St. James's Park is a sea of green in the middle of London, a public park bordering the palaces ofWestminster, Buckingham, and St. James's. Once enclosed by King Henry VIII and stocked withdeer for the hunt, St. James's Park is now open to the public. On sunny afternoons, Londonerspicnic beneath the willows and feed the pond's resident pelicans, whose ancestors were a gift toCharles II from the Russian ambassador.
The Teacher saw no pelicans today. The stormy weather had brought instead seagulls from theocean. The lawns were covered with them—hundreds of white bodies all facing the same direction,patiently riding out the damp wind. Despite the morning fog, the park afforded splendid views ofthe Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. Gazing across the sloping lawns, past the duck pond andthe delicate silhouettes of the weeping willows, the Teacher could see the spires of the building thathoused the knight's tomb—the real reason he had told Rémy to come to this spot.
As the Teacher approached the front passenger door of the parked limousine, Rémy leaned acrossand opened the door. The Teacher paused outside, taking a pull from the flask of cognac he wascarrying. Then, dabbing his mouth, he slid in beside Rémy and closed the door.
Rémy held up the keystone like a trophy. "It was almost lost.""You have done well," the Teacher said.
"We have done well," Rémy replied, laying the keystone in the Teacher's eager hands.
The Teacher admired it a long moment, smiling. "And the gun? You wiped it down?""Back in the glove box where I found it.""Excellent." The Teacher took another drink of cognac and handed the flask to Rémy. "Let's toastour success. The end is near."Rémy accepted the bottle gratefully. The cognac tasted salty, but Rémy didn't care. He and theTeacher were truly partners now. He could feel himself ascending to a higher station in life. I willnever be a servant again. As Rémy gazed down the embankment at the duck pond below, ChateauVillette seemed miles away.
Taking another swig from the flask, Rémy could feel the cognac warming his blood. The warmth inRémy's throat, however, mutated quickly to an uncomfortable heat. Loosening his bow tie, Rémytasted an unpleasant grittiness and handed the flask back to the Teacher. "I've probably hadenough," he managed, weakly.
Taking the flask, the Teacher said, "Rémy, as you are aware, you are the only one who knows myface. I placed enormous trust in you.""Yes," he said, feeling feverish as he loosened his tie further. "And your identity shall go with meto the grave."The Teacher was silent a long moment. "I believe you." Pocketing the flask and the keystone, theTeacher reached for the glove box and pulled out the tiny Medusa revolver. For an instant, Rémyfelt a surge of fear, but the Teacher simply slipped it in his trousers pocket.
What is he doing? Rémy felt himself sweating suddenly.
"I know I promised you freedom," the Teacher said, his voice now sounding regretful. "Butconsidering your circumstances, this is the best I can do."The swelling in Rémy's throat came on like an earthquake, and he lurched against the steeringcolumn, grabbing his throat and tasting vomit in his narrowing esophagus. He let out a muted croakof a scream, not even loud enough to be heard outside the car. The saltiness in the cognac nowregistered.
I'm being murdered!
Incredulous, Rémy turned to see the Teacher sitting calmly beside him, staring straight ahead outthe windshield. Rémy's eyesight blurred, and he gasped for breath. I made everything possible forhim! How could he do this! Whether the Teacher had intended to kill Rémy all along or whether ithad been Rémy's actions in the Temple Church that had made the Teacher lose faith, Rémy wouldnever know. Terror and rage coursed through him now. Rémy tried to lunge for the Teacher, buthis stiffening body could barely move. I trusted you with everything!
Rémy tried to lift his clenched fists to blow the horn, but instead he slipped sideways, rolling ontothe seat, lying on his side beside the Teacher, clutching at his throat. The rain fell harder now.
Rémy could no longer see, but he could sense his oxygen-deprived brain straining to cling to hislast faint shreds of lucidity. As his world slowly went black, Rémy Legaludec could have sworn heheard the sounds of the soft Riviera surf.
The Teacher stepped from the limousine, pleased to see that nobody was looking in his direction. Ihad no choice, he told himself, surprised how little remorse he felt for what he had just done. Rémysealed his own fate. The Teacher had feared all along that Rémy might need to be eliminated whenthe mission was complete, but by brazenly showing himself in the Temple Church, Rémy hadaccelerated the necessity dramatically. Robert Langdon's unexpected visit to Chateau Villette hadbrought the Teacher both a fortuitous windfall and an intricate dilemma. Langdon had delivered thekeystone directly to the heart of the operation, which was a pleasant surprise, and yet he hadbrought the police on his tail. Rémy's prints were all over Chateau Villette, as well as in the barn'slistening post, where Rémy had carried out the surveillance. The Teacher was grateful he had takenso much care in preventing any ties between Rémy's activities and his own. Nobody couldimplicate the Teacher unless Rémy talked, and that was no longer a concern.
One more loose end to tie up here, the Teacher thought, moving now toward the rear door of thelimousine. The police will have no idea what happened... and no living witness left to tell them.
Glancing around to ensure nobody was watching, he pulled open the door and climbed into thespacious rear compartment.
Minutes later, the Teacher was crossing St. James's Park. Only two people now remain. Langdonand Neveu. They were more complicated. But manageable. At the moment, however, the Teacherhad the cryptex to attend to.
Gazing triumphantly across the park, he could see his destination. In London lies a knight a Popeinterred. As soon as the Teacher had heard the poem, he had known the answer. Even so, that theothers had not figured it out was not surprising. I have an unfair advantage. Having listened toSaunière's conversations for months now, the Teacher had heard the Grand Master mention thisfamous knight on occasion, expressing esteem almost matching that he held for Da Vinci. Thepoem's reference to the knight was brutally simple once one saw it—a credit to Saunière's wit—andyet how this tomb would reveal the final password was still a mystery.
You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb.
The Teacher vaguely recalled photos of the famous tomb and, in particular, its most distinguishingfeature. A magnificent orb. The huge sphere mounted atop the tomb was almost as large as thetomb itself. The presence of the orb seemed both encouraging and troubling to the Teacher. On onehand, it felt like a signpost, and yet, according to the poem, the missing piece of the puzzle was anorb that ought to be on his tomb... not one that was already there. He was counting on his closerinspection of the tomb to unveil the answer.
The rain was getting heavier now, and he tucked the cryptex deep in his right-hand pocket toprotect it from the dampness. He kept the tiny Medusa revolver in his left, out of sight. Withinminutes, he was stepping into the quiet sanctuary of London's grandest nine-hundred-year-oldbuilding.
Just as the Teacher was stepping out of the rain, Bishop Aringarosa was stepping into it. On therainy tarmac at Biggin Hill Executive Airport, Aringarosa emerged from his cramped plane,bundling his cassock against the cold damp. He had hoped to be greeted by Captain Fache. Insteada young British police officer approached with an umbrella.
"Bishop Aringarosa? Captain Fache had to leave. He asked me to look after you. He suggested Itake you to Scotland Yard. He thought it would be safest."Safest? Aringarosa looked down at the heavy briefcase of Vatican bonds clutched in his hand. Hehad almost forgotten. "Yes, thank you."Aringarosa climbed into the police car, wondering where Silas could be. Minutes later, the policescanner crackled with the answer.
5 Orme Court.
Aringarosa recognized the address instantly.
The Opus Dei Centre in London.
He spun to the driver. "Take me there at once!"
圣詹姆斯公园坐落在伦敦的市中心，是一片绿色的海洋。它是一座毗邻威斯敏斯特教堂、白金汉宫、圣詹姆斯宫的公园。国王亨利八世曾经把它封锁起来，并在里面养鹿供打猎取乐之用。如今圣詹姆斯公园面向公众开放。天气晴朗的午后，伦敦人在柳树下野餐，给逗留在池里的鹈鹕喂食，这些鹈鹕的祖先，是俄罗斯大使赠送给查理二世的礼物。
然而今天，教主却没看到一只鹈鹕。倒是暴风雨的天气，将一些海鸥从海洋上赶了过来。这些海鸥，密密麻麻地挤满了公园的草坪，成百上千的白色躯体，都面向着同一个方向，耐心地等待这阵潮湿的狂风过去。虽然早晨有雾，但在公园里依然能够看到议会以及大笨钟等建筑的壮观景象。教主望着那倾斜的草坪，然后从鸭池边以及那影影绰绰的垂柳下走过。他看到里头藏着骑士坟墓的建筑那尖尖的塔顶--而这，才是他让雷米到这里来的真正的理由。
教主来到那辆已经停下来的豪华轿车供乘客上下的前门，雷米附过身去，给他开门。
教主在车外停了片刻，拨弄了一下手中的白兰地酒瓶，然后抹抹嘴，侧身钻进车来，坐到雷米身边，并关上门。
雷米一把将拱心石举到他的面前，似乎在炫耀一件战利品："我们差点失手了哩。"
"你干得真不赖！"教主赞许地说。
"我们都做得很不错。"雷米说着，把拱心石放到早已急不可耐的教主的手中。
那位教主把玩了很长时间，才笑着问："枪呢？你把它擦拭干净了吗？"
"我已经把它放回到手套盒里去了。"
"太好了。"教主又呷了一口白兰地酒，然后将酒瓶递给了雷米。"为我们的成功干杯吧。马上就可以了断了。"雷米接过酒瓶，充满了感激。白兰地酒有点咸，然而他并没在意。现在，他和教主成了真正的合作伙伴。他觉得自己的人生即将登上一个更高的起点。我再也不用给人家做仆人了。雷米低头看着下面鸭池的堤坝，维莱特庄园，此时己被他抛到九霄云外去了。
他又喝了一大口白兰地酒，觉得是酒精使他体内的血液沸腾起来。他发热的嗓子，很快变得燥热起来，令他非常的难受。他松开衣服上的领结，心里有种颇为不祥的痛苦滋味，他把酒瓶还给了教主。"也许是喝多了。"他强打起精神，虚弱地说。
教主接过瓶子，说："雷米，你要知道，你是唯一知道我身份的人，我给予了你莫大的信任。""是的。"他觉得热得快不行了，又把领结松开了一些。"我不会把你的身份泄露出去的，一直到死。"教主沉默了良久，才说："这我相信。"他把酒瓶和拱心石放好，将手伸进手套盒里摸索了一阵，然后拔出那把小型"美杜莎"左轮手枪。雷米马上恐惧起来，然而教主却把枪放进了裤子的口袋。
他想干什么？雷米顿时发现全身都冒汗了。
"我说过给你自由。"教主的话里有种懊悔的语调。"但考虑到你目前的状况，我只能这样做了。"雷米的喉咙肿得厉害，仿佛在他体内，发生了一场地震。他斜着身子，靠着汽车的操纵杆，用手扼住自己的喉咙，尝到了想要呕吐的味道。他嘶哑而沉闷地叫着，然而声音不大，车外的人并不能听到。白兰地酒中的药性，终于发作了。
我遭人暗算了呀。
雷米觉得难以置信，他转身看着那位教主，此时，他正平静地坐在他的身边，直视着挡风玻璃的外面。雷米的视线逐渐模糊起来，他张着嘴，大口地喘气。我为他这么卖命！他怎能如此的无情！究竟是教主有心杀他，还是因为教主对他在圣殿教堂里的种种表现早就失去了信心，他不知道，也永远不会知道。恐惧和愤怒攫住了他。他挣扎着想冲到教主身边，然而他僵硬的躯体，却再也不能向前移。枉我凡事都相信你啊！
雷米紧握着拳头，企图向汽车喇叭砸过去。然而他没有砸个正着，他一个趔趄，滚到了座位上，手紧紧地掐着自己的喉咙，侧身倒在教主的旁边。雨下得更大了，然而雷米再也看不到了。他感到大脑里的氧气逐渐枯竭，意识也越来越模糊，直至消失。在周围的世界慢慢走向混沌的时刻，雷米。莱格鲁德或许发过誓，说他听到了南欧避暑胜地维埃拉那温柔的海浪声。
教主走下车，他很高兴无人朝他的方向张望。我也是被逼得没办法啊，他安慰着自己。想到竟然对刚才做过的事情并不觉得有丝毫的懊悔，就连他自己都很吃惊。雷米完全是咎由自取。教主早就担心，一旦任务完成，要不要对雷米做出处理。然而雷米冒冒失失地闯进圣殿教堂，显然使他加强了除掉他的决心。罗伯特。兰登出乎意料地来到维莱特庄园，给教主带来了意想不到的发现，却又使他陷入不可名状的困境。兰登直接把拱心石送到了行动的中心地带，这固然给了他一个惊喜，然而他也引来了一帮警察。雷米在整个维莱特庄园，到处留下了痕迹，即便在他偷听的地方，谷仓的听音柱上，也不例外。教主很庆幸他花了那么多的心思，才使人们没将他与雷米的所作所为联系起来。没有人会将他牵扯进去，除非雷米自己说出来，而这他已经没必要再去担心了。
这里还有一端线要等我去绑紧呢，教主心里想着，便往豪华轿车的后门走去。警察将无法知道这里发生了什么……也没有目击者告诉他们什么。他环顾左右，确信没人在注意他，这才推开门，爬进汽车宽敞的后车厢。
几分钟后，教主穿过圣詹姆斯公园。如今只剩两人需要我去对付了，那就是兰登与奈芙。他们两人的情况要复杂得多，但也不是难以驾驭的。不过眼下，他所关心的只是密码盒。
他得意洋洋地环视了公园一圈，他似乎看到了朝思暮想的目的地就在前头。"在伦敦葬了一位教皇为他主持葬礼的骑士。"一听到这首诗，他就已经知道了答案。但即使是这样，其他人如果还没想出来，那也没什么好奇怪的。我有别人难以比拟的优势。他监听索尼埃已经有好几个月，听到这位大师偶然提到了这位骑士，他所流露出来的敬意几乎可以与他对达。芬奇的尊敬相匹敌。人们一旦洞察了索尼埃的良苦用心，那么此诗对这位骑士的提示就变得非常简单了，不过，这座坟墓最终将会以什么样的方式将密码告诉给他们，目前还是个难解的谜。
"你们寻找的圆球，本应在这位骑土的墓里。"
教主依稀记得那座坟墓的一些照片，他记得特别清楚，坟墓有个最显著的特征，那就是它有个外形华美的圆球，这个硕大的圆球，安放在坟墓的顶上，跟坟墓的大小差不多。
圆球的存在，对教主而言，既给了他鼓励，又增添了他的烦恼。一方面，它就像一个路标，然而据这首诗来看，这个谜的缺失项是一只本应在骑士墓里的圆球，而不是已在那里的圆球。为了解开这个谜，他准备到坟墓上去做进一步的调查。雨越下越大了，他将密码盒塞进右边口袋的深处，以防止雨水将它淋湿。他又将那把"美杜莎"小型左轮手枪藏进左边口袋里，防止让别人看见。没过几分钟，他就走进了这座全伦敦最宏伟的、具有九百年辉煌历史的建筑那静谧的礼拜堂里。
就在教主从雨中走出来的当儿，阿林加洛沙主教却奔进了雨中。飞机停泊在被雨淋湿的比金山机场，阿林加洛沙主教从狭窄的机舱里走了出来，他把身上的长袍扎紧，以抵御这寒冷的湿气。他本以为法希上尉会到机场接他，然而走上前来的却是一位打着雨伞的年轻英国警官。
"你是阿林加洛沙主教吗？法希上尉有事不在。他要我来接你，还要我把你带到苏格兰场，他认为那里是最安全的。"
最安全？阿林加洛沙主教低头看着手中装满了梵蒂冈银行证券的沉重的公文包。他差点把它忘了。"你说得没错，谢谢。"
阿林加洛沙主教爬上警车，寻思着塞拉斯可能会在哪里。没过几分钟，警车的扫描器发出尖锐的响声，紧接着就有了答案。
"奥姆宫街5 号。"
阿林加洛沙主教很快便认出了上面的地址。
伦敦天主事工会活动中心。
于是他掉头对司机说："带我去那儿，马上！"