Sophie arrived breathless outside the large wooden doors of the Salle des Etats—the room thathoused the Mona Lisa. Before entering, she gazed reluctantly farther down the hall, twenty yards orso, 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 manhad reached out to her so many times over the past ten years, and yet Sophie had remainedimmovable—leaving his letters and packages unopened in a bottom drawer and denying his effortsto see her. He lied to me! Kept appalling secrets! What was I supposed to do? And so she hadblocked him out. Completely.
Now her grandfather was dead, and he was talking to her from the grave.
The Mona Lisa.
She reached for the huge wooden doors, and pushed. The entryway yawned open. Sophie stood onthe threshold a moment, scanning the large rectangular chamber beyond. It too was bathed in a softred light. The Salle des Etats was one of this museum's rare culs-de-sac—a dead end and the onlyroom off the middle of the Grand Gallery. This door, the chamber's sole point of entry, faced adominating fifteen-foot Botticelli on the far wall. Beneath it, centered on the parquet floor, animmense octagonal viewing divan served as a welcome respite for thousands of visitors to rest theirlegs while they admired the Louvre's most valuable asset.
Even before Sophie entered, though, she knew she was missing something. A black light. Shegazed down the hall at her grandfather under the lights in the distance, surrounded by electronicgear. If he had written anything in here, he almost certainly would have written it with thewatermark stylus.
Taking a deep breath, Sophie hurried down to the well-lit crime scene. Unable to look at hergrandfather, she focused solely on the PTS tools. Finding a small ultraviolet penlight, she slipped itin the pocket of her sweater and hurried back up the hallway toward the open doors of the Salle desEtats.
Sophie turned the corner and stepped over the threshold. Her entrance, however, was met by anunexpected sound of muffled footsteps racing toward her from inside the chamber. There'ssomeone in here! A ghostly figure emerged suddenly from out of the reddish haze. Sophie jumpedback.
"There you are!" Langdon's hoarse whisper cut the air as his silhouette slid to a stop in front of her.
Her relief was only momentary. "Robert, I told you to get out of here! If Fache—""Where were you?""I had to get the black light," she whispered, holding it up. "If my grandfather left me a message—""Sophie, listen." Langdon caught his breath as his blue eyes held her firmly. "The letters P.S.... dothey mean anything else to you? Anything at all?"Afraid their voices might echo down the hall, Sophie pulled him into the Salle des Etats and closedthe enormous twin doors silently, sealing them inside. "I told you, the initials mean PrincessSophie.""I know, but did you ever see them anywhere else? Did your grandfather ever use P.S. in any otherway? As a monogram, or maybe on stationery or a personal item?"The question startled her. How would Robert know that? Sophie had indeed seen the initials P.S.
once before, in a kind of monogram. It was the day before her ninth birthday. She was secretlycombing the house, searching for hidden birthday presents. Even then, she could not bear secretskept from her. What did Grand-père get for me this year? She dug through cupboards and drawers.
Did he get me the doll I wanted? Where would he hide it?
Finding nothing in the entire house, Sophie mustered the courage to sneak into her grandfather'sbedroom. The room was off-limits to her, but her grandfather was downstairs asleep on the couch.
I'll just take a fast peek!
Tiptoeing across the creaky wood floor to his closet, Sophie peered on the shelves behind hisclothing. Nothing. Next she looked under the bed. Still nothing. Moving to his bureau, she openedthe drawers and one by one began pawing carefully through them. There must be something for mehere! As she reached the bottom drawer, she still had not found any hint of a doll. Dejected, sheopened the final drawer and pulled aside some black clothes she had never seen him wear. She wasabout to close the drawer when her eyes caught a glint of gold in the back of the drawer. It lookedlike a pocket watch chain, but she knew he didn't wear one. Her heart raced as she realized what itmust be.
A necklace!
Sophie carefully pulled the chain from the drawer. To her surprise, on the end was a brilliant goldkey. Heavy and shimmering. Spellbound, she held it up. It looked like no key she had ever seen.
Most keys were flat with jagged teeth, but this one had a triangular column with little pockmarksall over it. Its large golden head was in the shape of a cross, but not a normal cross. This was aneven-armed one, like a plus sign. Embossed in the middle of the cross was a strange symbol—twoletters intertwined with some kind of flowery design.
"P.S.," she whispered, scowling as she read the letters. Whatever could this be?
"Sophie?" her grandfather spoke from the doorway.
Startled, she spun, dropping the key on the floor with a loud clang. She stared down at the key,afraid to look up at her grandfather's face. "I... was looking for my birthday present," she said,hanging her head, knowing she had betrayed his trust.
For what seemed like an eternity, her grandfather stood silently in the doorway. Finally, he let out along troubled breath. "Pick up the key, Sophie."Sophie retrieved the key.
Her grandfather walked in. "Sophie, you need to respect other people's privacy." Gently, he kneltdown and took the key from her. "This key is very special. If you had lost it..."Her grandfather's quiet voice made Sophie feel even worse. "I'm sorry, Grand-père. I really am."She paused. "I thought it was a necklace for my birthday."He gazed at her for several seconds. "I'll say this once more, Sophie, because it's important. Youneed to learn to respect other people's privacy.""Yes, Grand-père.""We'll talk about this some other time. Right now, the garden needs to be weeded."Sophie hurried outside to do her chores.
The next morning, Sophie received no birthday present from her grandfather. She hadn't expectedone, not after what she had done. But he didn't even wish her happy birthday all day. Sadly, shetrudged up to bed that night. As she climbed in, though, she found a note card lying on her pillow.
On the card was written a simple riddle. Even before she solved the riddle, she was smiling. I knowwhat this is! Her grandfather had done this for her last Christmas morning.
A treasure hunt!
Eagerly, she pored over the riddle until she solved it. The solution pointed her to another part of thehouse, where she found another card and another riddle. She solved this one too, racing on to thenext card. Running wildly, she darted back and forth across the house, from clue to clue, until atlast she found a clue that directed her back to her own bedroom. Sophie dashed up the stairs,rushed into her room, and stopped in her tracks. There in the middle of the room sat a shining redbicycle with a ribbon tied to the handlebars. Sophie shrieked with delight.
"I know you asked for a doll," her grandfather said, smiling in the corner. "I thought you might likethis even better."The next day, her grandfather taught her to ride, running beside her down the walkway. WhenSophie steered out over the thick lawn and lost her balance, they both went tumbling onto thegrass, rolling and laughing.
"Grand-père," Sophie said, hugging him. "I'm really sorry about the key.""I know, sweetie. You're forgiven. I can't possibly stay mad at you. Grandfathers andgranddaughters always forgive each other."Sophie knew she shouldn't ask, but she couldn't help it. "What does it open? I never saw a key likethat. It was very pretty."Her grandfather was silent a long moment, and Sophie could see he was uncertain how to answer.
Grand-père never lies. "It opens a box," he finally said. "Where I keep many secrets."Sophie pouted. "I hate secrets!""I know, but these are important secrets. And someday, you'll learn to appreciate them as much as Ido.""I saw letters on the key, and a flower.""Yes, that's my favorite flower. It's called a fleur-de-lis. We have them in the garden. The whiteones. In English we call that kind of flower a lily.""I know those! They're my favorite too!""Then I'll make a deal with you." Her grandfather's eyebrows raised the way they always did whenhe was about to give her a challenge. "If you can keep my key a secret, and never talk about it everagain, to me or anybody, then someday I will give it to you."Sophie couldn't believe her ears. "You will?""I promise. When the time comes, the key will be yours. It has your name on it."Sophie scowled. "No it doesn't. It said P.S. My name isn't P.S.!"Her grandfather lowered his voice and looked around as if to make sure no one was listening.
"Okay, Sophie, if you must know, P.S. is a code. It's your secret initials."Her eyes went wide. "I have secret initials?""Of course. Granddaughters always have secret initials that only their grandfathers know.""P.S.?"He tickled her. "Princesse Sophie."She giggled. "I'm not a princess!"He winked. "You are to me."From that day on, they never again spoke of the key. And she became his Princess Sophie.
Inside the Salle des Etats, Sophie stood in silence and endured the sharp pang of loss.
"The initials," Langdon whispered, eyeing her strangely. "Have you seen them?"Sophie sensed her grandfather's voice whispering in the corridors of the museum. Never speak ofthis key, Sophie. To me or to anyone. She knew she had failed him in forgiveness, and shewondered if she could break his trust again. P.S. Find Robert Langdon. Her grandfather wantedLangdon to help. Sophie nodded. "Yes, I saw the initials P.S. once. When I was very young.""Where?"Sophie hesitated. "On something very important to him."Langdon locked eyes with her. "Sophie, this is crucial. Can you tell me if the initials appeared witha symbol? A fleur-de-lis?"Sophie felt herself staggering backward in amazement. "But... how could you possibly know that!"Langdon exhaled and lowered his voice. "I'm fairly certain your grandfather was a member of asecret society. A very old covert brotherhood."Sophie felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She was certain of it too. For ten years she had tried toforget the incident that had confirmed that horrifying fact for her. She had witnessed somethingunthinkable. Unforgivable.
"The fleur-de-lis," Langdon said, "combined with the initials P.S., that is the brotherhood's officialdevice. Their coat of arms. Their logo.""How do you know this?" Sophie was praying Langdon was not going to tell her that he himselfwas a member.
"I've written about this group," he said, his voice tremulous with excitement. "Researching thesymbols of secret societies is a specialty of mine. They call themselves the Prieuré de Sion—thePriory of Sion. They're based here in France and attract powerful members from all over Europe. Infact, they are one of the oldest surviving secret societies on earth."Sophie had never heard of them.
Langdon was talking in rapid bursts now. "The Priory's membership has included some of history'smost cultured individuals: men like Botticelli, Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo." He paused, hisvoice brimming now with academic zeal. "And, Leonardo da Vinci."Sophie stared. "Da Vinci was in a secret society?""Da Vinci presided over the Priory between 1510 and 1519 as the brotherhood's Grand Master,which might help explain your grandfather's passion for Leonardo's work. The two men share ahistorical fraternal bond. And it all fits perfectly with their fascination for goddess iconology,paganism, feminine deities, and contempt for the Church. The Priory has a well-documentedhistory of reverence for the sacred feminine.""You're telling me this group is a pagan goddess worship cult?""More like the pagan goddess worship cult. But more important, they are known as the guardiansof an ancient secret. One that made them immeasurably powerful."Despite the total conviction in Langdon's eyes, Sophie's gut reaction was one of stark disbelief. Asecret pagan cult? Once headed by Leonardo da Vinci? It all sounded utterly absurd. And yet, evenas she dismissed it, she felt her mind reeling back ten years—to the night she had mistakenlysurprised her grandfather and witnessed what she still could not accept. Could that explain—?
"The identities of living Priory members are kept extremely secret," Langdon said, "but the P.S.
and fleur-de-lis that you saw as a child are proof. It could only have been related to the Priory."Sophie realized now that Langdon knew far more about her grandfather than she had previouslyimagined. This American obviously had volumes to share with her, but this was not the place. "Ican't afford to let them catch you, Robert. There's a lot we need to discuss. You need to go!"Langdon heard only the faint murmur of her voice. He wasn't going anywhere. He was lost inanother place now. A place where ancient secrets rose to the surface. A place where forgottenhistories emerged from the shadows.
Slowly, as if moving underwater, Langdon turned his head and gazed through the reddish hazetoward the Mona Lisa.
The fleur-de-lis... the flower of Lisa... the Mona Lisa.
It was all intertwined, a silent symphony echoing the deepest secrets of the Priory of Sion andLeonardo da Vinci.
A few miles away, on the riverbank beyond Les Invalides, the bewildered driver of a twin-bedTrailor truck stood at gunpoint and watched as the captain of the Judicial Police let out a gutturalroar of rage and heaved a bar of soap out into the turgid waters of the Seine.
索菲气喘吁吁地来到国家展厅的那扇大木门外---这就是收藏《蒙娜丽莎》的地方。她忍不住向大厅方向望去，在大约二十码远的地方，祖父的尸体静静地躺在聚光灯下。
她忽然感到深深的悔恨---那是一种伴随着负罪感的悲伤。在过去的十年中，祖父无数次主动与她联系，但索菲一直无动于衷--她将信件和包裹都原封不动地放在衣橱最下面的抽屉里，并拒绝与祖父见面。他对我说谎！他有不可告人的秘密！他想让我做什么？索菲抱着这样的想法将他拒之于千里之外。
现在，祖父死了，他死后还在对索菲说话。
《蒙娜丽莎》。
索菲伸手推开了那扇巨大的木门，入口展现在她的眼前。她在门口站了片刻，扫视了一下眼前这个长方形的展厅。整个展厅沐浴在柔和的红色灯光下。国家展厅只有一个出入口，这样的结构在博物馆中很少见，而且它也是唯一在艺术大画廊中单独辟出的展厅。木门是进入这个展厅的唯一入口，它对着远处墙上那幅高达十五米的波提切利的名画。在那下面，拼花地板上放着一个巨大的八边形沙发，供成千上万的游客在欣赏卢浮宫的镇馆之宝前小憩片刻。
索菲还没有进入展厅，就想起她忘了带一样东西。黑光灯。她朝远处祖父的尸体望去，那尸体周围放置着电器装置。如果祖父在展厅里写了些什么，那么他一定是用水笔写的。
索菲深吸了一口气，急匆匆地走到被灯光照得通亮的谋杀现场。她不忍将目光投向祖父，强迫自己将注意力集中在寻找PTS 工具上。她找到了一支小巧的紫外线笔，将它放入毛衣的口袋中，又匆忙沿着画廊向国家展厅那敞开的大门走去。
索菲刚转身跨过门槛，就意外地听见展厅中有低沉的脚步声，那脚步声正离她越来越近。里面有人！在如雾一般的红色灯光中忽然出现了一个鬼影。索菲吓得倒退几步。
"你来了！"兰登嘶哑的声音打破了恐怖的气氛，他那黑色的身影滑到索菲跟前，停了下来。
索菲松了口气，又担心起来："罗伯特，我让你离开这里！如果法希--"
"你刚才到哪里去了？"
"我必须去拿一个黑光灯。"索菲低声说着，掏出那支紫外线笔。"如果祖父给我留了信息--"" 索菲， 听我说。" 兰登屏住呼吸， 用蔚蓝色的眼睛凝视着索菲。" 你知道字母P.S.……的其他含义吗？一点儿也想不起来吗？"
索菲生怕他们的声音会在长廊中回响，便把兰登向展厅内部推去，然后轻轻地关上那敞开的巨大木门，并将门从里面栓好。"我告诉过你，这是索菲公主（PrincessSophie）的首字母缩写。""我知道，但你有没有在其他地方见到过它？你祖父是否曾经以其他的方式用过它？比如说作为写在文具或私人物品上的花押字？"
这个问题让索菲颇感震惊。兰登怎么会知道？ 索菲确实曾经见过首字母缩写P.S.被用作花押字。那是在她九岁生日的前一天，她悄悄地在家四处寻找被藏起来的生日礼物。祖父今年会送给我什么呢？她翻腾着壁橱和抽屉。他会送我想要的娃娃吗？他把它藏哪儿了？
在翻遍了整座房子却一无所获之后，索菲鼓足勇气溜进祖父的房间。这间房本来是不允许进入的，但当时祖父在楼下的长沙发上睡着了，不会知道索菲的所作所为。
我就迅速地偷看一下！
索菲踮着脚向壁橱走去，地板在她的脚下嘎嘎作响。她看了看被祖父的衣物挡住的搁板，却什么也没有发现。索菲又走向祖父的书桌，将抽屉一一打开，仔细地翻看。这里一定有为我而藏的东西！可她一直没有看到玩具娃娃的影子。她沮丧地打开最后一个抽屉，翻动着一些祖父从来没有穿过的黑衣服。正当她要关上抽屉的时候，她看见在抽屉的深处有一样闪闪发光的东西。这东西看上去像一根怀表链，但她知道祖父从不带怀表。当她猜想到这是什么的时候，她的心狂跳了起来。
一条项链！
索菲小心翼翼地从抽屉中把这条链子取出，并惊奇地发现链子末端还挂坠着一把金钥匙。金钥匙沉甸甸的，闪闪发光。索菲恍恍忽忽地握住这把与众不同的钥匙。大多数钥匙都是扁平的，钥匙边参差不齐，但这把钥匙却呈三棱柱形，上面布满小孔。金色的大钥匙柄呈十字形，但交叉的两条线段一样长，像一个加号。在十字的中心镶嵌着一个奇特的标志--两个相互交织在一起的字母和一朵花的图案。
"P.S.."索菲皱着眉头轻声念道。这到底是什么呢？
"索菲？"祖父的声音从门口传来。
索菲吓得一愣，钥匙"当"的一声掉落在地。她盯着地板上的钥匙，不敢抬头看祖父。
"我……在找我的生日礼物。"索菲低着头说，她知道自己辜负了祖父的信任。
祖父在门口站了良久，一言不发。最后，他终于不安地叹了口气，说："索菲，把钥匙捡起来。"索菲捡起钥匙。
祖父走了进来。"索菲，你应该尊重别人的隐私。"祖父蹲下身，轻轻地拿起钥匙。"这把钥匙很特别，要是你把它弄丢了……"祖父轻柔的声音让索菲觉得更加难受。"对不起，祖父。我真的……以为这是一条项链，是我的生日礼物。"祖父凝视着索菲。"我再说一遍，索菲。它非常重要。你应该学会尊重别人的隐私。"
"知道了，祖父。"
"我们有时间再谈这件事。现在，去给花园除草吧。"
索菲赶紧出去做杂务。
第二天早晨，索菲没有收到祖父的生日礼物。做了错事，索菲也没有指望会得到生日礼物，但祖父竟然一整天都没有祝她生日快乐。晚上，她伤心地去睡觉，刚爬上床，就在枕头底下发现了一张卡片，卡片上写着一条谜语。还没有解开谜语，她就笑了。我知道这是什么！去年圣诞节的早晨，祖父也这样做过。
寻找财宝的游戏！
索菲如饥似渴地破解这个谜语，最后终于得到了答案。谜底指引她到房子的一处地方去，在那里她发现了另外一张写着谜语的卡片。她解开了那则谜语，又向下一张卡片跑去。索菲依照一条条线索在房中奔跑穿梭，最后她发现了一条线索指引她回到卧室。索菲冲上楼，奔向她的房间。她忽然停住了脚步，因为她看见房间中央正停着一辆崭新的红色自行车，车把上还系着丝带。索菲兴奋得尖叫起来。
"我知道你想要个玩具娃娃。"祖父站在角落微笑着说。"但我想你会更喜欢这个。"
第二天，祖父教索菲如何骑车。索菲坐在车上，祖父则在一边沿着车道跑。索菲不小心将车龙头歪向了厚厚的草坪，失去了平衡，祖孙俩就一起摔倒在草坪上，一边打滚，一边大笑。
"祖父。"索菲抱着祖父说。"真对不起，我看了那把钥匙。"
"我知道，宝贝儿。原谅你了。我不能一直对你生气。祖父和孙女总是互相谅解的。"
"那是用来开什么的？我从来没有见过那样的钥匙。真漂亮。"索菲忍不住要问。
祖父沉默了许久。索菲知道一定是他不知道如何回答。祖父从来不说谎。最后，他终于开口说道。"它是用来开一个盒子的，在那盒子里藏着我的许多秘密。"
索菲噘着嘴说："我讨厌秘密。"
"我知道，但它们是非常重要的秘密。有一天，你会学会像我一样欣赏它们。"
"我看见钥匙上有两个字母，还有一朵花。"
"那是我最喜欢的花。它叫法国百合。我们的花园中就有，白色的那种。英语中叫‘lily’。""我知道那种花！那也是我最喜欢的！"
"那么我们做个交易。"祖父扬起眉头---这是他向索菲提出挑战时的一贯表情。"如果你保守这个秘密，再也不向我和任何人提起这把钥匙，有一天，我会将它给你。"索菲不敢相信自己的耳朵。"你会把它给我？"
"我发誓。到时候，我会把钥匙给你。那上面有你的名字。"
索菲皱起眉头："不，那上面没有。那上面写的是P.S.，不是我的名字。"
祖父环顾了一下四周，好像是要确认没有人在听他们的谈话。他压低声音说道。"好吧，索菲，如果你一定要问，我就告诉你，P.S.是一个密码，是你的秘密称呼的缩写。"索菲瞪大了眼睛。"我有秘密称呼的缩写？"
"当然。孙女总是有秘密称呼的缩写，那只有祖父才会知道。"
"P.S.？"
"索菲公主（Princess Sophie）。"祖父呵索菲痒。
索菲咯咯地笑着："我不是公主！"
祖父挤了挤眼睛。"你是我的公主。"
从那天起，他们再也没有提起过钥匙，索菲也变成了祖父的"索菲公主"。
索菲站在国家展厅中，默默地承受着失去祖父的剧痛。
兰登不解地望着她，说道："你见过这个首字母缩写吗？"
索菲仿佛感到祖父的低语从博物馆的走廊那头传来。再也不向我和任何人提起这把钥匙。她知道自己没有谅解祖父，她不知道自己是否应该再次辜负他的信任。P.S.：去找罗伯特。兰登。祖父希望兰登能提供帮助。索菲点了点头。"在我很小的时候，我曾看到过一次。""在什么地方看到的？"
索菲犹豫了一下，答道："在一件对祖父来说很重要的东西上。"
兰登盯着索菲。"索菲，这很关键。这个缩写字母旁边是否还有其他标志？是否有一朵法国百合？"
索菲惊讶得倒退了两步。"你……你是怎么知道的？"
兰登呼了口气，压低声音说。"我非常肯定你祖父是一个秘密团体的成员。一个古老而隐秘的教会。"索菲觉得心被揪得更紧了。她也可以肯定这一点。十年来，她一直想忘记那个能确认这一事实的事件。她目睹过一件出人意料的、让人无法原谅的事。
兰登说："法国百合和P.S.放在一起，是他们的组织标志，是他们的徽章和图标。"
"你是怎么知道这些的？"索菲真不希望兰登回答说他自己也是其中的一员。
"我曾经写过有关这个组织的书。"兰登兴奋得声音都有些颤抖。"秘密团体的标志是我的一个研究方向。它自称‘郇山隐修会’。它以法国为基地，有实力的会员遍及欧洲。实际上，它是世界上现存的最古老的秘密团体。"索菲从来没有听说过这些。
兰登已加快了语速："历史上许多著名的人物都是隐修会的成员，像波提切利、牛顿、雨果等。"他顿了一下。"还有列昂纳多。达。芬奇。"他的话语中饱含着对学术研究的热情。
索菲盯着兰登："达。芬奇也是秘密团体的成员？"
"1510 年到1519 年，达。芬奇担任大主教主持隐修会的工作。这也正是你祖父酷爱列昂纳多的作品的原因。他们虽然身处不同的历史时期，但都是教会的兄弟。他们都酷爱女神圣像学，信仰异教、女神，蔑视天主教。对于隐修会信奉神圣的女神，有详细的历史记载。""你是说这个团体是异教女神狂热崇拜者的组织？"
"很像异教女神狂热崇拜者的组织。但更重要的是，据说他们保守着一个古老的秘密。
这使得他们有无比巨大的力量。"虽然兰登的眼神无比坚定，但索菲打心眼儿里怀疑这种说法。一个秘密的异教狂热崇拜者组织？曾以达。芬奇为首？这听起来十分荒唐。她情不自禁地回想起十年前的那个夜晚---她无意的早归让祖父惊讶万分，她看到了那令她至今无法接受的事实。难道这就是为什么……
"还活着的成员的身份是机密。"兰登说。"但你小时候所见到的P.S.和法国百合图案是一个有力的证明。它只可能与隐修会有关。"索菲这才意识到兰登对她祖父的了解超乎她的想象。这个美国人可以告诉她许多东西，但这里显然不是说话的地方。"我可不能让他们把你抓走，罗伯特。我们还有很多东西要谈。你必须离开这里！"索菲的声音在兰登的脑海中变得模糊。他哪儿也不想去。他又陷入了沉思。古老的秘密浮现在他的眼前，那些被人遗忘的历史又呈现在他的脑海中。
兰登慢慢转过头，透过红色的光雾凝视《蒙娜丽莎》。
法国百合……法国百合……《蒙娜丽莎》。
这一切交织在一起，像一支无声的交响曲，是有关郇山隐修会和达。芬奇的古老秘密的回响。
几英里外，荣军院前的河畔，拖挂卡车的司机大惑不解地站在警察的枪口前，看着警长怒吼着将一块肥皂投入水位正高的塞纳河中。