Angels & Demons

arrest, meetings portrayed in many Renaissance paintings, including Annibale Gatti’s famous Galileo and Milton, which hung even now in the IMSS Museum in Florence.

"Milton knew Galileo, didn’t he?" Vittoria said, finally pushing the folio over to Langdon. "Maybe he wrote the poem as a favor?"

Langdon clenched his teeth as he took the sheathed document. Leaving it flat on the table, he read the line at the top. Then he rotated the page 90 degrees, reading the line in the right margin. Another twist, and he read the bottom. Another twist, the left. A final twist completed the circle. There were four lines in all. The first line Vittoria had found was actually the third line of the poem. Utterly agape, he read the four lines again, clockwise in sequence: top, right, bottom, left. When he was done, he exhaled. There was no doubt in his mind. "You found it, Ms. Vetra."

She smiled tightly. "Good, now can we get the hell out of here?"

"I have to copy these lines down. I need to find a pencil and paper."

Vittoria shook her head. "Forget it, professor. No time to play scribe. Mickey’s ticking." She took the page from him and headed for the door.

Langdon stood up. "You can’t take that outside! It’s a—"

But Vittoria was already gone.

55

Langdon and Vittoria exploded onto the courtyard outside the Secret Archives. The fresh air felt like a drug as it flowed into Langdon’s lungs. The purple spots in his vision quickly faded. The guilt, however, did not. He had just been accomplice to stealing a priceless relic from the world’s most private vault. The camerlegno had said, I am giving you my trust.

"Hurry," Vittoria said, still holding the folio in her hand and striding at a half-jog across Via Borgia in the direction of Olivetti’s office.

"If any water gets on that papyrus—"

"Calm down. When we decipher this thing, we can return their sacred Folio 5."

Langdon accelerated to keep up. Beyond feeling like a criminal, he was still dazed over the document’s spellbinding implications. John Milton was an Illuminatus. He composed the poem for Galileo to publish in Folio 5… far from the eyes of the Vatican.

As they left the courtyard, Vittoria held out the folio for Langdon. "You think you can decipher this thing? Or did we just kill all those brain cells for kicks?"

Langdon took the document carefully in his hands. Without hesitation he slipped it into one of the breast pockets of his tweed jacket, out of the sunlight and dangers of moisture. "I deciphered it already."

Vittoria stopped short. "You what?"

Langdon kept moving.

Vittoria hustled to catch up. "You read it once! I thought it was supposed to be hard!"

Langdon knew she was right, and yet he had deciphered the segno in a single reading. A perfect stanza of iambic pentameter, and the first altar of science had revealed itself in pristine clarity. Admittedly, the ease with which he had accomplished the task left him with a nagging disquietude. He was a child of the Puritan work ethic. He could still hear his father speaking the old New England aphorism: If it wasn’t painfully difficult, you did it wrong. Langdon hoped the saying was false. "I deciphered it," he said, moving faster now. "I know where the first killing is going to happen. We need to warn Olivetti."

Vittoria closed in on him. "How could you already know? Let me see that thing again." With the sleight of a boxer, she slipped a lissome hand into his pocket and pulled out the folio again.

"Careful!" Langdon said. "You can’t—"

Vittoria ignored him. Folio in hand, she floated beside him, holding the document up to the evening light, examining the margins. As she began reading aloud, Langdon moved to retrieve the folio but instead found himself bewitched by Vittoria’s accented alto speaking the syllables in perfect rhythm with her gait.

For a moment, hearing the verse aloud, Langdon felt transported in time… as though he were one of Galileo’s contemporaries, listening to the poem for the first time… knowing it was a test, a map, a clue unveiling the four altars of science… the four markers that blazed a secret path across Rome. The verse flowed from Vittoria’s lips like a song.

From Santi’s earthly tomb with demon’s hole,
‘Cross Rome the mystic elements unfold.
The path of light is laid, the sacred test,
Let angels guide you on your lofty quest.

Vittoria read it twice and then fell silent, as if letting the ancient words resonate on their own.

From Santi’s earthly tomb, Langdon repeated in his mind. The poem was crystal clear about that. The Path of Illumination began at Santi’s tomb. From there, across Rome, the markers blazed the trail.

From Santi’s earthly tomb with demon’s hole,
‘Cross Rome the mystic elements unfold.

Mystic elements. Also clear. Earth, Air, Fire, Water. Elements of science, the four Illuminati markers disguised as religious sculpture.

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

Langdon smiled. "I told you it wasn’t that tough."

"So who is Santi?" she asked, sounding suddenly excited. "And where’s his tomb? "

Langdon chuckled to himself. He was amazed how few people knew Santi, the last name of one of the most famous Renaissance artists ever to live. His first name was world renowned… the child prodigy who at the age of twenty-five was already doing commissions for Pope Julius II, and when he died at only thirty-eight, left behind the greatest collection of frescoes the world had ever seen. Santi was a behemoth in the art world, and being known solely by one’s first name was a level of fame achieved only by an elite few… people like Napoleon, Galileo, and Jesus… and, of course, the demigods Langdon now heard blaring from Harvard dormitories—Sting, Madonna, Jewel, and the artist formerly known as Prince, who had changed his name to the symbol

causing Langdon to dub him "The Tau Cross With Intersecting Hermaphroditic Ankh."

"Santi," Langdon said, "is the last name of the great Renaissance master, Raphael."

Vittoria looked surprised. "Raphael? As in the Raphael?"

"The one and only." Langdon pushed on toward the Office of the Swiss Guard.

"So the path starts at Raphael’s tomb?"

"It actually makes perfect sense," Langdon said as they rushed on. "The Illuminati often considered great artists and sculptors honorary brothers in enlightenment. The Illuminati could have chosen Raphael’s tomb as a kind of tribute." Langdon also knew that Raphael, like many other religious artists, was a suspected closet atheist.

Vittoria slipped the folio carefully back in Langdon’s pocket. "So where is he buried?"

Langdon took a deep breath. "Believe it or not, Raphael’s buried in the Pantheon."

Vittoria looked skeptical. "The Pantheon?"

"The Raphael at the Pantheon." Langdon had to admit, the Pantheon was not what he had expected for the placement of the first marker. He would have guessed the first altar of science to be at some quiet, out of the way church, something subtle. Even in the 1600s, the Pantheon, with its tremendous, holed dome, was one of the best known sites in Rome.

"Is the Pantheon even a church?" Vittoria asked.

"Oldest Catholic church in Rome."

Vittoria shook her head. "But do you really think the first cardinal could be killed at the Pantheon? That’s got to be one of the busiest tourist spots in Rome."

Langdon shrugged. "The Illuminati said they wanted the whole world watching. Killing a cardinal at the