Chapter 3

           ThecrispAprilairwhippedthroughtheopenwindowoftheCitroënZXasitskimmedsouthpasttheOperaHouseandcrossedPlaceVendôme.Inthepassengerseat,RobertLangdonfeltthecitytearpasthimashetriedtoclearhisthoughts.Hisquickshowerandshavehadlefthimlookingreasonablypresentablebuthaddonelittletoeasehisanxiety.Thefrighteningimageofthecurator’sbodyremainedlockedinhismind.

           JacquesSaunièreisdead.

           Langdoncouldnothelpbutfeeladeepsenseoflossatthecurator’sdeath.DespiteSaunière’sreputationforbeingreclusive,hisrecognitionfordedicationtotheartsmadehimaneasymantorevere.HisbooksonthesecretcodeshiddeninthepaintingsofPoussinandTeniersweresomeofLangdon’sfavoriteclassroomtexts.Tonight’smeetinghadbeenoneLangdonwasverymuchlookingforwardto,andhewasdisappointedwhenthecuratorhadnotshown.

           Againtheimageofthecurator’sbodyflashedinhismind.JacquesSaunièredidthattohimself?Langdonturnedandlookedoutthewindow,forcingthepicturefromhismind.

           Outside,thecitywasjustnowwindingdownstreetvendorswheelingcartsofcandiedamandes,waiterscarryingbagsofgarbagetothecurb,apairoflatenightloverscuddlingtostaywarminabreezescentedwithjasmineblossom.TheCitroënnavigatedthechaoswithauthority,itsdissonanttwo-tonesirenpartingthetrafficlikeaknife.

           «LecapitainewaspleasedtodiscoveryouwerestillinParistonight,»theagentsaid,speakingforthefirsttimesincethey’dleftthehotel.«Afortunatecoincidence.

Содержание книги
Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 17 из 575