I'm too upset to continue. Judge for yourself. I've helpfully supplied a lengthy excerpt. Implied spoilers ahead.
"Robert!" Sophie gasped. "I've found something!"
Robert Langdon strode across the old church floor. Resplendent in his tweed jacket, Langdon looked every bit the respected Ivy League academic that his plodding intellect and limited vocabulary belied. With his smolderingly generic white guy good looks, those who wrote about him were frequently prompted to shamelessly compare him to Harrison Ford, although if Mr. Ford's schedule precluded his participation in such a comparison, Michael Douglas would probably also be okay.
"What is it, Sophie?"
"My... My grandfather... He's left us another clue!"
He certainly had. There, on the floor below him, were ten carved letters, which no one through the centuries, except perhaps a few hack thriller writers, had ever noticed.
CKUF HET EPOP
"What does it mean?" breathed Sophie, breathlessly. Sophie's demeanor was unusually flustered. Well, probably unusually. Actually, it wasn't entirely clear what her demeanor was usually like. She was definitely a woman, though, and attractive. Oh yeah! Also she was a cryptologist. It has to do with codes or something.
"Isn't it obvious?" smirked Langdon. His training was coming in handy now. Yes, he thought, symbology is a real academic discipline.
"It's perfect, Sophie. Your grandfather was a genius. He's perfectly summarized the beliefs of the secret society to which he belonged. All in this simple statement.
"You see," he continued, "CKUF seems to be an archaicized variant of cuff — by the way, English is conveniently the de facto language for ancient materials relating to the Grail for some reason. Most likely your grandfather included double velar stop phonemes knowing that Hebrew possessed no C equivalent, and Latin no K. Genius!
"HET is more puzzling — until one considers that the Church has persecuted all ideas associated with the concept of left, or Sinister, due to its association with the sacred feminine! Your grandfather omitted the S as a poignant inside joke — echoing and decrying the Church's shameful legacy! What genius!
"HET then becomes HEST — as in Hester Prynn, of The Scarlet Letter. CUFF HESTER. What better symbol of the Priory of Scion's struggle against religious misogyny than this bold, bumper-sticker-ready summation of the ages-old persecution of the assertion of female sexuality? It's genius!"
"And EPOP?" asked Sophie.
"Most likely a nonsense word, designed to throw off Grail seekers. Your grandfather was obsessed with duality, Sophie, and unlikely to be interested in phrases containing more than two words. He was a genius, Sophie."
"Duality? I don't understand."
With that, Robert embarked on another lengthy discourse into the meaning of ancient symbols, frequently accidentally slipping out of dialogue and into tracts of wild theorizing from an unaccounted-for narrator. None of the words were too big, though, so nobody noticed.
"And that's why," Robert concluded, "Any story involving men and women, opposing forces, or objects that are more round than they are pointy, is a secret code for how Jesus hit that Magdalene shit."
His words echoed through the impressive space of Westminster Abbey, its grand expanses dwarfing the scene below, although if using a location shoot to capture the scene was too expensive it could probably be simulated pretty well with bluescreens.
"I see," said Sophie, staring into Robert's eyes. She was conflicted: in the face of the raw sexual potency of a Harvard academic any woman would have a hard time keeping her lust in check. Yet Sophie sensed that showing her attraction now might hurt her chances with Robert later. Men — and in particular men who were screenwriters — didn't seem to like it when there was any romantic groundwork laid prior to women throwing themselves at bookish hero types upon the conclusion of their adventures. Still, those symbologist eyes...
"Tally Ho!" Their reverie was broken. Sir Leigh Teabing made his way across the church toward them. "As you may recall, I'm dreadfully eccentric and British," Teabing continued, his voice echoing off the walls as if it had been recorded on a soundstage and the reverb added later.
"Leigh," growled Langdon, upset at being interrupted. "Now is not the time. Need I remind you that we're being hunted by an unknown evil mastermind who seems to know our every move? And that in the course of our adventure we have met only three or four characters, half of whom we already know to be bad guys?"
"Righto!" replied Teabing, hurrying off nervously. "Cheers!"
Suddenly, Sophie gasped. "Holy fucking shit, Robert!" she exclaimed. "I think this might be an anagram!"
"Another one?"
