AFTER ELEVEN DAYS of confinement1, Clay was finally set free. A lighter2 cast was placed on his left leg, and, though he couldn't walk, he could at least maneuver3 a little. Paulette pushed his wheelchair out of the hospital to a rented van driven by Oscar. Fifteen minutes later, they rolled him into his town house and locked the door. Paulette and Miss Glick had turned the downstairs den5 into a temporary bedroom. His phones, fax, and computer had been moved to a folding table near his bed. His clothes were stacked neatly6 on plastic shelves by the fireplace.
For the first two hours he was home, he read mail and financial reports and clippings, but only what Paulette had screened. Most of what had been printed about Clay was kept away from him.
Later, after a nap, he sat at the kitchen table with Paulette and Oscar announced that it was time to start.
The unraveling began.
THE FIRST ISSUE WAS his law firm. Crittle had managed to trim a few costs, but the overhead was still galloping7 along at a million bucks8 a month. With no current revenues, and none expected, immediate9 layoffs10 were unavoidable. They went down a list of the employees— lawyers, paralegals, secretaries, clerks, gofers—and made the painful cuts. Though they considered the Maxatil cases worthless, it would still take work to close the files. Clay kept four lawyers and four paralegals for the job. He was determined11 to honor every contract he'd signed with his employees, but to do so would eat up some badly needed cash.
Clay looked at the names of the employees who had to go, and it made him ill. "I want to sleep on this," he said, unable to make the final decision.
"Most of them are expecting it, Clay," Paulette said.
He stared at the names and tried to imagine the gossip that had been raging about him in the halls of his own firm.
Two days earlier, Oscar had reluctantly agreed to go to New York and meet with Helen Warshaw. He had presented a broad picture of Clay Carter's assets and potential liabilities, and basically begged for mercy. His boss did not want to file for bankruptcy13, but if pushed too hard by Ms. Warshaw he would have no choice. She had been unimpressed. Clay was a member of a group of lawyers, her defendants14, with a combined net worth that she estimated at $1.5 billion. She could not allow Clay to settle his cases for, say, a meager15 $1 million each, when the same cases against Patton French might fetch three times that much. Plus, she was not in a settling mood. The trial would be an important one—a bold effort at reforming abuses in the system, a media-hyped spectacle. She planned to savor16 every moment of it.
Oscar returned to D.C. with his tail between his legs, certain that Helen Warshaw, as the lawyer for Clay's biggest group of creditors17, wanted blood!
The dreaded18 word bankruptcy had first been uttered by Rex Crittle in Clay's hospital room. It had cut through the air like a bullet and landed like a mortar19. Then it was used again. Clay began saying it, but only to himself. Paulette said it once. Oscar had used it in New York. It didn't fit and they didn't like it, but over the past week it had become part of their vocabulary.
The office lease could be terminated, through bankruptcy.
The employment contracts could be compromised, through bankruptcy.
The Gulfstream could be sent back on better terms, through bankruptcy.
The disgruntled Maxatil clients could be stiff-armed, through bankruptcy.
The disgruntled Hanna plaintiffs could be convinced to settle, through bankruptcy.
And, most important, Helen Warshaw could be reined20 in, through bankruptcy.
Oscar was almost as depressed21 as Clay, and after a few hours of misery22 he left for the office. Paulette rolled Clay outside and onto the small patio23 where they had a cup of green tea with honey. "I got two things to say," she said, sitting very close and staring at him. "First, I'm going to give you some of my money."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am. You made me rich when you didn't have to.
I can't help it that you're a stupid white boy who's lost
his ass12, but I still love you. I'm going to help you, Clay."
"Can you believe this, Paulette?"
"No. It's beyond belief, but it's true. It's happened. And things'll get much worse before they get better. Don't read the papers, Clay. Please. Promise me that."
"Don't worry."
"I'm going to help you. If you lose everything, I'll be around to make sure you're okay."
"I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing."
They held hands and Clay fought back tears. A moment passed. "Number two," she said. "I've been talking to Rebecca. She's afraid to see you because she might get caught. She's got a new cell phone, one her husband knows nothing about. She gave me the number. She wants you to call her."
" Female advice please?"
"Not from me. You know how I feel about that Russian hussy. Rebecca's a sweet girl, but she's got some baggage, to put it mildly. You're on your own."
"Thanks for nothing."
"You're welcome. She wanted you to call her this afternoon. Husband's out of town or something. I'll leave in a few minutes."
REBECCA PARKED AROUND THE corner and hustled24 down Dumbarton Street to Clay's door. She was not good at sneaking25 around; neither was he. The first thing they decided26 was that they would not continue it.
She and Jason Myers had decided to dissolve their marriage amicably27. He had initially28 wanted to seek counseling and delay a divorce, but he also preferred to work eighteen hours a day, whether in D.C., New York, Palo Alto, or Hong Kong. His massive firm had offices in thirty-two cities, and he had clients around the world. Work was more important than anything else. He'd simply left her, with no apologies and with no plans to change his ways. The papers would be filed in two days. She was already packing her bags. Jason would keep the condo; she had been vague on where she would go. In less than a year of marriage, they had accumulated little. He was a partner who made $800,000 a year, but she wanted none of his money.
According to Rebecca, her parents had not interfered30. They had not had the opportunity. Myers didn't like them, which was no surprise, and Clay suspected that one reason he preferred the firm's branch office in Hong Kong was because it was so far away from the Van Horns.
Both had a reason to run. Clay would not, under any circumstances, remain in D.C. in the years to come. His humiliation31 was too raw and deep, and there was a big world out there where people didn't know him. He craved32 anonymity33. For the first time in her life, Rebecca just wanted to get away—away from a bad marriage, away from her family, away from the country club and the insufferable people who went there, away from the pressures of making money and accumulating stuff, away from McLean and the only friends she'd ever known.
It took an hour for Clay to get her in the bed, but sex was impossible, with the casts and all. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her and make up for lost time.
She spent the night and decided not to leave. Over coffee the next morning, Clay began with Tequila Watson and Tarvan and told her everything.
PAULETTE AND OSCAR RETURNED with more unpleasantries from the office. Some instigator34 up in Howard County was encouraging the homeowners to file ethics35 complaints against Clay for the botched Hanna settlement. Several dozen had been received by the D.C. Bar. Six lawsuits36 had been filed against Clay, all by the same attorney who was actively37 soliciting38 more. Clay's office was finalizing39 a settlement plan to be put before the judge in the Hanna bankruptcy. Oddly enough, the firm might be awarded a fee, though one far less than what Clay had turned down.
There was an urgent Warshaw motion to take the depositions40 of several of the Dyloft plaintiffs. Urgency was required because they were dying, and their video depositions would be crucial to the trial, which was expected in about a year. To employ the usual defense41 tactics of stall, delay, postponement42, and outright43 procrastination44 would have been enormously unfair to these plaintiffs. Clay agreed to the schedule of depositions suggested by Ms. Warshaw, though he had no plans to attend them.
Under pressure from Oscar, Clay finally agreed to lay off ten lawyers and most of the paralegals, secretaries, and clerks. He signed letters to every one of them—brief and very apologetic. He took full responsibility for the demise45 of his firm.
Frankly46, there was no one else to blame.
A letter to the Maxatil clients was hammered out. In it, Clay recapped the Mooneyham trial in Phoenix47. He held to the belief that the drug was dangerous, but proving causation would now be "very difficult, if not impossible." The company was not willing to consider an out-of-court settlement, and, given Clay's current medical problems, he was not in a position to prepare for an extended trial.
He hated to use his beating as an excuse, but Oscar prevailed. It sounded believable in the letter. At this low point in his career, he had to grab whatever advantage he could find.
He was therefore releasing each client, and doing so in sufficient time for each to hire another lawyer and pursue Goffman. He even wished them luck.
The letters would cause a storm of controversy48. "We'll handle it," Oscar kept saying. "At least we'll be rid of these people."
Clay couldn't help but think of Max Pace, his old pal29 who'd gotten him into the Maxatil business. Pace, one of at least five aliases49, had been indicted50 for securities fraud, but had not been found. His indictment51 claimed that he used insider information to sell almost a million shares of Goffman before Clay filed suit. Later, he covered his sale and slipped out of the country with around $15 million. Run, Max, run. If he was caught and hauled back for a trial he might spill all their dirty secrets.
There were a hundred other details on Oscar's checklist, but Clay grew weary.
"Am I playing nurse tonight?" Paulette whispered in the kitchen.
"No, Rebecca's here."
"You love trouble, don't you?"
"She's filing for divorce tomorrow. An uncontested divorce."
"What about the bimbo?"
"She's history if she ever comes back from St. Barth."
For the next week, Clay never left his town house. Rebecca packed all of Ridley's things into 30-gallon trash bags and stuffed them in the basement. She moved in some of her own stuff, though Clay warned her that he was about to lose the house. She cooked wonderful meals and nursed him whenever he needed it. They watched old movies until midnight, then slept late every morning. She drove him to see his doctor.
Ridley called every other day from the island. Clay did not tell her she'd lost her place; he preferred to do that in person, when and if she returned. The renovation52 was coming along nicely, though Clay had seriously curtailed53 the budget. She seemed oblivious54 to his financial problems.
THE LAST LAWYER TO enter Clay's life was Mark Munson, a bankruptcy expert who specialized55 in large, messy, individual crashes. Crittle had found him. After Clay retained him, Crittle showed him the books, the leases, the contracts, the lawsuits, the assets, and the liabilities. Everything. When Munson and Crittle came to the town house, Clay asked Rebecca to leave. He wanted to spare her the gruesome details.
In the seventeen months since he'd left OPD, Clay had earned $121 million in fees—$30 million had been paid to Rodney, Paulette, and Jonah as bonuses; $20 million had gone for office expenses and the Gulfstream; $16 million down the drain for advertising56 and testing for Dyloft, Maxatil, and Skinny Bens; $34 million for taxes, either paid or accrued57; $4 million for the villa58; $3 million for the sailboat, A million here and there—the town house, the "loan" to Max Pace, and the usual and expected extravagances of the newly rich.
Jarrett's fancy new catamaran was an interesting issue. Clay had paid for it, but the Bahamian company that held its title was owned completely by his father. Munson thought the bankruptcy court might take one of two positions—either it was a gift, which would require Clay to pay gift taxes, or it was simply owned by someone else and thus not part of Clay's estate. Either way, the boat remained the property of Jarrett Carter.
Clay had also earned $7.1 million trading in Ackerman stock, and though some of this was buried offshore59 it was about to be hauled back. "If you hide assets you go to jail," Munson lectured, leaving little doubt that he did not tolerate such thinking.
The balance sheet showed a net worth of approximately $19 million, with few creditors. However, the contingent60 liabilities were catastrophic. Twenty-six former clients were now suing for the Dyloft fiasco. That number was expected to rise, and though it was impossible to throw darts61 at the value of each case, Clay's legitimate62 exposure was significantly more than his net worth. The Hanna class-action plaintiffs were festering and getting organized. The Maxatil backlash would be nasty and prolonged. None of those expenses could be predicted either.
"Let the bankruptcy trustee deal with it," Munson said. "You'll walk away with the shirt on your back, but at least you won't owe anything."
"Gee63 thanks," Clay said, still thinking about the sailboat. If they were successful in keeping it away from the bankruptcy, then Jarrett could sell it, buy something smaller, and Clay could have some cash to live on.
After two hours with Munson and Crittle, the kitchen table was covered with spreadsheets and printouts and discarded notes, a debris-strewn testament64 to the past seventeen months of his life. He was ashamed of his greed and embarrassed by his stupidity. It was sickening what the money had done to him.
The thought of leaving helped him survive each day.
RIDLEY CALLED FROM St. Barth with the alarming news that a FOR SALE sign had appeared in front of "their" villa.
"That's because it's now for sale," Clay said. "I don't understand." "Come home and I'll explain it to you." "Is there trouble?" "You might say that." After a long pause, she said, "I prefer to stay here." "I can't make you come home, Ridley." "No, you can't." "Fine. Stay in the villa until it sells. I don't care." "How long will that be?" He could see her doing everything imaginable to
sabotage65 a potential sale. At the moment, Clay just didn't care. "Maybe a month, maybe a year. I don't know."
"I'm staying," she said. "Fine."
RODNEY FOUND HIS OLD friend sitting on the front steps of his picturesque66 town house, crutches67 by his side, a shawl over his shoulders to knock off the autumn chill. The wind was spinning leaves in circles along Dumbarton Street.
"Need some fresh air," Clay said. "I've been locked in there for three weeks."
"How are the bones?" Rodney asked, as he sat beside him and looked at the street.
"Healing nicely."
Rodney had left the city and become a real suburbanite68. Khakis and sneakers, a fancy SUV to haul kids around. "How's your head?"
"No additional brain damage."
"How's your soul?"
"Tortured, to say the least. But I'll survive."
"Paulette says you're leaving."
"For a while, anyway. I'll file for bankruptcy next week, and I will not be around here when it happens. Paulette has a flat in London that I can use for a few months. We'll hide there."
"You can't avoid a bankruptcy?"
"No way. There are too many claims, and good ones. Remember our first Dyloft plaintiff, Ted4 Worley?"
"Sure."
"He died yesterday. I didn't pull the trigger, but I sure didn't protect him either. His case in front of a jury is worth five million bucks. There are twenty-six of those. I'm going to London."
"Clay, I want to help."
"I'm not taking your money. That's why you're here, and I know it. I've had this conversation twice with Paulette and once with Jonah. You made your money and you were smart enough to cash out. I wasn't."
"But we're not going to let you die, man. You didn't have to give us ten million bucks. But you did. We're
giving some back." "No." "Yes. The three of us have talked about it. We'll wait
until the bankruptcy is over, then each of us will do a
transfer. A gift." "You earned that money, Rodney. Keep it." "Nobody earns ten million dollars in six months, Clay.
You might win it, steal it, or have it drop out of the sky, but nobody earns money like that. It's ridiculous and obscene. I'm giving some back. So is Paulette. Not sure about Jonah, but he'll come around."
"How are the kids?" "You're changing the subject." "Yes, I'm changing the subject." So they talked about kids, and old friends at OPD, and
old clients and cases there. They sat on the front steps until after dark, when Rebecca arrived and it was time for dinner.
收听单词发音 |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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layoffs
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| 临时解雇( layoff的名词复数 )； 停工，停止活动 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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defendants
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| 被告( defendant的名词复数 ) | |
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meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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initially
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| adv.最初，开始 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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anonymity
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| n.the condition of being anonymous | |
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instigator
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| n.煽动者 | |
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ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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lawsuits
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| n.诉讼( lawsuit的名词复数 ) | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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soliciting
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| v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
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finalizing
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| vt.完成（finalize的现在分词形式） | |
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depositions
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| 沉积（物）( deposition的名词复数 )； （在法庭上的）宣誓作证； 处置； 罢免 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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postponement
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| n.推迟 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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procrastination
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| n.拖延，耽搁 | |
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demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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aliases
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| n.别名，化名( alias的名词复数 ) | |
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indicted
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| 控告，起诉( indict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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renovation
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| n.革新，整修 | |
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curtailed
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| v.截断，缩短( curtail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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specialized
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| adj.专门的，专业化的 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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accrued
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| adj.权责已发生的v.增加( accrue的过去式和过去分词 )；（通过自然增长）产生；获得；（使钱款、债务）积累 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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offshore
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| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
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contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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61
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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63
gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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64
testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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65
sabotage
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| n.怠工，破坏活动，破坏；v.从事破坏活动，妨害，破坏 | |
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66
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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67
crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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68
suburbanite
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| n. 郊区居民 | |
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