The Quest: A Novel Part 37

"Rain check?"

"No. This will not happen again." She sat up and started to swing her legs out of the bed, but he put his hand on the back of her head and gently pulled her toward him.

She hesitated, then let him bring her head and face down on his wet p.e.n.i.s, which she took into her mouth.

She knelt between his legs and her long, raven black hair fell across his thighs as her head bobbed up and down.

He came and his body arched up, and she stayed with him until there was nothing left inside him.

Vivian sat back on her haunches, and he looked at her, his s.e.m.e.n running down her chin. Their eyes met and she smiled, then pulled off her shamma and stood on the bed. She turned completely around for him, and he watched her but said nothing.

Vivian jumped off the bed, wiped her face with a tissue, slipped on her shamma, and moved toward the door. "Thank you for coffee."

"Anytime."

She left, and he stared up at the rotating fan. "I love you."

Chapter 35.

Purcell took a taxi from the airstrip to the hotel and called Mercado in his room to meet him for coffee. The two men sat in the Hilton c.o.c.ktail lounge, which doubled as the breakfast room.

Mercado had hoped Vivian would be there so he could have that post-coital moment that she suggested would make him feel better. It wasn't the same, somehow, with only the two cuckolded men having coffee. He asked, "Where is Vivian?"

"I called both rooms, but she's not answering."

Mercado wanted to say, "Well, she's not still in my room." Instead he said, "Probably napping. She was up early." He suggested, "Try her again."

"She'll be down."

A waiter came by with breakfast menus and Mercado said, "Every time I eat, I think about the famine."

"Order light."

"That's very insensitive, Frank." He added, "You wouldn't say that if Vivian was here."

Purcell looked up from his menu, but didn't respond.

Purcell ordered a full breakfast, saying, "Flying makes me hungry."

Mercado ordered orange juice and a cornetto with his coffee. He asked Purcell, "How did it fly?"

"Not very agile. But it seems safe enough." He asked, "How did it look to you?"

"Well, I can't tell, of course, but you seem to know what you're doing."

"What did Vivian think?"

"She was excited when you did your flyby." He added, "You saw her."

"I did."

"Yes. And we could see you in the c.o.c.kpit."

"And how did I look, Henry?"

"Sorry?"

"Did I look happily surprised to see Vivian on your bedroom balcony?"

Mercado did not answer the question, but said, "Hold on, old man. We had coffee, waiting to see you. I hope you don't take that as anything other than what it was."

Purcell stared at him, but didn't reply.

Mercado was not enjoying this moment as much as he'd thought he would. It would have been much better if Vivian and Purcell had already had a tiff about this, followed by Purcell being sulky at c.o.c.ktails or dinner.

Mercado didn't want to protest too much, but he said, "We're all civilized, old man." He reminded Purcell, "We're going to be in close quarters when we get into the bush." He immediately regretted his choice of words. Get into the bush. Freudian slip? He suppressed a smile.

"All right." Purcell let him know, "It's nothing."

Nothing? Mercado wanted to tell him, "I f.u.c.ked her, actually," but that would wreck the whole deal. So instead, he said, "She's very attached to you, Frank."

"End of discussion."

"In fact, you should have this discussion with her."

Purcell didn't respond, but he was getting annoyed with Mercado. The subject of Vivian was not a happy one between them, and Mercado's familiarity would have earned him at least a punch in the gut, as he'd told him in Rome. But Purcell didn't want to upset the mission. Also, he liked Henry.

Mercado said to him, "I'm not sure, but I think you were flying too slow as you pa.s.sed by."

"Let me pilot the aircraft, Henry."

"I'm thinking about me, old man. Your pa.s.senger. And Vivian."

"Don't worry about it." Purcell informed him, "If it makes you feel better, Signore Bocaccio was impressed with my flying skills."

"Good. But will he let you fly it again?"

"He's thinking about it."

"We need that plane." Mercado asked, "And how is Signore Bocaccio? Is he trying to pretend that the Marxists haven't taken charge and that his privileged life will continue as usual?"

"No, I think he gets that it's over."

"He sounds more realistic than many of my colonial compatriots around the world."

"Right."

"The old world order is finished."

"Indeed it is." Purcell informed Mercado, "Signore Bocaccio wants to know if our newspaper wants to buy Mia."

"Who?"

"The airplane. Mia."

"Oh... I don't think so."

"Please ask." He explained, "Signore Bocaccio wants to get out."

"He should. And you should tell him we're considering buying his aircraft so he will let us continue renting it."

"I may have led him to believe that."

"You are devious, Frank."

"Me? You just told me to con him."

Their breakfast came and Purcell said, "On the taxi ride to the airstrip, I saw children with distended stomachs."

Mercado stayed quiet a moment, then said, "Sometimes I weep for this land."

"If you'd seen what I saw in Cambo, you'd weep for that land, too." He looked at Mercado. "We could weep for the whole world, Henry, but that won't change the world."

Mercado nodded. "When you get to be my age, Frank, you start to wonder... what the h.e.l.l has gone wrong?"

"It's all gone wrong."

"It has. But then you see... well, Father Armano. And these UN relief people. And all the aid volunteers and missionaries who come to places like this to do good. To help their fellow human beings."

"That is a hopeful thing."

"For every Getachu, there is a decent human being trying to soften the world's suffering."

"I hope so." Purcell asked, "When will the good guys win?"

"When the last battle is fought between the forces of good and evil. When Christ and the Antichrist meet at Armageddon."

"Sounds like a h.e.l.l of a story. I hope I get to cover it."

"We cover it every day, Frank."

Purcell nodded.

Purcell wasn't as hungry as he'd thought, and he drank his coffee and lit a cigarette.

Mercado was looking up at the stained gla.s.s and said, "It doesn't actually show Solomon and Sheba in the act."

"You have to use your imagination."

"I think that scene would bring in the customers."

"Or the police." Purcell asked, "Have you heard anything about Mr. Sela.s.sie, as he is now called?"

"I have heard a rumor that they are gently grilling him about his a.s.sets here and abroad, and that he's giving them a little at a time in exchange for the lives of some of his family."

"And what happens when he's given them everything?"

He informed Purcell, "They've smothered a few old royals with pillows and announced a natural death. That will be his fate. Or something similar."

Purcell nodded. He asked, "Do you think the emperor knows the location of the black monastery?"

"That is a good question. The royal court used to travel throughout the kingdom to dispense justice, give pardons, give money to churches, and so forth. They would always visit the Ark of the Covenant at Axum. So it is possible that the emperor has visited the black monastery, but my instincts say he has not. And even if he had, he could not give his captors the grid coordinates."

"Right. I'm sure he wasn't driving the tour bus."

"More likely the Grail was brought to him at some location away from the monastery."

"Like the village of Shoan."

"Possible." Mercado informed him, "The royal court has been shrouded in secrecy for three thousand years. They make the emperor of j.a.pan's court seem like an open house party."

"And the Vatican makes every other closed inst.i.tution look like a public information office."

"Your anti-papist views are annoying, Frank." He reminded him, "You work for the Vatican newspaper."

"G.o.d help me."

"In any case, the imperial court of Ethiopia is no more."

"Unless Gann gets his way."

"That will not happen. There is no going back."

"I think you're right, Henry. And on that subject, where is Sir Edmund?"

"I'm beginning to wonder myself."

"He said he'd arrive on the twenty-fourth, which was yesterday. But we were to wait four days before we gave up on him."

"Then we will wait. But if he doesn't show, we will press on. Without him."