The Quest: A Novel

the black monastery.”
    Mercado glanced at Gann and said to Purcell, “I don’t know if we’re getting out of here or if I’m ever coming back, but I don’t want
them
to find it.”
    Henry Mercado, Purcell knew, was comforted by thinking he was protecting the Holy Grail from the Antichrist, or whatever, and he could go to his martyrdom happy in the knowledge that when he met Jesus he could say, “I saved your cup.”
    Colonel Gann could feel the tension between the two men, and he knew the cause of it, which was a very old story; one chap had cuckolded the other, and to make matters worse, the lady in question was not declaring herself for one or the other. Awkward, he thought, and though he was sure he had far greater issues to worry about, it made him uncomfortable nonetheless.
    To clear the air on at least one thing, however, Gann said, “As I’ve acknowledged to Mr. Purcell, I know about the black monastery, and though it’s well hidden in the jungle, Getachu will eventually find it. You can be sure of that.”
    No one responded, and Gann continued, “As you may also have heard, perhaps from this Father Armano, there is a legend that this monastery is the resting place of the Holy Grail.”
    Again, no one responded, and Gann went on, “Can’t say I believe in all that, but I can assure you that whenever the revolutionary bastards here show up at a church or monastery, the priests and monks make off with their earthly treasures.”
    Purcell figured as much. There were two things the churches were good at: acquiring gold and keeping gold. Half the world’s priceless religious objects had been on the lam at one time or another. And there was no reason to think that this would be any different when the Ethiopian revolutionaries got close to the black monastery. Same if Henry Mercado or Vivian got close. Poof! The Grail disappears again.
    Purcell said to Mercado, “We
are
getting out of here, and I can guarantee you I’m never coming back. My advice to you and to Vivianis to forget you ever met Father Armano or ever heard of the black monastery. This is not a good thing to know about.”
    Mercado did not reply.
    Purcell added, “God is not telling you to find the Holy Grail, Henry. He is telling you to go home.”
    “And I’m telling you to mind your own business.”
    Purcell changed the subject to something more immediate and asked Gann, “Do you think Getachu is at all concerned about overstepping his authority?”
    “That’s the question, isn’t it? Well, I can tell you that he can’t overstep his power, which is absolute here, as you see. But he
can
overstep his authority and get on the wrong side of the Derg and his rival, General Andom. Not that those two care about us, or about international law, but Andom has to decide if it would be good for him or bad for him if Getachu kills us.”
    Vivian asked, “Do we think anyone outside of the Revolutionary government even knows we’re here?”
    Mercado reminded everyone, “Our press offices know we were heading this way, and we mentioned to some of our colleagues that we had a safe-conduct pass to make contact with General Getachu.”
    Which, Purcell thought, meant very little. Basically, they were all freelancers, which worked well except when they got in trouble or went missing. Possibly, if they didn’t show up in the Hilton bar in a week or so, someone might think to contact their respective embassies if they could remember their drinking buddies’ nationalities.
    As for himself, Purcell was aware that the American embassy in Addis was barely open, and not on good terms with the new government. If he wasn’t wearing leg shackles, he’d have kicked himself in the ass for making this trip.
    And as for Mercado with his UK passport, and Vivian with her Swiss passport, any requests for information made by their respective embassies to the Ethiopian government would be met by indifference on a good day, and hostility and lies on most days.
    Bottom line here, Purcell thought, there was no outside help on the way. Mercado should know that, but maybe Vivian should not.
    The sun was higher and hotter now, and the temperature at the bottom of the ravine had to be over a hundred degrees. Purcell noticed that most of Vivian’s white ointment was gone, and her face and arms were getting redder. He called up to the soldiers at the top of the ravine, “
Weha!
”
    They looked down at him, then one of them unhooked a canteen from his belt and threw