Dan Brown - Inferno - A Novel

Langdon’s sense of relief was fleeting. A hundred yards behind the drone, near the statue of the dwarf and turtle, three heavily armed soldiers were now striding purposefully down the stairs, heading directly toward the grotto.

The soldiers were dressed in familiar black uniforms with green medallions on their shoulders. Their muscular lead man had vacant eyes that reminded Langdon of the plague mask in his visions.

I am death .

Langdon did not see their van or the mysterious silver-haired woman anywhere.

I am life .

As the soldiers approached, one of them stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around, facing backward, apparently to prevent anyone else from descending into this area. The other two kept coming toward the grotto.

Langdon and Sienna sprang into motion again—although probably only delaying the inevitable—shuffling backward on all fours into the second cavern, which was smaller, deeper, and darker. It, too, was dominated by a central piece of art—in this case, a statue of two intertwined lovers—behind which Langdon and Sienna now hid anew.

Veiled in shadow, Langdon carefully peered out around the base of the statue and watched their approaching assailants. As the two soldiers reached the drone, one stopped and crouched down to tend to it, picking it up and examining the camera.

Did the device spot us? Langdon wondered, fearing he knew the answer.

The third and last soldier, the muscular one with the cold eyes, was still moving with icy focus in Langdon’s direction. The man approached until he was nearly at the mouth of the cave. He’s coming in . Langdon prepared to pull back behind the statue and tell Sienna it was over, but in that instant, he witnessed something unexpected.

The soldier, rather than entering the grotto, suddenly peeled off to the left and disappeared.

Where is he going?! He doesn’t know we’re here?

A few moments later, Langdon heard pounding—a fist knocking on wood.

The little gray door , Langdon thought. He must know where it leads .

Pitti Palace security guard Ernesto Russo had always wanted to play European football, but at twenty-nine years old and overweight, he had finally begun to accept that his childhood dream would never come true. For the past three years, Ernesto had worked as a guard here at the Pitti Palace, always in the same closet-size office, always with the same dull job.

Ernesto was no stranger to curious tourists knocking on the little gray door outside the office in which he was stationed, and he usually just ignored them until they stopped. Today, however, the banging was intense and continuous.

Annoyed, he refocused on his television set, which was loudly playing a football rerun—Fiorentina versus Juventus. The knocking only grew louder. Finally, cursing the tourists, he marched out of his office down the narrow corridor toward the sound. Halfway there, he stopped at the massive steel grate that remained sealed across this hallway except at a few specific hours.

He entered the combination on the padlock and unlocked the grate, pulling it to one side. After stepping through, he followed protocol and relocked the grate behind him. Then he walked to the gray wooden door.

“È chiuso!” he yelled through the door, hoping the person outside would hear. “Non si può entrare!”

The banging continued.

Ernesto gritted his teeth. New Yorkers, he wagered. They want what they want . The only reason their Red Bulls soccer team was having any success on the world stage was that they’d pilfered one of Europe’s best coaches.

The banging continued, and Ernesto reluctantly unlocked the door and pushed it open a few inches. “È chiuso!”

The banging finally stopped, and Ernesto found himself face-to-face with a soldier whose eyes were so cold they literally made Ernesto step back. The man held up an official carnet bearing an acronym Ernesto did not recognize.

“Cosa succede?!” Ernesto demanded, alarmed. What’s going on?!

Behind the soldier, a second was crouched down, tinkering with what appeared to be a toy helicopter. Still farther away, another soldier stood guard on the staircase. Ernesto heard police sirens nearby.

“Do you speak English?” The soldier’s accent was definitely not New York. Europe somewhere?

Ernesto nodded. “A bit, yes.”

“Has anyone come through this door this morning?”

“No, signore. Nessuno.”

“Excellent. Keep it locked. Nobody in or out. Is that clear?”

Ernesto shrugged. That was his job anyway. “ Sì , I understand. Non deve entrare, né uscire nessuno .”

“Tell me, please, is this door the sole entrance?”

Ernesto considered the question. Technically, nowadays this door was considered an exit , which was why it had no handle on the outside, but he understood what the man was asking. “Yes, l’accesso is this door only. No other way.” The original entrance inside the palace had been sealed for many years.

“And are there any other hidden exits from the Boboli Gardens? Other than the traditional gates?”

“ No, signore . Big walls everywhere. This only secret exit.”

The soldier nodded. “Thank you for your help.” He motioned for Ernesto to close and lock the door.

Puzzled, Ernesto obeyed. Then he headed back up the corridor, unlocked the steel grate, moved through it, relocked it behind him, and returned to his football match.

CHAPTER 30

Langdon and Sienna had seized an opportunity.

While the muscular soldier was pounding on the door, they had crawled deeper into the grotto and were now huddled in the final chamber. The tiny space was adorned with rough-hewn mosaics and satyrs. At its center stood a life-size sculpture of a Bathing Venus , who, fittingly, seemed to be glancing nervously over her shoulder.

Langdon and Sienna had ensconced themselves on the far side of the statue’s narrow plinth, where they now waited, staring back at the single globular stalagmite that climbed the deepest wall of the grotto.

“All exits confirmed secure!” shouted a soldier somewhere outside. He was speaking English with a faint accent that Langdon couldn’t place. “Send the drone back up. I’ll check this cave here.”

Langdon could feel Sienna’s body tighten beside him.

Seconds later, heavy boots were padding into the grotto. The footsteps advanced quickly through the first chamber, growing louder still as they entered the second chamber, coming directly toward them.

Langdon and Sienna huddled closer.

“Hey!” a different voice shouted in the distance. “We’ve got them!”

The footsteps stopped short.

Langdon could now hear someone running loudly down the gravel walkway toward the grotto. “Positive ID!” the breathless voice declared. “We just spoke to a couple of tourists. A few minutes ago, the man and the woman asked them directions to the palace’s costume gallery … which is over at the west end of the palazzo.”

Langdon glanced at Sienna, who seemed to be smiling ever so faintly.

The soldier regained his breath, continuing. “The western exits were the first to be sealed … and confidence is high that we’ve got them trapped inside the gardens.”

“Execute your mission,” the nearer soldier replied. “And call me the instant you’ve succeeded.”

There was a flurry of departing footsteps on gravel, the sound of the drone lifting off again, and then, thankfully … total silence.

Langdon was about to twist sideways in order to peer around the plinth, when Sienna grabbed his arm, stopping him. She held a finger to her lips and nodded at a faint humanoid shadow on the rear wall. The lead soldier was still standing silently in the mouth of the grotto.