The Da Vinci Code Chapter 30-32

CHAPTER 30 protective c eeryplace warden Claude Grouard simme loss with rage as he stood over his prostrate captive in battle b atrial auricleing of the Mona Lisa.This bastard killed Jacques Sauniere Sauniere had been like a well-loved father to Grouard and his certificate team.Grouard precious nothing more(prenominal) than to pull the trigger and bury a bullet in Robert Langdons dorsum. As senior warden, Grouard was unrivalled of the few guards who actu in ally carried a loaded weapon. He reminded himself, how perpetually, that killing Langdon would be a generous essential comp ard to the misery ab unwrap to be communicated by Bezu Fache and the French prison system.Grouard yanked his walky-talky off his belt and attempted to radio for backup. All he perceive was static. The additional electronic security in this chamber always molded havoc with the guards communications. I defend to move to the doorway.Still aiming his weapon at Langdon, Grouard began saddle horse slowly toward the entrance. On his third step, he spied something that made him stop short.What the brilliance is thatAn inexplic fitting mirage was materializing near the concenter of the get on. A silhouette. T here(predicate) was some wizard else in the room? A woman was moving with with(predicate) and through the inconsolableness, walking briskly toward the out manufacturing(prenominal) left field circumvent. In front of her, a purplish send off of perch swung back and forth a loan-blend the floor, as if she were searching for something with a colored flashlight.Qui est la? Grouard demanded, feeling his adrenaline spike for a due south time in the last thirty se victimiseds. He suddenly didnt make do where to aim his sub or what direction to move.PTS, the woman replied calmly, still examine the floor with her light.Police Technique et Scientifique.Grouard was sweating at one time. I apprehension all the agents were goneHe without delay recognized the purple light as ultraviolet, consisdecadet with a PTS team, and yet he could not understand wherefore DCPJ would be looking at for evidence in here.Votre nom Grouard yelled, instinct make outing him something was amiss. Repondez Cest mot, the component responded in calm French. Sophie Neveu. Somewhere in the distant recesses of Grouards mind, the build registered. Sophie Neveu? Thatwas the ca-ca of Saunieres granddaughter, wasnt it? She used to come in here as a puny kid, and that was years ago. This couldnt possibly be her And even if it were Sophie Neveu, that was hardly a reason to trust her Grouard had perceive the rumors of the painful retorting-out between Sauniere and his granddaughter.You know me, the woman titleed. And Robert Langdon did not kill my grandfather. Believe me.Warden Grouard was not about to head that on faith. I need backup Trying his walkie-talkie again, he got moreover static. The entrance was still a good twenty yards behind him, and Grouard began living up slowly, choosing to abandon his gun trained on the man on the floor. As Grouard inched backward, he could find oneself the woman crosswise the room nip and tuck her UV light and scrutinizing a bountiful moving-picture show that hung on the faraway typeface of the Salle des Etats, directly opposite the Mona Lisa.Grouard gasped, realizing which video it was.What in the name of God is she doing?Across the room, Sophie Neveu felt a cold sweat break of serve crossways her forehead. Langdon was still spread-eagle on the floor. Hold on, Robert.Almost there.Knowing the guard would neer actually shoot either of them, Sophie now turned her attention back to the matter at hand, scanning the consummate area rough one masterpiece in p impostureicular another Da Vinci. But the UV light revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Not on the floor, on the walls, or even on the programmee itself.There must be something hereSophie felt totally certain she had deciphered her grandfathers inte ntions correctly.What else could he possibly depute?The masterpiece she was examining was a five-foot-tall canvas. The bizarre scene Da Vinci had painted include an awkwardly posed Virgin bloody shame sitting with violate Jesus, posterior the Baptist, and the Angel Uriel on a perilous outcropping of rocks. When Sophie was a piffling girl, no trip to the Mona Lisa had been complete without her grandfather dragging her across the room to see this second painting.Grand-pere, Im here But I dont see it asshole her, Sophie could hear the guard trying to radio again for help.ThinkShe depicted the centre scrawled on the protective glass of the Mona Lisa.So dark the con of man.The painting before her had no protective glass on which to write a message, and Sophie knew her grandfather would never have defaced this masterpiece by writing on the painting itself. She paused. At least not on the front.Her eyes offer upward, climbing the hanker cables that dangled from the ceiling to suppo rt the canvas.Could that be it? Grabbing the left side of the carved wood frame, she pulled it toward her. The painting was broad and the backing flexed as she swung it ap cheat from the wall. Sophie slipped her head and shoulders in behind the painting and raised the black light to inspect the back.It took just when seconds to realize her instinct had been wrong. The back of the painting was sick(p) and blank. There was no purple text here, exclusively the mottled cook backside of aging canvas and Wait.Sophies eyes locked on an incongruous radiate of lustrous metal lodged near the bottom edge of the frames wooden armature. The fair game was teentsy, partially wedged in the slit where the canvas met the frame. A shimmering meretricious chain dangled off it.To Sophies utter amazework forcet, the chain was affixed to a long-familiar gold mention. The broad, sculpted head was in the shape of a cross and bore an engraved seal she had not seen since she was nine years old. A fleur-de-lis with the initials P. S. In that instant, Sophie felt the ghost of her grandfather whispering in her ear. When the time comes, the cay will be yours.A tightness gripped her throat as she recognize that her grandfather, even in death, had kept his promise. This place opens a box, his instance was saying, where I keep many secrets.Sophie now realized that the intact designing of tonights word game had been this key. Her grandfather 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 stone hunt to ensure only Sophie would find it.Au secours the guards voice yelled.Sophie snatched the key from behind the painting and slipped it deep in her pocket along with the UV penlight. Peering out from behind the canvas, she could see the guard was still trying desperately to raise someone on the walkie-talkie. He was backing toward the entrance, still aiming the gun firmly at Lang don.Au secours he shouted again into his radio. Static. He cant transmit, Sophie realized, re birdsonging that tourists with cell phones often got frustrated in here when they tried to call home to brag about seeing the Mona Lisa.The extra surveillance fit in the walls made it virtually impossible to get a mailman unless(prenominal) 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 that da Vinci Da Vinci, for the second time tonight, was there to help.Another few meters, Grouard told himself, holding his gun leveled.Arretez Ou je la detruis the womans 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 bring up the large painting off its cables and propped it on the floor in front of her. At five feet tall, the canvas almost entirely hid her body. Grouards first thought was to wonder why the paintings trip wires hadnt set off frightens, but of row the artwork cable sensors had yet to be reset tonight. What is she doingWhen he proverb it, his blood went cold.The canvas started to bulge in the middle, the fragile outlines of the Virgin Mary, Baby Jesus, and conjuring trick the Baptist beginning to distort.Non Grouard screamed, frozen in horror as he watched the priceless Da Vinci stretchinessing. The woman was pushing her knee into the center of the canvas from behind NONGrouard roulette wheeled and aimed his gun at her but instantly realized it was an empty threat. The canvas was only fabric, but it was utterly impenetrable a six-million-dollar piece of body armor.I cant put a bullet through a Da VinciSet rarify your gun and radio, the woman tell in calm French, or Ill put my knee through this painting. I think you know how my grandfather would feel about that.Grouard felt dizzy. divert no. Thats Madonna of the Rocks He dropped his gun and radio, raising his hands over his head.Thank you, the woman say. Now do exactly as I tell you, and everything will work out fine.Moments later, Langdons pulse was still move as he ran beside Sophie down the emergency stairwell toward the ground level. Neither of them had tell a word since leaving the trembling Louvre guard lying in the Salle des Etats. The guards pistol was now clutched tightly in Langdons hands, and he couldnt 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 appraisal how valuable a painting she had almost ruined. Her choice in art waited eerily pertinent to tonights adventure. The Da Vinci she had grabbed, much like the Mona Lisa, was notorious among art historians for its plethora of hidden pagan symbolism.You chose a valuable hostage, he say as they ran.Madonna of the Rocks,she replied. But I didnt choose it, my grandfather did. He left me a little something behind the painting.Langdon shot her a blow out of the water look. What? But how did you know which painting? Why Madonnaof the Rocks?So dark the con of man. She flashed a triumphant s nautical mile. I missed the first two anagrams, Robert. I wasnt about to miss the third.CHAPTER 31Theyre dead Sister Sandrine stammered into the telephone in her Saint-Sulpice residence. She was leaving a message on an answering machine. Please nag up Theyre all deadThe first one-third phone meter on the list had produced terrifying results a hysterical widow, a researcher functional late at a murder scene, and a dingy priest consoling a bereaved family. All three contacts were dead. And now, as she called the four-spotth and net number the number she was not 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 instrument the upper echelon has 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 buy the farm us in this.It was a silent frighten. Foolproof in its simplicity. The plan had amazed her when she first heard it. If the identity of one brother was compromised, he could tell a lie that would start in motion a mechanism to warn the others. Tonight, however, it seemed that more than one had been compromised.Please answer, she whispered in fear. Where are you? Hang up the phone, a deep voice said from the doorway. Turning in terror, she dictum the massive monastic. He was clutchin g the heavy conjure 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 me where the tonality is.I dont know Sister Sandrine said truthfully. That secret is guarded by others. Others who are deadThe man advanced, his white fists gripping the iron stand. You are a sister of the Church, and yet you serve them?Jesus had but one true message, Sister Sandrine said defiantly. I cannot see that message in Opus Dei.A sudden explosion of rage erupted behind the monks eyes. He lunged, lashing out with the candle stand like a club. As Sister Sandrine fell, her last feeling was an overwhelming sense of foreboding.All four are dead.The precious truth is lost forever.CHAPTER 32The security alarm on the wolfram end of the Denon Wing sent the pigeons in the near Tuileries Gardens scattering as Langdon and Sophie dashed out of the bulkhead into the Paris night. As they ran across the plaza to Sophies car, Langdon could hear police sirens wailing in the distance. Thats it there, Sophie called, pointing to a red snub-nosed two-seater place on the plaza. Shes kidding, right? The vehicle was tardily the smallest car Langdon had ever seen. SmartCar, she said. A nose candy kilometers to the liter.Langdon had barely thrown himself into the passenger seat before Sophie gunned the SmartCar up and over a curb onto a gravel divider. He gripped the dash as the car shot out across a sidewalk and bounced back down over into the small rotary at spinning top du Louvre.For an instant, Sophie seemed to consider taking the short rationalize across the rotary by plowing straight ahead, through the medians 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 the perilous chasm in the center La Pyramide Inversee the upside-down pyramid skylight he had seen earlier from inside the museum. It w as large enough to swallow their Smart-Car in a single gulp. Fortunately, Sophie decided on the more conventional route, jamming the wheel hard to the right, circling properly until she exited, cut left, and swung into the northbound lane, accelerating toward Rue de Rivoli.The two-tone police sirens blared louder behind them, and Langdon could see the lights now in his side view mirror. The SmartCar engine whined in protest as Sophie urged it immediate away from the Louvre. Fifty yards ahead, the traffic light at Rivoli turned red. Sophie goddamn under her breath and kept racing toward it. Langdon felt his muscles tighten.Sophie?Slowing only slightly as they reached the intersection, Sophie flicked her headlights and stole a quick glance twain ways before flooring the accelerator again and carving a sharp left turn through the empty intersection onto Rivoli. Accelerating west for a quarter of a mile, Sophie banked to the right around a big rotary. Soon they were shooting out the other side onto the wide path of Champs-Elysees.As they straightened out, Langdon turned in his seat, craning his neck to look out the instal window toward the Louvre. The police did not seem to be chasing them. The sea of unforgiving lights was assembling at the museum.His heartbeat finally slowing, Langdon turned back around. That was interesting.Sophie didnt seem to hear. Her eyes remained fixed ahead down the long thoroughfare of Champs-Elysees, 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 of man.Sophies quick persuasion had been impressive. Madonna of the Rocks.Sophie had said her grandfather left her something behind the painting. A final message? Langdon could not help but marvel over Saunieres graphic hiding place Madonna of the Rocks was yet another fitting bond in the evenings chain of interconnected symbolism. Sauniere, it seemed, a t every turn, was reinforcing his fondness for the dark and mischievous side of Leonardo Da Vinci.Da Vincis original electric charge for Madonna of the Rocks had come from an organization known as the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception, which undeniable a painting for the centerpiece of an altar triptych in their church of San Francesco in Milan. The nuns gave Leonardo specific dimensions, and the desired theme for the painting the Virgin Mary, bollix John the Baptist, Uriel, and Baby Jesus sheltering in a cave. Although Da Vinci did as they requested, when he delivered the work, the group reacted with horror. He had filled the painting with explosive and affect details.The painting showed a blue-robed Virgin Mary sitting with her arm around an child child, presumably Baby Jesus. Opposite Mary sat Uriel, excessively with an infant, presumably baby John the Baptist. Oddly, though, rather than the usual Jesus-blessing-John scenario, it was baby John who was blessing Jes us and Jesus was submitting to his authority More troubling still, Mary was holding one hand high above the head of infant John and making a decidedly threatening gesture her fingers looking like eagles talons, gripping an invisible head. Finally, the most obvious and frightening cast Just below Marys curled fingers, Uriel was making a cutting gesture with his hand as if slicing the neck of the invisible head gripped by Marys claw-like hand.Langdons students were always amused to learn that Da Vinci eventually mollified the confraternity by painting them a second, watered-down version of Madonna of the Rocks in which everyone was arranged in a more orthodox manner. The second version now hung in Londons internal Gallery under the name Virgin of the Rocks, although Langdon still preferred the Louvres more intriguing original.As Sophie gunned the car up Champs-Elysees, Langdon said, The painting. What was behind it? Her eyes remained on the road. Ill show you once were safely ins ide the embassy. Youll 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 couldnt believe his ears.Were going to make it, Sophie thought as she swung the SmartCars wheel to the right, cutting sharply past the luxurious Htel de Crillon into Pariss tree-lined diplomatic neighborhood. The embassy was less than a mile away now. She was finally feeling like she could give out normally again.Even as she drove, Sophies mind remained locked on the key in her pocket, her memories of seeing it many years ago, the gold head shaped as an equal-armed cross, the triangular shaft, the indentations, the embossed flowery seal, and the letters P. S.Although the key barely had entered Sophies thoughts through the years, her work in the intelligence community had taught her plenty about security, and now the keys peculiar tooling no longer looked so mystifying. A laser-tooled varying matrix.Impossible to duplicate.Rather than dentition that moved tumblers, this keys complex series of laser-burned pockmarks was examined by an electric eye. If the eye set that the hexagonal pockmarks were correctly spaced, arranged, and rotated, then the lock would open.Sophie could not begin to envisage what a key like this opened, but she sensed Robert would be able to tell her. After all, he had described the keys embossed seal without ever seeing it. The cruciform on top implied the key belonged to some form of Christian organization, and yet Sophie knew 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 more normal one that had revealed his true temper to her.The afternoon had been warm when she landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport and hailed a taxi home. Grand-pere will be so surprised to see me, she thought. Returning from tweak school in Britai n for spring break a few days early, Sophie couldnt wait to see him and tell him all about the encryption methods she was studying.When she arrived at their Paris home, however, her grandfather was not there. Disappointed, she knew he had not been expecting her and was probably working at the Louvre. But its Saturday afternoon, 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. Jacques Sauniere despised city tearaway(a) and owned a car for one destination only his holiday chateau in Normandy, north of Paris. Sophie, after months in the congestion of London, was eager for the smells of nature and to start her vacation right away. It was still early evening, and she decided to leave immediately and surprise him. Borrowing a friends car, Sophie drove north, winding into the tumble-down moon-swept hills near Creully. She arrived just after ten oclock, turning down the long p rivate driveway toward her grandfathers retreat. The access road was over a mile long, and she was halfway down it before she could start to see the house through the trees a mammoth, old stone chateau nestled in the woods on the side of a hill.Sophie had half expected to find her grandfather drowsing(prenominal) at this hour and was excited to see the house twinkling with lights. Her carry turned to surprise, however, when she arrived to find the driveway filled with parked cars Mercedeses, BMWs, Audis, and a Rolls-Royce.Sophie stared a moment and then burst out laughing. My grand-pere, the famous recluse Jacques Sauniere, it seemed, was far less reclusive than he liked to pretend. Clearly he was hosting a party while Sophie was away at school, and from the looks of the automobiles, some of Pariss most important people were in attendance.Eager to surprise him, she hurried to the front door. When she got there, though, she base it locked. She knocked. Nobody answered. Puzzled, she walked around and tried the back door. It too was locked. No answer.Confused, she stood a moment and listened. The only sound she heard was the cool Normandy air permit 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 a woodpile, pressing her face to the living room window. What she saw inside made no sense at all. Nobodys here The entire first floor looked deserted.Where are all the people?Heart racing, Sophie ran to the woodshed and got the shipshape key her grandfather kept hidden under the 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 ten seconds 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 the deserted living room, she stood a moment in the silence, wondering what could possibly be happening.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 from below. The voices seemed to be singing, or modulation? She was frightened. Almost more eerie than the sound itself was the realization that this house did not even have a root cellar.At least none Ive ever seen.Turning now and scanning the living room, Sophies eyes fell to the only object in the entire house that seemed out of place her grandfathers front-runner antique, a sprawling Aubusson tapestry. It usually hung on the east wall beside the fireplace, but tonight it had been pulled aside on its brass rod, exposing the wall behind it. pass toward the bare wooden wall, Sophie sensed the chanting getting louder. Hesitant, she leaned her ear against the wood. The voices were clearer now. muckle were definitely chanting intoning words Sophie could not discern.The space behind this wall is hollowFeeling around the edge of the panels, Sophie found a deep-set finger hold. It was discreetly crafted. A sliding door.Heart pounding, she placed her finger in the slot and pulled it. With noiseless precision, the heavy wall slid sideways. From out of the darkness beyond, the voices echoed up.Sophie slipped through the door and found herself on a rough-hewn stone stairway that spiraled downward. Shed been coming to this house since she was a child and yet had no idea this staircase even existedAs she descended, the air grew cooler. The voices clearer. She heard men and women now. Her line of battle array 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 flickering orange blaze of firelight. memory her breath, Sophie inched down another few steps and crouched down to look. It took her several seconds to move what she was seeing.The room was a grotto a coarse chamber that appeared to have been hollowed from the granite of the hillside. The only light came from torches on the walls. In the glow of the flames, thirty or so people stood in a circle in the center of the room.Im dreaming, Sophie told herself. A dream. What else could this be?Everyone in the room was wearing a mask. The women were polished in white gossamer gowns and well-off shoes. Their masks were white, and in their hands they carried golden orbs. The men wore long black tunics, and their masks were black. They looked like pieces in a big chess set. Everyone in the circle rocked back and forth and chanted in reverence to something on the floor before them something Sophie could not see.The chanting grew solid again. Accelerating. Thundering now. Faster. Th e participants took a step inward and knelt. In that instant, Sophie could finally see what they all were witnessing. Even as she staggered back in horror, she felt the design 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 teary-eyed stupor back to Paris.That night, with her life shattered by disillusionment and betrayal, she jam-packed her belongings and left her home. On the dining room table, she left a note.I WAS THERE. DONT TRY TO FIND ME.Beside the note, she laid the old spare key from the chateaus woodshed.Sophie Langdons voice intruded. Stop StopEmerging from the memory, Sophie slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt. What? What happened?Langdon pointed down the long passageway before them.When she saw it, Sophies blood went cold. A hundred yards ahead, the intersection was blocked by a couple of DCPJ police ca rs, parked askew, their purpose obvious. Theyve sealed off AvenueGabrielLangdon 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 their direction, apparently curious about the headlights that had halted so abruptly up the street from them.Okay, Sophie, turn around very slowly.Putting the SmartCar in reverse, she performed a quiet three-point turn and reversed her direction. As she drove away, she heard the sound of utter tires behind them. Sirens blared to life.Cursing, Sophie slammed down the accelerator.