Light well escape attempt

Robert Langdon and Sienna Brooks, having descended into the crypt of St. Mark's Basilica to evade the SRS team, found themselves trapped in a subterranean chamber with no obvious exit. The crypt, a squat space with a low stone ceiling supported by ancient pillars, offered only a series of small, arched transoms high on the wall—light wells designed to bring air and dim natural light into the cramped space. The windows were reinforced with an ironwork pattern of fifteen interlocking circles, but Sienna, standing on a pew she had moved beneath one of the wells, unlatched the window and swung it open, holding Ferris's phone out into the shaft in a futile attempt to get a signal. The outdoor sounds of St. Mark's Square filtered down from above, and Langdon, spotting a line of folding chairs, sensed they might be able to hoist one up into the well, hoping the upper grates might unlatch from inside as well.

The Ascent Through the Light Well

Langdon hurried through the darkness toward Sienna, but a powerful blow to his forehead knocked him backward; his six-foot frame had struck one of the low vaults built for the average human height of a thousand years ago. As he knelt on the hard stone, he found himself gazing at a Latin inscription on the floor—Sanctus Marcus—which sparked a sudden, long-forgotten image of Enrico Dandolo's tomb marker, engraved with his Latin name, Henricus Dandolo. The realization struck him like a jolt of electricity: the gilded mouseion of holy wisdom was not St. Mark's Basilica at all, but Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. He clambered slowly to his feet and told Sienna they were in the wrong country. Sienna, who had climbed down from the light well, went pale at the news.

The Gypsy Vendor and the Escape Attempt

Out in St. Mark's Square, a Gypsy woman selling Venetian masks was taking a break, leaning against the outer wall of the basilica in a small niche between two metal grates in the pavement. Startled by a loud sound at her feet, she peered down through a grate into a narrow well, maybe ten feet deep, and saw a folding chair shoved out into the bottom, followed by a pretty woman with a blond ponytail—Sienna—who was being hoisted from within and clambering through the window. Sienna scrambled to her feet, looked up, and saw the Gypsy staring down at her through the grate. She raised a finger to her lips, gave a tight smile, then unfolded the chair and climbed onto it, reaching up toward the grate, but she was far too short. She climbed back down and spoke to someone inside the building, stepping aside as a second person—a tall, dark-haired man in a fancy suit—heaved himself up out of the basilica basement into the crowded shaft. He, too, looked up, making eye contact with the Gypsy through the iron grate, then exchanged positions with Sienna and climbed up on top of the rickety chair. Being taller, he was able to unlatch the security bar beneath the grate, and standing on tiptoe, he placed his hands on the grate and heaved upward, but it rose only an inch or so before he had to set it down. Sienna called up to the Gypsy, "Può darci una mano?" and when the vendor hesitated, she pulled out a man's wallet and extracted a hundred-euro bill, waving it as an offering. The Gypsy, no stranger to negotiation, shook her head and held up two fingers; Sienna produced a second bill. The Gypsy shrugged a reluctant yes, trying to look indifferent, and crouched down to grab the bars, synchronizing her efforts with the man's. As he heaved again, she pulled upward with arms made strong from years of carrying her wares, and the grate swung upward halfway. Just as they thought they had it, there was a loud crash beneath them, and the man disappeared, plummeting back down into the well as the folding chair collapsed beneath him. The iron grate grew instantly heavier in her hands, but the promise of two hundred euros gave her strength, and she managed to heave the grate up against the side of the basilica, where it came to rest with a loud clang.

The Capture and Separation

Breathless, the Gypsy peered down into the well at the twist of bodies and broken furniture. As the man got back up and brushed himself off, she reached down, holding out her hand for her money. Sienna nodded appreciatively and raised the two bills over her head, but the Gypsy could not reach them. Suddenly there was a commotion in the shaft—angry voices shouting from inside the basilica—and the man and woman both spun in fear, recoiling from the window. The dark-haired man took charge, crouching down and firmly ordering Sienna to place her foot into a cradle formed by his fingers. She stepped in, and he heaved upward; she skimmed up the side of the shaft, stuffing the bills in her teeth to free her hands as she strained to reach the lip. He heaved higher, lifting her until her hands curled over the edge. With enormous effort, she heaved herself up into the square like a woman climbing out of a swimming pool, shoved the money into the Gypsy's hands, and immediately spun around and knelt at the edge of the well, reaching back down for the man. It was too late. Powerful arms in long black sleeves were reaching into the well like the thrashing tentacles of some hungry monster, grasping at the man's legs, pulling him back toward the window. The struggling man shouted, "Run, Sienna! Now!" Their eyes locked in an exchange of pained regret, and then it was over. The man was dragged roughly down through the window and back into the basilica. The blond woman stared down in shock, her eyes welling with tears. "I'm so sorry, Robert," she whispered, and then, after a pause, added, "For everything." A moment later, she sprinted off into the crowd, her ponytail swinging as she raced down the narrow alleyway of the Merceria dell'Orologio, disappearing into the heart of Venice.