Читаем Angels & Demons полностью

Vittoria turned away. Everything was happening so fast. Outside the window, in the settling dark, the raw magnetism of human tragedy seemed to be sucking people toward Vatican City. The crowd in the square thickened almost by the instant. Pedestrians streamed toward them while a new batch of media personnel unloaded vans and staked their claim in St. Peter’s Square.

Olivetti set down the remote control and turned to the camerlegno. "Signore, I cannot imagine how this could happen. We took the tape that was in that camera!"

The camerlegno looked momentarily too stunned to speak.

Nobody said a word. The Swiss Guards stood rigid at attention.

"It appears," the camerlegno said finally, sounding too devastated to be angry, "that we have not contained this crisis as well as I was led to believe." He looked out the window at the gathering masses. "I need to make an address."

Olivetti shook his head. "No, signore. That is exactly what the Illuminati want you to do—confirm them, empower them. We must remain silent."

"And these people?" The camerlegno pointed out the window. "There will be tens of thousands shortly. Then hundreds of thousands. Continuing this charade only puts them in danger. I need to warn them. Then we need to evacuate our College of Cardinals."

"There is still time. Let Captain Rocher find the antimatter."

The camerlegno turned. "Are you attempting to give me an order?"

"No, I am giving you advice. If you are concerned about the people outside, we can announce a gas leak and clear the area, but admitting we are hostage is dangerous."

"Commander, I will only say this once. I will not use this office as a pulpit to lie to the world. If I announce anything at all, it will be the truth."

"The truth? That Vatican City is threatened to be destroyed by satanic terrorists? It only weakens our position."

The camerlegno glared. "How much weaker could our position be?"

Rocher shouted suddenly, grabbing the remote and increasing the volume on the television. Everyone turned.

On air, the woman from MSNBC now looked genuinely unnerved. Superimposed beside her was a photo of the late Pope. "… breaking information. This just in from the BBC…" She glanced off camera as if to confirm she was really supposed to make this announcement. Apparently getting confirmation, she turned and grimly faced the viewers. "The Illuminati have just claimed responsibility for…" She hesitated. "They have claimed responsibility for the death of the Pope fifteen days ago."

The camerlegno’s jaw fell.

Rocher dropped the remote control.

Vittoria could barely process the information.

"By Vatican law," the woman continued, "no formal autopsy is ever performed on a Pope, so the Illuminati claim of murder cannot be confirmed. Nonetheless, the Illuminati hold that the cause of the late Pope’s death was not a stroke as the Vatican reported, but poisoning."

The room went totally silent again.

Olivetti erupted. "Madness! A bold-faced lie!"

Rocher began flipping channels again. The bulletin seemed to spread like a plague from station to station. Everyone had the same story. Headlines competed for optimal sensationalism.

Murder at the Vatican

Pope Poisoned

Satan Touches House of God

The camerlegno looked away. "God help us."

As Rocher flipped, he passed a BBC station. "—tipped me off about the killing at Santa Maria de Popolo—"

"Wait!" the camerlegno said. "Back."

Rocher went back. On screen, a prim-looking man sat at a BBC news desk. Superimposed over his shoulder was a still snapshot of an odd-looking man with a red beard. Underneath his photo, it said:

Gunther Glick—Live in Vatican City

Reporter Glick was apparently reporting by phone, the connection scratchy. "… my videographer got the footage of the cardinal being removed from the Chigi Chapel."

"Let me reiterate for our viewers," the anchorman in London was saying, "BBC reporter Gunther Glick is the man who first broke this story. He has been in phone contact twice now with the alleged Illuminati assassin. Gunther, you say the assassin phoned only moments ago to pass along a message from the Illuminati?"

"He did."

"And their message was that the Illuminati were somehow responsible for the Pope’s death?" The anchorman sounded incredulous.

"Correct. The caller told me that the Pope’s death was not a stroke, as the Vatican had thought, but rather that the Pope had been poisoned by the Illuminati."

Everyone in the Pope’s office froze.

"Poisoned?" the anchorman demanded. "But… but how!"

"They gave no specifics," Glick replied, "except to say that they killed him with a drug known as…"—there was a rustling of papers on the line—"something known as Heparin."

The camerlegno, Olivetti, and Rocher all exchanged confused looks.

"Heparin?" Rocher demanded, looking unnerved. "But isn’t that…?"

The camerlegno blanched. "The Pope’s medication."

Vittoria was stunned. "The Pope was on Heparin?"

"He had thrombophlebitis," the camerlegno said. "He took an injection once a day."