Chapter 65

           

           TheinteriorofSantaMariadelPopolowasamurkycaveinthedimminglight.Itlookedmorelikeahalf-finishedsubwaystationthanacathedral.Themainsanctuarywasanobstaclecourseoftorn-upflooring,brickpallets,moundsofdirt,wheelbarrows,andevenarustybackhoe.Mammothcolumnsrosethroughthefloor,supportingavaultedroof.Intheair,siltdriftedlazilyinthemutedglowofthestainedglass.LangdonstoodwithVittoriabeneathasprawlingPinturicchiofrescoandscannedtheguttedshrine.

           Nothingmoved.Deadsilence.

           Vittoriaheldthegunoutinfrontofherwithbothhands.Langdoncheckedhiswatch:8:04P.M.We’recrazytobeinhere,hethought.It’stoodangerous.Stillheknewifthekillerwereinside,themancouldleavethroughanydoorhewanted,makingaone-gunoutsidestakeouttotallyfruitless.Catchinghiminsidewastheonlyway…thatwas,ifhewasevenstillhere.Langdonfeltguilt-riddenovertheblunderthathadcosteveryonetheirchanceatthePantheon.Hewasinnopositiontoinsistonprecautionnow;hewastheonewhohadbackedthemintothiscorner.

           Vittorialookedharrowedasshescannedthechurch."So,"shewhispered."WhereisthisChigiChapel?"

           Langdongazedthroughtheduskyghostlinesstowardthebackofthecathedralandstudiedtheouterwalls.Contrarytocommonperception,Renaissancecathedralsinvariablycontainedmultiplechapels,hugecathedralslikeNotreDamehavingdozens.Chapelswerelessroomsthantheywerehollows—semicircularnichesholdingtombsaroundachurch’sperimeterwall.

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