The Da Vinci Code Chapter 21-23

CHAPTER 21The Mona Lisa.For an instant, standing in the exit stairwell, Sophie forgot completely to a greater extent or less move to leave the Louvre.Her shock e genuinelyplace the anagrammatise was matched sole(prenominal) by her embarrassment at non having decode the message herself. Sophies expertise in complex cryptanalysis had caused her to wholly in all e rattlingwhere touch simplistic word games, and as heretofore she knew she should retort seen it. After every, she was no stranger to anagrammatize especially in English.When she was modern, often her granddaddy would use anagram games to h iodine her English spelling. Once he had written the English word planets and told Sophie that an dum stoping sixty- both other English words of varying lengths could be organize using those same garner. Sophie had spent three days with an English dictionary until she shew them all.I cant imagine, Langdon said, staring at the print come on, how your gramps creat ed such an intricate anagram in the minutes onward he died.Sophie knew the explanation, and the realization do her feel even worse. I should eat up seen thisShe now recalled that her grandad a wordplay aficionado and art loer had entertained himself as a young man by creating anagrams of storied works of art. In fact, one of his anagrams had gotten him in trouble once when Sophie was a little girl. maculation being interviewed by an American art magazine, Sauniere had expressed his distaste for the modernist cubist movement by noning that Picassos masterpiece Les Demoiselles dAvignon was a perfect anagram of slimy meaningless doodles.Picasso fans were not amused.My grandpa probably created this Mona Lisa anagram spacious ago, Sophie said, glancing up at Langdon. And tonight he was forced to use it as a makeshift code.Her grandads region had called come in from beyond with chilling precision.da Vinci Da Vinci The Mona Lisawhy his last words to her referenced the fa mous painting, Sophie had no idea, moreover she could think of yet one possibility. A disturbing one.Those were not his final words .Was she supposed to visit the Mona Lisa? Had her granddad left her a message in that location? The idea seemed perfectly arguable. After all, the famous painting hung in the Salle des Etats a private viewing chamber accessible completely from the Grand Gallery. In fact, Sophie now realized, the doors that inconsiderateed into the chamber were situated only twenty meters from where her grandfather had been found of a sudden.He easily could pick out visited the Mona Lisa before he died.Sophie gazed tail up the emergency stairwell and tangle torn. She knew she should usher Langdon from the museum immediately, and yet instinct urged her to the contrary. As Sophie recalled her beginning childhood visit to the Denon Wing, she realized that if her grandfather had a mystery to tell her, few places on earth do a more apt rendezvous than Da Vinci s Mona Lisa.Shes just a little bit farther, her grandfather had whispered, clutching Sophies tiny hand as he led her by means of the deserted museum after hours.Sophie was six years old. She tangle small and insignificant as she gazed up at the enormous ceilings and eat up at the dizzying decorate. The empty museum frightened her, although she was not ab come forth to let 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 Louvres near famous room. condescension her grandfathers unadorned excitement, Sophie wanted to go home. She had seen pictures of the Mona Lisa in books and didnt comparable it at all. She couldnt understand why everyone make such a fuss.Cest ennuyeux, Sophie grumbled.Boring, he corrected. french at school. English at home.Le Louvre, cest pas chez moi she challenged.He gave her a hackneyed laugh. Right you argon. Then lets speak English just for fun.Sophie p extincted and kept walking. As they entered the Salle des Etats, her eyeball scanned the narrow room and settled on the obvious spot of honor the center of the right-hand wall, where a lone portraying hung behind a protective Plexiglas wall. Her grandfather paused in the admittance and motioned toward the painting.Go ahead, Sophie. Not mevery people get a peril to visit her alone.Swallowing her apprehension, Sophie moved slowly cross expressions the room. After everything shed heard around the Mona Lisa, she felt as if she were approaching royalty. Arriving in front of the protective Plexiglas, Sophie held her tip and looked up, taking it in all at once.Sophie was not sure what she had pass judgment to feel, only if it well-nigh certainly was not this. No thrill of amazement. No instant of wonder. The famous face looked as it did in books. She stood in silence for what felt akin forever, waiting for something to happen.So what do you think? her grandfather whispered, a rriving behind her. Beautiful, yes? Shes too little. Sauniere smiled. Youre little and youre beautiful.I am not beautiful, she thought. Sophie scorned her red hair and freckles, and she was bigger than all the boys in her class. She looked certify at the Mona Lisa and shook her head. Shes even worse than in the books. Her face is brumeux.Foggy, her grandfather tutored.Foggy, Sophie repeated, perspicacious the conversation would not continue until she repeated her new vocabulary word.Thats called the sfumato hyphen of painting, he told her, and its very hard to do. Leonardo Da Vinci was better at it than anyone.Sophie good-tempered didnt resembling the painting. She looks equal she knows something like when kids at school have a unfathomable.Her grandfather laughed. Thats part of why she is so famous. People like to guess why she is smiling.Do you know why shes smiling?Maybe. Her grandfather winked. Someday Ill tell you all or so it. Sophie stamped her foot. I told you I dont like secrets Princess, he smiled. Life is filled with secrets. You cant apprehend them all at once.Im sacking back up, Sophie declared, her voice hollow in the stairwell. To the Mona Lisa? Langdon recoiled. Now? Sophie considered the risk. Im not a murder suspect. Ill take my chances. I take in to understand what my grandfather was trying to tell me.What about the embassy?Sophie felt guilty turning Langdon into a ephemeral only to abandon him, exclusively she power saw no other option. She pointed mess the stairs to a metal door. Go through that door, and follow the lighted exit signs. My grandfather used to bring me d possess here. The signs lead ace you to a security turnstile. Its monodirectional and unfolds out. She handed Langdon her car keys. Mine is the red SmartCar in the employee lot. Directly outside this bulkhead. Do you know how to get to the 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 at the Mona Lisa some kind of clue as to who killed him. Or why Im in danger. Or what happenedto my family. I have to go see. exactly if he wanted to tell you why you were in danger, why wouldnt he simply write it on the floor where he died? Why this complicated word game?Whatever my grandfather was trying to tell me, I dont think he wanted anyone else to hear it. Not even the police. Clearly, her grandfather had done everything in his power to send a confidential infection directly to her.He had written it in code, included her secret initials, and told her to note Robert Langdon a wise command, considering the American symbologist had deciphered his code. As strange as it may expire, Sophie said, I think he wants me to get to the Mona Lisabefore anyone else does. Ill come. No We dont know how recollective the Grand Gallery pass on stay empty. You have to go.Langdon seemed hesitant, as if his sustain academic curiosity were threatening to override sound judgment and powderpuff him back into Faches hands.Go. Now. Sophie gave him a grateful smile. Ill see you at the embassy, Mr. Langdon. Langdon looked displeased. Ill meet you there on one condition, he replied, his voice stern. She paused, startled. Whats that?That you occluded front calling me Mr.Langdon.Sophie discover the faint hint of a lopsided grin growing across Langdons face, and she felt herself smile back. Good luck, Robert.When Langdon reached the landing at the bottomland of the stairs, the obvious smell of linseed oil and plaster dust assaulted his nostrils. Ahead, an illuminated sallying forth/EXIT displayed an arrow pointing waste 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 discordant states of repair. To the left, Langdon saw a suite of studios that resembled Harvard art classrooms rows of easels, paintings, palettes, framing tools an art company strain.As he moved down the hallway, Langdon wondered if at any split second he tycoon awake with a start in his kip down in Cambridge. The entire evening had felt like a anomalous dream. Im about to dash out of the Louvrea fugitive.Saunieres clever anagrammatic message was mollify on his mind, and Langdon wondered what Sophie would find at the Mona Lisaif anything. She had seemed certain her grandfather meant for 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.Sauniere had written Langdons name on the floor, commanding Sophie to find him. But why? Merely so Langdon could encourage her break an anagram?It seemed quite unlikely.After all, Sauniere had no reason to think Langdon was especially good at anagrams. Weve never even met.More important, Sophie had stated flat out that she should have broken the anagram on her own. It had been Sophie who spotted the Fibonacci sequence, and, no doubt, Sophie who, if given 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 more certain about this, and yet the conclusion left an obvious goggle lapse in the logic of Saunieres actions.Why me? Langdon wondered, heading down the hall. Why was Saunieres dying deficiency that his estranged granddaughter find me? What is it that Sauniere thinks I know?With an unheralded jolt, Langdon stopped short. Eyes wide, he dug in his pocket and yanked out the computer printout. He stared at the last line of Saunieres message. P. S. Find Robert Langdon. He fixated on two letters. P. S. In that instant, Langdon felt Saunieres puzzling mix of symbolization fall into stern focus. Like a peal of thunder, a careers price of symbology and history came crashing down around him. Everything Jacques Sauniere had done tonight suddenly gruesomee perfect sense.Langdons thou ghts 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 didnt matter.Without hesitation, Langdon broke into a sprint back toward the stairs.CHAPTER 22Kneeling 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 central section the nave led directly to the main altar, where it was transversely intersected by a shorter section, cognize as the transept. The intersection of nave and transept occurred directly beneath the main 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. bend his head to the right, he gazed into the south transept, toward the open area of floor beyond the end of the pews, to the object his victims had described. at that pl ace it is.Embedded in the gray granite floor, a thin polished strip of spunk glistened in the stone a golden line slanting across the churchs floor. The line bore graduate markings, like a ruler. It was a gnomon, Silas had been told, a pagan astronomical machination like a sundial. Tourists, scientists, historians, and pagans from around the world came to Saint-Sulpice to gaze upon this famous line.The travel Line.Slowly, Silas let his eyes trace the path of the brass strip as it made its way across the floor from his right to left, slanting in front of him at an awkward angle, entirely at odds with the unity of the church. Slicing across the main altar itself, the line looked to Silas like a slash wound across a beautiful face. The strip cleaved the manduction rail in two and then crossed the entire comprehensiveness of the church, finally reaching the corner of the north transept, where it arrived at the base of a most unexpected structure.A colossal Egyptian obelisk.Here, the glistening lift Line took a ninety-degree vertical turn and continued directly up the face of the obelisk itself, ascending thirty-three feet to the very tip of the pointed apex, where it finally ceased.The come up Line, Silas thought. The brotherhood hid the sand at the lift Line. forward tonight, when Silas told the instructor that the Priory keystone was hidden inside Saint- Sulpice, the Teacher had sounded doubtful. But when Silas added that the brothers had all given him a precise location, with relation to a brass line running through Saint-Sulpice, the Teacher had gasped with revelation. You speak of the pink wine LineThe Teacher quickly told Silas of Saint-Sulpices famed architectural oddity a strip of brass that segmented the sanctuary on a perfect north-south axis. It was an ancient sundial of sorts, a vestige of the pagan temple that had once stood on this very spot. The suns rays, gleaming through the oculus on the south wall, moved farther down the line eve ry 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 had been associated with maps and guiding souls in the proper direction. The Compass Rose drawn on intimately every map indicated North, East, South, and West. Originally known as the Wind Rose, it denoted the directions of the thirty-two winds, blowing from the directions of eight major winds, eight half-winds, and xvi quarter-winds. When diagrammed inside a circle, these thirty-two points of the compass perfectly resembled a traditional thirty-two petal rose bloom. To this day, the fundamental navigational tool was silent known as a Compass Rose, its northernmost direction still marked by an arrowhead or, more commonly, the symbol of the masthead.On a musket ball, a Rose Line also called a meridian or longitude was any imaginary line drawn from the North Pole to the South Pole. on that point were, of course, an in finite number of Rose Lines because every point on the globe could have a longitude drawn through it connecting north and south poles. The principal for early navigators was which of these lines would be called the Rose Line the zero longitude 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 entire world had passed directly through Paris, and through the Church of Saint-Sulpice. The brass marker in Saint-Sulpice was a memorial to the worlds first prime meridian, and although Greenwich 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 one was there . For a moment, he thought he heard a rustling in the choir balcony. He turned and gazed up for several seconds. Nothing.I am alone.Standing now, he faced the altar and genuflected three times. Then he turned left and followed the brass line due north toward the obelisk.At that moment, at Leonardo Da Vinci International Airport in Rome, the jolt of tires hitting the runway 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 bare cassock and allowed himself a noble-minded smile. This was one 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 vexed itself.Divine intervention.If all went as planned tonight in Paris, Aringarosa would soon be in possession of someth ing that would make him the most flop man in Christendom.CHAPTER 23Sophie arrived breathless outside the intumescent wooden doors of the Salle des Etats the room that housed the Mona Lisa.Before entering, she gazed reluctantly farther down the hall, twenty yards or so, to the spot where her grandfathers body still lay under the spotlight.The contrition that gripped her was powerful and sudden, a diffi fad sadness laced with guilt. The man had reached out to her so some times over the past ten years, and yet Sophie had remained immovable leaving his letters and packages unovert in a bottom drawer and denying his efforts to see her. He lied to me Kept appalling secrets What was I supposed to do? And so she had blocked him out. Completely.Now her grandfather was dead, and he was babbleing to her from the grave.The Mona Lisa.She reached for the huge wooden doors, and pushed. The entryway yawned open. Sophie stood on the threshold a moment, scanning the large rectangular chamber beyond. It too was bathed in a soft red light. The Salle des Etats was one of this museums rare culs-de-sac a dead end and the only room off the middle of the Grand Gallery. This door, the chambers sole point of entry, faced a dominating fifteen-foot Botticelli on the far wall. to a lower place it, centered on the parquet floor, an immense octagonal viewing divan served as a welcome respite for thousands of visitors to rest their legs while they look up to the Louvres most valuable asset.Even before Sophie entered, though, she knew she was missing something. A black light.She gazed down the hall at her grandfather under the lights in the distance, encircled by electronic gear. If he had written anything in here, he almost certainly would have written it with the watermark stylus.Taking a deep breath, Sophie hurry down to the well-lit crime scene. Unable to look at her grandfather, she focussed solely on the PTS tools. decision a small ultraviolet penlight, she slipped it in th e pocket of her sweater and hurried back up the hallway toward the open doors of the Salle des Etats.Sophie turned the corner and stepped over the threshold. Her entrance, however, was met by an unexpected sound of muffled footsteps racing toward her from inside the chamber. Theressomeone in here A apparitional figure emerged suddenly from out of the reddish haze. Sophie jumped back.There you are Langdons gruff 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 . do they 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 intimatelyd the enormous twin doors silently, seal them inside. I told you, t he initials mean Princess Sophie.I know, barely did you ever see them anyplace else? Did your grandfather ever use P. S. in any other way? As a monogram, or maybe on stationery or a personal item?The question startled her. How would Robert know that? Sophie had thence seen the initials P. S. once before, in a kind of monogram. It was the day before her ordinal birthday. She was secretly combing the house, searching for hidden birthday presents. Even then, she could not bear secrets kept from her. What did Grand-pere 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 grandfathers bedroom. The room was out-of-bounds(predicate) to her, but her grandfather was downstairs asleep on the couch.Ill just take a fast peekTiptoeing across the creaky wood floor to his closet, Sophie peered on the shelves behind his clothing. Nothing. Next she l ooked under the bed. Still nothing. Moving to his bureau, she opened the drawers and one by one began pawing carefully through them. There must be something for me here As she reached the bottom drawer, she still had not found any hint of a doll. Dejected, she opened the final drawer and pulled aside some black clothes she had never seen him split. She was about to close the drawer when her eyes caught a glint of gold in the back of the drawer. It looked like a pocket watch drawstring, but she knew he didnt wear one. Her heart raced as she realized what it must be.A necklaceSophie carefully pulled the chain from the drawer. To her surprise, on the end was a brilliant gold key. 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 pockmarks all over it. Its large golden head was in the shape of a cross, but not a normal cross. This was an even-armed one, like a plus sign. elevated in the middle of the cross was a strange symbol two letters intertwined with some kind of flowery design.P. S. , she whispered, scowling as she occupy the letters. Whatever could this be?Sophie? her grandfather rundle 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 grandfathers face. I was looking for my birthday present, she said, hanging her head, discerning she had betrayed his trust.For what seemed like an eternity, her grandfather stood silently in the doorway. Finally, he let out a long troubled breath. Pick up the key, Sophie.Sophie retrieved the key.Her grandfather walked in. Sophie, you wish to respect other peoples privacy. Gently, he knelt down and took the key from her. This key is very special. If you had lost itHer grandfathers quiet voice made Sophie feel even worse. Im sorry, Grand-pere.I real am. She paused. I thought it was a necklace for my birt hday.He gazed at her for several seconds. Ill record this once more, Sophie, because its important. You need to learn to respect other peoples privacy.Yes, Grand-pere.Well 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 hadnt expected one, not after what she had done. But he didnt even wish her happy birthday all day. Sadly, she trudged up to bed that night. As she climbed in, though, she found a note bait lying on her pillow. On the card was written a simple riddle. Even before she solved the riddle, she was smiling. I know what this is Her grandfather had done this for her last Christmas morning.A treasure captureEagerly, she pored over the riddle until she solved it. The solution pointed her to another part of the house, where she found another card and another riddle. She solved this one too, racing on to the next card. Running wi ldly, she darted back and forth across the house, from clue to clue, until at last 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 red bicycle 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 like this even better.The next day, her grandfather taught her to ride, running beside her down the walkway. When Sophie steered out over the thick lawn and lost her balance, they both went tumbling onto the grass, rolling and laughing.Grand-pere,Sophie said, hugging him. Im truly sorry about the key.I know, sweetie. Youre forgiven. I cant possibly stay mad at you. Grandfathers and granddaughters always forgive each other.Sophie knew she shouldnt ask, but she couldnt help it. What does it open? I never saw a key like that. It was very pretty.Her gra ndfather was silent a long moment, and Sophie could see he was diffident how to answer.Grand-pere 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, youll learn to appreciate them as much as I do.I saw letters on the key, and a flower.Yes, thats my favorite flower. Its called a fleur-de-lis. We have them in the garden. The white ones. In English we call that kind of flower a lily.I know those Theyre my favorite tooThen Ill make a deal with you. Her grandfathers eyebrows raised the way they always did when he was about to give her a challenge. If you can keep my key a secret, and never talk about it ever again, to me or anybody, then someday I will give it to you.Sophie couldnt 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 doesnt. It said P. S. My name isnt P. S. Her grandfather take down his voic e and looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. Okay, Sophie, if you must know, P. S. is a code. Its 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. Im 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. catch you seen them? Sophie sensed her grandfathers 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 she wondered if she could break his trust again. P. S. Find Robert Langdon.Her grandfather wanted Langdon 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 with a 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. Im fairly certain your grandfather was a member of a secret society. A very old covert brotherhood.Sophie felt a mil tighten in her stomach. She was certain of it too. For ten years she had tried to forget the incident that had confirmed that horrifying fact for her. She had witnessed something unthinkable. Unforgivable.The fleur-de-lis, Langdon said, combined with the initials P. S. , that is the brotherhoods official device. Their application of arms. Their logo.How do you know this? Sophie was praying Langdon was not going to tell her that he himselfwas a member.Ive written about this group, he said, his voice tremulous with excitement. Researching the symbols of secret societies is a specialty of mine. They call themselves the Prieure de Sion the Priory of Sion. Theyre based here in France and attract powerful members from all over Europe. In fact, 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 Priorys membership has included some of historys most cultured individuals men like Botticelli, Sir Isaac Newton, superordinate Hugo. He paused, his voice 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 brotherhoods Grand Master, which might help explain your grandfathers fad for Leonardos work. The two men share a historical 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-documented history of revere for the sacred feminine.Youre telli ng me this group is a pagan goddess worship cult?More like the pagan goddess worship cult. But more important, they are known as the guardians of an ancient secret. One that made them immeasurably powerful.Despite the total conviction in Langdons eyes, Sophies gut reaction was one of stark disbelief. Asecret pagan cult? Once headed by Leonardo Da Vinci? It all sounded utterly absurd. And yet, even as she dismissed it, she felt her mind reeling back ten years to the night she had mistakenly surprised 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 previously imagined. This American obviously had volumes to share with her, but this was not the place. I cant afford to let them ca tch you, Robert. Theres a lot we need to discuss. You need to goLangdon heard only the faint murmur of her voice. He wasnt going anywhere. He was lost in another place now. A place where ancient secrets rose to the surface. A place where forgotten histories emerged from the shadows.Slowly, as if moving underwater, Langdon turned his head and gazed through the reddish haze toward 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 and Leonardo Da Vinci.A few miles away, on the riverbank beyond Les Invalides, the woolly driver of a twin-bed Trailor truck stood at gunpoint and watched as the police chief of the Judicial Police let out a guttural whimper of rage and heaved a bar of soap out into the turgid water of the Seine.