now wandering to another thought. If CERN was Illuminati headquarters, was CERN where the Illuminati kept their infamous Illuminati Diamond? Glick had read about it on the Internet - "a flawless diamond, born of the ancient elements with such perfection that all those who saw it could only stand in wonder."
Glick wondered if the secret whereabouts of the Illuminati Diamond might be yet another mystery he could unveil tonight.
Chapter 102-105
102
Piazza Navona. Fountain of the Four Rivers.
Nights in Rome, like those in the desert, can be surprisingly cool, even after a warm day. Langdon was huddled now on the fringes of Piazza Navona, pulling his jacket around him. Like the distant white noise of traffic, a cacophony of news reports echoed across the city. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. He was grateful for a few moments of rest.
The piazza was deserted. Bernini's masterful fountain sizzled before him with a fearful sorcery. The foaming pool sent a magical mist upward, lit from beneath by underwater floodlights. Langdon sensed a cool electricity in the air.
The fountain's most arresting quality was its height. The central core alone was over twenty feet tall - a rugged mountain of travertine marble riddled with caves and grottoes through which the water churned. The entire mound was draped with pagan figures. Atop this stood an obelisk that climbed another forty feet. Langdon let his eyes climb. On the obelisk's tip, a faint shadow blotted the sky, a lone pigeon perched silently.
A cross, Langdon thought, still amazed by the arrangement of the markers across Rome. Bernini's Fountain of the Four Rivers was the last altar of science. Only hours ago Langdon had been standing in the Pantheon convinced the Path of Illumination had been broken and he would never get this far. It had been a foolish blunder. In fact, the entire path was intact. Earth, Air, Fire, Water. And Langdon had followed it... from beginning to end.
Not quite to the end, he reminded himself. The path had five stops, not four. This fourth marker fountain somehow pointed to the ultimate destiny - the Illuminati's sacred lair - the Church of Illumination. Langdon wondered if the lair were still standing. He wondered if that was where the Hassassin had taken Vittoria.
Langdon found his eyes probing the figures in the fountain, looking for any clue as to the direction of the lair. Let angels guide you on your lofty quest. Almost immediately, though, he was overcome by an unsettling awareness. This fountain contained no angels whatsoever. It certainly contained none Langdon could see from where he was standing... and none he had ever seen in the past. The Fountain of the Four Rivers was a pagan work. The carvings were all profane - humans, animals, even an awkward armadillo. An angel here would stick out like a sore thumb.
Is this the wrong place? He considered the cruciform arrangement of the four obelisks. He clenched his fists. This fountain is perfect.
It was only 10:46 P.M. when a black van emerged from the alleyway on the far side of the piazza. Langdon would not have given it a second look except that the van drove with no headlights. Like a shark patrolling a moonlit bay, the vehicle circled the perimeter of the piazza.
Langdon hunkered lower, crouched in the shadows beside the huge stairway leading up to the Church of St. Agnes in Agony. He gazed out at the piazza, his pulse climbing.
After making two complete circuits, the van banked inward toward Bernini's fountain. It pulled abreast of the basin, moving laterally along the rim until its side was flush with the fountain. Then it parked, its sliding door positioned only inches above the churning water.
Mist billowed.
Langdon felt an uneasy premonition. Had the Hassassin arrived early? Had he come in a van? Langdon had imagined the killer escorting his last victim across the piazza on foot, like he had at St. Peter's, giving Langdon an open shot. But if the Hassassin had arrived in a van, the rules had just changed.
Suddenly, the van's side door slid open.
On the floor of the van, contorted in agony, lay a naked man. The man was wrapped in yards of heavy chains. He thrashed against the iron links, but the chains were too heavy. One of the links bisected the man's mouth like a horse's bit, stifling his cries for help. It was then that Langdon saw the second figure, moving around behind the prisoner in the dark, as though making final preparations.
Langdon knew he