Fache sprinted down the Grand Gallery as Collet's radio blared over the distant sound of the alarm.
"He jumped!" Collet was yelling. "I'm showing the signal out on Place du Carrousel! Outside thebathroom window! And it's not moving at all! Jesus, I think Langdon has just committed suicide!"Fache heard the words, but they made no sense. He kept running. The hallway seemed never-ending. As he sprinted past Saunière's body, he set his sights on the partitions at the far end of theDenon Wing. The alarm was getting louder now.
"Wait!" Collet's voice blared again over the radio. "He's moving! My God, he's alive. Langdon'smoving!"Fache kept running, cursing the length of the hallway with every step.
"Langdon's moving faster!" Collet was still yelling on the radio. "He's running down Carrousel.
Wait... he's picking up speed. He's moving too fast!"Arriving at the partitions, Fache snaked his way through them, saw the rest room door, and ran forit.
The walkie-talkie was barely audible now over the alarm. "He must be in a car! I think he's in acar! I can't—"Collet's words were swallowed by the alarm as Fache finally burst into the men's room with his gundrawn. Wincing against the piercing shrill, he scanned the area.
The stalls were empty. The bathroom deserted. Fache's eyes moved immediately to the shatteredwindow at the far end of the room. He ran to the opening and looked over the edge. Langdon wasnowhere to be seen. Fache could not imagine anyone risking a stunt like this. Certainly if he haddropped that far, he would be badly injured.
The alarm cut off finally, and Collet's voice became audible again over the walkie-talkie.
"...moving south... faster... crossing the Seine on Pont du Carrousel!"Fache turned to his left. The only vehicle on Pont du Carrousel was an enormous twin-bed Trailordelivery truck moving southward away from the Louvre. The truck's open-air bed was coveredwith a vinyl tarp, roughly resembling a giant hammock. Fache felt a shiver of apprehension. Thattruck, only moments ago, had probably been stopped at a red light directly beneath the rest roomwindow.
An insane risk, Fache told himself. Langdon had no way of knowing what the truck was carryingbeneath that tarp. What if the truck were carrying steel? Or cement? Or even garbage? A forty-footleap? It was madness.
"The dot is turning!" Collet called. "He's turning right on Pont des Saints-Peres!"Sure enough, the Trailor truck that had crossed the bridge was slowing down and making a rightturn onto Pont des Saints-Peres. So be it, Fache thought. Amazed, he watched the truck disappeararound the corner. Collet was already radioing the agents outside, pulling them off the Louvreperimeter and sending them to their patrol cars in pursuit, all the while broadcasting the truck'schanging location like some kind of bizarre play-by-play.
It's over, Fache knew. His men would have the truck surrounded within minutes. Langdon was notgoing anywhere.
Stowing his weapon, Fache exited the rest room and radioed Collet. "Bring my car around. I wantto be there when we make the arrest."As Fache jogged back down the length of the Grand Gallery, he wondered if Langdon had evensurvived the fall.
Not that it mattered.
Langdon ran. Guilty as charged.
Only fifteen yards from the rest room, Langdon and Sophie stood in the darkness of the GrandGallery, their backs pressed to one of the large partitions that hid the bathrooms from the gallery.
They had barely managed to hide themselves before Fache had darted past them, gun drawn, anddisappeared into the bathroom.
The last sixty seconds had been a blur.
Langdon had been standing inside the men's room refusing to run from a crime he didn't commit,when Sophie began eyeing the plate-glass window and examining the alarm mesh running throughit. Then she peered downward into the street, as if measuring the drop.
"With a little aim, you can get out of here," she said.
Aim? Uneasy, he peered out the rest room window.
Up the street, an enormous twin-bed eighteen-wheeler was headed for the stoplight beneath thewindow. Stretched across the truck's massive cargo bay was a blue vinyl tarp, loosely covering thetruck's load. Langdon hoped Sophie was not thinking what she seemed to be thinking.
"Sophie, there's no way I'm jump—""Take out the tracking dot."Bewildered, Langdon fumbled in his pocket until he found the tiny metallic disk. Sophie took itfrom him and strode immediately to the sink. She grabbed a thick bar of soap, placed the trackingdot on top of it, and used her thumb to push the disk down hard into the bar. As the disk sank intothe soft surface, she pinched the hole closed, firmly embedding the device in the bar.
Handing the bar to Langdon, Sophie retrieved a heavy, cylindrical trash can from under the sinks.
Before Langdon could protest, Sophie ran at the window, holding the can before her like abattering ram. Driving the bottom of the trash can into the center of the window, she shattered theglass.
Alarms erupted overhead at earsplitting decibel levels.
"Give me the soap!" Sophie yelled, barely audible over the alarm.
Langdon thrust the bar into her hand.
Palming the soap, she peered out the shattered window at the eighteen-wheeler idling below. Thetarget was plenty big—an expansive, stationary tarp—and it was less than ten feet from the side ofthe building. As the traffic lights prepared to change, Sophie took a deep breath and lobbed the barof soap out into the night.
The soap plummeted downward toward the truck, landing on the edge of the tarp, and slidingdownward into the cargo bay just as the traffic light turned green.
"Congratulations," Sophie said, dragging him toward the door. "You just escaped from theLouvre."Fleeing the men's room, they moved into the shadows just as Fache rushed past.
Now, with the fire alarm silenced, Langdon could hear the sounds of DCPJ sirens tearing awayfrom the Louvre. A police exodus. Fache had hurried off as well, leaving the Grand Gallerydeserted.
"There's an emergency stairwell about fifty meters back into the Grand Gallery," Sophie said.
"Now that the guards are leaving the perimeter, we can get out of here."Langdon decided not to say another word all evening. Sophie Neveu was clearly a hell of a lotsmarter than he was.
法希沿着艺术大画廊全速奔跑。这时，科莱的声音从无线电对讲机中传来，盖过了远处的警报声。
"他跳下去了！"科莱喊道。"我这里的显示表明信号已经到卡尔赛广场上去了！出了厕所的窗户！现在它一动也不动！天哪，兰登刚才自杀了！"法希听到了科莱的喊话，但觉得这不合常理。他继续奔跑。画廊似乎没有尽头。当飞奔过萨尼尔的尸体时，他把目光投向了远处德农馆尽头的隔板。警报越来越响了。
"等一下！"科莱的声音又从对讲机里传来，"他在动！天哪，他还活着！兰登在动！"
法希一边继续奔跑，一边埋怨着画廊太长。
"兰登的动作更快了！"科莱继续叫道。"他正沿着卡尔赛广场的街道逃跑。等一等……
他正在加速。他跑得太快了！"来到隔板前，法希蜷身从间隔中钻了过去。他看到了厕所门，冲那里跑了过去。
此时，对讲机的声音几乎被警报声盖过了。"他一定是在车上！我想他是在车上！我无法-"当法希最终举枪冲进男厕所时，科莱的声音完全被警报声淹没了。顶着刺耳的警报声，他扫视了一下这里。
隔间都是空的。厕所里没有人。法希立即将目光转向了厕所尽头那扇被打碎的玻璃窗。他跑到玻璃缺口处，顺着窗沿向下望去，兰登已经无影无踪了。法希无法想象有人可以冒险表演出这样的特技。真的有人从这么高的地方跳下去，那么他不死也得重伤。
警报声终于停了下来，法希又可以听见对讲机里的声音了。
"向南移动……更快了……正由卡鲁索桥横穿塞纳河！"
法希扭头向左看，只见卡鲁索桥上唯一的车辆是一辆拖挂着两节车厢的大卡车，它正朝南行驶，远离卢浮宫。车厢没有顶，上面覆盖着塑料布，整个卡车就像一台大吊车。法希恍然大悟。几分钟前，这辆卡车可能正停在厕所窗户的下方等红灯。
一次疯狂的冒险，法希想。兰登不可能知道塑料布下放的是什么。如果卡车运送的是钢铁，怎么办？要是水泥呢？或者是垃圾？从四十英尺高处跳下？简直是疯了。
"红点改变方向了！"科莱叫道。"它向右转，上了圣佩勒斯桥。"
科莱已通过无线电对讲机将警员调出了卢浮宫，派他们用巡逻车追击。
法希知道，一切都该结束了。几分钟内，他手下人就会将卡车包围。
兰登无处可逃。
法希收起枪，走出厕所，通过对讲机对科莱说："把我的车开过来。逮捕他时，我要在现场。"法希一边沿着艺术画廊向回小跑，一边猜想着兰登跳下去后是否还活着。
但这无关紧要。
兰登逃跑，罪名成立。
在距厕所约十五码远的地方，兰登和索菲站在艺术画廊的黑暗中。他们的背紧紧地靠着分隔厕所与画廊的隔板。当法希拿着枪从他们身边冲过，奔向厕所的时候，他们差点儿被发现。
六十秒之前的那一幕：兰登站在男厕所里，拒绝为了莫须有的罪名而逃跑。索菲则看着窗户，审视着镶嵌在平板玻璃里的警报网。然后，她向下瞅了一眼，好像在估摸着厕所到地面的距离。
"瞄准一个小目标，你可以离开这里。"她说。
目标？兰登不安地朝窗外望去。
街道上，一辆拖着两节车厢的八轮大卡车正在窗户的正下方等待信号灯变色。卡车装载的巨大货物上松松垮垮地覆盖着蓝色的塑料布。兰登猜想索菲是想让他跳下去，真希望她能断了这样的念头，想些别的办法。
"索菲，我不可能跳下去-"
"把跟踪器拿出来。"
迷惑不解的兰登伸手在口袋里摸索了一阵，找出了那个小金属扣。索菲拿过跟踪器，大步走向水池。她抓起一块厚厚的肥皂，把跟踪器放在上面，然后用拇指将跟踪器压入了肥皂。跟踪器嵌入肥皂后，她将洞口捏上，把跟踪器严严实实地封在了肥皂里。
索菲将肥皂递给兰登，从水池的下方取出一个圆柱形的垃圾桶。还没等兰登提出异议，索菲就抱着垃圾筒，像公羊一般向窗户冲去。她用垃圾桶的底部猛击窗户的中心部位，将玻璃砸碎。震耳欲聋的警报声响了起来。
"把肥皂给我！"索菲的声音在刺耳的警报声中依稀可辨。
兰登迅速地将肥皂递给她。
索菲拿着肥皂，看了看停在下面马路上的八轮卡车。目标是一块大而静止的塑料布，离建筑物的外墙还不到十英尺。信号灯即将变色的时候，索菲深吸了一口气，将肥皂向窗外扔去。
肥皂落向卡车，掉在塑料布的边缘，又滑到了货箱里面。正在这时，绿灯亮了。
"恭喜你，"索菲边说边把兰登朝门口拉。"你刚刚逃出了卢浮宫。"
索菲和兰登离开男厕所后，就躲在隔板边的阴影中，而法希就从他们的身边跑过。
现在，警报声停了，法希可以听见警车拉响的警笛声正离卢浮宫远去。全体警察都离开了。法希也已经匆匆地离去。卢浮宫空荡荡的。
"艺术大画廊里有一段大约五十米长的紧急楼梯通道，"索菲说，"现在警卫走了，我们可以离开这里了。"兰登决定保持沉默，因为他看出索菲要比他聪明得多。