达芬奇密码 作者: 美 丹·布朗(英文版)-第6章

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　had　put　into　motion。
　
Five　hundred　miles　away；　the　albino　named　Silas　stood　over　a　small　basin　of　water　and　dabbed　the　blood　from　his　back；　watching　the　patterns　of　red　spinning　in　the　water。　Purge　me　with　hyssop　and　I　shall　be　clean；　he　prayed；　quoting　Psalms。　Wash　me；　and　I　shall　be　whiter　than　snow。
Silas　was　feeling　an　aroused　anticipation　that　he　had　not　felt　since　his　previous　life。　It　both　surprised　and　electrified　him。　For　the　last　decade；　he　had　been　following　The　Way；　cleansing　himself　of　sins。。。　rebuilding　his　life。。。　erasing　the　violence　in　his　past。　Tonight；　however；　it　had　all　e　rushing　back。　The　hatred　he　had　fought　so　hard　to　bury　had　been　summoned。　He　had　been　startled　how　quickly　his　past　had　resurfaced。　And　with　it；　of　course；　had　e　his　skills。　Rusty　but　serviceable。
Jesus'　message　is　one　of　peace。。。　of　nonviolence。。。　of　love。　This　was　the　message　Silas　had　been　taught　from　the　beginning；　and　the　message　he　held　in　his　heart。　And　yet　this　was　the　message　the　enemies　of　Christ　now　threatened　to　destroy。　Those　who　threaten　God　with　force　will　be　met　with　force。　Immovable　and　steadfast。
For　two　millennia；　Christian　soldiers　had　defended　their　faith　against　those　who　tried　to　displace　it。　Tonight；　Silas　had　been　called　to　battle。
Drying　his　wounds；　he　donned　his　ankle…length；　hooded　robe。　It　was　plain；　made　of　dark　wool；　accentuating　the　whiteness　of　his　skin　and　hair。　Tightening　the　rope…tie　around　his　waist；　he　raised　the　hood　over　his　head　and　allowed　his　red　eyes　to　admire　his　reflection　in　the　mirror。　The　wheels　are　in　motion。
　
CHAPTER　6

Having　squeezed　beneath　the　security　gate；　Robert　Langdon　now　stood　just　inside　the　entrance　to　the　Grand　Gallery。　He　was　staring　into　the　mouth　of　a　long；　deep　canyon。　On　either　side　of　the　gallery；　stark　walls　rose　thirty　feet；　evaporating　into　the　darkness　above。　The　reddish　glow　of　the　service　lighting　sifted　upward；　casting　an　unnatural　smolder　across　a　staggering　collection　of　Da　Vincis；　Titians；　and　Caravaggios　that　hung　suspended　from　ceiling　cables。　Still　lifes；　religious　scenes；　and　landscapes　acpanied　portraits　of　nobility　and　politicians。
Although　the　Grand　Gallery　housed　the　Louvre's　most　famous　Italian　art；　many　visitors　felt　the　wing's　most　stunning　offering　was　actually　its　famous　parquet　floor。　Laid　out　in　a　dazzling　geometric　design　of　diagonal　oak　slats；　the　floor　produced　an　ephemeral　optical　illusion—a　multi…dimensional　network　that　gave　visitors　the　sense　they　were　floating　through　the　gallery　on　a　surface　that　changed　with　every　step。
As　Langdon's　gaze　began　to　trace　the　inlay；　his　eyes　stopped　short　on　an　unexpected　object　lying　on　the　floor　just　a　few　yards　to　his　left；　surrounded　by　police　tape。　He　spun　toward　Fache。　〃Is　that。。。　a　Caravaggio　on　the　floor？〃
Fache　nodded　without　even　looking。
The　painting；　Langdon　guessed；　was　worth　upward　of　two　million　dollars；　and　yet　it　was　lying　on　the　floor　like　a　discarded　poster。　〃What　the　devil　is　it　doing　on　the　floor！〃
Fache　glowered；　clearly　unmoved。　〃This　is　a　crime　scene；　Mr。　Langdon。　We　have　touched　nothing。　That　canvas　was　pulled　from　the　wall　by　the　curator。　It　was　how　he　activated　the　security　system。〃
Langdon　looked　back　at　the　gate；　trying　to　picture　what　had　happened。
〃The　curator　was　attacked　in　his　office；　fled　into　the　Grand　Gallery；　and　activated　the　security　gate　by　pulling　that　painting　from　the　wall。　The　gate　fell　immediately；　sealing　off　all　access。　This　is　the　only　door　in　or　out　of　this　gallery。〃
Langdon　felt　confused。　〃So　the　curator　actually　captured　his　attacker　inside　the　Grand　Gallery？〃
Fache　shook　his　head。　〃The　security　gate　separated　Saunière　from　his　attacker。　The　killer　was　locked　out　there　in　the　hallway　and　shot　Saunière　through　this　gate。〃　Fache　pointed　toward　an　orange　tag　hanging　from　one　of　the　bars　on　the　gate　under　which　they　had　just　passed。　〃The　PTS　team　found　flashback　residue　from　a　gun。　He　fired　through　the　bars。　Saunière　died　in　here　alone。〃
Langdon　pictured　the　photograph　of　Saunière's　body。　They　said　he　did　that　to　himself。　Langdon　looked　out　at　the　enormous　corridor　before　them。　〃So　where　is　his　body？〃
Fache　straightened　his　cruciform　tie　clip　and　began　to　walk。　〃As　you　probably　know；　the　Grand　Gallery　is　quite　long。〃
The　exact　length；　if　Langdon　recalled　correctly；　was　around　fifteen　hundred　feet；　the　length　of　three　Washington　Monuments　laid　end　to　end。　Equally　breathtaking　was　the　corridor's　width；　which　easily　could　have　acmodated　a　pair　of　side…by…side　passenger　trains。　The　center　of　the　hallway　was　dotted　by　the　occasional　statue　or　colossal　porcelain　urn；　which　served　as　a　tasteful　divider　and　kept　the　flow　of　traffic　moving　down　one　wall　and　up　the　other。
Fache　was　silent　now；　striding　briskly　up　the　right　side　of　the　corridor　with　his　gaze　dead　ahead。　Langdon　felt　almost　disrespectful　to　be　racing　past　so　many　masterpieces　without　pausing　for　so　much　as　a　glance。
Not　that　I　could　see　anything　in　this　lighting；　he　thought。
The　muted　crimson　lighting　unfortunately　conjured　memories　of　Langdon's　last　experience　in　noninvasive　lighting　in　the　Vatican　Secret　Archives。　This　was　tonight's　second　unsettling　parallel　with　his　near…death　in　Rome。　He　flashed　on　Vittoria　again。　She　had　been　absent　from　his　dreams　for　months。　Langdon　could　not　believe　Rome　had　been　only　a　year　ago；　it　felt　like　decades。　Another　life。　His　last　correspondence　from　Vittoria　had　been　in　December—a　postcard　saying　she　was　headed　to　the　Java　Sea　to　continue　her　research　in　entanglement　physics。。。　something　about　using　satellites　to　track　manta　ray　migrations。　Langdon　had　never　harbored　delusions　that　a　woman　like　Vittoria　Vetra　could　have　been　happy　living　with　him　on　a　college　campus；　but　their　encounter　in　Rome　had　unlocked　in　him　a　longing　he　never　imagined　he　could　feel。　His　lifelong　affinity　for　bachelorhood　and　the　simple　freedoms　it　allowed　had　been　shaken　somehow。。。　replaced　by　an　unexpected　emptiness　that　seemed　to　have　grown　over　the　past　year。
They　continued　walking　briskly；　yet　Langdon　still　saw　no　corpse。　〃Jacques　Saunière　went　this　far？〃
〃Mr。　Saunière　suffered　a　bullet　wound　to　his　stomach。　He　died　very　slowly。　Perhaps　over　fifteen　or　twenty　minutes。　He　was　obviously　a　man　of　great　personal　strength。〃
Langdon　turned；　appalled。　〃Security　took　fifteen　minutes　to　get　here？〃
〃Of　course　not。　Louvre　security　responded　immediately　to　the　alarm　and　found　the　Grand　Gallery　sealed。　Through　the　gate；　they　could　hear　someone　moving　around　at　the　far　end　of　the　corridor；　but　they　could　not　see　who　it　was。　They　shouted；　but　they　got　no　answer。　Assuming　it　could　only　be　a　criminal；　they　followed　protocol　and　called　in　the　Judicial　Police。　We　took　up　positions　within　fifteen　minutes。　When　we　arrived；　we　raised　the　barricade　enough　to　slip　underneath；　and　I　sent　a　dozen　armed　agents　inside。　They　swept　the　length　of　the　gallery　to　corner　the　intruder。〃
〃And？〃
〃They　found　no　one　inside。　Except。。。〃　He　pointed　farther　down　the　hall。　〃Him。〃
Langdon　lifted　his　gaze　and　followed　Fache's　outstretched　finger。　At　first　he　thought　Fache　was　pointing　to　a　large　marble　statue　in　the　middle　of　the　hallway。　As　they　continued；　though；　Langdon　began　to　see　past　the　statue。　Thirty　yards　down　the　hall；　a　single　spotlight　on　a　portable　pole　stand　shone　down　on　the　floor；　creating　a　stark　island　of　white　light　in　the　dark　crimson　gallery。　In　the　center　of　the　light；　like　an　insect　under　a　microscope；　the　corpse　of　the　curator　lay　naked　on　the　parquet　floor。
〃You　saw　the　photograph；〃　Fache　said；　〃so　this　should　be　of　no　surprise。〃
Langdon　felt　a　deep　chill　as　they　approached　the　body。　Before　him　was　one　of　the　strangest　images　he　had　ever　seen。
　
The　pallid　corpse　of　Jacques　Saunière　lay　on　the　parquet　floor　exactly　as　it　appeared　in　the　photograph。　As　Langdon　stood　over　the　body　and　squinted　in　the　harsh　light；　he　reminded　himself　to　his　amazement　that　Saunière　had　spent　his　last　minutes　of　life　arranging　his　own　body　in　this　strange　fashion。
Saunière　looked　remarkably　fit　for　a　man　of　his　years。。。　and　all　of　his　musculature　was　in　plain　view。　He　had　stripped　off　every　shred　of　clothing；　placed　it　neatly　on　the　floor；　and　laid　down　on　his　back　in　the　center　of　the　wide　corridor；　perfectly　aligned　with　the　long　axis　of　the　room。　His　arms　and　legs　were　sprawled　outward　in　a　wide　spread　eagle；　like　those　of　a　child　making　a　snow　angel。。。　or；　perhaps　more　appropriately；　like　a　man　being　drawn　and　quartered　by　some　invisible　force。
Just　below　Saunière's　breastbone；　a　bloody　smear　marked　the　spot　where　the　bullet　had　pierced　his　flesh。　The　wound　had　bled　surprisingly　little；　leaving　only　a　small　pool　of　blackened　blood。
Saunière's　left　index　finger　was　also　bloody；　apparently　having　been　dipped　into　the　wound　to　create　the　most　unsettling　aspect　of　his　own　macabre　deathbed；　using　his　own　blood　as　ink；　and　employing　his　own　naked　abdomen　as　a　canvas；　Saunière　had　drawn　a　simple　symbol　on　his　flesh—five　straight　lines　that　intersected　to　form　a　five…pointed　star。
The　pentacle。
The　bloody　star；　centered　on　Saunière's　navel；　gave　his　corpse　a　distinctly　ghoulish　aura。　The　photo　Langdon　had　seen　was　chilling　enough；　but　now；　witnessing　the　scene　in　person；　Langdon　felt　a　deepening　uneasiness。
He　did　this　to　himself。
〃Mr。　Langdon？〃　Fache's　dark　eyes　settled　on　him　again。
〃It's　a　pentacle；〃　Langdon　offered；　his　voice　feeling　hollow　in　the　huge　space。　〃One　of　the　oldest　symbols　on　earth。　Used　over　four　thousand　years　before　Christ。〃
〃And　what　does　it　mean？〃
Langdon　always　hesitated　when　he　got　this　question。　Telling　someone　what　a　symbol　〃meant〃　was　like　telling　them　how　a　song　should　make　them　feel—it　was　different　for　all　people。　A　white　Ku　Klux　Klan　headpiece　conjured　images　of　hatred　and　racism　in　the　United　States；　and　yet　the　same　costume　carried　a　meaning　of　religious　faith　in　Spain。
〃Symbols　carry　different　meanings　in　different　settings；〃　Langdon　said。　〃Primarily；　the　pentacle　is　a　pagan　religious　symbol。〃
Fache　nodded。　〃Devil　worship。〃
〃No；〃　Langdon　corrected；　immediately　realizing　his　choice　of　vocabulary　should　have　been　clearer。
Nowadays；　the　term　pagan　had　bee　almost　synonymous　with　devil　worship—a　gross　misconception。　The　word's　roots　actually　reached　back　to　the　Latin　paganus；　meaning　country…dwellers。　〃Pagans〃　were　literally　unindoctrinated　country…folk　who　clung　to　the　old；　rural　religions　of　Nature　worship。　In　fact；　so　strong　was　the　Church's　fear　of　those　who　lived　in　the　rural　villes　that　the　once　innocuous　word　for　〃villager〃—villain—came　to　mean　a　wicked　soul。
〃The　pentacle；〃　Langdon　clarified；　〃is　a　pre…Christian　symbol　that　relates　to　Nature　worship。　The　ancients　envisioned　their　world　in　two　halves—masculine　and　feminine。　Their　gods　and　goddesses　worked　to　keep　a　balance　of　power。　Yin　and　yang。　When　male　and　female　were　balanced；　there　was　harmony　in　the　world。　When　they　were　unbalanced；　there　was　chaos。〃　Langdon　motioned　to　Saunière's　stomach。　〃This　pentacle　is　representative　of　the　female　half　of　all　things—a　concept　religious　historians　call　the　'sacred　feminine'　or　the　'divine　goddess。'　Saunière；　of　all　people；　would　know　this。〃
〃Saunière　drew　a　goddess　symbol　on　his　stomach？〃
Langdon　had　to　admit；　it　seemed　odd。　〃In　its　most　specifi