Title: When Feathers Fall

Author: Mir

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Chapter 3

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"I know the truth. It's Father Simeon," he murmured, low voice almost inaudible.

"What?" Commander Richter, still standing at the windows, pivoted sharply at the non-sequitur to stare intently at the back of the Camerlengo's head, a dark silhouette before the hearth.

"I've known for days… traced the evidence." He stretched a hand out toward the fire gingerly as though reaching to grasp something, then pulled it back, half-turning to face Richter. "He's the one on the inside, the enabler… Illuminatus."

"But that's preposterous. Impossible." The commander shook his head vehemently as he circled around the table toward the hearth, challenge in his footsteps and denial in his eyes. "He's been Cardinal Strauss's aide for years—"

"—and intimately familiar with the workings of the Vatican." McKenna paused, ignoring the other's approach as though he were nothing more than a ghost behind his shoulder. "And has had special access ever since Strauss was appointed Dean of the College of Cardinals…"

"Are you implying—"

"No, Sir. Not Cardinal Strauss. His heart is true." He glanced up as though suddenly aware of the Comandante's close proximity. "But Father Simeon was perhaps corruptible, pliable… could have been convinced to play his part…" His voice trailed off as he reached again toward the hearth. "He would have been promised personal gain."

"And you've suspected this and told no one?" Richter was both incredulous and exasperated.

"My Father raised me to protect the Church, even from within," the Camerlengo replied with conviction. "If news were to spread that the Holy Father was murdered by a Vatican priest, a Cardinal's trusted aide…" He held Richter's gaze, eyes pleading for understanding. "We're a fractured and frantic species, tumbling down the path of destruction in the name of progress." At the other's silence, he continued, "Nothing unites hearts like the presence of evil. The Illuminati must be stopped, but they must also be held responsible."

And with a nervous sigh he gestured toward the fire. "He must have left this in the office while I was out." His fingers brushed the carpet beside the metal handle – the brand still buried deep in ashes. "It must have been him. No one else could have gained entrance past your guards." As he spoke, his fingertips brushed back and forth along the handle's grooved worn as though testing the blade of a knife for sharpness. "But then you arrived and locked the door, disrupted the sequence of events…" His tone was half-wistful, half-accusing. "The anti-matter must be found, and the Illuminati…"

Richter stared at the Camerlengo, confusion written across his features as his mind raced to grasp the implications behind his words. And as realization began to seep into his consciousness, a shiver of dread traveled down his spine.

But, finally tossing indecision aside, McKenna snatched the metal handle from the flames, surging to his feet as he tore at his collar flung it to the ground. "The Church is at a crossroads, and the congregations must be united. We're weak when we should be strong…" The long-handled metal brand glowed white and orange in the air before him, and he stared at the crossed keys in wonder – For it was his first glimpse of the full device.

At the sight of the glowing metal, Richter reached automatically for his sidearm, years of training guiding his hands as he stared grimly at the scene before him. "Put that down."

"Father Simeon meant to corner me here alone." His free hand tugged at his cassock until it fell away aside his chest was bare. "I was sure it was him returning…" He brandished the brand like a sword between them, and the metal, glowing and smoking, shook as he readjusted his outstretched grip and struggled to keep it aloft. "… but it was you, and I was both relieved and disappointed. But perhaps it's better this way."

Richter held the firearm before him, arms locked out but muzzle still aimed carefully at the floor between thm. "You don't have to do this, Patrick. Put it down."

"He's sinned enough..." His voice was soft, pitying almost, but backed by an air of unyielding determination. "…but the deed must be completed. The Illuminati must be exposed and held responsible for their murders."

"Put it away."

But the words were wasted, for as Richter watched on, frozen in his horror, McKenna turned the brand inward on himself, and with no more than a quick downward glance to ensure its placement, rammed the metal onto chest. He groaned involuntarily at the contact, collapsing in upon himself as though punched violently in the gut. With his eyes squeezed tight against the pain, he stumbled to his knees, screaming out as the flesh beneath the brand blackened. And as Richter began to shout, his gun still outstretched, McKenna finally flung the brand away from him, handle-first into the carpet at Richter's feet. He toppled backward over his heels onto his back, only barely catching himself from sliding into the hearth.

Then, before either man could move farther, the pounding against the office's wooden doors intensified, and as the lock gave way, the Swiss Guard bust into the room with weapons drawn, a blur of black and blue with Langton, Vetra, and Father Simeon on their heels.

"He has a gun…" the Camerlengo warned, one hand pointing shakily toward the handgun still aimed in his direction. But the Guards, misreading the situation, immediately fired, bringing Richter crashing down to the floor beside him.

And Father Simeon, taking advantage of the opportunity, surged into the fray, snatched the discarded brand from the ground, and lofted it above his head like a bat as he charged at McKenna's sprawled form. "You bastard. You sanctimonious—"

"Illuminatus!" The Camerlengo couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. Pinned to the floor by the pain in his chest and aghast at Richter's unexpected fall, he watched as the metal descended toward him like a wave crashing inevitably onto the beach, locked in Father Simeon's crazed eyes as surely as if he were chained to the spot. But before the brand could once again dig into his skin, three shots rang out, and the priest folded face-first onto the carpet with an ungraceful thump. The brand landed beside him, and for a brief moment, the only sounds filling the room were the harsh breathing of its half-dozen occupants and the impartial crackling of the fire before them.

"Padre…"

"Order the evacuation—We only have nineteen minutes…" The two Swiss Guards supported McKenna as he half-staggered, half-fell into a nearby chair, groaning and gingerly inspecting the damage he'd wrought upon himself. "…and get the helicopter for the older cardinals…"

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They continued to stare in amazement at the scene they'd already lived as their own figures moved around the room and the black-suited Swiss Guard fluttered anxiously around McKenna as the two still figures bled out on the ground. Removed now from the threat of immediate peril, each character's words and actions began to take on more meaning, more depth in that nuanced, intertwined dance that they played.

"The anti-matter was in St. Peter's tomb. He knew… somehow he realized, but how?" Vittoria ran a hand through her hair and down the back of her neck as she contemplated the question rhetorically. She glanced sidewise at the professor, searching for an explanation.

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"Robert, the brand, the symbol, could it have another meaning?" She turned toward Langdon intently, her urgent tone drawing him up from the carpet where he'd crouched beside the sputtering Commander Richter. And with a brief glance at the Camerlengo, he snatched the cooling brand from the floor and held it up as though to compare it with the image already imprinted on the man before hm.

"Crossed keys, but those are upside down," he remarked. It was more of an observation than an answer to the scientist's question. For it was indeed the same fifth brand they'd discovered in the Castel Sant'Angelo, the keys of the Papal insignia. Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church... And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven…

"St. Peter," the Camerlengo murmured.

"The first Pope…" And Langdon nodded, his expression one of understanding. "…was crucified upside down—"

"—on Vatican Hill…"

"…a few hundred feet below us…"

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Yes he knew, but his sudden realization of the anti-matter's location seemed genuine. She puzzled over the footage, trying to read between the lines in a way impossible through the monitor's flat images. "If what he says is true, then he knew about Father Simeon before we even arrived, but did he know where the anti-matter was located… before the branding?" she asked, half to herself and half to the professor.

"Perhaps, but I doubt it. He seemed… sincere." The scene continued to play out through the end of their conversation and their hasty exit as they departed again to descent down into the crypt. "There must be others too—besides Father Simeon and the man in the Castel Sant'Angelo." He'd paused the video feed again and was staring pensively out through the office's glass walls into the corridor beyond. "Because if you think of all the moving parts…"

But before he could finish the thought, the quiet buzz of an electric ringer resonated through the office. Their eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of the unexpected noise – a gentle vibration-like sound emanating from somewhere around Richter's desk. They spotted the white telephone mounted to the wall at almost the same time, but after a moment's hesitation, it was Langton who reached out a hand and answered it.

"Yes, hello? Pronto? "

"Professor Langdon? Dr. Vetra? Ah, thank goodness you're all right. That's certainly a relief." The voice on the other end sounded slightly surprised but not apparently perturbed to have found the Comandante's office occupied by the Vatican's two overseas guests. It was unmistakably the Camerlengo. "I…" But he paused, as though unsure of what to say or how to say it, and the only noise from the phone's speaker was his soft exhalations, rapid but muted perhaps by a hand placed over the receiver.

"Are you okay? Where are you?—" It was Vittoria on her feet beside him who located the machine's speaker phone button. It's odd for him to have called Richter's office, she thought, especially when they all knew that the commander was…

"—Please, I know we're all exhausted, but you'll have to act quickly. The Vatican may still be in danger." His characteristically gentle tone was laced with urgency, a sharp edge that left no room for argument. "You'll need a car…"

It was a tumble of words and instructions, and Langdron scrambled to snatch a pen and paper from Richter's desk behind him.

"…there's one in the garages just beyond the exit to your left once you leave the Comandante's office. It's a black sedan and should still be unlocked. The key is under the visor on the driver's side. I'm at the Domus Sanctae Marthae… St. Martha's House. There should be a map on the wall of the office… It's the large H-shaped white building south of the Basillica. I'll meet you at the side entrance. It's the one with the—"

He would have kept speaking had Langdon not interrupted. "—But the security outside. We'll never get a car past…" After the earlier explosion, the Vatican crawling was with both regular police and Swiss Guards.

"They know the car and will let it through without questions… I'll meet you at the west entrance in ten minutes. It's the solid wooden door, the one with two sconces."

Before he could respond the line went dead in Langdon's hand, and as he and Vittoria stood staring at each other in the dim light of the office, they knew that despite the minimalist instructions and the scenes they'd witnessed second-hand on Richter's screen, there was nothing to do but head out into the pre-dawn and finish the job they'd been flown in to complete. For until the smoke from the chimney flew white against the sky, the Camerlengo represented the Papacy… and he was still a friend.

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End note: I went back and forth on who to implicate (every story needs its villain) – The Illuminati, Commander Richter, Father Simeon, Cardinal Strauss, etc… and finally settled on this less-than-perfect resolution. Perhaps it's an unexpected twist, but the only other alternative
I could think of was having some kind of ninja pop out of the wall and attack Patrick McKenna while Richter's back was turned (that's why I wrote him as standing facing the windows while McKenna went back toward the fire).

On another note, I would have liked to have reunited the trio in this part, but this seemed like a natural place to call it quits for the night, so they'll come together again in part four.

[2010.06.24]

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