danbrown.angels&demons-第52部分

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　The　guard　shrugged。　〃The　only　reason　I　know　about　it　is　because　I'm　usually　on　piazza　duty。　I　know　every　corner　of　St。　Peter's　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。　Peter's　Church。
　〃I　patrol　past　it　every　day；〃　the　guard　said。　〃It's　in　the　center；　directly　where　that　line　is　pointing。　That's　what　made　me　think　of　it。　As　I　said；　it's　not　really　a　sculpture。　It's　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。　It's　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　Lincoln's　profile　on　the　penny。　Bernini's　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　wasn't　thinking　in　those　terms！　That　tile　you're　talking　about　in　St。　Peter's　Square　is　called　the　West　Ponente…the　West　Wind。　It's　also　known　as　Respiro　di　Dio。〃　
　〃Breath　of　God？〃
　〃Yes！　Air！　And　it　was　carved　and　put　there　by　the　original　architect！〃
　Vittoria　looked　confused。　〃But　I　thought　Michelangelo　designed　St。　Peter's。〃
　〃Yes；　the　basilica！〃　Langdon　exclaimed；　triumph　in　his　voice。　〃But　St。　Peter's　Square　was　designed　by　Bernini！〃
　As　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。
　
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　Gunther　Glick　floored　the　BBC　van's　accelerator　and　swerved　through　traffic　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　you're　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　soften　into　a　grin。　I　guess　we'll　see　who's　short　a　few　crumpets。　〃So　fire　it　off。〃
　〃Can't　transmit　until　we　stop　and　get　a　fixed　cell　read。〃
　Glick　gunned　the　van　onto　Via　Cola　di　Rienzo。　〃Can't　stop　now。〃　He　tailed　the　Alpha　Romeos　through　a　hard　left　swerve　around　Piazza　Risorgimento。
　Macri　held　on　to　her　puter　gear　in　back　as　everything　slid。　〃Break　my　transmitter；〃　she　warned；　〃and　we'll　have　to　walk　this　footage　to　London。〃
　〃Sit　tight；　love。　Something　tells　me　we're　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。　Peter's　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　enpassing　the　colonnade。　They　too　seemed　to　evaporate　into　the　surroundings。　As　Langdon　watched　through　the　windshield；　he　sensed　a　noose　tightening　around　St。　Peter's。　
　In　addition　to　the　men　Olivetti　had　just　dispatched；　the　mander　had　radioed　ahead　to　the　Vatican　and　sent　additional　undercover　guards　to　the　center　where　Bernini's　West　Ponente　was　located。　As　Langdon　looked　out　at　the　wide…open　spaces　of　St。　Peter's　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　8：54　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。　You're　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。　Peter's　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　searching　every　face　they　passed；　wondering　if　the　killer　was　among　them。　Vittoria's　hand　felt　warm。　
　As　they　crossed　the　open　expanse　of　St。　Peter's　Square；　Langdon　sensed　Bernini's　sprawling　piazza　having　the　exact　effect　the　artist　had　been　missioned　to　create…that　of　〃humbling　all　those　who　entered。〃　Langdon　certainly　felt　humbled　at　the　moment。　Humbled　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。　Peter's　Square　and　blowing　away　the　kneecaps　of　some　killer　while　the　global　media　looked　on。　Then　again；　an　incident　like　that　would　be　nothing　pared　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。　Peter's　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　Caligula's　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　focal　points　of　Bernini's　elliptical　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　obelisk；　boldly　positioned　outside　the　largest　church　in　the　world；　was　the　second　altar　of　science…Bernini's　West　Ponente…an　elliptical　block　in　St。　Peter's　Square。　
　
　Gunther　Glick　watched　from　the　shadows　of　the　pillars　surrounding　St。　Peter's　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。　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　imitation　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　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　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。