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- Код да Винчи
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Silas
was
feeling
an
aroused
anticipation
that
he
had
not
felt
since
his
previous
life
.
It
both
surprised
and
electrified
him
For
the
last
decade
,
he
had
been
following
The
Way
,
cleansing
himself
of
sins
…
rebuilding
his
life
…
erasing
the
violence
in
his
past
.
Tonight
,
however
,
it
had
all
come
rushing
back
.
The
hatred
he
had
fought
so
hard
to
bury
had
been
summoned
.
He
had
been
startled
how
quickly
his
past
had
resurfaced
.
And
with
it
,
of
course
,
had
come
his
skills
.
Rusty
but
serviceable
.
Jesus
’
message
is
one
of
peace
…
of
nonviolence
…
of
love
.
This
was
the
message
Silas
had
been
taught
from
the
beginning
,
and
the
message
he
held
in
his
heart
.
And
yet
this
was
the
message
the
enemies
of
Christ
now
threatened
to
destroy
.
Those
who
threaten
God
with
force
will
be
met
with
force
.
Immovable
and
steadfast
.
For
two
millennia
,
Christian
soldiers
had
defended
their
faith
against
those
who
tried
to
displace
it
.
Tonight
,
Silas
had
been
called
to
battle
.
Drying
his
wounds
,
he
donned
his
ankle
-
length
,
hooded
robe
.
It
was
plain
,
made
of
dark
wool
,
accentuating
the
whiteness
of
his
skin
and
hair
.
Tightening
the
rope
-
tie
around
his
waist
,
he
raised
the
hood
over
his
head
and
allowed
his
red
eyes
to
admire
his
reflection
in
the
mirror
.
The
wheels
are
in
motion
.
Having
squeezed
beneath
the
security
gate
,
Robert
Langdon
now
stood
just
inside
the
entrance
to
the
Grand
Gallery
.
He
was
staring
into
the
mouth
of
a
long
,
deep
canyon
.
On
either
side
of
the
gallery
,
stark
walls
rose
thirty
feet
,
evaporating
into
the
darkness
above
.
The
reddish
glow
of
the
service
lighting
sifted
upward
,
casting
an
unnatural
smolder
across
a
staggering
collection
of
Da
Vincis
,
Titians
,
and
Caravaggios
that
hung
suspended
from
ceiling
cables
.
Still
lifes
,
religious
scenes
,
and
landscapes
accompanied
portraits
of
nobility
and
politicians
.
Although
the
Grand
Gallery
housed
the
Louvre
’
s
most
famous
Italian
art
,
many
visitors
felt
the
wing
’
s
most
stunning
offering
was
actually
its
famous
parquet
floor
.
Laid
out
in
a
dazzling
geometric
design
of
diagonal
oak
slats
,
the
floor
produced
an
ephemeral
optical
illusion
–
a
multi
-
dimensional
network
that
gave
visitors
the
sense
they
were
floating
through
the
gallery
on
a
surface
that
changed
with
every
step
.
As
Langdon
’
s
gaze
began
to
trace
the
inlay
,
his
eyes
stopped
short
on
an
unexpected
object
lying
on
the
floor
just
a
few
yards
to
his
left
,
surrounded
by
police
tape
.
He
spun
toward
Fache
.
«
Is
that
…
a
Caravaggio
on
the
floor
?
»
Fache
nodded
without
even
looking
.
The
painting
,
Langdon
guessed
,
was
worth
upward
of
two
million
dollars
,
and
yet
it
was
lying
on
the
floor
like
a
discarded
poster
.
«
What
the
devil
is
it
doing
on
the
floor
!
»
