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- Дэн Браун
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- Ангелы и демоны
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- Стр. 200/583
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As
was
Vatican
tradition
,
following
the
Pope
’
s
death
the
camerlegno
had
personally
confirmed
expiration
by
placing
his
fingers
on
the
Pope
’
s
carotid
artery
,
listening
for
breath
,
and
then
calling
the
Pope
’
s
name
three
times
.
By
law
there
was
no
autopsy
.
Then
he
had
sealed
the
Pope
’
s
bedroom
,
destroyed
the
papal
fisherman
’
s
ring
,
shattered
the
die
used
to
make
lead
seals
,
and
arranged
for
the
funeral
.
That
done
,
he
began
preparations
for
the
conclave
.
Conclave
,
he
thought
.
The
final
hurdle
.
It
was
one
of
the
oldest
traditions
in
Christendom
.
Nowadays
,
because
the
outcome
of
conclave
was
usually
known
before
it
began
,
the
process
was
criticized
as
obsolete
—
more
of
a
burlesque
than
an
election
.
The
camerlegno
knew
,
however
,
this
was
only
a
lack
of
understanding
.
Conclave
was
not
an
election
.
It
was
an
ancient
,
mystic
transference
of
power
.
The
tradition
was
timeless
…
the
secrecy
,
the
folded
slips
of
paper
,
the
burning
of
the
ballots
,
the
mixing
of
ancient
chemicals
,
the
smoke
signals
.
As
the
camerlegno
approached
through
the
Loggias
of
Gregory
XIII
,
he
wondered
if
Cardinal
Mortati
was
in
a
panic
yet
.
Certainly
Mortati
had
noticed
the
preferiti
were
missing
.
Without
them
,
the
voting
would
go
on
all
night
.
Mortati
’
s
appointment
as
the
Great
Elector
,
the
camerlegno
assured
himself
,
was
a
good
one
.
The
man
was
a
freethinker
and
could
speak
his
mind
.
The
conclave
would
need
a
leader
tonight
more
than
ever
.
As
the
camerlegno
arrived
at
the
top
of
the
Royal
Staircase
,
he
felt
as
though
he
were
standing
on
the
precipice
of
his
life
.
Even
from
up
here
he
could
hear
the
rumble
of
activity
in
the
Sistine
Chapel
below
—
the
uneasy
chatter
of
165
cardinals
.
One
hundred
sixty
-
one
cardinals
,
he
corrected
.
For
an
instant
the
camerlegno
was
falling
,
plummeting
toward
hell
,
people
screaming
,
flames
engulfing
him
,
stones
and
blood
raining
from
the
sky
.
And
then
silence
.
When
the
child
awoke
,
he
was
in
heaven
.
Everything
around
him
was
white
.
The
light
was
blinding
and
pure
.
Although
some
would
say
a
ten
year
old
could
not
possibly
understand
heaven
,
the
young
Carlo
Ventresca
understood
heaven
very
well
.
He
was
in
heaven
right
now
.
Where
else
would
he
be
?
Even
in
his
short
decade
on
earth
Carlo
had
felt
the
majesty
of
God
—
the
thundering
pipe
organs
,
the
towering
domes
,
the
voices
raised
in
song
,
the
stained
glass
,
shimmering
bronze
and
gold
.
Carlo
’
s
mother
,
Maria
,
brought
him
to
Mass
every
day
.
The
church
was
Carlo
’
s
home
.
"
Why
do
we
come
to
Mass
every
single
day
?
"
Carlo
asked
,
not
that
he
minded
at
all
.
