For several seconds, Jim stared in wonder at the photograph of Esquibel's PostScript. P.S. Find Jim Davis. He felt as if the floor were titling beneath his feet. In his wildest dreams, Jim could not figure out why. "Now do you understand," Sophie said, her eyes urgent, "why Romano ordered you here tonight, and why you are his primary suspect?"The only thing Jim understood at the moment was why Romano had looked so smug when Jim suggested Esquibel would have accused his killer by name. "Why would Esquibel write this?" Jim demanded, his confusion now giving way to anger."Why would I want to kill Marquis Esquibel?" "Romano has yet to uncover a motive, but he has been recording his entire conversation with you tonight in hopes you might reveal one." Jim opened his mouth, but still no words came."He's fitted with a miniature microphone," Sophie explained. "It's connected to a transmitter in his pocket that radios the signal back to the command post." "This is im
Amorth felt strong as he stepped from the black BMW, the nighttime breeze rustling his loose-fitting robe. He knew the task before him would require more finesse than force, so he left his handgun in the car which the Teacher provided to him. The plaza before Saint-Sulpice was deserted at this hour, the only visible souls on the far side of Place Saint-Sulpice a couple of teenage hookers showing their wares to late night tourists traffic. Their nubile bodies sent a familiar longing to Amorth's loins. He knew he had sacrificed much to follow Copus peccate, but he had received more in return. A vow of celibacy and the relinquishment of all personal assets hardly seemed a sacrifice. Considering the poverty from which he had come and the sexual horrors he had endured in prison, celibacy was a welcoming change. Moving toward the church entrance. He paused in the shadow of the massive doorway, he took a deep breath. It was not until this instant that he truly realized what he was about to
"What do you mean she's not answering?" Romano looked incredulous. "You're calling her cell phone, right? I know she's carrying it." Suslowicz had been trying to reach agent McEwan for several minutes. "Maybe her batteries are dead. Or her ringer is off."Romano had looked distressed ever since talking to the director of Cryptology on the phone. After hanging up, he had marched over to Suslowicz and demanded he get Agent McEwan on the line. Now Suslowicz had failed, and Romano was pacing like a caged lion."Why did Crypto call?" Suslowicz now ventured.Romano turned. "To tell me they found no reference to Draconian devil and lame saints.""That's all?""No, also to tell us that they had just identified the numerics as Fibonacci numbers, but they suspected the series was meaningless."Suslowicz was confused. "But they already sent agent McEwan to tell us that."Romano shook his head. "They didn't send McEwan.""What?""According to the director, at my orders he played his entire team
Romano sprinted down the Grand Gallery as Suslowicz's radio blared over the distant sound of the alarm. "He jumped!" Suslowicz was yelling. "I'm showing the signal out on the Place du Carrousel! Outside the bathroom window! And it's not moving at all! Jesus, I think Jim has just committed suicide!"Romano heard the words, but they made no sense. He kept running. The hallway seemed never-ending. As he sprinted past Esquibel's body, he set his sight on the partitions at the far end of the Denon Wing. The alarm was getting louder now."Wait!" Suslowicz's voice blared again over the radio. "He's moving! My God, he's alive. Jim's moving.Romano kept running, cursing the length of the hallway with every step."Jim's moving fast!" Suslowicz was still yelling on the road. "He's running down the Carrousel. Wait… he's picking up speed. He's moving too fast!"Arriving at the partitions, Roman snaked his way through them, saw the restroom door, and ran for it. The walkie-talkie was barely audible
Emerging from the shadows, Jim and Sophie moved stealthily up the deserted Grand Gallery corridor toward the emergency exit stairwell. As he moved, Jim felt like he was trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle in the dark. The newest aspect of this mystery was a deeply troubling one: The Captain of the judicial Police is trying to frame me for murder"Do you think," he whispered, "that maybe Fache wrote that message on the floor?"Sophie didn't even turn. "Impossible."Jim wasn't so sure. "He seems pretty intent on making me look guilty. Maybe he thought writing my name on the floor would help his case?""The Fibonacci sequence? The P.S.? All the Da Vinci and goddess symbolism? That had to be my grandfather."Jim knew she was right. The symbolism of the clues meshed too perfectly - the pentacle, The Vitruvian Man, Da Vinci, the goddess, and even the Fibonacci sequence. A coherent symbolic set, as iconographers would call it. All inextricably tied."And his phone call to me this afternoon,"
Kneeling in the first pew, Amorth pretended to pray as he scanned the layout of the sanctuary. Saint-Sulpice, like most churches, had been built in the shape of a giant Roman cross. Its long central section - the nave - led directly to the main altar, where it was transversely intersected by a shorter section, known as the transept. The intersection of nave and transept occurred directly beneath the main cupola and was considered the heart of the church… her most sacred and mystical point. Turning his head to the right, he gazed into the south transept, toward the open area of floor beyond the end of the pews, to the object his victims had described. There it is. Embedded in the gray granite floor, a thin polished strip of brass glistened in the stone… a golden line slanting across the church's floor. The line bore graduated markings, like a ruler. It was a gnomon, Amorth had been told, a pagan astronomical device like a sundial. Tourists, scientists, historians, and pagan from around
Sophie arrived breathless outside the large wooden doors of the Salle des Etats - the room that housed the Mona Lisa. Before entering, she gazed reluctantly farther down the hall, twenty yards or so, to the spot where her grandfather's body Still lay under the spotlight.The remorse that gripped her was powerful and sudden, a deep sadness laced with guilt. The man had reached out to her so many times over the past ten years, and yet Sophie had remained immovable - leaving his letters packages unopened in a bottom drawer and denying his efforts to see her. He lied to me! Kept appalling secrets! What was I supposed to do? And so she had blocked him out. Completely.Now her grandfather was dead, and he was talking to her from the grave.The Mona Lisa.She reached for huge wooden doors, and pushed. The entryway yawned open. Sophie stood on the threshold a moment, scanning the large rectangular chamber beyond. It too was bathed in a soft red light. The Salle des Etats was one of the museum
Amorth gazed upward at the Saint-Sulpice obelisk, taking in the length of the massive marble shaft. His sinews felt taunt with exhilaration. He glanced around the church one more time to make sure he was alone. Then he knelt at the base of the structure, not out of reverence, but out of necessity. The cruciform key is hidden beneath the Rose Line. At the base of the Sulpice obelisk. All the brothers had concurred.On his knees now, Silas ran his hands across the stone floor. He saw no cracks or markings to indicate a movable tile, so he began rapping softly with his knuckles on the floor. Following the brass line closer to the obelisk, he knocked on each tile adjacent to the brass line. Finally, one of them echoed strangely. There's a hollow area beneath the floor!Amorth smiled. His victims had spoken the truth.Standing, he search the sanctuary for something with which to break the floor tile.High above Amorth, in the balcony, Sister Rosaria stifled a gasp. Her darkest fears had ju
Jason was receiving an award for his book that he'd published and Jimmy was in the city, so he did the best thing he could before running off to Florence. It has been a long time since he'd been around but the event that had unfolded recently had taught him to spend more time with family. Encaenia took place in the Sheldonian - a long and rambling ceremony conducted in Latin for six distinguished persons though, in Lola's mind, this was a celebration mainly for Jason. At last, he was receiving the recognition he deserved. After the ceremony, she stood and watched him with pride as he mingled with guests. She had met Jason briefly before the ceremony and they had hugged, but hardly spoken; too many people and not enough time. She thought at first that it was perhaps the way it should be, with no time for sentimentalism, but no, she decided that it was not the way it should be. They needed more time. "Do you know all these people?" Malik whispered."No." Lola shook her head, even tho
Night had fallen over Shekina. Jimmy stood alone on the porch of the fieldstone house enjoying the sounds of laughter and reunion drifting through the screened door behind him. The mug of coffee in his hand had granted him hazy reprieve from his mounting exhaustion, and yet he sensed the reprieve would be fleeting. The fatigue in his body went to the core. "You slipped out quietly," a voice behind said.He turned. McEwan's grandmother emerged, her silver hair shimmering in the night. Jimmy gave a tired smile. "I thought I'd give your family some time together." Through the window, he could see McEwan talking with her brother. Sophie's grandmother came beside him. "Mr. Jim, when I first heard of Esquibel's murder, I was terrified for McEwan's sake. Seeing her standing in my doorway tonight was the greatest relief of my life. I cannot thank you enough."Jimmy had no idea how to respond. Although he had offered to give McEwan and her grandmother time to talk in private, she had asked
"Davis?" McEwan was standing outside the car, looking back at him. "Are you coming?" She was holding the rosewood box, which captain Romano had returned to them. Inside, both cryptex had been reassembled and nested as they had been found. The verse was locked safely at its core - minus the shattered vessel of vinegar.Making their way up the long gravel path, Jimmy and McEwan passed the famous west Wall of the chapel. Casual visitors assumed this oddly protruding wall was a section of the chapel that had not been finished. The truth, Jimmy recalled, was far more intriguing. Shekina chapel's entrance was more modest than Jimmy expected. The small wooden door had two iron hinges. The chapel would be closing soon, and as Jimmy pulled open the door, a warm puff of air escaped, as if the ancient edifice were having a weary sigh at the end of a long day. Entering with McEwan, Jimmy felt his eyes reaching across the famous sanctuary and taking it all in. Although he had read accounts of She
The mist had settled low as Amorth limped into a quiet hollow out of sight. Kneeling on the wet grass, he could feel a warm stream of blood flowing from the bullet wound below his ribs. Still, he managed.The fog made it look like heaven here.Raising his bloody hands, he prayed, but most importantly he prayed for his mentor… Myositis… that he would not fade with the sands of time. The fog was swirling around him now, and Amorth felt so light that he was sure the wisps would carry him away. Closing his eyes, he said a final prayer.His pains at last began to fade, and he knew Myositis was right. It was late afternoon when the London sun broke through and the city began to dry. Andrie Romano felt weary as he emerged from the interrogation room and hailed a cab. Sir Albert Rodriguez had noisily proclaimed his innocence, and yet from his loose ranting about the Archstone, secret documents, and mysterious brotherhood, Roman suspected the sly historian was setting the stage for his lawye
Myositis's body had endured many kinds of pain, and yet the searing heat of the bullet wound in his chest felt profoundly foreign to him. Deep and grave. Not a wound of the flesh… but closer to the soul. He opened his eyes, trying to see, but the rain on his face buried his vision. He could feel powerful arms holding him, carrying his limp body like a rag doll, his black cassock flapping. Lifting a weary arm, he mopped his eyes and saw the man holding him was Amorth. He was struggling down a sidewalk, shouting for a hospital, his voice a heart-rending wail of agony. His red eyes were focused dead ahead, tears streaming down his face. "My son," Myositis whispered, "you're hurt." Amorth glanced down, his visage contorted in anguish. "I am sorry sorry, Father." He seemed almost too pained to speak. "No," Myositis replied. "It is I who am sorry. This is my fault. I was too eager. Too fearful. You and I were deceived." Myositis was unconscious when the doors of St Luke's hospital hiss
Jimmy and McEwan moved slowly down the north aisle, keeping the shadows behind the ample pillars that separated it from the open nave. Despite having traveled more than halfway down the nave, they still had no clear view of the tomb. The sarcophagus was recessed in a niche, obscured from this oblique angle."At least there's nobody over there," McEwan whispered.Jimmy nodded, relieved. The entire section of the nave near Klaus' tomb was deserted. "I'll go over," he whispered. "You should stay hidden just in case someone-"McEwan had already stepped from the shadows and was headed across the open floor."-is watching," Jimmy sighed, hurrying to join her.Crossing the massive nave on a diagonal, Jimmy and McEwan remained silent as the elaborate sepulcher revealed itself in Tantalus increments… a black-marble sarcophagus… a reclining statue of Klaus… two winged boys… a huge pyramid… and… an enormous orb."Did you know about that?" McEwan said, sounding startled.Jimmy shook his head, als
Jimmy had not gotten his eyes off the computer screen since the search began. He was starting to get worried.Anita Istredd was in the adjoining room, preparing hot drinks. Jimmy and Sophie had inquired unwisely if there might be some coffee brewing alongside the tea Istredd had offered, and from the sound of the microwave beeps in the next room, Jimmy suspected their request was about to be rewarded with instant Nescafe.Finally, the computer pinged happily."Sounds like you got another," Istredd called from the next room. "What does it say?"Jimmy looked at the screen, disappointed.They sat patiently in front of the screen and waited through two more dubious returns. When the computer pinged again, nothing interesting happened.Istredd peeked back in the doorway, holding a packet of instant coffee. "You don't want the full text," Istredd called. "Click on the hypertext title. The computer will display your keyword hits along with mono prelogs and triple post logs for context."Jim
Copus peccate's headquarter in London is a modest brick building. Amorth had never been here, but he felt a rising sense of refuge and asylum as he approached the building on foot. Despite the rain, Beardsley had dropped him off a short distance away in order to keep the limousine off the main Streets. Amorth didn't mind the walk. The rain was cleansing.At Beardsley's suggestion, Amorth had wiped down his gun and dispose of it through the sewer grate. He was glad to get rid of it. He felt lighter. His legs still ache from being bound all the time, but he had endured far greater pain. He wondered, though, about Rodriguez, who Beardsley had left bound in the back of the limousine. The Briton certainly had to be feeling pain by now."What will you do with him?" Amorth had asked Beardsley as they drove over here.Beardsley had shrugged. "That is a decision the Teacher would make." There was an odd finality in his tone.Now, as Amorth approached the building, the rain began to fall harder
Jimmy still felt shaken as he and McEwan came from the rain and entered the library. The primary research room was as Rodriguez had described it - a dramatic octagonal chamber dominated by an enormous round table with twelve flat-screen computer workstations. On the far side of the room, a reference librarian was just pouring a pot of tea and settling in for the day of work. "Good morning," she said in a beautiful British accent, leaving the tea and walking over. "May I help you?""Thank you, yes please," Jimmy replied. "My name is-""Jimmy Davis." She gave a pleasant smile. "I know who you are."For instance, he feared Romano had put him on English television as well, but the librarian's smile suggested otherwise. Jimmy 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 Librium in a religious studies reference facility."Anita Istredd," the librarian said, offering her hand. She had a friend