Sophie's connection to the detective seemed to be taking forever. Come on! She could hear
the line clicking and buzzing, as if she was being transferred.
Fifteen seconds passed.
Finally a man came on the line. "Agent Neveu?"
Stunned, Sophie registered the gruff tone immediately.
"Agent Neveu," Bezu Fache demanded. "Where the hell are you?"
Sophie was speechless. Captain Fache had apparently requested the London police
dispatcher alert him if Sophie called in.
"Listen," Fache said, speaking to her in terse French. "I made a terrible mistake tonight.
Robert Langdon is innocent. All charges against him have been dropped. Even so, both of you
are in danger. You need to come in."
Sophie's jaw fell slack. She had no idea how to respond. Fache was not a man who
apologized for anything.
"You did not tell me," Fache continued, "that Jacques Saunière was your grandfather. I fully
intend to overlook your insubordination last night on account of the emotional stress you must be
under. At the moment, however, you and Langdon need to go to the nearest London police
headquarters for refuge."
He knows I'm in London? What else does Fache know? Sophie heard what sounded like
drilling or machinery in the background. She also heard an odd clicking on the line. "Are you
tracing this call, Captain?"
Fache's voice was firm now. "You and I need to cooperate, Agent Neveu. We both have a
lot to lose here. This is damage control. I made errors in judgment last night, and if those errors
result in the deaths of an American professor and a DCPJ cryptologist, my career will be over.
I've been trying to pull you back into safety for the last several hours."
A warm wind was now pushing through the station as a train approached with a low
rumble. Sophie had every intention of being on it. Langdon apparently had the same idea; he was
gathering himself together and moving toward her now.
"The man you want is Rémy Legaludec," Sophie said. "He is Teabing's servant. He just
kidnapped Teabing inside the Temple Church and— "
"Agent Neveu!" Fache bellowed as the train thundered into the station. "This is not
something to discuss on an open line. You and Langdon will come in now. For your own well-
being! That is a direct order!"
Sophie hung up and dashed with Langdon onto the train.
CHAPTER 89
The immaculate cabin of Teabing's Hawker was now covered with steel shavings and smelled of
compressed air and propane. Bezu Fache had sent everyone away and sat alone with his drink
and the heavy wooden box found in Teabing's safe.
Running his finger across the inlaid Rose, he lifted the ornate lid. Inside he found a stone
cylinder with lettered dials. The five dials were arranged to spell SOFIA. Fache stared at the
word a long moment and then lifted the cylinder from its padded resting place and examined
every inch. Then, pulling slowly on the ends, Fache slid off one of the end caps. The cylinder
was empty.
Fache set it back in the box and gazed absently out the jet's window at the hangar,
pondering his brief conversation with Sophie, as well as the information he'd received from PTS
in Chateau Villette. The sound of his phone shook him from his daydream.
It was the DCPJ switchboard. The dispatcher was apologetic. The president of the
Depository Bank of Zurich had been calling repeatedly, and although he had been told several
times that the captain was in London on business, he just kept calling. Begrudgingly Fache told
the operator to forward the call.
"Monsieur Vernet," Fache said, before the man could even speak, "I am sorry I did not call
you earlier. I have been busy. As promised, the name of your bank has not appeared in the
media. So what precisely is your concern?"
Vernet's voice was anxious as he told Fache how Langdon and Sophie had extracted a small
wooden box from the bank and then persuaded Vernet to help them escape. "Then when I heard
on the radio that they were criminals," Vernet said, "I pulled over and demanded the box back,
but they attacked me and stole the truck."
"You are concerned for a wooden box," Fache said, eyeing the Rose inlay on the cover and
again gently opening the lid to reveal the white cylinder. "Can you tell me what was in the box?"
"The contents are immaterial," Vernet fired back. "I am concerned with the reputation of
my bank. We have never had a robbery. Ever. It will ruin us if I cannot recover this property on
behalf of my client."
"You said Agent Neveu and Robert Langdon had a password and a key. What makes you
say they stole the box?"
"They murdered people tonight. Including Sophie Neveu's grandfather. The key and
password were obviously ill-gotten."
"Mr. Vernet, my men have done some checking into your background and your interests.
You are obviously a man of great culture and refinement. I would imagine you are a man of
honor, as well. As am I. That said, I give you my word as commanding officer of the Police
Judiciaire that your box, along with your bank's reputation, are in the safest of hands."
CHAPTER 90
High in the hayloft at Chateau Villette, Collet stared at the computer monitor in amazement.
"This system is eavesdropping on all these locations?"
"Yes," the agent said. "It looks like data has been collected for over a year now."
Collet read the list again, speechless.
COLBERT SOSTAQUE— Chairman of the Conseil Constitutionnel
JEAN CHAFFéE— Curator, Musée du Jeu de Paume
EDOUARD DESROCHERS— Senior Archivist, Mitterrand Library
JACQUES SAUNIèRE— Curator, Musée du Louvre
MICHEL BRETON— Head of DAS (French Intelligence)
The agent pointed to the screen. "Number four is of obvious concern."
Collet nodded blankly. He had noticed it immediately. Jacques Saunière was being bugged.
He looked at the rest of the list again. How could anyone possibly manage to bug these
prominent people? "Have you heard any of the audio files?"
"A few. Here's one of the most recent." The agent clicked a few computer keys. The
speakers crackled to life. "Capitaine, un agent du Département de Cryptographie est arriv é."
Collet could not believe his ears. "That's me! That's my voice!" He recalled sitting at
Saunière's desk and radioing Fache in the Grand Gallery to alert him of Sophie Neveu's arrival.
The agent nodded. "A lot of our Louvre investigation tonight would have been audible if
someone had been interested."
"Have you sent anyone in to sweep for the bug?"
"No need. I know exactly where it is." The agent went to a pile of old notes and blueprints
on the worktable. He selected a page and handed it to Collet. "Look familiar?"
Collet was amazed. He was holding a photocopy of an ancient schematic diagram, which
depicted a rudimentary machine. He was unable to read the handwritten Italian labels, and yet he
knew what he was looking at. A model for a fully articulated medieval French knight.
The knight sitting on Saunière's desk!
Collet's eyes moved to the margins, where someone had scribbled notes on the photocopy in
red felt-tipped marker. The notes were in French and appeared to be ideas outlining how best to
insert a listening device into the knight.
CHAPTER 91
Silas sat in the passenger seat of the parked Jaguar limousine near the Temple Church. His hands
felt damp on the keystone as he waited for Rémy to finish tying and gagging Teabing in back
with the rope they had found in the trunk.
Finally, Rémy climbed out of the rear of the limo, walked around, and slid into the driver's
seat beside Silas.
"Secure?" Silas asked.
Rémy chuckled, shaking off the rain and glancing over his shoulder through the open
partition at the crumpled form of Leigh Teabing, who was barely visible in the shadows in the
rear. "He's not going anywhere."
Silas could hear Teabing's muffled cries and realized Rémy had used some of the old duct
tape to gag him.
"Ferme ta gueule!" Rémy shouted over his shoulder at Teabing. Reaching to a control panel
on the elaborate dash, Rémy pressed a button. An opaque partition raised behind them, sealing
off the back. Teabing disappeared, and his voice was silenced. Rémy glanced at Silas. "I've been
listening to his miserable whimpering long enough."
Minutes later, as the Jaguar stretch limo powered through the streets, Silas's cell phone rang. The
Teacher. He answered excitedly. "Hello?"
"Silas," the Teacher's familiar French accent said, "I am relieved to hear your voice. This
means you are safe."
Silas was equally comforted to hear the Teacher. It had been hours, and the operation had
veered wildly off course. Now, at last, it seemed to be back on track. "I have the keystone."
"This is superb news," the Teacher told him. "Is Rémy with you?"
Silas was surprised to hear the Teacher use Rémy's name. "Yes. Rémy freed me."
"As I ordered him to do. I am only sorry you had to endure captivity for so long."
"Physical discomfort has no meaning. The important thing is that the keystone is ours."
"Yes. I need it delivered to me at once. Time is of the essence."
Silas was eager to meet the Teacher face-to-face at last. "Yes, sir, I would be honored."
"Silas, I would like Rémy to bring it to me."
Rémy? Silas was crestfallen. After everything Silas had done for the Teacher, he had
believed he would be the one to hand over the prize. The Teacher favors Rémy?
"I sense your disappointment," the Teacher said, "which tells me you do not understand my
meaning." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You must believe that I would much prefer to
receive the keystone from you— a man of God rather than a criminal— but Rémy must be dealt
with. He disobeyed my orders and made a grave mistake that has put our entire mission at risk."
Silas felt a chill and glanced over at Rémy. Kidnapping Teabing had not been part of the
plan, and deciding what to do with him posed a new problem.
"You and I are men of God," the Teacher whispered. "We cannot be deterred from our
goal." There was an ominous pause on the line. "For this reason alone, I will ask Rémy to
bring me the keystone. Do you understand?"
Silas sensed anger in the Teacher's voice and was surprised the man was not more
understanding. Showing his face could not be avoided, Silas thought. Rémy did what he had to
do. He saved the keystone. "I understand," Silas managed.
"Good. For your own safety, you need to get off the street immediately. The police will be
looking for the limousine soon, and I do not want you caught. Opus Dei has a residence in
London, no?"
"Of course."
"And you are welcome there?"
"As a brother."
"Then go there and stay out of sight. I will call you the moment I am in possession of the
keystone and have attended to my current problem."
"You are in London?"
"Do as I say, and everything will be fine."
"Yes, sir."
The Teacher heaved a sigh, as if what he now had to do was profoundly regrettable. "It's
time I speak to Rémy."
Silas handed Rémy the phone, sensing it might be the last call Rémy Legaludec ever took.
As Rémy took the phone, he knew this poor, twisted monk had no idea what fate awaited him
now that he had served his purpose.
The Teacher used you, Silas.
And your bishop is a pawn.
Rémy still marveled at the Teacher's powers of persuasion. Bishop Aringarosa had trusted
everything. He had been blinded by his own desperation. Aringarosa was far too eager to
believe. Although Rémy did not particularly like the Teacher, he felt pride at having gained the
man's trust and helped him so substantially. I have earned my payday.
"Listen carefully," the Teacher said. "Take Silas to the Opus Dei residence hall and drop
him off a few streets away. Then drive to St. James's Park. It is adjacent to Parliament and Big
Ben. You can park the limousine on Horse Guards Parade. We'll talk there."
With that, the connection went dead.
CHAPTER 92
King's College, established by King George IV in 1829, houses its Department of Theology and
Religious Studies adjacent to Parliament on property granted by the Crown. King's College
Religion Department boasts not only 150 years' experience in teaching and research, but the
1982 establishment of the Research Institute in Systematic Theology, which possesses one of the
most complete and electronically advanced religious research libraries in the world.
Langdon still felt shaky as he and Sophie came in from the rain and entered the library. The
primary research room was as Teabing had described it— a dramatic octagonal chamber
dominated by an enormous round table around which King Arthur and his knights might have
been comfortable were it not for the presence of twelve flat-screen computer workstations. On
the far side of the room, a reference librarian was just pouring a pot of tea and settling in for her
day of work.
