danbrown.angels&demons-第86部分

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　The　trail　of　blood　curved　up　the　stairs。
　Before　ascending；　Langdon　knew　he　needed　a　weapon；　any　weapon。　He　found　a　four…foot　section　of　iron　bar　near　one　of　the　cells。　It　had　a　sharp；　splintered　end。　Although　absurdly　heavy；　it　was　the　best　he　could　do。　He　hoped　the　element　of　surprise；　bined　with　the　Hassassin's　wound；　would　be　enough　to　tip　the　scales　in　his　advantage。　Most　of　all；　though；　he　hoped　he　was　not　too　late。　
　The　staircase's　spiral　treads　were　worn　and　twisted　steeply　upward。　Langdon　ascended；　listening　for　sounds。　None。　As　he　climbed；　the　light　from　the　prison　area　faded　away。　He　ascended　into　the　total　darkness；　keeping　one　hand　on　the　wall。　Higher。　In　the　blackness；　Langdon　sensed　the　ghost　of　Galileo；　climbing　these　very　stairs；　eager　to　share　his　visions　of　heaven　with　other　men　of　science　and　faith。　
　Langdon　was　still　in　a　state　of　shock　over　the　location　of　the　lair。　The　Illuminati　meeting　hall　was　in　a　building　owned　by　the　Vatican。　No　doubt　while　the　Vatican　guards　were　out　searching　basements　and　homes　of　well…known　scientists；　the　Illuminati　were　meeting　here　。　。　。　right　under　the　Vatican's　nose。　It　suddenly　seemed　so　perfect。　Bernini；　as　head　architect　of　renovations　here；　would　have　had　unlimited　access　to　this　structure　。　。　。　remodeling　it　to　his　own　specifications　with　no　questions　asked。　How　many　secret　entries　had　Bernini　added？　How　many　subtle　embellishments　pointing　the　way？
　The　Church　of　Illumination。　Langdon　knew　he　was　close。
　As　the　stairs　began　narrowing；　Langdon　felt　the　passage　closing　around　him。　The　shadows　of　history　were　whispering　in　the　dark；　but　he　moved　on。　When　he　saw　the　horizontal　shaft　of　light　before　him；　he　realized　he　was　standing　a　few　steps　beneath　a　landing；　where　the　glow　of　torchlight　spilled　out　beneath　the　threshold　of　a　door　in　front　of　him。　Silently　he　moved　up。
　Langdon　had　no　idea　where　in　the　castle　he　was　right　now；　but　he　knew　he　had　climbed　far　enough　to　be　near　the　peak。　He　pictured　the　mammoth　angel　atop　the　castle　and　suspected　it　was　directly　overhead。　
　Watch　over　me；　angel；　he　thought；　gripping　the　bar。　Then；　silently；　he　reached　for　the　door。
　
　On　the　divan；　Vittoria's　arms　ached。　When　she　had　first　awoken　to　find　them　tied　behind　her　back；　she'd　thought　she　might　be　able　to　relax　and　work　her　hands　free。　But　time　had　run　out。　The　beast　had　returned。　Now　he　was　standing　over　her；　his　chest　bare　and　powerful；　scarred　from　battles　he　had　endured。　His　eyes　looked　like　two　black　slits　as　he　stared　down　at　her　body。　Vittoria　sensed　he　was　imagining　the　deeds　he　was　about　to　perform。　Slowly；　as　if　to　taunt　her；　the　Hassassin　removed　his　soaking　belt　and　dropped　it　on　the　floor。
　Vittoria　felt　a　loathing　horror。　She　closed　her　eyes。　When　she　opened　them　again；　the　Hassassin　had　produced　a　switchblade　knife。　He　snapped　it　open　directly　in　front　of　her　face。
　Vittoria　saw　her　own　terrified　reflection　in　the　steel。
　The　Hassassin　turned　the　blade　over　and　ran　the　back　of　it　across　her　belly。　The　icy　metal　gave　her　chills。　With　a　contemptuous　stare；　he　slipped　the　blade　below　the　waistline　of　her　shorts。　She　inhaled。　He　moved　back　and　forth；　slowly；　dangerously　。　。　。　lower。　Then　he　leaned　forward；　his　hot　breath　whispering　in　her　ear。　
　〃This　blade　cut　out　your　father's　eye。〃
　Vittoria　knew　in　that　instant　that　she　was　capable　of　killing。
　The　Hassassin　turned　the　blade　again　and　began　sawing　upward　through　the　fabric　of　her　khaki　shorts。　Suddenly；　he　stopped；　looking　up。　Someone　was　in　the　room。
　〃Get　away　from　her；〃　a　deep　voice　growled　from　the　doorway。
　Vittoria　could　not　see　who　had　spoken；　but　she　recognized　the　voice。　Robert！　He's　alive！　
　The　Hassassin　looked　as　if　he　had　seen　a　ghost。　〃Mr。　Langdon；　you　must　have　a　guardian　angel。〃
　
　108

　In　the　split　second　it　took　Langdon　to　take　in　his　surroundings；　he　realized　he　was　in　a　sacred　place。　The　embellishments　in　the　oblong　room；　though　old　and　faded；　were　replete　with　familiar　symbology。　Pentagram　tiles。　Planet　frescoes。　Doves。　Pyramids。
　The　Church　of　Illumination。　Simple　and　pure。　He　had　arrived。
　Directly　in　front　of　him；　framed　in　the　opening　of　the　balcony；　stood　the　Hassassin。　He　was　bare　chested；　standing　over　Vittoria；　who　lay　bound　but　very　much　alive。　Langdon　felt　a　wave　of　relief　to　see　her。　For　an　instant；　their　eyes　met；　and　a　torrent　of　emotions　flowed…gratitude；　desperation；　and　regret。
　〃So　we　meet　yet　again；〃　the　Hassassin　said。　He　looked　at　the　bar　in　Langdon's　hand　and　laughed　out　loud。　〃And　this　time　you　e　for　me　with　that？〃
　〃Untie　her。〃
　The　Hassassin　put　the　knife　to　Vittoria's　throat。　〃I　will　kill　her。〃
　Langdon　had　no　doubt　the　Hassassin　was　capable　of　such　an　act。　He　forced　a　calm　into　his　voice。　〃I　imagine　she　would　wele　it　。　。　。　considering　the　alternative。〃
　The　Hassassin　smiled　at　the　insult。　〃You're　right。　She　has　much　to　offer。　It　would　be　a　waste。〃
　Langdon　stepped　forward；　grasping　the　rusted　bar；　and　aimed　the　splintered　end　directly　at　the　Hassassin。　The　cut　on　his　hand　bit　sharply。　〃Let　her　go。〃
　The　Hassassin　seemed　for　a　moment　to　be　considering　it。　Exhaling；　he　dropped　his　shoulders。　It　was　a　clear　motion　of　surrender；　and　yet　at　that　exact　instant　the　Hassassin's　arm　seemed　to　accelerate　unexpectedly。　There　was　a　blur　of　dark　muscle；　and　a　blade　suddenly　came　tearing　through　the　air　toward　Langdon's　chest。
　Whether　it　was　instinct　or　exhaustion　that　buckled　Langdon's　knees　at　that　moment；　he　didn't　know；　but　the　knife　sailed　past　his　left　ear　and　clattered　to　the　floor　behind　him。　The　Hassassin　seemed　unfazed。　He　smiled　at　Langdon；　who　was　kneeling　now；　holding　the　metal　bar。　The　killer　stepped　away　from　Vittoria　and　moved　toward　Langdon　like　a　stalking　lion。
　As　Langdon　scrambled　to　his　feet；　lifting　the　bar　again；　his　wet　turtleneck　and　pants　felt　suddenly　more　restrictive。　The　Hassassin；　half…clothed；　seemed　to　move　much　faster；　the　wound　on　his　foot　apparently　not　slowing　him　at　all。　Langdon　sensed　this　was　a　man　accustomed　to　pain。　For　the　first　time　in　his　life；　Langdon　wished　he　were　holding　a　very　big　gun。
　The　Hassassin　circled　slowly；　as　if　enjoying　himself；　always　just　out　of　reach；　moving　toward　the　knife　on　the　floor。　Langdon　cut　him　off。　Then　the　killer　moved　back　toward　Vittoria。　Again　Langdon　cut　him　off。
　〃There's　still　time；〃　Langdon　ventured。　〃Tell　me　where　the　canister　is。　The　Vatican　will　pay　more　than　the　Illuminati　ever　could。〃
　〃You　are　naпve。〃
　Langdon　jabbed　with　the　bar。　The　Hassassin　dodged。　He　navigated　around　a　bench；　holding　the　weapon　in　front　of　him；　trying　to　corner　the　Hassassin　in　the　oval　room。　This　damn　room　has　no　corners！　Oddly；　the　Hassassin　did　not　seem　interested　in　attacking　or　fleeing。　He　was　simply　playing　Langdon's　game。　Coolly　waiting。
　Waiting　for　what？　The　killer　kept　circling；　a　master　at　positioning　himself。　It　was　like　an　endless　game　of　chess。　The　weapon　in　Langdon's　hand　was　getting　heavy；　and　he　suddenly　sensed　he　knew　what　the　Hassassin　was　waiting　for。　He's　tiring　me　out。　It　was　working；　too。　Langdon　was　hit　by　a　surge　of　weariness；　the　adrenaline　alone　no　longer　enough　to　keep　him　alert。　He　knew　he　had　to　make　a　move。
　The　Hassassin　seemed　to　read　Langdon's　mind；　shifting　again；　as　if　intentionally　leading　Langdon　toward　a　table　in　the　middle　of　the　room。　Langdon　could　tell　there　was　something　on　the　table。　Something　glinted　in　the　torchlight。　A　weapon？　Langdon　kept　his　eyes　focused　on　the　Hassassin　and　maneuvered　himself　closer　to　the　table。　When　the　Hassassin　cast　a　long；　guileless　glance　at　the　table；　Langdon　tried　to　fight　the　obvious　bait。　But　instinct　overruled。　He　stole　a　glance。　The　damage　was　done。　
　It　was　not　a　weapon　at　all。　The　sight　momentarily　riveted　him。
　On　the　table　lay　a　rudimentary　copper　chest；　crusted　with　ancient　patina。　The　chest　was　a　pentagon。　The　lid　lay　open。　Arranged　inside　in　five　padded　partments　were　five　brands。　The　brands　were　forged　of　iron…large　embossing　tools　with　stout　handles　of　wood。　Langdon　had　no　doubt　what　they　said。
　ILLUMINATI；　EARTH；　AIR；　FIRE；　WATER。
　Langdon　snapped　his　head　back　up；　fearing　the　Hassassin　would　lunge。　He　did　not。　The　killer　was　waiting；　almost　as　if　he　were