Nelson Demille - The Quest

“Send me a postcard.” Purcell returned to the earlier subject and said, “I think time is running out for the monks of the black monastery. They, unfortunately, can’t multiply the loaves and fishes, and history in the form of General Getachu is breathing down their burnooses. I would not be surprised if they are already gone, but if they’re not, they will be soon.”

Everyone agreed with that, and Mercado said, “I would be content with just finding the black monastery.”

Vivian said, “I would not.”

They looked at the map in the fading light as they ate some bread and dates, and Gann asked, “Do you know how long the priest was marched from the black monastery to his fortress prison by the soldiers of Prince Theodore?”

Mercado replied, “As I mentioned, the priest did not comment on it, so I’m assuming it was a day or two’s march.”

“All right. We now know that the travel time from here to the fortress is at most four hours. Therefore, let’s say the monastery is no more than a day’s march west of here. In open country, or on a good trail, either of which would be known by the soldiers, that would be… let’s say a ten-hour march at a brisk pace of four K an hour, will give us forty K to the monastery.”

Vivian reminded them, “The monks brought Father Armano to the soldiers. The soldiers were not at the monastery.”

“Quite right. And we don’t know where the soldiers were in relation to the monastery. But let’s use fifty K total.” He drew a half circle on the map, with the center of the radius starting at the spa and ending at the road. “There we are.” He asked, “What is that formula to find the area of a circle?”

There was an embarrassed silence, then Mercado said, “If that were a rectangle and not a half circle, it would be five thousand square kilometers… so if we nip off the curved part of the semicircle, it would be about… let’s say, four thousand square kilometers… give or take.”

“All right.” Gann stared at the map. “That’s a good amount of territory to be walking.”

Purcell suggested, “It’s not really the square kilometers that are important. It’s the trails and the few clues we have, including maybe the quarries, that will determine where we look.”

“Quite right,” Gann agreed. “And we can’t be sure that the priest was marched for only one day. It could have been two.”

Purcell asked Gann, “How long were the villagers actually gone when they left Shoan to go to the meeting place?”

Gann stayed silent, then said, “I have heard it was two days. A day there, and a day to return.” He added, “No part of the walk would be made in the dark, so let’s say it was a ten-hour walk, an overnight rest, and ten hours back to Shoan.”

Purcell produced the adjoining map that showed Shoan, and they tried to extrapolate from these two known locations-the village and the spa-walking times and distances west of the road, to see what intersected or overlapped.

Purcell was concerned that they were once again making false assumptions, misinterpreting clues, and being too clever, but this time, based on his conclusion that Father Armano was heading for the black monastery when they found him at the spa, he felt a bit more confident that they were narrowing it down.

Gann asked an interesting question. “Did the priest comment in any way about the spa? Did he say anything such as, ‘What is this?’ ”

Everyone thought about that, and Mercado said, “Now that you mention it, he did not, which in retrospect seems a bit odd.”

Vivian said, “He did say something… that Henry may have been asleep for.” She thought a moment, then said, “He asked, ‘Dov’è la strada?’ Where is the road?”

No one responded, and Vivian continued, “I didn’t think anything of it. He seemed to be delirious.”

Purcell said, “Well, if nothing else, that confirms he was looking for the road he remembered. The question is, which way was he going to take it? North? South? Or was he just going to cross it and continue west to the monastery?”

Gann said, “We don’t know, but we do know that he had come from the monastery to the fortress on a trail that ended at or crossed the road, and that is what we’d like to find tomorrow.” He added, “I would put my bet on this trail being either close to here, or farther south, toward Shoan. And I base that on the traveling time of the villagers.”

Again, everyone seemed to agree and they all looked at the maps, and Gann penciled in a few more marks.

Purcell suggested they’d done enough mental exercise, and that they should sleep on it. He lit a cigarette and passed around his canteen of fermented fruit juice.

They made small talk about other things and Purcell told Gann about the Navion and Signore Bocaccio, whose Mia was now a heap of burned and twisted metal. Purcell said, “I hope he and his wife had a good meal at the Hilton.”

Vivian said, “I feel awful that we couldn’t telex him.”

“I think he got the message that we were not returning.” He asked Gann, “Would two thousand dollars compensate him for the aircraft?”

Gann assured everyone, “People are selling what they can for whatever they can get, and they are fortunate to get any buyers.” He added, “Something such as an aircraft has no buyers, and the government would have expropriated it anyway.”

Purcell said, “That’s what I thought.” He assured Vivian, “Signore Bocaccio is happy.”

Gann asked Purcell, “How did you learn to fly?”

“Private lessons. I started in high school, in upstate New York. There was an aerodrome there. Lessons were fourteen bucks an hour, and I made fifteen a week working for the weekly newspaper.” He added, “Had a buck left over for cheap dates and cheap wine.”

Gann smiled. “How many hours did you have to invest in this?”

“The flying or the dates?”

“The flying, old boy.”

“Well, twenty dual would allow you to solo. Then twenty solo would allow you to take the test for a license.”

“I see. And why didn’t you get into something along those lines?”

“Well…” Purcell looked at Vivian and Mercado. “Well, I never actually took the test.”

Mercado asked, “Do you mean you don’t have a license?”

“Didn’t need one here. No one asked.”

“Yes, but…”

“I ran out of money.” He said, “I’ll bet you couldn’t tell.”

Vivian laughed and said to everyone, “Can’t you tell he’s joking with us?” She looked at him. “Frank?”

“Right. Just kidding.”

Mercado pointed out, “It’s moot in any case. We’ve burned the plane, and we will not be renting another.”

“But I’ll take you flying in New York.”

“No, thank you.”

Purcell stood and said to Vivian, “Take a walk with me.”

Gann cautioned, “Do not go far, and be back no later than dark. And don’t forget your revolver.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vivian stood and Mercado looked at her. “I don’t think this is a wise thing.”

“Don’t fret, Henry.”

Purcell led Vivian into the hallway and back to the lobby, then out to the courtyard. They walked along the colonnade then down the steps to the gardens.

The sky was deep purple now, with streaks of red and pink, and night birds began to sing. A soft breeze blew down from the mountains and they could smell the tropical flowers.

Purcell said, “I thought we would make love here.”

“I know exactly what you are thinking.”

“Sometimes I think about a cocktail.”

“You’re rather basic, you know.”

“Thank you.”

They continued their walk and Vivian asked him, “Who was it?”

“Who was who…? Oh… in Rome.”