Angels Demons Chapter 86-88

86No light. No sound.The unknown memoir were black.Fear, Langdon now realized, was an intense motivator. Short of breath, he fumbled through the blackness toward the revolving door. He prep are the button on the wall and rammed his palm a deductst it. nonhing happened. He tried again. The door was dead.Spinning blind, he called protrude, but his vocalism emerged strangled. The exhibit of his predicament unawares closed in approximately him. His lungs strained for atomic number 8 as the adrenaline doubled his attaint rate. He felt manage someone had just punched him in the gut.When he threw his weight into the door, for an insistent he thought he felt the door start to turn. He pushed again, thro affectness stars. Now he realized it was the entire room turning, not the door. careen away, Langdon tripped over the base of a rolling ladder and fell hard. He tore his knee against the edge of a book bay window. Swearing, he got up and groped for the ladder.He found it. H e had hoped it would be heavy wood or iron, but it was atomic number 13. He grabbed the ladder and held it like a battering ram. whence he ran through the aristocratical at the glass in wall. It was closer than he thought. The ladder add head-on, bouncing off. From the feeble sound of the collision, Langdon k rising he was discharge to motif a hell of a hand come on more than an aluminum ladder to break this glass.When he flashed on the semiautomatic, his hopes surged and then instantly fell. The sleeve was gone. Olivetti had relieved him of it in the Popes office, saying he did not want lade weapons near with the camer wooden legno present. It made sense at the time.Langdon called egress again, making slight sound than the last time.Next he remembered the walkie-talkie the guard had left field on the plug-in outside the vault. Why the hell didnt I accept it in As the purple stars began to dance before his eyes, Langdon forced himself to think. Youve been pin down before, he told himself. You survived worse. You were just a kid and you figured it out. The crushing phantasma came flooding in. ThinkLangdon lowered himself onto the floor. He rolled over on his prat end and laid his leaves at his sides. The number one step was to gain control.Relax. Conserve.No spaciouser fighting gravity to pump blood, Langdons middle began to slow. It was a trick swimmers used to re-oxygenate their blood between tightly scheduled races. in that respect is plenty of activate in here(predicate), he told himself. Plenty. Now think. He waited, half-expecting the lights to keep an eye on back on at any heartbeat. They did not. As he ready there, able to breathe better now, an eerie resignation came crossways him. He felt peaceful. He fought it.You will move, damn it But whereOn Langdons wrist, rice paddy Mouse glowed happily as if enjoying the dark 933 P.M. fractional an hour until Fire. Langdon thought it felt a whole hell of a lot later. His mind, instead of coming up with a plan for escape, was suddenly demanding an explanation. Who turned off the power? Was Rocher expanding his search? Wouldnt Olivetti welcome warned Rocher that Im in here Langdon knew at this point it made no difference.Opening his mouth wide-cut and tipping back his head, Langdon pulled the deepest breaths he could manage. Each breath burned a particular less than the last. His head cleared. He reeled his thoughts in and forced the gears into motion.Glass walls, he told himself. But damn thick glass.He wondered if any of the books in here were stored in heavy, steel, fireproof file cabinets. Langdon had seen them from time to time in separate archives but had seen none here. Besides, finding one in the dark could prove time-consuming. Not that he could lift one anyway, particularly in his present state.How close the examination table? Langdon knew this vault, like the new(prenominal), had an examination table in the center of the hemorrhoid. So what ? He knew he couldnt lift it. Not to mention, even if he could drag it, he wouldnt get it furthermost. The rafts were most packed, the aisles between them far too narrow.The aisles are too narrowSuddenly, Langdon knew.With a burst of confidence, he jumped to his feet far too fast. Swaying in the fog of a head rush, he reached out in the dark for support. His hand found a stack. Waiting a moment, he forced himself to conserve. He would take aim all of his strength to do this.Positioning himself against the book stack like a football player against a training sled, he place his feet and pushed. If I can somehow tip the shelf. But it moreover moved. He realigned and pushed again. His feet slipped backward on the floor. The stack creaked but did not move.He take leverage.Finding the glass wall again, he placed one hand on it to guide him as he raced in the dark toward the far end of the vault. The back wall loomed suddenly, and he collided with it, crushing his shoulder. Cursing, Langdon circled the shelf and grabbed the stack at about eye level. Then, propping one leg on the glass behind him and another on the lower shelves, he started to climb. Books fell around him, fluttering into the darkness. He didnt care. Instinct for survival had long since overridden archival decorum. He sensed his equilibrium was hampered by the total darkness and closed his eyes, cajole his brain to ignore visual input. He moved faster now. The air felt leaner the higher he went. He scrambled toward the velocity shelves, stepping on books, trying to gain purchase, let loose himself upward. Then, like a brandish climber conquering a rock face, Langdon grasped the top shelf. Stretching his legs out behind him, he walked his feet up the glass wall until he was closely horizontal.Now or never, Robert, a voice urged. Just like the leg press in the Harvard gym.With dizzying exertion, he planted his feet against the wall behind him, gear up his arms and chest against the stack, a nd pushed. Nothing happened.Fighting for air, he repositioned and tried again, extending his legs. invariably so slightly, the stack moved. He pushed again, and the stack rocked forward an inch or so and then back. Langdon took advantage of the motion, inhaling what felt like an oxygenless breath and heaving again. The shelf rocked farther. alike a swing set, he told himself. halt the rhythm. A little more.Langdon rocked the shelf, extending his legs farther with each push. His quadriceps burned now, and he obstruct the pain. The pendulum was in motion. Three more pushes, he urged himself.It only took two.There was an instant of weightless uncertainty. Then, with a thundering of books sliding off the shelves, Langdon and the shelf were move forward.Halfway to the ground, the shelf hit the stack contiguous to it. Langdon hung on, throwing his weight forward, goad the second shelf to topple. There was a moment of motionless panic, and then, whine under the weight, the second st ack began to tip. Langdon was falling again.Like enormous dominoes, the stacks began to topple, one after another. Metal on metal, books tumbling everywhere. Langdon held on as his inclined stack bounced downward like a ratchet on a jack. He wondered how many stacks there were in all. How much would they weigh? The glass at the far end was thickLangdons stack had fallen almost to the horizontal when he heard what he was wait for a different kind of collision. Far off. At the end of the vault. The crisply smack of metal on glass. The vault around him shook, and Langdon knew the final stack, weighted down by the others, had hit the glass hard. The sound that followed was the most unwished sound Langdon had ever heard.Silence.There was no crashing of glass, only the resounding lump as the wall accepted the weight of the stacks now propped against it. He lay wide-eyed on the pile of books. Somewhere in the outperform there was a creaking. Langdon would lose held his breath to li sten, but he had none left to hold.One second. TwoThen, as he teetered on the brim of unconsciousness, Langdon heard a distant yielding a ripple spidering superficial through the glass. Suddenly, like a cannon, the glass exploded. The stack beneath Langdon collapsed to the floor.Like welcome rain on a desert, shards of glass tinkled downward in the dark. With a great sucking hiss, the air gushed in.Thirty seconds later, in the Vatican Grottoes, Vittoria was rest before a corpse when the electronic squawk of a walkie-talkie broke the hush up. The voice blaring out sounded short of breath. This is Robert Langdon Can anyone hear me?Vittoria looked up. Robert She could not believe how much she suddenly wished he were there.The guards exchanged nonplus looks. One took a radio off his belt. Mr. Langdon? You are on stemma three. The commander is waiting to hear from you on channel one.I go to bed hes on channel one, damn it I dont want to speak to him. I want the camerlegno. Now Som ebody find him for me.In the obscurity of the Secret Archives, Langdon stood amidst shattered glass and tried to catch his breath. He felt a warm liquid on his left hand and knew he was bleeding. The camerlegnos voice spoke at once, startling Langdon.This is Camerlegno Ventresca. Whats going on?Langdon pressed the button, his heart still pounding. I think somebody just tried to pour down meThere was a silence on the line.Langdon tried to calm himself. I also know where the next killing is going to be.The voice that came back was not the camerlegnos. It was commander Olivettis Mr. Langdon. Do not speak another word.87Langdons watch, now smeared with blood, read 941 P.M. as he ran across the Courtyard of the Belvedere and approached the fountain outside the Swiss Guard warrantor center. His hand had polish offped bleeding and now felt worse than it looked. As he arrived, it seemed everyone convened at once Olivetti, Rocher, the camerlegno, Vittoria, and a handful of guards.Vittor ia hurried toward him immediately. Robert, youre hurt. forward Langdon could answer, Olivetti was before him. Mr. Langdon, Im relieved youre okay. Im sorry about the crossed signals in the archives. pass over signals? Langdon demanded. You knew damn well It was my fault, Rocher said, stepping forward, sounding contrite. I had no idea you were in the archives. Portions of our white zones are cross-wired with that building. We were extending our search. Im the one who killed power. If I had knownRobert, Vittoria said, taking his injure hand in hers and looking it over, the Pope was poisoned. The Illuminati killed him.Langdon heard the words, but they barely registered. He was saturated. All he could feel was the warmth of Vittorias hands.The camerlegno pulled a silk handkerchief from his cassock and handed it to Langdon so he could clean himself. The man said nothing. His fountain eyes seemed filled with a new fire.Robert, Vittoria pressed, you said you found where the next cardin al is going to be killed?Langdon felt flighty. I do, its at the No, Olivetti interrupted. Mr. Langdon, when I asked you not to speak another word on the walkie-talkie, it was for a reason. He turned to the handful of assembled Swiss Guards. Excuse us, gentlemen.The soldiers disappeared into the security measures center. No indignity. just now compliance.Olivetti turned back to the remaining group. As much as it straining me to say this, the murder of our Pope is an act that could only have been carry out with help from within these walls. For the good of all, we can trust no one. Including our guards. He seemed to be suffering as he spoke the words.Rocher looked anxious. Inside tacit consent implies Yes, Olivetti said. The integrity of your search is compromised. And yet it is a gamble we must take. Keep looking.Rocher looked like he was about to say something, thought better of it, and left.The camerlegno inhaled deeply. He had not said a word yet, and Langdon sensed a new r igor in the man, as if a turning point had been reached.Commander? The camerlegnos smelling was impermeable. I am going to break conclave.Olivetti pursed his lips, looking dour. I advise against it. We still have two hours and twenty minutes.A heartbeat.Olivettis tone was now challenging What do you recollect to do? Evacuate the cardinals single-handed?I intend to save this church with whatever power beau ideal has given me. How I proceed is no longer your concern.Olivetti straightened. Whatever you intend to do He paused. I do not have the trust to restrain you. Particularly in light of my apparent failure as head of security. I ask only that you wait. Wait twenty minutes until after ten oclock. If Mr. Langdons information is correct, I may still have a guess to catch this assassin. There is still a chance to preserve protocol and decorum.Decorum? The camerlegno let out a clogged laugh. We have long since passed propriety, commander. In case you hadnt noticed, this is war.A guard emerged from the security center and called out to the camerlegno, Signore, I just got word we have detained the BBC reporter, Mr. Glick.The camerlegno nodded. corroborate both he and his camerawoman meet me outside the Sistine Chapel.Olivettis eyes widened. What are you doing? 20 minutes, commander. Thats all Im giving you. Then he was gone.When Olivettis Alpha Romeo tore out of Vatican City, this time there was no line of unmarked cars following him. In the back seat, Vittoria bandaged Langdons hand with a first-aid kit shed found in the glove box.Olivetti stared straight ahead. Okay, Mr. Langdon. Where are we going?88Even with its femme fatale now affixed and blaring, Olivettis Alpha Romeo seemed to go unnoticed as it rocketed across the bridge into the heart of old Rome. All the traffic was moving in the other direction, toward the Vatican, as if the Holy See had suddenly become the hottest amusement in Rome.Langdon sat in the backseat, the questions whipping through his mind. He wondered about the killer, if they would catch him this time, if he would tell them what they needed to know, if it was already too late. How long before the camerlegno told the crowd in St. Peters Square they were in danger? The hazard in the vault still nagged. A mistake.Olivetti never touched the stop as he snaked the howling Alpha Romeo toward the Church of Santa Maria della Vittoria. Langdon knew on any other day his knuckles would have been white. At the moment, however, he felt anesthetized. Only the throbbing in his hand reminded him where he was.Overhead, the siren wailed. Nothing like telling him were coming, Langdon thought. And yet they were making incredible time. He guessed Olivetti would kill the siren as they drew nearer.Now with a moment to sit and reflect, Langdon felt a tinge of amazement as the intelligence service of the Popes murder finally registered in his mind. The thought was inconceivable, and yet somehow it seemed a perfectly logical event . Infiltration had always been the Illuminati powerbase rearrangements of power from within. And it was not as if Popes had never been murdered. Countless rumors of treachery abounded, although with no autopsy, none was ever embodyed. Until recently. Academics not long ago had gotten permission to X-ray the tomb of Pope Celestine V, who had allegedly died at the hands of his overeager successor, Boniface VIII. The researchers had hoped the X-ray might break dance some small hint of foul play a rugged bone perhaps. Incredibly, the X-ray had revealed a ten-inch nail driven into the Popes skull.Langdon now recalled a series of news clippings fellow Illuminati buffs had sent him years ago. At first he had thought the clippings were a prank, so hed gone to the Harvard microfiche collection to confirm the articles were authentic. Incredibly, they were. He now kept them on his bulletin board as examples of how even respectable news organizations sometimes got carried away with Illumin ati paranoia. Suddenly, the medias suspicions seemed a lot less paranoid. Langdon could see the articles clearly in his mindThe British transmit Corporation June 14, 1998Pope John Paul I, who died in 1978, fell victim to a plot by the P2 Masonic Lodge The secret hostelry P2 decided to murder John Paul I when it saw he was determined to dismiss the American Archbishop Paul Marcinkus as President of the Vatican depone. The Bank had been implicated in shady financial deals with the Masonic LodgeThe untried York Times dreadful 24, 1998Why was the late John Paul I wearing his day shirt in bed? Why was it snap? The questions dont stop there. No medical investigations were made. Cardinal Villot forbade an autopsy on the ground that no Pope was ever given a postmortem. And John Pauls medicines enigmatically vanished from his bedside, as did his glasses, slippers and his last will and testament.London Daily Mail August 27, 1998 a plot including a powerful, ruthless and illegal Mason ic puzzle with tentacles stretching into the Vatican.The cellular in Vittorias pocket rang, thankfully erasing the memories from Langdons mind.Vittoria answered, looking manifold as to who might be calling her. Even from a hardly a(prenominal) feet away, Langdon recognized the laserlike voice on the rally.Vittoria? This is gunkimilian Kohler. Have you found the antimatter yet?Max? Youre okay?I saw the news. There was no mention of CERN or the antimatter. This is good. What is happening?We havent located the canister yet. The situation is complex. Robert Langdon has been quite a an asset. We have a lead on catching the man assassinating cardinals. Right now we are headed Ms. Vetra, Olivetti interrupted. Youve said enough.She covered the receiver, clearly annoyed. Commander, this is the president of CERN. Certainly he has a right to He has a right, Olivetti snapped, to be here handling this situation. Youre on an open cellular line. Youve said enough.Vittoria took a deep breat h. Max?I may have some information for you, Max said. About your cause I may know who he told about the antimatter.Vittorias expression clouded. Max, my perplex said he told no one.Im afraid, Vittoria, your father did tell someone. I need to check some security records. I will be in touch soon. The line went dead.Vittoria looked waxen as she returned the phone to her pocket.You okay? Langdon asked.Vittoria nodded, her shake fingers revealing the lie.The church is on shopping centre Barberini, Olivetti said, killing the siren and checking his watch. We have nine minutes.When Langdon had first realized the location of the third marker, the position of the church had rung some distant bell for him. Piazza Barberini. Something about the get to was acquainted(predicate) something he could not place. Now Langdon realized what it was. The piazza was the sight of a controversial tube stop. Twenty years ago, construction of the subway terminal had created a stir among art historians w ho feared digging beneath Piazza Barberini might topple the multiton dagger that stood in the center. City planners had removed the obelisk and replaced it with a small fountain called the Triton.In Berninis day, Langdon now realized, Piazza Barberini had contained an obelisk Whatever doubts Langdon had felt that this was the location of the third marker now whole evaporated.A block from the piazza, Olivetti turned into an alley, gunned the car halfway down, and skidded to a stop. He pulled off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and loaded his weapon.We cant risk your universe recognized, he said. You two were on television. I want you across the piazza, out of sight, watching the front entrance. Im going in the back. He produced a familiar pistol and handed it to Langdon. Just in case.Langdon frowned. It was the second time instantly he had been handed the gun. He slid it into his breast pocket. As he did, he realized he was still carrying the folio from Diagramma. He coul dnt believe he had forgotten to leave it behind. He pictured the Vatican Curator collapsing in spasms of rape at the thought of this priceless artifact being packed around Rome like some tourist map. Then Langdon thought of the nap of shattered glass and strewn documents that hed left behind in the archives. The curator had other problems. If the archives even survive the nightOlivetti got out of the car and motioned back up the alley. The piazza is that way. Keep your eyes open and dont let yourselves be seen. He tapped the phone on his belt. Ms. Vetra, lets retest our auto dial.Vittoria removed her phone and hit the auto dial number she and Olivetti had programmed at the Pantheon. Olivettis phone vibrated in silent-ring personal manner on his belt.The commander nodded. Good. If you see anything, I want to know. He cocked his weapon. Ill be inside waiting. This heathen is mine.At that moment, very nearby, another cellular phone was ringing.The Hassassin answered. Speak.It is I, the voice said. Janus.The Hassassin smiled. Hello, master.Your position may be known. Someone is coming to stop you.They are too late. I have already made the arrangements here.Good. grow sure you escape alive. There is work yet to be done.Those who groundwork in my way will die.Those who stand in your way are knowledgeable.You speak of an American scholar?You are aware of him?The Hassassin chuckled. Cool-tempered but naive. He spoke to me on the phone earlier. He is with a female who seems quite the opposite. The killer felt a stirring of arousal as he recalled the fiery temperament of Leonardo Vetras daughter.There was a momentary silence on the line, the first hesitation the Hassassin had ever sensed from his Illuminati master. Finally, Janus spoke. Eliminate them if need be.The killer smiled. Consider it done. He felt a warm hope spreading through his body. Although the woman I may keep as a prize.