wanted the Grail for himself."
Langdon shook his head. Vernet hardly seemed the type. "In my experience, there are only two
reasons people seek the Grail. Either they are naive and believe they are
searching for the long-lost
Cup of Christ..."
"Or?"
"Or they know the truth and are threatened by it. Many groups throughout history have sought to
destroy the Grail."
The silence between them accentuated the sound of the scraping bumper. They had driven a few
kilometers now, and as Langdon watched the cascade of sparks coming off the front of the truck,
he wondered if it was dangerous. Either way,
if they passed another car, it would certainly draw
attention. Langdon made up his mind.
"I'm going to see if I can bend this bumper back."
Pulling onto the shoulder, he brought the truck to a stop.
Silence at last.
As Langdon walked toward the front of the truck, he felt surprisingly alert. Staring into the barrel
of yet another gun tonight had given him a second wind. He took a deep
breath of nighttime air and
tried to get his wits about him. Accompanying the gravity of being a hunted man, Langdon was
starting to feel the ponderous weight of responsibility, the prospect that he and Sophie might
actually be holding an encrypted set of directions to one of the most enduring mysteries of all time.
As if this
burden were not great enough, Langdon now realized that any possibility of finding a
way to return the keystone to the Priory had just evaporated. News of the three additional murders
had dire implications.
The Priory has been infiltrated. They are compromised. The brotherhood
was obviously being watched, or there was a mole within the ranks.
It seemed to explain why
Saunière might have transferred the keystone to Sophie and Langdon—people
outside the
brotherhood, people he knew were not compromised.
We can't very well give the keystone back to
the brotherhood. Even if Langdon had any idea how to find a Priory member, chances were good
that whoever stepped forward to take the keystone could be the enemy himself. For the moment, at
least, it seemed the keystone was in Sophie and Langdon's hands, whether they wanted it or not.
The truck's front end looked worse than Langdon had imagined.
The left headlight was gone, and
the right one looked like an eyeball dangling from its socket. Langdon straightened it, and it
dislodged again. The only good news was that the front bumper had been torn almost clean off.
Langdon gave it a hard kick and sensed he might be able to break it off entirely.
As he repeatedly kicked the twisted metal, Langdon recalled his earlier conversation with Sophie.
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