The Quest: A Novel

down the engine and applied the brakes. Up ahead he could see the stone fence. He worked the rudder, making the aircraft fishtail, and he began to slow, but the stone fence was less than a hundred yards away, then fifty yards.
    “Frank…”
    “Brace!”
    He kicked the rudder hard, causing the Navion to go into a sideways skid. He expected the landing gear to collapse, but the old bird was built well and the gear held as the wheels traveled sideways across the grassy pasture. The Navion came to a jolting, rocking halt less than twenty feet from the stone fence.
    Vivian said, “Beautiful.”
    Mercado said, “Good one, old boy.”
    Everyone grabbed their canvas bags that held the maps, camera, and film, as Purcell slid the canopy open and scrambled onto the wing. Vivian followed quickly and jumped to the ground, followed by Mercado. Purcell joined them and they put some distance between themselves and the Navion in case it decided to burst into flames.
    Purcell stood looking at Signore Bocaccio’s aircraft, which landed a bit better than it flew. Vivian unpinned the Saint Christopher medal from Purcell’s shirt, kissed it, then shoved it in his top pocket.
    He heard a noise behind him and turned to see a Land Rover coming toward them. The vehicle stopped a distance away and the door opened. Colonel Gann, wearing a white
shamma
and sandals, came out of the driver’s side and walked toward them. He called out, “Was that a landing, or were you shot down?”
    Mercado replied in the same spirit of British lunacy, “Just dropping in to say hello.”
    Gann smiled as he continued toward them. “Just in time for tea.”
    Gann’s hair was now very short, Purcell noticed, and jet black, andhe’d lost his red mustache somewhere, and also lost his riding crop if he’d had one. Also gone was his prison pallor, replaced by a nice tan.
    Gann walked up to Purcell. “Good landing, actually. Frightened the goats a bit, but they’ll get over it.”
    “So will I.”
    Gann flashed his toothy smile, then took Vivian’s hand. “Lovely as always.”
    “You look good in a shamma.”
    “Don’t tell.” He took Mercado’s hand. “Is Gondar closed today?”
    “It is to us.”
    “Well, you must have a good story to tell. But first meet my friend.” He waved at the Land Rover, and the passenger-side door opened.
    A young woman wearing a green
shamma
came out of the vehicle, and they all followed Gann as he walked toward the lady.
    Gann announced, “This is Miriam.”
    She nodded her head.
    Purcell looked at her. She was about early thirties, maybe younger, with short curly black hair. Her features were distinctly Semitic, though her skin was very dark, and her eyes were a deep brown. All in all, she was a beautiful woman.
    Gann introduced his friends who’d dropped in unexpectedly, and she took each person’s hand and said, “Welcome.”
    Gann didn’t say this was his girlfriend, but it was, and that explained a few things. Always
cherchez la femme
, Purcell knew.
    Gann asked his visitors, “Are you being pursued?”
    Purcell replied, “Possibly by air.”
    “All right then… we will bury the aircraft in palm fronds.” He looked at Miriam, who said in good English, “I will see to that.”
    Gann let them know, “Miriam is… well, in charge here.” He explained, “She’s a princess of the royal blood.”
    Purcell had had a few experiences with Jewish princesses, but he understood that this was different.
    Mercado said to Princess Miriam, “We are sorry to intrude, your highness.”
    “Please, I am just Miriam.”
    Mercado bowed his head in acknowledgment.
    Purcell reminded everyone, “Sir Edmund actually invited us.”
    Gann replied, “I did, didn’t I? Glad you understood that. Well, here you are. So let’s be off.” He opened the door of the Land Rover for his princess, and said to everyone, “If the aircraft doesn’t blow up, your luggage will be along shortly.”
    Purcell, Mercado, and Vivian squeezed into the rear of the Land Rover. Gann got behind the wheel and turned toward the village, saying, “I’m afraid Shoan will look a bit deserted, as you may have noticed when you flew by a few days ago. Most everyone has gone to Israel. Just a dozen or so left, and they’ll be heading off soon.”
    No one responded to that, and Gann put his hand on Miriam’s shoulder and said, “But they’ll all be back. You’ll see. A year or two.”
    Miriam didn’t reply.
    They entered the small village of