"Five million."
"That's a lot."
"It's nothing. I'll take it from this side, or the other. It doesn't matter."
"How am I supposed to get five million bucks to you?"
"Don't know. I'm not a lawyer. I figure you and your cronies can conjure up some dirty little plan."
There was a long pause as Hark began the conjuring. He had a lot of questions, but suspected he wouldn't get a lot of answers. At least not now.
"Any more witnesses?" he asked.
"Only one. Her name is Nicolette. She was Mr. Phelan's last secretary."
"How much does she know?"
"Depends. She can be bought."
"You've already talked to her."
"Every day. We're a package."
"How much for her?"
"She'll be covered in the five million."
"A real bargain. Anybody else?"
"No one of consequence."
Hark closed his eyes and massaged both temples. "I don't object to your five million," he said, pinching his nose. "I just don't know how we can funnel it to you."
"I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Give me some time, okay? I need to think about this."
"I'm in no hurry. I'll give you a week. If you say no, then I'll go to the other side."
"There is no other side."
"Don't be so certain."
"You know something about Rachel Lane?"
"I know everything," Snead said, then left the office.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I HE FIRST STREAKS of dawn brought no surprises. I They were tied to a tree at the edge of a small river that looked like all the others they'd seen. The clouds were heavy again; the light of day came slowly.
Breakfast was a small box of cookies, the last of the rations Welly had packed for them. Nate ate slowly, wondering with each bite when he might eat again.
The current was strong, so they drifted with it as the sun rose. The only sound was the rush of the water. They were conserving gas and delaying the moment when Jevy would be forced to try and start the motor.
They drifted into a flooded area where three streams met, and for a few moments sat in the stillness.
"I guess we're lost, aren't we?" Nate said.
"I know exactly where we are."
"Where?"
"We're in the Pantanal. And all rivers run to the Paraguay."
"Eventually."
"Yes, eventually." Jevy removed the top cover of the motor and wiped the moisture from the carburetor. He adjusted the throttle, checked the oil, then tried to start the motor. On the fifth pull, the motor caught and sputtered, then quit.
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.
To their surprise, they heard a shout. The voice was high, like that of a young girl. The sputtering of the motor had attracted the attention of another human. The voice came from a weedy marsh along the bank of a converging stream. Jevy yelled and a few seconds later the voice yelled back.
A kid of no more than fifteen came through the weeds in a tiny canoe, hand-carved from the trunk of a tree. With a homemade paddle he cut through the water with amazing ease and speed. "Bom dia," he said with a wide smile. The little face was brown and square, and probably the most beautiful Nate had seen in years. He threw a rope and the two boats were attached.
A long lazy conversation ensued, and after a while Nate was agitated. "What's he saying?" he snapped at Jevy.
The kid looked at Nate, and Jevy said, "Americana."
"He says we're a great distance from the Cabixa River," Jevy said.
"I could've told you that."
"He says the Paraguay is a half a day to the east."
"By canoe, right?"
"No, by plane."
"Funny. How long will it take us?"
"Four hours, more or less."
Five, maybe six hours. And that was with a properly running motor. It would take a week if they were forced to paddle.
The Portuguese resumed, in no particular hurry. The canoe was empty except for a roll of fishing line wrapped around a tin can, and a jar of mud which Nate assumed contained worms or some type of bait. What did he know about fishing? He scratched his mosquito bites.
A year ago he'd been skiing in Utah with the boys. The drink of the day had been some type of tequila concoction, which, typically, Nate consumed with gusto until he passed out. The hangover had lasted for two days.
There was a flourish in the chatter, and suddenly they were pointing. Jevy looked at him as he spoke.
"What is it?" Nate asked.
"The Indians are not far away."
"How far?"
"One hour, maybe two."
"Can he take us there?"
"I know the way."
"I'm sure you do. But I'd feel better if he'd tag along."
It was a slight affront to Jevy's pride, but under the circumstances he could not argue. "He may want a little money."
"Whatever." If the kid only knew. The Phelan estate on one side of the table, and this skinny little pantaneiro on the other. Nate smiled at the mental picture. How about a fleet of canoes, with rods and reels and depth finders? Just name it, son, and it's yours.
"Ten reals," Jevy said, after brief negotiations.
"Fine." For about ten bucks, they would be delivered to Rachel Lane.
A plan was devised. Jevy tilted the outboard so that the prop was out of the water, and they began paddling. They followed the boy in the canoe for twenty minutes until they entered a small shallow stream with rapid currents. Nate withdrew his paddle, caught his breath, and wiped sweat from his face. His heart was pounding and his muscles were already tired. The clouds were breaking up, so the sun was bearing down.
Jevy went to work on the motor. Luckily it started, and kept running, and they followed the boy, his canoe easily outpacing them and their sputtering outboard.
IT WAS ALMOST ONE when they found the higher ground. The floodwaters gradually disappeared, so that the rivers were lined with thick brush and the trees were dense. The kid was somber and, oddly, concerned with the position of the sun.
Just up there, he told Jevy. Just around the bend. He seemed afraid to go further.
I'll stop here, he said. I need to return home.
Nate handed him the money, and they thanked him. He headed back with the current and disappeared quickly. They plowed ahead, the outboard halting and struggling at half-speed, but getting them there nonetheless.
The river ran into a forest where the trees hung low over the water, so low that they weaved together above and formed a tunnel that blocked out light. It was dark, and the uneven hum of their motor resounded from the banks. Nate had the eerie suspicion that they were being watched. He could almost feel the arrows being aimed at him. He braced for an attack of deadly blow darts by savages dressed in war paint and trained to kill anyone with a white face.
But they saw children first, happy little brown bodies splashing in the water. The tunnel ended near a settlement.
The mothers were bathing too, just as completely naked as their children, and thoroughly unconcerned about it. At first, they retreated to the bank when they saw the johnboat. Jevy killed the engine and began talking and smiling as they drifted in. An older girl ran away, in the direction of the settlement.
"Fala portugues?" Jevy asked the crowd of four women and seven children. They just stared. The smaller ones hid behind their mothers. The women were short, with thick bodies and small breasts.