The Quest: A Novel

city. He realized that the bricks of the ancient city wall looked exactly like the bricks of the Italian-built prison in Addis. He pointed this out to Mercado and said, “The Italians know how to build.”
    Mercado did not respond.
    “Those mineral baths were impressive.”
    “Don’t get nostalgic on me, Frank.”
    “Henry… have you thought about going back?”
    Mercado stayed silent for a moment, then replied, “I have, actually. But it’s obviously too risky.”
    “Well, if you decide to go back, let me know.”
    “You’ll be the last to know.”
    The waiter came by and Purcell ordered two more. He asked Mercado, “Did you hear the news out of Ethiopia today?”
    “I did not.”
    “Well, a guy named General Banti took over the military council and announced a new government. Same group of thugs in the Derg, but with different leaders, and I’m thinking it may be possible now to go back if these new guys are not as crazy as the last bunch.”
    “Speaking of crazy.”
    “Just a thought.” He informed Mercado, “The big story is the Mideast. The canal is still closed and Sadat is saying things like, ‘Mideast time bomb.’ He’s pissed off at all the Russian Jews immigrating to Israel. It really looks like there could be another war.”
    “If there is, cover this one from Cairo.”
    “Right. Those safe-conduct passes to the front don’t work that well.” He smiled, then said, “I hear you’re working for L’Osservatore Romano.”
    “Yes. I’m doing some English-language stuff for them on the coming Holy Year. Mostly press releases.”
    “Bored?”
    “I like Rome.”
    “Cairo sucks.” He asked, “Are you working on anything else?”
    “You mean like our Ethiopian adventure?”
    “That’s what I mean.”
    “No, I’m not. But I expected to see something from you about that.”
    “I’m holding off,” Purcell replied. “I wanted to speak to you first.”
    “You don’t need my permission or my collaboration.”
    “I thought we’d do something together.”
    “I’m not interested.”
    “Really?”
    Mercado thought a moment, then said, “If you—we—wrote about this, then not only Getachu but a lot of other bastards and idiots would be smashing through the jungle looking for the black monastery.”
    Purcell nodded. He’d certainly thought about that. He said to Mercado, “Getachu may have already found it.”
    “Perhaps. But if he did, I think we’d have heard that an important religious object was for sale.”
    “A lot of that stuff is sold privately,” Purcell reminded him.
    “True. And this one goes to the Vatican.” He added, “Or perhaps the monks have spirited it away.”
    “Well, we could go check.”
    “Not interested.”
    “All right.” He asked Mercado, “Did you report Father Armano’s death to the Vatican?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “I… there doesn’t seem to be any urgency. I’ll get around to it.”
    “Your offices are in Vatican City, Henry.”
    “I’ll get around to it.”
    “Good. Maybe we should go to Berini and look up his family.”
    “Why?”
    “He asked us to do that. He also asked us to tell his story to someone in the Vatican. Or you can tell your people at L’Osservatore Romano.”
    “All right. I’ll do that.”
    “I’m not quite understanding, Henry, why you’re sitting on this.”
    “Why have
you
sat on it?”
    “I told you. I wanted to speak to you first.” He reminded Mercado, “We made sort of a pact.”
    Mercado asked, “What does Vivian think?”
    “She wants to go back and find the Holy Grail. That’s what she thinks.”
    “Insane.”
    “I’m sorry you’ve lost your enthusiasm for this, Henry.”
    “I’m sorry you’ve found it.”
    “I’ve been thinking.”
    “Try not to do that.”
    “It’s a great story, Henry.”
    “It seemed so at the time.”
    Purcell looked at him and asked, “Have you been snooping around the Vatican archives? Like, on your lunch hour?”
    “Yes… to satisfy my curiosity about a few things.”
    “Find anything?”
    “I’ll get you a pass and you can do your own research.”
    “May be a language problem.”
    “You can hire translators there.”
    “I need to get back to Cairo in a few days.”
    “Forgive my curiosity, Frank, but I don’t understand why you’re not going to Geneva.”
    Purcell ordered another round, and Mercado did not object.
    Neither man spoke for a while, then Purcell said, “I received one letter from Geneva telling me… well,