The Quest

Purcell liked the way Gann thought. Military minds were generally clear, and geared to practical matters and problem solving. Lives depended on it. Vivian and Henry, on the other hand, were focused on the righteousness of their mission, with only passing thoughts about the logistics and the battle plan-like medieval Crusaders off to free the Holy Land. But, he supposed, the world needed those people too.

As for himself, he’d had enough of maps, archives, and religious experiences. He was ready to move.

They reached Mercado’s office, and Henry produced the bottle of Strega, which he shared with his guests to warm them up. Regarding their trip to Sicily, he consulted his calendar and said, “The Italians have the most vacation days in Europe. Forty-two, I believe. The fourteenth looks good for me.” He asked, “Is that good for everyone?”

Purcell and Vivian said it was, and Mercado asked Gann, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to sunny Sicily?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

Mercado said, “I won’t use the Vatican travel office, and I suggest we all use different travel agencies to book a flight to Palermo. We’ll hire a car there and drive to Berini.”

Purcell and Vivian agreed, and Henry poured more of the yellow liqueur into their water glasses.

Purcell said, “While we’re making travel plans, I suggest we pick a date now to fly to Addis Ababa.”

No one responded, and Purcell said, “As Colonel Gann would agree, we need to stop planning the invasion and we need to have a jump-off date.”

Gann said, “I’m actually fixed to go on January twenty-fourth-or thereabouts.”

“Good.” Purcell suggested, “The L’Osservatore Romano team needs to go separately, in case there is a problem at the other end. I will go first-let’s say January eighteenth. If I telex all is well, Vivian will follow on January twentieth-”

“We’re going together, Frank.”

He ignored her and continued, “If you don’t hear from me, take that as a sign that I may be indisposed.” He said to Mercado, “You may have the most risk considering your prior conviction for consorting with an enemy of the Ethiopian people. But if I and Vivian are okay, you bring up the rear.”

Gann agreed, “That is a safe insertion plan.”

Purcell said, “Unless they’re waiting for all of us to get there.”

Mercado said, “If your paranoia has substance, Frank, then I should go first to see if there is a problem.”

“Your offer is noted for the record.” He added, “I leave on the eighteenth.”

Gann informed them, “I have a number of safe houses in Addis. Where will you be staying?”

Purcell replied, “With all the other reporters at the Addis Hilton.”

“Safety in numbers,” said Gann.

“With the journalistic community, Colonel, it’s more like dog eat dog.”

Mercado reminded Purcell and Vivian, “Alitalia still has daily flights to Addis, and seats are not hard to come by. Same with rooms at the Addis Ababa Hilton. I will notify the newspaper and the travel office of our plans next week.” He added, “Gives us time to think about this.”

Purcell said, “There is nothing to think about.”

Mercado nodded.

They discussed a few other operational details, and in regard to their Berini trip on the fourteenth, Mercado consulted an Alitalia flight schedule and said to Purcell and Vivian, “Book the nine-sixteen A.M. Alitalia to Palermo. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

Mercado said he had work to do, and his three visitors left.

Gann said he wanted to wander around the seat of the papacy, and he wished them good day.

Purcell and Vivian exited Vatican City and walked along the Tiber.

Vivian said, “This has just become real.”

“It gets even more real in Ethiopia.”

Chapter 30

They landed in Palermo, rented a Fiat, and bought a road map of Sicily.

There were a few routes to Berini, which was in the mountains near the town of Corleone, and they decided to reverse the route that Father Armano had taken in 1935 from Alcamo to Palermo, though instead of a train, they drove the new highway to Alcamo. There, they took an increasingly bad road into the hills-the same road that the priest had undoubtedly walked forty years before with the other army conscripts who, like himself, were bound for Palermo, then Ethiopia. Father Armano, however, had taken a detour to Rome, and to the Vatican, before his fateful and fatal journey to Africa.

It was a sunny day and much warmer than Rome. The sky was deep blue and white clouds hung over the distant mountains. Lemon and orange groves covered the narrow valleys, and olive trees and vineyards rose up the terraced slopes. Clusters of umbrella pines shaded white stucco houses, and tall cedars stood sentry at the bases of the hills.

This, Purcell thought, was the last that Father Armano had seen of his native land, and he must have realized as he was walking to Alcamo with the other young men that he might never see it again.

Vivian said, “This is beautiful. Completely unspoiled.”