The keystone!
Time seemed to freeze, morphing into a slow-motion dream as Teabing's entire world became the airborne keystone. He watched it rise to the apex of its climb... hovering for a moment in the void... and then tumbling downward, end over end, back toward the stone floor.
All of Teabing's hopes and dreams were plummeting toward earth. It cannot strike the floor! I can reach it! Teabing's body reacted on instinct. He released the gun and heaved himself forward, dropping his crutches as he reached out with his soft, manicured hands. Stretching his arms and fingers, he snatched the keystone from midair.
Falling forward with the keystone victoriously clutched in his hand, Teabing knew he was falling too fast. With nothing to break his fall, his outstretched arms hit first, and the cryptex collided hard with the floor.
There was a sickening crunch of glass within.
For a full second, Teabing did not breathe. Lying there outstretched on the cold floor, staring the length of his outstretched arms at the marble cylinder in his bare palms, he implored the glass vial inside to hold. Then the acrid tang of vinegar cut the air, and Teabing felt the cool liquid flowing out through the dials onto his palm.
Wild panic gripped him. NO! The vinegar was streaming now, and Teabing pictured the papyrus dissolving within. Robert, you fool! The secret is lost!
Teabing felt himself sobbing uncontrollably. The Grail is gone.Everything destroyed.Shuddering in disbelief over Langdon's actions, Teabing tried to force the cylinder apart, longing to catch a fleeting glimpse of history before it dissolved forever. To his shock, as he pulled the ends of the keystone, the cylinder separated.
He gasped and peered inside. It was empty except for shards of wet glass. No dissolving papyrus. Teabing rolled over and looked up at Langdon. Sophie stood beside him, aiming the gun down at Teabing.
Bewildered, Teabing looked back at the keystone and saw it. The dials were no longer at random. They spelled a five-letter word: APPLE.
"The orb from which Eve partook," Langdon said coolly," incurring the Holy wrath of God. Original sin. The symbol of the fall of the sacred feminine."
Teabing felt the truth come crashing down on him in excruciating austerity. The orb that ought be on Newton's tomb could be none other than the Rosy apple that fell from heaven, struck Newton on the head, and inspired his life's work. His labor's fruit! The Rosy flesh with a seeded womb!
"Robert," Teabing stammered, overwhelmed. "You opened it. Where... is the map?"
Without blinking, Langdon reached into the breast pocket of his tweed coat and carefully extracted a delicate rolled papyrus. Only a few yards from where Teabing lay, Langdon unrolled the scroll and looked at it. After a long moment, a knowing smile crossed Langdon's face.
He knows! Teabing's heart craved that knowledge. His life's dream was right in front of him. "Tell me!" Teabing demanded. "Please! Oh God, please! It's not too late!"
As the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hall toward the Chapter House, Langdon quietly rolled the papyrus and slipped it back in his pocket.
"No!" Teabing cried out, trying in vain to stand.
When the doors burst open, Bezu Fache entered like a bull into a ring, his feral eyes scanning, finding his target - Leigh Teabing - helpless on the floor. Exhaling in relief, Fache holstered his Manurhin sidearm and turned to Sophie. "Agent Neveu, I am relieved you and Mr. Langdon are safe. You should have come in when I asked."
The British police entered on Fache's heels, seizing the anguished prisoner and placing him in handcuffs.
Sophie seemed stunned to see Fache. "How did you find us?"
Fache pointed to Teabing. "He made the mistake of showing his ID when he entered the abbey. The guards heard a police broadcast about our search for him."
"It's in Langdon's pocket!" Teabing was screaming like a madman. "The map to the Holy Grail!"
As they hoisted Teabing and carried him out, he threw back his head and howled. "Robert! Tell me where it's hidden!"
As Teabing passed, Langdon looked him in the eye. "Only the worthy find the Grail, Leigh. You taught me that."
CHAPTER 102
The mist had settled low on Kensington Gardens as Silas limped into a quiet hollow out of sight. Kneeling on the wet grass, he could feel a warm stream of blood flowing from the bullet wound below his ribs. Still, he stared straight ahead.
The fog made it look like heaven here.
Raising his bloody hands to pray, he watched the raindrops caress his fingers, turning them white again. As the droplets fell harder across his back and shoulders, he could feel his body disappearing bit by bit into the mist.
I am a ghost.
A breeze rustled past him, carrying the damp, earthy scent of new life. With every living cell in his broken body, Silas prayed. He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for mercy. And, above all, he prayed for his mentor... Bishop Aringarosa... that the Lord would not take him before his time. Hehas so much work left to do.
The fog was swirling around him now, and Silas felt so light that he was sure the wisps would carry him away. Closing his eyes, he said a final prayer.
From somewhere in the mist, the voice of Manuel Aringarosa whispered to him.
Our Lord is a good and merciful God.
Silas's pain at last began to fade, and he knew the bishop was right.
CHAPTER 103
It was late afternoon when the London sun broke through and the city began to dry. Bezu Fache felt weary as he emerged from the interrogation room and hailed a cab. Sir Leigh Teabing had vociferously proclaimed his innocence, and yet from his incoherent rantings about the Holy Grail, secret documents, and mysterious brotherhoods, Fache suspected the wily historian was setting the stage for his lawyers to plead an insanity defense.
Sure, Fache thought. Insane.Teabing had displayed ingenious precision in formulating a plan that protected his innocence at every turn. He had exploited both the Vatican and Opus Dei, two groups that turned out to be completely innocent. His dirty work had been carried out unknowingly by a fanatical monk and a desperate bishop. More clever still, Teabing had situated his electronic listening post in the one place a man with polio could not possibly reach. The actual surveillance had been carried out by his manservant, Remy - the lone person privy to Teabing's true identity - now conveniently dead of an allergic reaction.
Hardly the handiwork of someone lacking mental faculties, Fache thought.
The information coming from Collet out of Chateau Villette suggested that Teabing's cunning ran so deep that Fache himself might even learn from it. To successfully hide bugs in some of Paris's most powerful offices, the British historian had turned to the Greeks. Trojan horses.Some of Teabing's intended targets received lavish gifts of artwork, others unwittingly bid at auctions in which Teabing had placed specific lots. In Sauniere's case, the curator had received a dinner invitation to Chateau Villette to discuss the possibility of Teabing's funding a new Da Vinci Wing at the Louvre. Sauniere's invitation had contained an innocuous postscript expressing fascination with a robotic knight that Sauniere was rumored to have built. Bring him to dinner, Teabing had suggested. Sauniere apparently had done just that and left the knight unattended long enough for Remy Legaludec to make one inconspicuous addition.
Now, sitting in the back of the cab, Fache closed his eyes. One more thing to attend to before Ireturn to Paris.
The St. Mary's Hospital recovery room was sunny.
"You've impressed us all," the nurse said, smiling down at him. "Nothing short of miraculous." Bishop Aringarosa gave a weak smile. "I have always been blessed." The nurse finished puttering, leaving the bishop alone. The sunlight felt welcome and warm on his face. Last night had been the darkest night of his life.