"No!" Sophie declared. "Absolutely not."
Vernet's face was grim, and he paused, pondering. "Your pictures are being circulated by Interpol. 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 more motivated than Sophie had anticipated. She quickly told Vernet who Langdon was and what had happened inside the Louvre tonight.
Vernet looked amazed. "And as your grandfather was dying, he left you a message telling you to find Mr. Langdon?"
"Yes. And this key." Sophie laid the gold key on the coffee table in front of Vernet, placing the Priory seal face down.
Vernet glanced at the key but made no move to touch it. "He left you only this key? Nothing else? No slip of paper?"
Sophie knew she had been in a hurry inside the Louvre, but she was certain she had seen nothing else 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 account number 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.
Even if she could bring in DCPJ's most powerful parallel processing computers, she still would need weeks to break the code. "Certainly, monsieur, considering the circumstances, you can help us."
"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 ensure anonymity. And the safety of our employees."
Sophie understood. Convenience stores did the same thing. EMPLOYEES DO NOT HAVE KEYS TO THE SAFE. This bank obviously did not want to risk someone stealing a key and then holding an employee hostage for the account number.
Sophie sat down beside Langdon, glanced down at the key and then up at Vernet. "Do you have any 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 the Priory 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 clients emboss corporate logos or initials onto their keys."
Sophie sighed, still watching him carefully. "This seal is the symbol of a secret society known as the Priory of Sion."
Vernet again showed no reaction. "I know nothing of this. Your grandfather was a friend, but we spoke mostly of business." The man adjusted his tie, looking nervous now.
"Monsieur Vernet," Sophie pressed, her tone firm. "My grandfather called me tonight and told me he and I were in grave danger. He said he had to give me something. He gave me a key to your bank. 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. 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 the truth 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 your grandfather loved you very much. He mentioned to me several times how much it pained him that you two had fallen out of touch."
Sophie was uncertain how to respond.
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, and he snatched it off his belt. "Oui?" He listened a moment, his expression one of surprise and growing 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.
Hanging up the phone, he turned back to Sophie. "The police have responded far more quickly than usual. They are arriving as we speak."
Sophie had no intention of leaving empty-handed. "Tell them we came and went already. If they want 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 for those two reasons, I have no intention of allowing this arrest to be made on my premises. Give me a minute and I will see what I can do to help you leave the bank undetected. Beyond that, I cannot get involved." He stood up and hurried for the door. "Stay here. I'll make arrangements and be right back."
"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 of the countless letters and packages her grandfather had sent her over the years and which she had left unopened.
Langdon stood suddenly, and Sophie sensed an unexpected glimmer of contentment in his eyes. "Robert? You're smiling." "Your grandfather was a genius." "I'm sorry?" "Ten digits?"
Sophie had no idea what he was talking about.
"The account number," he said, a familiar lopsided grin now craning his face. "I'm pretty sure he left it for us after all." "Where?" Langdon produced the printout of the crime scene photo and spread it out on the coffee table. Sophie needed only to read the first line to know Langdon was correct.
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5
O, Draconian devil!
Oh, lame saint!
P. S. Find Robert Langdon
CHAPTER 44
"Ten digits," Sophie said, her cryptologic senses tingling as she studied the printout.
13-3-2-21-1-1-8-5
Grand-pere wrote his account number on the Louvre floor!
When Sophie had first seen the scrambled Fibonacci sequence on the parquet, she had assumed its sole purpose was to encourage DCPJ to call in their cryptographers and get Sophie involved.Later, she realized the numbers were also a clue as to how to decipher the other lines - a sequence out of order...a numeric anagram.Now, utterly amazed, she saw the numbers had a more important meaning still. They were almost certainly the final key to opening her grandfather's mysterious safe- deposit box.
"He was the master of double-entendres," Sophie said, turning to Langdon. "He loved anything with multiple layers of meaning. Codes within codes."
Langdon was already moving toward the electronic podium near the conveyor belt. Sophie grabbed the computer printout and followed.
The podium had a keypad similar to that of a bank ATM terminal. The screen displayed the bank's cruciform logo. Beside the keypad was a triangular hole. Sophie wasted no time inserting the shaft of her key into the hole.
The screen refreshed instantly.
ACCOUNT NUMBER: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
The cursor blinked. Waiting.
Ten digits.Sophie read the numbers off the printout, and Langdon typed them in.
ACCOUNT NUMBER: 1 3 3 2 2 1 1 1 8 5
When he had typed the last digit, the screen refreshed again. A message in several languages appeared. English was on top.
CAUTION:
Before you strike the enter key, please check the accuracy of your account number.
For your own security, if the computer does not recognize your account number, this system will automatically shut down.