Langdon felt the tiny car shrink around him. I have no idea! I’m not an assassin! I don’t know how he will do it! I only know—
"One scenario?" Vittoria quipped, her voice unruffled. "How about this? The killer flies over in a helicopter and drops a screaming, branded cardinal down through the hole in the roof. The cardinal hits the marble floor and dies."
Everyone in the car turned and stared at Vittoria. Langdon didn’t know what to think. You’ve got one sick imagination, lady, but you are quick.
Olivetti frowned. "Possible, I admit… but hardly—"
"Or the killer drugs the cardinal," Vittoria said, "brings him to the Pantheon in a wheelchair like some old tourist. He wheels him inside, quietly slits his throat, and then walks out."
This seemed to wake up Olivetti a bit.
Not bad! Langdon thought.
"Or," she said, "the killer could—"
"I heard you," Olivetti said. "Enough." He took a deep breath and blew it out. Someone rapped sharply on the window, and everyone jumped. It was a soldier from one of the other cars. Olivetti rolled down the window.
"Everything all right, commander?" The soldier was dressed in street clothes. He pulled back the sleeve of his denim shirt to reveal a black chronograph military watch. "Seven-forty, commander. We’ll need time to get in position."
Olivetti nodded vaguely but said nothing for many moments. He ran a finger back and forth across the dash, making a line in the dust. He studied Langdon in the side-view mirror, and Langdon felt himself being measured and weighed. Finally Olivetti turned back to the guard. There was reluctance in his voice. "I’ll want separate approaches. Cars to Piazza della Rotunda, Via delgi Orfani, Piazza Sant’Ignacio, and Sant’Eustachio. No closer than two blocks. Once you’re parked, gear up and await my orders. Three minutes."
"Very good, sir." The soldier returned to his car.
Langdon gave Vittoria an impressed nod. She smiled back, and for an instant Langdon felt an unexpected connection… a thread of magnetism between them.
The commander turned in his seat and locked eyes with Langdon. "Mr. Langdon, this had better not blow up in our faces."
Langdon smiled uneasily. How could it?
57
The director of CERN, Maximilian Kohler, opened his eyes to the cool rush of cromolyn and leukotriene in his body, dilating his bronchial tubes and pulmonary capillaries. He was breathing normally again. He found himself lying in a private room in the CERN infirmary, his wheelchair beside the bed.
He took stock, examining the paper robe they had put him in. His clothing was folded on the chair beside the bed. Outside he could hear a nurse making the rounds. He lay there a long minute listening. Then, as quietly as possible, he pulled himself to the edge of the bed and retrieved his clothing. Struggling with his dead legs, he dressed himself. Then he dragged his body onto his wheelchair.
Muffling a cough, he wheeled himself to the door. He moved manually, careful not to engage the motor. When he arrived at the door he peered out. The hall was empty.
Silently, Maximilian Kohler slipped out of the infirmary.
58
"Seven-forty-six and thirty… mark." Even speaking into his walkie-talkie, Olivetti’s voice never seemed to rise above a whisper.
Langdon felt himself sweating now in his Harris tweed in the backseat of the Alpha Romeo, which was idling in Piazza de la Concorde, three blocks from the Pantheon. Vittoria sat beside him, looking engrossed by Olivetti, who was transmitting his final orders.
"Deployment will be an eight-point hem," the commander said. "Full perimeter with a bias on the entry. Target may know you visually, so you will be pas-visible. Nonmortal force only. We’ll need someone to spot the roof. Target is primary. Asset secondary."
Jesus, Langdon thought, chilled by the efficiency with which Olivetti had just told his men the cardinal was expendable. Asset secondary.
"I repeat. Nonmortal procurement. We need the target alive. Go." Olivetti snapped off his walkie-talkie.
Vittoria looked stunned, almost angry. "Commander, isn’t anyone going inside?"
Olivetti turned. "Inside?"
"Inside the Pantheon! Where this is supposed to happen?"
"Attento," Olivetti said, his eyes fossilizing. "If my ranks have been infiltrated, my men may be known by sight. Your colleague has just finished warning me that this will be our sole chance to catch the target. I have no intention of scaring anyone off by marching my men inside."
"But what if the killer is already inside?"
Olivetti checked his watch. "The target was specific. Eight o’clock. We have fifteen minutes."
"He said he would kill the cardinal at eight o’clock. But he may already have gotten the victim inside somehow. What if your men see the target come out but don’t know who he is? Someone needs to make sure the inside is clean."
"Too risky at this point."
"Not if the person going in was unrecognizable."
"Disguising operatives is time consuming and—"
"I meant me," Vittoria said.
Langdon turned and stared at her.
Olivetti shook his head. "Absolutely not."
"He killed my father."
"Exactly, so he may know who you are."
"You heard him on the phone. He had no idea Leonardo Vetra even had a daughter. He sure as hell doesn’t know what I look like. I could walk in like a tourist. If I see anything suspicious, I could walk into the square and signal your men to move in."
"I’m sorry, I cannot allow that."
"Comandante?" Olivetti’s receiver crackled. "We’ve got a situation from the north point. The fountain is blocking our line of sight. We can’t see the entrance unless we move into plain view on the piazza. What’s your call? Do you want us blind or vulnerable?"
Vittoria apparently had endured enough. "That’s it. I’m going." She opened her door and got out.
Olivetti dropped his walkie-talkie and jumped out of the car, circling in front of Vittoria.
Langdon got out too. What the hell is she doing!
Olivetti blocked Vittoria’s way. "Ms. Vetra, your instincts are good, but I cannot let a civilian interfere."
"Interfere? You’re flying blind. Let me help."
"I would love to have a recon point inside, but…"
"But what?" Vittoria demanded. "But I’m a woman?"
Olivetti said nothing.
"That had better not be what you were going to say, Commander, because you know damn well this is a good idea, and if you let some archaic macho bullshit—"
"Let us do our job."
"Let me help."
"Too dangerous. We would have no lines of communication with you. I can’t let you carry a walkie-talkie, it would give you away."
Vittoria reached in her shirt pocket and produced her cell phone. "Plenty of tourists carry phones."
Olivetti frowned.
Vittoria unsnapped the phone and mimicked a call. "Hi, honey, I’m standing in the Pantheon. You should see this place!" She snapped the phone shut and glared at Olivetti. "Who the hell is going to know? It is a no-risk situation. Let me be your eyes!" She motioned to the cell phone on Olivetti’s belt. "What’s your number?"