danbrown.angels&demons-第59部分

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he　sacred　threshold　of　conclave　after　sealing　the　doors。
　What　is　he　thinking！　
　The　camerlegno　strode　to　the　altar　and　turned　to　address　the　thunderstruck　audience。　〃Signori；〃　he　said；　〃I　have　waited　as　long　as　I　can。　There　is　something　you　have　a　right　to　know。〃
　
　93　

　Langdon　had　no　idea　where　he　was　going。　Reflex　was　his　only　pass；　driving　him　away　from　danger。　His　elbows　and　knees　burned　as　he　clambered　beneath　the　pews。　Still　he　clawed　on。　Somewhere　a　voice　was　telling　him　to　move　left。　If　you　can　get　to　the　main　aisle；　you　can　dash　for　the　exit。　He　knew　it　was　impossible。　There's　a　wall　of　flames　blocking　the　main　aisle！　His　mind　hunting　for　options；　Langdon　scrambled　blindly　on。　The　footsteps　closed　faster　now　to　his　right。
　When　it　happened；　Langdon　was　unprepared。　He　had　guessed　he　had　another　ten　feet　of　pews　until　he　reached　the　front　of　the　church。　He　had　guessed　wrong。　Without　warning；　the　cover　above　him　ran　out。　He　froze　for　an　instant；　half　exposed　at　the　front　of　the　church。　Rising　in　the　recess　to　his　left；　gargantuan　from　this　vantage　point；　was　the　very　thing　that　had　brought　him　here。　He　had　entirely　forgotten。　Bernini's　Ecstasy　of　St。　Teresa　rose　up　like　some　sort　of　pornographic　still　life　。　。　。　the　saint　on　her　back；　arched　in　pleasure；　mouth　open　in　a　moan；　and　over　her；　an　angel　pointing　his　spear　of　fire。　
　A　bullet　exploded　in　the　pew　over　Langdon's　head。　He　felt　his　body　rise　like　a　sprinter　out　of　a　gate。　Fueled　only　by　adrenaline；　and　barely　conscious　of　his　actions；　he　was　suddenly　running；　hunched；　head　down；　pounding　across　the　front　of　the　church　to　his　right。　As　the　bullets　erupted　behind　him；　Langdon　dove　yet　again；　sliding　out　of　control　across　the　marble　floor　before　crashing　in　a　heap　against　the　railing　of　a　niche　on　the　right…hand　wall。
　It　was　then　that　he　saw　her。　A　crumpled　heap　near　the　back　of　the　church。　Vittoria！　Her　bare　legs　were　twisted　beneath　her；　but　Langdon　sensed　somehow　that　she　was　breathing。　He　had　no　time　to　help　her。　
　Immediately；　the　killer　rounded　the　pews　on　the　far　left　of　the　church　and　bore　relentlessly　down。　Langdon　knew　in　a　heartbeat　it　was　over。　The　killer　raised　the　weapon；　and　Langdon　did　the　only　thing　he　could　do。　He　rolled　his　body　over　the　banister　into　the　niche。　As　he　hit　the　floor　on　the　other　side；　the　marble　columns　of　the　balustrade　exploded　in　a　storm　of　bullets。　
　Langdon　felt　like　a　cornered　animal　as　he　scrambled　deeper　into　the　semicircular　niche。　Rising　before　him；　the　niche's　sole　contents　seemed　ironically　apropos…a　single　sarcophagus。　Mine　perhaps；　Langdon　thought。　Even　the　casket　itself　seemed　fitting。　It　was　a　scаtola…a　small；　unadorned；　marble　box。　Burial　on　a　budget。　The　casket　was　raised　off　the　floor　on　two　marble　blocks；　and　Langdon　eyed　the　opening　beneath　it；　wondering　if　he　could　slide　through。
　Footsteps　echoed　behind　him。
　With　no　other　option　in　sight；　Langdon　pressed　himself　to　the　floor　and　slithered　toward　the　casket。　Grabbing　the　two　marble　supports；　one　with　each　hand；　he　pulled　like　a　breaststroker；　dragging　his　torso　into　the　opening　beneath　the　tomb。　The　gun　went　off。
　Acpanying　the　roar　of　the　gun；　Langdon　felt　a　sensation　he　had　never　felt　in　his　life　。　。　。　a　bullet　sailing　past　his　flesh。　There　was　a　hiss　of　wind；　like　the　backlash　of　a　whip；　as　the　bullet　just　missed　him　and　exploded　in　the　marble　with　a　puff　of　dust。　Blood　surging；　Langdon　heaved　his　body　the　rest　of　the　way　beneath　the　casket。　Scrambling　across　the　marble　floor；　he　pulled　himself　out　from　beneath　the　casket　and　to　the　other　side。
　Dead　end。　
　Langdon　was　now　face　to　face　with　the　rear　wall　of　the　niche。　He　had　no　doubt　that　this　tiny　space　behind　the　tomb　would　bee　his　grave。　And　soon；　he　realized；　as　he　saw　the　barrel　of　the　gun　appear　in　the　opening　beneath　the　sarcophagus。　The　Hassassin　held　the　weapon　parallel　with　the　floor；　pointing　directly　at　Langdon's　midsection。　
　Impossible　to　miss。
　Langdon　felt　a　trace　of　self…preservation　grip　his　unconscious　mind。　He　twisted　his　body　onto　his　stomach；　parallel　with　the　casket。　Facedown；　he　planted　his　hands　flat　on　the　floor；　the　glass　cut　from　the　archives　pinching　open　with　a　stab。　Ignoring　the　pain；　he　pushed。　Driving　his　body　upward　in　an　awkward　push…up；　Langdon　arched　his　stomach　off　the　floor　just　as　the　gun　went　off。　He　could　feel　the　shock　wave　of　the　bullets　as　they　sailed　beneath　him　and　pulverized　the　porous　travertine　behind。　Closing　his　eyes　and　straining　against　exhaustion；　Langdon　prayed　for　the　thunder　to　stop。
　And　then　it　did。　
　The　roar　of　gunfire　was　replaced　with　the　cold　click　of　an　empty　chamber。　
　Langdon　opened　his　eyes　slowly；　almost　fearful　his　eyelids　would　make　a　sound。　Fighting　the　trembling　pain；　he　held　his　position；　arched　like　a　cat。　He　didn't　even　dare　breathe。　His　eardrums　numbed　by　gunfire；　Langdon　listened　for　any　hint　of　the　killer's　departure。　Silence。　He　thought　of　Vittoria　and　ached　to　help　her。
　The　sound　that　followed　was　deafening。　Barely　human。　A　guttural　bellow　of　exertion。
　The　sarcophagus　over　Langdon's　head　suddenly　seemed　to　rise　on　its　side。　Langdon　collapsed　on　the　floor　as　hundreds　of　pounds　teetered　toward　him。　Gravity　overcame　friction；　and　the　lid　was　the　first　to　go；　sliding　off　the　tomb　and　crashing　to　the　floor　beside　him。　The　casket　came　next；　rolling　off　its　supports　and　toppling　upside　down　toward　Langdon。
　As　the　box　rolled；　Langdon　knew　he　would　either　be　entombed　in　the　hollow　beneath　it　or　crushed　by　one　of　the　edges。　Pulling　in　his　legs　and　head；　Langdon　pacted　his　body　and　yanked　his　arms　to　his　sides。　Then　he　closed　his　eyes　and　awaited　the　sickening　crush。　
　When　it　came；　the　entire　floor　shook　beneath　him。　The　upper　rim　landed　only　millimeters　from　the　top　of　his　head；　rattling　his　teeth　in　their　sockets。　His　right　arm；　which　Langdon　had　been　certain　would　be　crushed；　miraculously　still　felt　intact。　He　opened　his　eyes　to　see　a　shaft　of　light。　The　right　rim　of　the　casket　had　not　fallen　all　the　way　to　the　floor　and　was　still　propped　partially　on　its　supports。　Directly　overhead；　though；　Langdon　found　himself　staring　quite　literally　into　the　face　of　death。　
　The　original　occupant　of　the　tomb　was　suspended　above　him；　having　adhered；　as　decaying　bodies　often　did；　to　the　bottom　of　the　casket。　The　skeleton　hovered　a　moment；　like　a　tentative　lover；　and　then　with　a　sticky　crackling；　it　succumbed　to　gravity　and　peeled　away。　The　carcass　rushed　down　to　embrace　him；　raining　putrid　bones　and　dust　into　Langdon's　eyes　and　mouth。
　Before　Langdon　could　react；　a　blind　arm　was　slithering　through　the　opening　beneath　the　casket；　sifting　through　the　carcass　like　a　hungry　python。　It　groped　until　it　found　Langdon's　neck　and　clamped　down。　Langdon　tried　to　fight　back　against　the　iron　fist　now　crushing　his　larynx；　but　he　found　his　left　sleeve　pinched　beneath　the　edge　of　the　coffin。　He　had　only　one　arm　free；　and　the　fight　was　a　losing　battle。
　Langdon's　legs　bent　in　the　only　open　space　he　had；　his　feet　searching　for　the　casket　floor　above　him。　He　found　it。　Coiling；　he　planted　his　feet。　Then；　as　the　hand　around　his　neck　squeezed　tighter；　Langdon　closed　his　eyes　and　extended　his　legs　like　a　ram。　The　casket　shifted；　ever　so　slightly；　but　enough。
　With　a　raw　grinding；　the　sarcophagus　slid　off　the　supports　and　landed　on　the　floor。　The　casket　rim　crashed　onto　the　killer's　arm；　and　there　was　a　muffled　scream　of　pain。　The　hand　released　Langdon's　neck；　twisting　and　jerking　away　into　the　dark。　When　the　killer　finally　pulled　his　arm　free；　the　casket　fell　with　a　conclusive　thud　against　the　flat　marble　floor。
　plete　darkness。　Again。　
　And　silence。
　There　was　no　frustrated　pounding　outside　the　overturned　sarcophagus。　No　prying　to　get　in。　Nothing。　As　Langdon　lay　in　the　dark　amidst　a　pile　of　bones；　he　fought　the　closing　darkness　and　turned　his　thoughts　to　her。　
　Vittoria。　Are　you　alive？　
　If　Langdon　had　known　the　truth…the　horror　to　which　Vittoria　would　soon　awake…he　would　have　wished　for　her　sake　that　she　were　dead。
　
　94　

　Sitting　in　the　Sistine　Chapel　among　his　stunned　colleagues；　Cardinal　Mortati　tried　to　prehend　the　words　he　was　hearing。　Before　him；　lit　only　by　the　candlelight；　the　camerlegno　had　just　told　a　tale　of　such　hatred　and　treachery　that　Mortati　found　himself　trembling。　The　camerlegno　spoke　of　kidnapped　cardinals；　branded　cardinals；　murdered　cardinals。　He　spoke　of　the　ancient　Illuminati…a　name　that　dredged　up　forgotten　fears…and　of　their　resurgence　and　vow　of　revenge　against　the　church。　With　pain　in　his　voice；　the　camerlegno　spoke　of　his　late　Pope　。　。　。　the　victim　of　an　Illuminati　poisoning。　And　finally；　his　words　almost　a　whisper；　he　spoke　of　a　deadly　new　technology；　antimatter；　which　in　less　than　two　hours　threatened　to　destroy　all　of　Vatican　City。
　When　he　was　through；　it　was　as　if　Satan　himself　had　sucked　the　air　from　the　room。　Nobody　could　move。　The　camerlegno's　words　hung　in　the　darkness。　
　The　only　sound　Mortati　could　now　hear　was　the　anomalous　hum　of　a　television　camera　in　back…an　electronic　presence　no　conclave　in　history　had　ever　endured…but　a　presence　demanded　by　the　camerlegno。　To　the　utter　astonishment　of　the　cardinals；　the　camerlegno　had　entered　the　Sistine　Chapel　with　two　BBC　reporters…a　man　and　a　woman…and　announced　that　they　would　be　transmitting　his　solemn　statement；　live　to　the　world。　
　Now；　speaking　directly　to　the　camera；　the　camerlegno　stepped　forward。　〃To　the　Illuminati；〃　he　said；　his　voice　deepening；　〃and　to　those　of　science；　let　me　say　this。〃　He　paused。　〃You　have　won　the　war。〃
　The　silence　spread　now　to　the　deepest　corners　of　the　chapel。　Mortati　could　hear　the　desperate　thumping　of　his　own　heart。
　〃The　wheels　have　been　in　motion　for　a　long　time；〃　the　camerlegno　said。　〃Your　victory　has　been　inevitable。　Never　before　has　it　been　as　obvious　as　it　is　at　this　moment。　Science　is　the　new　God。〃
　What　is　he　saying！　Mortati　thought。　Has　he　gone　mad？　The　entire　world　is　hearing　this！　
　〃Medicine；　electronic　munications；　space　travel；　genetic　manipulation　。　。　。　these　are　the　miracles　about　which　we　now　tell　our　children。　These　are　the　miracles　we　herald　as　proof　that　science　will　bring　us　the　answers。　The　ancient　stories　of　immaculate　conceptions；　burning　bushes；　an