incredible notion had just occurred to him. Could it really be that simple an explanation? "I need
to use your cell phone, Sophie."
"Now?"
"I think I just figured something out."
"What?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. I need your phone."
Sophie looked wary. "I doubt Fache is tracing, but keep it under a minute just in case." She
gave him her phone.
"How do I dial the States?"
"You need to reverse the charges. My service doesn't cover transatlantic."
Langdon dialed zero, knowing that the next sixty seconds might answer a question that had
been puzzling him all night.
CHAPTER 68
New York editor Jonas Faukman had just climbed into bed for the night when the telephone
rang. A little late for callers, he grumbled, picking up the receiver.
An operator's voice asked him, "Will you accept charges for a collect call from Robert
Langdon?"
Puzzled, Jonas turned on the light. "Uh... sure, okay."
The line clicked. "Jonas?"
"Robert? You wake me up and you charge me for it?"
"Jonas, forgive me," Langdon said. "I'll keep this very short. I really need to know. The
manuscript I gave you. Have you— "
"Robert, I'm sorry, I know I said I'd send the edits out to you this week, but I'm swamped.
Next Monday. I promise."
"I'm not worried about the edits. I need to know if you sent any copies out for blurbs
without telling me?"
Faukman hesitated. Langdon's newest manuscript— an exploration of the history of goddess
worship— included several sections about Mary Magdalene that were going to raise some
eyebrows. Although the material was well documented and had been covered by others,
Faukman had no intention of printing Advance Reading Copies of Langdon's book without at
least a few endorsements from serious historians and art luminaries. Jonas had chosen ten big
names in the art world and sent them all sections of the manuscript along with a polite letter
asking if they would be willing to write a short endorsement for the jacket. In Faukman's
experience, most people jumped at the opportunity to see their name in print.
"Jonas?" Langdon pressed. "You sent out my manuscript, didn't you?"
Faukman frowned, sensing Langdon was not happy about it. "The manuscript was clean,
Robert, and I wanted to surprise you with some terrific blurbs."
A pause. "Did you send one to the curator of the Paris Louvre?"
"What do you think? Your manuscript referenced his Louvre collection several times, his
books are in your bibliography, and the guy has some serious clout for foreign sales. Saunière
was a no-brainer."
The silence on the other end lasted a long time. "When did you send it?"
"About a month ago. I also mentioned you would be in Paris soon and suggested you two
chat. Did he ever call you to meet?" Faukman paused, rubbing his eyes. "Hold on, aren't you
supposed to be in Paris this week?"
"I am in Paris."
Faukman sat upright. "You called me collect from Paris?"
"Take it out of my royalties, Jonas. Did you ever hear back from Saunière? Did he like the
manuscript?"
"I don't know. I haven't yet heard from him."
"Well, don't hold your breath. I've got to run, but this explains a lot Thanks."
"Robert— "
But Langdon was gone.
Faukman hung up the phone, shaking his head in disbelief Authors, he thought. Even the
sane ones are nuts.
Inside the Range Rover, Leigh Teabing let out a guffaw. "Robert, you're saying you wrote a
manuscript that delves into a secret society, and your editor sent a copy to that secret society?"
Langdon slumped. "Evidently."
"A cruel coincidence, my friend."
Coincidence has nothing to do with it, Langdon knew. Asking Jacques Saunière to endorse
a manuscript on goddess worship was as obvious as asking Tiger Woods to endorse a book on
golf. Moreover, it was virtually guaranteed that any book on goddess worship would have to
mention the Priory of Sion.
"Here's the million-dollar question," Teabing said, still chuckling. "Was your position on
the Priory favorable or unfavorable?"
Langdon could hear Teabing's true meaning loud and clear. Many historians questioned
why the Priory was still keeping the Sangreal documents hidden. Some felt the information
should have been shared with the world long ago. "I took no position on the Priory's actions."
"You mean lack thereof."
Langdon shrugged. Teabing was apparently on the side of making the documents public. "I
simply provided history on the brotherhood and described them as a modern goddess worship
society, keepers of the Grail, and guardians of ancient documents."
Sophie looked at him. "Did you mention the keystone?"
Langdon winced. He had. Numerous times. "I talked about the supposed keystone as an
example of the lengths to which the Priory would go to protect the Sangreal documents."
Sophie looked amazed. "I guess that explains P.S. Find Robert Langdon."
Langdon sensed it was actually something else in the manuscript that had piqued Saunière's
interest, but that topic was something he would discuss with Sophie when they were alone.
"So," Sophie said, "you lied to Captain Fache."
"What?" Langdon demanded.
"You told him you had never corresponded with my grandfather."
"I didn't! My editor sent him a manuscript."
"Think about it, Robert. If Captain Fache didn't find the envelope in which your editor sent
the manuscript, he would have to conclude that you sent it." She paused. "Or worse, that you
hand-delivered it and lied about it."
When the Range Rover arrived at Le Bourget Airfield, Rémy drove to a small hangar at the far
end of the airstrip. As they approached, a tousled man in wrinkled khakis hurried from the
hangar, waved, and slid open the enormous corrugated metal door to reveal a sleek white jet
within.
Langdon stared at the glistening fuselage. "That's Elizabeth?"
Teabing grinned. "Beats the bloody Chunnel."
The man in khakis hurried toward them, squinting into the headlights. "Almost ready, sir,"
he called in a British accent. "My apologies for the delay, but you took me by surprise and— "
He stopped short as the group unloaded. He looked at Sophie and Langdon, and then Teabing.
Teabing said, "My associates and I have urgent business in London. We've no time to
waste. Please prepare to depart immediately." As he spoke, Teabing took the pistol out of the
vehicle and handed it to Langdon.
The pilot's eyes bulged at the sight of the weapon. He walked over to Teabing and
whispered, "Sir, my humble apologies, but my diplomatic flight allowance provides only for you
and your manservant. I cannot take your guests."
"Richard," Teabing said, smiling warmly, "two thousand pounds sterling and that loaded
gun say you can take my guests." He motioned to the Range Rover. "And the unfortunate fellow
in the back."
CHAPTER 69
The Hawker 731's twin Garrett TFE-731 engines thundered, powering the plane skyward with
gut-wrenching force. Outside the window, Le Bourget Airfield dropped away with startling
speed.
I'm fleeing the country, Sophie thought, her body forced back into the leather seat. Until this
moment, she had believed her game of cat and mouse with Fache would be somehow justifiable
to the Ministry of Defense. I was attempting to protect an innocent man. I was trying to fulfill my
grandfather's dying wishes. That window of opportunity, Sophie knew, had just closed. She was
leaving the country, without documentation, accompanying a wanted man, and transporting a
bound hostage. If a "line of reason" had ever existed, she had just crossed it. At almost the speed
of sound.
Sophie was seated with Langdon and Teabing near the front of the cabin— the Fan Jet
Executive Elite Design, according to the gold medallion on the door. Their plush swivel chairs
were bolted to tracks on the floor and could be repositioned and locked around a rectangular
hardwood table. A mini-boardroom. The dignified surroundings, however, did little to
camouflage the less than dignified state of affairs in the rear of the plane where, in a separate
seating area near the rest room, Teabing's manservant Rémy sat with the pistol in hand,
begrudgingly carrying out Teabing's orders to stand guard over the bloody monk who lay trussed
at his feet like a piece of luggage.
"Before we turn our attention to the keystone," Teabing said, "I was wondering if you
would permit me a few words." He sounded apprehensive, like a father about to give the birds-
and-the-bees lecture to his children. "My friends, I realize I am but a guest on this journey, and I
am honored as such. And yet, as someone who has spent his life in search of the Grail, I feel it is
my duty to warn you that you are about to step onto a path from which there is no return,
regardless of the dangers involved." He turned to Sophie. "Miss Neveu, your grandfather gave
you this cryptex in hopes you would keep the secret of the Holy Grail alive."
"Yes."
"Understandably, you feel obliged to follow the trail wherever it leads."
Sophie nodded, although she felt a second motivation still burning within her. The truth
about my family. Despite Langdon's assurances that the keystone had nothing to do with her past,
Sophie still sensed something deeply personal entwined within this mystery, as if this cryptex,
forged by her grandfather's own hands, were trying to speak to her and offer some kind of
resolution to the emptiness that had haunted her all these years.
"Your grandfather and three others died tonight," Teabing continued, "and they did so to
keep this keystone away from the Church. Opus Dei came within inches tonight of possessing it.
You understand, I hope, that this puts you in a position of exceptional responsibility. You have
been handed a torch. A two-thousand-year-old flame that cannot be allowed to go out. This torch
cannot fall into the wrong hands." He paused, glancing at the rosewood box. "I realize you have
been given no choice in this matter, Miss Neveu, but considering what is at stake here, you must
either fully embrace this responsibility... or you must pass that responsibility to someone else."
"My grandfather gave the cryptex to me. I'm sure he thought I could handle the
responsibility."
Teabing looked encouraged but unconvinced. "Good. A strong will is necessary. And yet, I
am curious if you understand that successfully unlocking the keystone will bring with it a far
greater trial."
"How so?"
"My dear, imagine that you are suddenly holding a map that reveals the location of the Holy
Grail. In that moment, you will be in possession of a truth capable of altering history forever.
You will be the keeper of a truth that man has sought for centuries. You will be faced with the
responsibility of revealing that truth to the world. The individual who does so will be revered by
many and despised by many. The question is whether you will have the necessary strength to
carry out that task."
Sophie paused. "I'm not sure that is my decision to make."
Teabing's eyebrows arched. "No? If not the possessor of the keystone, then who?"
"The brotherhood who has successfully protected the secret for so long."
"The Priory?" Teabing looked skeptical. "But how? The brotherhood was shattered tonight.
Decapitated, as you so aptly put it. Whether they were infiltrated by some kind of eavesdropping
or by a spy within their ranks, we will never know, but the fact remains that someone got to them
and uncovered the identities of their four top members. I would not trust anyone who stepped
forward from the brotherhood at this point."
"So what do you suggest?" Langdon asked.
"Robert, you know as well as I do that the Priory has not protected the truth all these years
to have it gather dust until eternity. They have been waiting for the right moment in history to
share their secret. A time when the world is ready to handle the truth."
"And you believe that moment has arrived?" Langdon asked.
"Absolutely. It could not be more obvious. All the historical signs are in place, and if the
Priory did not intend to make their secret known very soon, why has the Church now attacked?"
Sophie argued, "The monk has not yet told us his purpose."
"The monk's purpose is the Church's purpose," Teabing replied, "to destroy the documents
that reveal the great deception. The Church came closer tonight than they have ever come, and
the Priory has put its trust in you, Miss Neveu. The task of saving the Holy Grail clearly includes
carrying out the Priory's final wishes of sharing the truth with the world."
Langdon intervened. "Leigh, asking Sophie to make that decision is quite a load to drop on
someone who only an hour ago learned the Sangreal documents exist."
Teabing sighed. "I apologize if I am pressing, Miss Neveu. Clearly I have always believed
