danbrown.angels&demons-第68部分

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　with　the　camerlegno　present。　It　made　sense　at　the　time。
　Langdon　called　out　again；　making　less　sound　than　the　last　time。　
　Next　he　remembered　the　walkie…talkie　the　guard　had　left　on　the　table　outside　the　vault。　Why　the　hell　didn't　I　bring　it　in！　As　the　purple　stars　began　to　dance　before　his　eyes；　Langdon　forced　himself　to　think。　You've　been　trapped　before；　he　told　himself。　You　survived　worse。　You　were　just　a　kid　and　you　figured　it　out。　The　crushing　darkness　came　flooding　in。　Think！　
　Langdon　lowered　himself　onto　the　floor。　He　rolled　over　on　his　back　and　laid　his　hands　at　his　sides。　The　first　step　was　to　gain　control。
　Relax。　Conserve。
　No　longer　fighting　gravity　to　pump　blood；　Langdon's　heart　began　to　slow。　It　was　a　trick　swimmers　used　to　re…oxygenate　their　blood　between　tightly　scheduled　races。
　There　is　plenty　of　air　in　here；　he　told　himself。　Plenty。　Now　think。　He　waited；　half…expecting　the　lights　to　e　back　on　at　any　moment。　They　did　not。　As　he　lay　there；　able　to　breathe　better　now；　an　eerie　resignation　came　across　him。　He　felt　peaceful。　He　fought　it。
　You　will　move；　damn　it！　But　where　。　。　。　
　On　Langdon's　wrist；　Mickey　Mouse　glowed　happily　as　if　enjoying　the　dark：　9：33　P。M。　Half　an　hour　until　Fire。　Langdon　thought　it　felt　a　whole　hell　of　a　lot　later。　His　mind；　instead　of　ing　up　with　a　plan　for　escape；　was　suddenly　demanding　an　explanation。　Who　turned　off　the　power？　Was　Rocher　expanding　his　search？　Wouldn't　Olivetti　have　warned　Rocher　that　I'm　in　here！　Langdon　knew　at　this　point　it　made　no　difference。　
　Opening　his　mouth　wide　and　tipping　back　his　head；　Langdon　pulled　the　deepest　breaths　he　could　manage。　Each　breath　burned　a　little　less　than　the　last。　His　head　cleared。　He　reeled　his　thoughts　in　and　forced　the　gears　into　motion。
　Glass　walls；　he　told　himself。　But　damn　thick　glass。　
　He　wondered　if　any　of　the　books　in　here　were　stored　in　heavy；　steel；　fireproof　file　cabinets。　Langdon　had　seen　them　from　time　to　time　in　other　archives　but　had　seen　none　here。　Besides；　finding　one　in　the　dark　could　prove　time…consuming。　Not　that　he　could　lift　one　anyway；　particularly　in　his　present　state。
　How　about　the　examination　table？　Langdon　knew　this　vault；　like　the　other；　had　an　examination　table　in　the　center　of　the　stacks。　So　what！　He　knew　he　couldn't　lift　it。　Not　to　mention；　even　if　he　could　drag　it；　he　wouldn't　get　it　far。　The　stacks　were　closely　packed；　the　aisles　between　them　far　too　narrow。
　The　aisles　are　too　narrow　。　。　。　
　Suddenly；　Langdon　knew。　
　With　a　burst　of　confidence；　he　jumped　to　his　feet　far　too　fast。　Swaying　in　the　fog　of　a　head　rush；　he　reached　out　in　the　dark　for　support。　His　hand　found　a　stack。　Waiting　a　moment；　he　forced　himself　to　conserve。　He　would　need　all　of　his　strength　to　do　this。
　Positioning　himself　against　the　book　stack　like　a　football　player　against　a　training　sled；　he　planted　his　feet　and　pushed。　If　I　can　somehow　tip　the　shelf。　But　it　barely　moved。　He　realigned　and　pushed　again。　His　feet　slipped　backward　on　the　floor。　The　stack　creaked　but　did　not　move。　
　He　needed　leverage。
　Finding　the　glass　wall　again；　he　placed　one　hand　on　it　to　guide　him　as　he　raced　in　the　dark　toward　the　far　end　of　the　vault。　The　back　wall　loomed　suddenly；　and　he　collided　with　it；　crushing　his　shoulder。　Cursing；　Langdon　circled　the　shelf　and　grabbed　the　stack　at　about　eye　level。　Then；　propping　one　leg　on　the　glass　behind　him　and　another　on　the　lower　shelves；　he　started　to　climb。　Books　fell　around　him；　fluttering　into　the　darkness。　He　didn't　care。　Instinct　for　survival　had　long　since　overridden　archival　decorum。　He　sensed　his　equilibrium　was　hampered　by　the　total　darkness　and　closed　his　eyes；　coaxing　his　brain　to　ignore　visual　input。　He　moved　faster　now。　The　air　felt　leaner　the　higher　he　went。　He　scrambled　toward　the　upper　shelves；　stepping　on　books；　trying　to　gain　purchase；　heaving　himself　upward。　Then；　like　a　rock　climber　conquering　a　rock　face；　Langdon　grasped　the　top　shelf。　Stretching　his　legs　out　behind　him；　he　walked　his　feet　up　the　glass　wall　until　he　was　almost　horizontal。
　Now　or　never；　Robert；　a　voice　urged。　Just　like　the　leg　press　in　the　Harvard　gym。　
　With　dizzying　exertion；　he　planted　his　feet　against　the　wall　behind　him；　braced　his　arms　and　chest　against　the　stack；　and　pushed。　Nothing　happened。　
　Fighting　for　air；　he　repositioned　and　tried　again；　extending　his　legs。　Ever　so　slightly；　the　stack　moved。　He　pushed　again；　and　the　stack　rocked　forward　an　inch　or　so　and　then　back。　Langdon　took　advantage　of　the　motion；　inhaling　what　felt　like　an　oxygenless　breath　and　heaving　again。　The　shelf　rocked　farther。
　Like　a　swing　set；　he　told　himself。　Keep　the　rhythm。　A　little　more。　
　Langdon　rocked　the　shelf；　extending　his　legs　farther　with　each　push。　His　quadriceps　burned　now；　and　he　blocked　the　pain。　The　pendulum　was　in　motion。　Three　more　pushes；　he　urged　himself。　
　It　only　took　two。
　There　was　an　instant　of　weightless　uncertainty。　Then；　with　a　thundering　of　books　sliding　off　the　shelves；　Langdon　and　the　shelf　were　falling　forward。　
　Halfway　to　the　ground；　the　shelf　hit　the　stack　next　to　it。　Langdon　hung　on；　throwing　his　weight　forward；　urging　the　second　shelf　to　topple。　There　was　a　moment　of　motionless　panic；　and　then；　creaking　under　the　weight；　the　second　stack　began　to　tip。　Langdon　was　falling　again。　
　Like　enormous　dominoes；　the　stacks　began　to　topple；　one　after　another。　Metal　on　metal；　books　tumbling　everywhere。　Langdon　held　on　as　his　inclined　stack　bounced　downward　like　a　ratchet　on　a　jack。　He　wondered　how　many　stacks　there　were　in　all。　How　much　would　they　weigh？　The　glass　at　the　far　end　was　thick　。　。　。　
　Langdon's　stack　had　fallen　almost　to　the　horizontal　when　he　heard　what　he　was　waiting　for…a　different　kind　of　collision。　Far　off。　At　the　end　of　the　vault。　The　sharp　smack　of　metal　on　glass。　The　vault　around　him　shook；　and　Langdon　knew　the　final　stack；　weighted　down　by　the　others；　had　hit　the　glass　hard。　The　sound　that　followed　was　the　most　unwele　sound　Langdon　had　ever　heard。
　Silence。
　There　was　no　crashing　of　glass；　only　the　resounding　thud　as　the　wall　accepted　the　weight　of　the　stacks　now　propped　against　it。　He　lay　wide…eyed　on　the　pile　of　books。　Somewhere　in　the　distance　there　was　a　creaking。　Langdon　would　have　held　his　breath　to　listen；　but　he　had　none　left　to　hold。
　One　second。　Two　。　。　。　
　Then；　as　he　teetered　on　the　brink　of　unconsciousness；　Langdon　heard　a　distant　yielding　。　。　。　a　ripple　spidering　outward　through　the　glass。　Suddenly；　like　a　cannon；　the　glass　exploded。　The　stack　beneath　Langdon　collapsed　to　the　floor。　
　Like　wele　rain　on　a　desert；　shards　of　glass　tinkled　downward　in　the　dark。　With　a　great　sucking　hiss；　the　air　gushed　in。
　
　Thirty　seconds　later；　in　the　Vatican　Grottoes；　Vittoria　was　standing　before　a　corpse　when　the　electronic　squawk　of　a　walkie…talkie　broke　the　silence。　The　voice　blaring　out　sounded　short　of　breath。　〃This　is　Robert　Langdon！　Can　anyone　hear　me？〃
　Vittoria　looked　up。　Robert！　She　could　not　believe　how　much　she　suddenly　wished　he　were　there。　
　The　guards　exchanged　puzzled　looks。　One　took　a　radio　off　his　belt。　〃Mr。　Langdon？　You　are　on　channel　three。　The　mander　is　waiting　to　hear　from　you　on　channel　one。〃
　〃I　know　he's　on　channel　one；　damn　it！　I　don't　want　to　speak　to　him。　I　want　the　camerlegno。　Now！　Somebody　find　him　for　me。〃
　
　In　the　obscurity　of　the　Secret　Archives；　Langdon　stood　amidst　shattered　glass　and　tried　to　catch　his　breath。　He　felt　a　warm　liquid　on　his　left　hand　and　knew　he　was　bleeding。　The　camerlegno's　voice　spoke　at　once；　startling　Langdon。
　〃This　is　Camerlegno　Ventresca。　What's　going　on？〃
　Langdon　pressed　the　button；　his　heart　still　pounding。　〃I　think　somebody　just　tried　to　kill　me！〃
　There　was　a　silence　on　the　line。
　Langdon　tried　to　calm　himself。　〃I　also　know　where　the　next　killing　is　going　to　be。〃
　The　voice　that　came　back　was　not　the　camerlegno's。　It　was　mander　Olivetti's：　〃Mr。　Langdon。　Do　not　speak　another　word。〃
　
　87

　Langdon's　watch；　now　smeared　with　blood；　read　9：41　P。M。　as　he　ran　across　the　Courtyard　of　the　Belvedere　and　approached　the　fountain　outside　the　Swiss　Guard　security　center。　His　hand　had　stopped　bleeding　and　now　felt　worse　than　it　looked。　As　he　arrived；　it　seemed　eve