Nelson Demille - The Quest

Gann said to Purcell, “You’d better start off now.”

Mercado pulled a plastic wrapped paper from his pocket and gave it to Vivian, saying, “The safe-conduct pass… go with Frank.”

She took the pass and handed it to Purcell, but remained kneeling beside Mercado. Purcell put the pass in his pocket and said to Gann, “I won’t be seeing you later. Thanks for your help.”

They shook and Gann said, “Well, good luck.” He added, “The commander of the Provisional government forces is a chap named Getachu. Nasty fellow. Red through and through. Likes to shoot Royalists. Doesn’t think much of Westerners either. Your pass from the Provisional government should be all right, but be careful with him.”

Purcell replied, “I know who he is.” He said to Vivian and Mercado, “See you later.”

Purcell moved toward the descending ridge, then turned and asked Gann, “Have you ever heard of a black monastery in this area?”

Colonel Gann didn’t reply immediately, then said, “Yes. But not worth the side trip.” He added, “Maybe after the war is over.”

Purcell nodded, then started to pick his way down the rocky ridge.

Below, the grassy plateau looked inviting, and Purcell thought there could be water there. Or Gallas.

Across the plateau was the base of the rocky hills, and in those hills was the victorious army of the Provisional government. But even if he made it to an army outpost, he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get. Theoretically, his American passport and press credentials and the safe-conduct pass from the Provisional Revolutionary government would ensure a good reception-which was why he and his traveling companions were trying to reach the army forces to begin with. But theory, when it butts up against reality, sometimes produces unexpected results. Especially if he had to deal with General Getachu, who was notoriously cruel, and probably insane; the perfect subject for a press interview-if he didn’t kill the reporter.

Purcell heard something behind him, and he froze, then squeezed himself into a rock cleft. He listened and heard it again. Someone was coming down the ridge.

He waited, then saw her sliding on her butt down a long flat rock, holding on to her camera that was hanging from her neck. She jumped off the rock and he let her get a little ahead of him, then fell in behind her as she was scrambling over another large rock.

“Change your mind?”

She made a startled sound, then turned toward him. “God… Frank… you scared the hell-”

“Me too. Where you going?”

“To find you…” She took a deep breath, then said, “Henry gave you… he didn’t give you the pass.”

“Really?” Purcell took the plastic-wrapped sheet from his pocket and opened it. He smiled and said, “Looks like his bar bill from the Hilton.”

She didn’t reply to that but said, “I have the pass.”

“Good. I’ll take it.”

She gave it to him.

He looked at it, put it in his pocket, and said, “Thanks. See you later.”

She glanced up at the ridge.

He said, “Right. The climb up will kill you. Stay here.”

“I’m coming with you.”

He didn’t respond to that and asked, “How’s Henry?”

“A little better.”

“Good. And how are you?”

“Dizzy.”

He put his hand on her blistered forehead and asked her, “Tongue swollen?”

“A little…”

He took off his bush jacket and draped it over her head. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She followed him as he moved down the ridge.

She said to him, “Colonel Gann saw three Gallas on horseback riding through the tall grass ahead.”

“News I can use.”

They continued on and she said, “I wouldn’t have left him… but he tricked me. Tricked you.”

Purcell didn’t reply.

She said, “He and Colonel Gann thought you’d have a better chance if I were along.”

“You have not increased my chances.”

“In case you got hurt. Or… whatever. Better to send two people on a rescue mission.”

“True.” Unless one of them was an attractive woman.

The ridge flattened and they stopped a hundred feet from the high grass of the plateau. Purcell said to her, “You stay here. If all goes well, I’ll be back with a medic and some soldiers to collect you and get Henry. If I’m not back in, say, two hours-”

“I am not staying here.”

“You will do what I tell you-”

“Frank, if something happens to you, I’m as good as dead here. And so is Henry.”

“Vivian-”

“I can’t get back up that hill, and I will not sit here waiting for the Gallas-or dying of fucking thirst.” She moved toward him and gave him a push on the chest. “Let’s go.”

They continued on and entered the tall grass. Purcell said, “Keep a separation of twenty feet, and if you hear hoofbeats, drop and freeze.”

They walked silently through the elephant grass, which was taller than they were. Purcell could see evidence of the battle that had been fought here during the night-naked bloated bodies lay strewn in the high grass, covered with big green flies. There was no mutilation, and Purcell guessed that it was not the Gallas but the victorious government forces that had carried off the pitiful war spoils from the slain soldiers of Prince Joshua. Fresh graves marked the spots where the government forces had buried their own dead. If he’d hoped to find a canteen of water among the carnage, that hope quickly faded.

They continued on and the nauseating stench of death hung in the hot air. Vultures circled overhead, and one swooped down and landed near a naked body, then bent its long neck and plucked out an eyeball. Vivian, who had come up behind him, let out a stifled cry of disgust.

Purcell rushed toward the vulture and it flew off. They continued on.

The tall grass was beaten down where horses had passed through, and where men had fought and fallen. He saw craters made by impacting mortar rounds that had set the grass on fire, and in the ash he saw jagged shrapnel and burned body parts. Brass shell casings littered the ground.

Purcell tried to imagine what had gone on here during the night, but despite his years of war reporting he could not conjure up the images of men joined in close combat. But he could imagine how Colonel Gann had felt when he realized the battle was lost.

The plateau began to rise toward the base of the high hills and the ground became rocky and the grass began to thin as they continued up the slope.

Somewhere to the west he could hear hoofbeats, and he hoped Vivian also heard them. Ignoring his own advice to freeze and drop, he doubled back and saw her walking toward him. The hoofbeats got louder and she heard them at the same time as she saw him. They both dove to the ground in the thin grass and remained motionless, staring at each other across a patch of open space.

The hoofbeats were close now, and Purcell guessed there were three or four horses, about twenty or thirty yards’ distance. The hoofbeats stopped, and he could hear the rustle of grass as the riders moved slowly, looking for anything of value, and for anyone unfortunate enough to still be alive.

Purcell made eye contact with Vivian and he could see she was terrified, but she remained motionless and resisted the instinct to run.

The Gallas were so close now that he could hear them speaking. One of them laughed. A horse snorted.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard them ride off.

He motioned for Vivian to remain still, tapped his watch, and flashed five fingers twice. She nodded.

They waited the full ten minutes, then Purcell stood and Vivian moved quickly toward him. He glanced at the rising ridge about three hundred yards away and said, “We’re going to make a run for that. Ready?”