The Da Vinci Code Read Online Free PDF Page B

Louvre's most popular section—
la Grande Galerie
—a seemingly endless corridor that housed the Louvre's most valuable Italian masterpieces. Langdon had already discerned that
this
was where Saunière's body lay; the Grand Gallery's famous parquet floor had been unmistakable in the Polaroid.
    As they approached, Langdon saw the entrance was blocked by an enormous steel grate that looked like something used by medieval castles to keep out marauding armies.
    “Containment security,”
Fache said, as they neared the grate.
    Even in the darkness, the barricade looked like it could have restrained a tank. Arriving outside, Langdon peered through the bars into the dimly lit caverns of the Grand Gallery.
    “After you, Mr. Langdon,” Fache said.
    Langdon turned.
After me, where?
    Fache motioned toward the floor at the base of the grate.
    Langdon looked down. In the darkness, he hadn't noticed. The barricade was raised about two feet, providing an awkward clearance underneath.
    “This area is still off limits to Louvre security,” Fache said. “My team from
Police Technique et Scientifique
has just finished their investigation.” He motioned to the opening. “Please slide under.”
    Langdon stared at the narrow crawl space at his feet and then up at the massive iron grate.
He's kidding, right?
The barricade looked like a guillotine waiting to crush intruders.
    Fache grumbled something in French and checked his watch. Then he dropped to his knees and slithered his bulky frame underneath the grate. On the other side, he stood up and looked back through the bars at Langdon.
    Langdon sighed. Placing his palms flat on the polished parquet, he lay on his stomach and pulled himself forward. As he slid underneath, the nape of his Harris tweed snagged on the bottom of the grate, and he cracked the back of his head on the iron.
    Very suave, Robert,
he thought, fumbling and then finally pulling himself through. As he stood up, Langdon was beginning to suspect it was going to be a very long night.

CHAPTER 5
    Murray Hill Place—the new Opus Dei World Headquarters and conference center—is located at 243 Lexington Avenue in New York City. With a price tag of just over $47 million, the 133,000-square-foot tower is clad in red brick and Indiana limestone. Designed by May & Pinska, the building contains over one hundred bedrooms, six dining rooms, libraries, living rooms, meeting rooms, and offices. The second, eighth, and sixteenth floors contain chapels, ornamented with millwork and marble. The seventeenth floor is entirely residential. Men enter the building through the main doors on Lexington Avenue. Women enter through a side street and are “acoustically and visually separated” from the men at all times within the building.
    Earlier this evening, within the sanctuary of his penthouse apartment, Bishop Manuel Aringarosa had packed a small travel bag and dressed in a traditional black cassock. Normally, he would have wrapped a purple cincture around his waist, but tonight he would be traveling among the public, and he preferred not to draw attention to his high office. Only those with a keen eye would notice his 14-karat gold bishop's ring with purple amethyst, large diamonds, and hand-tooled mitre-crozier appliqué. Throwing the travel bag over his shoulder, he said a silent prayer and left his apartment, descending to the lobby where his driver was waiting to take him to the airport.
    Now, sitting aboard a commercial airliner bound for Rome, Aringarosa gazed out the window at the dark Atlantic. The sun had already set, but Aringarosa knew his own star was on the rise.
Tonight the battle will be won,
he thought, amazed that only months ago he had felt powerless against the hands that threatened to destroy his empire.
    As president-general of Opus Dei, Bishop Aringarosa had spent the last decade of his life spreading the message of “God's Work”—literally,
Opus Dei
. The congregation, founded in 1928 by the Spanish priest