danbrown.thedavincicode-第89部分

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creaked　in　the　hallway。　A　door　latch　moved。
　Silas　reacted　on　instinct；　surging　across　the　room　and　sliding　to　a　stop　just　behind　the　door　as　it　crashed　open。　The　first　police　officer　stormed　through；　swinging　his　gun　left　then　right　at　what　appeared　an　empty　room。　Before　he　realized　where　Silas　was；　Silas　had　thrown　his　shoulder　into　the　door；　crushing　a　second　officer　as　he　came　through。　As　the　first　officer　wheeled　to　shoot；　Silas　dove　for　his　legs。　The　gun　went　off；　the　bullet　sailing　above　Silas's　head；　just　as　he　connected　with　the　officer's　shins；　driving　his　legs　out　from　under　him；　and　sending　the　man　down；　his　head　hitting　the　floor。　The　second　officer　staggered　to　his　feet　in　the　doorway；　and　Silas　drove　a　knee　into　his　groin；　then　went　clambering　over　the　writhing　body　into　the　hall。
　Almost　naked；　Silas　hurled　his　pale　body　down　the　staircase。　He　knew　he　had　been　betrayed；　but　by　whom？　When　he　reached　the　foyer；　more　officers　were　surging　through　the　front　door。　Silas　turned　the　other　way　and　dashed　deeper　into　the　residence　hall。　The　women's　entrance。　Every　Opus　Dei　building　has　one。　Winding　down　narrow　hallways；　Silas　snaked　through　a　kitchen；　past　terrified　workers；　who　left　to　avoid　the　naked　albino　as　he　knocked　over　bowls　and　silverware；　bursting　into　a　dark　hallway　near　the　boiler　room。　He　now　saw　the　door　he　sought；　an　exit　light　gleaming　at　the　end。
　Running　full　speed　through　the　door　out　into　the　rain；　Silas　leapt　off　the　low　landing；　not　seeing　the　officer　ing　the　other　way　until　it　was　too　late。　The　two　men　collided；　Silas's　broad；　naked　shoulder　grinding　into　the　man's　sternum　with　crushing　force。　He　drove　the　officer　backward　onto　the　pavement；　landing　hard　on　top　of　him。　The　officer's　gun　clattered　away。　Silas　could　hear　men　running　down　the　hall　shouting。　Rolling；　he　grabbed　the　loose　gun　just　as　the　officers　emerged。　A　shot　rang　out　on　the　stairs；　and　Silas　felt　a　searing　pain　below　his　ribs。　Filled　with　rage；　he　opened　fire　at　all　three　officers；　their　blood　spraying。
　A　dark　shadow　loomed　behind；　ing　out　of　nowhere。　The　angry　hands　that　grabbed　at　his　bare　shoulders　felt　as　if　they　were　infused　with　the　power　of　the　devil　himself。　The　man　roared　in　his　ear。　SILAS；　NO！
　Silas　spun　and　fired。　Their　eyes　met。　Silas　was　already　screaming　in　horror　as　Bishop　Aringarosa　fell。
　　
　CHAPTER　97
　
　More　than　three　thousand　people　are　entombed　or　enshrined　within　Westminster　Abbey。　The　colossal　stone　interior　burgeons　with　the　remains　of　kings；　statesmen；　scientists；　poets；　and　musicians。　Their　tombs；　packed　into　every　last　niche　and　alcove；　range　in　grandeur　from　the　most　regal　of　mausoleums…that　of　Queen　Elizabeth　I；　whose　canopied　sarcophagus　inhabits　its　own　private；　apsidal　chapel…down　to　the　most　modest　etched　floor　tiles　whose　inscriptions　have　worn　away　with　centuries　of　foot　traffic；　leaving　it　to　one's　imagination　whose　relics　might　lie　below　the　tile　in　the　undercroft。
　Designed　in　the　style　of　the　great　cathedrals　of　Amiens；　Chartres；　and　Canterbury；　Westminster　Abbey　is　considered　neither　cathedral　nor　parish　church。　It　bears　the　classification　of　royal　peculiar；　subject　only　to　the　Sovereign。　Since　hosting　the　coronation　of　William　the　Conqueror　on　Christmas　Day　in　1066；　the　dazzling　sanctuary　has　witnessed　an　endless　procession　of　royal　ceremonies　and　affairs　of　state…from　the　canonization　of　Edward　the　Confessor；　to　the　marriage　of　Prince　Andrew　and　Sarah　Ferguson；　to　the　funerals　of　Henry　V；　Queen　Elizabeth　I；　and　Lady　Diana。
　Even　so；　Robert　Langdon　currently　felt　no　interest　in　any　of　the　abbey's　ancient　history；　save　one　event…the　funeral　of　the　British　knight　Sir　Isaac　Newton。
　In　London　lies　a　knight　a　Pope　interred。
　Hurrying　through　the　grand　portico　on　the　north　transept；　Langdon　and　Sophie　were　met　by　guards　who　politely　ushered　them　through　the　abbey's　newest　addition…a　large　walk…through　metal　detector…now　present　in　most　historic　buildings　in　London。　They　both　passed　through　without　setting　off　the　alarm　and　continued　to　the　abbey　entrance。
　Stepping　across　the　threshold　into　Westminster　Abbey；　Langdon　felt　the　outside　world　evaporate　with　a　sudden　hush。　No　rumble　of　traffic。　No　hiss　of　rain。　Just　a　deafening　silence；　which　seemed　to　reverberate　back　and　forth　as　if　the　building　were　whispering　to　itself。
　Langdon's　and　Sophie's　eyes；　like　those　of　almost　every　visitor；　shifted　immediately　skyward；　where　the　abbey's　great　abyss　seemed　to　explode　overhead。　Gray　stone　columns　ascended　like　redwoods　into　the　shadows；　arching　gracefully　over　dizzying　expanses；　and　then　shooting　back　down　to　the　stone　floor。　Before　them；　the　wide　alley　of　the　north　transept　stretched　out　like　a　deep　canyon；　flanked　by　sheer　cliffs　of　stained　glass。　On　sunny　days；　the　abbey　floor　was　a　prismatic　patchwork　of　light。　Today；　the　rain　and　darkness　gave　this　massive　hollow　a　wraithlike　aura。。。　more　like　that　of　the　crypt　it　truly　was。
　〃It's　practically　empty；〃　Sophie　whispered。
　Langdon　felt　disappointed。　He　had　hoped　for　a　lot　more　people。　A　more　public　place。　Their　earlier　experience　in　the　deserted　Temple　Church　was　not　one　Langdon　wanted　to　repeat。　He　had　been　anticipating　a　certain　feeling　of　security　in　the　popular　tourist　destination；　but　Langdon's　recollections　of　bustling　throngs　in　a　well…lit　abbey　had　been　formed　during　the　peak　summer　tourist　season。　Today　was　a　rainy　April　morning。　Rather　than　crowds　and　shimmering　stained　glass；　all　Langdon　saw　was　acres　of　desolate　floor　and　shadowy；　empty　alcoves。
　〃We　passed　through　metal　detectors；〃　Sophie　reminded；　apparently　sensing　Langdon's　apprehension。　〃If　anyone　is　in　here；　they　can't　be　armed。〃
　Langdon　nodded　but　still　felt　circumspect。　He　had　wanted　to　bring　the　London　police　with　them；　but　Sophie's　fears　of　who　might　be　involved　put　a　damper　on　any　contact　with　the　authorities。　We　need　to　recover　the　cryptex；　Sophie　had　insisted。　It　is　the　key　to　everything。
　She　was　right；　of　course。
　The　key　to　getting　Leigh　back　alive。
　The　key　to　finding　the　Holy　Grail。
　The　key　to　learning　who　is　behind　this。
　Unfortunately；　their　only　chance　to　recover　the　keystone　seemed　to　be　here　and　now。。。　at　the　tomb　of　Isaac　Newton。　Whoever　held　the　cryptex　would　have　to　pay　a　visit　to　the　tomb　to　decipher　the　final　clue；　and　if　they　had　not　already　e　and　gone；　Sophie　and　Langdon　intended　to　intercept　them。
　Striding　toward　the　left　wall　to　get　out　of　the　open；　they　moved　into　an　obscure　side　aisle　behind　a　row　of　pilasters。　Langdon　couldn't　shake　the　image　of　Leigh　Teabing　being　held　captive；　probably　tied　up　in　the　back　of　his　own　limousine。　Whoever　had　ordered　the　top　Priory　members　killed　would　not　hesitate　to　eliminate　others　who　stood　in　the　way。　It　seemed　a　cruel　irony　that　Teabing…a　modern　British　knight…was　a　hostage　in　the　search　for　his　own　countryman；　Sir　Isaac　Newton。
　〃Which　way　is　it？〃　Sophie　asked；　looking　around。
　The　tomb。　Langdon　had　no　idea。　〃We　should　find　a　docent　and　ask。〃
　Langdon　knew　better　than　to　wander　aimlessly　in　here。　Westminster　Abbey　was　a　tangled　warren　of　mausoleums；　perimeter　chambers；　and　walk…in　burial　niches。　Like　the　Louvre's　Grand　Gallery；　it　had　a　lone　point　of　entry…the　door　through　which　they　had　just　passed…easy　to　find　your　way　in；　but　impossible　to　find　your　way　out。　A　literal　tourist　trap；　one　of　Langdon's　befuddled　colleagues　had　called　it。　Keeping　architectural　tradition；　the　abbey　was　laid　out　in　the　shape　of　a　giant　crucifix。　Unlike　most　churches；　however；　it　had　its　entrance　on　the　side；　rather　than　the　standard　rear　of　the　church　via　the　narthex　at　the　bottom　of　the　nave。　Moreover；　the　abbey　had　a　series　of　sprawling　cloisters　attached。　One　false　step　through　the　wrong　archway；　and　a　visitor　was　lost　in　a　labyrinth　of　outdoor　passageways　surrounded　by　high　walls。
　〃Docents　wear　crimson　robes；〃　Langdon　said；　approaching　the　center　of　the　church。　Peering　obliquely　across　the　towering　gilded　altar　to　the　far　end　of　the　south　transept；　Langdon　saw　several　people　crawling　on　their　hands　and　knees。　This　prostrate　pilgrimage　was　a　mon　occurrence　in　Poets'　Corner；　although　it　was　far　less　holy　than　it　appeared。　Tourists　doing　grave　rubbings。
　〃I　don't　see　any　docents