Nelson Demille - The Quest

The runway suddenly ended and Vivian let out a startled sound, then reached out and put her fingers on Saint Christopher.

The control wheel felt light in Purcell’s hands and the Navion hung for a moment, as though trying to decide whether to fly or drop into the valley.

The nose dipped down, and Purcell pulled back slowly on the wheel and pulled the hydraulic landing gear lever. Mia lifted slightly. The adjoining hill went by off his left wing, and he noticed that it had more elevation than the Navion. The sound of the landing gear banging into its wells gave Vivian a start, and Mercado said, “Oh!”

The aircraft began to climb. Purcell glanced at the altimeter. He was at seventy-eight hundred feet, which was not good considering he had started at seventy-nine hundred. Around him, the mountains rose ten and twelve thousand feet and seemed to hem him in. A peak rose up to his front.

The aircraft continued to climb, and at twelve thousand feet he relaxed a bit. He turned to a northwesterly heading and asked, “Mind if I smoke?”

No one seemed to mind, so he lit up. He asked, “Anyone need that carafe?”

Vivian replied, “Too late for that.”

Purcell asked, “How you doing, Henry?”

No response.

Vivian turned her head. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Would you like some water?”

“I’m fine.”

Vivian asked Purcell, “Did you do that yesterday?”

“Yesterday we used the longer airstrip.”

“Can we do that next time?”

“We can.”

“How did the landing go?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Can I have a puff?”

He handed her the cigarette.

They continued on a northwesterly heading and Purcell said to Mercado, “You should familiarize yourself with those terrain maps.”

“I thought you had them.”

“Are you joking, Henry?”

“Oh… here they are.”

Vivian laughed.

Purcell settled back and scanned the instrument panel. He was happy to see that the airspeed indicator was now working.

Mercado said, “The next time, I will volunteer to be the potential survivor.”

“Happy to shed the takeoff weight.”

They continued on and Purcell looked out his left side. It was a beautiful country from the air. This is what God had given the human race. In fact, the earliest remains of a human ancestor, over three million years old, had been found in the Awash Valley. And since then, it had been a long, hard climb toward… something.

Vivian snapped a picture of him, then of Henry sitting on the coffee bean bags in the rear. Henry took her camera and said, “Turn around.”

She turned, smiled, and Mercado took a picture of her.

Vivian said to her companions, “We have begun our journey.”

Mercado replied, “We almost ended it on takeoff.”

Vivian assured him, “I felt Saint Christopher and the angels lifting our wings.”

Purcell was about to say something clever, but when he thought about that takeoff, there was no aeronautical reason why it should have happened.

Vivian again touched the Saint Christopher medal over the windshield. “Thank you.”

“How about me?”

“Next time, use the longer runway.”

They continued on in silence as Ethiopia slid by beneath their wings. Somewhere down there, Purcell thought, was the thing they were looking for. And maybe that thing was waiting for them.

An hour out of Addis, Purcell spotted the great bend in the Blue Nile. He banked right and followed it north. Their airspeed was one hundred fifty, and the flight so far had been smooth except for some mountain updrafts. The smell of the coffee beans in the burlap bags was pleasant.

Purcell had been thinking about the logistics of their quest, the devils that were in the details. He said to Vivian, “If there is any problem when we land in Gondar, they may confiscate your film. And if they see we’ve been shooting wide-angle photos of the terrain, we will have some explaining to do.”

“I will hide the exposed rolls on my person.”

“They may look at your person.”

Mercado confided to them, “I once hid a roll of film in a place where the sun does not shine.”

“Don’t tempt me, Henry.” He added, “We don’t want the film found on us.” He suggested, “Maybe the coffee bags.”

Mercado replied, “The ground crew at Gondar will help themselves to a bag or two.”

Purcell noticed a taped rip in the headliner above the windshield where the Saint Christopher medal was pinned. He pulled back the tape and said, “We can also put the maps in there.”

Mercado pointed out, “Even if there is no trouble in Gondar, the authorities will do a thorough search of the cockpit when we leave the aircraft, and they will probably find that.”

Purcell did not reply.

Mercado continued, “If we deny any knowledge of the maps or the film, which together may look suspicious, then Signore Bocaccio will be down at police headquarters in Addis answering questions, while we are answering questions at Getachu’s headquarters in Gondar.”

Purcell thought about that. Henry made some good points. “What do you suggest?”

“I say we take a chance that there will be no problems at the Gondar airfield, and we should carry the exposed film and maps with us.” He added, “If there is a problem in Gondar, it is already waiting for us, and the film and the maps will be the least of our problems.”

Purcell’s instincts still told him not to carry around incriminating evidence in a police state. Especially with prior arrests hanging over their heads. But Henry Mercado had been at this game far longer than Frank Purcell. And there seemed to be no good choices.

Vivian said, “I will carry my exposed film in my bag.” She added, “Naked is the best disguise. As soon as you try to hide something, you get in trouble.”

Mercado commented, “You should know.”

Vivian ignored him and continued, “Frank will carry the maps.” She pointed out, “It’s not as though we’re carrying guns or a picture of the emperor.”

Purcell nodded. “Okay. We land in Gondar and take our things with us. I need to give our flight plan to the officer on the ground, then we take a taxi to town.”

Mercado, too, had some thoughts about their destination. “If Getachu somehow knows we have returned to his lair, I believe he will not reveal himself to us. He will watch to see what we are doing back in Ethiopia.”

Purcell replied, “I don’t think he’s that bright. I think he acts on his primitive impulses.”

“We will find out in Gondar.”

Vivian asked, “Can we change the subject?”

Purcell said, “Here’s another subject. When we begin our search for the black monastery, we should not drive from Addis to the north again. Agreed?”

Vivian agreed. “I would not do that again.”

“So,” Purcell said, “at some point, after we’ve finished our aerial recon, and when we think we have a few possible locations for the black monastery, we need to fly to Gondar, ditch the aircraft, and buy or rent a cross-country vehicle to go exploring.” He pointed out, “From Gondar to the area we need to explore is about four to six hours-rather than three or four days cross-country from Addis.”

Mercado agreed. “Gondar should be our jump-off point.”

They continued on in silence. Purcell followed the Blue Nile north and maintained his airspeed and altitude.

Vivian announced, “I need to go.”

Mercado passed her the empty water carafe. She said, “Close your eyes. You too, Frank.” She pulled down her pants and panties and relieved herself.

Purcell said, “My turn. Close your eyes, Henry.” He unzipped his fly.