danbrown.angels&demons-第67部分

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　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。　The　camerlegno　continued　assuredly　and　stopped　before　a　marble　tomb　that　seemed　to　glisten　brighter　than　the　others。　Lying　atop　was　a　carved　figure　of　the　late　Pope。　When　Vittoria　recognized　his　face　from　television；　a　shot　of　fear　gripped　her。　What　are　we　doing？　
　〃I　realize　we　do　not　have　much　time；〃　the　camerlegno　said。　〃I　still　ask　we　take　a　moment　of　prayer。〃
　The　Swiss　Guard　all　bowed　their　heads　where　they　were　standing。　Vittoria　followed　suit；　her　heart　pounding　in　the　silence。　The　camerlegno　knelt　before　the　tomb　and　prayed　in　Italian。　As　Vittoria　listened　to　his　words；　an　unexpected　grief　surfaced　as　tears　。　。　。　tears　for　her　own　mentor　。　。　。　her　own　holy　father。　The　camerlegno's　words　seemed　as　appropriate　for　her　father　as　they　did　for　the　Pope。
　〃Supreme　father；　counselor；　friend。〃　The　camerlegno's　voice　echoed　dully　around　the　ring。　〃You　told　me　when　I　was　young　that　the　voice　in　my　heart　was　that　of　God。　You　told　me　I　must　follow　it　no　matter　what　painful　places　it　leads。　I　hear　that　voice　now；　asking　of　me　impossible　tasks。　Give　me　strength。　Bestow　on　me　forgiveness。　What　I　do　。　。　。　I　do　in　the　name　of　everything　you　believe。　Amen。〃
　〃Amen；〃　the　guards　whispered。
　Amen；　Father。　Vittoria　wiped　her　eyes。
　The　camerlegno　stood　slowly　and　stepped　away　from　the　tomb。　〃Push　the　covering　aside。〃
　The　Swiss　Guards　hesitated。　〃Signore；〃　one　said；　〃by　law　we　are　at　your　mand。〃　He　paused。　〃We　will　do　as　you　say　。　。　。〃
　The　camerlegno　seemed　to　read　the　young　man's　mind。　〃Someday　I　will　ask　your　forgiveness　for　placing　you　in　this　position。　Today　I　ask　for　your　obedience。　Vatican　laws　are　established　to　protect　this　church。　It　is　in　that　very　spirit　that　I　mand　you　to　break　them　now。〃　
　There　was　a　moment　of　silence　and　then　the　lead　guard　gave　the　order。　The　three　men　set　down　their　flashlights　on　the　floor；　and　their　shadows　leapt　overhead。　Lit　now　from　beneath；　the　men　advanced　toward　the　tomb。　Bracing　their　hands　against　the　marble　covering　near　the　head　of　the　tomb；　they　planted　their　feet　and　prepared　to　push。　On　signal；　they　all　thrust；　straining　against　the　enormous　slab。　When　the　lid　did　not　move　at　all；　Vittoria　found　herself　almost　hoping　it　was　too　heavy。　She　was　suddenly　fearful　of　what　they　would　find　inside。　
　The　men　pushed　harder；　and　still　the　stone　did　not　move。　
　〃Ancora；〃　the　camerlegno　said；　rolling　up　the　sleeves　of　his　cassock　and　preparing　to　push　along　with　them。　〃Ora！〃　Everyone　heaved。
　Vittoria　was　about　to　offer　her　own　help；　but　just　then；　the　lid　began　to　slide。　The　men　dug　in　again；　and　with　an　almost　primal　growl　of　stone　on　stone；　the　lid　rotated　off　the　top　of　the　tomb　and　came　to　rest　at　an　angle…the　Pope's　carved　head　now　pushed　back　into　the　niche　and　his　feet　extended　out　into　the　hallway。　
　Everyone　stepped　back。
　Tentatively；　a　guard　bent　and　retrieved　his　flashlight。　Then　he　aimed　it　into　the　tomb。　The　beam　seemed　to　tremble　a　moment；　and　then　the　guard　held　it　steady。　The　other　guards　gathered　one　by　one。　Even　in　the　darkness　Vittoria　sensed　them　recoil。　In　succession；　they　crossed　themselves。　
　The　camerlegno　shuddered　when　he　looked　into　the　tomb；　his　shoulders　dropping　like　weights。　He　stood　a　long　moment　before　turning　away。
　Vittoria　had　feared　the　corpse's　mouth　might　be　clenched　tight　with　rigor　mortis　and　that　she　would　have　to　suggest　breaking　the　jaw　to　see　the　tongue。　She　now　saw　it　would　be　unnecessary。　The　cheeks　had　collapsed；　and　the　Pope's　mouth　gaped　wide。　
　His　tongue　was　black　as　death。
　
　86

　No　light。　No　sound。
　The　Secret　Archives　were　black。
　Fear；　Langdon　now　realized；　was　an　intense　motivator。　Short　of　breath；　he　fumbled　through　the　blackness　toward　the　revolving　door。　He　found　the　button　on　the　wall　and　rammed　his　palm　against　it。　Nothing　happened。　He　tried　again。　The　door　was　dead。　
　Spinning　blind；　he　called　out；　but　his　voice　emerged　strangled。　The　peril　of　his　predicament　suddenly　closed　in　around　him。　His　lungs　strained　for　oxygen　as　the　adrenaline　doubled　his　heart　rate。　He　felt　like　someone　had　just　punched　him　in　the　gut。
　When　he　threw　his　weight　into　the　door；　for　an　instant　he　thought　he　felt　the　door　start　to　turn。　He　pushed　again；　seeing　stars。　Now　he　realized　it　was　the　entire　room　turning；　not　the　door。　Staggering　away；　Langdon　tripped　over　the　base　of　a　rolling　ladder　and　fell　hard。　He　tore　his　knee　against　the　edge　of　a　book　stack。　Swearing；　he　got　up　and　groped　for　the　ladder。　
　He　found　it。　He　had　hoped　it　would　be　heavy　wood　or　iron；　but　it　was　aluminum。　He　grabbed　the　ladder　and　held　it　like　a　battering　ram。　Then　he　ran　through　the　dark　at　the　glass　wall。　It　was　closer　than　he　thought。　The　ladder　hit　head…on；　bouncing　off。　From　the　feeble　sound　of　the　collision；　Langdon　knew　he　was　going　to　need　a　hell　of　a　lot　more　than　an　aluminum　ladder　to　break　this　glass。
　When　he　flashed　on　the　semiautomatic；　his　hopes　surged　and　then　instantly　fell。　The　weapon　was　gone。　Olivetti　had　relieved　him　of　it　in　the　Pope's　office；　saying　he　did　not　want　loaded　weapons　around　with　the　camerlegno　present。　It　made　sense　at　the　time。
　Langdon　called　out　again；　making　less　so