d.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and dead-ended at a heavy, steel door. The guard typed an entry
code, and the door slid open. Langdon and Vittoria entered.
Beyond the threshold was absolute mayhem.
36
T he Office of the Swiss Guard.
Langdon stood in the doorway, surveying the collision of centuries before them. Mixed media. The room
was a lushly adorned Renaissance library complete with inlaid bookshelves, oriental carpets, and colorful
tapestries . . . and yet the room bristled with high-tech gear-banks of computers, faxes, electronic maps
of the Vatican complex, and televisions tuned to CNN. Men in colorful pantaloons typed feverishly on
computers and listened intently in futuristic headphones.
"Wait here," the guard said.
Langdon and Vittoria waited as the guard crossed the room to an exceptionally tall, wiry man in a dark
blue military uniform. He was talking on a cellular phone and stood so straight he was almost bent
backward. The guard said something to him, and the man shot a glance over at Langdon and Vittoria. He
nodded, then turned his back on them and continued his phone call.
The guard returned. "Commander Olivetti will be with you in a moment."
"Thank you."
The guard left and headed back up the stairs.
Langdon studied Commander Olivetti across the room, realizing he was actually the Commander in Chief
of the armed forces of an entire country. Vittoria and Langdon waited, observing the action before them.
Brightly dressed guards bustled about yelling orders in Italian.
"Continua cercando!" one yelled into a telephone.
"Probasti il museo?"another asked.
Langdon did not need fluent Italian to discern that the security center was currently in intense search
mode. This was the good news. The bad news was that they obviously had not yet found the antimatter.
"You okay?" Langdon asked Vittoria.
She shrugged, offering a tired smile.
When the commander finally clicked off his phone and approached across the room, he seemed to grow
with each step. Langdon was tall himself and not accustomed to looking up at many people, but
Commander Olivetti demanded it. Langdon sensed immediately that the commander was a man who had
weathered tempests, his face hale and steeled. His dark hair was cropped in a military buzz cut, and his
eyes burned with the kind of hardened determination only attainable through years of intense training. He
moved with ramrod exactness, the earpiece hidden discreetly behind one ear making him look more like
U.S. Secret Service than Swiss Guard.
The commander addressed them in accented English. His voice was startlingly quiet for such a large man,
barely a whisper. It bit with a tight, military efficiency. "Good afternoon," he said. "I am Commander
Olivetti-Comandante Principale of the Swiss Guard. I'm the one who called your director."
Vittoria gazed upward. "Thank you for seeing us, sir."
The commander did not respond. He motioned for them to follow and led them through the tangle of
electronics to a door in the side wall of the chamber. "Enter," he said, holding the door for them.
Langdon and Vittoria walked through and found themselves in a darkened control room where a wall of
video monitors was cycling lazily through a series of black-and-white images of the complex. A young
guard sat watching the images intently.
"Fuori," Olivetti said.
The guard packed up and left.
Olivetti walked over to one of the screens and pointed to it. Then he turned toward his guests. "This
image is from a remote camera hidden somewhere inside Vatican City. I'd like an explanation."
Langdon and Vittoria looked at the screen and inhaled in unison. The image was absolute. No doubt. It
was CERN's antimatter canister. Inside, a shimmering droplet of metallic liquid hung ominously in the
air, lit by the rhythmic blinking of the LED digital clock. Eerily, the area around the canister was almost
entirely dark, as if the antimatter were in a closet or darkened room. At the top of the monitor flashed
superimposed text: LIVE FEED-CAMERA #86.
Vittoria looked at the time remaining on the flashing indicator on the canister. "Under six hours," she
whispered to Langdon, her face tense.
Langdon checked his watch. "So we have until . . ." He stopped, a knot tightening in his stomach.
"Midnight," Vittoria said, with a withering look.
Midnight, Langdon thought. A flair for the dramatic. Apparently whoever stole the canister last night had
timed it perfectly. A stark foreboding set in as he realized he was currently sitting at ground zero.
Olivetti's whisper now sounded more like a hiss. "Does this object belong to your facility?"
Vittoria nodded. "Yes, sir. It was stolen from us. It contains an extremely combustible substance called
antimatter."
Olivetti looked unmoved. "I am quite familiar with incendiaries, Ms. Vetra. I have not heard of
antimatter."
"It's new technology. We need to locate it immediately or evacuate Vatican City."
Olivetti closed his eyes slowly and reopened them, as if refocusing on Vittoria might change what he just
heard. "Evacuate? Are you aware what is going on here this evening?"
"Yes, sir. And the lives of your cardinals are in danger. We have about six hours. Have you made any
headway locating the canister?"
Olivetti shook his head. "We haven't started looking."
Vittoria choked. "What? But we expressly heard your guards talking about searching the-"
"Searching, yes," Olivetti said, "but not for your canister. My men are looking for something else that
does not concern you."
Vittoria's voice cracked. "You haven't even begun looking for this canister?"
Olivetti's pupils seemed to recede into his head. He had the passionless look of an insect. "Ms. Vetra, is
it? Let me explain something to you. The director of your facility refused to share any details about this
object with me over the phone except to say that I needed to find it immediately. We are exceptionally
busy, and I do not have the luxury of dedicating manpower to a situation until I get some facts."
"There is only one relevant fact at this moment, sir," Vittoria said, "that being that in six hours that device
is going to vaporize this entire complex."
Olivetti stood motionless. "Ms. Vetra, there is something you need to know." His tone hinted at
patronizing. "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. If someone tried to enter
with any sort of incendiary device it would be detected instantly. We have radioactive isotope scanners,
olfactory filters designed by the American DEA to detect the faintest chemical signatures of combustibles
and toxins. We also use the most advanced metal detectors and X-ray scanners available."
"Very impressive," Vittoria said, matching Olivetti's cool. "Unfortunately, antimatter is nonradioactive,
its chemical signature is that of pure hydrogen, and the canister is plastic. None of those devices would
have detected it."
"But the device has an energy source," Olivetti said, motioning to the blinking LED. "Even the smallest
trace of nickel-cadmium would register as-"
"The batteries are also plastic."
Olivetti's patience was clearly starting to wane. "Plastic batteries?"
"Polymer gel electrolyte with Teflon."
Olivetti leaned toward her, as if to accentuate his height advantage. "Signorina, the Vatican is the target
of dozens of bomb threats a month. I personally train every Swiss Guard in modern explosive technology.
I am well aware that there is no substance on earth powerful enough to do what you are describing unless
you are talking about a nuclear warhead with a fuel core the size of a baseball."
Vittoria framed him with a fervent stare. "Nature has many mysteries yet to unveil."
Olivetti leaned closer. "Might I ask exactly who you are? What is your position at CERN?"
"I am a senior member of the research staff and appointed liaison to the Vatican for this crisis."
"Excuse me for being rude, but if this is indeed a crisis, why am I dealing with you and not your director?
And what disrespect do you intend by coming into Vatican City in short pants?"
Langdon groaned. He couldn't believe that under the circumstances the man was being a stickler for dress
code. Then again, he realized, if stone penises could induce lustful thoughts in Vatican residents, Vittoria
Vetra in shorts could certainly be a threat to national security.
"Commander Olivetti," Langdon intervened, trying to diffuse what looked like a second bomb about to
explode. "My name is Robert Langdon. I'm a professor of religious studies in the U.S. and unaffiliated
with CERN. I have seen an antimatter demonstration and will vouch for Ms. Vetra's claim that it is
exceptionally dangerous. We have reason to believe it was placed inside your complex by an antireligious
cult hoping to disrupt your conclave."
Olivetti turned, peering down at Langdon. "I have a woman in shorts telling me that a droplet of liquid is
going to blow up Vatican City, and I have an American professor telling me we are being targeted by
some antireligious cult. What exactly is it you expect me to do?"
"Find the canister," Vittoria said. "Right away."
"Impossible. That device could be anywhere. Vatican City is enormous."
"Your cameras don't have GPS locators on them?"
"They are not generally stolen. This missing camera will take days to locate."
"We don't have days," Vittoria said adamantly. "We have six hours."
"Six hours until what, Ms. Vetra?" Olivetti's voice grew louder suddenly. He pointed to the image on the
screen. "Until these numbers count down? Until Vatican City disappears? Believe me, I do not take
kindly to people tampering with my security system. Nor do I like mechanical contraptions appearing
mysteriously inside my walls. I am concerned. It is my job to be concerned. But what you have told me
here is unacceptable."
Langdon