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All
he
could
make
out
was
the
faint
shadow
of
a
forest
in
the
distance
.
No
headlights
.
This
wooded
valley
was
probably
crisscrossed
by
dozens
of
unmapped
fire
roads
and
hunting
trails
,
but
Collet
was
confident
his
quarry
would
never
make
the
woods
.
«
Get
some
men
spread
out
down
there
.
They
’
re
probably
already
stuck
somewhere
nearby
.
These
fancy
sports
cars
can
’
t
handle
terrain
.
»
«
Um
,
sir
?
»
The
agent
pointed
to
a
nearby
pegboard
on
which
hung
several
sets
of
keys
.
The
labels
above
the
keys
bore
familiar
names
.
DAIMLER
…
ROLLS
-
ROYCE
…
ASTIN
MARTIN
…
PORSCHE
…
The
last
peg
was
empty
.
When
Collet
read
the
label
above
the
empty
peg
,
he
knew
he
was
in
trouble
.
The
Range
Rover
was
Java
Black
Pearl
,
four
-
wheel
drive
,
standard
transmission
,
with
high
-
strength
polypropylene
lamps
,
rear
light
cluster
fittings
,
and
the
steering
wheel
on
the
right
.
Langdon
was
pleased
he
was
not
driving
.
Teabing
’
s
manservant
Rémy
,
on
orders
from
his
master
,
was
doing
an
impressive
job
of
maneuvering
the
vehicle
across
the
moonlit
fields
behind
Château
Villette
.
With
no
headlights
,
he
had
crossed
an
open
knoll
and
was
now
descending
a
long
slope
,
moving
farther
away
from
the
estate
.
He
seemed
to
be
heading
toward
a
jagged
silhouette
of
wooded
land
in
the
distance
.
Langdon
,
cradling
the
keystone
,
turned
in
the
passenger
seat
and
eyed
Teabing
and
Sophie
in
the
back
seat
.
«
How
’
s
your
head
,
Robert
?
»
Sophie
asked
,
sounding
concerned
.
Langdon
forced
a
pained
smile
.
«
Better
,
thanks
.
»
It
was
killing
him
.
Beside
her
,
Teabing
glanced
over
his
shoulder
at
the
bound
and
gagged
monk
lying
in
the
cramped
luggage
area
behind
the
back
seat
.
Teabing
had
the
monk
’
s
gun
on
his
lap
and
looked
like
an
old
photo
of
a
British
safari
chap
posing
over
his
kill
.
