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- Дэн Браун
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- Стр. 337/583
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Chinita
Macri
was
on
the
run
.
She
had
the
story
of
her
life
.
Her
video
camera
felt
like
an
anchor
as
she
lumbered
across
St
.
Peter
’
s
Square
,
pushing
through
the
gathering
crowd
.
Everyone
seemed
to
be
moving
in
the
opposite
direction
than
her
…
toward
the
commotion
.
Macri
was
trying
to
get
as
far
away
as
possible
.
The
man
in
the
tweed
jacket
had
seen
her
,
and
now
she
sensed
others
were
after
her
,
men
she
could
not
see
,
closing
in
from
all
sides
.
Macri
was
still
aghast
from
the
images
she
had
just
recorded
.
She
wondered
if
the
dead
man
was
really
who
she
feared
he
was
.
Glick
’
s
mysterious
phone
contact
suddenly
seemed
a
little
less
crazy
.
As
she
hurried
in
the
direction
of
the
BBC
van
,
a
young
man
with
a
decidedly
militaristic
air
emerged
from
the
crowd
before
her
.
Their
eyes
met
,
and
they
both
stopped
.
Like
lightning
,
he
raised
a
walkie
-
talkie
and
spoke
into
it
.
Then
he
moved
toward
her
.
Macri
wheeled
and
doubled
back
into
the
crowd
,
her
heart
pounding
.
As
she
stumbled
through
the
mass
of
arms
and
legs
,
she
removed
the
spent
video
cassette
from
her
camera
.
Cellulose
gold
,
she
thought
,
tucking
the
tape
under
her
belt
flush
to
her
backside
and
letting
her
coat
tails
cover
it
.
For
once
she
was
glad
she
carried
some
extra
weight
.
Glick
,
where
the
hell
are
you
!
Another
soldier
appeared
to
her
left
,
closing
in
.
Macri
knew
she
had
little
time
.
She
banked
into
the
crowd
again
.
Yanking
a
blank
cartridge
from
her
case
,
she
slapped
it
into
the
camera
.
Then
she
prayed
.
She
was
thirty
yards
from
the
BBC
van
when
the
two
men
materialized
directly
in
front
of
her
,
arms
folded
.
She
was
going
nowhere
.
"
Film
,
"
one
snapped
.
"
Now
"
Macri
recoiled
,
wrapping
her
arms
protectively
around
her
camera
.
"
No
chance
.
"
