danbrown.thedavincicode-第3章

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　Langdon　stared　at　the　picture；　his　horror　now　laced　with　fear。　The　image　was　gruesome　and　profoundly　strange；　bringing　with　it　an　unsettling　sense　of　déjà　vu。　A　little　over　a　year　ago；　Langdon　had　received　a　photograph　of　a　corpse　and　a　similar　request　for　help。　Twenty…four　hours　later；　he　had　almost　lost　his　life　inside　Vatican　City。　This　photo　was　entirely　different；　and　yet　something　about　the　scenario　felt　disquietingly　familiar。
　The　agent　checked　his　watch。　〃My　capitaine　is　waiting；　sir。〃
　Langdon　barely　heard　him。　His　eyes　were　still　riveted　on　the　picture。　〃This　symbol　here；　and　the　way　his　body　is　so　oddly。。。〃
　〃Positioned？〃　the　agent　offered。
　Langdon　nodded；　feeling　a　chill　as　he　looked　up。　〃I　can't　imagine　who　would　do　this　to　someone。〃
　The　agent　looked　grim。　〃You　don't　understand；　Mr。　Langdon。　What　you　see　in　this　photograph。。。〃　He　paused。　〃Monsieur　Saunière　did　that　to　himself。〃
　　
　CHAPTER　2
　
　One　mile　away；　the　hulking　albino　named　Silas　limped　through　the　front　gate　of　the　luxurious　brownstone　residence　on　Rue　La　Bruyère。　The　spiked　cilice　belt　that　he　wore　around　his　thigh　cut　into　his　flesh；　and　yet　his　soul　sang　with　satisfaction　of　service　to　the　Lord。
　Pain　is　good。
　His　red　eyes　scanned　the　lobby　as　he　entered　the　residence。　Empty。　He　climbed　the　stairs　quietly；　not　wanting　to　awaken　any　of　his　fellow　numeraries。　His　bedroom　door　was　open；　locks　were　forbidden　here。　He　entered；　closing　the　door　behind　him。
　The　room　was　spartan…hardwood　floors；　a　pine　dresser；　a　canvas　mat　in　the　corner　that　served　as　his　bed。　He　was　a　visitor　here　this　week；　and　yet　for　many　years　he　had　been　blessed　with　a　similar　sanctuary　in　New　York　City。
　The　Lord　has　provided　me　shelter　and　purpose　in　my　life。
　Tonight；　at　last；　Silas　felt　he　had　begun　to　repay　his　debt。　Hurrying　to　the　dresser；　he　found　the　cell　phone　hidden　in　his　bottom　drawer　and　placed　a　call。
　〃Yes？〃　a　male　voice　answered。
　〃Teacher；　I　have　returned。〃
　〃Speak；〃　the　voice　manded；　sounding　pleased　to　hear　from　him。
　〃All　four　are　gone。　The　three　sénéchaux。。。　and　the　Grand　Master　himself。〃
　There　was　a　momentary　pause；　as　if　for　prayer。　〃Then　I　assume　you　have　the　information？〃
　〃All　four　concurred。　Independently。〃
　〃And　you　believed　them？〃
　〃Their　agreement　was　too　great　for　coincidence。〃
　An　excited　breath。　〃Excellent。　I　had　feared　the　brotherhood's　reputation　for　secrecy　might　prevail。〃
　〃The　prospect　of　death　is　strong　motivation。〃
　〃So；　my　pupil；　tell　me　what　I　must　know。〃
　Silas　knew　the　information　he　had　gleaned　from　his　victims　would　e　as　a　shock。　〃Teacher；　all　four　confirmed　the　existence　of　the　clef　de　vo？te。。。　the　legendary　keystone。〃
　He　heard　a　quick　intake　of　breath　over　the　phone　and　could　feel　the　Teacher's　excitement。　〃The　keystone。　Exactly　as　we　suspected。〃
　According　to　lore；　the　brotherhood　had　created　a　map　of　stone…a　clef　de　vo？te。。。　or　keystone…an　engraved　tablet　that　revealed　the　final　resting　place　of　the　brotherhood's　greatest　secret。。。　information　so　powerful　that　its　protection　was　the　reason　for　the　brotherhood's　very　existence。
　〃When　we　possess　the　keystone；〃　the　Teacher　said；　〃we　will　be　only　one　step　away。〃
　〃We　are　closer　than　you　think。　The　keystone　is　here　in　Paris。〃
　〃Paris？　Incredible。　It　is　almost　too　easy。〃
　Silas　relayed　the　earlier　events　of　the　evening。。。　how　all　four　of　his　victims；　moments　before　death；　had　desperately　tried　to　buy　back　their　godless　lives　by　telling　their　secret。　Each　had　told　Silas　the　exact　same　thing…that　the　keystone　was　ingeniously　hidden　at　a　precise　location　inside　one　of　Paris's　ancient　churches…the　Eglise　de　Saint…Sulpice。
　〃Inside　a　house　of　the　Lord；〃　the　Teacher　exclaimed。　〃How　they　mock　us！〃
　〃As　they　have　for　centuries。〃
　The　Teacher　fell　silent；　as　if　letting　the　triumph　of　this　moment　settle　over　him。　Finally；　he　spoke。　〃You　have　done　a　great　service　to　God。　We　have　waited　centuries　for　this。　You　must　retrieve　the　stone　for　me。　Immediately。　Tonight。　You　understand　the　stakes。〃
　Silas　knew　the　stakes　were　incalculable；　and　yet　what　the　Teacher　was　now　manding　seemed　impossible。　〃But　the　church；　it　is　a　fortress。　Especially　at　night。　How　will　I　enter？〃
　With　the　confident　tone　of　a　man　of　enormous　influence；　the　Teacher　explained　what　was　to　be　done。
　　
　When　Silas　hung　up　the　phone；　his　skin　tingled　with　anticipation。
　One　hour；　he　told　himself；　grateful　that　the　Teacher　had　given　him　time　to　carry　out　the　necessary　penance　before　entering　a　house　of　God。　I　must　purge　my　soul　of　today's　sins。　The　sins　mitted　today　had　been　holy　in　purpose。　Acts　of　war　against　the　enemies　of　God　had　been　mitted　for　centuries。　Forgiveness　was　assured。
　Even　so；　Silas　knew；　absolution　required　sacrifice。
　Pulling　his　shades；　he　stripped　naked　and　knelt　in　the　center　of　his　room。　Looking　down；　he　examined　the　spiked　cilice　belt　clamped　around　his　thigh。　All　true　followers　of　The　Way　wore　this　device…a　leather　strap；　studded　with　sharp　metal　barbs　that　cut　into　the　flesh　as　a　perpetual　reminder　of　Christ's　suffering。　The　pain　caused　by　the　device　also　helped　counteract　the　desires　of　the　flesh。
　Although　Silas　already　had　worn　his　cilice　today　longer　than　the　requisite　two　hours；　he　knew　today　was　no　ordinary　day。　Grasping　the　buckle；　he　cinched　it　one　notch　tighter；　wincing　as　the　barbs　dug　deeper　into　his　flesh。　Exhaling　slowly；　he　savored　the　cleansing　ritual　of　his　pain。
　Pain　is　good；　Silas　whispered；　repeating　the　sacred　mantra　of　Father　Josemaría　Escrivá…the　Teacher　of　all　Teachers。　Although　Escrivá　had　died　in　1975；　his　wisdom　lived　on；　his　words　still　whispered　by　thousands　of　faithful　servants　around　the　globe　as　they　knelt　on　the　floor　and　performed　the　sacred　practice　known　as　〃corporal　mortification。〃
　Silas　turned　his　attention　now　to　a　heavy　knotted　rope　coiled　neatly　on　the　floor　beside　him。　The　Discipline。　The　knots　were　caked　with　dried　blood。　Eager　for　the　purifying　effects　of　his　own　agony；　Silas　said　a　quick　prayer。　Then；　gripping　one　end　of　the　rope；　he　closed　his　eyes　and　swung　it　hard　over　his　shoulder；　feeling　the　knots　slap　against　his　back。　He　whipped　it　over　his　shoulder　again；　slashing　at　his　flesh。　Again　and　again；　he　lashed。
　Castigo　corpus　meum。
　Finally；　he　felt　the　blood　begin　to　flow。
　　
　CHAPTER　3
　
　The　crisp　April　air　whipped　through　the　open　window　of　the　Citro？n　ZX　as　it　skimmed　south　past　the　Opera　House　and　crossed　Place　Vend？me。　In　the　passenger　seat；　Robert　Langdon　felt　the　city　tear　past　him　as　he　tried　to　clear　his　thoughts。　His　quick　shower　and　shave　had　left　him　looking　reasonably　presentable　but　had　done　little　to　ease　his　anxiety。　The　frightening　image　of　the　curator's　body　remained　locked　in　his　mind。
　Jacques　Saunière　is　dead。
　Langdon　could　not　help　but　feel　a　deep　sense　of　loss　at　the　curator's　death。　Despite　Saunière's　reputation　for　being　reclusive；　his　recognition　for　dedication　to　the　arts　made　him　an　easy　man　to　revere。　His　books　on　the　secret　codes　hidden　in　the　paintings　of　Poussin　and　Teniers　were　some　of　Langdon's　favorite　classroom　texts。　Tonight's　meeting　had　been　one　Langdon　was　very　much　looking　forward　to；　and　he　was　disappointed　when　the　curator　had　not　shown。
　Again　the　image　of　the　curator's　body　flashed　in　his　mind。　Jacques　Saunière　did　that　to　himself？　Langdon　turned　and　looked　out　the　window；　forcing　the　picture　from　his　mind。
　Outside；　the　city　was　just　now　winding　down…street　vendors　wheeling　carts　of　candied　amandes；　waiters　carrying　bags　of　garbage　to　the　curb；　a　pair　of　late　night　lovers　cuddling　to　stay　warm　in　a　breeze　scented　with　jasmine　blossom。　The　Citro？n　navigated　the　chaos　with　authority；　its　dissonant　two…tone　siren　parting　the　traffic　like　a　knife。
　〃Le　capitaine　was　pleased　to　discover　you　were　still　in　Paris　tonight；〃　the　agent　said；　speaking　for　the　first　time　since　they'd　left　the　hotel。　〃A　fortunate　coincidence。〃
　Langdon　was　feeling　anything　but　fortunate；　and　coincidence　was　a　concept　he　did　not　entirely　trust。　As　someone　who　had　spent　his　life　exploring　the　hidden　interconnectivity　of　disparate　emblems　and　ideologies；　Langdon　viewed　the　world　as　a　web　of　profoundly　intertwined　histories　an