The Quest: A Novel

late. “What do you mean?”
    “Frank was wondering why we were having coffee together on my balcony.”
    She looked at Purcell. “What were you wondering about?”
    “I think Henry misconstrued my question.”
    She looked back at Mercado, who said to Purcell, “Sorry, old man. I thought you were showing a bit of jealousy.”
    Purcell looked at him and said, “I was actually wondering how you got your old ass out of bed so early.”
    “I set my alarm to see you, Frank. And then I thought, What ifVivian oversleeps? So I rang her up and asked her to join me for coffee while you buzzed by.” He joked, “If you hadn’t seen either of us, then perhaps you should have wondered where we were.”
    Purcell was not amused, and Vivian kicked Mercado under the table and said, “Can we change the subject?” She asked, “Have we heard from Sir Edmund?”
    Mercado replied, “We have not.”
    “Should we be worried?”
    “Frank thinks not.”
    “Can we do this without him?”
    “Again, Frank thinks not.” Mercado added, “The maps.”
    Vivian reached into her bag, withdrew a thick manila envelope, and put it on the table. “This was at the front desk.”
    Purcell saw that it had been hand-delivered, addressed to “Mercado, Purcell, Smith,
L’Osservatore Romano
, Hilton Hotel.” There was no sender information.
    Vivian asked, “Shall I open it?”
    Purcell glanced around the room. “Okay.”
    Vivian used a knife to cut through the heavily taped flap, then peeked inside. “M-A-P-S.”
    Purcell said, “See if there’s a note.”
    She slid her hand in the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. She read, “I am in Addis. Will contact you. Good flying, Mr. Purcell.” Vivian told them, “It is unsigned.”
    Mercado said, “Thank God he’s here and safe.”
    Purcell pointed out, “Being here is not being safe.”
    “Well, in any case, we have the maps, and if he does not contact us, we three can continue on.”
    Vivian asked Purcell, “How did he know you were flying?”
    “I suppose we’re being watched by the Royalist underground.”
    Vivian said, “This is exciting.”
    Purcell assured her, “It gets more exciting when the security police knock on your door.”
    They finished their breakfast and Purcell said he’d call Signore Bocaccio to see if they could get the airplane for seven the nextmorning. He advised Mercado, “We don’t need you on board, but another set of eyes would be good.”
    Mercado hesitated, then replied, “I wouldn’t miss the experience, Frank.”
    “Good.”
    Mercado said he was going to the Imperial to check telexes and catch up on rumors and gossip. He added, “I will also write a story on the famine.” He told Purcell, “I saw that story you filed about the Catholic refugees, saying that the Provisional government was not helping them.”
    “Hope you enjoyed it.”
    “Was
any
of it based on fact?”
    “I’m taking a page from your notebook, Henry, and being creative.”
    Mercado did not reply to that, but said, “It is true that newspapers are a rough draft of history. But not a rough draft of historical fiction.”
    Purcell was getting annoyed. “Looking forward to your factual coverage of the famine.”
    “My story will stress the government’s selling of national treasures to buy food for the people.”
    “That is not what is happening. They are buying guns.”
    “My point, Frank, has nothing to do with truth or fiction—it has to do with not writing anything that will get us expelled from the country. Or arrested.”
    “I think I know that, Henry.”
    “Good. We can tell the truth when we get out of here.”
    “When you’re in Ethiopia, it’s
if
, not
when
.”
    “Meanwhile, I’ve told the paper to hold your story.”
    Vivian, who had stayed quiet during this exchange, said, “
When
we get out of here, we will have a much bigger story to tell.” She said to Mercado, “We have agreed to work together, Henry, and to be friends and colleagues, and to forget the past.” She looked at him. “Didn’t we?”
    He smiled. “We did.” He wished them a good day and left.
    Vivian stayed quiet a moment, then said to Purcell, “I’m sorry.”
    “About what?”
    “You know.”
    “Look, Vivian, I know you’re still fond of him, and that’s all right.” He recalled what Mercado said and reminded her, “We’re going to be in close quarters when we get out of Addis, so we all need to put aside the… jealousies.”
    She smiled and asked,