Dan Brown - Origin

Fonseca should have returned by now.

When the phone in his pocket began vibrating, he thought it was probably Fonseca calling him, but when he checked the caller ID, Díaz saw a name he had never expected to see.

Mónica Martín

He could not imagine what the PR coordinator wanted, but whatever it was, she should be calling Fonseca directly. He is lead agent on this team.

“Hello,” he answered. “This is Díaz.”

“Agent Díaz, this is Mónica Martín. I have someone here who needs to speak to you.”

A moment later, a strong familiar voice came on the line. “Agent Díaz, this is Commander Garza. Please assure me that Ms. Vidal is safe.”

“Yes, Commander,” Díaz blurted, feeling himself bolt to attention at the sound of Garza’s voice. “Ms. Vidal is perfectly safe. Agent Fonseca and I are currently with her and safely situated inside—”

“Not on an open phone line,” Garza interrupted forcefully. “If she is in a safe location, keep her there. Don’t move. I’m relieved to hear your voice. We tried to phone Agent Fonseca, but there was no answer. Is he with you?”

“Yes, sir. He stepped away to make a call but should return—”

“I don’t have time to wait. I’m being detained at the moment, and Ms. Martín has loaned me her phone. Listen to me very carefully. The kidnapping story, as you were no doubt aware, was wholly false. It put Ms. Vidal at great risk.”

You have no idea , Díaz thought, recalling the chaotic scene on the roof of Casa Milà.

“Equally untrue is the report that I framed Bishop Valdespino.”

“I had imagined as much, sir, but—”

“Ms. Martín and I are trying to figure out how best to manage this situation, but until we do, you need to keep the future queen out of the public eye. Is that clear?”

“Of course, sir. But who issued the order?”

“I cannot tell you that over the phone. Just do as I ask, and keep Ambra Vidal away from the media and away from danger. Ms. Martín will keep you apprised of further developments.”

Garza hung up, and Díaz stood alone in the darkness, trying to make sense of the call.

As he reached inside his blazer to slide the phone back into his pocket, he heard a rustle of fabric behind him. As he turned, two pale hands emerged from the blackness and clamped down hard on Díaz’s head. With blinding speed, the hands wrenched hard to one side.

Díaz felt his neck snap and a searing heat erupt inside his skull.

Then, all went black.

ConspiracyNet.com

BREAKING NEWS

Madrid palace PR coordinator Mónica Martín made an official statement earlier claiming that Spain’s queen-to-be Ambra Vidal was kidnapped and is being held captive by American professor Robert Langdon. The palace urged local authorities to get involved and find the queen.

Civilian watchdog monte@iglesia.org has just sent us the following statement:

PALACE’S KIDNAPPING ALLEGATION 100 % BOGUS — A PLOY TO USE LOCAL POLICE TO STOP LANGDON FROM ACHIEVING HIS GOAL IN BARCELONA (LANGDON/VIDAL BELIEVE THEY CAN STILL FIND WAY TO TRIGGER WORLDWIDE RELEASE OF KIRSCH DISCOVERY). IF THEY SUCCEED, KIRSCH PRESENTATION COULD GO LIVE AT ANY MOMENT. STAY TUNED.

Incredible! And you heard it here first — Langdon and Vidal are on the run because they want to finish what Edmond Kirsch started! The palace appears desperate to stop them. (Valdespino again? And where is the prince in all of this?)

More news as we have it, but stay tuned because Kirsch’s secrets might still be revealed tonight!

Prince Julián gazed out of the acolyte’s Opel sedan at the passing countryside and tried to make sense of the bishop’s strange behavior.

Valdespino is hiding something.

It had been over an hour since the bishop had covertly ushered Julián out of the palace — a highly irregular action — assuring him it was for his own safety.

He asked me not to question... only to trust.

The bishop had always been like an uncle to him, and a trusted confidant of Julián’s father. But Valdespino’s proposal of hiding out in the prince’s summerhouse had sounded dubious to Julián from the start. Something is off. I’m being isolated — no phone, no security, no news, and nobody knows where I am.

Now, as the car bumped over the railroad tracks near Casita del Príncipe, Julián gazed down the wooded road before them. A hundred yards ahead on the left loomed the mouth of the long, tree-lined driveway that led to the remote cottage retreat.

As Julián pictured the deserted residence, he felt a sudden instinct for caution. He leaned forward and placed a firm hand on the shoulder of the acolyte behind the wheel. “Pull over here, please.”

Valdespino turned, surprised. “We’re almost—”

“I want to know what’s going on!” the prince barked, his voice loud inside the small car.

“Don Julián, tonight has been tumultuous, but you must—”

“I must trust you?” Julián demanded.

“Yes.”

Julián squeezed the shoulder of the young driver and pointed to a grassy shoulder on the deserted country road. “Pull over,” he ordered sharply.

“Keep going,” Valdespino countered. “Don Julián, I’ll explain—”

“ Stop the car! ” the prince bellowed.

The acolyte swerved onto the shoulder, skidding to a stop on the grass.

“Give us some privacy, please,” Julián ordered, his heart beating fast.

The acolyte did not need to be told twice. He leaped out of the idling car and hurried off into the darkness, leaving Valdespino and Julián alone in the backseat.

In the pale moonlight, Valdespino looked suddenly frightened.

“You should be scared,” Julián said in a voice so authoritative that it startled even himself. Valdespino pulled back, looking stunned by the threatening tone — one that Julián had never before used with the bishop.

“I am the future king of Spain,” Julián said. “Tonight you’ve removed my security detail, denied me access to my phone and my staff, prohibited me from hearing any news, and refused to let me contact my fiancée.”

“I truly apologize—” Valdespino began.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Julián interrupted, glaring at the bishop, who looked strangely small to him now.

Valdespino drew a slow breath and turned to face Julián in the darkness. “I was contacted earlier tonight, Don Julián, and told to—”

“Contacted by whom?”

The bishop hesitated. “By your father. He is deeply upset.”

He is? Julián had visited his father only two days ago at Palacio de la Zarzuela and found him in excellent spirits, despite his deteriorating health. “Why is he upset?”

“Unfortunately, he saw the broadcast by Edmond Kirsch.”

Julián felt his jaw tighten. His ailing father slept almost twenty-four hours a day and should never have been awake at that hour. Furthermore, the king had always forbidden televisions and computers in palace bedrooms, which he insisted were sanctuaries reserved for sleeping and reading — and the king’s nurses would have known enough to prevent him from trying to get out of bed to watch an atheist’s publicity stunt.

“It was my fault,” Valdespino said. “I gave him a computer tablet a few weeks ago so he wouldn’t feel so isolated from the world. He was learning to text and e-mail. He ended up seeing Kirsch’s event on his tablet.”