This was indeed one of the best well spent 2,500 yen, ever. This is a great book to spend a weekend with. Its a wonderful tool for those who had chosen not to remain in the darkness of spiritual ignorance, and begin their journey to a more enlighten state of mind. Although, certain facts in the book can be debated, the whole basic view is pretty much accurate.
I strongly recommend this book to all those who appreciate good literature and wish to free themselves form the chains of ignorance, spiritual ignorance that is.
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The Da Vinci Code: A Novel (Robert Langdon) ハードカバー – 2003/3/18
英語版
Dan Brown
(著)
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#1 WORLDWIDE BESTSELLER • While in Paris, Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is awakened by a phone call in the dead of the night. The elderly curator of the Louvre has been murdered inside the museum, his body covered in baffling symbols.
“Blockbuster perfection.... A gleefully erudite suspense novel.” —The New York Times
“A pulse-quickening, brain-teasing adventure.” —People
As Langdon and gifted French cryptologist Sophie Neveu sort through the bizarre riddles, they are stunned to discover a trail of clues hidden in the works of Leonardo da Vinci—clues visible for all to see and yet ingeniously disguised by the painter.
Even more startling, the late curator was involved in the Priory of Sion—a secret society whose members included Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, and Da Vinci—and he guarded a breathtaking historical secret. Unless Langdon and Neveu can decipher the labyrinthine puzzle—while avoiding the faceless adversary who shadows their every move—the explosive, ancient truth will be lost forever.
“Blockbuster perfection.... A gleefully erudite suspense novel.” —The New York Times
“A pulse-quickening, brain-teasing adventure.” —People
As Langdon and gifted French cryptologist Sophie Neveu sort through the bizarre riddles, they are stunned to discover a trail of clues hidden in the works of Leonardo da Vinci—clues visible for all to see and yet ingeniously disguised by the painter.
Even more startling, the late curator was involved in the Priory of Sion—a secret society whose members included Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, and Da Vinci—and he guarded a breathtaking historical secret. Unless Langdon and Neveu can decipher the labyrinthine puzzle—while avoiding the faceless adversary who shadows their every move—the explosive, ancient truth will be lost forever.
- 本の長さ464ページ
- 言語英語
- 出版社Doubleday
- 発売日2003/3/18
- 寸法16.36 x 3.25 x 24.23 cm
- ISBN-100385504209
- ISBN-13978-0385504201
- Lexile指数850L
この著者の人気タイトル
ページ 1 以下のうち 1 最初から観るページ 1 以下のうち 1
商品の説明
商品説明
ダン・ブラウンは本書『The Da Vinci Code』で、世界を舞台にした殺人ミステリーの醍醐味と、2000年に及ぶ西洋史から選り抜いた魅惑的な謎の数々とを組み合わせた、知的で明快なスリラーを見事に創造した。
閉館後の静寂に包まれたルーブル美術館で起きた殺人事件をきっかけに、明るみに出た不吉な筋書き。それは、キリストの時代以来、ある秘密結社により守られてきたベールをはがすものだった。殺人の被害者は、古くから連綿と続くその秘密結社の総長。彼は死の直前、不気味な暗号を犯行現場に残していた。その暗号を解くことができるのは、被害者の孫娘で著名な暗号解読者でもあるソフィー・ヌヴーと、高名な象徴学者のロバート・ラングドンのみ。ふたりは事件の容疑者となる一方で、ヌヴーの祖父の殺人事件のみならず、彼が守り続けてきた、古くから伝わる驚くべき秘密の謎をも調べ始める。警察当局と危険な競争者の追跡を間一髪ですり抜けながら、ヌヴーとラングドンは謎に導かれるまま、息つく間もなくフランスとイギリスを、そして歴史そのものを駆けめぐる。前作『Angels and Demons』(邦題『天使と悪魔』)に続く本書は、ページを繰る手が止まらないスリラー作品に仕上がっていると同時に、西洋史の驚くべき解釈をも披露している。主人公のふたりは、モナリザの微笑みの意味から聖杯の秘密にいたるまで、西洋文化の大いなる謎をめぐる知的かつ魅力的な探索に乗り出す。ブラウンの解釈の真偽に難癖をつける向きもあるかもしれないが、その推測のなかにこそ、本書のおもしろさがあるのだ。思わず引き込まれる『The Da Vinci Code』は、豊かな思考の糧となる1冊だ。(Jeremy Pugh, Amazon.com)
閉館後の静寂に包まれたルーブル美術館で起きた殺人事件をきっかけに、明るみに出た不吉な筋書き。それは、キリストの時代以来、ある秘密結社により守られてきたベールをはがすものだった。殺人の被害者は、古くから連綿と続くその秘密結社の総長。彼は死の直前、不気味な暗号を犯行現場に残していた。その暗号を解くことができるのは、被害者の孫娘で著名な暗号解読者でもあるソフィー・ヌヴーと、高名な象徴学者のロバート・ラングドンのみ。ふたりは事件の容疑者となる一方で、ヌヴーの祖父の殺人事件のみならず、彼が守り続けてきた、古くから伝わる驚くべき秘密の謎をも調べ始める。警察当局と危険な競争者の追跡を間一髪ですり抜けながら、ヌヴーとラングドンは謎に導かれるまま、息つく間もなくフランスとイギリスを、そして歴史そのものを駆けめぐる。前作『Angels and Demons』(邦題『天使と悪魔』)に続く本書は、ページを繰る手が止まらないスリラー作品に仕上がっていると同時に、西洋史の驚くべき解釈をも披露している。主人公のふたりは、モナリザの微笑みの意味から聖杯の秘密にいたるまで、西洋文化の大いなる謎をめぐる知的かつ魅力的な探索に乗り出す。ブラウンの解釈の真偽に難癖をつける向きもあるかもしれないが、その推測のなかにこそ、本書のおもしろさがあるのだ。思わず引き込まれる『The Da Vinci Code』は、豊かな思考の糧となる1冊だ。(Jeremy Pugh, Amazon.com)
レビュー
Nominated as one of America’s best-loved novels by PBS’s The Great American Read
"Read the book and be enlightened." —The Washington Post Book World
“Blockbuster perfection.... A gleefully erudite suspense novel.” —The New York Times
“A pulse-quickening, brain-teasing adventure.” —People
“Thriller writing doesn’t get any better than this.” —The Denver Post
"Dan Brown has to be one of the best, smartest, and most accomplished writers in the country. THE DA VINCI CODE is many notches above the intelligent thriller; this is pure genius."
—NELSON DeMILLE, #1 New York Times bestselling author
"Intrigue and menace mingle in one of the finest mysteries I’ve ever read. An amazing tale with enigma piled on secrets stacked on riddles."
—CLIVE CUSSLER, #1 New York Times bestseller
"Dan Brown is my new must-read. THE DA VINCI CODE is fascinating and absorbing -- perfect for history buffs, conspiracy nuts, puzzle lovers or anyone who appreciates a great, riveting story. I loved this book."
—HARLAN COBEN, New York Times bestselling author of Tell No One
"The Da Vinci Code sets the hook-of-all-hooks, and takes off down a road that is as eye-opening as it is page-turning. You simply cannot put this book down. Thriller readers everywhere will soon realize Dan Brown is a master."
—VINCE FLYNN, New York Times bestselling author of Separation of Power
"I would never have believed that this is my kind of thriller, but I'm going to tell you something--the more I read, the more I had to read. In The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown has built a world that is rich in fascinating detail, and I could not get enough of it. Mr. Brown, I am your fan."
—ROBERT CRAIS, New York Times bestselling author of Hostage
"Read the book and be enlightened." —The Washington Post Book World
“Blockbuster perfection.... A gleefully erudite suspense novel.” —The New York Times
“A pulse-quickening, brain-teasing adventure.” —People
“Thriller writing doesn’t get any better than this.” —The Denver Post
"Dan Brown has to be one of the best, smartest, and most accomplished writers in the country. THE DA VINCI CODE is many notches above the intelligent thriller; this is pure genius."
—NELSON DeMILLE, #1 New York Times bestselling author
"Intrigue and menace mingle in one of the finest mysteries I’ve ever read. An amazing tale with enigma piled on secrets stacked on riddles."
—CLIVE CUSSLER, #1 New York Times bestseller
"Dan Brown is my new must-read. THE DA VINCI CODE is fascinating and absorbing -- perfect for history buffs, conspiracy nuts, puzzle lovers or anyone who appreciates a great, riveting story. I loved this book."
—HARLAN COBEN, New York Times bestselling author of Tell No One
"The Da Vinci Code sets the hook-of-all-hooks, and takes off down a road that is as eye-opening as it is page-turning. You simply cannot put this book down. Thriller readers everywhere will soon realize Dan Brown is a master."
—VINCE FLYNN, New York Times bestselling author of Separation of Power
"I would never have believed that this is my kind of thriller, but I'm going to tell you something--the more I read, the more I had to read. In The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown has built a world that is rich in fascinating detail, and I could not get enough of it. Mr. Brown, I am your fan."
—ROBERT CRAIS, New York Times bestselling author of Hostage
抜粋
1
Robert Langdon awoke slowly.
A telephone was ringing in the darkness--a tinny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Squinting at his surroundings he saw a plush Renaissance bedroom with Louis XVI furniture, hand-frescoed walls, and a colossal mahogany four-poster bed.
Where the hell am I?
The jacquard bathrobe hanging on his bedpost bore the monogram:
HOTEL RITZ PARIS.
Slowly, the fog began to lift.
Langdon picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Monsieur Langdon?" a man's voice said. "I hope I have not awoken you?"
Dazed, Langdon looked at the bedside clock. It was 12:32 A.M. He had been asleep only an hour, but he felt like the dead.
"This is the concierge, monsieur. I apologize for this intrusion, but you have a visitor. He insists it is urgent."
Langdon still felt fuzzy. A visitor? His eyes focused now on a crumpled flyer on his bedside table.
THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY OF PARIS
proudly presents
An evening with Robert Langdon
Professor of Religious Symbology, Harvard University
Langdon groaned. Tonight's lecture--a slide show about pagan symbolism hidden in the stones of Chartres Cathedral--had probably ruffled some conservative feathers in the audience. Most likely, some religious scholar had trailed him home to pick a fight.
"I'm sorry," Langdon said, "but I'm very tired and--"
"Mais monsieur," the concierge pressed, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. "Your guest is an important man."
Langdon had little doubt. His books on religious paintings and cult symbology had made him a reluctant celebrity in the art world, and last year Langdon's visibility had increased a hundred-fold after his involvement in a widely publicized incident at the Vatican. Since then, the stream of self-important historians and art buffs arriving at his door had seemed never-ending.
"If you would be so kind," Langdon said, doing his best to remain polite, "could you take the man's name and number, and tell him I'll try to call him before I leave Paris on Tuesday? Thank you." He hung up before the concierge could protest.
Sitting up now, Langdon frowned at his bedside Guest Relations Handbook, whose cover boasted: SLEEP LIKE A BABY IN THE CITY OF LIGHTS. SLUMBER AT THE PARIS RITZ.
He turned and gazed tiredly into the full-length mirror across the room. The man staring back at him was a stranger--tousled and weary.
You need a vacation, Robert.
The past year had taken a heavy toll on him, but he didn't appreciate seeing proof in the mirror. His usually sharp blue eyes looked hazy and drawn tonight. A dark stubble was shrouding his strong jaw and dimpled chin. Around his temples, the gray highlights were advancing, making their way deeper into his thicket of coarse black hair. Although his female colleagues insisted the gray only accentuated his bookish appeal, Langdon knew better.
If Boston Magazine could see me now.
Last month, much to Langdon's embarrassment, Boston Magazine had listed him as one of that city's top ten most intriguing people--a dubious honor that made him the brunt of endless ribbing by his Harvard colleagues. Tonight, three thousand miles from home, the accolade had resurfaced to haunt him at the lecture he had given.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . ." the hostess had announced to a full-house at The American University of Paris's Pavillon Dauphine, "Our guest tonight needs no introduction. He is the author of numerous books: The Symbology of Secret Sects, The Art of the Illuminati, The Lost Language of Ideograms, and when I say he wrote the book on Religious Iconology, I mean that quite literally. Many of you use his textbooks in class."
The students in the crowd nodded enthusiastically.
"I had planned to introduce him tonight by sharing his impressive curriculum vitae, however . . ." She glanced playfully at Langdon, who was seated onstage. "An audience member has just handed me a far more, shall we say . . . intriguing introduction."
She held up a copy of Boston Magazine.
Langdon cringed. Where the hell did she get that?
The hostess began reading choice excerpts from the inane article, and Langdon felt himself sinking lower and lower in his chair. Thirty seconds later, the crowd was grinning, and the woman showed no signs of letting up. "And Mr. Langdon's refusal to speak publicly about his unusual role in last year's Vatican conclave certainly wins him points on our intrigue-o-meter." The hostess goaded the crowd. "Would you like to hear more?"
The crowd applauded.
Somebody stop her, Langdon pleaded as she dove into the article again.
"Although Professor Langdon might not be considered hunk-handsome like some of our younger awardees, this forty-something academic has more than his share of scholarly allure. His captivating presence is punctuated by an unusually low, baritone speaking voice, which his female students describe as 'chocolate for the ears.''
The hall erupted in laughter.
Langdon forced an awkward smile. He knew what came next--some ridiculous line about "Harrison Ford in Harris tweed"--and because this evening he had figured it was finally safe again to wear his Harris tweed and Burberry turtleneck, he decided to take action.
"Thank you, Monique," Langdon said, standing prematurely and edging her away from the podium. "Boston Magazine clearly has a gift for fiction." He turned to the audience with an embarrassed sigh. "And if I find which one of you provided that article, I'll have the consulate deport you."
The crowd laughed.
"Well, folks, as you all know, I'm here tonight to talk about the power of symbols . . ."
* * *
The ringing of Langdon's hotel phone once again broke the silence.
Groaning in disbelief, he picked up. "Yes?"
As expected, it was the concierge. "Mr. Langdon, again my apologies. I am calling to inform you that your guest is now en route to your room. I thought I should alert you."
Langdon was wide awake now. "You sent someone to my room?"
"I apologize, monsieur, but a man like this . . . I cannot presume the authority to stop him."
"Who exactly is he?"
But the concierge was gone.
Almost immediately, a heavy fist pounded on Langdon's door.
Uncertain, Langdon slid off the bed, feeling his toes sink deep into the savonniere carpet. He donned the hotel bathrobe and moved toward the door. "Who is it?"
"Mr. Langdon? I need to speak with you." The man's English was accented--a sharp, authoritative bark. "My name is Lieutenant Jerome Collet. Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire."
Langdon paused. The Judicial Police? The DCPJ were the rough equivalent of the U.S. FBI.
Leaving the security chain in place, Langdon opened the door a few inches. The face staring back at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally lean, dressed in an official-looking blue uniform.
"May I come in?" the agent asked.
Langdon hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's sallow eyes studied him. "What is this is all about?"
"My capitaine requires your expertise in a private matter."
"Now?" Langdon managed. "It's after midnight."
"Am I correct that you were scheduled to meet with curator of the Louvre this evening? "
Langdon felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. He and the revered curator Jacques Saunière had been slated to meet for drinks after Langdon's lecture tonight, but Saunière had never shown up. "Yes. How did you know that?"
"We found your name in his daily planner."
"I trust nothing is wrong?"
The agent gave a dire sigh and slid a Polaroid snapshot through the narrow opening in the door.
When Langdon saw the photo, his entire body went rigid.
"This photo was taken less than an hour ago. Inside the Louvre."
As Langdon stared at the bizarre image, his initial revulsion and shock gave way to a sudden upwelling of anger. "Who would do this!"
"We had hoped that you might help us answer that very question. Considering your knowledge in symbology and your plans to meet with him."
Langdon stared at the picture, his horror now laced with fear. The image was gruesome and profoundly strange, bringing with it an unsettling sense of deja vu. A little over a year ago, Langdon had received a photograph of a corpse and a similar request for help. Twenty-four hours later, he had almost lost his life inside Vatican City. This photo was entirely different, and yet something about the scenario felt disquietingly familiar.
The agent checked his watch. "My captain is waiting, sir."
Langdon barely heard him. His eyes were still riveted on the picture. "This symbol here, and the way his body is so oddly . . ."
"Positioned?" the agent offered.
Langdon nodded, feeling a chill as he looked up. "I can't imagine who would do this to someone."
The agent looked grim. "You don't understand, Mr. Langdon. What you see in this photograph . . ." He paused. "Monsieur Saunière did that to himself."
2
One mile away, the hulking albino named Silas limped through the front gate of the luxurious brownstone residence on Rue la Bruyere. The spiked cilice belt that he wore around his thigh cut into his flesh, and yet his soul sang with satisfaction of service to the Lord.
Pain is good.
His red eyes scanned the lobby as he entered the residence. Empty. He climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to awaken any of his fellow numeraries. His bedroom door was open; locks were forbidden here. He entered, closing the door behind him.
The room was spartan--hardwood floors, a pine dresser, a canvas mat in the corner that served as his bed. He was a visitor here this week, and yet for many years he had been blessed with a similar sanctuary in New York City.
The Lord has provided me shelter and purpose in my life.
Tonight, at last, Silas felt he had begun to repay his debt. Hurrying to the dresser, he found the cell phone hidden in his bottom drawer and placed a call to a private extension.
"Yes?" a male voice answered.
"Teacher, I have returned."
"Speak," the voice commanded, sounding pleased to hear from him.
"All four are gone. The three sénéchaux . . . and the Grand Master himself."
There was a momentary pause, as if for prayer. "Then I assume you have the information?"
"All four concurred. Independently."
"And you believed them?"
"Their agreement was too great for coincidence."
An excited breath. "Excellent. I had feared the brotherhood's reputation for secrecy might prevail."
"The prospect of death is strong motivation."
"So, my pupil, tell me what I must know."
Silas knew the information he had gleaned from his victims would come as a shock. "Teacher, all four confirmed the existence of the clef de voûte . . . the legendary keystone."
He heard a quick intake of breath over the phone and could feel the Teacher's excitement. "The keystone. Exactly as we suspected."
According to lore, the brotherhood had created a map of stone--a clef de voûte . . . or keystone--an engraved tablet that revealed the final resting place of the brotherhood's greatest secret...information so powerful that its protection was the reason for the brotherhood's very existence.
"When we possess the keystone," the Teacher said, "we will be only one step away."
"We are closer than you think. The keystone is here in Paris."
"Paris? Incredible. It is almost too easy."
Silas relayed the earlier events of the evening . . . how all four of his victims, moments before death, had desperately tried to buy back their godless lives by telling their secret. Each had told Silas the exact same thing--that the keystone was ingeniously hidden at a precise location inside one of Paris's ancient churches--the Eglise de Saint-Sulpice.
"Inside a House of the Lord," the Teacher exclaimed. "How they mock us!"
"As they have for centuries."
The Teacher fell silent, as if letting the triumph of this moment settle over him. Finally, he spoke. "You have done a great service to God. We have waited centuries for this. You must retrieve the stone for me. Immediately. Tonight. You understand the stakes."
Silas knew the stakes were incalculable, and yet what the Teacher was now commanding seemed impossible. "But the cathedral, it is a fortress. Especially at night. How will I enter?"
With the confident tone of man of enormous influence, the Teacher explained what was to be done.
* * *
When Silas hung up the phone, his skin tingled with anticipation.
One hour, he told himself, grateful that the Teacher had given him time to carry out the necessary penance before entering a house of God. I must purge my soul of today's sins. The sins committed today had been Holy in purpose. Acts of war against the enemies of God had been committed for centuries. Forgiveness was assured.
Even so, Silas knew, absolution required sacrifice.
Pulling his shades, he stripped naked and knelt in the center of his room. Looking down, he examined the spiked cilice belt clamped around his thigh. All true followers of The Way wore this device--a leather strap, studded with sharp metal barbs that cut into the flesh as a perpetual reminder of Christ's suffering. The pain caused by the device also helped counteract the desires of the flesh.
Although Silas already had worn his cilice today longer than the requisite two hours, he knew today was no ordinary day. Grasping the buckle, he cinched it one notch tighter, wincing as the barbs dug deeper into his flesh. Exhaling slowly, he savored the cleansing ritual of his pain.
Pain is good, Silas whispered, repeating the sacred mantra of Father Josemaria Escriva--the Teacher of all Teachers. Although Escriva had died in 1975, his wisdom lived on, his words still whispered by thousands of faithful servants around the globe as they knelt on the floor and performed the sacred practice known as "corporal mortification."
Silas turned his attention now to a heavy knotted rope coiled neatly on the floor beside him. The Discipline. The knots were caked with dried blood. Eager for the purifying effects of his own agony, Silas said a quick prayer. Then, gripping one end of the rope, he closed his eyes and swung it hard over his shoulder, feeling the knots slap against his back. He whipped it over his shoulder again, slashing at his flesh. Again and again, he lashed.
Castigo corpus meum.
Finally, he felt the blood begin to flow.
Robert Langdon awoke slowly.
A telephone was ringing in the darkness--a tinny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Squinting at his surroundings he saw a plush Renaissance bedroom with Louis XVI furniture, hand-frescoed walls, and a colossal mahogany four-poster bed.
Where the hell am I?
The jacquard bathrobe hanging on his bedpost bore the monogram:
HOTEL RITZ PARIS.
Slowly, the fog began to lift.
Langdon picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Monsieur Langdon?" a man's voice said. "I hope I have not awoken you?"
Dazed, Langdon looked at the bedside clock. It was 12:32 A.M. He had been asleep only an hour, but he felt like the dead.
"This is the concierge, monsieur. I apologize for this intrusion, but you have a visitor. He insists it is urgent."
Langdon still felt fuzzy. A visitor? His eyes focused now on a crumpled flyer on his bedside table.
THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY OF PARIS
proudly presents
An evening with Robert Langdon
Professor of Religious Symbology, Harvard University
Langdon groaned. Tonight's lecture--a slide show about pagan symbolism hidden in the stones of Chartres Cathedral--had probably ruffled some conservative feathers in the audience. Most likely, some religious scholar had trailed him home to pick a fight.
"I'm sorry," Langdon said, "but I'm very tired and--"
"Mais monsieur," the concierge pressed, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. "Your guest is an important man."
Langdon had little doubt. His books on religious paintings and cult symbology had made him a reluctant celebrity in the art world, and last year Langdon's visibility had increased a hundred-fold after his involvement in a widely publicized incident at the Vatican. Since then, the stream of self-important historians and art buffs arriving at his door had seemed never-ending.
"If you would be so kind," Langdon said, doing his best to remain polite, "could you take the man's name and number, and tell him I'll try to call him before I leave Paris on Tuesday? Thank you." He hung up before the concierge could protest.
Sitting up now, Langdon frowned at his bedside Guest Relations Handbook, whose cover boasted: SLEEP LIKE A BABY IN THE CITY OF LIGHTS. SLUMBER AT THE PARIS RITZ.
He turned and gazed tiredly into the full-length mirror across the room. The man staring back at him was a stranger--tousled and weary.
You need a vacation, Robert.
The past year had taken a heavy toll on him, but he didn't appreciate seeing proof in the mirror. His usually sharp blue eyes looked hazy and drawn tonight. A dark stubble was shrouding his strong jaw and dimpled chin. Around his temples, the gray highlights were advancing, making their way deeper into his thicket of coarse black hair. Although his female colleagues insisted the gray only accentuated his bookish appeal, Langdon knew better.
If Boston Magazine could see me now.
Last month, much to Langdon's embarrassment, Boston Magazine had listed him as one of that city's top ten most intriguing people--a dubious honor that made him the brunt of endless ribbing by his Harvard colleagues. Tonight, three thousand miles from home, the accolade had resurfaced to haunt him at the lecture he had given.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . ." the hostess had announced to a full-house at The American University of Paris's Pavillon Dauphine, "Our guest tonight needs no introduction. He is the author of numerous books: The Symbology of Secret Sects, The Art of the Illuminati, The Lost Language of Ideograms, and when I say he wrote the book on Religious Iconology, I mean that quite literally. Many of you use his textbooks in class."
The students in the crowd nodded enthusiastically.
"I had planned to introduce him tonight by sharing his impressive curriculum vitae, however . . ." She glanced playfully at Langdon, who was seated onstage. "An audience member has just handed me a far more, shall we say . . . intriguing introduction."
She held up a copy of Boston Magazine.
Langdon cringed. Where the hell did she get that?
The hostess began reading choice excerpts from the inane article, and Langdon felt himself sinking lower and lower in his chair. Thirty seconds later, the crowd was grinning, and the woman showed no signs of letting up. "And Mr. Langdon's refusal to speak publicly about his unusual role in last year's Vatican conclave certainly wins him points on our intrigue-o-meter." The hostess goaded the crowd. "Would you like to hear more?"
The crowd applauded.
Somebody stop her, Langdon pleaded as she dove into the article again.
"Although Professor Langdon might not be considered hunk-handsome like some of our younger awardees, this forty-something academic has more than his share of scholarly allure. His captivating presence is punctuated by an unusually low, baritone speaking voice, which his female students describe as 'chocolate for the ears.''
The hall erupted in laughter.
Langdon forced an awkward smile. He knew what came next--some ridiculous line about "Harrison Ford in Harris tweed"--and because this evening he had figured it was finally safe again to wear his Harris tweed and Burberry turtleneck, he decided to take action.
"Thank you, Monique," Langdon said, standing prematurely and edging her away from the podium. "Boston Magazine clearly has a gift for fiction." He turned to the audience with an embarrassed sigh. "And if I find which one of you provided that article, I'll have the consulate deport you."
The crowd laughed.
"Well, folks, as you all know, I'm here tonight to talk about the power of symbols . . ."
* * *
The ringing of Langdon's hotel phone once again broke the silence.
Groaning in disbelief, he picked up. "Yes?"
As expected, it was the concierge. "Mr. Langdon, again my apologies. I am calling to inform you that your guest is now en route to your room. I thought I should alert you."
Langdon was wide awake now. "You sent someone to my room?"
"I apologize, monsieur, but a man like this . . . I cannot presume the authority to stop him."
"Who exactly is he?"
But the concierge was gone.
Almost immediately, a heavy fist pounded on Langdon's door.
Uncertain, Langdon slid off the bed, feeling his toes sink deep into the savonniere carpet. He donned the hotel bathrobe and moved toward the door. "Who is it?"
"Mr. Langdon? I need to speak with you." The man's English was accented--a sharp, authoritative bark. "My name is Lieutenant Jerome Collet. Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire."
Langdon paused. The Judicial Police? The DCPJ were the rough equivalent of the U.S. FBI.
Leaving the security chain in place, Langdon opened the door a few inches. The face staring back at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally lean, dressed in an official-looking blue uniform.
"May I come in?" the agent asked.
Langdon hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's sallow eyes studied him. "What is this is all about?"
"My capitaine requires your expertise in a private matter."
"Now?" Langdon managed. "It's after midnight."
"Am I correct that you were scheduled to meet with curator of the Louvre this evening? "
Langdon felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. He and the revered curator Jacques Saunière had been slated to meet for drinks after Langdon's lecture tonight, but Saunière had never shown up. "Yes. How did you know that?"
"We found your name in his daily planner."
"I trust nothing is wrong?"
The agent gave a dire sigh and slid a Polaroid snapshot through the narrow opening in the door.
When Langdon saw the photo, his entire body went rigid.
"This photo was taken less than an hour ago. Inside the Louvre."
As Langdon stared at the bizarre image, his initial revulsion and shock gave way to a sudden upwelling of anger. "Who would do this!"
"We had hoped that you might help us answer that very question. Considering your knowledge in symbology and your plans to meet with him."
Langdon stared at the picture, his horror now laced with fear. The image was gruesome and profoundly strange, bringing with it an unsettling sense of deja vu. A little over a year ago, Langdon had received a photograph of a corpse and a similar request for help. Twenty-four hours later, he had almost lost his life inside Vatican City. This photo was entirely different, and yet something about the scenario felt disquietingly familiar.
The agent checked his watch. "My captain is waiting, sir."
Langdon barely heard him. His eyes were still riveted on the picture. "This symbol here, and the way his body is so oddly . . ."
"Positioned?" the agent offered.
Langdon nodded, feeling a chill as he looked up. "I can't imagine who would do this to someone."
The agent looked grim. "You don't understand, Mr. Langdon. What you see in this photograph . . ." He paused. "Monsieur Saunière did that to himself."
2
One mile away, the hulking albino named Silas limped through the front gate of the luxurious brownstone residence on Rue la Bruyere. The spiked cilice belt that he wore around his thigh cut into his flesh, and yet his soul sang with satisfaction of service to the Lord.
Pain is good.
His red eyes scanned the lobby as he entered the residence. Empty. He climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to awaken any of his fellow numeraries. His bedroom door was open; locks were forbidden here. He entered, closing the door behind him.
The room was spartan--hardwood floors, a pine dresser, a canvas mat in the corner that served as his bed. He was a visitor here this week, and yet for many years he had been blessed with a similar sanctuary in New York City.
The Lord has provided me shelter and purpose in my life.
Tonight, at last, Silas felt he had begun to repay his debt. Hurrying to the dresser, he found the cell phone hidden in his bottom drawer and placed a call to a private extension.
"Yes?" a male voice answered.
"Teacher, I have returned."
"Speak," the voice commanded, sounding pleased to hear from him.
"All four are gone. The three sénéchaux . . . and the Grand Master himself."
There was a momentary pause, as if for prayer. "Then I assume you have the information?"
"All four concurred. Independently."
"And you believed them?"
"Their agreement was too great for coincidence."
An excited breath. "Excellent. I had feared the brotherhood's reputation for secrecy might prevail."
"The prospect of death is strong motivation."
"So, my pupil, tell me what I must know."
Silas knew the information he had gleaned from his victims would come as a shock. "Teacher, all four confirmed the existence of the clef de voûte . . . the legendary keystone."
He heard a quick intake of breath over the phone and could feel the Teacher's excitement. "The keystone. Exactly as we suspected."
According to lore, the brotherhood had created a map of stone--a clef de voûte . . . or keystone--an engraved tablet that revealed the final resting place of the brotherhood's greatest secret...information so powerful that its protection was the reason for the brotherhood's very existence.
"When we possess the keystone," the Teacher said, "we will be only one step away."
"We are closer than you think. The keystone is here in Paris."
"Paris? Incredible. It is almost too easy."
Silas relayed the earlier events of the evening . . . how all four of his victims, moments before death, had desperately tried to buy back their godless lives by telling their secret. Each had told Silas the exact same thing--that the keystone was ingeniously hidden at a precise location inside one of Paris's ancient churches--the Eglise de Saint-Sulpice.
"Inside a House of the Lord," the Teacher exclaimed. "How they mock us!"
"As they have for centuries."
The Teacher fell silent, as if letting the triumph of this moment settle over him. Finally, he spoke. "You have done a great service to God. We have waited centuries for this. You must retrieve the stone for me. Immediately. Tonight. You understand the stakes."
Silas knew the stakes were incalculable, and yet what the Teacher was now commanding seemed impossible. "But the cathedral, it is a fortress. Especially at night. How will I enter?"
With the confident tone of man of enormous influence, the Teacher explained what was to be done.
* * *
When Silas hung up the phone, his skin tingled with anticipation.
One hour, he told himself, grateful that the Teacher had given him time to carry out the necessary penance before entering a house of God. I must purge my soul of today's sins. The sins committed today had been Holy in purpose. Acts of war against the enemies of God had been committed for centuries. Forgiveness was assured.
Even so, Silas knew, absolution required sacrifice.
Pulling his shades, he stripped naked and knelt in the center of his room. Looking down, he examined the spiked cilice belt clamped around his thigh. All true followers of The Way wore this device--a leather strap, studded with sharp metal barbs that cut into the flesh as a perpetual reminder of Christ's suffering. The pain caused by the device also helped counteract the desires of the flesh.
Although Silas already had worn his cilice today longer than the requisite two hours, he knew today was no ordinary day. Grasping the buckle, he cinched it one notch tighter, wincing as the barbs dug deeper into his flesh. Exhaling slowly, he savored the cleansing ritual of his pain.
Pain is good, Silas whispered, repeating the sacred mantra of Father Josemaria Escriva--the Teacher of all Teachers. Although Escriva had died in 1975, his wisdom lived on, his words still whispered by thousands of faithful servants around the globe as they knelt on the floor and performed the sacred practice known as "corporal mortification."
Silas turned his attention now to a heavy knotted rope coiled neatly on the floor beside him. The Discipline. The knots were caked with dried blood. Eager for the purifying effects of his own agony, Silas said a quick prayer. Then, gripping one end of the rope, he closed his eyes and swung it hard over his shoulder, feeling the knots slap against his back. He whipped it over his shoulder again, slashing at his flesh. Again and again, he lashed.
Castigo corpus meum.
Finally, he felt the blood begin to flow.
著者について
DAN BROWN is the author of numerous #1 international bestsellers, including The Da Vinci Code, Inferno, The Lost Symbol, Angels & Demons, Deception Point, and Digital Fortress.
登録情報
- 出版社 : Doubleday (2003/3/18)
- 発売日 : 2003/3/18
- 言語 : 英語
- ハードカバー : 464ページ
- ISBN-10 : 0385504209
- ISBN-13 : 978-0385504201
- 寸法 : 16.36 x 3.25 x 24.23 cm
- Amazon 売れ筋ランキング: - 5,000位洋書 (洋書の売れ筋ランキングを見る)
- - 91位Suspense Thrillers
- - 1,242位Literature & Fiction (洋書)
- カスタマーレビュー:
著者について
著者をフォローして、新作のアップデートや改善されたおすすめを入手してください。
Dan Brown is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Da Vinci Code and, previously, Digital Fortress, Deception Point, and Angels and Demons. He is a graduate of Amherst College and Phillips Exeter Academy, where he spent time as an English teacher before turning his efforts fully to writing. He lives in New England with his wife.
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トップレビュー
上位レビュー、対象国: 日本
レビューのフィルタリング中に問題が発生しました。後でもう一度試してください。
2005年7月29日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
2004年5月6日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
聖杯伝説(Holy Grail)の真実を、ミステリーの中で少しずつあらわにしていくという内容はクリスチャンではない日本人には難しい内容ではありますが、殺害者の孫であるソフィーに、ラングドンが少しずつ暗号理論も含めて明らかにしていく中で、「えっそうなの?」と驚かされることがたくさんある本です。
歴史には興味があるけれども、あえて堅苦しい歴史小説を読むのは・・・という人には、ミステリー調で話が進むのでとっても面白いと思います。ただ、キリスト教に詳しくない私のような人間には、語彙的に難しいところはところどころありました。あまり細かいところまで深く考えずにさらっと一気読みするのがお勧めです。
歴史には興味があるけれども、あえて堅苦しい歴史小説を読むのは・・・という人には、ミステリー調で話が進むのでとっても面白いと思います。ただ、キリスト教に詳しくない私のような人間には、語彙的に難しいところはところどころありました。あまり細かいところまで深く考えずにさらっと一気読みするのがお勧めです。
2004年6月24日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
ルーブル美術館の老館長が殺害された。彼の孫娘でフランス警察の暗号解読捜査官のソフィーと、殺害容疑をかけられた宗教象徴学の教授ラングドンは、警察に追われながら犯人探しを始めるが、背後にローマ・カトリック教会の陰謀やダヴィンチの絵に隠された暗号が次々と明らかになり……。何年か前、「最後の晩餐」の修復に伴い、ダヴィンチが残した謎という同じ題材のドキュメンタリーを見ていたので、内容的にはさほど目新しくなかったのですが、小説としては非常に面白かったです。冒頭から一気に加速するので、勢いよく読めました。脇を固める登場人物は、なかなか味があってよかったのですが、主人公であるはずのラングドンの描写がいまいちだったので、★4つにしました。ちなみに、みなさまのレビューを読んで知ったのですが、翻訳版には挿絵でダヴィンチの絵が入ってるのですね。原書にはないので、ネットで検索しちゃいました……。
2004年12月14日に日本でレビュー済み
Ok I finally read the hottest book since the bible! Let me start by saying I am not a Christian and I find this book to be absolutely amazingly fun read. The United States was not founded on just Christian freedom, but freedom for all. The DaVinci Code takes some truth, adds some thrills and fiction, to make a fun read. It is based in fact, while pieces are true it may not add up to be a whole truth, it does not claim to. It is true that experts critique the book because of it's factual mistakes, however, the book has people interested. It has taken hold of the public and sparked people to look into the truth. Everything in today's society is critiqued and reviewed, look at the late night television. The 泥a Vinci Code'is no different, except that it challenges the majority religion. Just like the movie Stigmata this book raises important questions and convinces people to look more closely at their own religion instead of accepting the dogma that is handed out. The Lord may be our Shepard, but that doesn't mean we have to be sheep and have no brains of our own. Anything that challenges the popular view is going to come in for criticism, it's in the fiction section for a reason. If you want to read a great archeological thriller/mystery set in the New World check out 鄭 Tourist in the Yucatan'fun read!
2004年8月16日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
もう読んでいてとまりません。ソニエーの死。その孫娘と友人ロングトン日本語で読む前に、原書でまず読むことをお勧めします。PAGANとCHRISTIANITY、モナリザの秘密。そして最後の晩餐とは・・・・・
おたのしみください。(^o^)
おたのしみください。(^o^)
2005年1月1日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
I finished reading "The Davinci Code" after a quite long absence. Being busy with my job unabled me to keep reading the story. "This is pure genius." said New York Times? That I doubt.
The most disappinting part is Bishop Manuel Arigarossa's behaviour, or rather how the author, Dan Brown, describes the religious man. Arigarossa bargains first with 'the Teacher' and then with Captain Bezu Fache both too easily. As for the first dealing, I can hardly understand why separating Opus Dei from Catholic Church meant so much to him. For instance, in real Japanese society, Soka-gakkai get independent, or was forced to get independent(?), Nichiren-shu. That looks to have caused almost no serious damages or difficulties on Soka-gakkai. It may be because I am not a Christian that I cannot sense the stress or pressure Arigarossa has got. A Christian reader could help me understand that.
The most disappinting part is Bishop Manuel Arigarossa's behaviour, or rather how the author, Dan Brown, describes the religious man. Arigarossa bargains first with 'the Teacher' and then with Captain Bezu Fache both too easily. As for the first dealing, I can hardly understand why separating Opus Dei from Catholic Church meant so much to him. For instance, in real Japanese society, Soka-gakkai get independent, or was forced to get independent(?), Nichiren-shu. That looks to have caused almost no serious damages or difficulties on Soka-gakkai. It may be because I am not a Christian that I cannot sense the stress or pressure Arigarossa has got. A Christian reader could help me understand that.
2005年6月7日に日本でレビュー済み
Clever! It was an exciting book to read.
However, ???s about the depiction of Christ. It was a shocking thing to read.
The ending put me down a little, but overall EXCELLENT!
However, ???s about the depiction of Christ. It was a shocking thing to read.
The ending put me down a little, but overall EXCELLENT!
2006年4月24日に日本でレビュー済み
フ主人公(そのように書かれています)、英語
を話すフランス美人の暗号学者、しかもシリーズの内の一作という
だけで「またまた似たような」と読む気が失せかけましたが、序盤の
方でオリンピックの開催周期と金星の関係の話が出てくるに及んで
むむっと唸らされ、'れよ'れよと読まされてしまい満足でした。
映画的なスリルもさることながら、やはり今まで隠れていたような
知識(作者のでっち上げではない)が次々とアクションの最中に繰り
出されてくるところが類書(宗教サスペンスの類)を圧倒的に引き
離しています。文庫化され映画もまもなく公開されるということで、
種明かしが広まらないうちに読まれることを勧めます。もう広まって
いるかもしれませんが、それでも楽しめる構成です。..
try-Giorgio Kostantinos-The Quest.
を話すフランス美人の暗号学者、しかもシリーズの内の一作という
だけで「またまた似たような」と読む気が失せかけましたが、序盤の
方でオリンピックの開催周期と金星の関係の話が出てくるに及んで
むむっと唸らされ、'れよ'れよと読まされてしまい満足でした。
映画的なスリルもさることながら、やはり今まで隠れていたような
知識(作者のでっち上げではない)が次々とアクションの最中に繰り
出されてくるところが類書(宗教サスペンスの類)を圧倒的に引き
離しています。文庫化され映画もまもなく公開されるということで、
種明かしが広まらないうちに読まれることを勧めます。もう広まって
いるかもしれませんが、それでも楽しめる構成です。..
try-Giorgio Kostantinos-The Quest.
他の国からのトップレビュー
MF
5つ星のうち5.0
Book.
2024年4月24日にカナダでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
The book is intended to be a gift. Came in a timely manner and in excellent condition
Luz Maria Gama
5つ星のうち5.0
Te atrapa!
2021年7月20日にメキシコでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
No pude parar de leer ! Empecé temprano y llegó la madrugada sin sentir! Dan Brown es un excelente narrador !
Dijo Ann Johns
5つ星のうち5.0
Too Good
2021年9月3日にインドでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
HardCover. Good Condition
Dijo Ann Johns
2021年9月3日にインドでレビュー済み
このレビューの画像
Priyanka DAVE
5つ星のうち5.0
Fast read
2019年5月30日にフランスでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
You read it in one go. Can’t stop.
sal
5つ星のうち5.0
magnifico
2015年11月23日にイタリアでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
superbo libro per chiunque ami il genere . L'autore resta uno dei miei preferiti con questo libro ed angeli e demoni . Consiglio