"I wanted to warn you, Mr. Langdon..." Sophie began, still catching her breath, "that you are sous surveillance cachée. Under a guarded observation." As she spoke, her accented English resonated off the tile walls, giving her voice a hollow quality.
"But... why?" Langdon demanded. Sophie had already given him an explanation on the phone, but he wanted to hear it from her lips.
"Because," she said, stepping toward him, "Fache's primary suspect in this murder is you."
Langdon was braced for the words, and yet they still sounded utterly ridiculous. According to Sophie, Langdon had been called to the Louvre tonight not as a symbologist but rather as a suspect and was currently the unwitting target of one of DCPJ's favorite interrogation methods—surveillance cachée—a deft deception in which the police calmly invited a suspect to a crime scene and interviewed him in hopes he would get nervous and mistakenly incriminate himself.
"Look in your jacket's left pocket," Sophie said. "You'll find proof they are watching you."
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