The Da Vinci Code Chapter 7-9

CHAPTER 7The modest dwelling within the Church of Saint-Sulpice was located on the second floor of the church itself, to the left of the choir balcony. A deuce-room suite with a stone floor and minimal furnishings, it had been domicile to Sister Sandrine Bieil for oer a decade. The nearby convent washer formal residence, if everyone asked, but she like the quiet of the church and had made herself quite comfortable upstairs with a bed, skirt, and hot plate.As the churchs conservatrice daffaires, Sister Sandrine was responsible for overseeing all nonreligious aspects of church operations ordinary maintenance, hiring support staff and guides, securing the building after hours, and ordering supplies like communion wine and wafers.Tonight, asleep in her small bed, she awoke to the shrill of her telephone. Tiredly, she lifted the receiver.Soeur Sandrine. Eglise Saint-Sulpice.Hello, Sister, the man tell in French.Sister Sandrine sat up. What time is it? Although she recognized her bos ss voice, in fifteen years she had never been awoken by him. The abbe was a deeply pious man who went home to bed immediately after mass.I apologize if I call for awoken you, Sister, the abbe said, his own voice looking groggy and on edge. I have a favor to ask of you. I just received a call from an influential American bishop.Perhaps you know him? Manuel Aringarosa?The head of small-arm Dei? Of course I know of him.Who in the Church doesnt? Aringarosas conservative prelature had grown powerful in recent years. Their ascension to grace was jump-st dodgeed in 1982 when pontiff John capital of Minnesota II unexpectedly elevated them to a soulal prelature of the Pope, officially sanctioning all of their practices. Suspiciously, Opus Deis elevation occurred the same year the wealthy sect allegedly had transferred almost one billion dollars into the Vaticans Institute for Religious Works commonly known as the Vatican Bank bailing it out of an embarrassing bankruptcy. In a second m aneuver that raised eyebrows, the Pope placed the founder of Opus Dei on the fast track for sainthood, accelerating an often century-long waiting period for canonization to a mere twenty years. Sister Sandrine could not help but feel that Opus Deis good standing in Rome was suspect, but one did not argue with the Holy See.Bishop Aringarosa called to ask me a favor, the abbe told her, his voice nervous. One of his numeraries is in Paris tonightAs Sister Sandrine listened to the odd request, she felt a intensify confusion. Im sorry, you say this visiting Opus Dei numerary cannot wait until morning?Im afraid not. His plane leaves very early. He has constantly dreamed of seeing Saint-Sulpice.But the church is off the beaten track(predicate) more(prenominal) interesting by day. The suns rays finished the oculus, the graduated shadows on the gnomon, this is what makes Saint-Sulpice unique.Sister, I agree, and til now I would consider it a personal favor if you could let him in tonigh t. He can be there at say one oclock? Thats in twenty minutes.Sister Sandrine frowned. Of course. It would be my pleasure. The abbe thanked her and hung up. Puzzled, Sister Sandrine remained a moment in the warmth of her bed, trying to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. Her sixty-year-old body did not awake as fast as it used to, although tonights phone call had certainly roused her senses. Opus Dei had always made her uneasy. Beyond the prelatures adherence to the arcane ritual of corporal mortification, their views on women were medieval at best. She had been shocked to learn that female numeraries were forced to loot the mens residence halls for no pay while the men were at mass women slept on hardwood floors, while the men had straw mats and women were forced to endure spare requirements of corporal mortification all as added penance for original sin. It seemed Eves bite from the apple of knowledge was a debt women were doomed to pay for eternity. Sadly, while most of the Catholi c Church was gradually moving in the right direction with respect to womens rights, Opus Dei threatened to reverse the progress. Even so, Sister Sandrine had her orders.Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood slowly, chilled by the cold stone on the soles of her bare feet. As the chill rose through her flesh, she felt an unexpected apprehension.Womens intuition?A follower of God, Sister Sandrine had learn to find peace in the calming voices of her own soul. Tonight, however, those voices were as silent as the empty church around her.CHAPTER 8Langdon couldnt tear his eyes from the freshness purple text scrawled across the parquet floor. Jacques Saunieres final communication seemed as unlikely a departing pass along as any Langdon could imagine.The capacity read 13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5 O, firedrakenian devil Oh, lame saintAlthough Langdon had not the slightest idea what it meant, he did understand Faches instinct that the pentacle had some social function to do with devil worship.O, Draconian devilSauniere had left a literal reference to the devil. Equally as freaky was the series of numbers. Part of it looks like a numeric cipher.Yes, Fache said. Our cryptographers are already working on it. We cogitate these numbers whitethornbe the key to who killed him. Maybe a telephone exchange or some merciful of social identification. Do the numbers have any symbolic meaning to you?Langdon looked again at the digits, sensing it would take him hours to extract any symbolic meaning. If Sauniere had even intended any.To Langdon, the numbers looked totally random. He was accustom to symbolic progressions that made some semblance of sense, but everything here the pentacle, the text, the numbers seemed disparate at the most fundamental level.You alleged earlier, Fache said, that Saunieres actions here were all in an effort to send some sort of inwardness goddess worship or something in that vein? How does this essence fit in?Langdon knew the question was rhetorical. T his bizarre despatch obviously did not fit Langdons scenario of goddess worship at all.O, Draconian devil? Oh, lame saint?Fache said, This text appears to be an accusation of some sort. Wouldnt you agree?Langdon tested to imagine the curators final minutes trapped alone in the Grand Gallery, knowing he was about to die. It seemed logical. An accusation against his murderer makes sense, I suppose.My job, of course, is to put a name to that person. Let me ask you this, Mr. Langdon. To your eye, beyond the numbers, what about this message is most strange?Most strange? A dying man had barricaded himself in the gallery, drawn a pentacle on himself, and scrawled a mysterious accusation on the floor. What about the scenario wasnt strange?The word Draconian? he ventured, offering the first thing that came to mind. Langdon was fairly certain that a reference to Draco the ruthless seventh-century B. C. politician was an unlikely dying thought. Draconian devil seems an odd choice of vocabu lary.Draconian? Faches tone came with a tinge of impatience now. Saunieres choice of vocabulary hardly seems the primary issue here.Langdon wasnt sure what issue Fache had in mind, but he was starting to suspect that Draco and Fache would have gotten along well.Sauniere was a Frenchman, Fache said flatly. He lived in Paris. And yet he chose to write this messageIn English, Langdon said, now realizing the captains meaning. Fache nodded. Precisement.Any idea why? Langdon knew Sauniere round impeccable English, and yet the reason he had chosen English as the language in which to write his final words escaped Langdon. He shrugged.Fache motioned anchor to the pentacle on Saunieres abdomen. Nothing to do with devil worship? Are you still certain?Langdon was certain of nothing anymore. The symbology and text dont seem to coincide. Im sorry I cant be of more help.Perhaps this will clarify. Fache rumped away from the body and raised the black light again, letting the beam spread out in a wider angle. And now?To Langdons amazement, a rudimentary circle glowed around the curators body. Sauniere had apparently lay down and swung the pen around himself in several long arcs, essentially inscribing himself inside a circle.In a flash, the meaning became create.The Vitruvian Man,Langdon gasped. Sauniere had created a life-sized replica of da Vinci Da Vincis most famous sketch.Considered the most anatomically sort out drawing of its day, Da Vincis The Vitruvian Man had become a modern-day icon of culture, appearing on posters, mouse pads, and T-shirts around the world. The celebrated sketch consisted of a ideal circle in which was inscribed a nude male his arms and legs outstretched in a naked spread eagle.Da Vinci.Langdon felt a shiver of amazement. The clarity of Saunieres intentions could not be denied. In his final moments of life, the curator had stripped off his clothing and arranged his body in a clear image of Leonardo Da Vincis VitruvianMan.The circle had been t he missing critical element. A feminine symbol of protection, the circle around the naked mans body completed Da Vincis intended message male and female harmony. The question now, though, was why Sauniere would imitate a famous drawing.Mr. Langdon, Fache said, certainly a man like yourself is aware that Leonardo Da Vinci had a tendency toward the sader arts.Langdon was surprised by Faches knowledge of Da Vinci, and it certainly went a long way toward explaining the captains suspicions about devil worship. Da Vinci had always been an awkward subject for historians, especially in the Christian tradition. Despite the visionarys genius, he was a flamboyant homosexual and worshipper of Natures divine order, both of which placed him in a perpetual state of sin against God. Moreover, the artists eerie eccentricities projected an admittedly demonic aura Da Vinci exhumed corpses to study human anatomy he unploughed mysterious journals in illegible reverse handwriting he believed he posses sed the alchemic power to turn lead into gold and even chess game God by creating an elixir to postpone death and his inventions included horrific, never-before-imagined weapons of war and torture.Misunderstanding breeds distrust, Langdon thought.Even Da Vincis enormous output of breathtaking Christian art only furthered the artists reputation for spiritual hypocrisy. Accepting hundreds of lucrative Vatican commissions, Da Vinci painted Christian themes not as an expression of his own beliefs but rather as a commercial venture a means of funding a lavish lifestyle. Unfortunately, Da Vinci was a prankster who often amused himself by quietly gnawing at the hand that fed him. He mergedd in many of his Christian paintings hidden symbolism that was anything but Christian tributes to his own beliefs and a baneful thumbing of his nose at the Church. Langdon had even given a lecture once at the National Gallery in London entitled The Secret conduct of Leonardo Pagan Symbolism in Chri stian Art.I understand your concerns, Langdon now said, but Da Vinci never really practiced any dark arts. He was an exceptionally spiritual man, albeit one in constant conflict with the Church. As Langdon said this, an odd thought popped into his mind. He glanced down at the message on the floor again. O, Draconian devil Oh, lame saintYes? Fache said.Langdon weighed his words carefully. I was just thinking that Sauniere shared out a lot of spiritual ideologies with Da Vinci, including a concern over the Churchs elimination of the sacred feminine from modern religion. Maybe, by imitating a famous Da Vinci drawing, Sauniere was simply echoing some of their shared frustrations with the modern Churchs demonization of the goddess.Faches eyes hardened. You think Sauniere is calling the Church a lame saint and a Draconian devil?Langdon had to admit it seemed far-fetched, and yet the pentacle seemed to endorse the idea on some level. All I am saying is that Mr. Sauniere dedicated his life to studying the history of the goddess, and nothing has done more to erase that history than the Catholic Church. It seems reasonable that Sauniere might have chosen to express his disappointment in his final good-bye.Disappointment? Fache demanded, sounding hostile now. This message sounds more enragedthan disappointed, wouldnt you say?Langdon was reaching the end of his patience. Captain, you asked for my instincts as to what Sauniere is trying to say here, and thats what Im giving you.That this is an indictment of the Church? Faches jaw tightened as he spoke through clenched teeth. Mr. Langdon, I have seen a lot of death in my work, and let me tell you something. When a man is murdered by another man, I do not believe his final thoughts are to write an obscure spiritual statement that no one will understand. I believe he is thinking of one thing only. Faches whispery voice sliced the air. La vengeance.I believe Sauniere wrote this note to tell us who killed him. Langdon stared. But that makes no sense whatsoever. No? No, he fired back, tired and frustrated. You told me Sauniere was attacked in his office by someone he had apparently invited in.Yes.So it seems reasonable to conclude that the curator knew his attacker. Fache nodded. Go on. So if Sauniere knew the person who killed him, what kind of indictment is this? He pointed at the floor. Numeric decrees? Lame saints? Draconian devils? Pentacles on his stomach? Its all too mantic.Fache frowned as if the idea had never occurred to him. You have a point.Considering the circumstances, Langdon said, I would assume that if Sauniere wanted to tell you who killed him, he would have written down somebodys name.As Langdon spoke those words, a smug smile track Faches lips for the first time all night. Precisement,Fache said. Precisement.I am witnessing the work of a master, mused Lieutenant Collet as he tweaked his audio gear and listened to Faches voice attack through the headphones. The performer superieur knew it was moments like these that had lifted the captain to the pinnacle of French law enforcement.Fache will do what no one else dares.The delicate art of cajoler was a lost skill in modern law enforcement, one that required exceptional poise under pressure. Few men possessed the necessary sangfroid for this kind of operation, but Fache seemed born for it. His restraint and patience touch on the robotic.Faches sole emotion this evening seemed to be one of intense resolve, as if this arrest were in some manner personal to him. Faches briefing of his agents an hour ago had been unusually succinct and assured. I know who murdered Jacques Sauniere, Fache had said. You know what to do.No mistakes tonight.And so far, no mistakes had been made.Collet was not yet privy to the evidence that had cemented Faches certainty of their suspects guilt, but he knew better than to question the instincts of the Bull. Faches intuition seemed almost supernatural at times. God whispers in his ear, on e agent had insisted after a particularly impressive display of Faches sixth sense. Collet had to admit, if there was a God, Bezu Fache would be on His A-list. The captain tended to(p) mass and acknowledgment with zealous regularity far more than the requisite holiday attendance fulfilled by other officials in the name of good public relations. When the Pope visited Paris a few years back, Fache had used all his muscle to obtain the honor of an audience. A photo of Fache with the Pope now hung in his office. The overblown Bull, the agents secretly called it.Collet found it ironic that one of Faches rare popular public stances in recent years had been his outspoken reaction to the Catholic pedophilia scandal. These priests should be hanged twice Fache had declared. Once for their crimes against children.And once for shaming the good name of theCatholic Church.Collet had the odd sense it was the latter that angered Fache more.Turning now to his laptop computer, Collet attended to the other half of his responsibilities here tonight the GPS tracking system. The image onscreen revealed a detailed floor plan of the Denon Wing, a structural schematic uploaded from the Louvre security department Office. Letting his eyes trace the maze of galleries and hallways, Collet found what he was looking for. Deep in the heart of the Grand Gallery blinked a precise red dot. La marque.Fache was keeping his prey on a very tight leash tonight. Wisely so. Robert Langdon had proven himself one cool customer.CHAPTER 9To assure his conversation with Mr. Langdon would not be interrupted, Bezu Fache had turned off his carrelular phone. Unfortunately, it was an expensive model equipped with a two-way radio feature, which, contrary to his orders, was now beingness used by one of his agents to page him.Capitaine? The phone crackled like a walkie-talkie.Fache felt his teeth clench in rage. He could imagine nothing big enough that Collet would interrupt this surveillance cachee es pecially at this critical juncture.He gave Langdon a calm look of apology. One moment disport. He pulled the phone from his belt and pressed the radio transmission button. Oui?Capitaine, un agent du Departement de Cryptographie est arrive.Faches anger stalled momently. A cryptographer? Despite the lousy timing, this was probably good news. Fache, after finding Saunieres cryptic text on the floor, had uploaded photographs of the entire crime scene to the Cryptography Department in hopes someone there could tell him what the hell Sauniere was trying to say. If a code breaker had now arrived, it most likely meant someone had decrypted Saunieres message.Im busy at the moment, Fache radioed back, leaving no doubt in his tone that a line had been crossed. contract the cryptographer to wait at the command post. Ill speak to him when Im done.Her,the voice corrected. Its Agent Neveu.Fache was becoming less amused with this call every passing moment. Sophie Neveu was one of DCPJs biggest m istakes. A young Parisian dechiffreuse who had studied cryptography in England at the Royal Holloway, Sophie Neveu had been foisted on Fache two years ago as part of the ministrys attempt to incorporate more women into the police force. The ministrys ongoing foray into political correctness, Fache argued, was weakening the department. Women not only lacked the physicality necessary for police work, but their mere presence comprise a dangerous distraction to the men in the field. As Fache had feared, Sophie Neveu was proving far more distracting than most.At thirty-two years old, she had a dogged determination that bordered on obstinate. Her eager espousal of Britains new cryptologic methodology continually exasperated the veteran French cryptographers above her. And by far the most disturb to Fache was the inescapable universal truth that in an office of middle-aged men, an attractive young muliebrity always drew eyes away from the work at hand.The man on the radio said, Agent Ne veu insisted on speaking to you immediately, Captain. I tried to stop her, but shes on her way into the gallery.Fache recoiled in disbelief. Unacceptable I made it very clear For a moment, Robert Langdon thought Bezu Fache was suffering a stroke. The captain was mid- sentence when his jaw stopped moving and his eyes bulged. His blistering discern seemed fixated on something over Langdons shoulder. Before Langdon could turn to see what it was, he heard a womans voice chime out behind him.Excusez-moi, messieurs.Langdon turned to see a young woman approaching. She was moving down the corridor toward them with long, fluid strides a haunting certainty to her gait. Dressed casually in a knee-length, cream-colored Irish sweater over black leggings, she was attractive and looked to be about thirty. Her thick burgundy hair fell unstyled to her shoulders, framing the warmth of her face. Unlike the waifish, cookie-cutter blondes that adorned Harvard dorm room walls, this woman was healthy w ith an unembellished beauty and genuineness that radiated a striking personal confidence.To Langdons surprise, the woman walked directly up to him and extended a polite hand. Monsieur Langdon, I am Agent Neveu from DCPJs Cryptology Department. Her words curved richly around her muted Anglo-Franco accent. It is a pleasure to meet you.Langdon took her soft palm in his and felt himself momentarily fixed in her strong gaze. Her eyes were olive-green incisive and clear.Fache drew a seething inhalation, clearly preparing to launch into a reprimand.Captain, she said, turning quickly and beating him to the punch, please excuse the interruption, but Ce nest pas le moment Fache sputtered.I tried to phone you. Sophie continued in English, as if out of courtesy to Langdon. But your cell phone was turned off.I turned it off for a reason, Fache hissed. I am speaking to Mr. Langdon. Ive deciphered the numeric code, she said flatly. Langdon felt a impetus of excitement. She broke the code?Fache looked uncertain how to respond.Before I explain, Sophie said, I have an urgent message for Mr. Langdon. Faches expression turned to one of deepening concern. For Mr. Langdon? She nodded, turning back to Langdon. You need to contact the U. S. Embassy, Mr. Langdon. They have a message for you from the States.Langdon reacted with surprise, his excitement over the code giving way to a sudden ripple of concern. A message from the States? He tried to imagine who could be trying to reach him. Only a few of his colleagues knew he was in Paris.Faches broad jaw had tightened with the news. The U. S. Embassy? he demanded, sounding suspicious. How would they know to find Mr. Langdon here?Sophie shrugged. Apparently they called Mr. Langdons hotel, and the concierge told them Mr. Langdon had been collected by a DCPJ agent.Fache looked troubled. And the embassy contacted DCPJ Cryptography?No, sir, Sophie said, her voice firm. When I called the DCPJ switchboard in an attempt to contact you, they h ad a message waiting for Mr. Langdon and asked me to pass it along if I got through to you.Faches brow furrowed in apparent confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sophie had already turned back to Langdon.Mr. Langdon, she declared, pulling a small event of paper from her pocket, this is the number for your embassys messaging service. They asked that you phone in as soon as possible. She transfer him the paper with an intent gaze. While I explain the code to Captain Fache, you need to make this call.Langdon studied the slip. It had a Paris phone number and annex on it. Thank you, he said, feeling worried now. Where do I find a phone?Sophie began to pull a cell phone from her sweater pocket, but Fache waved her off. He now looked like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt. Without taking his eyes off Sophie, he produced his own cell phone and held it out. This line is secure, Mr. Langdon. You may use it.Langdon felt mystified by Faches anger with the young woman. Feeling uneasy, he a ccepted the captains phone. Fache immediately marched Sophie several steps away and began chastising her in low-keyed tones. Disliking the captain more and more, Langdon turned away from the odd confrontation and switched on the cell phone. Checking the slip of paper Sophie had given him, Langdon dialed the number.The line began to ring.One ring two rings three rings Finally the call connected. Langdon expected to hear an embassy operator, but he found himself instead listening to an answering machine. Oddly, the voice on the tape was familiar. It was that of Sophie Neveu.Bonjour, vous etes bien chez Sophie Neveu, the womans voice said. Je suis absenle pour le moment, maisConfused, Langdon turned back toward Sophie. Im sorry, Ms. Neveu? I think you may have given me No, thats the right number, Sophie interjected quickly, as if anticipating Langdons confusion. The embassy has an automated message system. You have to dial an access code to pick up your messages.Langdon stared. But Its the three-digit code on the paper I gave you.Langdon opened his mouth to explain the bizarre error, but Sophie flashed him a silencing glare that lasted only an instant. Her green eyes sent a crystal-clear message.Dont ask questions. Just do it.Bewildered, Langdon punched in the extension on the slip of paper 454.Sophies outgoing message immediately cut off, and Langdon heard an electronic voice announce in French You have one new message. Apparently, 454 was Sophies out-of-door access code for picking up her messages while away from home.Im picking up this womans messages?Langdon could hear the tape rewinding now. Finally, it stopped, and the machine engaged. Langdon listened as the message began to play. Again, the voice on the line was Sophies.Mr. Langdon, the message began in a fearful whisper. Do not react to this message. Just listen calmly. You are in danger right now. keep abreast my directions very closely.