- •I can almost hear the champagne corks popping below me. The tumor has been confirmed!
- •It'll never be seen by the vultures.
- •It was such a good idea that the other lawyers couldn't argue. They arrived, along with Flowe, Zadel, and Theishen, at Gettys' office after five. A court reporter and two video cameras were waiting.
- •In recent years the fighting had almost stopped. Neither could change, so they simply ignored each other. But when the tumor appeared, tj reached out again.
- •It seemed almost cruel to bother her.
- •It was obvious Josh had been thinking about Nate all along, and this slightly irritated Tip. “You kidding?” he said.
- •It would be a vicious, glorious, thoroughly unique moment in the history of American law, and Josh suddenly couldn't wait. “The twenty-seventh is fine with me,” he said.
- •It was made of brown leather, new but built to look well used, and large enough to hold a small legal library. Nate sat it on his knees and popped it open. “Toys,” he said.
- •It was the day before Christmas Eve. Not all memories were painful.
- •Valdir continued, “Even if you flew into the area, you would then have to use a boat to get to the Indians.”
- •Valdir rerolled the last map. “I can arrange an airplane and a pilot.”
- •Valdir had been informed by Air. Josh Stafford that money was no object during this mission. “He'll call me back in an hour,” he said.
- •It was a quick shower, a cool rain the children played in while the adults sat on the porch and watched them in silence.
- •Internal, Jevy said, glancing at Milton.
- •It was almost two when Welly heard them coming. Jevy parked on the bank, his huge truck scattering rocks and waking fishermen as it roared to a stop. There was no sign of the American.
- •If Josh was worried, his voice didn't convey it. The firm was still closed for Christmas, et cetera, but he was busy as hell. The usual.
- •In a corner of the cabin, not far from the four bunks, Nate ate alone at a table that was bolted to the floor.
- •It was overcast and threatening more rain. The sun finally broke through at about six. Nate knew because he'd rearmed himself with a watch.
- •If the fisherman was happy to see another human in the middle of nowhere, he certainly didn't show it. Where could the poor man live?
- •In return for his good work, the children and wives had called him a fag.
- •I will die here, Nate said to himself. I'll either drown, starve, or be eaten, but it is here, in this immense swamp, that I will breathe my last.
- •It was a slight affront to Jevy's pride, but under the circumstances he could not argue. “He may want a little money.”
- •If you only knew, thought Nate. “Thanks. You, uh, said something about seeing a patient.”
- •It had been three years since the Ipicas had seen a death by snakebite. And for the first time in two years, Rachel had no antivenin.
- •Very gently, she touched him. She patted him three times on his arm, and said, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that you are lonely. How would I know?”
- •In fact, Troy Junior had already threatened to fire them. They grew quiet and listened. Hark had the floor.
- •If dengue fever didn't get poor Nate, the irs was waiting.
- •In his sleep, Nate was refortified with drugs he didn't need.
- •Valdir took the phone and walked to a corner. He tried to describe Nate's condition.
- •In Valdir's office, alone, Nate dialed the number of the Stafford Law Firm, a number he had trouble remembering. They pulled Josh out of a meeting. “Talk to me, Nate,” he said. “How are you?”
- •Valdir's despachante in Corumba knew another one in Sao Paulo, a powerful one with high contacts, and for a fee of two thousand dollars a new passport would be delivered.
- •In the narrow dining room between the kitchen and the den, a table had been set for four. Nate was pleased that he had accepted their invitation, not that he'd had the chance to decline it.
- •It certainly wasn't okay with Snead, but he'd taken their money. He had to play along.
- •In St. Michaels, only the Rector and his wife knew who he was. Rumor had it that he was a wealthy lawyer from Baltimore writing a book.
- •In eleven years, Rachel had never received a personal letter, at least not through World Tribes.
- •It was difficult to believe that for most of his professional life he often worked until nine or ten at night, then had dinner in a bar and drinks until one. He grew weary just thinking about it.
- •It occurred to Nate that it was nine o'clock in Houston. She was calling from home, and this seemed more than odd. The voice was pleasant enough, but tentative.
- •If his client didn't want the money, why should he care who got it?
- •It was the only time during the two-day ordeal that Troy Junior fought to a draw. Nate knew to move on, then to come back later.
- •It would take a billion dollars in therapy to straighten out this poor kid, Nate thought. He finished with him in less than an hour.
- •It was a well-rehearsed little oration, and it convinced no one. Nate let it slide. It was five o'clock, Friday afternoon, and he was tired of fighting.
- •It was a game of high-stakes chicken, and Snead held firm. “Of course I'm sure,” he said with enough indignance to seem plausible.
- •It took about fifteen minutes to figure this out.
- •In the loneliness of the hotel room, in a city where he knew no one, it was easy to pity himself, to suffer once again through the mistakes of his past.
- •It was a risk, and they were still talking about it.
- •It was Josh. “It couldn't have gone better,” he announced. “I stopped at twenty million, they want fifty.”
- •If they only knew, he thought as he left the courthouse.
Valdir continued, “Even if you flew into the area, you would then have to use a boat to get to the Indians.”
“How are the airstrips?”
“They're all grass. Sometimes they cut the grass, sometimes they don't. The biggest problem is cows.”
“Cows?”
“Yes, cows like grass. Sometimes it's hard to land because the cows are eating the runway.” Valdir said this with no effort at humor.
“Can't they move the cows?”
“Yes, if they know you're coming. But there are no phones.”
“No phones in the fazendas?”
“None. They are very isolated.”
“So I couldn't fly into the Pantanal, then rent a boat to find the Indians?”
“No. The boats are here in Corumba. As are the guides.”
Nate stared at the map, especially the Paraguay River as it wound and looped its way northward in the direction of the Indian settlements. Somewhere along the river, hopefully in proximity to it, in the midst of this vast wetlands, was a simple servant of God, living each day in peace and tranquility, thinking little of the future, quietly ministering to her flock.
And he had to find her.
“I'd like to at least fly over the area,” Nate said.
Valdir rerolled the last map. “I can arrange an airplane and a pilot.”
“What about a boat?”
“I'm working on that. This is the flood season, and most of the boats are in use. The rivers are up. There's more river traffic this time of the year.”
How nice of Troy to kill himself during the flood season. According to the firm's research, the rains came in November and lasted until February, and all of the lowest areas and many of the fazendas were underwater.
“I must warn you, though,” Valdir said, lighting another cigarette as he refolded the first map, “air travel is not without risk. The planes are small, and if there's engine trouble, well…” His voice trailed away as he rolled his eyes and shrugged as if all hope was lost.
“Well what?”
“There's no place for an emergency landing, no place to put it down. A plane went down a month ago. They found it near a riverbank, surrounded by alligators.”
“What happened to the passengers?” Nate asked, terrified of the answer.
“Ask the alligators.”
“Let's change the subject.”
“More coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Valdir yelled at his secretary. They walked to a window and watched the traffic. “I think I have found a guide,” he said.
“Good. Does he speak English?”
“Yes, very well. He's a young man, just out of the army. A fine boy. His father was a river pilot.”
“That's nice.”
Valdir walked to his desk and picked up the phone. The secretary brought Nate another small cup of cafezinho, and he sipped it standing in the window. Across the street was a small bar with three tables on the sidewalk under a canopy. A red sign advertised Antartica beer. Two men in shirtsleeves and ties shared a table with a large bottle of Antartica between them. It was a perfect setting-a hot day, a festive mood, a cold drink enjoyed by two friends in the shade.
Nate was suddenly dizzy. The beer sign blurred, the scene came and went, then came back as his heart pounded and his breathing stopped. He touched the windowsill to steady himself. His hands shook, so he placed the cafezinho on a table. Valdir was behind him, oblivious, rattling away in Portuguese.
Sweat popped out in neat rows above his eyebrows. He could taste the beer. The slide was beginning. A chink in the armor. A crack in the dam. A rumbling in the mountain of resolve he'd built the last four months with Sergio. Nate took a deep breath, and collected himself. The moment would pass; he knew it would. He'd been here before, many times now.
He picked up the coffee and sipped it furiously as Valdir was hanging up and announcing that the pilot was hesitant to fly anywhere on Christmas Eve. Nate returned to his seat under the squeaking fan. “Offer him some more money,” he said.