The Quest: A Novel

by Nelson DeMille

  Gann and Mercado were also staring at the towering tree, and Gann looked back at the monolith and said, “I believe we have two points in a straight line.”

  Purcell had his compass out, and with his back to the monolith, and facing the tree, he took a compass reading. “A few degrees north of due west.”

  Vivian said, “Now we need to find the stream.”

  Purcell replied, “That should be the easiest thing we’ve done this week.” He said to Mercado, “Henry, get the champagne ready.”

  Mercado smiled.

  Purcell gave Vivian a hug, then Vivian hugged Henry, then Colonel Gann. The men shook hands all around.

  Everyone’s spirits seemed to be revived, and they forgot their fatigue and jungle sores.

  Purcell now noticed, about a hundred feet off to the north, a roofless hut built with scraps of the black rock. The hut sat among flowering bushes, and the branches of a tall gum tree hung over the abandoned structure.

  Gann said, “A shelter for the nasty overseer, I would bet.”

  They all walked toward the hut to check it out, and when they got within ten feet of it, a man suddenly appeared in the shadow of the open doorway and stepped quickly out of the hut, followed by another man, then three more.

  Purcell counted five men, dressed in jungle fatigues, carrying AK-47 rifles, which were pointed at them.

  Vivian let out a stifled scream and grabbed Purcell’s arm.

  One of the soldiers shouted something in Amharic, and all the soldiers were pointing their automatic rifles at Gann, shouting, and gesturing for him to drop the Uzi.

  Gann hesitated, and one of the soldiers fired a deafening burst of rounds over his head.

  Gann let the Uzi fall to the ground.

  Vivian pressed against Purcell.

  Someone else appeared at the door of the hut, and General Getachu stepped out into the morning sunshine. With him was Princess Miriam, whom he pushed to the ground.

  Getachu looked at Purcell, Mercado, Gann, and Vivian. “I have been waiting for you.”

  Chapter 53

  Frank Purcell drew a deep breath and tried to take stock of the situation, which didn’t need, he admitted, too much interpretation.

  His mind registered that there were five soldiers, and a Huey held seven in the cabin. So if that’s how Getachu and Miriam had gotten here, there were no more soldiers—unless there were.

  Getachu had a holster strapped to his waist, but his pistol wasn’t drawn.

  Purcell glanced at the Uzi on the ground, about five feet away, between him and Gann. Was it on safety? Probably. Could he get to it before he was cut down by five AK-47s? Probably not.

  Purcell glanced at Mercado, who he saw had tears in his eyes. Vivian had her head buried in Purcell’s chest now, her back to the soldiers. Gann was looking at Miriam, who had remained on the ground at Getachu’s feet, lying facedown in the dirt. He saw that she wore a white shamma that was ripped and stained with blood.

  Getachu said, “Colonel Gann does not seem happy to see his princess.” He stared at Gann. “I was not happy to hear that they released you in Addis. Now you will wish they had shot you there.”

  Getachu knew not to expect a reply from the insolent Englishman, so he continued, “I paid a brief visit to Shoan, to pay my respects to my princess before the UN people came to take her away.”

  Getachu looked at Gann, then Purcell. “And what do I find there? I find an aircraft that has been burned. Your aircraft, Mr. Purcell. The very aircraft that my helicopter pilot radioed had fired a rocket at him. And now the helicopter is missing, and presumed lost, with all the men on board.” He let Purcell know, “I have concluded my court-martial, and you will be shot.” He added, “Within the next five minutes.”

  Purcell felt the weight of the revolver in his cargo pocket. He was sure the opportunity would come to pull the revolver and shoot Getachu before the five soldiers cut everyone down with their automatic rifles. At least they’d all die knowing that Getachu was dead.

  Getachu lit a cigarette and continued what appeared to be a rehearsed speech. “I promised you a cigarette, Mr. Purcell, before I was going to shoot you in my camp. But I am sorry to break this promise. I will promise you, however, a quick bullet in the brain.”

  Purcell made the same promise to Getachu, but kept that to himself.

  Getachu continued, “So the people of Shoan sheltered a murderer. And they also admitted to me that Mr. Mercado and Miss Smith came from that aircraft, and that the princess gave them all shelter. Therefore, Mr. Mercado will share Mr. Purcell’s fate, and Miss Smith…” He smiled at her, “Miss Smith—Vivian—will belong to me for a time. Then she will belong to my soldiers.” He said something to his men in Amharic and they smiled and looked at Vivian.

  Vivian was shaking now and Purcell held her tightly.

  Gann was looking at Miriam, but spoke to Getachu. “What did you do in Shoan?”

  “Ah! You speak.” He said to Gann, “What do you think I did?”

  “You will hang for that.”

  “For what? Because the Gallas attacked the village and killed everyone, and burned it all? What has that to do with me?”

  “You bastard.”

  “Yes, yes, Colonel Gann. Getachu is a bastard. And you are a knight. A knight for hire. A man who sells himself to kill.” He said to Gann, “The prostitutes in Saint George Square charge less, and are better at their profession than you.”

  Gann looked at Getachu. “You are the most incompetent commander I have ever faced.”

  “Do not provoke me into putting a bullet into your head. I have something special for you to see before you die.” He looked at Miriam lying at his feet and kicked her in the side.

  Miriam let out a moan, but remained facedown on the ground.

  Gann took a step toward her, but the soldiers leveled their rifles at him and he stopped.

  Getachu said, “When I was a young man, and when this princess became a woman—about fourteen, I think—I thought of her in that way. Mikael Getachu, the son of a weaver who worked in the shop of their royal highnesses. I told my father of my desire for the princess, and he beat me, of course. But if he were now living, I would say to him—you see? I have got my princess.” Getachu put the toe of his boot under Miriam’s shamma and pushed it up over her bare buttocks.

  He said something to his soldiers in Amharic, and they laughed. He said to Gann, “So we have this lady in common at least.”

  Gann took a deep breath, and Purcell knew he was thinking of diving for the Uzi, and Purcell said to him, “No.”

  Gann took another breath, then stood straight, as though he were in parade formation, and said to Getachu, “You are not a soldier. You are an animal.”

  “Do not provoke me. You will die when and how I want you to die. And I will tell you how you will die—by crucifixion, as you watch me having sport with your lady.”

  Getachu looked at Vivian, then said, “And perhaps I will have sport with you both. Yes. I think I would like seeing you, Miss Smith, and the princess enjoying the company of each other.”

  Vivian was still clinging to Purcell, her body shaking.

  Getachu turned his attention to Mercado, who had stood silently, his eyes closed and his head down. Getachu said to him, “Will you now tell me that you will write nice words about me?”

  Mercado did not answer.

  Getachu barked, “I am speaking to you! Look at me!”

  Mercado raised his head and looked at Getachu.

  “I will spare your life, Mr. Mercado. We will do the interviews, and you will write kind words about General Getachu, a man of the people.” He looked at Mercado. “Yes?”

  Mercado stared at Getachu. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Getachu seemed surprised at the response. “What do you say?”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Getachu put his hand on the butt of his pistol. “What do you say, Mr. Mercado?”

  Mercado said something in Amharic, and the f
ive soldiers seemed almost stunned, and leveled their rifles at him.

  Getachu waved them off, then said to Mercado, “I had planned a quick death for you, who are of no consequence. But I will rethink that.”

  Mercado, recalling what Gann had done in Getachu’s tent, turned his back on the general.

  Getachu looked at Mercado’s back, then shifted his attention to his surroundings. He said, “So this is the place where the Falashas and the monks come to meet, and to exchange goods.” He looked around again. “I am told this has gone on for several hundred years, which is a very nice thing.” He said to his prisoners, “I have heard of this arrangement, and I wished to see this place for myself. And now I am told that this arrangement has ended because the Falashas have gone. So I came here to bring food to the monks, and I have waited for them—and for you, who I hoped would come here.” He looked down at Miriam. “She is a stubborn woman, Colonel. But she did reveal to me the location of this place, but not to you, I think, or you would have been here much sooner.” He let them know, “I have been waiting for you for six days now, and I had given up hope. But the princess has been kind enough to keep me amused.”

  Again, Purcell thought that Gann would go for the Uzi, and he knew that Getachu had left it lying close to Gann to further torment the man.

  In fact, Getachu said, “Why is it that none of you brave men will take up that weapon?” He asked, “Is that not a better way to die? Please, gentlemen. Show me your courage.”

  Purcell moved slightly so that Vivian was blocking Getachu’s view of his right arm, and he began to move his hand toward the cargo pocket. He was sure he could kill Getachu, and he hoped that Gann would then dive for the Uzi—or if he didn’t, and Purcell was not dead yet, he could go for it himself, and maybe get off a burst. But whatever scenario played out, he, Vivian, Gann, and Mercado would be cut down by bursts of automatic rifle fire. And that was better than what Getachu had planned. He put his hand on Vivian’s thigh, close to his cargo pocket.

  Getachu also let them know, “When I am finished with you here, I will find the monastery of the monks, which I know is close by, and I will relieve these holy men of their treasure—and perhaps their lives.” He said, “Men have died to protect this thing called the Grail, and men have died looking for it—as you will. You have found death.”

  Purcell could hear Vivian saying softly, “No, no, no… Frank.”

  He held her tighter.

  Getachu turned his attention to Miriam and pressed his boot into her bare buttocks. She sobbed and said something in Amharic.

  Getachu said to her, “Do not be sad, my princess. I will take care of you. Are you sad at losing your English lover? Do you want to speak to him? To tell him that you betrayed him? He will understand. You were in pain. He will understand that pain very shortly. And he will forgive you, because he will understand what pain can do.”

  Purcell had his hand in his pocket now, and he wrapped his fingers around the butt of the revolver. No one noticed. He hoped he’d live long enough to see Getachu bleeding his life out.

  Gann suddenly let out a strange noise, and Purcell glanced at him. Gann had his hands over his face, and he was crying, and his body was shaking. He called out, “Miriam! Miriam!”

  She turned her head toward him and said softly, “Edmund… I am sorry…”

  Gann reached out his arms to her and took three long steps toward Miriam, and almost reached her, but two soldiers grabbed him and pushed him back. He struggled with them, and kept shouting, “Miriam!”

  Purcell understood instantly that Gann was up to something, and Purcell knew this was the moment. He pulled his revolver. Then something suddenly flew through the air and came to rest on the ground, and Purcell saw it was the safety handle of a hand grenade. And he realized what Gann had done.

  Getachu was screaming in Amharic at his two men, and he didn’t see the grenade in Gann’s hand that Gann had pulled from one of the soldier’s web belts, and he also didn’t see Gann dropping the live grenade on the ground.

  The seven-second fuse had been cooking for at least three or four seconds, Purcell knew, and he should have thrown himself and Vivian on the ground and yelled for Mercado to do the same. But he wanted to kill Getachu himself. He pushed Vivian to the ground, facedown, raised the revolver, and pointed it directly at Getachu’s heart.

  Getachu saw two things in a quick succession—the grenade, and Purcell taking aim at him. His eyes widened.

  Purcell fired, and Getachu was knocked back into the stone wall of the hut.

  Purcell threw himself on top of Vivian, who was trying to stand, and he yelled at Mercado, “Down!”

  The grenade exploded.

  The sound was literally deafening, and Purcell’s eardrums felt as though they were going to burst. The ground shook under him.

  And then there was complete silence. He felt a burning in his right calf where a piece of hot shrapnel had sliced into him. He whispered in Vivian’s ear, “Do not move.” He told her, “Getachu is dead.” But he wasn’t sure of that.

  He rolled off her quickly and rose unsteadily to one knee, with his revolver pointed toward the hut.

  No one was standing.

  He stood and drew a deep breath, then took a few steps toward the hut. The air was filled with dust and the smell of burned explosives.

  The two soldiers who’d been grappling with Gann were gushing blood from multiple wounds where the burning shrapnel had torn into their bodies.

  Gann, too, was a mass of blood, and his khakis were soaked red. He was still breathing, but frothy blood was running from his mouth.

  Purcell moved toward the three soldiers who’d been standing near the hut, near Getachu. They hadn’t caught the full blast of the grenade, but they were down, bleeding and stunned by the concussion. One of them looked at him.

  Purcell raised his revolver and put a bullet into each of their heads.

  He moved over to where Miriam lay on the ground. He saw no blood, and thought she’d been low enough to escape the flying shrapnel. He knelt beside her and shook her. “Miriam.” Then he saw the wound in the side of her head where a single piece of shrapnel had entered her skull. He felt her throat for a pulse, but there was none. He reached out and pulled her shamma over her buttocks.

  He stood and looked at Getachu, who was sitting against the wall where he’d been thrown by the impact of the bullet. His face had caught some shrapnel, and one of his eyes was a mass of blood.

  Blood also ran out of his mouth from the bullet wound in his chest. His one eye was following Purcell.

  Getachu seemed to be trying to speak, and Purcell knelt near him, though he still could not hear. Getachu spit a glob of frothy blood at him.

  Purcell wiped the blood from his face, put the revolver to Getachu’s good eye, and pulled the trigger.

  Purcell stood and turned, and looked at Vivian, whose body was still shaking, though he saw no blood, and she seemed all right.

  He looked at where Mercado had been standing, and saw him lying facedown on the ground.

  Purcell knelt beside Vivian and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Her face was buried in her arms, and she gave a small nod.

  “Do not move.”

  He stood and walked to Mercado and knelt beside him. Mercado’s backpack had caught a lot of shrapnel, and he had taken shrapnel in his legs and buttocks, and blood was seeping through his khakis. His shirt was also wet, Purcell saw, but not with blood. The champagne bottle had broken. “Henry. How are you, old man?”

  No response.

  “Henry.” He shook him.

  Purcell heard and felt a rushing in his ears; his hearing was returning. “Are you all right?”

  “I said I’ve been hit. I’ve been hit.”

  Purcell couldn’t tell if the wounds were serious, but the blood was not gushing. It came to him that Henry, by turning his back on Getachu, may have saved his own life. He said to Mercado, “Just lie still. You’l
l be all right. I’ll be right back.”

  He went back to Vivian, knelt beside her, and again put his hand on her shoulder. “Can you stand?”

  She nodded, and he helped her to her feet, keeping her back turned to the carnage around the hut. She put her arms around him. “Frank… oh my God…” She began crying, then took a deep breath and asked in a quiet voice, “What happened?”

  He told her again, to reassure her, “Getachu is dead.”

  She tried to turn to look toward the hut, but he held her against him.

  He said, “The soldiers are dead. Listen to me—a hand grenade exploded. Colonel Gann is dead. Miriam is dead.”

  She let out a long cry, then got herself under control and asked, “Henry…?”

  “Henry is… he will be okay.” Maybe.

  She turned her head to where she’d last seen Henry, and saw him facedown on the ground with blood on his pants. “Henry!” She pulled loose from Purcell and he let her go.

  She ran over to Mercado and knelt beside him. “Henry!”

  Mercado turned his head toward her and smiled. “Thank God you are all right.”

  Purcell didn’t recall Henry asking him about Vivian, but he supposed Mercado was in shock.

  Vivian was caressing his hair and face. “You will be fine. You are fine. Just lie still… are you in pain?”

  “A bit. Yes.” He turned his head toward Purcell. “Am I going to live?”

  Purcell knelt opposite Vivian and put his fingers on Henry’s throat to feel his pulse, which seemed strong. “How is your breathing?”

  “All right…”

  He felt Henry’s forehead, and it was not cool or clammy. He informed Mercado, “Gann is dead. Miriam is dead.”

  “No… oh, God… what happened…?”

  “Gann got hold of a grenade.”

  Purcell stood and walked over to one of the soldiers he’d executed. There was a U.S. Army first aid kit on the man’s web belt, and he snapped the canvas kit off and carried it to Vivian. He put it in her hand. “There should be a pressure bandage in there, and iodine. Get his clothes off and we’ll patch him up.”

  She nodded and asked Mercado, “Can you sit up?”