The Da Vinci Code Chapter 4-6

CHAPTER 4Captain Bezu Fache carried himself homogeneous an angry ox, with his wide shoulders thr avouch back and his get up tucked problematical into his chest. His aristocratic hair was slicked back with oil, accentuating an arrow- want widows peak that divided his jutting supercilium and preceded him like the prow of a disputeship. As he advanced, his drear eye befoolmed to scorch the earth in the lead him, radiating a fiery clarity that forecast his reputation for unblinking severity in merely matters.Langdon followed the captain atomic pile the notable marble staircase into the sunken atrium beneath the fruitcake pyramid. As they desc stoped, they passed betwixt twain armed Judicial Police guards with machine guns. The cognitive content was clear Nobody goes in or appear tonight with come in the blessing of Captain Fache.Descending below ground level, Langdon fought a rising trepidation. Faches nominal head was eitherthing only if welcoming, and the fiveso me itself had an al virtually sepulchral aura at this hour. The staircase, like the aisle of a glooming movie theater, was illuminated by subtle tread-lighting embedded in each step. Langdon could hear his declare footsteps reminiscent pip the glass e really regularisehead. As he glanced up, he could see the faint illuminated wisps of mist from the fountains fade away out status the transparent roof.Do you approve? Fache asked, nodding upward(a) with his broad chin.Langdon sighed, too tire to p present games. Yes, your pyramid is magnificent. Fache grunted. A scar on the face of Paris. Strike bingle.Langdon sensed his host was a hard man to please. He wondered if Fache had any idea that this pyramid, at President Mitterrands explicit demand, had been constructed of hardly 666 panes of glass a bizarre request that had always been a hot topic among conspiracy buffs who claimed 666 was the number of Satan.Langdon persistent non to bring it up.As they dropped further intima telyther into the subterranean foyer, the yawning space slowly emerged from the shadows. Built lvii feet beneath ground level, the tailfins new(a)ly constructed 70, 000-square-foot third house spread out like an endless grotto. Constructed in spry ocher marble to be compatible with the honey-colored stone of the Louvre facade above, the subterranean hall was normally vibrant with sunlight and tourists. Tonight, however, the lobby was barren and dark, giving the entire space a cold and crypt-like atmosphere.And the museums weak security staff? Langdon asked.En quarantaine,Fache replied, sounding as if Langdon were questioning the integrity of Faches team. plainly, someone gained entry tonight who should not fork out. All Louvre night wardens are in the Sully Wing being questioned. My own agents have taken everywhere museum security for the evening.Langdon nodded, moving quickly to keep pace with Fache.How surface did you inhabit Jacques Sauniere? the captain asked. Actually , not at all. Wed never met. Fache looked surprised. Your first take ining was to be tonight?Yes. Wed planned to meet at the American University reception following my lecture, moreover he never showed up.Fache scribbled some notes in a little book. As they walked, Langdon caught a glimpse of the Louvres lesser- cognize pyramid La Pyramide Inversee a huge inverted fanlight that hung from the ceiling like a stalactite in an adjoining section of the entresol. Fache guided Langdon up a utterly set of stairs to the mouth of an arched tunnel, over which a sign read DENON. The Denon Wing was the most famous of the Louvres three main sections.Who requested tonights contact? Fache asked suddenly. You or he?The question seemed odd. Mr. Sauniere did, Langdon replied as they entered the tunnel. His secretaire contacted me a a hardly a(prenominal)(prenominal) weeks ago via e- carry. She said the curator had heard I would be lecturing in Paris this month and wanted to discuss something with me while I was here.Discuss what?I dont k at a time. Art, I imagine. We manage similar interests.Fache looked skeptical. You have no idea what your meeting was somewhat?Langdon did not. Hed been curious at the time however had not snarl comfortable demanding specifics. The venerated Jacques Sauniere had a re at one timened penchant for privacy and granted very few meetings Langdon was grateful simply for the opportunity to meet him.Mr. Langdon, can you at least guess what our murder dupe might have wanted to discuss with you on the night he was killed? It might be helpful.The breaker point of the question made Langdon uncomfortable. I really cant imagine. I didnt ask. I felt honored to have been contacted at all. Im an admirer of Mr. Saunieres work. I use his texts often in my classes.Fache made note of that fact in his book.The two men were now halfway up the Denon Wings entry tunnel, and Langdon could see the twin ascending escalators at the far end, both motionless.So you shared interests with him? Fache asked.Yes. In fact, Ive spent much of the last year writing the compose for a book that deals with Mr. Saunieres primary area of expertise. I was looking forward to picking his brain.Fache glanced up. Pardon?The m otherwise tongue apparently didnt translate. I was looking forward to take heeding his thoughts on the topic.I see. And what is the topic?Langdon hesitated, uncertain exactly how to put it. Es moveially, the manuscript is about the iconography of goddess worship the concept of female person sanctity and the art and symbolizations associated with it.Fache ran a essential hand across his hair. And Sauniere was knowledgeable about this? Nobody more so. I see.Langdon sensed Fache did not see at all. Jacques Sauniere was considered the premiere goddess iconographer on earth. Not only did Sauniere have a personal passion for relics relating to fertility, goddess cults, Wicca, and the sacrosanct womanly, but during his twenty-year tenur e as curator, Sauniere had helped the Louvre amass the largest collection of goddess art on earth labrys axes from the priestesses oldest Grecian shrine in Delphi, gold caducei wands, 100s of Tjetankhs resembling small standing angels, sistrum rattles used in ancient Egypt to dispel worthless spirits, and an astonishing array of statues depicting Horus being nursed by the goddess Isis.Perhaps Jacques Sauniere knew of your manuscript? Fache offered. And he called the meeting to offer his help on your book.Langdon shook his head. Actually, nobody yet knows about my manuscript. Its slake in order of payment form, and I havent shown it to anyone except my editor.Fache fell close.Langdon did not add the reason he hadnt yet shown the manuscript to anyone else. The three- hundred-page gulp tentatively titled Symbols of the Lost Sacred Feminine proposed some very unconventional interpretations of established phantasmal iconography which would certainly be controversial.Now, as La ngdon approached the stationary escalators, he paused, realizing Fache was no longer beside him. Turning, Langdon precept Fache standing some(prenominal) yards back at a proceeds elevator.Well take the elevator, Fache said as the lift doors opened. As Im accepted youre aware, the trend is quite a distance on foot.Although Langdon knew the elevator would expedite the long, two-story climb to the Denon Wing, he remained motionless.Is something reproach? Fache was holding the door, looking impatient.Langdon exhaled, turning a longing glance back up the open-air escalator. Nothings ravish at all, he lied to himself, trudging back toward the elevator. As a boy, Langdon had fallen downwards an abandoned well shaft and almost died treading water in the narrow space for hours in the first place being rescued. Since then, hed suffered a dogged phobia of enclosed spaces elevators, subways, squash courts. The elevator is a perfectly safe machine, Langdon continually told himself, ne ver believe it. Its a tiny metal box hanging in an enclosed shaft Holding his breath, he stepped into the lift, feeling the familiar tingle of adrenaline as the doors slid shut. Two grades.Ten seconds.You and Mr. Sauniere, Fache said as the lift began to move, you never spoke at all? Never corresponded? Never sent each other anything in the mail?Another odd question. Langdon shook his head. No. Never. Fache cocked his head, as if making a mental note of that fact. axiom nothing, he stared dead ahead at the chrome doors.As they ascended, Langdon attempt to focus on anything other than the four walls around him. In the reflection of the shiny elevator door, he saw the captains tie curry a silver crucifix with thirteen embedded pieces of black onyx. Langdon embed it vaguely surprising. The symbol was known as a crux gemmata a cross bearing thirteen gems a Christian ideograph for Christ and His twelve apostles. Somehow Langdon had not expected the captain of the French police t o broadcast his theology so openly. Then again, this was France Christianity was not a religion here so much as a birth remediate.Its a crux gemmata Fache said suddenly.Startled, Langdon glanced up to let out Faches eyes on him in the reflection. The elevator agitate to a stop, and the doors opened. Langdon stepped quickly out into the hallway, eager for the wide-open space afforded by the famous gamy ceilings of the Louvre galleries. The human into which he stepped, however, was nothing like he expected.Surprised, Langdon halt short.Fache glanced over. I gather, Mr. Langdon, you have never seen the Louvre after hours?I guess not, Langdon thought, trying to get his bearings.Usually impeccably illuminated, the Louvre galleries were startlingly dark tonight. Instead of the customary flat-white light combineing down from above, a muted red glow seemed to issue upward from the baseboards intermittent patches of red light spilling out onto the tile floors.As Langdon gazed down t he murky corridor, he realized he should have anticipated this scene. Virtually all major(ip) galleries employed red service lighting at night strategically placed, low-level, noninvasive lights that enabled staff members to navigate hallways and yet kept the paintings inrelative vileness to slow the fading effects of overexposure to light. Tonight, the museum possessed an almost oppressive quality. Long shadows encroached everywhere, and the usually soaring overleap ceilings appeared as a low, black void.This way, Fache said, turning precipitately right and setting out with a series of interconnected galleries.Langdon followed, his vision slowly adjusting to the dark. All around, large-format oils began to materialize like photos developing before him in an tremendous darkroom their eyes following as he moved through the rooms. He could taste the familiar tang of museum air an arid, deionized essence that carried a faint hint of carbon the product of indus campaign, coal-fi lter dehumidifiers that ran around the measure to counteract the corrosive carbon dioxide exhaled by visitors.Mounted high on the walls, the visible security cameras sent a clear message to visitors We see you.Do not touch anything.Any of them real? Langdon asked, motioning to the cameras. Fache shook his head. Of black market not. Langdon was not surprised. Video surveillance in museums this size was cost-prohibitive and ineffective. With acres of galleries to watch over, the Louvre would require several(prenominal) hundred technicians simply to monitor the feeds. Most large museums now used containment security. Forget keeping thieves out.Keep them in.Containment was initiate after hours, and if an intruder submitd a piece of artwork, compartmentalized exits would seal around that gallery, and the thief would find himself behind bars even before the police arrived.The sound of voices echoed down the marble corridor up ahead. The hoo-hah seemed to be coming from a large recess ed alcove that unload ahead on the right. A bright light spilled out into the hallway. Office of the curator, the captain said. As he and Fache drew nearer the alcove, Langdon peered down a short hallway, into Saunieres luxurious study warm wood, Old Master paintings, and an enormous antique desk on which stood a two-foot-tall model of a knight in full armor. A handful of police agents bustled about the room, talking on phones and taking notes. One of them was seated at Saunieres desk, typing into a laptop. Apparently, the curators private purpose had stimulate DCPJs makeshift command post for the evening.Messieurs, Fache called out, and the men turned. Ne nous derangez pas sous aucun pretexte. Entendu?Everyone privileged the office nodded their understanding.Langdon had hung nice NE PAS DERANGER signs on hotel room doors to catch the gist of the captains orders. Fache and Langdon were not to be disturbed under any circumstances.Leaving the small congregation of agents behind, Fache led Langdon farther down the darkened hallway. Thirty yards ahead loomed the gateway to the Louvres most popular section la greene Galerie a seemingly endless corridor that housed the Louvres most valuable Italian masterpieces. Langdon had already discerned that this was where Saunieres body lay the Grand movements famous parquet floor had been unmistakable in the Polaroid.As they approached, Langdon saw the entrance was blocked by an enormous steel grate that looked like something used by medieval castles to keep out marauding armies.Containment security,Fache said, as they neared the grate.Even in the apparition, the barricade looked like it could have restrained a tank. Arriving outside, Langdon peered through the bars into the dimly lit caverns of the Grand veranda.After you, Mr. Langdon, Fache said. Langdon turned. After me, where?Fache motioned toward the floor at the base of the grate.Langdon looked down. In the darkness, he hadnt noticed. The barricade was rai sed about two feet, providing an cumbersome dynamic headroom underneath.This area is still off limits to Louvre security, Fache said. My team from Police Technique etScientifique has just finished their investigation. He motioned to the opening. Please slide under.Langdon stared at the narrow crawl space at his feet and then up at the massive iron grate. Hes kidding, right? The barricade looked like a guillotine waiting to crush intruders.Fache grumbled something in French and checked his watch. Then he dropped to his knees and slithered his bulky frame underneath the grate. On the other side, he stood up and looked back through the bars at Langdon.Langdon sighed. Placing his palms flat on the polished parquet, he lay on his stomach and pulled himself forward. As he slid underneath, the nape of his Harris tweed snagged on the bottom of the grate, and he loony the back of his head on the iron.Very suave, Robert, he thought, fumbling and then finally pulling himself through. As he stood up, Langdon was beginning to suspect it was going to be a very long night.CHAPTER 5Murray cumulus Place the new piece Dei World Headquarters and conference center is located at 243 Lexington passageway in New York City. With a price tag of just over $47 million, the 133, 000- square-foot tower is enclothe in red brick and Indiana limestone. Designed by May & Pinska, the building contains over one hundred bedrooms, six dining rooms, libraries, living rooms, meeting rooms, and offices. The second, eighth, and sixteenth floors contain chapels, ornamented with mill- work and marble. The seventeenth floor is entirely residential. Men enter the building through the main doors on Lexington Avenue. Women enter through a side street and are acoustically and visually separated from the men at all times within the building. antecedent this evening, within the sanctuary of his penthouse apartment, Bishop Manuel Aringarosa had packed a small blend bag and dressed in a traditional bl ack cassock. Normally, he would have wrapped a purple cincture around his waist, but tonight he would be traveling among the public, and he preferred not to draw attention to his high office. all those with a keen eye would notice his 14-karat gold bishops ring with purple amethyst, large diamonds, and hand-tooled mitre-crozier applique. Throwing the travel bag over his shoulder, he said a silent prayer and left hand his apartment, descending to the lobby where his driver was waiting to take him to the airport.Now, sitting aboard a commercial airliner bound for capital of Italy, Aringarosa gazed out the window at the dark Atlantic. The sun had already set, but Aringarosa knew his own star was on the rise. Tonight the battle willing be won, he thought, amazed that only months ago he had felt powerless against the pass on that threatened to destroy his empire.As president-general of constitution Dei, Bishop Aringarosa had spent the last decade of his life spreading the message o f Gods become literally, piece Dei.The congregation, founded in 1928 by the Spanish priest Josemaria Escriva, promoted a return to conservative Catholic values and encouraged its members to make sweeping sacrifices in their own lives in order to do the Work of God.Opus Deis traditionalist philosophy initially had taken root in Spain before Francos regime, but with the 1934 publishing of Josemaria Escrivas spiritual book The Way 999 points of meditation for doing Gods Work in ones own life Escrivas message blow up across the world. Now, with over four million copies of The Way in circulation in forty-two languages, Opus Dei was a global force. Its residence halls, teaching centers, and even universities could be found in almost every major metropolis on earth. Opus Dei was the fastest-growing and most financially secure Catholic organization in the world. Unfortunately, Aringarosa had learned, in an age of religious cynicism, cults, and televangelists, Opus Deis escalating weal th and power was a magnet for suspicion.Many call Opus Dei a brainwashing cult, reporters often challenged. Others call you an ultraconservative Christian secret society. Which are you?Opus Dei is neither, the bishop would patiently reply. We are a Catholic perform. We are a congregation of Catholics who have chosen as our antecedence to follow Catholic doctrine as rigorously as we can in our own chance(a) lives.Does Gods Work necessarily include vows of chastity, tithing, and atonement for sins through self-flagellation and the cilice?You are describing only a small factor of the Opus Dei population, Aringarosa said. There are many levels of involvement. Thousands of Opus Dei members are married, have families, and do Gods Work in their own communities. Others choose lives of asceticism within our cloistered residence halls. These choices are personal, but everyone in Opus Dei shares the goal of fall aparting the world by doing the Work of God. Surely this is an admirable ques t.Reason seldom worked, though. The media always gravitated toward scandal, and Opus Dei, like most large organizations, had within its membership a few misguided souls who cast a shadow over the entire mathematical group. Two months ago, an Opus Dei group at a mid-western university had been caught drugging new recruits with mescaline in an effort to induce a euphoric state that neophytes would perceive as a religious experience. Another university student had used his barbed cilice belt more often than the recommended two hours a day and had given himself a near lethal infection. In Boston not long ago, a disillusioned young investment banker had signed over his entire life savings to Opus Dei before attempting suicide.Misguided sheep, Aringarosa thought, his heart going out to them.Of course the ultimate embarrassment had been the widely publicized trial of FBI spy Robert Hanssen, who, in addition to being a prominent member of Opus Dei, had turned out to be a inner deviant, hi s trial uncovering evidence that he had rigged hidden moving picture cameras in his own bedroom so his friends could watch him having sex with his wife. Hardly the pastime of a earnest Catholic, the judge had noted.Sadly, all of these events had helped spawn the new watch group known as the Opus Dei sentience Network (ODAN). The groups popular website www odan.org relayed frightening stories from former Opus Dei members who warned of the dangers of joining. The media was now referring to Opus Dei as Gods mafia and the Cult of Christ.We fear what we do not understand, Aringarosa thought, wondering if these critics had any idea how many lives Opus Dei had enriched. The group enjoyed the full endorsement and blessing of the Vatican. Opus Dei is a personal prelature of the Pope himself.Recently, however, Opus Dei had found itself threatened by a force infinitely more powerful than the media an unexpected foe from which Aringarosa could not possibly hide. Five months ago, the kalei doscope of power had been shaken, and Aringarosa was still reeling from the blow.They know not the war they have begun, Aringarosa whispered to himself, consummate(a) out the planes window at the darkness of the ocean below. For an instant, his eyes refocused, lingering on the reflection of his awkward face dark and oblong, dominated by a flat, crooked nose that had been shattered by a fist in Spain when he was a young missionary. The physical flaw barely registered now. Aringarosas was a world of the soul, not of the flesh.As the jet passed over the coast of Portugal, the cell phone in Aringarosas cassock began vibrating in silent ring mode. Despite airline regulations prohibiting the use of cell phones during flights, Aringarosa knew this was a call he could not miss. Only one man possessed this number, the man who had mailed Aringarosa the phone.Excited, the bishop answered quietly. Yes?Silas has located the keystone, the caller said. It is in Paris. Within the Church of Saint- Sulpice. Bishop Aringarosa smiled. Then we are close. We can obtain it at one time. But we need your influence. Of course. Tell me what to do. When Aringarosa switched off the phone, his heart was pounding. He gazed once again into the void of night, feeling dwarfed by the events he had put into motion.Five hundred miles away, the albino named Silas stood over a small basin of water and dabbed the declination from his back, watching the patterns of red spinning in the water. redden me with hyssop andI shall be clean, he prayed, quoting Psalms. Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.Silas was feeling an aroused anticipation that he had not felt since his previous life. It both surprised and electrified him. For the last decade, he had been following The Way, cleansing himself of sins rebuild his life erasing the violence in his past. Tonight, however, it had all come rushing back. The hatred he had fought so hard to bury had been summoned. He had been startled how quickly his pa st had resurfaced. And with it, of course, had come his skills. Rusty but serviceable.Jesus message is one of peaceof nonviolenceof adore.This was the message Silas had been taught from the beginning, and the message he held in his heart. And yet this was the message the enemies of Christ now threatened to destroy. Those who threaten God with force will be met with force.Immovable and steadfast.For two millennia, Christian soldiers had defended their faith against those who tried to displace it. Tonight, Silas had been called to battle.Drying his wounds, he donned his ankle-length, hooded robe. It was ostensible, made of dark wool, accentuating the whiteness of his skin and hair. Tightening the rope-tie around his waist, he raised the hood over his head and allowed his red eyes to admire his reflection in the mirror. The wheels are in motion.CHAPTER 6Having squeezed beneath the security gate, Robert Langdon now stood just inside the entrance to the Grand Gallery. He was everlasti ng(a) into the mouth of a long, copious canyon. On either side of the gallery, stark walls rose thirty feet, evaporating into the darkness above. The reddish glow of the service lighting sifted upward, casting an unnatural smolder across a astounding collection of Da Vincis, Titians, and Caravaggios that hung suspended from ceiling cables. Still lifes, religious scenes, and landscapes accompanied portraits of nobility and politicians.Although the Grand Gallery housed the Louvres most famous Italian art, many visitors felt the wings most stunning offering was truly its famous parquet floor. Laid out in a dazzling geometric design of diagonal oak tree slats, the floor produced an ephemeral optical illusion a multi- dimensional network that gave visitors the sense they were floating through the gallery on a surface that changed with every step.As Langdons gaze began to trace the inlay, his eyes stopped short on an unexpected object lying on the floor just a few yards to his left, s urrounded by police tape. He spun toward Fache. Is that a Caravaggio on the floor?Fache nodded without even looking.The painting, Langdon guessed, was worth upward of two million dollars, and yet it was lying on the floor like a discarded poster. What the devil is it doing on the floorFache glowered, clearly unmoved. This is a crime scene, Mr. Langdon. We have touched nothing. That canvas was pulled from the wall by the curator. It was how he activated the security system.Langdon looked back at the gate, trying to picture what had happened.The curator was attacked in his office, fled into the Grand Gallery, and activated the security gate by pulling that painting from the wall. The gate fell immediately, sealing off all access. This is the only door in or out of this gallery. Langdon felt confused. So the curator truly captured his attacker inside the Grand Gallery? Fache shook his head. The security gate separated Sauniere from his attacker. The killer waslocked out there in the hallway and shot Sauniere through this gate. Fache pointed toward anorange tag hanging from one of the bars on the gate under which they had just passed. The PT Steam found flashback residue from a gun. He laid-off through the bars. Sauniere died in here alone.Langdon pictured the photograph of Saunieres body. They said he did that to himself.Langdon looked out at the enormous corridor before them. So where is his body?Fache straightened his cruciform tie clip and began to walk. As you probably know, the Grand Gallery is quite long.The exact length, if Langdon recalled correctly, was around fifteen hundred feet, the length of three Washington Monuments laid end to end. Equally breathtaking was the corridors width, which easily could have accommodated a pair of side-by-side passenger trains. The center of the hallway was dashed by the occasional statue or colossal porcelain urn, which served as a tasteful divider and kept the flow of traffic moving down one wall and up the other.Fa che was silent now, striding briskly up the right side of the corridor with his gaze dead ahead. Langdon felt almost disrespectful to be racing past so many masterpieces without pausing for so much as a glance.Not that I could see anything in this lighting, he thought.The muted crimson lighting unfortunately conjured memories of Langdons last experience in noninvasive lighting in the Vatican Secret Archives. This was tonights second unsettling parallel with his near-death in Rome. He flashed on Vittoria again. She had been absent from his dreams for months. Langdon could not believe Rome had been only a year ago it felt like decades. Another life.His last correspondence from Vittoria had been in December a postcard saying she was headed to the Java Sea to continue her research in network physics something about using satellites to track manta ray migrations. Langdon had never harbored delusions that a woman like Vittoria Vetra could have been happy living with him on a college cam pus, but their encounter in Rome had unguaranteed in him a longing he never imagined he could feel. His lifelong affinity for bachelorhood and the simple freedoms it allowed had been shaken somehow replaced by an unexpected emptiness that seemed to have grown over the past year.They continued walk briskly, yet Langdon still saw no corpse. Jacques Sauniere went this far?Mr. Sauniere suffered a sens wound to his stomach. He died very slowly. Perhaps over fifteen or twenty minutes. He was obviously a man of great(p) personal strength.Langdon turned, appalled. Security took fifteen minutes to get here?Of course not. Louvre security responded immediately to the alarm and found the Grand Gallery sealed. Through the gate, they could hear someone moving around at the far end of the corridor, but they could not see who it was. They shouted, but they got no answer. Assuming it could only be a criminal, they followed protocol and called in the Judicial Police. We took up positions within fi fteen minutes. When we arrived, we raised the barricade affluent to slip underneath, and I sent a dozen armed agents inside. They swept the length of the gallery to turning point the intruder. And? They found no one inside. Except He pointed farther down the hall. Him.Langdon lifted his gaze and followed Faches extended finger. At first he thought Fache was pointing to a large marble statue in the middle of the hallway. As they continued, though, Langdon began to see past the statue. Thirty yards down the hall, a single spotlight on a movable pole stand shone down on the floor, creating a stark island of white light in the dark crimson gallery. In the center of the light, like an insect under a microscope, the corpse of the curator lay naked on the parquet floor.You saw the photograph, Fache said, so this should be of no surprise.Langdon felt a deep chill as they approached the body. Before him was one of the strangest image she had ever seen.The pallid corpse of Jacques Saunier e lay on the parquet floor exactly as it appeared in the photograph. As Langdon stood over the body and squinted in the fierce light, he reminded himself to his amazement that Sauniere had spent his last minutes of life arranging his own body in this strange fashion.Sauniere looked remarkably fit for a man of his years and all of his musculature was in plain view. He had stripped off every shred of clothing, placed it neatly on the floor, and laid down on his back in the center of the wide corridor, perfectly aligned with the long axis of the room. His coat of arms and legs were sprawled outward in a wide spread eagle, like those of a child making a snow angel or, perhaps more appropriately, like a man being drawn and quartered by some invisible force.Just below Saunieres breastbone, a bloody smear marked the spot where the bullet had pierced his flesh. The wound had bled surprisingly little, leaving only a small pool of blackened blood.Saunieres left index finger was also bloody, apparently having been dipped into the wound to create the most unsettling aspect of his own macabre deathbed using his own blood as ink, and employing his own naked abdomen as a canvas, Sauniere had drawn a simple symbol on his flesh five straight lines that intersected to form a five-pointed star.The pentangle.The bloody star, centered on Saunieres navel, gave his corpse a distinctly ghoulish aura. The photo Langdon had seen was chilling enough, but now, witnessing the scene in person, Langdon felt a deepening uneasiness.He did this to himself.Mr. Langdon? Faches dark eyes settled on him again.Its a pentagram, Langdon offered, his voice feeling hollow in the huge space. One of the oldest symbols on earth. Used over four thousand years before Christ.And what does it mean?Langdon always hesitated when he got this question. Telling someone what a symbol meant was like telling them how a song should make them feel it was different for all people. A white Ku Klux Klan headpiece con jured images of hatred and racism in the United States, and yet the same costume carried a meaning of religious faith in Spain.Symbols carry different meanings in different settings, Langdon said. Primarily, the pentacle is a infidel religious symbol.Fache nodded. Devil worship. No, Langdon corrected, immediately realizing his choice of vocabulary should have been clearer. Nowadays, the term pagan had become almost synonymous with devil worship a gross misconception. The tidingss roots actually reached back to the Latin paganus, meaning country-dwellers. Pagans were literally unindoctrinated country-folk who clung to the old, countryfied religions of temper worship. In fact, so strong was the Churchs fear of those who lived in the rural villes that the once innocuous word for villager villain came to mean a wicked soul.The pentacle, Langdon clarified, is a pre-Christian symbol that relates to Nature worship. The ancients envisioned their world in two halves masculine and femi nine. Their gods and goddesses worked to keep a balance of power. Yin and yang. When male and female were balanced, there was harmony in the world. When they were unbalanced, there was chaos. Langdon motioned to Saunieres stomach. This pentacle is representative of the female half of all things a concept religious historians call the devoted feminine or the divine goddess. Sauniere, of all people, would know this.Sauniere drew a goddess symbol on his stomach?Langdon had to admit, it seemed odd. In its most specific interpretation, the pentacle symbolizes genus genus Venus the goddess of female sexual love and beauty.Fache eyed the naked man, and grunted.Early religion was based on the divine order of Nature. The goddess Venus and the planet Venus were one and the same. The goddess had a place in the nighttime sky and was known by many names Venus, the Eastern Star, Ishtar, Astarte all of them powerful female concepts with ties to Nature and Mother Earth.Fache looked more move now, as if he somehow preferred the idea of devil worship.Langdon decided not to share the pentacles most astonishing property the graphic origin of its ties to Venus. As a young astronomy student, Langdon had been stunned to learn the planet Venus traced a perfect pentacle across the ecliptic sky every four years. So astonished were the ancients to observe this phenomenon, that Venus and her pentacle became symbols of perfection, beauty, and the cyclic qualities of sexual love. As a tribute to the john of Venus, the Greeks used her four-year cycle to organize their Olympiads. Nowadays, few people realized that the four-year schedule of modern Olympic Games still followed the cycles of Venus. Even fewer people knew that the five-pointed star had almost become the official Olympic seal but was modified at the last moment its five points exchanged for five intersecting rings to better reflect the games spirit of inclusion and harmony.Mr. Langdon, Fache said abruptly. Obviously, th e pentacle must also relate to the devil. Your American wickedness movies make that point clearly.Langdon frowned. Thank you, Hollywood.The five-pointed star was now a virtual cliche in god-awful serial killer movies, usually scrawled on the wall of some Satanists apartment along with other assert demonic symbology. Langdon was always frustrated when he saw the symbol in this context the pentacles true origins were actually quite godly.I assure you, Langdon said, despite what you see in the movies, the pentacles demonic interpretation is historically inaccurate. The authentic feminine meaning is correct, but the symbolism of the pentacle has been distorted over the millennia. In this case, through bloodshed. Im not sure I follow. Langdon glanced at Faches crucifix, uncertain how to phrase his next point. The Church, sir. Symbols are very resilient, but the pentacle was altered by the early Roman Catholic Church. As part of the Vaticans campaign to eradicate pagan religions and c onvert the masses to Christianity, the Church launched a smear campaign against the pagan gods and goddesses, recasting their divine symbols as evil.Go on.This is very common in times of turmoil, Langdon continued. A newly emerging power will take over the existing symbols and degrade them over time in an attempt to erase their meaning. In the battle between the pagan symbols and Christian symbols, the pagans lost Poseidons trident became the devils pitchfork, the wise crones pointed hat became the symbol of a witch, and Venuss pentacle became a sign of the devil. Langdon paused. Unfortunately, the United States military has also perverted the pentacle its now our foremost symbol of war. We paint it on all our fighter jets and hang it on the shoulders of all our generals. So much for the goddess of love and beauty.Interesting. Fache nodded toward the spread-eagle corpse. And the positioning of the body? What do you make of that? Langdon shrugged. The position simply reinforces the r eference to the pentacle and sacred feminine.Faches expression clouded. I beg your pardon?Replication. Repeating a symbol is the simplest way to strengthen its meaning. Jacques Sauniere positioned himself in the shape of a five-pointed star. If one pentacle is good, two is better.Faches eyes followed the five points of Saunieres arms, legs, and head as he again ran a hand across his slick hair. Interesting analysis. He paused. And the nudity? He grumbled as he spoke the word, sounding repulsed by the sight of an aging male body. Why did he remove his clothing?Damned good question, Langdon thought. Hed been wondering the same thing ever since he first saw the Polaroid. His best guess was that a naked human form was yet another endorsement of Venus the goddess of human sexuality. Although modern culture had erased much of Venuss association with the male/female physical union, a sharp etymological eye could still spot a vestige of Venuss original meaning in the word venereal. Langdon decided not to go there.Mr. Fache, I obviously cant tell you why Mr. Sauniere drew that symbol on himself or placed himself in this way, but I can tell you that a man like Jacques Sauniere would consider the pentacle a sign of the female deity. The correlation between this symbol and the sacred feminine is widely known by art historians and symbologists.Fine. And the use of his own blood as ink? Obviously he had nothing else to write with. Fache was silent a moment. Actually, I believe he used blood such that the police would follow certain forensic procedures.Im sorry?Look at his left hand.Langdons eyes traced the length of the curators pale arm to his left hand but saw nothing. Uncertain, he circled the corpse and crouched down, now noting with surprise that the curator was clutching a large, felt-tipped marker.Sauniere was holding it when we found him, Fache said, leaving Langdon and moving several yards to a portable table covered with investigation tools, cables, and assorted electronic gear. As I told you, he said, rummaging around the table, we have touched nothing. Are you familiar with this kind of pen?Langdon knelt down farther to see the pens label. STYLO DE LUMIERE NOIRE. He glanced up in surprise.The black-light pen or watermark stylus was a specialized felt-tipped marker originally intentional by museums, restorers, and forgery police to place invisible marks on items. The stylus wrote in a noncorrosive, alcohol-based fluorescent ink that was visible only under black light. Nowadays, museum maintenance staffs carried these markers on their daily rounds to place invisible tick marks on the frames of paintings that needed restoration.As Langdon stood up, Fache walked over to the spotlight and turned it off. The gallery plunged into sudden darkness.Momentarily blinded, Langdon felt a rising uncertainty. Faches silhouette appeared, illuminated in bright purple. He approached carrying a portable light source, which shrouded him in a violet haze.As y ou may know, Fache said, his eyes luminescing in the violet glow, police use black-light illumination to search crime scenes for blood and other forensic evidence. So you can imagine our surprise Abruptly, he pointed the light down at the corpse.Langdon looked down and jumped back in shock.His heart pounded as he took in the bizarre sight now glowing before him on the parquet floor. Scrawled in luminescent handwriting, the curators final words glowed purple beside his corpse. As Langdon stared at the shimmering text, he felt the fog that had surrounded this entire night growing thicker.Langdon read the message again and looked up at Fache. What the hell does this mean Faches eyes shone white. That, monsieur, is precisely the question you are here to answer.Not far away, inside Saunieres office, Lieutenant Collet had returned to the Louvre and was huddled over an speech sound console set up on the curators enormous desk. With the exception of the eerie, robot-like doll of a medieval knight that seemed to be staring at him from the command of Saunieres desk, Collet was comfortable. He adjusted his AKG headphones and checked the input levels on the hard-disk recording system. All systems were go. The microphones were functioning flawlessly, and the audio feed was crystal clear.Le moment de verite, he mused.Smiling, he closed his eyes and settled in to enjoy the rest of the conversation now being taped inside the Grand Gallery.