Best Quotes from Angels & Demons by Dan Brown with Page Numbers

Her smile was magic.

I must reach her!

A knowing groan escaped Langdon’s lips.

This had happened before.

He was damn sure his book’s site did not include his home phone number.

Langdon’s friends had always viewed him as a bit of an enigma.

He relished recreation with an infectious fanaticism that had earned him a fraternal acceptance among his students.

The silence of his home was shattered...

Two thousand years of waiting for their Messiah, and they’re still persistent as hell.

It was a word Langdon knew well.

I must see you. This is not a matter we can discuss on the phone.

It’s urgent, the voice pressured.

Something in the man’s voice told Langdon he was not joking.

This image before him was today. Present tense.

He felt like a paleontologist coming face to face with a living dinosaur.

The implications were frightening.

As an odd combination of fear and exhilaration settled over him, Langdon knew he had no choice.

Do I have your attention now?

I’ve taken the liberty of sending a plane for you.

Please forgive my presumption, I need you here.

Looks kind of startling, I know, but you better get used to it. In five years, all you’ll see are these babies—HSCT’s—High Speed Civil Transports.

The future’s here, it’s just taking some time to get to the public sector.

You can kiss conventional jets good-bye.

I think I’d prefer a conventional jet.

Just relax. We’ll be there in an hour.

Not at all.

Oh yeah.

I wasn’t aware Geneva had a physics lab.

This plane goes Mach fifteen.

Must be one hell of a lab.

The most dangerous enemy is that which no one fears.

A devious ploy.

Our reach is far.

A single act of treachery and proof.

The brotherhood endures.

Today he was fighting their battle.

Skilled executioners who wandered the countryside slaughtering any of the enemy they could find.

They were renowned not only for their brutal killings, but also for celebrating their slayings.

The name Hassassin became synonymous with death in almost every language on earth.

The craft of killing has evolved.

Any minute now I’ll be waking up.

Lucky we only did a puddle jump.

What is it with this guy and speed?

I already had three loves in my life—symbology, water polo, and bachelorhood.

I didn’t bring my passport!

Passports are unnecessary.

Physics is the religion around here.

Use the Lord’s name in vain all you like.

Who the hell ARE these guys?

Nuclear Research?

One does not need to have cancer to analyze its symptoms.

This guy wasn’t kidding. Langdon had always thought of the Web as an American invention.

CERN is far greater than a global connection of computers.

Our scientists produce miracles almost daily.

You sound skeptical. I thought you were a religious symbologist. Do you not believe in miracles?

Perhaps miracle is the wrong word. I was simply trying to speak your language.

What’s that? Free fall tube.

I’m in the land of Oz.

Decreases her aerodynamics so the fan can lift her.

One square yard of drag will slow a falling body almost twenty percent.

The rising and setting of the sun was once attributed to Helios and a flaming chariot.

Science has now proven those gods to be false idols.

Soon all Gods will be proven to be false idols.

All questions were once spiritual.

The men and women of CERN are here to find answers to the same questions man has been asking since the beginning of time.

Where did we come from? What are we made of?

These are questions we are answering.

A formal investigation will take place.

I feel I owe her at least that modicum of discretion.

What is the meaning of life and the universe?

"the symbol flawlessly formed."

"a world where history, myth, and fact collided, flooding his senses."

"information is only as valuable as its source."

"dedicated to the quest for scientific truth."

"science and religion were not enemies, but rather allies—two different languages telling the same story, a story of symmetry and balance."

"he could hear God’s voice in the music of the spheres."

"Both science and religion rejoiced in God’s symmetry . . . the endless contest of light and dark."

"Galileo was an Illuminatus. And he was also a devout Catholic."

"the unification of science and religion was not what the church wanted."

"Shaitan is the root of an English word . . . Satan."

Sleep was for the weak.

This battle had most definitely begun.

He had developed a more nourishing addiction than drugs.

He took pride in his body—a well-tuned, lethal machine.

He felt a carnal hunger stir.

Whenever you are ready.

A lifetime of sexual fantasies stared back at him.

I should, he thought. I am a connoisseur.

You are my reward.

The door swung noiselessly open.

Symbols, in no way confirm the presence of their original creators.

It means that when organized philosophies like the Illuminati go out of existence, their symbols remain... available for adoption by other groups.

The church claimed Lucifer was a reference to the devil, but the brotherhood insisted Lucifer was intended in its literal Latin meaning—bringer of light. Or Illuminator.

Obliteration of Catholicism was the Illuminati's central covenant.

If religion continued to promote pious myth as absolute fact, scientific progress would halt, and mankind would be doomed to an ignorant future.

The Illuminati helped found banks, universities, and industry to finance their ultimate quest.

They quietly re-established their scientific brotherhood deep within the Masons—a kind of secret society within a secret society.

Perhaps a far more plausible explanation is that some other organization has taken control of the Illuminati brand and is using it for their own purposes.

The Illuminati may have believed in the abolition of Christianity, but they wielded their power through political and financial means, not through terrorist acts.

They held men of science in the highest regard.

TRUE SCIENCE DISCOVERS GOD WAITING BEHIND EVERY DOOR.

Men of science and religion are not unprecedented in history.

The field of particle physics... has made some shocking discoveries lately—discoveries quite spiritual in implication.

He considered physics 'God’s natural law'.

Through science he hoped to prove God’s existence to the doubting masses.

The field is small, but it’s bringing fresh answers to some old questions.

Leonardo believed his research had the potential to convert millions to a more spiritual life.

...that the molecules in your body are intertwined with the molecules in mine.

A recent Scientific American article hailed New Physics as a surer path to God than religion itself.

The battle between science and religion is still raging... it has moved from the battlefields to the boardrooms.

"The missing eye is proof."

"Random mutilation is very . . . un-Illuminati."

"Deliberate? Surgically removing someone’s eyeball is not deliberate?"

"It serves no higher purpose."

"That missing eye does indeed serve a higher purpose . . . a much higher purpose."

"She is a woman of tremendous personal strength."

"Your father must be proud!"

"Nobody knew what my father and I were doing."

"The experiment could not possibly have anything to do with my father’s murder."

"You’ll just have to trust me."

"Sometimes to find truth, one must move mountains."

"It sounds to me like a rather Neanderthal approach to science… akin to smashing clocks together to discern their internal workings."

"The bastards canceled it!"

"Particle accelerators are critical to the future of science. Colliding particles is the key to understanding the building blocks of the universe."

"Let’s find a safe spot for it."

"It’s lovely," his father had said when he opened it, kissing Robert on the forehead.

"I thought particle accelerators were circular."

"This accelerator is a circle. It appears straight, but that is an optical illusion."

"You’re telling me that CERN dug out millions of tons of earth just to smash tiny particles?"

"As if the tunnel were alive… anticipating her every move."

But that’s the least of my problems, he thought.

Security was always a top priority for his employer, but today, more than any other day in the past twelve years, security was of the utmost importance.

He told himself not to panic. There had to be an explanation.

The only clue was that the camera seemed to have been placed somewhere dark.

The technician exhaled heavily.

He studied the monitor a long moment.

The presence inside the complex was troubling. Very troubling, indeed.

The technician frowned.

He gazed up at the image.

He sensed the rumblings of a distant gathering storm.

"The laws of physics are the canvas God laid down on which to paint his masterpiece."

"Matter is nothing but trapped energy."

"Wow! So that explains it."

"You know, young lady, you’re right. Everything does fall. It must be gravity."

"Guess they were right."

"Sister Francisca says raindrops are angels’ tears coming down to wash away our sins."

"You’re not the only one who asks questions. Curiosity is a beautiful thing."

"Beautiful things like rainbows and rivers have many explanations."

"You do?"

"I prayed Leonardo would stay with me forever."

In his country women were possessions. Weak. Tools of pleasure.

Forcing them into physical submission was a gratification he always enjoyed.

Killing was like heroin . . . each encounter satisfying only temporarily before increasing his longing for more.

He savored her delicate pulse, yet fought the desire.

There was work to do. Service to a higher cause than his own desire.

He reveled in the honor of the job before him.

Somehow they had learned of his loathing . . . and of his skills.

Their roots reach wide.

He would be their hands and their voice.

The one his people knew as Malk al-haq—the Angel of Truth.

Secrets are a luxury we can no longer afford.

Science and religion are not at odds. Science is simply too young to understand.

He hoped to prove that science and religion are two totally compatible fields—two different approaches to finding the same truth.

The exact moment of creation. Time zero.

God, Buddha, The Force, Yahweh, the singularity, the unicity point—call it whatever you like—the result is the same.

My father created a universe . . . from nothing at all.

Matter can be created from nothing.

The result is the same—pure energy is the father of creation.

He created everything in opposites. Symmetry. Perfect balance.

You are looking at the world’s first specimens of antimatter.

Good science fiction has its roots in good science.

Everything has an opposite.

There is a cosmic symmetry at the subatomic level.

Antimatter is yin to matter’s yang.

Keeping antimatter isolated from matter is a challenge.

Those trapped particles are suspended in midvacuum.

Each canister has two electromagnets, one at each end.

It is nature’s simplest reaction.

A particle of matter and a particle of antimatter combine to release two new particles.

A photon is effectively a tiny puff of light.

A ten milligram sample—the volume of a grain of sand—is hypothesized to hold as much energy as about two hundred metric tons of conventional rocket fuel.

It is the energy source of tomorrow. A thousand times more powerful than nuclear energy.

One hundred percent efficient. No byproducts. No radiation. No pollution.

A few grams could power a major city for a week.

The battery will run for the full twenty-four hours before dying.

It’s designed as a safety measure, but it’s also convenient for transport.

My father was fascinated with the physics of the Big Bang—large amounts of energy from minuscule kernels of matter.

Antimatter releases pure energy. A one hundred percent conversion of mass to photons.

Don’t look directly at the sample. Shield your eyes.

God.

"Antimatter is important technology. But it’s also dangerous."

"Limitless energy. No strip mining. No pollution. No radiation. Antimatter technology could save the planet."

"In other words, you didn’t trust the board of directors to place prudent science before financial greed."

"My father wanted time to present antimatter in the appropriate light."

"What do you think I mean? ‘Matter from energy? Something from nothing? It’s practically proof that Genesis is a scientific possibility.'"

"Nuclear had proliferated before it was safe, and there were accidents. Solar had proliferated before it was efficient, and people lost money."

"Antimatter technology had staggering potential as an efficient and nonpolluting energy source—if unveiled prematurely, antimatter ran the risk of being vilified."

"You created a specimen larger than five hundred nanograms?"

"A quarter of a gram? That converts to almost five kilotons!"

"That much antimatter could literally liquidate everything in a half-mile radius!"

Her father was dead. Murdered for his genius.

Antimatter was a lethal weapon. Potent, and unstoppable.

The image of her father’s quiet genius being used as a tool of destruction was like poison in her blood.

Nobody could reverse engineer a recharger in time.

We have a responsibility to think.

This situation could have very, very serious repercussions for CERN.

You’re worried about CERN’s reputation? Do you know what that canister could do to an urban area?

Turning away from Kohler, she snapped open her phone.

My father is dead.

She saw them in terms of karma.

"Science needs to survive its own blunders, at any cost. For everyone’s sake."

"You think CERN is so critical to the earth’s future that we should be immune from moral responsibility?"

"A man like your father does not deserve to be remembered as the creator of a weapon of mass destruction."

"I want to find the antimatter. And I want to know who killed my father."

"You crossed a line when you made that specimen, and you have put this entire facility at risk."

"What would he do?"

"He is a specialist in cult symbology."

"Vittoria, the Illuminati is the group claiming responsibility for your father’s death."

"I mustered every bit of courage I could find to fight the tears."

"They branded him."

What do I do?

It had been a bizarre day.

It was like the man had disappeared off the face of the earth.

Short of searching CERN’s entire complex herself, Sylvie knew there was only one other way to get the director’s attention.

Startled with her own boldness, Sylvie made her decision.

He would not be pleased, but the man on the phone was not someone the director should keep waiting.

The director’s physical condition required regular treatment.

Charity was something Kohler’s pride despised.

Sometimes Sylvie thought Maximilian Kohler had a death wish.

And your caller ID confirms—

Everything is the matter! Rocks! Trees! Atoms! Even anteaters! Everything is the matter!

But that’s not fair!

I’m sorry. I could tell you about math, but if I got caught . . .

Okay, just tell me quietly.

Reality rushed in, wrapping a frosty grip around her.

The earnest concern in his gaze felt like the warmth of a guardian angel.

A single sentient thought began pounding at Vittoria with unrelenting force.

Where is the antimatter?

Did you make that up?

I told you what he proved, right?

In a moment of stark realization, Langdon knew he had just crossed over.

He had become a believer.

Let there be light.

It would be unwise to speak of this by phone.

Locate the canister immediately.

Go... call me.

Maximilian Kohler. Kindly call your office immediately.

The uncertain shadows that had fogged Langdon’s mind all morning, in a single instant, solidified into a vivid image.

The ambigram. The murdered priest/scientist. The antimatter.

ROME? But... what was that about the Swiss?

I want to believe.

Religion is like language or dress. We gravitate toward the practices with which we were raised.

In the end, we are all proclaiming the same thing. That life has meaning. That we are grateful for the power that created us.

Faith is universal. Our specific methods for understanding it are arbitrary.

In the end we are all just searching for truth, that which is greater than ourselves.

Science tells me God must exist. My mind tells me I will never understand God. And my heart tells me I am not meant to.

The planet is an organism. All of us are cells with different purposes. And yet we are intertwined. Serving each other. Serving the whole.

Do you feel in your gut that you are staring up at the work of God’s hand?

If you don’t mind my asking, Robert, how did you get involved with the Illuminati?

An eerie bit of history.

"Stay young at heart."

"Respect for the sanctity of God’s city."

"You made remarkable time."

"This is all I have; we came in a hurry."

"Trusting guy, Langdon thought."

"Don't even think about it."

"Thank you. This way please."

"Have you located the canister?"

"Buckle up, please."

"Rome . . . the cradle of modern civilization."

Rome from the air is a labyrinth—an indecipherable maze of ancient roadways.

Koyaanisqatsi, he thought, recalling the Hopi term for 'life out of balance.'

The Coliseum, Langdon had always thought, was one of history’s greatest ironies.

It is to be sealed in about an hour. The whole world is watching.

The expansive inner world of Vatican City spread out beneath him. The entire power structure of the Roman Catholic Church is sitting on a time bomb.

Now that, Langdon said to Vittoria, is something Michelangelo got right.

Incredibly, though, not even a citadel of this magnitude could dwarf the piazza before it.

The cavernous interior of the basilica had room for over 60,000 worshipers.

Langdon wondered what St.Peter would think if he were here now.

A strangely earthly defense for a spiritual world of secrets, power and mystery.

What privilege, Mortati thought, that I am to oversee this sanctified event.

Conclave was a vacuum, not to be influenced by anything in the outside world.

This would ensure that the cardinals kept Solum Deum prae oculis . . . only God before their eyes.

Tonight’s conclave will be unified, blissful, and above all . . . brief.

The chosen four.

The anxious whispers had begun.

He had no idea.

The result was a profound darkness lit only by candles.

a shimmering radiance that seemed to purify everyone it touched.

Even the name was secretive.

"Terra firma," the pilot announced as they touched down.

Every muscle in her body seemed tuned to one objective—finding the antimatter before it left a horrific legacy.

Langdon realized to his amazement, this was the hub of the world’s most listened-to radio programming—Radio Vaticana—spreading the word of God to millions of listeners around the globe.

The time was meant to renew old friendships among the cardinals and facilitate a less heated election process.

Banned from the city for secrecy and security until the conclave concludes.

"God only knows." The words sounded oddly literal.

Inside, the air was cool. It looked nothing like the administrative security offices Langdon would have imagined.

Each statue wore a fig leaf that was lighter in color than the rest of the body.

He defaced works by Michelangelo, Bramante, and Bernini.

Beyond the threshold was absolute mayhem.

Nature has many mysteries yet to unveil.

Perhaps Ms Vetra has not informed you, but CERN scientists have been criticizing Vatican policies for decades.

The protocols for this event are holy—not subject to modification.

Despite the archaic appearance of Vatican City, every single entrance, both public and private, is equipped with the most advanced sensing equipment known to man.

There is only one relevant fact at this moment, sir, that being that in six hours that device is going to vaporize this entire complex.

Believe me, I do not take kindly to people tampering with my security system.

Vigilance and discretion are my duty... such that spiritual matters can take place here with clarity of mind.

A conclave is not some American baseball game you call off on account of rain.

The camerlengo is young, and his understanding of security, or anything else for that matter, is extremely limited.

I am an Illuminati scholar.

Remember the solution to this test!

The presupposition that one once knew the answer created the mindset that the answer must exist.

Eliminating the crippling conception of hopelessness.

There are always tools. Reevaluate your environment.

Let your mind be free.

What makes this situation positive? What are my assets?

The analytical mind... was a powerful force.

Instinctively she lowered her shoulders, relaxed her eyes, and took three deep breaths into her lungs.

Either that, or we can spend the next five hours and forty-eight minutes in Vatican Prison.

Just one.

Ah, the indignities we endure in the name of Holy Conclave.

World interest in Vatican events seemed to have dwindled in the last few years.

...the process was more of a three- or four-hour ritual than an actual election.

Rumor was this conclave would be a 'smoke-watch'.

A woman inside Vatican City? Tonight?

Calm and efficient.

Everyone is in danger? How?

What are you doing?

The balls on this one!

I will bring them up immediately.

I am merely a priest—a chamberlain serving in a time of need.

Her attire is not what concerns me.

I have a responsibility for the safety and wellbeing of everyone at this conclave.

When the Vatican operator calls me a half hour before I begin conclave to tell me a woman is calling from your private office to warn me of some sort of major security threat, that concerns me.

Everyone sit.

Forgive me. My history is rusty.

The symbol is authentic.

The Illuminati are dead... That is historical fact.

Destroy Vatican City? But that would be impossible.

I believe the Illuminati have resurfaced to make good on an ancient pact.

“Dangerous or not, Illuminati or no Illuminati, whatever this thing is, it most certainly should not be inside Vatican City.”

“I want it found and removed. Organize a search immediately.”

“Your experience is obsolete.”

“I am a senior level physicist at the world’s most advanced subatomic research facility.”

“If I did not know better it would appear that you are causing this conclave intentional danger.”

“The substance appears to be quite explosive.”

“Pound for pound antimatter carries about a hundred times more payload than a nuclear warhead.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Now!”

“Who in the name of God do you think you are?”

I represent men of science. Men who like yourselves are searching for the answers. Answers to man’s destiny, his purpose, his creator.

For two millennia your church has dominated the quest for truth.

They are virgin sacrifices. Tell me, do you think they are really virgins?

A gesture of kindness. Enabling God to commend their souls to heaven more expeditiously.

The Catholic Church will continue with or without Vatican City.

You cannot crush faith simply by removing its earthly manifestations.

Men of God live in a dangerous world.

Faith, not money, is the backbone of this church.

They are men of faith. They do not fear death.

A woman of spirit. I am aroused.

"What can we do? We wait. And have faith."

"He saw only conviction when he looked in the camerlengo’s eyes, and unlike many of the cardinals, the camerlengo put church and faith before petty politics."

"The miracle and wonder of it, Mortati thought, often wishing his own childhood had presented an event that fostered that kind of doubtless faith."

"Cardinals often joked that being appointed The Great Elector was the cruelest honor in Christendom."

"It was once in a lifetime, usually never, that a cardinal had the chance to be elected Supreme Pontiff."

"Baggia’s untainted record of service, combined with unparalleled language skills and the ability to communicate the essence of spirituality, had made him the clear favorite."

"Perhaps sensing the modern world progressing away from the church, the Pope had made overtures, softening the church’s position on the sciences."

"Many attributed it to the miraculous event in his childhood… an event that would have left a permanent impression on any man’s heart."

"Mortati had always found it pleasantly ironic that the late Pope, God rest his soul, had revealed himself as surprisingly liberal once he had taken office."

"A Pope usually worked fourteen-hour days, seven days a week, and died of exhaustion in an average of 6.3 years."

You and I serve God in different capacities, but service always brings honor.

The sanctity of human life weighs above all.

He warned that any church that ignored reality would not survive to enjoy the divine.

Pride and precedent cannot overshadow reason.

The real world is my world.

Panic serves no one.

Searching a city of five million is not within my power.

Soldiers cannot afford to be saints.

God, grant me strength to accept those things I cannot change.

Trust me, this is one of those things.

The public, it seemed, had little interest in Vatican City.

Wasting five minutes of a reporter’s time was forgivable. Missing a headline was not.

The art of screening out potential crank calls was by no means a perfect science.

Reporters lived in eternal fear of missing the big story.

He was probably bored out of his mind, waiting all night to record his ten-second video spot.

He would most likely be grateful for a break in the monotony.

The editor was not surprised.

Just a moment,

That is all I can tell you.

I need to speak to him directly.

Lives are in danger, signore. Do you hear me?

Nothing captured human interest like human tragedy.

You have tools, she told herself, you always have tools.

Faith does not protect you. Medicine and airbags . . . those are things that protect you.

Terrorism is not an expression of rage. Terrorism is a political weapon.

If the faith of a priest did not protect him from the evils of Satan, what hope was there for the rest of us?

Science is God.

The document you have is an ancient—”

I will treat your treasures with the utmost respect and care.

I want you to find what you are looking for. And find it quickly.

A kind of test.

The path was hidden.

They created markers that faded into the backdrop of ancient Rome.

Try spotting a trumpet fish floating vertically in seagrass.

In a manner of speaking, it is.

What’s in it?

They were scientists who revered enlightenment.

Dissimulazione, nature’s best defense.

Only the brightest scientists arrived at their door.

Tonight was a global publicity stunt.

A promise to God is the most important promise of all. Never break a promise to God.

Whenever you feel frightened, remember that God is your father now. He will watch over you and protect you forever.

God called me there, he decided. He wanted to save me.

God saved me for a reason, he thought. What is the reason?

I need to understand evil.

God will protect me, he told himself.

Abandon all fear, he told himself, and give this night over to God.

This is not an election. It was an ancient, mystic transference of power.

The church awaits you when you return.

He understood what God’s plans for him were.

What have I accomplished in my life? Nothing.

So give up.

You do know you’re going to hell, don’t you?

I just feel like I want to leave my mark.

Hey, things are looking up. Tonight you make your first fifteen seconds of TV history.

With no experience? And that beard? Forget it.

I think it makes me look clever.

Maybe that’s editorial. You think they want a live update?

Listen carefully, I am about to change your life.

Witnessing an exciting event.

As Langdon pushed the doors open and stepped through the vaulted portal into the inner sanctum, he half expected to see Father Jaqui in full military fatigues and helmet standing guard with a bazooka.

This may be the shrewdest cataloging I’ve ever seen.

Everything in this vault…has to do with the Crusades. That’s this vault’s theme.

Brilliant.

Real books don’t have password protection.

I’ve been petitioning to see it for years now. Ever since I realized what was in it.

They may have seen it and not noticed.

Hiding things in plain view?

The pure language? Yes.

You’re talking to a scientist. Publish or perish.

"He’s over here. But I hope you brought your reading glasses, because this entire vault is his."

"The longest and most expensive legal proceedings in Vatican history. Fourteen years and six hundred million lire. It’s all here."

"I guess lawyers haven’t evolved much over the centuries."

"You could go mad in here."

"Oxygen is an oxidant, so hermetic vaults contain very little of it."

"May we be as lucky."

"Breathing more normally now, he looked around the vault. Despite the transparent outer walls, he felt a familiar anxiety."

"If you get light-headed, bend over."

"Touché."

"Substantiate or suffocate, Ms Vetra. Mickey’s ticking."

The media is the right arm of anarchy.

Glick felt ashamed when he realized he was praying it was.

What if I told you four cardinals have been kidnapped and are going to be murdered at different churches tonight.

Glick had come to expect Macri’s cynicism, but what she was forgetting was that liars and lunatics had been Glick’s business for almost a decade.

This caller had been neither. This man had been coldly sane. Logical.

I want to see what other stories we’ve run on these guys.

With every story, we have an opportunity to pursue truth.

The truth often lies beneath layers of skepticism and disbelief.

In the face of chaos, clarity can emerge.

Adrenaline can spark the drive to uncover hidden realities.

He simply stared in wonder. Close encounters with history always left Langdon numbed with reverence.

Langdon felt the air in his lungs beginning to thin. His hopes were thinning too.

There’s got to be something. The numbers must be written longhand. The math must be in words rather than equations.

Forget it. We’re looking for math. The pure language.

You feeling what I’m feeling? Tense? No. Short of breath.

Hand me a spatula, please.

Without another word, Langdon bowed his head and began translating the first page in his stack.

It was a good one. He ran his fingers across the face to remove any static charge.

I expected a treasure chest. Looks more like a pillowcase.

The muted, yellow papyrus left no doubt in Langdon’s mind as to its age and authenticity.

The path of light is laid, the sacred test.

Maybe English is what they meant by the lingua pura?

Are you sure of the translation?

English was one language the Vatican had not yet embraced.

The path of light is laid, the sacred test.

Iambic pentameter was a symmetrical meter based on the sacred Illuminati numbers of 5 and 2!

A pentagon! Five sides! Penta! Penta! Penta!

La lingua pura? Could this have been the pure language the Illuminati had been referring to?

You found it, Ms Vetra.

Good, now can we get the hell out of here?

"Let angels guide you on your lofty quest."

"The path of light is laid, the sacred test."

"I deciphered it already."

"I know where the first killing is going to happen."

"The first marker sounds like it’s at Santi’s tomb."

"The Illuminati often considered great artists and sculptors honorary brothers in enlightenment."

"The poem is precise."

"Believe it or not, Raphael’s buried in the Pantheon."

"There’s probably no more earthly place in Rome than the Pantheon."

"You ask a lot of questions."

History had a way of playing cruel tricks on those who chased it.

The Pantheon is a single room. A circular cell made of stone and cement.

My point is that what you have just told me is going to happen is utterly impossible!

Can you give me one plausible scenario of how someone could kill a cardinal inside the Pantheon?

How about this? The killer flies over in a helicopter and drops a screaming, branded cardinal down through the hole in the roof.

Or the killer drugs the cardinal, brings him to the Pantheon in a wheelchair like some old tourist.

He wheels him inside, quietly slits his throat, and then walks out.

I’ll want separate approaches.

Once you’re parked, gear up and await my orders.

This had better not blow up in our faces.

Let me help.

I could walk in like a tourist.

Your instincts are good, but I cannot let a civilian interfere.

It’s a no-risk situation. Let me be your eyes!

Even my best men don’t work alone.

You can also back each other up.

We look harmless.

Let us do our job.

It’s dangerous.

I’m sorry, I cannot allow that.

"We will be killing power in selected areas to eradicate extraneous magnetic interference."

"We will move in teams of four."

"We will wear infrared goggles for vision."

"Reconnaissance will be done with traditional bug sweepers, recalibrated for sub-three-ohm flux fields."

"What if we don’t find it in time?"

"The grizzly bear gazed out at him from beneath his red beret."

"At least you could see him coming."

"His tone had the clarity of a musical instrument."

"The information they had just received had increased their aggregate blood pressure by a few thousand points."

"Godspeed, men."

‘Relax,’ she said, without turning her head. ‘We’re supposed to look like newlyweds.’

‘Breathe through your eyes,’ she said.

‘It relaxes the muscles. It’s called pranayama.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Not the fish. Pranayama. Never mind.’

Langdon admired it, as always, with awe.

The Pantheon. Temple to all gods. Pagan gods. Gods of Nature and Earth.

He had put everyone on the line here.

If anything happens inside that dome, we’ll all be in the crossfire.

‘And here I thought we were newlyweds.’

Very little in any organized faith is truly original. Religions are not born from scratch. They grow from one another.

Modern religion is a collage . . . an assimilated historical record of man’s quest to understand the divine.

Conquering religions often adopt existing holidays to make conversion less shocking.

When the early Christian converts abandoned their former deities, they asked the church what their new Christian God looked like.

Sometimes, the most incredible feats of human ingenuity lie within the shadows of our own history.

The air inside the Pantheon was cool and damp, heavy with history.

It was a remarkable fusion of engineering and art.

The whispers of Sicilian ancestors defending family honor with brutal justice.

In an effort to serve her father’s quest for the simplicity of truth, she had become a conspirator of chaos.

Oddly, the only thing that felt right in her life at the moment was the presence of a total stranger.

Were you aware that the tapering thickness of the walls is the reason the dome appears weightless?

When that poem was written, Raphael’s tomb was somewhere else.

Illuminati? Who are you people?

A demon’s hole? Yes! That’s it! Do any of Raphael’s chapels have an oculus in them?

The demon’s hole is an ancient term for a massive burial cavity located in a chapel... underneath another tomb.

Raphael must have designed hundreds of tombs!

It’s not a reference to where Raphael is buried, it’s referring to a tomb he designed.

Santi’s earthly tomb with demon’s hole. Does that mean anything to you?

It should have dawned on me earlier.

Move!

“There is a power so organized, so subtle, so complete, so pervasive, that none had better speak above their breath when they speak in condemnation of it.”

“When you’re a black woman, ain’t no hiding what you are. Day you try, is the day you die. Stand tall, smile bright, and let ‘em wonder what secret’s making you laugh.”

“History has a way of rewriting itself.”

“The vast majority turned out to be innocent men who joined the Masons for networking and charity work. They had no clue about the brotherhood’s past affiliations.”

“Maybe because in 1921 you were just a kid.”

“Charming.”

“So was Bill Clinton.”

“Look at this stuff. Accounts tracing the Illuminati back to Galileo, the Guerenets of France, the Alumbrados of Spain.”

“The Journal?”

“Not just Christianity. Religion in general.”

"Have a look at that."

"A source of Illumination over a pyramid."

"If there’s another way in, there’s another way out."

"If this guy disappears, we’re spacciàti."

"Most Renaissance cathedrals were designed as makeshift fortresses in the event a city was stormed."

"Careful on the stairs."

"Keep one hand on the wall as he moved through the Minotaur’s labyrinth."

"I’ll go first."

"Relax, professor, I’m just getting the gun."

"The museum was dark... made everything appear an eerie shade of green."

"One strong-willed woman, Langdon thought."

"I’m the one who lost my father. I’m the one who helped build a weapon of mass destruction."

"Catch him inside was the only way...that was, if he was even still here."

"It could be any of those draped recesses."

"But I’m the one with the gun."

"You sure you don’t want to wait for Olivetti?"

"I didn’t hear you come in."

"Careful! We don’t know for sure that the Hassassin—"

"I’ll take curtain number three, he thought."

"In awe, transported for an instant to another world."

There’s a church there. And inside is proof.

You believe everything you hear?

What if the cardinals come to a decision while we’re gone?

Shouldn’t we be back at St.Peter’s?

Maniacs! They almost killed us!

The cars were also full.

Four identical cars, all with four passengers?

In Italy? They haven’t even heard of unleaded gas.

Something tells me you and I are not the only ones going to church right now.

Glick was sweet . . . charming in a pasty, Briddish, unstrung sort of way.

"Earth, Air, Fire, Water."

"I hope so, for his sake."

"Somebody stuffed a fistful of dirt down his throat. He suffocated."

"As in . . . earth?"

"The marking on the cardinal’s chest was charred and oozing."

"La lingua pura . . ."

"The symbologist within him loudly reasserted the artistic challenge of creating the mythical ambigram."

"The chamber seemed to contract around him."

"Advancing through the murkiness of the crypt, Langdon tried to make sense of what he was looking at."

"There are three more."

May you have only God before your eyes.

Have faith.

Proceed as we must.

Christ the Lord, who will be my judge that my vote is given to the one who before God I think should be elected.

The process is important; it reminds us of the weight of our choices.

The concealment was ironic in this case because the cardinals were obviously submitting votes for themselves.

A defensive maneuver. A stall tactic to ensure no cardinal received enough votes to win.

This apparent conceit had nothing to do with self-centered ambition.

One balloting. No Pope.

In times of uncertainty, our faith must guide us.

“So redeem yourself. Get him next time.”

“If this chapel was the first altar of science, it might still contain the Illuminati sculpture that served as the first marker.”

“It dawned on him now how perfectly Illuminati the chapel was, far more subtle and selective than the world famous Pantheon.”

“A perfect cover. Illuminati infiltration.”

“Think of the secrecy of the Masons—only the upper-echelon members knew the whole truth.”

“Could it be that here in this tiny Chigi Chapel, the world-renowned Bernini had placed a sculpture that pointed across Rome toward the next altar of science?”

“Who other than a famous Vatican artist would have had the clout to put his artwork in specific Catholic chapels around Rome and create the Path of Illumination?”

“Never in his life had he been so sure of anything.”

“Not too subtle, is it?”

“Let angels guide you on your lofty quest?”

I’m on the path of Illumination! It is still intact!

We need a map. One that shows all the churches in Rome.

Hello there, I wouldn't mind seeing him again.

These guys could have gotten the same tip you got and are just checking it out.

Time was evaporating.

Earth, Air, Fire, Water.

The next marker is out there.

You sure this time?

Bet you’d like to find out.

Better to have something in the can before we admit we abandoned conclave.

The height did not bother him at all. In fact, it was invigorating.

Like an ocean on fire, the red-tiled rooftops of Rome spread out before him, glowing in the scarlet sunset.

For the first time in his life, Langdon saw beyond the pollution and traffic of Rome to its ancient roots.

Città di Dio—The city of God.

Something told him it hadn’t . . . and wouldn’t.

The path of light is laid, the sacred test.

Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.

Almost instantly, it seemed an army emerged from the church.

Moving like a human wall, they began to descend.

When the soldiers tried to lift the object into the trunk, Macri found her opening.

"The urgency rising in him again."

"What’s wrong with St.Peter’s?"

"Needs to be a public place."

"The square is public."

"The elements are spread across Rome."

"Depends who you ask."

"I know every corner of St.Peter’s Square."

"A relief is the other half of sculpture!"

"It’s also known as Respiro di Dio."

"Breath of God? Yes! Air!"

"Something tells me we’re almost there."

"You’re tourists. Use the phone if you see anything."

"The springtime sun was setting behind St.Peter’s Basilica, and a massive shadow spread, engulfing the piazza."

"Langdon certainly felt humbled at the moment. Humbled and hungry..."

"He tried to picture the brand. The method of murder."

"It seemed Rome was suddenly filled with ellipses, pyramids, and startling geometry."

"Lowering his shoulders and loosening his clenched jaw."

"On any other day...but today was not any other day."

"Something big was about to happen."

"The media is the right arm of anarchy, the killer had said."

This was Bernini’s tribute to the second element . . . Air . . . an ethereal zephyr blown from angel’s lips.

Langdon gazed down at the marble relief and felt suddenly naïve.

Not until now.

He realized the significance of the relief went deeper still.

Langdon thought of Galileo.

Two stars, five gusts, ellipses, symmetry . . . He felt hollow.

Despite the clanging bells, the area seemed perfectly calm.

As the echo of the ninth bell faded away, a peaceful silence descended across the square.

I will make your cardinals media luminaries.

The same person has been behind us all the way across the square.

There’s a pulse.

Air.

It’s . . . him.

His lungs . . . they’re . . . punctured.

The symbol had a terrifying simplicity to it.

The salty liquid hit Langdon in the face.

Langdon felt paralyzed, pinned somewhere between nausea and awe.

Vittoria ripped the rest of the rags off the man’s abdomen.

A crowd was gathering.

She and Langdon locked eyes, and he knew she’d gotten it all.

I am a professional videographer with the BBC! By Article 12 of the Free Press Act, this film is property of the British Broadcasting Corporation!

So shoot me.

I will not under any circumstances give you the film in this camera without speaking to my editor in London.

If I could somehow protect the film long enough to—

Macri knew she had little time.

The men did not flinch.

Every step she took felt like a defiance against the forces closing in.

Their eyes met, and they both stopped.

For once she was glad she carried some extra weight.

She slapped it into the camera. Then she prayed.

Virgin sacrifices on the altars of science.

He had to chuckle. The Holy Throne.

His mind was blank.

A giddy wave of exhaustion shuddered through his core.

Langdon felt a deepening horror over the possible outcome of this drama.

Think, he told himself.

The emotions knotting his chest were so many, so incongruous.

As he stood there, tension ebbing from his body.

He knew there were two more coming.

Either the guards had missed the canister, or the intruder had gotten deeper inside the Vatican.

Live homicide.

I want top of the food chain.

We’ve got a story we’re selling!

Offer a dial-in preview.

Everything in editorial stopped.

The Illuminati lair. He could not believe it was still here.

I want your contacts on-line!

The world had yet to hear the most shocking news of all.

What the hell happened?

Better.

We’ve had nothing but failure.

We will find them.

Believing you can win is half the battle.

Hope is the source of strength.

The fact that the missing security camera was stolen from a public access area clearly implies that the intruder had limited access.

The only indication of bearing was the breath.

What do we really know about the enemy?

Sometimes the simplest solutions are the hardest to see.

It is hope that keeps us moving forward.

We must remember that the only way to fail is to give up.

The silence of the archives felt somehow more forbidding now.

Even in the dark, he could tell it was packed.

Everything an artist created while under the patronage of the Pope became, by law, property of the Vatican.

All Catholic churches in Rome are property of the Vatican.

You’re leaving?

Do you have any idea what is going on here tonight?

The guard did not blink.

I am trained to follow orders. Not debate them.

When you find what you are looking for, contact the commander immediately.

The air’s fine. Thin, but breathable.

I will not use this office as a pulpit to lie to the world.

If I announce anything at all, it will be the truth.

Continuing this charade only puts them in danger.

This astonishing footage... was shot only minutes ago outside the Vatican.

How much weaker could our position be?

The truth? That Vatican City is threatened to be destroyed by satanic terrorists?

Gentlemen, I will not permit any more loss of life this evening.

I need to make an address.

If this claim is true... then that has profound implications for our antimatter search.

I have faith.

Did they really believe quarks and mesons inspired the average human being?

What could possibly be wrong with that?

It never ceased to amaze her that so many of CERN’s so-called ‘brilliant minds’ failed to comprehend the importance of the church.

For Sylvie, the church had always been an innocuous entity . . . a place of fellowship and introspection.

Her children emerged from Sunday School every week uplifted, filled with ideas about helping others and being kinder.

No such thing as bad press,

When she saw the headlines on the TV, she gasped.

Sylvie listened to the report, unable to believe her ears.

They ran off laughing.

How could they be so callous? Why the hatred?

We all benefit from a sense of contact with divinity . . . even if it is only imagined.

Change is not something we do well within Vatican City.

Science can heal, or science can kill. It depends on the soul of the man using the science.

It is the soul that interests me.

I’ve always known I would serve God. From the moment I could first think.

God quite literally sent me another father.

I had sensed God’s watchful hand over me even as a boy.

I worked under the bishop’s tutelage for many years. He eventually became a cardinal.

The bishop’s appearance simply confirmed what I had already suspected.

I did. And I do.

Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.

Vittoria, he thought, grinning. Perfect.

If that’s not a metaphor for some serious sex, I don’t know what is.

His great golden spear... filled with fire... plunged into me several times.

A sweetness so extreme that one could not possibly wish it to stop.

The word fuòco appeared a half dozen times.

The angel’s fiery spear was raised like a beacon, pointing the way.

Langdon felt rejuvenated by his good fortune.

He was not entirely convinced until he glanced up at the sketch again.

Staggering to his feet, Langdon felt a rush of dizziness.

The voice in my heart was that of God. You told me I must follow it no matter what painful places it leads to.

Give me strength. Bestow on me forgiveness.

What I do . . . I do in the name of everything you believe.

Amen.

It is in that very spirit that I command you to break them now.

Someday I will ask your forgiveness for placing you in this position.

Today I ask for your obedience.

A silence had fallen across the group, and Vittoria couldn’t tell whether it was one of respect or apprehension.

Behind his pious calm, I saw a man tormented by personal demons.

I had the sense they were being watched, not by anyone in the flesh, but by specters in the dark.

Fear, Langdon now realized, was an intense motivator.

You’ve been trapped before, you told yourself. You survived worse.

Relax. Conserve.

There is plenty of air in here.

Instinct for survival had long since overridden archival decorum.

Just like the leg press in the Harvard gym.

Keep the rhythm.

Like enormous dominoes, the stacks began to topple.

Like welcome rain on a desert, shards of glass tinkled downward in the dark.

I think somebody just tried to kill me!

"For the good of all, we can trust no one. Including our guards."

"I intend to save this church with whatever power God has given me."

"This is war."

"Whatever you intend to do... I do not have the authority to restrain you."

"I ask only that you wait. Wait twenty minutes... if Mr. Langdon’s information is correct, I may still have a chance."

"A heartbeat."

"We have long since passed propriety..."

"I had no idea you were in the archives."

"It was my fault. If I had known..."

"The Pope was poisoned. The Illuminati killed him."

Overhead, the siren wailed. Nothing like telling him we’re coming.

A mistake.

The thought was inconceivable, and yet somehow it seemed a perfectly logical event.

Infiltration had always been the Illuminati powerbase—rearrangements of power from within.

Even respectable news organizations sometimes got carried away with Illuminati paranoia.

The situation is complex.

Just in case.

If the archives even survive the night.

I have already made the arrangements here.

Those who stand in your way are knowledgeable.

The clergy vigilantly refilled the lamps with sacred oils such that no lamp ever burned out. It was said they would burn until the end of time.

These lamps are close to the papal altar, so they take a special, ambiental mixture—ethanol, sugar, butane, and perfume.

It smells like heaven, but burns like hell.

Never before in history had the Vatican been sitting on what amounted to some sort of neoteric nuclear warhead.

When it came to fighting the enemies of God, the camerlengo was the one man who would stand up and play hardball.

The contradiction is pain. Man’s starvation, war, sickness . . .

Terrible things happen in this world. Human tragedy seems like proof that God could not possibly be both all-powerful and well-meaning.

Imagine you had an eight-year-old son . . . would you love him?

Pain is part of growing up. It’s how we learn.

So although you have the power to interfere and prevent your child’s pain, you would choose to show your love by letting him learn his own lessons?

"The news had spread like Nero’s fire. Rome sat riveted, as did the rest of the world."

"Fluid as a cat, Vittoria was in and out of his pocket once again."

"Vittoria, however, seemed to exist a split second ahead of him."

"Both clutched rosaries. They seemed confused by the sudden interruption."

"She seemed to float faster and faster as the gap lessened, and Langdon battled to keep up."

"The couple was moving slowly, and it was only a matter of half a minute before Langdon and Vittoria were positioned behind them."

"‘Conoscete chi è quest uomo?’ Vittoria demanded, sounding tense. ‘Did you know the man?’"

"Apparently, the women had been inside the church fifteen minutes ago praying for the Vatican in its time of need."

"The image shot dread through his body."

"Inside the building, glowing like evil eyes through the stained-glass windows . . . shone the growing flash of flames."

God, why hast thou forsaken me?

The fire was far too hot.

Do something!

I need water, damn it!

A moment later, he witnessed the final abomination.

His lungs filled with smoke as he closed in.

His arms were outstretched in a spread-eagle as if he were nailed to some sort of invisible crucifix.

A naked man... his body trembling.

In the silence, Vittoria heard a new sound.

He had little doubt what the marking said.

Langdon felt like a cornered animal as he scrambled deeper into the semicircular niche.

He knew it was impossible. There’s a wall of flames blocking the main aisle!

With no other option in sight, Langdon pressed himself to the floor and slithered toward the casket.

He twisted his body onto his stomach, parallel with the casket.

Closing his eyes and straining against exhaustion, Langdon prayed for the thunder to stop.

He didn’t even dare breathe.

The sound that followed was deafening. Barely human. A guttural bellow of exertion.

Gravity overcame friction, and the lid was the first to go, sliding off the tomb.

When it came, the entire floor shook beneath him.

Before Langdon could react, a blind arm was slithering through the opening beneath the casket.

You have won the war.

Science is the new God.

Medicine, electronic communications, space travel, genetic manipulation . . . these are the miracles about which we now tell our children.

Science may have alleviated the miseries of disease and drudgery but it has left us in a world without wonder.

Even our self-worth as human beings has been destroyed.

We are a fractured and frantic species . . . moving down a path of destruction.

Who is the God who offers his people power but no moral framework to tell you how to use that power?

When we as a species abandon our trust in the power greater than us, we abandon our sense of accountability.

If the outside world could see this church as I do . . . they would see a modern miracle . . . a brotherhood of imperfect, simple souls wanting only to be a voice of compassion.

Listen to your hearts. Listen to God. Together we can step back from this abyss.

The camerlengo had been spellbinding.

He wants me to broadcast an exclusive photo of the dead Pope?

The Swiss Guard will also provide you a live video feed of the antimatter canister as it counts down.

The Illuminati are about to find out.

Never before had she felt so proud to be a Catholic and so ashamed to work at CERN.

There was no need to alert the press about this killing... the flames would do that for him.

Money calls.

I must warn you, these are not pleasant pictures.

Ghastly burns. Blackened tongues.

I have asked the Swiss Guard to assemble photos for you.

Precision can be suffocating.

Sarcophagus is from the Greek ‘sarx’ meaning ‘flesh’, and ‘phagein’ meaning ‘to eat’. I’m trapped in a box literally designed to ‘eat flesh’.

With the fetid stench and lack of oxygen choking the strength from his body, Langdon realized he only had time for one more effort.

It was the second time today he had been trapped with no air.

But this time Langdon could see the casket was propped up. A tiny slit of light showed beneath the rim.

Fighting trembling fingers, he fumbled with the watch and made his final play.

He had been treading water for five hours.

At least it might create a crack for some air.

Exhausted, Langdon collapsed.

Somehow, as if by instinct, he sputtered to the surface.

Your final hour.

At midnight you will meet your God.

Seeing terror in a woman’s eyes was his ultimate aphrodisiac.

It would be better if she remained unconscious while I was gone.

I want your strength preserved . . . for me.

Twenty minutes, I thought. She would be a tantalizing end to a perfect day.

After she had served him and died doing it, he would stand on the balcony and watch the midnight Vatican fireworks.

Have you prayed yet?

Only for your soul.

The Italian’s eyes were fearless.

"He crossed himself for the first time since childhood."

"Satan himself did this."

"The true horror... was the symbol seared on the cardinal’s chest."

"This scene was something dredged from a Gothic nightmare."

"He knew it didn’t matter. The Swiss Guard would hear about this on television in a matter of minutes."

"The lower half of his body was crimson-black, blood oozing through gaping cracks in his thighs."

"Unfortunately, the press, as usual, had arrived before the fire department."

"When the bomb squad rolled the coffin over, they discovered the source of the electronic beeping."

"That’s for the police and Holy See to deal with, the chief thought, turning away."

"Tutti fuori!"

The rest is in God’s hands.

I ask only one thing. Let these men proceed from this place with dignity.

I do not want the last image of this church to be frightened old men sneaking out a back door.

I will leave when the spirit moves me.

There seems to be a chill in this office tonight.

Thank you, very much.

We’ve got a caller here who says he has information that can help us.

I will explain to you who I am. Then I will tell you what you are going to do next.

Nobody had that number.

My jet is to be ready in five minutes.

Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.

In Vittoria’s absence he felt something he had not felt in years. Loneliness. The pain gave him strength.

Find Vittoria.

The war was lost. A new compulsion had ignited within him. It was simple. Stark. Primal.

His instinct told him the systematic arrangement could not possibly be accidental.

The Illuminati believe in opposites!

The cruciform on the map, Langdon realized, was the ultimate Illuminati duality. It was a religious symbol formed by elements of science.

The fog began to clear. Langdon saw that the answer had been in front of him all night!

It was cunning wordplay.

A flawless tribute to water, Bernini’s Fountain of the Four Rivers glorified the four major rivers of the Old World.

You are awake, he told himself And you are a star.

Another Glick scoop!

You screwed us, Macri said. You totally blew it.

How much more obvious could it be?

Brotherhoods don’t just disappear.

I’m not saying everyone at CERN is Illuminati.

Real journalism!

You’re not a symbologist, Macri chided, you’re just one lucky-ass reporter.

The Illuminati significance in this logo is so obvious!

Glick was a genius.

Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.

The final step is the hardest.

You have the advantage—you are in your element.

Valor without expertise is suicide.

Always moving. You have the advantage.

Do not pretend otherwise; you've already hesitated.

Hope is not lost.

You will never find its location.

In the face of adversity, courage must guide you.

Ancient rules govern survival.

If you can’t go north, go east.

Releasing all fear and doubt, Baggia opened his mouth and expelled what he knew would be his final breath.

He reminded himself that this suffering was nothing compared to what Jesus had endured.

He began to shake wildly.

Then, exactly as the Hassassin expected, his victim went suddenly flaccid.

The pain lasted only a few seconds.

For a moment he thought he saw stars.

It was time.

Langdon knew he was not coming up.

He was fighting not for a game, but for his life.

He was alive.

Langdon had certainly heard accounts.

Thankfully, the Hassassin had bought it and let go.

He was about to start choking.

Langdon knew the man would be unconscious now, and chances of revival were slim, but he had to try.

When Langdon found the body, he planted his feet on either side.

Not a good sign. There was no breath or pulse.

For three minutes Langdon tried to revive the old man.

Somehow, even now, prostrate in the shadows on the semisubmerged ledge, Cardinal Baggia retained an air of quiet dignity.

As he did, he felt an exhausted shudder of tears well from within.

Find the Illuminati lair. Help Vittoria.

Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.

The lone dove is the pagan symbol for the Angel of Peace.

As the soul becomes enlightened . . . it takes the beautiful shape of the dove.

So obvious. So clear. So deviously simple.

The entire city seemed to fade away as he looked out at the monstrous stone structure.

High atop the castle stood the mammoth bronze angel.

A dramatic approachway adorned by twelve towering angels carved by none other than Bernini himself.

The cross’s central arm passed directly through the center of the castle’s bridge.

His mind, as though ignoring the pain in his heart, forced aside the past and brought into focus the single, desperate task ahead.

Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.

The castle seemed to rise as he advanced, an unscalable peak, more intimidating to him even than St.Peter’s.

Arriving at the castle’s elephantine double doors, Langdon shoved them hard.

These ramparts had fended off armies of Berbers, heathens, and Moors.

Langdon gazed upward again.

He felt guilt-ridden for revealing this information, but a deal was a deal.

The only lights on the castle were exterior floods illuminating the façade.

The man jumped, saw Langdon’s dripping clothes, and yanked off his headset.

He was looking for options.

Surprisingly, in her eyes he saw fire instead of fear.

His heart was pounding. Frustration and hatred were starting to cripple his senses.

Langdon had come too far to fail now.

The shadows of history were whispering in the dark, but he moved on.

Watch over me, angel, he thought, gripping the bar.

Vittoria knew in that instant that she was capable of killing.

The anticipation of exploring her bodily treasures was inebriating.

He felt almost exuberant as he ran toward the tunnel.

The light from the prison area faded away. He ascended into the total darkness.

He was stunned. He had heard of this tunnel many times, never knowing where exactly the entrance was.

But time had run out.

"Some causes are worth dying for."

"I too wondered how Janus would gain entrance. Then in the van I heard the radio—a report about an 11th hour Samaritan."

"The final brand is the most brilliant of all. I’m afraid you will never see it, though."

"Not unless he had an appointment."

"Power has its privileges."

"You will die, of course, that is for certain. But the final victim of whom I speak is a truly dangerous enemy."

"Such conceit," the Hassassin sneered, watching Langdon’s eyes. "The two of you are nothing."

"Janus will never get out alive!"

"The Illuminati plot had come full circle."

"Eye for an eye."

The towering media screens in the square were now transmitting a live countdown of the antimatter canister.

The crowd was too dense and seemed far more interested in the Vatican’s impending doom than in their own safety.

The Illuminati had no doubt expected the Vatican to be their usual reticent selves in the face of adversity.

Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca had proven himself a commanding foe.

Many of the cardinals were continuing to pray, but others had clustered around the exit, clearly unsettled by the hour.

The pounding on the door became more intense.

Chartrand felt uneasy.

Give me strength, God. Bring us a miracle.

He poked at the coals, wondering if he would survive the night.

It is past time. Should I open the Sistine?

Thank you . . .

It was she who deserved thanks—her ability to practically dislocate her shoulders had just saved them both.

We need to get out of here.

There’s a way. Trust me.

I have to find a way to get those people out of there! They’re in incredible danger—

What the devil—

Talk about an entrance.

Somebody’s got to warn them!

Wait!

A king on an electric throne.

Cripples are powerless, Kohler thought. Or so the world believes.

Tonight I may die at the hands of religion, he thought. But it will not be the first time.

God will protect me.

Science creates miracles every day!

These were the people who had robbed him of his dignity.

The sight of his own twisted form repulsed Kohler.

But it was not the voice of an angel.

I will never forgive myself, if I do not do this.

This will save your life. I have great faith in the power of medicine.

It seems God has punished him for not having enough faith.

Impossible was one word Langdon had stopped using tonight.

Maybe Kohler gambled that the Vatican would keep the antimatter a secret—refusing to empower the Illuminati by confirming the weapon’s existence.

It was a brilliant response, and Kohler never expected it.

The irony of the whole thing is that the Illuminati attack backfired.

Kohler is Janus.

Max would never get out alive.

Maybe that was the point.

He found the ancient lock hanging open.

They ran on. Langdon could now hear the sounds of chaos.

A one-way portal, used for security.

"He had confronted the problem head-on… truthful, candid, shining like an example to all."

"I thought you were dead!"

"Heart pounding, he turned to run back to the office."

"The keys to this door were supposed to be in a vault someplace!"

"Someone had opened it recently."

"What is this!" Chartrand demanded. "What’s going on! Where did you come from?"

"The camerlengo is in danger!"

"Max Kohler is going to kill the camerlengo!"

"It was too late."

"From inside the Pope’s office came a bloodcurdling scream."

Some things are worth dying for.

The most brilliant of all.

It was the voice of the camerlengo that broke the silence.

Everyone else in the room was focused on the camerlengo.

Kohler had apparently recorded some sort of final suicide message.

Langdon decided he had done enough for this man’s cause tonight.

It doesn’t matter how he did it! Kohler accomplished his mission!

Kohler’s final words were a gurgling whisper.

The eyes looked even harder in death.

The chamber was lit only by candlelight and a dying fire.

With less than twenty-five minutes left until midnight, the people were still packed together, some praying, some weeping for the church.

The pilot felt personally responsible for the attack.

He couldn’t place it, but he didn’t like it.

The cardinals’ relief to be leaving ground zero seemed to be quickly overcome by looks of bewilderment.

The crowd noise intensified yet again.

Tonight was clearly not his lucky night.

Time was running out.

He knew he would be airborne in a matter of minutes.

This was no solemn candlelight vigil.

A new clamor arose from the crowd.

He stood a moment, looking disoriented, and then, before anyone could stop him, he lurched forward.

The glare that hit his eyes was searing.

Langdon felt like they were moving underwater.

This is wrong! Langdon thought.

The gasp that went up from the crowd seemed to travel around the globe and back in an instant.

The ultimate Illuminati victory.

When is a square not a square?

A flawless diamond, born of the ancient elements with such perfection that all those who saw it could only stare in wonder.

The marking’s awesome power hit Langdon like a train.

He had forgotten the first rule of symbology.

"Ti sento, Dio! I hear you, God!"

"Grazie! Grazie, Dio!"

"The silence of the masses never broke."

"Upon this rock I will build my church!"

"Like the sun breaking through a stormy sky, a look of joy spread across his face."

"He looked almost Christlike, bare and wounded before the world."

"The whole scene felt epic."

"He raised his arms to the heavens and, looking up, exclaimed, 'Grazie, Dio!'"

"The drama, however, had only just begun."

"The man had clearly gone mad. The world watched, spellbound."

‘Upon this rock I will build my church!’

I have just had a message. I know—

Thank you for your concern and service.

The meaning is clear.

The Illuminati have placed their tool of destruction on the very cornerstone of this church.

There is a rock, my son.

Pietro è la pietra.

Peter is the rock.

The antimatter is on St.Peter’s tomb.

The ultimate infiltration.

Sometimes, divine revelation simply means adjusting your brain to hear what your heart already knows.

Each of us is a God, Buddha had said. Each of us knows all. We need only open our minds to hear our own wisdom.

There will be no more death tonight.

All I am asking is that you not interfere with His bidding.

You must leave the antimatter where it is! There’s no other choice!

Please... some faith.

I am to save this church. And I can. I swear on my life.

Let me do what I have been called to do.

If you bring the antimatter up... everyone will die!

What could the camerlengo possibly do down here? Even if he found the antimatter? There was no time!

Necropolis literally means City of the Dead.

The mind can bring so much more pain than the body.

I am a beacon in the darkness. I am the light.

Thank you, God. It is almost over.

There will be no more death tonight!

Look out!

Vittoria had seen in her eyes a wariness that looked, unsettlingly, a lot like female intuition.

It’s too late now, he thought, he and Vittoria dashing after the others. We’re committed.

Langdon felt like he was running through the pages of history.

The explanation, when it dawned on him, sent shivers to his core.

Deliver us from evil.

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

Look to the heavens! We forget to look to the heavens!

Although Langdon could not see it on account of the lights, he knew their salvation was directly overhead.

There are other options too, he realized, feeling almost weightless as he ran.

Everyone back! Get away! Now!

Now you understand, the camerlengo thought. Now you have faith!

Fly! I’ll throw!

There’s no time! Just fly the blessed chopper!

Three minutes, Father! Three!

"I wish you had not come, my friend. You have made the ultimate sacrifice."

"It’s the only guarantee."

"Look to the heavens!"

"Heaven... was literally where he was headed."

"There must be somewhere we can go!"

"We’re still over the Vatican!"

"The glow of St.Peter’s Square shrank beneath them."

"Excitement surged through him."

"This was obviously where the camerlengo planned to take the antimatter!"

"A couple of miles north!"

the entire world was focused upward, silenced in anticipation... all peoples, all faiths... all hearts beating as one.

time seemed to hover in limbo, souls suspended in unison.

The dead silence of the event was the most terrifying of all.

As if bound by God’s own will, the surging radius seemed to hit a wall.

Night had become day.

The concussion was deep and hollow—a thunderous shock wave from above.

The wind tore through the square, letting out a sepulchral moan.

Dust swirled overhead as people huddled... witnesses to Armageddon.

A sea of faces stared heavenward, united in a silent countdown.

Vittoria felt the tears begin to well.

Never before had so many been so silent.

It seemed for a moment the entire world was bowing its head in unison.

Everywhere, hearts shuddered with spontaneous emotion.

The faces in St. Peter’s Square, one by one, averted their eyes from the darkening sky.

Does one need to believe in miracles to experience them?

Am I so modern that I cannot accept what my eyes have just witnessed?

What would it say about God if God had done nothing?

A miracle was the only possible response!

He had come for her at Castle St. Angelo.

A single word tolled like a distant bell.

Take me. Please…

Leading us from temptation.

I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

With no parachute, Robert Langdon had jumped out the door.

His last great act of youthful defiance.

No illusions of life beyond this moment.

He focused hard on the widest part of the serpent and… for the first time in his life, prayed for a miracle.

Then there was impact… and blackness.

They wondered if it was Isola Tiberina’s mythical reputation for healing that had somehow kept his heart pumping.

The city looked like an enormous starlit sky that Langdon was falling into.

The silence of the vision over St.Peter’s Square sang louder than any chorus of angels.

He felt transformed, otherworldly.

They were experiencing what each of them had always longed for . . . an assurance of the beyond.

Camerlengo Ventresca had prayed all his life for this moment.

Your God is a living God! Behold the miracles all around you!

He stood there a while, numb and yet feeling more than he had ever felt.

It was the camerlengo. There was no doubt. But he looked different somehow. Divine.

His white flesh shone in the spotlights with an incorporeal weightlessness.

The cardinals, some with tears rolling down their faces, joined in.

He wanted to cry out to them.

You are very lucky to be alive.

Sir? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?

God himself had hand-delivered this one to safety.

One does not go to Vatican City with one’s ass hanging out.

The fog began to lift.

He felt a wave of relief.

I need some clothes.

We have no clothes.

Get this man something to wear.

Fly Vatican City. Very fast.

"I suspect I will struggle for the rest of my days with the meaning of what I have witnessed tonight."

"I have vowed to guide these proceedings with purity of soul."

"It is God who gave us reason and circumspection!"

"Does it? Is it God’s will that we discard the rules of the church?"

"I would be asking each of you to break a sacred oath."

"Is it God’s will that we abandon reason and give ourselves over to frenzy?"

"As your Great Elector, I have vowed to uphold the laws of conclave."

"Let us wait. Let us hear him before we have a balloting. There may be an explanation."

"What happened here tonight… it certainly transcends our laws!"

"I am not questioning God’s power! It is God we serve by exercising prudence!"

"Oh, God . . . oh, thank God . . ."

"When God is on your side, you have options a man like you could never comprehend."

"Confessing your sins is the escape."

"Man cannot put God’s Creation in a test tube and wave it around for the world to see!"

"He had to be stopped!"

"I have seen Satan’s face lurking . . . I have seen the peril . . ."

"You plan to blackmail the church with a story that no one will possibly believe?"

"How does your God inspire? How does your God reach into the hearts of man and remind him he is accountable to a greater power!"

"Science is here! But I have seen Satan’s face lurking."

"The madness of it! Man is not ready to hold the power of Creation in his hands."

If not you, God had challenged, then WHO?

If not now, then WHEN?

If not this way, then HOW?

Jesus had saved them all . . . saved them from their own apathy.

Oh, the horror of that night!

It was in that moment of pain and betrayal, as the camerlengo lay devastated in the Necropolis, praying for God to take him from this faithless world, that God had come.

But would you die for . . . mankind?

Restore their faith.

His will be done.

They are in awe of God, he reminded himself. Not of me, but how God works THROUGH me.

And the truth shall set you free.

If you could give your own soul to save millions, would you?

Apathy is death.

Without darkness, there is no light. Without evil, there is no good.

Show them the old demons. Remind them of their fear.

Listen to the singing. Nothing unites hearts like the presence of evil.

Fear has brought them home.

Become the goodness!

Those who believe undergo great tests for God!

The power of God will overcome!

I believed in you! GOD believed in you!

How could His Holiness expect him to endure any more?

The madness came quickly, screaming in his ears, until he awoke before St.Peter’s tomb.

Together they would protect the church.

Together they would restore faith to this faithless world.

Evil was everywhere. And yet the world had become immune!

Together they would unveil the darkness for the world to see.

God would overcome!

Horror and Hope. Then the world would believe!

The Pope had said enough.

"A promise to God is the most important promise of all."

"You were their miraculous child."

"The Pope broke his vow!"

"I confronted His Holiness... and he confessed."

"When the Pope heard she had died in an explosion... he swore to God he would never leave you alone again."

"But these deeds here today, tonight... certainly the world should know the truth."

"We must act with foresight. The repercussions of this..."

"The pain this could cause..."

"I will tell them. I don’t know how... but I will find a way."

"Our failures should be our own to expose."

"Never break a promise to God."

"It is a faithless world. They need to be brought back to the path of righteousness. Horror and Hope. It is the only way."

"If not you . . . then who? Who will lead the church out of darkness?"

"The church’s strength was its tradition, not its transience. The whole world is transitory. The church did not need to change, it simply needed to remind the world it was relevant!"

"Evil lives! God will overcome!"

"Old men do not inspire! Jesus inspired! Young, vibrant, powerful . . . MIRACULOUS."

"God had always asked great sacrifice of those he loved most."

"The camerlengo felt a surge of morphine, but he knew God was guiding him."

"This was the sole path to the church’s salvation!"

"The Horror was his. The Hope was theirs."

A chance for forgiveness.

No love is greater than that of a father for His son.

It is time for His Holiness to have the peace he has earned.

Our minds sometimes see what our hearts wish were true.

Charity is not dead in the church.

I thank God for small blessings.

You would lead us well.

I am an old man. I would lead you briefly.

Perhaps the rain washed them away.

Yes, perhaps . . .

"And though last night was a night of wonder, it was also a night of tragedy."

"It is now official. Cardinal Saverio Mortati, a seventy-nine-year-old progressive, has just been elected the next Pope of Vatican City."

"I would like to invite a guest to join me."

"Yes. I should first say that I have spent my life studying the laws of papal election."

"As perplexing as this will sound, I believe the College of Cardinals unknowingly elected two Popes this weekend."

"According to the ancient forgotten laws put forth in the Romano Pontifici Eligendo, balloting is not the only method by which a Pope can be elected."

"With that image in mind, allow me to read verbatim from the ancient electoral laws."

"Election by Adoration occurs when... all the cardinals... spontaneously, unanimously and aloud, proclaim one individual’s name."

"The facts are these... Carlo Ventresca was elected Pope last night..."

"And had he not ascended miraculously into a pillar of fire, he would now be buried in the Vatican Grottoes along with the other Popes."

Let your hearts guide you in this matter.

The world seems a better place today . . . maybe the questions are more powerful than the answers.

The Lord works in strange ways.

She looked like a heavenly apparition . . . a radiant silhouette.

You can admit it. You feel a longing. I see it in your eyes.

The feast was sumptuous.

Sipping Dolcetto wine and talking late into the night.

How you disproved that Einstein theory using tuna fish.

Maybe for your next experiment, you could study flounders and prove the earth is flat.

So you’ve never had a religious experience? A perfect moment of glorious rapture?