INT VATICAN ARCHIVES NIGHTCLOSE ON the Bernini ledger, which Langdon is now almost halfway
through. He tiyrns a page, scans the list of items written
there, then moves on to the next.
He blinks, his vision blurring again. He looks over at Chartrand,
who's suffering even worse, panting for air, hands on his knees.
LANGDON
You don't smoke, do you?
CHARTRAND
(yes, a lot)
A little bit.
LANGDON
Sit down before you fall down.
66.
Chartrand half-stumbles into a chair on the opposite side of the
table. Langdon goes back to what he was doing, flipping a page--
--- and then immediately flipping it back.
There is a hand-written notation alongside one of the entries.
LANGDON (cont'd)
My Italian's no good, what does this
note say? Next to the entry for The
Ecstasy of St. Teresa?
Chartrand leans over the ledger, squinting hard, trying to focus.
CHARTRAND
"Moved at suggestion of the artist."
LANGDON
Moved to another church? At
Bernini"s suggestion?
Chartrand, really suffering for air, can't follow it.
CHARTRAND
I don't know.
Langdon flips the page back, to a photograph of the sculpture in
question.
THE STATUE
is of a woman, seemingly in the throes of ecstasy, while an angel
hovering over her holds a spear aloft.
Langdon raises an eyebrow.
The word "Seraphim" jumps up from the page, words in quotes after
it -- "Seraphim, meaning 'the fiery one...'"
LANGDON
Fire.
More words pop out at us -- "His great golden spear... filled with
fire..."
LANGDON (cont'd)
Fire.
Still more -- "woman inflamed by passion's fire..."
And now a close-up of her enraptured face.
67.
LANGDON
Fire.
And now three things happen in quick succession:
-- Langdon SLAMS the ledger shut,
-- the ribbons on the air vent fall as the oxygen into the vault is
cut off, and
-- one by one, ALL THE LIGHTS IN THE ARCHIVES GO OUT.
Total silence for a moment.
Langdon and Chartrand look at each other in the darkness.
LANGDON (cont'd)
The door -- ?
CHARTRAND
Electronic.
LANGDON
That's too bad.
CUT TO:
INT ST. PETER'S BASILICA NIGHT
The Camerlengo, flanked by two Swiss Guardsmen, escorts Vittoria
rapidly across the deserted floor of St. Peter's Basilica.
VITTORIA
Where are we going?
CAMERLENGO
To see my father.
VITTORIA
I don't understand.
They circle past a pillar and she sees an orange glow up ahead,
seeming to emanate from beneath the floor in the center of the
basilica.
CAMERLENGO
I was orphaned when I was nine years
old. A bombing in Madrid -- Basque
separatists protesting the visit of a
Catholic archbishop.
As they draw closer, she sees it's the entrance to a sumptuous
underground chamber, surrounded by scores of glowing oil lamps.
68.
CAMERLENGO (cont'd)
The archbishop felt responsible, and
he adopted me the following day. I
was raised by him, and by the church.
The Camerlengo starts down a winding stairway, rimmed by the
lamps,
ON THE STAIRCASE,
they descend, lit by the spectral glow of the oil lamps.
CAMERLENGO (cont'd)
He was the wisest man I ever met, even
with my youthful foolishness. He
always saw the middle way. I wanted
to be ordained, but I also refused to
be excused from military service.
So he suggested I fly rescue missions,
helicopters bringing the wounded to
hospital.
He stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks up at her.
CAMERLENGO (cont'd)
He was a great man.
VITTORIA
He died?
CAMERLENGO
(NODS)
Fourteen days ago.
Vittoria, stunned, realizes who he's talking about.
CUT TO:
Date: 2015-12-18; view: 472
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