danbrown.angels&demons-第62部分

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　Now　with　a　moment　to　sit　and　reflect；　Langdon　felt　a　tinge　of　amazement　as　the　news　of　the　Pope's　murder　finally　registered　in　his　mind。　The　thought　was　inconceivable；　and　yet　somehow　it　seemed　a　perfectly　logical　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　treachery　abounded；　although　with　no　autopsy；　none　was　ever　confirmed。　Until　recently。　Academics　not　long　ago　had　gotten　permission　to　X…ray　the　tomb　of　Pope　Celestine　V；　who　had　allegedly　died　at　the　hands　of　his　overeager　successor；　Boniface　VIII。　The　researchers　had　hoped　the　X…ray　might　reveal　some　small　hint　of　foul　play…a　broken　bone　perhaps。　Incredibly；　the　X…ray　had　revealed　a　ten…inch　nail　driven　into　the　Pope's　skull。
　Langdon　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　he'd　gone　to　the　Harvard　microfiche　collection　to　confirm　the　articles　were　authentic。　Incredibly；　they　were。　He　now　kept　them　on　his　bulletin　board　as　examples　of　how　even　respectable　news　organizations　sometimes　got　carried　away　with　Illuminati　paranoia。　Suddenly；　the　media's　suspicions　seemed　a　lot　less　paranoid。　Langdon　could　see　the　articles　clearly　in　his　mind　。　。　。　
　
　THE　BRITISH　BROADCASTING　CORPORATION　
　June　14；　1998
　Pope　John　Paul　I；　who　died　in　1978；　fell　victim　to　a　plot　by　the　P2　Masonic　Lodge　。　。　。　The　secret　society　P2　decided　to　murder　John　Paul　I　when　it　saw　he　was　determined　to　dismiss　the　American　Archbishop　Paul　Marcinkus　as　President　of　the　Vatican　Bank。　The　Bank　had　been　implicated　in　shady　financial　deals　with　the　Masonic　Lodge　。　。　。　
　
　THE　NEW　YORK　TIMES　
　August　24；　1998
　Why　was　the　late　John　Paul　I　wearing　his　day　shirt　in　bed？　Why　was　it　torn？　The　questions　don't　stop　there。　No　medical　investigations　were　made。　Cardinal　Villot　forbade　an　autopsy　on　the　grounds　that　no　Pope　was　ever　given　a　postmortem。　And　John　Paul's　medicines　mysteriously　vanished　from　his　bedside；　as　did　his　glasses；　slippers　and　his　last　will　and　testament。
　
　LONDON　DAILY　MAIL　
　August　27；　1998
　。　。　。　a　plot　including　a　powerful；　ruthless　and　illegal　Masonic　lodge　with　tentacles　stretching　into　the　Vatican。
　
　The　cellular　in　Vittoria's　pocket　rang；　thankfully　erasing　the　memories　from　Langdon's　mind。　
　Vittoria　answered；　looking　confused　as　to　who　might　be　calling　her。　Even　from　a　few　feet　away；　Langdon　recognized　the　laserlike　voice　on　the　phone。
　〃Vittoria？　This　is　Maximilian　Kohler。　Have　you　found　the　antimatter　yet？〃
　〃Max？　You're　okay？〃
　〃I　saw　the　news。　There　was　no　mention　of　CERN　or　the　antimatter。　This　is　good。　What　is　happening？〃
　〃We　haven't　located　the　canister　yet。　The　situation　is　plex。　Robert　Langdon　has　been　quite　an　asset。　We　have　a　lead　on　catching　the　man　assassinating　cardinals。　Right　now　we　are　headed…〃
　〃Ms。　Vetra；〃　Olivetti　interrupted。　〃You've　said　enough。〃
　She　covered　the　receiver；　clearly　annoyed。　〃mander；　this　is　the　president　of　CERN。　Certainly　he　has　a　right　to…〃
　〃He　has　a　right；〃　Olivetti　snapped；　〃to　be　here　handling　this　situation。　You're　on　an　open　cellular　line。　You've　said　enough。〃
　Vittoria　took　a　deep　breath。　〃Max？〃
　〃I　may　have　some　information　for　you；〃　Max　said。　〃About　your　father　。　。　。　I　may　know　who　he　told　about　the　antimatter。〃
　Vittoria's　expression　clouded。　〃Max；　my　father　said　he　told　no　one。〃
　〃I'm　afraid；　Vittoria；　your　father　did　tell　someone。　I　need　to　check　some　security　records。　I　will　be　in　touch　soon。〃　The　line　went　dead。
　Vittoria　looked　waxen　as　she　returned　the　phone　to　her　pocket。
　〃You　okay？〃　Langdon　asked。
　Vittoria　nodded；　her　trembling　fingers　revealing　the　lie。
　
　〃The　church　is　on　Piazza　Barberini；〃　Olivetti　said；　killing　the　siren　and　checking　his　watch。　〃We　have　nine　minutes。〃
　When　Langdon　had　first　realized　the　location　of　the　third　marker；　the　position　of　the　church　had　rung　some　distant　bell　for　him。　Piazza　Barberini。　Something　about　the　name　was　familiar　。　。　。　something　he　could　not　place。　Now　Langdon　realized　what　it　was。　The　piazza　was　the　sight　of　a　controversial　subway　stop。　Twenty　years　ago；　construction　of　the　subway　terminal　had　created　a　stir　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。　
　In　Bernini's　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。
　A　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。　
　〃We　can't　risk　your　being　recognized；〃　he　said。　〃You　two　were　on　television。　I　want　you　across　the　piazza；　out　of　sight；　watching　the　front　entrance。　I'm　going　in　the　back。〃　He　produced　a　familiar　pistol　and　handed　it　to　Langdon。　〃Just　in　case。〃
　Langdon　frowned。　It　was　the　second　time　today　he　had　been　handed　the　gun。　He　slid　it　into　his　breast　pocket。　As　he　did；　he　realized　he　was　still　carrying　the　folio　from　Diagramma。　He　couldn't　believe　he　had　forgotten　to　leave　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　tourist　map。　Then　Langdon　thought　of　the　mess　of　shattered　glass　and　strewn　documents　that　he'd　left　behind　in　the　archives。　The　curator　had　other　problems。　If　the　archives　even　survive　the　night　。　。　。　
　Olivetti　got　out　of　the　car　and　motioned　back　up　the　alley。　〃The　piazza　is　that　way。　Keep　your　eyes　open　and　don't　let　yourselves　be　seen。〃　He　tapped　the　phone　on　his　belt。　〃Ms。　Vetra；　let's　retest　our　auto　dial。〃
　Vittoria　removed　her　phone　and　hit　the　auto　dial　number　she　and　Olivetti　had　programmed　at　the　Pantheon。　Olivetti's　phone　vibrated　in　silent…ring　mode　on　his　belt。
　The　mander　nodded。　〃Good。　If　you　see　anything；　I　want　to　know。〃　He　cocked　his　weapon。　〃I'll　be　inside　waiting。　This　heathen　is　mine。〃
　
　At　that　moment；　very　nearby；　another　cellular　phone　was　ringing。　
　The　Hassassin　answered。　〃Speak。〃
　〃It　is　I；〃　the　voice　said。　〃Janus。〃
　The　Hassassin　smiled。　〃Hello；　master。〃
　〃Your　position　may　be　known。　Someone　is　ing　to　stop　you。〃
　〃They　are　too　late。　I　have　already　made　the　arrangements　here。〃
　〃Good。　Make　sure　you　escape　alive。　There　is　work　yet　to　be　done。〃
　〃Those　who　stand　in　my　way　will　die。〃
　〃Those　who　stand　in　your　way　are　knowledgeable。〃
　〃You　speak　of　an　American　scholar？〃
　〃You　are　aware　of　him？〃
　The　Hassassin　chuckled。　〃Cool…tempered　but　naпve。　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　Leonardo　Vetra's　daughter。
　There　was　a　momentary　silence　on　the　line；　the　first　hesitation　the　Hassassin　had　ever　sensed　from　his　Illuminati　master。　Finally；　Janus　spoke。　〃Eliminate　them　if　need　be。〃
　The　killer　smiled。　〃Consider　it　done。〃　He　felt　a　warm　anticipation　spreading　through　his　body。　Although　the　woman　I　may　keep　as　a　prize。
　
　89

　War　had　broken　out　in　St。　Peter's　Square。
　The　piazza　had　exploded　into　a　frenzy　of　aggression。　Media　trucks　skidded　into　place　like　assault　vehicles　claiming　beachheads。　Reporters　unfurled　high…tech　electronics　like　soldiers　arming　for　battle。　All　around　the　perimeter　of　the　square；　networks　jockeyed　for　position　as　they　raced　to　erect　the　newest　weapon　in　media　wars…flat…screen　displays。　
　Flat…screen　displays　were　enormous　video　screens　that　could　be　assembled　on　top　of　trucks　or　portable　scaffolding。　The　screens　served　as　a　kind　of　billboard　advertisement　for　the　network；　broadcasting　that　network's　coverage　and　corporate　logo　like　a　drive…in　movie。　If　a　screen　were　well…situated…in　front　of　the　action；　for　example…a　peting　network　could　not　shoot　the　story　without　including　an　advertisement　for　their　petitor。　
　The　square　was　quickly　being　not　only　a　multimedia　extravaganza；　but　a　frenzied　public　vigil。　Onlookers　poured　in　from　all　directions。　Open　space　in　the　usually　limitless　square　was　fast　being　a　valuable　modity。　People　clustered　around　the　towering　flat…screen　displays；　listening　to　live　reports　in　stunned　excitement。
　
　Only　a　hundred　yards　away；　inside　the　thick　walls　of　St。　Peter's　Basilica；　the　world　was　serene。　Lieutenant　Chartrand　and　three　other　guards　moved　through　the　darkness。　Wearing　their　infrared　goggles；　they　fanned　out　across　the　nave；　swinging　their　detectors　before　them。　The　search　of　Vatican　City's　public　access　areas　so　far　had　yielded　nothing。
　〃Better　remove　your　goggles　up　here；〃　the　senior　guard　said。
　Chartrand　was　already　doing　it。　They　were　nearing　the　Niche　of　the　Palliums…the　sunken　area　in　the　center　of　the　basilica。　It　was　lit　by　ninety…nine　oil　lamps；　and　the　amplified　infrared　would　have　seared　their　eyes。
　Chartrand　enjoyed　being　out　of　the　heavy　goggles；　and　he　stretched　his　neck　as　they　descended　into　the　sunken　niche　to