Smith
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pm | | Hell _ Dan Brown (6th Feb 23 at 2:08am UTC) | | | He made up his mind at once to walk through the crowded hall of five hundred people, past Vasari's frescoes, and straight into the Palazzo Vecchio Museum, trying not to be seen by any security guards. Finally,drive in racking system, he came to the outside of the museum's narrow aisles. There is no light in the corridor, which is isolated by a few small pillars and cables,heavy duty rack manufacturers, and the sign reads: chiuso/closed. Langdon looked carefully around and slipped under the cable into the dark space. He carefully reached out of his handbag and took out a small package, tearing off the bubble plastic film packaging outside. When the plastic film was removed, Dante's death mask stared straight at him. The flimsy plaster mask was still in its original sealed plastic bag, which Langdon had asked Sinsky to help him retrieve from his locker at the Venice train station. The mask seems to be intact, industrial racking systems ,heavy duty cantilever racks, except that there is a poem on the back, which is written in beautiful cursive characters. Langdon glanced at the artifact display case. Dante's death mask is displayed to the audience. No one will notice the back of it. He carefully took the mask out of the sealed plastic bag, lifted it gently and put it back on the holder in the display case. The mask just clicked into place and settled in its familiar red velvet background. Langdon closed the display case and stood staring at Dante's pale face, which was ghostly in the dark room. Home at last. He quietly removed the small columns, cables and signs before leaving the exhibition room. As he walked to the other side of the exhibition hall, he stopped to speak to a young female commentator. Miss Langdon said. The light above Dante's death mask should be turned on. It's impossible to see in the dark. "I'm sorry," said the docent. "The display is closed, and there is no Dante's death mask." "That's strange." Langdon pretended to be surprised. "I was just enjoying it." There was a puzzled expression on the face of the female commentator. As she hurried down the aisle, Langdon slipped out of the museum. www.xiaoshuotxt.,com The end of hell t/xt. Small /Say.. Tian + Tang The moon was shining brightly, and the dark Bay of Biscay was endless. At thirty-four thousand feet, an Alitalia red-eye flight was heading west to Boston. Robert Langdon sat in the cabin, engrossed in a paperback edition of The Divine Comedy. The cadenced,industrial racking systems, three-stanza rhythm of the long poem and the hum of the jet engine had already sent him into a semi-hypnotic state. Dante's words seem to be flowing from the pages, resonating in his heart, as if they were written specifically for him at this moment. jracking.com | |
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