Dan Brown - Origin

But this was not the pope.

This was a beautiful woman in a very familiar white dress.

Ambra Vidal could see nothing through the glare of the media lights, but she could hear a helicopter closing in and knew time was running out. Desperately, she leaned out over the railing and attempted to shout to the swarm of media people below.

Her words vanished into the deafening roar of helicopter rotors.

Winston had predicted that the television crews on the street would direct their cameras upward the instant Ambra was spotted on the edge of the roof. Indeed, that was exactly what had happened, and yet Ambra knew Winston’s plan had failed.

They can’t hear a word I’m saying!

The rooftop of Casa Milà stood too high over the blaring traffic and chaos below. And now the thrum of the helicopter threatened to drown out everything entirely.

“I have not been kidnapped!” Ambra yelled once again, mustering as much volume as she could. “The statement from the Royal Palace about Robert Langdon was inaccurate! I am not a hostage!”

You are the future queen of Spain , Winston had reminded her moments earlier. If you call off this manhunt, the authorities will stop dead in their tracks. Your statement will create utter confusion. Nobody will know which orders to follow.

Ambra knew Winston was right, but her words had been lost in the rotor wash above the boisterous crowd.

Suddenly the sky erupted in a thunderous howl. Ambra recoiled back from the railing as the helicopter swooped closer and halted abruptly, hovering directly in front of her. The fuselage doors were wide open, and two familiar faces stared intently out at her — Agents Fonseca and Díaz.

To Ambra’s horror, Agent Fonseca raised some kind of device, which he aimed directly at her head. For a moment, the strangest of thoughts raced through her mind. Julián wants me dead. I am a barren woman. I cannot give him an heir. Killing me is his only escape from this engagement.

Ambra staggered back, away from the threatening-looking device, clutching Edmond’s cell phone in one hand and reaching out for balance with the other. But as she placed her foot behind her, the ground seemed to disappear. For an instant, she felt only empty space where she had expected solid cement. Her body twisted as she tried to regain her balance, but she felt herself pitching sidelong down a short flight of stairs.

Her left elbow smashed into the cement, and the rest of her crashed down an instant later. Even so, Ambra Vidal felt no pain. Her entire focus shifted to the object that had flown out of her hand — Edmond’s oversized turquoise cell phone.

My God, no!

She watched with dread as the phone skittered across the cement, bouncing down the stairs toward the edge of the nine-story drop to the building’s inner courtyard. She lunged for the phone, but it disappeared under the protective fencing, tumbling into the abyss.

Our connection to Winston...!

Ambra scrambled after it, arriving at the fence just in time to see Edmond’s phone tumbling end over end toward the lobby’s elegant stone floor, where, with a sharp crack, it exploded in a shower of shimmering glass and metal.

In an instant, Winston was gone.

Bounding up the steps, Langdon burst out of the stairwell turret onto the Casa Milà roof deck. He found himself in the middle of a deafening maelstrom. A helicopter was hovering very low beside the building, and Ambra was nowhere to be seen.

Dazed, Langdon scanned the area. Where is she? He had forgotten how bizarre this rooftop was — lopsided parapets... steep staircases... cement soldiers... bottomless pits.

“Ambra!”

When he spotted her, he felt a surge of dread. Ambra Vidal was lying crumpled on the cement at the edge of the light well.

As Langdon raced up and over a rise toward her, the sharp zing of a bullet whipped past his head and exploded in the cement behind him.

Jesus! Langdon dropped to his knees and scrambled toward lower ground as two more bullets sailed over his head. For a moment, he thought the shots were coming from the helicopter, but as he clambered toward Ambra, he saw a swarm of police flooding out of another turret on the far side of the rooftop with their guns drawn.

They want to kill me , he realized. They think I kidnapped the future queen! Her rooftop announcement apparently had gone unheard.

As Langdon looked toward Ambra, now only ten yards away, he realized to his horror that her arm was bleeding. My God, she’s been shot! Another bullet sailed over his head as Ambra began clawing at the railing that encircled the drop-off to the inner courtyard. She struggled to pull herself up.

“Stay down!” Langdon shouted, scrambling to Ambra and crouching protectively over her body. He looked up at the towering, helmeted storm-trooper figures that dotted the rooftop’s perimeter like silent guardians.

There was a deafening roar overhead, and buffeting winds whipped around them as the helicopter dropped down and hovered over the enormous shaft beside them, cutting off the police’s line of sight.

“ ¡Dejen de disparar! ” boomed an amplified voice from the chopper. “ ¡Enfunden las armas! ” Stop shooting! Holster your weapons!

Directly in front of Langdon and Ambra, Agent Díaz was crouched in the open bay door with one foot balanced on the skid and one hand outstretched toward them.

“Get in!” he shouted.

Langdon felt Ambra recoil beneath him.

“NOW!” Díaz screamed over the deafening rotors.

The agent pointed to the light well’s safety railing, urging them to climb onto it, grab his hand, and make the short leap over the abyss into the hovering aircraft.

Langdon hesitated an instant too long.

Díaz grabbed the bullhorn from Fonseca and aimed it directly at Langdon’s face. “PROFESSOR, GET IN THE HELICOPTER NOW!” The agent’s voice boomed like thunder. “THE LOCAL POLICE HAVE ORDERS TO SHOOT YOU! WE KNOW YOU DID NOT KIDNAP MS. VIDAL! I NEED YOU BOTH ON BOARD IMMEDIATELY — BEFORE SOMEONE GETS KILLED!”

In the howling wind, Ambra felt Langdon’s arms lifting her up and guiding her toward Agent Díaz’s outstretched hand in the hovering chopper.

She was too dazed to protest.

“She’s bleeding!” Langdon shouted as he clambered into the aircraft after her.

Suddenly the helicopter was lifting skyward, away from the undulating rooftop, leaving behind a small army of confused policemen, all staring upward.

Fonseca heaved the fuselage door shut and then moved up front toward the pilot. Díaz slid in beside Ambra to examine her arm.

“It’s only a scrape,” she said blankly.

“I’ll find a first-aid kit.” Díaz headed to the rear of the cabin.

Langdon was seated opposite Ambra, facing backward. Now that the two of them were suddenly alone, he caught her eye and gave her a relieved smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Ambra replied with a weak nod, but before she could thank him, Langdon was leaning forward in his seat, whispering to her in an excited tone.

“I think I found our mysterious poet,” he exclaimed, his eyes filled with hope. “ William Blake . Not only is there a copy of Blake’s complete works in Edmond’s library... but many of Blake’s poems are prophecies !” Langdon held out his hand. “Let me have Edmond’s phone — I’ll ask Winston to search Blake’s work for any forty-seven-letter lines of poetry!”

Ambra looked at Langdon’s waiting palm and felt overcome with guilt. She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Robert,” she said with a remorseful sigh, “Edmond’s phone is gone. It fell off the edge of the building.”