worn off. The craving had returned.
He studied the sleeping woman beside him. Running his palm across her neck, he felt aroused with the knowledge that he could end her life in an instant. What would it matter? She was subhuman, a vehicle only of pleasure and service. His strong fingers encircled her throat, savoring her delicate pulse. Then, fighting desire, he removed his hand. There was work to do. Service to a higher cause than his own desire.
As he got out of bed, he reveled in the honor of the job before him. He still could not fathom the influence of this man named Janus and the ancient brotherhood he commanded. Wondrously, the brotherhood had chosen him. Somehow they had learned of his loathing... and of his skills. How, he would never know. Their roots reach wide.
Now they had bestowed on him the ultimate honor. He would be their hands and their voice. Their assassin and their messenger. The one his people knew as Malak al-haq - the Angel of Truth.
19
Vetra's lab was wildly futuristic.
Stark white and bounded on all sides by computers and specialized electronic equipment, it looked like some sort of operating room. Langdon wondered what secrets this place could possibly hold to justify cutting out someone's eye to gain entrance.
Kohler looked uneasy as they entered, his eyes seeming to dart about for signs of an intruder. But the lab was deserted. Vittoria moved slowly too... as if the lab felt unknown without her father there.
Langdon's gaze landed immediately in the center of the room, where a series of short pillars rose from the floor. Like a miniature Stonehenge, a dozen or so columns of polished steel stood in a circle in the middle of the room. The pillars were about three feet tall, reminding Langdon of museum displays for valuable gems. These pillars, however, were clearly not for precious stones. Each supported a thick, transparent canister about the size of a tennis ball can. They appeared empty.
Kohler eyed the canisters, looking puzzled. He apparently decided to ignore them for the time being. He turned to Vittoria. "Has anything been stolen?"
"Stolen? How?" she argued. "The retina scan only allows entry to us."
"Just look around."
Vittoria sighed and surveyed the room for a few moments. She shrugged. "Everything looks as my father always leaves it. Ordered chaos."
Langdon sensed Kohler weighing his options, as if wondering how far to push Vittoria... how much to tell her. Apparently he decided to leave it for the moment. Moving his wheelchair toward the center of the room, he surveyed the mysterious cluster of seemingly empty canisters.
"Secrets," Kohler finally said, "are a luxury we can no longer afford."
Vittoria nodded in acquiescence, looking suddenly emotional, as if being here brought with it a torrent of memories.
Give her a minute, Langdon thought.
As though preparing for what she was about to reveal, Vittoria closed her eyes and breathed. Then she breathed again. And again. And again...
Langdon watched her, suddenly concerned. Is she okay? He glanced at Kohler, who appeared unfazed, apparently having seen this ritual before. Ten seconds passed before Vittoria opened her eyes.
Langdon could not believe the metamorphosis. Vittoria Vetra had been transformed. Her full lips were lax, her shoulders down, and her eyes soft and assenting. It was as though she had realigned every muscle in her body to accept the situation. The resentful fire and personal anguish had been quelled somehow beneath a deeper, watery cool.
"Where to begin..." she said, her accent unruffled.
"At the beginning," Kohler said. "Tell us about your father's experiment."
"Rectifying science with religion has been my father's life dream," Vittoria said. "He hoped to prove that science and religion are two totally compatible fields - two different approaches to finding the same truth." She paused as if unable to believe what she was about to say. "And recently... he conceived of a way to do that."
Kohler said nothing.
"He devised an experiment, one he hoped would settle one of the most bitter conflicts in the history of science and religion."
Langdon wondered which conflict she could mean. There were so many.
"Creationism," Vittoria declared. "The battle over how the universe came to be."
Oh, Langdon thought. The debate.
"The Bible, of course, states that God created the universe," she explained. "God said, 'Let there be light,' and everything we see appeared out of a vast emptiness. Unfortunately, one of the fundamental laws of physics states that matter cannot be created out of nothing."
Langdon had read about this stalemate. The idea that God allegedly created "something from nothing"