- •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.
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.
“Good. I'll notify the parties as soon as I can identify all of them. There are lots of lawyers.”
“It helps if you remember that there are six kids and three ex-wives, so there are nine principal sets of lawyers.”
“I hope my courtroom is big enough.”
Standing room only, Josh almost said. People packed together, with not a sound as the envelope is opened, the will unfolded, the unbelievable words read. “I suggest you read the will,” Josh said.
Wycliff certainly intended to. He was seeing the same scene as Josh. It would be one of his finest moments, reading a will that disposed of eleven billion dollars.
“I assume the will is somewhat controversial,” the Judge said.
“It's wicked.”
His Honor actually smiled.
TEN.
BEFORE HIS most recent crash, Nate had lived in an aging condo in Georgetown, one he'd leased after his last divorce. But it was gone now, a victim of the bankruptcy. So, literally, there was no place for Nate to spend his first night of freedom.
As usual, Josh had carefully planned the release. He arrived at Walnut Hill on the appointed day with a duffel bag filled with new and neatly pressed J. Crew shorts and shirts for the trip south. He had the passport and the visa, plenty of cash, lots of directions and tickets, a game plan. Even a first-aid kit.
Nate never had the chance to be anxious. He said good-bye to a few members of the staff, but most were busy elsewhere because they avoided departures. He walked proudly through the front door after 140 days of wonderful sobriety; clean, tanned, fit, down 17 pounds to 174, a weight he hadn't known in twenty years.
Josh drove, and for the first five minutes nothing was said. The snow blanketed the pastures, but thinned quickly as they left the Blue Ridge. It was December 22. At a very low volume, the radio played carols.
“Could you turn that off?” Nate finally said.
“What?”
“The radio.”
Josh punched a button, and the music he hadn't heard disappeared.
“How do you feel?” Josh asked.
“Could you pull over at the nearest quick shop?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I'd like to get a six-pack.”
“Very funny.”
“I'd kill for a tall Coca-Cola.”
They bought soft drinks and peanuts at a country store. The lady at the cash register said a cheery “Merry Christmas,” and Nate could not respond. Back in the car, Josh headed for Dulles, two hours away.
“Your flight goes to Sao Paulo, where you'll lay over three hours before catching one to a city called Campo Grande.”
“Do these people speak English?”
“No. They're Brazilian. They speak Portuguese.”
“Of course they do.”
“But you'll find English at the airport.”
“How big is Campo Grande?”
“Half a million, but it's not your destination. From there, you'll catch a commuter flight to a place called Corumba. The towns get smaller.”
“And so do the airplanes.”
“Yes, same as here.”
“For some reason, the idea of a Brazilian commuter flight is not appealing. Help me here, Josh. I'm nervous.”
“Either that or a six-hour bus ride.”
“Keep talking.”
“In Corumba, you'll meet. a lawyer named Valdir Ruiz. He speaks English.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Yes.”
“Could you understand him?”
“Yes, for the most part. A very nice man. Works for about fifty bucks an hour, if you can believe that.”
“How big is Corumba?”
“Ninety thousand.”
“So they'll have food and water, and a place to sleep.”
“Yes, Nate, you'll have a room. That's more than you can say for here.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. Do you want to back out?”
“Yes, but I'm not going to. My goal at this point is to flee this country before I hear ‘Jingle Bells’ again. I'd sleep in a ditch for the next two weeks to avoid ‘Frosty the Snowman.’”
“Forget the ditch. It's a nice hotel.”
“What am I supposed to do with Valdir?”
“He's looking for a guide to take you into the Pantanal.”
“How? Plane? Helicopter?”
“Boat, probably. As I understand the area, it's nothing but swamps and rivers.”
“And snakes, alligators, piranhas.”
“What a little coward you are. I thought you wanted to go.”
“I do. Drive faster.”
“Relax.” Josh pointed to a briefcase behind the passenger's seat. “Open that,” he said. “It's your carry-on bag.”
Nate pulled and grunted. “It weighs a ton. What's in here?”
“Good stuff.”