Nelson Demille - The Quest

At the edge of the quarry, they could see freshly cleaved faces of obsidian, evidence that people had been here to cut small pieces of the stone.

Gann said, “I would guess that this is where the monks get their stone to carve their little doodads.”

Purcell agreed. “Better than chipping away at the monastery.”

Mercado had wandered off a few feet and said, “Look at this.”

They walked to where he was standing, and on the ground was evidence of campfires, and what looked like chicken bones, and eggshells.

It didn’t need to be said, but Gann said, “This could be where the Falashas meet the monks, and set up for the night before returning to Shoan.”

Everyone agreed with that deduction, and Purcell added, “Shoan then must be a day’s walk from here.” He also pointed out, “It took us five days to get here.”

Gann replied, “It appears we took the long route.” He added, “There is obviously a quick and direct route to Shoan. We’ll need to find that.”

“Right. Meanwhile, I think it’s safe to say that the black monastery is a one-day hike from this meeting place.”

Mercado asked, “But in which direction?”

Gann replied, “Probably not east, on the way back to Shoan. So perhaps north or south, or farther west.”

Vivian had walked off, and she called back to them, “West.”

They moved toward where she was standing on an elevation of rock. The area around the quarry was mostly treeless, covered with rock rubble from hundreds of years of quarrying, but surrounding the open area was thick jungle. To the west, where Vivian was looking, stood a dead cedar about a hundred feet away, and about forty feet in height. The towering trunk of the decay-resistant cedar had turned silver-gray, and all the branches had fallen, or been cut off, except for two that stretched out like arms, parallel to the ground, giving the tree the appearance of a giant cross.

Vivian said, “The tree.”

Purcell looked at the giant cedar, which could have been there, alive and dead, for hundreds of years.

Gann and Mercado were also staring at the towering tree, and Gann looked back at the monolith and said, “I believe we have two points in a straight line.”

Purcell had his compass out, and with his back to the monolith, and facing the tree, he took a compass reading. “A few degrees north of due west.”

Vivian said, “Now we need to find the stream.”

Purcell replied, “That should be the easiest thing we’ve done this week.” He said to Mercado, “Henry, get the champagne ready.”

Mercado smiled.

Purcell gave Vivian a hug, then Vivian hugged Henry, then Colonel Gann. The men shook hands all around.

Everyone’s spirits seemed to be revived, and they forgot their fatigue and jungle sores.

Purcell now noticed, about a hundred feet off to the north, a roofless hut built with scraps of the black rock. The hut sat among flowering bushes, and the branches of a tall gum tree hung over the abandoned structure.

Gann said, “A shelter for the nasty overseer, I would bet.”

They all walked toward the hut to check it out, and when they got within ten feet of it, a man suddenly appeared in the shadow of the open doorway and stepped quickly out of the hut, followed by another man, then three more.

Purcell counted five men, dressed in jungle fatigues, carrying AK-47 rifles, which were pointed at them.

Vivian let out a stifled scream and grabbed Purcell’s arm.

One of the soldiers shouted something in Amharic, and all the soldiers were pointing their automatic rifles at Gann, shouting, and gesturing for him to drop the Uzi.

Gann hesitated, and one of the soldiers fired a deafening burst of rounds over his head.

Gann let the Uzi fall to the ground.

Vivian pressed against Purcell.

Someone else appeared at the door of the hut, and General Getachu stepped out into the morning sunshine. With him was Princess Miriam, whom he pushed to the ground.

Getachu looked at Purcell, Mercado, Gann, and Vivian. “I have been waiting for you.”

Frank Purcell drew a deep breath and tried to take stock of the situation, which didn’t need, he admitted, too much interpretation.

His mind registered that there were five soldiers, and a Huey held seven in the cabin. So if that’s how Getachu and Miriam had gotten here, there were no more soldiers-unless there were.

Getachu had a holster strapped to his waist, but his pistol wasn’t drawn.

Purcell glanced at the Uzi on the ground, about five feet away, between him and Gann. Was it on safety? Probably. Could he get to it before he was cut down by five AK-47s? Probably not.

Purcell glanced at Mercado, who he saw had tears in his eyes. Vivian had her head buried in Purcell’s chest now, her back to the soldiers. Gann was looking at Miriam, who had remained on the ground at Getachu’s feet, lying facedown in the dirt. He saw that she wore a white shamma that was ripped and stained with blood.

Getachu said, “Colonel Gann does not seem happy to see his princess.” He stared at Gann. “I was not happy to hear that they released you in Addis. Now you will wish they had shot you there.”

Getachu knew not to expect a reply from the insolent Englishman, so he continued, “I paid a brief visit to Shoan, to pay my respects to my princess before the UN people came to take her away.”

Getachu looked at Gann, then Purcell. “And what do I find there? I find an aircraft that has been burned. Your aircraft, Mr. Purcell. The very aircraft that my helicopter pilot radioed had fired a rocket at him. And now the helicopter is missing, and presumed lost, with all the men on board.” He let Purcell know, “I have concluded my court-martial, and you will be shot.” He added, “Within the next five minutes.”

Purcell felt the weight of the revolver in his cargo pocket. He was sure the opportunity would come to pull the revolver and shoot Getachu before the five soldiers cut everyone down with their automatic rifles. At least they’d all die knowing that Getachu was dead.

Getachu lit a cigarette and continued what appeared to be a rehearsed speech. “I promised you a cigarette, Mr. Purcell, before I was going to shoot you in my camp. But I am sorry to break this promise. I will promise you, however, a quick bullet in the brain.”

Purcell made the same promise to Getachu, but kept that to himself.

Getachu continued, “So the people of Shoan sheltered a murderer. And they also admitted to me that Mr. Mercado and Miss Smith came from that aircraft, and that the princess gave them all shelter. Therefore, Mr. Mercado will share Mr. Purcell’s fate, and Miss Smith…” He smiled at her, “Miss Smith-Vivian-will belong to me for a time. Then she will belong to my soldiers.” He said something to his men in Amharic and they smiled and looked at Vivian.

Vivian was shaking now and Purcell held her tightly.

Gann was looking at Miriam, but spoke to Getachu. “What did you do in Shoan?”

“Ah! You speak.” He said to Gann, “What do you think I did?”

“You will hang for that.”

“For what? Because the Gallas attacked the village and killed everyone, and burned it all? What has that to do with me?”

“You bastard.”

“Yes, yes, Colonel Gann. Getachu is a bastard. And you are a knight. A knight for hire. A man who sells himself to kill.” He said to Gann, “The prostitutes in Saint George Square charge less, and are better at their profession than you.”

Gann looked at Getachu. “You are the most incompetent commander I have ever faced.”

“Do not provoke me into putting a bullet into your head. I have something special for you to see before you die.” He looked at Miriam lying at his feet and kicked her in the side.