By Dan Brown
An old mystery brotherhood.
A devastating new weapon of destruction.
An unthinkable aim.
World-renowned Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is summoned to a Swiss learn facility to research a cryptic image seared into the chest of a murdered physicist. What he discovers is unbelievable: a perilous vendetta opposed to the Catholic Church by means of a centuries-old underground association -- the Illuminati. desirous to store the Vatican from a robust time bomb, Langdon joins forces in Rome with the gorgeous and mysterious scientist Vittoria Vetra. jointly they embark on a frantic hunt via sealed crypts, harmful catacombs, abandoned cathedrals, and the main secretive vault on earth...the long-forgotten Illuminati lair.
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Additional info for Angels & Demons
He missed a meeting with me this morning and did not answer his page. ” Langdon felt a sudden chill realizing that he was about to see a dead body. His stomach had never been particularly stalwart. It was a weakness he’d discovered as an art student when the teacher informed the class that Leonardo da Vinci had gained his expertise in the human form by exhuming corpses and dissecting their musculature. Kohler led the way to the far end of the hallway. There was a single door. “The Penthouse, as you would say,” Kohler announced, dabbing a bead of perspiration from his forehead.
Although his people did not celebrate Christmas, he imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a Christian child, sitting before a stack of Christmas presents, about to discover the miracles inside. He opened the album and examined the photos. A lifetime of sexual fantasies stared back at him. Marisa. An Italian goddess. Fiery. A young Sophia Loren. Sachiko. A Japanese geisha. Lithe. No doubt skilled. Kanara. A stunning black vision. Muscular. Exotic. He examined the entire album twice and made his choice.
6 Sixty-four minutes had passed when an incredulous and slightly air-sick Robert Langdon stepped down the gangplank onto the sun-drenched runway. A crisp breeze rustled the lapels of his tweed jacket. The open space felt wonderful. He squinted out at the lush green valley rising to snowcapped peaks all around them. I’m dreaming, he told himself. Any minute now I’ll be waking up. “Welcome to Switzerland,” the pilot said, yelling over the roar of the X-33’s misted-fuel HEDM engines winding down behind them.