The Quest: A Novel

by Nelson DeMille

  Also, they had not seen any signs of human presence since the first day when they’d found the wide trail. This was a good and bad thing. Humans were the most dangerous animals in the jungle, but the Grail seekers needed to go where other humans—Falashas and monks—had gone to meet. They had not even found evidence of a campfire or a dropped or discarded item made by man.

  Henry pointed out, “Father Armano did not walk for four or five days from the monastery to the fortress.”

  Gann said, “This priest was with soldiers who obviously knew the terrain, and they quick-marched this chap directly to the fortress and into his little cell.” He added, “But I am certain we are still within the area that we agreed at the spa would be the most likely territory for this monastery.” He further added, “That comports, too, with the travel time of the villagers to the meeting place.”

  Purcell commented, “I didn’t realize how big four thousand square kilometers was.”

  Mercado also pointed out, “For all we know, the monks picked a meeting place that was very far from their monastery. Maybe three or four days away.”

  Gann replied, “Well, I hope not.”

  Purcell said, “Let’s stick with the logical theory that the monks do not want to walk more than a day to meet the Falashas.” He added, “The monks are carrying stone knickknacks, for God’s sake.”

  “Quite right,” Gann agreed.

  Vivian was not much into theory or speculation, Purcell noticed, and she didn’t contribute to the men’s attempts to overthink and outthink themselves.

  Gann noticed this and said to her, “Should we be waiting for divine inspiration?”

  Vivian replied, “You can’t wait for it. It comes when it comes.” She added, “You can pray for it, though.”

  “I’ve done that.”

  “Try again,” she suggested.

  As for the other group dynamics, Purcell had noticed that Henry seemed to have lost interest in Vivian—or in impressing her. There is nothing like exhaustion, thirst, hunger, and fear to get the old libido and weenie down, Purcell knew.

  He hoped Henry would hold up, and that Vivian would not have to nurse her ex-lover again. But if it happened, that was all right.

  They discussed security and possible run-ins with dangerous people.

  Gann said, “The Gallas don’t much fancy the jungle, and we’ve seen no hoofprints or horse droppings. The Gallas’ home is the desert, and they only drop by places such as this after a battle.” He let them know, “The Royalist partisans are operating to the west, and the counterrevolutionaries are mostly in the Simien Mountains around Gondar, so there is no reason for Getachu’s soldiers to be here either. He has his hands full elsewhere.” He assured them, “We have the jungle all to ourselves.”

  Purcell reminded him, “We’ve seen three army Hueys fly over.”

  “I actually counted four. But these are normal north-south flights from Gondar to Addis, and vice versa.” He assured them, “The army has neither the fuel nor the helicopters for reconnaissance.”

  Purcell reminded him, “They have one less helicopter than they used to have.”

  “Quite right.”

  He also reminded Gann, “Yesterday, a helicopter was going east-west.”

  “Well, as long as they keep going, and don’t hover about, then they’re not looking for anything.”

  “I think they’re looking for us, Colonel.”

  “I doubt that. They think you’ve flown off to Somaliland.” He asked, “Why in the world would you stay here after you’ve shot down an army helicopter?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that very question.”

  Gann smiled and said, “Well, let’s press on.”

  On day five, Mercado said, “We need to head to Shoan.” He reminded everyone, “We are running out of food.”

  And Henry was running out of gas, Purcell knew. And they were all dehydrated and covered with insect bites and heat sores.

  Mercado reminded Gann, “Regroup, refit, and strike out again.”

  Gann nodded, but not very enthusiastically. He said, “I feel we should push on just a bit more… perhaps to the south, to a line parallel with Shoan. We might have more luck that way.” He added, “Then we can head east toward the road, and Shoan.”

  Mercado had no reply.

  Purcell said, “We could be south of Shoan already.”

  “That’s possible.”

  Mercado pointed out, “If we just head due east, we will intersect with the road.”

  Gann reminded him, “We can’t go due any direction, old boy.” He pointed out, “This is not the desert or the tundra.” He reminded Mercado, “We’re in the bush, you know.”

  Mercado insisted, “We have passed the point of no return in regards to food.”

  “Not quite yet. But we’re close.”

  “This is how people die.”

  “Well,” Gann agreed, “that is one way. There are others.” He belatedly asked Mercado, “How are you feeling, old boy?”

  Mercado hesitated, then said, “I can make it back to Shoan.”

  “Good.” Gann also said, “We must be careful not to get injured or ill.”

  Purcell agreed, “Let’s try not to do that.” He asked Vivian, “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m all right.”

  Purcell looked into the dark, triple-canopy jungle. “Let’s get off the trail and walk between the trees.” He took a compass heading to the south.

  They left the trail, and headed south through the rain forest. The terrain had looked deceptively open between the trees, but as they traveled it, it became clear that they had to cut brush and vines, and the carpet of undergrowth, that had looked low, was actually knee-high in most places.

  After about an hour, they realized they weren’t making good progress, and they also realized that by leaving the trail, they’d effectively lost it, and also lost any trail in the trackless expanse. It was like walking through a great columned building, Purcell thought, with a green-vaulted ceiling and a carpet of wait-a-minute vines. Rays of sunlight penetrated the triple canopy in places, and they found themselves unconsciously walking toward the spots of sun-dappled ground cover.

  The darkness was getting deeper, and the sun was no longer penetrating into the forest. It was jungle dusk, and they began looking for a place to stop for the night.

  Vivian said, “Look. A cluster of palms.”

  They looked to where she was pointing to the west and they saw the distinctive trunks of palms, with their fronds buried in the surrounding growth.

  They made their way to the palms, where the ground was more clear, and they sat with their backs to the palm trunks.

  Gann looked up and said, “Doesn’t seem to be anything edible up there.”

  Purcell handed him a cloth bag. “Have a date.”

  They drank the last of their water and took stock of their food, which they estimated would last one more day.

  Gann and Purcell looked at the map and they both agreed they were between twenty and thirty kilometers west of the road, though they couldn’t determine if they were north or south of Shoan. And Shoan was another thirty kilometers east of the road.

  Gann said, “We are a long day’s march to Shoan.” He added, “Unless we run into rough country.”

  Purcell said, “That was encouraging until ‘unless.’ ”

  They all agreed they’d head back to Shoan in the morning.

  Vivian stood and said, “Be right back.”

  Everyone assumed she’d gone off to relieve herself, but she kept walking, and Purcell was concerned that she was becoming delirious and had seen another mirage. He couldn’t call out to her because they needed to be quiet, so he stood and caught up with her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I saw a glint.”

  “Really?”

  “Right over here.”

  He let her lead him farther into the tight undergrowth.

  The ground was rising, he noticed, and
he recalled the high, rocky ground he’d seen when he flew over this area, returning from Gondar.

  The undergrowth began to thin, and he felt rocks beneath his feet.

  He was looking where he stepped, and also looking left and right to be sure no one was there, and Vivian was ahead of him again. He drew his pistol from his cargo pocket and stuck it in his belt.

  Vivian stopped and said, “There is the rock.”

  He caught up to her and looked west into the setting sun. Spread out to their front was a deep depression in the ground that covered acres of land. There were a few trees growing in the sunken ground, but it was mostly open. In the deep, wide depression grew brush, crawling vines, and tropical flowers, but he could also see acres of black rock coming through the ground growth. An old stone quarry.

  Vivian pointed, “The rock.”

  On the far side of the abandoned quarry, about a hundred yards away, was a great black monolith—a quarried slab of rock, about twenty feet high and ten feet wide, that had been shaped by human hands, but never transported from here. The late afternoon sun highlighted the black luster on its top edge. Purcell didn’t understand how Vivian could have seen it from where they were sitting.

  He heard a noise behind him, pushed Vivian down, drew his revolver, and knelt facing the sound.

  Gann and Mercado came up the rise and saw them.

  Gann said, “There you are. Don’t shoot, old boy. We’re still friends.”

  Purcell put the revolver in his cargo pocket and waved them up the slope.

  Gann asked, “What have you found?”

  “A quarry.”

  Vivian said, “We have found Father Armano’s rock.” She pointed.

  Mercado and Gann looked across the quarry and Gann said, “Yes, a quarry. Good scouting.”

  Mercado was staring at the black monolith on the far edge of the rock quarry. He looked at Vivian and asked, “How do you know?”

  “Henry, that is the rock.”

  Gann spotted the carved rock and said, “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  The sun slipped below the tall monolith, and a shadow spread across the expanse of the ancient quarry.

  Purcell said, “It’s not going anywhere. Let’s camp here, and we’ll take a look in the morning.”

  Vivian nodded. “I knew it was here, Frank.”

  Purcell looked at her, then looked downslope from where they’d come. Impossible.

  She put her hand on his arm. “No, not impossible.”

  Chapter 52

  They awoke before dawn and ate the last of their bread and dates, leaving only some dried goat meat, which Purcell thought would taste like steak when they were near starvation.

  Purcell knew they would run out of food before they got to Shoan, but he wasn’t sure they would be starting back today. Not with that black monolith staring them in the face. He looked out across the quarry. It was still too dark to see the black slab—but it was there.

  They would have to make a decision; should they look next for Father Armano’s tree? Then his stream? Purcell was almost certain that Vivian was right—this was the rock.

  Purcell asked the question on everyone’s minds. “Do we press on from that rock, or do we head back to Shoan and return here when we’re reprovisioned”

  No one replied, except Vivian, of course. “We did not come this far to turn back.”

  Purcell reminded her, “We’re about to eat the last goat.”

  “We need only water.”

  “Easy to say on a stomach full of dates.” He asked, “Henry?”

  Mercado looked at Vivian. “We continue on.”

  Gann agreed and said, “We won’t starve to death.” He informed them, “Snakes. Easy to lop their venomous heads off with a machete.” He further informed them, “You squeeze the buggers and get a good half pint of blood into your cup. Meat’s not bad, either.”

  Purcell suggested, “Let’s talk about water.” He told them, “In the gypsum quarries where I grew up, there was lots of ground water. In fact, it needed to be pumped out.”

  Gann agreed, “Should be good water down there.”

  “So,” Purcell asked, “are we all agreed that we’ve found the rock?”

  Everyone agreed.

  “And that we have to now look for a tree—which could be long gone after forty years?”

  Vivian said, “We will find the tree. And the stream. And the black monastery.”

  “Good.” Purcell said, “Father Armano did not let us down.” He said to Mercado, “Cool the champagne.”

  Mercado smiled weakly. The man did not look well since they began this hike in Shoan, a week ago, Purcell thought. In fact, his face was drawn and his eyes looked dark and sunken. Purcell handed Mercado his last piece of bread and said, “Have this.”

  Mercado shook his head.

  Purcell threw the bread on his lap, and Vivian said, “Eat that, Henry.” She picked it up and held it to his lips, but he shook his head. “I’m all right.”

  Vivian put the bread in his backpack.

  Purcell and Gann looked at the map in the dim light. Gann said, “I can see nothing on this map that indicates an abandoned quarry, so I’m not quite sure where we are… but I would guess here…” He pointed to the map where the dark green was a little lighter, an indication that the cartographers had noted the more sparse vegetation shown on the aerial photographs.

  Gann continued, “The elevation lines indicate that beyond the quarry, the ground becomes lower and sinks into a deep basin, with dense growth.”

  Purcell said, “Regarding Father Armano’s stream, I don’t see any streams.”

  Gann reminded him, “You will only see on the map what could be seen from the aerial photographs.” He added, “Which is not much.”

  Vivian let them know, “I don’t care what is on the maps. We need to see what is out there.” She pointed at the black rock.

  “Good point,” Purcell agreed. He stood. “Let’s go.”

  Everyone slipped on their backpacks and they began picking their way down the terraced slope of the rock quarry. The black obsidian was slippery in places, and the vines were treacherous on the downslope.

  Purcell glanced at Mercado, who seemed to be doing all right downhill.

  The rocky floor of the quarry was about twenty feet down, and near the bottom they saw water flowing out of the rocks. They stopped and washed their faces and hands in the cool ground water, and drank it directly from its source, then filled their canteens. They sat on a rock ledge and waited, as Gann suggested, for the water to rehydrate them.

  Vivian looked out at the black slab at the far edge of the quarry. The sun had peeked over the trees behind them, and the rays now illuminated the east-facing side of the rock. Vivian pointed. “Look.”

  They all looked at the twenty-foot-tall slab, and they could now see that the face of it had been etched with a cross.

  Vivian said, “We are close.”

  They all stood, except for Mercado, who was still sitting, looking at the cross on the rock.

  Vivian said to him, “Come on, Henry. We’re almost home.”

  He nodded, stood, and smiled for the first time in days.

  They continued down to the floor of the quarry, then began making their way across the uneven rock and tangled growth.

  Gann said, “By the look of this place, I’d say it has been abandoned for a very long time.”

  Purcell wondered if this was where the black stone had come from to build the monastery. He assumed it was. Or had they done again what they were good at—making false assumptions, misinterpreting evidence, and tailoring the clues to fit their theories? Maybe not this time. Somewhere inside him, Purcell felt that they had arrived at the threshold of the black monastery.

  They reached the opposite side of the quarry and began climbing the terraced rock. It was not a difficult climb, but they all realized they were weaker than they thought.

  The black monolith was set back from the edge of the q
uarry, and they stood looking at it, and at the cross that they could now see had been deeply cut into the stone by a skilled stone carver. It wasn’t a Latin cross, Purcell noted, but a Coptic cross.

  At the edge of the quarry, they could see freshly cleaved faces of obsidian, evidence that people had been here to cut small pieces of the stone.

  Gann said, “I would guess that this is where the monks get their stone to carve their little doodads.”

  Purcell agreed. “Better than chipping away at the monastery.”

  Mercado had wandered off a few feet and said, “Look at this.”

  They walked to where he was standing, and on the ground was evidence of campfires, and what looked like chicken bones, and eggshells.

  It didn’t need to be said, but Gann said, “This could be where the Falashas meet the monks, and set up for the night before returning to Shoan.”

  Everyone agreed with that deduction, and Purcell added, “Shoan then must be a day’s walk from here.” He also pointed out, “It took us five days to get here.”

  Gann replied, “It appears we took the long route.” He added, “There is obviously a quick and direct route to Shoan. We’ll need to find that.”

  “Right. Meanwhile, I think it’s safe to say that the black monastery is a one-day hike from this meeting place.”

  Mercado asked, “But in which direction?”

  Gann replied, “Probably not east, on the way back to Shoan. So perhaps north or south, or farther west.”

  Vivian had walked off, and she called back to them, “West.”

  They moved toward where she was standing on an elevation of rock. The area around the quarry was mostly treeless, covered with rock rubble from hundreds of years of quarrying, but surrounding the open area was thick jungle. To the west, where Vivian was looking, stood a dead cedar about a hundred feet away, and about forty feet in height. The towering trunk of the decay-resistant cedar had turned silver-gray, and all the branches had fallen, or been cut off, except for two that stretched out like arms, parallel to the ground, giving the tree the appearance of a giant cross.

  Vivian said, “The tree.”

  Purcell looked at the giant cedar, which could have been there, alive and dead, for hundreds of years.