high above the square, the helicopter still climbs, rotating in circles.
no, the faint white speck is a billowing parachute -- and the
-- and the helicopter explodes in a blinding pinpoint of white light.
the camerlengo, clinging to the parachute, is buffeted wildly, spun over and over, tangling him in his cords, which makes him fall faster.
the camerlengo falls, unconscious now, tumbling over and over, dropping too fast. he slams off an angled rooftop, headed for the ground.
the camerlengo crunches off the side of another building and drifts downward, fast, toward the crowd in st. peter's.