Also by Dan Brown Digital Fortress ANGELS & DEMONS DAN BROWN POCKET BOOKS New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore This book is a work of fiction Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 Visit us on the World Wide Web: Copyright © 2000 by Dan Brown All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 ISBN: 0-7434-1239-7 POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc For Blythe ACKNOWLEDGMENTS A debt of gratitude to Emily Bestler, Jason Kaufman, Ben Kaplan, and everyone at Pocket Books for their belief in this project To my friend and agent, Jake Elwell, for his enthusiasm and unflagging effort To the legendary George Wieser, for convincing me to write novels To my dear friend Irv Sittler, for facilitating my audience with the Pope, secreting me into parts of Vatican City few ever see, and making my time in Rome unforgettable To one of the most ingenious and gifted artists alive, John Langdon, who rose brilliantly to my impossible challenge and created the ambigrams for this novel To Stan Planton, head librarian, Ohio University-Chillicothe, for being my number one source of information on countless topics To Sylvia Cavazzini, for her gracious tour through the secret Passetto And to the best parents a kid could hope for, Dick and Connie Brown for everything Thanks also to CERN, Henry Beckett, Brett Trotter, the Pontifical Academy of Science, Brookhaven Institute, FermiLab Library, Olga Wieser, Don Ulsch of the National Security Institute, Caroline H Thompson at University of Wales, Kathryn Gerhard and Omar Al Kindi, John Pike and the Federation of American Scientists, Heimlich Viserholder, Corinna and Davis Hammond, Aizaz Ali, the Galileo Project of Rice University, Julie Lynn and Charlie Ryan at Mockingbird Pictures, Gary Goldstein, Dave (Vilas) Arnold and Andra Crawford, the GlobalFraternal Network, the Phillips Exeter Academy Library, Jim Barrington, John Maier, the exceptionally keen eye of Margie Wachtel, alt.masonic.members, Alan Wooley, the Library of Congress Vatican Codices Exhibit, Lisa Callamaro and the Callamaro Agency, Jon A Stowell, Musei Vaticani, Aldo Baggia, Noah Alireza, Harriet Walker, Charles Terry, Micron Electronics, Mindy Homan, Nancy andDick Curtin, Thomas D Nadeau, NuvoMedia andRocket E-books, Frank and Sylvia Kennedy, Rome Board of Tourism, Maestro GregoryBrown, Val Brown, Werner Brandes, Paul Krupin at Direct Contact, Paul Stark, Tom King at Computalk Network, Sandy and Jerry Nolan, Web guru Linda George, the National Academy of Art in Rome, physicist and fellow scribe Steve Howe, Robert Weston, the Water Street Bookstore in Exeter, New Hampshire, and the Vatican Observatory FACT T he world’s largest scientific research facility-Switzerland’s Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire (CERN)-recently succeeded in producing the first particles of antimatter Antimatter is identical to physical matter except that it is composed of particles whose electric charges are opposite to those found in normal matter Antimatter is the most powerful energy source known to man It releases energy with 100 percent efficiency (nuclear fission is 1.5 percent efficient) Antimatter creates no pollution or radiation, and a droplet could power New York City for a full day There is, however, one catch Antimatter is highly unstable It ignites when it comes in contact with absolutely anything even air A single gram of antimatter contains the energy of a 20-kiloton nuclear bomb-the size of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima Until recently antimatter has been created only in very small amounts (a few atoms at a time) But CERN has now broken ground on its new Antiproton Decelerator-an advanced antimatter production facility that promises to create antimatter in much larger quantities One question looms: Will this highly volatile substance save the world, or will it be used to create the most deadly weapon ever made? AUTHOR’S NOTE R eferences to all works of art, tombs, tunnels, and architecture in Rome are entirely factual (as are their exact locations) They can still be seen today The brotherhood of the Illuminati is also factual PROLOGUE P hysicist Leonardo Vetra smelled burning flesh, and he knew it was his own He stared up in terror at the dark figure looming over him “What you want!” “La chiave,” the raspy voice replied “The password.” “But I don’t-” The intruder pressed down again, grinding the white hot object deeper into Vetra’s chest There was the hiss of broiling flesh Vetra cried out in agony “There is no password!” He felt himself drifting toward unconsciousness The figure glared “Ne avevo paura I was afraid of that.” Vetra fought to keep his senses, but the darkness was closing in His only solace was in knowing his attacker would never obtain what he had come for A moment later, however, the figure produced a blade and brought it to Vetra’s face The blade hovered Carefully Surgically “For the love of God!” Vetra screamed But it was too late H igh atop the steps of the Pyramid of Giza a young woman laughed and called down to him “Robert, hurry up! I knew I should have married a younger man!” Her smile was magic He struggled to keep up, but his legs felt like stone “Wait,” he begged “Please ” As he climbed, his vision began to blur There was a thundering in his ears I must reach her! But when he looked up again, the woman had disappeared In her place stood an old man with rotting teeth The man stared down, curling his lips into a lonely grimace Then he let out a scream of anguish that resounded across the desert Robert Langdon awoke with a start from his nightmare The phone beside his bed was ringing Dazed, he picked up the receiver “Hello?” “I’m looking for Robert Langdon,” a man’s voice said Langdon sat up in his empty bed and tried to clear his mind “This is Robert Langdon.” He squinted at his digital clock It was 5:18 A.M “I must see you immediately.” “Who is this?” “My name is Maximilian Kohler I’m a discrete particle physicist.” “A what?” Langdon could barely focus “Are you sure you’ve got the right Langdon?” “You’re a professor of religious iconology at Harvard University You’ve written three books on symbology and-” “Do you know what time it is?” “I apologize I have something you need to see I can’t discuss it on the phone.” A knowing groan escaped Langdon’s lips This had happened before One of the perils of writing books about religious symbology was the calls from religious zealots who wanted him to confirm their latest sign from God Last month a stripper from Oklahoma had promised Langdon the best sex of his life if he would fly down and verify the authenticity of a cruciform that had magically appeared on her bed sheets The Shroud of Tulsa, Langdon had called it “How did you get my number?” Langdon tried to be polite, despite the hour “On the Worldwide Web The site for your book.” Langdon frowned He was damn sure his book’s site did not include his home phone number The man was obviously lying “I need to see you,” the caller insisted “I’ll pay you well.” Now Langdon was getting mad “I’m sorry, but I really-” “If you leave immediately, you can be here by-” “I’m not going anywhere! It’s five o’clock in the morning!” Langdon up and collapsed back in bed He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep It was no use The dream was emblazoned in his mind Reluctantly, he put on his robe and went downstairs Robert Langdon wandered barefoot through his deserted Massachusetts Victorian home and nursed his ritual insomnia remedy-a mug of steaming Nestlé’s Quik The April moon filtered through the bay windows and played on the oriental carpets Langdon’s colleagues often joked that his place looked more like an anthropology museum than a home His shelves were packed with religious artifacts from around the world-an ekuaba from Ghana, a gold cross from Spain, a cycladic idol from the Aegean, and even a rare woven boccus from Borneo, a young warrior’s symbol of perpetual youth As Langdon sat on his brass Maharishi’s chest and savored the warmth of the chocolate, the bay window caught his reflection The image was distorted and pale like a ghost An aging ghost, he thought, cruelly reminded that his youthful spirit was living in a mortal shell Although not overly handsome in a classical sense, the forty-five-year-old Langdon had what his female colleagues referred to as an “erudite” appeal-wisps of gray in his thick brown hair, probing blue eyes, an arrestingly deep voice, and the strong, carefree smile of a collegiate athlete A varsity diver in prep school and college, Langdon still had the body of a swimmer, a toned, six-foot physique that he vigilantly maintained with fifty laps a day in the university pool Langdon’s friends had always viewed him as a bit of an enigma-a man caught between centuries On weekends he could be seen lounging on the quad in blue jeans, discussing computer graphics or religious history with students; other times he could be spotted in his Harris tweed and paisley vest, photographed in the pages of upscale art magazines at museum openings where he had been asked to lecture Although a tough teacher and strict disciplinarian, Langdon was the first to embrace what he hailed as the “lost art of good clean fun.” He relished recreation with an infectious fanaticism that had earned him a fraternal acceptance among his students His campus nickname-“The Dolphin”-was a reference both to his affable nature and his legendary ability to dive into a pool and outmaneuver the entire opposing squad in a water polo match As Langdon sat alone, absently gazing into the darkness, the silence of his home was shattered again, this time by the ring of his fax machine Too exhausted to be annoyed, Langdon forced a tired chuckle God’s people, he thought Two thousand years of waiting for their Messiah, and they’re still persistent as hell Wearily, he returned his empty mug to the kitchen and walked slowly to his oak-paneled study The incoming fax lay in the tray Sighing, he scooped up the paper and looked at it Instantly, a wave of nausea hit him The image on the page was that of a human corpse The body had been stripped naked, and its head had been twisted, facing completely backward On the victim’s chest was a terrible burn The man had been branded imprinted with a single word It was a word Langdon knew well Very well He stared at the ornate lettering in disbelief “Illuminati,” he stammered, his heart pounding It can’t be In slow motion, afraid of what he was about to witness, Langdon rotated the fax 180 degrees He looked at the word upside down Instantly, the breath went out of him It was like he had been hit by a truck Barely able to believe his eyes, he rotated the fax again, reading the brand right-side up and then upside down “Illuminati,” he whispered Stunned, Langdon collapsed in a chair He sat a moment in utter bewilderment Gradually, his eyes were drawn to the blinking red light on his fax machine Whoever had sent this fax was still on the line waiting to talk Langdon gazed at the blinking light a long time Then, trembling, he picked up the receiver D o I have your attention now?” the man’s voice said when Langdon finally answered the line “Yes, sir, you damn well You want to explain yourself?” “I tried to tell you before.” The voice was rigid, mechanical “I’m a physicist I run a research facility We’ve had a murder You saw the body.” “How did you find me?” Langdon could barely focus His mind was racing from the image on the fax “I already told you The Worldwide Web The site for your book, The Art of the Illuminati.” Langdon tried to gather his thoughts His book was virtually unknown in mainstream literary circles, but it had developed quite a following on-line Nonetheless, the caller’s claim still made no sense “That page has no contact information,” Langdon challenged “I’m certain of it.” “I have people here at the lab very adept at extracting user information from the Web.” Langdon was skeptical “Sounds like your lab knows a lot about the Web.” “We should,” the man fired back “We invented it.” Something in the man’s voice told Langdon he was not joking “I must see you,” the caller insisted “This is not a matter we can discuss on the phone My lab is only an hour’s flight from Boston.” Langdon stood in the dim light of his study and analyzed the fax in his hand The image was overpowering, possibly representing the epigraphical find of the century, a decade of his research confirmed in a single symbol “It’s urgent,” the voice pressured Langdon’s eyes were locked on the brand Illuminati, he read over and over His work had always been based on the symbolic equivalent of fossils-ancient documents and historical hearsay-but this image before him was today Present tense He felt like a paleontologist coming face to face with a living dinosaur “I’ve taken the liberty of sending a plane for you,” the voice said “It will be in Boston in twenty minutes.” Langdon felt his mouth go dry An hour’s flight “Please forgive my presumption,” the voice said “I need you here.” Langdon looked again at the fax-an ancient myth confirmed in black and white The implications were frightening He gazed absently through the bay window The first hint of dawn was sifting through the birch trees in his backyard, but the view looked somehow different this morning As an odd combination of fear and exhilaration settled over him, Langdon knew he had no choice “You win,” he said “Tell me where to meet the plane.” T housands of miles away, two men were meeting The chamber was dark Medieval Stone “Benvenuto,” the man in charge said He was seated in the shadows, out of sight “Were you successful?” “Si,” the dark figure replied “Perfectamente.” His words were as hard as the rock walls “And there will be no doubt who is responsible?” “None.” “Superb Do you have what I asked for?” The killer’s eyes glistened, black like oil He produced a heavy electronic device and set it on the table The man in the shadows seemed pleased “You have done well.” “Serving the brotherhood is an honor,” the killer said “Phase two begins shortly Get some rest Tonight we change the world.” R obert Langdon’s Saab 900S tore out of the Callahan Tunnel and emerged on the east side of Boston Harbor near the entrance to Logan Airport Checking his directions Langdon found Aviation Road and turned left past the old Eastern Airlines Building Three hundred yards down the access road a hangar loomed in the darkness A large number “4”was painted on it He pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car A round-faced man in a blue flight suit emerged from behind the building “Robert Langdon?” he called The man’s voice was friendly He had an accent Langdon couldn’t place “That’s me,” Langdon said, locking his car “Perfect timing,” the man said “I’ve just landed Follow me, please.” As they circled the building, Langdon felt tense He was not accustomed to cryptic phone calls and secret rendezvous with strangers Not knowing what to expect he had donned his usual classroom attire-a pair of chinos, a turtleneck, and a Harris tweed suit jacket As they walked, he thought about the fax in his jacket pocket, still unable to believe the image it depicted The pilot seemed to sense Langdon’s anxiety “Flying’s not a problem for you, is it, sir?” “Not at all,” Langdon replied Branded corpses are a problem for me Flying I can handle The man led Langdon the length of the hangar They rounded the corner onto the runway Langdon stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at the aircraft parked on the tarmac “We’re riding in that?” The man grinned “Like it?” Langdon stared a long moment “Like it? What the hell is it?” The craft before them was enormous It was vaguely reminiscent of the space shuttle except that the top had been shaved off, leaving it perfectly flat Parked there on the runway, it resembled a colossal wedge Langdon’s first impression was that he must be dreaming The vehicle looked as airworthy as a Buick The wings were practically nonexistent-just two stubby fins on the rear of the fuselage A pair of dorsal guiders rose out of the aft section The rest of the plane was hull-about 200 feet from front to back-no windows, nothing but hull “Two hundred fifty thousand kilos fully fueled,” the pilot offered, like a father bragging about his newborn “Runs on slush hydrogen The shell’s a titanium matrix with silicon carbide fibers She packs a 20:1 thrust/weight ratio; most jets run at 7:1 The director must be in one helluva a hurry to see you He doesn’t usually send the big boy.” “This thing flies?” Langdon said Another cardinal was at her side now “We must think before we act.” And another “The pain this could cause ” Vittoria was surrounded She looked at them all, stunned “But these deeds here today, tonight certainly the world should know the truth.” “My heart agrees,” the wizened cardinal said, still holding her arm, “and yet it is a path from which there is no return We must consider the shattered hopes The cynicism How could the people ever trust again?” Suddenly, more cardinals seemed to be blocking her way There was a wall of black robes before her “Listen to the people in the square,” one said “What will this to their hearts? We must exercise prudence.” “We need time to think and pray,” another said “We must act with foresight The repercussions of this ” “He killed my father!” Vittoria said “He killed his own father!” “I’m certain he will pay for his sins,” the cardinal holding her arm said sadly Vittoria was certain too, and she intended to ensure he paid She tried to push toward the door again, but the cardinals huddled closer, their faces frightened “What are you going to do?” she exclaimed “Kill me?” The old men blanched, and Vittoria immediately regretted her words She could see these men were gentle souls They had seen enough violence tonight They meant no threat They were simply trapped Scared Trying to get their bearings “I want ” the wizened cardinal said, “ to what is right.” “Then you will let her out,” a deep voice declared behind her The words were calm but absolute Robert Langdon arrived at her side, and she felt his hand take hers “Ms Vetra and I are leaving this chapel Right now.” Faltering, hesitant, the cardinals began to step aside “Wait!” It was Mortati He moved toward them now, down the center aisle, leaving the camerlegno alone and defeated on the altar Mortati looked older all of a sudden, wearied beyond his years His motion was burdened with shame He arrived, putting a hand on Langdon’s shoulder and one on Vittoria’s as well Vittoria felt sincerity in his touch The man’s eyes were more tearful now “Of course you are free to go,” Mortati said “Of course.” The man paused, his grief almost tangible “I ask only this ” He stared down at his feet a long moment then back up at Vittoria and Langdon “Let me it I will go into the square right now and find a way I will tell them I don’t know how but I will find a way The church’s confession should come from within Our failures should be our own to expose.” Mortati turned sadly back toward the altar “Carlo, you have brought this church to a disastrous juncture.” He paused, looking around The altar was bare There was a rustle of cloth down the side aisle, and the door clicked shut The camerlegno was gone 134 C amerlegno Ventresca’s white robe billowed as he moved down the hallway away from the Sistine Chapel The Swiss Guards had seemed perplexed when he emerged all alone from the chapel and told them he needed a moment of solitude But they had obeyed, letting him go Now as he rounded the corner and left their sight, the camerlegno felt a maelstrom of emotions like nothing he thought possible in human experience He had poisoned the man he called “Holy Father,” the man who addressed him as “my son.” The camerlegno had always believed the words “father” and “son” were religious tradition, but now he knew the diabolical truth-the words had been literal Like that fateful night weeks ago, the camerlegno now felt himself reeling madly through the darkness It was raining the morning the Vatican staff banged on the camerlegno’s door, awakening him from a fitful sleep The Pope, they said, was not answering his door or his phone The clergy were frightened The camerlegno was the only one who could enter the Pope’s chambers unannounced The camerlegno entered alone to find the Pope, as he was the night before, twisted and dead in his bed His Holiness’s face looked like that of Satan His tongue black like death The Devil himself had been sleeping in the Pope’s bed The camerlegno felt no remorse God had spoken Nobody would see the treachery not yet That would come later He announced the terrible news-His Holiness was dead of a stroke Then the camerlegno prepared for conclave Mother Maria’s voice was whispering in his ear “Never break a promise to God.” “I hear you, Mother,” he replied “It is a faithless world They need to be brought back to the path of righteousness Horror and Hope It is the only way.” “Yes,” she said “If not you then who? Who will lead the church out of darkness?” Certainly not one of the preferiti They were old walking death liberals who would follow the Pope, endorsing science in his memory, seeking modern followers by abandoning the ancient ways Old men desperately behind the times, pathetically pretending they were not They would fail, of course The church’s strength was its tradition, not its transience The whole world was transitory The church did not need to change, it simply needed to remind the world it was relevant! Evil lives! God will overcome! The church needed a leader Old men not inspire! Jesus inspired! Young, vibrant, powerful MIRACULOUS “Enjoy your tea,” the camerlegno told the four preferiti, leaving them in the Pope’s private library before conclave “Your guide will be here soon.” The preferiti thanked him, all abuzz that they had been offered a chance to enter the famed Passetto Most uncommon! The camerlegno, before leaving them, had unlocked the door to the Passetto, and exactly on schedule, the door had opened, and a foreignlooking priest with a torch had ushered the excited preferiti in The men had never come out They will be the Horror I will be the Hope No I am the horror The camerlegno staggered now through the darkness of St Peter’s Basilica Somehow, through the insanity and guilt, through the images of his father, through the pain and revelation, even through the pull of the morphine he had found a brilliant clarity A sense of destiny I know my purpose, he thought, awed by the lucidity of it From the beginning, nothing tonight had gone exactly as he had planned Unforeseen obstacles had presented themselves, but the camerlegno had adapted, making bold adjustments Still, he had never imagined tonight would end this way, and yet now he saw the preordained majesty of it It could end no other way Oh, what terror he had felt in the Sistine Chapel, wondering if God had forsaken him! Oh, what deeds He had ordained! He had fallen to his knees, awash with doubt, his ears straining for the voice of God but hearing only silence He had begged for a sign Guidance Direction Was this God’s will? The church destroyed by scandal and abomination? No! God was the one who had willed the camerlegno to act! Hadn’t He? Then he had seen it Sitting on the altar A sign Divine communication-something ordinary seen in an extraordinary light The crucifix Humble, wooden Jesus on the cross In that moment, it had all come clear the camerlegno was not alone He would never be alone This was His will His meaning God had always asked great sacrifice of those he loved most Why had the camerlegno been so slow to understand? Was he too fearful? Too humble? It made no difference God had found a way The camerlegno even understood now why Robert Langdon had been saved It was to bring the truth To compel this ending This was the sole path to the church’s salvation! The camerlegno felt like he was floating as he descended into the Niche of the Palliums The surge of morphine seemed relentless now, but he knew God was guiding him In the distance, he could hear the cardinals clamoring in confusion as they poured from the chapel, yelling commands to the Swiss Guard But they would never find him Not in time The camerlegno felt himself drawn faster descending the stairs into the sunken area where the ninety-nine oil lamps shone brightly God was returning him to Holy Ground The camerlegno moved toward the grate covering the hole that led down to the Necropolis The Necropolis is where this night would end In the sacred darkness below He lifted an oil lamp, preparing to descend But as he moved across the Niche, the camerlegno paused Something about this felt wrong How did this serve God? A solitary and silent end? Jesus had suffered before the eyes of the entire world Surely this could not be God’s will! The camerlegno listened for the voice of his God, but heard only the blurring buzz of drugs “Carlo.” It was his mother “God has plans for you.” Bewildered, the camerlegno kept moving Then, without warning, God arrived The camerlegno stopped short, staring The light of the ninety-nine oil lanterns had thrown the camerlegno’s shadow on the marble wall beside him Giant and fearful A hazy form surrounded by golden light With flames flickering all around him, the camerlegno looked like an angel ascending to heaven He stood a moment, raising his arms to his sides, watching his own image Then he turned, looking back up the stairs God’s meaning was clear Three minutes had passed in the chaotic hallways outside the Sistine Chapel, and still nobody could locate the camerlegno It was as if the man had been swallowed up by the night Mortati was about to demand a full-scale search of Vatican City when a roar of jubilation erupted outside in St Peter’s Square The spontaneous celebration of the crowd was tumultuous The cardinals all exchanged startled looks Mortati closed his eyes “God help us.” For the second time that evening, the College of Cardinals flooded onto St Peter’s Square Langdon and Vittoria were swept up in the jostling crowd of cardinals, and they too emerged into the night air The media lights and cameras were all pivoted toward the basilica And there, having just stepped onto the sacred Papal Balcony located in the exact center of the towering façade, Camerlegno Carlo Ventresca stood with his arms raised to the heavens Even far away, he looked like purity incarnate A figurine Dressed in white Flooded with light The energy in the square seemed to grow like a cresting wave, and all at once the Swiss Guard barriers gave way The masses streamed toward the basilica in a euphoric torrent of humanity The onslaught rushed forward-people crying, singing, media cameras flashing Pandemonium As the people flooded in around the front of the basilica, the chaos intensified, until it seemed nothing could stop it And then something did High above, the camerlegno made the smallest of gestures He folded his hands before him Then he bowed his head in silent 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 come 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 come 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, commentating 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 accompanied 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 T he midmorning sky still 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 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 seventynine-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.” Good Chinita’s nervousness waned some more So far, so good Glick’s expression grew sorrowful now “And though last night was a night of wonder, it was also a night of tragedy Four cardinals perished in yesterday’s conflict, along with Commander Olivetti and Captain Rocher of the Swiss Guard, both in the line of duty Other casualties include Leonardo Vetra, the renowned CERN physicist and pioneer of antimatter technology, as well as Maximilian Kohler, the director of CERN, who apparently came to Vatican City in an effort to help but reportedly passed away in the process No official report has been issued yet on Mr Kohler’s death, but conjecture is that he died due to complications brought on by a long-time illness.” Macri nodded The report was going perfectly Just as they discussed “And in the wake of the explosion in the sky over the Vatican last night, CERN’s antimatter technology has become the hot topic among scientists, sparking excitement and controversy A statement read by Mr Kohler’s assistant in Geneva, Sylvie Baudeloque, announced this morning that CERN’s board of directors, although enthusiastic about antimatter’s potential, are suspending all research and licensing until further inquiries into its safety can be examined.” Excellent, Macri thought Home stretch “Notably absent from our screens tonight,” Glick reported, “is the face of Robert Langdon, the Harvard professor who came to Vatican City yesterday to lend his expertise during this Illuminati crisis Although originally thought to have perished in the antimatter blast, we now have reports that Langdon was spotted in St Peter’s Square after the explosion How he got there is still speculation, although a spokesman from Hospital Tiberina claims that Mr Langdon fell out of the sky into the Tiber River shortly after midnight, was treated, and released.” Glick arched his eyebrows at the camera “And if that is true it was indeed a night of miracles.” Perfect ending! Macri felt herself smiling broadly Flawless wrap! Now sign off! But Glick did not sign off Instead, he paused a moment and then stepped toward the camera He had a mysterious smile “But before we sign off ” No! “ I would like to invite a guest to join me.” Chinita’s hands froze on the camera A guest? What the hell is he doing? What guest! Sign off! But she knew it was too late Glick had committed “The man I am about to introduce,” Glick said, “is an American a renowned scholar.” Chinita hesitated She held her breath as Glick turned to the small crowd around them and motioned for his guest to step forward Macri said a silent prayer Please tell me he somehow located Robert Langdon and not some Illuminati-conspiracy nutcase But as Glick’s guest stepped out, Macri’s heart sank It was not Robert Langdon at all It was a bald man in blue jeans and a flannel shirt He had a cane and thick glasses Macri felt terror Nutcase! “May I introduce,” Glick announced, “the renowned Vatican scholar from De Paul University in Chicago Dr Joseph Vanek.” Macri now hesitated as the man joined Glick on camera This was no conspiracy buff; Macri had actually heard of this guy “Dr Vanek,” Glick said “You have some rather startling information to share with us regarding last night’s conclave.” “I indeed,” Vanek said “After a night of such surprises, it is hard to imagine there are any surprises left and yet ” He paused Glick smiled “And yet, there is a strange twist to all this.” Vanek nodded “Yes As perplexing as this will sound, I believe the College of Cardinals unknowingly elected two Popes this weekend.” Macri almost dropped the camera Glick gave a shrewd smile “Two Popes, you say?” The scholar nodded “Yes I should first say that I have spent my life studying the laws of papal election Conclave judicature is extremely complex, and much of it is now forgotten or ignored as obsolete Even the Great Elector is probably not aware of what I am about to reveal Nonetheless according to the ancient forgotten laws put forth in the Romano Pontifici Eligendo, Numero 63 balloting is not the only method by which a Pope can be elected There is another, more divine method It is called ‘Acclamation by Adoration.’ ” He paused “And it happened last night.” Glick gave his guest a riveted look “Please, go on.” “As you may recall,” the scholar continued, “last night, when Camerlegno Carlo Ventresca was standing on the roof of the basilica, all of the cardinals below began calling out his name in unison.” “Yes, I recall.” “With that image in mind, allow me to read verbatim from the ancient electoral laws.” The man pulled some papers from his pocket, cleared his throat, and began to read “ ‘Election by Adoration occurs when all the cardinals, as if by inspiration of the Holy Spirit, freely and spontaneously, unanimously and aloud, proclaim one individual’s name.’ ” Glick smiled “So you’re saying that last night, when the cardinals chanted Carlo Ventresca’s name together, they actually elected him Pope?” “They did indeed Furthermore, the law states that Election by Adoration supercedes the cardinal eligibility requirement and permits any clergyman-ordained priest, bishop, or cardinal-to be elected So, as you can see, the camerlegno was perfectly qualified for papal election by this procedure.” Dr Vanek looked directly into the camera now “The facts are these Carlo Ventresca was elected Pope last night He reigned for just under seventeen minutes And had he not ascended miraculously into a pillar of fire, he would now be buried in the Vatican Grottoes along with the other Popes.” “Thank you, doctor.” Glick turned to Macri with a mischievous wink “Most illuminating ” 137 H igh atop the steps of the Roman Coliseum, Vittoria laughed and called down to him “Robert, hurry up! I knew I should have married a younger man!” Her smile was magic He struggled to keep up, but his legs felt like stone “Wait,” he begged “Please ” There was a pounding in his head Robert Langdon awoke with a start Darkness He lay still for a long time in the foreign softness of the bed, unable to figure out where he was The pillows were goose down, oversized and wonderful The air smelled of potpourri Across the room, two glass doors stood open to a lavish balcony, where a light breeze played beneath a glistening cloud-swept moon Langdon tried to remember how he had gotten here and where here was Surreal wisps of memory sifted back into his consciousness A pyre of mystical fire an angel materializing from out of the crowd her soft hand taking his and leading him into the night guiding his exhausted, battered body through the streets leading him here to this suite propping him half-sleeping in a scalding hot shower leading him to this bed and watching over him as he fell asleep like the dead In the dimness now, Langdon could see a second bed The sheets were tousled, but the bed was empty From one of the adjoining rooms, he could hear the faint, steady stream of a shower As he gazed at Vittoria’s bed, he saw a boldly embroidered seal on her pillowcase It read: HOTEL BERNINI Langdon had to smile Vittoria had chosen well Old World luxury overlooking Bernini’s Triton Fountain there was no more fitting hotel in all of Rome As Langdon lay there, he heard a pounding and realized what had awoken him Someone was knocking at the door It grew louder Confused, Langdon got up Nobody knows we’re here, he thought, feeling a trace of uneasiness Donning a luxuriant Hotel Bernini robe, he walked out of the bedroom into the suite’s foyer He stood a moment at the heavy oak door, and then pulled it open A powerful man adorned in lavish purple and yellow regalia stared down at him “I am Lieutenant Chartrand,” the man said “Vatican Swiss Guard.” Langdon knew full well who he was “How how did you find us?” “I saw you leave the square last night I followed you I’m relieved you’re still here.” Langdon felt a sudden anxiety, wondering if the cardinals had sent Chartrand to escort Langdon and Vittoria back to Vatican City After all, the two of them were the only two people beyond the College of Cardinals who knew the truth They were a liability “His Holiness asked me to give this to you,” Chartrand said, handing over an envelope sealed with the Vatican signet Langdon opened the envelope and read the handwritten note Mr Langdon and Ms Vetra, Although it is my profound desire to request your discretion in the matters of the past 24 hours, I cannot possibly presume to ask more of you than you have already given I therefore humbly retreat hoping only that you let your hearts guide you in this matter The world seems a better place today maybe the questions are more powerful than the answers My door is always open, His Holiness, Saverio Mortati Langdon read the message twice The College of Cardinals had obviously chosen a noble and munificent leader Before Langdon could say anything, Chartrand produced a small package “A token of thanks from His Holiness.” Langdon took the package It was heavy, wrapped in brown paper “By his decree,” Chartrand said, “this artifact is on indefinite loan to you from the sacred Papal Vault His Holiness asks only that in your last will and testament you ensure it finds its way home.” Langdon opened the package and was struck speechless It was the brand The Illuminati Diamond Chartrand smiled “May peace be with you.” He turned to go “Thank you,” Langdon managed, his hands trembling around the precious gift The guard hesitated in the hall “Mr Langdon, may I ask you something?” “Of course.” “My fellow guards and I are curious Those last few minutes what happened up there in the helicopter?” Langdon felt a rush of anxiety He knew this moment was coming-the moment of truth He and Vittoria had talked about it last night as they stole away from St Peter’s Square And they had made their decision Even before the Pope’s note Vittoria’s father had dreamed his antimatter discovery would bring about a spiritual awakening Last night’s events were no doubt not what he had intended, but the undeniable fact remained at this moment, around the world, people were considering God in ways they never had before How long the magic would last, Langdon and Vittoria had no idea, but they knew they could never shatter the wonderment with scandal and doubt The Lord works in strange ways, Langdon told himself, wondering wryly if maybe just maybe yesterday had been God’s will after all “Mr Langdon?” Chartrand repeated “I was asking about the helicopter?” Langdon gave a sad smile “Yes, I know ” He felt the words flow not from his mind but from his heart “Perhaps it was the shock of the fall but my memory it seems it’s all a blur ” Chartrand slumped “You remember nothing?” Langdon sighed “I fear it will remain a mystery forever.” When Robert Langdon returned to the bedroom, the vision awaiting him stopped him in his tracks Vittoria stood on the balcony, her back to the railing, her eyes gazing deeply at him She looked like a heavenly apparition a radiant silhouette with the moon behind her She could have been a Roman goddess, enshrouded in her white terrycloth robe, the drawstring cinched tight, accentuating her slender curves Behind her, a pale mist like a halo over Bernini’s Triton Fountain Langdon felt wildly drawn to her more than to any woman in his life Quietly, he lay the Illuminati Diamond and the Pope’s letter on his bedside table There would be time to explain all of that later He went to her on the balcony Vittoria looked happy to see him “You’re awake,” she said, in a coy whisper “Finally.” Langdon smiled “Long day.” She ran a hand through her luxuriant hair, the neck of her robe falling open slightly “And now I suppose you want your reward.” The comment took Langdon off guard “I’m sorry?” “We’re adults, Robert You can admit it You feel a longing I see it in your eyes A deep, carnal hunger.” She smiled “I feel it too And that craving is about to be satisfied.” “It is?” He felt emboldened and took a step toward her “Completely.” She held up a room-service menu “I ordered everything they’ve got.” The feast was sumptuous They dined together by moonlight sitting on their balcony savoring frisée, truffles, and risotto They sipped Dolcetto wine and talked late into the night Langdon did not need to be a symbologist to read the signs Vittoria was sending him During dessert of boysenberry cream with savoiardi and steaming Romcaffé, Vittoria pressed her bare legs against his beneath the table and fixed him with a sultry stare She seemed to be willing him to set down his fork and carry her off in his arms But Langdon did nothing He remained the perfect gentleman Two can play at this game, he thought, hiding a roguish smile When all the food was eaten, Langdon retired to the edge of his bed where he sat alone, turning the Illuminati Diamond over and over in his hands, making repeated comments about the miracle of its symmetry Vittoria stared at him, her confusion growing to an obvious frustration “You find that ambigram terribly interesting, don’t you?” she demanded Langdon nodded “Mesmerizing.” “Would you say it’s the most interesting thing in this room?” Langdon scratched his head, making a show of pondering it “Well, there is one thing that interests me more.” She smiled and took a step toward him “That being?” “How you disproved that Einstein theory using tuna fish.” Vittoria threw up her hands “Dio mìo! Enough with the tuna fish! Don’t play with me, I’m warning you.” Langdon grinned “Maybe for your next experiment, you could study flounders and prove the earth is flat.” Vittoria was steaming now, but the first faint hints of an exasperated smile appeared on her lips “For your information, professor, my next experiment will make scientific history I plan to prove neutrinos have mass.” “Neutrinos have mass?” Langdon shot her a stunned look “I didn’t even know they were Catholic!” With one fluid motion, she was on him, pinning him down “I hope you believe in life after death, Robert Langdon.” Vittoria was laughing as she straddled him, her hands holding him down, her eyes ablaze with a mischievous fire “Actually,” he choked, laughing harder now, “I’ve always had trouble picturing anything beyond this world.” “Really? So you’ve never had a religious experience? A perfect moment of glorious rapture?” Langdon shook his head “No, and I seriously doubt I’m the kind of man who could ever have a religious experience.” Vittoria slipped off her robe “You’ve never been to bed with a yoga master, have you?” ABOUT THE AUTHOR DAN BROWN is the bestselling author of Digital Fortress He is a graduate of Phillips Exeter Academy, where he has taught English and creative writing He lives in New England with his wife