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达芬奇密码|The Da Vinci Code

第44章|Chapter 43

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 丹-布朗] 阅读：[25834]
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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"确实是十位数。"索菲说道。当她仔细地查看那张照片时，对密码学的感觉被唤醒了。

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13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5祖父把账号写在了卢浮宫的地板上！

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当索菲第一次在卢浮宫的木地板上看到这个凌乱的斐波那契数列时，以为这串数字的唯一目的只是让警署请密码员来参与侦破，从而让索菲有机会参与其中。后来，她认识到这些数字还是破解另外几行词句的线索--一个打破顺序的序列……一个数字之谜。现在，更加使她惊异的是，她发现这些数字还有一个更重要的含意。几乎可以肯定，这些数字肯定是打开祖父的神秘保险箱的关键。

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"他是使用双关语的大师。"索菲转过身对兰登说道。"他喜欢有多层意思的东西。喜欢在密码里套密码。"此时，兰登已走近了传送带边上的计算机装置。索菲抓起那张电脑打印的照片，跟了上去。

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那个装置的键盘和银行自动取款机的键盘相似。显示屏上显示着十字形标志。键盘旁边有一个三角形的孔。索菲毫不犹豫地把钥匙插进那个孔里。

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屏幕马上刷新了。

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账号：----------光标闪烁等待着。

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十位数。索菲念着照片上的数字，兰登把它们输了进去。

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账号：1332211185最后一个数字输入完毕后，屏幕又刷新了，出现了用几种不同的语言写成的信息。最上面的一段是英语。

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注意：在按确认键之前，请核对您输入的账号是否准确。

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如果计算机无法识别您的账号，为了安全，系统将自动关闭。

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"终审判决。"索菲皱着眉头说道。"看来我们只有一次机会。"普通的自动提款机一般都会允许用户输入三次密码，然后才会没收他们的银行卡。不过，这一台显然不是普通的取款机。

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兰登对照着照片上的数字仔细地核对输入，确认无误后，他说道："数字没错。"

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他指了指确认键。"按吧。"

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索菲把食指伸向键盘，但一种奇怪的感觉突然袭来，她犹豫了。

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"按呀。"兰登催促道。"韦尔内马上就回来了。"

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"不对。"她把手指拿开。"这个账号不正确。"

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"肯定对！十位数。还会是什么？"

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"这个账号太没有规律了。"

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太没有规律？兰登不同意这个说法。每家银行都会建议他们的用户随机选择密码，这样就不会被人猜到。这家银行当然也会建议用户随机选择密码。

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索菲删除了刚刚输进去的所有数字，抬头看着兰登，目光中流露出自信。"这个理应很随意的账号竟能重新排列成斐波那契数列，这也太偶然了吧？"

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兰登明白她已有了主意。来这里之前，索菲就曾把这组数字排成了斐波那契数列。随便一组数字能排列成斐波那契数列的可能性有大呢？

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索菲又敲起了键盘，边回忆边输入了一组不同的数字。"而且，就祖父对符号学和密码的偏爱来说，他应该会选择一组对他来说有意义的、容易记住的数字。"把数字全部输进去之后，她狡猾地笑了一下。"看上去很随意，但实际不然。"

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兰登看了看屏幕。

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账号：1123581321兰登一时没看懂。可是当他回过神，就明白索菲所言极是。

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斐波那契数列：1-1-2-3-5-8-13-2l当斐波那契数列混合成一组十项数字的组合时，根本就无法辨认。容易记住，但从表面看却很随意！这是一个永远都不会被忘记的极为巧妙的十位数密码。而且，这也充分说明了为什么卢浮宫地板上那组凌乱的数字可以重新排列成这著名的数列。

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索菲伸出手按下确认键。

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毫无动静。

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至少他们没有觉察出有什么动静。

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就在那一刻，在他们脚下的那个巨大地下金库里，一个机械手被激活了。这个机械手在双轴传送装置上滑动着，寻找与输入账号相匹配的保险箱。金库里，上千个一模一样的塑料箱子在巨大的铁架上排成一行，看上去就像教堂地下室里的一排排灵柩。

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机械手迅速地移动到正确方位，然后垂了下来，用电子眼确认了一下上面的条形码。

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接着，机械手非常准确地抓起箱子沉重的把手，把箱子直直地提了起来。传送装置上的齿轮转动着，机械手把箱子运到金库的另一头，然后在一个静止的传送带上方停了下来。

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机械手轻轻地放下箱子，收了回去。

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紧接着，传送带迅速地转动了起来……

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兰登和索菲看到传送带转了起来，长出了一口气。他们站在传送带旁，就像在行李提取处等待神秘行李的疲惫旅客。

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传送带从一个伸缩门下面的窄缝里穿进来，延伸到他们右侧。铁门滑了开来，一个很大的塑料箱子从倾斜的传送带上运了过来。那个箱子是个笨重的黑色塑料箱，比索菲想象的要大得多，就像一个没有气孔的宠物空运箱。

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箱子沿斜坡滑到他们面前。

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兰登和索菲静静地站在那里注视着这个神秘的箱子。

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跟这家银行的其他东西一样，这个箱子的所有零部件--从铁扣到顶端的不干胶条形码以及结实的把手一一-都是由机械制造的。索菲觉得它就像一个巨大的工具箱。

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索菲迅速地打开箱子上面的两个扣，看了一眼兰登。然后，两个人一起抬起沉重的盖子，向后掀开。

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他们走上前，朝箱子里望去。

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索菲看第一眼时，还以为箱子是空的。不过，接下来她在箱子底上看到了一件东西。

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那是个打磨光滑的木盒，有鞋盒那么大，配着精美的合页。木头是深紫色的，发着黯淡的光，上面有粗线条的纹理。紫檀木，索菲认了出来。这是祖父最喜爱的木材。盒盖上镶嵌着一朵美丽的玫瑰花图案。她和兰登交换了一下困惑的眼神。索菲侧过身，拿起盒子仔细端详。

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天哪，它竟然很沉！

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索菲小心翼翼地把盒子放到大桌子上。兰登站到她身边，和她一起目不转睛地盯着这个小小的财宝箱。这就是祖父要他们来拿的东西！

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兰登惊异地看着盒盖上手工雕刻的图案--那是一朵五瓣玫瑰。他以前曾多次看到过这种玫瑰的图案。他低声说道："五瓣玫瑰。这是隐修会用来代表圣杯的标志呀。"

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索菲转过身，看着他。兰登看得出索菲的心思，他也有相同的疑虑。盒子的大小、重量以及隐修会代表圣杯的标志似乎都暗示着一个不可思议的结论。耶稣的圣杯就在这个木盒子里！兰登再一次告诉自己这是不可能的。

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索菲低声说道："这个盒子倒是挺适合放圣杯。"

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但里面不可能是圣杯。

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索菲把盒子拽过来，准备打开。可是，就在她拖动盒子的时候，意想不到的事情发生了。盒子里传出汩汩的水声。

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兰登把盒子拿起来。里面有液体？

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索菲也感到迷惑不解。"刚才你有没有听到……"

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兰登困惑地点点头。"液体。"

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索菲伸手慢慢地打开盒扣，掀起盖子。

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里面的东西是兰登从没见过的。然而，可以肯定的是那绝对不是圣杯。

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André Vernet—president of the Paris branch of the Depository Bank of Zurich—lived in a lavishflat above the bank. Despite his plush accommodations, he had always dreamed of owning ariverside apartment on L’lle Saint-Louis, where he could rub shoulders with the true cognoscenti,rather than here, where he simply met the filthy rich.

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When I retire, Vernet told himself, I will fill my cellar with rare Bordeaux, adorn my salon with aFragonard and perhaps a Boucher, and spend my days hunting for antique furniture and rarebooks in the Quartier Latin.

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Tonight, Vernet had been awake only six and a half minutes. Even so, as he hurried through thebank’s underground corridor, he looked as if his personal tailor and hairdresser had polished him toa fine sheen. Impeccably dressed in a silk suit, Vernet sprayed some breath spray in his mouth andtightened his tie as he walked. No stranger to being awoken to attend to his international clientsarriving from different time zones, Vernet modeled his sleep habits after the Maasai warriors—theAfrican tribe famous for their ability to rise from the deepest sleep to a state of total battlereadiness in a matter of seconds.

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Battle ready, Vernet thought, fearing the comparison might be uncharacteristically apt tonight. Thearrival of a gold key client always required an extra flurry of attention, but the arrival of a gold keyclient who was wanted by the Judicial Police would be an extremely delicate matter. The bank hadenough battles with law enforcement over the privacy rights of their clients without proof thatsome of them were criminals.

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Five minutes, Vernet told himself. I need these people out of my bank before the police arrive.

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If he moved quickly, this impending disaster could be deftly sidestepped. Vernet could tell thepolice that the fugitives in question had indeed walked into his bank as reported, but because theywere not clients and had no account number, they were turned away. He wished the damnedwatchman had not called Interpol. Discretion was apparently not part of the vocabulary of a 15-euro-per-hour watchman.

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Stopping at the doorway, he took a deep breath and loosened his muscles. Then, forcing a balmysmile, he unlocked the door and swirled into the room like a warm breeze.

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"Good evening," he said, his eyes finding his clients. "I am André Vernet. How can I be of serv—"The rest of the sentence lodged somewhere beneath his Adam’s apple. The woman before him wasas unexpected a visitor as Vernet had ever had.

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"I’m sorry, do we know each other?" Sophie asked. She did not recognize the banker, but he for amoment looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

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"No...," the bank president fumbled. "I don’t... believe so. Our services are anonymous." Heexhaled and forced a calm smile. "My assistant tells me you have a gold key but no accountnumber? Might I ask how you came by this key?""My grandfather gave it to me," Sophie replied, watching the man closely. His uneasiness seemedmore evident now.

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"Really? Your grandfather gave you the key but failed to give you the account number?""I don’t think he had time," Sophie said. "He was murdered tonight."Her words sent the man staggering backward. "Jacques Saunière is dead?" he demanded, his eyesfilling with horror. "But... how?!"Now it was Sophie who reeled, numb with shock. "You knew my grandfather?"Banker André Vernet looked equally astounded, steadying himself by leaning on an end table.

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"Jacques and I were dear friends. When did this happen?""Earlier this evening. Inside the Louvre."Vernet walked to a deep leather chair and sank into it. "I need to ask you both a very importantquestion." He glanced up at Langdon and then back to Sophie. "Did either of you have anything todo with his death?""No!" Sophie declared. "Absolutely not."Vernet’s face was grim, and he paused, pondering. "Your pictures are being circulated by Interpol.

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This is how I recognized you. You’re wanted for a murder."Sophie slumped. Fache ran an Interpol broadcast already? It seemed the captain was moremotivated than Sophie had anticipated. She quickly told Vernet who Langdon was and what hadhappened inside the Louvre tonight.

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Vernet looked amazed. "And as your grandfather was dying, he left you a message telling you tofind Mr. Langdon?""Yes. And this key." Sophie laid the gold key on the coffee table in front of Vernet, placing thePriory seal face down.

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Vernet glanced at the key but made no move to touch it. "He left you only this key? Nothing else?

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No slip of paper?"Sophie knew she had been in a hurry inside the Louvre, but she was certain she had seen nothingelse behind Madonna of the Rocks. "No. Just the key."Vernet gave a helpless sigh. "I’m afraid every key is electronically paired with a ten-digit accountnumber that functions as a password. Without that number, your key is worthless."Ten digits. Sophie reluctantly calculated the cryptographic odds. Over ten billion possible choices.

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Even if she could bring in DCPJ’s most powerful parallel processing computers, she still wouldneed weeks to break the code. "Certainly, monsieur, considering the circumstances, you can helpus.""I’m sorry. I truly can do nothing. Clients select their own account numbers via a secure terminal,meaning account numbers are known only to the client and computer. This is one way we ensureanonymity. And the safety of our employees."Sophie understood. Convenience stores did the same thing. EMPLOYEES DO NOT HAVE KEYSTO THE SAFE. This bank obviously did not want to risk someone stealing a key and then holdingan employee hostage for the account number.

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Sophie sat down beside Langdon, glanced down at the key and then up at Vernet. "Do you haveany idea what my grandfather is storing in your bank?""None whatsoever. That is the definition of a Geldschrank bank.""Monsieur Vernet," she pressed, "our time tonight is short. I am going to be very direct if I may."She reached out to the gold key and flipped it over, watching the man’s eyes as she revealed thePriory of Sion seal. "Does the symbol on this key mean anything to you?"Vernet glanced down at the fleur-de-lis seal and made no reaction. "No, but many of our clientsemboss corporate logos or initials onto their keys."Sophie sighed, still watching him carefully. "This seal is the symbol of a secret society known asthe Priory of Sion."Vernet again showed no reaction. "I know nothing of this. Your grandfather was a friend, but wespoke mostly of business." The man adjusted his tie, looking nervous now.

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"Monsieur Vernet," Sophie pressed, her tone firm. "My grandfather called me tonight and told mehe and I were in grave danger. He said he had to give me something. He gave me a key to yourbank. Now he is dead. Anything you can tell us would be helpful."Vernet broke a sweat. "We need to get out of the building. I’m afraid the police will arrive shortly.

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My watchman felt obliged to call Interpol."Sophie had feared as much. She took one last shot. "My grandfather said he needed to tell me thetruth about my family. Does that mean anything to you?""Mademoiselle, your family died in a car accident when you were young. I’m sorry. I know yourgrandfather loved you very much. He mentioned to me several times how much it pained him thatyou two had fallen out of touch."Sophie was uncertain how to respond.

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Langdon asked, "Do the contents of this account have anything to do with the Sangreal?"Vernet gave him an odd look. "I have no idea what that is." Just then, Vernet’s cell phone rang, andhe snatched it off his belt. "Oui?" He listened a moment, his expression one of surprise andgrowing concern. "La police? Si rapidement?" He cursed, gave some quick directions in French,and said he would be up to the lobby in a minute.

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Hanging up the phone, he turned back to Sophie. "The police have responded far more quickly thanusual. They are arriving as we speak."Sophie had no intention of leaving empty-handed. "Tell them we came and went already. If theywant to search the bank, demand a search warrant. That will take them time.""Listen," Vernet said, "Jacques was a friend, and my bank does not need this kind of press, so forthose two reasons, I have no intention of allowing this arrest to be made on my premises. Give mea minute and I will see what I can do to help you leave the bank undetected. Beyond that, I cannotget involved." He stood up and hurried for the door. "Stay here. I’ll make arrangements and be rightback.""But the safe-deposit box," Sophie declared. "We can’t just leave.""There’s nothing I can do," Vernet said, hurrying out the door. "I’m sorry."Sophie stared after him a moment, wondering if maybe the account number was buried in one ofthe countless letters and packages her grandfather had sent her over the years and which she hadleft unopened.

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Langdon stood suddenly, and Sophie sensed an unexpected glimmer of contentment in his eyes.

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"Robert? You’re smiling.""Your grandfather was a genius.""I’m sorry?""Ten digits?"Sophie had no idea what he was talking about.

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"The account number," he said, a familiar lopsided grin now craning his face. "I’m pretty sure heleft it for us after all.""Where?"Langdon produced the printout of the crime scene photo and spread it out on the coffee table.

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Sophie needed only to read the first line to know Langdon was correct.

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13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5O, Draconian devil!

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Oh, lame saint!

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