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Langdon, Sienna, and Sinskey arrived by town car and were met outside by a WHO staffer who helped them out of the vehicle.
“We’re ready whenever you are, ma’am,” the man said, ushering the trio into a modest terminal building.
“And Mr. Langdon’s arrangements?” Sinskey asked.
“Private plane to Florence. His temporary travel documents are already on board.”
Sinskey nodded her appreciation. “And the other matter we discussed?”
“Already in motion. The package will be shipped as soon as possible.”
Sinskey thanked the man, who now headed out across the tarmac toward the plane. She turned to Langdon. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” She gave him a tired smile and pulled back her long silver hair, tucking it behind her ears.
“Considering the situation,” Langdon said playfully, “I’m not sure an art professor has much to offer.”
“You’ve offered plenty,” Sinskey said. “More than you know. Not the least of which being …” She motioned beside her to Sienna, but the young woman was no longer with them. Sienna was twenty yards back, having paused at a large window where she was staring out at the waiting C-130, apparently deep in thought.
“Thanks for trusting her,” Langdon said quietly. “I sense she hasn’t had a lot of that in her life.”
“I suspect Sienna Brooks and I will find plenty of things to learn from each other.” Sinskey extended her palm. “Godspeed, Professor.”
“And to you,” Langdon said as they shook hands. “Best of luck in Geneva.”
“We’ll need it,” she said, and then nodded toward Sienna. “I’ll give you two a moment. Just send her out when you’re ready.”
As Sinskey headed across the terminal, she reached absently into her pocket and pulled out the two halves of her broken amulet, clutching them tightly in one palm.
“Don’t give up on that rod of Asclepius,” Langdon called out behind her. “It’s fixable.”
“Thanks,” Sinskey replied with a wave. “I’m hoping everything is.”
Sienna Brooks stood alone at the window, gazing out at the lights of the runway, which looked ghostly in the low-lying fog and gathering clouds. Atop a control tower in the distance, the Turkish flag fluttered proudly—a field of red emblazoned with the ancient symbols of the crescent and star—vestiges of the Ottoman Empire, still flying proudly in the modern world.
“A Turkish lira for your thoughts?” a deep voice said behind her.
Sienna did not turn. “A storm is coming.”
“I know,” Langdon responded quietly.
After a long moment, Sienna turned to him. “And I wish you were coming to Geneva.”
“Nice of you to say so,” he replied. “But you’ll be busy talking about the future. The last thing you need is some old-fashioned college professor slowing you down.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “You think you’re too old for me, don’t you?”
Langdon laughed out loud. “Sienna, I am definitely too old for you!”
She shifted uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed. “Okay … but at least you’ll know where to find me.” She managed a girlish shrug. “I mean … if you ever want to see me again.”
He smiled at her. “I’d enjoy that.”
She felt her spirits lift a bit, and yet a long silence grew between them, neither of them quite certain how to say good-bye.
As Sienna stared up at the American professor, she felt a surge of emotion she wasn’t accustomed to feeling. Without warning, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the lips. When she pulled away, her eyes were moist with tears. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered.
Langdon smiled affectionately and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll miss you, too.”
They stood for a long while, locked in an embrace that neither seemed willing to end. Finally, Langdon spoke. “There’s an ancient saying … often attributed to Dante himself …” He paused. “‘Remember tonight … for it’s the beginning of forever.’ ”
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