The Quest: A Novel (11 page)

On that note, Mercado rallied a bit and said, “Let’s get moving.” They covered the remainder of the three hundred yards in a few minutes and stopped at the base of the ridgeline.

Purcell looked up the narrow ridge. It was a steep rise, comprised of large jagged red rocks, and between the rocks was more brown scrub brush.

Gann said, “Good cover and concealment, not passable on horseback.” He asked, “Are we ready?”

Purcell looked at Mercado, who nodded without enthusiasm.

They began the climb, picking their way up the ridge between the large rocks. Now and then they had to squeeze sideways between
close rock formations, which assured them that Gallas on horseback could not follow—though Gallas on foot could.

About halfway up the ridge, they stopped for a rest and sat in the shade of a large rock formation.

Gann, noticed Purcell, seemed okay, though he wasn’t a young man. But he had been hardened by a few wars and he’d probably pushed himself harder than this the night before, trying to rally the prince’s army.

Purcell looked at Mercado. He, too, had experienced hardships, but those hardships had taken their toll.

Vivian was wiping Mercado’s face again, but Purcell noticed that Mercado was barely sweating, which was not a good sign.

Vivian herself seemed in decent shape, but her arms and face were burning red from the sun. Purcell took off his bush jacket, leaving him in a sweat-soaked T-shirt. He pitched the bush jacket toward her and said, “Drape that over your head.”

She hesitated, then picked up the khaki jacket and threw it back to him.

Colonel Gann had climbed onto a tall rock and was scouting the terrain through his field glasses. He said, “The Gallas are coming together… perhaps two or three hundred of them… heading down into the valley. They’ll harass the remnants of the Royal Army… and if they think the army is very weakened, they’ll go in for the kill.”

No one had anything to say about that, but everyone felt relieved that the Gallas had shifted their attention to the retreating army.

Purcell was hoping he’d see some signs of the Provisional Revolutionary government army in pursuit of the Royalists. That would save them a long hike. He asked Gann, “Do you see any signs of the army?”

Gann kept scanning as he replied, “No. They’re letting the Gallas do the work. Lazy beggars.” He added, “Bunch of damned Marxists.”

Vivian said to Gann, “If we reach the Provisional Army, we can pass you off as a journalist.”

Purcell added, “But you need to take off your royal insignia, and get rid of that gun and lose the riding crop.”

Gann replied, “I appreciate the offer. But my presence will endanger you.” He added, “They’ll know who I am, even without the royal insignia on my uniform, and then they can shoot me as a spy instead of as a Royalist.” He informed them, “I’d rather be shot as a soldier.”

Purcell didn’t see what difference it made, but Colonel Gann did, and he made a good point—about him endangering them all. Also, their safe-conduct pass from the Provisional government in Addis had only three names on it, and one of those names wasn’t Colonel Sir Edmund Gann.

Purcell looked at Mercado, who hadn’t said anything on the subject. “What do you think, Henry?”

Mercado replied, “We should cross that bridge when we come to it. We’re still in a bad situation.”

Gann agreed, and said, “I’ll try to get you as close as I can to the army lines, then I’ll scoot off.”

Vivian asked him, “To where?”

He informed them, “Most of the Amharic peasants around here are loyal to the emperor, and I’ll look for a friendly village.”

No one replied, but Purcell didn’t think much of Colonel Gann’s plan. In fact, Purcell thought, Colonel Gann probably didn’t think much of it either. Most likely he would die of thirst, hunger, or disease in the hills or in the jungle. But the Gallas would not get him. Not as long as Colonel Gann had his service revolver and one bullet left. Purcell said to Gann and to Mercado and Vivian, “I think we should stay together. Maybe we can find this Prince Theodore, or some other ras.”

Gann said, “Nonsense. You have press credentials and a safe-conduct pass. Your best bet is the Provisional government forces, and they are close by.”

Again, no one replied, but then Purcell said, “Let’s play it by ear. Ready?”

Everyone stood and they continued up the ridge. Within half an hour, they reached the summit, which gave them a clear view of the surrounding terrain.

The sun was almost overhead now, and there wasn’t much shade,
but Mercado lay down in a sliver of shadow at the base of a tall rock. Vivian knelt beside him and put her damp, sweaty handkerchief over his face.

Gann was scanning the terrain with his field glasses, and he said, “I can see soldiers dug in on the ridgelines.” He passed the glasses to Purcell.

Below was a grassy plateau, like an alpine meadow, between them and the hills to the north, and rocky ridges ran from the hills to the plateau.

Purcell focused on the closest ridge, less than a kilometer away, and saw a group of uniformed men. They’d piled up some rocks to construct a safe firing position, and he thought he saw the long firing tube of a mortar protruding above the rock. He looked farther up the ridge at the next summit and saw more gun positions.

Gann said, “The bulk of the Provisional Army are in those hills.” He told them, “They attacked us in force last night, right there on that plateau, and we inflicted a good number of casualties on them. Unfortunately, they had heavy mortars and they pounded us through the night.”

Purcell nodded. That’s what they’d seen from the spa.

Gann went on, “At daybreak we expected another attack, and I was preparing for it, but panic had set in, and the troops started deserting. And once that starts, it’s impossible to stop.”

Purcell asked Gann, “Was the prince paying you enough for this?”

Gann thought about that, then replied, “A soldier’s pay is never enough. You must also believe in the cause.”

Purcell reminded him, “You’re a mercenary.” He added, “An honorable profession, I’m sure. But not one that believes in causes.”

Gann informed everyone, “I was here in 1941 with the British Expeditionary Force that drove out the Italians.” He added, “I developed a fondness for Ethiopia and the people. And the monarchy. The emperor. He’s a remarkable man… the last in a three-thousand-year-old line of succession.”

“Right,” said Purcell. “The last.”

Gann turned the question around and asked, “Why are
you
here?”

Purcell replied, “To cover the war.”

“Are they paying you enough for this?”

“No.” He suggested, “Let’s get moving.” He looked at Vivian, who was kneeling beside Mercado and blocking the sun from him. “Is he all right?”

“No.”

Purcell said, “Try to wake him, Vivian.”

“No. He needs sleep.”

“It’s all downhill to the plateau.”

Gann suggested, “Look, I’m not going with you into the army lines, so I’ll stay here with him and you two make contact with the government forces, then come back for him with an army medic and a few men to carry him.” He added, “I’ll scoot off before you get up here.”

Purcell thought that was a good idea, but Vivian said, “I’m not leaving him.”

Gann explained, “You’re not leaving him. You’re going for help.”

Purcell said to her, “You can stay here, too. I don’t need company.”

Mercado was awake now and he sat up with his back against the rock. He’d heard the discussion and said to Vivian in a weak voice, “Go with Frank.”

“No. I’m staying with you.” She knelt beside him and put her hand on his forehead. “You’re burning…”

Purcell looked at Gann and they both knew that Mercado was close to heatstroke.

Gann said to Purcell, “You’d better start off now.”

Mercado pulled a plastic wrapped paper from his pocket and gave it to Vivian, saying, “The safe-conduct pass… go with Frank.”

She took the pass and handed it to Purcell, but remained kneeling beside Mercado. Purcell put the pass in his pocket and said to Gann, “I won’t be seeing you later. Thanks for your help.”

They shook and Gann said, “Well, good luck.” He added, “The commander of the Provisional government forces is a chap named Getachu. Nasty fellow. Red through and through. Likes to shoot Royalists. Doesn’t think much of Westerners either. Your pass from
the Provisional government should be all right, but be careful with him.”

Purcell replied, “I know who he is.” He said to Vivian and Mercado, “See you later.”

Purcell moved toward the descending ridge, then turned and asked Gann, “Have you ever heard of a black monastery in this area?”

Colonel Gann didn’t reply immediately, then said, “Yes. But not worth the side trip.” He added, “Maybe after the war is over.”

Purcell nodded, then started to pick his way down the rocky ridge.

B
elow, the grassy plateau looked inviting, and Purcell thought there could be water there. Or Gallas.

Across the plateau was the base of the rocky hills, and in those hills was the victorious army of the Provisional government. But even if he made it to an army outpost, he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get. Theoretically, his American passport and press credentials and the safe-conduct pass from the Provisional Revolutionary government would ensure a good reception—which was why he and his traveling companions were trying to reach the army forces to begin with. But theory, when it butts up against reality, sometimes produces unexpected results. Especially if he had to deal with General Getachu, who was notoriously cruel, and probably insane; the perfect subject for a press interview—if he didn’t kill the reporter.

Purcell heard something behind him, and he froze, then squeezed himself into a rock cleft. He listened and heard it again. Someone was coming down the ridge.

He waited, then saw her sliding on her butt down a long flat rock, holding on to her camera that was hanging from her neck. She jumped off the rock and he let her get a little ahead of him, then fell in behind her as she was scrambling over another large rock.

“Change your mind?”

She made a startled sound, then turned toward him. “God… Frank… you scared the hell—”

“Me too. Where you going?”

“To find you…” She took a deep breath, then said, “Henry gave you… he didn’t give you the pass.”

“Really?” Purcell took the plastic-wrapped sheet from his pocket and opened it. He smiled and said, “Looks like his bar bill from the Hilton.”

She didn’t reply to that but said, “I have the pass.”

“Good. I’ll take it.”

She gave it to him.

He looked at it, put it in his pocket, and said, “Thanks. See you later.”

She glanced up at the ridge.

He said, “Right. The climb up will kill you. Stay here.”

“I’m coming with you.”

He didn’t respond to that and asked, “How’s Henry?”

“A little better.”

“Good. And how are you?”

“Dizzy.”

He put his hand on her blistered forehead and asked her, “Tongue swollen?”

“A little…”

He took off his bush jacket and draped it over her head. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She followed him as he moved down the ridge.

She said to him, “Colonel Gann saw three Gallas on horseback riding through the tall grass ahead.”

“News I can use.”

They continued on and she said, “I wouldn’t have left him… but he tricked me. Tricked you.”

Purcell didn’t reply.

She said, “He and Colonel Gann thought you’d have a better chance if I were along.”

“You have not increased my chances.”

“In case you got hurt. Or… whatever. Better to send two people on a rescue mission.”

“True.” Unless one of them was an attractive woman.

The ridge flattened and they stopped a hundred feet from the high grass of the plateau. Purcell said to her, “You stay here. If all goes well, I’ll be back with a medic and some soldiers to collect you and get Henry. If I’m not back in, say, two hours—”

“I am not staying here.”

“You will do what I tell you—”

“Frank, if something happens to you, I’m as good as dead here. And so is Henry.”

“Vivian—”

“I can’t get back up that hill, and I will not sit here waiting for the Gallas—or dying of fucking thirst.” She moved toward him and gave him a push on the chest. “Let’s go.”

They continued on and entered the tall grass. Purcell said, “Keep a separation of twenty feet, and if you hear hoofbeats, drop and freeze.”

They walked silently through the elephant grass, which was taller than they were. Purcell could see evidence of the battle that had been fought here during the night—naked bloated bodies lay strewn in the high grass, covered with big green flies. There was no mutilation, and Purcell guessed that it was not the Gallas but the victorious government forces that had carried off the pitiful war spoils from the slain soldiers of Prince Joshua. Fresh graves marked the spots where the government forces had buried their own dead. If he’d hoped to find a canteen of water among the carnage, that hope quickly faded.

They continued on and the nauseating stench of death hung in the hot air. Vultures circled overhead, and one swooped down and landed near a naked body, then bent its long neck and plucked out an eyeball. Vivian, who had come up behind him, let out a stifled cry of disgust.