Zusatztext A compulsory page-turner. Newsweek Grisham includes his trademark legal wrangling! zippy plot and engaging minor characters. . . . His hordes of fans won't be disappointed. USA Today Absorbing . . . The pages fly by. Chicago Tribune Entertaining. The New York Times Book Review Informationen zum Autor John Grisham Klappentext #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLERIn a plush Virginia office, a rich, angry old man is furiously rewriting his will. With his death just hours away, Troy Phelan wants to send a message to his children, his ex-wives, and his minions-a message that will touch off a vicious legal battle and transform dozens of lives. Because Troy Phelan's new will names a sole surprise heir to his eleven-billion-dollar fortune: a mysterious woman named Rachel Lane, a missionary living deep in the jungles of Brazil.Enter the lawyers. Nate O'Riley is fresh out of rehab, a disgraced corporate attorney handpicked for his last job: to find Rachel Lane at any cost. As Phelan's family circles like vultures in D.C., Nate goes crashing through the Brazilian jungle, entering a world where money means nothing, where death is just one misstep away, and where a woman-pursued by enemies and friends alike-holds a stunning surprise of her own. Leseprobe I sit and stare through the tinted glass walls. On a clear day, I can see the top of the Washington Monument six miles away, but not today. Today is raw and cold, windy and overcast, not a bad day to die. The wind blows the last of the leaves from their branches and scatters them through the parking lot below. Why I am worried about the pain? What's wrong with a little suffering? I've caused more misery than any ten people. I push a button and Snead appears. He bows and pushes my wheelchair through the door of my apartment, into the marble foyer, down the marble hall, through another door. We're getting closer, but I feel no anxiety. I've kept the shrinks waiting for over two hours. We pass my office and I nod at Nicolette, my latest secretary, a darling young thing I'm quite fond of. Given some time, she might become number four. But there is no time. Only minutes. A mob is waiting--packs of lawyers and some psychiatrists who'll determine if I'm in my right mind. They are crowded around a long table in my conference room, and when I enter, their conversation stops immediately and everybody stares. Snead situates me on one side of the table, next to my lawyer, Stafford. There are cameras pointing in all directions, and the technicians scramble to get them focused. Every whisper, every move, every breath will be recorded because a fortune is at stake. The last will I signed gave little to my children. Josh Stafford prepared it, as always. I shredded it this morning. I'm sitting here to prove to the world that I am of sufficient mental capacity to make a new will. Once it is proved, the disposition of my assets cannot be questioned. Directly across from me are three shrinks--one hired by each family. On folded index cards before them someone has printed their names--Dr. Zadel, Dr. Flowe, Dr. Theishen. I study their eyes and faces. Since I am supposed to appear sane, I must make eye contact. They expect me to be somewhat loony, but I'm about to eat them for lunch. Stafford will run the show. When everyone is settled and the cameras are ready, he says, "My name is Josh Stafford, and I'm the attorney for Mr. Troy Phelan, seated here to my right." I take on the shrinks, one at a time, eye to eye, glare to glare, until each blinks or looks away. All three wear dark suits. Zadel and Flowe have scraggly beards. Theishen has a bow tie and looks no more than thirty. The families were given the right to hire anyone they wanted. Stafford is talking. "The purpose of this ...

“A compulsory page-turner.”—Newsweek

“Grisham includes his trademark legal wrangling, zippy plot and engaging minor characters. . . . His hordes of fans won’t be disappointed.”—*USA Today

• “Absorbing . . . The pages fly by.”—Chicago Tribune
   
  “Entertaining.”—The New York Times Book Review

  Autorentext

  John Grisham

  Klappentext

  1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER In a plush Virginia office, a rich, angry old man is furiously rewriting his will. With his death just hours away, Troy Phelan wants to send a message to his children, his ex-wives, and his minions-a message that will touch off a vicious legal battle and transform dozens of lives. Because Troy Phelan's new will names a sole surprise heir to his eleven-billion-dollar fortune: a mysterious woman named Rachel Lane, a missionary living deep in the jungles of Brazil. Enter the lawyers. Nate O'Riley is fresh out of rehab, a disgraced corporate attorney handpicked for his last job: to find Rachel Lane at any cost. As Phelan's family circles like vultures in D.C., Nate goes crashing through the Brazilian jungle, entering a world where money means nothing, where death is just one misstep away, and where a woman-pursued by enemies and friends alike-holds a stunning surprise of her own.

  Zusammenfassung
  #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A disgraced corporate attorney ventures into a potentially lethal jungle, on a job no one wants, in this “entertaining page-turner” (USA Today) from the master of the legal thriller.
  ****
  In a plush Virginia office, a rich, angry old man is furiously rewriting his will. With his death just hours away, Troy Phelan wants to send a message to his children, his ex-wives, and his minions—a message that will touch off a vicious legal battle and transform dozens of lives.

  Because Troy Phelan’s new will names a sole surprise heir to his eleven-billion-dollar fortune: a mysterious woman named Rachel Lane, a missionary living deep in the jungles of Brazil.

  Enter the lawyers. Nate O’Riley is fresh out of rehab, handpicked for his last job: to find Rachel Lane at any cost. As Phelan’s family circles like vultures in D.C., Nate goes crashing through the Brazilian jungle, entering a world where money means nothing, where death is just one misstep away, and where a woman—pursued by enemies and friends alike—holds a stunning surprise of her own.

  Leseprobe
  I sit and stare through the tinted glass walls. On a clear day, I can see the top of the Washington Monument six miles away, but not today. Today is raw and cold, windy and overcast, not a bad day to die. The wind blows the last of the leaves from their branches and scatters them through the parking lot below.

  Why I am worried about the pain? What's wrong with a little suffering? I've caused more misery than any ten people.

  I push a button and Snead appears. He bows and pushes my wheelchair through the door of my apartment, into the marble foyer, down the marble hall, through another door. We're getting closer, but I feel no anxiety.

  I've kept the shrinks waiting for over two hours.

  We pass my office and I nod at Nicolette, my latest secretary, a darling young thing I'm quite fond of. Given some time, she might become number four.

  But there is no time. Only minutes.

  A mob is waiting--packs of lawyers and some psychiatrists who'll determine if I'm in my right mind. They are crowded around a long table in my conference room, and when I enter, their conversation stops immediately and everybody stares. Snead situates me on one side of the table, next to my lawyer, Stafford.

  There are cameras pointing in all directions, and the technicians scramble to get them focused. Every whisper, every move, every breath will be recorded because a fortune is at stake.

  The last will I signed gave little to my children. Josh Stafford prepared it, as always. I shredded it this morning.

  I'm sitting here to prove to the world that I am of sufficient mental capacity to make a new will. Once it is…