The Quest: A Novel Part 9

The soldier stared at her.

Two more soldiers in cammies came down from the gun emplacement carrying their Soviet-made AK-47s. The three men began conversing in what sounded like Amharic. As they spoke, they kept glancing at Vivian, who Purcell thought looked awful, but maybe not to the soldiers.

Vivian tapped her pants pocket to indicate she had something for them, then slid out her pa.s.sport and press credentials.

One of the soldiers s.n.a.t.c.hed the items from her hand and stared at the press credentials, which were written in several languages, including Amharic. He then opened Vivian's pa.s.sport, which Purcell knew was Swiss-a good pa.s.sport to have-and flipped through it.

Purcell drew his American pa.s.sport and press credentials from his pocket along with the safe-conduct pa.s.s wrapped in plastic. One of the soldiers took the doc.u.ments from him and all of them gave a look, though it appeared that none of them could read even Amharic.

Purcell pointed to the safe-conduct pa.s.s and said, "Signed by General Andom." He added, "Brezhnev is numero uno. Power to the people. Avanti."

One of the soldiers looked at him, then motioned for him and Vivian to walk up the ridge. The soldiers followed.

On the way up, Vivian asked, "Are we going to get a bullet in the back?"

Purcell remembered the executions he'd seen in Cambodia; the victims were almost always naked so that their clothes wouldn't he ruined. Also, the women were usually raped first. He suspected it was the same here. "No," he replied. "Reporters can be shot only by the general."

They reached the gun emplacement and Purcell could see an 81-millimeter mortar surrounded by piled stone. A fire pit held the charred wooden remains of ammunition crates and the blackened bones of small animals.

They stopped and Purcell said, in Amharic, "Weha."

One of the soldiers indicated a five-gallon jerry can, which Purcell lifted and poured over Vivian's head and clothes to bring down her body temperature. She took the can and did the same for him, saying, "Spa, Ethiopian style." A soldier handed them a canteen and they drank.

Vivian smiled at the soldiers and thanked them in Amharic: "Agzer yastallan."

Purcell gave the soldiers his last pack of Egyptian cigarettes and they all lit up. So far, so good, he thought, though Vivian's gender was a complication.

One of the soldiers was talking on a field radio, then he said something to his companions. The soldier who seemed to be in charge handed them their doc.u.ments and motioned them up the ridge.

Before anyone changed their minds, Purcell took Vivian's arm and they continued unescorted up the mountain.

Vivian said, "I think we're all right."

"I think I could have done this on my own."

"Me too."

He didn't reply and they continued on in silence.

Finally, she said, apropos of something she was thinking, "Go to h.e.l.l."

"Already here."

She asked him, "Are you married? Girlfriend?"

"No."

"I can't imagine why not."

"Can we save this for the Hilton bar?"

"I don't ever want to see you again after this."

"Sorry you feel that way."

"And we don't need you to look for the black monastery."

He didn't reply and they continued on toward the top of the mountain.

Purcell thought about Father Armano, the black monastery, and the so-called Holy Grail. There was no Holy Grail, but sometimes his editors or other war correspondents described a story as the Holy Grail of stories-the story that would win a Pulitzer, or a National Journalism Award, or at least the admiration of their colleagues and a few drinks in a good bar.

He glanced at Vivian, and thought of Henry Mercado. Could he let them go without him? What if they died? What if they didn't and they found something? He wished he had something better to do with his life.

Chapter 9.

Purcell and Vivian sat side by side on a cot inside the medical aid tent. Vivian's face was covered with white ointment and she wore a reasonably clean gray shamma, as did Purcell.

The army doctor sat in a camp chair and smoked a cigarette. Purcell also smoked one of the doctor's cigarettes, while Vivian finished the bowl of cooked wheat that Dr. Mato had brought.

Vivian said in Italian, "Thank you, Doctor. You have been very kind."

The big Ethiopian smiled. "It was nothing. You are both fine. Continue to rehydrate." He added, "You may keep the ointment."

Vivian translated for Purcell, then she asked the doctor, "Any word on our colleague?"

Doctor Mato replied, "As I said, we have sent ten armed men and a mule. I'm sure your colleague will be joining you shortly."

Vivian nodded, and again translated for Purcell.

The doctor stood. "I have many sick and wounded. Excuse me." He left.

Purcell said, "I'm sure Henry is enjoying the mule ride."

She nodded absently, then said, "I hope they reach him in time."

He didn't reply.

She continued, "I worry about the Gallas."

"The Gallas," said Purcell, "attack the weak and the dying. Not ten armed soldiers."

She looked at him, forced a smile, and said, "You do know how to con a worried lady."

He smiled in return, though he found himself for some reason annoyed at her worry about Mercado, justified as it might be. He stood and looked around the aid tent. His and Vivian's personal possessions were in neat piles at the foot of their cots, but their clothes and boots were gone, and he didn't see any native sandals for either of them. He said, "I'm going to take a look around."

She stood. "I'll go with you."

"Be here when they bring Henry in."

She hesitated, then nodded, and said, "Find a toothbrush."

As he began walking, he could see soldiers lounging under jerry-rigged tarps, eating, talking, and smoking, which was what soldiers did when they weren't killing other soldiers. In any case, they didn't seem that interested in the white guy walking around barefoot in a gray shamma-though a few did point to him. If Vivian had been with him, the soldiers may have shown more interest.

He pa.s.sed a long open-sided tent marked with a white medical cross, and inside the tent he could see men lying close together on the dirt floor, mostly naked and bandaged. An overpowering stench came from the tent, and he could hear the moaning and crying of men in pain. Human misery. War, pestilence, famine, and civil strife. Ethiopia had it all.

In the distance, on a low hill, he noticed a big pavilion-style tent that flew the revolutionary red-starred flag of the new Ethiopia. That must be the headquarters, and when-or if-Henry arrived, they'd all go over there and see if General Getachu was in a good enough mood to offer them a helicopter ride to Addis-after they interviewed the victorious general, of course. There wasn't much frontline reporting in this war, and based on the events of the last forty-eight hours, he could see why.

Near the hill, he saw a windsock, indicating a helipad, though there was no helicopter there. He pictured himself in Getachu's helicopter, with Mercado and Vivian, high above the heat and stench of this place. The helicopter was the magic carpet of modern war, and if they left here by noon tomorrow, they could be in the Hilton bar tomorrow night, answering questions from their colleagues about their excursion into the interior of this benighted country. The etiquette was to modestly downplay the big dangerous adventure, but make it interesting enough to keep everyone's attention, and keep the drinks flowing. He thought about how to mention finding the dying priest without giving away the whole story.

He thought, too, about Colonel Gann. He'd taken a liking to the man and had acquired a respect for him after seeing that battlefield. Purcell hoped the colonel could find a village of friendly natives and eventually make his way out of Ethiopia. But the chances for that were not good, and Purcell thought about writing a posthumous story, t.i.tled "Knight Errant." Also a trip to England to find Edmund Gann's family.

The sun was going down and deep purple shadows filled the gullies and gorges that ran through the camp, and which held the human excrement of thousands of soldiers. A few military vehicles were parked haphazardly, but the main form of transportation seemed to be the mules and horses that were tethered to tent poles.

Purcell had seen a hundred army field camps in the course of his career, and every one of them-whether they were filthy like this place or spotless like the American camps-had the same feeling of life on hold, and death on the way.

Purcell felt he had seen enough of Getachu's camp, and he decided that he would go see General Getachu himself, without informing his photographer, who would insist that they wait for the missing Mercado. In any case, he felt that he should at least register their presence, which was the protocol.

As he made his way toward the headquarters tent, Purcell recalled what he'd read about General Getachu in the English-language newspaper in Addis. According to this government-censored and self-censored puff piece, the general was quite a remarkable man-loyal to the revolution, a competent military commander, and a man of the people, born into a poor peasant family. His parents had put themselves on starvation rations to have enough money to send their young son to the British missionary school in Gondar. Mikael Getachu had proven himself a brilliant student, of course, and he had learned English before he was seven. Also, he'd rejected most of his bourgeois teaching and secretly embraced Marxism at an early age. He never attended university, but had returned to his village and organized the oppressed peasants in their struggle against the local ra.s.ses, whom Purcell thought must have included Ras Joshua.

The flattering article went on to say that Mikael Getachu joined the Royal Army to infiltrate its ranks, and was stationed in Addis Ababa. And when the military seized power and overthrew the emperor, young Captain Getachu was in the right place at the right time, and he was now a general, and the commander of the army in his former province. Local boy makes good and comes home to bring peace and justice to his people.

According to the word in the bars and emba.s.sies in Addis, however, Getachu was a psychopath, and was rumored to have strangled a dozen members of the royal family in their palaces, including women and children. Even the revolutionary council-the Derg-feared him, and they'd made him commander of the Northern Army to keep him out of the capital.

As Purcell walked up the hill toward the large headquarters pavilion, he noticed something on the far side that he hadn't seen before. He couldn't quite make it out in the fading light, but as he got closer he realized that what he was seeing was a pole suspended between two upright poles-and hanging from the horizontal pole were about a dozen men. As he got closer he saw they were dressed in the uniforms of the Royal Army.

He stopped about ten feet from the scene and could see that the men had been hanged by their necks with what looked like commo wire, to ensure a slow, painful strangulation. Their hands were not tied so that they could grip the wire around their necks and try to ease the stranglehold, but in the end they'd become exhausted and lost the battle with gravity and with death.

Purcell took a deep breath and stood there, staring at the contorted faces, the b.l.o.o.d.y fingers and b.l.o.o.d.y necks. He counted thirteen men hanging motionless in the still air. He wondered how many more Royalists had been shot where they were captured. Taking prisoners was not a well-understood concept in this country and in this war.

Purcell noticed that a few of the sentries posted near the headquarters tent were watching him, and he rethought his visit to General Getachu.

He turned and made his way back toward the medical tent. Vivian was not there, and the sole orderly in the tent was not helpful in answering his pantomimed questions.

The standard procedure in situations like this was to stay put in a known location and wait for the missing colleague. If he went looking for her, they'd probably miss and keep coming back to the tent to see if the other was there, sort of like a Marx Brothers routine. He looked to see if she'd left him a note. She hadn't, but he saw that her camera, pa.s.sport, and press credentials were gone, which meant she'd taken them. But then he noticed that his pa.s.sport was also gone, and so was his wallet, his press credentials, and the safe-conduct pa.s.s. "s.h.i.t."

He walked out of the tent, looking for any sign of her in the darkening dusk. Maybe she'd gone to find a latrine, which didn't exist here, so that could take some time. He decided to give it ten minutes, then he'd go straight to the headquarters tent and demand to see Getachu. Or Getachu would send for him. In fact, he thought, that's what might have happened to Vivian.

He waited, but he wasn't the waiting type. After about five minutes, he headed toward Getachu's headquarters.

He saw a figure running toward him in the darkness. It was Vivian and she spotted him and called out, "Frank! They've got Henry!"

"Good."

She stopped a few feet from him, breathless, and said, "They've got Colonel Gann, too."

Not good.

She explained quickly, "Colonel Gann had pa.s.sed out on the mountain. Henry, too. The soldiers found them both-"

"Hold on. Who told you this?"

"Doctor Mato. They're in the hospital tent. Under arrest. Doctor Mato says they'll be all right, but-"

"Okay, let's go see them."

"They won't let me in the tent."

Which, he thought, was just as well. "Okay, let's see the general."

"I tried, but-"

"Let's go."

They moved quickly up the hill to where the headquarters tent sat. A few of the side flaps were open and they could see light inside.

He'd noticed she didn't have her camera, and there was no place in her shamma where she could have put their papers, but she may have hidden everything, so he asked, "Do you know where our pa.s.sports and papers are?"

"No... when Doctor Mato came to get me, I ran out-"

"Well, everything is gone, including your camera."

"d.a.m.n it..."

"That's all right. Getachu has it all."

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d. That's my camera, with thirty pictures-"

"Vivian, that is the least of our problems."

He could see that she was distraught over Mercado's arrest, and now was becoming indignant over the confiscation of her property. This was all understandable and would have been appropriate in Addis, but not here at the front.

She needed a reality check before they saw Getachu, so Purcell steered her around to the far side of the headquarters tent and said, "That is what General Getachu does to Royalists. We don't know what he does to Western reporters who annoy him."

She stared at the hanging men. "Oh... my G.o.d..."

"Ready?"

She turned away and nodded.

They approached the guarded entrance of the headquarters tent. Two soldiers carrying AK-47s became alert and eyed them curiously. They'd already sent the woman away, and they wondered why she'd returned. One of the men made a threatening gesture with his rifle, and the other motioned for them to go away.