Far below, in the deepest recesses of the cistern, Agent Brüder stood all alone in the waist-deep water. The sounds of pandemonium echoed through the darkness as frenzied tourists and musicians shoved their way toward the exit and disappeared up the stairs.
The doors were never sealed, Brüder realized to his horror. Containment has failed.
CHAPTER 94
Robert Langdon was not a runner, but years of swimming made for powerful legs, and his stride was long. He reached the corner in a matter of seconds and rounded it, finding himself on a wider avenue. His eyes urgently scanned the sidewalks.
She’s got to be here!
The rain had stopped, and from this corner, Langdon could clearly see the entire well-lit street. There was nowhere to hide.
And yet Sienna seemed to have vanished.
Langdon came to a stop, hands on his hips, panting as he surveyed the rain-soaked street before him. The only movement he saw was fifty yards ahead, where one of Istanbul’s modern otobüses was pulling away from the curb and powering up the avenue.
Did Sienna jump on a city bus?
It seemed far too risky. Would she really trap herself on a bus when she knew everyone would be looking for her? Then again, if she believed nobody had seen her round the corner, and if the bus had been just pulling away by chance, offering a perfectly timed opportunity …
Maybe.
Affixed to the top of the bus was a destination sign—a programmable matrix of lights displaying a single word: GALATA.
Langdon rushed up the street toward an elderly man who was standing outside a restaurant under an awning. He was nicely dressed in an embroidered tunic and a white turban.
“Excuse me,” Langdon said breathless, arriving before him. “Do you speak English?”
“Of course,” the man said, looking unnerved by the urgency of Langdon’s tone.
“Galata?! That’s a place?”
“Galata?” the man replied. “Galata Bridge? Galata Tower? Galata-port?”
Langdon pointed to the departing otobüs. “Galata! Where is the bus going!”
The man in the turban looked after the departing bus and considered it a moment. “Galata Bridge,” he replied. “It departs the old city and crosses the waterway.”
Langdon groaned, his eyes making another frantic pass of the street but seeing no hint of Sienna. Sirens blared everywhere now, as emergency response vehicles tore past them in the direction of the cistern.
“What’s happening?” the man demanded, looking alarmed. “Is everything okay?”
Langdon took another look at the departing bus and knew it was a gamble, but he had no other choice.
“No, sir,” Langdon replied. “There’s an emergency, and I need your help.” He motioned to the curb, where a valet had just delivered a slick, silver Bentley. “Is that your car?”
“It is, but—”
“I need a ride,” Langdon said. “I know we’ve never met, but something catastrophic is happening. It’s a matter of life and death.”
The turbaned man stared into the professor’s eyes a long moment, as if searching his soul. Finally he nodded. “Then you’d better get in.”
As the Bentley roared away from the curb, Langdon found himself gripping his seat. The man was clearly an experienced driver and seemed to enjoy the challenge of weaving in and out of traffic, playing catch-up with the bus.
It took him less than three blocks to position his Bentley directly behind the otobüs. Langdon leaned forward in his seat, squinting at the rear window. The interior lights were dim, and the only things Langdon could make out were the vague silhouettes of the passengers.
“Stay with the bus, please,” Langdon said. “And do you have a phone?”
The man produced a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to his passenger, who thanked him profusely before realizing that he had no idea whom to call. He had no contact numbers for Sinskey or Brüder, and calling the WHO’s offices in Switzerland could take forever.
“How do I reach the local police?” Langdon asked.
“One-five-five,” the man replied. “Anywhere in Istanbul.”
Langdon dialed the three numbers and waited. The line seemed to ring forever. Finally a recorded voice answered, conveying both in Turkish and English that due to high call volume, he would need to hold. Langdon wondered if the reason for the call volume was the crisis at the cistern.
The sunken palace was now probably in a state of total pandemonium. He pictured Brüder wading out in the lagoon and wondered what he had discovered out there. Langdon had a sinking feeling he already knew.
Sienna had gotten into the water before him.
Up ahead, the bus’s brake lights flashed, and the transport pulled