Nelson Demille - The Quest

Vivian and Mercado shook their heads.

Getachu went on, “The bombardment attracted the attention of the Gallas, as it always does, and they descended on the fortress and massacred the Royalist survivors, though some managed to flee into the jungle. But my infantry company captured some of these men and brought them here. In fact, you may have seen these soldiers of Ras Theodore hanging outside this tent alongside the soldiers of Ras Joshua.”

Getachu lit another cigarette, sipped some water, then continued. “But before they were brought here, they were brought back to their fortress. Why? To assist my men in determining the fate of Father Armano-and as they discovered, the prison cell of this priest was empty, and the captured soldiers could not identify a body as that of the priest. But they did find a Bible, in Italian, on the floor of his cell, with a hole in it-perhaps a bullet hole. So it is my assumption that the wounded man you discovered was Father Armano.” He looked at his guests closely, then asked Mercado directly, “Why do you think this priest who you came upon was so important?”

Mercado replied, “I don’t know.”

“Then I will tell you. Well, perhaps I won’t. You seem to have no information about this man or this matter, so we have nothing to discuss, and you have nothing to trade for your freedom or your lives.”

Purcell said, “I hope you had the decency to rebury the old man.”

“I have no idea if he was reburied, and I don’t care if the jackals eat his body. But it is interesting that you took the time and effort to give an unknown man a burial.”

“Interesting to you. Common decency to us.”

“I don’t like your attitude of moral superiority, Mr. Purcell. I had enough of that in school.”

“Apparently not.”

“Don’t provoke me.”

“We have no information for you, General. May we leave?”

Getachu seemed not to hear him, and he sat back in his chair and said, “I will be open with you, and perhaps you will do the same for me.” He looked at each of them, then said, “The black monastery. You know of this place. What is in it, I do not know, nor do I know its exact location. But Father Armano knew its location and he may have told you something of this.” He looked at Purcell, then Vivian, then Mercado, and said, “I hope for your sake that he did.”

Mercado said, “He did not.”

“I will ask you again later. But for now, I will explain to you my interest in the black monastery.” He leaned forward and said, “The Provisional Revolutionary government is interested in selling precious objects to museums and churches outside the country. The government is selling most of the emperor’s trinkets now. We need the money for food and medicine for the people. But when a very old regime ends, some people become upset. Nostalgic. Some people are fond of kings and emperors and aristocrats on horses-as long as it’s not in their own country. You understand? The end of the empire is a historical necessity. And gold and jewels are worthless in a modern state. We need capital. And we are acquiring it in the only way we can. The traditional way of revolutionary governments. We rob the rich of their baubles. A few suffer. Many gain. The churches, especially, are better off without their gold. They can concentrate more on God and saving souls without the worry of keeping their property intact. Everyone benefits. So in exchange for any information you might have on the location of this monastery-and what is in it-I will allow you all to return to the capital, including Colonel Gann, who will be dealt with at a higher level, and therefore dealt with less severely than I would here at the front.” He added, “You all have my word on that.”

Purcell wondered if Getachu knew specifically about the so-called Holy Grail, or if he was just interested in looting another Coptic monastery. It made no difference to Purcell, but it did to Henry Mercado. Henry wanted to get out of here and go look for the monastery and the Grail; Henry wanted to have his cake and eat it too. But he couldn’t.

Getachu suggested, “Perhaps you would like a private moment to discuss this.”

Purcell knew, and he hoped Henry and Vivian also knew that even if they could take Getachu at his word, what little they knew was not enough to get them out of here. But it was enough to keep them as Getachu’s guests for a long time-just as Father Armano had been a guest of Ethiopia for a very long time. Or Getachu would just do away with them if Henry decided to clarify his lie.

“Mr. Mercado?”

Mercado said, “We told you all we know about this man. He was dying, and in pain, and he said almost nothing except to ask for water.”

“I know you are lying.”

Purcell didn’t think that Mercado was doing a good job of putting this to rest, so he pointed out, “Why would we lie about something that has no meaning to us?”

“I told you. Some people are fond of the old regime and the old church, which are one.”

“I don’t care about either.” Purcell added, “And if this old man did speak to us, and if he was Father Armano, what do you think he would tell us? The location of the monastery? I don’t understand how he would know that. You said he was in this fortress for almost forty years. I’m not understanding what you think we should know.”

Getachu seemed to have a lucid moment, and he nodded. “You make a good point. In fact, you have nothing to give me.” He added, “And I have nothing to give you.”

“Except,” Purcell suggested, “our belongings, and a ride to Addis.” He added, “Our embassies and our offices are awaiting word from us.”

“Then they will have a long wait.” Getachu informed everyone, “This proceeding is finished. I will consider my judgment. You remain under arrest.” He said something to the soldier, who escorted them out into the bright sunlight where a squad of soldiers waited with leg shackles.

They were marched to a deep ravine, and Purcell saw that there was fresh earth at the bottom, and shovels, and it was obvious that this was a mass grave, and perhaps a place of execution. They were ordered to climb into the ravine, and it seemed to Purcell that Getachu’s judgment had traveled faster than they had. But to be more optimistic, he didn’t think that Getachu was through with them yet.

At the bottom of the ravine, they could smell the buried corpses. Purcell and Gann looked up at the soldiers, to see if these men were their executioners, but the soldiers were sitting at the edge of the ravine smoking and talking.

Gann said to Purcell, “Sloppy discipline.”

“You should have taken the job.”

“They’re a hopeless lot.”

“Right.” But they won.

No one had anything else to say, and Purcell was sure that each of them was thinking about what had transpired in Getachu’s office. It had been a very unpleasant experience, he thought, but it could have gone worse, though not better. In any case, everyone seemed relieved that it was over, even if it wasn’t.

Finally, Gann said, “The man’s a bloody lunatic.”

No one argued with that, and Gann added, “Ungrateful bastard. Got a decent education from the good Church of England missionaries, and he complains about a few strokes on his arse. Did him more good than harm, I’m sure.”

Purcell smiled despite the fact that little Mikael had grown up fucked up and was looking for payback. And he didn’t have to look too far.

Vivian admitted, “I was very frightened.”

Purcell wanted to tell her she did fine, but that was Henry’s job, though Henry wasn’t speaking to her. Mercado, in fact, was glancing nervously up at the soldiers with the automatic rifles.