The Quest: A Novel

summoned a waiter, and they discussed vino in Italian.
    Purcell lit a cigarette and looked out at the city. He never quite understood why Peter, and then Paul, had traveled all the way from their world to Rome, the belly of the beast. Surely they knew that was suicidal.
    Mercado said, “You got off easy with a 150,000-lire bottle of amarone.”
    “I thought you were buying tonight.”
    “Let’s first see what you’re selling.”
    “Right.” Purcell pointed to the Forum. “What’s that building?”
    “That’s where the Roman senate sat and debated the affairs of the empire.”
    “Amazing.”
    “Truly the Eternal City. I think this is where I will end my days.”
    “Could do worse. Which is what I want to talk to you about.”
    “I am not going to Ethiopia.”
    “Okay. But hypothetically… if we could get back in, legally, as accredited reporters, would you consider it?”
    “No.”
    “Let’s say you said yes. Would you feel comfortable with the three of us going?”
    “I do not want to see her—or you—again.”
    “We’re making progress.”
    “Frank, none of us will ever be allowed back. So even if I said yes, it’s moot.”
    “Right. But if we could swing it—”
    “I’m facing a five-year prison sentence the moment I set foot on Ethiopian soil.”
    “Okay. Maybe we should sneak in.”
    “Maybe you should just step out into Roman traffic and save yourself some time and effort.”
    The waiter brought the wine, Mercado tasted it and pronounced it
meraviglioso
, and the waiter poured.
    Purcell held up his glass and said, “To Father Armano, and to God’s plan, whatever it is.”
    “I’m sure you’re going to tell me what it is.”
    “It’s coming to me.” Purcell informed him, “I actually have a private pilot’s license. Single-engine. Did I ever mention that?”
    Mercado swirled his wine.
    “If we could rent a bush plane in Sudan—”
    “You’re not making God’s plan sound attractive.” He asked, “What do you think of the wine?”
    “Great. So let’s think about false IDs. I have several sources in Cairo.”
    Mercado pointed out, “You don’t actually need me along. It would be easier for you to just apply for a visa and see what happens. The new regime may let you in.”
    “I want you with us.”
    “By
us
, I assume you mean Vivian as well.”
    “Right.”
    “But she’s left you, old boy. Or at least that’s what you seemed to have told me last night.”
    “Right. But I also told you she wants us to go back to look for the black monastery.”
    Mercado mulled that over, then said, with good insight, “There are easier ways for you to regain her affection.”
    Purcell did not reply.
    “If you, Mr. Purcell, want to go back, you need to go for the right reason. Your reason is not the right reason.”
    Purcell thought a moment, then replied, “I’m not going to tell you that I believe in the Holy Grail. But I do believe there is a hell of a story there.”
    “But Vivian, dear boy, believes in the Grail. You need to believe in it as well if you’re going to drag her back there—or if she’s dragging you back.”
    Purcell asked, “What do you believe?”
    “I believe what Father Armano told us.”
    “All of it?”
    “All of it.”
    “Then how can you
not
go back?”
    He reminded Purcell, “Father Armano seemed to think that the Grail should be left where it was in a Coptic monastery—and he’s a Catholic priest who was under papal orders to find it and take it for the Vatican.”
    “I’m not suggesting we should steal it. Just… look at it. Touch it.”
    “That would probably end in life imprisonment. Or death.”
    “But if you really believe, Henry, that we’re going back to find the actual Holy Grail, what difference does death make?”
    Mercado looked closely at Purcell.
    “Father Armano risked death by going on that patrol to find the black monastery. Because he believed in the Grail, and he believed in eternal life.”
    “I understand that. But…”
    “The Knights of the Round Table risked their lives to look for the Grail—”
    “Myth and legend.”
    “Right. But there’s a moral to that myth.”
    “Which is that the Grail will never be found.”
    “Which is that we should never stop looking for what we believe in. Death is not the issue.”
    Mercado did not reply.
    “Why did Peter come to Rome?”
    Mercado smiled. “To annoy the Romans with his arguments, as you are annoying me with yours.”
    “And to bring them the