danbrown.angels&demons-第82部分

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shed　immediately　to　the　camerlegno；　who　lay　clutching　himself；　convulsing　in　pain。　
　Both　guards　let　out　exclamations　of　horror　when　they　saw　the　symbol　seared　on　the　camerlegno's　chest。　The　second　guard　saw　the　brand　upside　down　and　immediately　staggered　backward　with　fear　in　his　eyes。　Chartrand；　looking　equally　overwhelmed　by　the　symbol；　pulled　the　camerlegno's　torn　cassock　up　over　the　burn；　shielding　it　from　view。
　Langdon　felt　delirious　as　he　moved　across　the　room。　Through　a　mist　of　insanity　and　violence；　he　tried　to　make　sense　of　what　he　was　seeing。　A　crippled　scientist；　in　a　final　act　of　symbolic　dominance；　had　flown　into　Vatican　City　and　branded　the　church's　highest　official。　Some　things　are　worth　dying　for；　the　Hassassin　had　said。　Langdon　wondered　how　a　handicapped　man　could　possibly　have　overpowered　the　camerlegno。　Then　again；　Kohler　had　a　gun。　It　doesn't　matter　how　he　did　it！　Kohler　acplished　his　mission！　
　Langdon　moved　toward　the　gruesome　scene。　The　camerlegno　was　being　attended；　and　Langdon　felt　himself　drawn　toward　the　smoking　brand　on　the　floor　near　Kohler's　wheelchair。　The　sixth　brand？　The　closer　Langdon　got；　the　more　confused　he　became。　The　brand　seemed　to　be　a　perfect　square；　quite　large；　and　had　obviously　e　from　the　sacred　center　partment　of　the　chest　in　the　Illuminati　Lair。　A　sixth　and　final　brand；　the　Hassassin　had　said。　The　most　brilliant　of　all。
　Langdon　knelt　beside　Kohler　and　reached　for　the　object。　The　metal　still　radiated　heat。　Grasping　the　wooden　handle；　Langdon　picked　it　up。　He　was　not　sure　what　he　expected　to　see；　but　it　most　certainly　was　not　this。
　
　
　
　Langdon　stared　a　long；　confused　moment。　Nothing　was　making　sense。　Why　had　the　guards　cried　out　in　horror　when　they　saw　this？　It　was　a　square　of　meaningless　squiggles。　The　most　brilliant　of　all？　It　was　symmetrical；　Langdon　could　tell　as　he　rotated　it　in　his　hand；　but　it　was　gibberish。
　When　he　felt　a　hand　on　his　shoulder；　Langdon　looked　up；　expecting　Vittoria。　The　hand；　however；　was　covered　with　blood。　It　belonged　to　Maximilian　Kohler；　who　was　reaching　out　from　his　wheelchair。
　Langdon　dropped　the　brand　and　staggered　to　his　feet。　Kohler's　still　alive！　
　Slumped　in　his　wheelchair；　the　dying　director　was　still　breathing；　albeit　barely；　sucking　in　sputtering　gasps。　Kohler's　eyes　met　Langdon's；　and　it　was　the　same　stony　gaze　that　had　greeted　Langdon　at　CERN　earlier　that　day。　The　eyes　looked　even　harder　in　death；　the　loathing　and　enmity　rising　to　the　surface。
　The　scientist's　body　quivered；　and　Langdon　sensed　he　was　trying　to　move。　Everyone　else　in　the　room　was　focused　on　the　camerlegno；　and　Langdon　wanted　to　call　out；　but　he　could　not　react。　He　was　transfixed　by　the　intensity　radiating　from　Kohler　in　these　final　seconds　of　his　life。　The　director；　with　tremulous　effort；　lifted　his　arm　and　pulled　a　small　device　off　the　arm　of　his　wheelchair。　It　was　the　size　of　a　matchbox。　He　held　it　out；　quivering。　For　an　instant；　Langdon　feared　Kohler　had　a　weapon。　But　it　was　something　else。
　〃G…give　。　。　。〃　Kohler's　final　words　were　a　gurgling　whisper。　〃G…give　this　。　。　。　to　the　m…media。〃　Kohler　collapsed　motionless；　and　the　device　fell　in　his　lap。　
　Shocked；　Langdon　stared　at　the　device。　It　was　electronic。　The　words　SONY　RUVI　were　printed　across　the　front。　Langdon　recognized　it　as　one　of　those　new　ultraminiature；　palm…held　camcorders。　The　balls　on　this　guy！　he　thought。　Kohler　had　apparently　recorded　some　sort　of　final　suicide　message　he　wanted　the　media　to　broadcast　。　。　。　no　doubt　some　sermon　about　the　importance　of　science　and　the　evils　of　religion。　Langdon　decided　he　had　done　enough　for　this　man's　cause　tonight。　Before　Chartrand　saw　Kohler's　camcorder；　Langdon　slipped　it　into　his　deepest　jacket　pocket。　Kohler's　final　message　can　rot　in　hell！　
　It　was　the　voice　of　the　camerlegno　that　broke　the　silence。　He　was　trying　to　sit　up。　〃The　cardinals；〃　he　gasped　to　Chartrand。　
　〃Still　in　the　Sistine　Chapel！〃　Chartrand　exclaimed。　〃Captain　Rocher　ordered…〃
　〃Evacuate　。　。　。　now。　Everyone。〃
　Chartrand　sent　one　of　the　other　guards　running　off　to　let　the　cardinals　out。
　The　camerlegno　grimaced　in　pain。　〃Helicopter　。　。　。　out　front　。　。　。　get　me　to　a　hospital。〃
　
　115　

　In　St。　Peter's　Square；　the　Swiss　Guard　pilot　sat　in　the　cockpit　of　the　parked　Vatican　helicopter　and　rubbed　his　temples。　The　chaos　in　the　square　around　him　was　so　loud　that　it　drowned　out　the　sound　of　his　idling　rotors。　This　was　no　solemn　candlelight　vigil。　He　was　amazed　a　riot　had　not　broken　out　yet。　
　With　less　than　twenty…five　minutes　left　until　midnight；　the　people　were　still　packed　together；　some　praying；　some　weeping　for　the　church；　others　screaming　obscenities　and　proclaiming　that　this　was　what　the　church　deserved；　still　others　chanting　apocalyptic　Bible　verses。
　The　pilot's　head　pounded　as　the　media　lights　glinted　off　his　windshield。　He　squinted　out　at　the　clamorous　masses。　Banners　waved　over　the　crowd。　
　
　ANTIMATTER　IS　THE　ANTICHRIST！　
　SCIENTIST=SATANIST　
　WHERE　IS　YOUR　GOD　NOW？　
　
　The　pilot　groaned；　his　headache　worsening。　He　half　considered　grabbing　the　windshield's　vinyl　covering　and　putting　it　up　so　he　wouldn't　have　to　watch；　but　he　knew　he　would　be　airborne　in　a　matter　of　minutes。　Lieutenant　Chartrand　had　just　radioed　with　terrible　news。　The　camerlegno　had　been　attacked　by　Maximilian　Kohler　and　seriously　injured。　Chartrand；　the　American；　and　the　woman　were　carrying　the　camerlegno　out　now　so　he　could　be　evacuated　to　a　hospital。　
　The　pilot　felt　personally　responsible　for　the　attack。　He　reprimanded　himself　for　not　acting　on　his　gut。　Earlier；　when　he　had　picked　up　Kohler　at　the　airport；　he　had　sensed　something　in　the　scientist's　dead　eyes。　He　couldn't　place　it；　but　he　didn't　like　it。　Not　that　it　mattered。　Rocher　was　running　the　show；　and　Rocher　insisted　this　was　the　guy。　Rocher　had　apparently　been　wrong。
　A　new　clamor　arose　from　the　crowd；　and　the　pilot　looked　over　to　see　a　line　of　cardinals　processing　solemnly　out　of　the　Vatican　onto　St。　Peter's　Square。　The　cardinals'　relief　to　be　leaving　ground　zero　seemed　to　be　quickly　overe　by　looks　of　bewilderment　at　the　spectacle　now　going　on　outside　the　church。　
　The　crowd　noise　intensified　yet　again。　The　pilot's　head　pounded。　He　needed　an　aspirin。　Maybe　three。　He　didn't　like　to　fly　on　medication；　but　a　few　aspirin　would　certainly　be　less　debilitating　than　this　raging　headache。　He　reached　for　the　first…aid　kit；　kept　with　assorted　maps　and　manuals　in　a　cargo　box　bolted　between　the　two　front　seats。　When　he　tried　to　open　the　box；　though；　he　found　it　locked。　He　looked　around　for　the　key　and　then　finally　gave　up。　Tonight　was　clearly　not　his　lucky　night。　He　went　back　to　massaging　his　temples。　
　
　Inside　the　darkened　basilica；　Langdon；　Vittoria；　and　the　two　guards　strained　breathlessly　toward　the　main　exit。　Unable　to　find　anything　more　suitable；　the　four　of　them　were　transporting　the　wounded　camerlegno　on　a　narrow　table；　balancing　the　inert　body　between　them　as　though　on　a　stretcher。　Outside　the　doors；　the　faint　roar　of　human　chaos　was　now　audible。　The　camerlegno　teetered　on　the　brink　of　unconsciousness。　
　Time　was　running　out。
　
　116

　It　was　11：39　P。M。　when　Langdon　stepped　with　the　others　from　St。　Peter's　Basilica。　The　glare　that　hit　his　eyes　was　searing。　The　media　lights　shone　off　the　white　marble　like　sunlight　off　a　snowy　tundra。　Langdon　squinted；　trying　to　find　refuge　behind　the　faзade's　enormous　columns；　but　the　light　came　from　all　directions。　In　front　of　him；　a　collage　of　massive　video　screens　rose　above　the　crowd。
　Standing　there　atop　the　magnificent　stairs　that　spilled　down　to　the　piazza　below；　Langdon　felt　like　a　reluctant　player　on　the　world's　biggest　stage。　Somewhere　beyond　the　glaring　lights；　Langdon　heard　an　idling　helicopter　and　the　roar　of　a　hundred　thousand　voices。　To　their　left；　a　procession　of　cardinals　was　now　evacuating　onto　the　square。　They　all　stopped　in　apparent　distress　to　see　the　scene　now　unfolding　on　the　staircase。
　〃Careful　now；〃　Chartrand　urged；　sounding　focused　as　the　group　began　descending　the　stairs　toward　the　helicopter。　
　Langdon　felt　like　they　were　moving　underwater。　His　arms　ached　from　the　weight　of　the　camerlegno　and　the　table。　He　wondered　how　the　moment　could　get　much　less　dignified。　Then　he　saw　the　answer。　The　two　BBC　reporters　had　apparently　been　crossing　the　open　square　on　their　way　back　to　the　press　area。　But　now；　with　the　roar　of　the　crowd；　they　had　turned。　Glick　and　Macri　were　now　running　back　toward　them。　Macri's　camera　was　raised　and　rolling。　Here　e　the　vultures；　Langdon　thought。　
　〃Alt！〃　Chartrand　yelled。　〃Get　back！〃
　But　the　reporters　kept　ing。　Langdon　guessed　the　other　networks　would　take　about　six　seconds　to　pick　up　this　live　BBC　feed　again。　He　was　wrong。　They　took　two。　As　if　connected　by　some　sort　of　universal　consciousness；　every　last　media　screen　in　the　piazza　cut　away　from　their　countdown　clocks　and　their　Vatican　experts　and　began　transmitting　the　same　picture…a　jiggling　action　footage　swooping　up　the　Vatican　stairs。　Now；　everywhere　Langdon　looked；　he　saw　the　camerlegno's　limp　body　in　a　Technicolor　close…up。
　This　is　wrong！　Langdon　thought。　He　wanted　to　run　down　the　stairs　and　interfere；　but　he　could　not。　It　wouldn't　have　helped　anyway。