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For help with the French language, my Canadian friend Dianne Daigle; for assistance on the Internet, Steve Winter; and for her arduous moral support, Carolyn McCray. For the maps used here, I must acknowledge their source: The CIA World Factbook . Finally, the three folks who remain my best critics and most loyal supporters: my editor, Lyssa Keusch; my agent, Russ Galen; and my publicist, Jim Davis. Last and most important, I must stress that any and all errors of fact or detail fall squarely on my own shoulders.ProloguesJULY , : /pM. calvin klein women
AN AMERINDIAN MISSIONARY VILLAGEAMAZDNAS, BRAZILPadre Garcia Luiz Batista was struggling with his hoe, tilling weeds from the mission's garden, when the stranger stumbled from the jungle. The figure wore a tattered pair of black denim pants and nothing else. Barechested and shoeless, the man fell to his knees among rows of sprouting cassava plants. His skin, burnt a deep mocha, was tattooed with blue and crimson dyes.Mistaking the fellow for one of the local Yanomamo Indians, Padre Batista pushed back his widebrimmed straw hat and greeted the fellow in the Indians' native tongue. calvin klein underwear "Eou, shori," he said. "Welcome, friend, to the mission of Wauwai:"The stranger lifted his face, and Garcia instantly knew his mistake. The fellow's eyes were the deepest blue, a color unnatural among the Amazonian tribes. He also bore a straggled growth of dark beard.Clearly not an Indian, but a white man. calvin klein collection
"Bemvindo," he offered in Portuguese, believing now that the fellow must be one of the ubiquitous peasants from the coastal cities who ventured into the Amazon rain forest to stake a claim and build a better life for themselves. "Be welcome here, my friend:"The poor soul had clearly been in the jungle a long time. His skin was stretched over bone, each rib visible. His black hair was tangled, and his body bore cuts and oozing sores. Flies flocked about him, buzzing and feeding on his wounds. calvin klein underwear When the stranger tried to speak, his parched lips cracked and fresh blood dribbled down his chin. He half crawled toward Garcia, an arm raised in supplication. His words, though, were garbled, unintelligible, a beastly sound.Garcia's first impulse was to retreat from the man, but his calling to God would not let him. The Good Samaritan did not refuse the wayward traveler.