Langdon couldn't tear his eyes from the glowing purple text scrawled across the parquet floor. Jacques Saunière's final communication seemed as unlikely a departing message as any Langdon could imagine.
The message read:
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5
O, Draconian devil!
Oh, lame saint!
Although Langdon had not the slightest idea what it meant, he did understand Fache's instinct that the pentacle had something to do with devil worship.
O, Draconian devil!
Saunière had left a literal reference to the devil. Equally as bizarre was the series of numbers. "Part of it looks like a numeric cipher."
"Yes," Fache said. "Our cryptographers are already working on it. We believe these numbers may be the key to who killed him. Maybe a telephone exchange or some kind of social identification. Do the numbers have any symbolic meaning to you?"
Langdon looked again at the digits, sensing it would take him hours to extract any symbolic meaning. If Saunière had even intended any. To Langdon, the numbers looked totally random. He was accustomed to symbolic progressions that made some semblance of sense, but everything here—the pentacle, the text, the numbers—seemed disparate at the most fundamental level.
"You alleged earlier," Fache said, "that Saunière's actions here were all in an effort to send some sort of message... goddess worship or something in that vein? How does this message fit in?"
Langdon knew the question was rhetorical. This bizarre communiqué obviously did not fit Langdon's scenario of goddess worship at all.
O, Draconian devil? Oh, lame saint?
Fache said, "This text appears to be an accusation of some sort. Wouldn't you agree?"
Langdon tried to imagine the curator's final minutes trapped alone in the Grand Gallery, knowing he was about to die. It seemed logical. "An accusation against his murderer makes sense, I suppose."
"My job, of course, is to put a name to that person. Let me ask you this, Mr. Langdon. To your eye, beyond the numbers, what about this message is most strange?"
Most strange? A dying man had barricaded himself in the gallery, drawn a pentacle on himself, and scrawled a mysterious accusation on the floor. What about the scenario wasn't strange?
"The word 'Draconian'?" he ventured, offering the first thing that came to mind. Langdon was fairly certain that a reference to Draco—the ruthless seventh-century B.C. politician—was an unlikely dying thought. " 'Draconian devil' seems an odd choice of vocabulary."
"Draconian?" Fache's tone came with a tinge of impatience now. "Saunière's choice of vocabulary hardly seems the primary issue here."
Langdon wasn't sure what issue Fache had in mind, but he was starting to suspect that Draco and Fache would have gotten along well.
"Saunière was a Frenchman," Fache said flatly. "He lived in Paris. And yet he chose to write this message..."
"In English," Langdon said, now realizing the captain's meaning.
Fache nodded. "Précisément. Any idea why?"
Langdon knew Saunière spoke impeccable English, and yet the reason he had chosen English as the language in which to write his final words escaped Langdon. He shrugged.
Fache motioned back to the pentacle on Saunière's abdomen. "Nothing to do with devil worship? Are you still certain?"
Langdon was certain of nothing anymore. "The symbology and text don't seem to coincide. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
"Perhaps this will clarify." Fache backed away from the body and raised the black light again, letting the beam spread out in a wider angle. "And now?"
To Langdon's amazement, a rudimentary circle glowed around the curator's body. Saunière had apparently lay down and swung the pen around himself in several long arcs, essentially inscribing himself inside a circle.
In a flash, the meaning became clear.
"The Vitruvian Man," Langdon gasped. Saunière had created a life-sized replica of Leonardo da Vinci's most famous sketch.
Considered the most anatomically correct drawing of its day, Da Vinci's The Vitruvian Man had become a modern-day icon of culture, appearing on posters, mouse pads, and T-shirts around the world. The celebrated sketch consisted of a perfect circle in which was inscribed a nude male... his arms and legs outstretched in a naked spread eagle.
Da Vinci. Langdon felt a shiver of amazement. The clarity of Saunière's intentions could not be denied. In his final moments of life, the curator had stripped off his clothing and arranged his body in a clear image of Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man.
The circle had been the missing critical element. A feminine symbol of protection, the circle around the naked man's body completed Da Vinci's intended message—male and female harmony. The question now, though, was why Saunière would imitate a famous drawing.
"Mr. Langdon," Fache said, "certainly a man like yourself is aware that Leonardo da Vinci had a tendency toward the darker arts."
Langdon was surprised by Fache's knowledge of Da Vinci, and it certainly went a long way toward explaining the captain's suspicions about devil worship. Da Vinci had always been an awkward subject for historians, especially in the Christian tradition. Despite the visionary's genius, he was a flamboyant homosexual and worshipper of Nature's divine order, both of which placed him in a perpetual state of sin against God. Moreover, the artist's eerie eccentricities projected an admittedly demonic aura: Da Vinci exhumed corpses to study human anatomy; he kept mysterious journals in illegible reverse handwriting; he believed he possessed the alchemic power to turn lead into gold and even cheat God by creating an elixir to postpone death; and his inventions included horrific, never-before-imagined weapons of war and torture.
Misunderstanding breeds distrust, Langdon thought.
Even Da Vinci's enormous output of breathtaking Christian art only furthered the artist's reputation for spiritual hypocrisy. Accepting hundreds of lucrative Vatican commissions, Da Vinci painted Christian themes not as an expression of his own beliefs but rather as a commercial venture—a means of funding a lavish lifestyle. Unfortunately, Da Vinci was a prankster who often amused himself by quietly gnawing at the hand that fed him. He incorporated in many of his Christian paintings hidden symbolism that was anything but Christian—tributes to his own beliefs and a subtle thumbing of his nose at the Church. Langdon had even given a lecture once at the National Gallery in London entitled: "The Secret Life of Leonardo: Pagan Symbolism in Christian Art."
"I understand your concerns," Langdon now said, "but Da Vinci never really practiced any dark arts. He was an exceptionally spiritual man, albeit one in constant conflict with the Church." As Langdon said this, an odd thought popped into his mind. He glanced down at the message on the floor again. O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint!
"Yes?" Fache said.
Langdon weighed his words carefully. "I was just thinking that Saunière shared a lot of spiritual ideologies with Da Vinci, including a concern over the Church's elimination of the sacred feminine from modern religion. Maybe, by imitating a famous Da Vinci drawing, Saunière was simply echoing some of their shared frustrations with the modern Church's demonization of the goddess."
Fache's eyes hardened. "You think Saunière is calling the Church a lame saint and a Draconian devil?"
Langdon had to admit it seemed far-fetched, and yet the pentacle seemed to endorse the idea on some level. "All I am saying is that Mr. Saunière dedicated his life to studying the history of the goddess, and nothing has done more to erase that history than the Catholic Church. It seems reasonable that Saunière might have chosen to express his disappointment in his final good-bye."
"Disappointment?" Fache demanded, sounding hostile now. "This message sounds more enraged than disappointed, wouldn't you say?"
Langdon was reaching the end of his patience. "Captain, you asked for my instincts as to what Saunière is trying to say here, and that's what I'm giving you."
"That this is an indictment of the Church?" Fache's jaw tightened as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Mr. Langdon, I have seen a lot of death in my work, and let me tell you something. When a man is murdered by another man, I do not believe his final thoughts are to write an obscure spiritual statement that no one will understand. I believe he is thinking of one thing only." Fache's whispery voice sliced the air. "La vengeance. I believe Saunière wrote this note to tell us who killed him." Langdon stared. "But that makes no sense whatsoever."
"No?"
"No," he fired back, tired and frustrated. "You told me Saunière was attacked in his office by someone he had apparently invited in."
"Yes."
"So it seems reasonable to conclude that the curator knew his attacker."
Fache nodded. "Go on."
"So if Saunière knew the person who killed him, what kind of indictment is this?" He pointed at the floor. "Numeric codes? Lame saints? Draconian devils? Pentacles on his stomach? It's all too cryptic."
Fache frowned as if the idea had never occurred to him. "You have a point."
"Considering the circumstances," Langdon said, "I would assume that if Saunière wanted to tell you who killed him, he would have written down somebody's name."
As Langdon spoke those words, a smug smile crossed Fache's lips for the first time all night. "Précisément," Fache said. "Précisément."
I am witnessing the work of a master, mused Lieutenant Collet as he tweaked his audio gear and listened to Fache's voice coming through the headphones. The agent supérieur knew it was moments like these that had lifted the captain to the pinnacle of French law enforcement.
Fache will do what no one else dares.
The delicate art of cajoler was a lost skill in modern law enforcement, one that required exceptional poise under pressure. Few men possessed the necessary sangfroid for this kind of operation, but Fache seemed born for it. His restraint and patience bordered on the robotic.
Fache's sole emotion this evening seemed to be one of intense resolve, as if this arrest were somehow personal to him. Fache's briefing of his agents an hour ago had been unusually succinct and assured. I know who murdered Jacques Saunière, Fache had said. You know what to do. No mistakes tonight.
And so far, no mistakes had been made.
Collet was not yet privy to the evidence that had cemented Fache's certainty of their suspect's guilt, but he knew better than to question the instincts of the Bull. Fache's intuition seemed almost supernatural at times. God whispers in his ear, one agent had insisted after a particularly impressive display of Fache's sixth sense. Collet had to admit, if there was a God, Bezu Fache would be on His A-list. The captain attended mass and confession with zealous regularity—far more than the requisite holiday attendance fulfilled by other officials in the name of good public relations. When the Pope visited Paris a few years back, Fache had used all his muscle to obtain the honor of an audience. A photo of Fache with the Pope now hung in his office. The Papal Bull, the agents secretly called it.
Collet found it ironic that one of Fache's rare popular public stances in recent years had been his outspoken reaction to the Catholic pedophilia scandal. These priests should be hanged twice! Fache had declared. Once for their crimes against children. And once for shaming the good name of the Catholic Church. Collet had the odd sense it was the latter that angered Fache more.
Turning now to his laptop computer, Collet attended to the other half of his responsibilities here tonight—the GPS tracking system. The image onscreen revealed a detailed floor plan of the Denon Wing, a structural schematic uploaded from the Louvre Security Office. Letting his eyes trace the maze of galleries and hallways, Collet found what he was looking for.
Deep in the heart of the Grand Gallery blinked a tiny red dot.
La marque.
Fache was keeping his prey on a very tight leash tonight. Wisely so. Robert Langdon had proven himself one cool customer.
兰登无法使自己的眼睛从拼花地板上微微发着紫光上的文字上移开。兰登似乎不可能弄懂雅克。索尼埃的离别留言。文字是这样的：13－3－2－21－1－1－8－5啊，严酷的（Draconian）魔王！
噢，瘸腿的圣徒！
虽然兰登一点也不明白这到底是什么意思，但他倒理解了为什么法希的直觉告诉他五角星形与魔鬼崇拜有关。
啊，德拉古式的魔王！
索尼埃写下了"魔王"这两个字。同样奇怪的是这一组数字。"有点像数字密码。"
"是的。"法希说。"我们的密码人员正试图破译它。我们相信这些数字或许能告诉我们谁杀了他。或许是电话号码或某种社会编码。你觉得这些数字有什么象征意义吗？"
兰登又看了看这些数字，知道一时半会儿是猜不出什么象征意义的，即便是索尼埃的确预设了象征意义。对兰登而言，这些数字看起来没有任何规律。他习惯于解释那些意义相关的，有一定规律的象征，但这里的一切--五角星形、文字、数字等似乎一点也不相干。
"你刚才断言。"法希说。"索尼埃那样做是在试图传达某种信息……女神崇拜或类似的东西，是吗？这种说法讲得通吗？"
兰登知道这个问题并不需他作答。这种怪异的信息显然和女神崇拜的情形对不上号。
法希说："这些文字似乎是一种指责？你同意吗？"
兰登试图想象馆长被困在大画廊里的最后几分钟，知道自己要死时的情形。这似乎合乎逻辑。"说这是对谋杀者的指责，我想这合乎情理。"
"我的任务当然是找到那个人的名字。请问，兰登先生，在你看来，除了这些数字，有关这个信息，最奇怪的是什么？"
最奇怪的？一个濒临死亡的人把自己封在画廊里，用自己的身体画个五角星，在地板上写下神秘的控告，这哪一样不奇怪？
"德拉古式的这个词。"他试探着说出他脑子里想到的第一样东西。兰登相当肯定，一个人在临死前不太可能想到德拉古--一位公元前十七世纪残酷的政治家。"‘德拉古式的魔鬼’似乎是一个很奇怪的措辞。""德拉古式的？"法希的语气中带着一点不耐烦。"索尼埃的措辞似乎不是最重要的问题。"兰登拿不准法希在考虑什么问题，但是他开始觉得德拉古和法希是一路货色。
"索尼埃是法国人。"法希硬邦邦地说。"他住在巴黎，而写这些东西时，却选择用……""英语。"兰登接过话说。此时他明白了警务局长的意思。
法希点点头。"对极了。知道为什么吗？"兰登知道索尼埃的英语说得极漂亮，但索尼埃选择用英语写临终遗言却没引起兰登的注意。他耸耸肩。
法希又指着索尼埃肚子上的五角星说："与魔鬼崇拜没关系？你还这么肯定？"
兰登现在什么也肯定不了。"符号学似乎无法解释这段内容。对不起，我帮不了你。"
"也许这样能解释清楚。"法希从尸体旁向后退了退身，再次高举起黑光灯，使光线从更大的角度散发出来。"现在怎么样？"
这令兰登惊呆了，一个基本成形的圆圈围着馆长的尸体微微发光。显然是索尼埃倒地后用笔在自己四周划了几个长弧，大致把自己划在一个圆圈里。
突然，意思变得清晰了。
"《维特鲁威人》。"兰登急促地说。索尼埃用真人复制了那幅列昂纳多。达。芬奇的名画达。芬奇的《维特鲁威人》被认为是当时在生理结构上最准确的画作，现在已成为一个现代文化的偶像而出现在世界各地的招贴画上、鼠标垫上和T 恤衫上。这幅名画上有个极圆的圆圈，圆圈里面是一个裸体男人……胳膊和腿向外展开像一只被拔光了羽毛的鹰。
达。芬奇。兰登惊得打了个寒颤。不可否认，索尼埃有明确的意图。在人生的最后时刻，馆长脱光了衣服，明白无误地用自己的身体摆成了达。芬奇《维特鲁威人》的样子。
这个圆圈是起初被漏掉的关键因素。圆圈是一个女性保护符号，它围在了裸体男人躯体周围。这实现了达。芬奇想表达的信息--男女之间的和谐。然而，现在的问题是，索尼埃为什么模仿这样一幅名作。
"兰登先生。"法希说。"像你这样的人当然知道列昂纳多。达。芬奇喜欢画比较神秘隐晦的作品。"兰登没想到法希这么了解达。芬奇。要解释清楚为什么法希局长认为那是魔鬼崇拜，不是三言两语就说得清的。历史学家们，尤其是遵循基督教传统的历史学家们一直认为达。芬奇是个尴尬的角色。他是个绘画天才，但他也是一位非常惹眼的同性恋者和自然的神圣秩序的崇拜者，这两点使他永远背上冒犯上帝和作奸犯科的罪名。另外，这位艺术家的怪异行为无疑也投射出恶魔色彩：达。芬奇偷盗尸体来作人体解剖学研究；他神秘的日记是用别人看不懂的颠倒的字母记下的；他相信自己拥有一种点石成金的本领，可以把铅变成黄金，甚至可以靠研制出一种灵丹妙药推迟死亡而欺骗上帝；他所发明的东西中包括可怕的、前人想都未敢想过的带来如此多痛苦的战争武器。
误解滋生不信任，兰登心里想。
达。芬奇那些多得令人称奇的基督教画作也只能使画家"精神虚伪"的名声更广为流传。
他从梵蒂冈接受了数百项赢利性的工作。在画基督教题材的画时，他并不是要表达自己对它的信仰，而是将其视为商业行为---一种可以支付他奢侈生活的手段。不幸的是，达。芬奇喜欢恶作剧，他常默默地在递给他食物的手上咬一口以取乐。他在许多基督教画作中塞进了与基督教一点不相干的符号以表达对自己信仰的礼赞，也巧妙地表达了对基督教的蔑视。兰登曾在美国国家美术馆作过一次题为"达。芬奇的秘密生活：基督教画作中的异教象征"的讲座。
"我理解你的想法。"兰登现在这样说。"但达。芬奇从未将那些神秘阴暗的东西付诸实践，虽然他和教会冲突不断，是纯粹精神层面的人。"说着说着，一个怪异的想法从他脑子里突然蹦了出来。他又低头看了看地板上的文字内容。啊，德拉古式的恶魔！噢！瘸腿的圣徒！
"真的吗？"法希说。
兰登谨慎地说："我刚才在想，索尼埃和达。芬奇的精神观念有许多共同之处，包括对教会把阴性圣灵从现代宗教中驱逐出去这类事情的看法。或许，通过模仿达。芬奇的名画，索尼埃只是想回应达。芬奇对教会妖魔化女神的不满和恼怒。"听到这个，法希的眼都直了。
"你是说索尼埃把教会称作瘸腿的圣徒和严酷的魔王？"
兰登不得不承认这有些牵强，而且五角星符号在某种程度上似乎要表示一个什么思想。
"我只是说索尼埃先生一生致力于女神史的研究，在清除女神历史方面，没有什么比天主教会做得更过分了。索尼埃先生在和这个世界道别时想表达一下自己的失望，这倒是可以理解的。""失望？"法希问道，语气中充满敌意。"这些文字表达更多的是愤怒，而不是失望，你不觉得是这样吗？"
兰登也没了耐心。"局长，你想就索尼埃在试图表达什么这一点征求我本人的想法，我能告诉你的就这些。""那是控告教会，是吗？"法希咬紧牙关，从牙缝里挤出一句话来。"兰登先生，因工作关系，我见到过许多死亡的情形。你听我说，当一个人被别人谋杀时，我想他最后的想法不是写一句谁也弄不懂的纯精神方面的句子。我相信他只考虑一件事情---"法希低沉的声音透过空气传来。"复仇，我相信写下这些是要告诉我们谁杀了他。"
兰登瞪着他。"可这种解释根本站不住脚。"
"站不住脚？"
"站不住脚。"他回击道，显然非常厌倦和恼火。"你跟我说过索尼埃在办公室里遭到一个显然是他邀请来的人的袭击。""没错。"
"那么我们理应得出结论，馆长认识攻击他的人。"
法希点点头："继续讲下去。"
"因此，如果索尼埃认识杀死他的那个人，还用这种方式这么指控？"他指着地板说。"数字密码？瘸腿的圣徒？严酷的魔王？肚子上的五角星？这也太有点不可思议了吧。"法希皱起眉头，似乎以前从未想到这一点。"你说得有道理。"
"鉴于当时的情况。"兰登说。"我认为如果索尼埃想告诉我们谁杀了他，他应该写那个人的名字。"当兰登说这些时，法希的嘴角今晚第一次掠过一丝得意的笑意。"对极了。"法希说。"对极了。"在扭动调音轮听到法希的声音从耳机里传来时，上尉警官科莱想，我在见证一位大师的杰作。这位警官知道在这种情况下，他们的警务局长会以极端的手段把法国法律执行到极致。
法希敢干别人不敢干的事情。
在现代执法过程中，那种巧妙的诱导谈话技巧已经不存在了，这种技巧需要人在重压下有极好的心理准备。很少有人拥有从事这项工作的所必需的沉着，但法希天生是干这个的料。他的节制和耐心几乎全能自动控制。
法希今晚唯一的情感似乎是一种坚定的决心，今晚的行动好像是他的私事一样。法希一小时以前对手下的通令也非常简洁、肯定。法希一小时以前对手下的通令也非常简洁、肯定。"我知道谁谋杀了雅克。索尼埃。"法希说。"你们知道该怎么办。今晚不许出错。"
到目前为止，还没有出过任何差错。
科莱并不知道是什么证据让法希认定嫌疑人有罪，但他知道不要质疑公牛的直觉。法希的直觉几乎是超自然的。有一次，在法希展示了那令人敬佩的第六感觉以后，一位特工人员坚持说，有上帝在法希耳畔嘀咕。科莱不得不承认，如果有上帝的话，贝祖。法希肯定会上他的甲等选民名单。局长以极大的热情定期参加弥撒和忏悔--与从事公共事务的其他官员只在假日必须参加时才参加相比，法希去得要经常、有规律得多。几年前教皇莅临巴黎时，作为听众，法希使出浑身解数得到了一个殊荣。法希和教皇的合影现在就挂在他的办公室里。特工们暗地里称那幅照片为教皇公牛。颇具讽刺意味的是，在最近几年中法希难得的与大众相同的一个立场是他对天主教恋童癖丑闻的直率的反对。这些牧师应该被处绞刑两次。一次为那些孩子们，另一次是因他们让上帝的威名蒙羞。科莱有个怪念头，总是感觉到还是后者更让法希气愤。
科莱转向笔记本电脑，他得履行他今晚的另一半职责---操纵全球卫星定位跟踪系统。屏幕上的图像可清楚地显示出德农厅的地面设计。在屏幕上，德农厅像一个叠加在卢浮宫安全保卫部上的结构图。科莱的视线穿梭在迷宫般的画廊和廊道内，他发现了他要找的东西。
在大画廊中心地带有一个小红点在闪烁。
那个记号。
法希今晚把自己的猎物拴得很紧。这样做很高明。罗伯特。兰登被证明是个沉着冷静的家伙。