Standing at the roadblock outside the Depository Bank of Zurich, Lieutenant Collet
wondered what was taking Fache so long to come up with the search warrant. The
bankers were obviously hiding something. They claimed Langdon and Neveu had
arrived earlier and were turned away from the bank because they did not have proper
account identification.
So why won't they let us inside for a look?
Finally, Collet's cellular phone rang. It was the command post at the Louvre. “Do we
have a search warrant yet?” Collet demanded.
“Forget about the bank, Lieutenant,” the agent told him. “We just got a tip. We have
the exact location where Langdon and Neveu are hiding.”
Collet sat down hard on the hood of his car. “You're kidding.”
“I have an address in the suburbs. Somewhere near Versailles.”
“Does Captain Fache know?”
“Not yet. He's busy on an important call.”
“I'm on my way. Have him call as soon as he's free.” Collet took down the address and
jumped in his car. As he peeled away from the bank, Collet realized he had forgotten to
ask who had tipped DCPJ off to Langdon's location. Not that it mattered. Collet had been
blessed with a chance to redeem his skepticism and earlier blunders. He was about to
make the most high-profile arrest of his career.
Collet radioed the five cars accompanying him. “No sirens, men. Langdon can't know
we're coming.”
Forty kilometers away, a black Audi pulled off a rural road and parked in the shadows
on the edge of a field. Silas got out and peered through the rungs of the wrought-iron
fence that encircled the vast compound before him. He gazed up the long moonlit slope
to the château in the distance.
The downstairs lights were all ablaze. Odd for this hour, Silas thought, smiling. The
information the Teacher had given him was obviously accurate. I will not leave this
house without the keystone, he vowed. I will not fail the bishop and the Teacher.
Checking the thirteen-round clip in his Heckler Koch, Silas pushed it through the bars
and let it fall onto the mossy ground inside the compound. Then, gripping the top of the
fence, he heaved himself up and over, dropping to the ground on the other side. Ignoring
the slash of pain from his cilice, Silas retrieved his gun and began the long trek up the
grassy slope.
