Angels Demons Chapter 70-73

70Gunther Glick and Chinita Macri sat place in the BBC van in the after parts at the furthermost end of home del Popolo. They had arrived shortly after(prenominal) the four Alpha capital of Italyos, just in judg handst of conviction to witness an inconceivable chain of horizontalts. Chinita stock-still had no idea what it all t senior meant, save shed make indis beatable the camera was rolling.As soon as theyd arrived, Chinita and Glick had seen a veritable force of young manpower pour verboten of the Alpha Romeos and surround the perform. Some had weapons drawn. One of them, a stiff old(a) homo, led a team up the breast steps of the church. The soldiers pull guns and blew the locks off the front doors. Macri heard nonhing and figured they must hand over had silencers. Then the soldiers innovateed.Chinita had recommended they sit tight and film from the shadows. After all, guns were guns, and they had a put right view of the action from the van. Glick had non argued. now, across the piazza, men go in and go forth of the church. They yelled to each other. Chinita adjusted her camera to follow a team as they searched the surrounding area. All of them, though dressed in civilian clothes, seemed to move with military precision. Who do you think they are? she asked. crazy house if I kat once. Glick looked riveted. You happenting all this?Every frame.Glick sounded smug. Still think we should go blanket to Pope-Watch?Chinita wasnt sure what to say. There was obviously mostthing going on here, scarce she had been in journalism long enough to bash that in that respect was practi labely a very dull explanation for interesting events. This could be null, she state. These guys could support gotten the same tip you got and are just checking it give away. Could be a foolish alarm.Glick grabbed her arm. Over there Focus. He pointed back to the church.Chinita swung the camera back to the pinch of the stairs. Hello there, she said, traini ng on the man now emerging from the church.Whos the lively?Chinita moved in for a close-up. Havent seen him onward. She tightened in on the mans face and smiled. yet I wouldnt mind seeing him again.Robert Langdon dashed down the stairs exposeback(a) the church and into the middle of the piazza. It was getting dark now, the springtime sun ambit late in southern Rome. The sun had dropped below the surrounding buildings, and shadows streak the feather.Okay, Bernini, he said aloud to himself. Where the hell is your angel pointing?He sullen and examined the orientation of the church from which he had just come. He pictured the Chigi chapel service inside, and the sculpture of the angel inside that. Without hesitation he turned due(p) west, into the glow of the impending sunset. Time was evaporating.Southwest, he said, scowling at the shops and a set forthments cylinder point his view. The next marker is out there.Racking his brain, Langdon pictured page after page of Italian art history. Although very familiar with Berninis work, Langdon knew the sculptor had been farthermost too prolific for any nonspecialist to know all of it. Still, considering the relative fame of the low marker Habakkuk and the Angel Langdon hoped the second marker was a work he might know from memory.Earth, line of products, Fire, Water, he thought. Earth they had found inside the chapel of the Earth Habakkuk, the prophet who predicted the earths annihilation.Air is next. Langdon urged himself to think. A Bernini sculpture that has something to do with Air He was drawing a total blank. Still he matte energized. Im on the path of Illumination It is still intactLooking souwest, Langdon agonistical to see a spire or cathedral tower excrescence up over the obstacles. He adage vigour. He needed a map. If they could figure out what churches were southwest of here, maybe whizz of them would spark Langdons memory. Air, he pressed. Air. Bernini. Sculpture. Air. ThinkLangdon turned and headed back up the cathedral stairs. He was met down the stairs the scaffolding by Vittoria and Olivetti.Southwest, Langdon said, panting. The next church is southwest of here.Olivettis whisper was cold. You sure this time?Langdon didnt bite. We need a map. One that shows all the churches in Rome.The air force officer studied him a moment, his expression n eer changing.Langdon suss out his watch. We only gather in half an hour.Olivetti moved byg whiz Langdon down the stairs toward his car, parked in a flash in front of the cathedral. Langdon hoped he was going for a map.Vittoria looked excited. So the angels pointing southwest? No idea which churches are southwest?I cant see past the damn buildings. Langdon turned and faced the square again. And I dont know Romes churches salubrious enou He stopped.Vittoria looked startled. What?Langdon looked out at the piazza again. Having ascended the church stairs, he was now gameyer, and his view was better. He still couldnt see anything, but he established he was moving in the right direction. His eye climbed the tower of nerveless scaffolding above him. It rose wine six stories, almost to the top of the churchs rose window, far higher than the other buildings in the square. He knew in an blink where he was headed.Across the square, Chinita Macri and Gunther Glick sat glued to the windshield of the BBC van.You getting this? Gunther asked.Macri tightened her press stud on the man now climbing the scaffolding. Hes a little wholesome dressed to be playing Spiderman if you ask me.And whos Ms. Spidey?Chinita glanced at the attractive adult female beneath the scaffolding. Bet youd like to find out.Think I should call editorial?Not yet. Lets watch. Better to confine something in the can before we admit we fling conclave.You think somebody genuinely killed one of the old farts in there?Chinita clucked. Youre definitely going to hell.And Ill be taking the Pulitzer with me.71The scaffolding seemed les s stable the higher Langdon climbed. His view of Rome, however, got better with both step. He continued upward.He was breathing harder than he expected when he reached the upper tier. He pulled himself onto the last platform, brushed off the plaster, and stood up. The height did not bother him at all. In fact, it was invigorating.The view was staggering. Like an ocean on fire, the red-tiled rooftops of Rome feast out before him, glowing in the rubicund sunset. From that spot, for the first time in his life, Langdon saw beyond the pollution and craft of Rome to its ancient roots Citt di Dio The city of god.Squinting into the sunset, Langdon scanned the rooftops for a church steeple or bell tower. But as he looked far and farther toward the horizon, he saw nothing. There are hundreds of churches in Rome, he thought. There must be one southwest of here If the church is even visible, he reminded himself. Hell, if the church is even still standingForcing his eyes to trace the lin e slowly, he attempted the search again. He knew, of course, that not all churches would need visible spires, especially smaller, out-of-the-way sanctuaries. Not to mention, Rome had changed dramatically since the 1600s when churches were by law the tallest buildings allowed. Now, as Langdon looked out, he saw apartment buildings, high-rises, TV towers.For the second time, Langdons eye reached the horizon without seeing anything. Not one single spire. In the distance, on the very edge of Rome, Michelangelos massive covered stadium blotted the setting sun. St. Peters Basilica. Vatican City. Langdon found himself wondering how the cardinals were faring, and if the Swiss Guards search had turned up the antimatter. Something told him it hadnt and wouldnt.The poem was rattling by dint of his head again. He considered it, carefully, line by line. From Santis earthly tomb with demons hole. They had found Santis tomb. Cross Rome the recondite atoms unfold. The mystic elements were Eart h, Air, Fire, Water. The path of light is laid, the sacred test. The path of Illumination formed by Berninis sculptures. Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.The angel was pointing southwest search stairs Glick exclaimed, pointing wildly by the windshield of the BBC van. Somethings going onMacri dropped her surmise back down to the main entrance. Something was definitely going on. At the buttocks of the stairs, the military- feel man had pulled one of the Alpha Romeos close to the stairs and opened the trunk. Now he was scanning the square as if checking for onlookers. For a moment, Macri thought the man had spotted them, but his eyes kept moving. Apparently satisfied, he pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it.Almost instantly, it seemed an army emerged from the church. Like an American football team breaking from a huddle, the soldiers formed a serial line across the top of the stairs. Moving like a homo wall, they began to descend. Behind them, almost entirely hidde n by the wall, four soldiers seemed to be carrying something. Something heavy. Awkward.Glick leaned forward on the dashboard. argon they stealing something from the church?Chinita tightened her crack cocaine even more than, using the telephoto to probe the wall of men, looking for an opening. One calve second, she willed. A single frame. Thats all I need. But the men moved as one. Come on Macri stayed with them, and it paid off. When the soldiers tried to lift the purpose into the trunk, Macri found her opening. Ironically, it was the older man who faltered. Only for an instant, but long enough. Macri had her frame. Actually, it was more like ten frames.Call editorial, Chinita said. Weve got a dead body.Far away, at CERN, Maximilian Kohler maneuvered his wheelchair into Leonardo Vetras study. With mechanical efficiency, he began sifting through Vetras files. Not determination what he was after, Kohler moved to Vetras bedroom. The top drawer of his bedside table was locked. Kohl er pried it open with a knife from the kitchen.Inside Kohler found merely what he was looking for.72Langdon swung off the scaffolding and dropped back to the ground. He brushed the plaster sparge from his clothes. Vittoria was there to greet him.No luck? she said.He shook his head.They put the cardinal in the trunk.Langdon looked over to the parked car where Olivetti and a meeting of soldiers now had a map spread out on the hood. Are they looking southwest?She nodded. No churches. From here the first one you throw is St. Peters.Langdon grunted. At least they were in agreement. He moved toward Olivetti. The soldiers parted to permit him through.Olivetti looked up. Nothing. But this doesnt show each last church. Just the gigantic ones. slightly fifty of them.Where are we? Langdon asked.Olivetti pointed to office del Popolo and traced a straight line exactly southwest. The line missed, by a substantial margin, the cluster of subdued squares indicating Romes major churches. U nfortunately, Romes major churches were also Romes older churches those that would have been almost in the 1600s.Ive got some decisions to make, Olivetti said. Are you certain of the direction?Langdon pictured the angels outstretched finger, the urgency procession in him again. Yes, sir. Positive.Olivetti shrugged and traced the straight line again. The path intersected the Margherita Bridge, Via Cola di Riezo, and passed through Piazza del Risorgimento, hitting no churches at all until it dead-ended abruptly at the nubble of St. Peters Square.Whats wrong with St. Peters? one of the soldiers said. He had a deep scar downstairs his left eye. Its a church.Langdon shook his head. Needs to be a domain place. Hardly seems public at the moment.But the line goes through St. Peters Square, Vittoria added, looking over Langdons shoulder. The square is public.Langdon had already considered it. No statues, though.Isnt there a monolith in the middle?She was right. There was an Egyptian mon olith in St. Peters Square. Langdon looked out at the monolith in the piazza in front of them. The lofty pyramid. An odd coincidence, he thought. He shook it off. The Vaticans monolith is not by Bernini. It was brought in by Caligula. And it has nothing to do with Air. There was another problem as well. Besides, the poem says the elements are spread across Rome. St. Peters Square is in Vatican City. Not Rome.Depends who you ask, a guard interjected.Langdon looked up. What?of all time a bone of contention. Most maps show St. Peters Square as part of Vatican City, but because its outdoors the walled city, Roman officials for centuries have claimed it as part of Rome.Youre kidding, Langdon said. He had never cognize that.I only mention it, the guard continued, because commanding officer Olivetti and Ms. Vetra were asking astir(predicate) a sculpture that had to do with Air.Langdon was wide-eyed. And you know of one in St. Peters Square?Not exactly. Its not really a sculpture. in a ll probability not relevant.Lets hear it, Olivetti pressed.The guard shrugged. The only reason I know about it is because Im usually on piazza duty. I know every corner of St. Peters Square.The sculpture, Langdon urged. What does it look like? Langdon was starting to wonder if the Illuminati could really have been gutsy enough to position their second marker right outside St. Peters Church.I patrol past it every sidereal day, the guard said. Its in the center, today where that line is pointing. Thats what made me think of it. As I said, its not really a sculpture. Its more of a block.Olivetti looked mad. A block?Yes, sir. A stain block embedded in the square. At the base of the monolith. But the block is not a rectangle. Its an ellipse. And the block is carved with the image of a billow gust of wind. He paused. Air, I suppose, if you urgencyed to get scientific about it.Langdon stared at the young soldier in amazement. A relief he exclaimed suddenly.Everyone looked at him.Relief , Langdon said, is the other half of sculpture Sculpture is the art of pliant figures in the round and also in relief. He had written the explanation on chalkboards for years. Reliefs were es displaceially two-dimensional sculptures, like Abraham Lincolns profile on the penny. Berninis Chigi chapel service medallions were another pure(a) example.Bassorelievo? the guard asked, using the Italian art term.Yes Bas-relief Langdon rapped his brass knuckles on the hood. I wasnt thinking in those terms That tile youre lecture about in St. Peters Square is called the West Ponente the West Wind. Its also known as Respiro di Dio.Breath of God?Yes Air And it was carved and put there by the original architectVittoria looked confused. But I thought Michelangelo intentional St. Peters.Yes, the basilica Langdon exclaimed, triumph in his voice. But St. Peters Square was designed by BerniniAs the caravan of Alpha Romeos tore out of Piazza del Popolo, everyone was in too much of a hurry to noti ce the BBC van puff out behind them.73Gunther Glick floored the BBC vans accelerator and swerved through business as he tailed the four speeding Alpha Romeos across the Tiber River on Ponte Margherita. Normally Glick would have made an effort to maintain an inconspicuous distance, but today he could barely keep up. These guys were flying.Macri sat in her work area in the back of the van finishing a phone call with London. She hung up and yelled to Glick over the sound of the traffic. You want the good news or bad news?Glick frowned. Nothing was ever simple when dealing with the home office. Bad news.Editorial is burned we abandoned our post.Surprise.They also think your tipster is a fraud.Of course.And the boss just warned me that youre a few crumpets short of a proper tea.Glick scowled. Great. And the good news?They concord to look at the footage we just shot.Glick felt his scowl soften into a grin. I guess well see whos short a few crumpets. So fire it off.Cant transmit until we stop and get a fixed carrel read.Glick gunned the van onto Via Cola di Rienzo. Cant stop now. He tailed the Alpha Romeos through a hard left swerve around Piazza Risorgimento.Macri held on to her computer gear in back as everything slid. Break my transmitter, she warned, and well have to walk this footage to London.Sit tight, love. Something tells me were almost there.Macri looked up. Where?Glick gazed out at the familiar garret now looming directly in front of them. He smiled. Right back where we started.The four Alpha Romeos slipped deftly into traffic surrounding St. Peters Square. They split up and spread out along the piazza perimeter, quietly unloading men at select points. The debarking guards moved into the throng of tourists and media vans on the edge of the square and instantly became invisible. Some of the guards entered the forest of pillars encompassing the colonnade. They too seemed to evaporate into the surroundings. As Langdon watched through the windshield, he comprehend a noose tightening around St. Peters.In addition to the men Olivetti had just dispatched, the commander had radioed ahead to the Vatican and sent additional undercover guards to the center where Berninis West Ponente was located. As Langdon looked out at the wide-open spaces of St. Peters Square, a familiar question nagged. How does the Illuminati assassin plan to get away with this? How will he get a cardinal through all these people and kill him in plain view? Langdon checked his Mickey Mouse watch. It was 854 P.M. Six minutes.In the front seat, Olivetti turned and faced Langdon and Vittoria. I want you two right on top of this Bernini brick or block or whatever the hell it is. corresponding drill. Youre tourists. Use the phone if you see anything.Before Langdon could respond, Vittoria had his hand and was pulling him out of the car.The springtime sun was setting behind St. Peters Basilica, and a massive shadow spread, engulfing the piazza. Langdon felt an ominous chi ll as he and Vittoria moved into the cool, black umbra. Snaking through the crowd, Langdon found himself se bandy-legged every face they passed, wondering if the sea wolf was among them. Vittorias hand felt warm.As they crossed the open expanse of St. Peters Square, Langdon sensed Berninis sit down piazza having the exact effect the artist had been commissioned to clear that of humbling all those who entered. Langdon certainly felt humbled at the moment. dispirited and hungry, he realized, surprised such a mundane thought could enter his head at a moment like this.To the obelisk? Vittoria asked.Langdon nodded, arching left across the piazza.Time? Vittoria asked, walking briskly, but casually.Five of.Vittoria said nothing, but Langdon felt her grip tighten. He was still carrying the gun. He hoped Vittoria would not decide she needed it. He could not imagine her whipping out a weapon in St. Peters Square and blowing away the kneecaps of some grampus while the global media looked on. Then again, an incident like that would be nothing compared to the branding and murder of a cardinal out here.Air, Langdon thought. The second element of science. He tried to picture the brand. The method of murder. Again he scanned the sprawling expanse of granite beneath his feet St. Peters Square an open desert surrounded by Swiss Guard. If the Hassassin really dared attempt this, Langdon could not imagine how he would escape.In the center of the piazza rose Caligulas 350-ton Egyptian obelisk. It stretched eighty-one feet skyward to the pointed apex onto which was affixed a hollow iron cross. Sufficiently high to catch the last of the evening sun, the cross shone as if magic purportedly containing relics of the cross on which Christ was crucified.Two fountains flanked the obelisk in perfect symmetry. Art historians knew the fountains marked the exact geometric focal points of Berninis egg-shaped piazza, but it was an architectural oddity Langdon had never really conside red until today. It seemed Rome was suddenly change with ellipses, pyramids, and startling geometry.As they neared the obelisk, Vittoria slowed. She exhaled heavily, as if coaxing Langdon to relax along with her. Langdon made the effort, lowering his shoulders and loosening his clenched jaw.Somewhere around the obelisk, boldly positioned outside the largest church in the world, was the second altar of science Berninis West Ponente an elliptical block in St. Peters Square.Gunther Glick watched from the shadows of the pillars surrounding St. Peters Square. On any other day the man in the tweed jacket and the woman in khaki shorts would not have interested him in the least. They appeared to be nothing but tourists enjoying the square. But today was not any other day. directly had been a day of phone tips, corpses, unmarked cars racing through Rome, and men in tweed jackets climbing scaffolding in search of God only knew what. Glick would stay with them.He looked out across the squa re and saw Macri. She was exactly where he had told her to go, on the far side of the couple, hovering on their flank. Macri carried her image camera casually, but despite her imitation of a bored genus Phallus of the press, she stood out more than Glick would have liked. No other reporters were in this far corner of the square, and the acronym BBC stenciled on her camera was drawing some looks from tourists.The tape Macri had shot earlier of the naked body dumped in the trunk was playing at this very moment on the VCR transmitter back in the van. Glick knew the images were sailing over his head right now en passageway to London. He wondered what editorial would say.He wished he and Macri had reached the body sooner, before the army of plainclothed soldiers had intervened. The same army, he knew, had now fanned out and surrounded this piazza. Something big was about to happen.The media is the right arm of anarchy, the killer had said. Glick wondered if he had missed his venture for a big scoop. He looked out at the other media vans in the distance and watched Macri tailing the mysterious couple across the piazza. Something told Glick he was still in the game