CHAPTER ELEVENA DROP OF SWEAT splatted on the page. Rita Donaldson wiped it away with her little finger, pulled her head from over the papers and continued reading, making notes in the margin. Slowly she leaned forward, attempting to keep her back in the shade of the large umbrella, attempting to avoid Phnom Penh’s parching January sun. It was only her third day in Southeast Asia, her first full day in Cambodia. Another drop of sweat splatted on the report. She straightened her back, angry, frustrated, rolled her head back, up, until she was looking into the segmented underside of the umbrella which covered the cafe table. Then she thought, smiled inwardly at the thought, that she was like Alice sitting beneath a massive mushroom.
For two years Rita Donaldson had worked a rewrite desk in
