response.
The gray area between yes and no.
Silence.
Staring at the cryptex in his hands, Langdon chose simply to walk away.
Without ever lifting his eyes, he stepped backward, out into the room's vast empty spaces.
Neutral ground. He hoped his focus on the cryptex signaled Teabing that collaboration might be
an option, and that his silence signaled Sophie he had not abandoned her.
All the while buying time to think.
The act of thinking, Langdon suspected, was exactly what Teabing wanted him to do. That's
why he handed me the cryptex. So I could feel the weight of my decision. The British historian
hoped the touch of the Grand Master's cryptex would make Langdon fully grasp the magnitude
of its contents, coaxing his academic curiosity to overwhelm all else, forcing him to realize that
failure to unlock the keystone would mean the loss of history itself.
With Sophie at gunpoint across the room, Langdon feared that discovering the cryptex's
elusive password would be his only remaining hope of bartering her release. If I can free the
map, Teabing will negotiate. Forcing his mind to this critical task, Langdon moved slowly
toward the far windows... allowing his mind to fill with the numerous astronomical images on
Newton's tomb.
You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
Turning his back to the others, he walked toward the towering windows, searching for any
inspiration in their stained-glass mosaics. There was none.
Place yourself in Saunière's mind, he urged, gazing outward now into College Garden.
What would he believe is the orb that ought be on Newton's tomb? Images of stars, comets, and
planets twinkled in the falling rain, but Langdon ignored them. Saunière was not a man of
science. He was a man of humanity, of art, of history. The sacred feminine... the chalice... the
Rose... the banished Mary Magdalene... the decline of the goddess... the Holy Grail.
Legend had always portrayed the Grail as a cruel mistress, dancing in the shadows just out
of sight, whispering in your ear, luring you one more step and then evaporating into the mist.
Gazing out at the rustling trees of College Garden, Langdon sensed her playful presence.
The signs were everywhere. Like a taunting silhouette emerging from the fog, the branches of
Britain's oldest apple tree burgeoned with five-petaled blossoms, all glistening like Venus.
The goddess was in the garden now. She was dancing in the rain, singing songs of the ages,
peeking out from behind the bud-filled branches as if to remind Langdon that the fruit of
knowledge was growing just beyond his reach.
Across the room, Sir Leigh Teabing watched with confidence as Langdon gazed out the window
as if under a spell.
Exactly as I hoped, Teabing thought. He will come around.
For some time now, Teabing had suspected Langdon might hold the key to the Grail. It was
no coincidence that Teabing launched his plan into action on the same night Langdon was
scheduled to meet Jacques Saunière. Listening in on the curator, Teabing was certain the man's
eagerness to meet privately with Langdon could mean only one thing. Langdon's mysterious
manuscript has touched a nerve with the Priory.
Langdon has stumbled onto a truth, and Sauni ère fears its release. Teabing felt certain the
Grand Master was summoning Langdon to silence him.
The Truth has been silenced long enough!
Teabing knew he had to act quickly. Silas's attack would accomplish two goals. It would
prevent Saunière from persuading Langdon to keep quiet, and it would ensure that once the
keystone was in Teabing's hands, Langdon would be in Paris for recruitment should Teabing
need him.
Arranging the fatal meeting between Saunière and Silas had been almost too easy. I had
inside information about Saunière's deepest fears. Yesterday afternoon, Silas had phoned the
curator and posed as a distraught priest. "Monsieur Saunière, forgive me, I must speak to you at
once. I should never breach the sanctity of the confessional, but in this case, I feel I must. I just
took confession from a man who claimed to have murdered members of your family."
Saunière's response was startled but wary. "My family died in an accident. The police report
was conclusive."
"Yes, a car accident," Silas said, baiting the hook. "The man I spoke to said he forced their
car off the road into a river."
Saunière fell silent.
"Monsieur Saunière, I would never have phoned you directly except this man made a
comment which makes me now fear for your safety." He paused. "The man also mentioned your
granddaughter, Sophie."
The mention of Sophie's name had been the catalyst. The curator leapt into action. He
ordered Silas to come see him immediately in the safest location Saunière knew— his Louvre
office. Then he phoned Sophie to warn her she might be in danger. Drinks with Robert Langdon
were instantly abandoned.
Now, with Langdon separated from Sophie on the far side of the room, Teabing sensed he
had successfully alienated the two companions from one another. Sophie Neveu remained
defiant, but Langdon clearly saw the larger picture. He was trying to figure out the password. He
understands the importance of finding the Grail and releasing her from bondage.
"He won't open it for you," Sophie said coldly. "Even if he can."
Teabing was glancing at Langdon as he held the gun on Sophie. He was fairly certain now
he was going to have to use the weapon. Although the idea troubled him, he knew he would
not hesitate if it came to that. I have given her every opportunity to do the right thing. The Grail
is bigger than any one of us.
At that moment, Langdon turned from the window. "The tomb..." he said suddenly, facing
them with a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I know where to look on Newton's tomb. Yes, I
think I can find the password!"
Teabing's heart soared. "Where, Robert? Tell me!"
Sophie sounded horrified. "Robert, no! You're not going to help him, are you?"
Langdon approached with a resolute stride, holding the cryptex before him. "No," he said,
his eyes hardening as he turned to Leigh. "Not until he lets you go."
Teabing's optimism darkened. "We are so close, Robert. Don't you dare start playing games
with me!"
"No games," Langdon said. "Let her go. Then I'll take you to Newton's tomb. We'll open the
cryptex together."
"I'm not going anywhere," Sophie declared, her eyes narrowing with rage. "That cryptex
was given to me by my grandfather. It is not yours to open."
Langdon wheeled, looking fearful. "Sophie, please! You're in danger. I'm trying to help
you!"
"How? By unveiling the secret my grandfather died trying to protect? He trusted you,
Robert. I trusted you!"
Langdon's blue eyes showed panic now, and Teabing could not help but smile to see the
two of them working against one another. Langdon's attempts to be gallant were more pathetic
than anything. On the verge of unveiling one of history's greatest secrets, and he troubles himself
with a woman who has proven herself unworthy of the quest.
"Sophie," Langdon pleaded. "Please... you must leave."
She shook her head. "Not unless you either hand me the cryptex or smash it on the floor."
"What?" Langdon gasped.
"Robert, my grandfather would prefer his secret lost forever than see it in the hands of his
murderer." Sophie's eyes looked as if they would well with tears, but they did not. She stared
directly back at Teabing. "Shoot me if you have to. I am not leaving my grandfather's legacy in
your hands."
Very well. Teabing aimed the weapon.
"No!" Langdon shouted, raising his arm and suspending the cryptex precariously over the
hard stone floor. "Leigh, if you even think about it, I will drop this."
Teabing laughed. "That bluff worked on Rémy. Not on me. I know you better than that."
"Do you, Leigh?"
Yes I do. Your poker face needs work, my friend. It took me several seconds, but I can see
now that you are lying. You have no idea where on Newton's tomb the answer lies. "Truly,
Robert? You know where on the tomb to look?"
"I do."
The falter in Langdon's eyes was fleeting but Leigh caught it. There was a lie there. A
desperate, pathetic ploy to save Sophie. Teabing felt a profound disappointment in Robert
Langdon.
I am a lone knight, surrounded by unworthy souls. And I will have to decipher the keystone
on my own.
Langdon and Neveu were nothing but a threat to Teabing now... and to the Grail. As painful
as the solution was going to be, he knew he could carry it out with a clean conscience. The only
challenge would be to persuade Langdon to set down the keystone so Teabing could safely end
this charade.
"A show of faith," Teabing said, lowering the gun from Sophie. "Set down the keystone,
and we'll talk."
Langdon knew his lie had failed.
He could see the dark resolve in Teabing's face and knew the moment was upon them.
When I set this down, he will kill us both. Even without looking at Sophie, he could hear her
heart beseeching him in silent desperation. Robert, this man is not worthy of the Grail. Please do
not place it in his hands. No matter what the cost.
Langdon had already made his decision several minutes ago, while standing alone at the
window overlooking College Garden.
Protect Sophie.
Protect the Grail.
Langdon had almost shouted out in desperation. But I cannot see how!
The stark moments of disillusionment had brought with them a clarity unlike any he had
ever felt. The Truth is right before your eyes, Robert. He knew not from where the epiphany
came. The Grail is not mocking you, she is calling out to a worthy soul.
Now, bowing down like a subject several yards in front of Leigh Teabing, Langdon lowered
the cryptex to within inches of the stone floor.
"Yes, Robert," Teabing whispered, aiming the gun at him. "Set it down."
Langdon's eyes moved heavenward, up into the gaping void of the Chapter House cupola.
Crouching lower, Langdon lowered his gaze to Teabing's gun, aimed directly at him.
"I'm sorry, Leigh."
In one fluid motion, Langdon leapt up, swinging his arm skyward, launching the cryptex
straight up toward the dome above.
Leigh Teabing did not feel his finger pull the trigger, but the Medusa discharged with a
thundering crash. Langdon's crouched form was now vertical, almost airborne, and the bullet
exploded in the floor near Langdon's feet. Half of Teabing's brain attempted to adjust his aim
and fire again in rage, but the more powerful half dragged his eyes upward into the cupola.
The keystone!
Time seemed to freeze, morphing into a slow-motion dream as Teabing's entire world
became the airborne keystone. He watched it rise to the apex of its climb... hovering for a
moment in the void... and then tumbling downward, end over end, back toward the stone floor.
All of Teabing's hopes and dreams were plummeting toward earth. It cannot strike the
floor! I can reach it! Teabing's body reacted on instinct. He released the gun and heaved himself
forward, dropping his crutches as he reached out with his soft, manicured hands. Stretching his
arms and fingers, he snatched the keystone from midair.
Falling forward with the keystone victoriously clutched in his hand, Teabing knew he was
falling too fast. With nothing to break his fall, his outstretched arms hit first, and the cryptex
collided hard with the floor.
There was a sickening crunch of glass within.
For a full second, Teabing did not breathe. Lying there outstretched on the cold floor,
staring the length of his outstretched arms at the marble cylinder in his bare palms, he implored
the glass vial inside to hold. Then the acrid tang of vinegar cut the air, and Teabing felt the cool
liquid flowing out through the dials onto his palm.
Wild panic gripped him. NO! The vinegar was streaming now, and Teabing pictured the
papyrus dissolving within. Robert, you fool! The secret is lost!
Teabing felt himself sobbing uncontrollably. The Grail is gone. Everything destroyed.
Shuddering in disbelief over Langdon's actions, Teabing tried to force the cylinder apart, longing
to catch a fleeting glimpse of history before it dissolved forever. To his shock, as he pulled the
ends of the keystone, the cylinder separated.
He gasped and peered inside. It was empty except for shards of wet glass. No dissolving
papyrus. Teabing rolled over and looked up at Langdon. Sophie stood beside him, aiming the
gun down at Teabing.
Bewildered, Teabing looked back at the keystone and saw it. The dials were no longer at
random. They spelled a five-letter word: APPLE.
"The orb from which Eve partook," Langdon said coolly, "incurring the Holy wrath of God.
Original sin. The symbol of the fall of the sacred feminine."
Teabing felt the truth come crashing down on him in excruciating austerity. The orb that
ought be on Newton's tomb could be none other than the Rosy apple that fell from heaven, struck
Newton on the head, and inspired his life's work. His labor's fruit! The Rosy flesh with a seeded
womb!
"Robert," Teabing stammered, overwhelmed. "You opened it. Where... is the map?"
