The Quest

Colonel Gann walked easily, like he did this every day before breakfast, Purcell thought. And Vivian had youth on her side, but about sixty pounds of gear on her back, and Purcell could see she was dragging a bit. Henry, too, seemed a bit fatigued, and if physical exhaustion is mostly mental, then Henry should be thinking about their last trek when he’d run out of gas at a bad time, which led to a series of events that nearly got them all killed. Henry now wanted to redeem himself, and impress Vivian, of course, or at least not pass out in front of her, and that should keep him moving. If not, he should think about Gallas coming for his balls.

They continued on through the jungle, or rain forest, as Purcell’s editors now wanted it called. The insects and birds made a lot of noise, which covered the sound of danger. But as Purcell had learned in Vietnam when traveling with army patrols, if the birds become quiet, they’ve heard something. It could be you they’ve heard, or something else.

Purcell considered himself in fairly good shape, despite the cocktails and cigarettes, and this hike, even with all the carried weight, was so far like a walk in the park. But after a week of this, and sleeping on the ground, and the scant rations, he could imagine that they’d all be having some problems. It was obvious why the Gallas rode horses, and why many armies used mules as pack animals. But Colonel Gann had vetoed both for a variety of practical reasons, mostly having to do with noise discipline, and water and forage for the animals. Purcell did not usually defer to anyone in his business, which was why he was freelance and mostly between jobs; but he would defer to Colonel Gann in his business, as long as he thought Gann knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, Gann motioned everyone together and said, “The spa is about fifty meters ahead. I will go first and recon.” He borrowed Mercado’s binoculars, then handed Purcell the Uzi and three extra magazines and said, “You will cover me.” He pulled a long-barreled revolver from under his bush jacket and headed down the trail. Purcell motioned Vivian and Mercado to stay put, and followed Gann.

The trail ended at the clearing around the spa, and fifty yards ahead was the side of the white stucco hotel, sitting in the sunlight. Gann was scanning the area around the building, then moved toward it.

Purcell took the Uzi off safety and followed Gann through the tall grass. Gann went around to the front of the hotel, and Purcell kept about twenty yards behind him. Gann climbed the steps and disappeared into the building, and Purcell waited. A few minutes later, Gann reappeared and signaled all clear.

Purcell looked back to the edge of the jungle and saw Mercado and Vivian making their way through the chest-high grass. He motioned them to join him, and together they walked quickly to the front of the spa hotel.

They stood at the base of the steps that they’d climbed with the Jeep and looked at the crumbling ruin.

Vivian said, “We are back.”

Purcell looked across the field toward the narrow road they’d driven that night, and he could see the place where he’d crashed the Jeep through the thick wall of high brush that blocked the spa from the road. He looked back at the hotel. He must have seen the dome, he thought, or it registered subconsciously, and that was why he’d suddenly turned off the road.

Vivian saw what Purcell was looking at and said, “Fate, Frank. Don’t try to understand it.”

Mercado agreed, “I see God’s hand in this.”

Hard to argue with that, so he didn’t.

Vivian walked halfway up the steps, and Mercado and Purcell joined her.

She looked around and asked, “Can you believe this?” She turned to Purcell. “We are back where it began.”

Actually, Purcell thought, this all began in the Hilton bar, with Henry inviting him to come with them to the front lines. A simple “No” would have been a good answer. But Henry’s invitation was flattering. And Vivian had smiled at him. And he may have had one cocktail more than he needed.

Ego, balls, alcohol, and a restless dick; a sure combination for glory or disaster.

Vivian said, “We will begin here, where Father Armano ended his life. We have been to Berini, and we have been to Rome, and we will follow the priest’s footsteps to his prison. And with his help and God’s help we will also follow his footsteps to the black monastery, and the Holy Grail.”

Vivian took both their hands, and they continued up the steps to the place where Father Armano’s fate had intersected with theirs.

Chapter 47

They found Colonel Gann standing in the rubble-filled lobby. It looked the same as when they’d last seen it, except that along the frescoed wall where Purcell had parked the Jeep, and where they had heard Father Armano’s story, there were bones and skulls strewn over the marble floor.

Gann said, “Firing squad.”

Vivian stared at the skulls and bones, put her hand over her mouth, and said, “Oh my God…”