The Quest: A Novel (54 page)

Purcell said, “Looks like a prison to me.”

Purcell stepped over several disjointed skeletons that lay near the door and pushed on it, but it would not give. Gann joined him and together they put their shoulders to the door, but it was stuck, probably rusted shut.

Vivian suggested using the pass-through at the bottom, and Purcell knelt and pushed on it until it squeaked open.

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.”

T
hey 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.”

“Quite right.”

Vivian reminded Gann, “You said Gallas stop here.”

“Yes, well, they’ve mostly gone east, and their horse droppings look rather old. Also, this is a large place, and we will pick a dark corner of it and be quiet during the night.” He added, “I have my Uzi, and Mr. Purcell has my service revolver.”

They found the bathhouse, which still had fresh spring water flowing into large sunken pools from the mouths of black stone faces embedded in the marble walls—similar to Miriam’s bathhouse, Purcell noted, except these faces were not of lions, but Roman gods and goddesses, one of which looked suspiciously like Benito Mussolini.

Gann again marveled at the engineering, saying, “Reminds me a bit of the Roman baths in Bath. Water’s still flowing there after two thousand years.”

And that, Purcell thought to himself, was the last decent plumbing installed in England.

They drank from the mouths of the gods and goddesses, hoping the water was potable, then filled their canteens. The spring water was cold, but they bathed privately, and washed their clothes.

Not a bad first day, Purcell thought, and in the morning they’d cross the road and strike out into terra incognita.

They reconnoitered the spa complex and found a wing off the main lobby where the guest rooms had been. Gann explained, “This is where the Italian soldiers, administrators, and men of business came from Gondar for the weekend after a long week of exploiting the Ethiopians.” He added, “Built mostly by slave labor—captured Ethiopian soldiers. And staffed by young Ethiopian women.”

Purcell commented, “Sounds very Roman Empire-ish.”

“Indeed. It’s in their blood, you know.”

Purcell resisted any comments about the British Empire, but Gann said, “At least we brought order, education, and law.”

“Thank God you didn’t bring your plumbing.”

Gann smiled.

They found a guest chamber that looked fairly clean, and went inside the whitewashed room. All the furniture had been carried off, of course, but a chair sat in the corner in an advanced state of rot.

The spa once had electricity, undoubtedly from a generator, and Purcell noticed electrical outlets, and a ceiling fan that hadn’t turned in forty years.

The room also had a large arched window that faced east and would let in the dawn sun. The window had never been glazed, but sagging louver shutters were still fixed to the stone arch. The view from the window was of a garden that had become a miniature jungle, which Gann pointed out as a place to go if anyone came through the door. Conversely, if anyone showed up at the window, they could exit through the door and retreat into the large hotel complex.

They sat on the red tile floor and Purcell broke out the maps. He told Gann, “We’ve flown over this area west of the road, on our way to and from Gondar, but as you know, we were not doing an aerial recon of this area. From what I remember, however, this is thick jungle, not much different from the area east of the road.” He added, “This map seems to confirm that.”

Gann glanced at the map. “Yes, this whole area south of Tana is carpeted with dense growth.”

Mercado asked him, “Do you remember any of that terrain from when you were here in ’41?”

“I’m afraid not. We pushed up from the road and avoided the
jungle.” He explained, “The Italian Army, too, avoided the jungle and kept mostly to the roads and the towns. When we took Gondar from them, they retreated into the hills and mountains to the north, not to the jungle.” He asked Mercado, “Did you experience the pleasure of jungle warfare when you were here?”

Mercado replied, “I was an army war correspondent.” He confessed, “I fought mostly in the bars and brothels.”

Vivian laughed, Gann smiled, and Purcell was afraid that Henry and Edmund were on the verge of swapping Gondar 1941 war stories, trying to discover if they knew the same bartenders and prostitutes, so he changed the subject and said, “What I do recall from our flyovers was that there was some high terrain to the west of here—what looked like rocky ridgelines coming through the treetops.”

Gann nodded. “Two of the three obsidian quarries I’ve identified from speaking to the people in Shoan are west of here.” He informed them, “The villagers still visit the quarries for small pieces of obsidian to use for carvings or house ornamentation.”

Vivian asked, “Could you find the quarries?”

“I have a general idea where they are.”

Mercado asked, “And you think the black monastery could be in proximity to these quarries?”

Gann replied, “Perhaps.” He pointed out, “We don’t have much else to go on.”

Purcell looked at Gann and asked, “Is it possible that Miriam said something to you, which if you thought about it…?”

Gann considered the unfinished question, then replied, “The villagers who went out to meet the monks would always return with sacks of carved obsidian, which they would take to Gondar for sale.” He explained, “Crosses, saints, chalices… occasionally a Star of David, and now and then a carving of Saint George Cathedral in Addis.”

Purcell informed him, “Vivian almost bought one of those in Rome.”