Langdon’s head was pounding louder now . . . tiny voices playing tug of war.
Faith does not protect you. Medicine and airbags . . . those are things that protect you. God does not protect you. Intelligence protects you. Enlightenment. Put your faith in something with tangible results. How long has it been since someone walked on water? Modern miracles belong to science . . . computers, vaccines, space stations . . . even the divine miracle of creation. Matter from nothing . . . in a lab. Who needs God? No! Science is God.
The killer’s voice resonated in Langdon’s mind. Midnight . . . mathematical progression of death . . . sacrifici vergini nell’ altare di scienza.”
Then suddenly, like a crowd dispersed by a single gunshot, the voices were gone.
Robert Langdon bolted to his feet. His chair fell backward and crashed on the marble floor.
Vittoria and the camerlegno jumped.
“I missed it,” Langdon whispered, spellbound. “It was right in front of me . . .”
“Missed what?” Vittoria demanded.
Langdon turned to the priest. “Father, for three years I have petitioned this office for access to the Vatican Archives. I have been denied seven times.”
“Mr. Langdon, I am sorry, but this hardly seems the moment to raise such complaints.”
“I need access immediately. The four missing cardinals. I may be able to figure out where they’re going to be killed.”
Vittoria stared, looking certain she had misunderstood.
The camerlegno looked troubled, as if he were the brunt of a cruel joke. “You expect me to believe this information is in our archives?”
“I can’t promise I can locate it in time, but if you let me in . . .”
“Mr. Langdon, I am due in the Sistine Chapel in four minutes. The archives are across Vatican City.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?” Vittoria interrupted, staring deep into Langdon’s eyes, seeming to sense his earnestness.
“Hardly a joking time,” Langdon said.
“Father,” Vittoria said, turning to the camerlegno, “if there’s a chance . . . any at all of finding where these killings are going to happen, we could stake out the locations and-”
“But the archives?” the camerlegno insisted. “How could they possibly contain any clue?”
“Explaining it,” Langdon said, “will take longer than you’ve got. But if I’m right, we can use the information to catch the Hassassin.”
The camerlegno looked as though he wanted to believe but somehow could not. “Christianity’s most sacred codices are in that archive. Treasures I myself am not privileged enough to see.”
“I am aware of that.”
“Access is permitted only by written decree of the curator and the Board of Vatican Librarians.”
“Or,” Langdon declared, “by papal mandate. It says so in every rejection letter your curator ever sent me.”
The camerlegno nodded.
“Not to be rude,” Langdon urged, “but if I’m not mistaken a papal mandate comes from this office. As far as I can tell, tonight you hold the trust of his station. Considering the circumstances . . .”
The camerlegno pulled a pocket watch from his cassock and looked at it. “Mr. Langdon, I am prepared to give my life tonight, quite literally, to save this church.”
Langdon sensed nothing but truth in the man’s eyes.
“This document,” the camerlegno said, “do you truly believe it is here? And that it can help us locate these four churches?”
“I would not have made countless solicitations for access if I were not convinced. Italy is a bit far to come on a lark when you make a teacher’s salary. The document you have is an ancient-”
“Please,” the camerlegno interrupted. “Forgive me. My mind cannot process any more details at the moment. Do you know where the secret archives are located?”