Nelson Demille - The Quest

Mercado was not enjoying this moment as much as he’d thought he would. It would have been much better if Vivian and Purcell had already had a tiff about this, followed by Purcell being sulky at cocktails or dinner.

Mercado didn’t want to protest too much, but he said, “We’re all civilized, old man.” He reminded Purcell, “We’re going to be in close quarters when we get into the bush.” He immediately regretted his choice of words. Get into the bush . Freudian slip? He suppressed a smile.

“All right.” Purcell let him know, “It’s nothing.”

Nothing? Mercado wanted to tell him, “I fucked her, actually,” but that would wreck the whole deal. So instead, he said, “She’s very attached to you, Frank.”

“End of discussion.”

“In fact, you should have this discussion with her.”

Purcell didn’t respond, but he was getting annoyed with Mercado. The subject of Vivian was not a happy one between them, and Mercado’s familiarity would have earned him at least a punch in the gut, as he’d told him in Rome. But Purcell didn’t want to upset the mission. Also, he liked Henry.

Mercado said to him, “I’m not sure, but I think you were flying too slow as you passed by.”

“Let me pilot the aircraft, Henry.”

“I’m thinking about me , old man. Your passenger. And Vivian.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Purcell informed him, “If it makes you feel better, Signore Bocaccio was impressed with my flying skills.”

“Good. But will he let you fly it again?”

“He’s thinking about it.”

“We need that plane.” Mercado asked, “And how is Signore Bocaccio? Is he trying to pretend that the Marxists haven’t taken charge and that his privileged life will continue as usual?”

“No, I think he gets that it’s over.”

“He sounds more realistic than many of my colonial compatriots around the world.”

“Right.”

“The old world order is finished.”

“Indeed it is.” Purcell informed Mercado, “Signore Bocaccio wants to know if our newspaper wants to buy Mia.”

“Who?”

“The airplane. Mia.”

“Oh… I don’t think so.”

“Please ask.” He explained, “Signore Bocaccio wants to get out.”

“He should. And you should tell him we’re considering buying his aircraft so he will let us continue renting it.”

“I may have led him to believe that.”

“You are devious, Frank.”

“ Me? You just told me to con him.”

Their breakfast came and Purcell said, “On the taxi ride to the airstrip, I saw children with distended stomachs.”

Mercado stayed quiet a moment, then said, “Sometimes I weep for this land.”

“If you’d seen what I saw in Cambo, you’d weep for that land, too.” He looked at Mercado. “We could weep for the whole world, Henry, but that won’t change the world.”

Mercado nodded. “When you get to be my age, Frank, you start to wonder… what the hell has gone wrong?”

“It’s all gone wrong.”

“It has. But then you see… well, Father Armano. And these UN relief people. And all the aid volunteers and missionaries who come to places like this to do good. To help their fellow human beings.”

“That is a hopeful thing.”

“For every Getachu, there is a decent human being trying to soften the world’s suffering.”

“I hope so.” Purcell asked, “When will the good guys win?”

“When the last battle is fought between the forces of good and evil. When Christ and the Antichrist meet at Armageddon.”

“Sounds like a hell of a story. I hope I get to cover it.”

“We cover it every day, Frank.”

Purcell nodded.

Purcell wasn’t as hungry as he’d thought, and he drank his coffee and lit a cigarette.

Mercado was looking up at the stained glass and said, “It doesn’t actually show Solomon and Sheba in the act.”

“You have to use your imagination.”

“I think that scene would bring in the customers.”

“Or the police.” Purcell asked, “Have you heard anything about Mr. Selassie, as he is now called?”

“I have heard a rumor that they are gently grilling him about his assets here and abroad, and that he’s giving them a little at a time in exchange for the lives of some of his family.”

“And what happens when he’s given them everything?”

He informed Purcell, “They’ve smothered a few old royals with pillows and announced a natural death. That will be his fate. Or something similar.”

Purcell nodded. He asked, “Do you think the emperor knows the location of the black monastery?”

“That is a good question. The royal court used to travel throughout the kingdom to dispense justice, give pardons, give money to churches, and so forth. They would always visit the Ark of the Covenant at Axum. So it is possible that the emperor has visited the black monastery, but my instincts say he has not. And even if he had, he could not give his captors the grid coordinates.”

“Right. I’m sure he wasn’t driving the tour bus.”

“More likely the Grail was brought to him at some location away from the monastery.”

“Like the village of Shoan.”

“Possible.” Mercado informed him, “The royal court has been shrouded in secrecy for three thousand years. They make the emperor of Japan’s court seem like an open house party.”

“And the Vatican makes every other closed institution look like a public information office.”

“Your anti-papist views are annoying, Frank.” He reminded him, “You work for the Vatican newspaper.”

“God help me.”

“In any case, the imperial court of Ethiopia is no more.”

“Unless Gann gets his way.”

“That will not happen. There is no going back.”

“I think you’re right, Henry. And on that subject, where is Sir Edmund?”

“I’m beginning to wonder myself.”

“He said he’d arrive on the twenty-fourth, which was yesterday. But we were to wait four days before we gave up on him.”

“Then we will wait. But if he doesn’t show, we will press on. Without him.”

“We need those maps.”

“We have an aircraft.”

“Aerial recon is not a substitute for terrain maps. One complements the other. Also, Colonel Gann has skills we don’t have.”

“I believe we can do this without him. But I can’t do this without you and Vivian.”

Purcell looked at Mercado and asked, “Why are we actually doing this? Tell me again.”

“My reasons, like yours, Frank, change every day. There are days I think of my immortal soul, and other days I think how nice it would be to become rich and famous on a world Grail tour. The only thing I’m sure of is that we-all three of us-were chosen to do this, and I believe we will not know why until we are in the presence of the Holy Grail and the Holy Spirit.”

Purcell nodded. “All right. If Gann doesn’t show up, I’m still in. I’ll ask Vivian.”

“You don’t have to ask.” Mercado looked toward the lobby. “But if you’d like to, here she is.”

Vivian came into the room carrying a tote bag and wearing khaki trousers, a shapeless pullover, and walking shoes. She spotted them and came toward the table, smiling.

Mercado rose, smiled at her, and pulled out a chair.

Vivian gave them both a peck on the cheek, then sat and said, “I thought I might find you both in the bar as usual.”

Mercado replied, “It is now the breakfast room. But I can get you a Bloody Mary.”

“No thank you.” She asked, “What have you two been talking about?”

Purcell replied, “Aerial recon.”

She took his hand. “Frank, you were absolutely magnificent. What other skills do you have that you haven’t told us about?”