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The
fog
made
it
look
like
heaven
here
.
Raising
his
bloody
hands
to
pray
,
he
watched
the
raindrops
caress
his
fingers
,
turning
them
white
again
.
As
the
droplets
fell
harder
across
his
back
and
shoulders
,
he
could
feel
his
body
disappearing
bit
by
bit
into
the
mist
.
I
am
a
ghost
.
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A
breeze
rustled
past
him
,
carrying
the
damp
,
earthy
scent
of
new
life
.
With
every
living
cell
in
his
broken
body
,
Silas
prayed
.
He
prayed
for
forgiveness
.
He
prayed
for
mercy
.
And
,
above
all
,
he
prayed
for
his
mentor
Bishop
Aringarosa
that
the
Lord
would
not
take
him
before
his
time
.
Hehas
so
much
work
left
to
do
.
The
fog
was
swirling
around
him
now
,
and
Silas
felt
so
light
that
he
was
sure
the
wisps
would
carry
him
away
.
Closing
his
eyes
,
he
said
a
final
prayer
.
From
somewhere
in
the
mist
,
the
voice
of
Manuel
Aringarosa
whispered
to
him
.
Our
Lord
is
a
good
and
merciful
God
.
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Silas
s
pain
at
last
began
to
fade
,
and
he
knew
the
bishop
was
right
.
It
was
late
afternoon
when
the
London
sun
broke
through
and
the
city
began
to
dry
.
Bezu
Fache
felt
weary
as
he
emerged
from
the
interrogation
room
and
hailed
a
cab
.
Sir
Leigh
Teabing
had
vociferously
proclaimed
his
innocence
,
and
yet
from
his
incoherent
rantings
about
the
Holy
Grail
,
secret
documents
,
and
mysterious
brotherhoods
,
Fache
suspected
the
wily
historian
was
setting
the
stage
for
his
lawyers
to
plead
an
insanity
defense
.
Sure
,
Fache
thought
.
Insane
.
Teabing
had
displayed
ingenious
precision
in
formulating
a
plan
that
protected
his
innocence
at
every
turn
.
He
had
exploited
both
the
Vatican
and
Opus
Dei
,
two
groups
that
turned
out
to
be
completely
innocent
.
His
dirty
work
had
been
carried
out
unknowingly
by
a
fanatical
monk
and
a
desperate
bishop
.
More
clever
still
,
Teabing
had
situated
his
electronic
listening
post
in
the
one
place
a
man
with
polio
could
not
possibly
reach
.
The
actual
surveillance
had
been
carried
out
by
his
manservant
,
Rémy
the
lone
person
privy
to
Teabing
s
true
identity
now
conveniently
dead
of
an
allergic
reaction
.