Chapter 88

           

           Evenwithitssirennowaffixedandblaring,Olivetti’sAlphaRomeoseemedtogounnoticedasitrocketedacrossthebridgeintotheheartofoldRome.Allthetrafficwasmovingintheotherdirection,towardtheVatican,asiftheHolySeehadsuddenlybecomethehottestentertainmentinRome.

           Langdonsatinthebackseat,thequestionswhippingthroughhismind.Hewonderedaboutthekiller,iftheywouldcatchhimthistime,ifhewouldtellthemwhattheyneededtoknow,ifitwasalreadytoolate.HowlongbeforethecamerlegnotoldthecrowdinSt.Peter’sSquaretheywereindanger?Theincidentinthevaultstillnagged.Amistake.

           OlivettinevertouchedthebrakesashesnakedthehowlingAlphaRomeotowardtheChurchofSantaMariadellaVittoria.Langdonknewonanyotherdayhisknuckleswouldhavebeenwhite.Atthemoment,however,hefeltanesthetized.Onlythethrobbinginhishandremindedhimwherehewas.

           Overhead,thesirenwailed.Nothingliketellinghimwe’recoming,Langdonthought.Andyettheyweremakingincredibletime.HeguessedOlivettiwouldkillthesirenastheydrewnearer.

           Nowwithamomenttositandreflect,LangdonfeltatingeofamazementasthenewsofthePope’smurderfinallyregisteredinhismind.Thethoughtwasinconceivable,andyetsomehowitseemedaperfectlylogicalevent.InfiltrationhadalwaysbeentheIlluminatipowerbase—rearrangementsofpowerfromwithin.AnditwasnotasifPopeshadneverbeenmurdered.Countlessrumorsoftreacheryabounded,althoughwithnoautopsy,nonewaseverconfirmed.Untilrecently.

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