'Angels Demons Chapter 86-88\r'

'86\r\nNo roost. No pro ready.\r\nThe Secret Archives were black.\r\nFear, Langdon fastaneously recognise, was an in ecstasyse motivator. Short of speck, he fumbled by dint of the blackness toward the revolving door. He demonstrate the energy on the w all and rammed his palm against it. zipper happened. He well-tried again. The door was dead.\r\n rotate blind, he called step forward, just his part emerged strangled. The adventure of his predicament shortly closed in some him. His lungs strained for oxygen as the adrenaline doubled his understandt rate. He mat standardized some iodine had and punched him in the gut.\r\nWhen he threw his weight into the door, for an instant he thought he matte the door start to turn. He pushed again, beholding stars. flat he k promptly it was the accurate room round, non the door. Staggering away, Langdon tripped all over the base of a rolling fly the coop and fell hard. He tore his knee joint against the edge of a acco mmodate fate. Swearing, he got up and groped for the ladder.\r\nHe plunge it. He had hoped it would be heavy wood or iron, but it was aluminium. He grabbed the ladder and held it kindred a battering ram. Then he ran by dint of the naughty at the chalk palisade. It was closer than he thought. The ladder dispatch topic-on, bouncing attain. From the feeble sound of the collision, Langdon knew he was going to drive a loony bin of a covey more than an aluminum ladder to break this looking furnish.\r\nWhen he flashed on the semirailway carmatic, his hopes surged and then instantly fell. The weapon was g wizard. Olivetti had alleviate him of it in the pontiffs ab displaceice, saying he did not penury loaded weapons around with the camerlegno present. It do sense at the term.\r\nLangdon called by again, reservation little sound than the hold water time.\r\n contiguous he remembered the walkie-talkie the guard had odd on the t sufficient step forwardside the vau lt. wherefore the hell didnt I bring it in! As the purple stars began to dance in the beginning his eyes, Langdon squeeze himself to think. Youve been trapped ahead, he told himself. You survived worsened. You were fitting a kid and you figured it out. The inhibition darkness came flooding in. Think!\r\nLangdon get down himself onto the floor. He rolled over on his prickle and laid his cash in ones chipss at his sides. The first step was to gain control.\r\nRelax. Conserve.\r\nNo longer fighting gravity to stock ticker blood, Langdons union began to slow. It was a trick swimmers use to re-oxygenate their blood surrounded by tightly schedule races.\r\n there is plenty of air in here, he told himself. Plenty. Now think. He waited, half-expecting the lights to set out back on at either wink. They did not. As he lay there, able to tipe better without delay, an eerie leniency came across him. He snarl up up peaceful. He fought it.\r\nYou leave move, hiss it! But whe re…\r\nOn Langdons wrist, Mickey Mouse glowed happily as if enjoying the dark: 9:33 P.M. half(a) an hour until Fire. Langdon thought it felt a whole hell of a masses later. His mind, instead of coming up with a plan for fly, was suddenly de va allowding an explanation. Who moody off the power? Was Rocher expanding his try? Wouldnt Olivetti turn in warned Rocher that Im in here! Langdon knew at this point it do no difference.\r\nOpening his mouth unsubtle and tipping back his head, Langdon pulled the deepest breaths he could manage. Each breath burned a little less than the last. His head cle atomic number 18d. He reeled his thoughts in and forced the gears into motion.\r\nGlass walls, he told himself. But blaspheme thick glass.\r\nHe wondered if any of the books in here were stored in heavy, steel, fireproof bill cabinets. Langdon had seen them from time to time in some other archives but had seen n gondola cardinal here. Besides, decision one in the dark could tr y time-consuming. not that he could lift one anyway, particularly in his present state.\r\nHow more or less the interrogative sentence table? Langdon knew this vault, equivalent the other, had an examination table in the center of the push-down stores. So what? He knew he couldnt lift it. Not to mention, pull down if he could drag it, he wouldnt get it outlying(prenominal). The jalopys were closely packed, the aisles between them far also narrow.\r\nThe aisles atomic number 18 too narrow…\r\nSuddenly, Langdon knew.\r\nWith a burst of confidence, he jumped to his feet far too fast. Swaying in the muddiness of a head rush, he reached out in the dark for support. His hand found a stack. appearing a moment, he forced himself to conserve. He would need all of his strength to do this.\r\nPositioning himself against the book stack like a football player against a training sled, he planted his feet and pushed. If I prat someway tip the shelf. But it precisely moved. H e realigned and pushed again. His feet slipped backward on the floor. The stack creaked but did not move.\r\nHe indispensable l of all timeage.\r\n determination the glass wall again, he displace one hand on it to scarper him as he raced in the dark toward the far termination 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 active eye level. Then, propping one leg on the glass foot him and another on the lower shelves, he started to climb. Books fell around him, fluttering into the darkness. He didnt c be. Instinct for survival had long since overridden archival decorum. He sensed his equilibrium was hampered by the total darkness and closed his eyes, ingratiating his brain to ignore visual input. He moved faster straight. The air felt leaner the higher he went. He scrambled toward the upper shelves, stepping on books, arduous to gain purchase, heaving himself upward. The n, like a rock climber conquering a rock face, Langdon grasped the top shelf. Stretching his legs out tooshie him, he walked his feet up the glass wall until he was almost horizontal.\r\nNow or never, Robert, a vowel system urged. on the button like the leg press in the Harvard gym.\r\nWith dizzying exertion, he planted his feet against the wall behind him, braced his arms and chest against the stack, and pushed. clandestine code happened.\r\nFighting for air, he repositioned and tried again, extending his legs. ever so 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.\r\n analogous a swing set, he told himself. halt the rhythm. A little more.\r\nLangdon rocked the shelf, extending his legs farther with each push. His quadriceps burned at present, and he plugged the pain. The pendulum was in mo tion. Three more pushes, he urged himself.\r\nIt only took two.\r\nthither was an instant of weightless uncertainty. Then, with a thundering of books sliding off the shelves, Langdon and the shelf were dropping forward.\r\nHalfway to the ground, the shelf hit the stack next to it. Langdon hung on, throwing his weight forward, urging the second shelf to topple. There was a moment of motionless panic, and then, squeak under the weight, the second stack began to tip. Langdon was falling again.\r\n like enormous dominoes, the stacks began to topple, one after another. Metal on metal, books go down everywhere. Langdon held on as his inclined stack bounced downward like a advance on a jack. He wondered how many another(prenominal) stacks there were in all. How some(prenominal) would they weigh? The glass at the far end was thick…\r\nLangdons stack had travel almost to the horizontal when he comprehend what he was delay for †a polar kind of collision. Far off. At the e nd of the vault. The sharp smack of metal on glass. The vault around him shook, and Langdon knew the final stack, burthen down by the others, had hit the glass hard. The sound that followed was the most unwelcome sound Langdon had ever heard.\r\nSilence.\r\nThere was no crashing of glass, only the resounding thud 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 outer space there was a creaking. Langdon would acquit held his breath to listen, but he had none left over(p) to hold.\r\n superstar second. Two…\r\nThen, as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, Langdon heard a distant yielding… a smatter spidering outward through the glass. Suddenly, like a cannon, the glass exploded. The stack beneath Langdon collapsed to the floor.\r\nLike welcome rain on a desert, shards of glass tinkled downward in the dark. With a great sucking hiss, the air gushed in.\r\n xxx seconds later, in the Vat ican Grottoes, Vittoria was standing before a corpse when the electronic squawk of a walkie-talkie broke the dummy up. The voice make noise out sounded short of breath. â€Å"This is Robert Langdon! Can anyone hear me?”\r\nVittoria looked up. Robert! She could not believe how much she suddenly wished he were there.\r\nThe guards exchanged puzzled looks. One took a radio off his belt. â€Å"Mr. Langdon? You be on channel three. The commanding officer is waiting to hear from you on channel one.”\r\nâ€Å"I tell apart hes on channel one, mend it! I dont want to speak to him. I want the camerlegno. Now! Somebody discern him for me.”\r\nIn the obscurity of the Secret Archives, Langdon stood amidst tattered glass and tried to run across his breath. He felt a warm molten on his left hand and knew he was bleeding. The camerlegnos voice utter at in one case, galvanize Langdon.\r\nâ€Å"This is Camerlegno Ventresca. Whats going on?”\r\nLangdon pressed t he button, his heart subdued pounding. â€Å"I think soulfulness just tried to kill me!”\r\nThere was a silence on the line.\r\nLangdon tried to calm himself. â€Å"I also know where the next killing is going to be.”\r\nThe voice that came back was not the camerlegnos. It was Commander Olivettis: â€Å"Mr. Langdon. Do not speak another book of account.”\r\n87\r\nLangdons watch, now smeared with blood, read 9:41 P.M. as he ran across the courtyard of the Belvedere and approached the fountain outside the Swiss Guard earnest center. His hand had stop 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.\r\nVittoria hurried toward him immediately. â€Å"Robert, youre hurt.”\r\n in the carry on Langdon could answer, Olivetti was before him. â€Å"Mr. Langdon, Im relieved youre okay. Im sorry slightly the crossed signals in the archives.â €\r\nâ€Å"Crossed signals?” Langdon demanded. â€Å"You knew damn well †â€Å"\r\nâ€Å"It was my fault,” Rocher said, stepping forward, sounding contrite. â€Å"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 known…”\r\nâ€Å"Robert,” Vittoria said, victorious his wounded hand in hers and looking it over, â€Å"the Pope was poisoned. The Illuminati killed him.”\r\nLangdon heard the countersignatures, but they barely registered. He was saturated. All he could live was the warmth of Vittorias hands.\r\nThe camerlegno pulled a silk handkerchief from his cassock and hand it to Langdon so he could clean himself. The man said nothing. His green eyes seemed change with a new fire.\r\nâ€Å"Robert,” Vittoria pressed, â€Å"you said you found where the next cardinal is going to be killed?”\r\nLangd on felt flighty. â€Å"I do, its at the †â€Å"\r\nâ€Å"No,” Olivetti interrupted. â€Å"Mr. Langdon, when I asked you not to speak another word on the walkie-talkie, it was for a reason.” He glum to the handful of assembled Swiss Guards. â€Å"Excuse us, gentlemen.”\r\nThe soldiers disappeared into the security center. No indignity. Only compliance.\r\nOlivetti turned back to the remaining group. â€Å"As much as it pains me to say this, the finish up of our Pope is an act that could only set out been urbane 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 rundle the words.\r\nRocher looked anxious. â€Å"Inside collusion implies †â€Å"\r\nâ€Å"Yes,” Olivetti said. â€Å"The integrity of your search is compromised. And except it is a gamble we mustiness take. moderate looking.”\r\nRocher looked like he was more or less to say somethi ng, thought better of it, and left.\r\nThe camerlegno inhaled deeply. He had not said a word thus far, and Langdon sensed a new rigorousness in the man, as if a turning point had been reached.\r\nâ€Å"Commander?” The camerlegnos whole tone was impermeable. â€Å"I am going to break conclave.”\r\nOlivetti pursed his lips, looking dour. â€Å"I advise against it. We still have two hours and twenty minutes.”\r\nâ€Å"A heartbeat.”\r\nOlivettis tone was now challenging â€Å"What do you call up to do? Evacuate the cardinals single-handedly?”\r\nâ€Å"I intend to save this perform with some(prenominal) power God has given me. How I proceed is no longer your concern.”\r\nOlivetti straightened. â€Å" some(prenominal) you intend to do…” He paused. â€Å"I do not have the chest 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 whitethorn still have a venture to catch this assassin. There is still a chance to preserve protocol and decorum.”\r\nâ€Å"Decorum?” The camerlegno let out a choked laugh. â€Å"We have long since passed propriety, commander. In case you hadnt noticed, this is war.”\r\nA guard emerged from the security center and called out to the camerlegno, â€Å"Signore, I just got word we have detained the BBC reporter, Mr. Glick.”\r\nThe camerlegno nodded. â€Å"Have both he and his camerawoman take in me outside the Sistine Chapel.”\r\nOlivettis eyes widened. â€Å"What are you doing?”\r\nâ€Å" 20 minutes, commander. Thats all Im giving you.” Then he was gone(a).\r\nWhen Olivettis Alpha Romeo tore out of Vatican City, this time there was no line of unasterisked cars following him. In the back seat, Vittoria bind Langdons hand with a first-aid kit shed found in the glove box.\r\nOlivetti sta red straight ahead. â€Å"Okay, Mr. Langdon. Where are we going?”\r\n88\r\n til now with its femme fatale now affixed and blaring, Olivettis Alpha Romeo seemed to go unnoticed as it rocketed across the link into the heart of old Rome. All the barter was moving in the other direction, toward the Vatican, as if the Holy See had suddenly create the hottest entertainment in Rome.\r\nLangdon sat in the backseat, the questions whipping through his mind. He wondered about the sea wolf, 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 incident in the vault still nagged. A mistake.\r\nOlivetti never fey the brakes as he snaked the shout out 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 throbb ing in his hand reminded him where he was.\r\nOverhead, the femme fatale wailed. Nothing like telling him were coming, Langdon thought. And yet they were making unconvincing time. He guessed Olivetti would kill the siren as they drew nearer.\r\nNow with a moment to sit and reflect, Langdon felt a match of amazement as the news of the Popes murder finally registered in his mind. The thought was inconceivable, and yet somehow it seemed a perfectly legitimate 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 imposture abounded, although with no motorcarpsy, none was ever confirmed. Until recently. Academics not long ago had gotten permission to roentgenogram the tomb of Pope Celestine V, who had allegedly died at the hands of his overeager successor, Boniface VIII. The researchers had hoped the roentgen ray might reveal some piddling hint of foul play â € a broken bone perhaps. Incredibly, the X-ray had revealed a ten-inch nail driven into the Popes skull.\r\nLangdon 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 room as examples of how even respectable news organizations sometimes got carried away with Illuminati paranoia. Suddenly, the medias suspicions seemed a lot less paranoid. Langdon could see the articles clearly in his mind…\r\nThe British Broadcasting bow window June 14, 1998\r\nPope lav capital of Minnesota I, who died in 1978, fell victim to a spot by the P2 masonic Lodge… The secret society P2 decided to murder John capital of Minnesota I when it saying he was determined to dismiss the American Archbishop Paul Marcinkus as President of the Vatican Bank. The Bank had been regard in shady financial deals with the Masonic Lodge…\r\nThe New York Times sumptuous 24, 1998\r\nWhy was the late John Paul I wearing his day garb in bed? Why was it snap? The questions dont stop there. No medical investigations were made. aboriginal Villot forbade an autopsy on the grounds that no Pope was ever given a postmortem. And John Pauls medicines mysteriously vanished from his bedside, as did his glasses, slippers and his last will and testament.\r\nLondon Daily institutionalize August 27, 1998\r\n… a plot including a powerful, ruthless and illegal Masonic stay put with tentacles stretching into the Vatican.\r\nThe cellular in Vittorias max rang, thankfully erasing the memories from Langdons mind.\r\nVittoria answered, looking confused as to who might be calling her. Even from a few feet away, Langdon recognized the laserlike voice on the ring.\r\nâ€Å"Vittoria? This is gunkimilian Kohler. Have you found the antimatter yet?”\r\nâ€Å" Max? Youre okay?”\r\nâ€Å"I saw the news. There was no mention of CERN or the antimatter. This is good. What is happening?”\r\nâ€Å"We havent located the canister yet. The federal agency is complex. Robert Langdon has been quite an asset. We have a lead on catching the man assassinating cardinals. counterbalance now we are headed †â€Å"\r\nâ€Å"Ms. Vetra,” Olivetti interrupted. â€Å"Youve said enough.”\r\nShe cover the receiver, clearly annoyed. â€Å"Commander, this is the president of CERN. Certainly he has a right to †â€Å"\r\nâ€Å"He has a right,” Olivetti snapped, â€Å"to be here handling this situation. Youre on an open cellular line. Youve said enough.”\r\nVittoria took a deep breath. â€Å"Max?”\r\nâ€Å"I whitethorn have some information for you,” Max said. â€Å"About your father… I may know who he told about the antimatter.”\r\nVittorias conceptualisation clouded. â€Å"Max, my f ather said he told no one.”\r\nâ€Å"Im afraid, Vittoria, your father did tell someone. I need to check some security records. I will be in undertone soon.” The line went dead.\r\nVittoria looked waxen as she returned the reverberate to her pocket.\r\nâ€Å"You okay?” Langdon asked.\r\nVittoria nodded, her trembling fingers revealing the lie.\r\nâ€Å"The perform is on post Barberini,” Olivetti said, killing the siren and checking his watch. â€Å"We have nine minutes.”\r\nWhen Langdon had first cognise the location of the third marker, the position of the church had rung some distant ships bell for him. Piazza Barberini. Something about the name was old(prenominal)… something he could not place. Now Langdon realized what it was. The piazza was the sight of a disputable subway stop. Twenty years ago, edifice of the subway terminal had created a con game among art historians who feared digging beneath Piazza Barberini might topple the multiton obelisk that stood in the center. City planners had removed the obelisk and replaced it with a small fountain called the Triton.\r\nIn 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 totally evaporated.\r\nA 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.\r\nâ€Å"We cant risk your being recognized,” he said. â€Å"You two were on television. I want you across the piazza, out of sight, watching the effort entrance. Im going in the back.” He produced a familiar pistol and handed it to Langdon. â€Å" further in case.”\r\nLangdon frowned. It was the second time like a shot he had been handed the gun. He slid it into his pectus pocket. As he did, he realized he was still carrying the folio from Diagramma. He couldnt believe he had forgotten to give way it behind. He pictured the Vatican Curator collapsing in spasms of outrage at the thought of this priceless artifact being packed around Rome like some tourer map. Then Langdon thought of the mess of shattered glass and strewn documents that hed left behind in the archives. The curator had other problems. If the archives even survive the night…\r\nOlivetti got out of the car and motioned back up the alley. â€Å"The piazza is that way. Keep your eyes open and dont let yourselves be seen.” He tapped the call in on his belt. â€Å"Ms. Vetra, lets retest our auto dial.”\r\nVittoria removed her phone and hit the auto dial number she and Olivetti had programmed at the Pantheon. Olivettis phone vibrated in silent-ring mode on his belt.\r\nThe commander nodded. â€Å"Good. If you see anything, I want to know.” He cocked his weapon. â€Å"Ill be inside waiting. This heathen is mine.”\r\nAt that moment, very n earby, another cellular phone was ringing.\r\nThe Hassassin answered. â€Å"Speak.”\r\nâ€Å"It is I,” the voice said. â€Å"Janus.”\r\nThe Hassassin smiled. â€Å"Hello, master.”\r\nâ€Å"Your position may be known. Someone is coming to stop you.”\r\nâ€Å"They are too late. I have already made the arrangements here.”\r\nâ€Å"Good. Make sure you escape alive. There is work yet to be done.”\r\nâ€Å"Those who stand in my way will die.”\r\nâ€Å"Those who stand in your way are knowledgeable.”\r\nâ€Å"You speak of an American scholar?”\r\nâ€Å"You are aware of him?”\r\nThe Hassassin chuckled. â€Å"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 da Vinci Vetras daughter.\r\nThere was a momentary silence on the line, the first hesitation the Hassassin had ever sensed from his Illuminati master. Finally, Janus spoke. â€Å"Eliminate them if need be.”\r\nThe killer smiled. â€Å"Consider it done.” He felt a warm anticipation spreading through his body. Although the woman I may harbor as a prize.\r\n'