|ÉPREUVE |ANGLAIS LV.2 | Durée : 2 heures |
| Série |S|Coefficient : 2 |
|Ce sujet comporte 9 pages numérotées de 1/9 à 9/9 |
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|Compréhension du texte |10 |
|Expression personnelle|10 |
Robert Langdon awoke slowly.
A telephone was ringing in the darkness – a tinny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. [...]
Langdon picked up the receiver, ‘Hello?’
‘Monsieur Langdon?’ a man’s voice said. ‘I hope I have not awoken you?’
Dazed, Langdon looked at the bedside clock. It was 12:32 A.M. He had been asleep only anhour, but he felt like the dead.
‘This is the concierge, monsieur. I apologize for this intrusion, but you have a visitor. He insists it is urgent.’ [...]
‘If you would be so kind,’ Langdon said, doing his best to remain polite, ‘could you take the man's name and number, and tell him I’ll try to call him before I leave Paris on Tuesday? Thank you.’ He hung up before the concierge couldprotest.
The ringing of Langdon's hotel phone once again broke the silence.
Groaning in disbelief he picked up. ‘Yes?’
As expected, it was the concierge. ‘Mr. Langdon, again my apologies. I am calling to inform you that your guest is now en route to your room. I thought I should alert you.’
Langdon was wide awake now. ‘You sent someone to my room?’
‘I apologize, monsieur, but a man like this... Icannot presume the authority to stop him.’
‘Who exactly is he?’
But the concierge was gone.
Almost immediately, a heavy fist pounded on Langdon's door.
Uncertain, Langdon slid off the bed, feeling his toes sink deep into the savonniere carpet. He donned the hotel bathrobe and moved toward the door. ‘Who is it?’
‘Mr. Langdon? I need to speak with you.’ The man's English was accented – asharp, authoritative bark. ‘My name is Lieutenant Jérome Collet. Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire.’
Langdon paused. The Judicial Police? The DCPJ were the rough equivalent of the U.S. FBI. Leaving the security chain in place, Langdon opened the door a few inches. The face staring back at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally lean, dressed in an official-looking blue uniform.
‘MayI come in?’ the agent asked.
Langdon hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's sallow eyes studied him. ‘What is this all about?’
‘My capitaine requires your expertise in a private matter.’
‘Now?’ Langdon managed, ‘It's after midnight.’
‘Am I correct that you were scheduled to meet with the curator of the Louvre this evening?’ Langdon felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. He and the reveredcurator Jacques Saunière had been slated to meet for drinks after Langdon's lecture tonight, but Saunière had never shown up. ‘Yes. How did you know that?’
‘We found your name in his daily planner.’
‘I trust nothing is wrong?’
The agent gave a dire sigh and slid a Polaroid snapshot through the narrow opening in the door. When Langdon saw the photo, his entire body went rigid.