CHAPTER 12
The consulate knows I’m here?
For Langdon, the news brought an instantaneous flood of relief.
Mr. Collins—who had introduced himself as the consul general’s chief administrator—spoke with a firm, professional cadence, and yet there was urgency in his voice. “Mr. Langdon, you and I need to speak immediately. And obviously not on the phone.”
Nothing was obvious to Langdon at this point, but he wasn’t about to interrupt.
“I’ll have someone pick you up right away,” Collins said. “What is your location?”
Sienna shifted nervously, listening to the interchange on speakerphone. Langdon gave her a reassuring nod, fully intending to follow her plan exactly.
“I’m in a small hotel called Pensione la Fiorentina,” Langdon said, glancing across the street at the drab hotel that Sienna had pointed out moments ago. He gave Collins the street address.
“Got it,” the man replied. “Don’t move. Stay in your room. Someone will be there right away. Room number?”
Langdon made one up. “Thirty-nine.”
“Okay. Twenty minutes.” Collins lowered his voice. “And, Mr. Langdon, it sounds like you may be injured and confused, but I need to know … are you still in possession?”
In possession. Langdon sensed the question, while cryptic, could have only one meaning. His eyes moved to the biotube on the kitchen table. “Yes, sir. I’m still in possession.”
Collins exhaled audibly. “When we didn’t hear from you, we assumed … well, frankly, we assumed the worst. I’m relieved. Stay where you are. Don’t move. Twenty minutes. Someone will knock on your door.”
Collins hung up.
Langdon could feel his shoulders relaxing for the first time since he’d woken up in the hospital. The consulate knows what’s going on, and soon I’ll have answers. Langdon closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, feeling almost human now. His headache had all but passed.
“Well, that was all very MI6,” Sienna said in a half-joking tone. “Are you a spy?”
At the moment Langdon had no idea what he was. The notion that he could lose two days of memory and find himself in an unrecognizable situation felt incomprehensible, and yet here he was … twenty minutes away from a rendezvous with a U.S. Consulate official in a run-down hotel.
What’s happening here?
He glanced over at Sienna, realizing they were about to part ways and yet feeling as if they had unfinished business. He pictured the bearded doctor at the hospital, dying on the floor before her eyes. “Sienna,” he whispered, “your friend … Dr. Marconi … I feel terrible.”
She nodded blankly.
“And I’m sorry to have dragged you into this. I know your situation at the hospital is unusual, and if there’s an investigation …” He trailed off.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m no stranger to moving around.”
Langdon sensed in Sienna’s distant eyes that everything had changed for her this morning. Langdon’s own life was in chaos at the moment, and yet he felt his heart going out to this woman.
She saved my life … and I’ve ruined hers.
They sat in silence for a full minute, the air between them growing heavy, as if they both wanted to speak, and yet had nothing to say. They were strangers, after all, on a brief and bizarre journey that had just reached a fork in the road, each of them now needing to find separate paths.
“Sienna,” Langdon finally said, “when I sort this out with the consulate, if there’s anything I can do to help you … please.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, and turned her eyes sadly toward the window.
As the minutes ticked past, Sienna Brooks gazed absently out the kitchen window and wondered where the day would lead her. Wherever it was, she had no doubt that by day’s end, her world would look a lot different.
She knew it was probably just the adrenaline, but she found herself strangely attracted to the American professor. In addition to his being handsome, he seemed to possess a sincerely good heart. In some distant, alternate life, Robert Langdon might even be someone she could be with.
He would never want me, she thought. I’m damaged.
As she choked back the emotion, something outside the window caught her eye. She bolted upright, pressing her face to the glass and staring down into the street. “Robert, look!”
Langdon peered down into the street at the sleek black BMW motorcycle that had just rumbled to a stop in front of Pensione la Fiorentina. The driver was lean and strong, wearing a black leather suit and helmet. As the driver gracefully swung off the bike and removed a polished black helmet, Sienna could hear Langdon stop breathing.
The woman’s spiked hair was unmistakable.
She produced a familiar handgun, checked the silencer, and slid it back inside her jacket pocket. Then, moving with lethal grace, she slipped inside the hotel.
“Robert,” Sienna whispered, her voice taut with fear. “The U.S. government just sent someone to kill you.”