Angels Demons Chapter 70-73

70Gunther Glick and Chinita Macri sat parked in the BBC van in the shadows at the far end of Piazza del Popolo. They had arrived shortly after the tetrad Alpha Romeos, just in time to witness an inconceivable chain of events. Chinita still had no idea what it each meant, but shed made indis stupefyable the tv camera was rolling.As soon as theyd arrived, Chinita and Glick had turn aroundn a veritable army of young men pour let on of the Alpha Romeos and surround the church. Some had weapons drawn. One of them, a stiff older man, led a team up the expect steps of the church. The soldiers drew guns and blew the locks off the front doors. Macri heard nothing and figured they essential have had silencers. Then the soldiers entered.Chinita had recommended they sit tight and film from the shadows. After all, guns were guns, and they had a clear view of the action from the van. Glick had not argued. Now, a grumpy the piazza, men moved in and break through(a) of the church. They yel led 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.Hell if I know. Glick looked riveted. You getting all this?Every frame.Glick sounded smug. Still think we should go tail to Pope-Watch?Chinita wasnt sure what to say. There was obviously somewhatthing deprivation on here, but she had been in journalism long enough to know that there was often a very gradual exbroadcastation for interesting events. This could be nothing, she said. These guys could have gotten the same tip you got and are just checking it out. Could be a false alarm.Glick grabbed her arm. Over there Focus. He pointed sanction to the church.Chinita swung the camera back to the tweet of the stairs. Hello there, she said, training on the man now emerging from the church.Whos the dapper?Chinita moved in for a close-up. Havent seen him forr ader. She tightened in on the mans face and smiled. But I wouldnt mind seeing him again.Robert Langdon dashed down the stairs outside the church and into the middle of the piazza. It was getting dark now, the springtime sunninessbathe setting late in southern Rome. The sun had dropped below the surrounding buildings, and shadows streaked the square.Okay, Bernini, he said aloud to himself. Where the hell is your angel pointing?He turned and examined the orientation of the church from which he had just come. He envision the Chigi Chapel inside, and the carving of the angel inside that. Without hesitation he turned due west, into the diversify of the impending sunset. Time was evaporating.Southwest, he said, scowling at the shops and apartments plosiveing 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 far too prolific for any nonspecial ist to know all of it. Still, considering the relative fame of the first marker Habakkuk and the Angel Langdon hoped the atomic number 42 marker was a work he might know from memory.Earth, Air, 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 felt energized. Im on the style of Illumination It is still inherentLooking southwest, Langdon strained to see a spire or cathedral tower jutting up over the obstacles. He saw nothing. He ask a map. If they could figure out what churches were southwest of here, maybe one 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 charges all the churches in Rome.The commandant study him a moment, his expression never changing.Langdon canvass his watch. We only have fractional an hour.Olivetti moved past Langdon down the stairs toward his car, parked now 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 go about the square again. And I dont know Romes churches well enou He stopped.Vittoria looked startled. What?Langdon looked out at the piazza again. Having ascended the church stairs, he was now higher, and his view was better. He still couldnt see anything, but he realized he was moving in the right direction. His eye climbed the tower of rickety scaffolding above him. It come up six stories, intimately to the top of the churchs rose window, far higher than the other buildings in the square. He knew in an instant 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 shot on the man now climbing the scaffolding. Hes a little well dressed to be playing Spiderman if you ask me.And whos Ms. Spidey?Chinita glanced at the attractive cleaning woman beneath the scaffolding. Bet youd same to find out.Think I should call editorial?Not yet. Lets watch. Better to have something in the can before we learn we abandoned conclave.You think somebody sincerely 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 slight stable the higher Langdon climbed. His view of Rome, however, got better with every step. He continued upward.He was breathing harder than he expected when he reached the upper ti er. He pulled himself onto the net 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 spread out before him, glowing in the scarlet sunset. From that spot, for the first time in his life, Langdon saw beyond the pollution and traffic of Rome to its ancient roots Citt di Dio The city of God. make a face into the sunset, Langdon scanned the rooftops for a church steeple or bell tower. But as he looked farther 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 line of descent slowly, he attempted the search again. He knew, of course, that not all churches would have 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 dome 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 with 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 mystic elements unfold. The mystic elements were Earth, 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 s outhwestFront stairs Glick exclaimed, pointing wildly by dint of the windshield of the BBC van. Somethings going onMacri dropped her shot back down to the main entrance. Something was definitely going on. At the bottom of the stairs, the military- look man had pulled one of the Alpha Romeos close to the stairs and subject 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 straight line across the top of the stairs. Moving like a human wall, they began to descend. Behind them, almost entirely hidden by the wall, four soldiers seemed to be carrying something. Something heavy. Awkward.Glick leaned forward on the dashboard. Are they stealing something from the church?Chinita tighte ned her shot even more, using the telephoto to probe the wall of men, spirit for an opening. One split 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 object into the trunk, Macri found her opening. Ironically, it was the older man who faltered. except 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 finding what he was after, Kohler moved to Vetras bedroom. The top drawer of his bedside table was locked. Kohler pried it open with a knife from the kitchen.Inside Kohler found exactly what he was looking for.72Langdon swung off the scaffolding and dropped back to the ground. He brushed the plaster dust from his cloth es. Vittoria was there to greet him.No luck? she said.He agitate his head.They prescribe the cardinal in the trunk.Langdon looked over to the parked car where Olivetti and a group 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 hit is St. Peters.Langdon grunted. At least they were in agreement. He moved toward Olivetti. The soldiers parted to let him through.Olivetti looked up. Nothing. But this doesnt show every last church. Just the big ones. About fifty of them.Where are we? Langdon asked.Olivetti pointed to Piazza del Popolo and traced a straight line exactly southwest. The line missed, by a substantial margin, the cluster of black squares indicating Romes major churches. Unfortunately, Romes major churches were also Romes older churches those that would have been around in the 1600s.Ive got some decisions to make, Olivetti said. Are you certain of the direction?Langdon pictured the angels outstr etched finger, the urgency rising 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 of a sudden at the center of St. Peters strong.Whats wrong with St. Peters? one of the soldiers said. He had a deep scar under his left eye. Its a church.Langdon shook his head. Needs to be a public 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 monolith 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. A nd 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?Always a bone of contention. Most maps show St. Peters Square as part of Vatican City, but because its outside the walled city, papist officials for centuries have claimed it as part of Rome.Youre kidding, Langdon said. He had never known that.I only mention it, the guard continued, because Commander Olivetti and Ms. Vetra were asking about 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. Probably not relevant.Lets hear it, Olivetti pressed.The guard shrugged. The only priming 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, at once 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 marble 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 billowing gust of wind. He paused. Air, I suppose, if you wanted 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 shaping figures in the round and also in relief. He had written the definition on chalkboards for years. Reliefs were essentially two-dimensional sculptures, like Abraham Lincolns profile on the penny. B erninis Chigi Chapel medallions were another perfect example.Bassorelievo? the guard asked, using the Italian art term.Yes Bas-relief Langdon rapped his knuckles on the hood. I wasnt thinking in those ground That tile youre talking 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 designed 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 notice the BBC van pulling out behind them.73Gunther Glick floored the BBC vans accelerator and swerved through traffic as he tailed the four speeding Alpha Romeos across the Tiber River on Ponte Margherita. ordinarily 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 hurtful 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 imprint just warned me that youre a few crumpets short of a proper tea.Glick scowled. Great. And the good news?They agreed to look at the footage we just shot.Glick felt his scowl weaken 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 prison cell 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 ready reckoner gear in back as everything slid. Break my transmitter, she warned, an d 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 dome 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 on 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 encompass the colonnade. They too seemed to evaporate into the surroundings. As Langdon watched through the windshield, he sensed 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. Same 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 chill as he and Vittoria moved into the cool, black umbra. Snaking through the crowd, Langdon found himself clear-cut every face they passed, wondering if the killer was among them. Vittorias hand felt warm.As they crossed the open expanse of St. Peters Square, Langdon sensed Berninis sprawling piazza having the exact perfume the artist had been commissioned to create that of humbling all those who entered. Langdon certainly felt humbled at the moment. Humbled and hungry, he realized, surprised such a workaday 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. louvre 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 killer while the global media looked on. Then again, an incident like that would be nothing compared to the mark 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 pyramidal 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 central points of Berninis oval piazza, but it was an architectural oddity Langdon had never really considered until today. It seemed Rome was suddenly filled 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 o belisk, 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 mulct 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. Today 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 square 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 video camera casually, but despite her off-key of a bored member of the press, she stood out more than Glick would have liked. No other reporters were in this far corner of the squa re, 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 route 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 chance 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 plunk for