《达芬奇密码》-------《The Da Vinci Code》中英文对照 （完结）_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《达芬奇密码》-------《The Da Vinci Code》中英文对照 （完结）

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Chapter  80
"Seat belts, please," Teabing's pilot announced as the Hawker 731 descended into a gloomymorning drizzle. "We'll be landing in five minutes."Teabing felt a joyous sense of homecoming when he saw the misty hills of Kent spreading widebeneath the descending plane. England was less than an hour from Paris, and yet a world away.
　　This morning, the damp, spring green of his homeland looked particularly welcoming. My time inFrance is over. I am returning to England victorious. The keystone has been found. The questionremained, of course, as to where the keystone would ultimately lead. Somewhere in the UnitedKingdom. Where exactly, Teabing had no idea, but he was already tasting the glory.
　　As Langdon and Sophie looked on, Teabing got up and went to the far side of the cabin, then slidaside a wall panel to reveal a discreetly hidden wall safe. He dialed in the combination, opened thesafe, and extracted two passports. "Documentation for Rémy and myself." He then removed a thickstack of fifty-pound notes. "And documentation for you two."Sophie looked leery. "A bribe?""Creative diplomacy. Executive airfields make certain allowances. A British customs official willgreet us at my hangar and ask to board the plane. Rather than permitting him to come on, I'll tellhim I'm traveling with a French celebrity who prefers that nobody knows she is in England—pressconsiderations, you know—and I'll offer the official this generous tip as gratitude for hisdiscretion."Langdon looked amazed. "And the official will accept?""Not from anyone, they won't, but these people all know me. I'm not an arms dealer, for heaven'ssake. I was knighted." Teabing smiled. "Membership has its privileges."Rémy approached up the aisle now, the Heckler Koch pistol cradled in his hand. "Sir, my agenda?"Teabing glanced at his servant. "I'm going to have you stay onboard with our guest until we return.
　　We can't very well drag him all over London with us."Sophie looked wary. "Leigh, I was serious about the French police finding your plane before wereturn."Teabing laughed. "Yes, imagine their surprise if they board and find Rémy."Sophie looked surprised by his cavalier attitude. "Leigh, you transported a bound hostage acrossinternational borders. This is serious.""So are my lawyers." He scowled toward the monk in the rear of the plane. "That animal broke intomy home and almost killed me. That is a fact, and Rémy will corroborate.""But you tied him up and flew him to London!" Langdon said.
　　Teabing held up his right hand and feigned a courtroom oath. "Your honor, forgive an eccentric oldknight his foolish prejudice for the British court system. I realize I should have called the Frenchauthorities, but I'm a snob and do not trust those laissez-faire French to prosecute properly. Thisman almost murdered me. Yes, I made a rash decision forcing my manservant to help me bring himto England, but I was under great stress. Mea culpa. Mea culpa."Langdon looked incredulous. "Coming from you, Leigh, that just might fly.""Sir?" the pilot called back. "The tower just radioed. They've got some kind of maintenanceproblem out near your hangar, and they're asking me to bring the plane directly to the terminalinstead."Teabing had been flying to Biggin Hill for over a decade, and this was a first. "Did they mentionwhat the problem is?""The controller was vague. Something about a gas leak at the pumping station? They asked me topark in front of the terminal and keep everyone onboard until further notice. Safety precaution.
　　We're not supposed to deplane until we get the all clear from airport authorities."Teabing was skeptical. Must be one hell of a gas leak. The pumping station was a good half milefrom his hangar.
　　Rémy also looked concerned. "Sir, this sounds highly irregular."Teabing turned to Sophie and Langdon. "My friends, I have an unpleasant suspicion that we areabout to be met by a welcoming committee."Langdon gave a bleak sigh. "I guess Fache still thinks I'm his man.""Either that," Sophie said, "or he is too deep into this to admit his error.
　　Teabing was not listening. Regardless of Fache's mind-set, action needed to be taken fast. Don'tlose sight of the ultimate goal. The Grail. We're so dose. Below them, the landing gear descendedwith a clunk.
　　"Leigh," Langdon said, sounding deeply remorseful, "I should turn myself in and sort this outlegally. Leave you all out of it.""Oh, heavens, Robert!" Teabing waved it off. "Do you really think they're going to let the rest of usgo? I just transported you illegally. Miss Neveu assisted in your escape from the Louvre, and wehave a man tied up in the back of the plane. Really now! We're all in this together.""Maybe a different airport?" Sophie said.
　　Teabing shook his head. "If we pull up now, by the time we get clearance anywhere else, ourwelcoming party will include army tanks."Sophie slumped.
　　Teabing sensed that if they were to have any chance of postponing confrontation with the Britishauthorities long enough to find the Grail, bold action had to be taken. "Give me a minute," he said,hobbling toward the cockpit.
　　"What are you doing?" Langdon asked.
　　"Sales meeting," Teabing said, wondering how much it would cost him to persuade his pilot toperform one highly irregular maneuver.
"请大家系好安全带。还有五分钟我们就要着陆了。提彬的飞机驾驶员大声宣布。此时"猎鹰者"731 正在下降，飞入清晨那细雨淅沥的灰蒙蒙的水雾里。
提彬看到，肯特郡雾蒙蒙的群山，正在不断往下降的飞机下面延伸开来。他心里自是充满了回家的喜悦。尽管乘飞机从巴黎到英格兰还用不了一个小时，然而毕竟隔了个世界。今天早上，他家乡那湿气逼人的春绿，看起来也格外的赏心悦目。我在法国的岁月已经结束了。我将回到我亲爱的英格兰，带着胜利的喜悦。拱心石找到了。当然喽，至于拱心石到底会把我们引向何方，这个问题仍没得到解决。也许是在英国的某个地方吧。究竟是什么地方，提彬还不知道，不过眼下，他正在品尝胜利的琼浆。
兰登与索菲在一边观望，提彬站起来，走到飞机座舱离他们很远的那一端，然后推开墙上的仪器板，露出了一个隐藏完好的保险柜。他输入暗码，打开保险柜，拿出两本护照。
"这是给我和雷米两人的。"然后他又拿出一大叠面值五十英镑的钞票。"还有两份是给你们两人的。"索菲一脸警惕的神色："你该不是想贿赂我们吧？"
"办事要灵活些嘛。比金山机场的工作人员会认你手中的钱。等我们一着陆，就会有英国海关官员到停机库招呼我们，还要上飞机来。我可不想让他进来，我会告诉他我在跟法国名人一道旅行呢。不过为避免媒体炒作起见，她不想让别人知道她在英格兰。你知道，作为感谢，我总要付一笔昂贵的小费给这位识相的官员。"兰登非常惊奇："那官员会收下这笔钱吗？"
"他们并不是逢人给钱都会收的，不过他们都认识我。看在上帝的份上，我又不是什么武器经销商。我是一位爵士。"他微微笑了笑："所以有格享受一些特权。"雷米此刻来到走廊，手中攥着德国黑克勒暨科赫公司生产的手熗。"阁下，我的日程表搁在哪儿呢？"
提彬瞥了仆人一眼："我要你和我的客人呆在飞机上等我们回来。我们现在还不能带他到伦敦各处乱跑。"索菲神色很是警惕："雷，我可是认真的，在我们回来之前，法国警方肯定会去找你的飞机的。"提彬朗声笑了起来："是啊，你想他们进得机去，看到雷米该有多吃惊吧！"
索菲对他的豪爽劲儿很是惊奇："雷爵士，你越境偷运了一名被你五花大绑的人质，这可不是小事一桩呐。""我的律师也这么认为。"他皱眉向机舱后面瞅了一眼："不过那畜生闯进我家，差一点把我杀了。那是无法否认的事实，雷米可以作证的。""可你把他捆住，又把他弄到伦敦来！"兰登突然插嘴。
提彬举起右手，仿佛是在法庭宣誓："阁下，请原谅一位古怪的老骑士对英国法庭制度愚蠢的偏见吧。我知道我本应报告法国当局，可我是个势利的人，我不相信你那些自由放任的法国人会做出公正的裁决。这人差点杀了我。是的，我强迫仆人帮我把他带到英格兰来，我的决定确实很草率，可是我的压力很大你知道吗？是我的错，都是我的错。"兰登不肯相信："压力来自你自己，雷，也许它刚刚离你而去了哩。"
"阁下。"驾驶员回头喊道："控制塔刚才发信号来，说在你停机库附近的路上出了些问题，所以他们叫我不要把飞机开往那里，而是直接飞往机场的航空集散站。"提彬架飞机来往比金山机场已经有十多年，然而还是第一次碰上这样的问题。"他们说了是什么问题没有？"
"调度员含糊其词，说大概油泵站泄漏了吧？他们要我把飞机停在航空集散站前，并说在没有得到进一步的通知之前，任何人都不能走下飞机，并说这是为了安全起见。只有等机场当局调查清楚后，我们才可以下机。"提彬半信半疑。去他妈的什么油泵泄漏，该不是里头有什么陷阱吧！油泵站离他的机库足足有半英里远呢。
雷米也很关心地说道："阁下，这似乎很不正常啊。"
提彬转身面对索菲与兰登两人："朋友们，我有一种不祥的预感，我怀疑前面有接机团欢迎我们呢。"兰登凄凉地哀叹一声："也许法希还将我当作是他那边的人呢。"
"要么如此。"索菲说："要么就是他太固执，不愿承认自己的错误。"
提彬没听他们说话。先别管他法希固执不固执，得马上采取措施。我们不能迷失最终的目标。我们离圣杯只剩一步之遥了。飞机在他们下面。"哐"的一声着陆了。
兰登一脸懊悔地说："雷爵士，我真该让警方把我抓起来，然后采用合法手段解决问题。我不该连累你们。""天哪，罗伯特！"提彬挥手打住："你真的以为他们会让其他人走吗？我把你带过来们已是同一条船上的人了。""也许这个机场不一样吧？"索菲说。
提彬摇了摇头："如果我们现在就停下来，那等我们在其他地方得到停机许可之前，接机的代表团就会开着坦克来接我们了。"索菲沮丧地倒在座位上。
提彬感到，如果他们要想推迟与英国当局产生冲突的时间，以便能争取时间找到圣杯，那他们就得大胆采取行动。"给我一点时间。"他说着，步履蹒跚地朝驾驶员座舱走去。
"你要干什么？"兰登问道。
"我得去参加个推销会议。"提彬说，他也不知道，要付出多大的代价，才能说服驾驶员去冒一次极不寻常的险。
    

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Chapter 81
The Hawker is on final approach.
　　Simon Edwards—Executive Services Officer at Biggin Hill Airport—paced the control tower,squinting nervously at the rain-drenched runway. He never appreciated being awoken early on aSaturday morning, but it was particularly distasteful that he had been called in to oversee the arrestof one of his most lucrative clients. Sir Leigh Teabing paid Biggin Hill not only for a privatehangar but a "per landing fee" for his frequent arrivals and departures. Usually, the airfield hadadvance warning of his schedule and was able to follow a strict protocol for his arrival. Teabingliked things just so. The custom-built Jaguar stretch limousine that he kept in his hangar was to befully gassed, polished, and the day's London Times laid out on the back seat. A customs officialwas to be waiting for the plane at the hangar to expedite the mandatory documentation and luggagecheck. Occasionally, customs agents accepted large tips from Teabing in exchange for turning ablind eye to the transport of harmless organics—mostly luxury foods—French escargots, aparticularly ripe unprocessed Roquefort, certain fruits. Many customs laws were absurd, anyway,and if Biggin Hill didn't accommodate its clients, certainly competing airfields would. Teabing wasprovided with what he wanted here at Biggin Hill, and the employees reaped the benefits.
　　Edwards's nerves felt frayed now as he watched the jet coming in. He wondered if Teabing'spenchant for spreading the wealth had gotten him in trouble somehow; the French authoritiesseemed very intent on containing him. Edwards had not yet been told what the charges were, butthey were obviously serious. At the French authorities' request, Kent police had ordered the BigginHill air traffic controller to radio the Hawker's pilot and order him directly to the terminal ratherthan to the client's hangar. The pilot had agreed, apparently believing the far-fetched story of a gasleak.
　　Though the British police did not generally carry weapons, the gravity of the situation had broughtout an armed response team. Now, eight policemen with handguns stood just inside the terminalbuilding, awaiting the moment when the plane's engines powered down. The instant this happened,a runway attendant would place safety wedges under the tires so the plane could no longer move.
　　Then the police would step into view and hold the occupants at bay until the French police arrivedto handle the situation.
　　The Hawker was low in the sky now, skimming the treetops to their right. Simon Edwards wentdownstairs to watch the landing from tarmac level. The Kent police were poised, just out of sight,and the maintenance man waited with his wedges. Out on the runway, the Hawker's nose tipped up,and the tires touched down in a puff of smoke. The plane settled in for deceleration, streaking fromright to left in front of the terminal, its white hull glistening in the wet weather. But rather thanbraking and turning into the terminal, the jet coasted calmly past the access lane and continued ontoward Teabing's hangar in the distance.
　　All the police spun and stared at Edwards. "I thought you said the pilot agreed to come to theterminal!"Edwards was bewildered. "He did!"Seconds later, Edwards found himself wedged in a police car racing across the tarmac toward thedistant hangar. The convoy of police was still a good five hundred yards away as Teabing's Hawkertaxied calmly into the private hangar and disappeared. When the cars finally arrived and skidded toa stop outside the gaping hangar door, the police poured out, guns drawn.
　　Edwards jumped out too.
　　The noise was deafening.
　　The Hawker's engines were still roaring as the jet finished its usual rotation inside the hangar,positioning itself nose-out in preparation for later departure. As the plane completed its 180-degreeturn and rolled toward the front of the hangar, Edwards could see the pilot's face, whichunderstandably looked surprised and fearful to see the barricade of police cars.
　　The pilot brought the plane to a final stop, and powered down the engines. The police streamed in,taking up positions around the jet. Edwards joined the Kent chief inspector, who moved warilytoward the hatch. After several seconds, the fuselage door popped open.
　　Leigh Teabing appeared in the doorway as the plane's electronic stairs smoothly dropped down. Ashe gazed out at the sea of weapons aimed at him, he propped himself on his crutches and scratchedhis head. "Simon, did I win the policemen's lottery while I was away?" He sounded morebewildered than concerned.
　　Simon Edwards stepped forward, swallowing the frog in his throat. "Good morning, sir. I apologizefor the confusion. We've had a gas leak and your pilot said he was coming to the terminal.""Yes, yes, well, I told him to come here instead. I'm late for an appointment. I pay for this hangar,and this rubbish about avoiding a gas leak sounded overcautious.""I'm afraid your arrival has taken us a bit off guard, sir.""I know. I'm off my schedule, I am. Between you and me, the new medication gives me the tinkles.
　　Thought I'd come over for a tune-up."The policemen all exchanged looks. Edwards winced. "Very good, sir.""Sir," the Kent chief inspector said, stepping forward. "I need to ask you to stay onboard foranother half hour or so."Teabing looked unamused as he hobbled down the stairs. "I'm afraid that is impossible. I have amedical appointment." He reached the tarmac. "I cannot afford to miss it."The chief inspector repositioned himself to block Teabing's progress away from the plane. "I amhere at the orders of the French Judicial Police. They claim you are transporting fugitives from thelaw on this plane."Teabing stared at the chief inspector a long moment, and then burst out laughing. "Is this one ofthose hidden camera programs? Jolly good!"The chief inspector never flinched. "This is serious, sir. The French police claim you also may havea hostage onboard."Teabing's manservant Rémy appeared in the doorway at the top of the stairs. "I feel like a hostageworking for Sir Leigh, but he assures me I am free to go." Rémy checked his watch. "Master, wereally are running late." He nodded toward the Jaguar stretch limousine in the far corner of thehangar. The enormous automobile was ebony with smoked glass and whitewall tires. "I'll bring thecar." Rémy started down the stairs.
　　"I'm afraid we cannot let you leave," the chief inspector said. "Please return to your aircraft. Bothof you. Representatives from the French police will be landing shortly."Teabing looked now toward Simon Edwards. "Simon, for heaven's sake, this is ridiculous! Wedon't have anyone else on board. Just the usual—Rémy, our pilot, and myself. Perhaps you couldact as an intermediary? Go have a look onboard, and verify that the plane is empty."Edwards knew he was trapped. "Yes, sir. I can have a look.""The devil you will!" the Kent chief inspector declared, apparently knowing enough aboutexecutive airfields to suspect Simon Edwards might well lie about the plane's occupants in an effortto keep Teabing's business at Biggin Hill. "I will look myself."Teabing shook his head. "No you won't, Inspector. This is private property and until you have asearch warrant, you will stay off my plane. I am offering you a reasonable option here. Mr.
　　Edwards can perform the inspection.""No deal."Teabing's demeanor turned frosty. "Inspector, I'm afraid I don't have time to indulge in your games.
　　I'm late, and I'm leaving. If it is that important to you to stop me, you'll just have to shoot me."With that, Teabing and Rémy walked around the chief inspector and headed across the hangartoward the parked limousine.
　　The Kent chief inspector felt only distaste for Leigh Teabing as the man hobbled around him indefiance. Men of privilege always felt like they were above the law.
　　They are not. The chief inspector turned and aimed at Teabing's back. "Stop! I will fire!""Go ahead," Teabing said without breaking stride or glancing back. "My lawyers will fricasseeyour testicles for breakfast. And if you dare board my plane without a warrant, your spleen willfollow."No stranger to power plays, the chief inspector was unimpressed. Technically, Teabing was correctand the police needed a warrant to board his jet, but because the flight had originated in France,and because the powerful Bezu Fache had given his authority, the Kent chief inspector felt certainhis career would be far better served by finding out what it was on this plane that Teabing seemedso intent on hiding.
　　"Stop them," the inspector ordered. "I'm searching the plane."His men raced over, guns leveled, and physically blocked Teabing and his servant from reachingthe limousine.
　　Now Teabing turned. "Inspector, this is your last warning. Do not even think of boarding thatplane. You will regret it."Ignoring the threat, the chief inspector gripped his sidearm and marched up the plane's gangway.
　　Arriving at the hatch, he peered inside. After a moment, he stepped into the cabin. What the devil?
　　With the exception of the frightened-looking pilot in the cockpit, the aircraft was empty. Entirelydevoid of human life. Quickly checking the bathroom, the chairs, and the luggage areas, theinspector found no traces of anyone hiding... much less multiple individuals.
　　What the hell was Bezu Fache thinking? It seemed Leigh Teabing had been telling the truth.
　　The Kent chief inspector stood alone in the deserted cabin and swallowed hard. Shit. His faceflushed, he stepped back onto the gangway, gazing across the hangar at Leigh Teabing and hisservant, who were now under gunpoint near the limousine. "Let them go," the inspector ordered.
　　"We received a bad tip."Teabing's eyes were menacing even across the hangar. "You can expect a call from my lawyers.
　　And for future reference, the French police cannot be trusted."With that, Teabing's manservant opened the door at the rear of the stretch limousine and helped hiscrippled master into the back seat. Then the servant walked the length of the car, climbed in behindthe wheel, and gunned the engine. Policemen scattered as the Jaguar peeled out of the hangar.
　　"Well played, my good man," Teabing chimed from the rear seat as the limousine accelerated outof the airport. He turned his eyes now to the dimly lit front recesses of the spacious interior.
　　"Everyone comfy?"Langdon gave a weak nod. He and Sophie were still crouched on the floor beside the bound andgagged albino.
　　Moments earlier, as the Hawker taxied into the deserted hangar, Rémy had popped the hatch as theplane jolted to a stop halfway through its turn. With the police closing in fast, Langdon and Sophiedragged the monk down the gangway to ground level and out of sight behind the limousine. Thenthe jet engines had roared again, rotating the plane and completing its turn as the police cars cameskidding into the hangar.
　　Now, as the limousine raced toward Kent, Langdon and Sophie clambered toward the rear of thelimo's long interior, leaving the monk bound on the floor. They settled onto the long seat facingTeabing. The Brit gave them both a roguish smile and opened the cabinet on the limo's bar. "CouldI offer you a drink? Some nibblies? Crisps? Nuts? Seltzer?"Sophie and Langdon both shook their heads.
　　Teabing grinned and closed the bar. "So then, about this knight's tomb..."
"猎鹰者"号飞机终于靠近机场了。
西蒙。爱德华兹，比金山机场负责接待工作的一名长官，在控制塔里走来走去，不时紧张地看着那被雨水浸湿的跑道。他从不喜欢周六早上一大早就被人叫醒，不过特别让他倒胃口的是，竟然叫他负责逮捕一位对他来说好处多多的客户。雷。提彬爵士不但为他租借的私人停机库付了比金山机场一大笔钱，而且每次在他驾机来去时，总要付给他们一笔"着陆费"。机场会将他的飞行日程提前通知他，这样，他来时就可以严格遵照商定的协议执行。
提彬对此很是赞赏。他停靠在停机库里的专门定做的"美洲虎"加长豪华车，总有人给它全部上光并擦拭一新，当天的《伦敦时报》也会有人放在他的车后座上。一位海关官员将在停机库等着他的到来，以方便对他的入境证明以及行李进行检查。这里的海关工作人员不时会从提彬那里得到大笔的小费，作为交换，他们对他从外地运来的无害有机化学物--其中多半是些奢侈食品，如法国食用蜗牛，特别是宜于食用但尚未加工的羊乳干酪，还有一些水果--睁一只眼闭一只眼。不管怎么说，某些海关法律条文本身就很荒谬，而如果比金山机场不给客户提供方便，那肯定会有其他机场来跟它抢生意。比金山机场满足了提彬的要求，也从他那里得到了回报。
爱德华兹看到那架飞机，全身的神经都紧绷起来。他不知道提彬乐善好施的品性是否已莫名其妙地使他陷入麻烦之中。法国当局似乎有意对他进行抵制。但还没人告诉他是因为什么罪名。不过，他们显然太认真了。肯特警方根据法国当局的要求，命令比金山机场的航班调度员用无线电通知"猎鹰者"号的驾驶员，命令他直接把飞机开到机场的航空集散站，而不是此客户的私人停机库。而这位驾驶员竟然也毫无异议，很明显他相信了八辈子也打不着的所谓泄漏事件。
尽管英国警方通常都不携带武器，然而形势的严峻迫使他们组织了一支全副武装的别动队。此刻，八名荷熗实弹的警察就站在机场候车室里，等待飞机的到来。等飞机一着陆，机场的工作人员就会跑过去，在飞机轮胎下面钉上楔子，这样飞机就不能动了。然后警察就会出动，机上的人员就会束手就擒，单等法国警方前来控制局面。
"猎鹰者"号此时已经离地面很近了，它的右舷飞速从树梢上掠过。西蒙。爱德华兹走下楼来，站在停机坪的水平线上注视着飞机的着陆。肯特警方已蓄势待发，只是目前隐藏起来而已。而那名维修工也已经拿着楔子在旁边等待。在跑道的外头。"猎鹰者"号的前端翘了起来，飞机的轮胎刚挨着地面，便冒出一股青烟。飞机逐渐减速，在航空集散站前从右往左地飞奔，它那银色的机身，在这寒冷的清晨，闪烁着冷冷的光。然而飞机并没停下驶入航空集散站，而是平静地沿着机场的跑道滑行，继续往远处提彬的私人停机库驶去。
所有的警察将爱德华兹团团围住，瞪着眼睛看着他："我们还以为驾驶员同意把飞机开到航空集散站来呢。"爱德华兹一脸茫然："他说过的呀。"
很快，爱德华兹被裹挟进警车里，然后警车穿过停机坪向远处的停机库疾驶而去。警察的车队还远在五百码以外，而提彬的"猎鹰者"号飞机已经平稳地滑进私人停机库里，消失了。所有的警车终于来到了停机库，并猛地在开着的门前停住，警察们拔出熗，从车里蜂拥而出。
爱德华兹也跳了出来。
声音震耳欲聋。
那架已经停在机库里的螺旋桨飞机虽然已经停止了旋转，但引擎还在发出震天动地的响声。"猎鹰者"号机身朝外准备再次起飞，飞机来了个180 度大转弯，然后摇晃着向停机库的前面驶去。爱德华兹看到了驾驶员的那张脸，他露出既惊讶又恐惧的神色。面对这么多警车的包围，有这样的反应是完全可以理解的。
驾驶员终于将飞机停了下来，并关小了引擎的声音。警察蜂拥而至，在飞机四周摆好了架势。爱德华兹跟着肯特警察局的检察官小心翼翼地向飞机的舱口走去。过了几秒钟，机舱的门"砰"的一声打开了。
雷。提彬出现在舱口，飞机的电动舷梯平稳地放了下来。他一边紧盯着外面数不清的对准他的熗，一边将身子倚靠在拐杖上。他搔了搔头，说："西蒙，我不在的时候，你是不是中了警察的六合彩票了？"他的语气里，更多的是迷茫，而不是关切。
爱德华兹走上前，他强咽下沁入喉中的雾水。"早上好，爵士，我为造成这样混乱的局面向你道歉。我们发生了泄漏事故，可你的驾驶员答应把飞机开到航空集散站去呢。""是的是的，不过是我让他到这里来。我有个约会要迟到了。我付了停机库的钱，但你们竟胡说什么是为避免油泵泄漏的事故起见，这未免太小心了吧。""爵士，恐怕这次你是趁我们没做准备就跑来的吧。"
"这我知道，我是没作此行安排。我觉得，你我之间的关系，真得用新药方来好好处理一下哩。我还以为我是到这里来休养的呢。"警察们彼此交换着眼色。爱德华兹眨了眨眼睛，说："很好，爵士。"
肯特郡的检察官走上前，说："恐怕你还得在飞机上再等半小时左右。"
提彬并不为之所动，他摇摇晃晃地走下舷梯："这不可能。我跟医生已经约好了。"他来到停机坪，说："如果失约我可担待不起。"
检察官再次挺身挡住了提彬的去路，不让他从飞机上下来。"我是奉法国警署之命而来的。他们说在你的飞机上藏有至今逍遥法外的逃犯。"提彬顶了肯特警察局的检察官很长一段时间，突然大笑起来："你该不是在玩什么暗箱游戏吧？太有意思啦！"检察官毫不退让："先生，我可是认真的。法国警方说你飞机上可能还藏有一名人质。"
仆人雷米出现在舷梯顶端的舱口。"我倒是很想找个人质给雷爵士干活呢，但他向我保证说我随时可以走。"雷米看看表。"先生，我们真的要迟到了。"他朝停机库很远的角落里那辆"美洲虎"加长高级轿车点了点头。这辆庞大的汽车全身漆黑，车窗玻璃呈灰黑色，轮胎是白色的。"我去把车开过来。"雷米开始向舷梯下走来。
"我们不能让你走。"检察官说道："你们两位还是请回吧。法国警方马上会来这里。"
提彬于是望着西蒙。爱德华兹："西蒙，看在上帝的份上，这太荒唐了吧！飞机上根本没其他人。跟往常一样，只有雷米、驾驶员和我三个人。或许你可以做中间人。你到飞机上去瞧瞧，看是否还有其他什么人。"爱德华兹觉得自己身不由己了。"好的，爵士，我去看看。"
"看你个头！"肯特警察局的长官高声叫嚷，很明显他对比金山机场的事早有所闻，所以他怀疑西蒙。爱德华兹可能会撒谎，以便能留住提彬这样的客户，继续与比金山机场交往。"我自己去。"
提彬摇摇头。"你不行的，长官。这可是私人财产。如果你没有搜查令，我看你还是乖乖地呆一边去吧。在此，我也给你一个总算说得过去的机会。我只允许爱德华兹先生到上面去查。""你想得倒美！"
提彬的表情顿时冷淡下来："长官，我想我没时间跟你玩什么把戏。我跟医生的预约已经迟到了，我得走了。如果你非要阻止，就朝我开熗吧。"提彬说着，便和雷米绕过这位长官，穿过停机库，向停靠在角落里的豪华轿车走去。
肯特警察局的长官望着提彬挑衅性地从他身边蹒跚而过，不禁对此人萌生一种说不出来的厌恶。来自特权阶层的人，总觉得自己能凌驾于法律之上。
但他们是不行的。那位长官转过身，瞄准了提彬的背："站住！否则我要开熗了。"
"那你就开吧。"提彬头也不回，继续大步流星向前走。"我的律师会一刀剁了你下面的家伙，煮熟当早饭吃。如果你没搜查证就跑到我的飞机上去，那你是活得不耐烦了。"装腔作势，吓唬谁呀。警察局的检察官对此无动于衷。尽管从正常的法律程序上讲，提彬是对的，警方要登上他的飞机，必须有证件才行，然而由于这次飞行的始发地是在法国，而且神通广大的贝祖。法希给了他这样的权力，所以肯特警察局的这位长官自信，如果他能在飞机上找到提彬似乎刻意隐藏的东西，那他今后的日子就好过多了。
"截住他们。"他大声命令道："我到飞机上去看看。"
他的下属即刻跑过去，拿熗瞄准了提彬和雷米，并用身体挡住了他们走向轿车的去路。
提彬回过头："长官，我可是最后一次警告你。要上我的飞机，你最好想都别想。不然的话，你会后悔的。"然而长官没有理会，他紧抓住扶手，朝飞机的舷梯上爬去。他来到舱口，往里面瞧了几眼。过了一会，他才走进机舱。他到底看到什么了？
只有那个驾驶员满脸恐惧地蜷缩在飞机的座舱里，除此以外，整架飞机都是空荡荡的，连个人影也没有。他快速的在浴室里、椅子中间以及行李区里搜查了一遍，却没有发现任何东西--更不用说有人了。
贝祖。法希上尉究竟在想些什么？雷。提彬似乎并没有撒谎呢。
这位肯特警察局的检察官孤零零地站在空旷的机舱里，拼命地咽下几口气。妈的！他红着脸回到舷梯口，目不转睛地看了对面的提彬与他的仆人几眼。此时，他俩站在豪华汽车的附近，正处在熗口的威胁之下。"放他们走。"长官命令道："我们接到错误的情报了。"
即使隔着那么远，提彬的那双眼睛仍然让人不寒而栗："我的律师会打电话找你的。另外就是，你们以后再也不要随便相信法国的警察了。"
提彬的仆人打开那辆加长豪华车的后门，扶着瘸腿的主人坐到车后的椅子上，接着走到车的前方，挨着车轮钻了进去，然后开动马达。警察们慌忙散开。"美洲虎"飞速地冲出了停机库。
"伙计，戏演的真棒！"等到轿车加快速度离开了机场，提彬在车后高兴的嚷嚷。他又掉转头，看着偌大的车里模糊不清的前方，问了一句："各位，感觉还舒服吧？"
兰登无力的点了点头。他和索菲还蜷缩在地上，那个被绑起来并被堵上嘴的白化病患者，此刻就躺在他们身旁。
早些时候，当"猎鹰者"号驶入空荡荡的停机库时，雷米在飞机中途转弯时还没等它停下来，就已经先把舱口打开了。在警察紧跟而来的那会儿，兰登与索菲一把将修道士拖下舷梯。很快躲到车子的后面，不见了。接着飞机的引擎声又惊天动地地响起来，等警车赶到停车库，飞机已经转了180 度的弯。
此刻，这辆豪华轿车正飞快的向肯特郡奔去，兰登和索菲爬到车后，将绑着的修道士撂在地上。他们找了一张面对着提彬的长椅坐下。那名英国佬狡黠的朝他们一笑，打开车内吧台的橱柜，冲他们说道："两位要不要喝点饮料，比如塞尔查矿泉水，或者吃点饼干、土豆片、果仁什么的？"
索菲和兰登一起摇头。
提彬咧嘴笑了笑，关上了橱柜："那好，那我们开始研究这骑士的坟墓吧……"
    
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Chapter 82
"Fleet Street?" Langdon asked, eyeing Teabing in the back of the limo. There's a crypt on FleetStreet? So far, Leigh was being playfully cagey about where he thought they would find the"knight's tomb," which, according to the poem, would provide the password for opening thesmaller cryptex.
　　Teabing grinned and turned to Sophie. "Miss Neveu, give the Harvard boy one more shot at theverse, will you?"Sophie fished in her pocket and pulled out the black cryptex, which was wrapped in the vellum.
　　Everyone had decided to leave the rosewood box and larger cryptex behind in the plane'sstrongbox, carrying with them only what they needed, the far more portable and discreet blackcryptex. Sophie unwrapped the vellum and handed the sheet to Langdon.
　　Although Langdon had read the poem several times onboard the jet, he had been unable to extractany specific location. Now, as he read the words again, he processed them slowly and carefully,hoping the pentametric rhythms would reveal a clearer meaning now that he was on the ground.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　His labor's fruit a Holy wrath incurred.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　The language seemed simple enough. There was a knight buried in London. A knight who laboredat something that angered the Church. A knight whose tomb was missing an orb that should bepresent. The poem's final reference—Rosy flesh and seeded womb—was a clear allusion to MaryMagdalene, the Rose who bore the seed of Jesus.
　　Despite the apparent straightforwardness of the verse, Langdon still had no idea who this knightwas or where he was buried. Moreover, once they located the tomb, it sounded as if they would besearching for something that was absent. The orb that ought be on his tomb?
　　"No thoughts?" Teabing clucked in disappointment, although Langdon sensed the Royal Historianwas enjoying being one up. "Miss Neveu?"She shook her head.
　　"What would you two do without me?" Teabing said. "Very well, I will walk you through it. It'squite simple really. The first line is the key. Would you read it please?"Langdon read aloud. " 'In London lies a knight a Pope interred.' ""Precisely. A knight a Pope interred." He eyed Langdon. "What does that mean to you?"Langdon shrugged. "A knight buried by a Pope? A knight whose funeral was presided over by aPope?"Teabing laughed loudly. "Oh, that's rich. Always the optimist, Robert. Look at the second line.
　　This knight obviously did something that incurred the Holy wrath of the Church. Think again.
　　Consider the dynamic between the Church and the Knights Templar. A knight a Pope interred?""A knight a Pope killed?" Sophie asked.
　　Teabing smiled and patted her knee. "Well done, my dear. A knight a Pope buried. Or killed."Langdon thought of the notorious Templar round-up in 1307—unlucky Friday thethirteenth—when Pope Clement killed and interred hundreds of Knights Templar. "But there mustbe endless graves of 'knights killed by Popes.' ""Aha, not so! "Teabing said. "Many of them were burned at the stake and tossed unceremoniouslyinto the Tiber River. But this poem refers to a tomb. A tomb in London. And there are few knightsburied in London." He paused, eyeing Langdon as if waiting for light to dawn. Finally he huffed.
　　"Robert, for heaven's sake! The church built in London by the Priory's military arm—the KnightsTemplar themselves!""The Temple Church?" Langdon drew a startled breath. "It has a crypt?""Ten of the most frightening tombs you will ever see."Langdon had never actually visited the Temple Church, although he'd come across numerousreferences in his Priory research. Once the epicenter of all Templar/Priory activities in the UnitedKingdom, the Temple Church had been so named in honor of Solomon's Temple, from which theKnights Templar had extracted their own title, as well as the Sangreal documents that gave them alltheir influence in Rome. Tales abounded of knights performing strange, secretive rituals within theTemple Church's unusual sanctuary. "The Temple Church is on Fleet Street?""Actually, it's just off Fleet Street on Inner Temple Lane." Teabing looked mischievous. "I wantedto see you sweat a little more before I gave it away.""Thanks.""Neither of you has ever been there?"Sophie and Langdon shook their heads.
　　"I'm not surprised," Teabing said. "The church is hidden now behind much larger buildings. Fewpeople even know it's there. Eerie old place. The architecture is pagan to the core."Sophie looked surprised. "Pagan?""Pantheonically pagan!" Teabing exclaimed. "The church is round. The Templars ignored thetraditional Christian cruciform layout and built a perfectly circular church in honor of the sun." Hiseyebrows did a devilish dance. "A not so subtle howdy-do to the boys in Rome. They might as wellhave resurrected Stonehenge in downtown London."Sophie eyed Teabing. "What about the rest of the poem?"The historian's mirthful air faded. "I'm not sure. It's puzzling. We will need to examine each of theten tombs carefully. With luck, one of them will have a conspicuously absent orb."Langdon realized how close they really were. If the missing orb revealed the password, they wouldbe able to open the second cryptex. He had a hard time imagining what they might find inside.
　　Langdon eyed the poem again. It was like some kind of primordial crossword puzzle. A five-letterword that speaks of the Grail? On the plane, they had already tried all the obviouspasswords—GRAIL, GRAAL, GREAL, VENUS, MARIA, JESUS, SARAH—but the cylinder hadnot budged. Far too obvious. Apparently there existed some other five-letter reference to the Rose'sseeded womb. The fact that the word was eluding a specialist like Leigh Teabing signified toLangdon that it was no ordinary Grail reference.
　　"Sir Leigh?" Rémy called over his shoulder. He was watching them in the rearview mirror throughthe open divider. "You said Fleet Street is near Blackfriars Bridge?""Yes, take Victoria Embankment.""I'm sorry. I'm not sure where that is. We usually go only to the hospital."Teabing rolled his eyes at Langdon and Sophie and grumbled, "I swear, sometimes it's like baby-sitting a child. One moment please. Help yourself to a drink and savory snacks." He left them,clambering awkwardly toward the open divider to talk to Rémy.
　　Sophie turned to Langdon now, her voice quiet. "Robert, nobody knows you and I are in England."Langdon realized she was right. The Kent police would tell Fache the plane was empty, and Fachewould have to assume they were still in France. We are invisible. Leigh's little stunt had just boughtthem a lot of time.
　　"Fache will not give up easily," Sophie said. "He has too much riding on this arrest now."Langdon had been trying not to think about Fache. Sophie had promised she would do everythingin her power to exonerate Langdon once this was over, but Langdon was starting to fear it mightnot matter. Fache could easily be pan of this plot. Although Langdon could not imagine theJudicial Police tangled up in the Holy Grail, he sensed too much coincidence tonight to disregardFache as a possible accomplice. Fache is religions, and he is intent on pinning these murders onme. Then again, Sophie had argued that Fache might simply be overzealous to make the arrest.
　　After all, the evidence against Langdon was substantial. In addition to Langdon's name scrawled onthe Louvre floor and in Saunière's date book, Langdon now appeared to have lied about hismanuscript and then run away. At Sophie's suggestion.
　　"Robert, I'm sorry you're so deeply involved," Sophie said, placing her hand on his knee. "But I'mvery glad you're here."The comment sounded more pragmatic than romantic, and yet Langdon felt an unexpected flickerof attraction between them. He gave her a tired smile. "I'm a lot more fun when I've slept."Sophie was silent for several seconds. "My grandfather asked me to trust you. I'm glad I listened tohim for once.""Your grandfather didn't even know me.""Even so, I can't help but think you've done everything he would have wanted. You helped me findthe keystone, explained the Sangreal, told me about the ritual in the basement." She paused.
　　"Somehow I feel closer to my grandfather tonight than I have in years. I know he would be happyabout that."In the distance, now, the skyline of London began to materialize through the dawn drizzle. Oncedominated by Big Ben and Tower Bridge, the horizon now bowed to the Millennium Eye—acolossal, ultramodern Ferris wheel that climbed five hundred feet and afforded breathtaking viewsof the city. Langdon had attempted to board it once, but the "viewing capsules" reminded him ofsealed sarcophagi, and he opted to keep his feet on the ground and enjoy the view from the airybanks of the Thames.
　　Langdon felt a squeeze on his knee, pulling him back, and Sophie's green eyes were on him. Herealized she had been speaking to him. "What do you think we should do with the Sangrealdocuments if we ever find them?" she whispered.
　　"What I think is immaterial," Langdon said. "Your grandfather gave the cryptex to you, and youshould do with it what your instinct tells you he would want done.""I'm asking for your opinion. You obviously wrote something in that manuscript that made mygrandfather trust your judgment. He scheduled a private meeting with you. That's rare.""Maybe he wanted to tell me I have it all wrong.""Why would he tell me to find you unless he liked your ideas? In your manuscript, did you supportthe idea that the Sangreal documents should be revealed or stay buried?""Neither. I made no judgment either way. The manuscript deals with the symbology of the sacredfeminine—tracing her iconography throughout history. I certainly didn't presume to know wherethe Grail is hidden or whether it should ever be revealed.""And yet you're writing a book about it, so you obviously feel the information should be shared.""There's an enormous difference between hypothetically discussing an alternate history of Christ,and..." He paused.
　　"And what?""And presenting to the world thousands of ancient documents as scientific evidence that the NewTestament is false testimony.""But you told me the New Testament is based on fabrications."Langdon smiled. "Sophie, every faith in the world is based on fabrication. That is the definition offaith—acceptance of that which we imagine to be true, that which we cannot prove. Every religiondescribes God through metaphor, allegory, and exaggeration, from the early Egyptians throughmodern Sunday school. Metaphors are a way to help our minds process the unprocessible. Theproblems arise when we begin to believe literally in our own metaphors.""So you are in favor of the Sangreal documents staying buried forever?""I'm a historian. I'm opposed to the destruction of documents, and I would love to see religiousscholars have more information to ponder the exceptional life of Jesus Christ.""You're arguing both sides of my question.""Am I? The Bible represents a fundamental guidepost for millions of people on the planet, in muchthe same way the Koran, Torah, and Pali Canon offer guidance to people of other religions. If youand I could dig up documentation that contradicted the holy stories of Islamic belief, Judaic belief,Buddhist belief, pagan belief, should we do that? Should we wave a flag and tell the Buddhists thatwe have proof the Buddha did not come from a lotus blossom? Or that Jesus was not born of aliteral virgin birth? Those who truly understand their faiths understand the stories aremetaphorical."Sophie looked skeptical. "My friends who are devout Christians definitely believe that Christliterally walked on water, literally turned water into wine, and was born of a literal virgin birth.""My point exactly," Langdon said. "Religious allegory has become a part of the fabric of reality.
　　And living in that reality helps millions of people cope and be better people.""But it appears their reality is false."Langdon chuckled. "No more false than that of a mathematical cryptographer who believes in theimaginary number 'i' because it helps her break codes."Sophie frowned. "That's not fair."A moment passed.
　　"What was your question again?" Langdon asked.
　　"I can't remember."He smiled. "Works every time."
"舰队街？"兰登在车后看着提彬，问道。舰队街藏有墓穴？迄今为止，雷爵士竟然还在耍他的把戏，对将在何处找到那"骑士的坟墓"只字不提。然而据那首诗上讲，要找到密码从而解开那更小密码盒里的谜，就非得找到这座"骑士的坟墓"不可。
提彬张嘴笑了笑，转身对索菲说："奈芙小姐，让这位哈佛大学的高材生再看看那首诗怎么样？"
索菲在口袋里翻了一阵，然后把用羊皮纸包着的黑色密码盒拿出来。大家一致决定将紫檀木盒子以及更大的密码盒搁在一边，放进飞机的保险箱里，只带上他们急需的、更轻便、更让人费脑筋的黑色密码盒。索菲摊开羊皮纸，将纸条递给了兰登。
兰登刚才虽然在飞机上已将这首诗读了好几遍，但他还是未能想出坟墓的具体位置。
这回他又在读着那些诗句，缓慢而又认真地，希望能从五步抑扬格的节奏里找到更为明晰的意义--既然现在，他们已从天空来到了坚实的土地。
诗是这样写的：在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
他的行为触怒了上帝，因为违背了他的旨意。
你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。
它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。
诗的语言似乎简洁明了，说是有一位骑士葬在伦敦，这位骑士大概做了什么事情触怒了天主教会。一个本该在他的坟墓里的圆球不见了。诗在最后提到了"玫瑰般肌肤与受孕的子宫"，显然是指抹大拉的玛丽亚--这朵怀上耶稣基督种的"玫瑰"。
尽管诗歌简单明了，兰登依然不知道这位骑士是谁，葬在哪里。而且一旦确定了坟墓的位置，他们似乎就得寻找什么遗失的东西。那个本该在坟墓里的圆球？
"有什么想法吗？"提彬咂着嘴巴，说。他似乎有些失望，尽管兰登觉得这位皇家学会的历史学家正为自己有了想法而高兴不已。提彬转而问："奈芙小姐，你呢？"
她摇了摇头。
"那你们两个如果没了我，可怎么办啊？"提彬打趣地说："很好，我会陪你们一路玩到底的。其实说来非常简单，第一句就是关键。你读读看怎么样？"
兰登朗声读起来："在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
"很好，一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"他盯着兰登："你认为这是什么意思？"
兰登耸了耸肩："是不是这位骑士是由教皇来埋葬他的？或者是他的葬礼是由教皇来主持的？"
提彬大声笑了起来："哈，真有意思。罗伯特，你总是个乐观主义者。你再看下句。这位骑士很明显做了什么事情触犯了教会的神威。你再想想，考虑一下教会与圣殿骑士之间的关系。你就会明白它的含义。""难道骑士是被教皇处死的？"索菲问道。
提彬微笑着拍拍她的膝盖："亲爱的，你真棒。一位被教皇活埋的骑士，或者是被教皇杀死的骑士。"兰登猛地想起发生在1307 年的那次臭名昭著的围剿圣殿骑士的事件--在那个充满不祥气氛的第十三日，黑色星期五，教皇克雷芒杀害并活埋了成百上千的圣殿骑士。"不过，肯定有无数被教皇杀害的骑士们的坟墓。
"哦，不对不对。"提彬赶忙说道："他们大多数人是被绑在刑柱上烧死的，然后被扔进台伯河，连个仪式也没有。然而这首诗指的是一个坟墓，一个位于伦敦的坟墓，不过在伦敦，很少有骑士是被烧死的啊。"他顿了顿，盯视着兰登，一动也不动，就像在盼着曙光盼着黎明。他终于愤怒了："罗伯特，看在上帝的份上，它就在由郇山隐修会的军队--圣殿骑士们亲自建造于伦敦的教堂里啊！""你是说圣殿教堂？"兰登吃了一惊，不由得倒抽了一口气："它那里有坟墓？"
"当然，在那里，你会看到十个最让你触目惊心的坟墓。"
实际上，兰登从没去过圣殿教堂，尽管他在研究郇山隐修会的过程中，曾无数次参考过有关它的资料。圣殿教堂曾是所有圣殿骑士们和郇山隐修会的活动中心，是为了向所罗门的圣庙表示敬意。圣殿骑士们的头衔，就是这座教堂赐封的。另外，《圣杯文献》也使他们在罗马产生了巨大的影响。有关骑士在圣殿教堂别具一格的礼拜堂里举行神秘而又奇异仪式的传说铺天盖地，层出不穷。
"圣殿教堂位于舰队街？"
"实际上，它就在离圣殿教堂内通道上的舰队街不远的地方。"提彬俏皮地说："我本不打算告诉你，想让你流更多的汗水，费更多的脑筋。""有劳费心了。"
"你俩都没去过那里？"
兰登和索菲都摇了摇头。
"我并不觉得奇怪，教堂现隐藏在比它大得多的建筑物后面。甚至很少有人知道它在那里。那真是阴森可怕的地方。教堂从里到外，都带有异教的建筑色彩。"索菲惊讶地问："带有异教的建筑色彩？"
"绝对是异教徒的建筑风格！"提彬大声说道："教堂的外形呈圆形。圣殿骑士们为了表达对太阳的敬意，抛弃了传统的基督教十字形的建筑布局和模式，建造了这座完全呈圆形的教堂。"他的眉毛狠狠的跳动了一下。"这就触动了罗马教廷的僧侣们敏感的神经。这与他们在伦敦市区复兴史前巨石柱的异教风格，也许没什么区别。"索菲瞄了提彬一眼："那诗的其余部分呢？"
这位皇家历史学家的高兴劲儿逐渐消失了。"我也说不准。这真让人为难。我们还得对那十座坟墓逐一认真检查呢。如果运气好，也许就会找到那座一眼就知道没有圆球的坟墓。"兰登意识到他们现在离目标有多近了。如果那个失踪的圆球会泄露他们要找的密码，那他们就可以打开第二个密码盒。他费了很大的劲，想象着他们会在里面发现什么。
兰登又开始读起子那首诗。它有点类似于原始的纵横字谜游戏。一个能揭开圣杯的秘密，由五个字母组成的词？在飞机上，他们已试过所有明显由五个字母组成的词，如GRAIL，GRAAL，GREAL，VENUS，MARIA，JESUS，SARAH 等等。这些词太明显了，显然还有其他一些由五个字母组成并与这朵圣洁"玫瑰"的子宫有关联的词。即使雷。提彬这样的专家也不能一下找到，对兰登来说，这就意味着它绝不是一个普通的词。
"雷爵士！"雷米回头喊道。他正通过敞开的隔离间，从车上的后视镜注视着他们。"你是说舰队街就在布莱克弗莱尔桥附近？"
"对，要经过维多利亚大堤。"
"对不起，我不知道是在哪里。我们平时只去医院。"
提彬朝兰登和索菲滚动着眼珠子："妈的，有时候我真觉得是在带一个小孩子。你们稍等一会。自己动手喝点饮料，吃点零食吧。"他站起身，笨拙的爬到敞开着的隔离间，去跟雷米说话。
索菲转向兰登，轻轻地说："罗伯特，现在无人知道我们在英格兰呢。"
兰登知道她说的是实话。肯特郡的警察局肯定会告诉法希，飞机里什么东西也没有，因此法希难免会以为他们还没离开法国。我们现在在暗处呢。不过，雷爵士玩弄的把戏却浪费了他们大量的时间。
"法希是决不会轻易放弃的。"索菲说道："他这次是铁了心，非要把我们抓住，才肯罢休。"兰登一直不愿考虑有关法希的事情。尽管索菲曾答应过他，说等这件事办完，她将尽最大的努力，采取一切补救措施为他开脱罪责。然而他开始担心，这样做恐怕无济于事。
法希说不定能轻易成为这次阴谋中的一部分哩。尽管兰登无法想象，警察署竟然会在处理圣杯这事情上乱成一团，但他还是觉得，今天晚上的巧合实在是太多子。因此，他没法不将法希视作隐藏在背后的帮凶。法希是名教徒，然而他却蓄意将谋杀的一系列罪名栽赃到我的头上。还有就是，索菲曾说过，法希也许对这次追捕显得有点热心过头了。然而不管怎样，眼下对兰登不利的证据实在太多了，除了卢浮宫里的地板上、索尼埃的日志里歪歪斜斜地写有他的名字外，这次兰登似乎再次撒了个弥天大谎，然后逃之夭夭。这还是索菲在提醒他呢。
"罗伯特，我很抱歉把你牵扯进来，而且让你陷得这么深。"索菲说着，把手搭在他的膝盖上。"可有你在身边我真的很高兴。"
她的话绝非夸大其词，而纯粹是肺腑之言，然而兰登还是觉得陡然生出几分意想不到的亲近来。他疲惫地给了她一个微笑："等我睡了觉，你会发现我更有意思哩。"
索菲沉默了数秒："我祖父叫我相信你，我很高兴好歹听了他一次。"
"可你祖父甚至还不认识我呢。"
"即使是这样，我也认为你做了他想让你做的一切。你帮我找到了拱心石，给我讲述圣杯的来历，又跟我谈了地下室里的"神婚"仪式。"她停了片刻："不管怎么说，我觉得今晚比以前任何时候跟祖父都靠得近了。我想他老人家肯定会很高兴的。"透过清晨的蒙蒙细雨，远处的伦敦开始隐约可见。以前，伦敦最引人注目的是大笨钟与塔桥，然而现在被抢眼的"千禧眼"所取代了，它是一个硕大而前卫的费里斯大转轮，有五百英尺高，形成了这座城市又一令人叹为观止的景观。兰登曾想爬上去坐坐，但这些观光舱，使他联想到密封起来的肉罐头，因此他最终选择留在了地上，欣赏这泰晤士河水汽氤氲的堤岸两边的无限风光。
兰登忽然觉得有人掐了他膝盖一把，将他往后拖。等他回过头，索菲的绿眼睛正逼视着他。他这才知道，原来索菲一直不停地在跟他说话。"如果我们找到《圣杯文献》，你看该如何处置呢？"她轻声地说。
"我有什么想法并不重要。你祖父把密码盒给了你，你会处理好的。因为直觉告诉你，你祖父会让你这么做的。""我在征求你的意见呢。你显然在书稿里写了什么东西，使我祖父相信你的判断，所以他才打算私下里跟你见面。这很不简单啊。""也许他想跟我说，你把东西全弄错了。"
"要是他不欣赏你的观点，他又何必让我来找你？你在书稿里是赞成将《圣杯文献》公开呢，还是将它藏起来？"
"哪方面我都没有说。我在文稿中谈到神圣女性的象征意义，回顾了它被人崇拜的整部历史。我当然不能武断地说，我知道圣杯藏在哪，应不应该将它公布于天下。""可你在写一本有关它的书呢，所以你显然觉得应该共享有关它的材料。"
"无中生有地讨论耶稣基督的另一番历史跟--"他暂停了一会。
"跟什么？"
"跟把成千上万份古代文献公布于世，并以此作为《新约》是虚假的科学依据，这之间还是有很大的差别。""可你告诉我《新约》是杜撰出来的呢。"
兰登笑了笑："索菲，要我说世界上所有的宗教信仰都是建立在虚构的基础上的。这就是我对宗教信仰的定义--即相信我们想象的真实，盲从我们无法证明的东西。无论是古埃及人还是当代宗教，都是通过隐喻、寓言以及夸张的方式来描绘他们心目中的神或上帝。隐喻是这样一种方式，它可以帮助我们加工原本无法处理的东西。等我们开始完全相信自己为自己编造的隐喻时，问题也就出来了。""所以你赞成将《圣杯文献》永远地隐藏起来？"
"我是历史学家，我反对任何人损坏这些文献，而且我很乐意看到研究宗教的学者们，有更多的历史材料去探索耶稣基督非同寻常的人生。""你对我问题的两个方面都提出了反驳呢。"
"是吗？《圣经》给居住在这个星球上成千上万的人们设置了一个最根本的路标，《可兰经》、《犹太律法》，还有《巴利教规》，也以完全相同的方式，给信仰其它宗教的许多人指点了迷津。假如你我能找到一些与伊斯兰教、犹太教、佛教以及异教的传说相背离的材料，我们会那样做吗？我们会挥舞着手中的旗帜，对那些佛教徒说，我们能证明佛主不是从莲花里生出来的吗？或者告诉那些基督徒，耶稣不是真从处女的子宫里孕育出来的吗？
那些真正理解自身信仰的人，通常也知道这些故事传说是隐喻性的。"索菲半信半疑："我那些虔诚的基督徒朋友相信基督真能在水上行走，能够将水变成真的美酒，并且相信他果真是处女生的。""这完全印证了我的观点。"兰登说道："宗教性的隐喻成了对现实进行虚构的一部分。
而在现实里，又有助于芸芸众生从容应对，完善自我。""但是，他们面对的现实是虚假的现实。"
兰登咯咯地笑了起来："不过，再怎么虚假，总比一位对臆想的数字"i"深信不疑的密码破译专家要来得真实些吧？！因为她竟然相信，这会有助于她破译密码。"索菲皱起了眉："你这么说是不公平的。"
两人沉默了一会。
"你刚才还问了什么问题来着？"兰登突然问。
"我不记得了。"
兰登笑了起来："你可真行啊。"    
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Chapter 83
Langdon's Mickey Mouse wristwatch read almost seven-thirty when he emerged from the Jaguarlimousine onto Inner Temple Lane with Sophie and Teabing. The threesome wound through amaze of buildings to a small courtyard outside the Temple Church. The rough-hewn stoneshimmered in the rain, and doves cooed in the architecture overhead.
　　London's ancient Temple Church was constructed entirely of Caen stone. A dramatic, circularedifice with a daunting facade, a central turret, and a protruding nave off one side, the churchlooked more like a military stronghold than a place of worship. Consecrated on the tenth ofFebruary in 1185 by Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, the Temple Church survived eight centuriesof political turmoil, the Great Fire of London, and the First World War, only to be heavily damagedby Luftwaffe incendiary bombs in 1940. After the war, it was restored to its original, starkgrandeur.
　　The simplicity of the circle, Langdon thought, admiring the building for the first time. Thearchitecture was coarse and simple, more reminiscent of Rome's rugged Castel Sant'Angelo thanthe refined Pantheon. The boxy annex jutting out to the right was an unfortunate eyesore, althoughit did little to shroud the original pagan shape of the primary structure.
　　"It's early on a Saturday," Teabing said, hobbling toward the entrance, "so I'm assuming we won'thave services to deal with."The church's entryway was a recessed stone niche inside which stood a large wooden door. To theleft of the door, looking entirely out of place, hung a bulletin board covered with concert schedulesand religious service announcements.
　　Teabing frowned as he read the board. "They don't open to sightseers for another couple of hours."He moved to the door and tried it. The door didn't budge. Putting his ear to the wood, he listened.
　　After a moment, he pulled back, a scheming look on his face as he pointed to the bulletin board.
　　"Robert, check the service schedule, will you? Who is presiding this week?"Inside the church, an altar boy was almost finished vacuuming the communion kneelers when heheard a knocking on the sanctuary door. He ignored it. Father Harvey Knowles had his own keysand was not due for another couple of hours. The knocking was probably a curious tourist orindigent. The altar boy kept vacuuming, but the knocking continued. Can't you read? The sign onthe door clearly stated that the church did not open until nine-thirty on Saturday. The altar boyremained with his chores.
　　Suddenly, the knocking turned to a forceful banging, as if someone were hitting the door with ametal rod. The young man switched off his vacuum cleaner and marched angrily toward the door.
　　Unlatching it from within, he swung it open. Three people stood in the entryway. Tourists, hegrumbled. "We open at nine-thirty."The heavyset man, apparently the leader, stepped forward using metal crutches. "I am Sir LeighTeabing," he said, his accent a highbrow, Saxonesque British. "As you are no doubt aware, I amescorting Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Wren the Fourth." He stepped aside, flourishing his arm towardthe attractive couple behind them. The woman was soft-featured, with lush burgundy hair. The manwas tall, dark-haired, and looked vaguely familiar.
　　The altar boy had no idea how to respond. Sir Christopher Wren was the Temple Church's mostfamous benefactor. He had made possible all the restorations following damage caused by theGreat Fire. He had also been dead since the early eighteenth century. "Um... an honor to meetyou?"The man on crutches frowned. "Good thing you're not in sales, young man, you're not veryconvincing. Where is Father Knowles?""It's Saturday. He's not due in until later."The crippled man's scowl deepened. "There's gratitude. He assured us he would be here, but itlooks like we'll do it without him. It won't take long."The altar boy remained blocking the doorway. "I'm sorry, what won't take long?"The visitor's eyes sharpened now, and he leaned forward whispering as if to save everyone someembarrassment. "Young man, apparently you are new here. Every year Sir Christopher Wren'sdescendants bring a pinch of the old man's ashes to scatter in the Temple sanctuary. It is part of hislast will and testament. Nobody is particularly happy about making the trip, but what can we do?"The altar boy had been here a couple of years but had never heard of this custom. "It would bebetter if you waited until nine-thirty. The church isn't open yet, and I'm not finished hoovering."The man on crutches glared angrily. "Young man, the only reason there's anything left of thisbuilding for you to hoover is on account of the gentleman in that woman's pocket.""I'm sorry?""Mrs. Wren," the man on crutches said, "would you be so kind as to show this impertinent youngman the reliquary of ashes?"The woman hesitated a moment and then, as if awaking from a trance, reached in her sweaterpocket and pulled out a small cylinder wrapped in protective fabric.
　　"There, you see?" the man on crutches snapped. "Now, you can either grant his dying wish and letus sprinkle his ashes in the sanctuary, or I tell Father Knowles how we've been treated."The altar boy hesitated, well acquainted with Father Knowles' deep observance of churchtradition... and, more importantly, with his foul temper when anything cast this time-honoredshrine in anything but favorable light. Maybe Father Knowles had simply forgotten these familymembers were coming. If so, then there was far more risk in turning them away than in lettingthem in. After all, they said it would only take a minute. What harm could it do?
　　When the altar boy stepped aside to let the three people pass, he could have sworn Mr. and Mrs.
　　Wren looked just as bewildered by all of this as he was. Uncertain, the boy returned to his chores,watching them out of the corner of his eye.
　　Langdon had to smile as the threesome moved deeper into the church.
　　"Leigh," he whispered, "you lie entirely too well."Teabing's eyes twinkled. "Oxford Theatre Club. They still talk of my Julius Caesar. I'm certainnobody has ever performed the first scene of Act Three with more dedication."Langdon glanced over. "I thought Caesar was dead in that scene."Teabing smirked. "Yes, but my toga tore open when I fell, and I had to lie on stage for half an hourwith my todger hanging out. Even so, I never moved a muscle. I was brilliant, I tell you."Langdon cringed. Sorry I missed it.
　　As the group moved through the rectangular annex toward the archway leading into the mainchurch, Langdon was surprised by the barren austerity. Although the altar layout resembled that ofa linear Christian chapel, the furnishings were stark and cold, bearing none of the traditionalornamentation. "Bleak," he whispered.
　　Teabing chuckled. "Church of England. Anglicans drink their religion straight. Nothing to distractfrom their misery."Sophie motioned through the vast opening that gave way to the circular section of the church. "Itlooks like a fortress in there," she whispered.
　　Langdon agreed. Even from here, the walls looked unusually robust.
　　"The Knights Templar were warriors," Teabing reminded, the sound of his aluminum crutchesechoing in this reverberant space. "A religio-military society. Their churches were theirstrongholds and their banks.""Banks?" Sophie asked, glancing at Leigh.
　　"Heavens, yes. The Templars invented the concept of modern banking. For European nobility,traveling with gold was perilous, so the Templars allowed nobles to deposit gold in their nearestTemple Church and then draw it from any other Temple Church across Europe. All they neededwas proper documentation." He winked. "And a small commission. They were the original ATMs."Teabing pointed toward a stained-glass window where the breaking sun was refracting through awhite-clad knight riding a rose-colored horse. "Alanus Marcel," Teabing said, "Master of theTemple in the early twelve hundreds. He and his successors actually held the Parliamentary chairof Primus Baro Angiae."Langdon was surprised. "First Baron of the Realm?"Teabing nodded. "The Master of the Temple, some claim, held more influence than the kinghimself." As they arrived outside the circular chamber, Teabing shot a glance over his shoulder atthe altar boy, who was vacuuming in the distance. "You know," Teabing whispered to Sophie, "theHoly Grail is said to once have been stored in this church overnight while the Templars moved itfrom one hiding place to another. Can you imagine the four chests of Sangreal documents sittingright here with Mary Magdalene's sarcophagus? It gives me gooseflesh."Langdon was feeling gooseflesh too as they stepped into the circular chamber. His eye traced thecurvature of the chamber's pale stone perimeter, taking in the carvings of gargoyles, demons,monsters, and pained human faces, all staring inward. Beneath the carvings, a single stone pewcurled around the entire circumference of the room.
　　"Theater in the round," Langdon whispered.
　　Teabing raised a crutch, pointing toward the far left of the room and then to the far right. Langdonhad already seen them.
　　Ten stone knights.
　　Five on the left. Five on the right.
　　Lying prone on the floor, the carved, life-sized figures rested in peaceful poses. The knights weredepicted wearing full armor, shields, and swords, and the tombs gave Langdon the uneasysensation that someone had snuck in and poured plaster over the knights while they were sleeping.
　　All of the figures were deeply weathered, and yet each was clearly unique—different armorypieces, distinct leg and arm positions, facial features, and markings on their shields.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　Langdon felt shaky as he inched deeper into the circular room.
　　This had to be the place.
兰登和索菲、提彬三人从"美洲虎"豪华车里钻出来，走到圣殿教堂内通道，他注意到他手腕上的"米奇老鼠"牌手表显示将近七点半了。这三人，犹如在迷宫里行走一般，他们绕过许多建筑物，才来到圣殿教堂外面的小院里。那粗糙的石头，在雨中泛着青光，一群鸽子，在他们头顶的建筑里"咕咕"地歌唱。
伦敦古老的圣殿教堂全部是用法国卡昂地区出产的石头建造的。这是一幢引人注目的圆形建筑，有着撼人心魄的华美外表，中间一座塔楼，塔楼的旁边有个突出来的正殿，教堂看起来不像是供众人崇拜的地方，倒像是一个军事据点。耶路撒冷大主教赫拉克利乌斯曾于1185 年2 月10 日献祭与此，从此，圣殿教堂经历了八百多年政治斗争的风风雨雨，其中历经了伦敦大火灾，第一次世界大战。只是到了1940 年，它才严重被损于德国纳粹空军投放的燃烧弹。战争结束后，它又恢复了原来的模样，重现了昔日的辉煌。
循环往复，如此而已。兰登想，平生第一次对建筑物仰慕起来。这幢建筑显得既粗犷又朴素，更容易使人想起罗马的圣安杰罗城堡，而不是造型精美的希腊帕特农神庙。不过，不幸的是，那矮而窄的、向右面延伸出来的附属建筑物却令人觉得十分别扭，尽管它在企图掩饰其原始建筑的异教建筑风格上并没起到多大的作用。
"今天星期六，我们是来早了点。"提彬摇摇晃晃地走到大门前："所以我想现在什么事情都不用做了。"教堂的入口处是一块凹进去的石头，里面嵌着一扇巨大的木门。在木门的左边，看起来完全不协调地挂着一块公告牌，上面写满了音乐会的日程安排以及宗教仪式的通知。提彬读着公告牌上的告示，眉头紧皱起来："他们要再过两个小时才向游客开放哩。"他走到门前，试着想把它打开，然而那扇门却纹丝不动。于是他把耳朵贴在木板上倾听。过了一会，他抽身走了回来，一脸诡秘的神色，他指着公告牌说："罗伯特，你去查查宗教仪式的日程安排，行么？这个星期由谁来主持仪式的呢？"
在教堂里面，一位祭台助手用吸尘器差不多将所有祭祀用的坐垫上的灰尘吸完，这时他听到有人在敲礼拜堂的门。他充耳不闻，不加理会。哈维。诺尔斯神父自己有钥匙，再说还要等两个小时才能开门呢。敲门的人可能是位好奇的游客，或者是个穷人吧。祭台助手继续用吸尘器吸坐垫里的灰尘，然而敲门声依然不断。难道你不识字？门上不是清清楚楚地写着星期六教堂要到九点半才开门吗？祭台助手依旧忙着干他的事情。
突然，敲门声变成了沉重的撞击声，仿佛有人在用铁棒砸门。这名年轻人关掉吸尘器，怒气冲冲地朝门口奔去。他从里头一把将门"哐"的拉开，看到三人站在门外。是游客吧？他咕哝着说："我们九点半才开门哩。"
那个身材矮胖的男人，很明显是他们里头的领军人物，他拄着拐杖走上前来，说："我是雷。提彬爵士。"听他的口音，倒像是一位颇有身份的正宗英国人。"你肯定知道，我是陪克里斯托夫。雷恩四世及其夫人一道来的。"他走到一边，夸张地朝站在他们背后的那对模样俊秀的夫妇挥了挥手。女人看上去很温和，长着一头茂密的暗红色头发。男人个子挺拔，黑色头发，看上去似乎有点眼熟。
那名祭台助手一时不知如何应付。克里斯托夫。雷恩爵士是圣殿教堂最有名望的赞助者，在圣殿教堂遭受伦敦大火灾的侵袭后，他曾采取了所有的修复措施。不过他早在18世纪初期就已经去世了。"嗯……能有幸认识你吗？"
拄拐杖的男人皱着眉头："还算你识相，不过年轻人，你好像不太相信我们啊。诺尔斯神父呢？"
"今天星期六，他要等会儿才来。"
这位行动有些不便的男人更加不高兴了："就这样向我们表示感谢呐。他向我们保证，说会在这里等我们哩。看来我们只好不管他了。何况我们也不会呆上很久。"
祭台助手仍然将身子堵在门口："对不起，你说什么呆不上多久？"
这位客人的眼神一下子尖锐起来，他俯身向前，低声说着话，似乎是为了避免让大家尴尬。"年轻人，很显然，你是新来的吧？克里斯托夫。雷恩爵士的后代每年都会带一些他老人家的骨灰，撒在圣殿教堂里的内殿里。这是他临终的遗愿。没有谁特别喜欢到这个地方来，但我们又有什么办法呢？"祭台助手在这里呆了数年，但还是第一次听说有这回事。"你们还是等到九点半再说吧。教堂门还没开，再说我还没打扫干净呢。"拄拐杖的人怒视着他："年轻人，要说这房子里还有什么东西用得上你的吸尘器的话，那就是放在这位女土袋子里的他老人家的骨灰了。""难道我应该对你说对不起吗？"
"雷恩夫人。"拄拐杖的人说："你能不能把骨灰盒拿出来，给这位粗鲁的年轻人瞧瞧？"
女人犹豫了一会，然后，似乎是刚从梦里醒来，她把手伸进背心口袋，取出了一个小小的、外面包了一层布的圆柱体。
"喏，你看啊。"拄拐杖的男人喝道："现在，你要么成全他老人家的遗愿，让我们把他的骨灰撒在礼拜堂里，要不然我们就去告诉诺尔斯神父。"祭台助手犹豫起来，他深知诺尔斯神父一向严格要求大家遵守教堂的规矩；而且，更重要的是，他也深知神父的臭脾气。万一怠慢了这座历史悠久的神龛，他可吃罪不起。诺尔斯神父也许只是把这些家族成员要来的事情给忘了。如果是这样，那将他们赶走，肯定要比让他们进来冒的风险还大。不管怎样，他们说不用很长时间。那么让他们进来，又有多大的害处呢？
祭台助手走到一边，让这三人进来时，他敢说雷恩夫妇面对眼前的情景，神情如他一样的茫然。他不安地望着他们走出了他的视线，然后回去继续干他的杂活。
当三人来到教堂深处，兰登勉强地笑了笑。"雷爵士。"他压低嗓门说："你真会撒谎啊。"
提彬双眼闪烁："别忘了我是牛津剧院俱乐部的成员。他们至今还在谈论我扮演的裘利斯。恺撒一角呢。我敢肯定，还没有哪位演员能比我更尽心尽力地表演此剧第三场的第三幕哩。"兰登回头瞥了他一眼："我还以为，恺撒是在那一场就死去了呢。"
提彬得意地笑起来："是的，可我摔倒时长袍被撕开了。这样，我不得不脚尖朝上在台上躺了半小时。但即便如此，我连动也没动一下。我告诉你，我可聪明着呢。""对不起我倒没发现呢。"兰登奉承了一句。
这群人穿过矩形的附属建筑物，朝通往主教堂的拱门走去。兰登对教堂单调而朴素的建筑风格感到十分惊奇。尽管祭坛的构造颇像一座流线型的基督教堂，然而它的外表却显得刻板而冷酷，看不到一丁点传统的装饰。
"太没意思了。"兰登低声地说。
提彬咯咯地笑了。"这就是英国的国教。英国人在此啜饮宗教的琼浆。没有什么能让他们在不幸中迷失方向。"索菲经过宽大的由此可走到教堂圆形区域的入口。
"那边看起来有点像军事要塞哩。"她笑声地说。
兰登对此表示同意。即使从这里看过去，四面的墙壁也显得特别的坚固。
"别忘了，圣殿骑士可是尚武之人。"提彬在一边提醒他们。他那铝制的拐杖，在这方空间里发出清脆的回响。"这是个军事宗教占主导地位的国家，教堂就是他们的军事据点和银行。""银行？"索菲瞥了他一眼，问道。
"天哪，是这样的。圣殿骑士们创造了现代银行的运作理念。对欧洲的达官贵人而言，携带金银出门旅游是非常危险的，因此圣殿骑士允许这些贵族将金子存进离他们最近的圣殿教堂；然后，他们可以从遍布欧洲各地的圣殿教堂里将它们取出来。他们只需要有关的凭证。"他眨了眨眼："并支付一笔佣金就可以了。这些教堂，就是最初的自动取款机。"提彬指着一扇沾满灰尘的玻璃窗，早晨的阳光，正透过窗户，照在一位骑着玫瑰色的骏马、一身白色装束的骑士的塑像上，反射出清凌凌的光。"那是阿拉尼斯。马塞尔，12 纪初这座圣殿教堂的主人。他和他的继承者当时实际上占据了王国第一男爵的席位。"兰登有点吃惊："王国第一男爵？"
提彬点点头："有人说，圣殿教堂的主人，比国王本人的影响还大呢。"他们来到圆形房屋外面，提彬回头看了看远处那位还在摆弄着吸尘器的祭台助手，低声对索菲说："你知道吗？圣殿骑士们四处躲藏时，据说圣杯曾在这教堂里藏了一夜。你能想象到整整放了四抽屉的《圣杯文献》竟然会在这里与抹大拉的玛利亚的尸骨摆在一起吗？一想到此，我就不禁不寒而栗。"等他们走进那个圆形的大厅，兰登也觉得浑身起了鸡皮疙瘩。他的眼睛循着这个大房间用灰白色石头砌成的圆圈看去，顿时被一些雕刻的怪兽、妖魔鬼怪以及因痛苦而扭曲并全朝这里怒目而视的人脸吸引住了。在这些雕刻品的下面，有一张长椅围着整个房间绕了一圈。
"是圆形剧场啊。"兰登轻声地说。
提彬举起一根拐杖，指着房间尽头的左边，接着又指着右边。这时兰登已经看到了它们。
十尊圣殿骑士石像。
左边五尊，右边五尊。
这些真人般大小的雕像，仰卧在地面上，摆出一副祥和的姿态。这些骑士个个披盔戴甲，剑盾在手。兰登有点不快，觉得似乎有人趁骑士们睡着时偷偷溜进来，将石膏泼在他们身上。所有的雕像都严重的风化了，然而每尊雕像看上去却是那么的独特--他们穿着不同的盔甲，腿和胳膊都摆出截然不同的姿势，不同的面部表情，还有他们盾牌的记号也迥然不同。
在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
兰登又向圆形房间里头迈进了几步，身子忍不住发抖。
应该是这个地方了。
    
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Chapter 84
In a rubbish-strewn alley very close to Temple Church, Rémy Legaludec pulled the Jaguarlimousine to a stop behind a row of industrial waste bins. Killing the engine, he checked the area.
　　Deserted. He got out of the car, walked toward the rear, and climbed back into the limousine's maincabin where the monk was.
　　Sensing Rémy's presence, the monk in the back emerged from a prayer-like trance, his red eyeslooking more curious than fearful. All evening Rémy had been impressed with this trussed man'sability to stay calm. After some initial struggles in the Range Rover, the monk seemed to haveaccepted his plight and given over his fate to a higher power.
　　Loosening his bow tie, Rémy unbuttoned his high, starched, wing-tipped collar and felt as if hecould breathe for the first time in years. He went to the limousine's wet bar, where he pouredhimself a Smirnoff vodka. He drank it in a single swallow and followed it with a second.
　　Soon I will be a man of leisure.
　　Searching the bar, Rémy found a standard service wine-opener and flicked open the sharp blade.
　　The knife was usually employed to slice the lead foil from corks on fine bottles of wine, but itwould serve a far more dramatic purpose this morning. Rémy turned and faced Silas, holding upthe glimmering blade.
　　Now those red eyes flashed fear.
　　Rémy smiled and moved toward the back of the limousine. The monk recoiled, struggling againsthis bonds.
　　"Be still," Rémy whispered, raising the blade.
　　Silas could not believe that God had forsaken him. Even the physical pain of being bound Silas hadturned into a spiritual exercise, asking the throb of his blood-starved muscles to remind him of thepain Christ endured. I have been praying all night for liberation. Now, as the knife descended,Silas clenched his eyes shut.
　　A slash of pain tore through his shoulder blades. He cried out, unable to believe he was going todie here in the back of this limousine, unable to defend himself. I was doing God's work. TheTeacher said he would protect me.
　　Silas felt the biting warmth spreading across his back and shoulders and could picture his ownblood, spilling out over his flesh. A piercing pain cut through his thighs now, and he felt the onsetof that familiar undertow of disorientation—the body's defense mechanism against the pain.
　　As the biting heat tore through all of his muscles now, Silas clenched his eyes tighter, determinedthat the final image of his life would not be of his own killer. Instead he pictured a younger BishopAringarosa, standing before the small church in Spain... the church that he and Silas had built withtheir own hands. The beginning of my life.
　　Silas felt as if his body were on fire.
　　"Take a drink," the tuxedoed man whispered, his accent French. "It will help with yourcirculation."Silas's eyes flew open in surprise. A blurry image was leaning over him, offering a glass of liquid.
　　A mound of shredded duct tape lay on the floor beside the bloodless knife.
　　"Drink this," he repeated. "The pain you feel is the blood rushing into your muscles."Silas felt the fiery throb transforming now to a prickling sting. The vodka tasted terrible, but hedrank it, feeling grateful. Fate had dealt Silas a healthy share of bad luck tonight, but God hadsolved it all with one miraculous twist.
　　God has not forsaken me.
　　Silas knew what Bishop Aringarosa would call it.
　　Divine intervention.
　　"I had wanted to free you earlier," the servant apologized, "but it was impossible. With the policearriving at Chateau Villette, and then at Biggin Hill airport, this was the first possible moment. Youunderstand, don't you, Silas?"Silas recoiled, startled. "You know my name?"The servant smiled.
　　Silas sat up now, rubbing his stiff muscles, his emotions a torrent of incredulity, appreciation, andconfusion. "Are you... the Teacher?"Rémy shook his head, laughing at the proposition. "I wish I had that kind of power. No, I am notthe Teacher. Like you, I serve him. But the Teacher speaks highly of you. My name is Rémy."Silas was amazed. "I don't understand. If you work for the Teacher, why did Langdon bring thekeystone to your home?""Not my home. The home of the world's foremost Grail historian, Sir Leigh Teabing.""But you live there. The odds..."Rémy smiled, seeming to have no trouble with the apparent coincidence of Langdon's chosenrefuge. "It was all utterly predictable. Robert Langdon was in possession of the keystone, and heneeded help. What more logical place to run than to the home of Leigh Teabing? That I happen tolive there is why the Teacher approached me in the first place." He paused. "How do you think theTeacher knows so much about the Grail?"Now it dawned, and Silas was stunned. The Teacher had recruited a servant who had access to allof Sir Leigh Teabing's research. It was brilliant.
　　"There is much I have to tell you," Rémy said, handing Silas the loaded Heckler Koch pistol. Thenhe reached through the open partition and retrieved a small, palm-sized revolver from the glovebox. "But first, you and I have a job to do."Captain Fache descended from his transport plane at Biggin Hill and listened in disbelief to theKent chief inspector's account of what had happened in Teabing's hangar.
　　"I searched the plane myself," the inspector insisted, "and there was no one inside." His tone turnedhaughty. "And I should add that if Sir Leigh Teabing presses charges against me, I will—""Did you interrogate the pilot?""Of course not. He is French, and our jurisdiction requires—""Take me to the plane."Arriving at the hangar, Fache needed only sixty seconds to locate an anomalous smear of blood onthe pavement near where the limousine had been parked. Fache walked up to the plane and rappedloudly on the fuselage.
　　"This is the captain of the French Judicial Police. Open the door!"The terrified pilot opened the hatch and lowered the stairs.
　　Fache ascended. Three minutes later, with the help of his sidearm, he had a full confession,including a description of the bound albino monk. In addition, he learned that the pilot sawLangdon and Sophie leave something behind in Teabing's safe, a wooden box of some sort.
　　Although the pilot denied knowing what was in the box, he admitted it had been the focus ofLangdon's full attention during the flight to London.
　　"Open the safe," Fache demanded.
　　The pilot looked terrified. "I don't know the combination!""That's too bad. I was going to offer to let you keep your pilot's license."The pilot wrung his hands. "I know some men in maintenance here. Maybe they could drill it?""You have half an hour."The pilot leapt for his radio.
　　Fache strode to the back of the plane and poured himself a hard drink. It was early, but he had notyet slept, so this hardly counted as drinking before noon. Sitting in a plush bucket seat, he closedhis eyes, trying to sort out what was going on. The Kent police's blunder could cost me dearly.
　　Everyone was now on the lookout for a black Jaguar limousine.
　　Fache's phone rang, and he wished for a moment's peace. "Allo?""I'm en route to London." It was Bishop Aringarosa. "I'll be arriving in an hour."Fache sat up. "I thought you were going to Paris.""I am deeply concerned. I have changed my plans.""You should not have.""Do you have Silas?""No. His captors eluded the local police before I landed."Aringarosa's anger rang sharply. "You assured me you would stop that plane!"Fache lowered his voice. "Bishop, considering your situation, I recommend you not test mypatience today. I will find Silas and the others as soon as possible. Where are you landing?""One moment." Aringarosa covered the receiver and then came back. "The pilot is trying to getclearance at Heathrow. I'm his only passenger, but our redirect was unscheduled.""Tell him to come to Biggin Hill Executive Airport in Kent. I'll get him clearance. If I'm not herewhen you land, I'll have a car waiting for you.""Thank you.""As I expressed when we first spoke, Bishop, you would do well to remember that you are not theonly man on the verge of losing everything."
在离圣殿教堂很近的一条堆满垃圾的巷子里，雷米。莱格鲁德将那辆"美洲虎"豪华轿车停在一排工业垃圾箱后面。他关掉马达，查看周围的动静。巷子里空无一人。他这才踱出车门，向车的尾部走去，然后钻进乘客室，那位修道士就被捆在那里。
当被绑在车子后面的修道士察觉雷米出现在身边时，他仿佛刚从痴迷的祈祷中惊醒过来。他红色的眼睛充满了好奇，而不是恐惧。整个晚上，雷米对这位修道士竟能够如此安之若素留下深刻的印象。一开始，这位修道士在"陆虎揽胜"车里还挣扎了几下，然而此刻，他似乎已经接受了命运的安排，变得听天由命起来了。
雷米松开衣领上的蝴蝶结，解开了高而浆硬的翼状领，感觉仿佛多年来第一次能够如此自由地呼吸。他走到豪华轿车里的吧台，给自己倒了一杯"司木露"牌伏特加酒。他一口气干了一杯，接着又喝了第二杯。
很快我就可以成为有钱的闲人了。
雷米在吧台的橱柜里搜寻了一通，发现了一把用于标准服务的开酒瓶道具，便"啪"的弹出其锋利的刀刃。这种刀具，通常是被用来切开粘贴在高级酒瓶木塞上的金箔片的，但今天早上，它可以用来发挥更大的作用。雷米转过身，面向塞拉斯，将闪烁着寒光的刀刃举起来。
那双红色的眼睛，即刻闪过了一丝恐惧。
雷米微笑着朝车子后面移去。修道士畏缩着，企图挣脱身上的束缚。
"别动。"雷米举起刀，低声地说。
塞拉斯不敢相信上帝对他竟然如此的残忍。尽管在肉体上，他正遭受着被捆绑的痛苦，但他却能将它当成一次精神上的考验。他告诫自己，只要他遭受磨难的脉搏还在跳动，就不能忘记耶稣基督曾经遭受过的苦难。整个晚上他一直在祈祷自由。然而现在，当那把刀就要砍下来时，他不由得紧紧地闭上了眼睛。
钻心的痛苦即刻穿透了他的肩胛骨。他大声哭起来，无法相信自己会死在这辆豪华轿车的后面，却无法保护自己。"我在为上帝效劳。教主曾说过上帝会保护我哩。"
塞拉斯感觉一股使他倍感疼痛的热气正从他的后背与肩膀出弥漫开来，他想象自己鲜血流遍全身的样子。这时，他的膝盖又像被撕裂般的疼起来。他觉得这种熟悉的、能使知觉趋于麻木的痛苦--这是身体抵抗痛苦时产生的自我防御机制--又发作了。
那股令人痛彻心肺的热气此刻已经弥漫了塞拉斯的全身。他将眼睛闭得更紧了，他不愿意在临死之前，看到要杀死自己的凶手。他想到了更加年轻的阿林加洛沙主教，他站在西班牙的小教堂前……那座教堂是他和塞拉斯亲手建造的。那是我生命的起点。
塞拉斯感觉身体像着了火一般。
"喝点什么吧。"这位身着晚礼服的男人操着法国口音低声说道："这有助于改善你的血液循环。"塞拉斯惊讶地睁开了眼睛。他模糊地看到，有人俯过身，递给他一杯液体。地上的刀片并无血迹，旁边躺着一堆被撕得粉碎的电缆线。
"把这个喝了吧。"那人又说了一遍。"你觉得痛，是因为血液都流到你的肌肉里去了。"
塞拉斯觉得自己的身体不再像先前那样剧烈地跳动，只是像被什么东西蜇了一般地疼痛。伏特加的味道实在是不敢恭维，但他还是把它喝了。他的心里充满了感激。命运给了今晚遭受厄运的塞拉斯一个眷顾，但上帝只要舞动他惯于创造奇迹的双手，就能将问题全部解决了。
还好上帝没忘记我呢。
塞拉斯知道，阿林加洛沙主教或许会说："这是上帝在干预啊。"
"我早就想放你走了。"雷米充满歉意地说："但你知道这是不可能的。先是警察来到了维莱特庄园，接着我们又飞到了比金山机场。直到现在，我才有机会把你放了。塞拉斯，你明白吗？"
塞拉斯畏缩了一下，很是惊讶："你认识我？"
仆人笑了。
塞拉斯坐起来，摩挲着僵硬的肌肉，他的情感如翻江倒海一般，其中有难以置信，有感激，也有迷惘。"你--你是教主吧？"
雷米摇摇头，听他这样说，不禁笑起来："我倒希望自己有那般神通。不，我不是。我跟你一样，也在为他效劳。教主经常夸你哩。我叫雷米。"塞拉斯大吃一惊："我不明白，如果你在为教主做事，那兰登为什么要将拱心石带到你家来呢？"
"那不是我的家，是研究圣杯历史、世界最著名的历史学家雷。提彬爵士的家。"
"但你住在那里呀。是不是--"
雷米笑了笑，似乎对兰登躲到提彬爵士家里这种明显的巧合，并不感到有什么为难。
"这完全是可以猜到的。罗伯特。兰登有拱心石，而他又需要别人帮助，于是他跑到雷。提彬爵士家里来，还有什么比这更合情合理的解释吗？我恰好住那里，所以教主才会先来找我。
"他停了停："你怎么知道教主清楚圣杯的来历？"
天色渐渐亮了，而塞拉斯头也有点晕。教主竟找了一位对雷。提彬爵士的行踪了如指掌的仆人。真是聪明过人。
"我还有很多没跟你说。"雷米把那支装满子弹的德国黑克勒暨科赫公司生产的手熗递给了他，然后走进敞开着的隔离间，从手套箱里找出一把小小的、巴掌大的左轮手熗。"不过首先，我们还有许多事情得去做呢。"法希上尉从停泊在比金山机场的运输机里走了下来，他仔细聆听肯特警察局的检查官讲述刚才在提彬的停机库里发生的事情，却是满腹狐疑。
"我亲自到飞机上查过了。"长官辩解道："里面什么人也没有。"他的语调变得专横起来。
"我要再说几句，如果雷。提彬爵士起诉我，那我--"
"那你问过那个驾驶员没有？"
"当然没有，他是个法国人，而我们的权限要求--"
"带我到飞机上去。"
法希来到停机库，不消一分钟，他就在那辆豪华轿车停过的附近过道上找到了一滩可疑的血迹。他走到飞机的旁边，用力地拍打它的机身。
"开门，我是法国警察署的上尉。"
那名受惊的驾驶员慌忙打开机舱，将舷梯放了下去。
法希登上飞机。三分钟以后，他借助手中的武器，终于迫使驾驶员全招认了，其中还提到被绑起来的修道士，即那位白化病患者。此外，他也知道驾驶员看到兰登和索菲把什么东西--好像是木盒子之类的东西--放进了提彬的保险箱。尽管驾驶员说不知道盒子里放了什么，但他承认，这只盒子在从法国飞往伦敦的途中，一直是兰登注目的焦点。
"把保险箱打开。"法希命令道。
驾驶员吓坏了："可我不知道密码啊。"
"那我就帮不了了，我本来还想让你保留驾驶飞机的执照呢！"
驾驶员绞缠着双手："我在这里认识一些维修工。说不定他们可以在上面钻个洞呢。"
"那我给你半小时的时间。"
驾驶员一个箭步跑去找无线电设备。
法希大步走到机舱后，给自己倒了一杯酒。天色尚早，然而他还没有睡个好觉，所以这杯酒很难让他熬到中午。他坐到高级靠背椅上，闭上眼睛，试图将眼下发生的事情理出个头绪来。肯特郡警察局犯下的大错也许会让他付出昂贵的代价。现在，大家都在注意一辆黑色的"美洲虎"豪华车。
法希的电话响了起来，而他是多么希望能有片刻的清静。"喂？"
"我在飞往伦敦的路上。"阿林加洛沙主教说道："一小时后就到。"
法希坐起来："我还以为你是去巴黎呢。"
"我放心不下，所以才改变了计划。"
"你不应该这样的。"
"你找到塞拉斯没有？"
"还没有。绑架他的那些人在我到来之前就骗过了当地警察，跑了。"
阿林加洛沙主教火气腾地冒了上来："可你向我保证，说你会截住那架飞机呐。"
法希压低嗓门："主教，考虑考虑你眼前的处境吧，我告诉你，你今天不要来考验我的耐心。我会尽快找到塞拉斯和其他人的。你在哪里下的飞机？"
"稍等一会。"阿林加洛沙捂住话筒，然后又跑了回来："驾驶员打算通过在伦敦希思罗机场的检查。我是他唯一的乘客，但我们重新改变航向并没列入原来的飞行计划。""那你叫他飞到肯特郡的比金山机场来，我会让他通过检查。如果你着陆时我不在，我会派车去接你。""谢谢。"
"主教，照我刚才说得去做准没错，记住，并不是只有你在冒着失去一切的风险。这样，事情就好办了。"
    
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Chapter 85
You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　Each of the carved knights within the Temple Church lay on his back with his head resting on arectangular stone pillow. Sophie felt a chill. The poem's reference to an "orb" conjured images ofthe night in her grandfather's basement.
　　Hieros Gamos. The orbs.
　　Sophie wondered if the ritual had been performed in this very sanctuary. The circular room seemedcustom-built for such a pagan rite. A stone pew encircled a bare expanse of floor in the middle. Atheater in the round, as Robert had called it. She imagined this chamber at night, filled withmasked people, chanting by torchlight, all witnessing a "sacred communion" in the center of theroom.
　　Forcing the image from her mind, she advanced with Langdon and Teabing toward the first groupof knights. Despite Teabing's insistence that their investigation should be conducted meticulously,Sophie felt eager and pushed ahead of them, making a cursory walk-through of the five knights onthe left.
　　Scrutinizing these first tombs, Sophie noted the similarities and differences between them. Everyknight was on his back, but three of the knights had their legs extended straight out while two hadtheir legs crossed. The oddity seemed to have no relevance to the missing orb. Examining theirclothing, Sophie noted that two of the knights wore tunics over their armor, while the other threewore ankle-length robes. Again, utterly unhelpful. Sophie turned her attention to the only otherobvious difference—their hand positions. Two knights clutched swords, two prayed, and one hadhis arms at his side. After a long moment looking at the hands, Sophie shrugged, having seen nohint anywhere of a conspicuously absent orb.
　　Feeling the weight of the cryptex in her sweater pocket, she glanced back at Langdon and Teabing.
　　The men were moving slowly, still only at the third knight, apparently having no luck either. In nomood to wait, she turned away from them toward the second group of knights.
　　As she crossed the open space, she quietly recited the poem she had read so many times now that itwas committed to memory.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　His labor's fruit a Holy wrath incurred.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　When Sophie arrived at the second group of knights, she found that this second group was similarto the first. All lay with varied body positions, wearing armor and swords.
　　That was, all except the tenth and final tomb.
　　Hurrying over to it, she stared down.
　　No pillow. No armor. No tunic. No sword.
　　"Robert? Leigh?" she called, her voice echoing around the chamber. "There's something missingover here."Both men looked up and immediately began to cross the room toward her.
　　"An orb?" Teabing called excitedly. His crutches clicked out a rapid staccato as he hurried acrossthe room. "Are we missing an orb?""Not exactly," Sophie said, frowning at the tenth tomb. "We seem to be missing an entire knight."Arriving beside her both men gazed down in confusion at the tenth tomb. Rather than a knightlying in the open air, this tomb was a sealed stone casket. The casket was trapezoidal, tapered at thefeet, widening toward the top, with a peaked lid.
　　"Why isn't this knight shown?" Langdon asked.
　　"Fascinating," Teabing said, stroking his chin. "I had forgotten about this oddity. It's been yearssince I was here.""This coffin," Sophie said, "looks like it was carved at the same time and by the same sculptor asthe other nine tombs. So why is this knight in a casket rather than in the open?"Teabing shook his head. "One of this church's mysteries. To the best of my knowledge, nobody hasever found any explanation for it.""Hello?" the altar boy said, arriving with a perturbed look on his face. "Forgive me if this seemsrude, but you told me you wanted to spread ashes, and yet you seem to be sightseeing."Teabing scowled at the boy and turned to Langdon. "Mr. Wren, apparently your family'sphilanthropy does not buy you the time it used to, so perhaps we should take out the ashes and geton with it." Teabing turned to Sophie. "Mrs. Wren?"Sophie played along, pulling the vellum-wrapped cryptex from her pocket.
　　"Now then," Teabing snapped at the boy, "if you would give us some privacy?"The altar boy did not move. He was eyeing Langdon closely now. "You look familiar."Teabing huffed. "Perhaps that is because Mr. Wren comes here every year!"Or perhaps, Sophie now feared, because he saw Langdon on television at the Vatican last year.
　　"I have never met Mr. Wren," the altar boy declared.
　　"You're mistaken," Langdon said politely. "I believe you and I met in passing last year. FatherKnowles failed to formally introduce us, but I recognized your face as we came in. Now, I realizethis is an intrusion, but if you could afford me a few more minutes, I have traveled a great distanceto scatter ashes amongst these tombs." Langdon spoke his lines with Teabing-esque believability.
　　The altar boy's expression turned even more skeptical. "These are not tombs.""I'm sorry?" Langdon said.
　　"Of course they are tombs," Teabing declared. "What are you talking about?"The altar boy shook his head. "Tombs contain bodies. These are effigies. Stone tributes to realmen. There are no bodies beneath these figures.""This is a crypt!" Teabing said.
　　"Only in outdated history books. This was believed to be a crypt but was revealed as nothing of thesort during the 1950 renovation." He turned back to Langdon. "And I imagine Mr. Wren wouldknow that. Considering it was his family that uncovered that fact."An uneasy silence fell.
　　It was broken by the sound of a door slamming out in the annex.
　　"That must be Father Knowles," Teabing said. "Perhaps you should go see?"The altar boy looked doubtful but stalked back toward the annex, leaving Langdon, Sophie, andTeabing to eye one another gloomily.
　　"Leigh," Langdon whispered. "No bodies? What is he talking about?"Teabing looked distraught. "I don't know. I always thought... certainly, this must be the place. Ican't imagine he knows what he is talking about. It makes no sense!""Can I see the poem again?" Langdon said.
　　Sophie pulled the cryptex from her pocket and carefully handed it to him.
　　Langdon unwrapped the vellum, holding the cryptex in his hand while he examined the poem.
　　"Yes, the poem definitely references a tomb. Not an effigy.""Could the poem be wrong?" Teabing asked. "Could Jacques Saunière have made the same mistakeI just did?"Langdon considered it and shook his head. "Leigh, you said it yourself. This church was built byTemplars, the military arm of the Priory. Something tells me the Grand Master of the Priory wouldhave a pretty good idea if there were knights buried here."Teabing looked flabbergasted. "But this place is perfect." He wheeled back toward the knights.
　　"We must be missing something!"Entering the annex, the altar boy was surprised to find it deserted. "Father Knowles?" I know Iheard the door, he thought, moving forward until he could see the entryway.
　　A thin man in a tuxedo stood near the doorway, scratching his head and looking lost. The altar boygave an irritated huff, realizing he had forgotten to relock the door when he let the others in. Nowsome pathetic sod had wandered in off the street, looking for directions to some wedding from thelooks of it. "I'm sorry," he called out, passing a large pillar, "we're closed."A flurry of cloth ruffled behind him, and before the altar boy could turn, his head snappedbackward, a powerful hand clamping hard over his mouth from behind, muffling his scream. Thehand over the boy's mouth was snow-white, and he smelled alcohol.
　　The prim man in the tuxedo calmly produced a very small revolver, which he aimed directly at theboy's forehead.
　　The altar boy felt his groin grow hot and realized he had wet himself.
　　"Listen carefully," the tuxedoed man whispered. "You will exit this church silently, and you willrun. You will not stop. Is that clear?"The boy nodded as best he could with the hand over his mouth.
　　"If you call the police..." The tuxedoed man pressed the gun to his skin. "I will find you."The next thing the boy knew, he was sprinting across the outside courtyard with no plans ofstopping until his legs gave out.
"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。"
圣殿教堂里的骑土石像无一例外地仰面躺着，头靠在呈长方形的石枕上。索菲只觉得一阵透心凉。诗里提到的"圆球"，不禁使她想起那晚在她祖父的地下室里看到的景象。
"神婚"。圆球。
索菲不知道是否有人在这个礼拜堂里举行过这样的仪式。这件圆形房间，似乎是专门为举行这样的仪式而建造的。一张长长的靠背石椅，围着中央一块光秃秃的空地。圆形剧场，就像刚才罗伯特说过的那样。她想象着到了晚上，戴着面具的人挤满了这个房间，举着火把反复地吟唱，在屋中央上演"与上帝交流"的盛况。
她好不容易才强迫自己不去那样想，跟着兰登和提彬一道，走向第一批骑土石像。尽管提彬坚持调查要小心行事，索菲还是急不可耐的跑到他们前面，匆忙把左边五尊骑士石像打量了一遍。
她仔细审视这些坟墓，认真观察起它们之间的共性与差异来。每个骑士都仰面躺着，但有三位骑土将双腿伸得笔直。而其他两名骑士则将腿并拢起来。不过，这种奇怪的差异似乎跟失踪的圆球没有多大关系。她仔细观察他们的衣服，发现其中两位在铠甲外面穿了战袍，而其他三位骑士则穿着长达脚踝的长袍。这同样说明不了什么问题。索菲于是转而去注意他们的另外一个也是唯一的差别--即他们不同的手形位置。两名骑土剑握在手，两名在双手合十虔诚地祈祷，还有一位双手叉腰。索菲看了很长时间，才耸耸肩，她没看到任何表明圆球失踪的线索。
她感到背心口袋里密码盒的分量，便回头瞥了兰登和提彬一眼--那两个男人慢慢地走着，他们还在看第三尊骑土的石像哩，不过他们显然也没交到什么好运。她无心去等，便转过身，向另一组骑士石像走去。她穿过开阔的空地，不停地吟诵那首诗，她不知读过多少遍了，到现在，她已经完全可以凭记忆背诵出来。
"在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
他的行为触怒了上帝，因为违背了他的旨意。
你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。
它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。"索菲来到第二组骑士石像群旁边，她发现这些石像跟第一批没有什么两样。尽管它们躺在地上，披着铠甲，佩戴宝剑，然而姿态却各不相同。
但第十座，也就是最后一座坟墓除外。
她忙跑过去，睁大了眼睛低头打量起来。
没看见有什么石枕，没看见披着铠甲，没看见穿长袍，也没看见它佩带宝剑。
"罗伯特，雷爵士。"她大叫起来，整个房间里都听得到她的回声。"这里有什么东西不见了哩。"那两个人不约而同地抬起头，然后开始从房间的另一头向她奔来。
"你是说圆球吗？"提彬激动地喊着，一边飞快地从对面跑了过来。他的拐杖"笃笃"地发出时断时续的声响。"是不是圆球不见了？"
"不对。"索菲皱眉望着第十座坟墓："我们好像少了一尊骑士石像呢。"
两个男人来到她的身边，低头疑惑地看着这第十座坟墓。他们在这片空地里，没看见躺了什么骑士石像。这座坟墓，根本就是个密封的石盒。这个石盒呈梯形，底部小，往顶部不断加宽，上面一个很尖的盖子。
"这位骑士石像怎么不见了呢？"兰登很是吃惊地问道。
"太有意思了。"提彬摸摸下巴，说道："这种怪事我都忘了。很多年我都没到这里来了。"
"这副棺材。"索菲说。"从外表上看，好像是与其他九座坟墓同时建造的，并且出自同一位雕刻家之手，所以，这尊骑士像为什么不是露天，而是被放进盒子里呢？"
提彬摇摇头："这是教堂的一个谜。据我所知，至今还无人知道其中的缘由呢。"
"没什么事吧？"祭台助手走了过来，神情颇为不安。"如果我冒犯了你们，还请你们多加原谅。不过，你们告诉我是来这里撒骨灰的，可我看你们怎么像是来观光的呢？"
提彬怒气冲冲地看着他，然后转身对兰登说："雷恩先生，显然你家的慷慨并没有像以前那样能给你们换来在此驻足的充足时间啊。所以，我们还是把骨灰拿出来处理算了。"他转向索菲说："雷恩夫人，你说呢？"
索菲跟着一道演戏，她从口袋里把羊皮纸包着的密码盒取出来。
"好啦。"提彬对祭台助手大声喝道："你能不能暂时离开一小会？"
祭台助手站着没动，而是紧盯着兰登，说："你很面熟啊。"
提彬动了怒气："这也许是雷恩先生每年都来这里的缘故吧。"
索菲这时害怕起来。说不定他曾在去年梵蒂冈播出的电视节目里看见过兰登呢。
"我从没见过雷恩先生。"祭台助手声称。
"你弄错了吧。"兰登礼貌地说："我相信我们去年还见过面呢。诺尔斯神父只是没正式介绍我们认识罢了，可我一进来就认出了你。好了，我知道这次多有得罪，不过，如果你多给我几分钟的时间，那我现在可能就会走开很远，并把骨灰撒进坟墓里了。"兰登说起话来一字一顿，提彬不住地点头称是。
祭台助手看来更起了疑心："可这些不是坟墓啊。"
"对不起，你说什么？"兰登接口问道。
"它们当然是坟墓了。"提彬大声地宣称："你在胡说什么呀？"
祭台助手摇了摇头："坟墓埋的是尸体。可这些是雕像。是献给真人的礼物。这些石像下面并没有什么尸体。""但这是个地下墓穴呢。"提彬嚷道。
"只有过时的历史书上才会这么讲。1950 年教堂改造期间，人们都相信这是一个地下墓穴，但结果发现里面什么东西也没有。"他转身对兰登说："我还以为雷恩先生知道这件事情呢，因为就是他家人发现了这个事实啊。"屋内一阵不安的寂静。
直到附属建筑物的门"砰"的被打开，才打破了屋里的寂静。
"一定是诺尔斯神父。"提彬开了口："你要不要去看看？"
祭台助手虽不相信，但还是大摇大摆地向声音传来的地方走去，抛下兰登、索菲与提彬三人，心情抑郁地面面相觑。
"雷。"兰登小声地说："他说什么？坟墓里没有尸体？"
提彬有点心烦意乱："我不清楚，我总以为--当然，肯定是这个地方了。我无法想象他在说些什么。这是毫无意义的。""我可以再看看那首诗吗？"兰登问。
索菲从口袋里拿出密码盒，小心翼翼地递给了他。
兰登展开了羊皮纸，一边读诗，一边将密码盒放在手中。"没错，这首诗肯定是在暗指坟墓，而不会是指雕像。""这首诗有没有可能是错的呢？"提彬问："雅克.索尼埃是否犯了跟我一样的错误？"
兰登考虑了一下，摇了摇头："雷，你在说你自己吧。这座教堂是郇山隐修会的军队圣殿骑士们建造的。有迹象表明，如果把一些圣殿骑士的尸体埋在这里，郇山隐修会的长老定会认为是个不错的主意。"提彬目瞪口呆："不过这地方很好嘛。"他突然转身面向那些骑士石像。"我们发现肯定少什么了！"祭台助手进得附属建筑物里来，却惊讶地发现里头一个人也没有。"诺尔斯神父？"我刚才明明听到开门的声音哪，他想。他继续向前走，直到能看到教堂的入口。
一位穿着晚礼服的瘦男人站在门口，抓着头皮，看起来十分的茫然。祭台助手气得大喊一声，意识到刚才让其他几个人进来后忘了重新关门，这才使可怜兮兮的乡巴佬从外面的街道上跑进来，看他的样子，倒像是在寻找去参加婚礼的路线怎么走呢。"对不起。"他喊道，从一根巨大的石柱旁边跑过去："我们还没开门哩。"
在他背后，突然响起衣服淅淅簌簌的声音。祭台助手还没来得及转身，头却先被扭转了过去。一只强有力的手，从后面紧紧捂住他的口，使他的喊声不至于被人听到。这只捂住他的手雪白雪白的，他还闻到了酒的味道。
那个一本正经穿着晚礼服的男人，平静地拔出一把很小的左轮手熗，径直瞄准了祭台助手的前额。
祭台助手觉得下身热了起来，他意识到是自己失禁了。
"你给我仔细听着。"穿晚礼服的男人低声说道："我要你马上离开这里，不要做声，然后跑掉，不要停。你听清楚了吗？"
祭台助手口不能言，只有拼命地点头。
"要是你报警的话--"穿晚礼服的男人用熗低着他："我们肯定会找你的。"
祭台助手于是迅速从外面院子里跑了出去，一刻也不敢停，直到双腿发软，精疲力竭。
    
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Chapter 86
Like a ghost, Silas drifted silently behind his target. Sophie Neveu sensed him too late. Before shecould turn, Silas pressed the gun barrel into her spine and wrapped a powerful arm across her chest,pulling her back against his hulking body. She yelled in surprise. Teabing and Langdon both turnednow, their expressions astonished and fearful.
　　"What...?" Teabing choked out. "What did you do to Rémy!""Your only concern," Silas said calmly, "is that I leave here with the keystone." This recoverymission, as Rémy had described it, was to be clean and simple: Enter the church, take the keystone,and walk out; no killing, no struggle.
　　Holding Sophie firm, Silas dropped his hand from her chest, down to her waist, slipping it insideher deep sweater pockets, searching. He could smell the soft fragrance of her hair through his ownalcohol-laced breath. "Where is it?" he whispered. The keystone was in her sweater pocket earlier.
　　So where is it now?
　　"It's over here," Langdon's deep voice resonated from across the room.
　　Silas turned to see Langdon holding the black cryptex before him, waving it back and forth like amatador tempting a dumb animal.
　　"Set it down," Silas demanded.
　　"Let Sophie and Leigh leave the church," Langdon replied. "You and I can settle this."Silas pushed Sophie away from him and aimed the gun at Langdon, moving toward him.
　　"Not a step closer," Langdon said. "Not until they leave the building.""You are in no position to make demands.""I disagree." Langdon raised the cryptex high over his head. "I will not hesitate to smash this on thefloor and break the vial inside."Although Silas sneered outwardly at the threat, he felt a flash of fear. This was unexpected. Heaimed the gun at Langdon's head and kept his voice as steady as his hand. "You would never breakthe keystone. You want to find the Grail as much as I do.""You're wrong. You want it much more. You've proven you're willing to kill for it."Forty feet away, peering out from the annex pews near the archway, Rémy Legaludec felt a risingalarm. The maneuver had not gone as planned, and even from here, he could see Silas wasuncertain how to handle the situation. At the Teacher's orders, Rémy had forbidden Silas to fire hisgun.
　　"Let them go," Langdon again demanded, holding the cryptex high over his head and staring intoSilas's gun.
　　The monk's red eyes filled with anger and frustration, and Rémy tightened with fear that Silasmight actually shoot Langdon while he was holding the cryptex. The cryptex cannot fall!
　　The cryptex was to be Rémy's ticket to freedom and wealth. A little over a year ago, he was simplya fifty-five-year-old manservant living within the walls of Chateau Villette, catering to the whimsof the insufferable cripple Sir Leigh Teabing. Then he was approached with an extraordinaryproposition. Rémy's association with Sir Leigh Teabing—the preeminent Grail historian onearth—was going to bring Rémy everything he had ever dreamed of in life. Since then, everymoment he had spent inside Chateau Villette had been leading him to this very instant.
　　I am so close, Rémy told himself, gazing into the sanctuary of the Temple Church and the keystonein Robert Langdon's hand. If Langdon dropped it, all would be lost.
　　Am I willing to show my face? It was something the Teacher had strictly forbidden. Rémy was theonly one who knew the Teacher's identity.
　　"Are you certain you want Silas to carry out this task?" Rémy had asked the Teacher less than halfan hour ago, upon getting orders to steal the keystone. "I myself am capable."The Teacher was resolute. "Silas served us well with the four Priory members. He will recover thekeystone. You must remain anonymous. If others see you, they will need to be eliminated, and therehas been enough killing already. Do not reveal your face."My face will change, Rémy thought. With what you've promised to pay me, I will become anentirely new man. Surgery could even change his fingerprints, the Teacher had told him. Soon hewould be free—another unrecognizable, beautiful face soaking up the sun on the beach.
　　"Understood," Rémy said. "I will assist Silas from the shadows.""For your own knowledge, Rémy," the Teacher had told him, "the tomb in question is not in theTemple Church. So have no fear. They are looking in the wrong place."Rémy was stunned. "And you know where the tomb is?""Of course. Later, I will tell you. For the moment, you must act quickly. If the others figure out thetrue location of the tomb and leave the church before you take the cryptex, we could lose the Grailforever."Rémy didn't give a damn about the Grail, except that the Teacher refused to pay him until it wasfound. Rémy felt giddy every time he thought of the money he soon would have. One third oftwenty million euro. Plenty to disappear forever. Rémy had pictured the beach towns on the C.ted'Azur, where he planned to live out his days basking in the sun and letting others serve him for achange.
　　Now, however, here in the Temple Church, with Langdon threatening to break the keystone,Rémy's future was at risk. Unable to bear the thought of coming this close only to lose it all, Rémymade the decision to take bold action. The gun in his hand was a concealable, small-caliber, J-frame Medusa, but it would be plenty deadly at close range.
　　Stepping from the shadows, Rémy marched into the circular chamber and aimed the gun directly atTeabing's head. "Old man, I've been waiting a long time to do this."Sir Leigh Teabing's heart practically stalled to see Rémy aiming a gun at him. What is he doing!
　　Teabing recognized the tiny Medusa revolver as his own, the one he kept locked in the limousineglove box for safety.
　　"Rémy?" Teabing sputtered in shock. "What is going on?"Langdon and Sophie looked equally dumbstruck.
　　Rémy circled behind Teabing and rammed the pistol barrel into his back, high and on the left,directly behind his heart.
　　Teabing felt his muscles seize with terror. "Rémy, I don't—""I'll make it simple," Rémy snapped, eyeing Langdon over Teabing's shoulder. "Set down thekeystone, or I pull the trigger."Langdon seemed momentarily paralyzed. "The keystone is worthless to you," he stammered. "Youcannot possibly open it.""Arrogant fools," Rémy sneered. "Have you not noticed that I have been listening tonight as youdiscussed these poems? Everything I heard, I have shared with others. Others who know more thanyou. You are not even looking in the right place. The tomb you seek is in another locationentirely!"Teabing felt panicked. What is he saying!
　　"Why do you want the Grail?" Langdon demanded. "To destroy it? Before the End of Days?"Rémy called to the monk. "Silas, take the keystone from Mr. Langdon."As the monk advanced, Langdon stepped back, raising the keystone high, looking fully prepared tohurl it at the floor.
　　"I would rather break it," Langdon said, "than see it in the wrong hands."Teabing now felt a wave of horror. He could see his life's work evaporating before his eyes. All hisdreams about to be shattered.
　　"Robert, no!" Teabing exclaimed. "Don't! That's the Grail you're holding! Rémy would never shootme. We've known each other for ten—"Rémy aimed at the ceiling and fired the Medusa. The blast was enormous for such a small weapon,the gunshot echoing like thunder inside the stone chamber.
　　Everyone froze.
　　"I am not playing games," Rémy said. "The next one is in his back. Hand the keystone to Silas."Langdon reluctantly held out the cryptex. Silas stepped forward and took it, his red eyes gleamingwith the self-satisfaction of vengeance. Slipping the keystone in the pocket of his robe, Silasbacked off, still holding Langdon and Sophie at gunpoint.
　　Teabing felt Rémy's arm clamp hard around his neck as the servant began backing out of thebuilding, dragging Teabing with him, the gun still pressed in his back.
　　"Let him go," Langdon demanded.
　　"We're taking Mr. Teabing for a drive," Rémy said, still backing up. "If you call the police, he willdie. If you do anything to interfere, he will die. Is that clear?""Take me," Langdon demanded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Let Leigh go."Rémy laughed. "I don't think so. He and I have such a nice history. Besides, he still might proveuseful."Silas was backing up now, keeping Langdon and Sophie at gunpoint as Rémy pulled Leigh towardthe exit, his crutches dragging behind him.
　　Sophie's voice was unwavering. "Who are you working for?"The question brought a smirk to the departing Rémy's face. "You would be surprised,Mademoiselle Neveu."
塞拉斯有如幽灵般迅速地绕到进攻目标的背后。等索菲发现他时，已经太迟了。她还来不及转身，塞拉斯已把熗口对准了她的脊梁骨，并用粗壮的胳膊拦腰抱住了她，拼命将她向后拖。她惊叫起来。提彬与兰登这才回过头，他们的脸上，写满了震惊与恐惧。
"你--"提彬结结巴巴地说："你把雷米怎么样了？"
塞拉斯平静地说道："你现在只管让我拿了拱心石离开这里就可以了。"雷米刚才说过，要完成重新夺回拱心石的使命，就必须做得干净利落：进入教堂，把拱心石抢到手，然后就走；不要杀人，也不要与人争斗。
塞拉斯紧抱住索菲不放，又把手从她胸部放下来，移到她的腰间，然后伸进她背心的口袋里，搜索着。透过自己的酒气，他能够闻到索菲头发里散发出来的淡淡的清香。"拱心石呢？"他低声问。拱心石早些时候还在她的背心口袋里。现在到哪里去了呢？
"在这里呢！"兰登低沉的声音从房间另一头传来。
塞拉斯转身看到兰登手拿一只黑色的密码盒，在他面前摇来晃去，就像斗牛士在挑逗不能说话的动物一般。
"把它放下。"塞拉斯命令道。
"你让索菲和提彬离开这里。"兰登回答说："只需我们两人就可以解决问题了。"塞拉斯一把将索菲推开，用熗对准了兰登，向他走去。
"你别过来。"兰登说："先让他们离开。"
"你没资格跟我讲什么条件。"
"话不能这么说。"兰登把密码盒高高地举过头顶："我会毫不犹豫地把它摔到地上，将里面的小瓶子砸个稀巴烂。"尽管塞拉斯表面上对他的威胁不屑一顾，但他内心还是闪过一丝恐惧。这真是始料不及的啊。他用熗对准兰登的头部，故作镇静地说："你绝不会砸坏它。你和我一样，都很想找到圣杯呢。""你弄错了，你比我更想得到它。你已经证明，为了得到它，你甚至愿意去杀人。"
四十码开外，雷米。莱格鲁德从拱门附近的附属建筑物里的靠背椅上探出头，他逐渐恐慌起来。塞拉斯并没按事先的计划采取行动。即使在这里，他也能看到塞拉斯穷于应付眼前的局面。按照教主的命令，雷米是不让塞拉斯开熗的。
"放他们走。"兰登再次下了命令，他把密码盒高高举过头顶，怒视着塞拉斯的熗口。
修道士的眼里既充满了怒气，也饱含了沮丧。雷米的心揪得更紧了。他担心塞拉斯真会朝手里还拿着密码盒的兰登开熗。密码盒可不能掉哇！
密码盒将是雷米通往自由与财富的门票。一年前，他还只是一名时年五十五岁的仆人，居住在维莱特庄园的深宅大院，成天为迎合让人烦透了的瘸子雷。提彬爵士不断冒出来的奇异想法而疲于奔命。但接着就有人想跟他做一笔特别的交易。雷米与雷。提彬爵士--这位闻名全球研究圣杯史的历史学家--之间的特殊关系，将带给他终生梦寐以求的东西。自那以后，他继续在维莱特庄园效劳，终于迎来了眼前这难得的机遇。
我离目标是如此的接近，他对自己说，眼睛一刻不停地盯着圣殿教堂里的礼拜堂，以及罗伯特。兰登手中的拱心石。如果兰登真的把密码盒砸了，那他什么也没有了。
我要不要亲自出面呢？那是教主严格禁止过的。雷米是唯一知道教主身份的人。
"你确定要让塞拉斯去执行任务吗？"不到半小时前，雷米就已经向教主请示过了。当时，他正等着接受去窃取拱心石的命令呢。"我一个人就可以对付了。"
教主的语气非常坚决："塞拉斯跟其他四位郇山隐修会的成员都干得不错。他会把拱心石夺回来的。你还得继续隐匿身份。如果有人知道你的底细，就干掉他，反正我们人也已经杀得不少了。不管怎样，千万别暴露自己的身份。"我可以改头换面啊，雷米心想。你不是答应过给我一笔可观的报酬吗？有了这笔钱，我就会从头到脚变成另外的一个人了。教主曾告诉他，做手术甚至能改变人的指纹哩。很快他就会获得自由--他将换上一幅让熟人认不出来的、英俊的脸孔，沐浴在洒满沙滩的阳光之中。
"我明白了。"雷米说："我会在暗中帮塞拉斯的。"
"雷米，你要知道。"教主告诉过他："那座可疑的坟墓不在圣殿教堂，所以，你不用担心，他们找错地方了。"雷米大吃一惊："这么说你知道坟墓在哪里了？"
"那当然，我以后再告诉你吧。现在你必须赶快采取行动。万一那些人找到了坟墓的确切位置，并抢在你拿到密码盒之前离开教堂，那我们就永远与圣杯失之交臂了。"雷米对圣杯并无什么怨恨，只是如果不能找到它，教主就拒绝给他报酬。每次想到即将到手的那笔钱，他就兴奋不已。这是笔将近六七百万欧元的巨款呢。有了这笔钱，他就可以永远离开这里。雷米的脑海里闪过了法国的蓝岸地区海滩小镇的美丽图景，他将在那里度过余生，晒日光浴，让别人反过来服侍自己。
然而此刻，在圣殿教堂里，兰登威胁说要砸坏拱心石，这样，雷米的前程就未卜了。
想到即将失去的一切，他就特别的难受，于是他决定大胆行事。他手里的熗是一把隐蔽的小口径J 字形"美杜莎"牌左轮手熗，但在小范围内可以造成致命的创伤。
雷米从暗处走出来，快步来到圆形房子的中央，他用手熗直接瞄准了提彬的脑袋："老家伙，我等你已经很久了。"雷。提彬爵士看到雷米用熗对准他，惊得连心跳都快要停止了。他这是干什么？提彬一眼认出了他那把出于安全考虑而锁在豪华轿车手套箱里的左轮手熗。
"雷米，你这是怎么了？"提彬气急败坏地说。
兰登与索菲同样被吓得目瞪口呆。
雷米从背后抱住提彬，用熗管猛击他左面偏高正对着心脏的后背。
提彬得全身肌肉都紧张起来了："雷米，我没--"
"我直说了吧。"雷米抢白道，他从提彬的肩上望过去，看着兰登。"把拱心石放下，要不然我要开熗了。"兰登一时好像变得麻木起来了。"你要拱心石有什么用？"他结结巴巴地说："你又不能把它打开。""一群自以为是的傻瓜。"雷米冷笑道："难道你们没注意到，整个晚上我一直都在听你们谈论这些诗吗？我什么都听到了，我也跟其他比你们懂得还多的人说了。你们甚至连地方都没找对。你们要找的坟墓纯粹在别的地方哩。"提彬惊惶失措。他在胡说什么呀？！
"你要圣杯干啥？"兰登问："你想在世界末日之前毁了它？"
雷米对那位修道士吩咐道："把拱心石从兰登先生那里拿走。"
修道士步步紧逼，兰登则步步后退，他把拱心石高高举起，好像随时准备将它摔在地上。
"我宁愿毁了它，也不愿让它落人非人之手。"
提彬这时感到一阵恐惧。他仿佛看到他终生的事业将在眼前烟消云散，他所有的梦想都将化成尘埃。
"罗伯特，不。"他大声喊道："不要！你手里拿的可是圣杯啊。雷米不会朝我开熗的。
我们认识已经有十个--"雷米朝天花板放了一熗。手熗这么小，但发出的声音实在太大了。熗声回响在石屋子里，简直就像电闪雷鸣。
"我不是开玩笑的。"雷米说："接下来我就要开熗打他的后背了。把拱心石交给塞拉斯。"兰登很不情愿地伸出手，塞拉斯走上去接。他的红眼睛里充满了报复后的快感。他把拱心石放进长袍口袋里，然后向后退去，手熗仍旧瞄准了兰登与索菲两人。
提彬的脖子被雷米抱得紧紧的。雷米拖着他，开始向屋外退去，手熗还抵着他的背。
"放他走。"兰登命令道。
"我要带提彬先生出去兜兜风。"雷米还在往后退。"如果你们报警，我就杀了他。如果你们想干涉，我也会杀了他。听清楚了没有？"
"带我去。"兰登的嗓子因为激动变得嘶哑起来。"放雷爵士走！"
雷米大笑起来："得了吧，我和他关系好着哩，而且他用处也大得很呢。"
提彬将拐杖拖在身后，他被雷米推着往出口处走去。这时塞拉斯也开始向后移动起来，但他的手熗始终对准了兰登与索菲两人。
索菲的语气非常坚决："你是在给谁卖命啊？"
闻听此言，雷米笑得得意忘形："奈芙小姐，说出来会让你大吃一惊的。"
    
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Chapter 87
The fireplace in Chateau Villette's drawing room was cold, but Collet paced before it nonethelessas he read the faxes from Interpol.
　　Not at all what he expected.
　　André Vernet, according to official records, was a model citizen. No police record—not even aparking ticket. Educated at prep school and the Sorbonne, he had a cum laude degree ininternational finance. Interpol said Vernet's name appeared in the newspapers from time to time,but always in a positive light. Apparently the man had helped design the security parameters thatkept the Depository Bank of Zurich a leader in the ultramodern world of electronic security.
　　Vernet's credit card records showed a penchant for art books, expensive wine, and classicalCD's—mostly Brahms—which he apparently enjoyed on an exceptionally high-end stereo systemhe had purchased several years ago.
　　Zero, Collet sighed.
　　The only red flag tonight from Interpol had been a set of fingerprints that apparently belonged toTeabing's servant. The chief PTS examiner was reading the report in a comfortable chair across theroom.
　　Collet looked over. "Anything?"The examiner shrugged. "Prints belong to Rémy Legaludec. Wanted for petty crime. Nothingserious. Looks like he got kicked out of university for rewiring phone jacks to get free service...
　　later did some petty theft. Breaking and entering. Skipped out on a hospital bill once for anemergency tracheotomy." He glanced up, chuckling. "Peanut allergy."Collet nodded, recalling a police investigation into a restaurant that had failed to notate on its menuthat the chili recipe contained peanut oil. An unsuspecting patron had died of anaphylactic shock atthe table after a single bite.
　　"Legaludec is probably a live-in here to avoid getting picked up." The examiner looked amused.
　　"His lucky night."Collet sighed. "All right, you better forward this info to Captain Fache."The examiner headed off just as another PTS agent burst into the living room. "Lieutenant! Wefound something in the barn."From the anxious look on the agent's face, Collet could only guess. "A body.""No, sir. Something more..." He hesitated. "Unexpected."Rubbing his eyes, Collet followed the agent out to the barn. As they entered the musty, cavernousspace, the agent motioned toward the center of the room, where a wooden ladder now ascendedhigh into the rafters, propped against the ledge of a hayloft suspended high above them.
　　"That ladder wasn't there earlier," Collet said.
　　"No, sir. I set that up. We were dusting for prints near the Rolls when I saw the ladder lying on thefloor. I wouldn't have given it a second thought except the rungs were worn and muddy. Thisladder gets regular use. The height of the hayloft matched the ladder, so I raised it and climbed upto have a look."Collet's eyes climbed the ladder's steep incline to the soaring hayloft. Someone goes up thereregularly? From down here, the loft appeared to be a deserted platform, and yet admittedly most ofit was invisible from this line of sight.
　　A senior PTS agent appeared at the top of the ladder, looking down. "You'll definitely want to seethis, Lieutenant," he said, waving Collet up with a latex-gloved hand.
　　Nodding tiredly, Collet walked over to the base of the old ladder and grasped the bottom rungs.
　　The ladder was an antique tapered design and narrowed as Collet ascended. As he neared the top,Collet almost lost his footing on a thin rung. The barn below him spun. Alert now, he moved on,finally reaching the top. The agent above him reached out, offering his wrist. Collet grabbed it andmade the awkward transition onto the platform.
　　"It's over there," the PTS agent said, pointing deep into the immaculately clean loft. "Only one setof prints up here. We'll have an ID shortly."Collet squinted through the dim light toward the far wall. What the hell? Nestled against the farwall sat an elaborate computer workstation—two tower CPUs, a flat-screen video monitor withspeakers, an array of hard drives, and a multichannel audio console that appeared to have its ownfiltered power supply.
　　Why in the world would anyone work all the way up here? Collet moved toward the gear. "Haveyou examined the system?""It's a listening post."Collet spun. "Surveillance?"The agent nodded. "Very advanced surveillance." He motioned to a long project table strewn withelectronic parts, manuals, tools, wires, soldering irons, and other electronic components. "Someoneclearly knows what he's doing. A lot of this gear is as sophisticated as our own equipment.
　　Miniature microphones, photoelectric recharging cells, high-capacity RAM chips. He's even gotsome of those new nano drives."Collet was impressed.
　　"Here's a complete system," the agent said, handing Collet an assembly not much larger than apocket calculator. Dangling off the contraption was a foot-long wire with a stamp-sized piece ofwafer-thin foil stuck on the end. "The base is a high-capacity hard disk audio recording systemwith rechargeable battery. That strip of foil at the end of the wire is a combination microphone andphotoelectric recharging cell."Collet knew them well. These foil-like, photocell microphones had been an enormous breakthrougha few years back. Now, a hard disk recorder could be affixed behind a lamp, for example, with itsfoil microphone molded into the contour of the base and dyed to match. As long as the microphonewas positioned such that it received a few hours of sunlight per day, the photo cells would keeprecharging the system. Bugs like this one could listen indefinitely.
　　"Reception method?" Collet asked.
　　The agent signaled to an insulated wire that ran out of the back of the computer, up the wall,through a hole in the barn roof. "Simple radio wave. Small antenna on the roof."Collet knew these recording systems were generally placed in offices, were voice-activated to savehard disk space, and recorded snippets of conversation during the day, transmitting compressedaudio files at night to avoid detection. After transmitting, the hard drive erased itself and preparedto do it all over again the next day.
　　Collet's gaze moved now to a shelf on which were stacked several hundred audio cassettes, alllabeled with dates and numbers. Someone has been very busy. He turned back to the agent. "Doyou have any idea what target is being bugged?""Well, Lieutenant," the agent said, walking to the computer and launching a piece of software. "It'sthe strangest thing...."
维莱特庄园客厅里的壁炉冷了，然而科莱中尉却在它跟前走来走去，一边读着国际刑警组织给他发来的传真。
一切出乎他的意料。
根据官方所做的记录，安德烈。韦尔内是一位模范市民。警方没有任何有关他的犯罪记录，甚至连一张违规停车的罚款单也没有。他先后在预科学校以及巴黎大学受过教育，并以优异成绩获得国际金融专业的学位。据国际刑警组织说，韦尔内的大名经常出现在各家报纸上，并且都是些正面新闻。很明显，此人曾参与过苏黎世储蓄银行安全系统的设计，从而使它成为当今世界电子安全系统的领头羊。根据韦尔内个人信用卡上的资料显示，他是一位艺术书籍的爱好者，各种名贵酒类的嗜好者；他酷爱古典音乐--他所珍藏的唱片里大多数是勃拉姆斯的作品，显然他是用几年前购置的那一套特别高级的立体声系统来欣赏这些音乐的。
一无所获。科莱不禁叹了口气。
今天晚上，从国际刑警组织提供的情报来看，唯一的亮点显然就是提彬的仆人留下的指纹了。在屋子另一头，PTS 的首席检察官坐在舒服的椅子上，读着交上来的调查材料。
科莱望过去。"有什么新发现没有？"
检察官耸耸肩："这是雷米。莱格鲁德留下的指纹。他因犯了轻微罪行而受到传讯。没什么大不了的。好像是他为了享受打免费电话的便利，重新装了电话插孔而被学校赶出来了……后来又去偷偷摸摸，抓起来放了出去，放出去又被抓起来。有一次做急诊气管切开手术，他还在医院开具的账单上做了手脚。"他抬起头，吃吃地笑。"说什么对花生油产生过敏反应呢。"科莱点了点头，他想起有次警方到一家餐馆去做调查，那家餐馆没在菜单上注明肉辣酱里含有花生油。结果有位客人坐到桌上才吃上一口，就因对花生油产生过敏反应而猝然死去。
"莱格鲁德为避免被人抓起来，可能就住在这里。"检察官一副很开心的样子："他那天晚上够幸运的了。"科莱叹了口气：说："好啦，你最好还是去跟法希上尉说吧。"
检察官阻止了他，就在此时，另一位PTS 的特工人员急匆匆地走了进来。"中尉，我们在谷仓里发现了一些东西。"从那位特工急切的神情来看，科莱只好猜测可能是发现某人的尸体了。
"不是的，阁下，是更多的--"他迟疑了一下："令人感到意外的东西。"
科莱擦擦眼，跟着这位特工来到谷仓。他们进得那散发出霉气、有如洞穴的地方，那特工走到屋子中央，那里有一架木梯，高高地通向屋椽，紧靠在高悬于他们头顶的草棚上。
"梯子原先不在那里吧。"科莱幽幽地说。
"是的，阁下。那梯子是我弄上去的。刚才大家还在罗尔斯轿车附近提取现场留下的脚印时，我看到这架梯子倒在地上。要不是看到梯子中间的横挡坏了发了霉，我才不会多想。梯子没有其他特别的用处。它刚好够着那个草棚，所以我把它竖起来，爬到上面去看。"科莱循着那架倾斜得厉害的梯子望过去，目光终于落在那离地面很高的草棚上。难道经常有人爬到上面去吗？从这里往上看，那草棚宛如一个无人的舞台，不过，从这里显然很难看清它的全貌。
一名PTS 的高级特工出现在木梯的顶端，他正俯身朝下看。"中尉，你肯定很想上来看看吧。"他用那戴着橡胶手套的左手朝科莱挥了挥。
科莱疲惫地点了点头，走到那架破旧的梯子下面，抓住了底部的横档。梯子被设计成旧式的锥形，科莱越往上爬，梯子就变得越窄。科莱快爬到梯子的顶端时，踩在一节细小的横档上，身体几乎失去了平衡，顿时觉得身体下面的谷仓在眼前旋转起来。于是他提高警惕，继续往上爬，终于爬到梯子的顶端。那位已在上面的特工，向他伸出了手。科莱伸手一把抓住，这才勉强地来到草棚的平台上。
"喏，就在那边。"PTS 特工指着里头一尘不染的阁楼，说："从这里往前走，我们只发现几个脚印，不过，我们马上就拿去做鉴定。"科莱借着着微弱的光，斜视着远处的墙。那到底是什么东西呢？在离他们老远的墙壁上，建了一座装备精良的计算机工作站--它由两个铁塔一般的中央处理器、一台带喇叭的平面视频显示器、一台硬盘驱动器，还有一套多频道的似乎已经充好电的音频控制设备组成。
究竟是什么人，竟跑到这地方来干这种勾当？科莱朝对面走去，一边问："你们注意到那套设备没有？"
"那是听音哨啊。"
科莱觉得有些头晕："你是说窃听器吗？"
那名特工点了点头："是的，是非常先进的窃听器。"他向一张堆满电子零件、使用指南、仪器、电线、焊接棒以及其他许多电子组件的设计桌做了个手势。"那人很清楚他在做些什么。这里的许多仪器，跟我们的设备一样先进，这其中有微型话筒、可充电的光电池，还有高容量的随机存贮器芯片等。他甚至还拥有新式微型驱动器呢。"这倒是给科莱留下了深刻的印象。
"这是套很完整的系统。"那名特工说着，递给科莱一件比袖珍计算器大不了多少的装置。从它上面垂下一条大约一英尺长的电线，在线的末端，粘着一块邮票大小、薄如胶纸的金属薄片。"它主要是由配置了充电电池的高容量硬盘录音系统组成。电线末端的金属薄片，就是集话筒与光电充电电池功能于一身的装置。"科莱很了解它们。退回到几年前，这些看似金属薄片、利用光电池的话筒，从技术上讲在当时是一项巨大的突破。而如今，硬盘录音设备就可安放在比如说灯的后面，而金属薄片大小的话筒则可嵌入灯的底座里，并染上与之相匹配的色彩。只要装上这样的话筒，使它每天能接收机小时阳光的照射，光电池就会给系统持续充电，那像这样的窃听器就能继续使用下去，而不受到什么限制。
"那接收方法呢？"科莱问道。
那名特工朝一根绝缘电线做了个手势一一那根线从电脑后面伸出来，沿墙壁而上，穿过了谷仓屋顶上的一个洞眼。"他们是通过简单的电磁波，利用屋顶上的小天线接收的。"
科莱知道，这些录音设备通常安置在办公室里，并利用声音来激活，为的是节省硬盘的空间；白天，它被用来录下别人谈话的片断，到了晚上，为避免被人发现，再把压缩的声音文件发送出去；然后，硬盘会自动进行清理，准备第二天再次录音。
他把目光转移到堆满几百盒音响磁带的架子上，这些磁带都标有日期，也都编了号。
有人一直在忙得不可开交呢。他转身问那名特工："你知道他们在监听谁吗？"
"这个嘛，上尉。"这位特工走到计算机前，并启动了一份软件，说："我觉得最奇怪的是……"
    
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Chapter 88
Langdon felt utterly spent as he and Sophie hurdled a turnstile at the Temple tube station anddashed deep into the grimy labyrinth of tunnels and platforms. The guilt ripped through him.
　　I involved Leigh, and now he's in enormous danger.
　　Rémy's involvement had been a shock, and yet it made sense. Whoever was pursuing the Grail hadrecruited someone on the inside. They went to Teabing's for the same reason I did. Throughouthistory, those who held knowledge of the Grail had always been magnets for thieves and scholarsalike. The fact that Teabing had been a target all along should have made Langdon feel less guiltyabout involving him. It did not. We need to find Leigh and help him. Immediately.
　　Langdon followed Sophie to the westbound District and Circle Line platform, where she hurried toa pay phone to call the police, despite Rémy's warning to the contrary. Langdon sat on a grungybench nearby, feeling remorseful.
　　"The best way to help Leigh," Sophie reiterated as she dialed, "is to involve the London authoritiesimmediately. Trust me."Langdon had not initially agreed with this idea, but as they had hatched their plan, Sophie's logicbegan to make sense. Teabing was safe at the moment. Even if Rémy and the others knew wherethe knight's tomb was located, they still might need Teabing's help deciphering the orb reference.
　　What worried Langdon was what would happen after the Grail map had been found. Leigh willbecome a huge liability.
　　If Langdon were to have any chance of helping Leigh, or of ever seeing the keystone again, it wasessential that he find the tomb first. Unfortunately, Rémy has a big head start.
　　Slowing Rémy down had become Sophie's task.
　　Finding the right tomb had become Langdon's.
　　Sophie would make Rémy and Silas fugitives of the London police, forcing them into hiding or,better yet, catching them. Langdon's plan was less certain—to take the tube to nearby King'sCollege, which was renowned for its electronic theological database. The ultimate research tool,Langdon had heard. Instant answers to any religious historical question. He wondered what thedatabase would have to say about "a knight a Pope interred."He stood up and paced, wishing the train would hurry.
　　At the pay phone, Sophie's call finally connected to the London police.
　　"Snow Hill Division," the dispatcher said. "How may I direct your call?""I'm reporting a kidnapping." Sophie knew to be concise.
　　"Name please?"Sophie paused. "Agent Sophie Neveu with the French Judicial Police."The title had the desired effect. "Right away, ma'am. Let me get a detective on the line for you."As the call went through, Sophie began wondering if the police would even believe her descriptionof Teabing's captors. A man in a tuxedo. How much easier to identify could a suspect be? Even ifRémy changed clothes, he was partnered with an albino monk. Impossible to miss. Moreover, theyhad a hostage and could not take public transportation. She wondered how many Jaguar stretchlimos there could be in London.
　　Sophie's connection to the detective seemed to be taking forever. Come on! She could hear the lineclicking and buzzing, as if she was being transferred.
　　Fifteen seconds passed.
　　Finally a man came on the line. "Agent Neveu?"Stunned, Sophie registered the gruff tone immediately.
　　"Agent Neveu," Bezu Fache demanded. "Where the hell are you?"Sophie was speechless. Captain Fache had apparently requested the London police dispatcher alerthim if Sophie called in.
　　"Listen," Fache said, speaking to her in terse French. "I made a terrible mistake tonight. RobertLangdon is innocent. All charges against him have been dropped. Even so, both of you are indanger. You need to come in."Sophie's jaw fell slack. She had no idea how to respond. Fache was not a man who apologized foranything.
　　"You did not tell me," Fache continued, "that Jacques Saunière was your grandfather. I fully intendto overlook your insubordination last night on account of the emotional stress you must be under.
　　At the moment, however, you and Langdon need to go to the nearest London police headquartersfor refuge."He knows I'm in London? What else does Fache know? Sophie heard what sounded like drilling ormachinery in the background. She also heard an odd clicking on the line. "Are you tracing this call,Captain?"Fache's voice was firm now. "You and I need to cooperate, Agent Neveu. We both have a lot tolose here. This is damage control. I made errors in judgment last night, and if those errors result inthe deaths of an American professor and a DCPJ cryptologist, my career will be over. I've beentrying to pull you back into safety for the last several hours."A warm wind was now pushing through the station as a train approached with a low rumble.
　　Sophie had every intention of being on it. Langdon apparently had the same idea; he was gatheringhimself together and moving toward her now.
　　"The man you want is Rémy Legaludec," Sophie said. "He is Teabing's servant. He just kidnappedTeabing inside the Temple Church and—""Agent Neveu!" Fache bellowed as the train thundered into the station. "This is not something todiscuss on an open line. You and Langdon will come in now. For your own well-being! That is adirect order!"Sophie hung up and dashed with Langdon onto the train.
兰登与索菲跨过圣殿教堂地铁站的旋转栅门，冲进肮脏的隧道与站台组成的迷宫深处时，他感到筋疲力尽，同时也觉得非常的内疚。
是我连累了提彬，他现在真可谓是性命攸关。
雷米的突然卷入虽然令大家深感震惊。不过还是很有意义的。这说明，任何人，只要他们想把圣杯弄到手，都会暗中派人打入到对手内部。基于同样的理由，他们将人安插到提彬的身边。纵观历史，那些了解圣杯史的人，长期以来一直吸引着小偷以及学者那样的人。提彬一直是这些人的众矢之的。这样的事实本可让兰登减少一些拖累他的自责，然而却没有。我们得找到雷爵土，将他解救出来。马上。
兰登跟着索菲来到通往西面的地铁黄线暨绿线的站台，一到那里，她就急忙跑去打公用电话报警--尽管雷米曾威胁她不要去报警。兰登坐在附近一张肮脏的椅子上，心里充满了悔恨。
索菲一边拨电话号码一边不住地重申："请你相信我，眼下解救提彬最好的方法，就是马上让伦敦警方插手进来。"兰登最初并不同意她的主张，不过由于他们已想好了一套计划，这才使索菲的那套逻辑开始变得有意义起来。提彬暂时是安全的。即使雷米与其他人知道骑土坟墓的确切位置，他们还是需要提彬来帮助他们解开圆球之谜。兰登担心的倒是，在圣杯地图找到之后，他们又会做出什么样的事情来呢？一旦找到了地图，雷就会成为他们沉重的包袱。
要是兰登还想有机会解救提彬？或者再看到拱心石，他就得先找到这座骑士坟墓。不幸的是，雷米突然来了个先发制人。
现在，迫使雷米停下来就是索菲承担的任务。
而兰登的责任就是找准骑士的坟墓。
索菲可能会使伦敦警方四处追捕雷米与塞拉斯，迫使他们东躲西藏，惶惶不可终日，如果运气不错，甚至有可能逮住他们。但是，兰登的计划就不敢那么肯定了--他打算坐地铁到附近的国王学院，它因拥有所有神学方面知识的电子数据库而闻名。这是兰登所听过的最重要的研究手段。任何关于宗教方面的历史问题，只要一敲键盘，很快就会找到答案。他不知道该数据库对"一位被教皇杀害的骑士"这样的问题会提供什么样的答案。
他站起来，来回踱着步，盼望火车能马上就来。
在公共电话那头，索菲终于拨通了伦敦警方的电话。
"这里是雪山分局。"调度员在另一头说道："请问你要将电话转往哪个分机？"
"我是来报案的，有人被绑架了。"索菲知道，怎样才能做到不拖泥带水。
"请问尊姓大名？"
索菲停了一下，才说："我是法国警察署的特工索菲。奈芙。"
显然她的头衔起到了预期的效果。"我马上就给你转过去，女士。我去叫一位侦探来跟你通话。"电话接通时，索菲就在怀疑警方会不会相信她对提彬的绑架者的描述。一位穿着晚礼服的男人。还有比这更容易让人辨认的嫌疑人吗？就算雷米改换装束，但他还带了一名患有白化病的修道士。况且他们还裹挟了一名人质，不可能会去搭乘公用的交通工具。她在心里疑惑，伦敦可能会有多少"美洲虎"牌加长豪华轿车。
索菲以乎要等上一辈子的时间才能联系上那名侦探。快点呀！她听得见电话线里发出的"滴答"声和"嗡嗡"声，仿佛她正被电话线传了过去。
十五秒过去了。
终于有人来接电话："是奈芙小姐吗？"
索菲惊得跳了起来，她马上认出了那瓮声瓮气的男音。
"奈芙小姐。"贝祖。法希询问道："你到底在哪里？"
索菲沉默不语。法希上尉显然关照过伦敦警察局的调度员，如果索菲打电话进来，务必要提醒他。
"听着。"法希用法语简练地对她说："今晚我犯了一个可怕的错误。罗伯特。兰登是无辜的。所有针对他的指控都被取消了。但即使是这样，你们两人还是很危险。你们得赶快过来。"索菲的下巴松弛了一下。她不知道该如何作出反应。法希可不是个随随便便向人道歉的人呐。
"你没有告诉我。"法希继续说："雅克，索尼埃是你祖父。考虑到你感情上一定承受了很大的压力，对你昨晚的反抗行为，我也就不打算追究了。不过，你和兰登还得赶快跑到最近的伦敦警察局去避一避。"他知道我在伦敦？他还知道什么？索菲听到对方发出连续不断的"嗡嗡"声，或者是其他机器发出的声音。她也听到电话线里传来古怪的"滴答"声，于是她问道："你是在跟踪我的电话吧，上尉？"
法希的语气变得坚定起来："奈芙小姐，你和我现在必须合作，我俩在这里损失都很惨重，合作的话就可以减少我们的损失了。昨晚我判断失误，如果由于我的错误导致一名美国教授和法国中央警备部解码专家的死亡，那我的前途就完了。"火车终于来了，发出低低的"轰隆隆"的声响。此刻，一阵温暖的风，正吹遍火车站的各个通道。索菲急不可耐地想跳上去，兰登显然也是这么想。他打起精神，朝她走去。
"你要找的人是雷米。莱格鲁德。"索菲还站在那里，说："他是提彬的仆人。他刚才在圣殿教堂里面绑架了提彬，而且--""奈芙小姐！"法希不耐烦地喊道，这时火车"轰隆隆"地开进了车站。"这种事，不适合拿到公用电话上来讨论。为了你们的安全，你和兰登得马上过来避一避。"索菲把电话挂了，与兰登箭一般地跳上了火车。    
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Chapter  89
The immaculate cabin of Teabing's Hawker was now covered with steel shavings and smelled ofcompressed air and propane. Bezu Fache had sent everyone away and sat alone with his drink andthe heavy wooden box found in Teabing's safe.
　　Running his finger across the inlaid Rose, he lifted the ornate lid. Inside he found a stone cylinderwith lettered dials. The five dials were arranged to spell SOFIA. Fache stared at the word a longmoment and then lifted the cylinder from its padded resting place and examined every inch. Then,pulling slowly on the ends, Fache slid off one of the end caps. The cylinder was empty.
　　Fache set it back in the box and gazed absently out the jet's window at the hangar, pondering hisbrief conversation with Sophie, as well as the information he'd received from PTS in ChateauVillette. The sound of his phone shook him from his daydream.
　　It was the DCPJ switchboard. The dispatcher was apologetic. The president of the Depository Bankof Zurich had been calling repeatedly, and although he had been told several times that the captainwas in London on business, he just kept calling. Begrudgingly Fache told the operator to forwardthe call.
　　"Monsieur Vernet," Fache said, before the man could even speak, "I am sorry I did not call youearlier. I have been busy. As promised, the name of your bank has not appeared in the media. Sowhat precisely is your concern?"Vernet's voice was anxious as he told Fache how Langdon and Sophie had extracted a smallwooden box from the bank and then persuaded Vernet to help them escape. "Then when I heard onthe radio that they were criminals," Vernet said, "I pulled over and demanded the box back, butthey attacked me and stole the truck.""You are concerned for a wooden box," Fache said, eyeing the Rose inlay on the cover and againgently opening the lid to reveal the white cylinder. "Can you tell me what was in the box?""The contents are immaterial," Vernet fired back. "I am concerned with the reputation of my bank.
　　We have never had a robbery. Ever. It will ruin us if I cannot recover this property on behalf of myclient.""You said Agent Neveu and Robert Langdon had a password and a key. What makes you say theystole the box?""They murdered people tonight. Including Sophie Neveu's grandfather. The key and passwordwere obviously ill-gotten.""Mr. Vernet, my men have done some checking into your background and your interests. You areobviously a man of great culture and refinement. I would imagine you are a man of honor, as well.
　　As am I. That said, I give you my word as commanding officer of the Police Judiciaire that yourbox, along with your bank's reputation, are in the safest of hands."
提彬的"猎鹰者"号飞机那几乎称得上完美的机舱，此刻已被覆盖了一层薄薄的钢片。
空气被压缩了，散发出一股丙烷的味道。贝祖。法希将所有人都打发走，他独自一人坐着，手拿着饮料以及在提彬保险柜里找到的沉重的木盒。
他的手指滑过那朵镶嵌的玫瑰，并把那装饰精美的盖子举起来。他在里头发现了一个上面标有字母转盘的圆石筒。这五个字母拼起来就是SOFIA.法希盯着那五个字母，看了很长时间，然后把那圆柱体从衬垫上拿起来仔细的检查，生怕漏掉其中的某个部分。
法希将圆柱体放回了木盒，然后透过飞机的窗口，茫然地看着外面的停机库，脑子里还在想刚才跟索菲进行的简短谈话，以及刚从维莱特庄园PTS 那里发来的消息。突然一阵电话铃响，才将他从白日梦中惊醒过来。
电话是法国中央警署的接线总机转过来的。调度员一上来就不停地道歉，说苏黎世储蓄银行的总裁不断地打电话过来，尽管他们反复地告诉他中尉出差到伦敦去了，但他仍旧打电话来。法希很不情愿地让接线员把电话接过来。
"韦尔内先生。"法希还没等那人开口，就先说道："我很抱歉刚才没打电话给你。我总是很忙。我已经答应过你，不会让你银行的名字出现在各家媒体上。所以，你还有什么放心不下的呢？"
听得出韦尔内的语气里有些不安，他告诉法希，兰登与索菲如何将木盒子从银行里弄出来，又是怎样说服他协助他们逃跑。"然而当我听说他俩有罪在身时，我就把车开到路边，要他们把盒子还给我，但他们却攻击我，并开着我的车走了。""原来你还在关心紫檀木盒子啊。"法希看了看镶嵌在盖子上的玫瑰，然后又轻轻地揭开盖子，露出那白色的圆柱体。"那你告诉我，里面都放了些什么东西？"
"里面倒没有什么好东西。"韦尔内情绪激动起来："我只是担心银行的名声会受到损害。此前我们银行还从没遇到过抢劫事件，从来没有。如果我不能帮客户找回这件东西，我们的名声就会毁了。""你刚才说索菲和兰登有密码，也有钥匙，那你凭什么说他们盗走了盒子呢？"
"他们今晚杀了人，也包括索菲。奈芙的祖父在内。他们的钥匙和密码，很明显是通过非正当手段得到的。""韦尔内先生，你的背景资料和兴趣爱好我手下的人都已经调查的很清楚了。显然你是位颇有教养并且情趣高雅的人。我也想象得出，你跟我一样，是一位很讲信义的正派人。
这样吧，我以警察局上尉的名义向你保证，不单是你的盒子，就连你银行的信誉问题，都不会有丝毫的损失。"    
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Chapter 90  
High in the hayloft at Chateau Villette, Collet stared at the computer monitor in amazement. "Thissystem is eavesdropping on all these locations?""Yes," the agent said. "It looks like data has been collected for over a year now."Collet read the list again, speechless.
　　COLBERT SOSTAQUE—Chairman of the Conseil ConstitutionnelJEAN CHAFFéE—Curator, Musée du Jeu de PaumeEDOUARD DESROCHERS—Senior Archivist, Mitterrand LibraryJACQUES SAUNIèRE—Curator, Musée du LouvreMICHEL BRETON—Head of DAS (French Intelligence)The agent pointed to the screen. "Number four is of obvious concern."Collet nodded blankly. He had noticed it immediately. Jacques Saunière was being bugged. Helooked at the rest of the list again. How could anyone possibly manage to bug these prominentpeople? "Have you heard any of the audio files?""A few. Here's one of the most recent." The agent clicked a few computer keys. The speakerscrackled to life. "Capitaine, un agent du Département de Cryptographie est arrivé."Collet could not believe his ears. "That's me! That's my voice!" He recalled sitting at Saunière'sdesk and radioing Fache in the Grand Gallery to alert him of Sophie Neveu's arrival.
　　The agent nodded. "A lot of our Louvre investigation tonight would have been audible if someonehad been interested.""Have you sent anyone in to sweep for the bug?""No need. I know exactly where it is." The agent went to a pile of old notes and blueprints on theworktable. He selected a page and handed it to Collet. "Look familiar?"Collet was amazed. He was holding a photocopy of an ancient schematic diagram, which depicteda rudimentary machine. He was unable to read the handwritten Italian labels, and yet he knew whathe was looking at. A model for a fully articulated medieval French knight.
　　The knight sitting on Saunière's desk!
　　Collet's eyes moved to the margins, where someone had scribbled notes on the photocopy in redfelt-tipped marker. The notes were in French and appeared to be ideas outlining how best to insert alistening device into the knight.
科莱站在维莱特庄园高高的草棚上，瞪着眼睛看着计算机的显示器，惊奇不已。"所有这些区域，利用该系统都能偷听得到吗？"
"是的。"那名特工回答说："这些数据好像已收集一年多了。"
科莱看了看手中的名单，没说一句话。
科尔贝。索斯塔克--宪法委员会主席让。查菲--裘德。波姆国立美术馆馆长爱德华。德罗什--密特朗图书馆高级档案保管员雅克。索尼埃--卢浮宫博物馆馆长米歇尔。布勒东--法国情报局局长特工指了指电脑屏幕，说："第四个很明显让人关注。"
科莱面无表情地点了点头。他很快注意到了。有人在监听雅克。索尼埃呢。他又看了看那份名单。这样有名望的人，别人怎么可能偷听得到呢？"你听到什么音频文件没有？"
"听到一些。这是最近的一份文件。"那名特工敲了敲键盘，喇叭里便传来清脆而逼真的声音："局长，密码破译部的一位特工到了。"
科莱简直不相信自己的耳朵。"那是我！那是我的声音啊！"他想起了他坐在索尼埃的桌子旁边，用无线电向当时还在卢浮宫艺术大画廊的法希提醒索菲。奈芙到来的情景。
特工点点头："如果有人对我们此次行动感兴趣的话，那今晚我们在卢浮宫调查的大部分内容，都可能被人偷听了去。""那你有没有派人去搜寻那个窃听器呢？"
"我看没这个必要，我知道它在哪里。"特工走到工作台上一堆过时的笔记与设计图前，从中选了一页，递给科莱，说："很面熟吧？"
科莱惊骇万分。他手里拿着的是一张古代示意图的影印件，图上画的是一台机器的原始模型。他看不懂上面手写的意大利语标签号，但他知道他在看什么东西。这是一个组装起来的中世纪法国骑士的模型。
这骑士像眼下就放在索尼埃的办公桌上！
科莱的视线转移到页面空白的地方，有人用红色标签笔潦草的在影印件上作了些注解。这些注解是用法语写的，大意是如何正确地将窃听装置插在这位骑士的身上。
    
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Chapter 91
Silas sat in the passenger seat of the parked Jaguar limousine near the Temple Church. His handsfelt damp on the keystone as he waited for Rémy to finish tying and gagging Teabing in back withthe rope they had found in the trunk.
　　Finally, Rémy climbed out of the rear of the limo, walked around, and slid into the driver's seatbeside Silas.
　　"Secure?" Silas asked.
　　Rémy chuckled, shaking off the rain and glancing over his shoulder through the open partition atthe crumpled form of Leigh Teabing, who was barely visible in the shadows in the rear. "He's notgoing anywhere."Silas could hear Teabing's muffled cries and realized Rémy had used some of the old duct tape togag him.
　　"Ferme ta gueule!" Rémy shouted over his shoulder at Teabing. Reaching to a control panel on theelaborate dash, Rémy pressed a button. An opaque partition raised behind them, sealing off theback. Teabing disappeared, and his voice was silenced. Rémy glanced at Silas. "I've been listeningto his miserable whimpering long enough."Minutes later, as the Jaguar stretch limo powered through the streets, Silas's cell phone rang. TheTeacher. He answered excitedly. "Hello?""Silas," the Teacher's familiar French accent said, "I am relieved to hear your voice. This meansyou are safe."Silas was equally comforted to hear the Teacher. It had been hours, and the operation had veeredwildly off course. Now, at last, it seemed to be back on track. "I have the keystone.""This is superb news," the Teacher told him. "Is Rémy with you?"Silas was surprised to hear the Teacher use Rémy's name. "Yes. Rémy freed me.""As I ordered him to do. I am only sorry you had to endure captivity for so long.""Physical discomfort has no meaning. The important thing is that the keystone is ours.""Yes. I need it delivered to me at once. Time is of the essence."Silas was eager to meet the Teacher face-to-face at last. "Yes, sir, I would be honored.""Silas, I would like Rémy to bring it to me."Rémy? Silas was crestfallen. After everything Silas had done for the Teacher, he had believed hewould be the one to hand over the prize. The Teacher favors Rémy?
　　"I sense your disappointment," the Teacher said, "which tells me you do not understand mymeaning." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You must believe that I would much prefer toreceive the keystone from you—a man of God rather than a criminal—but Rémy must be dealtwith. He disobeyed my orders and made a grave mistake that has put our entire mission at risk."Silas felt a chill and glanced over at Rémy. Kidnapping Teabing had not been part of the plan, anddeciding what to do with him posed a new problem.
　　"You and I are men of God," the Teacher whispered. "We cannot be deterred from our goal." Therewas an ominous pause on the line. "For this reason alone, I will ask Rémy to bring me thekeystone. Do you understand?"Silas sensed anger in the Teacher's voice and was surprised the man was not more understanding.
　　Showing his face could not be avoided, Silas thought. Rémy did what he had to do. He saved thekeystone. "I understand," Silas managed.
　　"Good. For your own safety, you need to get off the street immediately. The police will be lookingfor the limousine soon, and I do not want you caught. Opus Dei has a residence in London, no?""Of course.""And you are welcome there?""As a brother.""Then go there and stay out of sight. I will call you the moment I am in possession of the keystoneand have attended to my current problem.""You are in London?""Do as I say, and everything will be fine.""Yes, sir."The Teacher heaved a sigh, as if what he now had to do was profoundly regrettable. "It's time Ispeak to Rémy."Silas handed Rémy the phone, sensing it might be the last call Rémy Legaludec ever took.
　　As Rémy took the phone, he knew this poor, twisted monk had no idea what fate awaited him nowthat he had served his purpose.
　　The Teacher used you, Silas.
　　And your bishop is a pawn.
　　Rémy still marveled at the Teacher's powers of persuasion. Bishop Aringarosa had trustedeverything. He had been blinded by his own desperation. Aringarosa was far too eager to believe.
　　Although Rémy did not particularly like the Teacher, he felt pride at having gained the man's trustand helped him so substantially. I have earned my payday.
　　"Listen carefully," the Teacher said. "Take Silas to the Opus Dei residence hall and drop him off afew streets away. Then drive to St. James's Park. It is adjacent to Parliament and Big Ben. You canpark the limousine on Horse Guards Parade. We'll talk there."With that, the connection went dead.
塞拉斯坐在停靠于圣殿教堂附近的"美洲虎"豪华轿车的乘客椅上。雷米在车后面他们刚才从汽车尾部的行李箱中找到的绳子将提彬的手绑了，并把他的的嘴堵上。等到他把这些事情做完，这才发现拿着拱心石的手有些潮湿。
雷米终于从车后面爬出来，绕着车走，然后钻到塞拉斯身边的司机座位上。
"你没事吧？"塞拉斯问。
雷米咯咯地笑起来，他擦去身上的雨水，回过头，越过那用铁栅栏隔开的区间，看了被绑起来的雷。提彬一眼，他蜷缩在车后的阴影里，几乎看不见。"他跑不了的。"
塞拉斯听见提彬模糊不清的喊声，这才意识到雷米将刚才堵住他嘴的破电缆线又拿来对付提彬了。
"闭上你的臭嘴！"雷米回头向提彬吼道。他把手放到造型精致的汽车控制板上，按了按钮。一道不透明的隔墙随即在他们身后升起，将车后的隔间封住了。于是提彬消失了，他的声音也听不见了。雷米瞥了塞拉斯一眼："这些年来我实在是受够了。"
几分钟后，正当雷米开着"美洲虎"加长豪华车，加大马力穿过街道时，塞拉斯的手机突然响了起来。是教主。他激动地接起电话："喂？"
"塞拉斯。"教主操着熟悉的法国口音说："听到你的声音，我就放心了。这说明你还没出事。"塞拉斯听到教主的声音，他同样感到释然。已经过去好几个小时了，但他们的行动却疯狂地偏离了原来的轨道。现在好了，一切似乎又回归到正常的轨道。"拱心石到手了。"
"太棒了。"教主问他："雷米在吗？"
听到教主这样称呼雷米，塞拉斯吃了一惊。"在。是雷米刚才救的我。"
"他是按我吩咐去做的。你被他们绑了这么长的时间，我真地感到过意不去。"
"肉体上的痛苦倒不算什么，重要的是把拱心石弄到手。"
"你说的没错，我现在要你们赶快把它送过来。时间真的很宝贵啊。"
塞拉斯想到终于能够见到教主一面，心情急切起来。"好的，阁下。我很荣幸。"
"塞拉斯，我要雷米给我送过来。"
雷米？塞拉斯不由垂头丧气。他为教主赴汤蹈火效犬马之劳，他还以为会让他亲手把拱心石交给教主哩。难道教主偏爱雷米？
"你是不是感到很失望。"教主说道："这说明你还没明白我的意思。"他压低嗓门："你要相信，我很愿意让你这位上帝的子民--而不是让一名罪犯--把拱心石送来，可我必须处理雷米。他没听从我的命令，因而犯下严重的错误，将我们整个的计划都搅乱了。"塞拉斯打了个冷战，他回头瞥了雷米一眼。原来绑架提彬并没列入计划之内，而且如何处理他是他们将要面临的新的难题。
"你我都是上帝的子民。"教主低声地说："所以决不允许别人阻止我们实现自己的目标。
"电话的另一端沉默了片刻，分明有种不祥的预兆。"就因为这个原因，我要雷米把拱心石给我送来。你听懂了我的意思没有？"
塞拉斯察觉教主生气了，他很奇怪这人竟然如此的不近人情。他迟早会露面的，这是不可避免的，塞拉斯心想。雷米只不过是在尽义务罢了，毕竟拱心石是他夺来的。"我明白了。"他敷衍了回去。
"那好，为了你自身的安全，你马上离开街道。警察很快会来寻找你们的汽车。我不想看到你被抓走。天主事工会在伦敦有栋房子对吧？"
"那当然。"
"那里的人喜欢你吗？"
"我跟他们情同手足哩。"
"那你赶快去。等我拿到拱心石，处理好眼前的问题，我再打电话找你。"
"你在伦敦吗？"
"如果你照我吩咐的去做，那就什么事也没有了。"
"那好。"
教主长叹一声，似乎对目前必须做的事情也深感遗憾。"我来跟雷米说几句。"
塞拉斯把电话递给了雷米，觉得这可能是他--雷米。莱格鲁德最后一次接电话了。
雷米接过电话，他明白这个可怜的、备受折磨的修道士还不知道前方会有怎样的命运在等待着他，因为他已经完成了自己的使命，变得毫无用处了。塞拉斯，你是被教主利用了。而你的主教，不过是他的爪牙罢了。
雷米还在为教主说服别人的高超技艺惊奇不已。阿林加洛沙主教相信一切，他完全被自己铤而走险的动机所迷惑了。阿林加洛沙过于心急，让人难以相信。虽然雷米并不是特别喜欢这位教主，但还是为自己赢得了此人的信任而感到自豪，并尽力去帮助他。我的好日子就快到了。
"你给我听好了。"教主开了腔："你先把塞拉斯带到天主事工会的住处，等再过几条街道后才放他下去，然后把车开到圣詹姆斯公园，那里离议会和大笨钟很近。你把车停在骑兵校阅场。我们就在那里碰头。"说完，他就将电话挂了。
    
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Chapter 92
King's College, established by King George IV in 1829, houses its Department of Theology andReligious Studies adjacent to Parliament on property granted by the Crown. King's CollegeReligion Department boasts not only 150 years' experience in teaching and research, but the 1982establishment of the Research Institute in Systematic Theology, which possesses one of the mostcomplete and electronically advanced religious research libraries in the world.
　　Langdon still felt shaky as he and Sophie came in from the rain and entered the library. Theprimary research room was as Teabing had described it—a dramatic octagonal chamber dominatedby an enormous round table around which King Arthur and his knights might have beencomfortable were it not for the presence of twelve flat-screen computer workstations. On the farside of the room, a reference librarian was just pouring a pot of tea and settling in for her day ofwork.
　　"Lovely morning," she said in a cheerful British accent, leaving the tea and walking over. "May Ihelp you?""Thank you, yes," Langdon replied. "My name is—""Robert Langdon." She gave a pleasant smile. "I know who you are."For an instant, he feared Fache had put him on English television as well, but the librarian's smilesuggested otherwise. Langdon still had not gotten used to these moments of unexpected celebrity.
　　Then again, if anyone on earth were going to recognize his face, it would be a librarian in aReligious Studies reference facility.
　　"Pamela Gettum," the librarian said, offering her hand. She had a genial, erudite face and apleasingly fluid voice. The horn-rimmed glasses hanging around her neck were thick.
　　"A pleasure," Langdon said. "This is my friend Sophie Neveu."The two women greeted one another, and Gettum turned immediately back to Langdon. "I didn'tknow you were coming.""Neither did we. If it's not too much trouble, we could really use your help finding someinformation."Gettum shifted, looking uncertain. "Normally our services are by petition and appointment only,unless of course you're the guest of someone at the college?"Langdon shook his head. "I'm afraid we've come unannounced. A friend of mine speaks veryhighly of you. Sir Leigh Teabing?" Langdon felt a pang of gloom as he said the name. "The BritishRoyal Historian."Gettum brightened now, laughing. "Heavens, yes. What a character. Fanatical! Every time hecomes in, it's always the same search strings. Grail. Grail. Grail. I swear that man will die before hegives up on that quest." She winked. "Time and money afford one such lovely luxuries, wouldn'tyou say? A regular Don Quixote, that one.""Is there any chance you can help us?" Sophie asked. "It's quite important."Gettum glanced around the deserted library and then winked at them both. "Well, I can't very wellclaim I'm too busy, now can I? As long as you sign in, I can't imagine anyone being too upset.
　　What did you have in mind?""We're trying to find a tomb in London."Gettum looked dubious. "We've got about twenty thousand of them. Can you be a little morespecific?""It's the tomb of a knight. We don't have a name.""A knight. That tightens the net substantially. Much less common.""We don't have much information about the knight we're looking for," Sophie said, "but this iswhat we know." She produced a slip of paper on which she had written only the first two lines ofthe poem.
　　Hesitant to show the entire poem to an outsider, Langdon and Sophie had decided to share just thefirst two lines, those that identified the knight. Compartmentalized cryptography, Sophie had calledit. When an intelligence agency intercepted a code containing sensitive data, cryptographers eachworked on a discrete section of the code. This way, when they broke it, no single cryptographerpossessed the entire deciphered message.
　　In this case, the precaution was probably excessive; even if this librarian saw the entire poem,identified the knight's tomb, and knew what orb was missing, the information was useless withoutthe cryptex.
　　Gettum sensed an urgency in the eyes of this famed American scholar, almost as if his finding thistomb quickly were a matter of critical importance. The green-eyed woman accompanying him alsoseemed anxious.
　　Puzzled, Gettum put on her glasses and examined the paper they had just handed her.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　His labor's fruit a Holy wrath incurred.
　　She glanced at her guests. "What is this? Some kind of Harvard scavenger hunt?"Langdon's laugh sounded forced. "Yeah, something like that."Gettum paused, feeling she was not getting the whole story. Nonetheless, she felt intrigued andfound herself pondering the verse carefully. "According to this rhyme, a knight did something thatincurred displeasure with God, and yet a Pope was kind enough to bury him in London."Langdon nodded. "Does it ring any bells?"Gettum moved toward one of the workstations. "Not offhand, but let's see what we can pull up inthe database."Over the past two decades, King's College Research Institute in Systematic Theology had usedoptical character recognition software in unison with linguistic translation devices to digitize andcatalog an enormous collection of texts—encyclopedias of religion, religious biographies, sacredscriptures in dozens of languages, histories, Vatican letters, diaries of clerics, anything at all thatqualified as writings on human spirituality. Because the massive collection was now in the form ofbits and bytes rather than physical pages, the data was infinitely more accessible.
　　Settling into one of the workstations, Gettum eyed the slip of paper and began typing. "To begin,we'll run a straight Boolean with a few obvious keywords and see what happens.""Thank you."Gettum typed in a few words:
　　LONDON, KNIGHT, POPEAs she clicked the SEARCH button, she could feel the hum of the massive mainframe downstairsscanning data at a rate of 500 MB/sec. "I'm asking the system to show us any documents whosecomplete text contains all three of these keywords. We'll get more hits than we want, but it's a goodplace to start."The screen was already showing the first of the hits now.
　　Painting the Pope. The Collected Portraits of Sir Joshua Reynolds. London University Press.
　　Gettum shook her head. "Obviously not what you're looking for." She scrolled to the next hit.
　　The London Writings of Alexander Pope by G. Wilson Knight.
　　Again she shook her head.
　　As the system churned on, the hits came up more quickly than usual. Dozens of texts appeared,many of them referencing the eighteenth-century British writer Alexander Pope, whosecounterreligious, mock-epic poetry apparently contained plenty of references to knights andLondon.
　　Gettum shot a quick glance to the numeric field at the bottom of the screen. This computer, bycalculating the current number of hits and multiplying by the percentage of the database left tosearch, provided a rough guess of how much information would be found. This particular searchlooked like it was going to return an obscenely large amount of data.
　　Estimated number of total hits: 2,692"We need to refine the parameters further," Gettum said, stopping the search. "Is this all theinformation you have regarding the tomb? There's nothing else to go on?"Langdon glanced at Sophie Neveu, looking uncertain.
　　This is no scavenger hunt, Gettum sensed. She had heard the whisperings of Robert Langdon'sexperience in Rome last year. This American had been granted access to the most secure library onearth—the Vatican Secret Archives. She wondered what kinds of secrets Langdon might havelearned inside and if his current desperate hunt for a mysterious London tomb might relate toinformation he had gained within the Vatican. Gettum had been a librarian long enough to knowthe most common reason people came to London to look for knights. The Grail.
　　Gettum smiled and adjusted her glasses. "You are friends with Leigh Teabing, you are in England,and you are looking for a knight." She folded her hands. "I can only assume you are on a Grailquest."Langdon and Sophie exchanged startled looks.
　　Gettum laughed. "My friends, this library is a base camp for Grail seekers. Leigh Teabing amongthem. I wish I had a shilling for every time I'd run searches for the Rose, Mary Magdalene,Sangreal, Merovingian, Priory of Sion, et cetera, et cetera. Everyone loves a conspiracy." She tookoff her glasses and eyed them. "I need more information."In the silence, Gettum sensed her guests' desire for discretion was quickly being outweighed bytheir eagerness for a fast result.
　　"Here," Sophie Neveu blurted. "This is everything we know." Borrowing a pen from Langdon, shewrote two more lines on the slip of paper and handed it to Gettum.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　Gettum gave an inward smile. The Grail indeed, she thought, noting the references to the Rose andher seeded womb. "I can help you," she said, looking up from the slip of paper. "Might I ask wherethis verse came from? And why you are seeking an orb?""You might ask," Langdon said, with a friendly smile, "but it's a long story and we have very littletime.""Sounds like a polite way of saying 'mind your own business.' ""We would be forever in your debt, Pamela," Langdon said, "if you could find out who this knightis and where he is buried.""Very well," Gettum said, typing again. "I'll play along. If this is a Grail-related issue, we shouldcross-reference against Grail keywords. I'll add a proximity parameter and remove the titleweighting. That will limit our hits only to those instances of textual keywords that occur near aGrail-related word."Search for: KNIGHT, LONDON, POPE, TOMBWithin 100 word proximity of: GRAIL, ROSE, SANGREAL, CHALICE"How long will this take?" Sophie asked.
　　"A few hundred terabytes with multiple cross-referencing fields?" Gettum's eyes glimmered as sheclicked the SEARCH key. "A mere fifteen minutes."Langdon and Sophie said nothing, but Gettum sensed this sounded like an eternity to them.
　　"Tea?" Gettum asked, standing and walking toward the pot she had made earlier. "Leigh alwaysloves my tea."
国王学院是国王乔治四世于1829 年创建的，里面设有神学及宗教研究所，它离议会很近，是由皇家出资运营的。国王学院的宗教部在宗教教学以及研究方面号称具有150 多年的历史，而且在1982 年，它还创办了系统神学的研究机构，并拥有当今世界上最完善和最先进的宗教研究电子图书馆。
兰登与索菲冒雨来到了图书馆，他还在打着冷战。研究大楼跟提彬描述的一模一样：厅很大，呈八边形，里面一张巨大的圆桌子，煞是抢眼；要不是屋里放了十二个平面计算机工作台，就是亚瑟王和他的圆桌骑士坐上去，也不会觉得有什么不舒服。在离大厅门口很远的另一端，一位图书管理员正在给自己泡一壶茶，开始了当天的准备工作。
"多么美好的早晨啊。"她把茶晾在一边，走了过来，并操着欢快的英国口音说："需要我帮什么忙吗？"
"是的，谢谢。"罗伯特回答说："我叫--"
"罗伯特。兰登。"她开心地笑了笑："我知道你是谁。"
有一阵子，罗伯特担心是法希将他的形象弄进英国的电视节目里去了，然而这位图书管理员的微笑却表明并不是这么一回事。兰登出乎意料地做了回名人，对此，他一点也不习惯。再说，就算世界上还有哪个人能认出他这张脸，那也应该是宗教研究资料室的图书管理员才对呀。
"我叫帕美拉。杰塔姆。"图书管理员伸出手来，温和地说。她有着一张亲切而充满智慧的脸，还有一副甜美的嗓子。她的脖子上挂着一幅角质架的眼镜，看起来度数很深。
"幸会幸会。"兰登有礼貌地说："这是我朋友索菲。奈芙。"
两个女人互相打了个招呼，然后杰塔姆立刻转身对兰登说："我不知道你会到这里来。"
"不要说你，连我们自己都不知道呢。如果你不嫌麻烦，我们真想让你帮忙查些资料。"
杰塔姆动了一下，似乎有些不安。"我们通常只向事先提出申请或预约的人提供服务，当然，如果你是这里的客人除外，你受到邀请了吗？"
兰登摇了摇头："我们到这里来谁也没通知。我有位朋友对你评价很高呢。雷。提彬爵士，英国皇家历史学家，你认识吗？"兰登提到这个名字时，神情有些黯然。
听到这，杰塔姆眼睛一亮，笑了起来："我的天，这还用说吗？他是个多么狂热的人呐！每次他来，总是要查找同样的东西。成天除了圣杯，还是圣杯！我担心他这个人还没有放弃探索就不行了呢。"她眨了眨眼："时间与金钱能给人带来如此高尚的享受，我这样说你不会反对吧？那家伙整个的是个堂。吉诃德。""那你能不能帮帮我们？"索菲问："这对我们真的很重要啊。"
杰塔姆将空荡荡的图书馆扫视了一遍，然后向他们眨了眨眼："那好，眼下我总不能找个借口说我很忙对吧？只要你们签个名，我想也不会有人感到不安的。说吧，你们想干什么？"
"我们到伦敦来是想找一座坟墓。"
杰塔姆满脸疑惑："在伦敦大约有两万座的坟墓，你能不能说得再具体些呢？"
"是一位位骑土的坟墓，可我们不知道他的名字。"
"骑士？那倒是大大缩小了搜索的范围，很不寻常嘛。"
"我们对要找的骑土的坟墓主人了解不多。"索菲说："我们知道的就是这些。"说着，她从口袋里抽出一张纸条，上面只写了那首诗的前两句。
兰登与索菲起初犹豫着要不要把整首诗给一位外人看，最后他们决定，就让她看这首诗的前两句--即可以确定骑士身份的那两句。索菲将它称作"被分隔的密码"。每当情报部门截获了含有敏感信息的密码时，破译密码专家们就会各自对密码的零散部分进行分析处理。这样，等他们将密码破译出来之后，他们当中的任何人都不会拥有完整的解码信息。
不过就此而言，这样的防范也许过分了一些，即使这位图书管理员读了整首诗，确定了这位骑士的坟墓，并且还知道失踪的圆球是什么样子，但如果没有密码盒，那也是无济于事。
杰塔姆从这位著名的美国学者眼中读到了一种急迫感，仿佛尽快找到那座坟墓，就是他生命中最重要的使命。那个和他一起来的、长着一双橄榄绿色眼睛的女人，看上去似乎也一脸的急切。
杰塔姆疑惑不解，她戴上眼镜，仔细审视着他们刚才给她的那张纸上的小诗。
在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。
他的行为触怒了上帝，因为违背了他的旨意。
她瞥了客人一眼："这是什么？该不是哈佛大学玩的寻宝游戏吧？"
兰登有些勉强地笑了笑："嗯，我看差不多吧。"
杰塔姆停了下来，她觉得自己看到的只是一些片断，不过她倒是被它吸引住了，于是开始仔细琢磨起这两句诗来。"这首诗说的是一位骑士，他想必做了什么事情触怒了上帝，然而教皇对他还算宽待，将他葬在了伦敦。"兰登点头说："你没有发现其他什么吗？"
杰塔姆走到厅里的一个工作台："暂时还没有，不过我们可以看看在数据库里能够搜索到什么东西。"在过去的二十多年里，国王学院的系统神学研究机构采用了光学人像识别软件以及语言转化手段对大量的文本--诸如宗教百科全书、宗教参考书目、以数十种文字写就的圣贤书稿、历史书籍、梵蒂冈信札、牧师日记以及其他所有涉及到人类精神层面的作品--逐一进行数字化的处理，并编制了新的目录。正因为现在这些数额惊人的收藏典籍是以比特和字节的形式存在，才使得要搜寻有关方面的数据变得格外的容易。
杰塔姆调用了其中一个工作台，她看了看那张纸条，然后开始打字。"首先，我们将直接启动布尔检测系统，先输入几个关键词，看看能找到些什么。""谢谢。"
杰塔姆输入了几个关键词：伦敦、骑士、教皇。
然后她按了搜索键，这时，她能够听到楼上主机以每秒500 兆字节的速度扫描数据时所发出的"嗡嗡"声。"我正在要求系统给我先是在完整文本中包含了这三个词的所有文件。
虽然我们会受到过多的数据干扰，但仍不失为我们寻找想要的东西的好地方。"电脑屏幕上现已出现了第一个匹配的数据。
《给教皇画像》，选自《乔舒亚。雷诺兹爵士收藏油画作品集》，由伦敦大学出版社出版。
杰塔姆摇摇头："这显然不是你要找的东西。"
她又转到第二个数据。
《伦敦亚历山大，蒲柏作品集》，作者：G.威尔逊。耐特。
杰塔姆再次摇了摇头。
电脑继续发出"嗡嗡"的声音，而数据出来的速度却比平常快多了。屏幕上出现了几十篇文章，其中大多是关于18 世纪英国作家亚历山大。蒲柏的，他创作的反宗教、仿史诗的诗歌很明显在许多地方提到了骑士以及伦敦的相关内容。
杰塔姆飞快地瞥了一眼屏幕底部的数字栏。这台电脑，通过计算当前数据的数量并将它乘以尚待搜索的数据库的百分比，大致估算出将要找到的信息数目。这次详细的搜索似乎将会没完没了地向他们提供大量的数据。
估计的数据总数：2692 个。
"我们必须重新设定参数。"杰塔姆停止了搜索，说："有关这座坟墓的资料就这些吗？
还有其他的没有？"
兰登看了看索菲。奈芙，神情有些不安。
杰塔姆觉得这决不是什么寻宝游戏。此前她已听说罗伯特。兰登去年在罗马的一些传闻。这名美国人被允许进入了世界上最安全的图书馆--梵蒂冈秘密档案馆。她不知道兰登是否有可能在那所档案馆里了解到了什么秘密，也不知道他眼下歇斯底里地寻找一座位于伦敦的神秘坟墓，是否跟他在梵蒂冈了解到的秘密很有关系。杰塔姆在图书馆干了多年，凭她多年的经验，她很清楚人们跑到伦敦来寻找骑士是出于什么样的动机--圣杯，就是他们前来的终极目的。
杰塔姆微微笑了笑，扶了扶眼镜，说："你们和提彬是朋友，又跑到了英国来找什么骑士。"她双手绞缠在一起："我敢打赌你们是来找圣杯的吧。"兰登与索菲互相交换了惊讶的神色。
杰塔姆大声笑了起来："各位朋友，这座图书馆就是专门为圣杯寻找者提供的一个探险基地。雷。提彬爵士就是其中的一位。我真希望每次搜索"玫瑰、抹大拉的玛利亚、圣杯、郇山隐修会"等词语的时候，能收费一先令。每个人都喜欢彼此互惠互利嘛。"她取下眼镜，斜视着他们："快给我更多有关的信息。"
在片刻的沉默中，杰塔姆发现两位客人虽然出于谨慎还想考虑考虑，但最终很快做出了决定，因为他们迫切地希望能找出结果来。
"给你。"索菲。奈芙冲口说道："我们知道的就这些了。"她从兰登那里借了一支笔，又在纸条上添上了两行诗句，递给了杰塔姆。
你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。
它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。
杰塔姆会心地一笑。果然是冲着圣杯来的，她想--她注意到诗里有"玫瑰"以及"怀孕子宫"的提示。"我可以帮你。"她将视线从那张纸条上移开，抬起头来，说："我可不可以问问，这首诗是从何而来？你们为什么要寻找圆球呢？"
"当然可以。"兰登友善地笑了笑："不过说来话就长了，可我们又没有那么多的时间啊。""你好像是在委婉地对我说："你别多管闲事"呢！""我们会永远感激你的，帕美拉。"兰登说："假如你能够帮我们找出这位骑士是谁，葬在哪里的话。""很好。"杰塔姆又开始打起字来："我陪你们一起玩。如果这跟圣杯有关，那我们就得前后参照相关的关键词。我要加上一个近似参数，再除掉多余的标题。这样就会将搜寻到的数据仅限制在包含了那些与圣杯有关词语意义相近的关键词的文本范围里。"搜索："骑士、伦敦、教皇、坟墓。"
以及100 个与圣杯有关的词：GRAIL、ROSE、SANGRE、CHALICE……
"这要花多长时间？"索菲问。
"不知是否多达几百千兆的字节，并跨越了多学科的领域？"杰塔姆敲了敲搜索键，眼睛亮了起来："也就大约需要十五分钟吧。"
兰登和索菲一言不发，然而杰塔姆觉得，这对他们来说似乎是一个极其漫长的时刻。
"两位想喝茶吗？"杰塔姆站起来，向刚才她泡好茶的茶壶走去。"雷爵士一向很爱喝我沏的茶呢。"
    
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Chapter 93
London's Opus Dei Centre is a modest brick building at 5 Orme Court, overlooking the North Walkat Kensington Gardens. Silas had never been here, but he felt a rising sense of refuge and asylum ashe approached the building on foot. Despite the rain, Rémy had dropped him off a short distanceaway in order to keep the limousine off the main streets. Silas didn't mind the walk. The rain wascleansing.
　　At Rémy's suggestion, Silas had wiped down his gun and disposed of it through a sewer grate. Hewas glad to get rid of it. He felt lighter. His legs still ached from being bound all that time, butSilas had endured far greater pain. He wondered, though, about Teabing, whom Rémy had leftbound in the back of the limousine. The Briton certainly had to be feeling the pain by now.
　　"What will you do with him?" Silas had asked Rémy as they drove over here.
　　Rémy had shrugged. "That is a decision for the Teacher." There was an odd finality in his tone.
　　Now, as Silas approached the Opus Dei building, the rain began to fall harder, soaking his heavyrobe, stinging the wounds of the day before. He was ready to leave behind the sins of the lasttwenty-four hours and purge his soul. His work was done.
　　Moving across a small courtyard to the front door, Silas was not surprised to find the doorunlocked. He opened it and stepped into the minimalist foyer. A muted electronic chime soundedupstairs as Silas stepped onto the carpet. The bell was a common feature in these halls where theresidents spent most of the day in their rooms in prayer. Silas could hear movement above on thecreaky wood floors.
　　A man in a cloak came downstairs. "May I help you?" He had kind eyes that seemed not even toregister Silas's startling physical appearance.
　　"Thank you. My name is Silas. I am an Opus Dei numerary.""American?"Silas nodded. "I am in town only for the day. Might I rest here?""You need not even ask. There are two empty rooms on the third floor. Shall I bring you some teaand bread?""Thank you." Silas was famished.
　　Silas went upstairs to a modest room with a window, where he took off his wet robe and kneltdown to pray in his undergarments. He heard his host come up and lay a tray outside his door. Silasfinished his prayers, ate his food, and lay down to sleep.
　　Three stories below, a phone was ringing. The Opus Dei numerary who had welcomed Silasanswered the line.
　　"This is the London police," the caller said. "We are trying to find an albino monk. We've had a tip-off that he might be there. Have you seen him?"The numerary was startled. "Yes, he is here. Is something wrong?""He is there now?""Yes, upstairs praying. What is going on?""Leave him precisely where he is," the officer commanded. "Don't say a word to anyone. I'msending officers over right away."
伦敦的天主事工会活动中心位于奥姆宫街5 号，它是一座外表朴素的砖房，从楼上可以俯瞰到肯辛顿花园的北大道。塞拉斯从未到过那里，然而当他以步代车向那栋房子走去时，他的心中逐渐有种越来强烈的前来寻求避难的感觉。尽管下着雨，雷米还是把车停在离房子不远的地方，让他下车，为的是使豪华轿车远离热闹的大街。塞拉斯并不介意走路。雨，正在洗刷着天地间的一切。
塞拉斯听从了雷米的建议，他把熗擦拭干净，把它放进带栅条的炉篦里。他很高兴把它处理掉了，感觉轻松了许多。他的双腿因为一直被绑着，至今还有点疼，然而他曾经承受过的苦难远比这大得多。不过，他倒是在为被雷米绑在车子后面的提彬而感到惊奇。这个英国佬肯定要吃一番苦头了。
"你打算怎么处置他呢？"早在开车到这里来时，塞拉斯就已经问过雷米。
雷米耸耸肩："还是让教主做决定吧。"他以一种奇怪的果断语气说道。
此刻，塞拉斯向天主事工会的房子走去。雨下得更大了，将他身上的长袍淋了个湿透，他前天留下的伤口，因为雨淋的缘故，此时像针一样刺痛了他的神经。他正准备将过去二十四小时的罪孽统统抛诸脑后，以便净化自己的灵魂。如今，他的使命已经完成。
塞拉斯穿过小院，来到大门前。他发现门没有锁，却一点也不感到奇怪。当他从地毯上走过时，楼上的电子钟骤然响了起来。在这些居住者每天要花上大部分时间闭门祷告的大厅里，钟，是在寻常不过的摆设。塞拉斯听到头上的木板发出"吱吱呀呀"的声音。
一位身披大氅的男人走下楼来。"有什么事需要我帮忙吗？"他的目光很和蔼，似乎毫不在意塞拉斯那令人吃惊的外表。
"谢谢。我叫塞拉斯，是天主事工会的成员。"
"你是美国人吗？"
塞拉斯点点头："我来城里就呆一天。我可以在这里歇歇脚吗？"
"那还用说，四楼有两间房子空着呢。要不要我去给你拿些面包与茶来？"
"谢谢。"塞拉斯此时已经饿坏了。
塞拉斯上楼挑了一个有窗户的房间，他脱下身上被雨淋湿的长袍，只穿着贴身的衣服，跪在地上祷告。他听到主人上了楼，将盘子放在门边。塞拉斯做完祷告，吃完东西，便躺下睡觉。
三层楼以下，有人正打电话进来。接电话的，是刚才接待塞拉斯的天主事工会的那个人。
"这里是伦敦警察局，"打电话的人说道："我们在寻找一名患了白化病的修道士。我们已经听说，他可能就在你们那里。你见过他没有？"
天主事工会的人大吃一惊："他是在这里。他闯了什么祸吗？"
"他真的在你们那里？"
"是的，他正在楼上祷告呢。到底出什么事了？"
"你别放他走。"那位警官下了命令："也不要跟任何人说。我马上就派人过来。”    
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Chapter 94
St. James's Park is a sea of green in the middle of London, a public park bordering the palaces ofWestminster, Buckingham, and St. James's. Once enclosed by King Henry VIII and stocked withdeer for the hunt, St. James's Park is now open to the public. On sunny afternoons, Londonerspicnic beneath the willows and feed the pond's resident pelicans, whose ancestors were a gift toCharles II from the Russian ambassador.
　　The Teacher saw no pelicans today. The stormy weather had brought instead seagulls from theocean. The lawns were covered with them—hundreds of white bodies all facing the same direction,patiently riding out the damp wind. Despite the morning fog, the park afforded splendid views ofthe Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. Gazing across the sloping lawns, past the duck pond andthe delicate silhouettes of the weeping willows, the Teacher could see the spires of the building thathoused the knight's tomb—the real reason he had told Rémy to come to this spot.
　　As the Teacher approached the front passenger door of the parked limousine, Rémy leaned acrossand opened the door. The Teacher paused outside, taking a pull from the flask of cognac he wascarrying. Then, dabbing his mouth, he slid in beside Rémy and closed the door.
　　Rémy held up the keystone like a trophy. "It was almost lost.""You have done well," the Teacher said.
　　"We have done well," Rémy replied, laying the keystone in the Teacher's eager hands.
　　The Teacher admired it a long moment, smiling. "And the gun? You wiped it down?""Back in the glove box where I found it.""Excellent." The Teacher took another drink of cognac and handed the flask to Rémy. "Let's toastour success. The end is near."Rémy accepted the bottle gratefully. The cognac tasted salty, but Rémy didn't care. He and theTeacher were truly partners now. He could feel himself ascending to a higher station in life. I willnever be a servant again. As Rémy gazed down the embankment at the duck pond below, ChateauVillette seemed miles away.
　　Taking another swig from the flask, Rémy could feel the cognac warming his blood. The warmth inRémy's throat, however, mutated quickly to an uncomfortable heat. Loosening his bow tie, Rémytasted an unpleasant grittiness and handed the flask back to the Teacher. "I've probably hadenough," he managed, weakly.
　　Taking the flask, the Teacher said, "Rémy, as you are aware, you are the only one who knows myface. I placed enormous trust in you.""Yes," he said, feeling feverish as he loosened his tie further. "And your identity shall go with meto the grave."The Teacher was silent a long moment. "I believe you." Pocketing the flask and the keystone, theTeacher reached for the glove box and pulled out the tiny Medusa revolver. For an instant, Rémyfelt a surge of fear, but the Teacher simply slipped it in his trousers pocket.
　　What is he doing? Rémy felt himself sweating suddenly.
　　"I know I promised you freedom," the Teacher said, his voice now sounding regretful. "Butconsidering your circumstances, this is the best I can do."The swelling in Rémy's throat came on like an earthquake, and he lurched against the steeringcolumn, grabbing his throat and tasting vomit in his narrowing esophagus. He let out a muted croakof a scream, not even loud enough to be heard outside the car. The saltiness in the cognac nowregistered.
　　I'm being murdered!
　　Incredulous, Rémy turned to see the Teacher sitting calmly beside him, staring straight ahead outthe windshield. Rémy's eyesight blurred, and he gasped for breath. I made everything possible forhim! How could he do this! Whether the Teacher had intended to kill Rémy all along or whether ithad been Rémy's actions in the Temple Church that had made the Teacher lose faith, Rémy wouldnever know. Terror and rage coursed through him now. Rémy tried to lunge for the Teacher, buthis stiffening body could barely move. I trusted you with everything!
　　Rémy tried to lift his clenched fists to blow the horn, but instead he slipped sideways, rolling ontothe seat, lying on his side beside the Teacher, clutching at his throat. The rain fell harder now.
　　Rémy could no longer see, but he could sense his oxygen-deprived brain straining to cling to hislast faint shreds of lucidity. As his world slowly went black, Rémy Legaludec could have sworn heheard the sounds of the soft Riviera surf.
　　The Teacher stepped from the limousine, pleased to see that nobody was looking in his direction. Ihad no choice, he told himself, surprised how little remorse he felt for what he had just done. Rémysealed his own fate. The Teacher had feared all along that Rémy might need to be eliminated whenthe mission was complete, but by brazenly showing himself in the Temple Church, Rémy hadaccelerated the necessity dramatically. Robert Langdon's unexpected visit to Chateau Villette hadbrought the Teacher both a fortuitous windfall and an intricate dilemma. Langdon had delivered thekeystone directly to the heart of the operation, which was a pleasant surprise, and yet he hadbrought the police on his tail. Rémy's prints were all over Chateau Villette, as well as in the barn'slistening post, where Rémy had carried out the surveillance. The Teacher was grateful he had takenso much care in preventing any ties between Rémy's activities and his own. Nobody couldimplicate the Teacher unless Rémy talked, and that was no longer a concern.
　　One more loose end to tie up here, the Teacher thought, moving now toward the rear door of thelimousine. The police will have no idea what happened... and no living witness left to tell them.
　　Glancing around to ensure nobody was watching, he pulled open the door and climbed into thespacious rear compartment.
　　Minutes later, the Teacher was crossing St. James's Park. Only two people now remain. Langdonand Neveu. They were more complicated. But manageable. At the moment, however, the Teacherhad the cryptex to attend to.
　　Gazing triumphantly across the park, he could see his destination. In London lies a knight a Popeinterred. As soon as the Teacher had heard the poem, he had known the answer. Even so, that theothers had not figured it out was not surprising. I have an unfair advantage. Having listened toSaunière's conversations for months now, the Teacher had heard the Grand Master mention thisfamous knight on occasion, expressing esteem almost matching that he held for Da Vinci. Thepoem's reference to the knight was brutally simple once one saw it—a credit to Saunière's wit—andyet how this tomb would reveal the final password was still a mystery.
　　You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
　　The Teacher vaguely recalled photos of the famous tomb and, in particular, its most distinguishingfeature. A magnificent orb. The huge sphere mounted atop the tomb was almost as large as thetomb itself. The presence of the orb seemed both encouraging and troubling to the Teacher. On onehand, it felt like a signpost, and yet, according to the poem, the missing piece of the puzzle was anorb that ought to be on his tomb... not one that was already there. He was counting on his closerinspection of the tomb to unveil the answer.
　　The rain was getting heavier now, and he tucked the cryptex deep in his right-hand pocket toprotect it from the dampness. He kept the tiny Medusa revolver in his left, out of sight. Withinminutes, he was stepping into the quiet sanctuary of London's grandest nine-hundred-year-oldbuilding.
　　Just as the Teacher was stepping out of the rain, Bishop Aringarosa was stepping into it. On therainy tarmac at Biggin Hill Executive Airport, Aringarosa emerged from his cramped plane,bundling his cassock against the cold damp. He had hoped to be greeted by Captain Fache. Insteada young British police officer approached with an umbrella.
　　"Bishop Aringarosa? Captain Fache had to leave. He asked me to look after you. He suggested Itake you to Scotland Yard. He thought it would be safest."Safest? Aringarosa looked down at the heavy briefcase of Vatican bonds clutched in his hand. Hehad almost forgotten. "Yes, thank you."Aringarosa climbed into the police car, wondering where Silas could be. Minutes later, the policescanner crackled with the answer.
　　5 Orme Court.
　　Aringarosa recognized the address instantly.
　　The Opus Dei Centre in London.
　　He spun to the driver. "Take me there at once!"
圣詹姆斯公园坐落在伦敦的市中心，是一片绿色的海洋。它是一座毗邻威斯敏斯特教堂、白金汉宫、圣詹姆斯宫的公园。国王亨利八世曾经把它封锁起来，并在里面养鹿供打猎取乐之用。如今圣詹姆斯公园面向公众开放。天气晴朗的午后，伦敦人在柳树下野餐，给逗留在池里的鹈鹕喂食，这些鹈鹕的祖先，是俄罗斯大使赠送给查理二世的礼物。
然而今天，教主却没看到一只鹈鹕。倒是暴风雨的天气，将一些海鸥从海洋上赶了过来。这些海鸥，密密麻麻地挤满了公园的草坪，成百上千的白色躯体，都面向着同一个方向，耐心地等待这阵潮湿的狂风过去。虽然早晨有雾，但在公园里依然能够看到议会以及大笨钟等建筑的壮观景象。教主望着那倾斜的草坪，然后从鸭池边以及那影影绰绰的垂柳下走过。他看到里头藏着骑士坟墓的建筑那尖尖的塔顶--而这，才是他让雷米到这里来的真正的理由。
教主来到那辆已经停下来的豪华轿车供乘客上下的前门，雷米附过身去，给他开门。
教主在车外停了片刻，拨弄了一下手中的白兰地酒瓶，然后抹抹嘴，侧身钻进车来，坐到雷米身边，并关上门。
雷米一把将拱心石举到他的面前，似乎在炫耀一件战利品："我们差点失手了哩。"
"你干得真不赖！"教主赞许地说。
"我们都做得很不错。"雷米说着，把拱心石放到早已急不可耐的教主的手中。
那位教主把玩了很长时间，才笑着问："熗呢？你把它擦拭干净了吗？"
"我已经把它放回到手套盒里去了。"
"太好了。"教主又呷了一口白兰地酒，然后将酒瓶递给了雷米。"为我们的成功干杯吧。马上就可以了断了。"雷米接过酒瓶，充满了感激。白兰地酒有点咸，然而他并没在意。现在，他和教主成了真正的合作伙伴。他觉得自己的人生即将登上一个更高的起点。我再也不用给人家做仆人了。雷米低头看着下面鸭池的堤坝，维莱特庄园，此时己被他抛到九霄云外去了。
他又喝了一大口白兰地酒，觉得是酒精使他体内的血液沸腾起来。他发热的嗓子，很快变得燥热起来，令他非常的难受。他松开衣服上的领结，心里有种颇为不祥的痛苦滋味，他把酒瓶还给了教主。"也许是喝多了。"他强打起精神，虚弱地说。
教主接过瓶子，说："雷米，你要知道，你是唯一知道我身份的人，我给予了你莫大的信任。""是的。"他觉得热得快不行了，又把领结松开了一些。"我不会把你的身份泄露出去的，一直到死。"教主沉默了良久，才说："这我相信。"他把酒瓶和拱心石放好，将手伸进手套盒里摸索了一阵，然后拔出那把小型"美杜莎"左轮手熗。雷米马上恐惧起来，然而教主却把熗放进了裤子的口袋。
他想干什么？雷米顿时发现全身都冒汗了。
"我说过给你自由。"教主的话里有种懊悔的语调。"但考虑到你目前的状况，我只能这样做了。"雷米的喉咙肿得厉害，仿佛在他体内，发生了一场地震。他斜着身子，靠着汽车的操纵杆，用手扼住自己的喉咙，尝到了想要呕吐的味道。他嘶哑而沉闷地叫着，然而声音不大，车外的人并不能听到。白兰地酒中的药性，终于发作了。
我遭人暗算了呀。
雷米觉得难以置信，他转身看着那位教主，此时，他正平静地坐在他的身边，直视着挡风玻璃的外面。雷米的视线逐渐模糊起来，他张着嘴，大口地喘气。我为他这么卖命！他怎能如此的无情！究竟是教主有心杀他，还是因为教主对他在圣殿教堂里的种种表现早就失去了信心，他不知道，也永远不会知道。恐惧和愤怒攫住了他。他挣扎着想冲到教主身边，然而他僵硬的躯体，却再也不能向前移。枉我凡事都相信你啊！
雷米紧握着拳头，企图向汽车喇叭砸过去。然而他没有砸个正着，他一个趔趄，滚到了座位上，手紧紧地掐着自己的喉咙，侧身倒在教主的旁边。雨下得更大了，然而雷米再也看不到了。他感到大脑里的氧气逐渐枯竭，意识也越来越模糊，直至消失。在周围的世界慢慢走向混沌的时刻，雷米。莱格鲁德或许发过誓，说他听到了南欧避暑胜地维埃拉那温柔的海浪声。
教主走下车，他很高兴无人朝他的方向张望。我也是被逼得没办法啊，他安慰着自己。想到竟然对刚才做过的事情并不觉得有丝毫的懊悔，就连他自己都很吃惊。雷米完全是咎由自取。教主早就担心，一旦任务完成，要不要对雷米做出处理。然而雷米冒冒失失地闯进圣殿教堂，显然使他加强了除掉他的决心。罗伯特。兰登出乎意料地来到维莱特庄园，给教主带来了意想不到的发现，却又使他陷入不可名状的困境。兰登直接把拱心石送到了行动的中心地带，这固然给了他一个惊喜，然而他也引来了一帮警察。雷米在整个维莱特庄园，到处留下了痕迹，即便在他偷听的地方，谷仓的听音柱上，也不例外。教主很庆幸他花了那么多的心思，才使人们没将他与雷米的所作所为联系起来。没有人会将他牵扯进去，除非雷米自己说出来，而这他已经没必要再去担心了。
这里还有一端线要等我去绑紧呢，教主心里想着，便往豪华轿车的后门走去。警察将无法知道这里发生了什么……也没有目击者告诉他们什么。他环顾左右，确信没人在注意他，这才推开门，爬进汽车宽敞的后车厢。
几分钟后，教主穿过圣詹姆斯公园。如今只剩两人需要我去对付了，那就是兰登与奈芙。他们两人的情况要复杂得多，但也不是难以驾驭的。不过眼下，他所关心的只是密码盒。
他得意洋洋地环视了公园一圈，他似乎看到了朝思暮想的目的地就在前头。"在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"一听到这首诗，他就已经知道了答案。但即使是这样，其他人如果还没想出来，那也没什么好奇怪的。我有别人难以比拟的优势。他监听索尼埃已经有好几个月，听到这位大师偶然提到了这位骑士，他所流露出来的敬意几乎可以与他对达。芬奇的尊敬相匹敌。人们一旦洞察了索尼埃的良苦用心，那么此诗对这位骑士的提示就变得非常简单了，不过，这座坟墓最终将会以什么样的方式将密码告诉给他们，目前还是个难解的谜。
"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑土的墓里。"
教主依稀记得那座坟墓的一些照片，他记得特别清楚，坟墓有个最显著的特征，那就是它有个外形华美的圆球，这个硕大的圆球，安放在坟墓的顶上，跟坟墓的大小差不多。
圆球的存在，对教主而言，既给了他鼓励，又增添了他的烦恼。一方面，它就像一个路标，然而据这首诗来看，这个谜的缺失项是一只本应在骑士墓里的圆球，而不是已在那里的圆球。为了解开这个谜，他准备到坟墓上去做进一步的调查。雨越下越大了，他将密码盒塞进右边口袋的深处，以防止雨水将它淋湿。他又将那把"美杜莎"小型左轮手熗藏进左边口袋里，防止让别人看见。没过几分钟，他就走进了这座全伦敦最宏伟的、具有九百年辉煌历史的建筑那静谧的礼拜堂里。
就在教主从雨中走出来的当儿，阿林加洛沙主教却奔进了雨中。飞机停泊在被雨淋湿的比金山机场，阿林加洛沙主教从狭窄的机舱里走了出来，他把身上的长袍扎紧，以抵御这寒冷的湿气。他本以为法希上尉会到机场接他，然而走上前来的却是一位打着雨伞的年轻英国警官。
"你是阿林加洛沙主教吗？法希上尉有事不在。他要我来接你，还要我把你带到苏格兰场，他认为那里是最安全的。"
最安全？阿林加洛沙主教低头看着手中装满了梵蒂冈银行证券的沉重的公文包。他差点把它忘了。"你说得没错，谢谢。"
阿林加洛沙主教爬上警车，寻思着塞拉斯可能会在哪里。没过几分钟，警车的扫描器发出尖锐的响声，紧接着就有了答案。
"奥姆宫街5 号。"
阿林加洛沙主教很快便认出了上面的地址。
伦敦天主事工会活动中心。
于是他掉头对司机说："带我去那儿，马上！"
    
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Chapter 95
Langdon's eyes had not left the computer screen since the search began.
　　Five minutes. Only two hits. Both irrelevant.
　　He was starting to get worried.
　　Pamela Gettum was in the adjoining room, preparing hot drinks. Langdon and Sophie had inquiredunwisely if there might be some coffee brewing alongside the tea Gettum had offered, and from thesound of the microwave beeps in the next room, Langdon suspected their request was about to berewarded with instant Nescafe.
　　Finally, the computer pinged happily.
　　"Sounds like you got another," Gettum called from the next room. "What's the title?"Langdon eyed the screen.
　　Grail Allegory in Medieval Literature: A Treatise on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
　　"Allegory of the Green Knight," he called back.
　　"No good," Gettum said. "Not many mythological green giants buried in London."Langdon and Sophie sat patiently in front of the screen and waited through two more dubiousreturns. When the computer pinged again, though, the offering was unexpected.
　　DIE OPERN VON RICHARD WAGNER"The operas of Wagner?" Sophie asked.
　　Gettum peeked back in the doorway, holding a packet of instant coffee. "That seems like a strangematch. Was Wagner a knight?""No," Langdon said, feeling a sudden intrigue. "But he was a well-known Freemason." Along withMozart, Beethoven, Shakespeare, Gershwin, Houdini, and Disney. Volumes had been written aboutthe ties between the Masons and the Knights Templar, the Priory of Sion, and the Holy Grail. "Iwant to look at this one. How do I see the full text?""You don't want the full text," Gettum called. "Click on the hypertext title. The computer willdisplay your keyword hits along with mono prelogs and triple postlogs for context."Langdon had no idea what she had just said, but he clicked anyway.
　　A new window popped up.
　　...mythological knight named Parsifal who...
　　...metaphorical Grail quest that arguably...
　　...the London Philharmonic in 1855...
　　Rebecca Pope's opera anthology "Diva's...
　　...Wagner's tomb in Bayreuth, Germany...
　　"Wrong Pope," Langdon said, disappointed. Even so, he was amazed by the system's ease of use.
　　The keywords with context were enough to remind him that Wagner's opera Parsifal was a tributeto Mary Magdalene and the bloodline of Jesus Christ, told through the story of a young knight on aquest for truth.
　　"Just be patient," Gettum urged. "It's a numbers game. Let the machine run."Over the next few minutes, the computer returned several more Grail references, including a textabout troubadours—France's famous wandering minstrels. Langdon knew it was no coincidencethat the word minstrel and minister shared an etymological root. The troubadours were thetraveling servants or "ministers" of the Church of Mary Magdalene, using music to disseminate thestory of the sacred feminine among the common folk. To this day, the troubadours sang songsextolling the virtues of "our Lady"—a mysterious and beautiful woman to whom they pledgedthemselves forever.
　　Eagerly, he checked the hypertext but found nothing.
　　The computer pinged again.
　　KNIGHTS, KNAVES, POPES, AND PENTACLES: THE HISTORY OF THE HOLY GRAILTHROUGH TAROT"Not surprising," Langdon said to Sophie. "Some of our keywords have the same names asindividual cards." He reached for the mouse to click on a hyperlink. "I'm not sure if yourgrandfather ever mentioned it when you played Tarot with him, Sophie, but this game is a 'flash-card catechism' into the story of the Lost Bride and her subjugation by the evil Church."Sophie eyed him, looking incredulous. "I had no idea.""That's the point. By teaching through a metaphorical game, the followers of the Grail disguisedtheir message from the watchful eye of the Church." Langdon often wondered how many moderncard players had any clue that their four suits—spades, hearts, clubs, diamonds—were Grail-relatedsymbols that came directly from Tarot's four suits of swords, cups, scepters, and pentacles.
　　Spades were Swords—The blade. Male.
　　Hearts were Cups—The chalice. Feminine.
　　Clubs were Scepters—The Royal Line. The flowering staff.
　　Diamonds were Pentacles—The goddess. The sacred feminine.
　　Four minutes later, as Langdon began feeling fearful they would not find what they had come for,the computer produced another hit.
　　The Gravity of Genius: Biography of a Modern Knight.
　　"Gravity of Genius?" Langdon called out to Gettum. "Bio of a modern knight?"Gettum stuck her head around the corner. "How modern? Please don't tell me it's your Sir RudyGiuliani. Personally, I found that one a bit off the mark."Langdon had his own qualms about the newly knighted Sir Mick Jagger, but this hardly seemed themoment to debate the politics of modern British knighthood. "Let's have a look." Langdonsummoned up the hypertext keywords.
　　... honorable knight, Sir Isaac Newton...
　　... in London in 1727 and...
　　... his tomb in Westminster Abbey...
　　... Alexander Pope, friend and colleague...
　　"I guess 'modern' is a relative term," Sophie called to Gettum. "It's an old book. About Sir IsaacNewton."Gettum shook her head in the doorway. "No good. Newton was buried in Westminster Abbey, theseat of English Protestantism. There's no way a Catholic Pope was present. Cream and sugar?"Sophie nodded.
　　Gettum waited. "Robert?"Langdon's heart was hammering. He pulled his eyes from the screen and stood up. "Sir IsaacNewton is our knight."Sophie remained seated. "What are you talking about?""Newton is buried in London," Langdon said. "His labors produced new sciences that incurred thewrath of the Church. And he was a Grand Master of the Priory of Sion. What more could wewant?""What more?" Sophie pointed to the poem. "How about a knight a Pope interred? You heard Ms.
　　Gettum. Newton was not buried by a Catholic Pope."Langdon reached for the mouse. "Who said anything about a Catholic Pope?" He clicked on the"Pope" hyperlink, and the complete sentence appeared.
　　Sir Isaac Newton's burial, attended by kings and nobles, was presidedover by Alexander Pope, friend and colleague, who gave a stirringeulogy before sprinkling dirt on the tomb.
　　Langdon looked at Sophie. "We had the correct Pope on our second hit. Alexander." He paused.
　　"A. Pope."In London lies a knight A. Pope interred.
　　Sophie stood up, looking stunned.
　　Jacques Saunière, the master of double-entendres, had proven once again that he was afrighteningly clever man.
自打搜索开始，兰登就紧盯着电脑屏幕，一刻也没有离开过。
五分钟，只搜到两个数据项，并且两者无任何的关联。
他开始担心起来。
帕美拉。杰塔姆就在隔壁的一个房间，准备给他们煮上些饮料。兰登和索菲不仅喝了杰塔姆给他们泡的茶水，还极不明智地问她能否再给他们煮上一些咖啡。隔壁的微波炉传来"嘟嘟"的声音，兰登怀疑杰塔姆是在给他们煮速溶"雀巢"咖啡，以此作为对他们提出的无礼要求的奖赏。
终于，电脑欢快的响了起来。
"好像又有了。"杰塔姆在隔壁房间大声喊道。"标题是什么？"
兰登看着屏幕：中世纪文学中关于圣杯的寓言：论加文爵士和他的绿衣骑士。
"是关于绿衣骑士的寓言。"他大声地回答。
"这没用，"杰塔姆说："神话中埋在伦敦的绿衣骑士并没有几个。"
兰登和索菲坐在电脑前静静地等待，却等来了两个更加难以确信的结果。不过，当电脑再次发出声音时，它提供的信息却是很出人意料的。
瓦格纳的歌剧。
"瓦格纳的歌剧？"索菲不解地问。
杰塔姆手拿一袋速溶"雀巢"咖啡，站在门口回头看了他们一眼。"那看起来很怪啊。瓦格纳是骑士吗？"
"不是。"兰登突然来了兴趣。"但他是位著名的同济会会员。"还有莫扎特、贝多芬、莎士比亚、格什温、乌丹尼以及迪斯尼等等。讲述有关石匠们与圣殿骑士、郇山隐修会以及与圣杯之间联系的作品已是汗牛充栋。"我要看看全文，可怎么打开呀？"
"你不必看全文。"杰塔姆喊道。"你只要点击超文本标题，电脑就会显示包含关键词在内的数据，单个的前语境记录以及三倍多的后语境记录。"兰登不知道她刚才说了些什么，但还是点击了一下。
一个新的窗口马上冒了出来。
……神话中名为帕西法尔的骑士，他……
……隐喻意义上的寻找圣杯之旅，可以用来证明……
……1855 年伦敦交响乐团……
……丽贝卡。波普（Pope）的歌剧作品选，迪瓦的……
……位于德国拜罗伊特市的瓦格纳之墓……
"这里的Pope 不是指教皇。"兰登说，有些失望。不过虽然如此，他还是为计算机竟是如此的便利而感到惊奇。带有上千文的关键词给了他足够的信息，提醒他瓦格纳的歌剧《帕西法尔》是一部通过讲述年轻骑士寻找真理的故事，专门献给抹大拉的玛利亚，以及耶稣基督后裔的艺术作品。
"耐心点儿。"杰塔姆敦促道："不过是数字游戏罢了。让电脑忙去吧。"
接下来的几分钟，电脑又反馈了几个关于圣杯的信息，其中一篇是有关法国著名行吟诗人的文章。兰登知道，从词源学的角度上看，minstrel（行吟诗人）与minister（牧师，部长）具有相同词根决不是什么巧合。吟游诗人，本意是指抹大拉的玛利亚教堂里四处游走的圣职人员或者牧师，他们采用音乐的形式在普通民众中间传播有关神圣女性的故事。直到今天，他们还在唱歌赞美"我们的圣母玛利亚"的诸多美德。她是一位神秘而又美丽的女人，人们对她永远充满了敬意。
兰登急切地查看了超文本，然而一无所获。
这时，电脑又"嘟嘟"地响了起来。
骑士、纸牌里的J、教皇以及五角星形：通过占卜纸牌看圣杯的历史。
"这没什么可奇怪的，"兰登对索菲说："有些关键词与单张牌的名字是一模一样的。"
他抓过鼠标，点击了超链接。"我不敢肯定你祖父跟你玩占卜的纸牌时是否提起过它，但这种游戏，类似于对"失踪新娘以及她被邪恶教会镇压"的故事设置问题，然后再抽卡进行回答。"索菲看着他，一脸怀疑地说："我怎么不知道？"
"那就是了。圣杯的追随者们，通过一种隐喻性的游戏方式进行传授，他们将真实的信息隐藏起来，以逃过教会警惕的眼睛。"兰登常常想，玩纸牌游戏的现代人，有多少人会想到纸牌的四种花色--黑桃、红桃、梅花及方块--是与圣杯有关的符号，并且它们的前身，直接脱胎于占卜纸牌，即印有宝剑、金杯、王杖与五角星形符号的四组牌。
黑桃源自宝剑--即剑刃，它代表着男性。
红桃源自金杯--即基督的圣餐酒杯，代表着女性。
梅花源自王杖--即皇家血统，带有花饰的权杖。
方块源自五角星形--它象征着女神，即神圣女性。
四分钟后，就在兰登他们开始担心找不到要找的东西时，电脑里又蹦出了一个数据。
天才的吸引力，一位当代骑士的传记。
"天才的吸引力？"兰登冲着杰塔姆叫道："一位当代骑士的传记？"
杰塔姆从墙角探出头："怎么个当代法？请不要告诉我说这是你的鲁迪，朱利亚尼爵士哦。我看是有点跑题啦。"兰登对新近被封为骑士的米克。贾格尔爵土自有一番疑惑，但眼下似乎还不是对现代英国骑土制度进行争论的时候。"让我看看。"兰登调出了几个关键词。
……尊敬的骑士，艾撒克。牛顿爵士……
……l727 年在伦敦……
……他的墓位于威斯敏斯特教堂……
……亚历山大。蒲柏，朋友及同事……
"我看所谓的"现代"可能是个相对的概念。"索菲大声对杰塔姆说："这是本旧书，是关于艾撒克。牛顿爵士的。"杰塔姆站在门口，摇了摇头。"那也没用，牛顿葬在威斯敏斯特教堂，英国清教的所在地，所以天主教的教皇是不会到那里去的。咖啡里要不要放奶酪和糖？"
索菲点了点头。
杰塔姆等了一会："罗伯特你呢？"
兰登觉得自己的心仿佛被人用锤子敲了一下，他把视线移开电脑屏幕，站了起来。"艾撒克。牛顿爵士是我们的骑士！"索菲依旧坐在椅子上，说："你在胡说什么呀？"
"牛顿葬在伦敦，他在科学上的新发现触怒了天主教会。他还是位郇山隐修会的大师。
有这些难道还不够，我们还想指望什么？"
"你认为够了吗？"索菲指了指那首诗："那"一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士"你如何作出解释？杰塔姆刚才也已经说过，牛顿不是由天主教皇埋葬的。"兰登伸手去摸鼠标："我说了天主教皇什么吗？"他点击了"Pope"超链接，于是一个完整的句子冒了出来。
由王公贵族参加的艾撒克。牛顿爵士的葬礼，是由他的朋友兼同事，亚历山大。蒲柏主持的，他在往坟墓上撒土之前，朗诵了一篇感人肺腑的悼词。
兰登看着索菲："我们在第二个数据里找到了正确的Pope.亚历山大。"他停了停："亚历山大。蒲柏（A.Pope）。""在伦敦葬了一位亚历山大。蒲柏为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
索菲站了起来，大惊失色。
雅克。索尼埃，这位喜欢玩二元论游戏的大师，再次证明了他是位聪明得让人恐惧的大师。
    
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Chapter 96
Silas awoke with a start.
　　He had no idea what had awoken him or how long he had been asleep. Was I dreaming? Sitting upnow on his straw mat, he listened to the quiet breathing of the Opus Dei residence hall, the stillnesstextured only by the soft murmurs of someone praying aloud in a room below him. These werefamiliar sounds and should have comforted him.
　　And yet he felt a sudden and unexpected wariness.
　　Standing, wearing only his undergarments, Silas walked to the window. Was I followed? Thecourtyard below was deserted, exactly as he had seen it when he entered. He listened. Silence. Sowhy am I uneasy? Long ago Silas had learned to trust his intuition. Intuition had kept him alive as achild on the streets of Marseilles long before prison... long before he was born again by the hand ofBishop Aringarosa. Peering out the window, he now saw the faint outline of a car through thehedge. On the car's roof was a police siren. A floorboard creaked in the hallway. A door latchmoved.
　　Silas reacted on instinct, surging across the room and sliding to a stop just behind the door as itcrashed open. The first police officer stormed through, swinging his gun left then right at whatappeared an empty room. Before he realized where Silas was, Silas had thrown his shoulder intothe door, crushing a second officer as he came through. As the first officer wheeled to shoot, Silasdove for his legs. The gun went off, the bullet sailing above Silas's head, just as he connected withthe officer's shins, driving his legs out from under him, and sending the man down, his head hittingthe floor. The second officer staggered to his feet in the doorway, and Silas drove a knee into hisgroin, then went clambering over the writhing body into the hall.
　　Almost naked, Silas hurled his pale body down the staircase. He knew he had been betrayed, but bywhom? When he reached the foyer, more officers were surging through the front door. Silas turnedthe other way and dashed deeper into the residence hall. The women's entrance. Every Opus Deibuilding has one. Winding down narrow hallways, Silas snaked through a kitchen, past terrifiedworkers, who left to avoid the naked albino as he knocked over bowls and silverware, bursting intoa dark hallway near the boiler room. He now saw the door he sought, an exit light gleaming at theend.
　　Running full speed through the door out into the rain, Silas leapt off the low landing, not seeing theofficer coming the other way until it was too late. The two men collided, Silas's broad, nakedshoulder grinding into the man's sternum with crushing force. He drove the officer backward ontothe pavement, landing hard on top of him. The officer's gun clattered away. Silas could hear menrunning down the hall shouting. Rolling, he grabbed the loose gun just as the officers emerged. Ashot rang out on the stairs, and Silas felt a searing pain below his ribs. Filled with rage, he openedfire at all three officers, their blood spraying.
　　A dark shadow loomed behind, coming out of nowhere. The angry hands that grabbed at his bareshoulders felt as if they were infused with the power of the devil himself. The man roared in hisear. SILAS, NO!
　　Silas spun and fired. Their eyes met. Silas was already screaming in horror as Bishop Aringarosafell.
塞拉斯突然被惊醒过来。
他不知道是什么东西惊醒了他，也不知道他睡了多久。我是在做梦吧？他坐起来，半躺在草席上，聆听着天主事工会活动中心大楼里熟睡的人们那平静的呼吸，以及寂静中偶尔传来的由楼下房间里大声祈祷的人们转化而来的温柔的话语声。这些熟悉的声音，本应该给他带来些许的安慰。
然而他却出乎意料地突然警惕起来。
塞拉斯站着，只穿着内衣，他走到窗前。有人在跟踪我吗？楼下的小院空无一人，一如他刚才进来所看到的情景。他仔细地倾听，却没听到什么。那我为什么会感到不安呢？
塞拉斯很早就学会了要相信自己的直觉。早在他进监狱之前--那时，他还是个成天在马赛市的街道上四处瞎逛的孩子……而且也是在阿林加洛沙主教给了他新生之前，他就已经知道要相信自己的直觉。他偷偷地看着窗外，这时，他模模糊糊的看到一辆藏在树篱深处的汽车的轮廓。在它的顶篷上，安装了一个警察应急用的报警器。这时，走廊上的地板发出"咯吱咯吱"的声音，门闩突然被拉开了。
对此，塞拉斯本能地作出了反应。还没等门被撞开，他已经冲到房间对面，飞快地溜到门边，躲在里面。第一位进来的警官如疾风骤雨般的闯了进来，他忽左忽右地晃动着手中的熗，小心翼翼地查看似乎空无一人的房间。他还没来得及弄清楚塞拉斯在哪里。塞拉斯已将胳膊藏到了门后面。第一位进来的警官转身准备开熗，塞拉斯急忙猫下腰。子弹射偏了，从他的头顶呼啸而过。塞拉斯抱住警官的胫骨，将他的双腿拖了过来，把他摁倒在地。不料自己的头却撞倒在地。紧跟着第一位进来的警官踉踉跄跄地站起来，塞拉斯照他下身就是一脚，然后跃过警官扭动的躯体，冲进大厅。
塞拉斯几乎一丝不挂，他拖着苍白的身子拾阶而下。他明白自己被出卖了，但是谁呢？他跌跌撞撞地冲到休息室：看到更多的警察从前门涌了进来。于是他立即掉过头，急速奔向大厅的里头。妇女专用通道。天主事工会修建的每幢建筑，几乎都有这样的通道。
塞拉斯冲过曲折而又狭窄的走廊，像蛇一样钻进厨房，厨房里干活的人都被吓坏了，他们赶忙躲避，以免与这位赤裸着身子的白化病患者撞在一起。塞拉斯把碗和银器餐具撞了个满地，随后一头钻进了锅炉房旁边的一条走廊。他终于看到了要找的门，在他的眼前，终于出现了一线希望。
塞拉斯以最快的速度夺门而出，跑入雨中，跳到更低一点的平地，然而等他注意到迎面赶来的警察时，一切都已经迟了。两个大男人撞在了一起，塞拉斯宽阔而裸露的肩膀狠命地顶在那人的胸脯上，令那人痛苦不已。他逼着警官退到了人行道，狠命地捶打他的头部。警官的熗走火了，"砰砰"的响个不停。塞拉斯听到许多人大喊着从大厅里跑了出来。
就在警官们出现时，他已经滚到一边，迅速捡起走火的手熗。楼梯上有人向他开熗，塞拉斯直觉得肋骨下一阵钻心的疼痛。他勃然大怒，端起熗朝着三名警察就是一阵劲射，刹那间，鲜血溅得满地都是。
这时，一个不知从哪里冒出来的黑影，在他身后若隐若现。那人愤怒地抓住塞拉斯裸露的肩膀，双手仿佛充满了魔鬼的力量。他的吼声在塞拉斯的耳边回响。"塞拉斯，别开熗！"塞拉斯回头就是几熗，他们的目光终于相遇。等他发现倒下的是阿林加洛沙主教时，他不禁失声大叫，惊恐异常。    
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Chapter 97
More than three thousand people are entombed or enshrined within Westminster Abbey. Thecolossal stone interior burgeons with the remains of kings, statesmen, scientists, poets, andmusicians. Their tombs, packed into every last niche and alcove, range in grandeur from the mostregal of mausoleums—that of Queen Elizabeth I, whose canopied sarcophagus inhabits its ownprivate, apsidal chapel—down to the most modest etched floor tiles whose inscriptions have wornaway with centuries of foot traffic, leaving it to one's imagination whose relics might lie below thetile in the undercroft.
　　Designed in the style of the great cathedrals of Amiens, Chartres, and Canterbury, WestminsterAbbey is considered neither cathedral nor parish church. It bears the classification of royalpeculiar, subject only to the Sovereign. Since hosting the coronation of William the Conqueror onChristmas Day in 1066, the dazzling sanctuary has witnessed an endless procession of royalceremonies and affairs of state—from the canonization of Edward the Confessor, to the marriage ofPrince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson, to the funerals of Henry V, Queen Elizabeth I, and LadyDiana.
　　Even so, Robert Langdon currently felt no interest in any of the abbey's ancient history, save oneevent—the funeral of the British knight Sir Isaac Newton.
　　In London lies a knight a Pope interred.
　　Hurrying through the grand portico on the north transept, Langdon and Sophie were met by guardswho politely ushered them through the abbey's newest addition—a large walk-through metaldetector—now present in most historic buildings in London. They both passed through withoutsetting off the alarm and continued to the abbey entrance.
　　Stepping across the threshold into Westminster Abbey, Langdon felt the outside world evaporatewith a sudden hush. No rumble of traffic. No hiss of rain. Just a deafening silence, which seemed toreverberate back and forth as if the building were whispering to itself.
　　Langdon's and Sophie's eyes, like those of almost every visitor, shifted immediately skyward,where the abbey's great abyss seemed to explode overhead. Gray stone columns ascended likeredwoods into the shadows, arching gracefully over dizzying expanses, and then shooting backdown to the stone floor. Before them, the wide alley of the north transept stretched out like a deepcanyon, flanked by sheer cliffs of stained glass. On sunny days, the abbey floor was a prismaticpatchwork of light. Today, the rain and darkness gave this massive hollow a wraithlike aura... morelike that of the crypt it truly was.
　　"It's practically empty," Sophie whispered.
　　Langdon felt disappointed. He had hoped for a lot more people. A more public place. Their earlierexperience in the deserted Temple Church was not one Langdon wanted to repeat. He had beenanticipating a certain feeling of security in the popular tourist destination, but Langdon'srecollections of bustling throngs in a well-lit abbey had been formed during the peak summertourist season. Today was a rainy April morning. Rather than crowds and shimmering stainedglass, all Langdon saw was acres of desolate floor and shadowy, empty alcoves.
　　"We passed through metal detectors," Sophie reminded, apparently sensing Langdon'sapprehension. "If anyone is in here, they can't be armed."Langdon nodded but still felt circumspect. He had wanted to bring the London police with them,but Sophie's fears of who might be involved put a damper on any contact with the authorities. Weneed to recover the cryptex, Sophie had insisted. It is the key to everything.
　　She was right, of course.
　　The key to getting Leigh back alive.
　　The key to finding the Holy Grail.
　　The key to learning who is behind this.
　　Unfortunately, their only chance to recover the keystone seemed to be here and now... at the tombof Isaac Newton. Whoever held the cryptex would have to pay a visit to the tomb to decipher thefinal clue, and if they had not already come and gone, Sophie and Langdon intended to interceptthem.
　　Striding toward the left wall to get out of the open, they moved into an obscure side aisle behind arow of pilasters. Langdon couldn't shake the image of Leigh Teabing being held captive, probablytied up in the back of his own limousine. Whoever had ordered the top Priory members killedwould not hesitate to eliminate others who stood in the way. It seemed a cruel irony thatTeabing—a modern British knight—was a hostage in the search for his own countryman, Sir IsaacNewton.
　　"Which way is it?" Sophie asked, looking around.
　　The tomb. Langdon had no idea. "We should find a docent and ask."Langdon knew better than to wander aimlessly in here. Westminster Abbey was a tangled warrenof mausoleums, perimeter chambers, and walk-in burial niches. Like the Louvre's Grand Gallery, ithad a lone point of entry—the door through which they had just passed—easy to find your way in,but impossible to find your way out. A literal tourist trap, one of Langdon's befuddled colleagueshad called it. Keeping architectural tradition, the abbey was laid out in the shape of a giant crucifix.
　　Unlike most churches, however, it had its entrance on the side, rather than the standard rear of thechurch via the narthex at the bottom of the nave. Moreover, the abbey had a series of sprawlingcloisters attached. One false step through the wrong archway, and a visitor was lost in a labyrinthof outdoor passageways surrounded by high walls.
　　"Docents wear crimson robes," Langdon said, approaching the center of the church. Peeringobliquely across the towering gilded altar to the far end of the south transept, Langdon saw severalpeople crawling on their hands and knees. This prostrate pilgrimage was a common occurrence inPoets' Corner, although it was far less holy than it appeared. Tourists doing grave rubbings.
　　"I don't see any docents," Sophie said. "Maybe we can find the tomb on our own?"Without a word, Langdon led her another few steps to the center of the abbey and pointed to theright.
　　Sophie drew a startled breath as she looked down the length of the abbey's nave, the full magnitudeof the building now visible. "Aah," she said. "Let's find a docent."At that moment, a hundred yards down the nave, out of sight behind the choir screen, the statelytomb of Sir Isaac Newton had a lone visitor. The Teacher had been scrutinizing the monument forten minutes now.
　　Newton's tomb consisted of a massive black-marble sarcophagus on which reclined the sculptedform of Sir Isaac Newton, wearing classical costume, and leaning proudly against a stack of hisown books—Divinity, Chronology, Opticks, and Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica.
　　At Newton's feet stood two winged boys holding a scroll. Behind Newton's recumbent body rosean austere pyramid. Although the pyramid itself seemed an oddity, it was the giant shape mountedhalfway up the pyramid that most intrigued the Teacher.
　　An orb.
　　The Teacher pondered Saunière's beguiling riddle. You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb. Themassive orb protruding from the face of the pyramid was carved in basso-relievo and depicted allkinds of heavenly bodies—constellations, signs of the zodiac, comets, stars, and planets. Above it,the image of the Goddess of Astronomy beneath a field of stars.
　　Countless orbs.
　　The Teacher had been convinced that once he found the tomb, discerning the missing orb would beeasy. Now he was not so sure. He was gazing at a complicated map of the heavens. Was there amissing planet? Had some astronomical orb been omitted from a constellation? He had no idea.
　　Even so, the Teacher could not help but suspect that the solution would be ingeniously clean andsimple—"a knight a pope interred." What orb am I looking for? Certainly, an advanced knowledgeof astrophysics was not a prerequisite for finding the Holy Grail, was it?
　　It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb.
　　The Teacher's concentration was broken by several approaching tourists. He slipped the cryptexback in his pocket and watched warily as the visitors went to a nearby table, left a donation in thecup, and restocked on the complimentary grave-rubbing supplies set out by the abbey. Armed withfresh charcoal pencils and large sheets of heavy paper, they headed off toward the front of theabbey, probably to the popular Poets' Corner to pay their respects to Chaucer, Tennyson, andDickens by rubbing furiously on their graves.
　　Alone again, he stepped closer to the tomb, scanning it from bottom to top. He began with theclawed feet beneath the sarcophagus, moved upward past Newton, past his books on science, pastthe two boys with their mathematical scroll, up the face of the pyramid to the giant orb with itsconstellations, and finally up to the niche's star-filled canopy.
　　What orb ought to be here... and yet is missing? He touched the cryptex in his pocket as if he couldsomehow divine the answer from Saunière's crafted marble. Only five letters separate me from theGrail.
　　Pacing now near the corner of the choir screen, he took a deep breath and glanced up the long navetoward the main altar in the distance. His gaze dropped from the gilded altar down to the brightcrimson robe of an abbey docent who was being waved over by two very familiar individuals.
　　Langdon and Neveu.
　　Calmly, the Teacher moved two steps back behind the choir screen. That was fast. He hadanticipated Langdon and Sophie would eventually decipher the poem's meaning and come toNewton's tomb, but this was sooner than he had imagined. Taking a deep breath, the Teacherconsidered his options. He had grown accustomed to dealing with surprises.
　　I am holding the cryptex.
　　Reaching down to his pocket, he touched the second object that gave him his confidence: theMedusa revolver. As expected, the abbey's metal detectors had blared as the Teacher passedthrough with the concealed gun. Also as expected, the guards had backed off at once when theTeacher glared indignantly and flashed his identification card. Official rank always commanded theproper respect.
　　Although initially the Teacher had hoped to solve the cryptex alone and avoid any furthercomplications, he now sensed that the arrival of Langdon and Neveu was actually a welcomedevelopment. Considering the lack of success he was having with the "orb" reference, he might beable to use their expertise. After all, if Langdon had deciphered the poem to find the tomb, therewas a reasonable chance he also knew something about the orb. And if Langdon knew thepassword, then it was just a matter of applying the right pressure.
　　Not here, of course.
　　Somewhere private.
　　The Teacher recalled a small announcement sign he had seen on his way into the abbey.
　　Immediately he knew the perfect place to lure them.
　　The only question now... what to use as bait.
迄今为止，大约有三千多人的遗体安葬在威斯敏斯特教堂里，供世人凭吊。以石头砌就的庞大内室里遍布了国王、政治要员、科学家、诗人以及音乐家们留下的遗迹。他们的坟墓，遍布在所有壁龛和洞中的凹陷处，从最具皇家气派的陵墓，伊丽莎白一世之墓--她那带有顶棚的石棺安放在私人专用的半圆室的教堂里--到外表最朴素的雕刻过的地面石砖，可谓应有尽有。这些地砖上雕刻的碑文，由于几百年来人们踩踏的关系，到现在已经破败了，让人不由浮想联翩，以为这历史的陈迹，有可能就藏在教堂地下室的地砖里。
威斯敏斯特教堂沿循了法国亚眠、沙特尔以及坎特伯雷大教堂的建筑风格，然而它既不是一般的大教堂，也不是教区里的教堂。它明显打上了皇家的烙印，直接接受国王的管理。自1066 年的圣诞日在这里为"征服者"威廉一世举行加冕仪式以来，这个光彩夺目的礼拜堂，不知亲眼目睹了多少皇家仪式在这里举行，目睹了多少国家事务在这里得到解决--从"忏悔者"爱德华的加冕礼，到安德鲁王子与莎拉。弗格森的婚礼，直到亨利五世、伊丽莎白一世以及黛安娜王妃的葬礼，无一不在此地举行。
虽然如此，罗伯特。兰登眼下对它的古代历史毫无兴趣，不过对艾撒克。牛顿爵士的葬礼除外。
"在伦敦葬了一位亚历山大。蒲柏为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
兰登与索菲急急忙忙经过教堂北面交叉通道上雄伟的门廊，很快就有保卫人员走上前来，彬彬有礼地将他们带到该教堂新增添了一台大型金属检测装置的通道前。这样的检测器。如今在伦敦许多著名的历史建筑物里都能找到。检测器没有发出警报，于是他俩平安无事的经过通道，继续向该寺的入口走去。
兰登跨过门槛，进入威斯敏斯特教堂，他感到外面喧嚣的世界顷刻安静下来。既没有过往车辆的轰鸣声，也听不到"嘀嘀嗒嗒"的雨声，有的是死一般的沉静。这幢古老的建筑，仿佛是在喃喃自语，它的沉寂，在不断发出经久不息的回声。
几乎和其他所有游客一样，兰登和索菲马上抬头张望，威斯敏斯特教堂那巨大的穹窿，仿佛就要在他们的头顶上撒下一张大网。灰色的石柱，宛如红杉一般，一根接一根地向高处延伸，直至消失在阴影里。这些石柱，在令人晕眩的高空里构成优雅的弓形，然后直落而下，嵌入地面的石头里。教堂北面的通道，在他们面前向外伸展开去，就像深不可测的峡谷，两侧都是林立的镶满彩色玻璃的高墙。晴朗的日子里，教堂的地面，会反射出七彩的光芒。然而今天，外面的大雨以及由此带来的无边的黑暗，为这个巨大的空间增添了几许鬼魅般的气氛……使人觉得更像是在真正的地下墓穴里。
"果然是空无一人。"索菲低声地说。
兰登有些失望。他倒希望这里有更多的人，希望这里是一个更热闹的场所。他不想重复在空旷的圣殿教堂里的那次经历。他一直盼望着能在旅游场所里找到某种安全感，但他知道，在光线明亮的寺庙里，游客摩肩接踵，这样的情景只有在夏季旅游高峰期间才有可能出现。而今天--何况是四月里一个下雨的早晨，兰登既没看到熙熙攘攘的人群，也没看到闪烁亮光的彩色玻璃墙，他看到的是一望无垠的空旷的地面，以及若隐若现的空荡荡的洞穴。
"我们通过了检测器的检查，"索菲提醒兰登说，她明显感觉到他的忧虑。"即使这里有人，也不可能有熗的。"兰登点了点头，但还是显得很谨慎。他本想带伦敦警察一块到这里来，但索菲担心警方的参与将会妨碍他们日后与官方的联系。我们需要重新夺回拱心石，索菲一直这样认为。因为拱心石，是可以揭开所有神秘的一把钥匙。
当然，她是对的。
它是使雷。提彬安然无恙回来的一把钥匙。
它是成功寻找到圣杯的一把钥匙。
它是找出谁是幕后操纵者的一把钥匙。
不幸的是，如果他们要夺回拱心石，眼下唯一的机会似乎就得看他们在这里--在埃撒克。牛顿爵士的坟墓旁边--的表现了。不管是谁，只要他有了密码盒，都会找到这座坟墓上来，查询最后的线索。但他们如果还没有来，兰登与索菲就打算在中途阻止他们。
他们大步流星向左面的墙壁走去，出了开阔地带，步入了一排壁龛柱后面的十条昏暗的侧廊。兰登总想起雷。提彬被人抓起来的情景，兴许他正被绑在他自己的汽车后面呢。那些曾经下令暗杀郇山隐修会高层领导人员的人，无论是谁，一旦碰到有人要挡住他们前进的步伐时，是从不会手软的。雷。提彬爵士，一位当代的英国骑士，在寻找自己的同胞艾撒克。牛顿爵士之墓时，竟然沦为别人的人质，这似乎是个有点残忍的讽刺。
"我们该往哪里走呢？"索菲四处看了看。
坟墓到底在哪个方向，兰登自己也不知道。"我们去找个讲解员来问问。"
他知道，在这里漫无目的地游荡并没有什么好处。威斯敏斯特教堂里犬牙交错地遍布着一些大型的陵墓、圆形墓室，以及许多大到能让人进去的坟墓壁龛。与卢浮宫博物馆的艺术大画廊一样，它有一个独立进口--也就是他们刚刚经过的人口--你要进去很容易，但要出来可就难了。正如兰登一位被弄得糊里糊涂的同事所言，它是一个名副其实的旅游陷阱。威斯敏斯特教堂保留了传统的建筑风貌，它的外形呈巨大的十字形。不过，它跟大多数教堂不一样的是，它的入口处设在教堂的一侧，而不是设在经过教堂正殿底部前廊的正后方。并且该教堂还附有许多迂回曲折的游廊。倘若走错一步，走错了拱门，游客就会迷失在四周被高墙围着的户外走廊形成的迷宫里。
"讲解员穿的是绛色长袍。"兰登说着，来到了教堂中央。他斜着眼睛越过那高耸的镀金圣坛，将目光投到教堂的南端，他看到几个人正佝偻着身子，慢慢地往前爬。这般五体投地的朝圣，在"诗人角"是稀松平常的现象，尽管它远没有看上去的那样神圣。都是些在摹拓坟墓碑文的游客呢。
"讲解员我一个也没看到，"索菲说："或许我们还是目己去找，你看怎么样？"
兰登不搭一言，领着她又走了几步，来到教堂的中央，指着右边给她看。
索菲顺着他指的方向，从长长的教堂正殿望过去，终于看到这座巨大的建筑物，不由得倒抽了一口气。"天哪，我么还是去找个讲解员来吧。"
就在此时，一位参观者来到离教堂正殿一百码、内坛后面看不见的地方，庄严肃穆的艾撒克。牛顿爵士的墓旁。这位教主，在这里审视墓碑已经有十分钟了。
艾撒克。牛顿爵士的坟墓，其实是一个用黑色大理石建造的庞大石棺，上面安放着他的雕像，他穿着古典服装，一脸自豪地靠在他自己的一堆作品上--如《论神性》、《论运动》、《光学》以及《自然哲学中的数学原理》等。在他的脚下，站着两个长着翅膀手拿书卷的孩童。在他斜靠的身子后面，耸立着一个肃穆的金字塔。虽然模样看上去有些古怪，但镶嵌在它半中腰的硕大的圆球却激起了教主的浓厚兴趣。
一个圆球。
他思考着索尼埃编造的蛊惑人心的谜。"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里。"
这个从金字塔表面突出来的庞大的圆球，上面布满了浮雕，以及各种形状的天体--有各种星座，黄道十二宫，也有彗星、恒星和行星。球的上面，有一位站在群星下的天文女神。
星球，无数的星球。
教主此前一直相信，一旦他找到这座坟墓，就会很容易地找到那个失踪的圆球。但现在，他却不敢那么肯定了。他凝视着一张由各种星球组成的错综复杂的地图。有没有哪个行星不见了？或者在这些星座里，有哪个星体给漏掉了呢？他无从知道。即使是这样，他还是怀疑解决这个谜的方法实既巧妙，又很简洁明了。"一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"
我在寻找什么样的星球呢？当然喽，精通天体物理学并不意味着就一定能够找到圣杯。
"它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。"
教主正在聚精会神，突然走来几位游客。他急忙把密码盒放回口袋里，警惕地望着这几位游客走向附近的一张桌子，把钱投进桌上的杯子里，并重新添上一些由教堂免费赠送的专门用于摹拓墓上碑文的文具。这几位游客，手拿着新领来的炭笔和好几张又大又厚的纸，朝教堂前面走去，他们也许是去"诗人角"，到乔叟、丁尼生，以及狄更斯的墓前，兴奋地摹拓他们坟墓上的碑文，以此来表达他们的敬意。
现在又剩下他一个人，他向坟墓走近了几步，自上而下把它打量了一番。他先是观察石棺下面刻有爪子的底部，随即将视线从牛顿的雕像、他的科学论著、两名手拿数学文稿的儿童像上移了过去，他的目光从金字塔的表面移向那刻有无数星体的圆球，最后落到壁龛的刻满星星的天篷上。
什么样的圆球原本应该在这里……然而又失踪了呢？他摸了摸口袋里的密码盒，仿佛他能够从索尼埃制作精巧的大理石上预测出他要寻找的答案。只有找到那由五个字母组成的词语，才能将圣杯弄到手。
他在内坛一角附近来回地踱步，深吸了一口气，随后抬头越过那长长的正殿，将目光落到远处的主圣坛上。他把镀金圣坛打量了好一会儿，然后将视线直落到一位身穿绛色长袍的讲解员身上，他看到两个看上去很熟悉的人，正在向讲解员招手。
他想起来了，他们是罗伯特。兰登和索菲。奈芙。
教主极为镇静地往后退了两步，躲到了内坛的后面。他们未免来得太快些了吧。他早就估计到兰登与索菲最终会破解这首诗的含义，然后跑到牛顿的坟墓上来。但现在看来，这比他想象的还要快。他深吸了一口气，在心里盘算对策。他早已经习惯了如何应付突发事件。
密码盒在我手上哩。
他将手伸进口袋，摸到了另外一件能够长他志气的东西，即他随身带着的"美杜莎"牌左轮手熗。果然不出所料，当他携带这把藏在口袋里的手熗从装有金属检测器的通道经过时，检测器顿时响了起来。同样不出所料，保卫人员们一看到他愤怒地瞪着双眼，飞快地亮出证明其身份的证件，就立刻向后退去。不管怎么说，有地位的人总是让人肃然起敬的。
尽管一开始他想独自解决密码盒的问题，以避免面对更多的麻烦，然而现在，他倒是很欢迎兰登与索菲的到来。考虑到他目前缺乏成功找到失踪圆球的把握，他想也许可以把这两人的专业技能拿来为我所用。不管怎么说，如果兰登能够通过诗来找到牛顿爵士的坟墓，那他对失踪的圆球也应该略知一二。而且，如果兰登知道密码，那么剩下的问题，不过是适当地向他施加压力罢了。
当然不是在这里。
也许是在某个隐秘的地方吧。
教主想起刚才在来威斯敏斯特教堂的路上时，看到一块公告牌。他很快便想到，哪里是引诱他们上钩的最佳地点了。
剩下的问题是--拿什么做诱饵呢？
    
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Chapter 98
Langdon and Sophie moved slowly down the north aisle, keeping to the shadows behind the amplepillars that separated it from the open nave. Despite having traveled more than halfway down thenave, they still had no clear view of Newton's tomb. The sarcophagus was recessed in a niche,obscured from this oblique angle.
　　"At least there's nobody over there," Sophie whispered.
　　Langdon nodded, relieved. The entire section of the nave near Newton's tomb was deserted. "I'll goover," he whispered. "You should stay hidden just in case someone—"Sophie had already stepped from the shadows and was headed across the open floor.
　　"—is watching," Langdon sighed, hurrying to join her.
　　Crossing the massive nave on a diagonal, Langdon and Sophie remained silent as the elaboratesepulchre revealed itself in tantalizing increments... a black-marble sarcophagus... a reclining statueof Newton... two winged boys... a huge pyramid... and... an enormous orb.
　　"Did you know about that?" Sophie said, sounding startled.
　　Langdon shook his head, also surprised.
　　"Those look like constellations carved on it," Sophie said.
　　As they approached the niche, Langdon felt a slow sinking sensation. Newton's tomb was coveredwith orbs—stars, comets, planets. You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb? It could turn out tobe like trying to find a missing blade of grass on a golf course.
　　"Astronomical bodies," Sophie said, looking concerned. "And a lot of them."Langdon frowned. The only link between the planets and the Grail that Langdon could imaginewas the pentacle of Venus, and he had already tried the password "Venus" en route to the TempleChurch.
　　Sophie moved directly to the sarcophagus, but Langdon hung back a few feet, keeping an eye onthe abbey around them.
　　"Divinity," Sophie said, tilting her head and reading the titles of the books on which Newton wasleaning. "Chronology. Opticks. Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica?" She turned tohim. "Ring any bells?"Langdon stepped closer, considering it. "Principia Mathematica, as I remember, has something todo with the gravitation pull of planets... which admittedly are orbs, but it seems a little far-fetched.""How about the signs of the zodiac?" Sophie asked, pointing to the constellations on the orb. "Youwere talking about Pisces and Aquarius earlier, weren't you?"The End of Days, Langdon thought. "The end of Pisces and the beginning of Aquarius wasallegedly the historical marker at which the Priory planned to release the Sangreal documents to theworld." But the millennium came and went without incident, leaving historians uncertain when thetruth was coming.
　　"It seems possible," Sophie said, "that the Priory's plans to reveal the truth might be related to thelast line of the poem."It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb. Langdon felt a shiver of potential. He had not consideredthe line that way before.
　　"You told me earlier," she said, "that the timing of the Priory's plans to unveil the truth about 'theRose' and her fertile womb was linked directly to the position of planets—orbs."Langdon nodded, feeling the first faint wisps of possibility materializing. Even so, his intuition toldhim astronomy was not the key. The Grand Master's previous solutions had all possessed aneloquent, symbolic significance—the Mona Lisa, Madonna of the Rocks, SOFIA. This eloquencewas definitely lacking in the concept of planetary orbs and the zodiac. Thus far, Jacques Saunièrehad proven himself a meticulous code writer, and Langdon had to believe that his finalpassword—those five letters that unlocked the Priory's ultimate secret—would prove to be not onlysymbolically fitting but also crystal clear. If this solution were anything like the others, it would bepainfully obvious once it dawned.
　　"Look!" Sophie gasped, jarring his thoughts as she grabbed his arm. From the fear in her touchLangdon sensed someone must be approaching, but when he turned to her, she was staring aghastat the top of the black marble sarcophagus. "Someone was here," she whispered, pointing to a spoton the sarcophagus near Newton's outstretched right foot.
　　Langdon did not understand her concern. A careless tourist had left a charcoal, grave-rubbingpencil on the sarcophagus lid near Newton's foot. It's nothing. Langdon reached out to pick it up,but as he leaned toward the sarcophagus, the light shifted on the polished black-marble slab, andLangdon froze. Suddenly, he saw why Sophie was afraid.
　　Scrawled on the sarcophagus lid, at Newton's feet, shimmered a barely visible charcoal-pencilmessage:
　　I have Teabing.
　　Go through Chapter House,out south exit, to public garden.
　　Langdon read the words twice, his heart pounding wildly.
　　Sophie turned and scanned the nave.
　　Despite the pall of trepidation that settled over him upon seeing the words, Langdon told himselfthis was good news. Leigh is still alive. There was another implication here too. "They don't knowthe password either," he whispered.
　　Sophie nodded. Otherwise why make their presence known?
　　"They may want to trade Leigh for the password.""Or it's a trap."Langdon shook his head. "I don't think so. The garden is outside the abbey walls. A very publicplace." Langdon had once visited the abbey's famous College Garden—a small fruit orchard andherb garden—left over from the days when monks grew natural pharmacological remedies here.
　　Boasting the oldest living fruit trees in Great Britain, College Garden was a popular spot fortourists to visit without having to enter the abbey. "I think sending us outside is a show of faith. Sowe feel safe."Sophie looked dubious. "You mean outside, where there are no metal detectors?"Langdon scowled. She had a point.
　　Gazing back at the orb-filled tomb, Langdon wished he had some idea about the cryptexpassword... something with which to negotiate. I got Leigh involved in this, and I'll do whatever ittakes if there is a chance to help him.
　　"The note says to go through the Chapter House to the south exit," Sophie said. "Maybe from theexit we would have a view of the garden? That way we could assess the situation before we walkedout there and exposed ourselves to any danger?"The idea was a good one. Langdon vaguely recalled the Chapter House as a huge octagonal hallwhere the original British Parliament convened in the days before the modern Parliament buildingexisted. It had been years since he had been there, but he remembered it being out through thecloister somewhere. Taking several steps back from the tomb, Langdon peered around the choirscreen to his right, across the nave to the side opposite that which they had descended.
　　A gaping vaulted passageway stood nearby, with a large sign.
　　THIS WAY TO:
　　CLOISTERSDEANERYCOLLEGE HALLMUSEUMPYX CHAMBERST. FAITH'S CHAPELCHAPTER HOUSELangdon and Sophie were jogging as they passed beneath the sign, moving too quickly to noticethe small announcement apologizing that certain areas were closed for renovations.
　　They emerged immediately into a high-walled, open-roof courtyard through which morning rainwas falling. Above them, the wind howled across the opening with a low drone, like someoneblowing over the mouth of a bottle. Entering the narrow, low-hanging walkways that bordered thecourtyard perimeter, Langdon felt the familiar uneasiness he always felt in enclosed spaces. Thesewalkways were called cloisters, and Langdon noted with uneasiness that these particular cloisterslived up to their Latin ties to the word claustrophobic.
　　Focusing his mind straight ahead toward the end of the tunnel, Langdon followed the signs for theChapter House. The rain was spitting now, and the walkway was cold and damp with gusts of rainthat blew through the lone pillared wall that was the cloister's only source of light. Another couplescurried past them the other way, hurrying to get out of the worsening weather. The cloisterslooked deserted now, admittedly the abbey's least enticing section in the wind and rain.
　　Forty yards down the east cloister, an archway materialized on their left, giving way to anotherhallway. Although this was the entrance they were looking for, the opening was cordoned off by aswag and an official-looking sign.
　　CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONPYX CHAMBERST. FAITH'S CHAPELCHAPTER HOUSEThe long, deserted corridor beyond the swag was littered with scaffolding and drop cloths.
　　Immediately beyond the swag, Langdon could see the entrances to the Pyx Chamber and St. Faith'sChapel on the right and left. The entrance to the Chapter House, however, was much farther away,at the far end of the long hallway. Even from here, Langdon could see that its heavy wooden doorwas wide open, and the spacious octagonal interior was bathed in a grayish natural light from theroom's enormous windows that looked out on College Garden. Go through Chapter House, outsouth exit, to public garden.
　　"We just left the east cloister," Langdon said, "so the south exit to the garden must be through thereand to the right."Sophie was already stepping over the swag and moving forward.
　　As they hurried down the dark corridor, the sounds of the wind and rain from the open cloisterfaded behind them. The Chapter House was a kind of satellite structure—a freestanding annex atthe end of the long hallway to ensure the privacy of the Parliament proceedings housed there.
　　"It looks huge," Sophie whispered as they approached.
　　Langdon had forgotten just how large this room was. Even from outside the entrance, he couldgaze across the vast expanse of floor to the breathtaking windows on the far side of the octagon,which rose five stories to a vaulted ceiling. They would certainly have a clear view of the gardenfrom in here.
　　Crossing the threshold, both Langdon and Sophie found themselves having to squint. After thegloomy cloisters, the Chapter House felt like a solarium. They were a good ten feet into the room,searching the south wall, when they realized the door they had been promised was not there.
　　They were standing in an enormous dead end.
　　The creaking of a heavy door behind them made them turn, just as the door closed with aresounding thud and the latch fell into place.
　　The lone man who had been standing behind the door looked calm as he aimed a small revolver atthem. He was portly and was propped on a pair of aluminum crutches.
　　For a moment Langdon thought he must be dreaming.
　　It was Leigh Teabing.
兰登与索菲沿着北边的侧廊缓缓而行，他们的身体一直隐没在将侧廊与空旷的教堂正殿分开的诸多石柱后面的阴影里。虽然他们沿着正殿已经走了大半的距离，但还是没能看到牛顿坟墓的踪影。他的石棺隐藏在壁龛里，从这里斜眼看过去，显得模糊不清。
"至少那边应该没人吧。"索菲低声地说。
兰登点点头，轻松了许多。在教堂正殿靠近牛顿坟墓的那整块地方，现在是人影全无。"我先过去看看，"他小声对索菲说："你最好还是躲起来，万一有人--"
索菲已经从石柱的阴影里走了出来，从开阔的地面向对面走去。
"--在盯梢的话。"兰登叹了口气，急忙跟上了她。
他们沿教堂正殿的斜对面走去，当他们看到那造型精致的坟墓一下子冒出来时，彼此都保持着沉默。黑色大理石的石棺、牛顿爵士斜着身子的雕像、两个长有翅膀的孩童像、巨大的金字塔……还有一只庞大的圆球。
"你知道那东西是什么吗？"索菲关切地问。
兰登摇了摇头，也有点惊讶。
"它们像是刻在上面的星球。"索菲说。
他们朝壁龛走去，这时，兰登的心逐渐下沉。牛顿的坟墓上布满了各种各样的星球--有恒星、彗星、还有行星。"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑士的墓里？"这看起来有点像是在大海里捞针呐。
"星球，都是星球，"索菲满脸关切地说："有很多呢。"
兰登皱起眉头。他能想起来的行星与圣杯的唯一联系，就是金星（Venus）的五角星形，况且他在去圣殿教堂的路上已经试过"Venus"这个词。
索菲径直向石棺走去，然而兰登却在几步之后的地方畏缩不前，他将身边的教堂巡视了一遍。
"《论神性》，"索菲歪着头，读着牛顿倚靠着的那些书的名字。"《论运动》、《光学》以及《自然哲学中的数学原理》？"她转向他说："你听出什么来了吗？"
兰登走上前，仔细斟酌着。"我记得数学原理跟行星之间的引力有点关系。老实说它们也是球体，但总让人觉得有点牵强。""那黄道十二宫呢？"索菲指着圆球上的星体说。"你刚才说的是双鱼和宝瓶星座吧？"
是世界末日，兰登心想。"双鱼座的尾和宝瓶座的头据说是郇山隐修会计划将《圣杯文献》公开给世人的历史性标志。"然而新的千年来了又去了，却平安无事，让历史学家们不能确定真相何时能够大白。
"这有可能，"索菲说："郇山隐修会计划将真相泄露出去也许跟诗的最后一句有关系。
""它道破了玫瑰般肌肤与受孕子宫的秘密。"兰登不禁打了个冷战。他以前还没有这样想过呢。
"你以前告诉过我，郇山隐修会计划将"圣洁的玫瑰"以及她怀孕的实施泄露出去的时间安排与行星位置直接有联系。"兰登点了点头，表示同意，开始觉得出现了些微的可能性。虽说是这样，但直觉告诉他，天文学并不是揭开真相的一把钥匙。这位大师以前设置的解决方案，都具有说服力且具有象征性的意义---如《蒙娜丽莎》、《岩间圣母》以及SOFIA 等。这种说服力在行星以及黄道十二宫的概念中显然是缺乏的。所以，到目前为止，雅克。索尼埃证明了他是一位细心的编码者，而兰登不得不相信他最后编制的密码--那个未能揭开郇山隐修会绝对隐私的由五个字母组成的词--到头来将不仅很具有象征意义，而且也非常简单明了。假如这种解决方法跟其他一样的话，那么一旦弄清楚，它也许会浅显到令人痛苦的地步。
"快看。"索菲气喘吁吁地说，她一把抓住兰登的胳膊。将他纷飞的思绪给打断了。从她惊恐的触摸里，兰登感到肯定有人向他们走来，然而当他转身面对她时，他发现她正吃惊地瞪大着眼睛，看着黑色大理石棺的顶部。"有人刚来过这里了。"她指着牛顿爵士张开的右脚附近的一个地方，轻声地说。
兰登并不知道她在关心什么。一位粗心的游客，将摹拓碑文的炭笔忘在牛顿脚下附近的石棺盖上了。那算什么。兰登伸出了手，将它捡起来，然而当他向石棺俯过身，一束光线照射在擦拭一新的黑色大理石的石棺上，他顿时呆住了。很快，他明白了索菲害怕的根由。
有人在石棺的棺盖上，牛顿塑像的底部，用炭笔潦草地写了几行几乎难以看清的字，散发着微弱的光。
提彬在我手上。
你们穿过牧师会礼堂，出了南门，再到花园里。
兰登读了两遍，他的心剧烈地跳了起来。
索菲掉转身，迅速地将正殿扫视了一遍。
兰登看到这几行字，虽然恐惧不已，但还是努力说服自己这是一个很不错的消息。
雷。提彬还活着呢；当然其中还有另外一层含义。"他们也不知道密码。"兰登低声地说。
索菲点了点头。要不然他们怎么会让别人知道他们的行踪呢？
"他们可能要拿雷。提彬来交换密码。"
"也许是个陷阱呢。"
兰登摇摇头。"我不这样认为。花园就在教堂外面，是个很公开的地方。"他曾来过该教堂有名的学院花园一次--那是个很小的果园，也是一个种植药草的花园--它是自修道士们种植天然药材之日起留下来的。学院花园号称拥有全英国至今仍然存活的最古老的果树，它是一个极受游客欢迎的地方，不需要跑到教堂里去，在外面就可以看到。"我想把我们叫到外面去是有信用的表现，所以我们用不着担心安全。"索菲却不相信："你是说到外面去对吧？那里可没有什么金属检测器呢。"
兰登满面愁容，因为索菲说到了点子上。
他回头凝视着刻满星球的坟墓，希望能从中找出破译密码盒密码的线索……并想出了一些讨价还价的对策。是我把雷。提彬牵连了进来，如果还有机会，我一定要想方设法救他出来。
"那留言要我们穿过牧师会礼堂再到教堂的南面出口，"索菲说："或许我们从出口处就可以看到花园呢？那样的话，在从那里出去并陷入到危险处境之前，我们也许可见机行事呢。"这倒是个不错的主意。兰登隐约记得，牧师会礼堂是一个偌大的八角形大厅，那里是现代英国议会大厦建成之前最初举行议会的地方。他已经很多年没去那里了，但他记得是从某个游廊穿过去的。他往后退了几步，沿着右边的内坛巡视了一圈，又将目光投向对面他们刚才上来的教堂正殿。
一座带有许多洞眼的拱顶门就在附近，可以看到一块很大的招牌。
从这里通往：各个游廊牧师住宅教士厅博物馆圣体存放室圣费斯教堂牧师会礼堂兰登与索菲是一路小跑从那招牌下经过的，他们跑得太快了，所以没看到告示上阐明有些地方正由于内部装修而暂时关闭的道歉性文字。
他们立刻来到四面都是高墙，没有屋顶的院子里。清晨的雨正下着，风从他们的头上掠过，发出阵阵"嗡嗡"的低鸣，仿佛有人用嘴在对着瓶口吹奏。他们进入那狭窄的、稍微有点倾斜的、紧挨着院子的过道里。兰登感到每次在密闭的空间里时那种熟悉的不安又在心底升腾。这些过道，又叫做游廊。兰登也不安地注意到这些别致的游廊（cloisters）与claustrophobic（幽闭恐怖症）这个拉丁词间的某种联系。
兰登一心朝隧道的尽头走去，他按照招牌上的提示，找寻着通往牧师会礼堂的方向。
春雨霏霏，走廊上又湿又冷。一阵阵雨，从走廊光线的唯一进口--那堵孤单的柱形墙外面灌了进来。这时，有两个人从对面匆匆地跑来，急于摆脱眼下难堪的处境。游廊上现在冷冷清清，诚然，在刮风下雨的日子里，这座教堂最不吸引人的地方，恐怕就是游廊了。
他们沿着东边游廊走上四十码，在他们的左边出现了一座拱门，拱门又通向另一条走廊。尽管这是他们正要寻找的人口，但进口处却被悬挂的饰物和公告牌封闭起来了。牌子上写着：以下几处内部改造，暂停开放：圣体存放室圣费斯教堂牧师会礼堂从那幅悬挂的饰物看过去，那条漫长而又冷清的走廊，乱七八糟堆满了脚手架和废弃的衣服。兰登透过悬挂的饰物的间隙，很快看到了分别通往圣体存放室和圣费斯教堂的一左一右的两个入口。不过，牧师会礼堂的入口离这里要远得多，就在那长长的走廊尽头。
不过，即使是从这里，兰登也能看到它敞开着的厚重的木门，而它的八角形内厅，则沐浴在从巨大的窗户外面照进来的灰蒙蒙的自然光线里。这些窗户正好面对学院花园。"你们穿过牧师会礼堂，出了南门，再到花园里。""我们刚离开东边的游廊，"兰登说："所以通往花园的南面出口一定要经过那里，然后向右行。"索菲这时已经从悬挂的饰物上走过去，一路向前行。
他们沿着昏暗的走廊迈着匆匆的步子，游廊上的风雨声渐渐远去了。牧师会礼堂是一种类似于卫星般陪衬的建筑结构--它是矗立在这条长长的走廊尽头独立于其他房子的附属建筑物，这是为确保议会活动能在这里秘密举行。
"看来很大啊。"索菲边走边轻声地说。
兰登已记不清这间屋子到底有多大。因为即使站在大门外面，他也能够越过宽阔的地面看到远处这间八角形大厅对面大得惊人的窗户。这些窗户有五层楼高，一直伸展到有拱顶的天花板上，所以他们当然可从这里清楚地看到花园。
他们跨过门坎，发现自己只能眯着眼睛看了。与阴沉沉的游廊相比，牧师会礼堂就像是一间日光浴室。他们朝厅里足足走了十步，寻找南面的那堵墙，这才发现所要找的那道门并不在那里。
他们正站在偌大的死胡同里。
突然，那扇沉重的木门"吱呀"一声开了，又被重重地关上，随即门闩也被插上，惊得他俩赶忙转过身来。
那个一直站在门背后的男人神态自若，手持一把小型左轮手熗，正对准了他们。他身材粗壮，倚靠在两根铝制拐杖上。
兰登一时还以为自己是在做梦呢。
此人不是别人，正是他要找的雷。提彬。    
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Chapter  99
Sir Leigh Teabing felt rueful as he gazed out over the barrel of his Medusa revolver at RobertLangdon and Sophie Neveu. "My friends," he said, "since the moment you walked into my homelast night, I have done everything in my power to keep you out of harm's way. But your persistencehas now put me in a difficult position."He could see the expressions of shock and betrayal on Sophie's and Langdon's faces, and yet hewas confident that soon they would both understand the chain of events that had guided the three ofthem to this unlikely crossroads.
　　There is so much I have to tell you both... so much you do not yet understand.
　　"Please believe," Teabing said, "I never had any intention of your being involved. You came to myhome. You came searching for me.""Leigh?" Langdon finally managed. "What the hell are you doing? We thought you were in trouble.
　　We came here to help you!""As I trusted you would," he said. "We have much to discuss."Langdon and Sophie seemed unable to tear their stunned gazes from the revolver aimed at them.
　　"It is simply to ensure your full attention," Teabing said. "If I had wanted to harm you, you wouldbe dead by now. When you walked into my home last night, I risked everything to spare your lives.
　　I am a man of honor, and I vowed in my deepest conscience only to sacrifice those who hadbetrayed the Sangreal.""What are you talking about?" Langdon said. "Betrayed the Sangreal?""I discovered a terrible truth," Teabing said, sighing. "I learned why the Sangreal documents werenever revealed to the world. I learned that the Priory had decided not to release the truth after all.
　　That's why the millennium passed without any revelation, why nothing happened as we entered theEnd of Days."Langdon drew a breath, about to protest.
　　"The Priory," Teabing continued, "was given a sacred charge to share the truth. To release theSangreal documents when the End of Days arrived. For centuries, men like Da Vinci, Botticelli,and Newton risked everything to protect the documents and carry out that charge. And now, at theultimate moment of truth, Jacques Saunière changed his mind. The man honored with the greatestresponsibility in Christian history eschewed his duty. He decided the time was not right." Teabingturned to Sophie. "He failed the Grail. He failed the Priory. And he failed the memory of all thegenerations that had worked to make that moment possible.""You?" Sophie declared, glancing up now, her green eyes boring into him with rage andrealization. "You are the one responsible for my grandfather's murder?"Teabing scoffed. "Your grandfather and his sénéchaux were traitors to the Grail."Sophie felt a fury rising from deep within. He's lying!
　　Teabing's voice was relentless. "Your grandfather sold out to the Church. It is obvious theypressured him to keep the truth quiet."Sophie shook her head. "The Church had no influence on my grandfather!"Teabing laughed coldly. "My dear, the Church has two thousand years of experience pressuringthose who threaten to unveil its lies. Since the days of Constantine, the Church has successfullyhidden the truth about Mary Magdalene and Jesus. We should not be surprised that now, onceagain, they have found a way to keep the world in the dark. The Church may no longer employcrusaders to slaughter non-believers, but their influence is no less persuasive. No less insidious."He paused, as if to punctuate his next point. "Miss Neveu, for some time now your grandfather haswanted to tell you the truth about your family."Sophie was stunned. "How could you know that?""My methods are immaterial. The important thing for you to grasp right now is this." He took adeep breath. "The deaths of your mother, father, grandmother, and brother were not accidental."The words sent Sophie's emotions reeling. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable.
　　Langdon shook his head. "What are you saying?""Robert, it explains everything. All the pieces fit. History repeats itself. The Church has aprecedent of murder when it comes to silencing the Sangreal. With the End of Days imminent,killing the Grand Master's loved ones sent a very clear message. Be quiet, or you and Sophie arenext.""It was a car accident," Sophie stammered, feeling the childhood pain welling inside her. "Anaccident!""Bedtime stories to protect your innocence," Teabing said. "Consider that only two familymembers went untouched—the Priory's Grand Master and his lone granddaughter—the perfect pairto provide the Church with control over the brotherhood. I can only imagine the terror the Churchwielded over your grandfather these past years, threatening to kill you if he dared release theSangreal secret, threatening to finish the job they started unless Saunière influenced the Priory toreconsider its ancient vow.""Leigh," Langdon argued, now visibly riled, "certainly you have no proof that the Church hadanything to do with those deaths, or that it influenced the Priory's decision to remain silent.""Proof?" Teabing fired back. "You want proof the Priory was influenced? The new millennium hasarrived, and yet the world remains ignorant! Is that not proof enough?"In the echoes of Teabing's words, Sophie heard another voice speaking. Sophie, I must tell you thetruth about your family. She realized she was trembling. Could this possibly be that truth hergrandfather had wanted to tell her? That her family had been murdered? What did she truly knowabout the crash that took her family? Only sketchy details. Even the stories in the newspaper hadbeen vague. An accident? Bedtime stories? Sophie flashed suddenly on her grandfather'soverprotectiveness, how he never liked to leave her alone when she was young. Even when Sophiewas grown and away at university, she had the sense her grandfather was watching over. Shewondered if there had been Priory members in the shadows throughout her entire life, looking afterher.
　　"You suspected he was being manipulated," Langdon said, glaring with disbelief at Teabing. "Soyou murdered him?""I did not pull the trigger," Teabing said. "Saunière was dead years ago, when the Church stole hisfamily from him. He was compromised. Now he is free of that pain, released from the shamecaused by his inability to carry out his sacred duty. Consider the alternative. Something had to bedone. Shall the world be ignorant forever? Shall the Church be allowed to cement its lies into ourhistory books for all eternity? Shall the Church be permitted to influence indefinitely with murderand extortion? No, something needed to be done! And now we are poised to carry out Saunière'slegacy and right a terrible wrong." He paused. "The three of us. Together."Sophie felt only incredulity. "How could you possibly believe that we would help you?""Because, my dear, you are the reason the Priory failed to release the documents. Yourgrandfather's love for you prevented him from challenging the Church. His fear of reprisal againsthis only remaining family crippled him. He never had a chance to explain the truth because yourejected him, tying his hands, making him wait. Now you owe the world the truth. You owe it tothe memory of your grandfather."Robert Langdon had given up trying to get his bearings. Despite the torrent of questions runningthrough his mind, he knew only one thing mattered now—getting Sophie out of here alive. All theguilt Langdon had mistakenly felt earlier for involving Teabing had now been transferred toSophie.
　　I took her to Chateau Villette. I am responsible.
　　Langdon could not fathom that Leigh Teabing would be capable of killing them in cold blood herein the Chapter House, and yet Teabing certainly had been involved in killing others during hismisguided quest. Langdon had the uneasy feeling that gunshots in this secluded, thick-walledchamber would go unheard, especially in this rain. And Leigh just admitted his guilt to us.
　　Langdon glanced at Sophie, who looked shaken. The Church murdered Sophie's family to silencethe Priory? Langdon felt certain the modern Church did not murder people. There had to be someother explanation.
　　"Let Sophie leave," Langdon declared, staring at Leigh. "You and I should discuss this alone."Teabing gave an unnatural laugh. "I'm afraid that is one show of faith I cannot afford. I can,however, offer you this." He propped himself fully on his crutches, gracelessly keeping the gunaimed at Sophie, and removed the keystone from his pocket. He swayed a bit as he held it out forLangdon. "A token of trust, Robert."Robert felt wary and didn't move. Leigh is giving the keystone back to us?
　　"Take it," Teabing said, thrusting it awkwardly toward Langdon.
　　Langdon could imagine only one reason Teabing would give it back. "You opened it already. Youremoved the map."Teabing was shaking his head. "Robert, if I had solved the keystone, I would have disappeared tofind the Grail myself and kept you uninvolved. No, I do not know the answer. And I can admit thatfreely. A true knight learns humility in the face of the Grail. He learns to obey the signs placedbefore him. When I saw you enter the abbey, I understood. You were here for a reason. To help. Iam not looking for singular glory here. I serve a far greater master than my own pride. The Truth.
　　Mankind deserves to know that truth. The Grail found us all, and now she is begging to berevealed. We must work together."Despite Teabing's pleas for cooperation and trust, his gun remained trained on Sophie as Langdonstepped forward and accepted the cold marble cylinder. The vinegar inside gurgled as Langdongrasped it and stepped backward. The dials were still in random order, and the cryptex remainedlocked.
　　Langdon eyed Teabing. "How do you know I won't smash it right now?"Teabing's laugh was an eerie chortle. "I should have realized your threat to break it in the TempleChurch was an empty one. Robert Langdon would never break the keystone. You are an historian,Robert. You are holding the key to two thousand years of history—the lost key to the Sangreal.
　　You can feel the souls of all the knights burned at the stake to protect her secret. Would you havethem die in vain? No, you will vindicate them. You will join the ranks of the great men youadmire—Da Vinci, Botticelli, Newton—each of whom would have been honored to be in yourshoes right now. The contents of the keystone are crying out to us. Longing to be set free. The timehas come. Destiny has led us to this moment.""I cannot help you, Leigh. I have no idea how to open this. I only saw Newton's tomb for amoment. And even if I knew the password..." Langdon paused, realizing he had said too much.
　　"You would not tell me?" Teabing sighed. "I am disappointed and surprised, Robert, that you donot appreciate the extent to which you are in my debt. My task would have been far simpler hadRémy and I eliminated you both when you walked into Chateau Villette. Instead I riskedeverything to take the nobler course.""This is noble?" Langdon demanded, eyeing the gun.
　　"Saunière's fault," Teabing said. "He and his sénéchaux lied to Silas. Otherwise, I would haveobtained the keystone without complication. How was I to imagine the Grand Master would go tosuch ends to deceive me and bequeath the keystone to an estranged granddaughter?" Teabinglooked at Sophie with disdain. "Someone so unqualified to hold this knowledge that she required asymbologist baby-sitter." Teabing glanced back at Langdon. "Fortunately, Robert, yourinvolvement turned out to be my saving grace. Rather than the keystone remaining locked in thedepository bank forever, you extracted it and walked into my home."Where else would I run? Langdon thought. The community of Grail historians is small, andTeabing and I have a history together.
　　Teabing now looked smug. "When I learned Saunière left you a dying message, I had a pretty goodidea you were holding valuable Priory information. Whether it was the keystone itself, orinformation on where to find it, I was not sure. But with the police on your heels, I had a sneakingsuspicion you might arrive on my doorstep."Langdon glared. "And if we had not?""I was formulating a plan to extend you a helping hand. One way or another, the keystone wascoming to Chateau Villette. The fact that you delivered it into my waiting hands only serves asproof that my cause is just.""What!" Langdon was appalled.
　　"Silas was supposed to break in and steal the keystone from you in Chateau Villette—thusremoving you from the equation without hurting you, and exonerating me from any suspicion ofcomplicity. However, when I saw the intricacy of Saunière's codes, I decided to include you both inmy quest a bit longer. I could have Silas steal the keystone later, once I knew enough to carry onalone.""The Temple Church," Sophie said, her tone awash with betrayal.
　　Light begins to dawn, Teabing thought. The Temple Church was the perfect location to steal thekeystone from Robert and Sophie, and its apparent relevance to the poem made it a plausibledecoy. Rémy's orders had been clear—stay out of sight while Silas recovers the keystone.
　　Unfortunately, Langdon's threat to smash the keystone on the chapel floor had caused Rémy topanic. If only Rémy had not revealed himself, Teabing thought ruefully, recalling his own mockkidnapping. Rémy was the sole link to me, and he showed his face!
　　Fortunately, Silas remained unaware of Teabing's true identity and was easily fooled into takinghim from the church and then watching naively as Rémy pretended to tie their hostage in the backof the limousine. With the soundproof divider raised, Teabing was able to phone Silas in the frontseat, use the fake French accent of the Teacher, and direct Silas to go straight to Opus Dei. Asimple anonymous tip to the police was all it would take to remove Silas from the picture.
　　One loose end tied up.
　　The other loose end was harder. Rémy.
　　Teabing struggled deeply with the decision, but in the end Rémy had proven himself a liability.
　　Every Grail quest requires sacrifice. The cleanest solution had been staring Teabing in the facefrom the limousine's wet bar—a flask, some cognac, and a can of peanuts. The powder at thebottom of the can would be more than enough to trigger Rémy's deadly allergy. When Rémyparked the limo on Horse Guards Parade, Teabing climbed out of the back, walked to the sidepassenger door, and sat in the front next to Rémy. Minutes later, Teabing got out of the car,climbed into the rear again, cleaned up the evidence, and finally emerged to carry out the finalphase of his mission.
　　Westminster Abbey had been a short walk, and although Teabing's leg braces, crutches, and gunhad set off the metal detector, the rent-a-cops never knew what to do. Do we ask him to remove hisbraces and crawl through? Do we frisk his deformed body? Teabing presented the flustered guardsa far easier solution—an embossed card identifying him as Knight of the Realm. The poor fellowspractically tripped over one another ushering him in.
　　Now, eyeing the bewildered Langdon and Neveu, Teabing resisted the urge to reveal how he hadbrilliantly implicated Opus Dei in the plot that would soon bring about the demise of the entireChurch. That would have to wait. Right now there was work to do.
　　"Mes amis," Teabing declared in flawless French, "vous ne trouvez pas le Saint-Graal, c'est leSaint-Graal qui vous trouve." He smiled. "Our paths together could not be more clear. The Grailhas found us."Silence.
　　He spoke to them in a whisper now. "Listen. Can you hear it? The Grail is speaking to us across thecenturies. She is begging to be saved from the Priory's folly. I implore you both to recognize thisopportunity. There could not possibly be three more capable people assembled at this moment tobreak the final code and open the cryptex." Teabing paused, his eyes alight. "We need to swear anoath together. A pledge of faith to one another. A knight's allegiance to uncover the truth and makeit known."Sophie stared deep into Teabing's eyes and spoke in a steely tone. "I will never swear an oath withmy grandfather's murderer. Except an oath that I will see you go to prison."Teabing's heart turned grave, then resolute. "I am sorry you feel that way, mademoiselle." Heturned and aimed the gun at Langdon. "And you, Robert? Are you with me, or against me?"
雷。提彬爵士从他的"美杜莎"左轮手熗熗口望过去，盯着罗伯特。兰登与索菲。奈芙，觉得有些懊悔。"朋友们。"他开口说："自从昨晚你们闯进我家，我已经尽了最大的努力使你们免于受到伤害。然而现在，你们的执着已让我陷入了困境。"他看到索菲与兰登脸上露出震惊与被人出卖的无辜表情，然而他还是相信他俩很快就会明白，就是这一连串的事件，将他们三人带到了这些看似不太可能的十字路口上。
我有很多的东西要跟你们两个人说……你们不明白的事情也有很多。
"请相信我。"提彬继续说："我从没想过要把你们牵扯进来。你们跑到我家，就是来找我的吧。""是吗，雷爵士？"终于，兰登勉强接过话茬："你到底要干什么？我们还以为你目前的处境很危险呢。我们是来帮你的啊。""我相信你们会来帮我。"提彬说："有很多事情我们还需要一起讨论呢。"
兰登与索菲惊惶失措地紧盯着那把对准他们的左轮手熗，一时似乎无法将视线从它身上移开。
"我只想引起你们充分的注意。"提彬说："如果我想伤害你们，那现在你们的小命早玩完了。昨晚你们闯到我家，我拼了老命把你们救出来。我是讲信义的人，我凭良心起誓，我只会让那些出卖圣杯的人沦为牺牲品。""你在胡说什么啊？"兰登说："谁出卖圣杯了？"
"我发现了一个可怕的事实。"提彬叹了口气："我知道为什么《圣杯文献》从没公开于世人。我也知道为什么郇山隐修会决定，无论如何也决不泄露真相。所以千禧年才能平静地过去，人们没看到任何神示，"世界末日"来临时却什么事也没有发生。"兰登深吸了一口气，想要争辩几句。
"郇山隐修会。"提彬继续说下去。"接受了要将真相与世人分享的神圣任务，即在"世界末日"来临之际将《圣杯文献》公之于众。几百年来，像达。芬奇、波提切利，以及牛顿这样的人，不顾一切地保护这些文献，并执行那项神圣的任务。然而在真相即将大白的紧要关头，雅克。索尼埃却改变了主意。这位担负了基督教历史上最重大使命的人，最终逃避了自己的责任。他认定将真相公布的时间不很合理。"提彬转向索菲说："他辜负了圣杯，辜负了郇山隐修会，也辜负子曾经努力使这个时刻早日来临的无数代人。""你？"索菲大声叫道，她终于抬头瞥了他一眼，她绿色的眼睛愤怒地逼视着他，她显然意识到什么了。"是你害死了我祖父？！"
提彬冷笑道："你祖父和他的护卫长是圣杯的背叛者。"
索菲顿时觉得怒从心起。他在撒谎！
提彬的语调很是无情："你祖父投靠了天主教会，很明显是他们逼他不要泄漏真相的。"
提彬冷冷地笑了："亲爱的，教会镇压那些企图威胁揭穿谎言的人，有着两千多年的历史经验。自康斯坦丁时代以来，教会成功隐瞒了抹大拉的玛丽亚与耶稣基督的有关事实。
如果他们现在再次耍花招欺骗世人，那也用不着大惊小怪。教会也许不会再次雇佣十字军去屠杀异教徒，但它们的影响却丝毫未减，而且采用的手段也同样的阴险。"他顿了顿，仿佛是要强调接下来的观点："奈芙小姐，你祖父想把你家庭的情况告诉你，这已经有-段时间了吧。"索菲大吃一惊："你怎么知道？"
"我怎么知道的并不重要。眼下对你来说重要的是知道这个。"他深吸了一口气："你父母、你奶奶以及你的兄弟都不是死于意外的车祸。"索菲乍听此言，百感交集。她张嘴想说，却开不了口。
兰登摇了摇头："你在胡说什么呀？！"
"罗伯特，它可以解释一切。所有的细枝末节都能够说明这一点。历史往往会重复上演。教会每次在要别人对《圣杯文献》保持沉默前，都要暗杀一些人。随着"世界末日"的临近，害死大师的亲人等于向他传达了一个明确的信息，嘴巴闭紧一点，否则，接下来遭殃的就是你和你的孙女了。""可他们死于车祸。"索菲结结巴巴地说，她觉得童年时代遭受的那种痛苦又在心里蔓延开来了。"是一次意外。"
"你这是在编造晚间的催眠故事骗你自己呢！你想，一家子就剩下两个人--郇山隐修会的大师和他唯一的孙女--这一对能让教会得以控制同业公会的完美组合安然无恙。我只能想象在过去的这些年里天主教会对你祖父造成了多大的恐惧。他们威胁说，如果他胆敢将圣杯秘密透露出去，就杀死他；他们还威胁说，除非他使郇山隐修会重新考虑他们先前的誓约，否则将即刻来个了断。""雷爵士。"兰登终于明显被激怒了："你肯定没有证据，证明教会跟这些人的死有关，你也没证据证明，是它让郇山隐修会决定保持沉默。""证据？"提彬激动地反驳道："你想要郇山隐修会受到外来影响的证据？新的千禧年已经来临，而世人却依然懵懂无知！这样的证据难道还不够吗？"
索菲在提彬说话的余音里，听到了另外一个声音。索菲，我必须把你家里的情况告诉你。她意识到自己全身在发抖。这会不会就是祖父一直想告诉她的真相？会不会对她说她的家人是遭人暗算？对于那次夺走她亲人生命的车祸，她又真正了解多少呢？只是一些支离破碎的细节而已。甚至报纸上的报导也已经变得模糊起来。是车祸？抑或是晚间的催眠故事？索菲头脑里闪电一般，突然，她想起祖父一直对她严加保护。在她还小的时候，祖父从不轻易丢下她一个人。甚至在她长大成人，离家上大学期间，她也觉得祖父时时在关注着她。她不知道，在她整个的一生当中，是不是都有郇山隐修会的成员在暗中照顾着她。
"你怀疑他被人操纵了。"兰登满腹狐疑，朝提彬瞪大了眼睛："所以你就把他杀了？"
"不是我开的熗。多年以前，当天主教会夺走他的亲人时，索尼埃其实就已经死了。他终于屈服了。现在，他总算摆脱了无法完成神圣使命的耻辱给他带来的痛苦。你想，他必须在二者之间作出选择。他总得做些什么吧。难道世人愿意永远被蒙蔽下去吗？难道世人会允许教会将他们的谎言永远载人历史教科书里去吗？难道世人会允许天主教会以谋杀及巧取豪夺的手段对外施加影响吗？不，我们必须采取一些应变措施。现在，我们正准备继承索尼埃先生的遗志，将犯下的可怕错误纠正过来。"他停了片刻，又说："而这就得看我们三人是否齐心协力了。"索菲除了怀疑还是怀疑："你怎么知道我们会帮你？"
"亲爱的，因为你的缘故，郇山隐修会才没能将《圣杯文献》公之于众。你祖父对你的关爱，使他没有勇气去挑战天主教会，因为他担心教会会对他唯一的亲人进行报复，这种恐惧挫败了他。然而他从未找到机会跟你解释，因为你排斥他，从而束缚了他的手脚，让他只有耐心地等了。现在，你必须向世界澄清一个事实，以告慰你祖父的在天之灵。"罗伯特。兰登已经放弃了准备承受重担的努力。尽管在他的脑海里闪过无数的疑问，然而他知道，眼下只有一件事情对他是重要的了--那就是让索菲从这里活着出去。他所有的内疚，所有原先误以为是他连累了提彬而引发的内疚，现在统统转移到索菲的头上去了。
是我带她去维莱特庄园，我必须承担起这个责任。
兰登揣摩不透，不知道雷。提彬究竟有没有能力，将他们残忍地杀死在牧师会礼堂里。
不过，在被人误导的探索过程中，他肯定参与过杀人。一想到这间偏僻的、四周都是厚厚高墙的屋子里，即使熗声响起外面也听不到时--更糟糕的是外面还下着雨，兰登就不安起来。何况提彬的罪行他刚才向我们坦白过了。
兰登瞥了索菲一眼，她全身似乎还在发抖。难道教会杀害索菲的家人，就是为了堵上郇山隐修会的嘴吗？兰登确信现代的天主教会是不会杀人的，因此其中必定有其他的缘由。
"放索菲走。"兰登怒视着提彬，大声喝道："你我两人得就这个问题私下里谈谈。"
提彬极不自然地笑起来："这恐怕涉及到信誉问题了，这样的风险我赔不起，不过我可以把这个给你。"他将整个身子都靠在拐杖上，却仍然毫无绅士风度地拿熗对准了索菲。他从口袋里掏出拱心石，晃了晃，这才把它递给了兰登。"罗伯特，这是我信得过你的表现。"
罗伯特。兰登满怀戒心，没有伸手去接。雷。提彬打算把拱心石还给我们？
"你快拿着。"提彬说着，笨拙的把拱心石硬塞过来。
兰登只想到一个提彬愿意将拱心石还给他们的原因。"你已经把它打开过了。你把地图拿走了是吧？"
提彬摇摇头说："如果我解开了拱心石的谜，我也许早就不在这里，而是独自去寻找圣杯，不需要让你们插手了。真正的骑士在圣杯面前学会了谦卑。他学会了该如何根据出现在他面前的征兆行事。当我看到你们走进教堂，我便明白了，你们是来帮我的忙的。我并不是为了维护我的尊严，而是为真相这位更伟大的主人服务的。人类有权知道历史的真相。是圣杯找到了我们，现在它在请求我们将它向世人公开，因此我们应该携起手来。"虽然提彬一再要求合作、彼此信任，然而当兰登走上前去接过冷冰冰的拱心石时，他始终把熗对准了索菲。兰登猛地抓过拱心石，往后退去，这时瓶里的醋发出"咕咚咕咚"的响声。刻度盘依然杂乱无章，然而密码盒原封不动。
兰登看了看提彬，说："你怎么知道我现在不会把它砸碎？"
提彬发出一阵得意的怪笑："你威胁说要砸毁拱心石，还在圣殿教堂时我就已经意识到你不过是在虚张声势罢了。罗伯特。兰登怎么会砸毁拱心石呢？你是位历史学家，你手中掌握了开启两千年历史的钥匙--是一把借以找到圣杯的失而复得的钥匙。从中你能感受到为严守它的秘密而被活活烧死在火刑柱上的所有骑士的灵魂。你会让他们死得毫无价值吗？不，你不会的。相反，你会维护他们。你会加入你所崇拜的伟人，如达。芬奇、波提切利、牛顿他们的行列。他们当中的每一个人，都会对你眼下的处境感到光荣。拱心石在大声召唤着我们，它渴望得到自由。这时刻现在已经来到了。是命运，给了我们这样千载难逢的机会。""雷爵士，我不能帮你，我不知道怎么把它打开。牛顿爵士的坟墓我也只看了一会儿。
再说，就算我知道密码--"兰登停了下来，意识到自己说得太多了。
"你也不会告诉我是不是？"提彬叹了口气："罗伯特，我很失望，也很奇怪，你竟然毫不买我的账呢。要是在你们闯入维莱特庄园之前，我和雷米把你们结果了，那我现在的任务就简单多了。可我当时却不顾一切，选择了一条正道，更为光明磊落。""你这也叫光明磊落？"兰登盯着熗质问道。
"这都是索尼埃的错。"提彬继续说道："他和他的护卫长向塞拉斯撒了谎。要不然我也许会毫不费事地将拱心石弄到手。我怎么会想到这位大师竟然欺骗我，把拱心石留给他素来不合的孙女儿？"他轻蔑的看了索菲一眼："罗伯特，幸好有你参与进来，多少给了我一些补偿。你没让拱心石永远被锁在银行的保险柜里，而是将它取出，并跑到我家来。"兰登心想，我还能去哪里呢？对圣杯史有所了解的历史学家少而又少，唯有提彬和我都知道它的历史。
提彬看上去有点得意："当我得知索尼埃临死之前给你留下话时，我就清楚，你手中一定掌握了很有价值的郇山隐修会的资料。至于是不是与拱心石有关，或者与到哪里去寻找拱心石有关，我就不敢肯定了。不过，当我看到警察在后面追踪你们，我就在心里怀疑你们可能会来我家了。"兰登怒目而视："要是我们没去你家呢？"
"我当时就在想方设法向你们伸出援手，不管怎样，拱心石最后还是来到了维莱特庄园。你们把它送到我期待已久的手中，这只能证明我当初的方向是正确的。""你说什么！"兰登大惊失色。
"塞拉斯按照预先定好的计划，突然闯进维莱特庄园，从你们手中夺走了拱心石，因此一方面使你们免于受到伤害，另一方面也给我开脱了罪责，也使你们不至于怀疑我在跟塞拉斯串通一气。不过，当我看到索尼埃设置的密码有多复杂时，我决定再利用你们一会。
一旦我知道可以单独干下去时，稍后我也许就会派塞拉斯来盗走拱心石。""所以你选择在圣殿教堂下手。"索菲愤愤地说，语气里充满了被人出卖的懊恼。
曙光就要来临了，提彬心想。圣殿教堂无疑是他从罗伯特。兰登和索菲。奈芙手中夺取拱心石的最佳地点，而教堂与那首诗的明显联系又使它成为一个似是而非的陷阱。他对雷米交代得很清楚--那就是在塞拉斯夺回拱心石时躲起来。然而不幸的是，当兰登威胁着要把拱心石砸烂时，雷米吓坏了。要是雷米没有露脸，那该多好啊！提彬回想起自导自演的那场绑架游戏，不由懊悔地想。雷米是我对外的唯一联系人，可他竟然暴露了自己的身份！
幸运的是，塞拉斯还不知道提彬的真实身份，因而轻而易举地受了骗，并将他带离教堂，然后又傻乎乎地在一边看着雷米假装将人质绑在轿车的后面。隔音的屏障在他们中间一竖起来，他就可以给坐在汽车前排的塞拉斯打电话了，他模仿教主的法国口音，命令塞拉斯径直去天主事工会。然后，他只需要向警方挂个匿名电话，就可以让塞拉斯永远的从他的视线里消失。
这样，松开的一端线被绑紧了。
但更难对付的是松开的另一端线，那就是雷米。
提彬内心激烈地挣扎着，想尽快做出决定，但雷米最终证明自己是个沉重的包袱。在找寻圣杯的过程中，每次总得有人做出牺牲。早在提彬看到车中酒吧柜里的酒瓶、法国白兰地酒以及一听花生罐头时，他就想好了最妥帖的解决方法。罐子底下的药粉会更有效地触动雷米过于敏感的神经，并给他致命的一击。雷米把车停在骑兵校阅场时，提彬从后面爬了出来，走到供乘客出入的车门，然后坐到前排靠近雷米的座位。几分钟后，提彬从车里钻出来，又重新爬到车子后面。他清除掉所有可疑的痕迹，然后着手完成最后的计划。
威斯敏斯特教堂并不远。尽管提彬绑在腿上的支架、拐杖和手熗引起了金属检测器的反应，然而那些酒囊饭袋一碰到事情就不知该如何处理。我们要不要让他解下支架爬进去？要不要搜查他有残疾的身体呢？倒是提彬教给这些狼狈不堪的保卫人员一个更简便的解决方法--他拿出一张表明自己是王国骑士的印有浮凸印章的身份卡，这些可怜的家伙差点没被吓得晕倒，便手忙脚乱地将他放了进去。
此刻，提彬看着茫然不知所措的兰登和索菲，拼命抑制住内心的冲动，他本想告诉他们，他是如何巧妙地把天主事工会卷入到即将给天主教会带来灭顶之灾的阴谋中来。但他们还得等待一段时间。现在，他们还有其他事情要先去做。
"朋友们。"提彬用极纯正的法语大声说："不是你们去找圣杯，而是圣杯自动找你们来了。"他微笑了一下："现在我们只有通力合作，这是再清楚没有的了。圣杯已经找上我们的门来了。"没有人搭他的话，只有沉默。
他转而低声地说："听着，你们听到我说话吗？圣杯穿越了数个世纪，正在跟我们说话哩。它要求摆脱郇山隐修会的愚弄。我恳求你们抓住这个机会。现在，是不可能找得到三个比我们更能干的人聚在一起，破译最后的密码，来打开这个密码盒了。"他停下来，双目低垂。"我们得一起发誓。彼此之间信守诺言。我将以骑士的拳拳之心，努力揭开历史的真相，告知于世人。"索菲深深地望了提彬一眼，斩钉截铁地说："我决不会和杀害我祖父的凶手一起宣誓。
我只希望他日能在监狱里看到你。"提彬神情顿时变得凝重，然后又果断起来："女士，我对你的想法深感抱歉。"他转过身，拿熗对准了兰登："罗伯特，你怎么样？你到底是跟我呢，还是不跟我？
    
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