"I don’t know," Langdon said. "If it’s a work Bernini created specifically for the Illuminati, it may be very obscure. It probably won’t be listed in a book."
Vittoria refused to believe it. "The other two sculptures were fairly well-known. You’d heard of them both."
Langdon shrugged. "Yeah."
"If we scan titles for references to the word ‘fire,’ maybe we’ll find a statue that’s listed as being in the right direction."
Langdon seemed convinced it was worth a shot. He turned to Olivetti. "I need a list of all Bernini’s work. You guys probably don’t have a coffee-table Bernini book around here, do you?"
"Coffee-table book?" Olivetti seemed unfamiliar with the term.
"Never mind. Any list. How about the Vatican Museum? They must have Bernini references."
The guard with the scar frowned. "Power in the museum is out, and the records room is enormous. Without the staff there to help—"
"The Bernini work in question," Olivetti interrupted. "Would it have been created while Bernini was employed here at the Vatican?"
"Almost definitely," Langdon said. "He was here almost his entire career. And certainly during the time period of the Galileo conflict."
Olivetti nodded. "Then there’s another reference."
Vittoria felt a flicker of optimism. "Where?"
The commander did not reply. He took his guard aside and spoke in hushed tones. The guard seemed uncertain but nodded obediently. When Olivetti was finished talking, the guard turned to Langdon.
"This way please, Mr. Langdon. It’s nine-fifteen. We’ll have to hurry."
Langdon and the guard headed for the door.
Vittoria started after them. "I’ll help."
Olivetti caught her by the arm. "No, Ms. Vetra. I need a word with you." His grasp was authoritative.
Langdon and the guard left. Olivetti’s face was wooden as he took Vittoria aside. But whatever it was Olivetti had intended to say to her, he never got the chance. His walkie-talkie crackled loudly. "Commandante?"
Everyone in the room turned.
The voice on the transmitter was grim. "I think you better turn on the television."
80
When Langdon had left the Vatican Secret Archives only two hours ago, he had never imagined he would see them again. Now, winded from having jogged the entire way with his Swiss Guard escort, Langdon found himself back at the archives once again.
His escort, the guard with the scar, now led Langdon through the rows of translucent cubicles. The silence of the archives felt somehow more forbidding now, and Langdon was thankful when the guard broke it.
"Over here, I think," he said, escorting Langdon to the back of the chamber where a series of smaller vaults lined the wall. The guard scanned the titles on the vaults and motioned to one of them. "Yes, here it is. Right where the commander said it would be."
Langdon read the title. Attivi Vaticani. Vatican assets? He scanned the list of contents. Real estate… currency… Vatican Bank… antiquities… The list went on.
"Paperwork of all Vatican assets," the guard said.
Langdon looked at the cubicle. Jesus. Even in the dark, he could tell it was packed.
"My commander said that whatever Bernini created while under Vatican patronage would be listed here as an asset."
Langdon nodded, realizing the commander’s instincts just might pay off. In Bernini’s day, everything an artist created while under the patronage of the Pope became, by law, property of the Vatican. It was more like feudalism than patronage, but top artists lived well and seldom complained. "Including works placed in churches outside Vatican City?"
The soldier gave him an odd look. "Of course. All Catholic churches in Rome are property of the Vatican."
Langdon looked at the list in his hand. It contained the names of the twenty or so churches that were located on a direct line with West Ponente’s breath. The third altar of science was one of them, and Langdon hoped he had time to figure out which it was. Under other circumstances, he would gladly have explored each church in person. Today, however, he had about twenty minutes to find what he was looking for—the one church containing a Bernini tribute to fire.
Langdon walked to the vault’s electronic revolving door. The guard did not follow. Langdon sensed an uncertain hesitation. He smiled. "The air’s fine. Thin, but breathable."
"My orders are to escort you here and then return immediately to the security center."
"You’re leaving?"
"Yes. The Swiss Guard are not allowed inside the archives. I am breaching protocol by escorting you this far. The commander reminded me of that."
"Breaching protocol?" Do you have any idea what is going on here tonight? "Whose side is your damn commander on!"
All friendliness disappeared from the guard’s face. The scar under his eye twitched. The guard stared, looking suddenly a lot like Olivetti himself.
"I apologize," Langdon said, regretting the comment. "It’s just… I could use some help."
The guard did not blink. "I am trained to follow orders. Not debate them. When you find what you are looking for, contact the commander immediately."
Langdon was flustered. "But where will he be?"
The guard removed his walkie-talkie and set it on a nearby table. "Channel one." Then he disappeared into the dark.
81
The television in the Office of the Pope was an oversized Hitachi hidden in a recessed cabinet opposite his desk. The doors to the cabinet were now open, and everyone gathered around. Vittoria moved in close. As the screen warmed up, a young female reporter came into view. She was a doe-eyed brunette.
"For MSNBC news," she announced, "this is Kelly Horan-Jones, live from Vatican City." The image behind her was a night shot of St. Peter’s Basilica with all its lights blazing.
"You’re not live," Rocher snapped. "That’s stock footage! The lights in the basilica are out."
Olivetti silenced him with a hiss.
The reporter continued, sounding tense. "Shocking developments in the Vatican elections this evening. We have reports that two members of the College of Cardinals have been brutally murdered in Rome."
Olivetti swore under his breath.
As the reporter continued, a guard appeared at the door, breathless. "Commander, the central switchboard reports every line lit. They’re requesting our official position on—"
"Disconnect it," Olivetti said, never taking his eyes from the TV.
The guard looked uncertain. "But, commander—"
"Go!"
The guard ran off.
Vittoria sensed the camerlegno had wanted to say something but had stopped himself. Instead, the man stared long and hard at Olivetti before turning back to the television.
MSNBC was now running tape. The Swiss Guards carried the body of Cardinal Ebner down the stairs outside Santa Maria del Popolo and lifted him into an Alpha Romeo. The tape froze and zoomed in as the cardinal’s naked body became visible just before they deposited him in the trunk of the car.
"Who the hell shot this footage?" Olivetti demanded.
The MSNBC reporter kept talking. "This is believed to be the body of Cardinal Ebner of Frankfurt, Germany. The men removing his body from the church are believed to be Vatican Swiss Guard." The reporter looked like she was making every effort to appear appropriately moved. They closed in on her face, and she became even more somber. "At this time, MSNBC would like to issue our viewers a discretionary warning. The images we are about to show are exceptionally vivid and may not be suitable for all audiences."
Vittoria grunted at the station’s feigned concern for viewer sensibility, recognizing the warning as exactly what it was—the ultimate media "teaser line." Nobody ever changed channels after a promise like that.