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属类: 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 丹-布朗] 阅读:[25890]
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"他们都死了!"桑德琳嬷嬷在圣叙尔皮斯教堂的房间中结结巴巴地对着留言机说。"请接听电话!他们都死了!"桑德琳嬷嬷拨通了前三个号码,得到的结果却非常可怕--第一个接听的是一个歇斯底里的寡妇,第二个接听的是正在谋杀现场加班工作的侦探,还有一个是正在安慰死者家属的牧师。三个联系人都死了。现在,她又拨通了第四个--也是最后一个--的电话号码。只有在她找不到其他三个联系人时,才可以拨打那个号码。电话接通的是对方的留言机,留言机并没有说机主的姓名,只是让对方留言。

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"地砖已经被打碎了!"她又补充解释道。"其他三个人都死了!"

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桑德琳嬷嬷并不知道她要保护的那四个人是谁,但她知道只有在一种情况下,才能打开藏在床底下的那个信封。

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那个没有露面的人捎信给她说,地砖一旦被打破,就说明上层组织遭到了破坏。我们其中的一个人受到了生命威胁,并被迫说了一个谎。你就拨打这些电话,提醒其他人。千万要帮我们办成。

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起初,她听到这样的安排时,十分诧异,但后来明白这再简单不过了。如果一个教友的身份被发现了,他可以撒一个谎,这样可以启动警报机制。但今晚,被发现的教友不只一个。

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"请回答。"她惊恐地问。"你在哪里?"

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"把电话挂了。"一个低沉的声音从门口传来。

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桑德琳嬷嬷惊恐地转过头,看见了那个身材魁梧的僧侣正手握着烛台站在门口。她颤抖着挂上了电话。

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Security warden Claude Grouard simmered with rage as he stood over his prostrate captive in frontof the Mona Lisa. This bastard killed Jacques Saunière! Saunière had been like a well-loved fatherto Grouard and his security team.

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Grouard wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger and bury a bullet in Robert Langdon’s back.

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As senior warden, Grouard was one of the few guards who actually carried a loaded weapon. Hereminded himself, however, that killing Langdon would be a generous fate compared to the miseryabout to be communicated by Bezu Fache and the French prison system.

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Grouard yanked his walkie-talkie off his belt and attempted to radio for backup. All he heard wasstatic. The additional electronic security in this chamber always wrought havoc with the guards’

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communications. I have to move to the doorway. Still aiming his weapon at Langdon, Grouardbegan backing slowly toward the entrance. On his third step, he spied something that made himstop short.

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What the hell is that!

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An inexplicable mirage was materializing near the center of the room. A silhouette. There wassomeone else in the room? A woman was moving through the darkness, walking briskly toward thefar left wall. In front of her, a purplish beam of light swung back and forth across the floor, as ifshe were searching for something with a colored flashlight.

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"Qui est là?" Grouard demanded, feeling his adrenaline spike for a second time in the last thirtyseconds. He suddenly didn’t know where to aim his gun or what direction to move.

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"PTS," the woman replied calmly, still scanning the floor with her light.

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Police Technique et Scientifique. Grouard was sweating now. I thought all the agents were gone!

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He now recognized the purple light as ultraviolet, consistent with a PTS team, and yet he could notunderstand why DCPJ would be looking for evidence in here.

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"Votre nom!" Grouard yelled, instinct telling him something was amiss. "Répondez!""C’est mot," the voice responded in calm French. "Sophie Neveu."Somewhere in the distant recesses of Grouard’s mind, the name registered. Sophie Neveu? Thatwas the name of Saunière’s granddaughter, wasn’t it? She used to come in here as a little kid, butthat was years ago. This couldn’t possibly be her! And even if it were Sophie Neveu, that washardly a reason to trust her; Grouard had heard the rumors of the painful falling-out betweenSaunière and his granddaughter.

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"You know me," the woman called. "And Robert Langdon did not kill my grandfather. Believeme."Warden Grouard was not about to take that on faith. I need backup! Trying his walkie-talkie again,he got only static. The entrance was still a good twenty yards behind him, and Grouard beganbacking up slowly, choosing to leave his gun trained on the man on the floor. As Grouard inchedbackward, he could see the woman across the room raising her UV light and scrutinizing a largepainting that hung on the far side of the Salle des Etats, directly opposite the Mona Lisa.

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Grouard gasped, realizing which painting it was.

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What in the name of God is she doing?

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Across the room, Sophie Neveu felt a cold sweat breaking across her forehead. Langdon was stillspread-eagle on the floor. Hold on, Robert. Almost there. Knowing the guard would never actuallyshoot either of them, Sophie now turned her attention back to the matter at hand, scanning theentire area around one masterpiece in particular—another Da Vinci. But the UV light revealednothing out of the ordinary. Not on the floor, on the walls, or even on the canvas itself.

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There must be something here!

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Sophie felt totally certain she had deciphered her grandfather’s intentions correctly.

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What else could he possibly intend?

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The masterpiece she was examining was a five-foot-tall canvas. The bizarre scene Da Vinci hadpainted included an awkwardly posed Virgin Mary sitting with Baby Jesus, John the Baptist, andthe Angel Uriel on a perilous outcropping of rocks. When Sophie was a little girl, no trip to theMona Lisa had been complete without her grandfather dragging her across the room to see thissecond painting.

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Grand-père, I’m here! But I don’t see it!

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Behind her, Sophie could hear the guard trying to radio again for help.

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Think!

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She pictured the message scrawled on the protective glass of the Mona Lisa. So dark the con ofman. The painting before her had no protective glass on which to write a message, and Sophieknew her grandfather would never have defaced this masterpiece by writing on the painting itself.

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She paused. At least not on the front. Her eyes shot upward, climbing the long cables that dangledfrom the ceiling to support the canvas.

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Could that be it? Grabbing the left side of the carved wood frame, she pulled it toward her. Thepainting was large and the backing flexed as she swung it away from the wall. Sophie slipped herhead and shoulders in behind the painting and raised the black light to inspect the back.

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It took only seconds to realize her instinct had been wrong. The back of the painting was pale andblank. There was no purple text here, only the mottled brown backside of aging canvas and—Wait.

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Sophie’s eyes locked on an incongruous glint of lustrous metal lodged near the bottom edge of theframe’s wooden armature. The object was small, partially wedged in the slit where the canvas metthe frame. A shimmering gold chain dangled off it.

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To Sophie’s utter amazement, the chain was affixed to a familiar gold key. The broad, sculptedhead was in the shape of a cross and bore an engraved seal she had not seen since she was nineyears old. A fleur-de-lis with the initials P.S. In that instant, Sophie felt the ghost of her grandfatherwhispering in her ear. When the time comes, the key will be yours. A tightness gripped her throat asshe realized that her grandfather, even in death, had kept his promise. This key opens a box, hisvoice was saying, where I keep many secrets.

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Sophie now realized that the entire purpose of tonight’s word game had been this key. Hergrandfather had it with him when he was killed. Not wanting it to fall into the hands of the police,he hid it behind this painting. Then he devised an ingenious treasure hunt to ensure only Sophiewould find it.

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"Au secours!" the guard’s voice yelled.

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Sophie snatched the key from behind the painting and slipped it deep in her pocket along with theUV penlight. Peering out from behind the canvas, she could see the guard was still tryingdesperately to raise someone on the walkie-talkie. He was backing toward the entrance, still aimingthe gun firmly at Langdon.

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"Au secours!" he shouted again into his radio.

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Static.

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He can’t transmit, Sophie realized, recalling that tourists with cell phones often got frustrated inhere when they tried to call home to brag about seeing the Mona Lisa. The extra surveillancewiring in the walls made it virtually impossible to get a carrier unless you stepped out into the hall.

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The guard was backing quickly toward the exit now, and Sophie knew she had to act immediately.

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Gazing up at the large painting behind which she was partially ensconced, Sophie realized thatLeonardo da Vinci, for the second time tonight, was there to help.

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Another few meters, Grouard told himself, keeping his gun leveled.

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"Arrêtez! Ou je la détruis!" the woman’s voice echoed across the room.

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Grouard glanced over and stopped in his tracks. "Mon dieu, non!"Through the reddish haze, he could see that the woman had actually lifted the large painting off itscables and propped it on the floor in front of her. At five feet tall, the canvas almost entirely hid herbody. Grouard’s first thought was to wonder why the painting’s trip wires hadn’t set off alarms, butof course the artwork cable sensors had yet to be reset tonight. What is she doing!

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Please sign in to unlock the rest

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I can’t put a bullet through a Da Vinci!

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"Set down your gun and radio," the woman said in calm French, "or I’ll put my knee through thispainting. I think you know how my grandfather would feel about that."Grouard felt dizzy. "Please... no. That’s Madonna of the Rocks!" He dropped his gun and radio,raising his hands over his head.

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