Emerging from the shadows, Langdon and Sophie moved stealthily up the deserted Grand Gallery
+ \2 ~  N; r) Z  V' z! |! Ycorridor toward the emergency exit stairwell.
- K5 h8 ]' k2 u7 R7 qAs he moved, Langdon felt like he was trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle in the dark. The newest
: v7 [  T" v# a8 o+ Laspect of this mystery was a deeply troubling one: The captain of the Judicial Police is trying to
% m) C3 `% H' }& X. l8 sframe me for murder
0 t; y& S% h7 j3 _+ k) \3 Q"Do you think," he whispered, "that maybe Fache wrote that message on the floor?"9 Q/ t) P8 y$ n+ H
Sophie didn't even turn. "Impossible."  Z& Q6 |  n5 F- j6 N! M
Langdon wasn't so sure. "He seems pretty intent on making me look guilty. Maybe he thought   O$ M9 F; B7 R- c+ f
writing my name on the floor would help his case?"
( R% b8 R, ?$ Z+ M"The Fibonacci sequence? The P.S.? All the Da Vinci and goddess symbolism? That had to be my
6 g' u3 L. S3 O$ @; T% g) ]grandfather."! L+ M' {( m( k( s: O# t, Z
Langdon knew she was right. The symbolism of the clues meshed too perfectly—the pentacle, The ( n, k% c  U4 Q5 t$ E& W
Vitruvian Man, Da Vinci, the goddess, and even the Fibonacci sequence. A coherent symbolic set, . e$ A/ F" `! L) W- Y
as iconographers would call it. All inextricably tied.
0 O' a! B9 @( f: x9 s. \, f"And his phone call to me this afternoon," Sophie added. "He said he had to tell me something. I'm
$ B& p1 _. o" Q4 K7 O4 Scertain his message at the Louvre was his final effort to tell me something important, something he
3 }5 j7 ?4 g& r9 O/ u2 nthought you could help me understand."
) W! u* Y) E* [Langdon frowned. O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint.! He wished he could comprehend the " K* T5 z# P8 q  b+ u7 l
message, both for Sophie's well-being and for his own. Things had definitely gotten worse since he
# ]% z7 k2 k6 Ifirst laid eyes on the cryptic words. His fake leap out the bathroom window was not going to help 9 x- g7 c- t7 n5 K$ X$ |
Langdon's popularity with Fache one bit. Somehow he doubted the captain of the French police 5 S% c  o( n5 u- W; @
would see the humor in chasing down and arresting a bar of soap.# g3 Z( c0 S+ I& g2 i: J
"The doorway isn't much farther," Sophie said.( h) O7 [5 v" z' {
"Do you think there's a possibility that the numbers in your grandfather's message hold the key to
0 y6 \3 s7 f! wunderstanding the other lines?" Langdon had once worked on a series of Baconian manuscripts that 8 @+ M$ K3 L, H9 W; k
contained epigraphical ciphers in which certain lines of code were clues as to how to decipher the ! s7 _8 K' ^, B4 I: |6 f. J! W

7 j( r1 T, S+ i$ q5 X7 ^' O: j& V% vother lines.
* O4 A' U- I9 n) Q( @" a# S1 ]+ @"I've been thinking about the numbers all night. Sums, quotients, products. I don't see anything.
% j8 w# e6 l3 {8 `0 S2 \* s# aMathematically, they're arranged at random. Cryptographic gibberish."
+ L% G9 e4 U! i6 E8 S# ^3 k"And yet they're all part of the Fibonacci sequence. That can't be coincidence."( |9 H/ v3 m& L5 }  K
"It's not. Using Fibonacci numbers was my grandfather's way of waving another flag at me—like
( k0 A! K; s& A; x" [writing the message in English, or arranging himself like my favorite piece of art, or drawing a
9 P+ B" ]6 P( B, B2 M9 [pentacle on himself. All of it was to catch my attention."
" j# [! n, O9 J- D4 [6 M* k0 g"The pentacle has meaning to you?"
8 K! R& I) V: a1 C"Yes. I didn't get a chance to tell you, but the pentacle was a special symbol between my ( G/ u4 A2 R+ L7 S% b  y
grandfather and me when I was growing up. We used to play Tarot cards for fun, and my indicator 8 S$ v& y3 K' J  G
card always turned out to be from the suit of pentacles. I'm sure he stacked the deck, but pentacles   Y1 R1 C2 j4 e$ N3 T
got to be our little joke."/ F8 n4 P/ B% X/ t" Z  K! n
Langdon felt a chill. They played Tarot? The medieval Italian card game was so replete with 3 t( X+ f7 a" Y. P
hidden heretical symbolism that Langdon had dedicated an entire chapter in his new manuscript to   ]5 J7 R/ a: L! o8 y9 b1 e4 p" J
the Tarot. The game's twenty-two cards bore names like The Female Pope, The Empress, and The
& f+ y' G6 I* w0 }! RStar. Originally, Tarot had been devised as a secret means to pass along ideologies banned by the   V" \2 f" K" l' N- f4 J/ f
Church. Now, Tarot's mystical qualities were passed on by modern fortune-tellers.+ J1 J+ e4 {$ ]8 c1 k  l5 L: v
The Tarot indicator suit for feminine divinity is pentacles, Langdon thought, realizing that if
) ^$ W. k5 B1 Q, ASaunière had been stacking his granddaughter's deck for fun, pentacles was an apropos inside joke.
( B+ v% }+ T$ x- @# a4 {They arrived at the emergency stairwell, and Sophie carefully pulled open the door. No alarm 1 b) z, ~: u* g" o; p  {7 X/ p2 o
sounded. Only the doors to the outside were wired. Sophie led Langdon down a tight set of # P9 `  F- m7 n0 O' k2 k
switchback stairs toward the ground level, picking up speed as they went.
" l: B8 E9 B8 c0 C% r"Your grandfather," Langdon said, hurrying behind her, "when he told you about the pentacle, did
) V% p( a) T0 b/ K( P/ a% Vhe mention goddess worship or any resentment of the Catholic Church?"
0 j. S% e5 A( P) FSophie shook her head. "I was more interested in the mathematics of it—the Divine Proportion, ; K9 g) q! M2 g% p: H% Q9 j
PHI, Fibonacci sequences, that sort of thing."8 ]8 T& o/ U& J3 s8 ^6 n8 }. L
Langdon was surprised. "Your grandfather taught you about the number PHI?"
5 W* W  p1 m; }6 ^+ a" o$ C"Of course. The Divine Proportion." Her expression turned sheepish. "In fact, he used to joke that I ) N: M) ]$ W& ]! Y/ j: V
was half divine... you know, because of the letters in my name."
- V& R% o! _0 E9 u* m4 kLangdon considered it a moment and then groaned.
, v) f, D. R" [& C1 H7 H: c/ B8 L% Y  t, V/ m; [
s-o-PHI-e.& O& E$ d; o$ ?5 g0 E- f+ }
Still descending, Langdon refocused on PHI. He was starting to realize that Saunière's clues were ' c4 |/ R* e  b" s
even more consistent than he had first imagined.0 Y1 I& ]( p, w3 o9 r% x, ^
Da Vinci... Fibonacci numbers... the pentacle.- ]1 w4 |. I3 D9 q5 U5 ^
Incredibly, all of these things were connected by a single concept so fundamental to art history that
+ R+ t& h! z& q2 z! O0 \& ], zLangdon often spent several class periods on the topic.
, C' F/ `' q* n. A# zPHI.
+ a6 r' d& ]' H* x6 s: D% CHe felt himself suddenly reeling back to Harvard, standing in front of his "Symbolism in Art" class,
* `  r: ]( A/ {! r- u" ]7 x, Zwriting his favorite number on the chalkboard.
7 |2 u7 w+ V+ A1.618! ?- S# [) G3 P0 a& O2 Z
Langdon turned to face his sea of eager students. "Who can tell me what this number is?"
& J9 o: s- r* O+ q. S3 T4 \3 XA long-legged math major in back raised his hand. "That's the number PHI." He pronounced it fee.: A. E( \7 h2 r6 p
"Nice job, Stettner," Langdon said. "Everyone, meet PHI."7 C/ W9 ]3 F( L$ \
"Not to be confused with PI," Stettner added, grinning. "As we mathematicians like to say: PHI is   v* Q& E( L  }$ I3 N
one H of a lot cooler than PI!"
8 F0 q, |) o: x9 Z  nLangdon laughed, but nobody else seemed to get the joke.8 A7 r% D1 w8 L5 Z  P# _# S
Stettner slumped.- p. }6 D! z6 O- q% C  M
"This number PHI," Langdon continued, "one-point-six-one-eight, is a very important number in ) p+ Z) A* j/ T9 S% @* C4 W
art. Who can tell me why?"* v1 J2 ?5 Q3 I: o% y4 ~7 E
Stettner tried to redeem himself. "Because it's so pretty?"9 v7 Z% u; o- s0 z, q4 \
Everyone laughed.
& J* h6 q# n1 [5 d/ P$ r"Actually," Langdon said, "Stettner's right again. PHI is generally considered the most beautiful 1 e! v. O2 n% G4 ~, m
number in the universe."  B( l: X5 `6 I5 z+ v1 b: ^* A. F
The laughter abruptly stopped, and Stettner gloated.( E/ H' r/ A) O+ a

0 p- h8 ]% b6 N' H  S& G- N' oAs Langdon loaded his slide projector, he explained that the number PHI was derived from the ( n8 V; ^2 n' p- |2 g
Fibonacci sequence—a progression famous not only because the sum of adjacent terms equaled the
0 w! i4 s4 r4 k  L$ Wnext term, but because the quotients of adjacent terms possessed the astonishing property of 5 i$ T4 |, o' m  f) [) F
approaching the number 1.618—PHI!
1 b' r7 L/ k/ q$ PDespite PHI's seemingly mystical mathematical origins, Langdon explained, the truly mind-
! _! u) C* A2 A+ `$ kboggling aspect of PHI was its role as a fundamental building block in nature. Plants, animals, and 5 R( f2 x) L, d, M/ r- a: R4 W
even human beings all possessed dimensional properties that adhered with eerie exactitude to the
) _* z, r' u6 {ratio of PHI to 1.. f/ O+ V2 w# _% K$ f* j# q+ A' A
"PHI's ubiquity in nature," Langdon said, killing the lights, "clearly exceeds coincidence, and so
9 u" O; n2 B2 E. F: e% Hthe ancients assumed the number PHI must have been preordained by the Creator of the universe. : y0 O- A. q+ q7 y0 S
Early scientists heralded one-point-six-one-eight as the Divine Proportion."
* Y7 Q: w- O1 X, z* g"Hold on," said a young woman in the front row. "I'm a bio major and I've never seen this Divine $ |/ ^- ~3 ~6 E  t
Proportion in nature."# L8 f& t# F. B$ m0 _' ]+ O
"No?" Langdon grinned. "Ever study the relationship between females and males in a honeybee
, v8 s; S6 N4 O/ Dcommunity?"
$ k2 h* B% S2 y: U"Sure. The female bees always outnumber the male bees."
( l) }* E- Q( G0 l"Correct. And did you know that if you divide the number of female bees by the number of male " j  `8 [9 v, [( S' j
bees in any beehive in the world, you always get the same number?"
% T0 n! p9 x' l4 H1 x0 r# y"You do?"
) A6 c, h# Z: v" a"Yup. PHI."% V) I: Q- |1 G- U! B, s  K
The girl gaped. "NO WAY!"
. o0 e2 j& z- _"Way!" Langdon fired back, smiling as he projected a slide of a spiral seashell. "Recognize this?"# [( r8 r  v9 e3 u1 Y  q3 q
"It's a nautilus," the bio major said. "A cephalopod mollusk that pumps gas into its chambered shell 1 @" ^, ~* O6 a
to adjust its buoyancy.": C$ I1 m6 Y, G' R* R
"Correct. And can you guess what the ratio is of each spiral's diameter to the next?"1 I% @  j5 D6 x& l
The girl looked uncertain as she eyed the concentric arcs of the nautilus spiral.' L8 _# J6 G+ C+ n" S  n( d2 x
Langdon nodded. "PHI. The Divine Proportion. One-point-six-one-eight to one."
" R9 w" i- L- |' Z1 YThe girl looked amazed.: t% C3 l# w3 r2 d) _2 j
+ R7 w$ ~. m5 l
Langdon advanced to the next slide—a close-up of a sunflower's seed head. "Sunflower seeds grow ; ]( q% N- C* z  b- J' z* g
in opposing spirals. Can you guess the ratio of each rotation's diameter to the next?"  G  e  H& `) A  P. W( H
"PHI?" everyone said.
, A# E8 h) e9 ?"Bingo." Langdon began racing through slides now—spiraled pinecone petals, leaf arrangement on ; c% W! F8 Q7 V- H8 ^
plant stalks, insect segmentation—all displaying astonishing obedience to the Divine Proportion.
7 u% M6 E* O# p$ |0 q"This is amazing!" someone cried out.
) {2 Y1 j1 o6 X+ C, b0 e0 z" k1 F"Yeah," someone else said, "but what does it have to do with art?"# b: }. y3 C! t$ a. ~8 b
"Aha!" Langdon said. "Glad you asked." He pulled up another slide—a pale yellow parchment ! K9 V9 T; c  N/ ^. R0 {$ o5 r
displaying Leonardo da Vinci's famous male nude—The Vitruvian Man—named for Marcus ( m. J$ |  m0 j. @/ k( A
Vitruvius, the brilliant Roman architect who praised the Divine Proportion in his text De 6 i2 ?& i7 ~; v
Architectura.7 Q- i3 S8 k3 i* b  w
"Nobody understood better than Da Vinci the divine structure of the human body. Da Vinci
4 `% @+ W$ {8 I5 K2 {9 Cactually exhumed corpses to measure the exact proportions of human bone structure. He was the - {8 L6 `5 G. }+ N! B
first to show that the human body is literally made of building blocks whose proportional ratios . V0 X2 K$ @4 `" B7 z
always equal PHI."
( i& M4 |' v- h9 ]4 I, K. \Everyone in class gave him a dubious look./ S, U# s8 a9 g3 |
"Don't believe me?" Langdon challenged. "Next time you're in the shower, take a tape measure."
" W# \1 v' T  c) YA couple of football players snickered.0 D3 P$ Z6 ~0 W( `# o( ^3 d
"Not just you insecure jocks," Langdon prompted. "All of you. Guys and girls. Try it. Measure the
' B5 I% |: Z" zdistance from the tip of your head to the floor. Then divide that by the distance from your belly
0 L8 Y. f' z) {' O" n5 q. t1 f) cbutton to the floor. Guess what number you get."# [. p% f3 d& _/ g7 a" r
"Not PHI!" one of the jocks blurted out in disbelief.
# d3 J& L. b: z0 F- L7 P; h"Yes, PHI," Langdon replied. "One-point-six-one-eight. Want another example? Measure the
8 X- }( @- P$ ^6 F7 }. W* Y; Gdistance from your shoulder to your fingertips, and then divide it by the distance from your elbow
  G2 K3 U( ~8 j& Vto your fingertips. PHI again. Another? Hip to floor divided by knee to floor. PHI again. Finger
; K" h3 g3 F' h* k& p0 @* ]joints. Toes. Spinal divisions. PHI. PHI. PHI. My friends, each of you is a walking tribute to the + @. k0 j1 `/ Z" \
Divine Proportion."7 N  S5 \! v& {" }
Even in the darkness, Langdon could see they were all astounded. He felt a familiar warmth inside.
! H# N) r  H; v; E. G& x* PThis is why he taught. "My friends, as you can see, the chaos of the world has an underlying order. ( c$ j2 Z( v: K9 G& K' {  X# w0 E
When the ancients discovered PHI, they were certain they had stumbled across God's building
( c1 o. @  d  J2 S8 Q3 i6 L* r8 S1 q& [+ T  C, T
block for the world, and they worshipped Nature because of that. And one can understand why. 3 {+ r1 }  E9 `6 N) r
God's hand is evident in Nature, and even to this day there exist pagan, Mother Earth-revering
0 H) k% e( z; }5 l7 oreligions. Many of us celebrate nature the way the pagans did, and don't even know it. May Day is
6 i( d2 h9 c! f# Y" A" La perfect example, the celebration of spring... the earth coming back to life to produce her bounty.
9 |: U0 ]' p" H) y. ^6 H$ s+ GThe mysterious magic inherent in the Divine Proportion was written at the beginning of time. Man 3 g/ E, I: i; l& A7 o" B
is simply playing by Nature's rules, and because art is man's attempt to imitate the beauty of the 1 B" d: n3 i6 \4 Y% C, K
Creator's hand, you can imagine we might be seeing a lot of instances of the Divine Proportion in 1 a3 s8 N* A% M7 y$ |
art this semester."
# x- U) `, [4 P) m6 d  z" [Over the next half hour, Langdon showed them slides of artwork by Michelangelo, Albrecht Dürer, " s% k: [0 W* `/ B/ t2 ?$ y
Da Vinci, and many others, demonstrating each artist's intentional and rigorous adherence to the : Q7 H0 q3 _+ H/ a: z+ H
Divine Proportion in the layout of his compositions. Langdon unveiled PHI in the architectural
# H7 k# z" O& @6 C+ @3 q; Kdimensions of the Greek Parthenon, the pyramids of Egypt, and even the United Nations Building ' {9 N; z9 w1 X! @3 \! {6 i- m
in New York. PHI appeared in the organizational structures of Mozart's sonatas, Beethoven's Fifth
, Y: f+ A; U5 A6 X- ZSymphony, as well as the works of Bartók, Debussy, and Schubert. The number PHI, Langdon told
$ g0 X- V9 N" U! J+ }- y  ithem, was even used by Stradivarius to calculate the exact placement of the f-holes in the
; ^5 {: h& O4 Pconstruction of his famous violins.1 _5 |5 |1 k+ N8 n7 ~& X1 @
"In closing," Langdon said, walking to the chalkboard, "we return to symbols" He drew five & ^2 [5 i& N) [+ e6 q6 k! l
intersecting lines that formed a five-pointed star. "This symbol is one of the most powerful images 6 x# r( `' X: _- Y; v9 N6 P
you will see this term. Formally known as a pentagram—or pentacle, as the ancients called it—this
( ]) A# Q7 A2 K) A# ]: |symbol is considered both divine and magical by many cultures. Can anyone tell me why that
; ~7 c1 n+ [1 m) J9 y- |( ~might be?"
7 k5 B* e/ C& i* R* M( XStettner, the math major, raised his hand. "Because if you draw a pentagram, the lines
3 J% V$ M+ c6 O6 j* v- t* X- C. Uautomatically divide themselves into segments according to the Divine Proportion."
7 F  H8 K0 `* ^6 [Langdon gave the kid a proud nod. "Nice job. Yes, the ratios of line segments in a pentacle all
) p8 g( d- o3 s. \! S. w( N1 Tequal PHI, making this symbol the ultimate expression of the Divine Proportion. For this reason, 5 `& Q, U' d1 L" p5 J/ F
the five-pointed star has always been the symbol for beauty and perfection associated with the
, D' T& u' K, b5 dgoddess and the sacred feminine."
1 H. e  Q$ q- h3 `' a+ X! jThe girls in class beamed.! H. Y0 U7 |3 n; |+ H/ `6 s, E
"One note, folks. We've only touched on Da Vinci today, but we'll be seeing a lot more of him this
. h! A0 W, u5 T. Gsemester. Leonardo was a well-documented devotee of the ancient ways of the goddess.
( e# l8 O( w$ k# M+ R3 PTomorrow, I'll show you his fresco The Last Supper, which is one of the most astonishing tributes . ^4 Q6 a$ \5 f0 f  B2 r
to the sacred feminine you will ever see."
$ `/ r1 [; `* b: L( S) k" g"You're kidding, right?" somebody said. "I thought The Last Supper was about Jesus!"5 v: y( `/ h% b) f% R" l/ U
Langdon winked. "There are symbols hidden in places you would never imagine."
) H3 O/ D5 c+ G$ p6 ?8 x+ K) Z& }$ \! M8 ~7 P
8 }2 p* \3 e% t8 D* G
"Come on," Sophie whispered. "What's wrong? We're almost there. Hurry!"
" w& `" I! w5 y6 B! g& X+ K: k- iLangdon glanced up, feeling himself return from faraway thoughts. He realized he was standing at
9 J* T& e" w/ s$ T6 Ga dead stop on the stairs, paralyzed by sudden revelation.
7 p, @& L  d; I; j: S5 Z  h, fO, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint!/ v% i+ R4 u7 J9 U" {& X7 R
Sophie was looking back at him.
+ u: n) E6 E, uIt can't be that simple, Langdon thought.
& t* Z3 i9 N$ O  wBut he knew of course that it was.
5 A5 D3 @) T6 k8 WThere in the bowels of the Louvre... with images of PHI and Da Vinci swirling through his mind, # Y1 o, X' I% A
Robert Langdon suddenly and unexpectedly deciphered Saunière's code.
& U& T0 i$ H  ~( q9 B2 }"O, Draconian devil!" he said. "Oh, lame saint! It's the simplest kind of code!"
" W2 m6 l6 Y! g3 i" |) _
) _1 q; E4 o: L/ T! K% J7 w$ ESophie was stopped on the stairs below him, staring up in confusion. A code? She had been
. l4 s  x" A& Tpondering the words all night and had not seen a code. Especially a simple one.1 H( ^& ]' m" w* q& I  U
"You said it yourself." Langdon's voice reverberated with excitement. "Fibonacci numbers only
% s1 \6 m& o1 Ehave meaning in their proper order. Otherwise they're mathematical gibberish."; w: W* ]) r- m
Sophie had no idea what he was talking about. The Fibonacci numbers? She was certain they had / i, g  ~0 {! x" [/ n
been intended as nothing more than a means to get the Cryptography Department involved tonight. ; R2 }) ?: f' e$ l/ _
They have another purpose? She plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out the printout,
4 j- B. j& c) U  H. mstudying her grandfather's message again.; H' i! B: @/ f  X: K9 `
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5
/ W0 j4 O+ a( {8 P; }3 @5 EO, Draconian devil!- |, F- x3 d& @& N" y* V
Oh, lame saint!
/ g. b8 ]  i5 L, M4 M& H* Z* E 2 V2 `: q6 }# m* B/ o* P6 Y7 T6 L
What about the numbers?. b! i0 H2 Q) ~# O( O
"The scrambled Fibonacci sequence is a clue," Langdon said, taking the printout. "The numbers are
4 K# w% v9 _& ^9 M  ga hint as to how to decipher the rest of the message. He wrote the sequence out of order to tell us to ( E0 [6 |" |  t. V  b' _
apply the same concept to the text. O, Draconian devil? Oh, lame saint? Those lines mean nothing.
+ a9 x0 T9 u  a
7 S, F- ]7 `5 d/ l  WThey are simply letters written out of order."
) X; z4 P7 Y% X) i# ?Sophie needed only an instant to process Langdon's implication, and it seemed laughably simple. $ k" a3 ?0 Y4 J% G" B8 m" L: W( W6 S) m
"You think this message is... une anagramme?" She stared at him. "Like a word jumble from a 5 ]2 X+ u1 y: a+ ~
newspaper?"1 S2 `; l: T: o
Langdon could see the skepticism on Sophie's face and certainly understood. Few people realized
2 S0 x. ]6 ]' T) h, vthat anagrams, despite being a trite modern amusement, had a rich history of sacred symbolism.
  N+ H! k' q: v# M0 B! IThe mystical teachings of the Kabbala drew heavily on anagrams—rearranging the letters of
  J9 L% ?  n+ k% v, K+ rHebrew words to derive new meanings. French kings throughout the Renaissance were so
1 `& C. y, t2 G$ gconvinced that anagrams held magic power that they appointed royal anagrammatists to help them
) x. A; S  n9 Z- ~7 ]$ fmake better decisions by analyzing words in important documents. The Romans actually referred
0 f; g! \2 s5 n6 U2 g% Ito the study of anagrams as ars magna—"the great art."
  Y+ W  ]9 t6 j0 H9 j- h4 K5 v  _Langdon looked up at Sophie, locking eyes with her now. "Your grandfather's meaning was right " j( B# q2 ^* w3 ^
in front of us all along, and he left us more than enough clues to see it."4 P$ Z5 t3 T, ~( \1 J- b
Without another word, Langdon pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and rearranged the letters in 1 M0 U  s( d8 ]$ e' Z; `" D  m
each line." M# [# D# U" z
O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint!
) F% g( {+ h% ~( S" Z7 j  Qwas a perfect anagram of...' g" U1 z& N- u
Leonardo da Vinci! The Mona Lisa!

The Mona Lisa.
6 `9 I8 o2 k( }( h1 sFor an instant, standing in the exit stairwell, Sophie forgot all about trying to leave the Louvre.
1 I2 n' \% n; w+ d% v+ P; W6 F9 QHer shock over the anagram was matched only by her embarrassment at not having deciphered the
3 F5 C# ?6 B1 N, A2 @, [3 Cmessage herself. Sophie's expertise in complex cryptanalysis had caused her to overlook simplistic   X5 s! m4 \$ l; w6 H1 T
word games, and yet she knew she should have seen it. After all, she was no stranger to
; K/ y+ m/ U1 @7 U' C# A  u, aanagrams—especially in English.
8 ^6 q8 b* ^. _- G4 b4 t1 V8 EWhen she was young, often her grandfather would use anagram games to hone her English : S* m7 G" O) C' c/ }; j# k' _
spelling. Once he had written the English word "planets" and told Sophie that an astonishing sixty-5 k; e- M% ~, @% \; c& s3 j7 ^
two other English words of varying lengths could be formed using those same letters. Sophie had
/ |- _( b- b9 T0 R( g4 ~, i9 E& Y  W0 ~: b. n( t6 P7 _
spent three days with an English dictionary until she found them all.  I- A: J8 A+ K8 {- |
"I can't imagine," Langdon said, staring at the printout, "how your grandfather created such an 0 n5 f6 f  B1 ~4 ]0 M/ ]
intricate anagram in the minutes before he died.": i& i. J# R" p
Sophie knew the explanation, and the realization made her feel even worse. I should have seen this!
5 ]) M4 ?. t7 vShe now recalled that her grandfather—a wordplay aficionado and art lover—had entertained
+ ^  n: ]' Y/ Z1 c# }himself as a young man by creating anagrams of famous works of art. In fact, one of his anagrams 9 H* X& D8 A7 G$ ]' O# N
had gotten him in trouble once when Sophie was a little girl. While being interviewed by an   V% e5 }6 M2 u/ l; u" S
American art magazine, Saunière had expressed his distaste for the modernist Cubist movement by
  u5 H4 K2 `3 [9 g9 A. S) E6 V& Xnoting that Picasso's masterpiece Les Demoiselles d'Avignon was a perfect anagram of vile
( P5 Q6 D, [5 P2 V9 {meaningless doodles. Picasso fans were not amused.' h+ @( _" J. h& i( I0 N
"My grandfather probably created this Mona Lisa anagram long ago," Sophie said, glancing up at
9 E7 }2 X2 P/ K7 X% i& Y# BLangdon. And tonight he was forced to use it as a makeshift code. Her grandfather's voice had
& s! c* ?5 w2 }3 Dcalled out from beyond with chilling precision.2 c, s2 s5 j# p
Leonardo da Vinci!
5 Q. h( y1 n7 p4 ]1 s) DThe Mona Lisa!
# ?% l" f& \: ]Why his final words to her referenced the famous painting, Sophie had no idea, but she could think
( B. m) K. T: U' f: N+ ~5 Nof only one possibility. A disturbing one.  W3 N! J$ s  y
Those were not his final words....! c9 z+ H. w) c
Was she supposed to visit the Mona Lisa? Had her grandfather left her a message there? The idea
( _: Q+ [+ Z' K2 v. gseemed perfectly plausible. After all, the famous painting hung in the Salle des Etats—a private
4 `4 Q7 s3 }& O0 y  |! `$ xviewing chamber accessible only from the Grand Gallery. In fact, Sophie now realized, the doors ) I2 s$ U. S' x- w* Y( u# R# q2 p% n
that opened into the chamber were situated only twenty meters from where her grandfather had . a" T0 E3 v+ i8 ]1 N0 R. M
been found dead.' k( B% [1 i9 h# [) m
He easily could have visited the Mona Lisa before he died.
( c" _! H/ n+ Q9 nSophie gazed back up the emergency stairwell and felt torn. She knew she should usher Langdon 6 X. I# g9 D  p! ^  H7 z
from the museum immediately, and yet instinct urged her to the contrary. As Sophie recalled her 5 N. E4 X' m2 a- d: H
first childhood visit to the Denon Wing, she realized that if her grandfather had a secret to tell her, 3 F* h  `$ w- u# H, N
few places on earth made a more apt rendezvous than Da Vinci's Mona Lisa.7 G) O. {$ B: |. z% q
; x1 {9 H+ L- [8 o4 s
"She's just a little bit farther," her grandfather had whispered, clutching Sophie's tiny hand as he led * T0 \3 M8 [6 _
her through the deserted museum after hours." j2 f8 g% @" v2 l# y: Q! E2 j
& K3 K$ c5 i# _' E& i/ r
Sophie was six years old. She felt small and insignificant as she gazed up at the enormous ceilings
3 B* z. ]$ J" W7 K* D3 E$ Pand down at the dizzying floor. The empty museum frightened her, although she was not about to
; j" B: }: P8 X( a7 Jlet her grandfather know that. She set her jaw firmly and let go of his hand.5 }3 F" h7 }6 |  p& C* U
"Up ahead is the Salle des Etats," her grandfather said as they approached the Louvre's most
( i' K$ o  |$ H% Bfamous room. Despite her grandfather's obvious excitement, Sophie wanted to go home. She had + v$ ^0 }2 b7 e  T9 T6 [9 N
seen pictures of the Mona Lisa in books and didn't like it at all. She couldn't understand why
8 p8 ~, _  k% reveryone made such a fuss.
" R- Y- x3 o* {- V  D, X# v"C'est ennuyeux," Sophie grumbled.  Q  c' k5 J, `$ Q
"Boring," he corrected. "French at school. English at home."
% z8 B& f. \* `4 V  s8 t# L"Le Louvre, c'est pas chez moi!" she challenged.
& ~3 M# U# \& r( s7 mHe gave her a tired laugh. "Right you are. Then let's speak English just for fun."
/ {5 u1 ~$ U7 v8 N' RSophie pouted and kept walking. As they entered the Salle des Etats, her eyes scanned the narrow 9 R" C- i) i) }# ?, H. r
room and settled on the obvious spot of honor—the center of the right-hand wall, where a lone
5 H- U' _9 t6 y! U* a, gportrait hung behind a protective Plexiglas wall. Her grandfather paused in the doorway and
, [6 ~1 g) t/ B* _5 R, s' nmotioned toward the painting.
( y! g2 E  V4 }3 C* a; |- k"Go ahead, Sophie. Not many people get a chance to visit her alone."0 b5 K& j7 Y1 X! ~: d
Swallowing her apprehension, Sophie moved slowly across the room. After everything she'd heard
0 E. d8 w! h, n) \5 H: i1 \% iabout the Mona Lisa, she felt as if she were approaching royalty. Arriving in front of the protective
" x8 j2 ?  l, A' H' S2 ^$ hPlexiglas, Sophie held her breath and looked up, taking it in all at once.; F8 `: W# q% c, X/ K
Sophie was not sure what she had expected to feel, but it most certainly was not this. No jolt of 1 E+ y4 R) i9 _% T' z7 _
amazement. No instant of wonder. The famous face looked as it did in books. She stood in silence
% I2 m, i+ }4 t- w$ ^5 ffor what felt like forever, waiting for something to happen.- x! |5 c+ c; S! Q8 k
"So what do you think?" her grandfather whispered, arriving behind her. "Beautiful, yes?"
0 h3 t6 ^; W' I  e  s"She's too little."% [/ j2 d& L  |
Saunière smiled. "You're little and you're beautiful."
8 [2 T. N4 @! m# l: BI am not beautiful, she thought. Sophie hated her red hair and freckles, and she was bigger than all 2 b; G) Y" ~/ c" F* z4 O" d6 {+ w, s
the boys in her class. She looked back at the Mona Lisa and shook her head. "She's even worse 6 j5 B" o; B" L- G. d' ]  ~( P- g" b  k
than in the books. Her face is... brumeux."
8 ]: l! A0 e+ k. s1 g/ a
5 D$ |+ F9 C) a* ^"Foggy," her grandfather tutored.8 z( {/ X; J2 _. W( H$ W1 U) k
"Foggy," Sophie repeated, knowing the conversation would not continue until she repeated her new , J  F' S* C7 Z7 s. ?5 ]# T0 Z1 `
vocabulary word.6 t% N. V1 l  O4 ~4 q6 L! ~
"That's called the sfumato style of painting," he told her, "and it's very hard to do. Leonardo da
; V1 {2 C) Y# x/ Z* F% ZVinci was better at it than anyone."
; s! h" {6 l6 a7 |! y. XSophie still didn't like the painting. "She looks like she knows something... like when kids at school # B1 w6 D7 ]+ E2 G
have a secret."1 P$ k3 X( B1 }+ ~
Her grandfather laughed. "That's part of why she is so famous. People like to guess why she is 2 T: c7 X9 e" a8 }
smiling."
& [% J6 t0 r; [. D3 \6 U  w! k# z"Do you know why she's smiling?"
3 w& t2 @: h4 C& J  z+ F6 `"Maybe." Her grandfather winked. "Someday I'll tell you all about it.") ?9 l) Q. u( h+ i
Sophie stamped her foot. "I told you I don't like secrets!"
' O2 [  Q2 q6 o% I6 A' m"Princess," he smiled. "Life is filled with secrets. You can't learn them all at once."' ~! {7 G) X7 l% J
; n/ E# R' @/ X6 f& U7 Y) c
"I'm going back up," Sophie declared, her voice hollow in the stairwell.
8 U& A+ }' v: t4 X$ T6 w"To the Mona Lisa?" Langdon recoiled. "Now?"
+ L' ?$ g- h7 wSophie considered the risk. "I'm not a murder suspect. I'll take my chances. I need to understand
% m# i6 S. S& ~) @what my grandfather was trying to tell me."
2 Z- v6 h: J2 O. |6 }8 C"What about the embassy?"' o4 x$ U# s3 m1 |) _; l
Sophie felt guilty turning Langdon into a fugitive only to abandon him, but she saw no other 6 G' q3 y0 R& }7 T
option. She pointed down the stairs to a metal door. "Go through that door, and follow the 9 a  {: Z+ `" L5 M3 N1 A
illuminated exit signs. My grandfather used to bring me down here. The signs will lead you to a 4 n! g7 B+ S7 N7 ^$ @) M
security turnstile. It's monodirectional and opens out." She handed Langdon her car keys. "Mine is 5 T$ L" f5 ~% O2 d& V: W
the red SmartCar in the employee lot. Directly outside this bulkhead. Do you know how to get to - a- Y7 B. S$ M- k2 O5 L
the embassy?"
& p2 g7 h$ R& Z) zLangdon nodded, eyeing the keys in his hand.9 T1 F/ {3 W' S$ ~, Y3 |
"Listen," Sophie said, her voice softening. "I think my grandfather may have left me a message at
4 d7 `' V/ |- G: J( G
' x* T8 l; l$ zthe Mona Lisa—some kind of clue as to who killed him. Or why I'm in danger." Or what happened
- r" g2 L/ ]  |to my family. "I have to go see."
* E+ j1 W$ O: d"But if he wanted to tell you why you were in danger, why wouldn't he simply write it on the floor ; J& ?! a& T, T4 u" g$ r& {) {
where he died? Why this complicated word game?"
* P* R- b- h/ W+ ]) o# _4 h"Whatever my grandfather was trying to tell me, I don't think he wanted anyone else to hear it. Not ' a1 b  K0 N! p6 X
even the police." Clearly, her grandfather had done everything in his power to send a confidential ; b- @3 `" {% h2 k. Z# w
transmission directly to her. He had written it in code, included her secret initials, and told her to
  A7 A$ [0 ~& K. Y4 ?" Pfind Robert Langdon—a wise command, considering the American symbologist had deciphered his
% W8 G  @# w2 Y" u* Ocode. "As strange as it may sound," Sophie said, "I think he wants me to get to the Mona Lisa 2 K8 R% @5 w) ^1 _6 g
before anyone else does."
9 d9 r  b* M# o: t8 K"I'll come."2 o, l% V  o# ~' j
"No! We don't know how long the Grand Gallery will stay empty. You have to go."* [5 s; l( R% B, j2 `# s: ^
Langdon seemed hesitant, as if his own academic curiosity were threatening to override sound
- D% A! p+ i9 Kjudgment and drag him back into Fache's hands.
% x8 W- _2 f! U' |"Go. Now." Sophie gave him a grateful smile. "I'll see you at the embassy, Mr. Langdon."& n9 m' U. F: _/ ~4 x" c" b( F
Langdon looked displeased. "I'll meet you there on one condition," he replied, his voice stern.
; Z7 W/ b/ Q1 Q/ {She paused, startled. "What's that?"9 I. E1 x* Q' V# ~3 J
"That you stop calling me Mr. Langdon."
" B0 l9 k4 d& C7 J4 RSophie detected the faint hint of a lopsided grin growing across Langdon's face, and she felt herself % r& A3 L$ Q1 Y' |" v5 Q
smile back. "Good luck, Robert."5 p! x, n3 z4 J; W
3 T# b0 @; ^9 x4 c4 O1 X" W: Y* F
When Langdon reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs, the unmistakable smell of linseed
0 A2 F0 M) t( Z! qoil and plaster dust assaulted his nostrils. Ahead, an illuminated SORTIE/EXIT displayed an arrow
8 \( w& {, i- ?* y, M8 d$ qpointing down a long corridor.9 w5 r+ {! Z$ v$ ]$ I$ i: m
Langdon stepped into the hallway.: \* I! Q8 g  Y: Q; U- u" Z7 b
To the right gaped a murky restoration studio out of which peered an army of statues in various
8 u8 i5 R  o) ]- u( b2 `6 ]0 o1 Lstates of repair. To the left, Langdon saw a suite of studios that resembled Harvard art
, s3 Y1 M  H+ @' hclassrooms—rows of easels, paintings, palettes, framing tools—an art assembly line.! o9 D9 J- |& }7 z2 B

7 `8 R0 L( X8 G# u1 D  H  `) `: [As he moved down the hallway, Langdon wondered if at any moment he might awake with a start
! x& }+ W" j/ \+ m' G5 tin his bed in Cambridge. The entire evening had felt like a bizarre dream. I'm about to dash out of 4 b# e0 [' W7 g1 P
the Louvre... a fugitive.
  v' \( r5 w0 P4 @& _1 nSaunière's clever anagrammatic message was still on his mind, and Langdon wondered what
$ z4 T- z. Z8 |Sophie would find at the Mona Lisa... if anything. She had seemed certain her grandfather meant 0 u" {, X1 U7 e- B: k/ ?
for her to visit the famous painting one more time. As plausible an interpretation as this seemed, 3 K5 H3 j7 b4 C
Langdon felt haunted now by a troubling paradox.
( T8 ^( D2 m& p- rP.S. Find Robert Langdon.1 |3 @' N$ m8 z, F/ v
Saunière had written Langdon's name on the floor, commanding Sophie to find him. But why?
% Z$ J, Y6 K& v6 k2 `Merely so Langdon could help her break an anagram?
# e0 T2 I4 |) c1 b+ ]1 l& ^' O4 u8 ~It seemed quite unlikely.% j8 `2 q% o) i9 I2 y' A
After all, Saunière had no reason to think Langdon was especially skilled at anagrams. We've never
9 s% M: y2 F. d6 K+ keven met. More important, Sophie had stated flat out that she should have broken the anagram on   S, O/ t5 s2 o/ Z% a- V
her own. It had been Sophie who spotted the Fibonacci sequence, and, no doubt, Sophie who, if % V5 O* b7 _7 M! y' G
given a little more time, would have deciphered the message with no help from Langdon.
$ ]9 y4 S% b9 W! F1 oSophie was supposed to break that anagram on her own. Langdon was suddenly feeling more ' f$ L, k1 q- H* ^- y$ R
certain about this, and yet the conclusion left an obvious gaping lapse in the logic of Saunière's % B! k' r" Z4 N  _/ y
actions.
% J" o" i5 w0 `. zWhy me? Langdon wondered, heading down the hall. Why was Saunière's dying wish that his
( B/ w  r1 H2 C4 T! lestranged granddaughter find me? What is it that Saunière thinks I know?/ U9 N' Z+ T- r7 C& K
With an unexpected jolt, Langdon stopped short. Eyes wide, he dug in his pocket and yanked out
) {  C3 u1 _7 x% tthe computer printout. He stared at the last line of Saunière's message., w5 U' w6 _: C; v" j1 v6 I
P.S. Find Robert Langdon.
% G9 U3 Q' e5 x- UHe fixated on two letters.
8 z3 Z0 t, P# Y0 |6 tP.S.
2 a, k( q5 b" VIn that instant, Langdon felt Saunière's puzzling mix of symbolism fall into stark focus. Like a peal
- R5 A  K! y, F. M, Tof thunder, a career's worth of symbology and history came crashing down around him. Everything $ f# l& u9 \9 n( e
Jacques Saunière had done tonight suddenly made perfect sense.8 X6 N3 ~2 }; }. Y9 i3 t
Langdon's thoughts raced as he tried to assemble the implications of what this all meant. Wheeling, * X" u  b$ b7 W1 X% N$ j
he stared back in the direction from which he had come.
) i; n. \/ E7 }7 O* W3 F( V& P$ U/ }& t
Is there time?
# W: A; ]7 N1 k! F, \/ f7 wHe knew it didn't matter.8 X. K) l' g7 c9 z" ]
Without hesitation, Langdon broke into a sprint back toward the stairs.

Kneeling in the first pew, Silas pretended to pray as he scanned the layout of the sanctuary. Saint-; A. q  N4 i. I
Sulpice, like most churches, had been built in the shape of a giant Roman cross. Its long central
% I( R& p) z% q+ Ysection—the nave—led directly to the main altar, where it was transversely intersected by a shorter
- E2 T7 ^# z4 Z: esection, known as the transept. The intersection of nave and transept occurred directly beneath the
$ r5 `; W0 Q0 E3 b. t* d- }  imain cupola and was considered the heart of the church... her most sacred and mystical point.7 {- r- E' x- \  w
Not tonight, Silas thought. Saint-Sulpice hides her secrets elsewhere.
* p, I$ h' E2 v. GTurning his head to the right, he gazed into the south transept, toward the open area of floor beyond
/ W5 [# D4 J. B+ ?$ e3 c) ythe end of the pews, to the object his victims had described.+ ~8 w& H0 q' D2 \/ i5 x$ N
There it is.- ^' t5 P. X; y; s% C8 {4 T
Embedded in the gray granite floor, a thin polished strip of brass glistened in the stone... a golden
9 S# s; `8 X& D( e/ l8 H) bline slanting across the church's floor. The line bore graduated markings, like a ruler. It was a 4 e) |' d5 k. O
gnomon, Silas had been told, a pagan astronomical device like a sundial. Tourists, scientists,
; O: k1 A$ `& Qhistorians, and pagans from around the world came to Saint-Sulpice to gaze upon this famous line.- T2 w! ?4 G. Z: B  t- C
The Rose Line.
) N$ e0 {* j  G$ x5 S( eSlowly, Silas let his eyes trace the path of the brass strip as it made its way across the floor from
2 W, ]! N% t; |his right to left, slanting in front of him at an awkward angle, entirely at odds with the symmetry of
  l2 x. Y7 M+ O4 y( y+ r2 n& u9 \; kthe church. Slicing across the main altar itself, the line looked to Silas like a slash wound across a / ?( o, s0 M; b0 P
beautiful face. The strip cleaved the communion rail in two and then crossed the entire width of the
. ?5 z1 x7 m4 d( q7 `church, finally reaching the corner of the north transept, where it arrived at the base of a most
) D6 j8 J5 [( ?8 A$ p/ y. N) v. Wunexpected structure.
2 ?! Y0 q; j1 h1 q5 T; @. z  B  RA colossal Egyptian obelisk.$ ~3 X" d* R! x* K; N# H6 ^$ B
Here, the glistening Rose Line took a ninety-degree vertical turn and continued directly up the face ! ?2 g  I& J/ s$ U, @& G* l3 V- x/ z
of the obelisk itself, ascending thirty-three feet to the very tip of the pyramidical apex, where it
: V- c% {" |0 }) A. u2 S3 z- zfinally ceased., T4 }# n$ ?2 `% |% h& n% [
/ f! E. R" a! L: P" ^/ x# Q
The Rose Line, Silas thought. The brotherhood hid the keystone at the Rose Line.5 T. x" m" g4 ^( Z9 o2 ?
Earlier tonight, when Silas told the Teacher that the Priory keystone was hidden inside Saint-
! U! F, D9 l" m" u" N" X& ~Sulpice, the Teacher had sounded doubtful. But when Silas added that the brothers had all given
8 G! K0 d( B4 Z2 `him a precise location, with relation to a brass line running through Saint-Sulpice, the Teacher had
8 n/ M0 A2 e$ ?gasped with revelation. "You speak of the Rose Line!"5 k6 R) O! |* ]8 J
The Teacher quickly told Silas of Saint-Sulpice's famed architectural oddity—a strip of brass that
) ]' j3 x3 f( q( M0 @. usegmented the sanctuary on a perfect north-south axis. It was an ancient sundial of sorts, a vestige
- H# s: E# ]  F2 \7 V9 Dof the pagan temple that had once stood on this very spot. The sun's rays, shining through the
' y8 q& _6 f' x: u/ ]3 [. Yoculus on the south wall, moved farther down the line every day, indicating the passage of time,
7 o6 j5 s3 O9 ]: _2 x! Bfrom solstice to solstice.5 k, j& P# ~, P- R( s
The north-south stripe had been known as the Rose Line. For centuries, the symbol of the Rose had
! H# }& n8 M% y3 ^2 Ubeen associated with maps and guiding souls in the proper direction. The Compass Rose—drawn 3 B7 o! O8 j, k! |! O: Z
on almost every map—indicated North, East, South, and West. Originally known as the Wind . V( K, e/ M3 Q% w! ?( v
Rose, it denoted the directions of the thirty-two winds, blowing from the directions of eight major 5 O0 O& }  I3 R- @: I5 R4 x# A1 C
winds, eight half-winds, and sixteen quarter-winds. When diagrammed inside a circle, these thirty-: e0 f: C, P- |0 H
two points of the compass perfectly resembled a traditional thirty-two petal rose bloom. To this ; `" A" c8 G7 }& @2 o1 p5 F( a$ ^  c
day, the fundamental navigational tool was still known as a Compass Rose, its northernmost % l4 U; s: r0 M
direction still marked by an arrowhead... or, more commonly, the symbol of the fleur-de-lis.
$ u. r4 b  ?& w( FOn a globe, a Rose Line—also called a meridian or longitude—was any imaginary line drawn from " i! @: @+ h4 Z' K
the North Pole to the South Pole. There were, of course, an infinite number of Rose Lines because
1 ^8 R5 s1 h7 Zevery point on the globe could have a longitude drawn through it connecting north and south poles. * a3 j: D2 _9 u1 k' p) L$ J
The question for early navigators was which of these lines would be called the Rose Line—the zero
$ @+ l" L2 K, mlongitude—the line from which all other longitudes on earth would be measured.* g2 A- |: v- K# x9 |5 F
Today that line was in Greenwich, England.) g6 e" j2 G$ M# ~/ U5 w
But it had not always been.
* c( V, ]% Y( x7 d. A: `+ G. w, Y/ rLong before the establishment of Greenwich as the prime meridian, the zero longitude of the entire - l0 \* g; X& a
world had passed directly through Paris, and through the Church of Saint-Sulpice. The brass ! F8 ]8 |- D* T8 z' C
marker in Saint-Sulpice was a memorial to the world's first prime meridian, and although 1 A, a' e# p5 \" u+ s  L
Greenwich had stripped Paris of the honor in 1888, the original Rose Line was still visible today.5 N* Q) r8 f; ]3 W3 E
"And so the legend is true," the Teacher had told Silas. "The Priory keystone has been said to lie
4 ~; u* J- I3 _1 c- _7 w% ?0 X, o'beneath the Sign of the Rose.' "
$ x% e! q8 j  Q- Z. S. T7 WNow, still on his knees in a pew, Silas glanced around the church and listened to make sure no one
( {  ~, M0 Y" z0 `: r- {1 qwas there. For a moment, he thought he heard a rustling in the choir balcony. He turned and gazed ) q8 D5 j& i' u' D9 R, E) c

5 v6 `& e2 x3 ^  t* Tup for several seconds. Nothing.
$ {% X( O5 w! H$ z6 NI am alone.$ o4 i5 S. g4 W, d7 z! r
Standing now, he faced the altar and genuflected three times. Then he turned left and followed the ' {) M9 E( s& }( o, r# }
brass line due north toward the obelisk.
) s6 E7 t1 U" I 8 v9 t+ B9 a" E" _3 m  {0 K7 f
At that moment, at Leonardo da Vinci International Airport in Rome, the jolt of tires hitting the
# z$ ]4 {/ N5 Mrunway startled Bishop Aringarosa from his slumber." R# Q& A6 C& t! o5 F2 d8 g7 r0 r
I drifted off, he thought, impressed he was relaxed enough to sleep.' o, {4 j3 ?$ \$ p: {% V
"Benvenuto a Roma," the intercom announced.' D; n# \' A; C; Z; X% s
Sitting up, Aringarosa straightened his black cassock and allowed himself a rare smile. This was 5 ^) b# x5 v/ ~/ r/ ], v' ]# a5 s
one trip he had been happy to make. I have been on the defensive for too long. Tonight, however,
  H0 v% h+ C2 r. d% B% J0 hthe rules had changed. Only five months ago, Aringarosa had feared for the future of the Faith. ( @- X$ M% O, c8 E7 g* k
Now, as if by the will of God, the solution had presented itself.3 d0 p) `% }) k: m9 [2 @) q
Divine intervention.% |- D2 B$ w5 t, g. m
If all went as planned tonight in Paris, Aringarosa would soon be in possession of something that
0 ?) I/ H8 X; D2 J, [would make him the most powerful man in Christendom.

Sophie arrived breathless outside the large wooden doors of the Salle des Etats—the room that
1 V) }$ ^2 J; b, _$ Bhoused the Mona Lisa. Before entering, she gazed reluctantly farther down the hall, twenty yards or # K# u2 _) z0 Z
so, to the spot where her grandfather's body still lay under the spotlight.& u4 L& H8 ?' x, ?6 M0 `
The remorse that gripped her was powerful and sudden, a deep sadness laced with guilt. The man
) z  {3 X  Z( N( z, Ghad reached out to her so many times over the past ten years, and yet Sophie had remained
. q) Y3 G4 L/ X0 Uimmovable—leaving his letters and packages unopened in a bottom drawer and denying his efforts
) c4 y" b0 q: [4 L4 k. nto see her. He lied to me! Kept appalling secrets! What was I supposed to do? And so she had 6 C" R/ X9 d$ r7 D
blocked him out. Completely.
3 I1 H& L% M) x. L9 F3 G) @Now her grandfather was dead, and he was talking to her from the grave.
6 D, F. g$ ]: |The Mona Lisa.
) z8 |- h% i% C, m  w3 g& t) r. ^/ t$ W  A: t6 B& b, p
She reached for the huge wooden doors, and pushed. The entryway yawned open. Sophie stood on
) o. n; i: [9 c* V# C* Rthe threshold a moment, scanning the large rectangular chamber beyond. It too was bathed in a soft
' X0 o  h1 f$ \3 s# ^# k9 fred light. The Salle des Etats was one of this museum's rare culs-de-sac—a dead end and the only 0 O( ]( h2 ^- i3 r# M
room off the middle of the Grand Gallery. This door, the chamber's sole point of entry, faced a / K7 z0 k  A$ h  Z
dominating fifteen-foot Botticelli on the far wall. Beneath it, centered on the parquet floor, an 9 i$ b! K3 z. |4 D. }
immense octagonal viewing divan served as a welcome respite for thousands of visitors to rest their * x  H4 ]1 c, K: x9 N; F
legs while they admired the Louvre's most valuable asset.
( g2 O/ U2 b0 \, REven before Sophie entered, though, she knew she was missing something. A black light. She
" z" y: u- s9 y8 q$ t# s+ Vgazed down the hall at her grandfather under the lights in the distance, surrounded by electronic
2 U7 A9 W- F) h& Z/ o: Q. a4 igear. If he had written anything in here, he almost certainly would have written it with the 9 G! d9 E4 M* j( R" M8 M
watermark stylus., Z$ K: K& g1 D4 X! m$ F6 D8 o+ \
Taking a deep breath, Sophie hurried down to the well-lit crime scene. Unable to look at her
* v0 o% C- m8 u* K& ?7 r' `grandfather, she focused solely on the PTS tools. Finding a small ultraviolet penlight, she slipped it 3 l* O3 m3 t7 j$ P4 c
in the pocket of her sweater and hurried back up the hallway toward the open doors of the Salle des
6 X+ P* r+ e, \9 l8 ]+ [Etats.
8 v* Q+ \! X& _' C. z; T5 w4 {Sophie turned the corner and stepped over the threshold. Her entrance, however, was met by an ; n" K4 A. O' t2 @2 f' S
unexpected sound of muffled footsteps racing toward her from inside the chamber. There's ' w& ?6 H: ?; b5 T! z
someone in here! A ghostly figure emerged suddenly from out of the reddish haze. Sophie jumped
! Y  |) q9 d. f9 K0 `back.
$ @* @  C# ]# M2 G* z5 h  ~- O7 o"There you are!" Langdon's hoarse whisper cut the air as his silhouette slid to a stop in front of her.% m) M+ p6 w3 `
Her relief was only momentary. "Robert, I told you to get out of here! If Fache—"$ M; p5 K; r6 c& f9 G. b
"Where were you?"
2 A: B8 X( J$ F9 a! S, P5 J; o"I had to get the black light," she whispered, holding it up. "If my grandfather left me a message—"
4 d$ }; \2 Q8 k: ["Sophie, listen." Langdon caught his breath as his blue eyes held her firmly. "The letters P.S.... do 8 ?8 t2 L4 o3 _
they mean anything else to you? Anything at all?"
1 G  I' Q. x5 N: x' Z4 E9 ~2 zAfraid their voices might echo down the hall, Sophie pulled him into the Salle des Etats and closed # U4 O/ X7 |- y% M- w& V
the enormous twin doors silently, sealing them inside. "I told you, the initials mean Princess
, w! [- r) r5 W! z, G& LSophie."/ R+ `& _  W; w# b/ D3 p
"I know, but did you ever see them anywhere else? Did your grandfather ever use P.S. in any other 7 _- U3 x( ]  `* P" p. Z# |
way? As a monogram, or maybe on stationery or a personal item?"' q6 i, e* h' T# ]
The question startled her. How would Robert know that? Sophie had indeed seen the initials P.S.
& Q9 d' d. H5 Z5 F8 i( p$ g5 c4 [8 y
once before, in a kind of monogram. It was the day before her ninth birthday. She was secretly
' D* P2 |% j( q7 Q2 S' ?combing the house, searching for hidden birthday presents. Even then, she could not bear secrets & O5 |/ N8 ]. p, U
kept from her. What did Grand-père get for me this year? She dug through cupboards and drawers.
7 c5 G7 l8 n, ~6 D: X4 V: jDid he get me the doll I wanted? Where would he hide it?0 |. S) B3 |% s5 F# z5 ?  h
Finding nothing in the entire house, Sophie mustered the courage to sneak into her grandfather's
& m; V4 B) `! {- L. rbedroom. The room was off-limits to her, but her grandfather was downstairs asleep on the couch.
& ^. f  I$ P) b, C( nI'll just take a fast peek!0 R, e$ q' r, E0 \6 e* [) n
Tiptoeing across the creaky wood floor to his closet, Sophie peered on the shelves behind his
* }8 V/ @" b, k3 l( `  E/ V; ^5 I+ uclothing. Nothing. Next she looked under the bed. Still nothing. Moving to his bureau, she opened
8 o, Y4 r3 X4 C# c# r! X* uthe drawers and one by one began pawing carefully through them. There must be something for me " \1 \1 x/ f% c1 P/ ]. Y: g
here! As she reached the bottom drawer, she still had not found any hint of a doll. Dejected, she
, F" \# Y" y4 m( d  yopened the final drawer and pulled aside some black clothes she had never seen him wear. She was - E9 ?6 o3 I+ b0 V. K  i( r
about to close the drawer when her eyes caught a glint of gold in the back of the drawer. It looked $ U1 N$ G( @6 k
like a pocket watch chain, but she knew he didn't wear one. Her heart raced as she realized what it
& }2 e6 M$ ?+ ymust be.
+ q" Q) l: D' C4 `# y/ @' m( cA necklace!
0 G, u; J$ C6 c7 j4 l+ aSophie carefully pulled the chain from the drawer. To her surprise, on the end was a brilliant gold
5 h. {. t( T: J! hkey. Heavy and shimmering. Spellbound, she held it up. It looked like no key she had ever seen.
+ b6 _' V, t- f3 W" J7 t0 O9 dMost keys were flat with jagged teeth, but this one had a triangular column with little pockmarks
+ }9 s" L* V5 U6 G/ j% Lall over it. Its large golden head was in the shape of a cross, but not a normal cross. This was an ) ?, Y8 M2 _' z& G( A
even-armed one, like a plus sign. Embossed in the middle of the cross was a strange symbol—two 2 Q$ {$ N6 N  a
letters intertwined with some kind of flowery design.3 l/ ]7 }& r0 `8 X" k4 h* @
"P.S.," she whispered, scowling as she read the letters. Whatever could this be?1 M& r: ^) }! n4 f
"Sophie?" her grandfather spoke from the doorway., n& E$ c( l" ]; D
Startled, she spun, dropping the key on the floor with a loud clang. She stared down at the key,
$ Q0 @1 X! @- z1 C3 u3 oafraid to look up at her grandfather's face. "I... was looking for my birthday present," she said,
1 L/ n. @% J& C8 Xhanging her head, knowing she had betrayed his trust.0 A) g( D6 W* H
For what seemed like an eternity, her grandfather stood silently in the doorway. Finally, he let out a ( w0 S1 R. d! m- K. y+ x: T
long troubled breath. "Pick up the key, Sophie."
' j# C6 m6 ~7 h, B6 BSophie retrieved the key.# d: y+ K8 J7 B9 [6 n! Z( m
Her grandfather walked in. "Sophie, you need to respect other people's privacy." Gently, he knelt ! C* v( c7 R8 J4 c  D( \
down and took the key from her. "This key is very special. If you had lost it..."( B" k6 k% m/ W
. M! ^% k7 w0 R+ a2 l! K0 k9 D" Q
Her grandfather's quiet voice made Sophie feel even worse. "I'm sorry, Grand-père. I really am." 2 |7 v! |  _5 F( Z4 X8 z
She paused. "I thought it was a necklace for my birthday."
/ F5 ]: v' \  s: Q6 D1 CHe gazed at her for several seconds. "I'll say this once more, Sophie, because it's important. You
; [. @4 }+ \' ]* jneed to learn to respect other people's privacy."
9 u. Y9 g% m; R, i& O"Yes, Grand-père."9 _+ B% c6 a( \
"We'll talk about this some other time. Right now, the garden needs to be weeded."! a5 h( G" ~5 w; y
Sophie hurried outside to do her chores.' J8 ^* n( b2 {$ h
The next morning, Sophie received no birthday present from her grandfather. She hadn't expected ' Q  G! l) V7 P% m% [
one, not after what she had done. But he didn't even wish her happy birthday all day. Sadly, she
' k& L; ]$ @% Ytrudged up to bed that night. As she climbed in, though, she found a note card lying on her pillow. ; i) U; t7 w  g' I; B1 {9 A, Q
On the card was written a simple riddle. Even before she solved the riddle, she was smiling. I know : y0 V1 ~) H) P) K/ Q# e
what this is! Her grandfather had done this for her last Christmas morning.
, P6 y  c8 q( s0 z7 ]- K. NA treasure hunt!
  d( v* d( W* Q" OEagerly, she pored over the riddle until she solved it. The solution pointed her to another part of the 4 o) m. w3 J) s2 p1 g: ?
house, where she found another card and another riddle. She solved this one too, racing on to the
! g' [1 _) ^( {. ^next card. Running wildly, she darted back and forth across the house, from clue to clue, until at
7 q! V# x2 J* Hlast she found a clue that directed her back to her own bedroom. Sophie dashed up the stairs, - g; W4 [" B% ~. b# V  S# H& \
rushed into her room, and stopped in her tracks. There in the middle of the room sat a shining red
8 X  r$ v5 \7 G8 Ibicycle with a ribbon tied to the handlebars. Sophie shrieked with delight.
$ _5 F* |2 I- K3 |- k1 C"I know you asked for a doll," her grandfather said, smiling in the corner. "I thought you might like ) Q/ T1 M6 e' a2 f! q' R. ]
this even better."
4 O1 s) W2 T. ^) H# l" AThe next day, her grandfather taught her to ride, running beside her down the walkway. When
1 M4 j8 j' w, YSophie steered out over the thick lawn and lost her balance, they both went tumbling onto the % z* i1 |6 L! F
grass, rolling and laughing.6 _# o/ L7 S/ m0 \  m3 a
"Grand-père," Sophie said, hugging him. "I'm really sorry about the key."
2 y( q4 T) ?  G/ }"I know, sweetie. You're forgiven. I can't possibly stay mad at you. Grandfathers and 8 m+ E- @% b# s; A) _" i6 E/ o
granddaughters always forgive each other."( W4 P0 a$ }: a1 i! }6 M
Sophie knew she shouldn't ask, but she couldn't help it. "What does it open? I never saw a key like
5 u; h, [, `7 i$ f# u. Athat. It was very pretty."" T8 r8 q" }5 ?% O' J
Her grandfather was silent a long moment, and Sophie could see he was uncertain how to answer.
! R) ?% x& k' U, k
- v# L- u8 }! U; v8 U- I) qGrand-père never lies. "It opens a box," he finally said. "Where I keep many secrets."6 a  s- F# o& y: d
Sophie pouted. "I hate secrets!"
$ \1 M/ c- W& b  K& u"I know, but these are important secrets. And someday, you'll learn to appreciate them as much as I & j' ?7 _) y- p& V
do."4 X0 ~& \3 A. A# S' Q
"I saw letters on the key, and a flower."* y! Z7 _9 J6 ?3 `: ?
"Yes, that's my favorite flower. It's called a fleur-de-lis. We have them in the garden. The white 5 }- P! R6 z- V2 ^
ones. In English we call that kind of flower a lily."
5 T, e( `1 }: `! l"I know those! They're my favorite too!"
# I+ i6 g+ J* C4 p% A) @; V"Then I'll make a deal with you." Her grandfather's eyebrows raised the way they always did when 7 q- j' B/ [9 A# v+ c) p' ?5 l. S
he was about to give her a challenge. "If you can keep my key a secret, and never talk about it ever
& d. }' ]) d6 T1 Gagain, to me or anybody, then someday I will give it to you.") Z4 Q: _5 H8 e' i9 U
Sophie couldn't believe her ears. "You will?"
  ^' y; A+ f) n- [/ x6 `- R  b"I promise. When the time comes, the key will be yours. It has your name on it."
1 _  k# U& |$ fSophie scowled. "No it doesn't. It said P.S. My name isn't P.S.!"/ r) p4 g- I2 }, y5 r& D* o. D
Her grandfather lowered his voice and looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. . ^' Z. j$ R4 e- f0 p& i
"Okay, Sophie, if you must know, P.S. is a code. It's your secret initials."5 m. E: a- b# k5 j
Her eyes went wide. "I have secret initials?"
1 ^, x4 |% a, y( T"Of course. Granddaughters always have secret initials that only their grandfathers know."/ E. R5 d. x  x9 }2 B
"P.S.?"
5 P3 u4 z3 P7 l/ v6 WHe tickled her. "Princesse Sophie."
+ t8 {) v5 g+ K: E' yShe giggled. "I'm not a princess!"
( q5 D# S, z9 ?5 q( u5 d  aHe winked. "You are to me."
: T" p9 J. z- A& N3 _6 x5 t' GFrom that day on, they never again spoke of the key. And she became his Princess Sophie.' V6 B8 Q0 \& ]; c( h7 P

7 \7 ^$ T7 o0 F8 V' R2 N. ]8 M8 G4 L1 @& G7 W) S3 S
Inside the Salle des Etats, Sophie stood in silence and endured the sharp pang of loss.
0 A5 [# ?6 ]: m1 N5 @, |+ C, E"The initials," Langdon whispered, eyeing her strangely. "Have you seen them?"7 N1 k! O& o: E/ t
Sophie sensed her grandfather's voice whispering in the corridors of the museum. Never speak of
% K. `* i* ~  i* A( h* Rthis key, Sophie. To me or to anyone. She knew she had failed him in forgiveness, and she + I* O% F7 [- _1 J- T, \" C
wondered if she could break his trust again. P.S. Find Robert Langdon. Her grandfather wanted : E0 {- j' \& E7 n" ]
Langdon to help. Sophie nodded. "Yes, I saw the initials P.S. once. When I was very young."9 z% d( A4 {9 k0 n3 C" a' H  H3 ^
"Where?"7 ], U$ T  q3 @% f
Sophie hesitated. "On something very important to him."
, ^) v* m4 p* O7 a3 WLangdon locked eyes with her. "Sophie, this is crucial. Can you tell me if the initials appeared with ) k! P  v5 J% |" v8 N8 v" M% P! P
a symbol? A fleur-de-lis?"
6 k) W( T' ^5 u9 [& `- z" {Sophie felt herself staggering backward in amazement. "But... how could you possibly know that!"
, i* G+ o% [* K$ g( {/ T9 ^5 j4 w9 BLangdon exhaled and lowered his voice. "I'm fairly certain your grandfather was a member of a # J/ W1 t& H" Z4 ^5 _
secret society. A very old covert brotherhood."
6 E. m; D% ?3 N# ^Sophie felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She was certain of it too. For ten years she had tried to
% _5 F0 E0 J; Y; s- Z& q* a$ kforget the incident that had confirmed that horrifying fact for her. She had witnessed something
# E9 m# @, }* g2 |' {unthinkable. Unforgivable.
+ R+ E; y# W4 A8 M/ M3 \"The fleur-de-lis," Langdon said, "combined with the initials P.S., that is the brotherhood's official 9 p, V* w8 G$ m) v" s- s
device. Their coat of arms. Their logo."# g1 T& l+ p! X  W. b+ ~3 J& D
"How do you know this?" Sophie was praying Langdon was not going to tell her that he himself ' y+ D$ K# W& L) ?" `' Y: A2 U
was a member.
0 F- M3 x, l' k) L"I've written about this group," he said, his voice tremulous with excitement. "Researching the $ K( N" P. S0 t! T( x# d
symbols of secret societies is a specialty of mine. They call themselves the Prieuré de Sion—the
2 h7 a. s1 |( v/ \$ gPriory of Sion. They're based here in France and attract powerful members from all over Europe. In # D8 z) Y. H. y. e( X6 i* v  ]4 \* J
fact, they are one of the oldest surviving secret societies on earth."" t/ A, r7 j3 i
Sophie had never heard of them.% f- \( ^& x  C3 I: j, I& u1 g
Langdon was talking in rapid bursts now. "The Priory's membership has included some of history's - m1 q. o# Z/ {' G9 F8 V& ~% z) {/ i
most cultured individuals: men like Botticelli, Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo." He paused, his * R7 _7 L% X* [2 T; Z
voice brimming now with academic zeal. "And, Leonardo da Vinci."/ c" s. ?0 D& D- V! X- p7 T
Sophie stared. "Da Vinci was in a secret society?": h" w! S% s+ x% a; S1 k
9 ], U  }( g) e2 x: t
"Da Vinci presided over the Priory between 1510 and 1519 as the brotherhood's Grand Master, $ {! |4 b$ O1 M/ n& I1 _* k7 N! r
which might help explain your grandfather's passion for Leonardo's work. The two men share a   N1 n8 K1 _( b8 X6 R7 s' G
historical fraternal bond. And it all fits perfectly with their fascination for goddess iconology,
. N, s7 E3 u. r7 T" u6 ~! `paganism, feminine deities, and contempt for the Church. The Priory has a well-documented 1 ^( T/ S+ D+ a% e4 b  [. \% r( D
history of reverence for the sacred feminine."% `+ f" q! p( l8 A, \
"You're telling me this group is a pagan goddess worship cult?"
7 a, \2 Z: ~" r) G6 O"More like the pagan goddess worship cult. But more important, they are known as the guardians . w  \7 V3 e( v- |* X' e9 X4 i
of an ancient secret. One that made them immeasurably powerful."! [% i' S# p( f
Despite the total conviction in Langdon's eyes, Sophie's gut reaction was one of stark disbelief. A 8 F# g# x3 ?) y; K$ L2 b: b2 s
secret pagan cult? Once headed by Leonardo da Vinci? It all sounded utterly absurd. And yet, even
4 Z+ c7 V7 d$ a9 ^. mas she dismissed it, she felt her mind reeling back ten years—to the night she had mistakenly 6 `3 s$ m- O9 j9 P$ \
surprised her grandfather and witnessed what she still could not accept. Could that explain—?: S; R7 _: W$ c6 p! ?
"The identities of living Priory members are kept extremely secret," Langdon said, "but the P.S.
. w8 f" U; Z9 s8 Y0 z% g1 band fleur-de-lis that you saw as a child are proof. It could only have been related to the Priory."4 Y' D: k- K4 v9 B* v
Sophie realized now that Langdon knew far more about her grandfather than she had previously
9 K" l3 ~3 m2 kimagined. This American obviously had volumes to share with her, but this was not the place. "I 7 m  g2 j( D) P/ y- D
can't afford to let them catch you, Robert. There's a lot we need to discuss. You need to go!"( {: ^3 `/ ]8 m; S: E$ i5 X/ t
, a/ |# [/ o' M% B# f6 X
Langdon heard only the faint murmur of her voice. He wasn't going anywhere. He was lost in
9 P. y, @/ n8 J3 fanother place now. A place where ancient secrets rose to the surface. A place where forgotten " Z( O9 m. Z* ^! y* ~
histories emerged from the shadows.2 \4 S: H! X0 s  u7 j4 H* ^0 L
Slowly, as if moving underwater, Langdon turned his head and gazed through the reddish haze 6 W% a& v2 Z5 V/ i5 I
toward the Mona Lisa.
" K: Z0 f) _$ k+ a4 L/ u4 x+ k  HThe fleur-de-lis... the flower of Lisa... the Mona Lisa.
, j: f. k- P, E- a# Q& W* gIt was all intertwined, a silent symphony echoing the deepest secrets of the Priory of Sion and
: k7 a+ O" S( ]3 ]6 T5 nLeonardo da Vinci.
. N) [* y1 F# @! ~0 O$ j
. r2 x0 g' W% C9 D* f! aA few miles away, on the riverbank beyond Les Invalides, the bewildered driver of a twin-bed 8 \2 o& ]9 M& W' c
Trailor truck stood at gunpoint and watched as the captain of the Judicial Police let out a guttural
+ Q7 ~% n' n: ^& O+ C) w- oroar of rage and heaved a bar of soap out into the turgid waters of the Seine.

Silas gazed upward at the Saint-Sulpice obelisk, taking in the length of the massive marble shaft.
* m" l" G) N8 I0 g5 Y# v5 aHis sinews felt taut with exhilaration. He glanced around the church one more time to make sure he
1 d5 N, s% r2 v0 Vwas alone. Then he knelt at the base of the structure, not out of reverence, but out of necessity.2 V8 }( M* V2 C& g7 S
The keystone is hidden beneath the Rose Line.- {8 |" A+ E" {" I: y
At the base of the Sulpice obelisk.
  D) v+ N" T( [# r( D% {5 xAll the brothers had concurred.* b  N0 Q$ _  a+ m/ ?/ P7 ^
On his knees now, Silas ran his hands across the stone floor. He saw no cracks or markings to : ~' p" l1 I% }1 D) z0 ]
indicate a movable tile, so he began rapping softly with his knuckles on the floor. Following the # [$ S6 r; K) ^& M" C
brass line closer to the obelisk, he knocked on each tile adjacent to the brass line. Finally, one of - x9 T! N+ D4 Q! X$ s
them echoed strangely.
$ x  ^7 S* X: s) NThere's a hollow area beneath the floor!
% A! q% g/ B; y7 T! {: M* u" T* b7 P* _Silas smiled. His victims had spoken the truth.4 {# O! s6 S3 Q* R: \- r
Standing, he searched the sanctuary for something with which to break the floor tile.( N7 K' x  x" B1 k# U/ U+ c
3 w) ^8 V9 M) v5 w/ ~4 c3 n2 v
High above Silas, in the balcony, Sister Sandrine stifled a gasp. Her darkest fears had just been
" Z. Y3 t8 C' q" |# M5 y2 Lconfirmed. This visitor was not who he seemed. The mysterious Opus Dei monk had come to Saint-+ ?4 M. s$ A4 J
Sulpice for another purpose.. r+ \0 U- A) Q" j5 K) H
A secret purpose.& w) D% S3 ~& _6 |& o7 x
You are not the only one with secrets, she thought.- d/ o' d: ]3 E
Sister Sandrine Bieil was more than the keeper of this church. She was a sentry. And tonight, the + f0 I/ A0 F% r  e9 H
ancient wheels had been set in motion. The arrival of this stranger at the base of the obelisk was a , M0 y* H# ?- L" r( u+ u( y: ?
signal from the brotherhood.
- g6 t  p1 r. y) CIt was a silent call of distress.

The U.S. Embassy in Paris is a compact complex on Avenue Gabriel, just north of the Champs-
" Y' m9 W7 n* z5 NElysées. The three-acre compound is considered U.S. soil, meaning all those who stand on it are
, Q* Z- r, ]; b& u3 Tsubject to the same laws and protections as they would encounter standing in the United States.- D2 V' R- S# q) D7 w) h
The embassy's night operator was reading Time magazine's International Edition when the sound of 3 v# ?- s& W. H; e; E* P& M2 C
her phone interrupted., q/ ?3 b$ r& e
"U.S. Embassy," she answered.
' v2 n- j& a. l) e"Good evening." The caller spoke English accented with French. "I need some assistance." Despite
& l  t" a9 y( Othe politeness of the man's words, his tone sounded gruff and official. "I was told you had a phone 1 [3 R: j' q. B' p/ _9 a+ h5 z6 \
message for me on your automated system. The name is Langdon. Unfortunately, I have forgotten * O! i& ~; S) w( l' U
my three-digit access code. If you could help me, I would be most grateful."
" k. K) w* @# R( y' yThe operator paused, confused. "I'm sorry, sir. Your message must be quite old. That system was
0 M. e# O4 x' w8 n/ ^  tremoved two years ago for security precautions. Moreover, all the access codes were five-digit.
) Q* c" x( y- r8 t) lWho told you we had a message