danbrown.angels&demons-第33节

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a　direct　order　from　the　camerlegno。〃
　〃But　how　do　we　get　out？〃　
　〃Monodirectional　security。　You　will　have　no　difficulties。〃　That　being　the　entirety　of　the　conversation；　the　guard　spun　on　his　heel　and　marched　off　down　the　hall。
　Vittoria　made　some　ment；　but　Langdon　did　not　hear。　His　mind　was　fixed　on　the　double　doors　before　him；　wondering　what　mysteries　lay　beyond。
　
　47　

　Although　he　knew　time　was　short；　Camerlegno　Carlo　Ventresca　walked　slowly。　He　needed　the　time　alone　to　gather　his　thoughts　before　facing　opening　prayer。　So　much　was　happening。　As　he　moved　in　dim　solitude　down　the　Northern　Wing；　the　challenge　of　the　past　fifteen　days　weighed　heavy　in　his　bones。　
　He　had　followed　his　holy　duties　to　the　letter。
　As　was　Vatican　tradition；　following　the　Pope's　death　the　camerlegno　had　personally　confirmed　expiration　by　placing　his　fingers　on　the　Pope's　carotid　artery；　listening　for　breath；　and　then　calling　the　Pope's　name　three　times。　By　law　there　was　no　autopsy。　Then　he　had　sealed　the　Pope's　bedroom；　destroyed　the　papal　fisherman's　ring；　shattered　the　die　used　to　make　lead　seals；　and　arranged　for　the　funeral。　That　done；　he　began　preparations　for　the　conclave。　
　Conclave；　he　thought。　The　final　hurdle。　It　was　one　of　the　oldest　traditions　in　Christendom。　Nowadays；　because　the　oute　of　conclave　was　usually　known　before　it　began；　the　process　was　criticized　as　obsolete…more　of　a　burlesque　than　an　election。　The　camerlegno　knew；　however；　this　was　only　a　lack　of　understanding。　Conclave　was　not　an　election。　It　was　an　ancient；　mystic　transference　of　power。　The　tradition　was　timeless　。　。　。　the　secrecy；　the　folded　slips　of　paper；　the　burning　of　the　ballots；　the　mixing　of　ancient　chemicals；　the　smoke　signals。
　As　the　camerlegno　approached　through　the　Loggias　of　Gregory　XIII；　he　wondered　if　Cardinal　Mortati　was　in　a　panic　yet。　Certainly　Mortati　had　noticed　the　preferiti　were　missing。　Without　them；　the　voting　would　go　on　all　night。　Mortati's　appointment　as　the　Great　Elector；　the　camerlegno　assured　himself；　was　a　good　one。　The　man　was　a　freethinker　and　could　speak　his　mind。　The　conclave　would　need　a　leader　tonight　more　than　ever。
　As　the　camerlegno　arrived　at　the　top　of　the　Royal　Staircase；　he　felt　as　though　he　were　standing　on　the　precipice　of　his　life。　Even　from　up　here　he　could　hear　the　rumble　of　activity　in　the　Sistine　Chapel　below…the　uneasy　chatter　of　165　cardinals。
　One　hundred　sixty…one　cardinals；　he　corrected。
　For　an　instant　the　camerlegno　was　falling；　plummeting　toward　hell；　people　screaming；　flames　engulfing　him；　stones　and　blood　raining　from　the　sky。　
　And　then　silence。　
　
　When　the　child　awoke；　he　was　in　heaven。　Everything　around　him　was　white。　The　light　was　blinding　and　pure。　Although　some　would　say　a　ten　year　old　could　not　possibly　understand　heaven；　the　young　Carlo　Ventresca　understood　heaven　very　well。　He　was　in　heaven　right　now。　Where　else　would　he　be？　Even　in　his　short　decade　on　earth　Carlo　had　felt　the　majesty　of　God…the　thundering　pipe　organs；　the　towering　domes；　the　voices　raised　in　song；　the　stained　glass；　shimmering　bronze　and　gold。　Carlo's　mother；　Maria；　brought　him　to　Mass　every　day。　The　church　was　Carlo's　home。
　〃Why　do　we　e　to　Mass　every　single　day？〃　Carlo　asked；　not　that　he　minded　at　all。
　〃Because　I　promised　God　I　would；〃　she　replied。　〃And　a　promise　to　God　is　the　most　important　promise　of　all。　Never　break　a　promise　to　God。〃
　Carlo　promised　her　he　would　never　break　a　promise　to　God。　He　loved　his　mother　more　than　anything　in　the　world。　She　was　his　holy　angel。　Sometimes　he　called　her　Maria　benedetta…the　Blessed　Mary…although　she　did　not　like　that　at　all。　He　knelt　with　her　as　she　prayed；　smelling　the　sweet　scent　of　her　flesh　and　listening　to　the　murmur　of　her　voice　as　she　counted　the　rosary。　Hail　Mary；　Mother　of　God　。　。　。　pray　for　us　sinners　。　。　。　now　and　at　the　hour　of　our　death。
　〃Where　is　my　father？〃　Carlo　asked；　already　knowing　his　father　had　died　before　he　was　born。　
　〃God　is　your　father；　now；〃　she　would　always　reply。　〃You　are　a　child　of　the　church。〃
　Carlo　loved　that。
　〃Whenever　you　feel　frightened；〃　she　said；　〃remember　that　God　is　your　father　now。　He　will　watch　over　you　and　protect　you　forever。　God　has　big　plans　for　you；　Carlo。〃　The　boy　knew　she　was　right。　He　could　already　feel　God　in　his　blood。
　Blood　。　。　。　
　Blood　raining　from　the　sky！　
　Silence。　Then　heaven。
　His　heaven；　Carlo　learned　as　the　blinding　lights　were　turned　off；　was　actually　the　Intensive　Care　Unit　in　Santa　Clara　Hospital　outside　of　Palermo。　Carlo　had　been　the　sole　survivor　of　a　terrorist　bombing　that　had　collapsed　a　chapel　where　he　and　his　mother　had　been　attending　Mass　while　on　vacation。　Thirty…seven　people　had　died；　including　Carlo's　mother。　The　papers　called　Carlo's　survival　The　Miracle　of　St。　Francis。　Carlo　had；　for　some　unknown　reason；　only　moments　before　the　blast；　left　his　mother's　side　and　ventured　into　a　protected　alcove　to　ponder　a　tapestry　depicting　the　story　of　St。　Francis。　
　God　called　me　there；　he　decided。　He　wanted　to　save　me。
　Carlo　was　delirious　with　pain。　He　could　still　see　his　mother；　kneeling　at　the　pew；　blowing　him　a　kiss；　and　then　with　a　concussive　roar；　her　sweet…smelling　flesh　was　torn　apart。　He　could　still　taste　man's　evil。　Blood　showered　down。　His　mother's　blood！　The　blessed　Maria！　
　God　will　watch　over　you　and　protect　you　forever；　his　mother　had　told　him。
　But　where　was　God　now！　
　Then；　like　a　worldly　manifestation　of　his　mother's　truth；　a　clergyman　had　e　to　the　hospital。　He　was　not　any　clergyman。　He　was　a　bishop。　He　prayed　over　Carlo。　The　Miracle　of　St。　Francis。　When　Carlo　recovered；　the　bishop　arranged　for　him　to　live　in　a　small　monastery　attached　to　the　cathedral　over　which　the　bishop　presided。　Carlo　lived　and　tutored　with　the　monks。　He　even　became　an　altar　boy　for　his　new　protector。　The　bishop　suggested　Carlo　enter　public　school；　but　Carlo　refused。　He　could　not　have　been　more　happy　with　his　new　home。　He　now　truly　lived　in　the　house　of　God。　
　Every　night　Carlo　prayed　for　his　mother。
　God　saved　me　for　a　reason；　he　thought。　What　is　the　reason？　
　When　Carlo　turned　sixteen；　he　was　obliged　by　Italian　law　to　serve　two　years　of　reserve　military　training。　The　bishop　told　Carlo　that　if　he　entered　seminary　he　would　be　exempt　from　this　duty。　Carlo　told　the　priest　that　he　planned　to　enter　seminary　but　that　first　he　needed　to　understand　evil。
　The　bishop　did　not　understand。
　Carlo　told　him　that　if　he　was　going　to　spend　his　life　in　the　church　fighting　evil；　first　he　had　to　understand　it。　He　could　not　think　of　any　better　place　to　understand　evil　than　in　the　army。　The　army　used　guns　and　bombs。　A　bomb　killed　my　Blessed　mother！　
　The　bishop　tried　to　dissuade　him；　but　Carlo's　mind　was　made　up。
　〃Be　careful；　my　son；〃　the　bishop　had　said。　〃And　remember　the　church　awaits　you　when　you　return。〃
　Carlo's　two　years　of　military　service　had　been　dreadful。　Carlo's　youth　had　been　one　of　silence　and　reflection。　But　in　the　army　there　was　no　quiet　for　reflection。　Endless　noise。　Huge　machines　everywhere。　Not　a　moment　of　peace。　Although　the　soldiers　went　to　Mass　once　a　week　at　the　barracks；　Carlo　did　not　sense　God's　presence　in　any　of　his　fellow　soldiers。　Their　minds　were　too　filled　with　chaos　to　see　God。
　Carlo　hated　his　new　life　and　wanted　to　go　home。　But　he　was　determined　to　stick　it　out。　He　had　yet　to　understand　evil。　He　refused　to　fire　a　gun；　so　the　military　taught　him　how　to　fly　a　medical　helicopter。　Carlo　hated　the　noise　and　the　smell；　but　at　least　it　let　him　fly　up　in　the　sky　and　be　closer　to　his　mother　in　heaven。　When　he　was　informed　his　pilot's　training　included　learning　how　to　parachute；　Carlo　was　terrified。　Still；　he　had　no　choice。　
　God　will　protect　me；　he　told　himself。　
　Carlo's　first　parachute　jump　was　the　most　exhilarating　physical　experience　of　his　life。　It　was　like　flying　with　God。　Carlo　could　not　get　enough　。　。　。　the　silence　。　。　。　the　floating　。　。　。　seeing　his　mother's　face　in　the　billowing　white　clouds　as　he　soared　to　earth。　God　has　plans　for　you；　Carlo。　When　he　returned　from　the　military；　Carlo　entered　the　seminary。
　That　had　been　twenty…three　years　ago。
　
　Now；　as　Camerlegno　Carlo　Ventresca　descended　the　Royal　Staircase；　he　tried　to　prehend　the　chain　of　events　that　had　delivered　him　to　this　extraordinary　crossroads。　
　Abandon　all　fear；　he　told　himself；　and　give　this　night　over　to　God。　
　He　could　see　the　great　bronze　door　of　the　Sistine　Chapel　now；　dutifully　protected　by　four　Swiss　Guards。　The　guards　unbolted　the　door　and　pulled　it　open。　Inside；　every　head　turned。　The　camerlegno　gazed　out　at　the　black　robes　and　red　sashes　before　him。　He　understood　what　God's　plans　for　him　were。　The　fate　of　the　church　had　been　placed　in　his　hands。
　The　camerlegno　crossed　himself　and　stepped　over　the　threshold。
　
　48

　BBC　journalist　Gunther　Glick　sat　sweating　in　the　BBC　network　van　parked　on　the　eastern　edge　of　St。　Peter's　Square　and　cursed　his　assignment　editor。　Although　Glick's　first　monthly　review　had　e　back　filled　with　superlatives…resourceful；　sharp；　dependable…here　he　was　in　Vatican　City　on　〃Pope…Watch。〃　He　reminded　himself　that　reporting　for　the　BBC　carried　a　hell　of　a　lot　more　credibility　than　fabricating　fodder　for　the　British　Tattler；　but　still；　t