“Oversetterne blir fløyet til London, der de får tilgang til Browns manus under et oppsiktsvekkende strengt sikkerhetsregime. Ikke bare blir de overvåket, men de får heller ikke tilgang til internett”, skriver selveste Tom Egeland på Forfatterforeningens hjemmeside.

Til tross for dette sikkerhetsopplegget har P3 fått tak i det vi tror er nesten ferdige utdrag fra to kapitler, muligens det første og siste, av “Inferno” på originalspråket.

Førsteinntrykket er at dette kanskje ikke er den sterkeste boka om Robert Langdon til nå.

CHAPTER 1

Tom Hanks Robert Langdon woke up with a scream. In his dreams he had been chasing a burning face of gold, but when he touched it, it transformed into the face of a woman very dear to him (that French Amelie-woman. What’s her name again? Bingo?). He sat up in bed, sweat was pouring down his back, like many little rivers, his heart was beating like a drum, his legs felt like stone and his arms also felt like stone. (Too much stone?)
He got out of bed, pulled the white curtains aside and looked out the window. It was a sunny day in Firenze, where he had spent the last couple of days. Robert thought about the lecture he was going to give later that day, about an old monkey symbol used by the Zalo-indians in Venezuela. Suddenly he heard a knocking on his door. All he could think was: Who is that? Who is knocking on my door? I should open the door and find out!
Robert opened. A tall man with a long face stared at him:
“Mr. Langdon?”
“Yes…”
The tall one had a red scar in his forhead (To much like Harry Potter? Check with publisher).
“My name is Moreno Torricelli”
Roberts brain startet working. He knew he had heard that name before.
“I’m from the Universty of  Juventus”, the tall man continued with a thick italian accent.
Robert replied:
“Of course… its an honour to finally meet you, professor.”
Torricelli was a legend in Roberts field (symbols and old writings and shit).

CHAPTER 137

Robert Langdon was standing in some sort of cathedral, with the pale sunlight streaming through the broken mosaic windows on the far wall. A beam of sunlight hit Bingo’s face and made it look like an angel or a demon.
“Robert! Come and take a look at this!”
Langdon walked slowly over to his wife, who was sitting next to a mysterious looking box.
“Robert, can you recognize these ancient symbols?”
He squatted down beside her with his legs apart, not at all trying to hide his erection. (Too graphic? Maybe not.)
“By the gods of hell…” He gasped.
The stone box was about the size of a DAB-radio and had wonderfully intricate patterns and symbols drawn onto it. He let his long, dirty finger run along the markings while he let out another gasp.
“This is remarkable! These symbols… They prove that the Zalo-indians actually visited Europe long before Dante was born! The missing link was indian!”

Suddenly they heard a noise behind them. The cathedral door had opened, and a tall man came walking in holding a gun.
“So, I see you have discovered our little secret”, the man said in a thick italian accent.
“Moreno Torricelli! You son of a bitch!” Langdon said through clenched teeth.
“Now, Mr. Langdon. Your anus belongs to me! The time has come for you to die.”
Robert felt like stone again. All these trips around the world, all these mysterious puzzles he had solved, all the running and sweating and conspiracy theories. All had been for nothing. He had discovered the biggest cover-up in the history of Europe. And now he was going to die, Gangnam style. (Will my older fan base understand this reference?)
Torricelli cocked his gun and pointed it straight at Roberts groin.
A loud bang was heard. Smoke filled the room, Langdon felt a sharp pain and his mind began to drift…

“Robert! Robert! Wake up!”
Slowly Robert Langdon opened his eyes, the bright light burning like a thousand candles in his brain. Where was he?
“Robert, I’m so glad you are awake! You’re safe.” Bingo stood over him, covered in blood.
“What happened?” He said with a creaky, dusty voice.
“The book ended.”
Robert smiled and thought: This is why I married this crazy french woman with the plum-shaped breasts.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“I already have an idea for a new novel.” (Meta!! This is good stuff.)

THE END