Chapter 27

I'd better rein in the snotty comments about Brown's style, since yesterday saw a succession of e-mails from my father, gleefully pointing out infelicities in my own magnum opus.

We're back in Brown's terse mode, and the short sentences communicate the sense that Bezu Fache is bottling up one hell of an eruption (or, of course, a major stroke). We seem to have a pattern here: short bit; teachy bit; mad monk bit. But it works this time, as Bezu's confidence returns, and he thinks he's ahead of Langdon this time.

It's all terrifically exciting.