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ool every week uplifted； filled with ideas about helping others and being kinder。 What could possibly be wrong with that？
It never ceased to amaze her that so many of CERN's so…called 〃brilliant minds〃 failed to prehend the importance of the church。 Did they really believe quarks and mesons inspired the average human being？ Or that equations could replace someone's need for faith in the divine？
Dazed； Sylvie moved down the hallway past the other lounges。 All the TV rooms were packed。 She began wondering now about the call Kohler had gotten from the Vatican earlier。 Coincidence？ Perhaps。 The Vatican called CERN from time to time as a 〃courtesy〃 before issuing scathing statements condemning CERN's research…most recently for CERN's breakthroughs in nanotechnology； a field the church denounced because of its implications for genetic engineering。 CERN never cared。 Invariably； within minutes after a Vatican salvo； Kohler's phone would ring off the hook with tech…investment panies wanting to license the new discovery。 〃No such thing as bad press；〃 Kohler would always say。
Sylvie wondered if she should page Kohler； wherever the hell he was； and tell him to turn on the news。 Did he care？ Had he heard？ Of course； he'd heard。 He was probably videotaping the entire report with his freaky little camcorder； smiling for the first time in a year。
As Sylvie continued down the hall； she finally found a lounge where the mood was subdued 。 。 。 almost melancholy。 Here the scientists watching the report were some of CERN's oldest and most respected。 They did not even look up as Sylvie slipped in and took a seat。
On the other side of CERN； in Leonardo Vetra's frigid apartment； Maximilian Kohler had finished reading the leather…bound journal he'd taken from Vetra's bedside table。 Now he was watching the television reports。 After a few minutes； he replaced Vetra's journal； turned off the television； and left the apartment。
Far away； in Vatican City； Cardinal Mortati carried another tray of ballots to the Sistine Chapel chimney。 He burned them； and the smoke was black。
Two ballotings。 No Pope。
83
Flashlights were no match for the voluminous blackness of St。 Peter's Basilica。 The void overhead pressed down like a starless night； and Vittoria felt the emptiness spread out around her like a desolate ocean。 She stayed close as the Swiss Guards and the camerlegno pushed on。 High above； a dove cooed and fluttered away。
As if sensing her disfort； the camerlegno dropped back and lay a hand on her shoulder。 A tangible strength transferred in the touch； as if the man were magically infusing her with the calm she needed to do what they were about to do。
What are we about to do？ she thought。 This is madness！
And yet； Vittoria knew； for all its impiety and inevitable horror； the task at hand was inescapable。 The grave decisions facing the camerlegno required information 。 。 。 information entombed in a sarcophagus in the Vatican Grottoes。 She wondered what they would find。 Did the Illuminati murder the Pope？ Did their power really reach so far？ Am I really about to perform the first papal autopsy？
Vittoria found it ironic that she felt more apprehensive in this unlit church than she would swimming at night with barracuda。 Nature was her refuge。 She understood nature。 But it was matters of man and spirit that left her mystified。 Killer fish gathering in the dark conjured images of the press gathering outside。 TV footage of branded bodies reminded her of her father's corpse 。 。 。 and the killer's harsh laugh。 The killer was out there somewhere。 Vittoria felt the anger drowning her fear。
As they circled past a pillar…thicker in girth than any redwood she could imagine…Vittoria saw an orange glow up ahead。 The light seemed to emanate from beneath the floor in the center of the basilica。 As they came closer； she realized what she was seeing。 It was the famous sunken sanctuary beneath the main altar…the sumptuous underground chamber that held the Vatican's most sacred relics。 As they drew even with the gate surrounding the hollow； Vittoria gazed down at the golden coffer surrounded by scores of glowing oil lamps。
〃St。 Peter's bones？〃 she asked； knowing full well that they were。 Everyone who came to St。 Peter's knew what was in the golden casket。
〃Actually； no；〃 the camerlegno said。 〃A mon misconception。 That's not a reliquary。 The box holds palliums…woven sashes that the Pope gives to newly elected cardinals。〃
〃But I thought…〃
〃As does everyone。 The guidebooks label this as St。 Peter's tomb； but his true grave is two stories beneath us； buried in the earth。 The Vatican excavated it in the forties。 Nobody is allowed down there。〃
Vittoria was shocked。 As they moved away from the glowing recession into the darkness again； she thought of the stories she'd heard of pilgrims traveling thousands of miles to look at that golden box； thinking they were in the presence of St。 Peter。 〃Shouldn't the Vatican tell people？〃
〃We all benefit from a sense of contact with divinity 。 。 。 even if it is only imagined。〃
Vittoria； as a scientist； could not argue the logic。 She had read countless studies of the placebo effect…aspirins curing cancer in people who believed they were using a miracle drug。 What was faith； after all？
〃Change；〃 the camerlegno said； 〃is not something we do well within Vatican City。 Admitting our past faults； modernization； are things we historically eschew。 His Holiness was trying to change that。〃 He paused。 〃Reaching to the modern world。 Searching for new paths to God。〃
Vittoria nodded in the dark。 〃Like science？〃
〃To be honest； science seems irrelevant。〃
〃Irrelevant？〃 Vittoria could think of a lot of words to describe science； but in the modern world 〃irrelevant〃 did not seem like one of them。
〃Science can heal； or science can kill。 It depends on the soul of the man using the science。 It is the soul that interests me。〃
〃When did you hear your call？〃
〃Before I was born。〃
Vittoria looked at him。
〃I'm sorry； that always seems like a strange question。 What I mean is that I've always known I would serve God。 From the moment I could first think。 It wasn't until I was a young man； though； in the military； that I truly understood my purpose。〃
Vittoria was surprised。 〃You were in the military？〃
〃Two years。 I refused to fire a weapon； so they made me fly instead。 Medevac helicopters。 In fact； I still fly from time to time。〃
Vittoria tried to picture the young priest flying a helicopter。 Oddly； she could see him perfectly behind the controls。 Camerlegno Ventresca possessed a grit that seemed to accentuate his conviction rather than cloud it。 〃Did you ever fly the Pope？〃
〃Heavens no。 We left that precious cargo to the professionals。 His Holiness let me take the helicopter to our retreat in Gandolfo sometimes。〃 He paused； looking at her。 〃Ms。 Vetra； thank you for your help here today。 I am very sorry about your father。 Truly。〃
〃Thank you。〃
〃I never knew my father。 He died before I was born。 I lost my mother when I was ten。〃
Vittoria looked up。 〃You were orphaned？〃 She felt a sudden kinship。
〃I survived an accident。 An accident that took my mother。〃