The Da Vinci Code

CHAPTER 11
"Une plaisanterie numérique?" Bezu Fache was livid, glaring at Sophie Neveu in disbelief. A 
numeric joke? "Your professional assessment of Saunière's code is that it is some kind of 
mathematical prank?"
Fache was in utter incomprehension of this woman's gall. Not only had she just barged in on Fache 
without permission, but she was now trying to convince him that Saunière, in his final moments of 
life, had been inspired to leave a mathematical gag?
"This code," Sophie explained in rapid French, "is simplistic to the point of absurdity. Jacques 
Saunière must have known we would see through it immediately." She pulled a scrap of paper from 
her sweater pocket and handed it to Fache. "Here is the decryption."
Fache looked at the card.
1-1-2-3-5-8-13-21
"This is it?" he snapped. "All you did was put the numbers in increasing order!"
Sophie actually had the nerve to give a satisfied smile. "Exactly."
Fache's tone lowered to a guttural rumble. "Agent Neveu, I have no idea where the hell you're 
going with this, but I suggest you get there fast." He shot an anxious glance at Langdon, who stood 
nearby with the phone pressed to his ear, apparently still listening to his phone message from the 
U.S. Embassy. From Langdon's ashen expression, Fache sensed the news was bad.
"Captain," Sophie said, her tone dangerously defiant, "the sequence of numbers you have in your 
hand happens to be one of the most famous mathematical progressions in history."
Fache was not aware there even existed a mathematical progression that qualified as famous, and 
he certainly didn't appreciate Sophie's off-handed tone.
"This is the Fibonacci sequence," she declared, nodding toward the piece of paper in Fache's hand. 
"A progression in which each term is equal to the sum of the two preceding terms."
Fache studied the numbers. Each term was indeed the sum of the two previous, and yet Fache 
could not imagine what the relevance of all this was to Saunière's death.

---

"Mathematician Leonardo Fibonacci created this succession of numbers in the thirteenth-century. 
Obviously there can be no coincidence that all of the numbers Saunière wrote on the floor belong 
to Fibonacci's famous sequence."
Fache stared at the young woman for several moments. "Fine, if there is no coincidence, would you 
tell me why Jacques Saunière chose to do this. What is he saying? What does this mean?"
She shrugged. "Absolutely nothing. That's the point. It's a simplistic cryptographic joke. Like 
taking the words of a famous poem and shuffling them at random to see if anyone recognizes what 
all the words have in common."
Fache took a menacing step forward, placing his face only inches from Sophie's. "I certainly hope 
you have a much more satisfying explanation than that."
Sophie's soft features grew surprisingly stern as she leaned in. "Captain, considering what you have 
at stake here tonight, I thought you might appreciate knowing that Jacques Saunière might be 
playing games with you. Apparently not. I'll inform the director of Cryptography you no longer 
need our services."
With that, she turned on her heel, and marched off the way she had come.
Stunned, Fache watched her disappear into the darkness. Is she out of her mind? Sophie Neveu had 
just redefined le suicide professionnel.
Fache turned to Langdon, who was still on the phone, looking more concerned than before, 
listening intently to his phone message. The U.S. Embassy. Bezu Fache despised many things... but 
few drew more wrath than the U.S. Embassy.
Fache and the ambassador locked horns regularly over shared affairs of state—their most common 
battleground being law enforcement for visiting Americans. Almost daily, DCPJ arrested American 
exchange students in possession of drugs, U.S. businessmen for soliciting underage Prostitutes, 
American tourists for shoplifting or destruction of property. Legally, the U.S. Embassy could 
intervene and extradite guilty citizens back to the United States, where they received nothing more 
than a slap on the wrist.
And the embassy invariably did just that.
L'émasculation de la Police Judiciaire, Fache called it. Paris Match had run a cartoon recently 
depicting Fache as a police dog, trying to bite an American criminal, but unable to reach because it 
was chained to the U.S. Embassy.
Not tonight, Fache told himself. There is far too much at stake.

---

By the time Robert Langdon hung up the phone, he looked ill.
"Is everything all right?" Fache asked.
Weakly, Langdon shook his head.
Bad news from home, Fache sensed, noticing Langdon was sweating slightly as Fache took back 
his cell phone.
"An accident," Langdon stammered, looking at Fache with a strange expression. "A friend..." He 
hesitated. "I'll need to fly home first thing in the morning."
Fache had no doubt the shock on Langdon's face was genuine, and yet he sensed another emotion 
there too, as if a distant fear were suddenly simmering in the American's eyes. "I'm sorry to hear 
that," Fache said, watching Langdon closely. "Would you like to sit down?" He motioned toward 
one of the viewing benches in the gallery.
Langdon nodded absently and took a few steps toward the bench. He paused, looking more 
confused with every moment. "Actually, I think I'd like to use the rest room."
Fache frowned inwardly at the delay. "The rest room. Of course. Let's take a break for a few 
minutes." He motioned back down the long hallway in the direction they had come from. "The rest 
rooms are back toward the curator's office."
Langdon hesitated, pointing in the other direction toward the far end of the Grand Gallery corridor. 
"I believe there's a much closer rest room at the end."
Fache realized Langdon was right. They were two thirds of the way down, and the Grand Gallery 
dead-ended at a pair of rest rooms. "Shall I accompany you?"
Langdon shook his head, already moving deeper into the gallery. "Not necessary. I think I'd like a 
few minutes alone."
Fache was not wild about the idea of Langdon wandering alone down the remaining length of 
corridor, but he took comfort in knowing the Grand Gallery was a dead end whose only exit was at 
the other end—the gate under which they had entered. Although French fire regulations required 
several emergency stairwells for a space this large, those stairwells had been sealed automatically 
when Saunière tripped the security system. Granted, that system had now been reset, unlocking the 
stairwells, but it didn't matter—the external doors, if opened, would set off fire alarms and were 
guarded outside by DCPJ agents. Langdon could not possibly leave without Fache knowing about 
it.

---

"I need to return to Mr. Saunière's office for a moment," Fache said. "Please come find me directly, 
Mr. Langdon. There is more we need to discuss."
Langdon gave a quiet wave as he disappeared into the darkness.
Turning, Fache marched angrily in the opposite direction. Arriving at the gate, he slid under, exited 
the Grand Gallery, marched down the hall, and stormed into the command center at Saunière's 
office.
"Who gave the approval to let Sophie Neveu into this building!" Fache bellowed.
Collet was the first to answer. "She told the guards outside she'd broken the code."
Fache looked around. "Is she gone?"
"She's not with you?"
"She left." Fache glanced out at the darkened hallway. Apparently Sophie had been in no mood to 
stop by and chat with the other officers on her way out.
For a moment, Fache considered radioing the guards in the entresol and telling them to stop Sophie 
and drag her back up here before she could leave the premises. He thought better of it. That was 
only his pride talking... wanting the last word. He'd had enough distractions tonight.
Deal with Agent Neveu later, he told himself, already looking forward to firing her.
Pushing Sophie from his mind, Fache stared for a moment at the miniature knight standing on 
Saunière's desk. Then he turned back to Collet. "Do you have him?"
Collet gave a curt nod and spun the laptop toward Fache. The red dot was clearly visible on the 
floor plan overlay, blinking methodically in a room marked TOILETTES PUBLIQUES.
"Good," Fache said, lighting a cigarette and stalking into the hall. I've got a phone call to make. Be 
damned sure the rest room is the only place Langdon goes."