- •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.
If you only knew, thought Nate. “Thanks. You, uh, said something about seeing a patient.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were a missionary.”
“I am. I'm also a doctor.”
And Nate's specialty was suing doctors. It was neither the time nor the place for a discussion about medical malpractice. “That's not in my research.”
“I changed my name after college, before med school and seminary. That's probably where the trail ended.”
“Exactly. Why did you change your name?”
“It's complicated, at least it was then. It doesn't seem important now.”
A breeze settled in from the river. It was almost five. The clouds over the forest were dark and low. She saw him glance at his watch. “The boys are bringing your tent here. This is a good place to sleep tonight.”
“Thanks, I guess. We'll be safe, won't we?”
“Yes. God will protect you. Say your prayers.”
At that moment, Nate planned to pray like a preacher. The proximity to the river was of particular concern. He could shut his eyes and see that anaconda slithering up to his tent.
“You do pray, don't you, Mr. O'Riley?”
“Please call me Nate. Yes, I pray.”
“Are you Irish?”
“I'm a mutt. More German than anything else. My father had Irish ancestors. Family history has never interested me.”
“What church do you attend?”
“Episcopal.” Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal, it didn't matter. Nate hadn't seen the inside of a church since his second wedding.
His spiritual life was a subject he preferred to avoid. Theology was not his long suit, and he didn't want to discuss it with a missionary. She paused, as usual, and he changed directions. “Are these Indians peaceful?”
“For the most part. The Ipicas are not warriors, but they do not trust white people.”
“What about you?”
“I've been here eleven years. They have accepted me.”
“How long did it take?”
“I was lucky because there was a missionary couple here before me. They had learned the language and translated the New Testament. And I'm a doctor. I made friends fast when I helped the women through childbirth.”
“Your Portuguese sounded pretty good.”
“I'm fluent. I speak Spanish, Ipica, and Machiguenga.”
“What is that?”
“The Machiguenga are natives in the mountains of Peru. I was there for six years. I had just become comfortable with the language when they evacuated me.”
“Why?”
“Guerrillas.”
As if snakes and alligators and diseases and floods weren't enough.
“They kidnapped two missionaries in a village not far from me. But God saved them. They were released unharmed four years later.”
“Any guerrillas around here?”
“No. This is Brazil. The people are very peaceful. There are some drug runners, but nobody comes this deep into the Pantanal.”
“Which brings up an interesting point. How far away is the Paraguay River?”
“This time of the year, eight hours.”
“Brazilian hours?”
She smiled at this. “You've learned that time is slower here. Eight to ten hours, American time.”
“By canoe?”
“That's how we travel. I used to have a boat with a motor. But it was old, and it eventually wore out.”
“How long does it take if you have a boat with a motor?”
“Five hours, more or less. It's the flood season, and it's easy to get lost.”
“So I've learned.”
“The rivers run together. You'll need to take one of the fishermen with you when you leave. There's no way you'll find the Paraguay without a guide.”
“And you go once a year?”
“Yes, but I go in the dry season, in August. It's cooler then, not as many mosquitoes.”
“You go alone?”
“No. I get Lako, my Indian friend, to travel with me to the Paraguay. It takes about six hours by canoe when the rivers are down. I'll wait for a boat, then catch a ride to Corumba. I'll stay for a few days, do my business, then catch a boat back.”
Nate thought of how few boats he'd seen on the Paraguay. “Just any boat?”
“Usually a cattle boat. The captains are good about taking passengers.”
She travels by canoe because her old boat wore out. She bums rides on cattle boats to visit Corumba, her only contact with civilization. How would die money change her? Nate asked himself. The question seemed impossible to answer.
He would tell her tomorrow, when the day was fresh, when he was rested and fed and they had hours to deal with the issues. Figures appeared at the edge of the settlement-men walking in their direction.
“Here they are,” she said. “We eat just before dark, then we go to sleep.”
“I guess there's nothing to do afterward.”
“Nothing we can discuss,” she said quickly, and it was funny.
Jevy appeared with a group of Indians, one of whom handed Rachel a small square basket. She passed it to Nate, who removed a small loaf of hard bread.
“This is manioc,” she said. “It's our main food.”
And evidently their only food, at least for that meal. Nate was into his second loaf when they were joined by Indians from the first village. They brought the tent, mosquito net, blankets, and bottled water from the boat.
“We're staying here tonight,” Nate said to Jevy.
“Says who?”
“It's the best spot,” Rachel said. “I would offer you a place in the village, but the leader must first approve a visit by white men.”
“That would be me,” Nate said.
“Yes.”
“And not him?” He nodded at Jevy.
“He went for food, not to sleep. The rules are complicated.”
This struck Nate as funny-primitive natives yet to discover clothing but following a complicated system of rules.
“I would like to leave by noon tomorrow,” Nate said to her.
“That too will be up to the leader.”
“You mean we can't leave when we want?”
“You will leave when he says you can leave. Don't worry.”
“Are you and the chief close?”
“We get along.”
She sent the Indians back to the village. The sun had disappeared over the mountains. The shadows from the forest were engulfing them.
For a few minutes, Rachel watched as Jevy and Nate struggled with the tent. It looked quite small rolled up in its case, and expanded just a little as they hooked the poles together. Nate wasn't sure it would hold Jevy, let alone the both of them. Fully erected, it was waist-high, pitched sharply from the sides, and painfully small for two grown men.
“I'm going,” she announced. “You will be fine here.”
“Promise?” Nate said, with sincerity.
“I can have a couple of boys stand watch if you like.”
“We'll be fine,” Jevy said.
“What time do you folks wake up around here?” Nate asked.
“An hour before sunrise.”
“I'm sure we'll be awake,” Nate said, glancing at the tent. “Can we meet early? We have a lot to discuss.”
“Yes. I'll send some food out at daybreak. Then we'll chat.”
“That would be nice.”
“Say your prayers, Mr. O'Riley.”
“I will.”
She stepped into the darkness and was gone. For a moment, Nate could see her silhouette winding along the trail, then nothing. The village was lost in the blackness of the night.
THEY SAT on the bench for hours, waiting for the air to cool, dreading the moment when they would be forced to pack themselves into the tent and sleep back to back, both smelly and sweaty. There was no choice. The tent, flimsy as it was, would protect them from mosquitoes and other insects. It would also keep out things that crawled.
They talked about the village. Jevy told Indian stories, all of which ended in the death of someone. He finally asked, “Did you tell her about the money?”
“No. I'll do that tomorrow.”
“You've seen her now. What will she think about the money?”
“I have no idea. She's happy here. It seems cruel to upset her life.”
“Then give me the money. It won't upset my life.”
They followed the pecking order. Nate crawled into the tent first. He'd spent the previous night watching the sky from the bottom of the boat, so the fatigue hit fast.
When he was snoring, Jevy slowly unzipped the tent door, and nudged here and there until he had a spot. His pal was unconscious.
TWENTY-EIGHT.
ATER NINE HOURS of sleep, the Ipicas arose before dawn to begin their day. The women built small cooking fires outside their huts, then left with the children for the river, to collect water and to bathe. As a rule, they waited until first light to walk the dirt trails. It was prudent to see what lay before them.
In Portuguese, the snake was known as an urutu. The Indians called it a bima. It was common around the waterways of southern Brazil, and often fatal. The girl's name was Ayesh, age seven, helped into the world by the white missionary. Ayesh was walking in front of her mother instead of behind, as was the custom, and she felt the bima squirm under her bare foot.
It struck her below the ankle as she screamed. By the time her father got to her, she was in shock and her right foot had doubled in size. A boy of fifteen, the fastest runner in the tribe, was dispatched to get Rachel.
There were four small Ipica settlements along two rivers that met in a fork very near the spot where Jevy and Nate had stopped. The distance from the fork to the last Ipica hut was no more than five miles. The settlements were distinct and self-contained little tribes, but they were all Ipicas, with the same language, heritage, and customs. They socialized and intermarried.
Ayesh lived in the third settlement from the fork. Rachel was in the second, the largest. The runner found her as she was reading scriptures in the small hut where she'd lived for eleven years. She quickly checked her supplies and filled her small medical bag.
There were four poisonous snakes in their part of the Pantanal, and at various times Rachel had had the anti-venom for each. But not this time. The runner told her the snake was a bima. Its antivenin was manufactured by a Brazilian company, but she had been unable to find it during her last trip to Corumba. The pharmacies there had less than half the medicines she needed.
She laced her leather boots and left with her bag. Lako and two other boys from her village joined her as she jogged away, through the tall weeds and into the woods.
According to Rachel's statistics, there were eighty-six adult females, eighty-one adult males, and seventy-two children in the four settlements, a total of 239 Ipicas. When she began working with the Ipicas eleven years earlier, there had been 280. Malaria took the weak ones every few years. An outbreak of cholera killed twenty in one village in 1991. If Rachel hadn't insisted on a quarantine, most of the Ipicas would've been wiped out.
With the diligence of an anthropologist, she kept records of births, deaths, weddings, family trees, illnesses, and treatments. Most of the time she knew who was having an extramarital affair, and with whom. She knew every name in every village. She had baptized Ayesh's parents in the river where they bathed.
Ayesh was small and thin, and she would probably die because there was no medicine. The antivenin was readily available in the States and in the larger cities of Brazil, and not terribly expensive. Her small budget from World Tribes would cover it. Three injections in six hours and death could be prevented. Without it, the child would become violently ill with nausea, then a fever would hit, followed by a coma, then death.