Nelson Demille - The Quest

Vivian, too, knelt and said, “I’ll go.” No one objected, so she shucked her backpack but kept her camera, and squeezed her slim body into the opening. Her legs and feet disappeared and the door fell shut.

They all waited for her to call out, but there was only silence.

Finally, Purcell banged on the door. “Vivian!”

“Yes… come in.”

Purcell went first, followed by Mercado and Gann.

They all stood in the middle of the dirt floor and looked around at the small, stone prison cell. The floor was covered with debris, and the roof was gone except for a single sheet of corrugated steel. There was a small opening high up one wall, and under the opening was a cross that had been etched into the stone.

Vivian said, “Forty years… my God.”

She reached up and touched the cross. “What incredible faith.”

Purcell and Gann looked at each another. Mercado said, “Indeed, this man was a saint and a martyr.”

Purcell wanted to point out that it was other Christians who’d put the priest here, but he’d exhausted his theological arguments.

Vivian took a dozen photographs of the cell, then suggested they all observe a silent minute of prayer.

They had been mostly silent anyway, and Purcell had no problem with this as long as they could do it standing, which they did.

Vivian said, “Amen.”

Purcell said, “This, I think, solves the mystery of how Father Armano escaped the Gallas.”

They looked around the sparse cell in case they missed something, like a note scratched in the wall or, Purcell hoped, a map or instructions directing them to the black monastery. He reminded everyone that Getachu’s soldiers had been here five months ago, and said, “This place has been picked clean.” Purcell suggested, “We should get out of this cell.”

Gann agreed. “This is not a good place to be if anyone comes round.”

Gann crawled out first with his Uzi, followed by Mercado, Vivian, and Purcell. Gann suggested, “We can take a short lunch break, then move on to our next objective.”

They found a shady spot along a wall and sat on the ground. They broke out some bread and dates, but no one seemed to want the dried meat, perhaps because of the smell of death on the bones all around them.

Gann said, “We need to find a stream. Shouldn’t be too difficult, but sometimes it is. Don’t drink from the ponds. But a wash is all right.”

Mercado said, “I saw some berries on the trail. And fruit of some sort.”

“Yes, some are good. Some will kill you.”

Vivian asked, “Do you know which is which?”

“Not actually.” He admitted, “Never could get them right.”

Purcell suggested, “Henry can be our taster.”

“After you, Frank.”

Gann asked Purcell for the area map. He studied it and said, “I see you’ve got six numbered circles here.” He asked, “Are they numbered in order of importance?”

Purcell replied, “Sort of. But not really.”

“All right, then… we’ll do them geographically.” He studied the map again and said, “Unfortunately, I don’t see any marked trails, but all of these places are within fifty kilometers of this fort… and there will be trails converging on this fort. We need to find the various trailheads, then decide which one to take.” He looked up from the map. “But these six points are not necessarily connected by trails, or by open terrain. So if we have to cut brush and vines, this could take… well, I’m afraid a month. Or more.”

“Unless,” Mercado pointed out, “we get lucky on the first try.”

“Yes, of course. But you understand, old boy, none of these little circles here could be the place we are looking for.”

“In fact,” Purcell said, “I don’t think any of them are.”

No one responded to that, and Purcell continued, “As you said, Colonel, there would be a number of trails converging on this fortress, so the question is, why didn’t Father Armano take one of the other trails? Why did he choose and continue along that bad game trail? Was his choice pure chance? I don’t think so. How would he have ever found that small game trail? Unless he came to this fortress on that trail.”

Again, no one responded, then Vivian said, “He was going back to the black monastery-back to the Grail.”

“Where else would he want to go?”

Gann said, “By God, that’s it.”

Mercado, too, agreed. “It was staring us in the face.”

Purcell pointed out, “All of our recon was based on a lot of speculation and false assumptions, all of it wrong. Everything we looked at from the air was east of the road. But in fact, if Father Armano was going back to the black monastery, then the monastery is west of the road, and west of the spa.”

They all thought about that, and Mercado stated the obvious. “We have no photos… no idea what is west of the road.”

“No,” Purcell agreed, “we do not. But we have a map that shows part of the area, and we have two points of reference-this fortress and the spa.”

Mercado said, “Any two points will make a straight line… but that line does not necessarily give us the third point.”

“Right. But we need to go back to the spa, cross the road, and head west.”

Mercado thought about that, then said, “So you’re suggesting we abandon all we’ve done and head into a new, unknown area.”

“Only if we all believe that Father Armano was walking to the black monastery.”

They all thought that over and Gann said, “You also need to believe he remembered the way he came here from the monastery.”

Purcell replied, “I believe it was burned in his mind. And when he escaped from here and walked through those open gates, he knew exactly which way to go.”

Gann agreed. “I’ve heard stories of that.”

Vivian spoke. “I think we all believe that Father Armano was going to the black monastery, and that he knew the way.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

They packed up and stood. Vivian asked Purcell, “When did you think of this?”

“Halfway here.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“You needed a photo op.” He added, “We needed to be here.”

She nodded.

They left the ruins of Prince Theodore’s fortress by the gates that Father Armano had entered forty years before and had exited five months ago. They walked across the clearing toward the game trail, which they now saw was marked by a towering and distinctive cedar.

As they walked, Vivian came up beside Purcell and said with a smile, “That was a divine inspiration, Frank. Don’t deny it.”

He smiled in return. “I like to think of myself as a rational genius.” He added, “But I could be wrong about that and about this, too.”

“You’re not wrong.” She also said to him, “Prepare yourself for a miracle.”

They’d already had several of those, mostly having to do with flying. He said, “I am open to miracles.”

“And while you’re at it, open your heart to love.”

He didn’t respond.

“We could die here in the blink of an eye. So you need to tell me now that you forgive me, and that you love me. Before it’s too late.”

He stayed silent a few seconds, considering this, then said, “I love you.”

“Forgive me.”

“I cheated on you before you came to Rome.”

“I forgive you.”

He took her hand. “All is forgiven.”

They reached the spa in the late afternoon, and though there were hours of daylight left, Gann made the decision to stop for the day, saying, “I don’t want any of us to overdo the first day.”

Clearly, Purcell thought, Gann was concerned about Henry, and maybe Vivian. He was a good officer. Purcell also pointed out, “We have no idea where we’re going after we cross that road, so we should stop and think about it.”