INT OFFICE OF THE SWISS GUARD NIGHT

CLOSE ON a handwritten page, half-filled with mathematical

computations; the other half with a scratchy handwritten prose.

(IF WE'RE EAGLE-EYED, we'll notice the phrase we move past just as

we cut into the scene is "may His will be done," the same phrase

we just heard Mortati utter.)

Commandante Rocher is at his desk, Vittoria's leather-bound

journals on the desk in front of him. He's studying them

carefully, and seems troubled by what he reads.

Through the glass walls of his office, we can see a commotion in

the still-chaotic Swiss Guard headquarters. Someone is walking

toward us, briskly, a WOMAN'S VOICE complaining loudly in Italian.

Rocher calmly places the journals on top of the screen of the

video monitor inlaid in his desk, the one we saw earlier, with a

keyhole where a power switch should be.

He pushes a button and the monitor rotates shut, into an inlaid

panel in the desk's surface. It closes just after --

VITTORIA (O.S.)

Those journals are private property.

-- Vittoria arrives in the doorway, livid.

VITTORIA (cont'd)

I demand that you return them to me.

ROCHER

(no attempt at a

DENIAL)

They are material evidence in a

Vatican investigation.

VITTORIA

I am an Italian citizen and I have a

right to-

86.

ROCHER

This isn't Italy. It isn't even

Rome. The Vatican is its own

country, with its own laws, and when

those journals crossed our border they

became our property. You will get

them back when I have decided they

contain nothing of value to this

investigation.

She looks at him, then down at the desk, where the outline of the

hidden panel is visible in the veneer of the wood.

VITTORIA

Do you have something to hide,

Commandante Rocher?

ROCHER

Do you, Doctor Vetra?

He stresses her title, as if it offends

CUT TO:

EXT SANTA MARIA DELLA VITTORIA NIGHT

The burning church, now mostly extinguished. But a LARGE CROWD

has gathered, along with a dozen police and fire vehicles.

INT SANTA MARIA DELLA VITTORIA NIGHT

As FIREMEN put out the last of the flames (not using water, but

Halon gas, which creates no steam), a metallic TAPPING sound comes

from somewhere.

One of the Firemen approaches another, gets his attention -- stop

what you're doing and listen.

They shut down a hose and stop, listening.

There it is again. They SHOUT in Italian to the others, now

everybody shuts down their hoses and listens.

The metallic TAPPING echoes in the smoldering church.

They walk toward it -- it's coming from an oval plate in the

floor, like a manhole cover, heavy and carved. We've seen one

of these before, it leads to a Demon's Hole.

The TAPPING is louder now, rhythmic. Somebody's down there.

Crowbars are produced, the cover of the Demon's Hole is pried off

and shoved aside, revealing --

87.

-- Robert Langdon, wedged into the top of the opening, holding a

rock in one hand as he clings precariously to the walls he has

climbed.

Strong hands reach down, haul him to his feet --

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 591