The doctor checked his temperature again. "It should begin falling soon," he told the nurse. "If not, call me at home." He glanced at his watch.
"Thanks," Valdir said.
"I'll see him early in the morning," the doctor said, and left them there.
Jevy lived on the edge of town, where the houses were small, the streets unpaved. He fell asleep twice as Valdir drove him home.
MRS. STAFFORD was shopping for antiques in London. The phone rang a dozen times before Josh grabbed it. The digital gave the time as 2:20 A.M.
"This is Valdir," the voice announced.
"Oh yes, Valdir." Josh rubbed his hair and blinked his eyes. "This better be good."
"Your boy is back."
"Thank God."
"He's very sick, though."
"What! What's the matter with him?"
"He has dengue fever, similar to malaria. Mosquitoes carry it. It is not uncommon here."
"I thought he had shots for everything." Josh was on his feet, bent at the waist, pulling his hair now.
"There is no shot for dengue."
"He's not going to die, is he?"
"Oh, no. He's in the hospital. I have a good friend who is a doctor', and he's taking care of him. He says your boy will be fine."
"When can I talk to him?"
"Maybe tomorrow. He has a high fever and he's unconscious."
"Did he find the woman?"
"Yes."
Atta boy, thought Josh. He exhaled in relief and sat on the bed. So she's really out there. "Give me his room number."
"Well, they don't have phones in the rooms."
"It's a private room, isn't it? Come on, Valdir, money is no problem here. Tell me he's being taken care of."
"He is in good hands. But the hospital is a little different from yours."
"Should I come down there?"
"If you wish. It's not necessary. You can't change the hospital. He has a good doctor."
"How long will he be there?"
"A few days. We should know more in the morning."
"Call me early, Valdir. I mean it. I have to talk to him as soon as possible."
"Yes, I will call early."
Josh went to the kitchen for ice water. Then he paced around his den. At three, he gave up, made a pot of strong coffee, and went to his office in the basement.
BECAUSE HE WAS a rich American, they cut no corners. Nate got pumped into his veins the best drugs available from the pharmacy. The fever dipped a little, the sweating stopped. The pain vanished, washed away by a tide of the finest American-made chemicals. He was snoring heavily as the nurse and an orderly rolled him to his room, two hours after his arrival.
He would share the room for the night with five others. Mercifully, he was blindfolded and comatose. He couldn't see the open sores, the uncontrolled shaking of the old man next to him, the lifeless shriveled creature across the room. He couldn't smell the waste.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I HOUGH HE HELD no assets in his own name, and had I been on the financial ropes for most of his adult life, Rex Phelan had a talent for numbers. It was one of the very few things he inherited from his father. He was the only Phelan heir with both the aptitude and the stamina to read all six of the petitions contesting Troy's will. When he finished, he realized that six law firms were basically duplicating each other's work. In fact, some of the legalese sounded as if it had been borrowed from the last petition, or the next one.
Six firms fighting the same fight, and each wanting an exorbitant piece of the pie. It was time for a little familial harmony. He decided to begin with his brother TJ, who was the easiest target because his lawyers were clinging to their ethics.
The two brothers agreed to meet in secret; their wives hated each other and discord could be avoided if the women simply didn't know. Rex told Troy Junior on the phone that it was time to bury the hatchet. Economics demanded it.
They met for breakfast in a suburban pancake house, and after a few minutes of waffles and football talk the edge was off. Rex got down to business by telling the Snead story. "This is enormous," he gushed. "It could literally make or break our case." He layered the story, slowing building to the promissory note the lawyers wanted to sign, all lawyers except for Troy Junior's. "Your attorneys are screwing up the deal," he said grimly, eyes darting around as if spies were grazing at the egg and bacon bar.
"Son of a bitch wants five million?" Troy Junior said, still in disbelief over Snead.
"It's a bargain. Look, he's willing to say he was the only person with Dad when he wrote the will. Whatever it takes to strike it down. He only wants half a million now. We can screw him out of the rest of it later."
This appealed to Troy Junior. And changing law firms was certainly nothing new to him. If he'd been candid, he would have admitted that Hemba and Hamilton's firm was intimidating. Four hundred lawyers. Marble foyers. Art on the wall. Somebody was paying for their good taste.
Rex switched gears. "Have you read the six petitions?" he asked.
Troy Junior chomped a strawberry and shook his head no. He hadn't even read the one filed on his behalf. Hemba and Hamilton had discussed it with him, and he'd signed it, but it was thick and Biff had been waiting in the car.
"Well I've read them, slowly and carefully, and they're all the same. We have six law firms doing the same work, all attacking the same will. It's absurd."
"I've been thinking about that," Troy Junior added helpfully.
"And all six expect to get rich when we settle. How much are your boys getting?"
"How much is Hark Gettys getting?"
"Twenty - five percent."
"Mine wanted thirty. We agreed on twenty," There was a quick flash of pride because Troy Junior had out-negotiated Rex.
"Let's play with the numbers," Rex continued. "Hypothetically, let's say we hire Snead, he says all the right things, we got our shrinks, the mess gets stirred up, and the estate wants to settle. Let's say each heir gets, I don't know, say twenty million. That's forty at this table. Five goes to Hark. Four goes to your boys. That's nine, so we get thirty-one."
"I'll take it."
"Me too. But if we take your boys out of the picture, and join up, then Hark will cut his fee. We don't need all these lawyers, TJ. They're just riding each other's backs and waiting to pounce on our money."
"I hate Hark Gettys."
"Fine. Let me deal with him. I'm not asking you to be friends."
"Why don't we fire Hark and stick with my guys?"
"Because Hark found Snead. Because Hark found the bank that'll loan the money to buy Snead. Because Hark is willing to sign the papers and your boys are too ethical. This is a nasty business, TJ. Hark understands it."
"He strikes me as being a crooked bastard."
"Yes! And he's our crook. If we join forces, his take goes from twenty-five to twenty. If we can bring in Mary Ross, then he'll cut it to seventeen-five. Libbigail, down to fifteen."
"We'll never get Libbigail."
"There's always a chance. If the three of us are on board, she might listen."
"What about that thug she's married to?" Troy Junior actually asked the question with complete sincerity. He was talking to his brother, who was married to a stripper.
"We'll take 'em one at a time. Let's cut our deal, then we go see Mary Ross. Her lawyer is that Grit guy, and he doesn't strike me as being too sharp."