"Brown, Dan - Angels and Demons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Dan)

Langdon gave a wan nod and counted himself lucky. All things considered, the flight had been remarkably
ordinary. Aside from a bone-crushing acceleration during take off, the plane's motion had been fairly
typical-occasional minor turbulence, a few pressure changes as they'd climbed, but nothing at all to suggest
they had been hurtling through space at the mind-numbing speed of 11,000 miles per hour.
A handful of technicians scurried onto the runway to tend to the X-33. The pilot escorted Langdon to a
black Peugeot sedan in a parking area beside the control tower. Moments later they were speeding down a
paved road that stretched out across the valley floor. A faint cluster of buildings rose in the distance.
Outside, the grassy plains tore by in a blur.
Langdon watched in disbelief as the pilot pushed the speedometer up around 170 kilometers an hour-over
100 miles per hour. What is it with this guy and speed? he wondered.
"Five kilometers to the lab," the pilot said. "I'll have you there in two minutes."
Langdon searched in vain for a seat belt. Why not make it three and get us there alive?
The car raced on.
"Do you like Reba?" the pilot asked, jamming a cassette into the tape deck.
A woman started singing. "It's just the fear of being alone . . . "
No fear here, Langdon thought absently. His female colleagues often ribbed him that his collection of
museum-quality artifacts was nothing more than a transparent attempt to fill an empty home, a home they
insisted would benefit greatly from the presence of a woman. Langdon always laughed it off, reminding
them he already had three loves in his life-symbology, water polo, and bachelorhood-the latter being a
freedom that enabled him to travel the world, sleep as late as he wanted, and enjoy quiet nights at home
with a brandy and a good book.
"We're like a small city," the pilot said, pulling Langdon from his daydream. "Not just labs. We've got
supermarkets, a hospital, even a cinema."
Langdon nodded blankly and looked out at the sprawling expanse of buildings rising before them.
"In fact," the pilot added, "we possess the largest machine on earth."
"Really?" Langdon scanned the countryside.
"You won't see it out there, sir." The pilot smiled. "It's buried six stories below the earth."
Langdon didn't have time to ask. Without warning the pilot jammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a
stop outside a reinforced sentry booth.
Langdon read the sign before them. SECURITE. ARRETEZ. He suddenly felt a wave of panic, realizing
where he was. "My God! I didn't bring my passport!"
"Passports are unnecessary," the driver assured. "We have a standing arrangement with the Swiss
government."
Langdon watched dumbfounded as his driver gave the guard an ID. The sentry ran it through an electronic
authentication device. The machine flashed green.
"Passenger name?"
"Robert Langdon," the driver replied.
"Guest of?"
"The director."
The sentry arched his eyebrows. He turned and checked a computer printout, verifying it against the data on
his computer screen. Then he returned to the window. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Langdon."
The car shot off again, accelerating another 200 yards around a sweeping rotary that led to the facility's
main entrance. Looming before them was a rectangular, ultramodern structure of glass and steel. Langdon
was amazed by the building's striking transparent design. He had always had a fond love of architecture.
"The Glass Cathedral," the escort offered.
"A church?"
"Hell, no. A church is the one thing we don't have. Physics is the religion around here. Use the Lord's
name in vain all you like," he laughed, "just don't slander any quarks or mesons."
Langdon sat bewildered as the driver swung the car around and brought it to a stop in front of the glass
building. Quarks and mesons? No border control? Mach 15 jets? Who the hell ARE these guys? The