danbrown.angels&demons-第97部分

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t　prayer。　One　by　one；　then　dozens　by　dozens；　then　hundreds　by　hundreds；　the　people　bowed　their　heads　along　with　him。　
　The　square　fell　silent　。　。　。　as　if　a　spell　had　been　cast。　
　
　In　his　mind；　swirling　and　distant　now；　the　camerlegno's　prayers　were　a　torrent　of　hopes　and　sorrows　。　。　。　forgive　me；　Father　。　。　。　Mother　。　。　。　full　of　grace　。　。　。　you　are　the　church　。　。　。　may　you　understand　this　sacrifice　of　your　only　begotten　son。　
　Oh；　my　Jesus　。　。　。　save　us　from　the　fires　of　hell　。　。　。　take　all　souls　to　heaven；　especially；　those　most　in　need　of　thy　mercy　。　。　。　
　The　camerlegno　did　not　open　his　eyes　to　see　the　throngs　below　him；　the　television　cameras；　the　whole　world　watching。　He　could　feel　it　in　his　soul。　Even　in　his　anguish；　the　unity　of　the　moment　was　intoxicating。　It　was　as　if　a　connective　web　had　shot　out　in　all　directions　around　the　globe。　In　front　of　televisions；　at　home；　and　in　cars；　the　world　prayed　as　one。　Like　synapses　of　a　giant　heart　all　firing　in　tandem；　the　people　reached　for　God；　in　dozens　of　languages；　in　hundreds　of　countries。　The　words　they　whispered　were　newborn　and　yet　as　familiar　to　them　as　their　own　voices　。　。　。　ancient　truths　。　。　。　imprinted　on　the　soul。　
　The　consonance　felt　eternal。　
　As　the　silence　lifted；　the　joyous　strains　of　singing　began　to　rise　again。　
　He　knew　the　moment　had　e。
　Most　Holy　Trinity；　I　offer　Thee　the　most　precious　Body；　Blood；　Soul　。　。　。　in　reparation　for　the　outrages；　sacrileges；　and　indifferences　。　。　。　
　The　camerlegno　already　felt　the　physical　pain　setting　in。　It　was　spreading　across　his　skin　like　a　plague；　making　him　want　to　claw　at　his　flesh　like　he　had　weeks　ago　when　God　had　first　e　to　him。　Do　not　forget　what　pain　Jesus　endured。　He　could　taste　the　fumes　now　in　his　throat。　Not　even　the　morphine　could　dull　the　bite。　
　My　work　here　is　done。　
　The　Horror　was　his。　The　Hope　was　theirs。　
　In　the　Niche　of　the　Palliums；　the　camerlegno　had　followed　God's　will　and　anointed　his　body。　His　hair。　His　face。　His　linen　robe。　His　flesh。　He　was　soaking　now　with　the　sacred；　vitreous　oils　from　the　lamps。　They　smelled　sweet　like　his　mother；　but　they　burned。　His　would　be　a　merciful　ascension。　Miraculous　and　swift。　And　he　would　leave　behind　not　scandal　。　。　。　but　a　new　strength　and　wonder。　
　He　slipped　his　hand　into　the　pocket　of　his　robe　and　fingered　the　small；　golden　lighter　he　had　brought　with　him　from　the　Pallium　incendiario。　
　He　whispered　a　verse　from　Judgments。　And　when　the　flame　went　up　toward　heaven；　the　angel　of　the　Lord　ascended　in　the　flame。　
　He　positioned　his　thumb。
　They　were　singing　in　St。　Peter's　Square　。　。　。　
　
　The　vision　the　world　witnessed　no　one　would　ever　forget。
　High　above　on　the　balcony；　like　a　soul　tearing　free　of　its　corporeal　restrains；　a　luminous　pyre　of　flame　erupted　from　the　camerlegno's　center。　The　fire　shot　upward；　engulfing　his　entire　body　instantly。　He　did　not　scream。　He　raised　his　arms　over　his　head　and　looked　toward　heaven。　The　conflagration　roared　around　him；　entirely　shrouding　his　body　in　a　column　of　light。　It　raged　for　what　seemed　like　an　eternity；　the　whole　world　bearing　witness。　The　light　flared　brighter　and　brighter。　Then；　gradually；　the　flames　dissipated。　The　camerlegno　was　gone。　Whether　he　had　collapsed　behind　the　balustrade　or　evaporated　into　thin　air　was　impossible　to　tell。　All　that　was　left　was　a　cloud　of　smoke　spiraling　skyward　over　Vatican　City。
　
　135

　D　awn　came　late　to　Rome。
　An　early　rainstorm　had　washed　the　crowds　from　St。　Peter's　Square。　The　media　stayed　on；　huddling　under　umbrellas　and　in　vans；　mentating　on　the　evening's　events。　Across　the　world；　churches　overflowed。　It　was　a　time　of　reflection　and　discussion　。　。　。　in　all　religions。　Questions　abounded；　and　yet　the　answers　seemed　only　to　bring　deeper　questions。　Thus　far；　the　Vatican　had　remained　silent；　issuing　no　statement　whatsoever。
　
　Deep　in　the　Vatican　Grottoes；　Cardinal　Mortati　knelt　alone　before　the　open　sarcophagus。　He　reached　in　and　closed　the　old　man's　blackened　mouth。　His　Holiness　looked　peaceful　now。　In　quiet　repose　for　eternity。　
　At　Mortati's　feet　was　a　golden　urn；　heavy　with　ashes。　Mortati　had　gathered　the　ashes　himself　and　brought　them　here。　〃A　chance　for　forgiveness；〃　he　said　to　His　Holiness；　laying　the　urn　inside　the　sarcophagus　at　the　Pope's　side。　〃No　love　is　greater　than　that　of　a　father　for　His　son。〃　Mortati　tucked　the　urn　out　of　sight　beneath　the　papal　robes。　He　knew　this　sacred　grotto　was　reserved　exclusively　for　the　relics　of　Popes；　but　somehow　Mortati　sensed　this　was　appropriate。
　〃Signore？〃　someone　said；　entering　the　grottoes。　It　was　Lieutenant　Chartrand。　He　was　acpanied　by　three　Swiss　Guards。　〃They　are　ready　for　you　in　conclave。〃
　Mortati　nodded。　〃In　a　moment。〃　He　gazed　one　last　time　into　the　sarcophagus　before　him；　and　then　stood　up。　He　turned　to　the　guards。　〃It　is　time　for　His　Holiness　to　have　the　peace　he　has　earned。〃
　The　guards　came　forward　and　with　enormous　effort　slid　the　lid　of　the　Pope's　sarcophagus　back　into　place。　It　thundered　shut　with　finality。　
　
　Mortati　was　alone　as　he　crossed　the　Borgia　Courtyard　toward　the　Sistine　Chapel。　A　damp　breeze　tossed　his　robe。　A　fellow　cardinal　emerged　from　the　Apostolic　Palace　and　strode　beside　him。
　〃May　I　have　the　honor　of　escorting　you　to　conclave；　signore？〃
　〃The　honor　is　mine。〃
　〃Signore；〃　the　cardinal　said；　looking　troubled。　〃The　college　owes　you　an　apology　for　last　night。　We　were　blinded　by…〃　
　〃Please；〃　Mortati　replied。　〃Our　minds　sometimes　see　what　our　hearts　wish　were　true。〃
　The　cardinal　was　silent　a　long　time。　Finally　he　spoke。　〃Have　you　been　told？　You　are　no　longer　our　Great　Elector。〃
　Mortati　smiled。　〃Yes。　I　thank　God　for　small　blessings。〃
　〃The　college　insisted　you　be　eligible。〃
　〃It　seems　charity　is　not　dead　in　the　church。〃
　〃You　are　a　wise　man。　You　would　lead　us　well。〃
　〃I　am　an　old　man。　I　would　lead　you　briefly。〃
　They　both　laughed。
　As　they　reached　the　end　of　the　Borgia　Courtyard；　the　cardinal　hesitated。　He　turned　to　Mortati　with　a　troubled　mystification；　as　if　the　precarious　awe　of　the　night　before　had　slipped　back　into　his　heart。
　〃Were　you　aware；〃　the　cardinal　whispered；　〃that　we　found　no　remains　on　the　balcony？〃
　Mortati　smiled。　〃Perhaps　the　rain　washed　them　away。〃
　The　man　looked　to　the　stormy　heavens。　〃Yes；　perhaps　。　。　。〃
　
　136

　The　midmorning　sky　still　hung　heavy　with　clouds　as　the　Sistine　Chapel's　chimney　gave　up　its　first　faint　puffs　of　white　smoke。　The　pearly　wisps　curled　upward　toward　the　firmament　and　slowly　dissipated。
　Far　below；　in　St。　Peter's　Square；　reporter　Gunther　Glick　watched　in　reflective　silence。　The　final　chapter　。　。　。　
　Chinita　Macri　approached　him　from　behind　and　hoisted　her　camera　onto　her　shoulder。　〃It's　time；〃　she　said。　
　Glick　nodded　dolefully。　He　turned　toward　her；　smoothed　his　hair；　and　took　a　deep　breath。　My　last　transmission；　he　thought。　A　small　crowd　had　gathered　around　them　to　watch。
　〃Live　in　sixty　seconds；〃　Macri　announced。
　Glick　glanced　over　his　shoulder　at　the　roof　of　the　Sistine　Chapel　behind　him。　〃Can　you　get　the　smoke？〃　
　Macri　patiently　nodded。　〃I　know　how　to　frame　a　shot；　Gunther。〃
　Glick　felt　dumb。　Of　course　she　did。　Macri's　performance　behind　the　camera　last　night　had　probably　won　her　the　Pulitzer。　His　performance；　on　the　other　hand　。　。　。　he　didn't　want　to　think　about　it。　He　was　sure　the　BBC　would　let　him　go；　no　doubt　they　would　have　legal　troubles　from　numerous　powerful　entities　。　。　。　CERN　and　George　Bush　among　them。
　〃You　look　good；〃　Chinita　patronized；　looking　out　from　behind　her　camera　now　with　a　hint　of　concern。　〃I　wonder　if　I　might　offer　you　。　。　。〃　She　hesitated；　holding　her　tongue。
　〃Some　advice？〃　
　Macri　sighed。　〃I　was　only　going　to　say　that　there's　no　need　to　go　out　with　a　bang。〃
　〃I　know；〃　he　said。　〃You　want　a　straight　wrap。〃　
　〃The　straightest　in　history。　I'm　trusting　you。〃
　Glick　smiled。　A　straight　wrap？　Is　she　crazy？　A　story　like　last　night's　deserved　so　much　more。　A　twist。　A　final　bombshell。　An　unforeseen　revelation　of　shocking　truth。　
　Fortunately；　Glick　had　just　the　ticket　waiting　in　the　wings　。　。　。　
　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　
　〃You're　on　in　。　。　。　five　。　。　。　four　。　。　。　three　。　。　。〃
　As　Chinita　Macri　looked　through　her　camera；　she　sensed　a　sly　glint　in　Glick's　eye。　I　was　insane　to　let　him　do　this；　she　thought。　What　was　I　thinking？　
　But　the　moment　for　second　thoughts　had　passed。　They　were　on。
　〃Live　from　Vatican　City；〃　Glick　announced　on　cue；　〃this　is　Gunther　Glick　reporting。〃　He　gave　the　camera　a　solemn　stare　as　the　white　smoke　rose　behind　him　from　the　Sistine　Chapel。　〃Ladies　and　gentlemen；　it　is　now　official。　Cardinal　Saverio　Mortati；　a　seventy…nine…year…old　progressive；　has　just　been　elected　the　next　Pope　of　Vatican　City。　Although　an　unlikely　candidate；　Mortati　was　chosen　by　an　unprecedented　unanimous　vote　by　the　College　of　Cardinals。〃　
　As　Macri　watched　him；　she　began　to　breathe　easier。　Glick　seemed　surprisingly　professional　today。　Even　austere。　For　the　first　time　in　his　life；　Glick　actually　looked　and　sounded　somewhat　like　a　newsman。
　〃And　as　we　reported　earlier；〃　Glick　added；　his　voice　intensifying　perfectly；　〃the　Vatican　has　yet　to　offer　any　statement　whatsoever　regarding　the　miraculous　events　of　last　night。〃
　Goo