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看一篇设定正常的文好难。
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| Chapter 32 | The security alarm on the west end of the Denon Wing sent the pigeons in the nearby TuileriesGardens scattering as Langdon and Sophie dashed out of the bulkhead into the Paris night. As theyran across the plaza to Sophie's car, Langdon could hear police sirens wailing in the distance.
"That's it there," Sophie called, pointing to a red snub-nosed two-seater parked on the plaza.
She's kidding, right? The vehicle was easily the smallest car Langdon had ever seen.
"SmartCar," she said. "A hundred kilometers to the liter."Langdon had barely thrown himself into the passenger seat before Sophie gunned the SmartCar upand over a curb onto a gravel divider. He gripped the dash as the car shot out across a sidewalk andbounced back down over into the small rotary at Carrousel du Louvre.
For an instant, Sophie seemed to consider taking the shortcut across the rotary by plowing straightahead, through the median's perimeter hedge, and bisecting the large circle of grass in the center.
"No!" Langdon shouted, knowing the hedges around Carrousel du Louvre were there to hide theperilous chasm in the center—La Pyramide Inversée—the upside-down pyramid skylight he hadseen earlier from inside the museum. It was large enough to swallow their Smart-Car in a singlegulp. Fortunately, Sophie decided on the more conventional route, jamming the wheel hard to theright, circling properly until she exited, cut left, and swung into the northbound lane, acceleratingtoward Rue de Rivoli.
The two-tone police sirens blared louder behind them, and Langdon could see the lights now in hisside view mirror. The SmartCar engine whined in protest as Sophie urged it faster away from theLouvre. Fifty yards ahead, the traffic light at Rivoli turned red. Sophie cursed under her breath andkept racing toward it. Langdon felt his muscles tighten.
"Sophie?"Slowing only slightly as they reached the intersection, Sophie flicked her headlights and stole aquick glance both ways before flooring the accelerator again and carving a sharp left turn throughthe empty intersection onto Rivoli. Accelerating west for a quarter of a mile, Sophie banked to theright around a wide rotary. Soon they were shooting out the other side onto the wide avenue ofChamps-Elysées.
As they straightened out, Langdon turned in his seat, craning his neck to look out the rear windowtoward the Louvre. The police did not seem to be chasing them. The sea of blue lights wasassembling at the museum.
His heartbeat finally slowing, Langdon turned back around. "That was interesting."Sophie didn't seem to hear. Her eyes remained fixed ahead down the long thoroughfare of Champs-Elysées, the two-mile stretch of posh storefronts that was often called the Fifth Avenue of Paris.
The embassy was only about a mile away, and Langdon settled into his seat. So dark the con ofman. Sophie's quick thinking had been impressive. Madonna of the Rocks.
Sophie had said her grandfather left her something behind the painting. A final message? Langdoncould not help but marvel over Saunière's brilliant hiding place; Madonna of the Rocks was yetanother fitting link in the evening's chain of interconnected symbolism. Saunière, it seemed, atevery turn, was reinforcing his fondness for the dark and mischievous side of Leonardo da Vinci.
Da Vinci's original commission for Madonna of the Rocks had come from an organization knownas the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception, which needed a painting for the centerpiece ofan altar triptych in their church of San Francesco in Milan. The nuns gave Leonardo specificdimensions, and the desired theme for the painting—the Virgin Mary, baby John the Baptist, Uriel,and Baby Jesus sheltering in a cave. Although Da Vinci did as they requested, when he deliveredthe work, the group reacted with horror. He had filled the painting with explosive and disturbingdetails.
The painting showed a blue-robed Virgin Mary sitting with her arm around an infant child,presumably Baby Jesus. Opposite Mary sat Uriel, also with an infant, presumably baby John theBaptist. Oddly, though, rather than the usual Jesus-blessing-John scenario, it was baby John whowas blessing Jesus... and Jesus was submitting to his authority! More troubling still, Mary washolding one hand high above the head of infant John and making a decidedly threateninggesture—her fingers looking like eagle's talons, gripping an invisible head. Finally, the mostobvious and frightening image: Just below Mary's curled fingers, Uriel was making a cuttinggesture with his hand—as if slicing the neck of the invisible head gripped by Mary's claw-likehand.
Langdon's students were always amused to learn that Da Vinci eventually mollified theconfraternity by painting them a second, "watered-down" version of Madonna of the Rocks inwhich everyone was arranged in a more orthodox manner. The second version now hung inLondon's National Gallery under the name Virgin of the Rocks, although Langdon still preferredthe Louvre's more intriguing original.
As Sophie gunned the car up Champs-Elysées, Langdon said, "The painting. What was behind it?"Her eyes remained on the road. "I'll show you once we're safely inside the embassy.""You'll show it to me?" Langdon was surprised. "He left you a physical object?"Sophie gave a curt nod. "Embossed with a fleur-de-lis and the initials P.S."Langdon couldn't believe his ears.
We're going to make it, Sophie thought as she swung the SmartCar's wheel to the right, cuttingsharply past the luxurious H.tel de Crillon into Paris's tree-lined diplomatic neighborhood. Theembassy was less than a mile away now. She was finally feeling like she could breathe normallyagain.
Even as she drove, Sophie's mind remained locked on the key in her pocket, her memories ofseeing it many years ago, the gold head shaped as an equal-armed cross, the triangular shaft, theindentations, the embossed flowery seal, and the letters P.S.
Although the key barely had entered Sophie's thoughts through the years, her work in theintelligence community had taught her plenty about security, and now the key's peculiar tooling nolonger looked so mystifying. A laser-tooled varying matrix. Impossible to duplicate. Rather thanteeth that moved tumblers, this key's complex series of laser-burned pockmarks was examined byan electric eye. If the eye determined that the hexagonal pockmarks were correctly spaced,arranged, and rotated, then the lock would open.
Sophie could not begin to imagine what a key like this opened, but she sensed Robert would beable to tell her. After all, he had described the key's embossed seal without ever seeing it. Thecruciform on top implied the key belonged to some kind of Christian organization, and yet Sophieknew of no churches that used laser-tooled varying matrix keys.
Besides, my grandfather was no Christian....
Sophie had witnessed proof of that ten years ago. Ironically, it had been another key—a far morenormal one—that had revealed his true nature to her.
The afternoon had been warm when she landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport and hailed a taxihome. Grand-père will be so surprised to see me, she thought. Returning from graduate school inBritain for spring break a few days early, Sophie couldn't wait to see him and tell him all about theencryption methods she was studying.
When she arrived at their Paris home, however, her grandfather was not there. Disappointed, sheknew he had not been expecting her and was probably working at the Louvre. But it's Saturdayafternoon, she realized. He seldom worked on weekends. On weekends, he usually—Grinning, Sophie ran out to the garage. Sure enough, his car was gone. It was the weekend. JacquesSaunière despised city driving and owned a car for one destination only—his vacation chateau inNormandy, north of Paris. Sophie, after months in the congestion of London, was eager for thesmells of nature and to start her vacation right away. It was still early evening, and she decided toleave immediately and surprise him. Borrowing a friend's car, Sophie drove north, winding into thedeserted moon-swept hills near Creully. She arrived just after ten o'clock, turning down the longprivate driveway toward her grandfather's retreat. The access road was over a mile long, and shewas halfway down it before she could start to see the house through the trees—a mammoth, oldstone chateau nestled in the woods on the side of a hill.
Sophie had half expected to find her grandfather asleep at this hour and was excited to see thehouse twinkling with lights. Her delight turned to surprise, however, when she arrived to find thedriveway filled with parked cars—Mercedeses, BMWs, Audis, and a Rolls-Royce.
Sophie stared a moment and then burst out laughing. My grand-père, the famous recluse! JacquesSaunière, it seemed, was far less reclusive than he liked to pretend. Clearly he was hosting a partywhile Sophie was away at school, and from the looks of the automobiles, some of Paris's mostinfluential people were in attendance.
Eager to surprise him, she hurried to the front door. When she got there, though, she found itlocked. She knocked. Nobody answered. Puzzled, she walked around and tried the back door. It toowas locked. No answer.
Confused, she stood a moment and listened. The only sound she heard was the cool Normandy airletting out a low moan as it swirled through the valley.
No music.
No voices.
Nothing.
In the silence of the woods, Sophie hurried to the side of the house and clambered up on awoodpile, pressing her face to the living room window. What she saw inside made no sense at all.
"Nobody's here!"The entire first floor looked deserted.
Where are all the people?
Heart racing, Sophie ran to the woodshed and got the spare key her grandfather kept hidden underthe kindling box. She ran to the front door and let herself in. As she stepped into the deserted foyer,the control panel for the security system started blinking red—a warning that the entrant had tenseconds to type the proper code before the security alarms went off.
He has the alarm on during a party?
Sophie quickly typed the code and deactivated the system.
Entering, she found the entire house uninhabited. Upstairs too. As she descended again to thedeserted living room, she stood a moment in the silence, wondering what could possibly behappening.
It was then that Sophie heard it.
Muffled voices. And they seemed to be coming from underneath her. Sophie could not imagine.
Crouching, she put her ear to the floor and listened. Yes, the sound was definitely coming frombelow. The voices seemed to be singing, or... chanting? She was frightened. Almost more eeriethan the sound itself was the realization that this house did not even have a basement.
At least none I've ever seen.
Turning now and scanning the living room, Sophie's eyes fell to the only object in the entire housethat seemed out of place—her grandfather's favorite antique, a sprawling Aubusson tapestry. Itusually hung on the east wall beside the fireplace, but tonight it had been pulled aside on its brassrod, exposing the wall behind it.
Walking toward the bare wooden wall, Sophie sensed the chanting getting louder. Hesitant, sheleaned her ear against the wood. The voices were clearer now. People were definitely chanting...
intoning words Sophie could not discern.
The space behind this wall is hollow!
Feeling around the edge of the panels, Sophie found a recessed fingerhold. It was discreetlycrafted. A sliding door. Heart pounding, she placed her finger in the slot and pulled it. Withnoiseless precision, the heavy wall slid sideways. From out of the darkness beyond, the voicesechoed up.
Sophie slipped through the door and found herself on a rough-hewn stone staircase that spiraleddownward. She'd been coming to this house since she was a child and yet had no idea this staircaseeven existed!
As she descended, the air grew cooler. The voices clearer. She heard men and women now. Herline of sight was limited by the spiral of the staircase, but the last step was now rounding into view.
Beyond it, she could see a small patch of the basement floor—stone, illuminated by the flickeringorange blaze of firelight.
Holding her breath, Sophie inched down another few steps and crouched down to look. It took herseveral seconds to process what she was seeing.
The room was a grotto—a coarse chamber that appeared to have been hollowed from the granite ofthe hillside. The only light came from torches on the walls. In the glow of the flames, thirty or sopeople stood in a circle in the center of the room.
I'm dreaming, Sophie told herself. A dream. What else could this be?
Everyone in the room was wearing a mask. The women were dressed in white gossamer gowns andgolden shoes. Their masks were white, and in their hands they carried golden orbs. The men worelong black tunics, and their masks were black. They looked like pieces in a giant chess set.
Everyone in the circle rocked back and forth and chanted in reverence to something on the floorbefore them... something Sophie could not see.
The chanting grew steady again. Accelerating. Thundering now. Faster. The participants took astep inward and knelt. In that instant, Sophie could finally see what they all were witnessing. Evenas she staggered back in horror, she felt the image searing itself into her memory forever.
Overtaken by nausea, Sophie spun, clutching at the stone walls as she clambered back up the stairs.
Pulling the door closed, she fled the deserted house, and drove in a tearful stupor back to Paris.
That night, with her life shattered by disillusionment and betrayal, she packed her belongings andleft her home. On the dining room table, she left a note.
I WAS THERE. DON'T TRY TO FIND ME.
Beside the note, she laid the old spare key from the chateau's woodshed.
"Sophie! Langdon's voice intruded. "Stop! Stop!"Emerging from the memory, Sophie slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt. "What? Whathappened?!"Langdon pointed down the long street before them.
When she saw it, Sophie's blood went cold. A hundred yards ahead, the intersection was blockedby a couple of DCPJ police cars, parked askew, their purpose obvious. They've sealed off AvenueGabriel!
Langdon gave a grim sigh. "I take it the embassy is off-limits this evening?"Down the street, the two DCPJ officers who stood beside their cars were now staring in theirdirection, apparently curious about the headlights that had halted so abruptly up the street fromthem.
Okay, Sophie, turn around very slowly.
Putting the SmartCar in reverse, she performed a composed three-point turn and reversed herdirection. As she drove away, she heard the sound of squealing tires behind them. Sirens blared tolife.
Cursing, Sophie slammed down the accelerator.
当索菲和兰登逃出卢浮宫，跑进巴黎的夜色中时，德农馆西侧的警报把杜伊勒里花园里的鸽子吓得四处飞散。他们穿过广场，向索菲的汽车跑去，兰登听见远处传来了警笛声。
"在那里。"索菲指着停在广场上的一辆红色平头双人座汽车喊道。
她不是在开玩笑吧？兰登还从来没有见过这么小的车。
"都市精灵。"她说。"开一百公里就扔了。"
兰登刚钻到乘客席上，索菲就把"都市精灵"发动了起来，而后又缓速驶过了碎石隔离线。汽车冲下了人行道，颠簸了一下，驶入了环行的卢浮宫卡鲁塞勒商廊。兰登紧紧地抓住车里的隔栏。
索菲似乎一度想抄近路，冲破中间的防护栏，从圆形草坪中间开过去。
"不！"兰登叫道，他知道卢浮宫卡鲁塞勒商廊周围的防护栏遮挡着草坪中心的一个危险的坑洞--倒置的玻璃金字塔。刚才，兰登已经在博物馆里看到了通过这个玻璃金字塔照射进去的光线。它就像一张大嘴，可以一口将他们的"都市精灵"吞下去。幸亏索菲又决定按常规路线行驶，她将方向盘向左猛转，又出了商廊，然后向左拐进一条朝北的街道，向着利沃里街急速行驶。后面传来的警笛声离他们越来越近了，兰登已经可以从车边镜中看到闪烁的警灯。索菲急着要加速离开卢浮宫的时候，都市精灵的发动机已经发出闷响开始抗议了。前方五十码的地方，利沃里街口又亮起了红灯。索菲轻声骂了几句，继续驾车向前冲。
"索菲？"
到达十字路口，索菲只稍微地放慢了一点车速，打亮了车灯，然后迅速地扫视了一下左右，又踩下了油门。汽车向左拐了个大弯，穿过空荡荡的十字路口，驶进了利沃里街。
向西加速行驶了一公里后，索菲将车开向右边的高架。很快，他们从环形高架的另一边下来，驶入了宽阔的香榭丽舍大街。
汽车开始径直行驶，兰登转过身，伸长了脖子，透过后窗朝卢浮宫方向张望。好像警察并没有追他们。远处那蓝色的警灯聚集在博物馆前像是一片海洋。
他那颗悬在半空的心终于放了下来，他回过头来说道。"这还真有趣。"
索菲像是没有听见。她注视着前方长长的香榭丽舍大街。眼前这条有许多时尚小店的路段通常被叫做巴黎第五大街。离使馆大约只有一英里了，兰登在座位上放松了下来。
男人的欺骗是多么黑暗。
索菲敏捷的思维已经给兰登留下了深刻的印象。
《岩间圣母》。
索菲说她的祖父在油画后留下了些东西。最终的信息？兰登不禁为索尼埃能找到这样的藏宝之处而赞叹不已。《岩间圣母》那相互关联的象征符号之链上的又一个环节。看来，索尼埃在每个环节上都愈发表现出对达。芬奇的反叛和恶作剧的欣赏。
《岩间圣母》原本是达。芬奇受净念慈善会的委托为米兰圣弗朗切斯科教堂的礼拜堂所作的祭坛画。修女们事先确定了油画的尺寸和主题--山洞中的圣母玛丽娅、施洗者约翰、乌列和婴儿耶稣。虽然达。芬奇按照她们的要求来做画，但当他交上画作的时候，引起了慈善会里的一片惊恐。这幅画作中充满了引发争议的、令人不安的细节。
画作描绘了身着蓝袍的圣母玛丽娅抱着一个婴儿坐在那里，那个婴儿应该就是耶稣。
乌列坐在玛丽娅的对面，也怀抱着婴儿，那个婴儿应该就是施洗者约翰。奇怪的是，画作却一反常理，画的是约翰为耶稣祈福，而不是耶稣为约翰祈福……耶稣正服从于约翰的权威！更成问题的是，画中玛丽娅一手置于约翰头上，另一只手则做出一个威胁的手势--她的手指看上去像鹰爪，仿佛正抓着一个无形的人头。最明显而又最令人毛骨悚然的形象要数玛丽娅弯曲的手指下方的乌列--他做出一个砍东西的手势，仿佛要把玛丽娅抓住的那个无形的人头从脖颈处砍下来。
后来，为了安慰慈善会，达。芬奇又为其画了第二幅"岩间圣母"，画面的安排比较正统。第二幅画现藏于伦敦国立美术馆，取名为《岩间的玛丽娅》。兰登的学生每每听到这里，就会一片哗然。不过，兰登还是比较偏爱卢浮宫里暗藏玄机的那一幅。
车飞奔在香榭丽舍大街上，兰登问索菲："那幅画后面藏了什么。"
"我们安全进入使馆后，我会给你看的。"索菲仍注视着前方的道路。
"你会给我看？"兰登诧异地问。"那是一件物品？"
索菲点了点头。"上面刻着法国百合和首字母缩写P.S."。
兰登简直不敢相信自己的耳朵。
我们马上就到了，索菲想着，将方向盘向右打，驶过豪华的克里昂士饭店，进入巴黎三车道的使馆区。离使馆不到一公里了。她终于感到自己又可以正常地呼吸了。
索菲一边驾车，一边惦记着口袋里的那把钥匙，她的脑海中浮现出许多年前关于那把钥匙的记忆，那加号形的金色钥匙柄，那三棱柱形的匙身，那钥匙上的小孔，以及那雕刻在钥匙柄上的花纹和字母P.S这么多年来，她很少想起这把钥匙，但多年来在科技安全部门工作的经验告诉她这样的钥匙设计并不神秘。激光塑模，无法复制。那种锁不是靠钥匙上的锯齿来转动制动栓，而是通过一个电子孔来检测钥匙上用激光烧制而成的小孔。如果电子孔检测出匙身六个截面上的小孔是按要求旋转排列的，那么锁就会开启。
索菲想不到这把钥匙会打开什么，但她感觉到罗伯特一定能告诉她答案。毕竟，他还没有看到钥匙就可以描绘出那上面的图案了。那十字架形的钥匙柄暗示着钥匙一定与某个基督教组织有关，但据索菲所知，并没有哪个教堂在使用激光塑模的钥匙。再说，祖父也不是基督教徒……
她十年前的所见所闻可以证实这一点。颇具讽刺意义的是，向她揭示出祖父本性的是另一把钥匙--比眼下的这把要普通得多的钥匙。
她到达戴高乐机场的那天下午，天气暖洋洋的。她拦了一辆出租车，祖父看到我一定会大吃一惊的，她想。她从英国的研究生院提前几天回家度春假，正迫不及待地想告诉祖父她新学到的加密方法。
当她赶到巴黎的家中时，却发现祖父不在家。她颇为失望。她知道祖父不知道她要回来，可能还在卢浮宫工作。但现在是礼拜天下午呀，她想起来。祖父很少在周末工作。周末的时候，他一般都会--索菲一笑，向车库跑去。可以肯定，他的车被开走了。现在是周末。雅克。索尼埃不喜欢在城市中开车，他驾车只会去一个地方，那就是他那位于巴黎北面的诺曼底的度假别墅。索菲已经在拥挤的伦敦呆了好几个月，正渴望去感受一下大自然的气息，于是决定到那里去度假。当时正值傍晚，时候尚早，索菲决定立即动身，给祖父一个惊喜。她向朋友借了一辆车，向北开，在克鲁里附近的盘山公路上行驶--那些寂静无人的小山丘上洒满了月光。当她到达别墅时，刚刚十点多钟。她将车开上一英里长的私家车道，向别墅驶去。当她开到一半，就可以透过树木看见那座房子了--那是一座用古老的石块搭建成的大房子，坐落在山腰上的树丛中。索菲原本猜想祖父可能已经睡下了，当她看到屋里还闪烁着灯光时非常兴奋。随即，她的兴奋之情又被惊异所取代，因为她看见车道上停满了汽车--奔驰、宝马、奥迪，还有罗尔斯。罗伊斯。
索菲瞧了瞧，忍不住笑出声来。我的祖父是著名的隐士！雅克。索尼埃这个隐士实在名不符实。显然，他趁索菲在校读书时在这里举行晚会，从车道上的车看来，一些巴黎名流也前来参加了。
索菲迫不及待地想给祖父一个惊喜，于是她急匆匆地来到前门。可是，前门却锁着。
她敲了敲，没人应答。她迷惑不解地转到后门，推了推，后门也锁着。没有人开门。
索菲不解地站在那里，竖起耳朵倾听周围的动静。她只听到诺曼底那凉飕飕的空气在山谷中回旋，发出低沉的呻吟。
没有音乐。
没有说话声。
什么声音也没有。
索菲急匆匆地赶到房子的侧面，爬上了一个木材堆，将脸紧紧地贴在客厅的窗户上。
她简直无法理解她所看到的景象。
"一个人也没有！"
整个一楼楼面都空荡荡的。
这些人都到哪里去了？
索菲的心怦怦直跳，她跑到柴房里，从引火柴底下取出祖父藏在那里的备用钥匙。她跑到前门，开锁进屋。当她走进空空如也的客厅时，安全系统控制板上的红灯闪烁了起来--那是在提醒来访者在十秒钟之内输入正确的密码，否则警报就会被拉响。
开晚会还用警报？
索菲迅速地键入了密码，不让警报拉响。
她再往里走，发现整幢房子，包括楼上，都空无一人。当她从楼上下来，回到空荡荡的客厅时，她默默地站了一会儿，思忖着这到底是怎么回事。
就在那时，索菲听见有声音传来。
沉闷的声音。那声音听上去是从索菲自己的脚下传来的。索菲大惑不解，趴在地板上，把耳朵紧紧地贴近地面。没错，声音就是从地下传来的。好像有人在唱歌或者……在唱赞歌？索菲觉得有点儿害怕。当她想起这幢房子并没有地下室的时候，更感到恐惧。
至少我没见有地下室。
索菲转身扫视了一下客厅，将目光锁定在那块皇宫挂毯上--那是祖父最喜爱的古董，但今天它是整幢房中唯一挪了位的东西。它原本是挂在火炉边的东墙上的，但今晚它却被拉到了挂竿的一边，把原本被挡住的墙壁暴露在外。
索菲朝那堵空白的木质墙壁走去，她感到赞歌的声音响了一些。她犹豫了一下，将耳朵贴近木墙。这下，声音变得很清晰。那些人一定是在唱赞歌……但索菲听不出曲调和歌词。
这堵墙后面有隔间！
索菲摸索着墙壁，发现了一个凹陷的、制作精致的扣指处。一扇滑门。索菲的心怦怦直跳，她将手指扣入那个小槽，移开了滑门。厚重的滑门悄无声息地向两侧移开了。赞歌在眼前的这一片黑暗中回响。
索菲闪进门内，站在了用石块搭建而成的盘旋而下的楼梯上。她小时候就常来别墅，可从来也不知道还有这么一个楼梯通道！
沿着楼梯，越往下走，空气就越凉，人声也越清晰。她现在可以分辨出那里面既有男人的声音，也有女人的声音。盘旋的楼梯挡住了她的部分视野，但她现在可以看到最后一级台阶了。台阶前，是地下室的一小块地面--石块铺就，被闪烁的橘红色火焰照得通亮。
索菲屏住呼吸，又向下走了几级台阶，俯身望去。好一阵子，她才明白过来自己看到了些什么。
地下室实际上是一个洞穴，是掏空了山坡上的岩体而形成的洞室。唯一的光源是墙上的火把。在那闪亮的火焰中，大约有三十个人围成圈，站在洞室的中间。
我是在做梦吧，索菲自语道。这难道不是一个梦吗？
洞室里的每个人都戴着面纱。女人们穿着白色的游丝长袍，穿着金黄色的鞋子。她们的面纱是白色的，她们手握着金黄色的宝珠。男人们则穿着黑色的及膝短袖衣，戴着黑色的面纱。他们看上去就像一个大棋盘上的棋子。他们前后晃动着身体，充满敬意地对身前地板上的一样东西唱着赞歌……索菲看不见那是什么东西。
赞歌的曲调舒缓了下来，接着又渐渐激昂起来，最后节奏加快，非常高亢。那些人向前迈了一步，跪倒在地。那一刻，索菲终于看到了他们注视的东西。在她吓得倒退几步的同时，那场景也永远留在了她的记忆中。她感到强烈的恶心，站起身来，抓着墙上的石块，顺着楼梯往回走。她拉上了滑门，逃离了空空的别墅，泪汪汪地驾车返回了巴黎。
那天晚上，她感到生活的理想由于亲人的背叛而被打碎了。她收拾了自己的东西，离开了家。她在餐桌上留下了一张纸条。
我去过那里了。不要来找我。
她把从别墅柴房里取出的那把陈旧的备用钥匙放在了纸条旁边。
"索菲！"兰登打断了她的回忆。"停车！停车！"
索菲这才回过神来，猛地踩下刹车，将车停了下来。"怎么了？发生什么事了？"
兰登指向前方那长长的街道。
索菲举目望去，心都凉了。前面一百码处，几辆警署的车斜堵在了十字路口，其意图显而易见。他们已经封住了加布里埃尔大街！
兰登板着脸，叹道。"看来今晚大使馆成了禁区了？"
街道尽头，站在车旁的警察们正注视着这个方向，他们显然发现了前方街道上有辆车突然停下，并对此产生了怀疑。
"好吧。"索菲慢慢地调转车头。
索菲向后倒了一下车，转了个弯，将车头调转过来。当她开动汽车时，听见后方传来轮胎摩擦地面发出的尖锐声响，警笛声大作。
"该死。"索菲踩下了油门。 |
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