"I never hear the word "escape"
Without a quicker blood,
A sudden expectation,
A flying attitude.
I never hear of prisons broad
By soldiers battered down,
But I tug childish at my bars,-
Only to fail again!"
"What do you mean, HE'S GONE!"
The desk clerks in the waiting room fell silent as Robert Langdon's yell was heard from down the hall. Giving one another a look, they both went back to work, but not before turning thier eyes to Sophie to see her reaction.
Sitting by the large bay window of the waiting room, the morning sunlight filtered through the leaded glass and draped across Sophie like a cloak of light. Some of the faint sunbeams reflected off of her dark hair, creating a soft halo about her face. With her eyes staring unblinking out the window, this is how Robert found her, and the irony of the almost otherworldy visage didn't escape him.
"Sophie..." he said, trying to get her attention. The way her eyes were glazed caused his stomach to twist. "Sophie?"
She barely heard his words. Inside her mind, Sophie was viciously calling herself a fool in every language she could think of, and inside her heart she felt a sense of loss she couldn't quite place. The sun had only risen five hours earlier, and already the day seemed like a total disaster. Lieutenant Thomas, a fairly new man on the Police Nationale, had been waiting for her and Robert when they arrived at the hospital, his face set in a scowl that wrinkled his young face into something like a bulldog.
"It seems that Monsieur Silas was in better shape than we had thought," he had growled, adding to his houndish features. "You best come inside..."
"Alright," Robert replied, following the officer towards the room. When she didn't go with, he had given her a look. "Coming, Sophie?"
"If it's all the same, I'll wait here," she muttered, wanting to stay away from the police.
The park across the street glittered with golden light. Sophie frowned, staring through the trees towards the horizon. Where was he, she found herself wondering, when his body was still fragile from his injuries? She blinked, hugging her purse to her chest and wishing that she knew.
"Sophie!"
Jumping a bit in her seat, Sophie turned and looked up at Robert. "Oh, I didn't see you there," she said absently, knowing it sounded lame.
He raised an eyebrow. "I noticed that. Are you feeling okay...?"
"I'm fine. I'm just...thinking."
His other eyebrow raised. "About?"
That was dangerous. "What happened to Silas?" she asked, changing subjects...almost.
"Good question," Robert sighed. He flopped down onto a chair across from her, eyes locked onto her. "Apparently, the Opus Dei's claims about having members everywhere is true. One of the doctors checked our dear Silas out to some sort of caretaker last night...shortly after we left the hospital."
Sophie rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. Robert had come to pick her up only minutes after nine o' clock, taking her out to a dinner and then to her home. Had Silas known that member of the Opus Dei were so close? Had he known all along that by the time she returned, he would have vanished? A flicker of anger washed over her; she had been tricked. The worst part was that she didn't know why it angered her so. It should have been expected...
"But that's not the strange part. They found this on the bed."
Anger faded into interest as Robert pulled a small, folded piece of paper from his leather jacket. He held it out to her, and Sophie immediately felt her heart give a hard thump as she saw her name written in red across the front with smooth, sharp cursive. It was folded in such a way as to not need glue nor wax, almost artistic and oriental in appearance. After looking it over once more, she carefully unfolded the paper.
"Mist elle mene mare ei," she read, eyebrows furrowing.
"What?"
"That's what it says. 'Mist elle mene mare ei.'"
Robert took the note from her hands and stared at the writing, then handed it back to her and steepled his fingers. "It seems French. Does it have any meaning to you?"
Mist elle mene mare ei. Mist elle mene mare ei. Mist elle mene mare ei...
"Well," Sophie started, pointing to the words as she went along. "Elle means 'it.' Mare means 'pond.' It doesn't make sense."
Stroking his chin, the man looked over her shoulder and out the window. "Strange...but there has to be some reason, otherwise why would he leave a note at all?"
Melle ist mene mare ei... Meet ills mene mare ei... Meet me inlls mare ei...Meet...me...in...
"Son of a bitch," Sophie whispered, scrambling to grab her coat and purse, and almost tripping over Robert in her hurry to get up. "Son of a bitch, I know what it means!"
He jumped up at the same time as she, following close behind her as she ran to the door. "What? What is it?"
"Annagram!" she breathed, running towards her black Mercedes car. "Listen, you stay with the police and try to find out who got Silas out of here. I'm going to find him and--"
"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Robert said, grabbing her door as she slid into the driver's seat. "Let me go with you. It's not safe."
Tightening her hand around the handle of the door, Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Robert. Why are you so scared to let me go?"
Silent for a time, he looked up and away. "Why does he have such an interest in you all of a sudden?"
"Is that what this is about...you're jealous? For Christ's sake, why does it matter why he has an interest in me? Why should I care?"
Letting go of the door, he stepped back and leveled his gaze at her. "Why should you care... What worries me," he said quietly, his eyes flickering with concern, "is why you think you shouldn't."
She couldn't reply, words caught in her throat. The two remained in silence for a moment, and Robert gave her a tiny, faint smile before turning and walking back towards the hospital.
"Call me," he called over his shoulder.
Sophie watched him go, a cold feeling creeping up her spine. Her mouth set in a firm line, and she slammed the door shut, but sat for a moment in thought. Robert's words had struck a nerve, and she was frightened to not know the reason. Finally, she sighed, turning the car on and heading towards the road. Hopefully, she would know soon enough.
Nearly a thousand miles away, Silas stood at the doors of the chapel in Marseille, eyes half-closed from fatigue. His midnight-colored cloak hid the blood-soaked bandages that wound about his abdomen, but nothing could hide the pain etched across his face, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. Any other day, he would have welcomed the ache of his wounds...pain was good. But today, just for today...
"Will she come here?"
Silas turned to look over his shoulder, forcing his expression to remain neutral as he looked at the hooded figure. "She will come. I am sure of it."
The figure stood still, then waved his hand. "Let us go inside. You must rest before your task."
Bowing his head, the albino monk began to follow the man. Silas looked up before shutting the chapel door, casting his gaze outwards to the city. For several, quiet moments, he looked out into the sky towards London. With a barely audible sigh, he shut the door and glided towards the heart of the building.
Today... just for today... the pain was unbearable.
