great enigma. 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 to frustrate 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
the hiding place of the Holy Grail?"
Langdon's laugh sounded forced, even to him. "I really can't imagine. Besides, the Grail is
believed to 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— a brotherhood 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 final
resting 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 a tennis stadium hardly sounded like a noble final resting place. "Sophie, I really don't
see how this key 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.
Priory members wait decades proving themselves trustworthy before being elevated to the
highest echelons of the fraternity and learning where the Grail is. That secret is protected by an
intricate system 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 three sénéchaux. 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 an image stamped in her memory that confirmed her grandfather's status within the
brotherhood beyond any doubt.
"And even if your grandfather were in the upper echelon, he would never be allowed to
reveal anything to anyone outside the brotherhood. It is inconceivable that he would bring you
into the inner circle."
I've already been there, Sophie thought, picturing the ritual in the basement. She wondered
if this were the moment to tell Langdon what she had witnessed that night in the Normandy
chateau. For ten 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 over her.
"There!" Langdon said, feeling excited to see the huge complex of the Roland Garros tennis
stadium looming ahead.
Sophie snaked her way toward the stadium. After several passes, they located the
intersection of Rue Haxo and turned onto it, driving in the direction of the lower numbers. The
road became more industrial, lined with businesses.
We need number twenty-four, Langdon told himself, realizing he was secretly scanning the
horizon for 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
atop its facade. Beneath the cross were the words:
DEPOSITORY BANK OF ZURICH
Langdon was thankful not to have shared his Templar church hopes with Sophie. A career
hazard of symbologists was a tendency to extract hidden meaning from situations that had none.
In this case, Langdon had entirely forgotten that the peaceful, equal-armed cross had been
adopted as the perfect 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.
CHAPTER 41
Outside Castel Gandolfo, an updraft of mountain air gushed over the top of the cliff and across
the high bluff, sending a chill through Bishop Aringarosa as he stepped from the Fiat. I should
have worn more than this cassock, he thought, fighting the reflex to shiver. The last thing he
needed to appear 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 wind and 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
greeted Aringarosa five months ago, albeit tonight he did so with much less hospitality. "We
were worried about 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
escort you up."
The library was a vast square room with dark wood from floor to ceiling. On all sides,
towering bookcases burgeoned with volumes. The floor was amber marble with black basalt
trim, a handsome 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
than they 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 to
transpire.
Aringarosa entered slowly, regally even. He could see the shapes of three men at a long
table on the far side of the room. The silhouette of the man in the middle was immediately
recognizable— 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
different time zones. You must be tired."
"Not at all," the secretariat said, his hands folded on his enormous belly. "We are grateful
you have come so far. The least we can do is be awake to meet you. Can we offer you some
coffee or refreshments?"
"I'd prefer we don't pretend this is a social visit. I have another plane to catch. Shall we get
to business?"
"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 I requested?"
"It is." The secretariat sounded uneasy. "Although, I must admit, we are concerned with the
request. 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.
Negotiable as cash anywhere in the world."
Aringarosa walked to the end of the table and opened the briefcase. Inside were two thick
stacks of bonds, each embossed with the Vatican seal and the title PORTATORE, making the
bonds redeemable to whoever was holding them.
The secretariat looked tense. "I must say, Bishop, all of us would feel less apprehensive if
these funds 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
traceable directly to the Vatican Bank."
Aringarosa smiled inwardly. That was precisely the reason the Teacher suggested
Aringarosa get the money in Vatican Bank bonds. It served as insurance. We are all in this
together now. "This is a perfectly legal transaction," Aringarosa defended. "Opus Dei is a
personal prelature of Vatican City, 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 have no 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 not your 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 sent me?"
"Exactly."
Aringarosa was surprised how little emotion he felt as he signed the document. The three
men present, 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
men looked at one another for a moment as if there were something more to say, but apparently
there was 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 of discussing morality at this hour. "Paris," he said, and walked out the door.
CHAPTER 42
The Depository Bank of Zurich was a twenty-four-hour Geldschrank bank offering the full
modern array of anonymous services in the tradition of the Swiss numbered account.
Maintaining offices in Zurich, Kuala Lumpur, New York, and Paris, the bank had expanded its
services in recent years to offer 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
anonyme Lager— blind drop services, otherwise known as anonymous safe -deposit boxes.
Clients wishing to store anything from stock certificates to valuable paintings could deposit their
belongings anonymously, through a series of high-tech veils of privacy, withdrawing items at
any time, also in total anonymity.
As Sophie pulled the taxi to a stop in front of their destination, Langdon gazed out at the
building's uncompromising architecture and sensed the Depository Bank of Zurich was a firm
with little sense of 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
lucrative exports. Facilities like this had become controversial in the art community because they
provided a perfect 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 to numbered accounts rather than people's names, thieves could rest easily knowing
their stolen goods were safe and could never be traced to them.
Sophie stopped the taxi at an imposing gate that blocked the bank's driveway— a cement-
lined ramp 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
LCD screen 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 the
podium. 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
entire shaft had disappeared. This key apparently required no turning. Instantly, the gate began to
swing open. Sophie took her foot off the brake and coasted down to a second gate and podium.
Behind her, 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
