danbrown.angels&demons-第21部分

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　Weapons？　Langdon　thought。　I'm　not　even　carrying　a　change　of　underwear！　He　shook　his　head。
　The　officer　crouched　at　Langdon's　feet　and　began　patting　him　down；　starting　at　his　socks。　Trusting　guy；　Langdon　thought。　The　guard's　strong　hands　moved　up　Langdon's　legs；　ing　unfortably　close　to　his　groin。　Finally　they　moved　up　to　his　chest　and　shoulders。　Apparently　content　Langdon　was　clean；　the　guard　turned　to　Vittoria。　He　ran　his　eyes　up　her　legs　and　torso。
　Vittoria　glared。　〃Don't　even　think　about　it。〃　
　The　guard　fixed　Vittoria　with　a　gaze　clearly　intended　to　intimidate。　Vittoria　did　not　flinch。　
　〃What's　that？〃　the　guard　said；　pointing　to　a　faint　square　bulge　in　the　front　pocket　of　her　shorts。
　Vittoria　removed　an　ultrathin　cell　phone。　The　guard　took　it；　clicked　it　on；　waited　for　a　dial　tone；　and　then；　apparently　satisfied　that　it　was　indeed　nothing　more　than　a　phone；　returned　it　to　her。　Vittoria　slid　it　back　into　her　pocket。
　〃Turn　around；　please；〃　the　guard　said。
　Vittoria　obliged；　holding　her　arms　out　and　rotating　a　full　360　degrees。
　The　guard　carefully　studied　her。　Langdon　had　already　decided　that　Vittoria's　form…fitting　shorts　and　blouse　were　not　bulging　anywhere　they　shouldn't　have　been。　Apparently　the　guard　came　to　the　same　conclusion。　
　〃Thank　you。　This　way　please。〃
　
　The　Swiss　Guard　chopper　churned　in　neutral　as　Langdon　and　Vittoria　approached。　Vittoria　boarded　first；　like　a　seasoned　pro；　barely　even　stooping　as　she　passed　beneath　the　whirling　rotors。　Langdon　held　back　a　moment。　
　〃No　chance　of　a　car？〃　he　yelled；　half…joking　to　the　Swiss　Guard；　who　was　climbing　in　the　pilot's　seat。
　The　man　did　not　answer。
　Langdon　knew　that　with　Rome's　maniacal　drivers；　flying　was　probably　safer　anyway。　He　took　a　deep　breath　and　boarded；　stooping　cautiously　as　he　passed　beneath　the　spinning　rotors。
　As　the　guard　fired　up　the　engines；　Vittoria　called　out；　〃Have　you　located　the　canister？〃
　The　guard　glanced　over　his　shoulder；　looking　confused。　〃The　what？〃
　〃The　canister。　You　called　CERN　about　a　canister？〃
　The　man　shrugged。　〃No　idea　what　you're　talking　about。　We've　been　very　busy　today。　My　mander　told　me　to　pick　you　up。　That's　all　I　know。〃
　Vittoria　gave　Langdon　an　unsettled　look。
　〃Buckle　up；　please；〃　the　pilot　said　as　the　engine　revved。
　Langdon　reached　for　his　seat　belt　and　strapped　himself　in。　The　tiny　fuselage　seemed　to　shrink　around　him。　Then　with　a　roar；　the　craft　shot　up　and　banked　sharply　north　toward　Rome。
　Rome　。　。　。　the　caput　mundi；　where　Caesar　once　ruled；　where　St。　Peter　was　crucified。　The　cradle　of　modern　civilization。　And　at　its　core　。　。　。　a　ticking　bomb。
　
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　Rome　from　the　air　is　a　labyrinth…an　indecipherable　maze　of　ancient　roadways　winding　around　buildings；　fountains；　and　crumbling　ruins。
　The　Vatican　chopper　stayed　low　in　the　sky　as　it　sliced　northwest　through　the　permanent　smog　layer　coughed　up　by　the　congestion　below。　Langdon　gazed　down　at　the　mopeds；　sight…seeing　buses；　and　armies　of　miniature　Fiat　sedans　buzzing　around　rotaries　in　all　directions。　Koyaanisqatsi；　he　thought；　recalling　the　Hopi　term　for　〃life　out　of　balance。〃　
　Vittoria　sat　in　silent　determination　in　the　seat　beside　him。
　The　chopper　banked　hard。　
　His　stomach　dropping；　Langdon　gazed　farther　into　the　distance。　His　eyes　found　the　crumbling　ruins　of　the　Roman　Coliseum。　The　Coliseum；　Langdon　had　always　thought；　was　one　of　history's　greatest　ironies。　Now　a　dignified　symbol　for　the　rise　of　human　culture　and　civilization；　the　stadium　had　been　built　to　host　centuries　of　barbaric　events…hungry　lions　shredding　prisoners；　armies　of　slaves　battling　to　the　death；　gang　rapes　of　exotic　women　captured　from　far…off　lands；　as　well　as　public　beheadings　and　castrations。　It　was　ironic；　Langdon　thought；　or　perhaps　fitting；　that　the　Coliseum　had　served　as　the　architectural　blueprint　for　Harvard's　Soldier　Field…the　football　stadium　where　the　ancient　traditions　of　savagery　were　reenacted　every　fall　。　。　。　crazed　fans　screaming　for　bloodshed　as　Harvard　battled　Yale。
　As　the　chopper　headed　north；　Langdon　spied　the　Roman　Forum…the　heart　of　pre…Christian　Rome。　The　decaying　columns　looked　like　toppled　gravestones　in　a　cemetery　that　had　somehow　avoided　being　swallowed　by　the　metropolis　surrounding　it。　
　To　the　west　the　wide　basin　of　the　Tiber　River　wound　enormous　arcs　across　the　city。　Even　from　the　air　Langdon　could　tell　the　water　was　deep。　The　churning　currents　were　brown；　filled　with　silt　and　foam　from　heavy　rains。
　〃Straight　ahead；〃　the　pilot　said；　climbing　higher。　
　Langdon　and　Vittoria　looked　out　and　saw　it。　Like　a　mountain　parting　the　morning　fog；　the　colossal　dome　rose　out　of　the　haze　before　them：　St。　Peter's　Basilica。
　〃Now　that；〃　Langdon　said　to　Vittoria；　〃is　something　Michelangelo　got　right。〃　
　Langdon　had　never　seen　St。　Peter's　from　the　air。　The　marble　faзade　blazed　like　fire　in　the　afternoon　sun。　Adorned　with　140　statues　of　saints；　martyrs；　and　angels；　the　Herculean　edifice　stretched　two　football　fields　wide　and　a　staggering　six　long。　The　cavernous　interior　of　the　basilica　had　room　for　over　60；000　worshipers　。　。　。　over　one　hundred　times　the　population　of　Vatican　City；　the　smallest　country　in　the　world。
　Incredibly；　though；　not　even　a　citadel　of　this　magnitude　could　dwarf　the　piazza　before　it。　A　sprawling　expanse　of　granite；　St。　Peter's　Square　was　a　staggering　open　space　in　the　congestion　of　Rome；　like　a　classical　Central　Park。　In　front　of　the　basilica；　bordering　the　vast　oval　mon；　284　columns　swept　outward　in　four　concentric　arcs　of　diminishing　size　。　。　。　an　architectural　trompe　de　l'oiel　used　to　heighten　the　piazza's　sense　of　grandeur。　
　As　he　stared　at　the　magnificent　shrine　before　him；　Langdon　wondered　what　St。　Peter　would　think　if　he　were　here　now。　The　Saint　had　died　a　gruesome　death；　crucified　upside　down　on　this　very　spot。　Now　he　rested　in　the　most　sacred　of　tombs；　buried　five　stories　down；　directly　beneath　the　central　cupola　of　the　basilica。　
　〃Vatican　City；〃　the　pilot　said；　sounding　anything　but　weling。　
　Langdon　looked　out　at　the　towering　stone　bastions　that　loomed　ahead…impenetrable　fortifications　surrounding　the　plex　。　。　。　a　strangely　earthly　defense　for　a　spiritual　world　of　secrets；　power；　and　mystery。　
　〃Look！〃　Vittoria　said　suddenly；　grabbing　Langdon's　arm。　She　motioned　frantically　downward　toward　St。　Peter's　Square　directly　beneath　them。　Langdon　put　his　face　to　the　window　and　looked。　
　〃Over　there；〃　she　said；　pointing。　
　Langdon　looked。　The　rear　of　the　piazza　looked　like　a　parking　lot　crowded　with　a　dozen　or　so　trailer　trucks。　Huge　satellite　dishes　pointed　skyward　from　the　roof　of　every　truck。　The　dishes　were　emblazoned　with　familiar　names：
　
　TELEVISOR　EUROPEA　VIDEO　ITALIA　BBC　UNITED　PRESS　INTERNATIONAL　
　
　Langdon　felt　suddenly　confused；　wondering　if　the　news　of　the　antimatter　had　already　leaked　out。
　Vittoria　seemed　suddenly　tense。　〃Why　is　the　press　here？　What's　going　on？〃
　The　pilot　turned　and　gave　her　an　odd　look　over　his　shoulder。　〃What's　going　on？　You　don't　know？〃
　〃No；〃　she　fired　back；　her　accent　husky　and　strong。
　〃Il　Conclavo；〃　he　said。　〃It　is　to　be　sealed　in　about　an　hour。　The　whole　world　is　watching。〃
　
　Il　Conclavo。
　The　word　rang　a　long　moment　in　Langdon's　ears　before　dropping　like　a　brick　to　the　pit　of　his　stomach。　Il　Conclavo。　The　Vatican　Conclave。　How　could　he　have　forgotten？　It　had　been　in　the　news　recently。　
　Fifteen　days　ago；　the　Pope；　after　a　tremendously　popular　twelve…year　reign；　had　passed　away。　Every　paper　in　the　world　had　carried　the　story　about　the　Pope's　fatal　stroke　while　sleeping…a　sudden　and　unexpected　death　many　whispered　was　suspicious。　But　now；　in　keeping　with　the　sacred　tradition；　fifteen　days　after　the　death　of　a　Pope；　the　Vatican　was　holding　Il　Conclavo…the　sacred　ceremony　in　which　the　165　cardinals　of　the　world…the　most　powerful　men　in　Christendom…gathered　in　Vatican　City　to　elect　the　new　Pope。　
　Every　cardinal　on　the　planet　is　here　today；　Langdon　thought　as　the　chopper　passed　over　St。　Peter's　Basilica。　The　expansive　inner　world　of　Vatican　City　spread　out　beneath　him。　The　entire　power　structure　of　the　Roman　Catholic　Church　is　sitting　on　a　time　bomb。
　
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　Cardinal　Mortati　gazed　up　at　the　lavish　ceiling　of　the　Sistine　Chapel　and　tried　to　find　a　moment　of　quiet　reflection。　The　frescoed　walls　echoed　with　the　voices　of　cardinals　from　nations　around　the　globe。　The　men　jostled　in　the　candlelit　tabernacle；　whispering　excitedly　and　consulting　with　one　another　in　numerous　languages；　the　universal　tongues　being　English；　Italian；　and　Spanish。　
　The　light　in　the　chapel　was　usually　sublime…long　rays　of　tinted　sun　slicing　through　the　darkness　like　rays　from　heaven…but　not　today。　As　was　the　custom；　all　of　the　chapel's　windows　had　been　covered　in　black　velvet　in　the　name　of　secrecy。　This　ensured　that　no　one　on　the　inside　could　send　signals　or　municate　in　any　way　with　the　outside　world。　The　result　was　a　profound　darkness　lit　only　by　candles　。　。　。　a　shimmering　radiance　that　seemed　to　purify　everyone　it　touched；　making　them　all　ghostly　。　。　。　like　saints。　
　What　privilege；　Mortati　thought；　that　I　am　to　oversee　this　sanctified　event。　Cardinals　over　eighty　years　of　age　were　too　old　to　be　eligible　for　election　and　did　not　at