danbrown.angels&demons-第67节

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mises　of　efficiency　and　simplicity　have　bred　nothing　but　pollution　and　chaos。　We　are　a　fractured　and　frantic　species　。　。　。　moving　down　a　path　of　destruction。〃
　The　camerlegno　paused　a　long　moment　and　then　sharpened　his　eyes　on　the　camera。
　〃Who　is　this　God　science？　Who　is　the　God　who　offers　his　people　power　but　no　moral　framework　to　tell　you　how　to　use　that　power？　What　kind　of　God　gives　a　child　fire　but　does　not　warn　the　child　of　its　dangers？　The　language　of　science　es　with　no　signposts　about　good　and　bad。　Science　textbooks　tell　us　how　to　create　a　nuclear　reaction；　and　yet　they　contain　no　chapter　asking　us　if　it　is　a　good　or　a　bad　idea。　
　〃To　science；　I　say　this。　The　church　is　tired。　We　are　exhausted　from　trying　to　be　your　signposts。　Our　resources　are　drying　up　from　our　campaign　to　be　the　voice　of　balance　as　you　plow　blindly　on　in　your　quest　for　smaller　chips　and　larger　profits。　We　ask　not　why　you　will　not　govern　yourselves；　but　how　can　you？　Your　world　moves　so　fast　that　if　you　stop　even　for　an　instant　to　consider　the　implications　of　your　actions；　someone　more　efficient　will　whip　past　you　in　a　blur。　So　you　move　on。　You　proliferate　weapons　of　mass　destruction；　but　it　is　the　Pope　who　travels　the　world　beseeching　leaders　to　use　restraint。　You　clone　living　creatures；　but　it　is　the　church　reminding　us　to　consider　the　moral　implications　of　our　actions。　You　encourage　people　to　interact　on　phones；　video　screens；　and　puters；　but　it　is　the　church　who　opens　its　doors　and　reminds　us　to　mune　in　person　as　we　were　meant　to　do。　You　even　murder　unborn　babies　in　the　name　of　research　that　will　save　lives。　Again；　it　is　the　church　who　points　out　the　fallacy　of　this　reasoning。
　〃And　all　the　while；　you　proclaim　the　church　is　ignorant。　But　who　is　more　ignorant？　The　man　who　cannot　define　lightning；　or　the　man　who　does　not　respect　its　awesome　power？　This　church　is　reaching　out　to　you。　Reaching　out　to　everyone。　And　yet　the　more　we　reach；　the　more　you　push　us　away。　Show　me　proof　there　is　a　God；　you　say。　I　say　use　your　telescopes　to　look　to　the　heavens；　and　tell　me　how　there　could　not　be　a　God！〃　The　camerlegno　had　tears　in　his　eyes　now。　〃You　ask　what　does　God　look　like。　I　say；　where　did　that　question　e　from？　The　answers　are　one　and　the　same。　Do　you　not　see　God　in　your　science？　How　can　you　miss　Him！　You　proclaim　that　even　the　slightest　change　in　the　force　of　gravity　or　the　weight　of　an　atom　would　have　rendered　our　universe　a　lifeless　mist　rather　than　our　magnificent　sea　of　heavenly　bodies；　and　yet　you　fail　to　see　God's　hand　in　this？　Is　it　really　so　much　easier　to　believe　that　we　simply　chose　the　right　card　from　a　deck　of　billions？　Have　we　bee　so　spiritually　bankrupt　that　we　would　rather　believe　in　mathematical　impossibility　than　in　a　power　greater　than　us？
　〃Whether　or　not　you　believe　in　God；〃　the　camerlegno　said；　his　voice　deepening　with　deliberation；　〃you　must　believe　this。　When　we　as　a　species　abandon　our　trust　in　the　power　greater　than　us；　we　abandon　our　sense　of　accountability。　Faith　。　。　。　all　faiths　。　。　。　are　admonitions　that　there　is　something　we　cannot　understand；　something　to　which　we　are　accountable　。　。　。　With　faith　we　are　accountable　to　each　other；　to　ourselves；　and　to　a　higher　truth。　Religion　is　flawed；　but　only　because　man　is　flawed。　If　the　outside　world　could　see　this　church　as　I　do　。　。　。　looking　beyond　the　ritual　of　these　walls　。　。　。　they　would　see　a　modern　miracle　。　。　。　a　brotherhood　of　imperfect；　simple　souls　wanting　only　to　be　a　voice　of　passion　in　a　world　spinning　out　of　control。〃
　The　camerlegno　motioned　out　over　the　College　of　Cardinals；　and　the　BBC　camerawoman　instinctively　followed；　panning　the　crowd。
　〃Are　we　obsolete？〃　the　camerlegno　asked。　〃Are　these　men　dino…saurs？　Am　I？　Does　the　world　really　need　a　voice　for　the　poor；　the　weak；　the　oppressed；　the　unborn　child？　Do　we　really　need　souls　like　these　who；　though　imperfect；　spend　their　lives　imploring　each　of　us　to　read　the　signposts　of　morality　and　not　lose　our　way？〃
　Mortati　now　realized　that　the　camerlegno；　whether　consciously　or　not；　was　making　a　brilliant　move。　By　showing　the　cardinals；　he　was　personalizing　the　church。　Vatican　City　was　no　longer　a　building；　it　was　people…people　like　the　camerlegno　who　had　spent　their　lives　in　the　service　of　goodness。
　〃Tonight　we　are　perched　on　a　precipice；〃　the　camerlegno　said。　〃None　of　us　can　afford　to　be　apathetic。　Whether　you　see　this　evil　as　Satan；　corruption；　or　immorality　。　。　。　the　dark　force　is　alive　and　growing　every　day。　Do　not　ignore　it。〃　The　camerlegno　lowered　his　voice　to　a　whisper；　and　the　camera　moved　in。　〃The　force；　though　mighty；　is　not　invincible。　Goodness　can　prevail。　Listen　to　your　hearts。　Listen　to　God。　Together　we　can　step　back　from　this　abyss。〃
　Now　Mortati　understood。　This　was　the　reason。　Conclave　had　been　violated；　but　this　was　the　only　way。　It　was　a　dramatic　and　desperate　plea　for　help。　The　camerlegno　was　speaking　to　both　his　enemy　and　his　friends　now。　He　was　entreating　anyone；　friend　or　foe；　to　see　the　light　and　stop　this　madness。　Certainly　someone　listening　would　realize　the　insanity　of　this　plot　and　e　forward。
　The　camerlegno　knelt　at　the　altar。　〃Pray　with　me。〃　
　The　College　of　Cardinals　dropped　to　their　knees　to　join　him　in　prayer。　Outside　in　St。　Peter's　Square　and　around　the　globe　。　。　。　a　stunned　world　knelt　with　them。
　
　95　

　The　Hassassin　lay　his　unconscious　trophy　in　the　rear　of　the　van　and　took　a　moment　to　admire　her　sprawled　body。　She　was　not　as　beautiful　as　the　women　he　bought；　and　yet　she　had　an　animal　strength　that　excited　him。　Her　body　was　radiant；　dewy　with　perspiration。　She　smelled　of　musk。
　As　the　Hassasin　stood　there　savoring　his　prize；　he　ignored　the　throb　in　his　arm。　The　bruise　from　the　falling　sarcophagus；　although　painful；　was　insignificant　。　。　。　well　worth　the　pensation　that　lay　before　him。　He　took　consolation　in　knowing　the　American　who　had　done　this　to　him　was　probably　dead　by　now。　
　Gazing　down　at　his　incapacitated　prisoner；　the　Hassassin　visualized　what　lay　ahead。　He　ran　a　palm　up　beneath　her　shirt。　Her　breasts　felt　perfect　beneath　her　bra。　Yes；　he　smiled。　You　are　more　than　worthy。　Fighting　the　urge　to　take　her　right　there；　he　closed　the　door　and　drove　off　into　the　night。　
　There　was　no　need　to　alert　the　press　about　this　killing　。　。　。　the　flames　would　do　that　for　him。
　
　At　CERN；　Sylvie　sat　stunned　by　the　camerlegno's　address。　Never　before　had　she　felt　so　proud　to　be　a　Catholic　and　so　ashamed　to　work　at　CERN。　As　she　left　the　recreational　wing；　the　mood　in　every　single　viewing　room　was　dazed　and　somber。　When　she　got　back　to　Kohler's　office；　all　seven　phone　lines　were　ringing。　Media　inquiries　were　never　routed　to　Kohler's　office；　so　the　ining　calls　could　only　be　one　thing。
　Geld。　Money　calls。
　Antimatter　technology　already　had　some　takers。
　
　Inside　the　Vatican；　Gunther　Glick　was　walking　on　air　as　he　followed　the　camerlegno　from　the　Sistine　Chapel。　Glick　and　Macri　had　just　made　the　live　transmission　of　the　decade。　And　what　a　transmission　it　had　been。　The　camerlegno　had　been　spellbinding。
　Now　out　in　the　hallway；　the　camerlegno　turned　to　Glick　and　Macri。　〃I　have　asked　the　Swiss　Guard　to　assemble　photos　for　you…photos　of　the　branded　cardinals　as　well　as　one　of　His　late　Holiness。　I　must　warn　you；　these　are　not　pleasant　pictures。　Ghastly　burns。　Blackened　tongues。　But　I　would　like　you　to　broadcast　them　to　the　world。〃
　Glick　decided　it　must　be　perpetual　Christmas　inside　Vatican　City。　He　wants　me　to　broadcast　an　exclusive　photo　of　the　dead　Pope？　〃Are　you　sure？〃　Glick　asked；　trying　to　keep　the　excitement　from　his　voice。
　The　camerlegno　nodded。　〃The　Swiss　Guard　will　also　provide　you　a　live　video　feed　of　the　antimatter　canister　as　it　counts　down。〃
　Glick　stared。　Christmas。　Christmas。　Christmas！　
　〃The　Illuminati　are　about　to　find　out；〃　the　camerlegno　declared；　〃that　they　have　grossly　overplayed　their　hand。〃
　
　96

　Like　a　recurring　theme　in　some　demonic　symphony；　the　suffocating　darkness　had　returned。　
　No　light。　No　air。　No　exit。　
　Langdon　lay　trapped　beneath　the　overturned　sarcophagus　and　felt　his　mind　careening　dangerously　close　to　the　brink。　Trying　to　drive　his　thoughts　in　any　direction　other　than　the　crushing　space　around　him；　Langdon　urged　his　mind　toward　some　logical　process　。　。　。　mathematics；　music；　anything。　But　there　was　no　room　for　calming　thoughts。　I　can't　move！　I　can't　breathe！　
　The　pinched　sleeve　of　his　jacket　had　thankfully　e　free　when　the　casket　fell；　leaving　Langdon　now　with　two　mobile　arms。　Even　so；　as　he　pressed　upward　on　the　ceiling　of　his　tiny　cell；　he　found　it　immovable。　Oddly；　he　wished　his　sleeve　were　still　caught。　At　least　it　might　create　a　crack　for　some　air。　
　As　Langdon　pushed　against　the　roof　above；　his　sleeve　fell　back　to　reveal　the　faint　glow　of　an　old　friend。　Mickey。　The　greenish　cartoon　face　seemed　mocking　now。　
　Langdon　probed　the　blackness　for　any　other　sign　of　light；　but　the　casket　rim　was　flush　against　the　floor。　Goddamn　Italian　perfectionists；　he　cursed；　now　imperiled　by　the　same　artistic　excellence　he　taught　his　students　to　revere　。　。　。　impeccable　edges；　faultless　parallels；　and　of　course；　use　only　of　the　most　seamless　and　resilient　Carrara　marble。　
　Precision　can　be　suffocating。
　〃Lift　the　damn　thing