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LOUVRE MUSEUM, PARIS
10:46 P.M.
Renowned curator
Jacques Saunière staggered
through the vaulted archway of the
museum's Grand Gallery. He lunged
for the nearest painting he could see, a
Carravagio. Grabbing
the gilded frame, the
seventy-three-year-old man heaved
the masterpiece toward himself
until it tore from the wall. As he anticipated, a thundering iron
gate fell nearby, barricading the entrance to the suite. The
waxed parquet floor shook. Far off,
an alarm began to ring.
Jacques Saunière lay a moment,
gasping for breath. He
just crawled out from under the
canvas when a voice spoke,
chillingly close. "Do not move."
On his hands and knees, the curator
froze, turning his head
slowly.
Only fifteen feet away, outside the sealed gate, his
attacker stared through the iron
bars. He was broad and tall, with
ghost-pale skin and thinning white hair. His irises were pink with
dark red pupils. The albino drew a pistol
from his coat and aimed the
long
silencer through the
bars, directly at the curator. "You
should not have run." His accent was not easy to place. "Now tell
me where it is."
"I told you already," the curator stammered,
kneeling
defenseless on the floor of the
gallery. "I have no idea
what you are
talking
about!"
"You are lying." The man stared at
him, standing as frozen
except for the glint in his ghostly
eyes. "You and your
six brethren possess something that
is not yours." The curator felt a surge of
adrenalin. How could he possibly
know this?
"Tonight the rightful guardians will
be restored. Tell me where it is
hidden, and you will live." The man leveled his gun at the
curator's head. "Is it a secret you
will die for?"
Saunière could not breathe.
The man tilted his head and closed one eye, peering down the barrel
of his gun.
The Judgment, London WC2A 2LL, April 2006
