Inferno: (Robert Langdon Book 4)

year she had vigilantly overseen the needs of the Consortium’s green-eyed client. It was not my fault he jumped to his death … and yet I seem to be falling along with him.
    Her only chance at redemption had been to outfox Brüder … but she’d known from the start that this was a long shot.
    I had my chance last night, and I failed.
    As Vayentha reluctantly turned back toward her motorcycle, she became suddenly aware of a distant sound … a familiar high-pitched whine.
    Puzzled, she glanced up. To her surprise, the surveillance drone had just lifted off again, this time near the farthest end of the Pitti Palace. Vayentha watched as the tiny craft began flying desperate circles over the palace.
    The drone’s deployment could mean only one thing.
    They still don’t have Langdon!
    Where the hell is he?

    The piercing whine overhead again pulled Dr. Elizabeth Sinskey from her delirium. The drone is up again? But I thought …
    She shifted in the backseat of the van, where the same young agent was still seated beside her. She closed her eyes again, fighting the pain and nausea. Mostly, though, she fought the fear.
    Time is running out.
    Even though her enemy had jumped to his death, she still saw his silhouette in her dreams, lecturing her in the darkness of the Council on Foreign Relations.
    It is imperative that someone take bold action , he had declared, his green eyes flashing. If not us, who? If not now, when?
    Elizabeth knew she should have stopped him right then when she had the chance. She would never forget storming out of that meeting and fuming in the back of the limo as she headed across Manhattan towardJFK International Airport. Eager to know who the hell this maniac could be, she pulled out her cell phone to look at the surprise snapshot she had taken of him.
    When she saw the photo, she gasped aloud. Dr. Elizabeth Sinskey knew exactly who this man was. The good news was that he would be very easy to track. The bad news was that he was a genius in his field—a very dangerous person should he choose to be.
    Nothing is more creative … nor destructive … than a brilliant mind with a purpose.
    By the time she arrived at the airport thirty minutes later, she had called her team and placed this man on the bioterrorism watch lists of every relevant agency on earth—the CIA, the CDC, the ECDC, and all of their sister organizations around the world.
    That’s all I can do until I get back to Geneva , she thought.
    Exhausted, she carried her overnight bag to check-in and handed the attendant her passport and ticket.
    “Oh, Dr. Sinskey,” the attendant said with a smile. “A very nice gentleman just left a message for you.”
    “I’m sorry?” Elizabeth knew of nobody who had access to her flight information.
    “He was very tall?” the attendant said. “With green eyes?”
    Elizabeth literally dropped her bag. He’s here? How?! She spun around, looking at the faces behind her.
    “He left already,” the attendant said, “but he wanted us to give you this.” She handed Elizabeth a folded piece of stationery.
    Shaking, Elizabeth unfolded the paper and read the handwritten note.
    It was a famous quote derived from the work of Dante Alighieri.
    The darkest places in hell
are reserved for those
who maintain their neutrality
in times of moral crisis.

CHAPTER 39
    MARTA ALVAREZ GAZED tiredly up the steep staircase that ascended from the Hall of the Five Hundred to the second-floor museum.
    Posso farcela , she told herself. I can do it.
    As an arts and culture administrator at the Palazzo Vecchio, Marta had climbed these stairs countless times, but recently, being more than eight months pregnant, she found the ascent significantly more taxing.
    “Marta, are you sure we don’t want to take the elevator?” Robert Langdon looked concerned and motioned to the small service elevator nearby, which the palazzo had installed for handicapped visitors.
    Marta smiled appreciatively but shook her head. “As I told you last night, my doctor says the exercise is good for the baby. Besides, Professor, I know you’re claustrophobic.”
    Langdon seemed strangely startled by her comment. “Oh, right. I forgot I mentioned that.”
    Forgot he mentioned it? Marta puzzled. It was less than twelve hours ago, and we discussed at length the childhood incident that led to the fear.
    Last night, while Langdon’s morbidly obese companion, il Duomino , ascended in the elevator, Langdon had accompanied Marta on foot. En