Several years had passed since an American kid named Cody Wilson had designed “The Liberator”—the first 3-D-printed polymer gun—and the technology had improved exponentially. The new ceramic and polymer firearms still did not have much power, but what they lacked in range, they more than made up for by being invisible to metal detectors.
All I need to do is get close.
If all went as planned, his current location would be perfect.
The Regent had somehow gained inside information about the precise layout and sequence of events this evening…and he had made it very clear how ávila’s mission should be carried out. The results would be brutal, but having now witnessed Edmond Kirsch’s Godless preamble, ávila felt confident that his sins here tonight would be forgiven.
Our enemies are waging war, the Regent had told him. We must either kill or be killed.
—
Standing against the far wall in the right front corner of the auditorium, Ambra Vidal hoped she did not look as uncomfortable as she felt.
Edmond told me this was a scientific program.
The American futurist had never been shy about his distaste for religion, but Ambra had never imagined tonight’s presentation would display such hostility.
Edmond refused to let me preview it.
There would certainly be fallout with the museum board members, but Ambra’s concerns right now were far more personal.
A couple of weeks ago, Ambra had confided in a very influential man about her involvement in tonight’s event. The man had strongly urged her not to participate. He had warned of the dangers of blindly hosting a presentation without any knowledge of its content—especially when it was produced by the well-known iconoclast Edmond Kirsch.
He practically ordered me to cancel, she remembered. But his self-righteous tone made me too incensed to listen.
Now, as Ambra stood alone beneath the star-filled sky, she wondered if that man was sitting somewhere watching this live stream, his head in his hands.
Of course he is watching, she thought. The real question is: Will he lash out?
—
Inside Almudena Cathedral, Bishop Valdespino was sitting rigidly at his desk, eyes glued to his laptop. He had no doubt that everyone in the nearby Royal Palace was also watching this program, especially Prince Julián—the next in line for the throne of Spain.
The prince must be ready to explode.
Tonight, one of Spain’s most respected museums was collaborating with a prominent American atheist to broadcast what religious pundits were already calling a “blasphemous, anti-Christian publicity stunt.” Further fanning the flames of controversy, the museum director hosting tonight’s event was one of Spain’s newest and most visible celebrities—the spectacularly beautiful Ambra Vidal—a woman who for the past two months had dominated Spanish headlines and enjoyed the overnight adoration of an entire country. Incredibly, Ms. Vidal had chosen to put everything at risk by hosting tonight’s full-scale attack on God.
Prince Julián will have no choice but to comment.
His impending role as Spain’s sovereign Catholic figurehead would be only a small part of the challenge he would face in dealing with tonight’s event. Of substantially greater concern was that just last month, Prince Julián had made a joyous declaration that launched Ambra Vidal into the national spotlight.
He had announced their engagement to be married.
CHAPTER 20
Robert Langdon was feeling uneasy about the direction of this evening’s event.
Edmond’s presentation was skating dangerously close to becoming a public denunciation of faith in general. Langdon wondered if Edmond had somehow forgotten that he was speaking not only to the group of agnostic scientists in this room, but also to the millions of people around the globe who were watching online.
Clearly, his presentation was devised to ignite controversy.
Langdon was troubled by his own appearance in the program, and although Edmond certainly meant the video as a tribute, Langdon had been an involuntary flash point for religious controversy in the past…and he preferred not to repeat the experience.
Kirsch, however, had mounted a premeditated audiovisual assault on religion, and Langdon was now starting to rethink his nonchalant dismissal of the voice mail Edmond had received from Bishop Valdespino.
Edmond’s voice again filled the room, the visuals dissolving overhead into a collage of religious symbols from around the world. “I must admit,” Edmond’s voice declared, “I have had reservations about tonight’s announcement, and particularly about how it might affect people of faith.” He paused. “And so, three days ago, I did something a bit out of character for me. In an effort to show respect to religious viewpoints, and to gauge how my discovery might be received by people of various faiths, I quietly consulted with three prominent religious leaders—scholars of Islam, Christanity, and Judaism—and I shared with them my discovery.”
Hushed murmurs echoed throughout the room.
“As I expected, all three men reacted with profound surprise, concern, and, yes, even anger, at what I revealed to them. And while their reactions were negative, I want to thank them for graciously meeting with me. I will do them the courtesy of not revealing their names, but I do want to address them directly tonight and thank them for not attempting to interfere with this presentation.”
He paused. “God knows, they could have.”
Langdon listened, amazed at how deftly Edmond was walking a thin line and covering his bases. Edmond’s decision to meet with religious leaders suggested an open-mindedness, trust, and impartiality for which the futurist was not generally known. The meeting at Montserrat, Langdon now suspected, had been part research mission and part public relations maneuver.
A clever get-out-of-jail-free card, he thought.
“Historically,” Edmond continued, “religious fervor has always suppressed scientific progress, and so tonight I implore religious leaders around the world to react with restraint and understanding to what I am about to say. Please, let us not repeat the bloody violence of history. Let us not make the mistakes of our past.”
The images on the ceiling dissolved into a drawing of an ancient walled city—a perfectly circular metropolis located on the banks of a river that flowed through a desert.
Langdon recognized it at once as ancient Baghdad, its unusual circular construction fortified by three concentric walls topped by merlons and embrasures.
“In the eighth century,” Edmond said, “the city of Baghdad rose to prominence as the greatest center of learning on earth, welcoming all religions, philosophies, and sciences to its universities and libraries. For five hundred years, the outpouring of scientific innovation that flowed from the city was like nothing the world had ever seen, and its influence is still felt today in modern culture.”
Overhead, the sky of stars reappeared, this time many of the stars bearing names beside them: Vega, Betelgeuse, Rigel, Algebar, Deneb, Acrab, Kitalpha.
“Their names are all derived from Arabic,” Edmond said. “To this day, more than two-thirds of the stars in the sky have names from that language because they were discovered by astronomers in the Arab world.”
The sky rapidly filled with so many stars with Arabic names that the heavens were nearly blotted out. The names dissolved again, leaving only the expanse of the heavens.
“And, of course, if we want to count the stars…”
Roman numerals began appearing one by one beside the brightest stars.
I, II, III, IV, V…
The numbers stopped abruptly and disappeared.
“We don’t use Roman numerals,” Edmond said. “We use Arabic numerals.”
The numbering now began again using the Arabic numbering system.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
“You may also recognize these Islamic inventions,” Edmond said. “And we all still use their Arabic names.”