Security warden Claude Grouard simmered with rage as he stood over his prostrate captive in front
; c9 `" U/ o  i& xof the Mona Lisa. This bastard killed Jacques Saunière! Saunière had been like a well-loved father
" J; r, ?; ~  B0 w. y0 q1 @5 Oto Grouard and his security team.* d2 A: H% m: s

* Z' j; `- b5 G# s$ |! h8 ^Grouard wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger and bury a bullet in Robert Langdon's back. " Q: Y# I. z6 R
As senior warden, Grouard was one of the few guards who actually carried a loaded weapon. He ) N0 H* h$ {8 d/ Q% d* M
reminded himself, however, that killing Langdon would be a generous fate compared to the misery
6 P, B8 I& K$ E& Babout to be communicated by Bezu Fache and the French prison system.
- i# `) S( J8 ]- a/ y7 KGrouard yanked his walkie-talkie off his belt and attempted to radio for backup. All he heard was ' h0 e5 I0 H( A: e6 [; P
static. The additional electronic security in this chamber always wrought havoc with the guards'
' A& G( t( p! y: K! V' s3 e$ @communications. I have to move to the doorway. Still aiming his weapon at Langdon, Grouard
- y: m( E: N, v& R. o  obegan backing slowly toward the entrance. On his third step, he spied something that made him
3 M& o( _( j: c" r4 Ustop short.) k) \3 F2 N* [* W8 j$ L) A' G, k
What the hell is that!
0 J4 f1 y0 |; W% v8 m$ wAn inexplicable mirage was materializing near the center of the room. A silhouette. There was + E) z8 E! o2 _" L" {' @
someone else in the room? A woman was moving through the darkness, walking briskly toward the ! K5 @5 z6 J" t" c
far left wall. In front of her, a purplish beam of light swung back and forth across the floor, as if   O, C% P& ~  Q4 [
she were searching for something with a colored flashlight.
5 T9 ]' h* [% b# w. j' W"Qui est là?" Grouard demanded, feeling his adrenaline spike for a second time in the last thirty 5 E7 }- p+ d" u
seconds. He suddenly didn't know where to aim his gun or what direction to move.
; C1 I/ o5 F3 b! j* J"PTS," the woman replied calmly, still scanning the floor with her light.
8 w* Z6 E8 Q4 l9 c6 [6 t) uPolice Technique et Scientifique. Grouard was sweating now. I thought all the agents were gone!
' y2 v7 P, z4 m# s9 k5 j5 |& vHe now recognized the purple light as ultraviolet, consistent with a PTS team, and yet he could not
$ B& i/ q# A1 junderstand why DCPJ would be looking for evidence in here.
1 R$ e) T$ f0 _+ Z6 [  g0 i; O"Votre nom!" Grouard yelled, instinct telling him something was amiss. "Répondez!"- z3 u6 f( d9 p! ]) c0 B$ L3 D5 j
"C'est mot," the voice responded in calm French. "Sophie Neveu."
! u* J9 y2 t* n/ h1 oSomewhere in the distant recesses of Grouard's mind, the name registered. Sophie Neveu? That
3 O& P% A; X6 m. N2 k3 Ewas the name of Saunière's granddaughter, wasn't it? She used to come in here as a little kid, but 2 P) p- D9 N* ]( @7 i9 C7 B4 i
that was years ago. This couldn't possibly be her! And even if it were Sophie Neveu, that was
; T4 y% V* U& @" o# N) Z4 Khardly a reason to trust her; Grouard had heard the rumors of the painful falling-out between
9 ]- s) k3 T# P. ?! ~Saunière and his granddaughter.
2 A8 H6 @7 g' b"You know me," the woman called. "And Robert Langdon did not kill my grandfather. Believe ( ^. R( R9 C- Y
me."* M# \5 ]1 }1 n0 G- c' x1 h4 g
Warden Grouard was not about to take that on faith. I need backup! Trying his walkie-talkie again, . ^4 r* R* K9 O
he got only static. The entrance was still a good twenty yards behind him, and Grouard began ) ~& ?. W" n8 o, ^- t
. W2 O) r( |( k4 d! l; [  D
backing up slowly, choosing to leave his gun trained on the man on the floor. As Grouard inched 8 b( ?+ K7 V! P. p' c* E
backward, he could see the woman across the room raising her UV light and scrutinizing a large 1 B7 o2 ]0 B' ]  V; o* N% y
painting that hung on the far side of the Salle des Etats, directly opposite the Mona Lisa.
; I4 ]$ }$ b! w: T( a' FGrouard gasped, realizing which painting it was.: O! F2 ^% R8 W! P" Z; Z2 Z
What in the name of God is she doing?
5 }  y! M2 @1 S) m$ u) y% ?6 t& w
# ^) V! _* I, g5 e- u9 q2 j2 U5 wAcross the room, Sophie Neveu felt a cold sweat breaking across her forehead. Langdon was still 8 m1 Z! W% P# G6 E3 X7 o! L
spread-eagle on the floor. Hold on, Robert. Almost there. Knowing the guard would never actually $ n0 ]# k6 K8 |( z
shoot either of them, Sophie now turned her attention back to the matter at hand, scanning the
3 u' Q, ^( r& y! centire area around one masterpiece in particular—another Da Vinci. But the UV light revealed ) R! O% f% r: X% A
nothing out of the ordinary. Not on the floor, on the walls, or even on the canvas itself.
  Z/ C# ~/ N0 [. c4 |& sThere must be something here!
, M0 B' z4 j* F4 q# j+ |+ _Sophie felt totally certain she had deciphered her grandfather's intentions correctly.
; H. l4 L) b9 ~: N; J5 ]! i. DWhat else could he possibly intend?
! {. Y4 z2 E, D- |/ f% z4 A9 vThe masterpiece she was examining was a five-foot-tall canvas. The bizarre scene Da Vinci had
  o$ |2 J7 N: F2 ipainted included an awkwardly posed Virgin Mary sitting with Baby Jesus, John the Baptist, and
8 n( P, {* D9 F, A% Lthe Angel Uriel on a perilous outcropping of rocks. When Sophie was a little girl, no trip to the 0 \1 K5 y8 F: K- I3 y% C* e3 J
Mona Lisa had been complete without her grandfather dragging her across the room to see this $ ]2 ~9 L1 P- \% E
second painting.
) v0 v2 M) U1 H# ?( rGrand-père, I'm here! But I don't see it!
) _  C1 o, Z3 m5 j/ O& wBehind her, Sophie could hear the guard trying to radio again for help.  k# J  }" F/ E3 S
Think!1 u0 S6 A8 n0 X! s* s
She pictured the message scrawled on the protective glass of the Mona Lisa. So dark the con of ! m4 s5 c9 I9 @
man. The painting before her had no protective glass on which to write a message, and Sophie
9 Z. c- d$ o6 U; b! ]/ mknew her grandfather would never have defaced this masterpiece by writing on the painting itself.
! b/ n5 z, z" MShe paused. At least not on the front. Her eyes shot upward, climbing the long cables that dangled
3 |, Z2 M$ O+ Q. V1 s: W5 |from the ceiling to support the canvas.* g- X* B) m6 g0 a9 Q4 p
Could that be it? Grabbing the left side of the carved wood frame, she pulled it toward her. The
& d0 g4 ]% r6 \$ ]painting was large and the backing flexed as she swung it away from the wall. Sophie slipped her 1 z; N+ P$ E6 }+ ?2 i
head and shoulders in behind the painting and raised the black light to inspect the back.
' T  C, `  y" W3 N* [8 q) I# p7 {5 R8 ^+ E
It took only seconds to realize her instinct had been wrong. The back of the painting was pale and ( |& |; g# S& z4 L9 C
blank. There was no purple text here, only the mottled brown backside of aging canvas and—% w) h* X/ U, J( |" Z) r4 {3 L
Wait.
. P1 C2 r; t7 J% rSophie's eyes locked on an incongruous glint of lustrous metal lodged near the bottom edge of the & S4 l* K8 m; w
frame's wooden armature. The object was small, partially wedged in the slit where the canvas met
8 Z2 i! o) N* S, sthe frame. A shimmering gold chain dangled off it.
0 _4 o/ {" h# S: ^. ITo Sophie's utter amazement, the chain was affixed to a familiar gold key. The broad, sculpted
  y3 L, [& L& q# R) V  Dhead was in the shape of a cross and bore an engraved seal she had not seen since she was nine 6 P- L# I+ C5 |! d8 @# D0 e* P
years old. A fleur-de-lis with the initials P.S. In that instant, Sophie felt the ghost of her grandfather
- q$ S4 F9 z1 B: R- Zwhispering in her ear. When the time comes, the key will be yours. A tightness gripped her throat as
# k$ z3 `  o, [/ S: Gshe realized that her grandfather, even in death, had kept his promise. This key opens a box, his ! ]  Q# k3 _" T$ T, ~0 J" y  b5 F
voice was saying, where I keep many secrets.
" A" u2 r( ~$ v# v, X( u& v: x6 L0 zSophie now realized that the entire purpose of tonight's word game had been this key. Her 2 u# c& V4 l- t$ `+ b
grandfather had it with him when he was killed. Not wanting it to fall into the hands of the police,
1 ^( J9 {  ^3 I2 khe hid it behind this painting. Then he devised an ingenious treasure hunt to ensure only Sophie ; |& j/ ^+ X8 I, h+ D" W/ [& o
would find it.
. \0 e& T: O: S6 F8 |"Au secours!" the guard's voice yelled.
9 T, e: I5 b8 F1 j+ FSophie snatched the key from behind the painting and slipped it deep in her pocket along with the . H- Q3 O1 D. T
UV penlight. Peering out from behind the canvas, she could see the guard was still trying
" R  L% J9 z9 c4 D  G( c4 tdesperately to raise someone on the walkie-talkie. He was backing toward the entrance, still aiming
- s6 F5 R5 w5 Ythe gun firmly at Langdon.1 Q$ w& R2 B* \% u/ a. e
"Au secours!" he shouted again into his radio.
5 @" ?1 Q# a- Y1 B; Q: ^' c' K; vStatic.# l) A. }/ y& D" K) E  P2 d; |
He can't transmit, Sophie realized, recalling that tourists with cell phones often got frustrated in ; F. W: t# F3 J
here when they tried to call home to brag about seeing the Mona Lisa. The extra surveillance ; ^) o" b% S& D; C1 f
wiring in the walls made it virtually impossible to get a carrier unless you stepped out into the hall. 5 [' [3 K( l! U: c- `5 d! Z& ~
The guard was backing quickly toward the exit now, and Sophie knew she had to act immediately.
, d1 ?7 _+ ?! h) a8 C) VGazing up at the large painting behind which she was partially ensconced, Sophie realized that % d3 _& ]3 D; o9 p& y
Leonardo da Vinci, for the second time tonight, was there to help.' }8 T, f6 p9 Y- d! p' V3 y

1 v  l, R: p! [4 K7 b, IAnother few meters, Grouard told himself, keeping his gun leveled.
- b& c8 R- F) q7 C- ~( M0 R+ `% J8 R
5 B. K" p" }; a1 `8 M"Arrêtez! Ou je la détruis!" the woman's voice echoed across the room.
1 d0 O  d/ \" i. s$ jGrouard glanced over and stopped in his tracks. "Mon dieu, non!"* o, d. s2 S& Y; L( h
Through the reddish haze, he could see that the woman had actually lifted the large painting off its ; ]: H2 ]) p( `6 L  g5 ?+ h
cables and propped it on the floor in front of her. At five feet tall, the canvas almost entirely hid her
& o9 O+ ~4 h3 e# b+ X/ X8 Cbody. Grouard's first thought was to wonder why the painting's trip wires hadn't set off alarms, but
+ K( o8 [  A' qof course the artwork cable sensors had yet to be reset tonight. What is she doing!
" x+ B9 `9 p) Q, F8 U  uWhen he saw it, his blood went cold.1 }8 }% Z! t7 v8 l& u
The canvas started to bulge in the middle, the fragile outlines of the Virgin Mary, Baby Jesus, and 7 y, B5 ^8 s' _& o* R
John the Baptist beginning to distort.% {* p, E/ D7 e2 {7 c6 ?
"Non!" Grouard screamed, frozen in horror as he watched the priceless Da Vinci stretching. The
& |# f/ d- \/ d6 {woman was pushing her knee into the center of the canvas from behind! "NON!"
# x) j* W2 e  C6 g) d% @; tGrouard wheeled and aimed his gun at her but instantly realized it was an empty threat. The canvas
; q. r' K8 T2 H% Y! ?& _, P2 hwas only fabric, but it was utterly impenetrable—a six-million-dollar piece of body armor.
# x; u* E6 G0 W5 b, hI can't put a bullet through a Da Vinci!5 v. ^! r7 T# P2 \5 i7 w& k' F
"Set down your gun and radio," the woman said in calm French, "or I'll put my knee through this + n# c6 |+ x$ y! B3 m$ d$ N
painting. I think you know how my grandfather would feel about that.", g% x. P! v: ^+ Y3 Z$ N) T
Grouard felt dizzy. "Please... no. That's Madonna of the Rocks!" He dropped his gun and radio,
3 M( G) u0 B9 C+ |" R( k( n. eraising his hands over his head.
  |8 A' t6 J  I. _' Q"Thank you," the woman said. "Now do exactly as I tell you, and everything will work out fine."
; J2 j5 c# m; w1 M: `5 M) u2 r
( Q* r0 C+ T$ \4 jMoments later, Langdon's pulse was still thundering as he ran beside Sophie down the emergency . i/ b3 B- ^. H4 Q3 p1 E) [5 U
stairwell toward the ground level. Neither of them had said a word since leaving the trembling * [. ^1 s. F1 K1 M) W1 r( }, q8 P4 W
Louvre guard lying in the Salle des Etats. The guard's pistol was now clutched tightly in Langdon's 3 j- x! X7 a4 G" N6 h
hands, and he couldn't wait to get rid of it. The weapon felt heavy and dangerously foreign.
1 C1 ^2 Y! |: Y8 s8 v2 j3 eTaking the stairs two at a time, Langdon wondered if Sophie had any idea how valuable a painting
3 q* r3 s" |6 ^8 ~: y) `she had almost ruined. Her choice in art seemed eerily pertinent to tonight's adventure. The Da
' A1 C+ T+ g/ s7 r( Y5 s8 jVinci she had grabbed, much like the Mona Lisa, was notorious among art historians for its
+ u& Y5 A9 n- Q1 Uplethora of hidden pagan symbolism.& b) \4 V# j* i2 Y# n
+ R9 }/ b4 H5 b: k
"You chose a valuable hostage," he said as they ran.
. s/ X+ W4 s. J: l* d"Madonna of the Rocks," she replied. "But I didn't choose it, my grandfather did. He left me a little
% {' _. {8 h: {: r) ?something behind the painting."
; D9 ~) r% H8 m2 {, C8 f+ WLangdon shot her a startled look. "What!? But how did you know which painting? Why Madonna . m2 h" {9 E2 s$ F3 U% q- p3 |
of the Rocks?"* v7 N2 x5 Z% C. t
"So dark the con of man." She flashed a triumphant smile. "I missed the first two anagrams,
, b2 l3 K# F- a5 w4 X) E. C! ERobert. I wasn't about to miss the third."

"They're dead!" Sister Sandrine stammered into the telephone in her Saint-Sulpice residence. She
4 W8 O. `* [  p5 v2 H9 G2 _, {was leaving a message on an answering machine. "Please pick up! They're all dead!"2 @6 j" k4 u+ f' Q, t; U
The first three phone numbers on the list had produced terrifying results—a hysterical widow, a
4 y( B3 z! p6 O6 a; rdetective working late at a murder scene, and a somber priest consoling a bereaved family. All
; `' j+ u3 k& w: Qthree contacts were dead. And now, as she called the fourth and final number—the number she was
0 x8 h6 n5 s: e/ _8 _2 C! Cnot supposed to call unless the first three could not be reached—she got an answering machine.
/ }1 {* l& W5 |& t: YThe outgoing message offered no name but simply asked the caller to leave a message.
$ Z9 u( h& @6 V"The floor panel has been broken!" she pleaded as she left the message. "The other three are dead!"# k. l; E3 j1 p. Q  j
Sister Sandrine did not know the identities of the four men she protected, but the private phone - |2 |: e+ B3 A3 y. r
numbers stashed beneath her bed were for use on only one condition.% j, s9 x1 o' O
If that floor panel is ever broken, the faceless messenger had told her, it means the upper echelon : A1 W3 l9 g* C6 ]
has been breached. One of us has been mortally threatened and been forced to tell a desperate lie.
' W4 }$ J; \/ H" j9 L! O5 [Call the numbers. Warn the others. Do not fail us in this.) C1 U0 \( K- V, V0 X: Y4 Z% X
It was a silent alarm. Foolproof in its simplicity. The plan had amazed her when she first heard it. If
: V. K4 Z) W8 s% @' rthe identity of one brother was compromised, he could tell a lie that would start in motion a
9 Z% M- o/ Y, j& k4 t/ Xmechanism to warn the others. Tonight, however, it seemed that more than one had been # b5 a* N5 c1 ?  g: i& L- q
compromised.0 P! l& E( i6 a4 f1 C* Z& l5 |; c
"Please answer," she whispered in fear. "Where are you?"6 d" f; P, i& o9 ?' X/ L
"Hang up the phone," a deep voice said from the doorway.
  o6 L& o4 b0 LTurning in terror, she saw the massive monk. He was clutching the heavy iron candle stand. 7 G  e* d; q$ O* I1 i( z) X# |

/ ~" D& X1 m: M3 wShaking, she set the phone back in the cradle.1 }; w+ [  }9 P( L
"They are dead," the monk said. "All four of them. And they have played me for a fool. Tell me
( `# y, }/ T/ K8 h6 j5 ]  h# }2 x3 Mwhere the keystone is."
9 C) ?, C7 b; J* L( a$ q9 M8 V"I don't know!" Sister Sandrine said truthfully. "That secret is guarded by others." Others who are
" k) u) ]! H" R/ C$ r* B/ r, jdead!. r' j9 k; M) j
The man advanced, his white fists gripping the iron stand. "You are a sister of the Church, and yet , b' K* a/ H2 R! S: @
you serve them?") Q) |) G/ p  O4 H
"Jesus had but one true message," Sister Sandrine said defiantly. "I cannot see that message in
+ ^' L- e: A7 l# jOpus Dei."
. v3 L& U8 n" S2 AA sudden explosion of rage erupted behind the monk's eyes. He lunged, lashing out with the candle
1 z$ m; k& q: b: Y+ ?; Z9 Mstand like a club. As Sister Sandrine fell, her last feeling was an overwhelming sense of
2 t/ i/ X" C- ?foreboding.' Z: S% \3 _+ a; l0 T3 i" R: B
All four are dead.
# P5 M7 {+ |, Z# d. Q. |0 GThe precious truth is lost forever.

The security alarm on the west end of the Denon Wing sent the pigeons in the nearby Tuileries ! h+ g' _5 {. J1 S9 {
Gardens scattering as Langdon and Sophie dashed out of the bulkhead into the Paris night. As they   \% n) ^  j, k* k# w
ran across the plaza to Sophie's car, Langdon could hear police sirens wailing in the distance.
0 L6 z% `3 x6 p"That's it there," Sophie called, pointing to a red snub-nosed two-seater parked on the plaza.+ {5 A& \; z( \1 A' R: o
She's kidding, right? The vehicle was easily the smallest car Langdon had ever seen.
% j8 [  y( l- t5 z% I"SmartCar," she said. "A hundred kilometers to the liter.". W2 B+ k+ T- M" E+ }- D1 i
Langdon had barely thrown himself into the passenger seat before Sophie gunned the SmartCar up
& X7 g6 D& z. s! x! V  c+ P, ^and over a curb onto a gravel divider. He gripped the dash as the car shot out across a sidewalk and & }, e  w# ^( S5 p2 @. {% X4 v
bounced back down over into the small rotary at Carrousel du Louvre.  b' m$ ]( V4 h
For an instant, Sophie seemed to consider taking the shortcut across the rotary by plowing straight : X7 [0 w; k( J! R, B
ahead, through the median's perimeter hedge, and bisecting the large circle of grass in the center.
( H! Z! u+ m2 h: y0 x9 n* k) N7 c4 l$ ^* K7 i0 y( Z& H) l. o
"No!" Langdon shouted, knowing the hedges around Carrousel du Louvre were there to hide the   ~5 p/ P- _* O3 Z6 Y
perilous chasm in the center—La Pyramide Inversée—the upside-down pyramid skylight he had
4 v* w) w; x+ Z# w, `  C! ?1 F+ Mseen earlier from inside the museum. It was large enough to swallow their Smart-Car in a single
* D3 x' D' c. ?" R! Q8 g+ Agulp. Fortunately, Sophie decided on the more conventional route, jamming the wheel hard to the % H+ \  b+ R& q8 C
right, circling properly until she exited, cut left, and swung into the northbound lane, accelerating $ p8 h+ q. h8 b8 C
toward Rue de Rivoli.
5 x. p- S$ i- `2 x" [The two-tone police sirens blared louder behind them, and Langdon could see the lights now in his : M! C+ J, [! _1 Z) F4 z  |
side view mirror. The SmartCar engine whined in protest as Sophie urged it faster away from the 1 U7 \9 {; n" W) x* s
Louvre. Fifty yards ahead, the traffic light at Rivoli turned red. Sophie cursed under her breath and
/ f! j$ w1 |4 X- i5 _/ ~8 Rkept racing toward it. Langdon felt his muscles tighten.
/ e, u0 n' p5 F"Sophie?"
6 ~) h8 a7 U3 T6 L5 YSlowing only slightly as they reached the intersection, Sophie flicked her headlights and stole a
) z! L* b; U) |9 \; _- uquick glance both ways before flooring the accelerator again and carving a sharp left turn through 3 n8 m# F1 ~+ U, h
the empty intersection onto Rivoli. Accelerating west for a quarter of a mile, Sophie banked to the ; b: |0 }: ]% j1 E9 k, U" K, Q
right around a wide rotary. Soon they were shooting out the other side onto the wide avenue of
- V6 V4 ]+ t9 ]3 j  n* O3 GChamps-Elysées.
, ^  s1 a' R/ e6 ]! v! ^As they straightened out, Langdon turned in his seat, craning his neck to look out the rear window
7 B; y, G. f2 M9 Utoward the Louvre. The police did not seem to be chasing them. The sea of blue lights was , j/ v! n- B: V
assembling at the museum.% A' M% z: ?+ Z3 s$ ^- s
His heartbeat finally slowing, Langdon turned back around. "That was interesting."
/ X3 `% V6 g. c' B4 p& D4 nSophie didn't seem to hear. Her eyes remained fixed ahead down the long thoroughfare of Champs-
* Y3 I2 o- w: y, ^: a7 HElysées, the two-mile stretch of posh storefronts that was often called the Fifth Avenue of Paris. 9 u. r9 N  k$ l$ p+ l" ~6 O9 P4 {& f
The embassy was only about a mile away, and Langdon settled into his seat. So dark the con of : S; |/ q, U# {2 E! b
man. Sophie's quick thinking had been impressive. Madonna of the Rocks.4 q# }& T) r  Q0 h
Sophie had said her grandfather left her something behind the painting. A final message? Langdon
% ^1 g# z! G" o0 ^" N/ Ncould not help but marvel over Saunière's brilliant hiding place; Madonna of the Rocks was yet 2 c+ f3 G+ p, L: `' K: E8 l( c
another fitting link in the evening's chain of interconnected symbolism. Saunière, it seemed, at ( a% o, S) |$ C9 H1 R% P
every turn, was reinforcing his fondness for the dark and mischievous side of Leonardo da Vinci.
6 o9 X7 g) c2 R# q) @- w4 E' Q, t' wDa Vinci's original commission for Madonna of the Rocks had come from an organization known
5 W+ |' c: S0 |6 v' |& Zas the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception, which needed a painting for the centerpiece of
( ~4 d  z6 `. Han altar triptych in their church of San Francesco in Milan. The nuns gave Leonardo specific
& \+ ^( x, j" Y- X7 P/ n. gdimensions, and the desired theme for the painting—the Virgin Mary, baby John the Baptist, Uriel,
; m6 J, _4 o0 {* t( xand Baby Jesus sheltering in a cave. Although Da Vinci did as they requested, when he delivered
6 g4 h2 b6 n) w- B4 N% H0 Y- {the work, the group reacted with horror. He had filled the painting with explosive and disturbing
% v' V3 Z; P1 H5 j- s0 J% N5 c/ Mdetails.
5 `3 g" A! G+ Z1 w8 ^
5 r" D# S) Z6 n, l# o9 T  ]8 XThe painting showed a blue-robed Virgin Mary sitting with her arm around an infant child,
( ^/ z) y3 X# [$ p, b) zpresumably Baby Jesus. Opposite Mary sat Uriel, also with an infant, presumably baby John the
. D6 w/ H, S8 h$ @: v* e6 |Baptist. Oddly, though, rather than the usual Jesus-blessing-John scenario, it was baby John who
1 e: [! Z: U4 C1 w( L( q: Pwas blessing Jesus... and Jesus was submitting to his authority! More troubling still, Mary was
( j# [7 A* g( R" Tholding one hand high above the head of infant John and making a decidedly threatening : p* J6 `/ y4 z# T3 h2 N& c
gesture—her fingers looking like eagle's talons, gripping an invisible head. Finally, the most
. t2 G; j' m/ _5 ]* H8 y7 Tobvious and frightening image: Just below Mary's curled fingers, Uriel was making a cutting
0 E. q$ I5 O* r* f2 N# {gesture with his hand—as if slicing the neck of the invisible head gripped by Mary's claw-like
4 |% ?  o& W9 a8 d( H6 q6 R2 ~hand.
! ?( J* o, F; v0 n6 r: rLangdon's students were always amused to learn that Da Vinci eventually mollified the
+ m) t" Y- L& J. sconfraternity by painting them a second, "watered-down" version of Madonna of the Rocks in 9 `  O+ i" `" H+ |
which everyone was arranged in a more orthodox manner. The second version now hung in , l( \+ \9 c6 e8 C2 x# M$ h6 N
London's National Gallery under the name Virgin of the Rocks, although Langdon still preferred
" j3 f& b% d3 V3 M* l( b5 Pthe Louvre's more intriguing original.
7 X) @8 t5 u7 v; cAs Sophie gunned the car up Champs-Elysées, Langdon said, "The painting. What was behind it?"
6 r, E5 f0 y  X8 y+ m! THer eyes remained on the road. "I'll show you once we're safely inside the embassy."
7 T" z" f8 f, @) U* n"You'll show it to me?" Langdon was surprised. "He left you a physical object?"# M: |- |( a3 p' P* I
Sophie gave a curt nod. "Embossed with a fleur-de-lis and the initials P.S."
% |! t9 z) ~3 `- G$ RLangdon couldn't believe his ears.) }  ~& X& G9 l! b) j; Q% i# G
! \( s8 X9 w9 C# a; x
We're going to make it, Sophie thought as she swung the SmartCar's wheel to the right, cutting
. M! {7 H$ k* U: v& N; {1 ?sharply past the luxurious Hotel de Crillon into Paris's tree-lined diplomatic neighborhood. The 2 }% `8 a# n" ~; U6 Z$ V& Y
embassy was less than a mile away now. She was finally feeling like she could breathe normally ' h2 S2 q- ~6 I1 \0 y
again.
: B' p% G4 i  u1 d# K& d, ~Even as she drove, Sophie's mind remained locked on the key in her pocket, her memories of
5 D' u7 P# s. {# R' Q6 Tseeing it many years ago, the gold head shaped as an equal-armed cross, the triangular shaft, the
) n- r+ W5 `+ kindentations, the embossed flowery seal, and the letters P.S.
) S+ O0 k. h& PAlthough the key barely had entered Sophie's thoughts through the years, her work in the 0 w8 _+ _! m, U6 `
intelligence community had taught her plenty about security, and now the key's peculiar tooling no % r4 _8 X# }7 m/ Y7 H" S) w
longer looked so mystifying. A laser-tooled varying matrix. Impossible to duplicate. Rather than
1 t& x4 G$ u0 E! ~) cteeth that moved tumblers, this key's complex series of laser-burned pockmarks was examined by   z: R! h9 |, \/ F5 c  ]* D$ ?
an electric eye. If the eye determined that the hexagonal pockmarks were correctly spaced, : p# c$ G' G; [# ?% Q% i

9 N: Q/ h3 @8 N3 parranged, and rotated, then the lock would open.5 N* {: V- L, r/ V, a
Sophie could not begin to imagine what a key like this opened, but she sensed Robert would be
: y! z  V! ^, p" z1 X3 rable to tell her. After all, he had described the key's embossed seal without ever seeing it. The
0 H5 k4 k+ r3 d$ I4 |0 acruciform on top implied the key belonged to some kind of Christian organization, and yet Sophie % Y. ~$ D; f. T% b! U6 r6 `6 T
knew of no churches that used laser-tooled varying matrix keys.
  Q$ v/ y: W" OBesides, my grandfather was no Christian...., d$ m! M; g- s
Sophie had witnessed proof of that ten years ago. Ironically, it had been another key—a far more + M# x) x- K& C0 e: v7 Z
normal one—that had revealed his true nature to her." o0 l1 i/ i# i3 M
The afternoon had been warm when she landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport and hailed a taxi
$ R% g7 C% b% M1 P3 d0 Lhome. Grand-père will be so surprised to see me, she thought. Returning from graduate school in 2 a# ^0 O$ T$ O) I
Britain for spring break a few days early, Sophie couldn't wait to see him and tell him all about the
( ]8 c- Z& a8 }; Pencryption methods she was studying.
/ q7 Y+ m& g! @: L/ w& T. WWhen she arrived at their Paris home, however, her grandfather was not there. Disappointed, she
2 U# h' D3 z6 a4 Q+ x3 o0 {2 L; J3 dknew he had not been expecting her and was probably working at the Louvre. But it's Saturday
( z+ g: n+ W" U: M. g& T; Eafternoon, she realized. He seldom worked on weekends. On weekends, he usually—5 \- l& [5 m7 `0 ], V- N
Grinning, Sophie ran out to the garage. Sure enough, his car was gone. It was the weekend. Jacques 6 u) K" q: L: w+ l  y% ^
Saunière despised city driving and owned a car for one destination only—his vacation chateau in 9 m* ^: S5 }  ]# X
Normandy, north of Paris. Sophie, after months in the congestion of London, was eager for the 9 n3 G- c7 g$ a" V7 w; }
smells of nature and to start her vacation right away. It was still early evening, and she decided to
. L0 l$ @  e+ d' s6 a. K/ K* Oleave immediately and surprise him. Borrowing a friend's car, Sophie drove north, winding into the
9 y. i7 b/ [) zdeserted moon-swept hills near Creully. She arrived just after ten o'clock, turning down the long
5 z: e1 S2 v% f  w# C8 Hprivate driveway toward her grandfather's retreat. The access road was over a mile long, and she 2 A, Z3 _1 P1 _, V& T; @
was halfway down it before she could start to see the house through the trees—a mammoth, old
0 S( x5 @; @! ^7 xstone chateau nestled in the woods on the side of a hill.
3 y' k1 i8 v* w7 c: q% GSophie had half expected to find her grandfather asleep at this hour and was excited to see the
* g, U' ?. L4 X+ O- Phouse twinkling with lights. Her delight turned to surprise, however, when she arrived to find the
5 ]& b9 c* D$ g7 _' Xdriveway filled with parked cars—Mercedeses, BMWs, Audis, and a Rolls-Royce.
) w  r/ ^7 ^" r* d8 ~Sophie stared a moment and then burst out laughing. My grand-père, the famous recluse! Jacques % }8 g( N9 k& J8 f3 L3 j. J
Saunière, it seemed, was far less reclusive than he liked to pretend. Clearly he was hosting a party 5 c. N) J) f, X$ d( m
while Sophie was away at school, and from the looks of the automobiles, some of Paris's most
/ }- @- c8 E- V( I, Z; Uinfluential people were in attendance.
) m& y8 ?0 s/ @7 QEager to surprise him, she hurried to the front door. When she got there, though, she found it
: O8 h4 F0 v1 [6 K, M, F' `locked. She knocked. Nobody answered. Puzzled, she walked around and tried the back door. It too
$ N+ \2 C8 Z4 v' ?! g$ iwas locked. No answer.+ `& k- m7 ^( l8 f2 h( d6 m
. C$ ~2 `/ x% r( H
Confused, she stood a moment and listened. The only sound she heard was the cool Normandy air
% J) t$ X, c3 l) E* [letting out a low moan as it swirled through the valley.
  O9 J5 }) O$ H, L7 m$ c9 kNo music.
" T) H  M4 D# e& s. ?0 |: vNo voices.
8 y9 y2 P9 T4 oNothing.) _' E- l3 x, D# J' Z2 |6 Z0 I
In the silence of the woods, Sophie hurried to the side of the house and clambered up on a
2 ~9 N) i# O/ F: i4 y* b8 @woodpile, pressing her face to the living room window. What she saw inside made no sense at all.
. O- j( b1 Z& C2 c"Nobody's here!"
% D; n& @# U1 D- g6 ~4 k) T7 PThe entire first floor looked deserted.
; T  Z. L" f- Q$ [$ i& dWhere are all the people?
" j- l, v( n7 }- e5 y) `1 X4 ]6 c0 E1 qHeart racing, Sophie ran to the woodshed and got the spare key her grandfather kept hidden under
# C6 u1 N3 v( _the kindling box. She ran to the front door and let herself in. As she stepped into the deserted foyer, / R/ ^8 m0 b# q) h
the control panel for the security system started blinking red—a warning that the entrant had ten
6 A4 @  |# N) z, q; J$ Useconds to type the proper code before the security alarms went off.
, v2 C7 w! [/ x' KHe has the alarm on during a party?
2 z; t2 m( k$ ^% s* R8 ~) y2 xSophie quickly typed the code and deactivated the system.5 n8 g6 ?, n$ o1 f
Entering, she found the entire house uninhabited. Upstairs too. As she descended again to the
. Y0 l  _7 u4 ~, K4 tdeserted living room, she stood a moment in the silence, wondering what could possibly be
1 q3 o( I6 F  Y) B' h( {happening.0 u4 ?5 `: J  d( d  `9 x$ a% p& `; I
It was then that Sophie heard it.
& \$ N5 Q0 @; \% c, uMuffled voices. And they seemed to be coming from underneath her. Sophie could not imagine. , O8 g! R3 Y2 k! f6 n- W5 {+ J. |
Crouching, she put her ear to the floor and listened. Yes, the sound was definitely coming from % z/ y7 k6 N, }8 R, I# M' {
below. The voices seemed to be singing, or... chanting? She was frightened. Almost more eerie * A9 F1 s7 x) {  X9 D+ [
than the sound itself was the realization that this house did not even have a basement.; z6 P+ C8 o2 @& [
At least none I've ever seen.- Q8 K: Z1 `3 P4 B  h  `. C
Turning now and scanning the living room, Sophie's eyes fell to the only object in the entire house 7 j: m8 y! _2 i3 w
that seemed out of place—her grandfather's favorite antique, a sprawling Aubusson tapestry. It
, t+ f/ H7 i3 v0 ^usually hung on the east wall beside the fireplace, but tonight it had been pulled aside on its brass
7 Y% b! Y5 Q0 v* X$ g3 X8 j* ~- V0 ]1 [+ T
rod, exposing the wall behind it.
- \6 v$ g. \; D# CWalking toward the bare wooden wall, Sophie sensed the chanting getting louder. Hesitant, she
; W7 M# D4 z5 r4 ]0 _leaned her ear against the wood. The voices were clearer now. People were definitely chanting...
) X# k( m( p0 c  E9 Bintoning words Sophie could not discern.
( Q' g  N8 K+ Y5 s2 C% bThe space behind this wall is hollow!! [4 h+ }& T) W; a+ J
Feeling around the edge of the panels, Sophie found a recessed fingerhold. It was discreetly : U" D7 c  @$ E7 R9 G
crafted. A sliding door. Heart pounding, she placed her finger in the slot and pulled it. With
9 z; W$ f5 b+ ?: P7 W, J+ Bnoiseless precision, the heavy wall slid sideways. From out of the darkness beyond, the voices 5 ?6 K1 j7 y. B3 v; ?" z) X
echoed up.
* g  e! K# B! NSophie slipped through the door and found herself on a rough-hewn stone staircase that spiraled
0 d* z! A5 {* b0 c& C0 f' G  W( M0 Jdownward. She'd been coming to this house since she was a child and yet had no idea this staircase
) k- x6 X( R( g+ ?; Deven existed!
. H7 @# m: g+ t6 |5 K; v' }As she descended, the air grew cooler. The voices clearer. She heard men and women now. Her
; Z9 e5 r  a$ K6 ~0 @: W6 Wline of sight was limited by the spiral of the staircase, but the last step was now rounding into view.
( q* D. M+ F! ?/ a# l' EBeyond it, she could see a small patch of the basement floor—stone, illuminated by the flickering
; R# T8 e2 M5 Sorange blaze of firelight.
% S5 q' B! v5 {  y6 l  KHolding her breath, Sophie inched down another few steps and crouched down to look. It took her
' Q- y* ^3 w/ \8 W  B! }' zseveral seconds to process what she was seeing.
4 {5 \2 L5 N1 nThe room was a grotto—a coarse chamber that appeared to have been hollowed from the granite of 5 z: p' r6 e% K6 X
the hillside. The only light came from torches on the walls. In the glow of the flames, thirty or so * [6 p2 B  H( U7 f" c$ [. D& Y
people stood in a circle in the center of the room.
+ ?3 ^/ F, k+ Y/ UI'm dreaming, Sophie told herself. A dream. What else could this be?* E$ L$ h9 B* c, r. r# [
Everyone in the room was wearing a mask. The women were dressed in white gossamer gowns and
1 a. E. c/ |! C7 Z/ hgolden shoes. Their masks were white, and in their hands they carried golden orbs. The men wore - b1 ?! W% ~; o1 b2 ]9 }+ A. h
long black tunics, and their masks were black. They looked like pieces in a giant chess set. ; }/ F2 e% H8 Y
Everyone in the circle rocked back and forth and chanted in reverence to something on the floor 9 F7 X, N# U& g4 E8 k. A
before them... something Sophie could not see.# k1 d) j( B6 j2 _" ]
The chanting grew steady again. Accelerating. Thundering now. Faster. The participants took a
) G* w; Y: K/ Lstep inward and knelt. In that instant, Sophie could finally see what they all were witnessing. Even
# F' d# j7 m' o- `2 X/ ~1 t5 sas she staggered back in horror, she felt the image searing itself into her memory forever. ; ^4 M& A3 k. v1 W0 j
Overtaken by nausea, Sophie spun, clutching at the stone walls as she clambered back up the stairs. ; G: A, O: ]4 x0 D$ X9 P, M: e
Pulling the door closed, she fled the deserted house, and drove in a tearful stupor back to Paris.+ r; Y( c5 A  D7 w+ a- ?! f
( Q  C) X# I% Y  y3 J6 \
That night, with her life shattered by disillusionment and betrayal, she packed her belongings and ! x2 j$ r1 |7 f# o/ z0 ~% [" U" D
left her home. On the dining room table, she left a note.
' Q# |# Q2 l* I0 ~I WAS THERE. DON'T TRY TO FIND ME.
* G7 u3 u% e* Z( i # J" i9 ~6 |& h' F, n: c4 U8 ?
Beside the note, she laid the old spare key from the chateau's woodshed.
/ ^/ V  P8 P+ D% q, X, S
& G* z# J& C9 u4 }"Sophie! Langdon's voice intruded. "Stop! Stop!"
5 b" L; R  q4 \& y% @Emerging from the memory, Sophie slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt. "What? What 8 H% E& ~0 w) O: y
happened?!"1 M8 L4 _/ i3 P* v. J  [
Langdon pointed down the long street before them.
, F& D8 W8 t7 _When she saw it, Sophie's blood went cold. A hundred yards ahead, the intersection was blocked * u8 Z/ _& p; g7 B* P) f( D
by a couple of DCPJ police cars, parked askew, their purpose obvious. They've sealed off Avenue 3 B: J! q  [3 W2 |# H
Gabriel!+ M, E* X7 d- ^; |" y2 \. K
Langdon gave a grim sigh. "I take it the embassy is off-limits this evening?"
! k1 ~+ Y: P: k0 r' ?Down the street, the two DCPJ officers who stood beside their cars were now staring in their
$ s9 p/ q: I7 T2 Ydirection, apparently curious about the headlights that had halted so abruptly up the street from
# H3 K8 L+ X% z1 E+ |them.* [; E/ @; n' D2 E* v
Okay, Sophie, turn around very slowly.
( s* r+ [9 Q' _" QPutting the SmartCar in reverse, she performed a composed three-point turn and reversed her
5 V/ b3 q. i; R7 S/ N8 p4 g6 Jdirection. As she drove away, she heard the sound of squealing tires behind them. Sirens blared to
. B, g+ w1 s* g  S/ @* hlife.& e. H+ V* Z) l. }
Cursing, Sophie slammed down the accelerator.

Sophie's SmartCar tore through the diplomatic quarter, weaving past embassies and consulates,
0 |0 |/ U/ w+ T* |5 s+ n! J, k0 Wfinally racing out a side street and taking a right turn back onto the massive thoroughfare of
* w* t0 \, a+ `1 a/ aChamps-Elysées.
, }1 I. g% Z/ j, n8 x
9 d& p" I5 Z7 Y" ~( f4 n9 \Langdon sat white-knuckled in the passenger seat, twisted backward, scanning behind them for any
0 N# h' H" O+ h  B0 X2 `4 Y) Wsigns of the police. He suddenly wished he had not decided to run. You didn't, he reminded himself. / V' I$ C* t5 E
Sophie had made the decision for him when she threw the GPS dot out the bathroom window. ) }4 w& T6 r  g6 g1 |$ X& c
Now, as they sped away from the embassy, serpentining through sparse traffic on Champs-Elysées,
9 Q1 S. G+ g1 MLangdon felt his options deteriorating. Although Sophie seemed to have lost the police, at least for 7 W  b. V0 V4 x: F$ O
the moment, Langdon doubted their luck would hold for long.9 V2 C& T9 k$ o4 k, v, I/ W
Behind the wheel Sophie was fishing in her sweater pocket. She removed a small metal object and 5 e6 A6 y( r3 u! c7 K: @
held it out for him. "Robert, you'd better have a look at this. This is what my grandfather left me 8 Q  T' |* z+ @  ]. |# c
behind Madonna of the Rocks."
4 f' p, x; N: a: J9 t+ J) eFeeling a shiver of anticipation, Langdon took the object and examined it. It was heavy and shaped ( ]# C- t% A  s' m7 T3 R9 T' E
like a cruciform. His first instinct was that he was holding a funeral pieu—a miniature version of a # X( X% O* w! W. Y! l) {9 @6 t
memorial spike designed to be stuck into the ground at a gravesite. But then he noted the shaft 1 G$ Y  \& f  F3 m' }; a
protruding from the cruciform was prismatic and triangular. The shaft was also pockmarked with 9 J/ x# X$ ^1 \$ P' p$ v
hundreds of tiny hexagons that appeared to be finely tooled and scattered at random.( H, {$ C/ D" i% q8 V
"It's a laser-cut key," Sophie told him. "Those hexagons are read by an electric eye."
- g  T- ^* A8 \A key? Langdon had never seen anything like it./ |, v  x- D# G) F# I4 `
"Look at the other side," she said, changing lanes and sailing through an intersection.
0 `. d7 R8 E2 ~! T( e; C0 h, ~3 GWhen Langdon turned the key, he felt his jaw drop. There, intricately embossed on the center of
6 n! z4 K  [3 J6 d) Zthe cross, was a stylized fleur-de-lis with the initials P.S.! "Sophie," he said, "this is the seal I told
# C) h2 N( m4 X, H0 O6 u+ x& cyou about! The official device of the Priory of Sion."
4 `* F* u* C+ h+ \5 {" GShe nodded. "As I told you, I saw the key a long time ago. He told me never to speak of it again."# {8 N& k5 x! `$ X. r
Langdon's eyes were still riveted on the embossed key. Its high-tech tooling and age-old
, E0 v) ?' {+ r' i" L. Psymbolism exuded an eerie fusion of ancient and modern worlds.7 M# u6 z# p( d
"He told me the key opened a box where he kept many secrets."
  E8 p9 N+ g* ^" zLangdon felt a chill to imagine what kind of secrets a man like Jacques Saunière might keep. What 3 @2 Y( x/ `% o
an ancient brotherhood was doing with a futuristic key, Langdon had no idea. The Priory existed * n4 r" F1 ~$ i% ~' X% L7 J% F- y7 W
for the sole purpose of protecting a secret. A secret of incredible power. Could this key have 6 e: G  f- ^9 g/ F6 W
something to do with it? The thought was overwhelming. "Do you know what it opens?"
/ w( ^8 M2 _% K1 Q( @  HSophie looked disappointed. "I was hoping you knew."
/ a& Q( i! @$ `$ c$ gLangdon remained silent as he turned the cruciform in his hand, examining it.3 s8 T- m# m" a" f: z  ]
# d  c, y3 z- p3 j
"It looks Christian," Sophie pressed.8 R" Y0 ~8 T, a6 C( j- A* z& w
Langdon was not so sure about that. The head of this key was not the traditional long-stemmed
6 Z& H4 N7 {" F- B3 ?/ jChristian cross but rather was a square cross—with four arms of equal length—which predated ( t% v$ p; d$ u8 B9 f
Christianity by fifteen hundred years. This kind of cross carried none of the Christian connotations
  _& h1 k5 }2 ]& m& v9 E7 c$ [of crucifixion associated with the longer-stemmed Latin Cross, originated by Romans as a torture
# f+ T4 n- |) B$ Pdevice. Langdon was always surprised how few Christians who gazed upon "the crucifix" realized , `  B9 P* Z3 S& _9 J0 t- h; a. b, I% }
their symbol's violent history was reflected in its very name: "cross" and "crucifix" came from the ( e1 C4 h, W3 \3 c- s, R. ~
Latin verb cruciare—to torture.
$ I7 U8 {) z$ U+ N"Sophie," he said, "all I can tell you is that equal-armed crosses like this one are considered
4 S8 ]) @0 x8 f3 p5 mpeaceful crosses. Their square configurations make them impractical for use in crucifixion, and " h; D, D" n; }$ W2 Q/ r  ~# l
their balanced vertical and horizontal elements convey a natural union of male and female, making
. \% C; N5 R$ t  b; y2 Ithem symbolically consistent with Priory philosophy."( \. |& B6 Z4 J0 j% U) s
She gave him a weary look. "You have no idea, do you?"* V+ C) c) X) b8 f
Langdon frowned. "Not a clue."
  Y: W- f. O. T& L% ]"Okay, we have to get off the road." Sophie checked her rearview mirror. "We need a safe place to % p# s/ K# L( G! E4 `5 `
figure out what that key opens."1 \. |2 |7 H9 ^) U# R% D' U. x7 Q
Langdon thought longingly of his comfortable room at the Ritz. Obviously, that was not an option.
. D4 _# _; j( K2 Y"How about my hosts at the American University of Paris?"9 ~- ^; q4 x6 Y7 c8 y* J5 w
"Too obvious. Fache will check with them."
# c! q  u! K' g% u1 B! [' ?"You must know people. You live here."" g9 k+ f4 B8 C4 h* I; ^
"Fache will run my phone and e-mail records, talk to my coworkers. My contacts are
1 {& n' z) O7 Vcompromised, and finding a hotel is no good because they all require identification."# y' Z5 s7 ^- L+ O
Langdon wondered again if he might have been better off taking his chances letting Fache arrest & {3 o; F% _- p* X+ i
him at the Louvre. "Let's call the embassy. I can explain the situation and have the embassy send % g" e5 W) ^! }, \+ ]
someone to meet us somewhere."' m) r8 o; h: J/ D' S5 n
"Meet us?" Sophie turned and stared at him as if he were crazy. "Robert, you're dreaming. Your & }3 t1 ?9 {  U+ S7 J: l' @
embassy has no jurisdiction except on their own property. Sending someone to retrieve us would be
+ \" J% g! \! B, n3 Fconsidered aiding a fugitive of the French government. It won't happen. If you walk into your
- ~6 K/ ~; @3 u7 Y5 @. Qembassy and request temporary asylum, that's one thing, but asking them to take action against ! L8 C4 Y8 X( `) s
French law enforcement in the field?" She shook her head. "Call your embassy right now, and they
4 }* A$ D/ C% s, fare going to tell you to avoid further damage and turn yourself over to Fache. Then they'll promise
' Q# v0 A4 Z/ M/ i& Kto pursue diplomatic channels to get you a fair trial." She gazed up the line of elegant storefronts on   A+ z! \) x; I) d

1 ?" ^2 z0 |4 g3 n2 c- bChamps-Elysées. "How much cash do you have?"
) I/ M: J" t) K1 e( rLangdon checked his wallet. "A hundred dollars. A few euro. Why?"
' ^& a+ W4 U% V' f"Credit cards?"/ _- u2 `. L: O
"Of course.", j- G+ ^8 A% k+ G9 O
As Sophie accelerated, Langdon sensed she was formulating a plan. Dead ahead, at the end of 0 ~3 _5 S& C6 P4 s% w( ]/ w
Champs-Elysées, stood the Arc de Triomphe—Napoleon's 164-foot-tall tribute to his own military
8 ^4 N+ f1 g; s4 \4 ?potency—encircled by France's largest rotary, a nine-lane behemoth.8 o) t6 h! ?: b2 D6 L
Sophie's eyes were on the rearview mirror again as they approached the rotary. "We lost them for
! f; c9 m/ Z$ r4 J- r0 F1 {the time being," she said, "but we won't last another five minutes if we stay in this car."7 O4 @7 u/ H) }. \! C' K
So steal a different one, Langdon mused, now that we're criminals. "What are you going to do?"
2 {; l+ [( M& f) k8 uSophie gunned the SmartCar into the rotary. "Trust me."
) ~; L* L* D- J6 x# G) YLangdon made no response. Trust had not gotten him very far this evening. Pulling back the sleeve
2 [: X! Y+ m1 h6 Pof his jacket, he checked his watch—a vintage, collector's-edition Mickey Mouse wristwatch that ! O0 G& p$ |% U7 {4 q
had been a gift from his parents on his tenth birthday. Although its juvenile dial often drew odd
9 `  T' a6 F* Flooks, Langdon had never owned any other watch; Disney animations had been his first
( ^, M% }) D8 I. A5 y8 O8 t5 Zintroduction to the magic of form and color, and Mickey now served as Langdon's daily reminder
& L; t: z: `* p4 x! {to stay young at heart. At the moment, however, Mickey's arms were skewed at an awkward angle,
: G2 y! \: w6 I0 qindicating an equally awkward hour.
, K5 l* J1 v! c! H. [) O2 l' Q2:51 A.M.
9 C% x7 H% y- \& C1 \% w, }) C6 |"Interesting watch," Sophie said, glancing at his wrist and maneuvering the SmartCar around the   i6 S% c4 C/ h
wide, counterclockwise rotary.
1 Q! g' _* s3 k( `"Long story," he said, pulling his sleeve back down.
  ^- k! B+ f6 @1 u3 O- ?+ C& P& Q"I imagine it would have to be." She gave him a quick smile and exited the rotary, heading due ; ~1 U. M. |* @' X1 x* X
north, away from the city center. Barely making two green lights, she reached the third intersection
  U7 n9 p3 R- q- u+ d( T* a3 Yand took a hard right onto Boulevard Malesherbes. They'd left the rich, tree-lined streets of the ) u7 _+ L( A4 w6 r
diplomatic neighborhood and plunged into a darker industrial neighborhood. Sophie took a quick 8 L/ m9 V; l* P, L# K
left, and a moment later, Langdon realized where they were.8 ~/ s9 E; Y. I& I1 @% y
Gare Saint-Lazare./ G& f" t  l, R# E& M
Ahead of them, the glass-roofed train terminal resembled the awkward offspring of an airplane 5 w5 i" L% s! @5 l+ e! |* i. @

& D  X  G, u/ C  X2 S. g; Ghangar and a greenhouse. European train stations never slept. Even at this hour, a half-dozen taxis ' c- [6 I( Y! o, D4 _2 N
idled near the main entrance. Vendors manned carts of sandwiches and mineral water while grungy 8 Q( b" D$ R+ [5 }
kids in backpacks emerged from the station rubbing their eyes, looking around as if trying to # B' e) u2 L& @1 ~
remember what city they were in now. Up ahead on the street, a couple of city policemen stood on
2 e2 r1 e  H- @3 B2 s1 [, y' R7 ?the curb giving directions to some confused tourists.& d) ]. ?* ?. w5 _
Sophie pulled her SmartCar in behind the line of taxis and parked in a red zone despite plenty of
- b& _  T/ Z4 x7 T, a) \legal parking across the street. Before Langdon could ask what was going on, she was out of the & ^, [9 S% M  a$ C5 T
car. She hurried to the window of the taxi in front of them and began speaking to the driver./ }2 H" `; j, n& c2 ~
As Langdon got out of the SmartCar, he saw Sophie hand the taxi driver a big wad of cash. The
" ~' a* y+ H$ K9 T& R1 `( ^) Ctaxi driver nodded and then, to Langdon's bewilderment, sped off without them.- `7 V1 e$ [( M2 v" |, p
"What happened?" Langdon demanded, joining Sophie on the curb as the taxi disappeared.
9 o# _3 q* |( d; |Sophie was already heading for the train station entrance. "Come on. We're buying two tickets on 7 p  G8 X2 a0 a6 z4 x2 M) n
the next train out of Paris."+ U5 q% M/ k, T8 T  F
Langdon hurried along beside her. What had begun as a one-mile dash to the U.S. Embassy had % t2 Z' t# ~9 i5 q' x* _6 q
now become a full-fledged evacuation from Paris. Langdon was liking this idea less and less.

The driver who collected Bishop Aringarosa from Leonardo da Vinci International Airport pulled
9 X; h. @) H& n7 ^4 |up in a small, unimpressive black Fiat sedan. Aringarosa recalled a day when all Vatican transports 0 K' z) P' @+ u
were big luxury cars that sported grille-plate medallions and flags emblazoned with the seal of the
" e& v1 a4 n4 |8 B3 fHoly See. Those days are gone. Vatican cars were now less ostentatious and almost always
0 `! Q/ |5 B2 M0 aunmarked. The Vatican claimed this was to cut costs to better serve their dioceses, but Aringarosa
, v' ^5 m2 O& T9 F. {" Qsuspected it was more of a security measure. The world had gone mad, and in many parts of
2 ^5 P# `4 B3 ^) T' K8 b! CEurope, advertising your love of Jesus Christ was like painting a bull's-eye on the roof of your car.
# ^& N* P1 C# v) ^! hBundling his black cassock around himself, Aringarosa climbed into the back seat and settled in for , T/ B0 e1 t9 I3 x
the long drive to Castel Gandolfo. It would be the same ride he had taken five months ago.+ W8 k0 x* i" D+ S/ O
Last year's trip to Rome, he sighed. The longest night of my life.
7 E! N9 c( V% V* \8 eFive months ago, the Vatican had phoned to request Aringarosa's immediate presence in Rome. 1 y: |" f1 T% T
They offered no explanation. Your tickets are at the airport. The Holy See worked hard to retain a
( r( _0 h2 o/ Q* W1 \' Rveil of mystery, even for its highest clergy.
2 q2 {' t0 `9 M' f' eThe mysterious summons, Aringarosa suspected, was probably a photo opportunity for the Pope " c4 a5 G. R: x, u
6 G$ ?; O, S5 s: s. p! s- I* C
and other Vatican officials to piggyback on Opus Dei's recent public success—the completion of
. f" t! k7 v4 d7 @7 F' E8 Qtheir World Headquarters in New York City. Architectural Digest had called Opus Dei's building
6 _" x+ E2 i2 Y& ]) [9 d/ W"a shining beacon of Catholicism sublimely integrated with the modern landscape," and lately the " B$ [8 z6 C' h2 C7 [
Vatican seemed to be drawn to anything and everything that included the word "modern."1 |  d% C9 D+ f5 b2 _* d% R$ \
Aringarosa had no choice but to accept the invitation, albeit reluctantly. Not a fan of the current % c& Q& X" P; q& {; C
papal administration, Aringarosa, like most conservative clergy, had watched with grave concern - r0 w- n2 I4 X  n& z# y
as the new Pope settled into his first year in office. An unprecedented liberal, His Holiness had ! `- _5 q1 ]( X/ g+ R
secured the papacy through one of the most controversial and unusual conclaves in Vatican history.
  D( A  m0 J# ~% D3 _% @Now, rather than being humbled by his unexpected rise to power, the Holy Father had wasted no
+ H, o% G" `$ v, stime flexing all the muscle associated with the highest office in Christendom. Drawing on an * h3 I* M1 x4 Q. x8 @8 b. D) N
unsettling tide of liberal support within the College of Cardinals, the Pope was now declaring his
( c0 j/ g4 W( C; v: c  Ipapal mission to be "rejuvenation of Vatican doctrine and updating Catholicism into the third
( m! X" j) r1 t* h& l0 l+ hmillennium."
3 Z2 d6 ~9 H, ~2 E) i7 pThe translation, Aringarosa feared, was that the man was actually arrogant enough to think he # a$ y6 K  N1 R/ V
could rewrite God's laws and win back the hearts of those who felt the demands of true Catholicism
- y5 r; @3 p* I! q' {8 Vhad become too inconvenient in a modern world.( u# j4 u9 I- p1 f' U
Aringarosa had been using all of his political sway—substantial considering the size of the Opus # Z. E3 h' D- @% a" G9 F$ D
Dei constituency and their bankroll—to persuade the Pope and his advisers that softening the
0 ?# n& H& a7 IChurch's laws was not only faithless and cowardly, but political suicide. He reminded them that
, @: `) I* B3 r  T+ o! c7 S) {previous tempering of Church law—the Vatican II fiasco—had left a devastating legacy: Church
. G% T5 |. W0 \6 e2 Kattendance was now lower than ever, donations were drying up, and there were not even enough & o" M/ C( c! _$ R2 @
Catholic priests to preside over their churches.3 w7 m; h5 O* @. \. ]
People need structure and direction from the Church, Aringarosa insisted, not coddling and / S8 J# _$ D. _, ?: ]& M
indulgence!
1 ?( {) H, z" u$ m: UOn that night, months ago, as the Fiat had left the airport, Aringarosa was surprised to find himself ' J" C! M- j" N9 |+ l* g
heading not toward Vatican City but rather eastward up a sinuous mountain road. "Where are we $ p! d6 p9 Q- n& l& J& m* c9 `5 q
going?" he had demanded of his driver.
2 l4 |, [0 F& J% p# ]3 }6 t"Alban Hills," the man replied. "Your meeting is at Castel Gandolfo."
1 ]2 O7 m6 Y( |, S! k  {  BThe Pope's summer residence? Aringarosa had never been, nor had he ever desired to see it. In
9 B1 _" _9 j  x* oaddition to being the Pope's summer vacation home, the sixteenth-century citadel housed the
- F' A# X7 I8 u/ h# DSpecula Vaticana—the Vatican Observatory—one of the most advanced astronomical * {+ |8 C: P2 A4 C) _4 l; `
observatories in Europe. Aringarosa had never been comfortable with the Vatican's historical need 2 Y! d- E) P" ]! W! p; C
to dabble in science. What was the rationale for fusing science and faith? Unbiased science could + g( u! l9 N. B4 h; x' Y- d3 x
not possibly be performed by a man who possessed faith in God. Nor did faith have any need for
' A! p. c: I8 _/ ]  Uphysical confirmation of its beliefs.
7 b! a: _0 W, t4 @. q2 I2 r, h% M) n2 n8 `
Nonetheless, there it is, he thought as Castel Gandolfo came into view, rising against a star-filled
7 j: Q7 A+ P9 [3 h7 c; n: M, ENovember sky. From the access road, Gandolfo resembled a great stone monster pondering a 8 {7 {* m8 i) w, G& i
suicidal leap. Perched at the very edge of a cliff, the castle leaned out over the cradle of Italian
" [( W% \! Z+ x- Zcivilization—the valley where the Curiazi and Orazi clans fought long before the founding of
! O2 M# T5 K6 VRome.( z/ [; W/ q, l# h2 p% o! _
Even in silhouette, Gandolfo was a sight to behold—an impressive example of tiered, defensive
+ _( `1 m" E2 ~6 f+ ?/ farchitecture, echoing the potency of this dramatic cliffside setting. Sadly, Aringarosa now saw, the
" a. @9 [' N% Q1 [( \Vatican had ruined the building by constructing two huge aluminum telescope domes atop the roof,
2 M7 u% Z6 n$ c9 I3 j. vleaving this once dignified edifice looking like a proud warrior wearing a couple of party hats.
6 F& A8 ~% Q* V/ O4 ?When Aringarosa got out of the car, a young Jesuit priest hurried out and greeted him. "Bishop, ' t2 R; w" |$ U% s
welcome. I am Father Mangano. An astronomer here."
' D" [/ {! r9 }# i! W% f4 NGood for you. Aringarosa grumbled his hello and followed his host into the castle's foyer—a wide-! V7 p' G) r. ]* w5 p5 L
open space whose decor was a graceless blend of Renaissance art and astronomy images. - @5 B7 N, g1 w( l5 I
Following his escort up the wide travertine marble staircase, Aringarosa saw signs for conference
8 R  {1 p8 |' icenters, science lecture halls, and tourist information services. It amazed him to think the Vatican 2 E4 X5 E; T/ P$ G; J
was failing at every turn to provide coherent, stringent guidelines for spiritual growth and yet 5 ]+ T8 [7 }  w$ d- E" y! M( E
somehow still found time to give astrophysics lectures to tourists.
0 r2 D. C4 S3 n"Tell me," Aringarosa said to the young priest, "when did the tail start wagging the dog?"
. G  T0 O' x: c+ |" dThe priest gave him an odd look. "Sir?"8 R0 w& a+ p5 V- Z
Aringarosa waved it off, deciding not to launch into that particular offensive again this evening.
$ P. p1 @) R+ l6 }) l5 ]5 x( E3 q4 nThe Vatican has gone mad. Like a lazy parent who found it easier to acquiesce to the whims of a
1 C% \3 G' D" Vspoiled child than to stand firm and teach values, the Church just kept softening at every turn, ' x, q- F' `% t/ ]& B' Q6 u4 C
trying to reinvent itself to accommodate a culture gone astray.
" A1 }- t% Y, E3 M7 j2 I9 Q/ fThe top floor's corridor was wide, lushly appointed, and led in only one direction—toward a huge
, g$ a! N* w$ i2 q' {set of oak doors with a brass sign.
5 e' }. Z" R- wBIBLIOTECA ASTRONOMICA
3 C; [; L+ p9 V7 U- c# UAringarosa had heard of this place—the Vatican's Astronomy Library—rumored to contain more
9 W" C1 r$ w3 l! i" k/ C$ F9 Kthan twenty-five thousand volumes, including rare works of Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton, 8 f& k) ]( e, p% O) M
and Secchi. Allegedly, it was also the place in which the Pope's highest officers held private 8 M6 |& @- y, C" g# }5 W( M
meetings... those meetings they preferred not to hold within the walls of Vatican City.$ H  p- g9 E* o$ `! L  b
Approaching the door, Bishop Aringarosa would never have imagined the shocking news he was . P! N6 B0 W$ [( k: R2 e
about to receive inside, or the deadly chain of events it would put into motion. It was not until an 1 j4 C# t/ F+ W7 J" [
hour later, as he staggered from the meeting, that the devastating implications settled in. Six months ! O2 J- l- q* Q$ H) d
; j4 `- X- X* h. U% a
from now! he had thought. God help us!
" Z1 s& l1 h1 U' a# M
' l( `, L/ r% o: |3 mNow, seated in the Fiat, Bishop Aringarosa realized his fists were clenched just thinking about that ; f7 c7 W$ G# H6 m4 i
first meeting. He released his grip and forced a slow inhalation, relaxing his muscles.
+ B5 O1 W. U( _' J4 l0 rEverything will be fine, he told himself as the Fiat wound higher into the mountains. Still, he # o/ `6 x  Z' ^% Q, H9 j6 Y
wished his cell phone would ring. Why hasn't the Teacher called me? Silas should have the
( w& c# [( t7 R: b. wkeystone by now.
$ E, c0 ?3 o9 G- b# I1 T" d2 QTrying to ease his nerves, the bishop meditated on the purple amethyst in his ring. Feeling the
) T/ o1 i1 Z4 I: X; X# e+ c, Xtextures of the mitre-crozier appliqué and the facets of the diamonds, he reminded himself that this
% ^1 L* t+ R& F4 u' l, p( N' {ring was a symbol of power far less than that which he would soon attain.

The inside of Gare Saint-Lazare looked like every other train station in Europe, a gaping indoor-$ X* |1 M+ k1 G+ m4 Z6 F
outdoor cavern dotted with the usual suspects—homeless men holding cardboard signs, collections : e8 c$ A1 d" e) D& g
of bleary-eyed college kids sleeping on backpacks and zoning out to their portable MP3 players, & L8 I1 K# L7 E4 u: s
and clusters of blue-clad baggage porters smoking cigarettes.
( n$ S5 r6 |' \7 g" Y9 y2 j- X& q: |% I9 gSophie raised her eyes to the enormous departure board overhead. The black and white tabs
. U' B2 H% g& a% Q* T: H8 d' {2 k  E7 xreshuffled, ruffling downward as the information refreshed. When the update was finished, 8 N* @9 v9 ?3 Q1 r5 X  q7 Z
Langdon eyed the offerings. The topmost listing read: LYON—RAPIDE—3:063 G. Z9 f% k* Q! B; _% u# f
"I wish it left sooner," Sophie said, "but Lyon will have to do." Sooner? Langdon checked his
& T* C; J' J# S9 E/ o: Jwatch 2:59 A.M. The train left in seven minutes and they didn't even have tickets yet.3 J+ p* Y9 u$ [0 j8 ^8 t; p- c0 L, t
Sophie guided Langdon toward the ticket window and said, "Buy us two tickets with your credit
  P  L; z/ D7 q4 B3 `5 Icard."
- m8 s- R' B7 a/ N* U"I thought credit card usage could be traced by—"
  I4 j  e: v7 U; w: r) {6 c"Exactly."1 ^( f1 M- k# ~7 I
Langdon decided to stop trying to keep ahead of Sophie Neveu. Using his Visa card, he purchased
- x! t0 ^/ D% M2 k6 \' H* @two coach tickets to Lyon and handed them to Sophie.
  k$ v2 ^7 g0 z& q) _  r) Y4 BSophie guided him out toward the tracks, where a familiar tone chimed overhead and a P.A.
6 `% N" B& ^2 t- Y8 y; ]: hannouncer gave the final boarding call for Lyon. Sixteen separate tracks spread out before them. In
( _3 q2 v/ Z; `* Z6 T
# i# f4 A  I: @6 n% ithe distance to the right, at quay three, the train to Lyon was belching and wheezing in preparation / _2 q. Y+ p* X7 d( s' X! n
for departure, but Sophie already had her arm through Langdon's and was guiding him in the exact + E  |" }7 S- s4 q/ U8 z- x* o
opposite direction. They hurried through a side lobby, past an all-night cafe, and finally out a side
) I$ @1 `& v/ r# idoor onto a quiet street on the west side of the station.
% O" T: u5 P1 I8 k+ m% b' R4 N) HA lone taxi sat idling by the doorway.
' T9 \5 h8 ~8 q: T! v& fThe driver saw Sophie and flicked his lights.
% y0 l6 R' P1 C- u9 W) \5 GSophie jumped in the back seat. Langdon got in after her./ n9 S) {, n5 u' Z! s5 g
As the taxi pulled away from station, Sophie took out their newly purchased train tickets and tore
' y& H) e+ Q! w) I- a; t% `& Q* Ithem up.
+ w* {5 I( {0 s) Q( b9 |Langdon sighed. Seventy dollars well spent.: k! W/ p2 k6 f
It was not until their taxi had settled into a monotonous northbound hum on Rue de Clichy that # p5 S# T! ~8 s* v0 d4 Q
Langdon felt they'd actually escaped. Out the window to his right, he could see Montmartre and the
8 W( x3 w8 X3 }7 p% Ybeautiful dome of Sacré-Coeur. The image was interrupted by the flash of police lights sailing past
  j8 J2 |' l, n% R4 J; jthem in the opposite direction.
9 Z- k6 d- ^$ Z+ Z1 Z9 A1 @  CLangdon and Sophie ducked down as the sirens faded.
1 u/ y7 a1 i& b, h& HSophie had told the cab driver simply to head out of the city, and from her firmly set jaw, Langdon
9 _2 ?* I3 v0 k& Vsensed she was trying to figure out their next move.$ d4 n6 O7 e! j6 u4 ~# o! b3 J
Langdon examined the cruciform key again, holding it to the window, bringing it close to his eyes ; g7 b! h# D6 I' W  T: t8 |7 y
in an effort to find any markings on it that might indicate where the key had been made. In the 7 X) l( b& I* O4 K" H, n
intermittent glow of passing streetlights, he saw no markings except the Priory seal.& i( H5 @% O( L* n1 O" l
"It doesn't make sense," he finally said.
4 K  W0 {  Y* [+ o"Which part?"
+ x$ t# |% u8 c# e* S"That your grandfather would go to so much trouble to give you a key that you wouldn't know ! a) q4 Z. ~1 Y8 R$ ^9 q
what to do with."
; r" h" B) {- u+ y- u. s"I agree."
! @9 V) t2 J( Q4 W1 b8 K2 R"Are you sure he didn't write anything else on the back of the painting?"
, L5 e4 ~3 O% A* V: s) l3 G"I searched the whole area. This is all there was. This key, wedged behind the painting. I saw the
  s1 ^# s5 i" ]2 m5 O8 w( IPriory seal, stuck the key in my pocket, then we left."
% T3 z( }, m4 t, B  z. ^) q7 T$ @4 R6 ]- M- V
Langdon frowned, peering now at the blunt end of the triangular shaft. Nothing. Squinting, he
6 `$ X/ r4 u9 n6 D& d" ^brought the key close to his eyes and examined the rim of the head. Nothing there either. "I think 3 q6 L( p& B5 S
this key was cleaned recently."0 A# B$ F0 ~6 u0 o  w+ v. j
"Why?"
5 K) I; k$ ]; h* j6 a3 g0 C"It smells like rubbing alcohol."
$ X6 @& [8 @+ K5 k/ K$ pShe turned. "I'm sorry?"
- g2 w. A' v6 n/ [5 b/ j"It smells like somebody polished it with a cleaner." Langdon held the key to his nose and sniffed. 6 w& y( D* x1 Q3 M& n
"It's stronger on the other side." He flipped it over. "Yes, it's alcohol-based, like it's been buffed
) z* g8 x/ r  W5 ~1 L0 r  H% [! gwith a cleaner or—" Langdon stopped.
; G! H2 l4 {  S; \! Y+ }9 h& ]% |"What?"
& a+ B) k0 Y! U6 m4 N) d% EHe angled the key to the light and looked at the smooth surface on the broad arm of the cross. It
$ t* \& X+ z% qseemed to shimmer in places... like it was wet. "How well did you look at the back of this key
, d$ |" `: E, y: o5 }2 Z. sbefore you put it in your pocket?"
9 T5 M( ]# `- n& R"What? Not well. I was in a hurry."
- U" g1 a' ^- R! V/ d' W+ qLangdon turned to her. "Do you still have the black light?"
! E* v* S2 k9 |Sophie reached in her pocket and produced the UV penlight. Langdon took it and switched it on, , ]0 r8 ]" `$ z" Q$ ?2 O$ c7 F; t+ Z
shining the beam on the back of the key.
7 Q: a7 G2 _- [0 J2 i$ O' {The back luminesced instantly. There was writing there. In penmanship that was hurried but
7 U4 P8 ~) }" d( T% Flegible.
2 P+ p8 C7 I8 H* K( C"Well," Langdon said, smiling. "I guess we know what the alcohol smell was.", y. L3 L( }3 }# Q
5 P- @1 @, s  j; M6 W
Sophie stared in amazement at the purple writing on the back of the key.
# Y0 r# G1 a/ D6 @24 Rue Haxo
" d4 ^. {+ b- g2 N; p " f7 y8 r2 z( K9 T
An address! My grandfather wrote down an address!
( z0 R7 I: T, _! j7 [+ m9 q1 F8 q7 K"Where is this?" Langdon asked.
3 s% u8 s4 P6 o% c9 ?, L
4 r1 b6 j$ X1 Y. A. ^Sophie had no idea. Facing front again, she leaned forward and excitedly asked the driver, ) s; e6 e/ a/ |6 b# Z2 E
"Connaissez-vous la Rue Haxo?"3 N% g6 i2 |+ _9 f. N' l
The driver thought a moment and then nodded. He told Sophie it was out near the tennis stadium
/ F5 ~3 t! t! K% m3 X% \/ H- Xon the western outskirts of Paris. She asked him to take them there immediately.: B1 I1 o# @; l7 U7 h
"Fastest route is through Bois de Boulogne," the driver told her in French. "Is that okay?"
" v( k# A- B  m* MSophie frowned. She could think of far less scandalous routes, but tonight she was not going to be $ @+ C* y$ I# S5 d% f: w
picky. "Oui." We can shock the visiting American.$ M' Z+ j" y9 p* F& }7 G
Sophie looked back at the key and wondered what they would possibly find at 24 Rue Haxo. A
7 Q0 `' J, y% e" j% E' R. ychurch? Some kind of Priory headquarters?
- A: R) s" _) o3 QHer mind filled again with images of the secret ritual she had witnessed in the basement grotto ten
- H' B" W# l+ W" [4 M" Dyears ago, and she heaved a long sigh. "Robert, I have a lot of things to tell you." She paused,
1 v# d3 S, K: [# Dlocking eyes with him as the taxi raced westward. "But first I want you to tell me everything you
7 _1 E* H9 M" X. ~( q& c4 oknow about this Priory of Sion."