Nelson Demille - The Quest

Mercado said, “That was a bit close, old man.”

“Right.” Purcell glanced at Vivian, who was sitting back in her seat with the binoculars in her lap. He asked, “See anything?”

She nodded. “It was… black rock. Just rock.”

Purcell nodded. That was what he thought he’d seen, too. A shiny outcropping of black rock-probably obsidian. “Well, there is black rock in this area.”

Vivian said, “Father Armano mentioned a rock, a tree, a stream…”

“Right. Lots of that down there.” He added, “We’ll check this out on the ground tomorrow.”

He glanced at his watch. It had been three hours since they left Addis. They could keep flying over the area for maybe another half hour, and they should be able to recon all the sites marked on the maps, with maybe some time left over to look at anything else that seemed promising. They’d be late into Gondar again, but not two hours late as they’d been last time. He’d worry about that when they landed. The goal now was to complete the aerial recon, which, if they were very lucky, would reveal the location of the black monastery.

He said to Vivian, “Map.”

She held the map toward him, and he looked at it, trying to determine what heading to take to get to the next circle on the map.

Vivian was glancing out the windshield, then suddenly shouted, “Look!” She dropped the map.

Purcell looked quickly through the windshield. Passing across their front was a helicopter, about a half mile away. “Shit!”

Mercado said, “I think he may have seen our maneuvers.”

“You think?” Purcell had no way of knowing if the helicopter just happened to be in the area, or if it was sent to track them. He said, “If he has a radio, and I’m sure he does, he has radioed ahead to Gondar Airport.”

Vivian said, “Maybe he didn’t see us.”

“We saw him, he saw us.”

Purcell watched as the helicopter turned northwest, toward Gondar, which was where they were supposed to be heading. So Purcell took the same heading, but stayed to the left of the helicopter, and kept his distance at about half a mile.

Vivian asked, “How will he know it was us?”

Purcell informed her, “There are not too many black-painted vintage Navions in East Africa, Vivian. Probably one.”

She nodded.

Mercado said, “We actually have done nothing illegal.”

Purcell reminded him, “We didn’t do anything illegal last time we wound up in jail here, and this time we are suspiciously diverting from the flight plan.”

“Quite right.” Mercado asked, “What do we do?”

Purcell watched the helicopter. He was flying at the same altitude, and he had definitely slowed his speed relative to the Navion, and the distance was closing. Purcell throttled back and the Navion slowed.

“Frank?”

“Well… what we don’t do is continue on to Gondar Airport where a reception committee will be waiting for us.”

No one replied to that, then Mercado announced, “We need to fly to French Somaliland.” He asked, “Can we do that?”

Purcell glanced at his fuel gauge. “The fuel should not be a problem.” But they could have other problems with that idea.

Purcell saw that the helicopter had also reduced its speed to maintain the distance between the aircraft. He understood that the helicopter pilot wanted the Navion to follow him into Gondar.

Mercado suggested, “You may want to turn east now.” He reminded Purcell, “French Somaliland is that way.”

“Right.”

Vivian was slumped in her seat. She said softly, “It’s over. We never got a chance…”

Mercado said comfortingly, “We will come back.”

Purcell noticed that the helicopter had slipped to the right and was higher now, so that Purcell had a side view of it, and the pilot had a better view of the Navion.

Mercado said, “We have to turn east, old man.” He asked, “Can we outrun this helicopter?”

“Depends on too many unknowns…” Purcell said to Vivian, “Give me the binoculars.”

She gave them to him and Purcell focused with his left hand while he flew with his right. The helicopter was olive drab, definitely military, and on the side of the fuselage was a red star. He said, “It’s a Huey… UH-1D… saw a million of them in ’Nam…” In fact, this was the same type of helicopter that Getachu had used, and maybe it was the same one that had taken them to prison in Addis. He added, “His top speed would be about the same as ours.” He lowered the binoculars and said, “Also, I can see a door gunner.”

“A what?”

“A fellow sitting in the door opening with a mounted machine gun. Probably an M-60, and there is probably another one on the other side.” He added, “I don’t see anyone in the cabin, so General Getachu is not on board.”

No one replied.

Purcell noticed that the distance between him and the helicopter was again closing. He was barely doing seventy miles per hour, and the helicopter pilot, of course, could do zero if he wanted to, so Purcell was going to pass alongside that machine gun unless he turned.

Mercado said again, “You really need to turn, Frank.”

“Right… but I’m thinking this guy will follow us toward French Somaliland, and even if I can outrun him, I can’t outrun a stream of 7.62-millimeter machine-gun rounds.”

Vivian drew a deep breath. “Oh, God…”

Purcell continued, “Also, even if I could stay out of his machine-gun range, he will radio for support, and the Ethie Air Force might scramble some kind of fighter aircraft.”

Mercado processed all that and said, “We have no choice then… we must continue on to Gondar.”

Purcell told them, “I don’t think we’re going to be as lucky in General Getachu’s headquarters as we were last time.”

No one replied, but then Mercado said again, “We’ve done nothing illegal.” He had an idea and said firmly, “We will jettison everything that is incriminating-the camera, the maps, the photographs, the film… our camping gear-everything.”

Purcell replied, “That goes without saying, Henry. But I have to tell you both-Getachu knows, or will know, what we are doing here, and he will not hesitate to use any means that comes into his sick mind to get us to tell him everything he wants to know.”

Vivian put her hands over her face. “Oh my God…”

Purcell continued, “And if he also asks us about Colonel Gann, one of us will eventually say Shoan.”

Vivian was visibly shaken, but she sat up in her seat, took a deep breath, and said, “I would rather die trying to get away.”

Purcell agreed. “That would be preferable to what awaits us in Gondar.” He asked, “Henry?”

Mercado did not respond.

Purcell looked out the windshield and saw that he was only about five hundred yards behind and to the left of the helicopter. He could now see the left door gunner leaning out, attached to his harness, looking back at them, with the machine gun pointed at the Navion.

He slid the Navion to the right to get directly behind the helicopter, but the pilot also slid to the right, so his door gunner could keep them in sight. Purcell knew he couldn’t play this game with a highly maneuverable helicopter, so he maintained his position, but reduced his airspeed as low as he could without going into a stall. He needed time to think.

Vivian said to him, “Frank… we have to get away from him. Can you do that?”

He was already considering his options. If he made a sudden dive left or right, one or the other door gunners could easily blow them out of the sky. If he climbed, he could possibly pass over the helicopter, and if he kept directly in front of him and got some distance, the door gunners might not be able to swivel their guns that far to the front-but the helicopter pilot only had to swivel his aircraft to give one or the other of his gunners an easy shot at the retreating Navion.