和废弃的衣服。兰登透过悬挂的饰物的间隙，很快看到了分别通往圣体存放室和圣费斯教堂的一左一右的两个入口。不过，牧师会礼堂的入口离这里要远得多，就在那长长的走廊尽头。
不过，即使是从这里，兰登也能看到它敞开着的厚重的木门，而它的八角形内厅，则沐浴在从巨大的窗户外面照进来的灰蒙蒙的自然光线里。这些窗户正好面对学院花园。"你们穿过牧师会礼堂，出了南门，再到花园里。""我们刚离开东边的游廊，"兰登说："所以通往花园的南面出口一定要经过那里，然后向右行。"索菲这时已经从悬挂的饰物上走过去，一路向前行。
他们沿着昏暗的走廊迈着匆匆的步子，游廊上的风雨声渐渐远去了。牧师会礼堂是一种类似于卫星般陪衬的建筑结构--它是矗立在这条长长的走廊尽头独立于其他房子的附属建筑物，这是为确保议会活动能在这里秘密举行。
"看来很大啊。"索菲边走边轻声地说。
兰登已记不清这间屋子到底有多大。因为即使站在大门外面，他也能够越过宽阔的地面看到远处这间八角形大厅对面大得惊人的窗户。这些窗户有五层楼高，一直伸展到有拱顶的天花板上，所以他们当然可从这里清楚地看到花园。
他们跨过门坎，发现自己只能眯着眼睛看了。与阴沉沉的游廊相比，牧师会礼堂就像是一间日光浴室。他们朝厅里足足走了十步，寻找南面的那堵墙，这才发现所要找的那道门并不在那里。
他们正站在偌大的死胡同里。
突然，那扇沉重的木门"吱呀"一声开了，又被重重地关上，随即门闩也被插上，惊得他俩赶忙转过身来。
那个一直站在门背后的男人神态自若，手持一把小型左轮手枪，正对准了他们。他身材粗壮，倚靠在两根铝制拐杖上。
兰登一时还以为自己是在做梦呢。
此人不是别人，正是他要找的雷。提彬。
Chapter 99
Sir Leigh Teabing felt rueful as he gazed out over the barrel of his Medusa revolver at RobertLangdon and Sophie Neveu. "My friends," he said, "since the moment you walked into my homelast night, I have done everything in my power to keep you out of harm's way. But your persistencehas now put me in a difficult position."He could see the expressions of shock and betrayal on Sophie's and Langdon's faces, and yet hewas confident that soon they would both understand the chain of events that had guided the three ofthem to this unlikely crossroads.
　　There is so much I have to tell you both... so much you do not yet understand.
　　"Please believe," Teabing said, "I never had any intention of your being involved. You came to myhome. You came searching for me.""Leigh?" Langdon finally managed. "What the hell are you doing? We thought you were in trouble.
　　We came here to help you!""As I trusted you would," he said. "We have much to discuss."Langdon and Sophie seemed unable to tear their stunned gazes from the revolver aimed at them.
　　"It is simply to ensure your full attention," Teabing said. "If I had wanted to harm you, you wouldbe dead by now. When you walked into my home last night, I risked everything to spare your lives.
　　I am a man of honor, and I vowed in my deepest conscience only to sacrifice those who hadbetrayed the Sangreal.""What are you talking about?" Langdon said. "Betrayed the Sangreal?""I discovered a terrible truth," Teabing said, sighing. "I learned why the Sangreal documents werenever revealed to the world. I learned that the Priory had decided not to release the truth after all.
　　That's why the millennium passed without any revelation, why nothing happened as we entered theEnd of Days."Langdon drew a breath, about to protest.
　　"The Priory," Teabing continued, "was given a sacred charge to share the truth. To release theSangreal documents when the End of Days arrived. For centuries, men like Da Vinci, Botticelli,and Newton risked everything to protect the documents and carry out that charge. And now, at theultimate moment of truth, Jacques Saunière changed his mind. The man honored with the greatestresponsibility in Christian history eschewed his duty. He decided the time was not right." Teabingturned to Sophie. "He failed the Grail. He failed the Priory. And he failed the memory of all thegenerations that had worked to make that moment possible.""You?" Sophie declared, glancing up now, her green eyes boring into him with rage andrealization. "You are the one responsible for my grandfather's murder?"Teabing scoffed. "Your grandfather and his sénéchaux were traitors to the Grail."Sophie felt a fury rising from deep within. He's lying!
　　Teabing's voice was relentless. "Your grandfather sold out to the Church. It is obvious theypressured him to keep the truth quiet."Sophie shook her head. "The Church had no influence on my grandfather!"Teabing laughed coldly. "My dear, the Church has two thousand years of experience pressuringthose who threaten to unveil its lies. Since the days of Constantine, the Church has successfullyhidden the truth about Mary Magdalene and Jesus. We should not be surprised that now, onceagain, they have found a way to keep the world in the dark. The Church may no longer employcrusaders to slaughter non-believers, but their influence is no less persuasive. No less insidious."He paused, as if to punctuate his next point. "Miss Neveu, for some time now your grandfather haswanted to tell you the truth about your family."Sophie was stunned. "How could you know that?""My methods are immaterial. The important thing for you to grasp right now is this." He took adeep breath. "The deaths of your mother, father, grandmother, and brother were not accidental."The words sent Sophie's emotions reeling. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable.
　　Langdon shook his head. "What are you saying?""Robert, it explains everything. All the pieces fit. History repeats itself. The Church has aprecedent of murder when it comes to silencing the Sangreal. With the End of Days imminent,killing the Grand Master's loved ones sent a very clear message. Be quiet, or you and Sophie arenext.""It was a car accident," Sophie stammered, feeling the childhood pain welling inside her. "Anaccident!""Bedtime stories to protect your innocence," Teabing said. "Consider that only two familymembers went untouched—the Priory's Grand Master and his lone granddaughter—the perfect pairto provide the Church with control over the brotherhood. I can only imagine the terror the Churchwielded over your grandfather these past years, threatening to kill you if he dared release theSangreal secret, threatening to finish the job they started unless Saunière influenced the Priory toreconsider its ancient vow.""Leigh," Langdon argued, now visibly riled, "certainly you have no proof that the Church hadanything to do with those deaths, or that it influenced the Priory's decision to remain silent.""Proof?" Teabing fired back. "You want proof the Priory was influenced? The new millennium hasarrived, and yet the world remains ignorant! Is that not proof enough?"In the echoes of Teabing's words, Sophie heard another voice speaking. Sophie, I must tell you thetruth about your family. She realized she was trembling. Could this possibly be that truth hergrandfather had wanted to tell her? That her family had been murdered? What did she truly knowabout the crash that took her family? Only sketchy details. Even the stories in the newspaper hadbeen vague. An accident? Bedtime stories? Sophie flashed suddenly on her grandfather'soverprotectiveness, how he never liked to leave her alone when she was young. Even when Sophiewas grown and away at university, she had the sense her grandfather was watching over. Shewondered if there had been Priory members in the shadows throughout her entire life, looking afterher.
　　"You suspected he was being manipulated," Langdon said, glaring with disbelief at Teabing. "Soyou murdered him?""I did not pull the trigger," Teabing said. "Saunière was dead years ago, when the Church stole hisfamily from him. He was compromised. Now he is free of that pain, released from the shamecaused by his inability to carry out his sacred duty. Consider the alternative. Something had to bedone. Shall the world be ignorant forever? Shall the Church be allowed to cement its lies into ourhistory books for all eternity? Shall the Church be permitted to influence indefinitely with murderand extortion? No, something needed to be done! And now we are poised to carry out Saunière'slegacy and right a terrible wrong." He paused. "The three of us. Together."Sophie felt only incredulity. "How could you possibly believe that we would help you?""Because, my dear, you are the reason the Priory failed to release the documents. Yourgrandfather's love for you prevented him from challenging the Church. His fear of reprisal againsthis only remaining family crippled him. He never had a chance to explain the truth because yourejected him, tying his hands, making him wait. Now you owe the world the truth. You owe it tothe memory of your grandfather."Robert Langdon had given up trying to get his bearings. Despite the torrent of questions runningthrough his mind, he knew only one thing mattered now—getting Sophie out of here alive. All theguilt Langdon had mistakenly felt earlier for involving Teabing had now been transferred toSophie.
　　I took her to Chateau Villette. I am responsible.
　　Langdon could not fathom that Leigh Teabing would be capable of killing them in cold blood herein the Chapter House, and yet Teabing certainly had been involved in killing others during hismisguided quest. Langdon had the uneasy feeling that gunshots in this secluded, thick-walledchamber would go unheard, especially in this rain. And Leigh just admitted his guilt to us.
　　Langdon glanced at Sophie, who looked shaken. The Church murdered Sophie's family to silencethe Priory? Langdon felt certain the modern Church did not murder people. There had to be someother explanation.
　　"Let Sophie leave," Langdon declared, staring at Leigh. "You and I should discuss this alone."Teabing gave an unnatural laugh. "I'm afraid that is one show of faith I cannot afford. I can,however, offer you this." He propped himself fully on his crutches, gracelessly keeping the gunaimed at Sophie, and removed the keystone from his pocket. He swayed a bit as he held it out forLangdon. "A token of trust, Robert."Robert felt wary and didn't move. Leigh is giving the keystone back to us?
　　"Take it," Teabing said, thrusting it awkwardly toward Langdon.
　　Langdon could imagine only one reason Teabing would give it back. "You opened it already. Youremoved the map."Teabing was shaking his head. "Robert, if I had solved the keystone, I would have disappeared tofind the Grail myself and kept you uninvolved. No, I do not know the answer. And I can admit thatfreely. A true knight learns humility in the face of the Grail. He learns to obey the signs placedbefore him. When I saw you enter the abbey, I understood. You were here for a reason. To help. Iam not looking for singular glory here. I serve a far greater master than my own pride. The Truth.
　　Mankind deserves to know that truth. The Grail found us all, and now she is begging to berevealed. We must work together."Despite Teabing's pleas for cooperation and trust, his gun remained trained on Sophie as Langdonstepped forward and accepted the cold marble cylinder. The vinegar inside gurgled as Langdongrasped it and stepped backward. The dials were still in random order, and the cryptex remainedlocked.
　　Langdon eyed Teabing. "How do you know I won't smash it right now?"Teabing's laugh was an eerie chortle. "I should have realized your threat to break it in the TempleChurch was an empty one. Robert Langdon would never break the keystone. You are an historian,Robert. You are holding the key to two thousand years of history—the lost key to the Sangreal.
　　You can feel the souls of all the knights burned at the stake to protect her secret. Would you havethem die in vain? No, you will vindicate them. You will join the ranks of the great men youadmire—Da Vinci, Botticelli, Newton—each of whom would have been honored to be in yourshoes right now. The contents of the keystone are crying out to us. Longing to be set free. The timehas come. Destiny has led us to this moment.""I cannot help you, Leigh. I have no idea how to open this. I only saw Newton's tomb for amoment. And even if I knew the password..." Langdon paused, realizing he had said too much.
　　"You would not tell me?" Teabing sighed. "I am disappointed and surprised, Robert, that you donot appreciate the extent to which you are in my debt. My task would have been far simpler hadRémy and I eliminated you both when you walked into Chateau Villette. Instead I riskedeverything to take the nobler course.""This is noble?" Langdon demanded, eyeing the gun.
　　"Saunière's fault," Teabing said. "He and his sénéchaux lied to Silas. Otherwise, I would haveobtained the keystone without complication. How was I to imagine the Grand Master would go tosuch ends to deceive me and bequeath the keystone to an estranged granddaughter?" Teabinglooked at Sophie with disdain. "Someone so unqualified to hold this knowledge that she required asymbologist baby-sitter." Teabing glanced back at Langdon. "Fortunately, Robert, yourinvolvement turned out to be my saving grace. Rather than the keystone remaining locked in thedepository bank forever, you extracted it and walked into my home."Where else would I run? Langdon thought. The community of Grail historians is small, andTeabing and I have a history together.
　　Teabing now looked smug. "When I learned Saunière left you a dying message, I had a pretty goodidea you were holding valuable Priory information. Whether it was the keystone itself, orinformation on where to find it, I was not sure. But with the police on your heels, I had a sneakingsuspicion you might arrive on my doorstep."Langdon glared. "And if we had not?""I was formulating a plan to extend you a helping hand. One way or another, the keystone wascoming to Chateau Villette. The fact that you delivered it into my waiting hands only serves asproof that my cause is just.""What!" Langdon was appalled.
　　"Silas was supposed to break in and steal the keystone from you in Chateau Villette—thusremoving you from the equation without hurting you, and exonerating me from any suspicion ofcomplicity. However, when I saw the intricacy of Saunière's codes, I decided to include you both inmy quest a bit longer. I could have Silas steal the keystone later, once I knew enough to carry onalone.""The Temple Church," Sophie said, her tone awash with betrayal.
　　Light begins to dawn, Teabing thought. The Temple Church was the perfect location to steal thekeystone from Robert and Sophie, and its apparent relevance to the poem made it a plausibledecoy. Rémy's orders had been clear—stay out of sight while Silas recovers the keystone.
　　Unfortunately, Langdon's threat to smash the keystone on the chapel floor had caused Rémy topanic. If only Rémy had not revealed himself, Teabing thought ruefully, recalling his own mockkidnapping. Rémy was the sole link to me, and he showed his face!
　　Fortunately, Silas remained unaware of Teabing's true identity and was easily fooled into takinghim from the church and then watching naively as Rémy pretended to tie their hostage in the backof the limousine. With the soundproof divider raised, Teabing was able to phone Silas in the frontseat, use the fake French accent of the Teacher, and direct Silas to go straight to Opus Dei. Asimple anonymous tip to the police was all it would take to remove Silas from the picture.
　　One loose end tied up.
　　The other loose end was harder. Rémy.
　　Teabing struggled deeply with the decision, but in the end Rémy had proven himself a liability.
　　Every Grail quest requires sacrifice. The cleanest solution had been staring Teabing in the facefrom the limousine's wet bar—a flask, some cognac, and a can of peanuts. The powder at thebottom of the can would be more than enough to trigger Rémy's deadly allergy. When Rémyparked the limo on Horse Guards Parade, Teabing climbed out of the back, walked to the sidepassenger door, and sat in the front next to Rémy. Minutes later, Teabing got out of the car,climbed into the rear again, cleaned up the evidence, and finally emerged to carry out the finalphase of his mission.
　　Westminster Abbey had been a short walk, and although Teabing's leg braces, crutches, and gunhad set off the metal detector, the rent-a-cops never knew what to do. Do we ask him to remove hisbraces and crawl through? Do we frisk his deformed body? Teabing presented the flustered guardsa far easier solution—an embossed card identifying him as Knight of the Realm. The poor fellowspractically tripped over one another ushering him in.
　　Now, eyeing the bewildered Langdon and Neveu, Teabing resisted the urge to reveal how he hadbrilliantly implicated Opus Dei in the plot that would soon bring about the demise of the entireChurch. That would have to wait. Right now there was work to do.
　　"Mes amis," Teabing declared in flawless French, "vous ne trouvez pas le Saint-Graal, c'est leSaint-Graal qui vous trouve." He smiled. "Our paths together could not be more clear. The Grailhas found us."Silence.
　　He spoke to them in a whisper now. "Listen. Can you hear it? The Grail is speaking to us across thecenturies. She is begging to be saved from the Priory's folly. I implore you both to recognize thisopportunity. There could not possibly be three more capable people assembled at this moment tobreak the final code and open the cryptex." Teabing paused, his eyes alight. "We need to swear anoath together. A pledge of faith to one another. A knight's allegiance to uncover the truth and makeit known."Sophie stared deep into Teabing's eyes and spoke in a steely tone. "I will never swear an oath withmy grandfather's murderer. Except an oath that I will see you go to prison."Teabing's heart turned grave, then resolute. "I am sorry you feel that way, mademoiselle." Heturned and aimed the gun at Langdon. "And you, Robert? Are you with me, or against me?"
雷。提彬爵士从他的"美杜莎"左轮手枪枪口望过去，盯着罗伯特。兰登与索菲。奈芙，觉得有些懊悔。"朋友们。"他开口说："自从昨晚你们闯进我家，我已经尽了最大的努力使你们免于受到伤害。然而现在，你们的执着已让我陷入了困境。"他看到索菲与兰登脸上露出震惊与被人出卖的无辜表情，然而他还是相信他俩很快就会明白，就是这一连串的事件，将他们三人带到了这些看似不太可能的十字路口上。
我有很多的东西要跟你们两个人说……你们不明白的事情也有很多。
"请相信我。"提彬继续说："我从没想过要把你们牵扯进来。你们跑到我家，就是来找我的吧。""是吗，雷爵士？"终于，兰登勉强接过话茬："你到底要干什么？我们还以为你目前的处境很危险呢。我们是来帮你的啊。""我相信你们会来帮我。"提彬说："有很多事情我们还需要一起讨论呢。"
兰登与索菲惊惶失措地紧盯着那把对准他们的左轮手枪，一时似乎无法将视线从它身上移开。
"我只想引起你们充分的注意。"提彬说："如果我想伤害你们，那现在你们的小命早玩完了。昨晚你们闯到我家，我拼了老命把你们救出来。我是讲信义的人，我凭良心起誓，我只会让那些出卖圣杯的人沦为牺牲品。""你在胡说什么啊？"兰登说："谁出卖圣杯了？"
"我发现了一个可怕的事实。"提彬叹了口气："我知道为什么《圣杯文献》从没公开于世人。我也知道为什么郇山隐修会决定，无论如何也决不泄露真相。所以千禧年才能平静地过去，人们没看到任何神示，"世界末日"来临时却什么事也没有发生。"兰登深吸了一口气，想要争辩几句。
"郇山隐修会。"提彬继续说下去。"接受了要将真相与世人分享的神圣任务，即在"世界末日"来临之际将《圣杯文献》公之于众。几百年来，像达。芬奇、波提切利，以及牛顿这样的人，不顾一切地保护这些文献，并执行那项神圣的任务。然而在真相即将大白的紧要关头，雅克。索尼埃却改变了主意。这位担负了基督教历史上最重大使命的人，最终逃避了自己的责任。他认定将真相公布的时间不很合理。"提彬转向索菲说："他辜负了圣杯，辜负了郇山隐修会，也辜负子曾经努力使这个时刻早日来临的无数代人。""你？"索菲大声叫道，她终于抬头瞥了他一眼，她绿色的眼睛愤怒地逼视着他，她显然意识到什么了。"是你害死了我祖父？！"
提彬冷笑道："你祖父和他的护卫长是圣杯的背叛者。"
索菲顿时觉得怒从心起。他在撒谎！
提彬的语调很是无情："你祖父投靠了天主教会，很明显是他们逼他不要泄漏真相的。"
提彬冷冷地笑了："亲爱的，教会镇压那些企图威胁揭穿谎言的人，有着两千多年的历史经验。自康斯坦丁时代以来，教会成功隐瞒了抹大拉的玛丽亚与耶稣基督的有关事实。
如果他们现在再次耍花招欺骗世人，那也用不着大惊小怪。教会也许不会再次雇佣十字军去屠杀异教徒，但它们的影响却丝毫未减，而且采用的手段也同样的阴险。"他顿了顿，仿佛是要强调接下来的观点："奈芙小姐，你祖父想把你家庭的情况告诉你，这已经有-段时间了吧。"索菲大吃一惊："你怎么知道？"
"我怎么知道的并不重要。眼下对你来说重要的是知道这个。"他深吸了一口气："你父母、你奶奶以及你的兄弟都不是死于意外的车祸。"索菲乍听此言，百感交集。她张嘴想说，却开不了口。
兰登摇了摇头："你在胡说什么呀？！"
"罗伯特，它可以解释一切。所有的细枝末节都能够说明这一点。历史往往会重复上演。教会每次在要别人对《圣杯文献》保持沉默前，都要暗杀一些人。随着"世界末日"的临近，害死大师的亲人等于向他传达了一个明确的信息，嘴巴闭紧一点，否则，接下来遭殃的就是你和你的孙女了。""可他们死于车祸。"索菲结结巴巴地说，她觉得童年时代遭受的那种痛苦又在心里蔓延开来了。"是一次意外。"
"你这是在编造晚间的催眠故事骗你自己呢！你想，一家子就剩下两个人--郇山隐修会的大师和他唯一的孙女--这一对能让教会得以控制同业公会的完美组合安然无恙。我只能想象在过去的这些年里天主教会对你祖父造成了多大的恐惧。他们威胁说，如果他胆敢将圣杯秘密透露出去，就杀死他；他们还威胁说，除非他使郇山隐修会重新考虑他们先前的誓约，否则将即刻来个了断。""雷爵士。"兰登终于明显被激怒了："你肯定没有证据，证明教会跟这些人的死有关，你也没证据证明，是它让郇山隐修会决定保持沉默。""证据？"提彬激动地反驳道："你想要郇山隐修会受到外来影响的证据？新的千禧年已经来临，而世人却依然懵懂无知！这样的证据难道还不够吗？"
索菲在提彬说话的余音里，听到了另外一个声音。索菲，我必须把你家里的情况告诉你。她意识到自己全身在发抖。这会不会就是祖父一直想告诉她的真相？会不会对她说她的家人是遭人暗算？对于那次夺走她亲人生命的车祸，她又真正了解多少呢？只是一些支离破碎的细节而已。甚至报纸上的报导也已经变得模糊起来。是车祸？抑或是晚间的催眠故事？索菲头脑里闪电一般，突然，她想起祖父一直对她严加保护。在她还小的时候，祖父从不轻易丢下她一个人。甚至在她长大成人，离家上大学期间，她也觉得祖父时时在关注着她。她不知道，在她整个的一生当中，是不是都有郇山隐修会的成员在暗中照顾着她。
"你怀疑他被人操纵了。"兰登满腹狐疑，朝提彬瞪大了眼睛："所以你就把他杀了？"
"不是我开的枪。多年以前，当天主教会夺走他的亲人时，索尼埃其实就已经死了。他终于屈服了。现在，他总算摆脱了无法完成神圣使命的耻辱给他带来的痛苦。你想，他必须在二者之间作出选择。他总得做些什么吧。难道世人愿意永远被蒙蔽下去吗？难道世人会允许教会将他们的谎言永远载人历史教科书里去吗？难道世人会允许天主教会以谋杀及巧取豪夺的手段对外施加影响吗？不，我们必须采取一些应变措施。现在，我们正准备继承索尼埃先生的遗志，将犯下的可怕错误纠正过来。"他停了片刻，又说："而这就得看我们三人是否齐心协力了。"索菲除了怀疑还是怀疑："你怎么知道我们会帮你？"
"亲爱的，因为你的缘故，郇山隐修会才没能将《圣杯文献》公之于众。你祖父对你的关爱，使他没有勇气去挑战天主教会，因为他担心教会会对他唯一的亲人进行报复，这种恐惧挫败了他。然而他从未找到机会跟你解释，因为你排斥他，从而束缚了他的手脚，让他只有耐心地等了。现在，你必须向世界澄清一个事实，以告慰你祖父的在天之灵。"罗伯特。兰登已经放弃了准备承受重担的努力。尽管在他的脑海里闪过无数的疑问，然而他知道，眼下只有一件事情对他是重要的了--那就是让索菲从这里活着出去。他所有的内疚，所有原先误以为是他连累了提彬而引发的内疚，现在统统转移到索菲的头上去了。
是我带她去维莱特庄园，我必须承担起这个责任。
兰登揣摩不透，不知道雷。提彬究竟有没有能力，将他们残忍地杀死在牧师会礼堂里。
不过，在被人误导的探索过程中，他肯定参与过杀人。一想到这间偏僻的、四周都是厚厚高墙的屋子里，即使枪声响起外面也听不到时--更糟糕的是外面还下着雨，兰登就不安起来。何况提彬的罪行他刚才向我们坦白过了。
兰登瞥了索菲一眼，她全身似乎还在发抖。难道教会杀害索菲的家人，就是为了堵上郇山隐修会的嘴吗？兰登确信现代的天主教会是不会杀人的，因此其中必定有其他的缘由。
"放索菲走。"兰登怒视着提彬，大声喝道："你我两人得就这个问题私下里谈谈。"
提彬极不自然地笑起来："这恐怕涉及到信誉问题了，这样的风险我赔不起，不过我可以把这个给你。"他将整个身子都靠在拐杖上，却仍然毫无绅士风度地拿枪对准了索菲。他从口袋里掏出拱心石，晃了晃，这才把它递给了兰登。"罗伯特，这是我信得过你的表现。"
罗伯特。兰登满怀戒心，没有伸手去接。雷。提彬打算把拱心石还给我们？
"你快拿着。"提彬说着，笨拙的把拱心石硬塞过来。
兰登只想到一个提彬愿意将拱心石还给他们的原因。"你已经把它打开过了。你把地图拿走了是吧？"
提彬摇摇头说："如果我解开了拱心石的谜，我也许早就不在这里，而是独自去寻找圣杯，不需要让你们插手了。真正的骑士在圣杯面前学会了谦卑。他学会了该如何根据出现在他面前的征兆行事。当我看到你们走进教堂，我便明白了，你们是来帮我的忙的。我并不是为了维护我的尊严，而是为真相这位更伟大的主人服务的。人类有权知道历史的真相。是圣杯找到了我们，现在它在请求我们将它向世人公开，因此我们应该携起手来。"虽然提彬一再要求合作、彼此信任，然而当兰登走上前去接过冷冰冰的拱心石时，他始终把枪对准了索菲。兰登猛地抓过拱心石，往后退去，这时瓶里的醋发出"咕咚咕咚"的响声。刻度盘依然杂乱无章，然而密码盒原封不动。
兰登看了看提彬，说："你怎么知道我现在不会把它砸碎？"
提彬发出一阵得意的怪笑："你威胁说要砸毁拱心石，还在圣殿教堂时我就已经意识到你不过是在虚张声势罢了。罗伯特。兰登怎么会砸毁拱心石呢？你是位历史学家，你手中掌握了开启两千年历史的钥匙--是一把借以找到圣杯的失而复得的钥匙。从中你能感受到为严守它的秘密而被活活烧死在火刑柱上的所有骑士的灵魂。你会让他们死得毫无价值吗？不，你不会的。相反，你会维护他们。你会加入你所崇拜的伟人，如达。芬奇、波提切利、牛顿他们的行列。他们当中的每一个人，都会对你眼下的处境感到光荣。拱心石在大声召唤着我们，它渴望得到自由。这时刻现在已经来到了。是命运，给了我们这样千载难逢的机会。""雷爵士，我不能帮你，我不知道怎么把它打开。牛顿爵士的坟墓我也只看了一会儿。
再说，就算我知道密码--"兰登停了下来，意识到自己说得太多了。
"你也不会告诉我是不是？"提彬叹了口气："罗伯特，我很失望，也很奇怪，你竟然毫不买我的账呢。要是在你们闯入维莱特庄园之前，我和雷米把你们结果了，那我现在的任务就简单多了。可我当时却不顾一切，选择了一条正道，更为光明磊落。""你这也叫光明磊落？"兰登盯着枪质问道。
"这都是索尼埃的错。"提彬继续说道："他和他的护卫长向塞拉斯撒了谎。要不然我也许会毫不费事地将拱心石弄到手。我怎么会想到这位大师竟然欺骗我，把拱心石留给他素来不合的孙女儿？"他轻蔑的看了索菲一眼："罗伯特，幸好有你参与进来，多少给了我一些补偿。你没让拱心石永远被锁在银行的保险柜里，而是将它取出，并跑到我家来。"兰登心想，我还能去哪里呢？对圣杯史有所了解的历史学家少而又少，唯有提彬和我都知道它的历史。
提彬看上去有点得意："当我得知索尼埃临死之前给你留下话时，我就清楚，你手中一定掌握了很有价值的郇山隐修会的资料。至于是不是与拱心石有关，或者与到哪里去寻找拱心石有关，我就不敢肯定了。不过，当我看到警察在后面追踪你们，我就在心里怀疑你们可能会来我家了。"兰登怒目而视："要是我们没去你家呢？"
"我当时就在想方设法向你们伸出援手，不管怎样，拱心石最后还是来到了维莱特庄园。你们把它送到我期待已久的手中，这只能证明我当初的方向是正确的。""你说什么！"兰登大惊失色。
"塞拉斯按照预先定好的计划，突然闯进维莱特庄园，从你们手中夺走了拱心石，因此一方面使你们免于受到伤害，另一方面也给我开脱了罪责，也使你们不至于怀疑我在跟塞拉斯串通一气。不过，当我看到索尼埃设置的密码有多复杂时，我决定再利用你们一会。
一旦我知道可以单独干下去时，稍后我也许就会派塞拉斯来盗走拱心石。""所以你选择在圣殿教堂下手。"索菲愤愤地说，语气里充满了被人出卖的懊恼。
曙光就要来临了，提彬心想。圣殿教堂无疑是他从罗伯特。兰登和索菲。奈芙手中夺取拱心石的最佳地点，而教堂与那首诗的明显联系又使它成为一个似是而非的陷阱。他对雷米交代得很清楚--那就是在塞拉斯夺回拱心石时躲起来。然而不幸的是，当兰登威胁着要把拱心石砸烂时，雷米吓坏了。要是雷米没有露脸，那该多好啊！提彬回想起自导自演的那场绑架游戏，不由懊悔地想。雷米是我对外的唯一联系人，可他竟然暴露了自己的身份！
幸运的是，塞拉斯还不知道提彬的真实身份，因而轻而易举地受了骗，并将他带离教堂，然后又傻乎乎地在一边看着雷米假装将人质绑在轿车的后面。隔音的屏障在他们中间一竖起来，他就可以给坐在汽车前排的塞拉斯打电话了，他模仿教主的法国口音，命令塞拉斯径直去天主事工会。然后，他只需要向警方挂个匿名电话，就可以让塞拉斯永远的从他的视线里消失。
这样，松开的一端线被绑紧了。
但更难对付的是松开的另一端线，那就是雷米。
提彬内心激烈地挣扎着，想尽快做出决定，但雷米最终证明自己是个沉重的包袱。在找寻圣杯的过程中，每次总得有人做出牺牲。早在提彬看到车中酒吧柜里的酒瓶、法国白兰地酒以及一听花生罐头时，他就想好了最妥帖的解决方法。罐子底下的药粉会更有效地触动雷米过于敏感的神经，并给他致命的一击。雷米把车停在骑兵校阅场时，提彬从后面爬了出来，走到供乘客出入的车门，然后坐到前排靠近雷米的座位。几分钟后，提彬从车里钻出来，又重新爬到车子后面。他清除掉所有可疑的痕迹，然后着手完成最后的计划。
威斯敏斯特教堂并不远。尽管提彬绑在腿上的支架、拐杖和手枪引起了金属检测器的反应，然而那些酒囊饭袋一碰到事情就不知该如何处理。我们要不要让他解下支架爬进去？要不要搜查他有残疾的身体呢？倒是提彬教给这些狼狈不堪的保卫人员一个更简便的解决方法--他拿出一张表明自己是王国骑士的印有浮凸印章的身份卡，这些可怜的家伙差点没被吓得晕倒，便手忙脚乱地将他放了进去。
此刻，提彬看着茫然不知所措的兰登和索菲，拼命抑制住内心的冲动，他本想告诉他们，他是如何巧妙地把天主事工会卷入到即将给天主教会带来灭顶之灾的阴谋中来。但他们还得等待一段时间。现在，他们还有其他事情要先去做。
"朋友们。"提彬用极纯正的法语大声说："不是你们去找圣杯，而是圣杯自动找你们来了。"他微笑了一下："现在我们只有通力合作，这是再清楚没有的了。圣杯已经找上我们的门来了。"没有人搭他的话，只有沉默。
他转而低声地说："听着，你们听到我说话吗？圣杯穿越了数个世纪，正在跟我们说话哩。它要求摆脱郇山隐修会的愚弄。我恳求你们抓住这个机会。现在，是不可能找得到三个比我们更能干的人聚在一起，破译最后的密码，来打开这个密码盒了。"他停下来，双目低垂。"我们得一起发誓。彼此之间信守诺言。我将以骑士的拳拳之心，努力揭开历史的真相，告知于世人。"索菲深深地望了提彬一眼，斩钉截铁地说："我决不会和杀害我祖父的凶手一起宣誓。
我只希望他日能在监狱里看到你。"提彬神情顿时变得凝重，然后又果断起来："女士，我对你的想法深感抱歉。"他转过身，拿枪对准了兰登："罗伯特，你怎么样？你到底是跟我呢，还是不跟我？
Chapter 100
Bishop Manuel Aringarosa's body had endured many kinds of pain, and yet the searing heat of thebullet wound in his chest felt profoundly foreign to him. Deep and grave. Not a wound of theflesh... but closer to the soul.
　　He opened his eyes, trying to see, but the rain on his face blurred his vision. Where am I? He couldfeel powerful arms holding him, carrying his limp body like a rag doll, his black cassock flapping.
　　Lifting a weary arm, he mopped his eyes and saw the man holding him was Silas. The great albinowas struggling down a misty sidewalk, shouting for a hospital, his voice a heartrending wail ofagony. His red eyes were focused dead ahead, tears streaming down his pale, blood-spattered face.
　　"My son," Aringarosa whispered, "you're hurt."Silas glanced down, his visage contorted in anguish. "I am so very sorry, Father." He seemedalmost too pained to speak.
　　"No, Silas," Aringarosa replied. "It is I who am sorry. This is my fault." The Teacher promised methere would be no killing, and I told you to obey him fully. "I was too eager. Too fearful. You and Iwere deceived." The Teacher was never going to deliver us the Holy Grail.
　　Cradled in the arms of the man he had taken in all those years ago, Bishop Aringarosa felt himselfreel back in time. To Spain. To his modest beginnings, building a small Catholic church in Oviedowith Silas. And later, to New York City, where he had proclaimed the glory of God with thetowering Opus Dei Center on Lexington Avenue.
　　Five months ago, Aringarosa had received devastating news. His life's work was in jeopardy. Herecalled, with vivid detail, the meeting inside Castel Gandolfo that had changed his life... the newsthat had set this entire calamity into motion.
　　Aringarosa had entered Gandolfo's Astronomy Library with his head held high, fully expecting tobe lauded by throngs of welcoming hands, all eager to pat him on the back for his superior workrepresenting Catholicism in America.
　　But only three people were present.
　　The Vatican secretariat. Obese. Dour.
　　Two high-ranking Italian cardinals. Sanctimonious. Smug.
　　"Secretariat?" Aringarosa said, puzzled.
　　The rotund overseer of legal affairs shook Aringarosa's hand and motioned to the chair oppositehim. "Please, make yourself comfortable."Aringarosa sat, sensing something was wrong.
　　"I am not skilled in small talk, Bishop," the secretariat said, "so let me be direct about the reasonfor your visit.""Please. Speak openly." Aringarosa glanced at the two cardinals, who seemed to be measuring himwith self-righteous anticipation.
　　"As you are well aware," the secretariat said, "His Holiness and others in Rome have beenconcerned lately with the political fallout from Opus Dei's more controversial practices."Aringarosa felt himself bristle instantly. He already had been through this on numerous occasionswith the new pontiff, who, to Aringarosa's great dismay, had turned out to be a distressingly ferventvoice for liberal change in the Church.
　　"I want to assure you," the secretariat added quickly, "that His Holiness does not seek to changeanything about the way you run your ministry."I should hope not! "Then why am I here?"The enormous man sighed. "Bishop, I am not sure how to say this delicately, so I will state itdirectly. Two days ago, the Secretariat Council voted unanimously to revoke the Vatican's sanctionof Opus Dei."Aringarosa was certain he had heard incorrectly. "I beg your pardon?""Plainly stated, six months from today, Opus Dei will no longer be considered a prelature of theVatican. You will be a church unto yourself. The Holy See will be disassociating itself from you.
　　His Holiness agrees and we are already drawing up the legal papers.""But... that is impossible!""On the contrary, it is quite possible. And necessary. His Holiness has become uneasy with youraggressive recruiting policies and your practices of corporal mortification." He paused. "Also yourpolicies regarding women. Quite frankly, Opus Dei has become a liability and an embarrassment."Bishop Aringarosa was stupefied. "An embarrassment?""Certainly you cannot be surprised it has come to this.""Opus Dei is the only Catholic organization whose numbers are growing! We now have overeleven hundred priests!""True. A troubling issue for us all."Aringarosa shot to his feet. "Ask His Holiness if Opus Dei was an embarrassment in 1982 when wehelped the Vatican Bank!""The Vatican will always be grateful for that," the secretariat said, his tone appeasing, "and yetthere are those who still believe your financial munificence in 1982 is the only reason you weregranted prelature status in the first place.""That is not true!" The insinuation offended Aringarosa deeply.
　　"Whatever the case, we plan to act in good faith. We are drawing up severance terms that willinclude a reimbursement of those monies. It will be paid in five installments.""You are buying me off?" Aringarosa demanded. "Paying me to go quietly? When Opus Dei is theonly remaining voice of reason!"One of the cardinals glanced up. "I'm sorry, did you say reason?"Aringarosa leaned across the table, sharpening his tone to a point. "Do you really wonder whyCatholics are leaving the Church? Look around you, Cardinal. People have lost respect. The rigorsof faith are gone. The doctrine has become a buffet line. Abstinence, confession, communion,baptism, mass—take your pick—choose whatever combination pleases you and ignore the rest.
　　What kind of spiritual guidance is the Church offering?""Third-century laws," the second cardinal said, "cannot be applied to the modern followers ofChrist. The rules are not workable in today's society.""Well, they seem to be working for Opus Dei!""Bishop Aringarosa," the secretariat said, his voice conclusive. "Out of respect for yourorganization's relationship with the previous Pope, His Holiness will be giving Opus Dei sixmonths to voluntarily break away from the Vatican. I suggest you cite your differences of opinionwith the Holy See and establish yourself as your own Christian organization.""I refuse!" Aringarosa declared. "And I'll tell him that in person!""I'm afraid His Holiness no longer cares to meet with you."Aringarosa stood up. "He would not dare abolish a personal prelature established by a previousPope!""I'm sorry." The secretariat's eyes did not flinch. "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away."Aringarosa had staggered from that meeting in bewilderment and panic. Returning to New York,he stared out at the skyline in disillusionment for days, overwhelmed with sadness for the future ofChristianity.
　　It was several weeks later that he received the phone call that changed all that. The caller soundedFrench and identified himself as the Teacher—a title common in the prelature. He said he knew ofthe Vatican's plans to pull support from Opus Dei.
　　How could he know that? Aringarosa wondered. He had hoped only a handful of Vatican powerbrokers knew of Opus Dei's impending annulment. Apparently the word was out. When it came tocontaining gossip, no walls in the world were as porous as those surrounding Vatican City.
　　"I have ears everywhere, Bishop," the Teacher whispered, "and with these ears I have gainedcertain knowledge. With your help, I can uncover the hiding place of a sacred relic that will bringyou enormous power... enough power to make the Vatican bow before you. Enough power to savethe Faith." He paused. "Not just for Opus Dei. But for all of us."The Lord taketh away... and the Lord giveth. Aringarosa felt a glorious ray of hope. "Tell me yourplan."Bishop Aringarosa was unconscious when the doors of St. Mary's Hospital hissed open. Silaslurched into the entryway delirious with exhaustion. Dropping to his knees on the tile floor, hecried out for help. Everyone in the reception area gaped in wonderment at the half-naked albinooffering forth a bleeding clergyman.
　　The doctor who helped Silas heave the delirious bishop onto a gurney looked gloomy as he feltAringarosa's pulse. "He's lost a lot of blood. I am not hopeful."Aringarosa's eyes flickered, and he returned for a moment, his gaze locating Silas. "My child..."Silas's soul thundered with remorse and rage. "Father, if it takes my lifetime, I will find the onewho deceived us, and I will kill him."Aringarosa shook his head, looking sad as they prepared to wheel him away. "Silas... if you havelearned nothing from me, please... learn this." He took Silas's hand and gave it a firm squeeze.
　　"Forgiveness is God's greatest gift.""But Father..."Aringarosa closed his eyes. "Silas, you must pray."
曼努阿尔。阿林加洛沙主教经受过各种各样肉体上的苦难，然而子弹射人胸膛冒出来的灼人热气，却使他产生一种非常异样的感觉。它深入肺腑，却又痛彻心扉。令人觉得这不是肉体上的伤痛，而是近乎于精神上的磨难了。
他睁开双眼，努力想看看面前有些什么，然而雨水落在他的脸上，模糊了他的视线。
我在哪里呢？他觉得有双强壮有力的胳膊托住了他，那人抱住他虚弱的身体，就像抱着一个破旧的布娃娃。他的黑色长袍，被风"呼啦啦"地吹了起来。
他抬起虚弱的胳膊，抹去脸上的雨水，终于看清了那人是塞拉斯。这位块头硕大的白化病患者，正沿着雨雾缭绕的人行道，踉踉跄跄地走着，他大声呼喊，希望有医院闻声前来搭救。声音撼人心魄，仿佛是痛苦的哀鸣。他通红的眼睛，坚定地望着远方；止不住的泪水，从他苍白的、血迹斑斑的脸上流了下来。
"孩子，"阿林加洛沙主教轻轻地说道："你受伤了。"
塞拉斯低头看看，脸上的表情由于极度痛苦而扭曲。"神父，我真的很抱歉。"他似乎快要痛苦得说不出话来。
"塞拉斯，你快别这么说，"阿林加洛沙主教赶忙回答："说对不起的应该是我。这都是我的错。"教主答应过我，说不会有人死的；而我也叫你完全听命于他。"我太急于求成，也太担惊受怕。结果我们两人都被人骗了。"教主根本就未曾打算把圣杯交给我们啊。
阿林加洛沙主教躺在这位多年前他收留的男人的怀里，觉得自己纷飞的思绪立刻又回到了从前，回到了西班牙，回到了当年他辛苦起家的地方--在奥维耶多市，他带着塞拉斯建造了一座很小的天主教堂；再后来，他的思绪又飞到了纽约，在那里，他与坐落在莱克星顿大街上的高耸入云的天主事工会中心一起演绎了上帝的辉煌。
五个月前，阿林加洛沙主教得到了颇令他气馁的消息。他终生的事业由此走到了危险的边缘。他至今还能想起那次在岗道尔夫堡会面的每一个细节，他的人生由于那次会面而彻底被改变了……那条引发这场灾难的消息，他至今依然记得。
那天，阿林加洛沙主教高昂着头颅，走进了岗道尔夫堡的天文图书馆，他满以为会有无数人前来迎接他，急不可待地走上前来，拍拍他的后背，然后他在美国为基督教作出的杰出贡献倍加赞美。
然而，使他失望的是，里面迎接他的只有三个人。
一位是是梵蒂冈罗马教廷的秘书，他身材臃肿，脸色阴沉。
还有两位意大利的高级红衣主教，洋洋得意，却假装非常的虔诚。
那名身材圆嘟嘟的罗马教廷法律事务负责人，握了握阿林加洛沙主教的手，然后示意他在对面的椅子上坐下。"请坐，不要有什么拘谨。"
阿林加洛沙主教坐到椅子上，然而他总觉得有什么地方不对劲。
这位秘书又开口了："主教，我这人不太善于唠叨家常，所以，还是让我直接挑明叫你来的原因吧。""那你就直说吧。"阿林加洛沙主教瞥了瞥两位红衣主教，他们似乎正在掂量着他，表情很是自持，却又满怀期待。
"你应该非常清楚，"秘书说道："最近教皇陛下以及罗马教廷的其他人，一直很关注天主事工会颇有争议的做法所带来的政治影响。"阿林加洛沙主教顿时气得连毛发都竖了起来。这件事，他已经不知在多少次的场合里跟这位新任的教皇交代过了，然而，令他沮丧的是，他原来还以为这位新教皇是在教会中实行民主改革的热烈拥护者呢。
"我向你保证，"那位秘书很快地补充了一句："教皇陛下对你的管理方式，并没打算作任何的改变。"
我倒不希望有什么改变呢！阿林加洛沙主教心想。"那叫我到这里来，又是什么意思？
"这位身材庞大的男人叹了一口气，说："主教，我不知道怎样说才能说得得体，所以我不妨直说了吧。两天前，我们秘书处进行无记名投票，否决了梵蒂冈颁布的针对天主事工会的法令。"阿林加洛沙主教怀疑是自己听错了。"你说什么？"
"说白了，就是从今天起以后六个月，罗马教廷将不再将天主事工会视为它麾下的一员。你的教会是你自己的教会，圣座也将与你脱离干系。教皇业已同意，我们也已经在起草相关的法律文件。""但--但那是不可能的！"
"恰恰相反，这很有可能，也是很有必要的。教皇陛下已对你咄咄逼人的招收教徒的政策以及肉体苦修的做法深感不安。"他停顿了一下。"还有，他对你们的妇女政策也非常的不满。坦率地说，天主事工会已经成了罗马教廷的负担，也使它感到难堪！"阿林加洛沙主教呆住了："使它难堪？"
"事情发展到今天这个地步，你肯定很奇怪吧？"
"但天主事工会是唯一的教徒在不断增加的天主教组织。迄今为止我们已有1100 多名牧师。""不错，但却使我们陷入了困境。"
阿林加洛沙主教忽地站了起来："你去问教皇陛下，1982 年天主事工会协助梵蒂冈银行摆脱困境时，有没有使他难堪？"
"对那件事，罗马教廷会永远感激你们的。"秘书语气平静地说："不过还是有人相信，你之所以被优先封为主教，唯一的原因就是因为1982 年你的那次慷慨的馈赠。""这不是真的。"阿林加洛沙主教觉得自己被深深地伤害了。
"不管怎样，我们确实有这个打算。我们正在起草脱离彼此关系的条款，其中也包括对那笔钱的偿还。我们将分五次付清欠款。""你们想用钱打发我吗？"阿林加洛沙质问道："你们给我钱，好让我安安静静地走开？
眼下，也就剩下天主事工会在发出理性的声音了！"其中一位红衣主教抬起头："对不起，你是说理性？"
阿林加洛沙主教俯到桌子上，声音提高了八度："你们果真不知道教徒们脱离天主教会的原因么？还是看看你周围吧，大主教。人们已经对它失去了敬重。过去恪守信仰的作风已不见了，教规也成了一纸空文。什么禁欲、忏悔、圣餐、洗礼，还有弥撒--你们挑来拣去--选择了其中的几样，然后就将其余的清规戒律抛在脑后。你说，在精神上，天主教会又能给人们指点什么样的迷津呢？"
"那都是一些3 世纪的陈规陋习了，"另外一位红衣主教说："不适用于现代的基督徒。
这些法规，在今天这个社会里已经行不通了。""是吗？不过似乎对天主事工会还有用呢！"
"阿林加洛沙主教，"秘书好像在做总结性陈词似的说道："教皇陛下出于对贵组织与前任教皇关系的尊重，将给天主事工会六个月的时间，主动与罗马教廷断绝关系。我建议你利用你与圣座之间的分歧，创立属于你自己的基督教组织。""我反对。"阿林加洛沙大声宣称："我要亲自质问教皇陛下。"
"只怕教皇陛下不想再见到你了。"
阿林加洛沙主教站了起来："谅他也不敢轻易罢免前任教皇赐封的主教职位吧。"
"对不起，"秘书的眼皮没眨一下。"上帝之所予，为上帝之所取。"
阿林加洛沙主教跌跌撞撞地走了出来，内心一阵恐惧与茫然。他回到纽约，万念俱灰，整天望着天空发呆。一想到基督教的未来，他的内心就充满了悲哀。
他是在几个星期之后，才接到那个改变了一切的电话的。打电话的人说话听起来很像是法国人，并自称是教主--这是高级教士之职中极为普通的头衔，他说他知道罗马教廷不打算再给予天主事工会任何的支持。
他怎么知道的？阿林加洛沙主教大惑不解。他原本希望只有一小撮罗马教廷的政治掮客知道天主事工会即将与罗马教廷断绝关系的消息，显然是有人走漏风声了。说到遏制流言蜚语，那么除了梵蒂冈城四周的围墙，世上还没有哪个地方的高墙能具有如此强的渗透力。
"我在各处都有耳目。"教主低声地说："通过这些耳目我总能得到某些信息。如果你愿意帮忙，我就能找到藏有神圣遗迹的地方，它将给你带来巨大的影响，你将获得足够的力量，使罗马教廷对你俯首称臣；你也将获得足够的力量，来拯救我们的信仰。"他略微停了停："这不仅对天主事工会有利，也是为我们大家着想。"
为上帝之所取……上帝之所予。阿林加洛沙主教仿佛看到了希望的曙光。"那你给我说说，你有什么打算。"圣玛丽医院的门"吱呀"一声打开了，此时，阿林加洛沙主教已经失去了知觉。塞拉斯筋疲力尽，一下子扑倒在进门的通道上。他双膝跪地，大声地呼救。接待室里的所有人，看到这位半裸着身子的白化病患者怀抱着一位满身是血的牧师，都吓得目瞪口呆。
那名来帮塞拉斯将昏迷不醒的主教抬上轮床的大夫，在给阿林加洛沙把脉时，脸上的神情很是令人沮丧。"他失血过多，我看没有多少生还的希望。"
阿林加洛沙主教的眼睛忽然闪动了一下，他又清醒了片刻，眼睛直勾勾的看着塞拉斯："孩子--"
懊悔与愤怒，如闪电般将塞拉斯淹没。"神父，我就是花上一辈子的时间，也要找到那个欺骗我们的人，亲手宰了他。"
阿林加洛沙主教摇了摇头，神情很是悲伤，这时医院的人过来准备把他推走。"塞拉斯……如果你没从我这里学到什么，那请你--请你看看这个吧。"他抓住塞拉斯的手，用力掐了一下："记住，宽恕是上帝此给我们的最好礼物。"
"可是神父--"
阿林加洛沙主教闭上眼睛，说："塞拉斯，你应该做祷告了。"
Chapter 101
Robert Langdon stood beneath the lofty cupola of the deserted Chapter House and stared into thebarrel of Leigh Teabing's gun.
　　Robert, are you with me, or against me? The Royal Historian's words echoed in the silence ofLangdon's mind.
　　There was no viable response, Langdon knew. Answer yes, and he would be selling out Sophie.
　　Answer no, and Teabing would have no choice but to kill them both.
　　Langdon's years in the classroom had not imbued him with any skills relevant to handlingconfrontations at gunpoint, but the classroom had taught him something about answeringparadoxical questions. When a question has no correct answer, there is only one honest response.
　　The gray area between yes and no.
　　Silence.
　　Staring at the cryptex in his hands, Langdon chose simply to walk away.
　　Without ever lifting his eyes, he stepped backward, out into the room's vast empty spaces. Neutralground. He hoped his focus on the cryptex signaled Teabing that collaboration might be an option,and that his silence signaled Sophie he had not abandoned her.
　　All the while buying time to think.
　　The act of thinking, Langdon suspected, was exactly what Teabing wanted him to do. That's whyhe handed me the cryptex. So I could feel the weight of my decision. The British historian hoped thetouch of the Grand Master's cryptex would make Langdon fully grasp the magnitude of itscontents, coaxing his academic curiosity to overwhelm all else, forcing him to realize that failure tounlock the keystone would mean the loss of history itself.
　　With Sophie at gunpoint across the room, Langdon feared that discovering the cryptex's elusivepassword would be his only remaining hope of bartering her release. If I can free the map, Teabingwill negotiate. Forcing his mind to this critical task, Langdon moved slowly toward the farwindows... allowing his mind to fill with the numerous astronomical images on Newton's tomb.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　Turning his back to the others, he walked toward the towering windows, searching for anyinspiration in their stained-glass mosaics. There was none.
　　Place yourself in Saunière's mind, he urged, gazing outward now into College Garden. What wouldhe believe is the orb that ought be on Newton's tomb? Images of stars, comets, and planetstwinkled in the falling rain, but Langdon ignored them. Saunière was not a man of science. He wasa man of humanity, of art, of history. The sacred feminine... the chalice... the Rose... the banishedMary Magdalene... the decline of the goddess... the Holy Grail.
　　Legend had always portrayed the Grail as a cruel mistress, dancing in the shadows just out of sight,whispering in your ear, luring you one more step and then evaporating into the mist.
　　Gazing out at the rustling trees of College Garden, Langdon sensed her playful presence. The signswere everywhere. Like a taunting silhouette emerging from the fog, the branches of Britain's oldestapple tree burgeoned with five-petaled blossoms, all glistening like Venus. The goddess was in thegarden now. She was dancing in the rain, singing songs of the ages, peeking out from behind thebud-filled branches as if to remind Langdon that the fruit of knowledge was growing just beyondhis reach.
　　Across the room, Sir Leigh Teabing watched with confidence as Langdon gazed out the window asif under a spell.
　　Exactly as I hoped, Teabing thought. He will come around.
　　For some time now, Teabing had suspected Langdon might hold the key to the Grail. It was nocoincidence that Teabing launched his plan into action on the same night Langdon was scheduledto meet Jacques Saunière. Listening in on the curator, Teabing was certain the man's eagerness tomeet privately with Langdon could mean only one thing. Langdon's mysterious manuscript hastouched a nerve with the Priory.
　　Langdon has stumbled onto a truth, and Saunière fears its release. Teabing felt certain the GrandMaster was summoning Langdon to silence him.
　　The Truth has been silenced long enough!
　　Teabing knew he had to act quickly. Silas's attack would accomplish two goals. It would preventSaunière from persuading Langdon to keep quiet, and it would ensure that once the keystone wasin Teabing's hands, Langdon would be in Paris for recruitment should Teabing need him.
　　Arranging the fatal meeting between Saunière and Silas had been almost too easy. I had insideinformation about Saunière's deepest fears. Yesterday afternoon, Silas had phoned the curator andposed as a distraught priest. "Monsieur Saunière, forgive me, I must speak to you at once. I shouldnever breach the sanctity of the confessional, but in this case, I feel I must. I just took confessionfrom a man who claimed to have murdered members of your family."Saunière's response was startled but wary. "My family died in an accident. The police report wasconclusive.""Yes, a car accident," Silas said, baiting the hook. "The man I spoke to said he forced their car offthe road into a river."Saunière fell silent.
　　"Monsieur Saunière, I would never have phoned you directly except this man made a commentwhich makes me now fear for your safety." He paused. "The man also mentioned yourgranddaughter, Sophie."The mention of Sophie's name had been the catalyst. The curator leapt into action. He ordered Silasto come see him immediately in the safest location Saunière knew—his Louvre office. Then hephoned Sophie to warn her she might be in danger. Drinks with Robert Langdon were instantlyabandoned.
　　Now, with Langdon separated from Sophie on the far side of the room, Teabing sensed he hadsuccessfully alienated the two companions from one another. Sophie Neveu remained defiant, butLangdon clearly saw the larger picture. He was trying to figure out the password. He understandsthe importance of finding the Grail and releasing her from bondage.
　　"He won't open it for you," Sophie said coldly. "Even if he can."Teabing was glancing at Langdon as he held the gun on Sophie. He was fairly certain now he wasgoing to have to use the weapon. Although the idea troubled him, he knew he would not hesitate ifit came to that. I have given her every opportunity to do the right thing. The Grail is bigger thanany one of us.
　　At that moment, Langdon turned from the window. "The tomb..." he said suddenly, facing themwith a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I know where to look on Newton's tomb. Yes, I think Ican find the password!"Teabing's heart soared. "Where, Robert? Tell me!"Sophie sounded horrified. "Robert, no! You're not going to help him, are you?"Langdon approached with a resolute stride, holding the cryptex before him. "No," he said, his eyeshardening as he turned to Leigh. "Not until he lets you go."Teabing's optimism darkened. "We are so close, Robert. Don't you dare start playing games withme!""No games," Langdon said. "Let her go. Then I'll take you to Newton's tomb. We'll open thecryptex together.""I'm not going anywhere," Sophie declared, her eyes narrowing with rage. "That cryptex was givento me by my grandfather. It is not yours to open."Langdon wheeled, looking fearful. "Sophie, please! You're in danger. I'm trying to help you!""How? By unveiling the secret my grandfather died trying to protect? He trusted you, Robert. Itrusted you!"Langdon's blue eyes showed panic now, and Teabing could not help but smile to see the two ofthem working against one another. Langdon's attempts to be gallant were more pathetic thananything. On the verge of unveiling one of history's greatest secrets, and he troubles himself with awoman who has proven herself unworthy of the quest.
　　"Sophie," Langdon pleaded. "Please... you must leave."She shook her head. "Not unless you either hand me the cryptex or smash it on the floor.""What?" Langdon gasped.
　　"Robert, my grandfather would prefer his secret lost forever than see it in the hands of hismurderer." Sophie's eyes looked as if they would well with tears, but they did not. She stareddirectly back at Teabing. "Shoot me if you have to. I am not leaving my grandfather's legacy inyour hands."Very well. Teabing aimed the weapon.
　　"No!" Langdon shouted, raising his arm and suspending the cryptex precariously over the hardstone floor. "Leigh, if you even think about it, I will drop this."Teabing laughed. "That bluff worked on Rémy. Not on me. I know you better than that.""Do you, Leigh?"Yes I do. Your poker face needs work, my friend. It took me several seconds, but I can see now thatyou are lying. You have no idea where on Newton's tomb the answer lies. "Truly, Robert? Youknow where on the tomb to look?""I do."The falter in Langdon's eyes was fleeting but Leigh caught it. There was a lie there. A desperate,pathetic ploy to save Sophie. Teabing felt a profound disappointment in Robert Langdon.
　　I am a lone knight, surrounded by unworthy souls. And I will have to decipher the keystone on myown.
　　Langdon and Neveu were nothing but a threat to Teabing now... and to the Grail. As painful as thesolution was going to be, he knew he could carry it out with a clean conscience. The only challengewould be to persuade Langdon to set down the keystone so Teabing could safely end this charade.
　　"A show of faith," Teabing said, lowering the gun from Sophie. "Set down the keystone, and we'lltalk."Langdon knew his lie had failed.
　　He could see the dark resolve in Teabing's face and knew the moment was upon them. When I setthis down, he will kill us both. Even without looking at Sophie, he could hear her heart beseechinghim in silent desperation. Robert, this man is not worthy of the Grail. Please do not place it in hishands. No matter what the cost.
　　Langdon had already made his decision several minutes ago, while standing alone at the windowoverlooking College Garden.
　　Protect Sophie.
　　Protect the Grail.
　　Langdon had almost shouted out in desperation. But I cannot see how!
　　The stark moments of disillusionment had brought with them a clarity unlike any he had ever felt.
　　The Truth is right before your eyes, Robert. He knew not from where the epiphany came. The Grailis not mocking you, she is calling out to a worthy soul.
　　Now, bowing down like a subject several yards in front of Leigh Teabing, Langdon lowered thecryptex to within inches of the stone floor.
　　"Yes, Robert," Teabing whispered, aiming the gun at him. "Set it down."Langdon's eyes moved heavenward, up into the gaping void of the Chapter House cupola.
　　Crouching lower, Langdon lowered his gaze to Teabing's gun, aimed directly at him.
　　"I'm sorry, Leigh."In one fluid motion, Langdon leapt up, swinging his arm skyward, launching the cryptex straightup toward the dome above.
　　Leigh Teabing did not feel his finger pull the trigger, but the Medusa discharged with a thunderingcrash. Langdon's crouched form was now vertical, almost airborne, and the bullet exploded in thefloor near Langdon's feet. Half of Teabing's brain attempted to adjust his aim and fire again in rage,but the more powerful half dragged his eyes upward into the cupola.
　　The keystone!
　　Time seemed to freeze, morphing into a slow-motion dream as Teabing's entire world became theairborne keystone. He watched it rise to the apex of its climb... hovering for a moment in the void...
　　and then tumbling downward, end over end, back toward the stone floor.
　　All of Teabing's hopes and dreams were plummeting toward earth. It cannot strike the floor! I canreach it! Teabing's body reacted on instinct. He released the gun and heaved himself forward,dropping his crutches as he reached out with his soft, manicured hands. Stretching his arms andfingers, he snatched the keystone from midair.
　　Falling forward with the keystone victoriously clutched in his hand, Teabing knew he was fallingtoo fast. With nothing to break his fall, his outstretched arms hit first, and the cryptex collided hardwith the floor.
　　There was a sickening crunch of glass within.
　　For a full second, Teabing did not breathe. Lying there outstretched on the cold floor, staring thelength of his outstretched arms at the marble cylinder in his bare palms, he implored the glass vialinside to hold. Then the acrid tang of vinegar cut the air, and Teabing felt the cool liquid flowingout through the dials onto his palm.
　　Wild panic gripped him. NO! The vinegar was streaming now, and Teabing pictured the papyrusdissolving within. Robert, you fool! The secret is lost!
　　Teabing felt himself sobbing uncontrollably. The Grail is gone. Everything destroyed. Shudderingin disbelief over Langdon's actions, Teabing tried to force the cylinder apart, longing to catch afleeting glimpse of history before it dissolved forever. To his shock, as he pulled the ends of thekeystone, the cylinder separated.
　　He gasped and peered inside. It was empty except for shards of wet glass. No dissolving papyrus.
　　Teabing rolled over and looked up at Langdon. Sophie stood beside him, aiming the gun down atTeabing.
　　Bewildered, Teabing looked back at the keystone and saw it. The dials were no longer at random.
　　They spelled a five-letter word: APPLE.
　　"The orb from which Eve partook," Langdon said coolly, "incurring the Holy wrath of God.
　　Original sin. The symbol of the fall of the sacred feminine."Teabing felt the truth come crashing down on him in excruciating austerity. The orb that ought beon Newton's tomb could be none other than the Rosy apple that fell from heaven, struck Newton onthe head, and inspired his life's work. His labor's fruit! The Rosy flesh with a seeded womb!
　　"Robert," Teabing stammered, overwhelmed. "You opened it. Where... is the map?"Without blinking, Langdon reached into the breast pocket of his tweed coat and carefully extracteda delicate rolled papyrus. Only a few yards from where Teabing lay, Langdon unrolled the scrolland looked at it. After a long moment, a knowing smile crossed Langdon's face.
　　He knows! Teabing's heart craved that knowledge. His life's dream was right in front of him. "Tellme!" Teabing demanded. "Please! Oh God, please! It's not too late!"As the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hall toward the Chapter House, Langdonquietly rolled the papyrus and slipped it back in his pocket.
　　"No!" Teabing cried out, trying in vain to stand.
　　When the doors burst open, Bezu Fache entered like a bull into a ring, his feral eyes scanning,finding his target—Leigh Teabing—helpless on the floor. Exhaling in relief, Fache holstered hisManurhin sidearm and turned to Sophie. "Agent Neveu, I am relieved you and Mr. Langdon aresafe. You should have come in when I asked."The British police entered on Fache's heels, seizing the anguished prisoner and placing him inhandcuffs.
　　Sophie seemed stunned to see Fache. "How did you find us?"Fache pointed to Teabing. "He made the mistake of showing his ID when he entered the abbey.
　　The guards heard a police broadcast about our search for him.""It's in Langdon's pocket!" Teabing was screaming like a madman. "The map to the Holy Grail!"As they hoisted Teabing and carried him out, he threw back his head and howled. "Robert! Tell mewhere it's hidden!"As Teabing passed, Langdon looked him in the eye. "Only the worthy find the Grail, Leigh. Youtaught me that."
罗伯特。兰登立在冷冷清清的牧师会礼堂庄严肃穆的圆屋顶下，眼睛定定地看着提彬握在手中的枪。
"罗伯特，你到底是跟我呢，还是不跟我？"这位皇家学会的历史学家的话还在兰登寂静的脑海里回荡。
兰登知道，他绝不可能给出什么行得通的答案。如果他答应提彬，那无异于出卖了索菲。而如果他严辞拒绝，那提彬除了将他们杀死，将别无选择。
虽说兰登在学校里呆过多年，但他毕竟没在课堂上学过什么如何在枪口的威胁下应付冲突的技巧，不过学校倒是教会了他如何提供一些似是而非的答案。当一个问题没有正确的答案时，那就只有如实地作出反应了。
兰登徘徊在"是"与"否"之间那个灰色的区间。
他只好选择了沉默。
他盯着手中的密码盒，只是选择了走开。
他头也不抬地向后退去，进入到大厅里空旷的地带。这可是中立地带呢。他希望他对密码盒的关注能给提彬一个暗示，也许合作不失为一个理性的选择；但同时，他也希望他的沉默，会让索菲明白他并没将她抛弃。
我所做的一切都是为了多争取一点考虑的时间啊。
兰登私下里怀疑，或许花点时间考虑，也正是提彬要他做的事情呢。所以他才将密码盒给我，这样好让我感觉到做出决定的分量。这位英国皇家历史学家，希望通过让兰登实实在在地触摸到大师留下的密码盒，能让他完全领会到里面的东西对他们有多重要，从而激发他对学术的好奇心，并使他认识到：如果他不能将拱心石打开，将意味着给历史本身带来巨大的损失。
在大厅对面，索菲仍处在枪口的威胁之下。兰登担心，找到密码盒里尚未破译的密码，恐怕将是他借此解救她的唯一希望了。如果我能解读这张地图，那么提彬就愿意跟我讨价还价。兰登将整个心思都用在这项重要的任务上，他慢慢踱着步子，走到更远的窗前……任凭他的头脑塞满了牛顿墓上众多的天体形状。
你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。
它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。
兰登转身背对着其他人，向那些巨大的窗户走去，他想在墙上的彩色拼花玻璃里寻找灵感的火花，然而却一无所获。
站在索尼埃的角度去想一想吧，他这样敦促自己。他把目光投向外面的学院花园。索尼埃认为应该将什么样的球形物放入牛顿爵士的坟墓里呢？纷飞的雨中闪过无数恒星、彗星以及行星的形象，然而兰登并没在意它们。索尼埃不是研究科学的学者，而是人文学家、艺术家、历史学家。神圣女性……圣餐杯……圣洁的玫瑰……被放逐的抹大拉的玛利亚……女神的衰落……以及圣杯。
传说中的圣杯，经常被描绘成一位残酷的女人，她在刚好让你看不见的黑暗中翩翩起舞，在你的耳边窃窃私语，诱惑着你再走近一步，最后消失在迷雾中。
兰登凝视着学院花园里那片沙沙作响的树林，觉得顽皮的她此刻就在身边。征兆无处不在，就像在迷雾里嘲弄似的凸显出来的轮廓。这些英国最古老的苹果树的树枝，开满了五朵花瓣的花，它们全都像金星一样，闪着微光。女神来到了花园。现在她正在雨中跳舞，唱着那经历不知多少世纪的歌曲。她从开满花朵的树枝后面偷偷地探出头，似乎在提醒兰登，知识的果实蓬勃生长，远远超越了他力所能学的范围。
在大厅的对面，雷。提彬爵士踌躇满志地望着仿佛被魔法镇住了的兰登凝视窗外。
果然不出所料，他会回心转意的。提彬心想。
一段时间以来，提彬一直怀疑兰登可能找到了开启圣杯的钥匙。就在他准备开始行动的当天晚上，兰登也安排了与雅克。索尼埃的见面，这决不是什么巧合。提彬窃听这位博物馆的馆长已有很长一段时间，他确信，这位馆长急于与兰登私下会面只能意味着一件事情--即兰登的神秘文稿触动了郇山隐修会敏感的神经，他误打误撞地触及到其中的真相，而索尼埃又害怕它被泄露出去。提彬确信这位大师把兰登叫去，就是要堵他的嘴。
真相已经隐藏得太久了！
提彬知道，他必须赶快采取行动。塞拉斯的袭击将有助于完成两个目标：一方面，它可以阻止索尼埃说服兰登保持缄默；另一方面，它也可以确保如果拱心石落人提彬的手中，一旦他需要兰登，他就会跑到巴黎随时待命。
安排索尼埃与塞拉斯的那次带来致命性灾难的会面实在是太容易了。我掌握了索尼埃最为之恐惧的内幕消息。昨天下午，塞拉斯打电话给这位馆长，把自己装扮成一位心烦意乱的牧师。他说："索尼埃先生，请你宽恕我，有些事我必须马上跟你说。我本不应该破坏忏悔室的圣洁，然而眼下这种状况，我也只好这样做了。我刚才听到有个男人在忏悔，说是他谋害了你的家人。"索尼埃惊讶万分，但还是警惕地说："我的家人死于车祸。这是警方经过调查做出的结论。""是的，他们是死于车祸。"塞拉斯抛下了诱饵："可那人跟我说，他是故意将他们的车子撞到河里去的。"索尼埃在电话的另一端没有作声。
"索尼埃先生，要不是那人说了一句让我担心你安全的话，我是不会打电话找你的。"
他停了片刻，说："那人还提到你的孙女索菲。"
索菲名字的提及，无疑起到了催化剂的作用。这位馆长立即采取行动。他让塞拉斯立刻赶到他所知道的最安全的地方--即他在卢浮宫的办公室--见他。然后又打电话给索菲，警告她可能会有危险。他原先打算与兰登喝几盅的计划也很快被取消了。
此刻，在大厅的另一头，兰登与索菲隔得远远的。提彬觉得已成功地将这对搭档分开了。索菲。奈芙依然不愿从命，但兰登的眼光明显就看得远了。他正努力地找寻密码。他深知找到圣杯，并使它得以从束缚中解脱出来的重要性。
"即使他能够找到密码，也不会帮你。"索菲冷冷地说。
提彬瞥了一眼兰登，却仍没忘记将枪对准索菲。他终于明白，他必须动用手中的武器。虽然这个想法困扰着他，但他知道，如果一旦下定了决心，他是决不会犹豫的。我已给了她许多改过自新的机会，圣杯可比我们中间的任何人都更重要啊！
就在这时，兰登从窗户边转过身来。"那坟墓--"他突然面对他们说，眼中有淡淡的希望之光在闪烁。"我知道该站在哪个角度看牛顿爵士的坟墓。是的，我想我能找到密码。
"提彬的心立即提到了喉咙口："罗伯特，在哪里？你快告诉我！"
索菲似乎被吓坏了："罗伯特，不要！你不会帮他是不是？"
兰登迈着坚定的步子，大步流星地走过来，将密码盒举到面前。"不，"他说，转身面对着雷。提彬，目光变得强硬起来。"他如果不放你走，我是不会说的。"
提彬的乐观情绪立刻黯淡下来："罗伯特，我们离得这么近。你该不是想跟我玩什么游戏吧？！""谁跟你玩游戏了？"兰登说："你放她走，然后我就带你去看牛顿墓，一起把密码盒打开。""我哪儿也不去，"索菲大声宣布，她愤怒地眯上眼睛。"密码盒是我祖父给我的，你们没资格把它打开。"兰登猛地转过身，脸色阴森可怕。"索菲，我求你了！你现在处境很危险，我是想帮你呀！""你怎么帮？你想将我祖父拼了命也要保护起来的秘密泄露出去？他相信你，罗伯特。
我以前也相信你呐。"兰登蓝色的眼睛此刻流露出一丝恐惧，提彬看到他们两人作对，不由暗暗地笑了。兰登试图向一个不值得同情的女人献殷勤，这比去做其他任何事情还要让人可怜。我们马上就要揭开历史上最大的秘密，可是他竟然还在跟一个已经证明了自己不配参与这次探索的女人纠缠不休。
"索菲，"兰登恳求道："我求你了--你必须走！"
索菲摇摇头："我不会走的，除非你把密码盒给我，或者把它砸掉。"
"你说什么？"兰登目瞪口呆。
"罗伯特，我祖父宁愿看到秘密永远消失，也不愿看到它落入凶手之手。"索菲的双眼看似充盈了泪水，其实却没有。她径直转过身，瞪着提彬，说："你想杀我就开枪吧。我是不会让我祖父的遗物落入你手中的。"很好。提彬用枪对准了她。
"别开枪！"兰登大声喊道，他举起胳膊，将密码盒悬在坚硬的石板上方，摆出摇摇欲坠的模样。"雷爵士，如果你敢开枪，我就把它丢在地上。"
提彬大声笑起来："你这样虚张声势，吓得倒雷米，可吓不倒我。我对你是再了解不过的了。""是吗？"
"是的，我了解。我的朋友，你需要活动活动你僵硬的脸庞。虽然浪费了我一点时间，但我还是看出来了，你在撒谎。你不知道密码藏在牛顿坟墓的哪个地方。""你真的知道吗，罗伯特？你知道藏在坟墓的哪个地方吗？"
"我知道。"
然而兰登游移不定的眼神还是被提彬捕捉到了。他在撒谎，是为了解救索菲铤而走险玩弄的拙劣的伎俩。提彬不由对罗伯特。兰登深感失望。
我是位孤单的骑士，身边都是一些微不足道的人。我将不得不依靠自己，去破译开启拱心石的密码。
现在，罗伯特。兰登与索菲。奈芙对提彬而言除了是威胁还是威胁……而且他们的存在，对圣杯本身也是威胁。他的内心不亚于接下来寻找密码的过程那般痛苦，他知道自己可以凭良心行事。不过眼下唯一的难题，就是如何说服兰登放下拱心石，这样，提彬就可以平安无事地结束这场游戏。
兰登知道自己撒的谎露馅了。
他看到提彬露出可怕的然而坚毅的神情，他知道这样的时刻就要来临了。如果我松手把拱心石掉在地上，他就会杀死我们。他即使不看索菲，也能够让我听到她在无言地拼命向他祈求。罗伯特，这个人是不配得到圣杯的。别让它落到他的手中，不管要付出多大的代价。
几分钟前，兰登独自站在窗前俯视学院花园的时候，就已经拿定了主意。
我要保护索菲。
也要保护圣杯。
兰登差点绝望地喊出声来。可我不知道该怎么办啊！
就在他完全绝望之时，他的思路反倒前所未有地变得清晰起来。罗伯特，真相就在你的眼前。他也不知道是从哪里领悟来的。圣杯并未嘲弄你，它只是在呼唤能够配得上它的人。
于是，他像一位顺从的臣民，在雷。提彬前面几码之外的地方弯下腰，将密码盒放到离石头地面只有几英寸的上方。
"是的，罗伯特，"提彬轻声地说，用枪对准了他。"把它放下。"
兰登眼望天空，注视着牧师会礼堂圆顶上的许多空洞。他将身子蹲得更低了，低头盯着提彬手中笔直对准了他的枪。
"雷，对不起了。"
他利索地跳起来，胳膊往天空一挥，将手中的密码盒径直朝头上的圆顶上掷去。
雷。提彬觉得自己并没有扣动扳机，但"美杜莎"手枪还是发出了震耳欲聋的响声。此刻，兰登蜷缩的身子已站了起来，差不多跟地面垂直了。子弹落在兰登脚下附近的地面上。提彬企图调整瞄准的方向，气急败坏地再次开枪，然而似乎却有一种更强大的力量，将他的目光吸引到头顶的圆形篷顶上。
我的拱心石！
时间仿佛顿时凝固了，变成了一个缓慢移动的梦。此时时刻，提彬整个的身心，都转移到空中的拱心石上去了。他注视着在空中飞行的拱心石的顶部……它在空中盘旋了一会……然后迅即跌落，翻着跟头，朝石头地板上砸了下来。
提彬所有的希望与梦想，随着拱心石骤然跌落到地上。它可不能掉下来啊！我得去接住它！提彬本能地作出了反应。他放下枪，飞身上前。他扔下拐杖，伸出他柔软的、修过指甲的手去接，舒展了胳膊和手指头，在空中一把将拱心石抓在了手里。
他以一副胜利者的姿态，紧紧地把拱心石攥在手中，向前倒了下去。但他觉得似乎倒下得太快了。由于没有什么东西能够阻止他倒下，他张开的胳膊首先碰到了地面，密码盒猛地撞到地板上，里面的玻璃瓶立刻发出令人难受的"嘎吱嘎吱"支离破碎的声音。
提彬足足有一秒钟屏住了呼吸。他张开手脚。躺在冰冷的的地板上，眼睛顺着伸展的胳膊望过去，呆呆地盯着掌心里的大理石圆筒，默默的祈祷里面的玻璃瓶子仍然完好无损。紧接着，一股刺鼻的醋的气味弥漫在空气里。提彬感到那冰凉的液体，正经过刻度盘流到他的手心里。
极度的恐惧攫住了他。不要！醋汩汩地流出来，提彬的脑海中闪过了瓶子里莎草纸在溶释的镜头。罗伯特，你这个傻瓜！完了，看来秘密是找不到了！
提彬情不自禁地抽泣起来。如果找不到圣杯，一切全完了。他真不敢相信，兰登竟会做出这样的事来。他全身颤抖着，拼命想把圆筒掰开。他强烈地希望，能赶在莎草纸永远溶释在醋里之前，飞快地将藏在它身上的历史看上一眼。然而，令他震惊的是，当他使劲拉住拱心石的两头时，圆石筒突然分开了。他喘着粗气，注视着里面。不过，里面除了玻璃的残渣碎片外，什么也没有。他并没看到有什么正在溶解的莎草纸。提彬翻了个身，抬头看着兰登。索菲站在兰登的身边，正拿枪朝下对准了他。
提彬一脸茫然，他回过头，看到了拱心石。奇怪的是，刻度盘已不再如方才那样杂乱了。它们组成了一个由五个字母组成的单词：APPLE.
"当年夏娃吃下苹果，"兰登冷静地说："触犯了上帝的圣怒，因此犯下了原罪。于是苹果就成了神圣女性堕落的象征。"提彬觉得真相突然以一种质朴得让人难受的方式朝他劈头盖脸地袭来。那个本来应该放在牛顿坟墓上的圆球竟然是从天而降，砸在牛顿头上并给他终生事业带来灵感的红艳艳的苹果。是他辛勤劳作的果实！是怀有身孕的玫瑰般肌肤。
"罗伯特，"提彬结结巴巴地说，他已被震惊的情绪所淹没了。"原来你把拱心石打开过了。地图在……在哪里？"
兰登眼皮不眨一下，将手伸进斜纹软呢大衣靠近胸部的口袋里，小心翼翼地拿出一张卷起来的似乎一碰即碎的莎草纸。兰登就在提彬躺着的几码之外，将莎草纸往地上摊开，认真地看起来。过了很长时间，才看到他脸上出一丝会心的微笑。
他知道了！提彬渴望自己也能知道。他终生的梦想此刻就在眼前。"告诉我！"提彬请求道："我求你了，上帝啊，求你告诉我。现在还不算太晚吧？"
这时，沉重的脚步声如雷鸣一般，从通往牧师会礼堂的大厅里传来，兰登平静地将莎草纸收好，塞回到口袋里。
"不要！"提彬大声喊道，他拼命想站起来，然而却是徒劳。
屋里的门"砰"的推开了，贝祖。法希像只闯进竞技场的公牛一样闯了进来，他凶狠的目光飞快扫视了一周，这才发现所要寻找的目标--正无助地躺在地上的雷。提彬爵士。他轻松地吐了一口气，将"马努汉"牌手枪放进皮套里，转而向索菲说："奈芙侦探，看到你和兰登安然无恙我就放心了。刚才我叫你们进来的时候，你们就应该进来。"英国警察紧跟在法希后面进来，他们一把捉住这只沮丧的瓮中之鳖，给他戴上了手铐。
索菲看到法希，似乎惊讶万分："你们是怎么找到我们的？"
法希指了指提彬，说："他进教堂时犯了个错误，因此泄露了了他的身份。教堂里的保卫人员听到警方寻找他的广播，便告诉了我们。"提彬像疯子一样大喊起来："寻找圣杯的地图，就在兰登的口袋里！"
警察们将提彬举起来，架了出去。他掉转头，像狼一样吼道："罗伯特，你快告诉我圣杯藏在哪里！"兰登在他经过身边时，直盯着他的眼睛："雷爵士，只有配得上的人才能找到圣杯。这还是你教我的呢。"
Chapter 102
The mist had settled low on Kensington Gardens as Silas limped into a quiet hollow out of sight.
　　Kneeling on the wet grass, he could feel a warm stream of blood flowing from the bullet woundbelow his ribs. Still, he stared straight ahead.
　　The fog made it look like heaven here.
　　Raising his bloody hands to pray, he watched the raindrops caress his fingers, turning them whiteagain. As the droplets fell harder across his back and shoulders, he could feel his body disappearingbit by bit into the mist.
　　I am a ghost.
　　A breeze rustled past him, carrying the damp, earthy scent of new life. With every living cell in hisbroken body, Silas prayed. He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for mercy. And, above all, heprayed for his mentor... Bishop Aringarosa... that the Lord would not take him before his time. Hehas so much work left to do.
　　The fog was swirling around him now, and Silas felt so light that he was sure the wisps wouldcarry him away. Closing his eyes, he said a final prayer.
　　From somewhere in the mist, the voice of Manuel Aringarosa whispered to him.
　　Our Lord is a good and merciful God.
　　Silas's pain at last began to fade, and he knew the bishop was right.
塞拉斯一瘸一拐地走进一个看不见的寂静空间里。这时薄雾已经在肯辛顿花园中弥漫开来。他跪在湿漉漉的草地上，感到有股热血正从他肋骨以下的伤口里流了出来。然而他还是坚定地望着前方。
雾，使这里似乎变成了天堂。
他举起沾满鲜血的双手祈祷，注视着雨滴抚摸着他的手指头。雨水使他的手都变白了。由于雨滴更加猛烈地落在他的后背与肩膀上，他觉得自己的身体正逐渐地融化到薄雾里去了。
我快变成鬼了！
一阵风从他身边吹过，沙沙作响，带来了潮湿的泥土的芬芳，这是孕育了新生命的芳香。塞拉斯拖着散了架的身子祈祷。他祈祷上帝能给他宽恕，祈祷上帝能给他怜悯。他尤其要为他的恩师--阿林加洛沙主教祈祷……他祈祷上帝不要过早让这位主教离开这个世界。还有许多事情，在等着他去做呢。
雾，此刻在他身边缭绕，塞拉斯感觉是那么的轻盈，以至于他相信这缕缕烟雾会把他带走。他闭上眼睛，做完了最后的祷告。
从雾中的某个地方，传来曼努埃尔。阿林加洛沙主教的低语。
我主是和蔼仁慈的上帝。
塞拉斯的痛苦终于慢慢地消失了，他知道这位主教说的是对的。
Chapter 103
It was late afternoon when the London sun broke through and the city began to dry. Bezu Fachefelt weary as he emerged from the interrogation room and hailed a cab. Sir Leigh Teabing hadvociferously proclaimed his innocence, and yet from his incoherent rantings about the Holy Grail,secret documents, and mysterious brotherhoods, Fache suspected the wily historian was setting thestage for his lawyers to plead an insanity defense.
　　Sure, Fache thought. Insane. Teabing had displayed ingenious precision in formulating a plan thatprotected his innocence at every turn. He had exploited both the Vatican and Opus Dei, two groupsthat turned out to be completely innocent. His dirty work had been carried out unknowingly by afanatical monk and a desperate bishop. More clever still, Teabing had situated his electroniclistening post in the one place a man with polio could not possibly reach. The actual surveillancehad been carried out by his manservant, Rémy—the lone person privy to Teabing's trueidentity—now conveniently dead of an allergic reaction.
　　Hardly the handiwork of someone lacking mental faculties, Fache thought.
　　The information coming from Collet out of Chateau Villette suggested that Teabing's cunning ranso deep that Fache himself might even learn from it. To successfully hide bugs in some of Paris'smost powerful offices, the British historian had turned to the Greeks. Trojan horses. Some ofTeabing's intended targets received lavish gifts of artwork, others unwittingly bid at auctions inwhich Teabing had placed specific lots. In Saunière's case, the curator had received a dinnerinvitation to Chateau Villette to discuss the possibility of Teabing's funding a new Da Vinci Wingat the Louvre. Saunière's invitation had contained an innocuous postscript expressing fascinationwith a robotic knight that Saunière was rumored to have built. Bring him to dinner, Teabing hadsuggested. Saunière apparently had done just that and left the knight unattended long enough forRémy Legaludec to make one inconspicuous addition.
　　Now, sitting in the back of the cab, Fache closed his eyes. One more thing to attend to before Ireturn to Paris.
　　The St. Mary's Hospital recovery room was sunny.
　　"You've impressed us all," the nurse said, smiling down at him. "Nothing short of miraculous."Bishop Aringarosa gave a weak smile. "I have always been blessed."The nurse finished puttering, leaving the bishop alone. The sunlight felt welcome and warm on hisface. Last night had been the darkest night of his life.
　　Despondently, he thought of Silas, whose body had been found in the park.
　　Please forgive me, my son.
　　Aringarosa had longed for Silas to be part of his glorious plan. Last night, however, Aringarosa hadreceived a call from Bezu Fache, questioning the bishop about his apparent connection to a nunwho had been murdered in Saint-Sulpice. Aringarosa realized the evening had taken a horrifyingturn. News of the four additional murders transformed his horror to anguish. Silas, what have youdone! Unable to reach the Teacher, the bishop knew he had been cut loose. Used. The only way tostop the horrific chain of events he had helped put in motion was to confess everything to Fache,and from that moment on, Aringarosa and Fache had been racing to catch up with Silas before theTeacher persuaded him to kill again.
　　Feeling bone weary, Aringarosa closed his eyes and listened to the television coverage of the arrestof a prominent British knight, Sir Leigh Teabing. The Teacher laid bare for all to see. Teabing hadcaught wind of the Vatican's plans to disassociate itself from Opus Dei. He had chosen Aringarosaas the perfect pawn in his plan. After all, who more likely to leap blindly after the Holy Grail thana man like myself with everything to lose? The Grail would have brought enormous power toanyone who possessed it.
　　Leigh Teabing had protected his identity shrewdly—feigning a French accent and a pious heart,and demanding as payment the one thing he did not need—money. Aringarosa had been far tooeager to be suspicious. The price tag of twenty million euro was paltry when compared with theprize of obtaining the Grail, and with the Vatican's separation payment to Opus Dei, the financeshad worked nicely. The blind see what they want to see. Teabing's ultimate insult, of course, hadbeen to demand payment in Vatican bonds, such that if anything went wrong, the investigationwould lead to Rome.
　　"I am glad to see you're well, My Lord."Aringarosa recognized the gruff voice in the doorway, but the face was unexpected—stern,powerful features, slicked-back hair, and a broad neck that strained against his dark suit. "CaptainFache?" Aringarosa asked. The compassion and concern the captain had shown for Aringarosa'splight last night had conjured images of a far gentler physique.
　　The captain approached the bed and hoisted a familiar, heavy black briefcase onto a chair. "Ibelieve this belongs to you."Aringarosa looked at the briefcase filled with bonds and immediately looked away, feeling onlyshame. "Yes... thank you." He paused while working his fingers across the seam of his bedsheet,then continued. "Captain, I have been giving this deep thought, and I need to ask a favor of you.""Of course.""The families of those in Paris who Silas..." He paused, swallowing the emotion. "I realize no sumcould possibly serve as sufficient restitution, and yet, if you could be kind enough to divide thecontents of this briefcase among them... the families of the deceased."Fache's dark eyes studied him a long moment. "A virtuous gesture, My Lord. I will see to it yourwishes are carried out."A heavy silence fell between them.
　　On the television, a lean French police officer was giving a press conference in front of a sprawlingmansion. Fache saw who it was and turned his attention to the screen.
　　"Lieutenant Collet," a BBC reporter said, her voice accusing. "Last night, your captain publiclycharged two innocent people with murder. Will Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu be seekingaccountability from your department? Will this cost Captain Fache his job?"Lieutenant Collet's smile was tired but calm. "It is my experience that Captain Bezu Fache seldommakes mistakes. I have not yet spoken to him on this matter, but knowing how he operates, Isuspect his public manhunt for Agent Neveu and Mr. Langdon was part of a ruse to lure out thereal killer."The reporters exchanged surprised looks.
　　Collet continued. "Whether or not Mr. Langdon and Agent Neveu were willing participants in thesting, I do not know. Captain Fache tends to keep his more creative methods to himself. All I canconfirm at this point is that the captain has successfully arrested the man responsible, and that Mr.
　　Langdon and Agent Neveu are both innocent and safe."Fache had a faint smile on his lips as he turned back to Aringarosa. "A good man, that Collet."Several moments passed. Finally, Fache ran his hand over his forehead, slicking back his hair as hegazed down at Aringarosa. "My Lord, before I return to Paris, there is one final matter I'd like todiscuss—your impromptu flight to London. You bribed a pilot to change course. In doing so, youbroke a number of international laws."Aringarosa slumped. "I was desperate.""Yes. As was the pilot when my men interrogated him." Fache reached in his pocket and produceda purple amethyst ring with a familiar hand-tooled mitre-crozier appliqué.
　　Aringarosa felt tears welling as he accepted the ring and slipped it back on his finger. "You've beenso kind." He held out his hand and clasped Fache's. "Thank you."Fache waved off the gesture, walking to the window and gazing out at the city, his thoughtsobviously far away. When he turned, there was an uncertainty about him. "My Lord, where do yougo from here?"Aringarosa had been asked the exact same question as he left Castel Gandolfo the night before. "Isuspect my path is as uncertain as yours.""Yes." Fache paused. "I suspect I will be retiring early."Aringarosa smiled. "A little faith can do wonders, Captain. A little faith."
伦敦的太阳，直到快近黄昏时才从薄雾里探出头来，城市开始变得干燥起来了。贝祖。法希感到筋疲力尽，他从审讯室里出来，招了一辆的士。雷。提彬爵士一再咆哮着声称自己是清白的，然而从他关于圣杯、秘密文献，以及神秘团体的夸张性的描述看来，法希怀疑这位诡计多端的历史学家很可能正准备让他的律师以精神错乱为由为他进行辩护。
这是肯定无疑的，好一个精神错乱！法希心想。每逢紧要关头，提彬总能想出一些很巧妙的办法来开脱他的罪名。他曾经利用过罗马教廷和天主事工会，事实证明这两个组织完全是无辜的。他让一位狂热的修道士以及一名铤而走险的主教神不知人不觉地去从事那些见不得人的勾当。这还不算，他还把电子听音哨放在一个患有脑灰质炎的男人根本不可能接触到的地方。事实上，电子窃听器是由他的男仆雷米安放的，他是唯一知道提彬真实身份的人--不过如今这人已经因药物过敏致死，他可死得真是时候。
法希心想，人如果要干坏事，真是什么办法也想得出来。
科莱从维莱特庄园搜来的情报表明，提彬狡猾的程度甚至法希也前所未闻。这位英国历史学家成功地在巴黎一些要员的办公室里安置了窃听器，他竟然仿效希腊人，玩起"特洛伊木马"的把戏来。被提彬盯上的一些人，都会收到他慷慨赠与的艺术品，其他人则会在并不知情的情况下，参加某些经提彬做过手脚的拍卖会的竞拍活动。就拿索尼埃来说吧，这位卢浮宫艺术博物馆的馆长，就收到过提彬邀他到维莱特庄园赴宴的请柬，说是要跟他讨论为在卢浮宫开辟新的达。芬奇展览厅筹措资金的可行性。索尼埃收到的请柬里还加了一则无伤大雅的附言，表达了他对据传是索尼埃造的骑士机器人的浓厚兴趣。提彬要索尼埃赴宴时将它带来，其用意再清楚不过。显然索尼埃也依此照办了，并把那骑士机器人放在一边，这就使得雷米。莱格鲁德有足够的时间趁人不注意时偷偷做一些手脚。
此刻，法希坐在计程车后面，闭上了眼睛。在回巴黎前，我还得去办一件事情。
圣玛丽医院的诊所里一屋温暖的阳光。
"你太让人敬佩了。"护士低头微笑着说。"这简直是奇迹。"
阿林加洛沙主教勉强地笑了笑："我有上帝一直在保佑我啊。"
护士停止了唠叨，抛下主教，一个人走了。阳光照在他的脸上，温暖而舒适。昨天晚上，是他生命中最黑暗的一段时光。
他有些垂头丧气地想起了塞拉斯，他的尸体是在公园里找到的。
孩子，请你原谅我吧。
阿林加洛沙主教本想让塞拉斯参与到他的辉煌计划当中来。然而昨天，阿林加洛沙主教接到贝祖。法希的电话，他向主教询问塞拉斯与一位被杀死在圣叙尔皮斯修道院里的修女之间明显存在的关系等事宜。阿林加洛沙主教意识到，那天晚上的形势已发生了可怕的转折。新增加了四宗谋杀案的消息使他由恐惧转而痛苦到极点。塞拉斯，你看你做的好事！
由于无法跟那位教主取得联系，阿林加洛沙主教明白他已经被人抛弃，被人利用完了。要阻止这一连串他曾经起过推波助澜的可怕事件再次发生，唯一的办法就是向法希彻底坦白。而从那时起，他与法希就一心想赶在那位教主说服塞拉斯再度杀人之前将他逮住。
阿林加洛沙主教感到骨头都快散架了，他闭上眼，聆听电视上正在报导的著名的英国骑士，雷。提彬爵士被逮捕的消息。这位教主的真面目终于大白于天下了。提彬早就得到罗马教廷要与天主事工会断绝关系的风声，所以在实施计划的过程中，他选择了阿林加洛沙主教作为最佳赌注。不管怎么说，跟我这样一无所有的人比起来，还有谁更有可能会去盲目的找寻什么圣杯呢？不管是谁，一旦拥有了圣杯，他将从它那里获得巨大的力量。
雷。提彬狡猾地隐藏了他的真实身份--他操着足以以假乱真的法国口音，假装有颗虔诚的心灵，并勒索金钱--这其实是他根本不需要的东西。阿林加洛沙一向过于心急，竟没有丝毫怀疑。一旦找到了圣杯，那由此得到的奖赏，再加上罗马教廷分期还给天主事工会的款项，那么资金周转起来就灵便多了，所以两千万欧元的要价根本不值一提。盲人能看到他们想看的东西。当然，最让人感到侮辱的是，提彬竟然要求以梵蒂冈银行的无记名债券支付，这样，一旦某个环节出事，调查人员就会顺藤摸瓜追到罗马。
"我的上帝，看到你安然无恙，我真的很高兴。"
阿林加洛沙主教听出了门口那个沙哑的声音，然而那张脸看上去却让他深感意外--它神色严峻，轮廓分明，光溜的头发被拢到脑后，粗粗的脖子从黑色衣服里探出来。"你是法希上尉吧？"阿林加洛沙主教问道。从昨晚这位上尉对他的不幸遭遇表示同情与关切看来，阿林加洛沙主教还以为他是个远比眼前站着的要温和得多的人呢。
上尉走到床前，将一个熟悉的沉重的黑色公文包放到椅子上。"我想这肯定是你的吧。
"阿林加洛沙主教瞥了那个装满票券的公文包一眼，很快转移了视线，他只是感到羞辱。"是的……谢谢你！"他暂停下来，将手指伸进床单的空隙里来回绞弄着，然后继续说："上尉，我已经考虑很久了，想让你帮一个忙。"
"没问题。"
"塞拉斯在巴黎杀害的那些死者家庭……"他停顿了一下，以便能抑制住内心激动的心情。"我知道，无论多少钱也不能安抚他们受伤的心灵，然而，我还是希望你能帮我把公文包里的钱分发给他们--分发给那些死者的家庭。"法希黑色的眼睛打量了他好一阵子。"我的上帝，你真是个善良的人。我会负责帮你了却心愿的。"屋内一阵令人窒息的沉默。
电视屏幕上，一位瘦瘦的法国警官正在一幢向平面延伸的大厦前举行记者招待会。法希认出了那人是谁，于是他把注意力集中到电视屏幕上。
"科莱中尉，"英国广播公司的一位记者带着责难的语气说："据我所知，贝祖。法希上尉很少犯错误。就此事我虽没跟他谈过，但我知道他会怎样做。我怀疑他兴师动众到处追捕奈芙侦探与兰登先生的真实意图是为了引出真正的杀人凶手。"在场的记者们面面相觑，惊讶不已。
克莱继续说道："我不知道兰登先生与奈芙小姐是不是一个愿打一个愿挨的参与者。法希上尉总能够坚持他那一贯具有创造性的做法。目前我可以向各位证实的是，上尉已经成功逮捕了应该承担责任的那个人，兰登先生与奈芙小姐两人是无辜的，并且两人都没受到伤害。"法希的嘴角露出一丝淡淡的微笑，他转身对阿林加洛沙主教："科莱那家伙，真是个好人呐。"一段时间过去了。终于，法希用手摸子摸前额。他一边将光溜溜的头发理到脑后，一边低头注视着阿林加洛沙主教。"我的上帝，在回巴黎之前，我还有最后一件事情没有处理呢。我要跟你谈你突然改道伦敦的那次飞行。你贿赂了驾驶员，让他改变航线。你这样做触犯了好几条国际法律呢。"阿林加洛沙顿时有气无力地瘫倒在床上："我也是被逼急了啊。"
"我知道。我手下的人审问那个驾驶员时，他也是这么说的。"法希将手伸进口袋，摸出一枚紫石英戒指。戒指上手工雕制的教士冠，以及牧师杖嵌花，是那样的熟悉。
阿林加洛沙主教热泪盈眶，他接过戒指，戴到手指上。"你这人总是这么好。"他伸出手，紧紧抓住了法希的手，由衷地说："谢谢你。"
法希摆摆手，走到窗前，凝望着窗外这个城市，他的思绪显然已飞得很远很远。等他转过身，他流露出疑惑的神情："我的上帝，你以后有什么打算？"
就在前一天晚上，阿林加洛沙主教离开岗道尔夫堡之前，也有人问过他同样的问题。"我怀疑我以后要走的路，会和你一样捉摸不定呢。""是啊，"法希停了停："我想我很快就要退休了。"
阿林加洛沙主教微微笑了笑，说："上尉，只要你对上帝保持一点点信仰，也是能创造奇迹的，真的。"
Chapter 104
Rosslyn Chapel—often called the Cathedral of Codes—stands seven miles south of Edinburgh,Scotland, on the site of an ancient Mithraic temple. Built by the Knights Templar in 1446, thechapel is engraved with a mind-boggling array of symbols from the Jewish, Christian, Egyptian,Masonic, and pagan traditions.
　　The chapel's geographic coordinates fall precisely on the north-south meridian that runs throughGlastonbury. This longitudinal Rose Line is the traditional marker of King Arthur's Isle of Avalonand is considered the central pillar of Britain's sacred geometry. It is from this hallowed Rose Linethat Rosslyn—originally spelled Roslin—takes its name.
　　Rosslyn's rugged spires were casting long evening shadows as Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveupulled their rental car into the grassy parking area at the foot of the bluff on which the chapel stood.
　　Their short flight from London to Edinburgh had been restful, although neither of them had sleptfor the anticipation of what lay ahead. Gazing up at the stark edifice framed against a cloud-sweptsky, Langdon felt like Alice falling headlong into the rabbit hole. This must be a dream. And yet heknew the text of Saunière's final message could not have been more specific.
　　The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits.
　　Langdon had fantasized that Saunière's "Grail map" would be a diagram—a drawing with an X-marks-the-spot—and yet the Priory's final secret had been unveiled in the same way Saunière hadspoken to them from the beginning. Simple verse. Four explicit lines that pointed without a doubtto this very spot. In addition to identifying Rosslyn by name, the verse made reference to several ofthe chapel's renowned architectural features.
　　Despite the clarity of Saunière's final revelation, Langdon had been left feeling more off balancethan enlightened. To him, Rosslyn Chapel seemed far too obvious a location. For centuries, thisstone chapel had echoed with whispers of the Holy Grail's presence. The whispers had turned toshouts in recent decades when ground-penetrating radar revealed the presence of an astonishingstructure beneath the chapel—a massive subterranean chamber. Not only did this deep vault dwarfthe chapel atop it, but it appeared to have no entrance or exit. Archaeologists petitioned to beginblasting through the bedrock to reach the mysterious chamber, but the Rosslyn Trust expresslyforbade any excavation of the sacred site. Of course, this only fueled the fires of speculation. Whatwas the Rosslyn Trust trying to hide?
　　Rosslyn had now become a pilgrimage site for mystery seekers. Some claimed they were drawnhere by the powerful magnetic field that emanated inexplicably from these coordinates, someclaimed they came to search the hillside for a hidden entrance to the vault, but most admitted theyhad come simply to wander the grounds and absorb the lore of the Holy Grail.
　　Although Langdon had never been to Rosslyn before now, he always chuckled when he heard thechapel described as the current home of the Holy Grail. Admittedly, Rosslyn once might have beenhome to the Grail, long ago... but certainly no longer. Far too much attention had been drawn toRosslyn in past decades, and sooner or later someone would find a way to break into the vault.
　　True Grail academics agreed that Rosslyn was a decoy—one of the devious dead ends the Priorycrafted so convincingly. Tonight, however, with the Priory's keystone offering a verse that pointeddirectly to this spot, Langdon no longer felt so smug. A perplexing question had been runningthrough his mind all day:
　　Why would Saunière go to such effort to guide us to so obvious a location?
　　There seemed only one logical answer.
　　There is something about Rosslyn we have yet to understand.
　　"Robert?" Sophie was standing outside the car, looking back at him. "Are you corning?" She washolding the rosewood box, which Captain Fache had returned to them. Inside, both cryptexes hadbeen reassembled and nested as they had been found. The papyrus verse was locked safely at itscore—minus the shattered vial of vinegar.
　　Making their way up the long gravel path, Langdon and Sophie passed the famous west wall of thechapel. Casual visitors assumed this oddly protruding wall was a section of the chapel that had notbeen finished. The truth, Langdon recalled, was far more intriguing.
　　The west wall of Solomon's Temple.
　　The Knights Templar had designed Rosslyn Chapel as an exact architectural blueprint ofSolomon's Temple in Jerusalem—complete with a west wall, a narrow rectangular sanctuary, and asubterranean vault like the Holy of Holies, in which the original nine knights had first unearthedtheir priceless treasure. Langdon had to admit, there existed an intriguing symmetry in the idea ofthe Templars building a modern Grail repository that echoed the Grail's original hiding place.
　　Rosslyn Chapel's entrance was more modest than Langdon expected. The small wooden door hadtwo iron hinges and a simple, oak sign.
　　ROSLINThis ancient spelling, Langdon explained to Sophie, derived from the Rose Line meridian on whichthe chapel sat; or, as Grail academics preferred to believe, from the "Line of Rose"—the ancestrallineage of Mary Magdalene.
　　The chapel would be closing soon, and as Langdon pulled open the door, a warm puff of airescaped, as if the ancient edifice were heaving a weary sigh at the end of a long day. Her entryarches burgeoned with carved cinquefoils.
　　Roses. The womb of the goddess.
　　Entering with Sophie, Langdon felt his eyes reaching across the famous sanctuary and taking it allin. Although he had read accounts of Rosslyn's arrestingly intricate stonework, seeing it in personwas an overwhelming encounter.
　　Symbology heaven, one of Langdon's colleagues had called it.
　　Every surface in the chapel had been carved with symbols—Christian cruciforms, Jewish stars,Masonic seals, Templar crosses, cornucopias, pyramids, astrological signs, plants, vegetables,pentacles, and roses. The Knights Templar had been master stonemasons, erecting Templarchurches all over Europe, but Rosslyn was considered their most sublime labor of love andveneration. The master masons had left no stone uncarved. Rosslyn Chapel was a shrine to allfaiths... to all traditions... and, above all, to nature and the goddess.
　　The sanctuary was empty except for a handful of visitors listening to a young man giving the day'slast tour. He was leading them in a single-file line along a well-known route on the floor—aninvisible pathway linking six key architectural points within the sanctuary. Generations of visitorshad walked these straight lines, connecting the points, and their countless footsteps had engravedan enormous symbol on the floor.
　　Star of DavidThe Star of David, Langdon thought. No coincidence there. Also known as Solomon's Seal, thishexagram had once been the secret symbol of the stargazing priests and was later adopted by theIsraelite kings—David and Solomon.
　　The docent had seen Langdon and Sophie enter, and although it was closing time, offered apleasant smile and motioned for them to feel free to look around.
　　Langdon nodded his thanks and began to move deeper into the sanctuary. Sophie, however, stoodriveted in the entryway, a puzzled look on her face.
　　"What is it?" Langdon asked.
　　Sophie stared out at the chapel. "I think... I've been here."Langdon was surprised. "But you said you hadn't even heard of Rosslyn.""I hadn't..." She scanned the sanctuary, looking uncertain. "My grandfather must have brought mehere when I was very young. I don't know. It feels familiar." As her eyes scanned the room, shebegan nodding with more certainty. "Yes." She pointed to the front of the sanctuary. "Those twopillars... I've seen them."Langdon looked at the pair of intricately sculpted columns at the far end of the sanctuary. Theirwhite lacework carvings seemed to smolder with a ruddy glow as the last of the day's sunlightstreamed in through the west window. The pillars—positioned where the altar would normallystand—were an oddly matched pair. The pillar on the left was carved with simple, vertical lines,while the pillar on the right was embellished with an ornate, flowering spiral.
　　Sophie was already moving toward them. Langdon hurried after her, and as they reached thepillars, Sophie was nodding with incredulity. "Yes, I'm positive I have seen these!""I don't doubt you've seen them," Langdon said, "but it wasn't necessarily here."She turned. "What do you mean?""These two pillars are the most duplicated architectural structures in history. Replicas exist all overthe world.""Replicas of Rosslyn?" She looked skeptical.
　　"No. Of the pillars. Do you remember earlier that I mentioned Rosslyn itself is a copy of Solomon'sTemple? Those two pillars are exact replicas of the two pillars that stood at the head of Solomon'sTemple." Langdon pointed to the pillar on the left. "That's called Boaz—or the Mason's Pillar. Theother is called Jachin—or the Apprentice Pillar." He paused. "In fact, virtually every Masonictemple in the world has two pillars like these."Langdon had already explained to her about the Templars' powerful historic ties to the modernMasonic secret societies, whose primary degrees—Apprentice Freemason, Fellowcraft Freemason,and Master Mason—harked back to early Templar days. Sophie's grandfather's final verse madedirect reference to the Master Masons who adorned Rosslyn with their carved artistic offerings. Italso noted Rosslyn's central ceiling, which was covered with carvings of stars and planets.
　　"I've never been in a Masonic temple," Sophie said, still eyeing the pillars. "I am almost positive Isaw these here." She turned back into the chapel, as if looking for something else to jog hermemory.
　　The rest of the visitors were now leaving, and the young docent made his way across the chapel tothem with a pleasant smile. He was a handsome young man in his late twenties, with a Scottishbrogue and strawberry blond hair. "I'm about to close up for the day. May I help you findanything?"How about the Holy Grail? Langdon wanted to say.
　　"The code," Sophie blurted, in sudden revelation. "There's a code here!"The docent looked pleased by her enthusiasm. "Yes there is, ma'am.""It's on the ceiling," she said, turning to the right-hand wall. "Somewhere over... there."He smiled. "Not your first visit to Rosslyn, I see."The code, Langdon thought. He had forgotten that little bit of lore. Among Rosslyn's numerousmysteries was a vaulted archway from which hundreds of stone blocks protruded, jutting down toform a bizarre multifaceted surface. Each block was carved with a symbol, seemingly at random,creating a cipher of unfathomable proportion. Some people believed the code revealed the entranceto the vault beneath the chapel.
　　Others believed it told the true Grail legend. Not that it mattered—cryptographers had been tryingfor centuries to decipher its meaning. To this day the Rosslyn Trust offered a generous reward toanyone who could unveil the secret meaning, but the code remained a mystery. "I'd be happy toshow..."The docent's voice trailed off.
　　My first code, Sophie thought, moving alone, in a trance, toward the encoded archway. Havinghanded the rosewood box to Langdon, she could feel herself momentarily forgetting all about theHoly Grail, the Priory of Sion, and all the mysteries of the past day. When she arrived beneath theencoded ceiling and saw the symbols above her, the memories came flooding back. She wasrecalling her first visit here, and strangely, the memories conjured an unexpected sadness.
　　She was a little girl... a year or so after her family's death. Her grandfather had brought her toScotland on a short vacation. They had come to see Rosslyn Chapel before going back to Paris. Itwas late evening, and the chapel was closed. But they were still inside.
　　"Can we go home, Grand-père?" Sophie begged, feeling tired.
　　"Soon, dear, very soon." His voice was melancholy. "I have one last thing I need to do here. Howabout if you wait in the car?""You're doing another big person thing?"He nodded. "I'll be fast. I promise.""Can I do the archway code again? That was fun.""I don't know. I have to step outside. You won't be frightened in here alone?""Of course not!" she said with a huff. "It's not even dark yet!"He smiled. "Very well then." He led her over to the elaborate archway he had shown her earlier.
　　Sophie immediately plopped down on the stone floor, lying on her back and staring up at thecollage of puzzle pieces overhead. "I'm going to break this code before you get back!""It's a race then." He bent over, kissed her forehead, and walked to the nearby side door. "I'll beright outside. I'll leave the door open. If you need me, just call." He exited into the soft eveninglight.
　　Sophie lay there on the floor, gazing up at the code. Her eyes felt sleepy. After a few minutes, thesymbols got fuzzy. And then they disappeared.
　　When Sophie awoke, the floor felt cold.
　　"Grand-père?"There was no answer. Standing up, she brushed herself off. The side door was still open. Theevening was getting darker. She walked outside and could see her grandfather standing on theporch of a nearby stone house directly behind the church. Her grandfather was talking quietly to aperson barely visible inside the screened door.
　　"Grand-père?" she called.
　　Her grandfather turned and waved, motioning for her to wait just a moment. Then, slowly, he saidsome final words to the person inside and blew a kiss toward the screened door. He came to herwith tearful eyes.
　　"Why are you crying, Grand-père?"He picked her up and held her close. "Oh, Sophie, you and I have said good-bye to a lot of peoplethis year. It's hard."Sophie thought of the accident, of saying good-bye to her mother and father, her grandmother andbaby brother. "Were you saying goodbye to another person?""To a dear friend whom I love very much," he replied, his voice heavy with emotion. "And I fear Iwill not see her again for a very long time."Standing with the docent, Langdon had been scanning the chapel walls and feeling a risingwariness that a dead end might be looming. Sophie had wandered off to look at the code and leftLangdon holding the rosewood box, which contained a Grail map that now appeared to be no helpat all. Although Saunière's poem clearly indicated Rosslyn, Langdon was not sure what to do nowthat they had arrived. The poem made reference to a "blade and chalice," which Langdon sawnowhere.
　　The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits.
　　The blade and chalice guarding o'er Her gates.
　　Again Langdon sensed there remained some facet of this mystery yet to reveal itself.
　　"I hate to pry," the docent said, eyeing the rosewood box in Langdon's hands. "But this box... mightI ask where you got it?"Langdon gave a weary laugh. "That's an exceptionally long story."The young man hesitated, his eyes on the box again. "It's the strangest thing—my grandmother hasa box exactly like that—a jewelry box. Identical polished rosewood, same inlaid rose, even thehinges look the same."Langdon knew the young man must be mistaken. If ever a box had been one of a kind, it was thisone—the box custom-made for the Priory keystone. "The two boxes may be similar but—"The side door closed loudly, drawing both of their gazes. Sophie had exited without a word andwas now wandering down the bluff toward a fieldstone house nearby. Langdon stared after her.
　　Where is she going? She had been acting strangely ever since they entered the building. He turnedto the docent. "Do you know what that house is?"He nodded, also looking puzzled that Sophie was going down there. "That's the chapel rectory. Thechapel curator lives there. She also happens to be the head of the Rosslyn Trust." He paused. "Andmy grandmother.""Your grandmother heads the Rosslyn Trust?"The young man nodded. "I live with her in the rectory and help keep up the chapel and give tours."He shrugged. "I've lived here my whole life. My grandmother raised me in that house."Concerned for Sophie, Langdon moved across the chapel toward the door to call out to her. He wasonly halfway there when he stopped short. Something the young man said just registered.
　　My grandmother raised me.
　　Langdon looked out at Sophie on the bluff, then down at the rosewood box in his hand. Impossible.
　　Slowly, Langdon turned back to the young man. "You said your grandmother has a box like thisone?""Almost identical.""Where did she get it?""My grandfather made it for her. He died when I was a baby, but my grandmother still talks abouthim. She says he was a genius with his hands. He made all kinds of things."Langdon glimpsed an unimaginable web of connections emerging. "You said your grandmotherraised you. Do you mind my asking what happened to your parents?"The young man looked surprised. "They died when I was young." He paused. "The same day as mygrandfather."Langdon's heart pounded. "In a car accident?"The docent recoiled, a look of bewilderment in his olive-green eyes. "Yes. In a car accident. Myentire family died that day. I lost my grandfather, my parents, and..." He hesitated, glancing downat the floor. "And your sister," Langdon said.
　　Out on the bluff, the fieldstone house was exactly as Sophie remembered it. Night was falling now,and the house exuded a warm and inviting aura. The smell of bread wafted through the openedscreened door, and a golden light shone in the windows. As Sophie approached, she could hear thequiet sounds of sobbing from within.
　　Through the screened door, Sophie saw an elderly woman in the hallway. Her back was to thedoor, but Sophie could see she was crying. The woman had long, luxuriant, silver hair thatconjured an unexpected wisp of memory. Feeling herself drawn closer, Sophie stepped onto theporch stairs. The woman was clutching a framed photograph of a man and touching her fingertipsto his face with loving sadness.
　　It was a face Sophie knew well.
　　Grand-père.
　　The woman had obviously heard the sad news of his death last night.
　　A board squeaked beneath Sophie's feet, and the woman turned slowly, her sad eyes findingSophie's. Sophie wanted to run, but she stood transfixed. The woman's fervent gaze never waveredas she set down the photo and approached the screened door. An eternity seemed to pass as the twowomen stared at one another through the thin mesh. Then, like the slowly gathering swell of anocean wave, the woman's visage transformed from one of uncertainty... to disbelief... to hope... andfinally, to cresting joy.
　　Throwing open the door, she came out, reaching with soft hands, cradling Sophie's thunderstruckface. "Oh, dear child... look at you!"Although Sophie did not recognize her, she knew who this woman was. She tried to speak butfound she could not even breathe.
　　"Sophie," the woman sobbed, kissing her forehead.
　　Sophie's words were a choked whisper. "But... Grand-père said you were...""I know." The woman placed her tender hands on Sophie's shoulders and gazed at her with familiareyes. "Your grandfather and I were forced to say so many things. We did what we thought wasright. I'm so sorry. It was for your own safety, princess."Sophie heard her final word, and immediately thought of her grandfather, who had called herprincess for so many years. The sound of his voice seemed to echo now in the ancient stones ofRosslyn, settling through the earth and reverberating in the unknown hollows below.
　　The woman threw her arms around Sophie, the tears flowing faster. "Your grandfather wanted sobadly to tell you everything. But things were difficult between you two. He tried so hard. There'sso much to explain. So very much to explain." She kissed Sophie's forehead once again, thenwhispered in her ear. "No more secrets, princess. It's time you learn the truth about our family."Sophie and her grandmother were seated on the porch stairs in a tearful hug when the young docentdashed across the lawn, his eyes shining with hope and disbelief.
　　"Sophie?"Through her tears, Sophie nodded, standing. She did not know the young man's face, but as theyembraced, she could feel the power of the blood coursing through his veins... the blood she nowunderstood they shared.
　　When Langdon walked across the lawn to join them, Sophie could not imagine that only yesterdayshe had felt so alone in the world. And now, somehow, in this foreign place, in the company ofthree people she barely knew, she felt at last that she was home.
罗斯林教堂，又被称作"密码大教堂"，它坐落在苏格兰爱丁堡市以南的七英里处，其旧址是一座崇拜密特拉神的神庙。该教堂是圣殿骑士于1446 年建造的，教堂各处，雕刻了令人叹为观止的、有着犹太教、基督教、埃及人、同济会以及异教传统的标志物。
教堂正处在南北交叉子午线经过格拉斯顿伯里的位置。这条纵向的"玫瑰线"，是传说中亚瑟王死后移葬的阿瓦隆岛的传统性标志，它被认为是英国这块神圣领域的中流砥柱。
罗斯林（Rosslyn），最早的拼法是Roslin，就是从这条被神化的"玫瑰线"得来的。
罗伯特。兰登与索菲。奈芙开着租来的轿车，驶入悬崖绝壁下面杂草丛生的停车区域。
罗斯林教堂就屹立在悬崖绝壁上。它那饱经风雨的塔尖，正投下悠长的背影。在从伦敦飞往爱丁堡的短暂旅程中，他们恢复了精力，尽管俩人谁也没有睡个好觉，因为他们对即将发生的事情充满了期待。兰登抬头凝望着那座荒凉的建筑物，它高高耸立在没有一丝云彩的天空。兰登觉得自己就像梦游仙境的爱丽丝，一头栽进了兔子洞。这一定是梦吧！然而他知道，索尼埃所给的最后提示是再具体不过了。
圣杯在古老的罗斯林教堂下面等待。
兰登本以为索尼埃的"圣杯地图"会是一张绘图，是一张用各种各样符号标明位置的地图，然而揭开郇山隐修会最终秘密的方式，竟然跟索尼埃开始说的是一样的。都是些简单的诗句。四行含义清楚的诗句，毫无疑问就是指这个地方。除了通过提到的名字可以确定是罗斯林教堂之外，诗里还提到这座教堂若干有名的建筑特征。
尽管索尼埃在他的最终暗示里已经说得很清楚。然而兰登心里还是七上八下，全然没有茅塞顿开之感。对他而言，罗斯林教堂似乎是太引人注目的地方了。几百年来，在这座石头砌就的教堂里，就一直回荡着人们私下议论圣杯就在此地的声音。最近几十年，由于人们利用探测地下的雷达技术，在教堂底下发现子一座大得惊人的地下宫殿，使得这样的低声议论逐渐汇集成震耳欲聋的一片呐喊。这个离地面极深的地下宫殿，不仅使建在其上的教堂相形见绌，而且似乎找不到什么进出口。考古学家们纷纷要求在它下层的基岩炸开一个洞，以便能进到里面去，然而罗斯林监管会明文禁止在这块神圣的土地上进行任何挖掘文物的活动。这当然只会引起人们更多无端的猜测。罗斯林监管会究竟想隐瞒什么呢？
罗斯林教堂现已成为喜欢冒险的猎奇者们朝圣的圣地。有人声称，他们是被它独特的地理位置产生的让人说不清道不明的强大磁场吸引到这里来的；有人则声称他们是为到山坡上寻找地下宫殿的人口而来的；但大多数人承认，他们到此地来转悠，不过是想来听听有关圣杯的故事，增长点见识罢了。
虽然此前兰登从未来过罗斯林教堂，但每当听人说起眼下圣杯就藏在这里时，他总是付之一笑。老实说，它或许曾经是圣杯的栖身之所，但这早已是多年前的事了；然而现在，它肯定不在那里了。在过去的几十年里，人们将过多的注意力集中在罗斯林教堂上，迟早有一天，人们会想方设法闯入这座地下宫殿的。
研究圣杯史的正统学院派，同意罗斯林教堂只是一个掩人耳目的陷阱的观点，认为它是郇山隐修会精心设计、颇具说服力而又迂回曲折的死胡同。不过今晚，由于郇山隐修会在诗中清楚指明圣杯就藏在这个地方，兰登便不再自以为是了。然而有个问题仍令他百思不得其解，并在他脑海里盘桓了一整天。
为什么索尼埃要如此煞费苦心将我们带到这么一个引人注目的地方来呢？
答案似乎只有一个。
罗斯林教堂的某些情况我们还没有充分了解。
"罗伯特？"索菲站在车外，回头对他说。"你来了没？"她手拿紫檀木盒子，这是法希上尉还给他们的。里面两个密码盒被重新放在一起，就跟当初找到它们时一样。那张写有诗文的莎草纸被稳妥地锁在里面--只是盒里被打碎的玻璃醋瓶子已不见了。
兰登和索菲沿着长长的砾石路向山上走去，他们经过教堂有名的西墙。漫不经心的游客们也许会武断地认为，这堵模样古怪、向外突出的墙壁是这座尚未竣工的教堂的一部分。兰登想，真相本身远比这种主观臆断要有趣得多。
所罗门神庙式的西墙。
圣殿骑士们当初建造罗斯林教堂时，就是完全按照位于耶路撒冷的所罗门神庙的建筑风格设计的--在它竣工之初，就有一堵西墙，一个狭长的长方形礼拜堂，还有一座与至圣所相似的地下宫殿，在这座宫殿里，最初的九位骑士首先发现了无价之宝。兰登不得不承认。这些骑士，当初在为圣杯建造与它最早藏身之所遥相呼应的储藏所时，头脑里就已存在了某些有趣的几何概念。
罗斯林教堂的人口，比兰登原先估计的要质朴得多。小小的木门上，挂着两条铰链和一个粗糙的橡木标志，上面写着：罗斯林（ROSLIN）
兰登向索菲解释说，这种古代拼法，是从这座教堂建于其上的"玫瑰"子午线演化而来的；或者如研究圣杯史的学院派宁愿相信的观点所言，是由"圣母族谱"----即抹大拉的玛利亚一脉相承的家族谱系演变而来的。
教堂马上要关门了。然而兰登推开门，一股热气迎面飘来，仿佛是这座古老建筑，在漫长的白天行将结束时，发出的一声疲惫的叹息。教堂的拱形门上，满眼都是梅花形的雕饰。
它们是玫瑰，是女神怀孕子宫的标志。
兰登与索菲走进去，望向那间赫赫有名的礼拜堂的尽头，将它尽收眼底。尽管他读过许多关于罗斯林教堂里引人人胜却又错综复杂的石雕的文章，但亲眼所见的感觉，毕竟有很大的不同。
这是象征学研究的天堂，兰登的一位同事曾做过如是的评价。
教堂各处都雕刻了各种各样的象征物，其中有基督教的十字、犹太人的星状物、同济会的印章、圣殿骑士的十字架、哺乳过宙斯的羊、金字塔、星象符号、各种植物、蔬菜瓜果、五角星形以及玫瑰等等。圣殿骑士们以前都是技术娴熟的石匠出身，他们在欧洲各地建造圣殿教堂，然而唯有罗斯林教堂被认为是他们赢得人们热爱与崇敬的顶峰之作。这些能工巧匠精雕细刻，不放过任何一块石头。罗斯林教堂是所有宗教信仰的供奉所，是沿循所有传统的供奉所，尤其是大自然与女神的供奉所。
礼拜堂里空荡荡的，只有几位游客，在聆听一位领着他们作当天最后一游的年轻人给他们讲解。他带着他们排成一行，沿着地上一条非常有名的路线行走--那是条将礼拜堂内六个主要建筑区域连在一块的无形的小道。一代又一代的游客，从这些将六个建筑区域连起来的直线上走过，而他们留下的数不清的足迹，在地面上形成一个巨大的六角星形。
△▽▽△△▽这是大卫之星，兰登心想。这里面绝不是什么巧合。这个六角星形，又被称作所罗门之印，它曾经是耽于幻想的牧师们秘密的象征物，只是后来又被以色列的国王--大卫与所罗门相继采用过。
虽然已到关门时刻，但那位年轻的导游，看到兰登与索菲进来，还是露出了令人愉悦的微笑，并示意他们可以随便到各处去转转。
兰登点头表示感谢，然后向礼拜堂的里头走去。然而索菲站在门口，仿佛被钉住了，她的脸上，写满了迷惑。
"你怎么啦？"兰登关切地问。
索菲打量着教堂外面："我想……我曾经到过这里。"
兰登有点惊奇："可你不是说，罗斯林教堂你甚至连听都没听过？！"
"我是说过的……"她扫视了礼拜堂一眼，似乎有点不敢肯定。"我祖父在我小的时候，肯定带我来过这里。我不知道事实是不是这样。但我觉得它真的非常眼熟。"她将大厅巡视了一遍，然后开始更加肯定地点头说："是的。"她指了指礼拜堂的前面，说："那两根柱子……我见过。"兰登望着礼拜堂远处两根经过精雕细刻的柱子。它们上面的白色花纹，仿佛被西边窗户里投射进来的最后一束阳光燃烧起来了，散发出通红的光芒。那两根柱子，建造在通常应该是圣坛所处的位置，因此总体上显得极不和谐。左面的柱子上，雕刻了一些简单垂直的线条，而右边的柱子上，泽装饰了华丽的螺旋型花纹。
此时索菲已经朝那两根柱子走去，兰登急忙跟在后面。当他们来到柱子前，索菲半信半疑地点点头。"是的，我敢肯定我见过这些柱子。"
"我并不怀疑你见过它们。"兰登说："但你不一定是在这里看到的啊。"
索菲转过身："你这是什么意思？"
"这两根柱子，是历史上被仿制最多的建筑物。它们的仿制品满世界都能找到。"
"你是说仿造罗斯林教堂？"索菲满腹狐疑。
"不是，我是指这两根柱子。你还记得刚才我跟你说的，罗斯林教堂是仿造所罗门神庙的话吗？这两根柱子，就是所罗门神庙前两根柱子的翻版。"兰登指了指左边的柱子，说："那根柱子被称作波阿斯--又叫石匠之柱，另外一根柱子，被称作亚钦--或称作学徒之柱。"他稍停片刻，又说："实际上，世界各地所有由同济会建造的庙宇都有两根这样的柱子。"兰登曾给她解释过，圣殿骑士们与现代同济会的秘密组织之间，存在着某种密不可分的历史联系。这些秘密组织几个最基本的等级--石工学徒、石工能手，以及石工大师--都会令人想起早期圣殿骑士的石工生涯。索菲的祖父在最后一首诗里，就直接提到以高超的雕刻技巧装扮了罗斯林教堂的石匠大师们。他在诗里还提到罗斯林教堂的中心顶篷，雕刻了各种各样的星球。
"我从未去过同济会建造的神庙。"索菲说着，眼睛却仍盯着柱子。"我几乎可以肯定，我是在这里见到这些柱子的。"她回头又朝教堂里面张望，仿佛想寻找什么能唤起她记忆的东西。
其他的参观者现在都要走了，年轻的导游一脸灿烂的微笑，从教堂对面向他们走来。
他是个相貌英俊，大约二十八九岁年纪的年轻人，操-口苏格兰口音，长着一头红褐色的头发。"教堂马上要关门了。需要我帮什么忙吗？"
那你帮我们寻找圣杯，你看怎么样？兰登很想跟他这样说。
"密码。"索菲脱口而出，突然发现什么了："这里有个密码。"
导游似乎被她的热情劲儿逗乐了："是密码呀，女士。"
"它在天花板上。"她转身面对右边的墙，说："在那边的……某个地方呢。"
导游笑了："我看得出来，你不是第一次到这里来的吧。"
是这个密码啊，兰登心想。他已把这方面的知识忘得差不多了。罗斯林教堂拥有众多神秘的东西，其中有座拱顶门，数百块石头向外凸出来，一直向下延伸，形成一个奇异的多面体。每一块石头上都雕刻了标志物，表面上看来似乎漫不经心，然而由这些标志物设置的密码却深不可测。有人相信，这个密码将为人们开启通往教堂下面的地下宫殿的大门；其他人则相信，它向人们讲述了一个真实的圣杯故事。那倒是没什么关系--几个世纪以来，密码专家们就一直在努力寻找它的含义，而且直到今天，罗斯林监管会还许诺给任何能够解释其内在含义的人以丰厚的奖赏，但这个密码，至今仍然是一个谜。
"我很乐意带你们到各处去转转--"
导游的声音逐渐变弱了。
那是我平生接触的第一个密码，索菲心想。她恍恍惚惚独自朝藏着密码的拱门走去。
她把紫檀木盒子递给兰登，很快就把圣杯、郇山隐修会，以及过去诸多难解之谜什么的统统抛在了脑后。她来到那块镶嵌着密码的天花板下面，注视着头上各种各样的符号，记忆如潮水一般涌上心来。她在回忆第一次到这里来的情景。不过奇怪的是，这些记忆却意外地令她伤心。
那时她还小--大约就是在她家人死后的一两年，祖父带着她到苏格兰去短期度假。
在回巴黎之前，他们去了罗斯林教堂。当时天色已晚，教堂都已关门。但他们还是进去了。
"祖父，我们回家去好吗？"索菲觉得累了，于是她请求道。
"快了，宝贝，快了。"他的声音听起来很忧郁。"我还有件事要在这里办完，你在车里等我怎样？"
"你又要去做大人的事情吗？"
他点了点头，说："我答应你，我很快就回来的。"
"那我可不可以再去猜一猜拱门上的密码呢？很好玩哩。"
"我不知道，我要到外面去。你一个人在这里不害怕吧？"
"当然不啦！"她很不高兴地说："天还没有黑呢！"
他微笑着说："那好。"他领着她来到先前带她看过的精雕细刻的拱门前。
索菲立刻"扑通"一声扑倒在石地板上，仰面朝天地躺着，瞪着眼睛注视头上由各种谜组成的图案。"我要在你回来前找到这个密码。"
"那咱们来比赛吧。"他弯下腰，吻了她的前额，然后朝附近的侧门走去。"我就在外面，我把门开着，有事就叫我。"随即，他走进了柔和的夜色里。
索菲躺在地上，抬头凝视着密码。很快，睡意上来了。过了一段时间，头上的符号逐渐变得模糊，然后消失了。
索菲醒过来时，觉得地面很是冰凉。
"祖父！"
然而没有回音。她站起来，拂去身上的灰尘。侧门仍然开着。夜色更暗了。她走出去，看到祖父正站在附近一栋房子的走廊上。这栋房子就在教堂的后面。她祖父正跟一个站在纱门里几乎看不清楚的人悄悄地说话。
"祖父！"她叫起来。
祖父转过身，向她挥了挥手，示意她再等一会。然后。他跟站在门里的人缓缓地说完最后几句话，并朝纱门给了一个飞吻。这才眼泪汪汪地走了过来。
"祖父，你怎么哭了？"
他把她举起来，紧紧抱住子她。"哦，索菲，今年，我和你要跟这么多人告别。我很难受啊。"索菲想到了那次车祸，想到了跟她爸爸妈妈、奶奶还有尚在襁褓中的弟弟告别的情景。"你是说又要跟另外一个人告别是吗？"
"是跟我一位挚爱的朋友。"他充满感情地回答说："我恐怕要很长时间见不到她了。"
兰登站在导游身边，眼睛一直在教堂的墙上扫视着，他越来越担心又走进了一个死胡同。索菲已走开去，留下兰登端着紫檀木盒子，里面的地图，现在看来是没啥用处了。虽然索尼埃的诗里明显提到了罗斯林教堂，并且他们也已经来到了这里，兰登还是不知道怎么办才好。诗里提到的"剑刃和圣杯"，兰登却没在哪里看到。
"圣杯在古老的罗斯林教堂下面等待。
剑刃和圣杯一道看护着她的门外。"兰登再次感到，这个谜的某些庐山真面目尚待他们去揭开。
"我并不喜欢打探别人的事情，"导游看着兰登手中的紫檀木盒子，说："但这个盒子……我可以问问是从哪里弄来的吗？"
兰登疲倦地笑了："这个嘛，说来可就话长了。"
年轻人犹豫了一下，他的眼睛又盯着盒子看。"这就怪了。我奶奶有个珠宝盒跟你的一模一样。同样光亮的紫檀木，镶嵌着同样的玫瑰，甚至连铰链都是一样。"兰登心想，这位年轻人想必是弄错了。如果有什么盒子是这种款式的话，那就是这个盒子了--这可是为了放置郇山隐修会的拱心石而特意定做的盒子。"两个盒子也许相似，可是--"突然，侧门重重地被关上了，他们两人不由自主地望过去。索菲一言不发，走了。她正沿着悬崖峭壁，朝附近的一幢大卵石砌就的房子走去。兰登的目光追随着她。她要到哪里去呢？自他们进得教堂来，她的行为就一直很古怪。他转向年轻的导游，说："你知道那房子是做什么用的吗？"
导游点点头，看着索菲朝那边走去，心里很是疑惑。"那是教堂主持的住宅。教堂的主持就住在那里。她恰好也是罗斯林监管会的会长。"他停下来又说："也是我的奶奶。""你奶奶是罗斯林监管会的会长？"
年轻人点了点头。"我跟她--起住在那栋房子里，帮她管理教堂，顺便给游客们做导游。"他耸耸肩，又说："我在这里住了大半辈子，我是奶奶一手养大的。"兰登心里惦记着索菲，他穿过教堂，向门边走去，想把她叫住。他走到半路上，猛地停住。年轻人刚才说的话提醒了他。
我是奶奶一手养大的。
兰登望着走在外面悬崖上的索菲，然后低头看着手里的紫檀木盒子。这是不可能的！
慢慢地，兰登转身面对着那位年轻人，问道："你刚才说，你奶奶也有一个同样的盒子？"
"差不多吧。"
"她是从哪里弄来的？"
"是我祖父给她做的。他死的时候，我还很小，可我奶奶至今仍经常谈到他，说他有双天才般的巧手。他经常给她做各种各样的东西。"兰登仿佛看到一张各种关系盘根错节的大网在眼前出现了。"你说你是奶奶抚养长大的。那你介不介意告诉我，你父母怎么啦？"
年轻人看来很惊讶。"我很小的时候他们就走了。"他停了停又补充说："是与我祖父同一天去世的。"兰登的心怦怦地跳了起来："是死于车祸吗？"
年轻的导游退缩了一下，他那橄榄色的眼睛闪过一丝茫然："是的，他们是死于车祸。
我全家人都死于那一天，我祖父、父母，还有--"他迟疑了片刻，低着头望着脚下的地面。
"还有你姐姐。"兰登接口说。
在外面的悬崖上，那幢大卵石房子跟索菲记忆中的毫无二致。深夜正在降临，而烤熟的面包，正从那栋房子里散发出一股温暖而又诱人的香气，正透过那开着的纱门，弥漫在无尽的夜色里。一盏金黄的灯，将窗户都照亮了。索菲走近那幢房子，这时，她听到里面传出低低的饮泣声。
透过纱门，她看到走廊里坐着一位上了年纪的女人。她背对着门，但索菲还是看到她哭了。那女人长着一头长而茂密的银发，这使她猛然想起了什么。索菲觉得自己受了什么力量的牵引，因而走得越发近了，她跨上了走廊台阶。女人将一张镶人镜框的男人相片紧紧抓在手上，不时用手指充满爱怜地触碰着他的脸，神情十分悲伤。
这是一张索菲十分熟悉的脸。
是祖父。
这女人，显然已听说他昨晚被谋杀的噩耗了。
索菲脚下的木地板"吱吱呀呀"地响起来，那女人这才慢慢转过身。她悲伤的眼神，终于注意到了索菲。索菲想跑开，但脚下似乎被什么东西钉住了，终究没有动。女人放下照片，朝纱门走来，她炽烈的眼神一刻也没移开。当两个女人隔着薄薄的纱门网眼盯着对方互相看时，那一刻似乎定格成了永远。接着，那女人的表情犹如蓄势待发冲向浪尖的海浪，她先是半信半疑……然后又难以置信……接着又充满希望……最后又惊喜异常。
她一把推开门，走了出来，伸出柔软的双手，抱住索菲被惊呆了的脸。"哦，宝贝，你看你！"索菲虽然没有立刻认出她，但却知道这女人是谁。她竭力想说什么，却发现自己快要停止了呼吸。
"索菲。"女人吻着她的前额，抽泣起来。
索菲轻声地说，似乎被噎住了："可是……祖父说你是……"
"我知道。"女人慈爱地将手搭在索菲的肩膀上，用那种熟悉的眼神把她打量。"你祖父和我被迫说了很多事。我们做了我们以为是正确的事情。我很抱歉。可那是为你的安全着想，我的小公主。"索菲听到最后一句话，马上想起了祖父，多少年来，他一直把她称作公主。此刻，他熟悉的声音似乎又在罗斯林教堂这座古老的石头房子里回荡，并侵入地下，在无名的空穴里产生回响。
女人张开双臂抱住索菲，眼泪流得更快了。"你祖父好想把一切都告诉你。可你们两人的积怨太深。他努力想缓和你们之间的关系。要跟你解释的东西实在是太多，太多了。"她再次吻了吻索菲的前额，然后在她耳边轻声地说："公主，再没有什么秘密了。现在，是该让你知道我们家中情况的时候了。"索菲和她的奶奶，就这样你抱着我，我抱着你，泪流满面地坐在走廊的台阶上。这时，那位年轻的导游从草坪对面急奔过来，眼睛里闪烁着希望，还有怀疑的光芒。
"你是索菲？"
索菲透过泪光，点点头，随即站起来。她并不认识这位年轻人，但在他们拥抱时，她分明感到血液在他血管里汹涌地扩张……她终于明白，一样的血液，在他们两个人的身上流淌。
当兰登走过草坪来到他们身边时，索菲无法想象，就在昨天晚上，她还觉得自己是那么孤单，然而现在，在这个陌生的地方，竟然有三个几乎说不上很熟悉的人相伴，她感到自己终于回到了故乡。
Chapter 105
Night had fallen over Rosslyn.
　　Robert Langdon stood alone on the porch of the fieldstone house enjoying the sounds of laughterand reunion drifting through the screened door behind him. The mug of potent Brazilian coffee inhis hand had granted him a hazy reprieve from his mounting exhaustion, and yet he sensed thereprieve would be fleeting. The fatigue in his body went to the core.
　　"You slipped out quietly," a voice behind him said.
　　He turned. Sophie's grandmother emerged, her silver hair shimmering in the night. Her name, forthe last twenty-eight years at least, was Marie Chauvel.
　　Langdon gave a tired smile. "I thought I'd give your family some time together." Through thewindow, he could see Sophie talking with her brother.
　　Marie came over and stood beside him. "Mr. Langdon, when I first heard of Jacques's murder, Iwas terrified for Sophie's safety. Seeing her standing in my doorway tonight was the greatest reliefof my life. I cannot thank you enough."Langdon had no idea how to respond. Although he had offered to give Sophie and her grandmothertime to talk in private, Marie had asked him to stay and listen. My husband obviously trusted you,Mr. Langdon, so I do as well.
　　And so Langdon had remained, standing beside Sophie and listening in mute astonishment whileMarie told the story of Sophie's late parents. Incredibly, both had been from Merovingianfamilies—direct descendants of Mary Magdalene and Jesus Christ. Sophie's parents and ancestors,for protection, had changed their family names of Plantard and Saint-Clair. Their childrenrepresented the most direct surviving royal bloodline and therefore were carefully guarded by thePriory. When Sophie's parents were killed in a car accident whose cause could not be determined,the Priory feared the identity of the royal line had been discovered.
　　"Your grandfather and I," Marie had explained in a voice choked with pain, "had to make a gravedecision the instant we received the phone call. Your parents' car had just been found in the river."She dabbed at the tears in her eyes. "All six of us—including you two grandchildren—weresupposed to be traveling together in that car that very night. Fortunately we changed our plans atthe last moment, and your parents were alone. Hearing of the accident, Jacques and I had no way toknow what had really happened... or if this was truly an accident." Marie looked at Sophie. "Weknew we had to protect our grandchildren, and we did what we thought was best. Jacques reportedto the police that your brother and I had been in the car... our two bodies apparently washed off inthe current. Then your brother and I went underground with the Priory. Jacques, being a man ofprominence, did not have the luxury of disappearing. It only made sense that Sophie, being theeldest, would stay in Paris to be taught and raised by Jacques, close to the heart and protection ofthe Priory." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Separating the family was the hardest thing we ever had todo. Jacques and I saw each other only very infrequently, and always in the most secret of settings...
　　under the protection of the Priory. There are certain ceremonies to which the brotherhood alwaysstays faithful."Langdon had sensed the story went far deeper, but he also sensed it was not for him to hear. So hehad stepped outside. Now, gazing up at the spires of Rosslyn, Langdon could not escape the hollowgnaw of Rosslyn's unsolved mystery. Is the Grail really here at Rosslyn? And if so, where are theblade and chalice that Saunière mentioned in his poem?
　　"I'll take that," Marie said, motioning to Langdon's hand.
　　"Oh, thank you." Langdon held out his empty coffee cup.
　　She stared at him. "I was referring to your other hand, Mr. Langdon."Langdon looked down and realized he was holding Saunière's papyrus. He had taken it from thecryptex once again in hopes of seeing something he had missed earlier. "Of course, I'm sorry."Marie looked amused as she took the paper. "I know of a man at a bank in Paris who is probablyvery eager to see the return of this rosewood box. André Vernet was a dear friend of Jacques, andJacques trusted him explicitly. André would have done anything to honor Jacques's requests for thecare of this box."Including shooting me, Langdon recalled, deciding not to mention that he had probably broken thepoor man's nose. Thinking of Paris, Langdon flashed on the three sénéchaux who had been killedthe night before. "And the Priory? What happens now?""The wheels are already in motion, Mr. Langdon. The brotherhood has endured for centuries, and itwill endure this. There are always those waiting to move up and rebuild."All evening Langdon had suspected that Sophie's grandmother was closely tied to the operations ofthe Priory. After all, the Priory had always had women members. Four Grand Masters had beenwomen. The sénéchaux were traditionally men—the guardians—and yet women held far morehonored status within the Priory and could ascend to the highest post from virtually any rank.
　　Langdon thought of Leigh Teabing and Westminster Abbey. It seemed a lifetime ago. "Was theChurch pressuring your husband not to release the Sangreal documents at the End of Days?""Heavens no. The End of Days is a legend of paranoid minds. There is nothing in the Priorydoctrine that identifies a date at which the Grail should be unveiled. In fact the Priory has alwaysmaintained that the Grail should never be unveiled.""Never?" Langdon was stunned.
　　"It is the mystery and wonderment that serve our souls, not the Grail itself. The beauty of the Graillies in her ethereal nature." Marie Chauvel gazed up at Rosslyn now. "For some, the Grail is achalice that will bring them everlasting life. For others, it is the quest for lost documents and secrethistory. And for most, I suspect the Holy Grail is simply a grand idea... a glorious unattainabletreasure that somehow, even in today's world of chaos, inspires us.""But if the Sangreal documents remain hidden, the story of Mary Magdalene will be lost forever,"Langdon said.
　　"Will it? Look around you. Her story is being told in art, music, and books. More so every day. Thependulum is swinging. We are starting to sense the dangers of our history... and of our destructivepaths. We are beginning to sense the need to restore the sacred feminine." She paused. "Youmentioned you are writing a manuscript about the symbols of the sacred feminine, are you not?""I am."She smiled. "Finish it, Mr. Langdon. Sing her song. The world needs modern troubadours."Langdon fell silent, feeling the weight of her message upon him. Across the open spaces, a newmoon was rising above the tree line.
　　Turning his eyes toward Rosslyn, Langdon felt a boyish craving to know her secrets. Don't ask, hetold himself. This is not the moment. He glanced at the papyrus in Marie's hand, and then back atRosslyn.
　　"Ask the question, Mr. Langdon," Marie said, looking amused. "You have earned the right."Langdon felt himself flush.
　　"You want to know if the Grail is here at Rosslyn.""Can you tell me?"She sighed in mock exasperation. "Why is it that men simply cannot let the Grail rest?" Shelaughed, obviously enjoying herself. "Why do you think it's here?"Langdon motioned to the papyrus in her hand. "Your husband's poem speaks specifically ofRosslyn, except it also mentions a blade and chalice watching over the Grail. I didn't see anysymbols of the blade and chalice up there.""The blade and chalice?" Marie asked. "What exactly do they look like?"Langdon sensed she was toying with him, but he played along, quickly describing the symbols.
　　A look of vague recollection crossed her face. "Ah, yes, of course. The blade represents all that ismasculine. I believe it is drawn like this, no?" Using her index finger, she traced a shape on herpalm.
　　triangle"Yes," Langdon said. Marie had drawn the less common "closed" form of the blade, althoughLangdon had seen the symbol portrayed both ways.
　　"And the inverse," she said, drawing again on her palm, "is the chalice, which represents thefeminine."reverse triangle"Correct," Langdon said.
　　"And you are saying that in all the hundreds of symbols we have here in Rosslyn Chapel, these twoshapes appear nowhere?""I didn't see them.""And if I show them to you, will you get some sleep?"Before Langdon could answer, Marie Chauvel had stepped off the porch and was heading towardthe chapel. Langdon hurried after her. Entering the ancient building, Marie turned on the lights andpointed to the center of the sanctuary floor. "There you are, Mr. Langdon. The blade and chalice."Langdon stared at the scuffed stone floor. It was blank. "There's nothing here...."Marie sighed and began to walk along the famous path worn into the chapel floor, the same pathLangdon had seen the visitors walking earlier this evening. As his eyes adjusted to see the giantsymbol, he still felt lost. "But that's the Star of Dav—"Langdon stopped short, mute with amazement as it dawned on him.
　　Star of DavidThe blade and chalice.
　　Fused as one.
　　The Star of David... the perfect union of male and female... Solomon's Seal... marking the Holy ofHolies, where the male and female deities—Yahweh and Shekinah—were thought to dwell.
　　Langdon needed a minute to find his words. "The verse does point here to Rosslyn. Completely.
　　Perfectly."Marie smiled. "Apparently."The implications chilled him. "So the Holy Grail is in the vault beneath us?"She laughed. "Only in spirit. One of the Priory's most ancient charges was one day to return theGrail to her homeland of France where she could rest for eternity. For centuries, she was draggedacross the countryside to keep her safe. Most undignified. Jacques's charge when he became GrandMaster was to restore her honor by returning her to France and building her a resting place fit for aqueen.""And he succeeded?"Now her face grew serious. "Mr. Langdon, considering what you've done for me tonight, and ascurator of the Rosslyn Trust, I can tell you for certain that the Grail is no longer here."Langdon decided to press. "But the keystone is supposed to point to the place where the Holy Grailis hidden now. Why does it point to Rosslyn?""Maybe you're misreading its meaning. Remember, the Grail can be deceptive. As could my latehusband.""But how much clearer could he be?" he asked. "We are standing over an underground vaultmarked by the blade and chalice, underneath a ceiling of stars, surrounded by the art of MasterMasons. Everything speaks of Rosslyn.""Very well, let me see this mysterious verse." She unrolled the papyrus and read the poem aloud ina deliberate tone.
　　The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits.
　　The blade and chalice guarding o'er Her gates.
　　Adorned in masters' loving art, She lies.
　　She rests at last beneath the starry skies.
　　When she finished, she was still for several seconds, until a knowing smile crossed her lips. "Aah,Jacques."Langdon watched her expectantly. "You understand this?""As you have witnessed on the chapel floor, Mr. Langdon, there are many ways to see simplethings."Langdon strained to understand. Everything about Jacques Saunière seemed to have doublemeanings, and yet Langdon could see no further.
　　Marie gave a tired yawn. "Mr. Langdon, I will make a confession to you. I have never officiallybeen privy to the present location of the Grail. But, of course, I was married to a person ofenormous influence... and my women's intuition is strong." Langdon started to speak but Mariecontinued. "I am sorry that after all your hard work, you will be leaving Rosslyn without any realanswers. And yet, something tells me you will eventually find what you seek. One day it will dawnon you." She smiled. "And when it does, I trust that you, of all people, can keep a secret."There was a sound of someone arriving in the doorway. "Both of you disappeared," Sophie said,entering.
　　"I was just leaving," her grandmother replied, walking over to Sophie at the door. "Good night,princess." She kissed Sophie's forehead. "Don't keep Mr. Langdon out too late."Langdon and Sophie watched her grandmother walk back toward the fieldstone house. WhenSophie turned to him, her eyes were awash in deep emotion. "Not exactly the ending I expected."That makes two of us, he thought. Langdon could see she was overwhelmed. The news she hadreceived tonight had changed everything in her life. "Are you okay? It's a lot to take in."She smiled quietly. "I have a family. That's where I'm going to start. Who we are and where wecame from will take some time."Langdon remained silent.
　　"Beyond tonight, will you stay with us?" Sophie asked. "At least for a few days?"Langdon sighed, wanting nothing more. "You need some time here with your family, Sophie. I'mgoing back to Paris in the morning."She looked disappointed but seemed to know it was the right thing to do. Neither of them spoke fora long time. Finally Sophie reached over and, taking his hand, led him out of the chapel. Theywalked to a small rise on the bluff. From here, the Scottish countryside spread out before them,suffused in a pale moonlight that sifted through the departing clouds. They stood in silence,holding hands, both of them fighting the descending shroud of exhaustion.
　　The stars were just now appearing, but to the east, a single point of light glowed brighter than anyother. Langdon smiled when he saw it. It was Venus. The ancient Goddess shining down with hersteady and patient light.
　　The night was growing cooler, a crisp breeze rolling up from the lowlands. After a while, Langdonlooked over at Sophie. Her eyes were closed, her lips relaxed in a contented smile. Langdon couldfeel his own eyes growing heavy. Reluctantly, he squeezed her hand. "Sophie?"Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned to him. Her face was beautiful in the moonlight. She gavehim a sleepy smile. "Hi."Langdon felt an unexpected sadness to realize he would be returning to Paris without her. "I maybe gone before you wake up." He paused, a knot growing in his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm not verygood at—"Sophie reached out and placed her soft hand on the side of his face. Then, leaning forward, shekissed him tenderly on the cheek. "When can I see you again?"Langdon reeled momentarily, lost in her eyes. "When?" He paused, curious if she had any ideahow much he had been wondering the same thing. "Well, actually, next month I'm lecturing at aconference in Florence. I'll be there a week without much to do.""Is that an invitation?""We'd be living in luxury. They're giving me a room at the Brunelleschi."Sophie smiled playfully. "You presume a lot, Mr. Langdon."He cringed at how it had sounded. "What I meant—""I would love nothing more than to meet you in Florence, Robert. But on one condition." Her toneturned serious. "No museums, no churches, no tombs, no art, no relics.""In Florence? For a week? There's nothing else to do."Sophie leaned forward and kissed him again, now on the lips. Their bodies came together, softly atfirst, and then completely. When she pulled away, her eyes were full of promise.
　　"Right," Langdon managed. "It's a date."EpilogueRobert Langdon awoke with a start. He had been dreaming. The bathrobe beside his bed bore themonogram HOTEL RITZ PARIS. He saw a dim light filtering through the blinds. Is it dusk ordawn? he wondered.
　　Langdon's body felt warm and deeply contented. He had slept the better part of the last two days.
　　Sitting up slowly in bed, he now realized what had awoken him... the strangest thought. For dayshe had been trying to sort through a barrage of information, but now Langdon found himself fixedon something he'd not considered before.
　　Could it be?
　　He remained motionless a long moment.
　　Getting out of bed, he walked to the marble shower. Stepping inside, he let the powerful jetsmessage his shoulders. Still, the thought enthralled him.
　　Impossible.
　　Twenty minutes later, Langdon stepped out of the Hotel Ritz into Place Vend.me. Night wasfalling. The days of sleep had left him disoriented... and yet his mind felt oddly lucid. He hadpromised himself he would stop in the hotel lobby for a cafe au lait to clear his thoughts, butinstead his legs carried him directly out the front door into the gathering Paris night.
　　Walking east on Rue des Petits Champs, Langdon felt a growing excitement. He turned south ontoRue Richelieu, where the air grew sweet with the scent of blossoming jasmine from the statelygardens of the Palais Royal.
　　He continued south until he saw what he was looking for—the famous royal arcade—a glisteningexpanse of polished black marble. Moving onto it, Langdon scanned the surface beneath his feet.
　　Within seconds, he found what he knew was there—several bronze medallions embedded in theground in a perfectly straight line. Each disk was five inches in diameter and embossed with theletters N and S.
　　Nord. Sud.
　　He turned due south, letting his eye trace the extended line formed by the medallions. He beganmoving again, following the trail, watching the pavement as he walked. As he cut across the cornerof the Comédie-Fran.aise, another bronze medallion passed beneath his feet. Yes!
　　The streets of Paris, Langdon had learned years ago, were adorned with 135 of these bronzemarkers, embedded in sidewalks, courtyards, and streets, on a north-south axis across the city. Hehad once followed the line from Sacré-Coeur, north across the Seine, and finally to the ancientParis Observatory. There he discovered the significance of the sacred path it traced.
　　The earth's original prime meridian.
　　The first zero longitude of the world.
　　Paris's ancient Rose Line.
　　Now, as Langdon hurried across Rue de Rivoli, he could feel his destination within reach. Lessthan a block away.
　　The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits.
　　The revelations were coming now in waves. Saunière's ancient spelling of Roslin... the blade andchalice... the tomb adorned with masters' art.
　　Is that why Saunière needed to talk with me? Had I unknowingly guessed the truth?
　　He broke into a jog, feeling the Rose Line beneath his feet, guiding him, pulling him toward hisdestination. As he entered the long tunnel of Passage Richelieu, the hairs on his neck began tobristle with anticipation. He knew that at the end of this tunnel stood the most mysterious ofParisian monuments—conceived and commissioned in the 1980s by the Sphinx himself, Fran.oisMitterrand, a man rumored to move in secret circles, a man whose final legacy to Paris was a placeLangdon had visited only days before.
　　Another lifetime.
　　With a final surge of energy, Langdon burst from the passageway into the familiar courtyard andcame to a stop. Breathless, he raised his eyes, slowly, disbelieving, to the glistening structure infront of him.
　　The Louvre Pyramid.
　　Gleaming in the darkness.
　　He admired it only a moment. He was more interested in what lay to his right. Turning, he felt hisfeet again tracing the invisible path of the ancient Rose Line, carrying him across the courtyard tothe Carrousel du Louvre—the enormous circle of grass surrounded by a perimeter of neatlytrimmed hedges—once the site of Paris's primeval nature-worshipping festivals... joyous rites tocelebrate fertility and the Goddess.
　　Langdon felt as if he were crossing into another world as he stepped over the bushes to the grassyarea within. This hallowed ground was now marked by one of the city's most unusual monuments.
　　There in the center, plunging into the earth like a crystal chasm, gaped the giant inverted pyramidof glass that he had seen a few nights ago when he entered the Louvre's subterranean entresol.
　　La Pyramide Inversée.
　　Tremulous, Langdon walked to the edge and peered down into the Louvre's sprawling undergroundcomplex, aglow with amber light. His eye was trained not just on the massive inverted pyramid,but on what lay directly beneath it. There, on the floor of the chamber below, stood the tiniest ofstructures... a structure Langdon had mentioned in his manuscript.
　　Langdon felt himself awaken fully now to the thrill of unthinkable possibility. Raising his eyesagain to the Louvre, he sensed the huge wings of the museum enveloping him... hallways thatburgeoned with the world's finest art.
　　Da Vinci... Botticelli...
　　Adorned in masters' loving art, She lies.
　　Alive with wonder, he stared once again downward through the glass at the tiny structure below.
　　I must go down there!
　　Stepping out of the circle, he hurried across the courtyard back toward the towering pyramidentrance of the Louvre. The day's last visitors were trickling out of the museum.
　　Pushing through the revolving door, Langdon descended the curved staircase into the pyramid. Hecould feel the air grow cooler. When he reached the bottom, he entered the long tunnel thatstretched beneath the Louvre's courtyard, back toward La Pyramide Inversée.
　　At the end of the tunnel, he emerged into a large chamber. Directly before him, hanging down fromabove, gleamed the inverted pyramid—a breathtaking V-shaped contour of glass.
　　The Chalice.
　　Langdon's eyes traced its narrowing form downward to its tip, suspended only six feet above thefloor. There, directly beneath it, stood the tiny structure.
　　A miniature pyramid. Only three feet tall. The only structure in this colossal complex that had beenbuilt on a small scale.
　　Langdon's manuscript, while discussing the Louvre's elaborate collection of goddess art, had madepassing note of this modest pyramid. "The miniature structure itself protrudes up through the flooras though it were the tip of an iceberg—the apex, of an enormous, pyramidical vault, submergedbelow like a hidden chamber."Illuminated in the soft lights of the deserted entresol, the two pyramids pointed at one another, theirbodies perfectly aligned, their tips almost touching.
　　The Chalice above. The Blade below.
　　The blade and chalice guarding o'er Her gates.
　　Langdon heard Marie Chauvel's words. One day it will dawn on you.
　　He was standing beneath the ancient Rose Line, surrounded by the work of masters. What betterplace for Saunière to keep watch? Now at last, he sensed he understood the true meaning of theGrand Master's verse. Raising his eyes to heaven, he gazed upward through the glass to a glorious,star-filled night.
　　She rests at last beneath the starry skies.
　　Like the murmurs of spirits in the darkness, forgotten words echoed. The quest for the Holy Grailis the quest to kneel before the bones of Mary Magdalene. A journey to pray at the feet of theoutcast one.
　　With a sudden upwelling of reverence, Robert Langdon fell to his knees.
　　For a moment, he thought he heard a woman's voice... the wisdom of the ages... whispering upfrom the chasms of the earth.
深夜已经降临了罗斯林教堂。
罗伯特。兰登独自站在大卵石房子外面的走廊上，愉快地聆听着纱门后面传来的久别重逢的笑声。他手中托着一杯浓烈的巴西产的咖啡，这使他暂时消除了逐渐袭来的倦意，然而他觉得咖啡很快就会失去功效，因为疲惫已经深入到他的骨髓里。
"你怎么悄悄溜出来了？"突然背后有人在跟他说话。
他转身去看。原来是索菲的奶奶，她那银色的头发，在夜色里闪烁着微弱的白光。她原名玛丽。肖维尔，在过去的岁月里，至少有二十八年是这样。
兰登慵懒地给她一个微笑："我只想让你们单独聚一聚罢了。"他透过窗户，看到索菲在跟她的弟弟说话。
玛丽走过来，站在他的身旁。"兰登先生，我一听说索尼埃被谋杀，就特别担心索菲的安全。然而今天晚上，当我看到她站在家门口，真是再放心不过了。真的谢谢你。"兰登一时不知道该如何作答。尽管他本想让索菲和她奶奶多一点时间私下里谈谈，然而玛丽却让他留下来。"兰登先生，我丈夫显然信得过你，我也一样啊。"
兰登就这样留了下来，他站在索菲的身边。不发一言，却惊讶万分地倾听玛丽讲述索菲已故父母的故事。令人不可思议的是。他俩都来自墨洛温家族--即抹大拉的玛利亚与耶稣基督的嫡亲后裔。索菲的父母与他们的祖辈，出于安全的考虑，将他们家族的姓普兰塔得和圣。卡莱尔给改了。他们的子女是皇家血统至今仍然健在的最嫡亲的家属，因此得到了郇山隐修会的严密保护。当索菲的父母死于无法确定是什么原因造成的车祸时，郇山隐修会开始担心他们皇家血统的身份是不是被发现了。
"我和你祖父，"玛丽解释说，她痛苦到几乎要哽咽的地步："一接到电话，就不得不做出重要决定。我们是在河里找到你父母的车的。"她抹去眼中的泪水，继续说："我们六人--包括你们孙子孙女两个--原打算一块坐车出去旅行。不过，幸运的是，我们在最后时刻改变了计划，结果就你们父母两人去了。雅克和我听说出了车祸，根本不知道究竟发生了什么事情……也不知道究竟是不是真的车祸。"玛丽注视着索菲说："但我们知道，我们必须保护好孙子孙女，于是采取了自认为最可靠的办法。你祖父打电话报了警，说你弟弟和我都在车上……我们两人的尸体显然是被湍急的水流冲走了。然后我和你弟弟与郇山隐修会一道隐蔽起来。雅克是很有名望的人，所以就难得有隐姓埋名的幸运了。不过，最主要的原因还是索菲你作为家里的老大，要留在巴黎接受教育，由雅克抚养长大，这样就更靠近郇山隐修会，以便能得到他们的保护。"她转而低声地说："将一家人分开是我们做出的最艰难的选择。雅克和我很少会面，即使见面，也是在最隐蔽的场合……在郇山隐修会的保护下。这个组织的规章制度，其成员总是能严格遵守的。"兰登感到她叙述的故事越来越切入主题了，但他同时觉得，这不是讲给他听的，于是他来到了外面。此刻，他凝视着罗斯林教堂的尖塔，它身上藏着的不解之谜尚未解开，这样的事实折磨着他。圣杯果真在罗斯林教堂里吗？如果答案是肯定的，那索尼埃在诗中提到的剑刃与圣杯又在哪里呢？
"让我来拿吧。"玛丽朝兰登的手打了个手势。
"哦，谢谢。"兰登把空咖啡杯递了过去。
玛丽盯着他："兰登先生，我是指你另一只手拿着的东西呢。"
兰登低下头，这才意识到手里正拿着索尼埃留下的莎草纸。他又把它取出来，希望能找出一些以前忽略的东西。"对不起，这当然要给你。"
玛丽接过莎草纸，似乎被逗乐了。"我在巴黎时认识一个人，他可能急于想找回这个紫檀木盒子呢。安德烈。韦尔内是雅克的好朋友，雅克显然信任他。为了不负雅克的托付，保管好这个盒子，安德烈愿意做任何事情。"甚至也愿意朝我开枪。兰登回想往事，他决定还是不提他可能砸坏了那可怜家伙鼻子一事。一想起巴黎，他的脑海中就闪现出前天晚上被杀死的三名护卫长的身影。"郇山隐修会呢？现在怎么啦？"
"兰登先生，历史的巨轮已经启动了。这个组织已经忍耐了数百年，它会经受住这个考验，总会有人挺身而出，来进行重建工作。"兰登整个晚上都在怀疑，索菲的奶奶是否和郇山隐修会的运转有着千丝万缕的联系。
不管怎么说，这个组织历来都有女性的加入。在它历任的领导者当中，就有四位是女性。
护卫长传统上由男性充任--即担任保卫工作--而女人则占据了更高的地位，并可能担任最高的职务。
兰登想到了雷。提彬以及威斯敏斯特教堂。这似乎已是上辈子的事情了。"莫非是天主教会胁迫你的丈夫，叫他不要在"世界末日"来临时将《圣杯文献》泄露出去？"
"我的上帝，当然不是。所谓"世界末日"，不过是一些偏执狂臆想出来的东西罢了。在郇山隐修会的文献里，根本没有确定将圣杯公之于众的明确日期。实际上，郇山隐修会从不赞同将圣杯予以公开。""从不？"兰登目瞪口呆。
"为我们灵魂服务的不在于圣杯本身，而是它身上藏着的谜，以及令人惊叹的东西。圣杯美就美在它虚无飘渺的本质。"玛丽。肖维尔这时抬起头，凝望着罗斯林教堂，继续说道："对某些人来说，圣杯将使他们永生；而对其他人来说，它是寻找记载了一段鲜为人知的历史但却已经散失的文献的旅程。但对大多数人而言，我怀疑圣杯只是寄托了一种伟大的思想……是遥不可及的绚丽瑰宝，即使在今天这个喧嚣的世界里，它也能给我们带来某些有益的启迪。""不过，如果继续让《圣杯文献》秘而不宣的话，那么，抹大拉的玛利亚的历史不就永远消失在历史的尘埃中了吗？"兰登说。
"是吗？还是看看你身边吧。你会看到，人们正通过艺术、音乐以及著书的形式讲述她的历史。而且天天这样，日日如此。时钟的钟摆在摇摆，我们开始感到历史所面临的危险……感到我们已走上了毁灭性的道路。我们开始觉得有必要恢复神圣女性的原来面貌。"她停了片刻，"你跟我说过你在写一本有关神圣女性象征的作品是不是？"
"是的。"
她微笑着说："兰登先生，那你就把它写完，继续吟唱赞美她的歌谣，我们的世界需要当代的吟游诗人。"兰登沉默了，他感到了她话里的分量。在空旷的天那头，一轮新月正从树梢上冉冉升起。他把目光转移到罗斯林教堂，心里升腾起一股孩子般的渴望，渴望能了解蕴藏在它身上的诸多谜团。"别问了，现在还不是时候。"他这样告诉自己。他瞄了一眼玛丽手中的莎草纸，然后又望着罗斯林教堂。
"兰登先生，有什么问题你就提吧。"玛丽高兴地说："你有这样的权利。"
兰登不觉脸红了起来。
"想知道圣杯是不是在罗斯林教堂对吧？"
"那你能告诉我吗？"
玛丽假装愠怒地叹了口气："为什么人们就不能放圣杯一马呢？"她笑出声来，显然被自己逗乐了。"你凭什么认为圣杯是在这里呢？"
兰登指了指她手里的莎草纸，说："你丈夫在诗里清楚地提到了罗斯林教堂，此外他也提到守护着圣杯的剑刃与圣杯。可我在这里却没有看到什么剑刃与圣杯的标志。""剑刃与圣杯？"玛丽问道："那它们到底是什么样子呢？"
兰登知道她在戏弄他，但还是配合着将戏一路演了下去，飞快地对这些标志物描述了一番。
玛丽的脸上露出若有所思的神情："啊，是的，当然了。剑刃代表的是具有男性特征的东西，我相信画出来就是这个样子，对不对？"她用食指在手心里描画了一个图形。
△"对的。"兰登说。玛丽给他画了一个不同寻常"不为外人所知"的剑刃的图案，尽管他曾经看过别人用两种方式来描绘这个图形。
"而倒过来，"她说着，又在手心里画起来："就是圣杯了，它所代表的是女性。"
▽"你说得没错。"兰登说。
"可你却说在我们罗斯林教堂成百上千的符号里，竟然看不到这两种形状的东西。"
"我是没见过。"
"那如果我告诉你，你就会安心睡个稳觉吧？"
兰登还来不及回答，玛丽。肖维尔已经离开走廊，向教堂走去。兰登急忙跟在她的后面，进入了那座古老的建筑物。玛丽拧亮灯，指着礼拜堂的中心地面。"兰登先生，你快过来看看你要找的剑刃与圣杯。"兰登注视着那被磨损了的石板地面，却是空空如也。"这里什么东西也没有啊……"
玛丽叹了口气，开始沿那条有名的破旧的小道往教堂的地面走去。今天晚上天刚黑时，兰登看到游客们也从这同一条小道上走过。他转移了视线去看那巨大的标志物，然而还是感到茫然。"可那是大卫之星--"在心里暗暗称奇。
△▽▽△△▽"剑刃与圣杯。合二为一。"
"大卫之星……男女之间的完美结合……所罗门之印……被认为是男性之神的耶和华与女性之神的舍金纳居住的地方，至圣所的标志物。"过了一分钟，兰登才想出一句话来："这首诗确实是指罗斯林教堂，一点没错。"
玛丽微微一笑："显然是这样嘛。"
然而这些提示却让他感到心寒："这么说圣杯就在我们脚下的地下宫殿里了？"
玛丽笑起来："它只存在于我们的灵魂里。郇山隐修会肩负了一项最古老的使命，就是希望有朝一日将圣杯送回到它的故土法国，并希望它能够在那里永远得到安息。几百年来，我们为了保护它的安全，不得不带着它在乡间辗转，这样做实在有损它的尊严。雅克自担任大师以来，就一心想将它带回法国，并为它建造一处女王规格的安息之所，希望以此来恢复它的名誉。""那他成功了没有？"
玛丽的表情变得严肃起来："兰登先生，考虑到今晚你帮了我大忙，作为罗斯林监管会的会长，我可以明确地告诉你，圣杯已经不在这里了。"兰登决定穷追不舍："但拱心石所指的地方应该是圣杯藏着的地方。可它为什么偏说是罗斯林教堂呢？"
"也许你误解它的含义了。要知道，圣杯也会骗人的，就像我丈夫有时也会骗人一样。
""但他怎会说得这么清楚呢？"他问道："我们站在一座以剑刃与圣杯为标志的地下宫殿之上，雕满各种星球的天花板之下，石匠大师们创作的艺术结晶的包围之中。这一切都是在暗指罗斯林教堂哪。""那好，还是让我们来看看这首神秘的诗吧。"她展开莎草纸，并装腔作势地大声读了起来。
"圣杯在古老的罗斯林教堂下面等待。
剑刃和圣杯一道看护着她的门外。
她躺在大师们令人钟爱的杰作的怀抱里，在繁星闪烁的天底下终于得到了安息。"她读完后，怔了几秒，嘴角方露出一丝会意的微笑。"哦，雅克啊雅克。"
兰登满怀期待地望着她："你知道了？"
"兰登先生，教堂的地面你也亲眼看见了，我们看待简单的东西，可以有许多种方法。
"兰登努力想明白她的话。有关雅克。索尼埃的一切，似乎都有双重含义，然而兰登却看不出来。
玛丽倦了，她打了一个呵欠，说："兰登先生，我全跟你说了吧。圣杯现在埋藏的地方，我从未正式过问过。不过我可以肯定的是，我嫁给了一位声名显赫的男人……女人的直觉往往是很敏锐的。"兰登想开口说上几句，然而玛丽没有停。"让我难过的是，你在付出了诸多努力之后，却还得一无所获地离开罗斯林教堂。不过我知道，你最终会寻找到你要寻找的答案。有朝一日你终会明白的。"她微微笑了笑："而等你醒悟过来时，我相信所有像你这样的人。都会将它的秘密藏在心底。"这时传来有人走到门口的声音。"我说你们俩跑哪里去了哩。"索菲走了进来，说。
"我正想走呢。"她奶奶回答说，一边向站在门口的索菲走了过去。"晚安，我的公主。
"她吻了索菲的额头，嘱咐着说："别让兰登先生在外面耽搁到很晚。"兰登与索菲看着她的奶奶回到那幢大卵石房子里。随后，索菲掉头注视着他，眼里充满了深情。"我真没想到结局竟然是这样。"
不过倒是撮合了我们两个呢，兰登心想。他看得出索菲百感交集。今天晚上。她得到的消息已将她的一生都给改变了。"你还好吧？还有许多东西需要你慢慢领会呢。"
索菲恬静地笑了，"我有家了。那将是我开始的地方。我们是什么人，又是从哪里来，都需要花些时间去理解。"兰登保持着沉默。
"过了今晚，你还会和我们呆在一起吗？"她问道："你至少会跟我们住几天吧？"
兰登叹了口气，他已无所求了。"索菲，你需要花一点时间陪你的家人。早上我就回巴黎去。"她看起来有些失望，但似乎知道他说得没错。很长一段时间，两人都不说话。终于，索菲探过身子，抓住他的手，带他走出了教堂。他们来到这座悬崖峭壁上的一块小高地。
他们从这里看过去，苏格兰的乡村，正沐浴在从散开的云中泄漏出来的银色月光里。他们就这样一言不发地站着，手牵着手，共同抵御这突如其来的倦意。
这时星星也出来了，但在西方的天空里，有一颗星星发出清冷的光，比其他任何星星发出的光都要明亮。兰登看到它，默默地笑了。那是启明星--这位古老的女神，正一如既往而有耐心地散发出皎洁的光芒。
夜渐渐凉了，清爽的风，正从下面的山谷里涌了上来。过了一会，兰登才看了看索菲，她紧闭着双眼，嘴角松弛，流露出一丝满足的微笑。兰登感到眼皮逐渐沉重起来。他很不情愿地抓住了她的手："索菲？"
她缓缓地睁开眼睛，面对着他。她的脸，在银色的月光下，是那么的美。她露出疲倦的微笑。"嗯。"
想到将独自一人回巴黎，兰登突然莫名地悲哀起来。"你醒来之前我可能就走。"他停住了，喉咙像是打了一个结。"我很抱歉，我并不是很擅长--"
索菲伸出手，放在他的脸上，然后俯过身，温柔地吻了他的脸庞。"我什么时候能再见到你呢？"
兰登很快地在心里盘算起来，脸上却露出一副茫然的神态。"什么时候？"他停下来，心里很是好奇，她莫非知道他一直在考虑同样的问题？"这个嘛，实际上，下个月我要去佛罗伦萨参加一次会议。在那里有一个星期我将无所事事。""你是在邀请我吗？"
"我们将在那里过奢华的生活。他们将在布鲁内莱斯基酒店给我预订一间房间。"
索菲顽皮地笑了："兰登先生，你太自作主张了吧。"
他讨好地说："我是想--"
"罗伯特，我十二分的愿意到佛罗伦萨去见你。不过你得答应我一个条件。"她的语气变得严肃起来："你可别带我到处去看什么博物馆啦、教堂啦、坟墓啦，或者去看绘画及文物什么的。""你是说在佛罗伦萨？我们就这样打发一个星期的时间？不过我们也没其他事情可做啊。"索菲俯身向前，又吻了他，不过这次吻的是嘴唇。俩人的身子缠绕在一块，起初是轻柔地接触，最后完全贴在一起。索菲抽身走开时，她的眼里充满了憧憬。
"好啦。"兰登故作轻松地说道："我们的约会就这么定了。"
尾声罗伯特突然惊醒过来，他方才一直在做梦。床边放着一件浴衣，上面标有"巴黎丽兹酒店"的字样。他看到一束微弱的光，从百叶窗的缝隙里射进来。"是早晨还是晚上？"他疑惑地想。
他感到身体既温暖，又相当的惬意。过去两天大部分时间他一直在睡眠。他缓缓地从床上坐起，终于明白是什么东西将他惊醒--原来是萦绕在他头脑中最稀奇古怪的想法。
几天来他一直试图从林林总总的信息里理出个头绪来，然而现在，兰登发现他一心专注于他以前未曾考虑过的东西。
可能吗？
他坐着一动不动，就这样坐了良久。
他终于爬下床，向大理石淋浴器走去。他走过去，让强劲的水流摩挲着他的肩膀。然而那种想法仍然在心里缠绕着他。
那是不可能的。
二十分钟后，兰登走出了丽兹酒店，来到旺多姆广场。夜色降临了。几天来过多的睡眠使他迷失了方向感一-然而他的头脑却异常地清晰。他原本许诺自己在酒店大厅里喝上一杯牛奶咖啡，以便能忘却那些稀奇古怪的想法，然而他的双腿却不听使唤，他径直走出前门。走进了巴黎暮色渐拢的苍茫里。
兰登向东行走在碎田街上，心情越发激动起来。他掉转方向，往南面的黎塞留大道走去，正在盛开的茉莉花，从庄严肃穆的皇宫花园里散发出淡淡的清香，使一路上的空气也弥漫着无比的芬芳。
他继续朝南走去，直到看见他要寻找的那座有名的皇家拱廊。一大片被擦过的黑色大理石，闪烁着熠熠的光芒。他走上前，飞快地打量着脚下的地面。不一会，他便发现他所知道的东西就在那里--几枚铜徽章镶嵌在地上，排成了笔直的一行。每个徽章的直径有五英寸长，并突显出许多N 和S 的字母。
N 代表南，S 代表北。
他转向正南方，眼睛循着由大徽章组成的向外伸展开去的直线望去。他再次挪动了脚步，沿着大徽章留下的踪迹，他一边走，一边注视着人行道。当他抄近路经过法兰西剧院的角落时，他的双脚又踩到了另一块铜质徽章。"对了！"
许多年前，兰登就已经听说，在巴黎的大街小巷上，镶嵌了135 个这样的铜质徽章，它们散布在人行道、庭院及各条大街上，组成南北交叉的轴线，横跨了整个城市。他曾经从圣心大教堂出发，沿着这条线往北穿过塞纳河，最后来到古老的巴黎天文台。在那里，他发现了这条神圣的道路所具有的意义。
它是地球上最早的本初子午线。
是世界上第一条零度经线。
也是巴黎古老的"玫瑰线"。
此刻，当兰登匆匆地经过里沃利大道，他感到自己所要寻找的目标唾手可得，它就在还不到一个街区开外的前方。
圣杯在古老的罗斯林教堂下面等待。
这时，各种各样的启示，如索尼埃沿用Roslin 这一古老的拼法……剑刃与圣杯……
装饰了能工巧匠们的艺术结晶的坟墓，恰如潮水一般向他涌来。
那就是索尼埃之所以找我谈话的原因吗？我无意中触及到了历史的真相吗？
他突然小跑起来，觉得那条神圣的"玫瑰线"就在他的脚下，指引着他，推动他向前方的目标奔去。当他进入黎塞留路下面那条长长的隧道时，他感到脖子上的毛发因为期待而直竖起来。因为他知道，在这长长的隧道尽头，耸立着巴黎最具神秘色彩的一座纪念碑--它是20 世纪80 年代有"斯芬克司"之称的弗朗索瓦。密特朗构想并委托建造的；根据谣传，密特朗参与了秘密组织的内部活动，他给巴黎留下的最后一份遗产，就位于兰登仅仅几天前曾参观过的地方。
却似乎已是前世今生。
兰登使尽最后的力量，从过道上冲进那个熟悉的庭院，然后停了下来。他气喘吁吁，慢慢抬起双眼，有点不相信地看着竖立在他面前并闪烁着光芒的建筑物。
那是卢浮宫的金字塔。
在黑暗中闪着微弱的光。
他只是欣赏了片刻。不过，他更感兴趣的是它左边的东西。他转过身，觉得自己的脚步又开始沿着古老的"玫瑰线"这条看不见的道路移动起来，并领着他走过那间庭院，来到了卢浮宫地下购物商场--这块四周被修剪整齐的篱笆包围起来，宽阔而长满青草的圆形地带，它曾经是巴黎最古老的崇拜自然神进行节日庆祝的所在地……是为了歌颂生命力以及女神而举行欢乐仪式的所在地。
兰登走过灌木丛林，来到那片被萋萋芳草围起来的圆形地带，他觉得自己仿佛来到了另一个世界。这块圣地，如今已被这座城市最不同寻常的一座纪念碑打上了鲜明的标记。
在这块圣地的中央，一座巨大的倒立杯形金字塔，张着大口，像是在地上挖了一个水晶玻璃的深坑。在几天前的晚上，这个倒立的金字塔，他在进入卢浮宫的地下阁楼地就已经看过了。
倒立的金字塔。
兰登颤颤巍巍地走到金字塔的边缘，低头看着卢浮宫内向外延伸开去的地下建筑，它发出琥珀色的光芒。他的视线并没停留在庞大的倒立金字塔上，而是直接锁定在正处于金字塔下方的那些物体上。在它之下宫殿的地面上，矗立着一幢很小的建筑物--这是他曾在书稿里提到的一幢建筑物。
兰登觉得自己此时已完全清醒过来，一想到那种不可思议的可能性，他就激动得几乎要发抖。他再次抬头望着卢浮宫，觉得自己仿佛被博物馆巨大的双翼包围起来了……被两侧装饰了世界上最优秀的艺术作品的走廊包围起来了。
在这些著名的艺术家中，有达。芬奇……波提切利……
她躺在大师们领人钟爱的杰作的怀抱里。
他满怀疑惑，再次低下头，透过玻璃注视着下面的小型建筑物。
我得下去看看！
他走出那个圆形草地，匆匆地穿过庭院，往后撤回到卢浮宫那高耸入云的金字塔形人口。当天的最后一批游客，正稀稀拉拉地从这家博物馆里走了出来。
兰登推开旋转的门，沿着弯弯曲曲的阶梯走进了金字塔。他感到空气更加凉爽起来了。他来到金字塔的底部，进入向卢浮宫博物馆院子下面延伸的长长的地下通道，往回向倒立的金字塔走。
他来到通道的尽头，走进一间巨大的地下室。就在他的面前，倒立的金字塔闪着光芒，从上面垂下来--那是一个呈V 字形的大得惊人的玻璃杯的轮廓。
圣杯！
兰登从上而下，顺着逐渐变小的圣杯望过去，直到它的底部。圣杯离地面只有6 英尺高。就在它的下方，矗立着小型的建筑。
那是一个微型金字塔。只有3 英尺高。这座庞大的地下室里唯一的建筑物，是以很小的规模建造起来的。
兰登的书稿，在谈到卢浮宫里有关女神艺术的精致收藏品时，就顺带浮光掠影地提到了这个小小的金字塔。"这座小小的建筑物从地底下凸出来，仿佛是冰山上的一角--是一个巨大的金字塔形拱顶的顶部，其绝大部分淹没在它的下面，就像是一个隐秘的房间。"在已废弃的阁楼里微弱光线的照耀下，两个金字塔彼此相对，它们的塔身组成一条完美的直线，两者的顶部也几乎靠在了一起。
圣杯在上，剑刃在下。
剑刃和圣杯一道看护着她的门外。
这时，兰登听到了玛丽。肖维尔说过的话。"有朝一日你终会明白的。"
现在，他就站在这条古老的、四周被大师们的杰作所环绕的"玫瑰线"的下面。对索尼埃而言，还能找到比这更好的地方来保护他的秘密吗？他终于明白这位大师留下来的诗歌的确切含义。他抬头望着天空，透过那些玻璃，凝视着壮观的、星光满天的夜空。
在繁星闪烁的天底下终于得到了安息。
那些曾被遗忘的诗句，犹如黑暗中幽灵的喃喃自语，此刻在兰登的脑海里回响着。"寻找圣杯之旅，就是希望能到抹大拉的玛利亚坟墓前跪拜的探索之旅，是想在这位被放逐者脚下祈祷的探索之旅。"罗伯特陡然升起了一股敬意，他不由自主地跪了下去。
他仿佛听到了一个女人的声音……它饱含了经年的智慧……轻轻地，从地面的裂口处冉冉升起……