"Jonas?" Langdon pressed. "You sent out my manuscript, didn't you?"
Faukman frowned, sensing Langdon was not happy about it. "The manuscript was clean, Robert,
and I wanted to surprise you with some terrific blurbs."
A pause. "Did you send one to the curator of the Paris Louvre?"
"What do you think? Your manuscript referenced his Louvre collection several times, his books are
in your bibliography, and the guy has some serious clout for foreign sales. Saunière was a no-
brainer."
The silence on the other end lasted a long time. "When did you send it?"
"About a month ago. I also mentioned you would be in Paris soon and suggested you two chat. Did
he ever call you to meet?" Faukman paused, rubbing his eyes. "Hold on, aren't
you supposed to be
in Paris this week?"
"I
am in Paris."
Faukman sat upright. "You called me collect from
Paris?"
"Take it out of my royalties, Jonas. Did you ever hear back from Saunière? Did he like the
manuscript?"
"I don't know. I haven't yet heard from him."
"Well, don't hold your breath. I've got to run, but this explains a lot Thanks."
"Robert—"
But Langdon was gone.
Faukman hung up the phone, shaking his head in disbelief
Authors, he thought.
Even the sane ones
are nuts.
Inside
the Range Rover, Leigh Teabing let out a guffaw. "Robert, you're saying you wrote a
manuscript that delves into a secret society, and your editor
sent a copy to that secret society?"
Langdon slumped. "Evidently."
"A cruel coincidence, my friend."
Coincidence has nothing to do with it, Langdon knew. Asking Jacques Saunière to endorse a
manuscript on goddess worship was as obvious as asking Tiger Woods to endorse a book on golf.
Moreover, it was virtually guaranteed that any book on goddess worship would have to mention the
Priory of Sion.
"Here's
the million-dollar question," Teabing said, still chuckling. "Was your position on the Priory
favorable or unfavorable?"
Langdon could hear Teabing's true meaning loud and clear. Many historians questioned why the
Priory was still keeping the Sangreal documents hidden. Some felt the information should have
been shared with the world long ago. "I took no position on the Priory's actions."
"You mean lack thereof."
Langdon shrugged. Teabing was apparently on the side of making the documents public. "I simply
provided history on the brotherhood and described them as a modern goddess worship society,
keepers of the Grail, and guardians of ancient documents."
Sophie looked at him. "Did you mention the keystone?"
Langdon winced. He had. Numerous times. "I talked about the supposed
keystone as an example of
the lengths to which the Priory would go to protect the Sangreal documents."
Sophie looked amazed. "I guess that explains P.S.
Find Robert Langdon."
Langdon sensed it was actually something
else in the manuscript that had piqued Saunière's
interest, but that topic was something he would discuss with Sophie when they were alone.
"So," Sophie said, "you lied to Captain Fache."
"What?" Langdon demanded.
"You told him you had never corresponded with my grandfather."
"I didn't! My editor sent him a manuscript."
"Think about it, Robert. If Captain Fache didn't find the envelope in which your editor sent the
manuscript, he would have to conclude that
you sent it." She paused. "Or worse, that you hand-
delivered it and lied about it."
When the Range Rover arrived at Le Bourget Airfield, Rémy drove to a
small hangar at the far end
of the airstrip. As they approached, a tousled man in wrinkled khakis hurried from the hangar,
waved, and slid open the enormous corrugated metal door to reveal a sleek white jet within.
Langdon stared at the glistening fuselage.
"That's Elizabeth?"
Teabing grinned. "Beats the bloody Chunnel."
The man in khakis hurried toward them, squinting into the headlights. "Almost ready, sir," he
called in a British accent. "My apologies for the delay, but you took me by surprise and—" He
stopped short as the group unloaded. He looked at Sophie and Langdon, and then Teabing.
Teabing said, "My associates and I have urgent business in London. We've no time to waste. Please
prepare to depart immediately." As he spoke, Teabing took the pistol out
of the vehicle and handed
it to Langdon.
The pilot's eyes bulged at the sight of the weapon. He walked over to Teabing and whispered, "Sir,
my humble apologies, but my diplomatic flight allowance provides only for you and your
manservant. I cannot take your guests."
"Richard," Teabing said, smiling warmly, "two thousand pounds sterling and that loaded gun say
you
can take my guests." He motioned to the Range Rover. "And the unfortunate fellow in the
back."
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