"They're dead!" Sister Sandrine stammered into the telephone in her Saint-Sulpice residence. Shewas leaving a message on an answering machine. "Please pick up! They're all dead!"The first three phone numbers on the list had produced terrifying results—a hysterical widow, adetective working late at a murder scene, and a somber priest consoling a bereaved family. Allthree contacts were dead. And now, as she called the fourth and final number—the number she wasnot supposed to call unless the first three could not be reached—she got an answering machine.
The outgoing message offered no name but simply asked the caller to leave a message.
"The floor panel has been broken!" she pleaded as she left the message. "The other three are dead!"Sister Sandrine did not know the identities of the four men she protected, but the private phonenumbers stashed beneath her bed were for use on only one condition.
If that floor panel is ever broken, the faceless messenger had told her, it means the upper echelonhas been breached. One of us has been mortally threatened and been forced to tell a desperate lie.
Call the numbers. Warn the others. Do not fail us in this.
It was a silent alarm. Foolproof in its simplicity. The plan had amazed her when she first heard it. Ifthe identity of one brother was compromised, he could tell a lie that would start in motion amechanism to warn the others. Tonight, however, it seemed that more than one had beencompromised.
"Please answer," she whispered in fear. "Where are you?""Hang up the phone," a deep voice said from the doorway.
Turning in terror, she saw the massive monk. He was clutching the heavy iron candle stand.
Shaking, she set the phone back in the cradle.
"They are dead," the monk said. "All four of them. And they have played me for a fool. Tell mewhere the keystone is.""I don't know!" Sister Sandrine said truthfully. "That secret is guarded by others." Others who aredead!
The man advanced, his white fists gripping the iron stand. "You are a sister of the Church, and yetyou serve them?""Jesus had but one true message," Sister Sandrine said defiantly. "I cannot see that message inOpus Dei."A sudden explosion of rage erupted behind the monk's eyes. He lunged, lashing out with the candlestand like a club. As Sister Sandrine fell, her last feeling was an overwhelming sense offoreboding.
All four are dead.
The precious truth is lost forever.
"他们都死了！"桑德琳嬷嬷在圣叙尔皮斯教堂的房间中结结巴巴地对着留言机说。"请接听电话！他们都死了！"桑德琳嬷嬷拨通了前三个号码，得到的结果却非常可怕--第一个接听的是一个歇斯底里的寡妇，第二个接听的是正在谋杀现场加班工作的侦探，还有一个是正在安慰死者家属的牧师。三个联系人都死了。现在，她又拨通了第四个--也是最后一个--的电话号码。只有在她找不到其他三个联系人时，才可以拨打那个号码。电话接通的是对方的留言机，留言机并没有说机主的姓名，只是让对方留言。
"地砖已经被打碎了！"她又补充解释道。"其他三个人都死了！"
桑德琳嬷嬷并不知道她要保护的那四个人是谁，但她知道只有在一种情况下，才能打开藏在床底下的那个信封。
那个没有露面的人捎信给她说，地砖一旦被打破，就说明上层组织遭到了破坏。我们其中的一个人受到了生命威胁，并被迫说了一个谎。你就拨打这些电话，提醒其他人。千万要帮我们办成。
起初，她听到这样的安排时，十分诧异，但后来明白这再简单不过了。如果一个教友的身份被发现了，他可以撒一个谎，这样可以启动警报机制。但今晚，被发现的教友不只一个。
"请回答。"她惊恐地问。"你在哪里？"
"把电话挂了。"一个低沉的声音从门口传来。
桑德琳嬷嬷惊恐地转过头，看见了那个身材魁梧的僧侣正手握着烛台站在门口。她颤抖着挂上了电话。