Nelson Demille - The Quest

Getachu slapped the crop on his desk. “Shut up!” He said to Gann, “I will spare your life if you drop your pants, as I did many times, and allow me to deliver thirty blows to your bare buttocks.” He added, “Here and now, leaning over this desk, in front of your friends.”

“I think it’s you, Mikael, who needs another good beating.”

Getachu literally shook with rage, then pulled his pistol, aimed it at Gann, and shouted, “I give you five seconds to do what I say!”

“You can give me five years and I will tell you to go to hell.”

“One-”

Purcell stood. “Stop this.”

The soldier behind Purcell pushed him down into his chair.

“Two.”

Vivian said, “Colonel, please. Just do what he wants… please…”

“Three.”

Mercado closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“Four.”

Gann stood and Getachu smiled. Gann turned, dropped his pants, and said, “Kiss my arse.”

Purcell thought he’d hear the loud explosion of the gun, but there was complete silence in the room.

Finally, Getachu let out a forced laugh, then said, “Very good, Colonel, you may sit.”

Gann pulled up his pants, but did not sit and kept his back to Getachu.

Getachu saw that Gann was not going to turn around, and he said, “You will not provoke me into giving you an easy death.”

Gann remained standing with his back to the general, and Getachu said something to the soldier, who came around and drove the butt of his rifle into Gann’s groin. Gann doubled over, and the soldier pushed him into his chair.

Getachu holstered his gun and put down the riding crop, but remained standing. “You all understand, I hope, that I can have each of you shot as spies.”

Vivian surprised everyone, and herself, by saying, “If that were true, you would have done it.”

Getachu looked at her and said, “It is true, Miss Smith, but as we discussed, there are some men-and women-who I would rather see broken than dead.” He reminded everyone, “And those who agree to serve the people’s revolution may also be spared.”

Mercado spoke up. “I did serve the revolution for many years, and I would be willing to serve it again with my written words-”

“Your written words are like adding your shit to a fire.”

Mercado seemed to shrink in his chair.

Getachu looked at Gann, who was obviously in extreme pain, and said, “Colonel, if you agree to become an advisor to my army-as you did for the former prince’s army-I will spare your life.”

Gann shook his head.

Getachu seemed frustrated with the man’s stubbornness and said, “I will take you to see your former employer and also his aides, who I am sure you know, and then you can decide if you wish to help the revolution or if you wish to assist the prince in his new duties.”

Gann did not reply, and Getachu said, “Or perhaps I will turn you over to the Gallas, and wash my hands of you.”

Purcell leaned toward Gann and said softly, “Just say you’ll do it.”

Gann shook his head, and Purcell wondered if Getachu really wanted or needed Colonel Gann’s military skills, or if he just wanted the satisfaction of seeing the Englishman-the knight-crawling to him before he killed him. Getachu had tried the carrot and the stick, and neither was working on Gann, who Purcell suspected knew Getachu’s game better than anyone.

Getachu’s field phone rang, he answered it, spoke briefly, then hung up and said, “My helicopter has arrived from Gondar.” He asked, “Would you all enjoy a ride to the capital?”

Purcell assumed there was a small catch, but the carrot sounded good. He said, “We’re ready to go.”

“So you said. But first I need some information from all of you. If you give me this information, you will be put on my helicopter and flown to the capital. If you do not give me what I am looking for, then a fate worse than death awaits you here.” He looked at Vivian and said, “Unless, of course, you enjoy the attention of thirty or forty men a day.”

Purcell knew these were not empty threats, but everyone seemed to have become numb to Getachu’s words, and Getachu sensed this as well, so he sat and lit a cigarette, then remembered to offer the pack to Purcell, who declined.

Getachu seemed deep in thought, then began, “A company of my soldiers occupied the Italian spa, where they found empty cans of food and tire tracks.” He looked at Purcell. “You were there?”

Purcell replied, “We said we were.”

“Correct.” He continued, “My men also found fresh earth which they took to be a grave, and which they dug up.” He asked his guests, “Did you dig that grave?”

The easy answer, Purcell thought, was, Yes, so what? But Getachu was not asking out of idle curiosity, and a better answer might be no. Vivian, however, had taken a photograph of the grave, and her camera was sitting on Getachu’s desk. Still, they could deny digging the grave, and he would have done so if it was only he and Vivian answering this psychopath’s questions; but Henry, he realized, was ready to say or do anything to save himself from death or torture. Some men, like Gann, could hang from a pole all night and say, “Kiss my arse.” Others, like Henry, cracked easy and early. But Purcell couldn’t judge Mercado unless he himself had been hanging from the next pole.

“Did you dig that grave?”

Purcell replied, “We did.”

“Who did you bury?”

“We buried who you dug up.”

“My men dug up the body of an old man, Mr. Purcell. I am asking you who it was.”

“A man we found dying in the spa.”

“Why was he dying?”

“He had a stomach wound.”

“How did he get this wound?”

“I have no idea.”

“Did you not speak to him?”

Purcell thought it was time to turn this over to Henry to see what, if anything, he had to say about this, so he replied, “The man spoke Italian and I do not.”

Getachu looked at Mercado. “Doctor Mato informs me that you speak Italian.”

Mercado nodded.

“Did you speak to this dying man?”

“I… I did… but, he died before I could… find out much about him.”

Purcell was not completely surprised that Mercado was keeping a secret from Getachu, because to Mercado it was a secret worth keeping.

Getachu looked long at Mercado. “If you are lying to me, I will find out and then we have no agreement, Mr. Mercado. And then… well, you have sealed your fate.”

Mercado kept eye contact with Getachu. “The man died without telling us who he was.”

Getachu kept staring at him, then shifted his attention to Vivian. “And Doctor Mato informs me that you speak Italian.”

“I do.”

“And what did this dying man say to you?”

Purcell wondered if Vivian would take this opportunity to repay Mercado for not firmly defending her against Getachu’s charges of spying. But women, Purcell had learned, are loyal to men who don’t deserve loyalty. On the other hand, it was Vivian who’d been disloyal first, and probably she was feeling as guilty as Henry was feeling angry. Sex has consequences beyond the act.

“Miss Smith?”

Vivian replied, “The man said nothing more to me than he said to Mr. Mercado.”

“How convenient. Well, let me tell you who I think this old man was. It could only have been Father Armano.” He looked at his guests. “As I’m sure he told you.”

No one replied, and Getachu continued, “Two nights ago, one of my artillery batteries bombarded the nearby fortress of Ras Theodore, who is of the family of my present guest, Joshua. Within this fortress was this Father Armano, who had been imprisoned there since the days of the Italian war.” He asked his guests, “Do you know this story?”