A
"
Langdon looked around. "Where is the Swiss Guard?"
"Still no contact. Vatican lines are jammed."
Langdon felt overwhelmed and alone. Olivetti was dead. The cardinal was dead. Vittoria was missing. A half hour of his life had disappeared in a blink.
Outside, Langdon could hear the press swarming. He suspected footage of the third cardinal’s horrific death would no doubt air soon, if it hadn’t already. Langdon hoped the camerlegno had long since assumed the worst and taken action.
Langdon suddenly realized that all of the catalysts that had been driving him—helping to save Vatican City, rescuing the four cardinals, coming face to face with the brotherhood he had studied for years—all of these things had evaporated from his mind. The war was lost. A new compulsion had ignited within him. It was simple. Stark. Primal.
Find Vittoria.
He felt an unexpected emptiness inside. Langdon had often heard that intense situations could unite two people in ways that decades together often did not. He now believed it. In Vittoria’s absence he felt something he had not felt in years. Loneliness. The pain gave him strength.
Pushing all else from his mind, Langdon mustered his concentration. He prayed that the Hassassin would take care of business before pleasure. Otherwise, Langdon knew he was already too late.
He looked at his watch. Thirty minutes. Langdon moved past the firemen toward Bernini’s
Directly over the recumbent saint, against a backdrop of gilded flame, hovered Bernini’s angel. The angel’s hand clutched a pointed spear of fire. Langdon’s eyes followed the direction of the shaft, arching toward the right side of the church. His eyes hit the wall. He scanned the spot where the spear was pointing. There was nothing there. Langdon knew, of course, the spear was pointing far beyond the wall, into the night, somewhere across Rome.
"What direction is that?" Langdon asked, turning and addressing the chief with a newfound determination.
"Direction?" The chief glanced where Langdon was pointing. He sounded confused. "I don’t know… west, I think."
"What churches are in that direction?"
The chief’s puzzlement seemed to deepen. "Dozens. Why?"
Langdon frowned. Of course there were dozens. "I need a city map. Right away."
The chief sent someone running out to the fire truck for a map. Langdon turned back to the statue.
Langdon flashed on Bernini’s statue of
"Signore?" A fireman ran in with a map.
Langdon thanked him and spread it out on the altar. He immediately realized he had asked the right people; the fire department’s map of Rome was as detailed as any Langdon had ever seen. "Where are we now?"
The man pointed. "Next to Piazza Barberini."