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.

Since the phone seldom rang, he grabbed it quickly, certain it was trouble. A female voice said, “Nate O'Riley, please.”

“This is Nate O'Riley.”

“Good evening, sir. My name is Neva Collier, and I received a letter from you for our friend in Brazil.”

The covers flew off as Nate jumped from the bed. “Yes! You got my letter?”

“We did. I read it this morning, and I will send Rachel's letter to her.”

“Wonderful. How does she get mail?”

“I send it to Corumba, at certain times of the year.”

“Thank you. I'd like to write her again.”

“That's fine, but please don't put her name on the envelopes.”

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.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, except that no one here knows who she is. No one but me. Now with your involvement, there are two people in the world who know where she is and who she is.”

“She swore me to secrecy.”

“Was she difficult to find?”

“You could say that. I wouldn't worry about others finding her.”

“But how did you do it?”

“Her father did it. You know about Troy Phelan?”

“Yes. I'm clipping news stories.”

“Before he left this world, he tracked her to the Pantanal. I have no idea how he did it.”

“He had the means.”

“Yes he did. We knew generally where she was, and I went down there, hired a guide, got lost, and found her. Do you know her well?”

“I'm not sure anyone knows Rachel well. I speak to her once a year in August, from Corumba. She tried a furlough five years ago, and I had lunch with her one day. But no, I don't know her that well.”

“Have you heard from her recently?”

“No.”

Rachel had been in Corumba two weeks earlier. He knew this for a fact because she had come to the hospital. She had spoken to him, touched him, and then vanished along with his fevers. But she hadn't called the home office? How strange.

“She is doing well,” he said. “Very much at home with her people.”

“Why did you track her down?”

“Someone had to. Do you understand what her father did?”

“I'm trying to.”

“Someone had to notify Rachel, and it had to be a lawyer. I just happened to be the only one in our firm with nothing better to do.”

“And now you're representing her?”

“You are paying attention, aren't you?”

“We may have more than a passing interest. She is one of us, and she is, shall we say, out of the loop.”

“That would be an understatement.”

“What does she plan to do about her father's estate?”

Nate rubbed his eyes and paused to slow the conversation. The nice lady on the other end was stepping over the line. He doubted if she realized it. “I don't want to be rude, Ms. Collier, but I can't discuss with you things Rachel and I talked about pertaining to her father's estate.”

“Of course not. I wasn't trying to pry. It's just that I'm not sure what World Tribes should do at this point.”

“Nothing. You have no involvement unless Rachel asks you to step in.”

“I see. So I'll just follow events in the newspapers.”

“I'm sure the proceedings will be well documented.”

“You mentioned certain things she needs down there.”

Nate told her the story of the little girl who died because Rachel had no antivenin. “She can't find enough medical supplies in Corumba. I'd love to send her whatever she needs.”

“Thank you. Send the money to my attention at World Tribes, and I'll make sure she gets the supplies. We have four thousand Rachels around the world, and our budgets get stretched.”

“Are the others as remarkable as Rachel?”

“Yes. They are chosen by God.”

They agreed to keep in touch. Nate could send all the letters he wanted. Neva would ship them to Corumba. If either one heard from Rachel, he or she would call the other.

Back in bed, Nate replayed the phone call. The things that weren't said were amazing. Rachel had just learned from him that her father had died and left her one of the world's great fortunes. She then sneaked into Corumba because she knew from Lako that Nate was very ill. And then she left, without calling anyone at World Tribes to discuss the money.

When he left her on the riverbank, he was convinced that she had no interest in the money. Now he was convinced even more.

FORTY-FOUR.

THE DEPOSITION DERBY began on Monday, February 1 17, in a long bare room in the Fairfax County Courthouse. It was a witness room, but Judge Wycliff had pulled strings and reserved it for the last two weeks of the month. At least fifteen people were scheduled to be deposed, and the lawyers had been unable to agree on places and times. Wycliff had intervened. The depositions would be taken in an orderly fashion, one after the other, hour after hour, day after day, until finished. Such a marathon was rare, but then, so were the stakes. The lawyers had shown an amazing ability to clear their calendars for the discovery phase of the Phelan matter. Trials had been postponed; other depositions wiggled out of; important deadlines delayed yet again; briefs shoved off on other partners; vacations happily put off until summer. Associates were sent to handle lesser chores. Nothing was as important as the Phelan mess.

For Nate, the prospect of spending two weeks in a room crowded with lawyers, grilling witnesses, was a misery just short of hell itself.