The Quest: A Novel (45 page)

Mercado asked, “So do we now believe in palm trees and glints?”

Purcell replied, “I can make a stronger case for that than I can for the existence of the Holy Grail.”

Mercado did not respond to that, but said, “If we see a glint coming through palm trees, then I think we’ve found the black monastery.”

Vivian said, “I see palm trees, but I’m not seeing any glints.”

Purcell said, “We’ll have the photographs done again in a high-gloss finish, and we’ll go over them inch by inch in our rooms.”

Vivian informed them, “The Reuters photo lab guy is very taken with me, but if I ask him to reprint ninety-two photographs in a different finish, I’ll have to have a drink with him.”

“Have several,” Purcell suggested.

She smiled, then said, “He also asked me why I was taking aerial photos of jungle.”

Mercado said, “He is not supposed to ask questions. What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was trying to find the right green for my drapes.”

Mercado asked, “Is Father Armano’s mention of this roof the unintended clue he gave us as to the location of the monastery?”

Purcell replied, “It
is
an unintended clue, but there is something else. Something keeps nagging at my mind, and it will come to me.”

Vivian poured him more wine. “This might help.”

“Can’t hurt.”

Their lunch came and Purcell said, “Buon appetito.”

T
hey laid the photos out on the bed in Mercado’s room. Each photograph was now in matte and gloss finish, and Vivian had also borrowed two lighted magnifiers from the smitten lab tech.

The drapes were open and they knelt around the bed, studying the photographs. Purcell was at the foot of the bed, and Vivian and Mercado on opposite sides. Vivian looked up to say something to Mercado and saw him looking at her across the bed that they’d shared a few days before. She met his gaze for a second, then looked down at the photograph in front of her.

They each had a grease marker that they used to circle palm clusters. Next, they looked closely for a glint, or a reflection of light, or anything that could be an anomalous source of light.

Purcell advised them, “Consider the position of the sun when looking for a glint or sparkle, and consider the direction we are looking at.”

They also had the terrain maps spread out so they could match the photos with the maps, but this turned out to be difficult unless there was an identifying feature in the photo that was represented on the map. Real aerial photographers, Purcell knew, had methods of printing grid coordinates on their photos, but he, Vivian, and Mercado were trying to match the photo to the maps, then mark the maps, which they would use on the ground.

Mercado said, “This is more difficult than I thought it would be.”

“It was never going to be easy or fun.”

Vivian found what she thought was a glint close to the destroyed fortress, and they all took a look at it.

Mercado said, “It is definitely a reflection of some sort, but there are no palms around it.”

Purcell added, “It’s also too close to the fortress—maybe five hundred meters.”

Vivian agreed that the monastery would not be that close to the fortress.

Mercado said, “It could be a pond, or one of the streams that run through the area. We will check it out when we get there.”

Vivian pointed out the sulphur pool of the spa and said, “That is what a body of water looks like in these photographs. It is more reflective than… glinting.”

Purcell agreed. “We are looking for something that… if we saw it from the air, we’d say something sparkled down there. Or maybe flashed. The problem with still photography is that you need to capture the glint at the moment it happens. And even then, it might not register on the film.”

Vivian said, “I used both high- and low-speed film, but I’m not sure which would be better for capturing a quick glint of light.” She added, “The matte finish actually seems better for showing a light anomaly.”

Purcell also pointed out, “It was a mostly sunny day, but there are a few cloud shadows on these photographs, and when the sun is blocked, you won’t get reflected or refracted sunlight.”

Mercado said, “We will pray for clear skies on our next flight.”

Purcell replied, “Remind God that we are chosen.”

“We are being tested.”

“Right. But tell him clouds are not fair.”

They continued to study the photographs.

After half an hour, Purcell said, “I’m going blind and nuts.” He stood and retrieved the photographs that Vivian had taken in Gondar for her bogus photographic essay.

He sat in a chair and flipped through the photos. One was an artistic shot of a palace garden with a reflecting pool, and the plants around the pool were reflected in the water of the pool, which was the idea. He thought a moment, then said, “Depending on what that church roof was made of, it might reflect what is above and around it.” He suggested, “Look for a palm frond or maybe a tree branch that has an exact mirror image.”

Vivian looked up at him, “All right… would you like to join us?”

“I’m just the pilot. Also, you have the only two magnifiers.”

Vivian smiled. “I can get another one from the lab guy, but it will cost me.”

“Go for it.”

Vivian and Mercado continued to study the photos, then Mercado stood and said, “I need a break.”

“I’m surprised your old eyes lasted this long.” Purcell stood and took Mercado’s place at the side of the bed, and Mercado sat and looked at Vivian’s pictures of Gondar.

Vivian said, “I have three possible… glints. But I could be looking at ground water, or even moisture on leaves or palm fronds.”

“That is another problem with photographs. They are two-dimensional, and depth of field can only be interpreted from what we know of the image.” He added, “This is not an exact science.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

“Anytime.”

He moved a photograph to the side and noticed something on the bedspread. He looked closer and saw that it was a long, straight jet black hair, and he didn’t need the magnifier to tell whose it was.

He looked up at Vivian, who was bent closely over the magnifier. He glanced at Mercado, who was looking at the Gondar photos. He tried to remember if Vivian had knelt at this side of the bed, but he knew she hadn’t. Not today, anyway.

He had two choices: pick up the hair and bring it to everyone’s attention—or forget it.

He looked again at Vivian. If he asked her what happened here, she would tell him the truth. But he already knew the truth. Or did he? It would not be unlike her to make herself comfortable on a male friend’s bed and chat away while the poor guy was trying to talk his dick down.

On the other hand… but why would she have sex with Henry Mercado? He thought he knew, and thinking back to Henry’s changed demeanor since that morning, he could imagine what Vivian’s purpose was.

Or was he misinterpreting all those images the way he might misinterpret a photograph?

Vivian said excitedly, “I think I see a double image. Two palm fronds that are the mirror image of each other.” She put a circle on the photograph and flipped it to him.

He looked at the circled image under the magnifier and said, “These are not exact doubles. These are two very similar palm fronds.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure.”

“Damn it.”

He said to her, “Things are not always what they seem.”

She looked at him, then some instinct, or prior experience, made her look at where his hand was resting on the light yellow bedsheet. She looked up at him again and said, “Sometimes things
are
what they seem.”

He nodded and went back to his magnifier and the photograph in front of him.

At 5
P.M.
, Mercado determined that there was nothing else to look at, and he suggested a cocktail in the lounge.

They stopped at the front desk for messages, and the desk clerk gave them a hand-delivered letter-sized envelope addressed to “Mercado, Purcell, Smith,
L’Osservatore Romano
, Hilton Hotel.” The handwriting was different from the writing on the manila envelope that had contained the maps, but they had no doubt who this was from.

Purcell carried the envelope into the lounge and they sat at a table.

Vivian said, “He’s alive and well.”

Purcell pointed out, “He was when he sent this.”

“Don’t be a pessimist. Open it.”

“We need a drink first.”

Mercado signaled a waiter and ordered a bottle of Moët, saying to his companions, “We’re either celebrating something, or we need to drown our troubles in champagne.”

“I like the way you think, Henry.”

Vivian said, “Out of ninety-two photographs, there are only six circled locations that fit our criteria.” She listed the criteria: “Palm trees, and/or a glint, in a location that is not too close to the fortress
or to the spa, or the road, or to any place that would not be a likely location of a hidden monastery.” She continued, “Only one photo has all three—palms, a glint, and a likely location.”

Mercado suggested, “But we may have our criteria wrong.”

“In fact,” said Purcell, “we may have talked ourselves into palms and glints, so we need to look at the photos with a fresh eye in the morning.”

Mercado informed them, “I need to go to work tomorrow to justify our existence here.”

Purcell reminded him, “You’re on the payroll. The rest of us are working for room and board.”

They discussed photo analysis for a while, and their next recon flight over the area.

Purcell looked at Vivian, then at Mercado. There had definitely been a new spring in Henry’s step since that morning. But interestingly, Vivian seemed the same. In fact, at breakfast on the morning of his flight with Signore Bocaccio, which would have been soon after Vivian had sex with Henry, she had seemed herself—as though she’d put the encounter in a file drawer and forgot about it.

And then she’d invited Purcell to have sex with her.

It was possible, however, that nothing of a penetrating nature had happened. He was certain he would not have been happy to see what did happen in Henry’s bedroom, but it might have fallen short of a legal definition of cheating on your boyfriend.

Henry, however, seemed to be happy with whatever had happened, even if the object of his affection didn’t seem so moved by the experience.

He looked again at Vivian, who was chatting happily with her old friend.

In Vivian’s mind, all was now right with her world, and they could
all
be friends, and continue with their mission here, which to Vivian was far more important than two horny men. No doubt she loved Frank Purcell, and he loved her, so now he had to decide what to do about what she had done.

Two waiters appeared with a wine bucket, fluted glasses, and a bottle of Moët & Chandon, which one of them displayed to Mercado.
He pronounced the year
magnifique
, and told his companions, “This is on the newspaper.”

Purcell suggested, “Tell them you entertained a member of the Derg.”

“I always do.”

The headwaiter popped the cork, which caused some heads to turn, then filled the flutes.

Henry held up his glass and proposed, “To us, and to Sir Edmund, and to our journey.”

They drank and Vivian said, “Ooh. I love it.”

Mercado suggested, “We will take a bottle with us on the road, and pop it when we see the black monastery in the jungle.”

Purcell warned him, “That might be the last alcohol you ever see.”

“Nonsense. The monks drink wine.”

They finished their glasses and Mercado refilled them.

Purcell said, “Okay, one more flight to Gondar, and on the way we will check out whatever we’ve circled on the photographs. With any luck, we will be able to narrow the circles down to a few, or we will see something else that may be of interest. In any case, we will land in Gondar and go to the Goha Hotel. We’ll shop for provisions without attracting too much attention, then we will spend the night, then get in the Land Rover with the driver and security man, and tell them we are hiking. We’ll get dropped off near the spa, tell the driver to meet us there in six hours, and we are off on our quest. First stop is Shoan.”

Mercado and Vivian processed all that, and Mercado said, “I think we should go first to the places in the photographs that are possibly what we’re looking for.”

“I don’t want to traipse around the jungle for a week or two.” He reminded Mercado, “That is rough country, old man, and I don’t just mean the terrain. We want to minimize the walking, and not use up our provisions.”

Mercado replied, “I’ve done this sort of thing before, Frank.”

“Good. Then you agree.” He continued, “The Falashas may be more helpful than those photographs.”

“They may be the opposite of helpful—or they may all be gone.”

Vivian said, “Our first objective should be the spa.” She reminded them, “We said we’d bring back a relic… a bone of Father Armano.”

“You carry the bone.” He also said, “I will call Signore Bocaccio tonight about the availability of the plane. I’d like to go tomorrow.”