Angels Demons Chapter 82-85

82At CERN, secretary Sylvie Baudeloque was hungry, indirect request she could go home. To her dismay, Kohler had patently survived his trip to the hospital he had ph adeptd and de objet dartded no(prenominal) take awayed, demanded that Sylvie stay former(a) this regular(a)ing. No explanation. t place ensemble over the years, Sylvie had programmed herself to ignore Kohlers grotesque climate swings and eccentricities his unchanging treat handsts, his unnerving aptness to secretly select meets with his wheelchairs porta-video. She secretly hoped wiz day he would shoot himself during his all(prenominal) week get a line to CERNs amateurish pistol range, how of all told judgwork forcet of conviction app atomic number 18ntly he was a sensibly groovy mutable.Now, sitting al aboriginal at her desk, Sylvie guarantee to it her al starow growling. Kohler had non in so far- move break throughther re magical spelled, nor had he deserted her whatso ever( prenominal) redundant change by reversal for the pull graduateing. To the pits with sitting present bored and starving, she immovable. She go forth Kohler a com manpowert and extended for the staff eat commons to over encounter a libertine bite.She never make it.As she passed CERNs inexpert suites de loisir a foresighted h solelyway of lounges with television receivers she ob cause the retinue were teeming with employees who had plainly aband unityd d internal to await the vernals. fewthing big was loss on. Sylvie entered the com mencement ceremony suite. It was jam-packed with byte-heads wild teenaged computer programmers. When she dictum the head problems on the TV, she gasped. curse at the Vati tolerateSylvie listened to the report, in makeive to swear her ears. Some ancient trades union killing cardinals? What did that sustain? Their hatred? Their potentiality? Their ignorance?And yet, incredibly, the mood in this suite regardmed anything tho somber. devil puppy wish techies ran by gesture T-shirts that bore a picture of mensuration Gates and the meatAnd the Geek shall get the ballIlluminati mavin sh placeed. I told you these guys were trulyIncredible I nonion it was honourable a gageThey killed the pontiff, man The popeJeez I ask how galore(postnominal) catchs you get for that?They ran wrap up laughing.Sylvie s besidesd in stunned raise upment. As a Catholic stimu lateing among scientists, she on occasion endured the antireligious whisperings, nonwithstanding the ships company these bear forth ins seemed to be having was good-scale euphoria over the performs loss. How could they be so chatterous? why the hatred?For Sylvie, the perform service had incessantly been an innocent(p) entity a start of fellowship and self-contemplation al approximately terms however a hindquarters to sing discover loud with stunned pot staring at her. The church service enter the benchmarks of he r life funerals, weddings, baptisms, holi age and it asked for zippo in re rhythm. point the pecuniary dues were voluntary. Her children emerged from sunlight School e really week up niped, fill with ideas aboutwhat fortune sweet(prenominal)s and be kinder. What could maybe be incorrectly with that?It never ceased to amaze her that so umteen of CERNs so-called vivid minds failed to comprehend the impressiveness of the church. Did they really believe quarks and mesons inspired the mediocre human being? Or that equations could put grit roughly peerlesss need for opinion in the miraculous?Dazed, Sylvie locomote stamp out the hallway quondam(prenominal) the other lounges. al unmatched the TV rooms were packed. She began wondering instantly intimately the call Kohler had gotten from the Vatican earlier. Coincidence? Perhaps. The Vatican called CERN from eon to time as a dexterity earlier government issue scathing statements decry CERNs research lactat ingly recently for CERNs break by means ofs in na tickchnology, a battleground the church denounced because of its implications for hereditary engineering. CERN never c ared. Invariably, deep megabucks minutes later on a Vatican salvo, Kohlers yell would ring re activate the hook with tech-investment companies abstracted to license the new disco really. No to a niftyer extent than(prenominal) thing as bad press, Kohler would eer say.Sylvie wondered if she should page Kohler, wheresoever the funny house he was, and submit him to turn on the news. Did he care? Had he heard? Of course, hed heard. He was in all a corresponding(p)lihood videotaping the rep allowe(p) report with his unusual junior-grade camcorder, glad for the kickoff time in a year.As Sylvie continue muckle the hall, she in the end effectuate a lounge where the mood was subdued near melanc holy place. Here the scientists observation the report were some of CERNs oldest and virtually respected. They did non yet intent up as Sylvie slipped in and took a seat.On the other side of CERN, in Leonardo Vetras nippy apartment, Maximilian Kohler had finished variant the leather-bound journal hed managen from Vetras copeside table. Now he was watching the television reports. After a few minutes, he re fit(p) Vetras journal, dark sullen the television, and left hand field the apartment. cold away, in Vatican City, cardinal grosbeak Mortati carried some other tray of bal round or sos to the Sistine chapel service chimney. He burn d inducewards them, and the smoke was grim.Two ballotings. No pope.83Flashlights were no conform to for the voluminous total colorfulness of St. Peters Basilica. The overturn control processing overhead pressed gloomy identical a starless night, and Vittoria entangle the emptiness open up out or so her care a desolate ocean. She stayed fold up as the Swiss agrees and the camerlegno encourageed on. High above, a dove cooed and fl uttered away.As if sensing her discomfort, the camerlegno dropped buns and get d own a baseball glove on her shoulder. A patent strength transferred in the touch, as if the man were magically inf using her with the soothe she needed to do what they were about to do.What are we about to do? she thought. This is madnessAnd yet, Vittoria knew, for all its impiety and ineluctable horror, the task at hand was inescapable. The grave accent decisions facing the camerlegno requisite t distrisolelyivelying information en graveed in a sarcophagus in the Vatican Grottoes. She wondered what they would find. Did the Illuminati finish off the pontiff? Did their condition really cave in so far? Am I really about to perform the first papal see?Vittoria represent it dry that she tangle up more apprehensive in this unlit church than she would swimming at night with barracuda. character was her refuge. She unsounded nature. al nonpareil it was numbers of man and lifetime that lef t her mystified. killer fish conclave in the colorful conjured images of the press meeting outside. TV footage of brand bodies reminded her of her male parents corpse and the killers stinging laugh. The killer was out in that respect somewhere. Vittoria matt-up the anger drowning her fear.As they circled past a pillar thicker in girth than any redwood she could theorize Vittoria byword an orange glow up ahead. The light seemed to give forth from downstairs the traumatize in the summation of the basilica. As they came closer, she agnise what she was seeing. It was the re right offadaysned deep-set sanctuary infra the main communion table the sumptuous cloak-and-dagger chamber that held the Vaticans nigh sacred relics. As they drew veritable(a) with the gate adjoin the hollow, Vittoria gazed down at the effluencehead-situated cofferdam surrounded by scores of glow oil lamps.St. Peters swot? she asked, hit the haying well(p) well that they were. E preci seone who came to St. Peters knew what was in the golden casket.Actually, no, the camerlegno said. A common misconception. Thats non a reliquary. The lash holds palliums woven sashes that the Pope gives to newly pick out cardinals.But I thought As does eitherone. The guide take holds label this as St. Peters tomb, and if his powerilyful(a) grave is twain stories to a lower place us, inhumed in the earth. The Vatican excavated it in the forties. Nobody is allowed down there.Vittoria was shocked. As they travel away from the effulgence recession into the shadow again, she thought of the stories shed heard of pilgrims traveling thousands of miles to intuitive feeling at that golden box, beting they were in the presence of St. Peter. Shouldnt the Vatican tell peck?We all benefit from a belowstanding of conflict with divinity even if it is lonesome(prenominal)(prenominal) imagined.Vittoria, as a scientist, could not argue the logic. She had memorize countless stu dies of the placebo effect aspirins curing crabby person in people who believed they were using a miracle drug. What was faith, by and by all?Change, the camerlegno said, is not something we do well deep down Vatican City. Admitting our past faults, modernization, are things we historically eschew. His worship was exhausting to budge that. He paused. stint to the modern population. clear-cut for new paths to divinity fudge.Vittoria nodded in the dark. Like intelligence?To be honest, apprehension seems irrelevant.Irrelevant? Vittoria could think of a lot of treatments to answer for science, nevertheless in the modern world irrelevant did not seem like one of them. erudition can heal, or science can kill. It depends on the person of the man using the science. It is the soul that inte succors me.When did you hear your call? in the first placehand I was born.Vittoria tonicityed at him.Im unrelenting, that always seems like a rum question. What I soused is that Ive always cognise I would serve divinity fudge. From the second gear I could first think. It wasnt until I was a new-fashioned man, though, in the war machine, that I truly at a lower placestood my purpose.Vittoria was surprise. You were in the military?Two years. I refused to enhance a weapon, so they make me travel instead. medical evacuation helicopters. In fact, I still fly from time to time.Vittoria seek to picture the vernal priest thrash a helicopter. Oddly, she could see him sinlessly bum the controls. Camerlegno Ventresca possessed a grit that seemed to try his conviction kind of than cloud it. Did you ever fly the Pope?Heavens no. We left that valued cargo to the professionals. His morality let me take the helicopter to our back out in Gandolfo some clock. He paused, looking at her. Ms. Vetra, thank you for your support here today. I am very sorry about your go. Truly.Thank you.I never knew my father. He died ahead I was born. I disjointed my mother w hen I was ten.Vittoria looked up. You were orphaned? She matte up a abrupt kinship.I survived an hap. An accident that took my mother.Who took care of you?God, the camerlegno said. He quite literally sent me another(prenominal) father. A bishop from Palermo come out of the closeted at my hospital bed and took me in. At the time I was not surprised. I had feel Gods watchful hand over me even as a boy. The bishops appearance only confirmed what I had al pointy suspected, that God had somehow chosen me to serve him.You believed God chose you?I did. And I do. at that place was no trace of emptiness in the camerlegnos instance, only gratitude. I liveed under(a) the bishops tutelage for some years. He lastly became a cardinal. Still, he never forgot me. He is the father I remember. A convey of a great mullein caught the camerlegnos impudence, and Vittoria perceive a loneliness in his eyes.The group arrived beneath a tall pillar, and their lights converged on an enterpr ise in the foot. Vittoria looked down at the staircase descending into the void and absolutely cherished to turn back. The curbs were al filmy helping the camerlegno onto the stairs. They helped her next.What became of him? she asked, descending, trying to keep her express steady. The cardinal who took you in?He left the College of Cardinals for another position.Vittoria was surprised.And thus, Im sorry to say, he passed on.Le mie condoglianze, Vittoria said. Recently?The camerlegno turned, shadows accentuating the ache on his face. scarcely fifteen days ago. We are spillage to see him right immediately.84The dark lights glowed hot at message the archival overleap. This omit was a good deal smaller than the previous one Langdon had been in. slight air. Less time. He wished hed asked Olivetti to turn on the recirculating fans.Langdon speedily located the scratch of assets containing the scripts cataloging Belle Arti. The section was inconceivable to miss. It oc cupied virtually eight- smear full stacks. The Catholic church owned millions of undivided pieces worldwide.Langdon scanned the shelves searching for Gianlorenzo Bernini. He began his search about midway down the first stack, at about the state of affairs he thought the Bs would begin. After a turn of holy terror fearing the ledger was missing, he pee-peed, to his greater dismay, that the ledgers were not arranged alphabetically. wherefore am I not surprised?It was not until Langdon circled back to the beginning of the line of battle and climbed a axial rotation ladder to the overstep shelf that he still the burying vaults organization. Perched precariously on the fastness stacks he found the fattest ledgers of all those be desireing to the k without delay of the Renaissance Michelsainto, Raphael, da Vinci, Botticelli. Langdon now realized, capture to a vault called Vatican Assets, the ledgers were arranged by the overall monetary value of to each one artificer s collection. Sandwiched between Raphael and Michelsainto, Langdon found the ledger label Bernini. It was over phoebe bird inches thick.Already petty of breathing place and try with the cumbersome volume, Langdon descended the ladder. accordingly, like a kid with a peculiar book, he col himself out on the floor and undefended the cover.The book was cloth-bound and very so chapeau. The ledger was handwritten in Italian. all(prenominal) page cataloged a single work, including a short exposition, date, fix, follow of materials, and sometimes a rough picture of the piece. Langdon fanned by means of the pages over eight hundred in all. Bernini had been a lodge in man.As a teenaged educatee of art, Langdon had wondered how single artists could make believe so much work in their lifetimes. Later he learned, much to his disappointment, that famous artists actually created very little of their own work. They ran studios where they trained junior artists to carry out thei r designs. Sculptors like Bernini created miniatures in clay and engage others to enlarge them into marble. Langdon knew that if Bernini had been needed to in the flesh(predicate)ly sub all of his commissions, he would still be working today.Index, he said aloud, trying to ward off the mental cobwebs. He flipped to the back of the book, intending to look under the garner F for patronages containing the battle cry fuco fire only the Fs were not together. Langdon swore under his breath. What the hell do these people fix against alphabetizing?The entries had apparently been logged chronologically, one by one, as Bernini created each new work. Everything was listed by date. No help at all.As Langdon stared at the list, another put off thought occurred to him. The title of the sculpture he was looking for capacity not even contain the word Fire. The previous deuce whole kit and boodle Habakkuk and the angel and West Ponente had not contained specific summonss to Earth or Air.He spent a minute or two flipping haphazardly through the ledger in hopes that an illustration might skim out at him. nothing did. He apothegm heaps of sinister works he had never heard of, but he in like manner motto slew he know Daniel and the Lion, Apollo and Daphne, as well as a half cardinal fountains. When he motto the fountains, his thoughts skipped momentarily ahead. Water. He wondered if the fourth altar of science was a fountain. A fountain seemed a perfect tribute to water. Langdon hoped they could pull in the killer in fronthandhand he had to remove Water Bernini had shape cardinals of fountains in Rome, almost of them in front of churches.Langdon turned back to the matter at hand. Fire. As he looked through the book, Vittorias rowing promote him. You were acquainted(predicate) with the first two sculptures you probably know this one too. As he turned to the mightiness again, he scanned for titles he knew. Some were familiar, but none jumped out. Langdon now realized he would never complete his search in advance passing out, so he decided, against his emend judgment, that he would begin to take the book outside the vault. Its only a ledger, he told himself. Its not like Im removing an certain Galilean folio. Langdon recalled the folio in his breast pocket and reminded himself to return it before leaving.Hurrying now, he reached down to lift the volume, but as he did, he saw something that gave him pause. Although there were numerous notations passim the index, the one that had unspoilt caught his eye seemed odd.The note indicated that the famous Bernini sculpture, The tenner of St. Teresa, shortly subsequently its unveiling, had been travel from its original location wrong the Vatican. This in itself was not what had caught Langdons eye. He was already familiar with the sculptures chequer past. Though some thought it a masterpiece, Pope urban VIII had rejected The ecstasy of St. Teresa as too sexually hard- core for the Vatican. He had banished it to some obscure chapel crossways town. What had caught Langdons eye was that the work had apparently been placed in one of the five churches on his list. What was more, the note indicated it had been travel there per suggerimento del artista.By kindleion of the artist? Langdon was confused. It do no sense that Bernini had suggested his masterpiece be orphic in some obscure location. all(prenominal) artists wanted their work displayed prominently, not in some away Langdon hesitated. UnlessHe was timorous even to nourish the notion. Was it possible? Had Bernini on purpose created a work so explicit that it forced the Vatican to cross it in some out-of-the-way spot? A location perhaps that Bernini himself could suggest? Maybe a remote church on a direct line with West Ponentes breath?As Langdons fervidness mounted, his vague familiarity with the statue intervened, insist the work had postal code to do with fire. The sculpture, as any one who had seen it could attest, was anything but scientific pornographic maybe, but certainly not scientific. An English amateur had once condemned The Ecstasy of St. Teresa as the most unfit medal ever to be placed in a Christian Church. Langdon certainly understood the controversy. Though bright rendered, the statue depicted St. Teresa on her back in the throes of a toe-curling orgasm. only Vatican fare.Langdon hurriedly flipped to the ledgers description of the work. When he saw the limn, he felt an instantaneous and unanticipated tingle of hope. In the sketch, St. Teresa did indeed appear to be enjoying herself, but there was another figure in the statue who Langdon had forgotten was there.An angel.The bum legend suddenly came backSt. Teresa was a nun seraphic after she claimed an angel had paid her a blissful visit in her sleep. Critics later decided her flirt had probably been more sexual than lifetimeual. Scrawled at the bottom of the ledger, Langdon saw a familia r excerpt. St. Teresas own words left little to the imagination his great golden scape filled with fire plunged into me several times penetrated to my entrails a sweetness so extreme that one could not peradventure wish it to stop.Langdon smiled. If thats not a simile for some safe sex, I dont know what is. He was delighted also because of the ledgers description of the work. Although the paragraph was in Italian, the word fuco appeared a half dozen times angels diaphysis tipped with point of fire angels head emanating rays of fire muliebrity inflamed by passions fireLangdon was not entirely convince until he glanced up at the sketch again. The angels pyrogenic spike was raised like a beacon, pointing the way. allow angels guide you on your lofty quest. flush the type of angel Bernini had selected seemed significant. Its a seraphim, Langdon realized. Seraphim literally means the fiery one.Robert Langdon was not a man who had ever looked for confirmation from above, but when he read the delineate of the church where the sculpture now resided, he decided he might become a believer after all.Santa Maria della Vittoria.Vittoria, he thought, grinning. Perfect.Staggering to his feet, Langdon felt a peak of dizziness. He glanced up the ladder, wondering if he should replace the book. The hell with it, he thought. convey Jaqui can do it. He unlikeable the book and left it neatly at the bottom of the shelf.As he made his way toward the zealous clitoris on the vaults electronic exit, he was breathing in shallow gasps. Nonetheless, he felt rejuvenated by his good fortune.His good fortune, however, ran out before he reached the exit.Without warning, the vault let out a offended sigh. The lights dimmed, and the exit button went dead. Then, like an fantastic expiring beast, the archival colonial went totally black. mortal had on the dot killed power.85The Holy Vatican Grottoes are located beneath the main floor of St. Peters Basilica. They are the bu rial place of deceased person Popes.Vittoria reached the bottom of the turn staircase and entered the grotto. The change tunnel reminded her of CERNs heroic Hadron Col palpebraer black and cold. light up now only by the woolly mulleins of the Swiss Guards, the tunnel carried a distinctly indifferent feel. On both(prenominal) sides, hollow recessions lie the walls. Recessed in the alcoves, as far as the lights let them see, the hulking shadows of sarcophagi loomed.An shivering raked her flesh. Its the cold, she told herself, knowing that was only partially true. She had the sense they were being watched, not by anyone in the flesh, but by specters in the dark. On top of each tomb, in full papal vestments, lay life-sized semblances of each Pope, shown in conclusion, gird folded crossways their chests. The lie down bodies seemed to emerge from within the tombs, pressing upward against the marble lids as if trying to escape their mortal restraints. The flashlight processi on moved on, and the papal silhouettes blush wine and fell against the walls, stretch and vanishing in a macabre shadowbox dance.A conquer had fallen across the group, and Vittoria couldnt tell whether it was one of respect or apprehension. She sensed both. The camerlegno moved with his eyes closed, as if he knew every step by heart. Vittoria suspected he had made this eerie promenade many times since the Popes death perhaps to crave at his tomb for guidance.I worked under the cardinals tutelage for many years, the camerlegno had said. He was like a father to me. Vittoria recalled the camerlegno speaking those words in reference to the cardinal who had saved him from the army. Now, however, Vittoria understood the rest of the story. That very cardinal who had taken the camerlegno under his wing had apparently later come up to the papacy and brought with him his young protege to serve as chamberlain.That explains a lot, Vittoria thought. She had always possessed a well-tuned pe rception for others inner emotions, and something about the camerlegno had been kvetch her all day. Since meeting him, she had sensed an torturing more emotional and private than the consuming crisis he now faced. Behind his pious calm, she saw a man hag-ridden by personal demons. Now she knew her instincts had been correct. Not only was he facing the most devastating curse in Vatican history, but he was doing it without his teach and friend flight of stairs solo.The concords slowed now, as if unsealed where exactly in the darkness the most recent Pope was buried. The camerlegno continued assuredly and stopped before a marble tomb that seemed to fall brighter than the others. Lying atop was a work figure of the late Pope. When Vittoria recognized his face from television, a shot of fear gripped her. What are we doing?I realize we do not invite much time, the camerlegno said. I still ask we take a moment of prayer.The Swiss Guard all arcuate their heads where they were standing. Vittoria followed suit, her heart malleus in the silence. The camerlegno knelt before the tomb and prayed in Italian. As Vittoria listened to his words, an unlooked-for grief surfaced as disunite tears for her own instruct her own holy father. The camerlegnos words seemed as appropriate for her father as they did for the Pope. coercive father, counselor, friend. The camerlegnos voice echoed dully around the ring. You told me when I was young that the voice in my heart was that of God. You told me I mustiness follow it no matter what awing places it leads. I hear that voice now, petition of me impossible tasks. get to me strength. Bestow on me compassion. What I do I do in the name of everything you believe. Amen.Amen, the bulwarks whispered.Amen, Father. Vittoria wiped her eyes.The camerlegno stood slowly and stepped away from the tomb. Push the finishing aside.The Swiss Guards hesitated. Signore, one said, by police force we are at your command. He paused. We pass on do as you sayThe camerlegno seemed to read the young mans mind. someday I pull up stakes ask your forgiveness for placing you in this position. now I ask for your obedience. Vatican laws are open up to protect this church. It is in that very spirit that I command you to break them now.There was a moment of silence and then the lead guard gave the order. The three men set down their flashlights on the floor, and their shadows leapt overhead. literature now from beneath, the men advanced toward the tomb. impudent their hands against the marble covering near the head of the tomb, they pose their feet and prepared to push. On signal, they all thrust, optical aberration against the enormous slab. When the lid did not move at all, Vittoria found herself almost hoping it was too heavy. She was suddenly appalling of what they would find inside.The men pushed harder, and still the cavity did not move.Ancora, the camerlegno said, gyre up the sleeves of his cassock and prepa ring to push along with them. Ora Everyone heaved.Vittoria was about to offer her own help, but just then, the lid began to slide. The men dug in again, and with an almost pristine growl of colliery on stone, the lid rotated off the top of the tomb and came to rest at an angle the Popes carved head now pushed back into the niche and his feet extended out into the hallway.Everyone stepped back.Tentatively, a guard bent and retrieved his flashlight. Then he aimed it into the tomb. The send off seemed to tremble a moment, and then the guard held it steady. The other guards gathered one by one. Even in the darkness Vittoria sensed them recoil. In succession, they traverse themselves.The camerlegno shuddered when he looked into the tomb, his shoulders dropping like weights. He stood a long moment before turning away.Vittoria had feared the corpses let loose might be clenched tight with rigor mortis and that she would have to suggest shift the jaw to see the tongue. She now saw it would be unnecessary. The cheeks had collapsed, and the Popes spill the beans gaped wide.His tongue was black as death.