The Quest

Purcell lit a cigarette.

She took his hand. “Did something happen when I was gone?”

“No.”

“I love you.”

He took his hand out of hers and put his arm around her shoulders. He said to her, “You once told me to go to hell.”

“I was so angry at you.” She mimicked him: “I think I could have done this on my own. Can we save this for the Hilton bar?” She said, “Bastard.”

He drew her closer and she put her head on his shoulder. She said, “It was my idea to invite you along.”

“I thought it was God’s plan.”

“It was. I just went along with it.”

“What’s the rest of the plan?”

The taxi stopped. “Forum.”

She said, “To get upstairs and get our clothes off.”

“Good plan.”

Chapter 25

The golden domes and crosses of the churches caught the first rays of the rising sun, and Purcell watched the dawn spreading over the city.

He looked back at Vivian lying naked in the bed, her skin as white as the sheets, making her appear wraithlike.

“Come to bed, Frank.”

He sat at the edge of the bed and she ran her hand over his back. She said, “You were talking in your sleep.”

“Sorry.”

She sat up and said, “I dreamt that we were at the mineral baths, and we were swimming, and we made love in the water.”

Purcell wondered where Henry was, but he didn’t ask.

“And then we went back to the Jeep, and Father Armano was there… and we were still naked…”

“Sounds like a Catholic schoolgirl’s nightmare.”

She laughed, then stayed silent awhile. “Why did he have that skull?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it a warning?”

“I’m not good at symbolism, Vivian.”

“What did you dream about?”

“Henry, in the Vatican archives. A nightmare.”

“Tell me.”

“Henry has solved the mystery of how the Holy Grail wound up in Ethiopia.”

“What difference does it make?”

“That was my point.” He lay down beside her and asked, “Do you believe that the actual Holy Grail is sitting in a black monastery in Ethiopia?”

“I told you I believe what Father Armano said to us. I believe that God led us to him, and him to us.” She also told him, “I believe that if we find the Grail, and if we believe in it, it will reveal itself to us. If we do not believe in it, it will not be real to us.” She made him understand, “It’s not the Grail by itself-it is our faith that heals us.”

This sounded to Purcell almost as complex as the doctrine of the Trinity, but he understood what she was saying. “All right… but do you believe that we should risk our lives to find it?”

She stayed silent a moment, then replied, “If this is God’s will… then it doesn’t matter what happens to us-it only matters that we try.”

Purcell glanced at her. He wondered if Mercado had told her what he’d said to him.

She asked, “Do you believe in this, Frank?”

“Henry says I do.”

“And you say…?”

“Depends on the day.”

“Then you shouldn’t be going to Ethiopia.”

“I am going.”

“Go for the right reasons.”

“Right.”

She moved closer to him and said, “There is another miracle. Us.”

“That’s one I believe in.” He asked her, “Would you like breakfast in bed?”

“It’s early for breakfast.”

“It’s two hours to get room service. You’re not in Switzerland anymore.”

She laughed and said, “I want you to fill the tub and make love to me in the water. That’s what I wanted you to do at the spa.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You did.”

“Never crossed my mind.”

“Do you think I take my clothes off in front of any man I just met?”

In fact, he’d thought that she and Henry were just being worldly and sophisticated, and maybe trying to shock his American sensibilities.

“Frank?”

“I thought that was a rhetorical question.” He got out of bed. “I’ll run the water. You call for coffee.”

He filled the tub and she came into the bathroom and they got into the steamy water together, facing each other. They moved closer, embraced, and kissed. She pressed her breasts against his chest, then rose up and came down on his erect penis. She gyrated her pelvis as she clung to him in the warm water, and they climaxed together.

They sat at opposite ends of the tub, and Vivian lay back with her eyes closed, breathing in the misty air.

He thought she’d fallen asleep, but she said softly, “It doesn’t matter what happens, as long as it happens to us together.”

“I believe that… but I want to make sure we’re not choosing death over life.”

“We are choosing eternal life.” She added, “As Saint Peter did.”

“Right… but I’m not a martyr, and neither are you. We’re journalists.”

She laughed. “Journalists go to hell.”

“Probably… and we’re not saints either, Vivian.”

“Speak for yourself.”

They sat back in the water with their eyes closed, and Purcell drifted off into a pleasant sleep. He thought he heard Vivian saying, “Take this cup and drink of it, for this is my blood.”

“Frank?”

He opened his eyes.

Vivian stood over him in a robe, holding a cup. “Have some coffee.”

He took the cup and drank it.

Chapter 26