Angels & Demons

The camerlegno looked startled. "You will never get out of here alive."

"Death would be a welcome relief from the misery your faith has put me through since I was a boy." Kohler held the gun with both hands now. "I am giving you a choice. Confess your sins… or die right now."

The camerlegno glanced toward the door.

"Rocher is outside," Kohler challenged. "He too is prepared to kill you."

"Rocher is a sworn protector of th—"

"Rocher let me in here. Armed. He is sickened by your lies. You have a single option. Confess to me. I have to hear it from your very lips."

The camerlegno hesitated.

Kohler cocked his gun. "Do you really doubt I will kill you?"

"No matter what I tell you," the camerlegno said, "a man like you will never understand."

"Try me."

The camerlegno stood still for a moment, a dominant silhouette in the dim light of the fire. When he spoke, his words echoed with a dignity more suited to the glorious recounting of altruism than that of a confession.

"Since the beginning of time," the camerlegno said, "this church has fought the enemies of God. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with swords. And we have always survived."

The camerlegno radiated conviction.

"But the demons of the past," he continued, "were demons of fire and abomination… they were enemies we could fight—enemies who inspired fear. Yet Satan is shrewd. As time passed, he cast off his diabolical countenance for a new face… the face of pure reason. Transparent and insidious, but soulless all the same." The camerlegno’s voice flashed sudden anger—an almost maniacal transition. "Tell me, Mr. Kohler! How can the church condemn that which makes logical sense to our minds! How can we decry that which is now the very foundation of our society! Each time the church raises its voice in warning, you shout back, calling us ignorant. Paranoid. Controlling! And so your evil grows. Shrouded in a veil of self-righteous intellectualism. It spreads like a cancer. Sanctified by the miracles of its own technology. Deifying itself! Until we no longer suspect you are anything but pure goodness. Science has come to save us from our sickness, hunger, and pain! Behold science—the new God of endless miracles, omnipotent and benevolent! Ignore the weapons and the chaos. Forget the fractured loneliness and endless peril. Science is here!" The camerlegno stepped toward the gun. "But I have seen Satan’s face lurking… I have seen the peril…"

"What are you talking about! Vetra’s science practically proved the existence of your God! He was your ally!"

"Ally? Science and religion are not in this together! We do not seek the same God, you and I! Who is your God? One of protons, masses, and particle charges? 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! Remind him that he is accountable to his fellow man! Vetra was misguided. His work was not religious, it was sacrilegious! Man cannot put God’s Creation in a test tube and wave it around for the world to see! This does not glorify God, it demeans God!" The camerlegno was clawing at his body now, his voice manic.

"And so you had Leonardo Vetra killed!"

"For the church! For all mankind! The madness of it! Man is not ready to hold the power of Creation in his hands. God in a test tube? A droplet of liquid that can vaporize an entire city? He had to be stopped!" The camerlegno fell abruptly silent. He looked away, back toward the fire. He seemed to be contemplating his options.

Kohler’s hands leveled the gun. "You have confessed. You have no escape."

The camerlegno laughed sadly. "Don’t you see. Confessing your sins is the escape." He looked toward the door. "When God is on your side, you have options a man like you could never comprehend." With his words still hanging in the air, the camerlegno grabbed the neck of his cassock and violently tore it open, revealing his bare chest.

Kohler jolted, obviously startled. "What are you doing!"

The camerlegno did not reply. He stepped backward, toward the fireplace, and removed an object from the glowing embers.

"Stop!" Kohler demanded, his gun still leveled. "What are you doing!"

When the camerlegno turned, he was holding a red-hot brand. The Illuminati Diamond. The man’s eyes looked wild suddenly. "I had intended to do this all alone." His voice seethed with a feral intensity. "But now… I see God meant for you to be here. You are my salvation."

Before Kohler could react, the camerlegno closed his eyes, arched his back, and rammed the red hot brand into the center of his own chest. His flesh hissed. "Mother Mary! Blessed Mother… Behold your son!" He screamed out in agony.

Kohler lurched into the frame now… standing awkwardly on his feet, gun wavering wildly before him.

The camerlegno screamed louder, teetering in shock. He threw the brand at Kohler’s feet. Then the priest collapsed on the floor, writhing in agony.

What happened next was a blur.

There was a great flurry onscreen as the Swiss Guard burst into the room. The soundtrack exploded with gunfire. Kohler clutched his chest, blown backward, bleeding, falling into his wheelchair.

"No!" Rocher called, trying to stop his guards from firing on Kohler.

The camerlegno, still writhing on the floor, rolled and pointed frantically at Rocher. "Illuminatus!"

"You bastard," Rocher yelled, running at him. "You sanctimonious bas—"

Chartrand cut him down with three bullets. Rocher slid dead across the floor.

Then the guards ran to the wounded camerlegno, gathering around him. As they huddled, the video caught the face of a dazed Robert Langdon, kneeling beside the wheelchair, looking at the brand. Then, the entire frame began lurching wildly. Kohler had regained consciousness and was detaching the tiny camcorder from its holder under the arm of the wheelchair. Then he tried to hand the camcorder to Langdon.

"G-give…" Kohler gasped. "G-give this to the m-media."

Then the screen went blank.

130

The camerlegno began to feel the fog of wonder and adrenaline dissipating. As the Swiss Guard helped him down the Royal Staircase toward the Sistine Chapel, the camerlegno heard singing in St. Peter’s Square and he knew that mountains had been moved.

Grazie Dio.

He had prayed for strength, and God had given it to him. At moments when he had doubted, God had spoken. Yours is a Holy mission, God had said. I will give you strength. Even with God’s strength, the camerlegno had felt fear, questioning the righteousness of his path.

If not you, God had challenged, then Who?

If not now, then When?

If not this way, then How?

Jesus, God reminded him, had saved them all… saved them from their own apathy. With two deeds, Jesus had opened their eyes. Horror and Hope. The crucifixion and the resurrection. He had changed the world.

But that was millennia ago. Time had eroded the miracle. People had forgotten. They had turned to false idols—techno-deities and miracles of the mind. What about miracles of the heart!

The camerlegno had often prayed to God to show him how to make the people believe again. But God had been silent. It was not until the camerlegno’s moment of deepest darkness that God had come to him. Oh, the horror of that night!

The camerlegno could still remember lying on the floor in tattered nightclothes, clawing at his own flesh,