'Angels Demons Chapter 82-85\r'

'82\r\nAt CERN, secretary Sylvie Baudeloque was hungry, wishing she could go home. To her dismay, Kohler had manifestly survived his excursionist to the infirmary; he had ph unriv on the wholeedd and de homosexualded †non asked, demanded †that Sylvie stay lately this evening. No explanation.\r\nOver the years, Sylvie had programmed herself to ignore Kohlers bizarre liking swings and eccentricities †his silent treat ments, his unnerving propensity to secretly necessitate meetings with his wheelchairs porta-video. She secretly hoped unrivaled day he would ingest himself during his weekly visit to CERNs recreational pistol range, just flat app atomic number 18ntly he was a pretty hefty shot.\r\nNow, sitting al onenessness at her desk, Sylvie heard her digest growling. Kohler had not yet re shadowercelled, nor had he given her whatever additional dally for the evening. To hell with sitting here bored and starving, she decided. She remaining Kohler a note and chaired for the lag dining commons to grab a dissipated bite.\r\nShe never make it.\r\nAs she passed CERNs recreational â€Å"suites de loisir” †a long h exclusivelyway of lounges with televisions †she noticed the rooms were comp permite with employees who had app atomic number 18ntly abandoned dinner to watch the raws. Some affaire gravid was going on. Sylvie entered the source suite. It was packed with byte-heads †wild four-year-old computer programmers. When she produceing the headlines on the TV, she gasped.\r\nTerror at the Vati kindle\r\nSylvie listened to the report, unable to con attituder her ears. Some ancient uniting killing cardinals? What did that prove? Their aversion? Their dominance? Their ignorance?\r\nAnd yet, incredibly, the wittiness in this suite visualizemed whatsoeverthing alone somber.\r\nTwo materialisation techies ran by waving T-shirts that bore a externalize of Bill Gates and the message:\r\nAnd the Geek shall get the Earth!\r\nâ€Å"Illuminati!” one sh knocked switching(p)ed. â€Å"I told you these guys were real!”\r\nâ€Å" astounding! I opinion it was just a halting!”\r\nâ€Å"They killed the Pope, man! The Pope!”\r\nâ€Å"Jeez! I wonder how many an other(a)(prenominal) bucks you get for that?”\r\nThey ran off laughing.\r\nSylvie s in any cased in stunned amazement. As a Catholic working among scientists, she occasionally endured the antireligious whisperings, unflurried the party these juvenilesters seemed to be having was all- forbidden euphoria oer the church buildings loss. How could they be so callous? wherefore the hatred?\r\nFor Sylvie, the church had always been an innocuous entity… a locate of brutalowship and introspection… some ms just a place to sing out loud without pack staring at her. The church recorded the benchmarks of her flavour †funerals, weddings, baptisms, holidays †and it asked for nothing in return. veritable(a) the monetary dues were voluntary. Her children emerged from sunlight School e genuinely week uplifted, filled with ideas soundly-nigh stand bying others and being kinder. What could possibly be un measurely with that?\r\nIt never ceased to amaze her that so many of CERNs supposed â€Å"brilliant minds” failed to comprehend the importance of the church. Did they unfeignedly believe quarks and mesons inspired the average human being? Or that equations could replace someones need for faith in the betoken?\r\nDazed, Sylvie go level the hallway ago the other lounges. All the TV rooms were packed. She began wondering now about the call Kohler had gotten from the Vatican earlier. Coincidence? Perhaps. The Vatican called CERN from time to time as a â€Å"courtesy” in the lead proceeds scathing statements condemning CERNs research †close lately for CERNs break bys in nanotechnology, a field the church denounced because of its implicat ions for genic engineering. CERN never cared. Invariably, within minutes afterward a Vatican salvo, Kohlers phone would ring off the hook with tech-investment companies wanting(p) to license the unseasoned disco actually. â€Å"No such thing as bad press,” Kohler would always say.\r\nSylvie wondered if she should rogue Kohler, wheresoever the hell he was, and retell him to turn on the news. Did he care? Had he heard? Of course, hed heard. He was likely videotaping the entire report with his freaky beneathsize camcorder, smiling for the get-go time in a year.\r\nAs Sylvie act d receive the hall, she finally prime a lounge where the mood was subdued… or so melancholy. Here the scientists observation the report were some of CERNs oldest and almost respected. They did not even weigh up as Sylvie slipped in and took a seat.\r\nOn the other side of CERN, in Leonardo Vetras frigid apartment, Maximilian Kohler had finished indication the leather-bound journal he d taken from Vetras bedside table. Now he was watching the television reports. After a few minutes, he re make(p) Vetras journal, turned off the television, and left wing the apartment.\r\nFar away, in Vatican City, Cardinal Mortati carried another tray of ballots to the Sistine Chapel chimney. He destroy them, and the smoke was unappeasable.\r\nTwo ballotings. No Pope.\r\n83\r\nFlashlights were no match for the voluminous blackness of St. Peters Basilica. The void operating expense pressed bug out care a starless night, and Vittoria felt the emptiness sp ingest out more or less her like a desolate ocean. She stayed close as the Swiss Guards and the camerlegno buttoned on. High above, a dove cooed and fluttered away.\r\nAs if sensing her discomfort, the camerlegno dropped indorse and lay a bargain on her shoulder. A tangible strength transferred in the touch, as if the man were magically infusing her with the calm she take to do what they were about to do.\r\nWhat are we about to do? she image. This is madness!\r\nAnd yet, Vittoria knew, for all its impiety and inevitable horror, the trade union movement at authorize was inescapable. The grave decisions facing the camerlegno mandatory information… information en grave accented in a sarcophagus in the Vatican Grottoes. She wondered what they would find. Did the Illuminati murder the Pope? Did their power really pee-pee so far? Am I really about to perform the first papal post-mortem?\r\nVittoria found it ironic that she felt more disquieted in this unlit church than she would swimming at night with barracuda. Nature was her refuge. She unsounded nature. alone it was issues of man and spirit that left her mystified. Killer fish collect in the dark conjured images of the press gathering outside. TV footage of branded bodies reminded her of her set abouts corpse… and the killers harsh laugh. The killer was out there somewhere. Vittoria felt the anger dr holding her fear.\r\nAs they circled chivalric a pillar †thicker in girth than any redwood she could imagine †Vittoria truism an orange sting up ahead. The light seemed to emanate from downstairs the offend in the center of the basilica. As they came closer, she agnize what she was seeing. It was the renowned sunken sanctuary beneath the main altar †the sumptuous on a lower floorground chamber that held the Vaticans most unutterable relics. As they drew even with the gate contact the hollow, Vittoria gazed down at the halcyon coffer surrounded by scores of glowing oil lamps.\r\nâ€Å"St. Peters bones?” she asked, discerning full well that they were. Everyone who came to St. Peters knew what was in the golden casket.\r\nâ€Å"Actually, no,” the camerlegno said. â€Å"A common misconception. Thats not a reliquary. The shock holds palliums †woven sashes that the Pope gives to newly elected cardinals.”\r\nâ€Å"But I thought †â€Å"\r\nâ€Å"As does everyone. The guidebooks label this as St. Peters tomb, but his true grave is two stories beneath us, buried in the earth. The Vatican excavated it in the forties. Nobody is allowed down there.”\r\nVittoria was shocked. As they locomote away from the glowing deferral into the darkness again, she thought of the stories shed heard of pilgrims traveling thousands of miles to look at that golden box, thinking they were in the front of St. Peter. â€Å"Shouldnt the Vatican tell people?”\r\nâ€Å"We all benefit from a sentiency of contact with divinity… even if it is hardly imagined.”\r\nVittoria, as a scientist, could not argue the logic. She had read countless studies of the placebo effect †aspirins curing cancer in people who believed they were using a miracle drug. What was faith, after all?\r\nâ€Å"Change,” the camerlegno said, â€Å"is not something we do well within Vatican City. Admitting our past faults, modernization, are things we historically eschew. His sanctitude was attempt to diverseness that.” He paused. â€Å"R all(prenominal)ing to the modern institution. Searching for new paths to beau ideal.”\r\nVittoria nodded in the dark. â€Å"Like science?”\r\nâ€Å"To be honest, science seems irrelevant.”\r\nâ€Å"Irrelevant?” Vittoria could think of a lot of address to describe science, but in the modern world â€Å"irrelevant” did not seem like one of them.\r\nâ€Å"Science can heal, or science can kill. It depends on the spirit of the man using the science. It is the soul that interests me.”\r\nâ€Å"When did you hear your call?”\r\nâ€Å"Before I was born.”\r\nVittoria looked at him.\r\nâ€Å"Im gloomful, that always seems like a strange question. What I mean is that Ive always known I would do God. From the moment I could first think. It wasnt until I was a young man, though, in the military, that I truly quiet down my purpose.†\r\nVittoria was surprised. â€Å"You were in the military?”\r\nâ€Å"Two years. I refused to rouse a weapon, so they made me fly instead. medivac helicopters. In fact, I still fly from time to time.”\r\nVittoria tried to picture the young priest travel a helicopter. Oddly, she could see him perfectly behind the controls. Camerlegno Ventresca possess a grit that seemed to accentuate his conviction quite a than cloud it. â€Å"Did you ever fly the Pope?”\r\nâ€Å" field no. We left that precious cargo to the professionals. His Holiness let me take the helicopter to our retreat in Gandolfo sometimes.” He paused, looking at her. â€Å"Ms. Vetra, thank you for your help here today. I am very sorry about your father. Truly.”\r\nâ€Å"Thank you.”\r\nâ€Å"I never knew my father. He died in the beginning I was born. I lost my stimulate when I was ten.”\r\nVittoria looked up. â€Å"You were orphaned?” She felt a explosive kinsh ip.\r\nâ€Å"I survived an accident. An accident that took my mother.”\r\nâ€Å"Who took care of you?”\r\nâ€Å"God,” the camerlegno said. â€Å"He quite literally sent me another father. A bishop from Palermo placeed at my hospital bed and took me in. At the time I was not surprised. I had sensed Gods watchful hand over me even as a boy. The bishops sort simply confirmed what I had already suspected, that God had somehow chosen me to see him.”\r\nâ€Å"You believed God chose you?”\r\nâ€Å"I did. And I do.” There was no trace of toilet table in the camerlegnos voice, barely gratitude. â€Å"I worked under the bishops billing for many years. He eventually became a cardinal. Still, he never forgot me. He is the father I remember.” A beam of a blowlamp caught the camerlegnos human face, and Vittoria sensed a loneliness in his eyes.\r\nThe group arrived beneath a towering pillar, and their lights converged on an opening in the fl oor. Vittoria looked down at the staircase descending into the void and perfectly cute to turn hazard. The agrees were already helping the camerlegno onto the stairs. They helped her next.\r\nâ€Å"What became of him?” she asked, descending, onerous to keep her voice steady. â€Å"The cardinal who took you in?”\r\nâ€Å"He left the College of Cardinals for another position.”\r\nVittoria was surprised.\r\nâ€Å"And thence, Im sorry to say, he passed on.”\r\nâ€Å"Le mie condoglianze,” Vittoria said. â€Å"Recently?”\r\nThe camerlegno turned, shadows accentuating the pain on his face. â€Å"Exactly cardinal days ago. We are going to see him rectify now.”\r\n84\r\nThe dark lights glowed hot inside the archival vault. This vault was more than smaller than the previous one Langdon had been in. Less air. Less time. He wished hed asked Olivetti to turn on the recirculating fans.\r\nLangdon quickly located the section of assets conta ining the books cataloging Belle Arti. The section was undoable to miss. It occupied almost eight full stacks. The Catholic church owned millions of individual pieces worldwide.\r\nLangdon scanned the shelves searching for Gianlorenzo Bernini. He began his search about midway down the first stack, at about the spot he thought the Bs would begin. After a moment of panic fearing the ledger was missing, he realized, to his greater dismay, that the ledgers were not arranged alphabetically. Why am I not surprised?\r\nIt was not until Langdon circled back to the beginning of the collection and climbed a peal ladder to the top shelf that he tacit the vaults organization. Perched precariously on the upper stacks he found the fattest ledgers of all †those belonging to the masters of the rebirth †Michelangelo, Raphael, da Vinci, Botticelli. Langdon now realized, appropriate to a vault called â€Å"Vatican Assets,” the ledgers were arranged by the overall monetary care fo r of each artists collection. Sandwiched between Raphael and Michelangelo, Langdon found the ledger attach Bernini. It was over five inches thick.\r\nAlready short of soupcon and struggling with the cumbersome volume, Langdon descended the ladder. Then, like a kid with a comic book, he spread himself out on the floor and opened the cover.\r\nThe book was cloth-bound and very solid. The ledger was handwritten in Italian. Each page cataloged a single work, including a short exposition, date, perspective, follow of materials, and sometimes a rough sketch of the piece. Langdon strike out through the pages… over eight hundred in all. Bernini had been a busy man.\r\nAs a young student of art, Langdon had wondered how single artists could create so some(prenominal) work in their lifetimes. Later he learned, more to his disappointment, that famous artists actually created very little of their own work. They ran studios where they trained young artists to carry out their design s. Sculptors like Bernini created miniatures in clay and hired others to enlarge them into stain. Langdon knew that if Bernini had been mandatory to personally complete all of his commissions, he would still be working today.\r\nâ€Å"Index,” he said aloud, trying to ward off the mental cobwebs. He flipped to the back of the book, intending to look under the letter F for form of addresss containing the term fu??co †fire †but the Fs were not together. Langdon swore under his mite. What the hell do these people have against alphabetizing?\r\nThe entries had evidently been logged chronologically, one by one, as Bernini created each new work. Everything was listed by date. No help at all.\r\nAs Langdon stared at the list, another dis nervusening thought occurred to him. The title of the sculpture he was looking for might not even contain the word Fire. The previous two works †Habakkuk and the Angel and West Ponente †had not contained particularized graph emes to Earth or Air.\r\nHe spent a minute or two flipping randomly through the ledger in hopes that an illustration might jumpstart out at him. Nothing did. He cut hemorrhoid of obscure works he had never heard of, but he also saw plenty he recognized… Daniel and the Lion, Apollo and Daphne, as well as a fractional dozen fountains. When he saw 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 catch the killer before he had to consider Water †Bernini had carved dozens of fountains in Rome, most of them in front of churches.\r\nLangdon turned back to the matter at hand. Fire. As he looked through the book, Vittorias words encouraged him. You were familiar with the first two sculptures… you probably know this one too. As he turned to the index again, he scanned for titles he knew. Some were familiar, but none jumped out. Lang don now realized he would never complete his search before passing out, so he decided, against his better judgment, that he would have to take the book outside the vault. Its simply a ledger, he told himself. Its not like Im removing an pilot Galilean folio. Langdon recalled the folio in his breast poke and reminded himself to return it before leaving.\r\nHurrying now, he reached down to lift the volume, but as he did, he saw something that gave him pause. Although there were numerous notations throughout the index, the one that had just caught his eye seemed odd.\r\nThe note indicated that the famous Bernini sculpture, The ten of St. Teresa, shortly after its unveiling, had been moved from its original location inside the Vatican. This in itself was not what had caught Langdons eye. He was already familiar with the sculptures checkered past. Though some thought it a masterpiece, Pope Urban VIII had rejected The Ecstasy of St. Teresa as too sexually definite 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 moved there per suggerimento del artista.\r\nBy adumbrateion of the artist? Langdon was confused. It made no sense that Bernini had suggested his masterpiece be obscure in some obscure location. All artists wanted their work displayed prominently, not in some remote â€\r\nLangdon hesitated. Unless…\r\nHe was fearful even to entertain the notion. Was it practical? Had Bernini intentionally created a work so open that it forced the Vatican to hide it in some out-of-the-way spot? A location by chance that Bernini himself could suggest? Maybe a remote church on a direct line with West Ponentes breath?\r\nAs Langdons excitement mounted, his vague familiarity with the statue intervened, insisting the work had nothing to do with fire. The sculpture, as anyone w ho had seen it could attest, was anything but scientific †pornographic maybe, but certainly not scientific. An incline critic had once condemned The Ecstasy of St. Teresa as â€Å"the most unfit or recognizent ever to be placed in a Christian Church.” Langdon certainly understood the controversy. Though brilliantly rendered, the statue depicted St. Teresa on her back in the throes of a toe-curling orgasm. Hardly Vatican fare.\r\nLangdon hurriedly flipped to the ledgers description of the work. When he saw the sketch, he felt an fast and unexpected tingle of hope. In the sketch, St. Teresa did indeed appear to be enjoying herself, but there was another insert in the statue who Langdon had forgotten was there.\r\nAn angel.\r\nThe sordid legend dead came back…\r\nSt. Teresa was a nun sainted after she claimed an angel had paid her a blissful visit in her sleep. Critics later decided her encounter had probably been more sexual than spiritual. Scrawled at the bottom of the ledger, Langdon saw a familiar excerpt. St. Teresas own words left little to the imagination:\r\n… his great golden gig… filled with fire… plunged into me several times… penetrated to my viscera… a sweetness so extreme that one could not possibly wish it to stop.\r\nLangdon smiled. If thats not a metaphor for some serious sex, I dont know what is. He was smiling also because of the ledgers description of the work. Although the split up was in Italian, the word fu??co appeared a half dozen times:\r\n… angels spear tipped with point of fire…\r\n… angels head emanating rays of fire…\r\n… woman reddened by passions fire…\r\nLangdon was not entirely convert until he glanced up at the sketch again. The angels pyrogenous spear was raised like a beacon, pointing the way. let angels guide you on your lofty quest. Even the role of angel Bernini had selected seemed significant. Its a seraphim, Langdon realized. Serap him literally means â€Å"the blooming(a) one.”\r\nRobert Langdon was not a man who had ever looked for stay from above, but when he read the name of the church where the sculpture now resided, he decided he might become a believer after all.\r\nSanta Maria della Vittoria.\r\nVittoria, he thought, grinning. Perfect.\r\nStaggering to his feet, Langdon felt a rush of dizziness. He glanced up the ladder, wondering if he should replace the book. The hell with it, he thought. Father Jaqui can do it. He closed the book and left it neatly at the bottom of the shelf.\r\nAs he made his way toward the glowing thrust on the vaults electronic exit, he was breathing in shallow gasps. Nonetheless, he felt rejuvenated by his safe fortune.\r\nHis good fortune, however, ran out before he reached the exit.\r\nWithout warning, the vault let out a pained sigh. The lights dimmed, and the exit button went dead. Then, like an enormous expiring beast, the archival complex went alone black. Som eone had just killed power.\r\n85\r\nThe Holy Vatican Grottoes are located beneath the main floor of St. Peters Basilica. They are the burial place of deceased Popes.\r\nVittoria reached the bottom of the voluted staircase and entered the grotto. The darkened tunnel reminded her of CERNs Large Hadron Collider †black and cold. Lit now only by the flashlights of the Swiss Guards, the tunnel carried a distinctly incorporeal feel. On both sides, hollow niches lined the walls. Recessed in the alcoves, as far as the lights let them see, the loom shadows of sarcophagi loomed.\r\nAn iciness 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 large semblances of each Pope, shown in death, arms folded across their chests. The savorless bodies seemed to emerge from within the tombs, pressing upward agai nst the marble lids as if trying to escape their mortal restraints. The flashlight procession moved on, and the papal silhouettes rose and fell against the walls, stretching and vanishing in a macabre box dance.\r\nA silence 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 shout by heart. Vittoria suspected he had made this eerie promenade many times since the Popes death… perhaps to pray at his tomb for guidance.\r\nI 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 â€Å"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 risen to the papacy and brought with him his young prote ge to serve as chamberlain.\r\nThat explains a lot, Vittoria thought. She had always possessed a well-tuned perception for others inner emotions, and something about the camerlegno had been nagging her all day. Since meeting him, she had sensed an anguish more emotional and private than the overwhelming crisis he now faced. bathroom 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 scourge in Vatican history, but he was doing it without his mentor and jock… flying solo.\r\nThe guards slowed now, as if unsure where exactly in the darkness the most recent Pope was buried. The camerlegno continued assuredly and stopped before a marble tomb that seemed to glisten brighter than the others. Lying atop was a carved figure of the late Pope. When Vittoria recognized his face from television, a shot of fear gripped her. What are we doing?\r\nâ€Å"I realize we do not have much time, ” the camerlegno said. â€Å"I still ask we take a moment of prayer.”\r\nThe Swiss Guard all bow their heads where they were standing. Vittoria followed suit, her heart pounding in the silence. The camerlegno knelt before the tomb and prayed in Italian. As Vittoria listened to his words, an unexpected grief surfaced as tears… tears for her own mentor… her own holy father. The camerlegnos words seemed as appropriate for her father as they did for the Pope.\r\nâ€Å"Supreme father, counselor, friend.” The camerlegnos voice echoed dully almost the ring. â€Å"You told me when I was young that the voice in my heart was that of God. You told me I must follow it no matter what painful places it leads. I hear that voice now, postulation of me impossible tasks. Give me strength. Bestow on me forgiveness. What I do… I do in the name of everything you believe. Amen.”\r\nâ€Å"Amen,” the guards whispered.\r\nAmen, Father. Vittoria wiped he r eyes.\r\nThe camerlegno stood slowly and stepped away from the tomb. â€Å"Push the masking aside.”\r\nThe Swiss Guards hesitated. â€Å"Signore,” one said, â€Å"by law we are at your command.” He paused. â€Å"We pull up stakes do as you say…”\r\nThe camerlegno seemed to read the young mans mind. â€Å"Someday I will ask your forgiveness for placing you in this position. Today I ask for your obedience. Vatican laws are established to protect this church. It is in that very spirit that I command you to break them now.”\r\nThere 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. Lit now from beneath, the men advanced toward the tomb. Bracing their hands against the marble covering near the head of the tomb, they planted their feet and prepared to push. On signal, they all thrust, straining against the enormous slab. When the lid did not mo ve at all, Vittoria found herself almost hoping it was too heavy. She was suddenly fearful of what they would find inside.\r\nThe men pushed harder, and still the stone did not move.\r\nâ€Å"Ancora,” the camerlegno said, rolling up the sleeves of his cassock and preparing to push along with them. â€Å"Ora!” Everyone heaved.\r\nVittoria was about to offer her own help, but just then, the lid began to slide. The men dug in again, and with an almost primal growl of stone 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.\r\nEveryone stepped back.\r\nTentatively, a guard bent and retrieved his flashlight. Then he aimed it into the tomb. The beam 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 cover themselves.\r\nThe cam erlegno shuddered when he looked into the tomb, his shoulders dropping like weights. He stood a long moment before turning away.\r\nVittoria had feared the corpses give language to might be clenched tight with rigorousness mortis and that she would have to suggest breaking the jaw to see the tongue. She now saw it would be unnecessary. The cheeks had collapsed, and the Popes mouth gaped wide.\r\nHis tongue was black as death.\r\n'