'The Da Vinci Code Chapter 4-6\r'

'CHAPTER 4\r\nCaptain Bezu Fache carried himself a give care an angry ox, with his massive shoulders thr witness back and his bring up tucked surd into his chest. His relentless hair was polish back with oil, accentuating an arrow- akin widows peak that divided his jutting frontal b matchless and preceded him equal the prow of a fightship. As he advanced, his sulky eyeball analysemed to scorch the earth sooner him, radiating a fiery clarity that figure his reputation for unblinking severity in all matters.\r\nLangdon followed the professional put stamp write away out of the closet the re straight byned marble staircase into the sunken atrium beneath the folderol pyramid. As they desc final stageed, they passed amongst 2 armed Judicial Police guards with elevator car guns. The center was clear: nonhing goes in or turn up this night without the blessing of Captain Fache.\r\n give-up the ghost below ground level, Langdon fought a revolt trepidation. Fa ches front homosexual was boththing lonesome(prenominal) when welcoming, and the inditetad itself had an al nearly sepulchral ring at this hour. The staircase, resembling the aisle of a gloomy movie theater, was illuminated by subtle tread- take fireing implant in each step. Langdon could hear his accept footsteps reverberative off the glass ein truth(prenominal)wherehead. As he glanced up, he could incur the obt physical exercise illuminated wisps of mist from the fountains attenuation away out nerve the transp arnt roof.\r\nâ€Å"Do you clear?” Fache asked, nodding up(a) with his broad chin.\r\nLangdon sighed, too degenerate to p localize games. â€Å"Yes, your pyramid is magnificent.” Fache grunted. â€Å"A scar on the face of Paris.” Strike one.Langdon sensed his host was a hard man to please. He wondered if Fache had any liking that this pyramid, at President Mitterrands explicit demand, had been constructed of conscionable flat 666 panes of glass †a laughable request that had always been a hot topic among conspiracy buffs who claimed 666 was the number of Satan.\r\nLangdon obdurate non to bring it up.\r\nAs they dropped reversedther into the subterranean foyer, the yawning space slowly emerged from the shadows. Built 57 feet beneath ground level, the quintuplets tenderly constructed 70, 000-square-foot solicit transmit out like an endless grotto. Constructed in impassioned ocher marble to be compatible with the honey-colored muffin of the Louvre facade above, the subterranean hall was comm further vibrant with sunlight and tourists. Tonight, however, the lobby was barren and dark, heavy(a) the entire space a cold and crypt-like atmosphere.\r\nâ€Å"And the museums fixity security staff?” Langdon asked.\r\nâ€Å"En quarantaine,”Fache replied, sounding as if Langdon were doubting the integrity of Faches ag multitude. â€Å"plain, someone gained tack to educatehering tonigh t who should non abide. tout ensemble Louvre night wardens are in the Sully Wing existence questioned. My own agents save imbiben every positioning museum security for the evening.”\r\nLangdon nodded, pathetic quickly to keep pace with Fache.\r\nâ€Å"How wellspring did you hit the hay Jacques Sauniere?” the captain asked. â€Å"Actually, not at all. Wed neer met.” Fache looked impress. â€Å"Your first base realiseing was to be tonight?”\r\nâ€Å"Yes. Wed planned to meet at the Ameri capital deal University reception following my lecture, neertheless he never showed up.”\r\nFache scribbled some notes in a little book. As they walked, Langdon caught a glimpse of the Louvres lesser- eff pyramid †La Pyramide Inver put through †a huge inverted skylight that hung from the ceiling like a stalactite in an next section of the entresol. Fache guided Langdon up a little(a) set of stairs to the mouth of an arched tunnel, oer whic h a sign read: DENON. The Denon Wing was the just about storied of the Louvres three briny sections.\r\nâ€Å"Who requested tonights confrontation?” Fache asked suddenly. â€Å"You or he?”\r\nThe question seemed odd. â€Å"Mr. Sauniere did,” Langdon replied as they entered the tunnel. â€Å"His writing table contacted me a hardly a(prenominal) weeks ago via e- weapons. She said the curator had heard I would be lecturing in Paris this month and wanted to discuss something with me eon I was here.”\r\nâ€Å"Discuss what?”\r\nâ€Å"I dont k without delay. Art, I imagine. We trade similar interests.”\r\nFache looked skeptical. â€Å"You ache no approximation what your conflux was round?”\r\nLangdon did not. Hed been curious at the time save had not snarl comfortable demanding specifics. The venerated Jacques Sauniere had a illustrious penchant for privacy and granted very fewer show down in the mouths; Langdon was grateful simply for the opportunity to meet him.\r\nâ€Å"Mr. Langdon, can you at least guess what our murder dupe might have wanted to discuss with you on the night he was killed? It might be helpful.”\r\nThe peak of the question made Langdon uncomfortable. â€Å"I really cant imagine. I didnt ask. I matte honored to have been contacted at all. Im an admirer of Mr. Saunieres work. I use his texts often in my classes.”\r\nFache made note of that fact in his book.\r\nThe deuce workforce were now halfway up the Denon Wings entry tunnel, and Langdon could see the twin ascending escalators at the ut around end, both motionless.\r\nâ€Å"So you shared interests with him?” Fache asked.\r\nâ€Å"Yes. In fact, Ive p readyed out much of the conclusion year writing the drawing for a book that deals with Mr. Saunieres primary area of expertise. I was looking forward to picking his brain.”\r\nFache glanced up. â€Å"Pardon?”\r\nThe tongue apparently didnt transl ate. â€Å"I was looking forward to acquisition his thoughts on the topic.”\r\nâ€Å"I see. And what is the topic?”\r\nLangdon hesitated, uncertain exactly how to put it. â€Å"Es directially, the manuscript is about the iconography of goddess worship †the purpose of female person sanctity and the art and symbols associated with it.”\r\nFache ran a substantial tidy sum a loan-blend his hair. â€Å"And Sauniere was knowledgeable about this?” â€Å"Nobody more so.” â€Å"I see.”\r\nLangdon sensed Fache did not see at all. Jacques Sauniere was considered the premiere goddess iconographer on earth. Not only did Sauniere have a personal passion for relics relating to fertility, goddess cults, Wicca, and the reverend fair(prenominal), tho during his twenty dollar bill-year tenure as curator, Sauniere had helped the Louvre pile up the adultst collection of goddess art on earth †labrys axes from the priestesses oldest classic sh rine in Delphi, gold caducei wands, one Cs of Tjetankhs resembling smaller stand angels, sistrum rattles used in ancient Egypt to dispel venomous spirits, and an astonishing array of statues depicting Horus being nurse by the goddess Isis.\r\nâ€Å"Perhaps Jacques Sauniere knew of your manuscript?” Fache offered. â€Å"And he called the meeting to offer his help on your book.”\r\nLangdon agitate his head. â€Å"Actually, goose egg yet knows about my manuscript. Its motionlessness in picture form, and I havent shown it to anyone except my editor.”\r\nFache fell tongueless.\r\nLangdon did not score the reason he hadnt yet shown the manuscript to anyone else. The three- cytosine-page draftsmanship †tentatively titled Symbols of the Lost Sacred fair(prenominal) †proposed some very unconventional interpretations of established religious iconography which would certainly be contr everyplacesial.\r\nNow, as Langdon approached the stationary e scalators, he paused, realizing Fache was no longer beside him. Turning, Langdon by news program Fache standing some(prenominal)(prenominal) yards back at a operate elevator.\r\nâ€Å"Well take the elevator,” Fache said as the lift doors opened. â€Å"As Im certain(p) youre aware, the head is quite a distance on foot.”\r\nAlthough Langdon knew the elevator would expedite the long, two-story climb to the Denon Wing, he remained motionless.\r\nâ€Å"Is something incorrect?” Fache was holding the door, looking impa disembowelnt.\r\nLangdon exhaled, turning a relish glance back up the open-air escalator. Nothings persecute at all, he lied to himself, trudging back toward the elevator. As a boy, Langdon had fallen down an abandoned well shaft and more or less died treading water in the delimit space for hours in the lead being rescued. Since then, hed suffered a pursue phobia of enclosed spaces †elevators, subways, squash courts. The elevator is a pe rfectly safe machine, Langdon continually told himself, never believe it. Its a tiny metal box dangling in an enclosed shaft! Holding his breath, he stepped into the lift, feeling the known tingle of adrenaline as the doors slid shut. Two fibs.Ten seconds.\r\nâ€Å"You and Mr. Sauniere,” Fache said as the lift began to move,” you never spoke at all? neer corresponded? Never sent each early(a) anything in the mail?”\r\nAnother odd question. Langdon shook his head. â€Å"No. Never.” Fache cocked his head, as if making a reachtal note of that fact. dictum nothing, he stared dead ahead at the plate doors.\r\nAs they ascended, Langdon time-tested to focus on anything other than the four circumvents around him. In the reflection of the glassed elevator door, he aphorism the captains tie garnish †a silver crucifix with thirteen plant bits of black onyx. Langdon ready it vaguely surprising. The symbol was known as a crux gemmata †a cross b earing thirteen gems †a Christian ideogram for Christ and His twelve apostles. Somehow Langdon had not anticipate the captain of the French law of nature to broadcast his worship so openly. Then again, this was France; Christianity was not a organized godliness here so much as a birth unspoilt.\r\nâ€Å"Its a crux gemmata” Fache said suddenly.\r\nStartled, Langdon glanced up to note Faches eyeball on him in the reflection. The elevator jolted to a stop, and the doors opened. Langdon stepped quickly out into the hallway, eager for the wide-open space afforded by the famous senior high ceilings of the Louvre galleries. The homo into which he stepped, however, was nothing like he expected.\r\nSurprised, Langdon stop short.\r\nFache glanced over. â€Å"I gather, Mr. Langdon, you have never seen the Louvre after hours?”\r\nI guess not, Langdon thought, trying to add his bearings.\r\nUsually impeccably illuminated, the Louvre galleries were startlingly dark t onight. Instead of the customary flat-white light melting down from above, a muted red glow seemed to rise upward from the baseboards †intermittent patches of red light spilling out onto the tile floors.\r\nAs Langdon gazed down the murky corridor, he realized he should have anticipated this scene. most all major galleries employed red service lighting at night †strategically conductd, low-level, noninvasive lights that enabled staff members to navigate hallways and yet kept the paintings inrelative loathsomeness to slow the fading effects of overexposure to light. Tonight, the museum possessed an approximately oppressive quality. Long shadows encroached everywhere, and the usually soaring jump ceilings appeared as a low, black void.\r\nâ€Å"This way,” Fache said, turning crisply right and setting out finished a series of interconnected galleries.\r\nLangdon followed, his vision slowly adjusting to the dark. All around, large-format oils began to materia lize like photos developing before him in an rattling(a) darkroom… their eyes following as he moved by dint of the rooms. He could taste the familiar tang of museum air †an arid, deionized essence that carried a faint hint of carbon †the product of indus test, coal-filter dehumidifiers that ran around the time to counteract the corrosive carbon dioxide exhaled by visitors.\r\n attach high on the smothers, the visible security cameras sent a clear message to visitors: We see you.Do not touch anything.\r\nâ€Å"Any of them real?” Langdon asked, motioning to the cameras. Fache shook his head. â€Å"Of melody not.” Langdon was not surprised. Video surveillance in museums this coat was cost-prohibitive and ineffective. With acres of galleries to accompany over, the Louvre would require several hundred technicians simply to monitor the feeds. Most large museums now used” containment security.” Forget keeping thieves out.Keep them in.Contain ment was spark off after hours, and if an intruder removed a piece of artwork, compartmentalized exits would seal around that gallery, and the thief would key himself behind bars even before the police arrived.\r\nThe sound of voices echoed down the marble corridor up ahead. The intervention seemed to be coming from a large copious-set alcove that lay ahead on the right. A bright light spilled out into the hallway. â€Å"Office of the curator,” the captain said. As he and Fache drew nearer the alcove, Langdon peered down a short hallway, into Saunieres luxurious study †straightaway wood, Old Master paintings, and an long antique desk on which stood a two-foot-tall model of a knight in full armor. A handful of police agents bustled about the room, talking on phones and taking notes. One of them was place at Saunieres desk, typing into a laptop. Apparently, the curators private representation had commence DCPJs becomeshift command post for the evening.\r\n "Messieurs,” Fache called out, and the men turned. â€Å"Ne nous derangez pas sous aucun pretexte. Entendu?”\r\nEveryone inside(a) the office nodded their beneathstanding.\r\nLangdon had hung bounteous NE PAS DERANGER signs on hotel room doors to catch the loading of the captains orders. Fache and Langdon were not to be disturbed under any circumstances.\r\nLeaving the small congregation of agents behind, Fache led Langdon farther down the darkened hallway. Thirty yards ahead loomed the inlet to the Louvres most popular section †la geee Galerie †a seemingly endless corridor that housed the Louvres most valuable Italian masterpieces. Langdon had already discerned that this was where Saunieres body lay; the Grand verandahs famous parquet floor had been unmistakable in the Polaroid.\r\nAs they approached, Langdon saw the entrance was blocked by an enormous steel grate that looked like something used by chivalric castles to keep out marauding armies.\r\nâ €Å"Containment security,”Fache said, as they neared the grate.\r\nEven in the dark, the discontinue looked like it could have restrained a tank. Arriving outside, Langdon peered by dint of the bars into the pallidly lit caverns of the Grand head.\r\nâ€Å"After you, Mr. Langdon,” Fache said. Langdon turned. After me, where?Fache motioned toward the floor at the base of the grate.\r\nLangdon looked down. In the darkness, he hadnt noticed. The barricade was elevated about two feet, providing an ill at ease(p) clearance underneath.\r\nâ€Å"This area is still off limits to Louvre security,” Fache said. â€Å"My team from Police Technique etScientifique has just finished their investigation.” He motioned to the opening. â€Å"Please slide under.”\r\nLangdon stared at the narrow go space at his feet and then up at the massive iron grate. Hes kidding, right? The barricade looked like a guillotine waiting to crush intruders.\r\nFache grumbled s omething in French and checked his capture. Then he dropped to his knees and slithered his big frame underneath the grate. On the other side, he stood up and looked back through the bars at Langdon.\r\nLangdon sighed. Placing his palms flat on the polished parquet, he lay on his stomach and pulled himself forward. As he slid underneath, the nucha of his Harris tweed snagged on the bottom of the grate, and he gaga the back of his head on the iron.\r\nVery suave, Robert, he thought, fumbling and then finally force himself through. As he stood up, Langdon was beginning to suspect it was going to be a very long night.\r\nCHAPTER 5\r\nMurray pitchers mound Place †the new piece Dei World render and conference center †is located at 243 Lexington bridle-path in New York City. With a price chase of just over $47 million, the 133, 000- square-foot tower is dress in red brick and Indiana limestone. Designed by May & Pinska, the building contains over one hundred bedroo ms, six dining rooms, libraries, living rooms, meeting rooms, and offices. The second, eighth, and one-sixteenth floors contain chapels, ornamented with mill- work and marble. The seventeenth floor is simply residential. Men enter the building through the main doors on Lexington Avenue. Women enter through a side street and are ‘acoustically and visually separated from the men at all measure within the building.\r\n in the beginning this evening, within the sanctuary of his penthouse apartment, Bishop Manuel Aringarosa had packed a small travel bag and dressed in a traditional black cassock. Normally, he would have disguised a purple cincture around his waist, solely tonight he would be traveling among the public, and he preferred not to draw attention to his high office. only when those with a keen eye would notice his 14-karat gold bishops ring with purple amethyst, large diamonds, and hand-tooled mitre-crozier applique. Throwing the travel bag over his shoulder, he sa id a silent prayer and left his apartment, descending to the lobby where his driver was waiting to take him to the airport.\r\nNow, sitting alongside a commercial airliner bound for capital of Italy, Aringarosa gazed out the window at the dark Atlantic. The sun had already set, but Aringarosa knew his own star was on the rise. Tonight the battle get out be won, he thought, amazed that only months ago he had felt up causalityless against the hands that threatened to destroy his empire.\r\nAs president-general of constitution Dei, Bishop Aringarosa had played out the last decade of his life disperseding the message of â€Å"Gods tempt” †literally, make-up Dei.The congregation, founded in 1928 by the Spanish priest Josemaria Escriva, promoted a return to conservative Catholic values and encouraged its members to make sweeping sacrifices in their own lives in order to do the bend of God.\r\n opus Deis traditionalist philosophy initially had interpreted root in Spa in before Francos regime, but with the 1934 progeny of Josemaria Escrivas spiritual book The modality †999 points of meditation for doing Gods Work in ones own life †Escrivas message detonate across the world. Now, with over four million copies of The Way in circulation in forty-two languages, patch Dei was a global force. Its residence halls, teaching centers, and even universities could be found in almost every major metropolis on earth. Opus Dei was the fastest- evolution and most financially secure Catholic organization in the world. Unfortunately, Aringarosa had noticeed, in an age of religious cynicism, cults, and televangelists, Opus Deis escalating wealth and power was a magnet for suspicion.\r\nâ€Å"Many call Opus Dei a brainwashing cult,” reporters often challenged. â€Å"Others call you an reactionary Christian secret society. Which are you?”\r\nâ€Å"Opus Dei is neither,” the bishop would patiently reply. â€Å"We are a Catholic chu rch. We are a congregation of Catholics who have chosen as our antecedence to follow Catholic doctrine as stringently as we can in our own nonchalant lives.”\r\nâ€Å"Does Gods Work necessarily include vows of chastity, tithing, and atonement for sins through self-flagellation and the cilice?”\r\nâ€Å"You are describing only a small character of the Opus Dei population,” Aringarosa said. â€Å"There are many levels of involvement. Thousands of Opus Dei members are married, have families, and do Gods Work in their own communities. Others choose lives of asceticism within our monastic residence halls. These excerptions are personal, but everyone in Opus Dei shares the goal of break awaying the world by doing the Work of God. surely this is an admirable quest.”\r\nReason seldom worked, though. The media always gravitated toward scandal, and Opus Dei, like most large organizations, had within its social rank a few misguided souls who cast a shadow ov er the entire group.\r\n Two months ago, an Opus Dei group at a mid-western university had been caught drugging new recruits with mescaline in an effort to induce a euphoric state that neophytes would perceive as a religious experience. Another university student had used his prickly cilice belt more often than the recommended two hours a day and had given himself a near fatal infection. In Boston not long ago, a disillusioned preadolescent investment banker had signed over his entire life savings to Opus Dei before attempting suicide.\r\nMisguided sheep, Aringarosa thought, his heart going out to them.\r\nOf passage the ultimate embarrassment had been the widely publicized trial of FBI spy Robert Hanssen, who, in addition to being a prominent member of Opus Dei, had turned out to be a internal deviant, his trial find evidence that he had rigged hidden tv set cameras in his own bedroom so his friends could watch him having sex with his wife. â€Å"Hardly the erstwhile(preno minal)ime of a pricy Catholic,” the judge had noted.\r\nSadly, all of these events had helped spawn the new watch group known as the Opus Dei cognizance Network (ODAN). The groups popular website †www odan.org †relayed frightening stories from antecedent Opus Dei members who warned of the dangers of joining. The media was now referring to Opus Dei as” Gods mafia” and” the Cult of Christ.”\r\nWe fear what we do not understand, Aringarosa thought, question if these critics had any idea how many lives Opus Dei had enriched. The group enjoyed the full endorsement and blessing of the Vatican. Opus Dei is a personal prelature of the Pope himself.\r\nRecently, however, Opus Dei had found itself threatened by a force endlessly more unchewable than the media… an unexpected foe from which Aringarosa could not possibly hide. Five months ago, the kaleidoscope of power had been shake, and Aringarosa was still reeling from the blow.\r\nâ€Å" They know not the war they have begun,” Aringarosa whispered to himself, sodding(a) out the planes window at the darkness of the ocean below. For an instant, his eyes refocused, lingering on the reflection of his awkward face †dark and oblong, dominated by a flat, crooked nose that had been shattered by a fist in Spain when he was a young missionary. The physical flaw barely registered now. Aringarosas was a world of the soul, not of the flesh.\r\nAs the jet passed over the glide of Portugal, the cellular telephone phone in Aringarosas cassock began vibrating in silent ring mode. Despite airline regulations prohibiting the use of cell phones during flights, Aringarosa knew this was a call he could not miss. Only one man possessed this number, the man who had mail-clad Aringarosa the phone.\r\nExcited, the bishop answered quietly. â€Å"Yes?”\r\nâ€Å"Silas has located the keystone,” the caller said. â€Å"It is in Paris. Within the Church of Saint-Sulpi ce.” Bishop Aringarosa smiled. â€Å"Then we are close.” â€Å"We can obtain it directly. tho we need your influence.” â€Å"Of course. Tell me what to do.” When Aringarosa switched off the phone, his heart was pounding. He gazed once again into the void of night, feeling dwarfed by the events he had put into motion.\r\nFive hundred miles away, the albino named Silas stood over a small basin of water and dabbed the snag from his back, watching the patterns of red spinning in the water. crimson me with hyssop andI shall be clean, he prayed, quoting Psalms. Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.\r\nSilas was feeling an aroused anticipation that he had not felt since his previous life. It both surprised and electrified him. For the last decade, he had been following The Way, cleansing himself of sins… rebuild his life… erasing the violence in his past. Tonight, however, it had all come rushing back. The hatred he had fought so hard to bury had been summoned. He had been startled how quickly his past had resurfaced. And with it, of course, had come his skills. Rusty but serviceable.\r\nJesus message is one of peace…of nonviolence…of cognize.This was the message Silas had been taught from the beginning, and the message he held in his heart. And yet this was the message the enemies of Christ now threatened to destroy. Those who threaten God with force pass on be met with force.Immovable and steadfast.\r\nFor two millennia, Christian soldiers had defended their faith against those who tried to displace it. Tonight, Silas had been called to battle.\r\nDrying his wounds, he donned his ankle-length, hooded robe. It was homy, made of dark wool, accentuating the purity of his skin and hair. Tightening the rope-tie around his waist, he raised the hood over his head and allowed his red eyes to admire his reflection in the mirror. The wheels are in motion.\r\nCHAPTER 6\r\nHaving squeezed beneath the security gate, Robert Langdon now stood just inside the entrance to the Grand Gallery. He was consummate(a) into the mouth of a long, deep canyon. On either side of the gallery, stark walls rose thirty feet, evaporating into the darkness above. The reddish glow of the service lighting sifted upward, modelling an unnatural smolder across a astonishing collection of Da Vincis, Titians, and Caravaggios that hung suspended from ceiling cables. noneffervescent lifes, religious scenes, and landscapes accompanied portraits of nobility and politicians.\r\nAlthough the Grand Gallery housed the Louvres most famous Italian art, many visitors felt the wings most stunning offering was truly its famous parquet floor. Laid out in a dazzling geometric design of diagonal oak tree slats, the floor produced an ephemeral optical illusion †a multi- dimensional network that gave visitors the sense they were floating through the gallery on a surface that c mentioned with every step.\r\nAs Langdons gaze began to trace the inlay, his eyes stopped short on an unexpected object craft on the floor just a few yards to his left, surrounded by police tape. He spun toward Fache. â€Å"Is that… a Caravaggio on the floor?”\r\nFache nodded without even looking.\r\nThe painting, Langdon guessed, was worth upward of two million dollars, and yet it was lying on the floor like a discarded poster. â€Å"What the stick is it doing on the floor!”\r\nFache glowered, clearly unmoved. â€Å"This is a villainy scene, Mr. Langdon. We have touched nothing. That canvas was pulled from the wall by the curator. It was how he activated the security system.”\r\nLangdon looked back at the gate, trying to picture what had happened.\r\nâ€Å"The curator was attacked in his office, fled into the Grand Gallery, and activated the security gate by pulling that painting from the wall. The gate fell immediately, sealing off all access. This is the only door in or out of this gallery.” Lan gdon felt confused. â€Å"So the curator genuinely captured his attacker inside the Grand Gallery?” Fache shook his head. â€Å"The security gate separated Sauniere from his attacker. The killer waslocked out there in the hallway and shot Sauniere through this gate.” Fache pointed toward anorange tag hanging from one of the bars on the gate under which they had just passed. â€Å"The PT move found flashback residue from a gun. He pink-slipped through the bars. Sauniere died in here alone.”\r\nLangdon pictured the snatch up of Saunieres body. They said he did that to himself.Langdon looked out at the enormous corridor before them. â€Å"So where is his body?”\r\nFache straightened his cruciform tie clip and began to walk. â€Å"As you probably know, the Grand Gallery is quite long.”\r\nThe exact length, if Langdon recalled correctly, was around fifteen hundred feet, the length of three Washington Monuments laid end to end. Equally breathtaking w as the corridors width, which easily could have accommodated a pair of side-by-side passenger trains. The center of the hallway was specked by the occasional statue or colossal porcelain urn, which served as a tasteful divider and kept the flow of traffic moving down one wall and up the other.\r\nFache was silent now, striding briskly up the right side of the corridor with his gaze dead ahead. Langdon felt almost disrespectful to be racing past so many masterpieces without pausing for so much as a glance.\r\nNot that I could see anything in this lighting, he thought.\r\nThe muted crimson lighting unfortunately conjured memories of Langdons last experience in noninvasive lighting in the Vatican Secret Archives. This was tonights second unsettling parallel with his near-death in Rome. He flashed on Vittoria again. She had been absent from his dreams for months. Langdon could not believe Rome had been only a year ago; it felt like decades. Another life.His last correspondence from Vit toria had been in December †a postcard saying she was headed to the coffee tree Sea to continue her re look in vane physics… something about using satellites to track manta ray ray migrations. Langdon had never harbored delusions that a woman like Vittoria Vetra could have been happy living with him on a college campus, but their encounter in Rome had unguaranteed in him a longing he never imagined he could feel. His lifelong affinity for bachelorhood and the simple freedoms it allowed had been shaken somehow… replaced by an unexpected emptiness that seemed to have grown over the past year.\r\nThey continued travel briskly, yet Langdon still saw no corpse. â€Å"Jacques Sauniere went this far?”\r\nâ€Å"Mr. Sauniere suffered a lick wound to his stomach. He died very slowly. Perhaps over fifteen or twenty transactions. He was plain a man of great personal strength.”\r\nLangdon turned, appalled. â€Å"Security took fifteen minutes to get here?â₠¬Â\r\nâ€Å"Of course not. Louvre security responded immediately to the alarm and found the Grand Gallery sealed. by the gate, they could hear someone moving around at the far end of the corridor, but they could not see who it was. They shouted, but they got no answer. Assuming it could only be a criminal, they followed protocol and called in the Judicial Police. We took up positions within fifteen minutes. When we arrived, we raised the barricade bounteous to slip underneath, and I sent a xii armed agents inside. They swept the length of the gallery to recession the intruder.” â€Å"And?” â€Å"They found no one inside. Except…” He pointed farther down the hall. â€Å"Him.”\r\nLangdon lifted his gaze and followed Faches extended finger. At first he thought Fache was pointing to a large marble statue in the middle of the hallway. As they continued, though, Langdon began to see past the statue. Thirty yards down the hall, a single spotlight on a movable pole stand shone down on the floor, creating a stark island of white light in the dark crimson gallery. In the center of the light, like an biting louse under a microscope, the corpse of the curator lay naked on the parquet floor.\r\nâ€Å"You saw the photograph,” Fache said,” so this should be of no surprise.”\r\nLangdon felt a deep chill as they approached the body. Before him was one of the strangest orbit she had ever seen.\r\nThe pallid corpse of Jacques Sauniere lay on the parquet floor exactly as it appeared in the photograph. As Langdon stood over the body and squinted in the boisterous light, he reminded himself to his amazement that Sauniere had spent his last minutes of life arranging his own body in this strange fashion.\r\nSauniere looked remarkably fit for a man of his years… and all of his musculature was in plain view. He had stripped off every sheet of clothing, placed it neatly on the floor, and laid down on his back in the c enter of the wide corridor, perfectly aligned with the long axis of the room. His blazon and legs were sprawled outward in a wide spread eagle, like those of a child making a snow angel… or, perhaps more appropriately, like a man being drawn and quartered by some occult force.\r\nJust below Saunieres breastbone, a notey pip marked the spot where the bullet had pierced his flesh. The wound had bled surprisingly little, leaving only a small pool of blackened blood.\r\nSaunieres left index finger was likewise bloody, apparently having been swaybacked into the wound to create the most unsettling aspect of his own macabre deathbed; using his own blood as ink, and employing his own naked abdomen as a canvas, Sauniere had drawn a simple symbol on his flesh †phoebe bird straight lines that intersected to form a five-pointed star.\r\nThe pentagram.\r\nThe bloody star, centered on Saunieres navel, gave his corpse a distinctly ghoulish aura. The photo Langdon had seen was chi lling enough, but now, witnessing the scene in person, Langdon felt a intensify uneasiness.\r\nHe did this to himself.\r\nâ€Å"Mr. Langdon?” Faches dark eyes settled on him again.\r\nâ€Å"Its a pentangle,” Langdon offered, his voice feeling hollow in the huge space. â€Å"One of the oldest symbols on earth. Used over four thousand years before Christ.”\r\nâ€Å"And what does it destine?”\r\nLangdon always hesitated when he got this question. Telling someone what a symbol” think upt” was like telling them how a meter should make them feel †it was different for all community. A white Ku Klux Klan headpiece conjured images of hatred and racism in the United States, and yet the comparable costume carried a meaning of religious faith in Spain.\r\nâ€Å"Symbols carry different meanings in different settings,” Langdon said. â€Å"Primarily, the pentangle is a pleasure seeker religious symbol.”\r\nFache nodded. â€Å"Devil worship.” â€Å"No,” Langdon corrected, immediately realizing his choice of vocabulary should have been clearer. Nowadays, the term pagan had become almost synonymous with devil worship †a gross misconception. The words roots actually reached back to the Latin paganus, meaning country-dwellers. â€Å"Pagans” were literally unindoctrinated country-folk who clung to the old, cracker-barrel religions of temper worship. In fact, so strong was the Churchs fear of those who lived in the rural villes that the once innocuous word for” villager” †villain †came to mean a wicked soul.\r\nâ€Å"The pentagram,” Langdon clarified,” is a pre-Christian symbol that relates to Nature worship. The ancients envisioned their world in two halves †mannish and feminine. Their gods and goddesses worked to keep a balance of power. Yin and yang. When male and female were balanced, there was harmony in the world. When they were unbalanced, t here was chaos.” Langdon motioned to Saunieres stomach. â€Å"This pentangle is representative of the female half of all things †a concept religious historians call the ‘sacred feminine or the ‘divine goddess. ‘ Sauniere, of all people, would know this.”\r\nâ€Å"Sauniere drew a goddess symbol on his stomach?”\r\nLangdon had to admit, it seemed odd. â€Å"In its most specific interpretation, the pentacle symbolizes genus genus Venus †the goddess of female sexual love and beauty.”\r\nFache eyed the naked man, and grunted.\r\nâ€Å"Early religion was based on the divine order of Nature. The goddess Venus and the planet Venus were one and the same. The goddess had a place in the nighttime sky and was known by many names †Venus, the Eastern Star, Ishtar, Astarte †all of them powerful female concepts with ties to Nature and Mother Earth.”\r\nFache looked more turbulent now, as if he somehow preferred the idea of dev il worship.\r\nLangdon decided not to share the pentacles most astonishing property †the graphic origin of its ties to Venus. As a young astronomy student, Langdon had been stunned to learn the planet Venus traced a perfect pentacle across the ecliptic sky every four years. So astonished were the ancients to observe this phenomenon, that Venus and her pentacle became symbols of perfection, beauty, and the cyclic qualities of sexual love. As a tribute to the whoremonger of Venus, the Greeks used her four-year cycle to organize their Olympiads. Nowadays, few people realized that the four-year schedule of modern Olympic Games still followed the cycles of Venus. Even fewer people knew that the five-pointed star had almost become the official Olympic seal but was modified at the last moment †its five points exchanged for five intersecting rings to better reflect the games spirit of inclusion and harmony.\r\nâ€Å"Mr. Langdon,” Fache said abruptly. â€Å"Obviously, the pentacle must also relate to the devil. Your American inconsistency movies make that point clearly.”\r\nLangdon frowned. Thank you, Hollywood.The five-pointed star was now a virtual cliche in blamed serial killer movies, usually scrawled on the wall of some Satanists apartment along with other so-called demonic symbology. Langdon was always frustrated when he saw the symbol in this context; the pentacles true origins were actually quite godly.\r\nâ€Å"I assure you,” Langdon said,” despite what you see in the movies, the pentacles demonic interpretation is historically inaccurate. The maestro feminine meaning is correct, but the symbolism of the pentacle has been distorted over the millennia. In this case, through bloodshed.” â€Å"Im not sure I follow.” Langdon glanced at Faches crucifix, uncertain how to contrive his next point. â€Å"The Church, sir. Symbols are very resilient, but the pentacle was altered by the early Roman Catholic Church. As part of the Vaticans campaign to eradicate pagan religions and convert the masses to Christianity, the Church launched a smear campaign against the pagan gods and goddesses, recasting their divine symbols as evil.”\r\nâ€Å"Go on.”\r\nâ€Å"This is very common in times of turmoil,” Langdon continued. â€Å"A newly emerging power will take over the existing symbols and degrade them over time in an attempt to erase their meaning. In the battle between the pagan symbols and Christian symbols, the pagans illogical; Poseidons trident became the devils pitchfork, the wise crones pointed hat became the symbol of a witch, and Venuss pentacle became a sign of the devil.” Langdon paused. â€Å"Unfortunately, the United States military has also perverted the pentacle; its now our foremost symbol of war. We paint it on all our fighter jets and hang it on the shoulders of all our generals.” So much for the goddess of love and beauty.\r\nâ€Å"Interesting.à ¢â‚¬Â Fache nodded toward the spread-eagle corpse. â€Å"And the positioning of the body? What do you make of that?” Langdon shrugged. â€Å"The position simply reinforces the reference to the pentacle and sacred feminine.”\r\nFaches expression clouded. â€Å"I beg your pardon?”\r\nâ€Å"Replication. repetition a symbol is the simplest way to strengthen its meaning. Jacques Sauniere positioned himself in the shape of a five-pointed star.” If one pentacle is good, two is better.\r\nFaches eyes followed the five points of Saunieres arms, legs, and head as he again ran a hand across his tricky hair. â€Å"Interesting analysis.” He paused. â€Å"And the nudity?” He grumbled as he spoke the word, sounding repulsed by the cud of an aging male body. â€Å"Why did he remove his clothing?”\r\nDamned good question, Langdon thought. Hed been wondering the same thing ever since he first saw the Polaroid. His best guess was that a naked human form was yet another endorsement of Venus †the goddess of human sexuality. Although modern culture had erased much of Venuss standstill with the male/female physical union, a sharp etymological eye could still spot a vestige of Venuss original meaning in the word” venereal.” Langdon decided not to go there.\r\nâ€Å"Mr. Fache, I obviously cant tell you why Mr. Sauniere drew that symbol on himself or placed himself in this way, but I can tell you that a man like Jacques Sauniere would consider the pentacle a sign of the female deity. The correlation between this symbol and the sacred feminine is widely known by art historians and symbologists.”\r\nâ€Å"Fine. And the use of his own blood as ink?” â€Å"Obviously he had nothing else to write with.” Fache was silent a moment. â€Å"Actually, I believe he used blood such that the police would follow certain forensic procedures.”\r\nâ€Å"Im sorry?”\r\nâ€Å"Look at his left hand.â₠¬Â\r\nLangdons eyes traced the length of the curators pale arm to his left hand but saw nothing. Uncertain, he circled the corpse and crouched down, now noting with surprise that the curator was clutching a large, felt-tipped marker.\r\nâ€Å"Sauniere was holding it when we found him,” Fache said, leaving Langdon and moving several yards to a takeout table covered with investigation tools, cables, and assorted electronic gear. â€Å"As I told you,” he said, rummaging around the table,” we have touched nothing. Are you familiar with this kind of pen?”\r\nLangdon knelt down farther to see the pens label. STYLO DE LUMIERE NOIRE. He glanced up in surprise.\r\nThe black-light pen or watermark mode was a specialized felt-tipped marker originally designed by museums, restorers, and forgery police to place invisible marks on items. The stylus wrote in a noncorrosive, alcohol-based fluorescent ink that was visible only under black light. Nowadays, museum maintena nce staffs carried these markers on their daily rounds to place invisible” tick marks” on the frames of paintings that ask restoration.\r\nAs Langdon stood up, Fache walked over to the spotlight and turned it off. The gallery plunged into sudden darkness.\r\nMomentarily blinded, Langdon felt a rising uncertainty. Faches silhouette appeared, illuminated in bright purple. He approached carrying a portable light source, which shrouded him in a violet haze.\r\nâ€Å"As you may know,” Fache said, his eyes luminescing in the violet glow,” police use black-light illumination to search crime scenes for blood and other forensic evidence. So you can imagine our surprise…” Abruptly, he pointed the light down at the corpse.\r\nLangdon looked down and jumped back in shock.\r\nHis heart pounded as he took in the bizarre sight now glowing before him on the parquet floor. Scrawled in luminescent handwriting, the curators final lyric poem glowed purple beside h is corpse. As Langdon stared at the shimmering text, he felt the fog that had surrounded this entire night growing thicker.\r\nLangdon read the message again and looked up at Fache. â€Å"What the hell does this mean!” Faches eyes shone white. â€Å"That, monsieur, is precisely the question you are here to answer.”\r\nNot far away, inside Saunieres office, Lieutenant Collet had returned to the Louvre and was huddled over an phone console set up on the curators enormous desk. With the exception of the eerie, robot-like doll of a medieval knight that seemed to be staring at him from the break of Saunieres desk, Collet was comfortable. He adjusted his AKG headphones and checked the introduce levels on the hard-disk recording system. All systems were go. The microphones were functioning flawlessly, and the audio feed was crystal clear.\r\nLe moment de verite, he mused.\r\nSmiling, he closed his eyes and settled in to enjoy the rest of the conversation now being taped in side the Grand Gallery.\r\n'