danbrown.angels&demons-第58节

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　Far　away；　in　Vatican　City；　Cardinal　Mortati　carried　another　tray　of　ballots　to　the　Sistine　Chapel　chimney。　He　burned　them；　and　the　smoke　was　black。
　Two　ballotings。　No　Pope。
　
　83

　Flashlights　were　no　match　for　the　voluminous　blackness　of　St。　Peter's　Basilica。　The　void　overhead　pressed　down　like　a　starless　night；　and　Vittoria　felt　the　emptiness　spread　out　around　her　like　a　desolate　ocean。　She　stayed　close　as　the　Swiss　Guards　and　the　camerlegno　pushed　on。　High　above；　a　dove　cooed　and　fluttered　away。　
　As　if　sensing　her　disfort；　the　camerlegno　dropped　back　and　lay　a　hand　on　her　shoulder。　A　tangible　strength　transferred　in　the　touch；　as　if　the　man　were　magically　infusing　her　with　the　calm　she　needed　to　do　what　they　were　about　to　do。　
　What　are　we　about　to　do？　she　thought。　This　is　madness！　
　And　yet；　Vittoria　knew；　for　all　its　impiety　and　inevitable　horror；　the　task　at　hand　was　inescapable。　The　grave　decisions　facing　the　camerlegno　required　information　。　。　。　information　entombed　in　a　sarcophagus　in　the　Vatican　Grottoes。　She　wondered　what　they　would　find。　Did　the　Illuminati　murder　the　Pope？　Did　their　power　really　reach　so　far？　Am　I　really　about　to　perform　the　first　papal　autopsy？　
　Vittoria　found　it　ironic　that　she　felt　more　apprehensive　in　this　unlit　church　than　she　would　swimming　at　night　with　barracuda。　Nature　was　her　refuge。　She　understood　nature。　But　it　was　matters　of　man　and　spirit　that　left　her　mystified。　Killer　fish　gathering　in　the　dark　conjured　images　of　the　press　gathering　outside。　TV　footage　of　branded　bodies　reminded　her　of　her　father's　corpse　。　。　。　and　the　killer's　harsh　laugh。　The　killer　was　out　there　somewhere。　Vittoria　felt　the　anger　drowning　her　fear。
　As　they　circled　past　a　pillar…thicker　in　girth　than　any　redwood　she　could　imagine…Vittoria　saw　an　orange　glow　up　ahead。　The　light　seemed　to　emanate　from　beneath　the　floor　in　the　center　of　the　basilica。　As　they　came　closer；　she　realized　what　she　was　seeing。　It　was　the　famous　sunken　sanctuary　beneath　the　main　altar…the　sumptuous　underground　chamber　that　held　the　Vatican's　most　sacred　relics。　As　they　drew　even　with　the　gate　surrounding　the　hollow；　Vittoria　gazed　down　at　the　golden　coffer　surrounded　by　scores　of　glowing　oil　lamps。
　〃St。　Peter's　bones？〃　she　asked；　knowing　full　well　that　they　were。　Everyone　who　came　to　St。　Peter's　knew　what　was　in　the　golden　casket。
　〃Actually；　no；〃　the　camerlegno　said。　〃A　mon　misconception。　That's　not　a　reliquary。　The　box　holds　palliums…woven　sashes　that　the　Pope　gives　to　newly　elected　cardinals。〃
　〃But　I　thought…〃
　〃As　does　everyone。　The　guidebooks　label　this　as　St。　Peter's　tomb；　but　his　true　grave　is　two　stories　beneath　us；　buried　in　the　earth。　The　Vatican　excavated　it　in　the　forties。　Nobody　is　allowed　down　there。〃
　Vittoria　was　shocked。　As　they　moved　away　from　the　glowing　recession　into　the　darkness　again；　she　thought　of　the　stories　she'd　heard　of　pilgrims　traveling　thousands　of　miles　to　look　at　that　golden　box；　thinking　they　were　in　the　presence　of　St。　Peter。　〃Shouldn't　the　Vatican　tell　people？〃
　〃We　all　benefit　from　a　sense　of　contact　with　divinity　。　。　。　even　if　it　is　only　imagined。〃
　Vittoria；　as　a　scientist；　could　not　argue　the　logic。　She　had　read　countless　studies　of　the　placebo　effect…aspirins　curing　cancer　in　people　who　believed　they　were　using　a　miracle　drug。　What　was　faith；　after　all？
　〃Change；〃　the　camerlegno　said；　〃is　not　something　we　do　well　within　Vatican　City。　Admitting　our　past　faults；　modernization；　are　things　we　historically　eschew。　His　Holiness　was　trying　to　change　that。〃　He　paused。　〃Reaching　to　the　modern　world。　Searching　for　new　paths　to　God。〃
　Vittoria　nodded　in　the　dark。　〃Like　science？〃
　〃To　be　honest；　science　seems　irrelevant。〃
　〃Irrelevant？〃　Vittoria　could　think　of　a　lot　of　words　to　describe　science；　but　in　the　modern　world　〃irrelevant〃　did　not　seem　like　one　of　them。
　〃Science　can　heal；　or　science　can　kill。　It　depends　on　the　soul　of　the　man　using　the　science。　It　is　the　soul　that　interests　me。〃
　〃When　did　you　hear　your　call？〃
　〃Before　I　was　born。〃
　Vittoria　looked　at　him。
　〃I'm　sorry；　that　always　seems　like　a　strange　question。　What　I　mean　is　that　I've　always　known　I　would　serve　God。　From　the　moment　I　could　first　think。　It　wasn't　until　I　was　a　young　man；　though；　in　the　military；　that　I　truly　understood　my　purpose。〃
　Vittoria　was　surprised。　〃You　were　in　the　military？〃
　〃Two　years。　I　refused　to　fire　a　weapon；　so　they　made　me　fly　instead。　Medevac　helicopters。　In　fact；　I　still　fly　from　time　to　time。〃　
　Vittoria　tried　to　picture　the　young　priest　flying　a　helicopter。　Oddly；　she　could　see　him　perfectly　behind　the　controls。　Camerlegno　Ventresca　possessed　a　grit　that　seemed　to　accentuate　his　conviction　rather　than　cloud　it。　〃Did　you　ever　fly　the　Pope？〃
　〃Heavens　no。　We　left　that　precious　cargo　to　the　professionals。　His　Holiness　let　me　take　the　helicopter　to　our　retreat　in　Gandolfo　sometimes。〃　He　paused；　looking　at　her。　〃Ms。　Vetra；　thank　you　for　your　help　here　today。　I　am　very　sorry　about　your　father。　Truly。〃
　〃Thank　you。〃
　〃I　never　knew　my　father。　He　died　before　I　was　born。　I　lost　my　mother　when　I　was　ten。〃
　Vittoria　looked　up。　〃You　were　orphaned？〃　She　felt　a　sudden　kinship。
　〃I　survived　an　accident。　An　accident　that　took　my　mother。〃
　〃Who　took　care　of　you？〃
　〃God；〃　the　camerlegno　said。　〃He　quite　literally　sent　me　another　father。　A　bishop　from　Palermo　appeared　at　my　hospital　bed　and　took　me　in。　At　the　time　I　was　not　surprised。　I　had　sensed　God's　watchful　hand　over　me　even　as　a　boy。　The　bishop's　appearance　simply　confirmed　what　I　had　already　suspected；　that　God　had　somehow　chosen　me　to　serve　him。〃
　〃You　believed　God　chose　you？〃
　〃I　did。　And　I　do。〃　There　was　no　trace　of　conceit　in　the　camerlegno's　voice；　only　gratitude。　〃I　worked　under　the　bishop's　tutelage　for　many　years。　He　eventually　became　a　cardinal。　Still；　he　never　forgot　me。　He　is　the　father　I　remember。〃　A　beam　of　a　flashlight　caught　the　camerlegno's　face；　and　Vittoria　sensed　a　loneliness　in　his　eyes。
　The　group　arrived　beneath　a　towering　pillar；　and　their　lights　converged　on　an　opening　in　the　floor。　Vittoria　looked　down　at　the　staircase　descending　into　the　void　and　suddenly　wanted　to　turn　back。　The　guards　were　already　helping　the　camerlegno　onto　the　stairs。　They　helped　her　next。
　〃What　became　of　him？〃　she　asked；　descending；　trying　to　keep　her　voice　steady。　〃The　cardinal　who　took　you　in？〃
　〃He　left　the　College　of　Cardinals　for　another　position。〃
　Vittoria　was　surprised。　
　〃And　then；　I'm　sorry　to　say；　he　passed　on。〃　
　〃Le　mie　condoglianze；〃　Vittoria　said。　〃Recently？〃
　The　camerlegno　turned；　shadows　accentuating　the　pain　on　his　face。　〃Exactly　fifteen　days　ago。　We　are　going　to　see　him　right　now。〃　
　
　84

　The　dark　lights　glowed　hot　inside　the　archival　vault。　This　vault　was　much　smaller　than　the　previous　one　Langdon　had　been　in。　Less　air。　Less　time。　He　wished　he'd　asked　Olivetti　to　turn　on　the　recirculating　fans。　
　Langdon　quickly　located　the　section　of　assets　containing　the　ledgers　cataloging　Belle　Arti。　The　section　was　impossible　to　miss。　It　occupied　almost　eight　full　stacks。　The　Catholic　church　owned　millions　of　individual　pieces　worldwide。　
　Langdon　scanned　the　shelves　searching　for　Gianlorenzo　Bernini。　He　began　his　search　about　midway　down　the　first　stack；　at　about　the　spot　he　thought　the　B's　would　begin。　After　a　moment　of　panic　fearing　the　ledger　was　missing；　he　realized；　to　his　greater　dismay；　that　the　ledgers　were　not　arranged　alphabetically。　Why　am　I　not　surprised？　
　It　was　not　until　Langdon　circled　back　to　the　beginning　of　the　collection　and　climbed　a　rolling　ladder　to　the　top　shelf　that　he　understood　the　vault's　organization。　Perched　precariously　on　the　upper　stacks　he　found　the　fattest　ledgers　of　all…those　belonging　to　the　masters　of　the　Renaissance…Michelangelo；　Raphael；　da　Vinci；　Botticelli。　Langdon　now　realized；　appropriate　to　a　vault　called　〃Vatican　Assets；〃　the　ledgers　were　arranged　by　the　overall　monetary　value　of　each　artist's　collection。　Sandwiched　between　Raphael　and　Michelangelo；　Langdon　found　the　ledger　marked　Bernini。　It　was　over　five　inches　thick。　
　Already　short　of　breath　and　struggling　with　the　cumbersome　volume；　Langdon　descended　the　ladder。　Then；　like　a　kid　with　a　ic　book；　he　spread　himself　out　on　the　floor　and　opened　the　cover。
　The　book　was　cloth…bound　and　very　solid。　The　ledger　was　handwritten　in　Italian。　Each　page　cataloged　a　single　work；　including　a　short　description；　date；　location；　cost　of　materials；　and　sometimes　a　rough　sketch　of　the　piece。　Langdon　fanned　through　the　pages　。　。　。　over　eight　hundred　in　all。　Bernini　had　been　a　busy　man。
　As　a　young　student　of　art；　Langdon　had　wondered　how　single　artists　could　create　so　much　work　in　their　lifetimes。　Later　he　learned；　much　to　his　disappointment；　that　famous　artists　actually　created　very　little　of　their　own　work。　They　ran　studios　where　they　trained　young　artists　to　carry　out　their　designs。　Sculptors　like　Bernini　created　miniatures　in　clay　and　hired　others　to　enlarge　them　into　marble。　Langdon　knew　that　if　Bernini　had　been　required　to　personally　plete　all　of　his　missions；　he　would　still　be　working　today。　
　〃Index；〃　he　said　aloud；　trying　to　ward　off　the　mental　cobwebs。　He　flipped　to　the　ba