his first vote. Mortati had
waited patiently at the main altar as each cardinal, in order of seniority, had approached and performed
the specific balloting procedure.
Now, at last, the final cardinal had arrived at the altar and was kneeling before him.
"I call as my witness," the cardinal declared, exactly as those before him, "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 cardinal stood up. He held his ballot high over his head for everyone to see. Then he lowered the
ballot to the altar, where a plate sat atop a large chalice. He placed the ballot on the plate. Next he picked
up the plate and used it to drop the ballot into the chalice. Use of the plate was to ensure no one secretly
dropped multiple ballots.
After he had submitted his ballot, he replaced the plate over the chalice, bowed to the cross, and returned
to his seat.
The final ballot had been cast.
Now it was time for Mortati to go to work.
Leaving the plate on top of the chalice, Mortati shook the ballots to mix them. Then he removed the plate
and extracted a ballot at random. He unfolded it. The ballot was exactly two inches wide. He read aloud
for everyone to hear.
"Eligo in summum pontificem . . ." he declared, reading the text that was embossed at the top of every
ballot. I elect as Supreme Pontiff . . . Then he announced the nominee's name that had been written
beneath it. After he read the name, he raised a threaded needle and pierced the ballot through the word
Eligo, carefully sliding the ballot onto the thread. Then he made note of the vote in a logbook.
Next, he repeated the entire procedure. He chose a ballot from the chalice, read it aloud, threaded it onto
the line, and made note in his log. Almost immediately, Mortati sensed this first vote would be failed. No
consensus. After only seven ballots, already seven different cardinals had been named. As was normal,
the handwriting on each ballot was disguised by block printing or flamboyant script. The concealment
was ironic in this case because the cardinals were obviously submitting votes for themselves. This
apparent conceit, Mortati knew, had nothing to do with self-centered ambition. It was a holding pattern. A
defensive maneuver. A stall tactic to ensure no cardinal received enough votes to win . . . and another vote
would be forced.
The cardinals were waiting for their preferiti . . .
When the last of the ballots had been tallied, Mortati declared the vote "failed."
He took the thread carrying all the ballots and tied the ends together to create a ring. Then he lay the ring
of ballots on a silver tray. He added the proper chemicals and carried the tray to a small chimney behind
him. Here he lit the ballots. As the ballots burned, the chemicals he'd added created black smoke. The
smoke flowed up a pipe to a hole in the roof where it rose above the chapel for all to see. Cardinal Mortati
had just sent his first communication to the outside world.
One balloting. No Pope.
69
N early asphyxiated by fumes, Langdon struggled up the ladder toward the light at the top of the pit.
Above him he heard voices, but nothing was making sense. His head was spinning with images of the
branded cardinal.
Earth . . . Earth . . .
As he pushed upward, his vision narrowed and he feared consciousness would slip away. Two rungs from
the top, his balance faltered. He lunged upward trying to find the lip, but it was too far. He lost his grip on
the ladder and almost tumbled backward into the dark. There was a sharp pain under his arms, and
suddenly Langdon was airborne, legs swinging wildly out over the chasm.
The strong hands of two Swiss Guards hooked him under the armpits and dragged him skyward. A
moment later Langdon's head emerged from the Demon's hole, choking and gasping for air. The guards
dragged him over the lip of the opening, across the floor, and lay him down, back against the cold marble
floor.
For a moment, Langdon was unsure where he was. Overhead he saw stars . . . orbiting planets. Hazy
figures raced past him. People were shouting. He tried to sit up. He was lying at the base of a stone
pyramid. The familiar bite of an angry tongue echoed inside the chapel, and then Langdon knew.
Olivetti was screaming at Vittoria. "Why the hell didn't you figure that out in the first place!"
Vittoria was trying to explain the situation.
Olivetti cut her off midsentence and turned to bark orders to his men. "Get that body out of there! Search
the rest of the building!"
Langdon tried to sit up. The Chigi Chapel was packed with Swiss Guards. The plastic curtain over the
chapel opening had been torn off the entryway, and fresh air filled Langdon's lungs. As his senses slowly
returned, Langdon saw Vittoria coming toward him. She knelt down, her face like an angel.
"You okay?" Vittoria took his arm and felt his pulse. Her hands were tender on his skin.
"Thanks." Langdon sat up fully. "Olivetti's mad."
Vittoria nodded. "He has a right to be. We blew it."
"You mean I blew it."
"So redeem yourself. Get him next time."
Next time? Langdon thought it was a cruel comment. There is no next time! We missed our shot!
Vittoria checked Langdon's watch. "Mickey says we've got forty minutes. Get your head together and
help me find the next marker."
"I told you, Vittoria, the sculptures are gone. The Path of Illumination is-" Langdon halted.
Vittoria smiled softly.
Suddenly Langdon was staggering to his feet. He turned dizzying circles, staring at the artwork around
him. Pyramids, stars, planets, ellipses. Suddenly everything came back. This is the first altar of science!
Not the Pantheon! It dawned on him now how perfectly Illuminati the chapel was, far more subtle and
selective than the world famous Pantheon. The Chigi was an out of the way alcove, a literal hole-in-thewall,
a tribute to a great patron of science, decorated with earthly symbology. Perfect.
Langdon steadied himself against the wall and gazed up at the enormous pyramid sculptures. Vittoria was
dead right. If this chapel was the first altar of science, it might still contain the Illuminati sculpture that
served as the first marker. Langdon felt an electrifying rush of hope to realize there was still a chance. If
the marker were indeed here, and they could follow it to the next altar of science, they might have another
chance to catch the killer.
Vittoria moved closer. "I found out who the unknown Illuminati sculptor was."
Langdon's head whipped around. "You what?"
"Now we just need to figure out which sculpture in here is the-"
"Wait a minute! You know who the Illuminati sculptor was?" He had spent years trying to find that
information.
Vittoria smiled. "It was Bernini." She paused. "The Bernini."
Langdon immediately knew she was mistaken. Bernini was an impossibility. Gianlorenzo Bernini was the
second most famous sculptor of all time, his fame eclipsed only by Michelangelo himself. During the
1600s Bernini created more sculptures than any other artist. Unfortunately, the man they were looking for
was supposedly an unknown, a nobody.
Vittoria frowned. "You don't look excited."
"Bernini is impossible."
"Why? Bernini was a contemporary of Galileo. He was a brilliant sculptor."
"He was a very famous man and a Catholic."
"Yes," Vittoria said. "Exactly like Galileo."
"No," Langdon argued. "Nothing like Galileo. Galileo was a thorn in the Vatican's side. Bernini was the
Vatican's wonder boy. The church loved Bernini. He was elected the Vatican's overall artistic authority.
He practically lived inside Vatican City his entire life!"
"A perfect cover. Illuminati infiltration."
Langdon felt flustered. "Vittoria, the Illuminati members referred to their secret artist as il maestro
ignoto-the unknown master."
"Yes, unknown to them. Think of the secrecy of the Masons-only the upper-echelon members knew the
whole truth. Galileo could have kept Bernini's true identity secret from most members . . . for Bernini's
own safety. That way, the Vatican would never find out."
Langdon was unconvinced but had to admit Vittoria's logic made strange sense. The Illuminati were
famous for keeping secret information compartmentalized, only revealing the truth to upper-level
members. It was the cornerstone of their ability to stay secret . . . very few knew the whole story.
"And Bernini's affiliation with the Illuminati," Vittoria added with a smile, "explains why he designed
those two pyramids."
Langdon turned to the huge sculpted pyramids and shook his head. "Bernini was a religious sculptor.
There's no way he carved those pyramids."
Vittoria shrugged. "Tell that to the sign behind you."
Langdon turned to the plaque:
ART OF THE CHIGI CHAPEL
While the architecture is Raphael's,
all interior adornments are those of Gianlorenzo Bernini.
Langdon read the plaque twice, and still he was not convinced. Gianlorenzo Bernini was celebrated for
his intricate, holy sculptures of the Virgin Mary, angels, prophets, Popes. What was he doing carving
pyramids?
Langdon looked up at the towering monuments and felt totally disoriented. Two pyramids, each with a
shining, elliptical medallion. They were about as un-Christian as sculpture could get. The pyramids, the
stars above, the signs of the Zodiac. All interior adornments are those of Gianlorenzo Bernini. If that
were true, Langdon realized, it meant Vittoria had to be right. By default, Bernini was the Illuminati's
unknown master; nobody else had contributed artwork to this chapel! The implications came almost too
fast for Langdon to process.
Bernini was an Illuminatus.
Bernini designed the Illuminati ambigrams.
Bernini laid out the path of Illumination.
Langdon could barely speak. 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?
"Bernini," he sai