danbrown.angels&demons-第88部分

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　hearts　shuddered　with　spontaneous　emotion。　Bereavement。　Fear。　Wonder。　Belief。　And　a　dread…filled　respect　for　the　new　and　awesome　power　they　had　just　witnessed。　
　Vittoria　Vetra　stood　trembling　at　the　foot　of　the　basilica's　sweeping　stairs。　She　closed　her　eyes。　Through　the　tempest　of　emotions　now　coursing　through　her　blood；　a　single　word　tolled　like　a　distant　bell。　Pristine。　Cruel。　She　forced　it　away。　And　yet　the　word　echoed。　Again　she　drove　it　back。　The　pain　was　too　great。　She　tried　to　lose　herself　in　the　images　that　blazed　in　other's　minds　。　。　。　antimatter's　mind…boggling　power　。　。　。　the　Vatican's　deliverance　。　。　。　the　camerlegno　。　。　。　feats　of　bravery　。　。　。　miracles　。　。　。　selflessness。　And　still　the　word　echoed　。　。　。　tolling　through　the　chaos　with　a　stinging　loneliness。
　Robert。　
　He　had　e　for　her　at　Castle　St。　Angelo。　
　He　had　saved　her。
　And　now　he　had　been　destroyed　by　her　creation。
　
　As　Cardinal　Mortati　prayed；　he　wondered　if　he　too　would　hear　God's　voice　as　the　camerlegno　had。　Does　one　need　to　believe　in　miracles　to　experience　them？　Mortati　was　a　modern　man　in　an　ancient　faith。　Miracles　had　never　played　a　part　in　his　belief。　Certainly　his　faith　spoke　of　miracles　。　。　。　bleeding　palms；　ascensions　from　the　dead；　imprints　on　shrouds　。　。　。　and　yet；　Mortati's　rational　mind　had　always　justified　these　accounts　as　part　of　the　myth。　They　were　simply　the　result　of　man's　greatest　weakness…his　need　for　proof。　Miracles　were　nothing　but　stories　we　all　clung　to　because　we　wished　they　were　true。
　And　yet　。　。　。　
　Am　I　so　modern　that　I　cannot　accept　what　my　eyes　have　just　witnessed？　It　was　a　miracle；　was　it　not？　Yes！　God；　with　a　few　whispered　words　in　the　camerlegno's　ear；　had　intervened　and　saved　this　church。　Why　was　this　so　hard　to　believe？　What　would　it　say　about　God　if　God　had　done　nothing？　That　the　Almighty　did　not　care？　That　He　was　powerless　to　stop　it？　A　miracle　was　the　only　possible　response！　
　As　Mortati　knelt　in　wonder；　he　prayed　for　the　camerlegno's　soul。　He　gave　thanks　to　the　young　chamberlain　who；　even　in　his　youthful　years；　had　opened　this　old　man's　eyes　to　the　miracles　of　unquestioning　faith。
　Incredibly；　though；　Mortati　never　suspected　the　extent　to　which　his　faith　was　about　to　be　tested　。　。　。　
　The　silence　of　St。　Peter's　Square　broke　with　a　ripple　at　first。　The　ripple　grew　to　a　murmur。　And　then；　suddenly；　to　a　roar。　Without　warning；　the　multitudes　were　crying　out　as　one。　
　〃Look！　Look！〃　
　Mortati　opened　his　eyes　and　turned　to　the　crowd。　Everyone　was　pointing　behind　him；　toward　the　front　of　St。　Peter's　Basilica。　Their　faces　were　white。　Some　fell　to　their　knees。　Some　fainted。　Some　burst　into　uncontrollable　sobs。
　〃Look！　Look！〃　
　Mortati　turned；　bewildered；　following　their　outstretched　hands。　They　were　pointing　to　the　uppermost　level　of　the　basilica；　the　rooftop　terrace；　where　huge　statues　of　Christ　and　his　apostles　watched　over　the　crowd。
　There；　on　the　right　of　Jesus；　arms　outstretched　to　the　world　。　。　。　stood　Camerlegno　Carlo　Ventresca。
　
　125　

　Robert　Langdon　was　no　longer　falling。　
　There　was　no　more　terror。　No　pain。　Not　even　the　sound　of　the　racing　wind。　There　was　only　the　soft　sound　of　lapping　water；　as　though　he　were　fortably　asleep　on　a　beach。　
　In　a　paradox　of　self…awareness；　Langdon　sensed　this　was　death。　He　felt　glad　for　it。　He　allowed　the　drifting　numbness　to　possess　him　entirely。　He　let　it　carry　him　wherever　it　was　he　would　go。　His　pain　and　fear　had　been　anesthetized；　and　he　did　not　wish　it　back　at　any　price。　His　final　memory　had　been　one　that　could　only　have　been　conjured　in　hell。　
　Take　me。　Please　。　。　。　
　But　the　lapping　that　lulled　in　him　a　far…off　sense　of　peace　was　also　pulling　him　back。　It　was　trying　to　awaken　him　from　a　dream。　No！　Let　me　be！　He　did　not　want　to　awaken。　He　sensed　demons　gathering　on　the　perimeter　of　his　bliss；　pounding　to　shatter　his　rapture。　Fuzzy　images　swirled。　Voices　yelled。　Wind　churned。　No；　please！　The　more　he　fought；　the　more　the　fury　filtered　through。
　Then；　harshly；　he　was　living　it　all　again　。　。　。　
　
　The　helicopter　was　in　a　dizzying　dead　climb。　He　was　trapped　inside。　Beyond　the　open　door；　the　lights　of　Rome　looked　farther　away　with　every　passing　second。　His　survival　instinct　told　him　to　jettison　the　canister　right　now。　Langdon　knew　it　would　take　less　than　twenty　seconds　for　the　canister　to　fall　half　a　mile。　But　it　would　be　falling　toward　a　city　of　people。　
　Higher！　Higher！　
　Langdon　wondered　how　high　they　were　now。　Small　prop　planes；　he　knew；　flew　at　altitudes　of　about　four　miles。　This　helicopter　had　to　be　at　a　good　fraction　of　that　by　now。　Two　miles　up？　Three？　There　wasstill　a　chance。　If　they　timed　the　drop　perfectly；　the　canister　would　fall　only　partway　toward　earth；　exploding　a　safe　distance　over　the　ground　and　away　from　the　chopper。　Langdon　looked　out　at　the　city　sprawling　below　them。　
　〃And　if　you　calculate　incorrectly？〃　the　camerlegno　said。　
　Langdon　turned；　startled。　The　camerlegno　was　not　even　looking　at　him；　apparently　having　read　Langdon's　thoughts　from　the　ghostly　reflection　in　the　windshield。　Oddly；　the　camerlegno　was　no　longer　engrossed　in　his　controls。　His　hands　were　not　even　on　the　throttle。　The　chopper；　it　seemed；　was　now　in　some　sort　of　autopilot　mode；　locked　in　a　climb。　The　camerlegno　reached　above　his　head；　to　the　ceiling　of　the　cockpit；　fishing　behind　a　cable…housing；　where　he　removed　a　key；　taped　there　out　of　view。
　Langdon　watched　in　bewilderment　as　the　camerlegno　quickly　unlocked　the　metal　cargo　box　bolted　between　the　seats。　He　removed　some　sort　of　large；　black；　nylon　pack。　He　lay　it　on　the　seat　next　to　him。　Langdon's　thoughts　churned。　The　camerlegno's　movements　seemed　posed；　as　if　he　had　a　solution。
　〃Give　me　the　canister；〃　the　camerlegno　said；　his　tone　serene。
　Langdon　did　not　know　what　to　think　anymore。　He　thrust　the　canister　to　the　camerlegno。　〃Ninety　seconds！〃　
　What　the　camerlegno　did　with　the　antimatter　took　Langdon　totally　by　surprise。　Holding　the　canister　carefully　in　his　hands；　the　camerlegno　placed　it　inside　the　cargo　box。　Then　he　closed　the　heavy　lid　and　used　the　key　to　lock　it　tight。
　〃What　are　you　doing！〃　Langdon　demanded。
　〃Leading　us　from　temptation。〃　The　camerlegno　threw　the　key　out　the　open　window。
　As　the　key　tumbled　into　the　night；　Langdon　felt　his　soul　falling　with　it。
　The　camerlegno　then　took　the　nylon　pack　and　slipped　his　arms　through　the　straps。　He　fastened　a　waist　clamp　around　his　stomach　and　cinched　it　all　down　like　a　backpack。　He　turned　to　a　dumbstruck　Robert　Langdon。　
　〃I'm　sorry；〃　the　camerlegno　said。　〃It　wasn't　supposed　to　happen　this　way。〃　Then　he　opened　his　door　and　hurled　himself　into　the　night。
　
　The　image　burned　in　Langdon's　unconscious　mind；　and　with　it　came　the　pain。　Real　pain。　Physical　pain。　Aching。　Searing。　He　begged　to　be　taken；　to　let　it　end；　but　as　the　water　lapped　louder　in　his　ears；　new　images　began　to　flash。　His　hell　had　only　just　begun。　He　saw　bits　and　pieces。　Scattered　frames　of　sheer　panic。　He　lay　halfway　between　death　and　nightmare；　begging　for　deliverance；　but　the　pictures　grew　brighter　in　his　mind。
　The　antimatter　canister　was　locked　out　of　reach。　It　counted　relentlessly　downward　as　the　chopper　shot　upward。　Fifty　seconds。　Higher。　Higher。　Langdon　spun　wildly　in　the　cabin；　trying　to　make　sense　of　what　he　had　just　seen。　Forty…five　seconds。　He　dug　under　seats　searching　for　another　parachute。　Forty　seconds。　There　was　none！　There　had　to　be　an　option！　Thirty…five　seconds。　He　raced　to　the　open　doorway　of　the　chopper　and　stood　in　the　raging　wind；　gazing　down　at　the　lights　of　Rome　below。　Thirty…two　seconds。　
　And　then　he　made　the　choice。　
　The　unbelievable　choice　。　。　。　
　
　With　no　parachute；　Robert　Langdon　had　jumped　out　the　door。　As　the　night　swallowed　his　tumbling　body；　the　helicopter　seemed　to　rocket　off　above　him；　the　sound　of　its　rotors　evaporating　in　the　deafening　rush　of　his　own　free　fall。
　As　he　plummeted　toward　earth；　Robert　Langdon　felt　something　he　had　not　experienced　since　his　years　on　the　high　dive…the　inexorable　pull　of　gravity　during　a　dead　drop。　The　faster　he　fell；　the　harder　the　earth　seemed　to　pull；　sucking　him　down。　This　time；　however；　the　drop　was　not　fifty　feet　into　a　pool。　The　drop　was　thousands　of　feet　into　a　city…an　endless　expanse　of　pavement　and　concrete。
　Somewhere　in　the　torrent　of　wind　and　desperation；　Kohler's　voice　echoed　from　the　grave　。　。　。　words　he　had　spoken　earlier　this　morning　standing　at　CERN's　free…fall　tube。　One　square　yard　of　drag　will　slow　a　falling　body　almost　twenty　percent。　Twenty　percent；　Langdon　now　realized；　was　not　even　close　to　what　one　would　need　to　survive　a　fall　like　this。　Nonetheless；　more　out　of　paralysis　than　hope；　he　clenched　in　his　hands　the　sole　object　he　had　grabbed　from　the　chopper　on　his　way　out　the　door。　It　was　an　odd　memento；　but　it　was　one　that　for　a　fleeting　instant　had　given　him　hope。　
　The　windshield　tarp　had　been　lying　in　the　back　of　the　helicopter。　It　was　a　concave　rectangle…about　four　yards　by　two…like　a　huge　fitted　sheet　。　。　。　the　crudest　approximation　of　a　parachute　imaginable。　It　had　no　harness；　only　bungie　loops　at　either　end　for　fastening　it　to　the　curvature　of　the　windshield。　Langdon　had　grabbed　it；　slid　his　hands　through　the　loops；　held　on；　and　le