danbrown.angels&demons-第59节

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　〃Index；〃　he　said　aloud；　trying　to　ward　off　the　mental　cobwebs。　He　flipped　to　the　back　of　the　book；　intending　to　look　under　the　letter　F　for　titles　containing　the　word　fuтco…fire…but　the　F's　were　not　together。　Langdon　swore　under　his　breath。　What　the　hell　do　these　people　have　against　alphabetizing？　
　The　entries　had　apparently　been　logged　chronologically；　one　by　one；　as　Bernini　created　each　new　work。　Everything　was　listed　by　date。　No　help　at　all。
　As　Langdon　stared　at　the　list；　another　disheartening　thought　occurred　to　him。　The　title　of　the　sculpture　he　was　looking　for　might　not　even　contain　the　word　Fire。　The　previous　two　works…Habakkuk　and　the　Angel　and　West　Ponente…had　not　contained　specific　references　to　Earth　or　Air。　
　He　spent　a　minute　or　two　flipping　randomly　through　the　ledger　in　hopes　that　an　illustration　might　jump　out　at　him。　Nothing　did。　He　saw　dozens　of　obscure　works　he　had　never　heard　of；　but　he　also　saw　plenty　he　recognized　。　。　。　Daniel　and　the　Lion；　Apollo　and　Daphne；　as　well　as　a　half　dozen　fountains。　When　he　saw　the　fountains；　his　thoughts　skipped　momentarily　ahead。　Water。　He　wondered　if　the　fourth　altar　of　science　was　a　fountain。　A　fountain　seemed　a　perfect　tribute　to　water。　Langdon　hoped　they　could　catch　the　killer　before　he　had　to　consider　Water…Bernini　had　carved　dozens　of　fountains　in　Rome；　most　of　them　in　front　of　churches。　
　Langdon　turned　back　to　the　matter　at　hand。　Fire。　As　he　looked　through　the　book；　Vittoria's　words　encouraged　him。　You　were　familiar　with　the　first　two　sculptures　。　。　。　you　probably　know　this　one　too。　As　he　turned　to　the　index　again；　he　scanned　for　titles　he　knew。　Some　were　familiar；　but　none　jumped　out。　Langdon　now　realized　he　would　never　plete　his　search　before　passing　out；　so　he　decided；　against　his　better　judgment；　that　he　would　have　to　take　the　book　outside　the　vault。　It's　only　a　ledger；　he　told　himself。　It's　not　like　I'm　removing　an　original　Galilean　folio。　Langdon　recalled　the　folio　in　his　breast　pocket　and　reminded　himself　to　return　it　before　leaving。　
　Hurrying　now；　he　reached　down　to　lift　the　volume；　but　as　he　did；　he　saw　something　that　gave　him　pause。　Although　there　were　numerous　notations　throughout　the　index；　the　one　that　had　just　caught　his　eye　seemed　odd。
　The　note　indicated　that　the　famous　Bernini　sculpture；　The　Ecstasy　of　St。　Teresa；　shortly　after　its　unveiling；　had　been　moved　from　its　original　location　inside　the　Vatican。　This　in　itself　was　not　what　had　caught　Langdon's　eye。　He　was　already　familiar　with　the　sculpture's　checkered　past。　Though　some　thought　it　a　masterpiece；　Pope　Urban　VIII　had　rejected　The　Ecstasy　of　St。　Teresa　as　too　sexually　explicit　for　the　Vatican。　He　had　banished　it　to　some　obscure　chapel　across　town。　What　had　caught　Langdon's　eye　was　that　the　work　had　apparently　been　placed　in　one　of　the　five　churches　on　his　list。　What　was　more；　the　note　indicated　it　had　been　moved　there　per　suggerimento　del　artista。
　By　suggestion　of　the　artist？　Langdon　was　confused。　It　made　no　sense　that　Bernini　had　suggested　his　masterpiece　be　hidden　in　some　obscure　location。　All　artists　wanted　their　work　displayed　prominently；　not　in　some　remote…
　Langdon　hesitated。　Unless　。　。　。　
　He　was　fearful　even　to　entertain　the　notion。　Was　it　possible？　Had　Bernini　intentionally　created　a　work　so　explicit　that　it　forced　the　Vatican　to　hide　it　in　some　out…of…the…way　spot？　A　location　perhaps　that　Bernini　himself　could　suggest？　Maybe　a　remote　church　on　a　direct　line　with　West　Ponente's　breath？　
　As　Langdon's　excitement　mounted；　his　vague　familiarity　with　the　statue　intervened；　insisting　the　work　had　nothing　to　do　with　fire。　The　sculpture；　as　anyone　who　had　seen　it　could　attest；　was　anything　but　scientific…pornographic　maybe；　but　certainly　not　scientific。　An　English　critic　had　once　condemned　The　Ecstasy　of　St。　Teresa　as　〃the　most　unfit　ornament　ever　to　be　placed　in　a　Christian　Church。〃　Langdon　certainly　understood　the　controversy。　Though　brilliantly　rendered；　the　statue　depicted　St。　Teresa　on　her　back　in　the　throes　of　a　toe…curling　orgasm。　Hardly　Vatican　fare。
　Langdon　hurriedly　flipped　to　the　ledger's　description　of　the　work。　When　he　saw　the　sketch；　he　felt　an　instantaneous　and　unexpected　tingle　of　hope。　In　the　sketch；　St。　Teresa　did　indeed　appear　to　be　enjoying　herself；　but　there　was　another　figure　in　the　statue　who　Langdon　had　forgotten　was　there。　
　An　angel。　
　The　sordid　legend　suddenly　came　back　。　。　。　
　St。　Teresa　was　a　nun　sainted　after　she　claimed　an　angel　had　paid　her　a　blissful　visit　in　her　sleep。　Critics　later　decided　her　encounter　had　probably　been　more　sexual　than　spiritual。　Scrawled　at　the　bottom　of　the　ledger；　Langdon　saw　a　familiar　excerpt。　St。　Teresa's　own　words　left　little　to　the　imagination：
　
　。　。　。　his　great　golden　spear　。　。　。　filled　with　fire　。　。　。　plunged　into　me　several　times　。　。　。　penetrated　to　my　entrails　。　。　。　a　sweetness　so　extreme　that　one　could　not　possibly　wish　it　to　stop。　
　
　Langdon　smiled。　If　that's　not　a　metaphor　for　some　serious　sex；　I　don't　know　what　is。　He　was　smiling　also　because　of　the　ledger's　description　of　the　work。　Although　the　paragraph　was　in　Italian；　the　word　fuтco　appeared　a　half　dozen　times：
　。　。　。　angel's　spear　tipped　with　point　of　fire　。　。　。　
　。　。　。　angel's　head　emanating　rays　of　fire　。　。　。　
　。　。　。　woman　inflamed　by　passion's　fire　。　。　。　
　Langdon　was　not　entirely　convinced　until　he　glanced　up　at　the　sketch　again。　The　angel's　fiery　spear　was　raised　like　a　beacon；　pointing　the　way。　Let　angels　guide　you　on　your　lofty　quest。　Even　the　type　of　angel　Bernini　had　selected　seemed　significant。　It's　a　seraphim；　Langdon　realized。　Seraphim　literally　means　〃the　fiery　one。〃　
　Robert　Langdon　was　not　a　man　who　had　ever　looked　for　confirmation　from　above；　but　when　he　read　the　name　of　the　church　where　the　sculpture　now　resided；　he　decided　he　might　bee　a　believer　after　all。
　Santa　Maria　della　Vittoria。
　Vittoria；　he　thought；　grinning。　Perfect。
　Staggering　to　his　feet；　Langdon　felt　a　rush　of　dizziness。　He　glanced　up　the　ladder；　wondering　if　he　should　replace　the　book。　The　hell　with　it；　he　thought。　Father　Jaqui　can　do　it。　He　closed　the　book　and　left　it　neatly　at　the　bottom　of　the　shelf。
　As　he　made　his　way　toward　the　glowing　button　on　the　vault's　electronic　exit；　he　was　breathing　in　shallow　gasps。　Nonetheless；　he　felt　rejuvenated　by　his　good　fortune。　
　His　good　fortune；　however；　ran　out　before　he　reached　the　exit。　
　Without　warning；　the　vault　let　out　a　pained　sigh。　The　lights　dimmed；　and　the　exit　button　went　dead。　Then；　like　an　enormous　expiring　beast；　the　archival　plex　went　totally　black。　Someone　had　just　killed　power。
　
　85

　The　Holy　Vatican　Grottoes　are　located　beneath　the　main　floor　of　St。　Peter's　Basilica。　They　are　the　burial　place　of　deceased　Popes。　
　Vittoria　reached　the　bottom　of　the　spiral　staircase　and　entered　the　grotto。　The　darkened　tunnel　reminded　her　of　CERN's　Large　Hadron　Collider…black　and　cold。　Lit　now　only　by　the　flashlights　of　the　Swiss　Guards；　the　tunnel　carried　a　distinctly　incorporeal　feel。　On　both　sides；　hollow　niches　lined　the　walls。　Recessed　in　the　alcoves；　as　far　as　the　lights　let　them　see；　the　hulking　shadows　of　sarcophagi　loomed。　
　An　iciness　raked　her　flesh。　It's　the　cold；　she　told　herself；　knowing　that　was　only　partially　true。　She　had　the　sense　they　were　being　watched；　not　by　anyone　in　the　flesh；　but　by　specters　in　the　dark。　On　top　of　each　tomb；　in　full　papal　vestments；　lay　life…sized　semblances　of　each　Pope；　shown　in　death；　arms　folded　across　their　chests。　The　prostrate　bodies　seemed　to　emerge　from　within　the　tombs；　pressing　upward　against　the　marble　lids　as　if　trying　to　escape　their　mortal　restraints。　The　flashlight　procession　moved　on；　and　the　papal　silhouettes　rose　and　fell　against　the　walls；　stretching　and　vanishing　in　a　macabre　shadowbox　dance。
　A　silence　had　fallen　across　the　group；　and　Vittoria　couldn't　tell　whether　it　was　one　of　respect　or　apprehension。　She　sensed　both。　The　camerlegno　moved　with　his　eyes　closed；　as　if　he　knew　every　step　by　heart。　Vittoria　suspected　he　had　made　this　eerie　promenade　many　times　since　the　Pope's　death　。　。　。　perhaps　to　pray　at　his　tomb　for　guidance。　
　I　worked　under　the　cardinal's　tutelage　for　many　years；　the　camerlegno　had　said。　He　was　like　a　father　to　me。　Vittoria　recalled　the　camerlegno　speaking　those　words　in　reference　to　the　cardinal　who　had　〃saved〃　him　from　the　army。　Now；　however；　Vittoria　understood　the　rest　of　the　story。　That　very　cardinal　who　had　taken　the　camerlegno　under　his　wing　had　apparently　later　risen　to　the　papacy　and　brought　with　him　his　young　protйgй　to　serve　as　chamberlain。
　That　explains　a　lot；　Vittoria　thought。　She　had　always　possessed　a　well…tuned　perception　for　others'　inner　emotions；　and　something　about　the　camerlegno　had　been　nagging　her　all　day。　Since　meeting　him；　she　had　sensed　an　anguish　more　soulful　and　private　than　the　overwhelming　crisis　he　now　faced。　Behind　his　pious　calm；　she　saw　a　man　tormented　by　personal　demons。　Now　she　knew　her　instincts　had　been　correct。　Not　only　was　he　facing　the　most　devastating　threat　in　Vatican　history；　but　he　was　doing　it　without　his　mentor　and　friend　。　。　。　flying　solo。
　The　guards　slowed　now；　as　if　unsure　where　exactly　in　the　darkness　the　most　recent　Pope　was　buried