and shouting the true story of Jesus Christ from the mountaintops."
Sophie stared at Teabing in silence. Finally, she too sat down. "And you think that date is
approaching? And the Church knows it?"
"A speculation," Teabing said, "but it would certainly provide the Church motivation for an
all-out attack to find the documents before it was too late."
Langdon had the uneasy feeling that Teabing was making good sense. "Do you think the
Church would 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.
The millennium has recently passed, and with it has ended the two-thousand-year-long
astrological Age of 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 is incapable of thinking for himself. Hence it has been a time of fervent
religion. Now, however, we are entering the Age of Aquarius— the water bearer— whose ideals
claim that man will learn the truth and be able to think for himself. The ideological shift is
enormous, and it is occurring right now."
Langdon felt a shiver. Astrological prophecy never held much interest or credibility for
him, but he knew there were those in the Church who followed it very closely. "The Church calls
this transitional 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
of Days. It refers not to the end of the world, but rather the end of our current age— Pisces,
which began at the time of Christ's birth, spanned two thousand years, and waned with the
passing of the millennium. 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
release this truth, this point in history would be a symbolically apt time. Most Priory academics,
myself included, anticipated the brotherhood's release would coincide precisely with the
millennium. Obviously, it did not. Admittedly, the Roman calendar does not mesh perfectly
with astrological markers, so there is some gray area in the prediction. Whether the Church now
has inside information that an exact date is looming, or whether they are just getting nervous on
account of astrological prophecy, I don't know. Anyway, it's immaterial. Either scenario explains
how the Church 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 the relics of the blessed Mary Magdalene as well." His eyes grew heavy. "Then,
my dear, with the Sangreal documents gone, all evidence will be lost. The Church will have won
their age-old war to rewrite 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've searched 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 to be 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.
The keystone is in danger! We have a duty to protect it. What if there are other keys? Perhaps
stolen from 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 your couch."
The wind outside Chateau Villette had picked up, and Silas's robe danced in the breeze as he
crouched near the window. Although he had been unable to hear much of the conversation, the
word 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
no one.
Now, Langdon and the others had adjourned suddenly to another room, extinguishing the
study lights as they went. Feeling like a panther stalking prey, Silas crept to the glass doors.
Finding them unlocked, he slipped inside and closed the doors silently behind him. He could
hear muffled voices from another room. Silas pulled the pistol from his pocket, turned off the
safety, and inched down the hallway.
CHAPTER 63
Lieutenant Collet stood alone at the foot of Leigh Teabing's driveway and gazed up at the
massive house. Isolated. Dark. Good ground cover. Collet watched his half-dozen agents
spreading silently out along the length of the fence. They could be over it and have the house
surrounded in a matter of minutes. Langdon could not have chosen a more ideal spot for Collet's
men to make a surprise assault.
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.
"Why didn'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.
Langdon drove a fair distance to get here, and the vehicle is inside the security gate, with no
signs of forced entry, 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. I have him staked out. I'm with eight men total. Four of us have field rifles and the
others have sidearms."
"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."
Fache hung up.
Stunned, Lieutenant Collet switched off his phone. Why the hell is Fache asking me to
wait? Collet knew the answer. Fache, though famous for his instinct, was notorious for his pride.
Fache wants credit for the arrest. After putting the American's face all over the television, Fache
wanted to be sure his own face got equal time. Collet's job was simply to hold down the fort until
the boss showed 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
arisen regarding the suspect's guilt. Is Fache having second thoughts that Langdon is the right
man? The thought was frightening. Captain Fache had gone out on a limb tonight to arrest
Robert Langdon— surveillance cachée, Interpol, and now television. Not even the great Bezu
Fache would survive the political fallout if he had mistakenly splashed a prominent American's
face all over French television, claiming he was a murderer. If Fache now realized he'd made a
mistake, then it made perfect sense that he would tell Collet not to make a move. The last thing
Fache needed was for 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
strangest paradoxes: Why had Sophie Neveu, the granddaughter of the victim, helped the
alleged killer escape? Unless Sophie knew Langdon was falsely charged. Fache had posited all
kinds of explanations tonight to explain Sophie's odd behavior, including that Sophie, as
Saunière's sole heir, 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 Robert Langdon. Collet was fairly certain something else was going on here.
Sophie Neveu seemed far too solid 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
shoulder on 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's
stolen."
"Yes, sir."
Another agent waved Collet back over in the direction of the fence. "Lieutenant, have a
look at this." He handed Collet a pair of night vision binoculars. "The grove of trees near the top
of the driveway."
Collet aimed the binoculars up the hill and adjusted the image intensifier dials. Slowly, the
greenish 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 an
armored truck. A truck identical to the one Collet had permitted to leave the Depository Bank of
Zurich earlier tonight. He prayed this was some kind of bizarre coincidence, but he knew it could
not be.
"It seems obvious," the agent said, "that this truck is how Langdon and Neveu got away
from the bank."
Collet was speechless. He thought of the armored truck driver he had stopped at the
roadblock. The Rolex. 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 and Sophie's whereabouts and then helped them escape. But who? And why? Collet
wondered if maybe this were the reason Fache had told him not to take action yet. Maybe Fache
realized there were more people involved tonight than just Langdon and Sophie. And if Langdon
and Neveu arrived in the armored truck, then who drove the Audi?
Hundreds of miles to the south, a chartered Beechcraft Baron 58 raced northward over the
Tyrrhenian Sea. Despite calm skies, Bishop Aringarosa clutched an airsickness bag, certain he
could 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 his
overwhelming sense of fear and desperation. Everything in Paris has gone terribly wrong.
Closing his eyes, Aringarosa said a prayer that Bezu Fache would have the means to fix it.
CHAPTER 64
Teabing sat on the divan, cradling the wooden box on his lap and admiring the lid's intricate
inlaid Rose. 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, he
wanted to savor every millisecond of this moment. He ran a palm across the wooden lid, feeling
the texture of the inlaid flower.
"The Rose," he whispered. The Rose is Magdalene is the Holy Grail. The Rose is the
compass that guides the way. Teabing felt foolish. For years he had traveled to cathedrals and
churches all over France, paying for special access, examining hundreds of archways beneath
rose windows, searching for an encrypted keystone. La clef de voute— 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. He was staring at a stone cylinder, crafted of interconnecting lettered dials. The device
seemed surprisingly 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
Holy Grail lies inside this stone. Teabing lifted the heavy cryptex from the box, holding it
