CHAPTER 67
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.
"So glad you popped in this evening, Robert," Teabing said, grinning as if he were having fun for
the first time in years.
"Sorry to get you involved in this, Leigh."
"Oh, please, I've waited my entire life to be involved." Teabing looked past Langdon out the
windshield at the shadow of a long hedgerow. He tapped Rémy on the shoulder from behind.
"Remember, no brake lights. Use the emergency brake if you need it. I want to get into the woods a
bit. No reason to risk them seeing us from the house."
Rémy coasted to a crawl and guided the Range Rover through an opening in the hedge. As the
vehicle lurched onto an overgrown pathway, almost immediately the trees overhead blotted out the
moonlight.
I can't see a thing, Langdon thought, straining to distinguish any shapes at all in front of them. It
was pitch black. Branches rubbed against the left side of the vehicle, and Rémy corrected in the
other direction. Keeping the wheel more or less straight now, he inched ahead about thirty yards.
"You're doing beautifully, Rémy," Teabing said. "That should be far enough. Robert, if you could
press that little blue button just below the vent there. See it?"
Langdon found the button and pressed it.
A muted yellow glow fanned out across the path in front of them, revealing thick underbrush on
either side of the pathway. Fog lights, Langdon realized. They gave off just enough light to keep
them on the path, and yet they were deep enough into the woods now that the lights would not give
them away.
"Well, Rémy," Teabing chimed happily. "The lights are on. Our lives are in your hands."
"Where are we going?" Sophie asked.
"This trail continues about three kilometers into the forest," Teabing said. "Cutting across the estate
and then arching north. Provided we don't hit any standing water or fallen trees, we shall emerge
unscathed on the shoulder of highway five."
Unscathed. Langdon's head begged to differ. He turned his eyes down to his own lap, where the
keystone was safely stowed in its wooden box. The inlaid Rose on the lid was back in place, and
although his head felt muddled, Langdon was eager to remove the inlay again and examine the
engraving beneath more closely. He unlatched the lid and began to raise it when Teabing laid a
hand on his shoulder from behind.
"Patience, Robert," Teabing said. "It's bumpy and dark. God save us if we break anything. If you
didn't recognize the language in the light, you won't do any better in the dark. Let's focus on getting
away in one piece, shall we? There will be time for that very soon."
Langdon knew Teabing was right. With a nod, he relatched the box.
The monk in back was moaning now, struggling against his trusses. Suddenly, he began kicking
wildly.
Teabing spun around and aimed the pistol over the seat. "I can't imagine your complaint, sir. You
trespassed in my home and planted a nasty welt on the skull of a dear friend. I would be well
within my rights to shoot you right now and leave you to rot in the woods."
The monk fell silent.
"Are you sure we should have brought him?" Langdon asked.
"Bloody well positive!" Teabing exclaimed. "You're wanted for murder, Robert. This scoundrel is
your ticket to freedom. The police apparently want you badly enough to have tailed you to my
home."
"My fault," Sophie said. "The armored car probably had a transmitter."
"Not the point," Teabing said. "I'm not surprised the police found you, but I am surprised that this
Opus Dei character found you. From all you've told me, I can't imagine how this man could have
tailed you to my home unless he had a contact either within the Judicial Police or within the Zurich
Depository."
Langdon considered it. Bezu Fache certainly seemed intent on finding a scapegoat for tonight's
murders. And Vernet had turned on them rather suddenly, although considering Langdon was
being charged with four murders, the banker's change of heart seemed understandable.
"This monk is not working alone, Robert," Teabing said, "and until you learn who is behind all this,
you both are in danger. The good news, my friend, is that you are now in the position of power.
This monster behind me holds that information, and whoever is pulling his strings has got to be
quite nervous right now."
Rémy was picking up speed, getting comfortable with the trail. They splashed through some water,
climbed a small rise, and began descending again.
"Robert, could you be so kind as to hand me that phone?" Teabing pointed to the car phone on the
dash. Langdon handed it back, and Teabing dialed a number. He waited for a very long time before
someone answered. "Richard? Did I wake you? Of course, I did. Silly question. I'm sorry. I have a
small problem. I'm feeling a bit off. Rémy and I need to pop up to the Isles for my treatments.
Well, right away, actually. Sorry for the short notice. Can you have Elizabeth ready in about twenty
minutes? I know, do the best you can. See you shortly." He hung up.
"Elizabeth?" Langdon said.
"My plane. She cost me a Queen's ransom."
Langdon turned full around and looked at him.
"What?" Teabing demanded. "You two can't expect to stay in France with the entire Judicial Police
after you. London will be much safer."
Sophie had turned to Teabing as well. "You think we should leave the country?"
"My friends, I am far more influential in the civilized world than here in France. Furthermore, the
Grail is believed to be in Great Britain. If we unlock the keystone, I am certain we will discover a
map that indicates we have moved in the proper direction."
"You're running a big risk," Sophie said, "by helping us. You won't make any friends with the
French police."
Teabing gave a wave of disgust. "I am finished with France. I moved here to find the keystone.
That work is now done. I shan't care if I ever again see Château Villette."
Sophie sounded uncertain. "How will we get through airport security?"
Teabing chuckled. "I fly from Le Bourget—an executive airfield not far from here. French doctors
make me nervous, so every fortnight, I fly north to take my treatments in England. I pay for certain
special privileges at both ends. Once we're airborne, you can make a decision as to whether or not
you'd like someone from the U.S. Embassy to meet us."
Langdon suddenly didn't want anything to do with the embassy. All he could think of was the
keystone, the inscription, and whether it would all lead to the Grail. He wondered if Teabing was
right about Britain. Admittedly most modern legends placed the Grail somewhere in the United
Kingdom. Even King Arthur's mythical, Grail-rich Isle of Avalon was now believed to be none
other than Glastonbury, England. Wherever the Grail lay, Langdon never imagined he would
actually be looking for it. The Sangreal documents. The true history of Jesus Christ. The tomb of
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