danbrown.angels&demons-第32部分

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　〃They　are　virgin　sacrifices。〃　The　caller　laughed。　〃Tell　me；　do　you　think　they　are　really　virgins？　Will　the　little　lambs　squeal　when　they　die？　Sacrifici　vergini　nell'　altare　di　scienza。〃　
　The　camerlegno　was　silent　for　a　long　time。　〃They　are　men　of　faith；〃　he　finally　said。　〃They　do　not　fear　death。〃
　The　caller　sneered。　〃Leonardo　Vetra　was　a　man　of　faith；　and　yet　I　saw　fear　in　his　eyes　last　night。　A　fear　I　removed。〃
　Vittoria；　who　had　been　silent；　was　suddenly　airborne；　her　body　taut　with　hatred。　〃Asino！　He　was　my　father！〃
　A　cackle　echoed　from　the　speaker。　〃Your　father？　What　is　this？　Vetra　has　a　daughter？　You　should　know　your　father　whimpered　like　a　child　at　the　end。　Pitiful　really。　A　pathetic　man。〃
　Vittoria　reeled　as　if　knocked　backward　by　the　words。　Langdon　reached　for　her；　but　she　regained　her　balance　and　fixed　her　dark　eyes　on　the　phone。　〃I　swear　on　my　life；　before　this　night　is　over；　I　will　find　you。〃　Her　voice　sharpened　like　a　laser。　〃And　when　I　do　。　。　。〃
　The　caller　laughed　coarsely。　〃A　woman　of　spirit。　I　am　aroused。　Perhaps　before　this　night　is　over；　I　will　find　you。　And　when　I　do　。　。　。〃
　The　words　hung　like　a　blade。　Then　he　was　gone。
　
　42

　Cardinal　Mortati　was　sweating　now　in　his　black　robe。　Not　only　was　the　Sistine　Chapel　starting　to　feel　like　a　sauna；　but　conclave　was　scheduled　to　begin　in　twenty　minutes；　and　there　was　still　no　word　on　the　four　missing　cardinals。　In　their　absence；　the　initial　whispers　of　confusion　among　the　other　cardinals　had　turned　to　outspoken　anxiety。
　Mortati　could　not　imagine　where　the　truant　men　could　be。　With　the　camerlegno　perhaps？　He　knew　the　camerlegno　had　held　the　traditional　private　tea　for　the　four　preferiti　earlier　that　afternoon；　but　that　had　been　hours　ago。　Were　they　ill？　Something　they　ate？　Mortati　doubted　it。　Even　on　the　verge　of　death　the　preferiti　would　be　here。　It　was　once　in　a　lifetime；　usually　never；　that　a　cardinal　had　the　chance　to　be　elected　Supreme　Pontiff；　and　by　Vatican　Law　the　cardinal　had　to　be　inside　the　Sistine　Chapel　when　the　vote　took　place。　Otherwise；　he　was　ineligible。　
　Although　there　were　four　preferiti；　few　cardinals　had　any　doubt　who　the　next　Pope　would　be。　The　past　fifteen　days　had　seen　a　blizzard　of　faxes　and　phone　calls　discussing　potential　candidates。　As　was　the　custom；　four　names　had　been　chosen　as　preferiti；　each　of　them　fulfilling　the　unspoken　requisites　for　being　Pope：
　Multilingual　in　Italian；　Spanish；　and　English。　No　skeletons　in　his　closet。　Between　sixty…five　and　eighty　years　old。
　As　usual；　one　of　the　preferiti　had　risen　above　the　others　as　the　man　the　college　proposed　to　elect。　Tonight　that　man　was　Cardinal　Aldo　Baggia　from　Milan。　Baggia's　untainted　record　of　service；　bined　with　unparalleled　language　skills　and　the　ability　to　municate　the　essence　of　spirituality；　had　made　him　the　clear　favorite。　
　So　where　the　devil　is　he？　Mortati　wondered。
　Mortati　was　particularly　unnerved　by　the　missing　cardinals　because　the　task　of　supervising　this　conclave　had　fallen　to　him。　A　week　ago；　the　College　of　Cardinals　had　unanimously　chosen　Mortati　for　the　office　known　as　The　Great　Elector…the　conclave's　internal　master　of　ceremonies。　Even　though　the　camerlegno　was　the　church's　ranking　official；　the　camerlegno　was　only　a　priest　and　had　little　familiarity　with　the　plex　election　process；　so　one　cardinal　was　selected　to　oversee　the　ceremony　from　within　the　Sistine　Chapel。
　Cardinals　often　joked　that　being　appointed　The　Great　Elector　was　the　cruelest　honor　in　Christendom。　The　appointment　made　one　ineligible　as　a　candidate　during　the　election；　and　it　also　required　one　spend　many　days　prior　to　conclave　poring　over　the　pages　of　the　Universi　Dominici　Gregis　reviewing　the　subtleties　of　conclave's　arcane　rituals　to　ensure　the　election　was　properly　administered。　
　Mortati　held　no　grudge；　though。　He　knew　he　was　the　logical　choice。　Not　only　was　he　the　senior　cardinal；　but　he　had　also　been　a　confidant　of　the　late　Pope；　a　fact　that　elevated　his　esteem。　Although　Mortati　was　technically　still　within　the　legal　age　window　for　election；　he　was　getting　a　bit　old　to　be　a　serious　candidate。　At　seventy…nine　years　old　he　had　crossed　the　unspoken　threshold　beyond　which　the　college　no　longer　trusted　one's　health　to　withstand　the　rigorous　schedule　of　the　papacy。　A　Pope　usually　worked　fourteen…hour　days；　seven　days　a　week；　and　died　of　exhaustion　in　an　average　of　6。3　years。　The　inside　joke　was　that　accepting　the　papacy　was　a　cardinal's　〃fastest　route　to　heaven。〃
　Mortati；　many　believed；　could　have　been　Pope　in　his　younger　days　had　he　not　been　so　broad…minded。　When　it　came　to　pursuing　the　papacy；　there　was　a　Holy　Trinity…Conservative。　Conservative。　Conservative。
　Mortati　had　always　found　it　pleasantly　ironic　that　the　late　Pope；　God　rest　his　soul；　had　revealed　himself　as　surprisingly　liberal　once　he　had　taken　office。　Perhaps　sensing　the　modern　world　progressing　away　from　the　church；　the　Pope　had　made　overtures；　softening　the　church's　position　on　the　sciences；　even　donating　money　to　selective　scientific　causes。　Sadly；　it　had　been　political　suicide。　Conservative　Catholics　declared　the　Pope　〃senile；〃　while　scientific　purists　accused　him　of　trying　to　spread　the　church's　influence　where　it　did　not　belong。
　〃So　where　are　they？〃　
　Mortati　turned。
　One　of　the　cardinals　was　tapping　him　nervously　on　the　shoulder。　〃You　know　where　they　are；　don't　you？〃　
　Mortati　tried　not　to　show　too　much　concern。　〃Perhaps　still　with　the　camerlegno。〃
　〃At　this　hour？　That　would　be　highly　unorthodox！〃　The　cardinal　frowned　mistrustingly。　〃Perhaps　the　camerlegno　lost　track　of　time？〃
　Mortati　sincerely　doubted　it；　but　he　said　nothing。　He　was　well　aware　that　most　cardinals　did　not　much　care　for　the　camerlegno；　feeling　he　was　too　young　to　serve　the　Pope　so　closely。　Mortati　suspected　much　of　the　cardinals'　dislike　was　jealousy；　and　Mortati　actually　admired　the　young　man；　secretly　applauding　the　late　Pope's　selection　for　chamberlain。　Mortati　saw　only　conviction　when　he　looked　in　the　camerlegno's　eyes；　and　unlike　many　of　the　cardinals；　the　camerlegno　put　church　and　faith　before　petty　politics。　He　was　truly　a　man　of　God。　
　Throughout　his　tenure；　the　camerlegno's　steadfast　devotion　had　bee　legendary。　Many　attributed　it　to　the　miraculous　event　in　his　childhood　。　。　。　an　event　that　would　have　left　a　permanent　impression　on　any　man's　heart。　The　miracle　and　wonder　of　it；　Mortati　thought；　often　wishing　his　own　childhood　had　presented　an　event　that　fostered　that　kind　of　doubtless　faith。　
　Unfortunately　for　the　church；　Mortati　knew；　the　camerlegno　would　never　bee　Pope　in　his　elder　years。　Attaining　the　papacy　required　a　certain　amount　of　political　ambition；　something　the　young　camerlegno　apparently　lacked；　he　had　refused　his　Pope's　offers　for　higher　clerical　stations　many　times；　saying　he　preferred　to　serve　the　church　as　a　simple　man。
　〃What　next？〃　The　cardinal　tapped　Mortati；　waiting。　
　Mortati　looked　up。　〃I'm　sorry？〃
　〃They're　late！　What　shall　we　do！〃
　〃What　can　we　do？〃　Mortati　replied。　〃We　wait。　And　have　faith。〃
　Looking　entirely　unsatisfied　with　Mortati's　response；　the　cardinal　shrunk　back　into　the　shadows。
　Mortati　stood　a　moment；　dabbing　his　temples　and　trying　to　clear　his　mind。　Indeed；　what　shall　we　do？　He　gazed　past　the　altar　up　to　Michelangelo's　renowned　fresco；　〃The　Last　Judgment。〃　The　painting　did　nothing　to　soothe　his　anxiety。　It　was　a　horrifying；　fifty…foot…tall　depiction　of　Jesus　Christ　separating　mankind　into　the　righteous　and　sinners；　casting　the　sinners　into　hell。　There　was　flayed　flesh；　burning　bodies；　and　even　one　of　Michelangelo's　rivals　sitting　in　hell　wearing　ass's　ears。　Guy　de　Maupassant　had　once　written　that　the　painting　looked　like　something　painted　for　a　carnival　wrestling　booth　by　an　ignorant　coal　heaver。　
　Cardinal　Mortati　had　to　agree。
　
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　Langdon　stood　motionless　at　the　Pope's　bulletproof　window　and　gazed　down　at　the　bustle　of　media　trailers　in　St。　Peter's　Square。　The　eerie　phone　conversation　had　left　him　feeling　turgid　。　。　。　distended　somehow。　Not　himself。
　The　Illuminati；　like　a　serpent　from　the　forgotten　depths　of　history；　had　risen　and　wrapped　themselves　around　an　ancient　foe。　No　demands。　No　negotiation。　Just　retribution。　Demonicall