filled his nostrils, and he realized how close they were. He waited there, awkwardly prone, while a telephone began ringing over the small speaker.
Finally, the intercom crackled and an irritated French accent spoke. "Chateau Villette. Who is calling?"
"This is Robert Langdon," Langdon called out, sprawled across Sophie's lap. "I'm a friend of Sir Leigh Teabing. I need his help."
"My master is sleeping. As was I. What is your business with him?" "It is a private matter. One of great interest to him." "Then I'm sure he will be pleased to receive you in the morning." Langdon shifted his weight. "It's quite important." "As is Sir Leigh's sleep. If you are a friend, then you are aware he is in poor health."
Sir Leigh Teabing had suffered from polio as a child and now wore leg braces and walked with crutches, but Langdon had found him such a lively and colorful man on his last visit that it hardly seemed an infirmity. "If you would, please tell him I have uncovered new information about the Grail. Information that cannot wait until morning."
There was a long pause.
Langdon and Sophie waited, the truck idling loudly.
A full minute passed.
Finally, someone spoke. "My good man, I daresay you are still on Harvard Standard Time." The voice was crisp and light.
Langdon grinned, recognizing the thick British accent. "Leigh, my apologies for waking you at this obscene hour."
"My manservant tells me that not only are you in Paris, but you speak of the Grail."
"I thought that might get you out of bed." "And so it has." "Any chance you'd open the gate for an old friend?"
"Those who seek the truth are more than friends. They are brothers." Langdon rolled his eyes at Sophie, well accustomed to Teabing's predilection for dramatic antics. "Indeed I will open the gate," Teabing proclaimed," but first I must confirm your heart is true. A test of your honor. You will answer three questions."
Langdon groaned, whispering at Sophie. "Bear with me here. As I mentioned, he's something of a character." "Your first question," Teabing declared, his tone Herculean. "Shall I serve you coffee, or tea?" Langdon knew Teabing's feelings about the American phenomenon of coffee. "Tea," he replied." Earl Grey."
"Excellent. Your second question. Milk or sugar?" Langdon hesitated." Milk,"Sophie whispered in his ear. "I think the British take milk." "Milk," Langdon said. Silence. "Sugar?" Teabing made no reply.
Wait! Langdon now recalled the bitter beverage he had been served on his last visit and realized this question was a trick. "Lemon!" he declared. "Earl Grey with lemon"
"Indeed." Teabing sounded deeply amused now. "And finally, I must make the most grave of inquiries." Teabing paused and then spoke in a solemn tone. "In which year did a Harvard sculler last outrow an Oxford man at Henley?"
Langdon had no idea, but he could imagine only one reason the question had been asked. "Surely such a travesty has never occurred."
The gate clicked open. "Your heart is true, my friend. You may pass."
CHAPTER 53
"Monsieur Vernet!" The night manager of the Depository Bank of Zurich felt relieved to hear the bank president's voice on the phone. "Where did you go, sir? The police are here, everyone is waiting for you!"
"I have a little problem," the bank president said, sounding distressed. "I need your help right away."
You have more than a little problem, the manager thought. The police had entirely surrounded the bank and were threatening to have the DCPJ captain himself show up with the warrant the bank had demanded. "How can I help you, sir?" "Armored truck number three. I need to find it." Puzzled, the manager checked his delivery schedule. "It's here. Downstairs at the loading dock." "Actually, no. The truck was stolen by the two individuals the police are tracking." "What? How did they drive out?"
"I can't go into the specifics on the phone, but we have a situation here that could potentially be extremely unfortunate for the bank."
"What do you need me to do, sir?"
"I'd like you to activate the truck's emergency transponder."
The night manager's eyes moved to the LoJack control box across the room. Like many armored cars, each of the bank's trucks had been equipped with a radio-controlled homing device, which could be activated remotely from the bank. The manager had only used the emergency system once, after a hijacking, and it had worked flawlessly - locating the truck and transmitting the coordinates to the authorities automatically. Tonight, however, the manager had the impression the president was hoping for a bit more prudence. "Sir,