danbrown.angels&demons-第53部分

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ple　across　the　piazza。　Something　told　Glick　he　was　still　in　the　game　。　。　。　
　
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　Langdon　saw　what　he　was　looking　for　a　good　ten　yards　before　they　reached　it。　Through　the　scattered　tourists；　the　white　marble　ellipse　of　Bernini's　West　Ponente　stood　out　against　the　gray　granite　cubes　that　made　up　the　rest　of　the　piazza。　Vittoria　apparently　saw　it　too。　Her　hand　tensed。
　〃Relax；〃　Langdon　whispered。　〃Do　your　piranha　thing。〃
　Vittoria　loosened　her　grip。
　As　they　drew　nearer；　everything　seemed　forbiddingly　normal。　Tourists　wandered；　nuns　chatted　along　the　perimeter　of　the　piazza；　a　girl　fed　pigeons　at　the　base　of　the　obelisk。　
　Langdon　refrained　from　checking　his　watch。　He　knew　it　was　almost　time。
　The　elliptical　stone　arrived　beneath　their　feet；　and　Langdon　and　Vittoria　slowed　to　a　stop…not　overeagerly…just　two　tourists　pausing　dutifully　at　a　point　of　mild　interest。
　〃West　Ponente；〃　Vittoria　said；　reading　the　inscription　on　the　stone。
　Langdon　gazed　down　at　the　marble　relief　and　felt　suddenly　naпve。　Not　in　his　art　books；　not　in　his　numerous　trips　to　Rome；　not　ever　had　West　Ponente's　significance　jumped　out　at　him。　
　Not　until　now。
　The　relief　was　elliptical；　about　three　feet　long；　and　carved　with　a　rudimentary　face…a　depiction　of　the　West　Wind　as　an　angel…like　countenance。　Gusting　from　the　angel's　mouth；　Bernini　had　drawn　a　powerful　breath　of　air　blowing　outward　away　from　the　Vatican　。　。　。　the　breath　of　God。　This　was　Bernini's　tribute　to　the　second　element　。　。　。　Air　。　。　。　an　ethereal　zephyr　blown　from　angel's　lips。　As　Langdon　stared；　he　realized　the　significance　of　the　relief　went　deeper　still。　Bernini　had　carved　the　air　in　five　distinct　gusts　。　。　。　five！　What　was　more；　flanking　the　medallion　were　two　shining　stars。　Langdon　thought　of　Galileo。　Two　stars；　five　gusts；　ellipses；　symmetry　。　。　。　He　felt　hollow。　His　head　hurt。　
　Vittoria　began　walking　again　almost　immediately；　leading　Langdon　away　from　the　relief。　〃I　think　someone's　following　us；〃　she　said。
　Langdon　looked　up。　〃Where？〃
　Vittoria　moved　a　good　thirty　yards　before　speaking。　She　pointed　up　at　the　Vatican　as　if　showing　Langdon　something　on　the　dome。　〃The　same　person　has　been　behind　us　all　the　way　across　the　square。〃　Casually；　Vittoria　glanced　over　her　shoulder。　〃Still　on　us。　Keep　moving。〃
　〃You　think　it's　the　Hassassin？〃
　Vittoria　shook　her　head。　〃Not　unless　the　Illuminati　hires　women　with　BBC　cameras。〃
　
　When　the　bells　of　St。　Peter's　began　their　deafening　clamor；　both　Langdon　and　Vittoria　jumped。　It　was　time。　They　had　circled　away　from　West　Ponente　in　an　attempt　to　lose　the　reporter　but　were　now　moving　back　toward　the　relief。
　Despite　the　clanging　bells；　the　area　seemed　perfectly　calm。　Tourists　wandered。　A　homeless　drunk　dozed　awkwardly　at　the　base　of　the　obelisk。　A　little　girl　fed　pigeons。　Langdon　wondered　if　the　reporter　had　scared　the　killer　off。　Doubtful；　he　decided；　recalling　the　killer's　promise。　I　will　make　your　cardinals　media　luminaries。　
　As　the　echo　of　the　ninth　bell　faded　away；　a　peaceful　silence　descended　across　the　square。
　Then　。　。　。　the　little　girl　began　to　scream。
　
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　Langdon　was　the　first　to　reach　the　screaming　girl。　
　The　terrified　youngster　stood　frozen；　pointing　at　the　base　of　the　obelisk　where　a　shabby；　decrepit　drunk　sat　slumped　on　the　stairs。　The　man　was　a　miserable　sight　。　。　。　apparently　one　of　Rome's　homeless。　His　gray　hair　hung　in　greasy　strands　in　front　of　his　face；　and　his　entire　body　was　wrapped　in　some　sort　of　dirty　cloth。　The　girl　kept　screaming　as　she　scampered　off　into　the　crowd。
　Langdon　felt　an　upsurge　of　dread　as　he　dashed　toward　the　invalid。　There　was　a　dark；　widening　stain　spreading　across　the　man's　rags。　Fresh；　flowing　blood。　
　Then；　it　was　as　if　everything　happened　at　once。　
　The　old　man　seemed　to　crumple　in　the　middle；　tottering　forward。　Langdon　lunged；　but　he　was　too　late。　The　man　pitched　forward；　toppled　off　the　stairs；　and　hit　the　pavement　facedown。　Motionless。　
　Langdon　dropped　to　his　knees。　Vittoria　arrived　beside　him。　A　crowd　was　gathering。
　Vittoria　put　her　fingers　on　the　man's　throat　from　behind。　〃There's　a　pulse；〃　she　declared。　〃Roll　him。〃
　Langdon　was　already　in　motion。　Grasping　the　man's　shoulders；　he　rolled　the　body。　As　he　did；　the　loose　rags　seemed　to　slough　away　like　dead　flesh。　The　man　flopped　limp　onto　his　back。　Dead　center　of　his　naked　chest　was　a　wide　area　of　charred　flesh。　
　Vittoria　gasped　and　pulled　back。
　Langdon　felt　paralyzed；　pinned　somewhere　between　nausea　and　awe。　The　symbol　had　a　terrifying　simplicity　to　it。
　
　
　
　〃Air；〃　Vittoria　choked。　〃It's　。　。　。　him。〃
　Swiss　Guards　appeared　from　out　of　nowhere；　shouting　orders；　racing　after　an　unseen　assassin。
　Nearby；　a　tourist　explained　that　only　minutes　ago；　a　dark…skinned　man　had　been　kind　enough　to　help　this　poor；　wheezing；　homeless　man　across　the　square　。　。　。　even　sitting　a　moment　on　the　stairs　with　the　invalid　before　disappearing　back　into　the　crowd。
　Vittoria　ripped　the　rest　of　the　rags　off　the　man's　abdomen。　He　had　two　deep　puncture　wounds；　one　on　either　side　of　the　brand；　just　below　his　rib　cage。　She　cocked　the　man's　head　back　and　began　to　administer　mouth　to　mouth。　Langdon　was　not　prepared　for　what　happened　next。　As　Vittoria　blew；　the　wounds　on　either　side　of　the　man's　midsection　hissed　and　sprayed　blood　into　the　air　like　blowholes　on　a　whale。　The　salty　liquid　hit　Langdon　in　the　face。　
　Vittoria　stopped　short；　looking　horrified。　〃His　lungs　。　。　。〃　she　stammered。　〃They're　。　。　。　punctured。〃　
　Langdon　wiped　his　eyes　as　he　looked　down　at　the　two　perforations。　The　holes　gurgled。　The　cardinal's　lungs　were　destroyed。　He　was　gone。　
　Vittoria　covered　the　body　as　the　Swiss　Guards　moved　in。
　Langdon　stood；　disoriented。　As　he　did；　he　saw　her。　The　woman　who　had　been　following　them　earlier　was　crouched　nearby。　Her　BBC　video　camera　was　shouldered；　aimed；　and　running。　She　and　Langdon　locked　eyes；　and　he　knew　she'd　gotten　it　all。　Then；　like　a　cat；　she　bolted。
　
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　Chinita　Macri　was　on　the　run。　She　had　the　story　of　her　life。
　Her　video　camera　felt　like　an　anchor　as　she　lumbered　across　St。　Peter's　Square；　pushing　through　the　gathering　crowd。　Everyone　seemed　to　be　moving　in　the　opposite　direction　than　her　。　。　。　toward　the　motion。　Macri　was　trying　to　get　as　far　away　as　possible。　The　man　in　the　tweed　jacket　had　seen　her；　and　now　she　sensed　others　were　after　her；　men　she　could　not　see；　closing　in　from　all　sides。
　Macri　was　still　aghast　from　the　images　she　had　just　recorded。　She　wondered　if　the　dead　man　was　really　who　she　feared　he　was。　Glick's　mysterious　phone　contact　suddenly　seemed　a　little　less　crazy。　
　As　she　hurried　in　the　direction　of　the　BBC　van；　a　young　man　with　a　decidedly　militaristic　air　emerged　from　the　crowd　before　her。　Their　eyes　met；　and　they　both　stopped。　Like　lightning；　he　raised　a　walkie…talkie　and　spoke　into　it。　Then　he　moved　toward　her。　Macri　wheeled　and　doubled　back　into　the　crowd；　her　heart　pounding。　
　As　she　stumbled　through　the　mass　of　arms　and　legs；　she　removed　the　spent　video　cassette　from　her　camera。　Cellulose　gold；　she　thought；　tucking　the　tape　under　her　belt　flush　to　her　backside　and　letting　her　coat　tails　cover　it。　For　once　she　was　glad　she　carried　some　extra　weight。　Glick；　where　the　hell　are　you！　
　Another　soldier　appeared　to　her　left；　closing　in。　Macri　knew　she　had　little　time。　She　banked　into　the　crowd　again。　Yanking　a　blank　cartridge　from　her　case；　she　slapped　it　into　the　camera。　Then　she　prayed。
　She　was　thirty　yards　from　the　BBC　van　when　the　two　men　materialized　directly　in　front　of　her；　arms　folded。　She　was　going　nowhere。
　〃Film；〃　one　snapped。　〃Now。〃
　Macri　recoiled；　wrapping　her　arms　protectively　around　her　camera。　〃No　chance。〃　
　One　of　the　men　pulled　aside　his　jacket；　revealing　a　sidearm。　
　〃So　shoot　me；〃　Macri　said；　amazed　by　the　boldness　of　her　voice。
　〃Film；〃　the　first　one　repeated。
　Where　the　devil　is　Glick？　Macri　stamped　her　foot　and　yelled　as　loudly　as　possible；　〃I　am　a　professional　videographer　with　the　BBC！　By　Article　12　of　the　Free　Press　Act；　this　film　is　property　of　the　British　Broadcast　Corporation！〃　
　The　men　did　not　flinch。　The　one　with　the　gun　took　a　step　toward　her。　〃I　am　a　lieutenant　with　the　Swiss　Guard；　and　by　the　Holy　Doctrine　governing　the　property　on　which　you　are　now　standing；　you　are　subject　to　search　and　seizure。〃
　A　crowd　had　started　to　gather　now　around　them。　
　Macri　yelled；　〃I　will　not　under　any　circumstances　give　you　the　film　in　this　camera　without　speaking　to　my　editor　in　London。　I　suggest　you…〃
　The　guards　ended　it。　One　yanked　the　camera　out　of　her　hands。　The　other　forcibly　grabbed　her　by　the　arm　and　twisted　her　in　the　direction　of　the　Vatican。　〃Grazie；〃　he　said；　leading　her　through　a　jostling　crowd。
　Macri　prayed　they　would　not　search　her　and　find　the　tape。　If　she　could　somehow　protect　the　film　long　enough　to…
　Suddenly；　the　unthinkable　happened。　Someone　in　the　crowd　was　groping　under　her　coat。　Macri　felt　the　video　yanked　away　from　her。　She　wheeled；　but　swallowed　her　words。　Behind　her；　a　breathless　Gunther　Glick　gave　her　a　wink　and　dissolved　back　into　the　crowd。
　
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　Robert　Langdon　staggered　into　the　private　bathroom　adjoining　the　Office　of　the　Pope。　He　dabbed　the　blood