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«
Whatever
my
grandfather
was
trying
to
tell
me
,
I
don
’
t
think
he
wanted
anyone
else
to
hear
it
.
Not
even
the
police
.
»
Clearly
,
her
grandfather
had
done
everything
in
his
power
to
send
a
confidential
transmission
directly
to
her
.
He
had
written
it
in
code
,
included
her
secret
initials
,
and
told
her
to
find
Robert
Langdon
–
a
wise
command
,
considering
the
American
symbologist
had
deciphered
his
code
.
«
As
strange
as
it
may
sound
,
»
Sophie
said
,
»
I
think
he
wants
me
to
get
to
the
Mona
Lisabefore
anyone
else
does
.
»
«
I
’
ll
come
.
»
«
No
!
We
don
’
t
know
how
long
the
Grand
Gallery
will
stay
empty
.
You
have
to
go
.
»
Langdon
seemed
hesitant
,
as
if
his
own
academic
curiosity
were
threatening
to
override
sound
judgment
and
drag
him
back
into
Fache
’
s
hands
.
«
Go
.
Now
.
»
Sophie
gave
him
a
grateful
smile
.
«
I
’
ll
see
you
at
the
embassy
,
Mr
.
Langdon
.
»
Langdon
looked
displeased
.
«
I
’
ll
meet
you
there
on
one
condition
,
»
he
replied
,
his
voice
stern
.
She
paused
,
startled
.
«
What
’
s
that
?
»
«
That
you
stop
calling
me
Mr
.
Langdon
.
»
Sophie
detected
the
faint
hint
of
a
lopsided
grin
growing
across
Langdon
’
s
face
,
and
she
felt
herself
smile
back
.
«
Good
luck
,
Robert
.
»
When
Langdon
reached
the
landing
at
the
bottom
of
the
stairs
,
the
unmistakable
smell
of
linseed
oil
and
plaster
dust
assaulted
his
nostrils
.
Ahead
,
an
illuminated
SORTIE
/
EXIT
displayed
an
arrow
pointing
down
a
long
corridor
.
Langdon
stepped
into
the
hallway
.
To
the
right
gaped
a
murky
restoration
studio
out
of
which
peered
an
army
of
statues
in
various
states
of
repair
.
To
the
left
,
Langdon
saw
a
suite
of
studios
that
resembled
Harvard
art
classrooms
–
rows
of
easels
,
paintings
,
palettes
,
framing
tools
–
an
art
assembly
line
.
As
he
moved
down
the
hallway
,
Langdon
wondered
if
at
any
moment
he
might
awake
with
a
start
in
his
bed
in
Cambridge
.
The
entire
evening
had
felt
like
a
bizarre
dream
.
I
’
m
about
to
dash
out
of
the
Louvre
…
a
fugitive
.
