danbrown.thedavincicode-第37节

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　〃Bonsoir；〃　he　said。　〃How　may　I　help　you？〃
　The　dual…language　greeting　was　the　newest　hospitality　trick　of　the　European　host。　It　presumed　nothing　and　opened　the　door　for　the　guest　to　reply　in　whichever　language　was　more　fortable。
　Sophie　replied　with　neither。　She　simply　laid　the　gold　key　on　the　counter　in　front　of　the　man。
　The　man　glanced　down　and　immediately　stood　straighter。　〃Of　course。　Your　elevator　is　at　the　end　of　the　hall。　I　will　alert　someone　that　you　are　on　your　way。〃
　Sophie　nodded　and　took　her　key　back。　〃Which　floor？〃
　The　man　gave　her　an　odd　look。　〃Your　key　instructs　the　elevator　which　floor。〃
　She　smiled。　〃Ah；　yes。〃
　　
　The　guard　watched　as　the　two　newers　made　their　way　to　the　elevators；　inserted　their　key；　boarded　the　lift；　and　disappeared。　As　soon　as　the　door　had　closed；　he　grabbed　the　phone。　He　was　not　calling　to　alert　anyone　of　their　arrival；　there　was　no　need　for　that。　A　vault　greeter　already　had　been　alerted　automatically　when　the　client's　key　was　inserted　outside　in　the　entry　gate。
　Instead；　the　guard　was　calling　the　bank's　night　manager。　As　the　line　rang；　the　guard　switched　the　television　back　on　and　stared　at　it。　The　news　story　he　had　been　watching　was　just　ending。　It　didn't　matter。　He　got　another　look　at　the　two　faces　on　the　television。
　The　manager　answered。　〃Oui？〃
　〃We　have　a　situation　down　here。〃
　〃What's　happening？〃　the　manager　demanded。
　〃The　French　police　are　tracking　two　fugitives　tonight。〃
　〃So？〃
　〃Both　of　them　just　walked　into　our　bank。〃
　The　manager　cursed　quietly。　〃Okay。　I'll　contact　Monsieur　Vernet　immediately。〃
　The　guard　then　hung　up　and　placed　a　second　call。　This　one　to　Interpol。
　　
　Langdon　was　surprised　to　feel　the　elevator　dropping　rather　than　climbing。　He　had　no　idea　how　many　floors　they　had　descended　beneath　the　Depository　Bank　of　Zurich　before　the　door　finally　opened。　He　didn't　care。　He　was　happy　to　be　out　of　the　elevator。
　Displaying　impressive　alacrity；　a　host　was　already　standing　there　to　greet　them。　He　was　elderly　and　pleasant；　wearing　a　neatly　pressed　flannel　suit　that　made　him　look　oddly　out　of　place…an　old…world　banker　in　a　high…tech　world。
　〃Bonsoir；〃　the　man　said。　〃Good　evening。　Would　you　be　so　kind　as　to　follow　me；　s'il　vous　plait？〃　Without　waiting　for　a　response；　he　spun　on　his　heel　and　strode　briskly　down　a　narrow　metal　corridor。
　Langdon　walked　with　Sophie　down　a　series　of　corridors；　past　several　large　rooms　filled　with　blinking　mainframe　puters。
　〃Voici；〃　their　host　said；　arriving　at　a　steel　door　and　opening　it　for　them。　〃Here　you　are。〃
　Langdon　and　Sophie　stepped　into　another　world。　The　small　room　before　them　looked　like　a　lavish　sitting　room　at　a　fine　hotel。　Gone　were　the　metal　and　rivets；　replaced　with　oriental　carpets；　dark　oak　furniture；　and　cushioned　chairs。　On　the　broad　desk　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　two　crystal　glasses　sat　beside　an　opened　bottle　of　Perrier；　its　bubbles　still　fizzing。　A　pewter　pot　of　coffee　steamed　beside　it。
　Clockwork；　Langdon　thought。　Leave　it　to　the　Swiss。
　The　man　gave　a　perceptive　smile。　〃I　sense　this　is　your　first　visit　to　us？〃
　Sophie　hesitated　and　then　nodded。
　〃Understood。　Keys　are　often　passed　on　as　inheritance；　and　our　first…time　users　are　invariably　uncertain　of　the　protocol。〃　He　motioned　to　the　table　of　drinks。　〃This　room　is　yours　as　long　as　you　care　to　use　it。〃
　〃You　say　keys　are　sometimes　inherited？〃　Sophie　asked。
　〃Indeed。　Your　key　is　like　a　Swiss　numbered　account；　which　are　often　willed　through　generations。　On　our　gold　accounts；　the　shortest　safety…deposit　box　lease　is　fifty　years。　Paid　in　advance。　So　we　see　plenty　of　family　turnover。〃
　Langdon　stared。　〃Did　you　say　fifty　years？〃
　〃At　a　minimum；〃　their　host　replied。　〃Of　course；　you　can　purchase　much　longer　leases；　but　barring　further　arrangements；　if　there　is　no　activity　on　an　account　for　fifty　years；　the　contents　of　that　safe…deposit　box　are　automatically　destroyed。　Shall　I　run　through　the　process　of　accessing　your　box？〃
　Sophie　nodded。　〃Please。〃
　Their　host　swept　an　arm　across　the　luxurious　salon。　〃This　is　your　private　viewing　room。　Once　I　leave　the　room；　you　may　spend　all　the　time　you　need　in　here　to　review　and　modify　the　contents　of　your　safe…deposit　box；　which　arrives。。。　over　here。〃　He　walked　them　to　the　far　wall　where　a　wide　conveyor　belt　entered　the　room　in　a　graceful　curve；　vaguely　resembling　a　baggage　claim　carousel。　〃You　insert　your　key　in　that　slot　there。。。。〃　The　man　pointed　to　a　large　electronic　podium　facing　the　conveyor　belt。　The　podium　had　a　familiar　triangular　hole。　〃Once　the　puter　confirms　the　markings　on　your　key；　you　enter　your　account　number；　and　your　safe…deposit　box　will　be　retrieved　robotically　from　the　vault　below　for　your　inspection。　When　you　are　finished　with　your　box；　you　place　it　back　on　the　conveyor　belt；　insert　your　key　again；　and　the　process　is　reversed。　Because　everything　is　automated；　your　privacy　is　guaranteed；　even　from　the　staff　of　this　bank。　If　you　need　anything　at　all；　simply　press　the　call　button　on　the　table　in　the　center　of　the　room。〃
　Sophie　was　about　to　ask　a　question　when　a　telephone　rang。　The　man　looked　puzzled　and　embarrassed。　〃Excuse　me；　please。〃　He　walked　over　to　the　phone；　which　was　sitting　on　the　table　beside　the　coffee　and　Perrier。
　〃Oui？〃　he　answered。
　His　brow　furrowed　as　he　listened　to　the　caller。　〃Oui。。。　oui。。。　d'accord。〃　He　hung　up；　and　gave　them　an　uneasy　smile。　〃I'm　sorry；　I　must　leave　you　now。　Make　yourselves　at　home。〃　He　moved　quickly　toward　the　door。
　〃Excuse　me；〃　Sophie　called。　〃Could　you　clarify　something　before　you　go？　You　mentioned　that　we　enter　an　account　number？〃
　The　man　paused　at　the　door；　looking　pale。　〃But　of　course。　Like　most　Swiss　banks；　our　safe…deposit　boxes　are　attached　to　a　number；　not　a　name。　You　have　a　key　and　a　personal　account　number　known　only　to　you。　Your　key　is　only　half　of　your　identification。　Your　personal　account　number　is　the　other　half。　Otherwise；　if　you　lost　your　key；　anyone　could　use　it。〃
　Sophie　hesitated。　〃And　if　my　benefactor　gave　me　no　account　number？〃
　The　banker's　heart　pounded。　Then　you　obviously　have　no　business　here！　He　gave　them　a　calm　smile。　〃I　will　ask　someone　to　help　you。　He　will　be　in　shortly。〃
　Leaving；　the　banker　closed　the　door　behind　him　and　twisted　a　heavy　lock；　sealing　them　inside。
　　
　Across　town；　Collet　was　standing　in　the　Gare　du　Nord　train　terminal　when　his　phone　rang。
　It　was　Fache。　〃Interpol　got　a　tip；〃　he　said。　〃Forget　the　train。　Langdon　and　Neveu　just　walked　into　the　Paris　branch　of　the　Depository　Bank　of　Zurich。　I　want　your　men　over　there　right　away。〃
　〃Any　leads　yet　on　what　Saunière　was　trying　to　tell　Agent　Neveu　and　Robert　Langdon？〃
　Fache's　tone　was　cold。　〃If　you　arrest　them；　Lieutenant　Collet；　then　I　can　ask　them　personally。〃
　Collet　took　the　hint。　〃Twenty…four　Rue　Haxo。　Right　away；　Captain。〃　He　hung　up　and　radioed　his　men。
　　
　CHAPTER　43
　
　André　Vernet…president　of　the　Paris　branch　of　the　Depository　Bank　of　Zurich…lived　in　a　lavish　flat　above　the　bank。　Despite　his　plush　acmodations；　he　had　always　dreamed　of　owning　a　riverside　apartment　on　L'lle　Saint…Louis；　where　he　could　rub　shoulders　with　the　true　cognoscenti；　rather　than　here；　where　he　simply　met　the　filthy　rich。
　When　I　retire；　Vernet　told　himself；　I　will　fill　my　cellar　with　rare　Bordeaux；　adorn　my　salon　with　a　Fragonard　and　perhaps　a　Boucher；　and　spend　my　days　hunting　for　antique　furniture　and　rare　books　in　the　Quartier　Latin。
　Tonight；　Vernet　had　been　awake　only　six　and　a　half　minutes。　Even　so；　as　he　hurried　through　the　bank's　underground　corridor；　he　looked　as　if　his　personal　tailor　and　hairdresser　had　polished　him　to　a　fine　sheen。　Impeccably　dressed　in　a　silk　suit；　Vernet　sprayed　some　breath　spray　in　his　mouth　and　tightened　his　tie　as　he　walked。　No　stranger　to　being　awoken　to　attend　to　his　international　clients　arriving　from　different　time　zones；　Vernet　modeled　his　sleep　habits　after　the　Maasai　warriors…the　African　tribe　famous　for　their　ability　to　rise　from　the　deepest　sleep　to　a　state　of　total　battle　readiness　in　a　matter　of　seconds。
　Battle　ready；　Vernet　thought；　fearing　the　parison　might　be　uncharacteristically　apt　tonight。　The　arrival　of　a　gold　key　client　always　required　an　extra　flurry　of　attention；　but　the　arrival　of　a　gold　key　client　who　was　wanted　by　the　Judicial　Police　would　be　an　extremely　delicate　matter。　The　bank　had　enough　battles　with　law　enforcement　over　the　privacy　rights　of　their　clients　without　proof　that　some　of　them　were　criminals。
　Five　minutes；　Vernet　told　himself。　I　need　these　people　out　of　my　bank　before　the　police　arrive。
　If　he　moved　quickly；　this　impending　disaster　could　be　deftly　sidestepped。　Vernet　could　tell　the　police　that　the　fugitives　in　question　had　indeed　walked　into　his　bank　as　reported；　but　because　they　were　not　clients　and　had　no　account　number；　they　were　turned　away。　He　wished　the　damned　watchman　had　not　called　Interpol。　Discretion　was　apparently　not　part　of　the　vocabulary　of　a　15…euro…per…hour　watchman。
　Stopping　at　the　doorway；　he　took　a　deep　breath　and　loosened　his　muscles。　Then；　forcing　a　balmy　smile；　he　unlocked　the　door　and　swirled　into　the　room　like　a　warm　breeze。
　〃Good　evening；〃　he　said；　his　eyes　finding　his　clients。　〃I　am　André　Vernet。　How