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."
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 afourth 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
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?"
