Langdon dropped to his knees。 Vittoria arrived beside him。 A crowd was gathering。
Vittoria put her fingers on the man's throat from behind。 〃There's a pulse；〃 she declared。 〃Roll him。〃
Langdon was already in motion。 Grasping the man's shoulders； he rolled the body。 As he did； the loose rags seemed to slough away like dead flesh。 The man flopped limp onto his back。 Dead center of his naked chest was a wide area of charred flesh。
Vittoria gasped and pulled back。
Langdon felt paralyzed； pinned somewhere between nausea and awe。 The symbol had a terrifying simplicity to it。
〃Air；〃 Vittoria choked。 〃It's 。 。 。 him。〃
Swiss Guards appeared from out of nowhere； shouting orders； racing after an unseen assassin。
Nearby； a tourist explained that only minutes ago； a dark…skinned man had been kind enough to help this poor； wheezing； homeless man across the square 。 。 。 even sitting a moment on the stairs with the invalid before disappearing back into the crowd。
Vittoria ripped the rest of the rags off the man's abdomen。 He had two deep puncture wounds； one on either side of the brand； just below his rib cage。 She cocked the man's head back and began to administer mouth to mouth。 Langdon was not prepared for what happened next。 As Vittoria blew； the wounds on either side of the man's midsection hissed and sprayed blood into the air like blowholes on a whale。 The salty liquid hit Langdon in the face。
Vittoria stopped short； looking horrified。 〃His lungs 。 。 。〃 she stammered。 〃They're 。 。 。 punctured。〃
Langdon wiped his eyes as he looked down at the two perforations。 The holes gurgled。 The cardinal's lungs were destroyed。 He was gone。
Vittoria covered the body as the Swiss Guards moved in。
Langdon stood； disoriented。 As he did； he saw her。 The woman who had been following them earlier was crouched nearby。 Her BBC video camera was shouldered； aimed； and running。 She and Langdon locked eyes； and he knew she'd gotten it all。 Then； like a cat； she bolted。
76
Chinita Macri was on the run。 She had the story of her life。
Her video camera felt like an anchor as she lumbered across St。 Peter's Square； pushing through the gathering crowd。 Everyone seemed to be moving in the opposite direction than her 。 。 。 toward the motion。 Macri was trying to get as far away as possible。 The man in the tweed jacket had seen her； and now she sensed others were after her； men she could not see； closing in from all sides。
Macri was still aghast from the images she had just recorded。 She wondered if the dead man was really who she feared he was。 Glick's mysterious phone contact suddenly seemed a little less crazy。
As she hurried in the direction of the BBC van； a young man with a decidedly militaristic air emerged from the crowd before her。 Their eyes met； and they both stopped。 Like lightning； he raised a walkie…talkie and spoke into it。 Then he moved toward her。 Macri wheeled and doubled back into the crowd； her heart pounding。
As she stumbled through the mass of arms and legs； she removed the spent video cassette from her camera。 Cellulose gold； she thought； tucking the tape under her belt flush to her backside and letting her coat tails cover it。 For once she was glad she carried some extra weight。 Glick； where the hell are you！
Another soldier appeared to her left； closing in。 Macri knew she had little time。 She banked into the crowd again。 Yanking a blank cartridge from her case； she slapped it into the camera。 Then she prayed。
She was thirty yards from the BBC van when the two men materialized directly in front of her； arms folded。 She was going nowhere。
〃Film；〃 one snapped。 〃Now。〃
Macri recoiled； wrapping her arms protectively around her camera。 〃No chance。〃
One of the men pulled aside his jacket； revealing a sidearm。
〃So shoot me；〃 Macri said； amazed by the boldness of her voice。
〃Film；〃 the first one repeated。
Where the devil is Glick？ Macri stamped her foot and yelled as loudly as possible； 〃I am a professional videographer with the BBC！ By Article 12 of the Free Press Act； this film is property of the British Broadcast Corporation！〃
The men did not flinch。 The one with the gun took a step toward her。 〃I am a lieutenant with the Swiss Guard； and by the Holy Doctrine governing the property on which you are now standing； you are subject to search and seizure。〃
A crowd had started to gather now around them。
Macri yelled； 〃I will not under any circumstances give you the film in this camera without speaking to my editor in London。 I suggest you…〃
The guards ended it。 One yanked the camera out of her hands。 The other forcibly grabbed her by the arm and twisted her in the direction of the Vatican。 〃Grazie；〃 he said； leading her through a jostling crowd。
Macri prayed they would not search her and find the tape。 If she could somehow protect the film long enough to…
Suddenly； the unthinkable happened。 Someone in the crowd was groping under her coat。 Macri felt the video yanked away from her。 She wheeled； but swallowed her words。 Behind her； a breathless Gunther Glick gave her a wink and dissolved back into the crowd。
77
Robert Langdon staggered into the private bathroom adjoining the Office of the Pope。 He dabbed the blood from his face and lips。 The blood was not his own。 It was that of Cardinal Lamassй； who had just died horribly in the crowded square outside the Vatican。 Virgin sacrifices on the altars of science。 So far； the Hassassin had made good on his threat。
Langdon felt powerless as he gazed into the mirror。 His eyes were drawn； and stubble had begun to darken his cheeks。 The room around him was immaculate and lavish…black marble with gold fixtures； cotton towels； and scented hand soaps。
Langdon tried to rid his mind of the bloody brand he had just seen。 Air。 The image stuck。 He had witnessed three ambigrams since waking up this morning 。 。 。 and he knew there were two more ing。
Outside the door； it sounded as if Olivetti； the camerlegno； and Captain Rocher were debating what to do next。 Apparently； the antimatter search had turned up nothing so far。 Either the guards had missed the canister； or the intruder had gotten deeper inside the Vatican than mander Olivetti had been willing to entertain。
Langdon dried his hands and face。 Then he turned and looked for a urinal。 No urinal。 Just a bowl。 He lifted the lid。
As he stood there； tension ebbing from his body； a giddy wave of exhaustion shuddered through his core。 The emotions knotting his chest were so many； so incongruous。 He was fatigued； running on no food or sleep； walking the Path of Illumination； traumatized by two brutal murders。 Langdon felt a deepening horror over the possible oute of this drama。
Think； he told himself。 His mind was blank。
As he flushed； an unexpected realization hit him。 This is the Pope's toilet； he thought。 I just took a leak in the Pope's toilet。 He had to chuckle。 The Holy Throne。
78
In London； a BBC technician ejected a video cassette from a satellite receiver unit and dashed across the control room floor。 She burst into the office of the editor…in…chief； slammed the video into his VCR； and pressed play。
As the tape rolled； she told him about the conversation she had just had with Gunther Glick in Vatican City。 In addition； BBC photo archives had just given her a positive ID on the victim in St。 Peter's Square。
When the editor…in…chief emerged from his office； he was ringing a cowbell。 Everything in editorial stopped。
〃Live in five！〃 the man boomed。 〃On…air talent to prep！ Media coordinators； I want your contacts on line！ We've got a story we're selling！ And we've got film！〃
The market coordinators grabbed their Rolodexes。
〃Film specs！〃 one of them yelled。
〃Thirty…second trim；〃 the chief replied。
〃Content？〃
〃Live homicide。〃
The coordinators looked encouraged。 〃Usage and licensing price？〃
〃A million U。S。 per。〃
Heads shot up。 〃What！〃
〃You heard me！ I want top of the food chain。 CNN； MSNBC； then the big three！ Offer a dial…in preview。 Give them five minutes to piggyback before BBC runs it。〃
〃What the hell happened？〃 someone demanded。 〃The prime minister get skinned alive？〃