The jury was ready.
After forty-two hours of deliberations that followed seventy-one days of trial that included 530 hours of testimony1 from four dozen witnesses, and after a lifetime of sitting silently as the lawyers haggled2 and the judge lectured and the spectators watched like hawks3 for telltale signs, the jury was ready. Locked away in the jury room, secluded4 and secure, ten of them proudly signed their names to the verdict while the other two pouted5 in their corners, detached and miserable6 in their dissension.
There were hugs and smiles and no small measure of self-congratulation because they had survived this little war and could now march proudly back into the arena7 with a decision they had rescued through sheer determination and the dogged pursuit of compromise. Their ordeal8 was over; their civic9 duty complete. They had served above and beyond. They were ready.
The foreman knocked on the door and rustled11 Uncle Joe from his slumbers12. Uncle Joe, the ancient bailiff, had guarded them while he also arranged their meals, heard their complaints, and quietly slipped their messages to the judge. In his younger years, back when his hearing was better, Uncle Joe was rumored13 to also eavesdrop14 on his juries through a flimsy pine door he and he alone had selected and installed. But his listening days were over, and, as he had confided15 to no one but his wife, after the ordeal of this particular trial he might just hang up his old pistol once and for all. The strain of controlling justice was wearing him down.
He smiled and said, "That's great. I'll get the judge," as if the judge were somewhere in the bowels16 of the courthouse just waiting for a call from Uncle Joe. Instead, by custom, he found a clerk and passed along the wonderful news. It was truly exciting.
The old courthouse had never seen a trial so large and so long. To end it with no decision at all would have been a shame.
The clerk tapped lightly on the judge's door, then took a step inside and proudly announced, "We have a verdict," as if she had personally labored17 through the negotiations19 and now was presenting the result as a gift.
The judge closed his eyes and let loose a deep, satisfying sigh. He smiled a happy, nervous smile of enormous relief, almost disbelief, and finally said, "Round up the lawyers.”
After almost five days of deliberations, Judge Harrison had resigned himself to the likelihood of a hung jury, his worst nightmare. After four years of bare-knuckle litigation and four months of a hotly contested trial, the prospect20 of a draw made him ill. He couldn't begin to imagine the prospect of doing it all again.
He stuck his feet into his old penny loafers, jumped from the chair grinning like a little boy, and reached for his robe. It was finally over, the longest trial of his extremely colorful career.
The clerk's first call went to the firm of Payton & Payton, a local husband-and-wife team now operating out of an abandoned dime21 store in a lesser22 part of town. A paralegal picked up the phone, listened for a few seconds, hung up, then shouted, "The jury has a verdict!" His voice echoed through the cavernous maze23 of small, temporary workrooms and jolted24 his colleagues.
He shouted it again as he ran to The Pit, where the rest of the firm was frantically25 gathering26. Wes Payton was already there, and when his 5 wife, Mary Grace, rushed in, their eyes met in a split second of unbridled fear and bewilderment. Two paralegals, two secretaries, and a bookkeeper gathered at the long, cluttered27 worktable, where they suddenly froze and gawked at one another, all waiting for someone else to speak.
Could it really be over? After they had waited for an eternity28, could it end so suddenly?
So abruptly29? With just a phone call?
"How about a moment of silent prayer," Wes said, and they held hands in a tight circle and prayed as they had never prayed before. All manner of petitions were lifted up to God Almighty30, but the common plea was for victory. Please, dear Lord, after all this time and effort and money and fear and doubt, please, oh please, grant us a divine victory. And deliver us from humiliation31, ruin, bankruptcy32, and a host of other evils that a bad verdict will bring.
The clerk's second call was to the cell phone of Jared Kurtin, the architect of the defense33. Mr. Kurtin was lounging peacefully on a rented leather sofa in his temporary office on Front Street in downtown Hatties-burg, three blocks from the courthouse.
He was reading a biography and watching the hours pass at $750 per. He listened calmly, slapped the phone shut, and said, "Let's go. The jury is ready." His dark-suited soldiers snapped to attention and lined up to escort him down the street in the direction of another crushing victory. They marched away without comment, without prayer.
Other calls went to other lawyers, then to the reporters, and within minutes the word was on the street and spreading rapidly.
Somewhere near the top of a tall building in lower Manhattan, a panic-stricken young man barged into a serious meeting and whispered the urgent news to Mr. Carl Trudeau, who immediately lost interest in the issues on the table, stood abruptly, and said, "Looks like the jury has reached a verdict." He marched out of the room and down the hall to a vast corner suite34, where he removed his jacket, loosened his tie, walked to a window, and gazed through the early darkness at the Hudson River in the distance.
He waited, and as usual asked himself how, exactly, so much of his empire could rest upon the combined wisdom of twelve average people in backwater Mississippi.
For a man who knew so much, that answer was still elusive35.
People were hurrying into the courthouse from all directions when the Paytons parked on the street behind it. They stayed in the car for a moment, still holding hands.
For four months they had tried not to touch each other anywhere near the courthouse.
Someone was always watching. Maybe a juror or a reporter. It was important to be as professional as possible. The novelty of a married legal team surprised people, and the Paytons tried to treat each other as attorneys and not as spouses36.
And, during the trial, there had been precious little touching37 away from the courthouse or anywhere else.
"What are you thinking?" Wes asked without looking at his wife. His heart was racing38 and his forehead was wet. He still gripped the wheel with his left hand, and he kept telling himself to relax.
Relax. What a joke.
"I have never been so afraid," Mary Grace said.
"Neither have I.”
A long pause as they breathed deeply and watched a television van almost slaughter39 a pedestrian.
"Can we survive a loss?" she said. "That's the question.”
"We have to survive; we have no choice. But we're not going to lose.”
"Attaboy. Let's go.”
They joined the rest of their little firm and entered the courthouse together. Waiting in her usual spot on the first floor by the soft drink machines was their client, the plaintiff, Jeannette Baker40, and when she saw her lawyers, she immediately began to cry. Wes took one arm, Mary Grace the other, and they escorted Jeannette up the stairs to the main courtroom on the second floor. They could've carried her. She weighed less than a hundred pounds and had aged41 five years during the trial. She was depressed42, at times delusional43, and though not anorexic, she simply 7 didn't eat. At thirty-four, she had already buried a child and a husband and was now at the end of a horrible trial she secretly wished she had never pursued.
The courtroom was in a state of high alert, as if bombs were coming and the sirens were wailing44. Dozens of people milled about, or looked for seats, or chatted nervously45 with their eyes darting46 around. When Jared Kurtin and the defense army entered from a side door, everyone gawked as if he might know something they didn't. Day after day for the past four months he had proven that he could see around corners, but at that moment his face revealed nothing. He huddled47 gravely with his subordinates.
Across the room, just a few feet away, the Paytons and Jeannette settled into their chairs at the plaintiff's table. Same chairs, same positions, same deliberate strategy to impress upon the jurors that this poor widow and her two lonely lawyers were taking on a giant corporation with unlimited48 resources. Wes Payton glanced at Jared Kurtin, their eyes met, and each offered a polite nod. The miracle of the trial was that the two men were still able to treat each other with a modest dose of civility, even converse49 when absolutely necessary. It had become a matter of pride. Regardless of how nasty the situation, and there had been so many nasty ones, each was determined50 to rise above the gutter51 and offer a hand.
Mary Grace did not look over, and if she had, she would not have nodded or smiled.
And it was a good thing that she did not carry a handgun in her purse, or half of the dark suits on the other side wouldn't be there. She arranged a clean legal pad on the table before her, wrote the date, then her name, then could not think of anything else to log in. In seventy-one days of trial she had filled sixty-six legal pads, all the same size and color and now filed in perfect order in a secondhand metal cabinet in The Pit. She handed a tissue to Jeannette. Though she counted virtually everything, Mary Grace had not kept a running tally52 on the number of tissue boxes Jeannette had used during the trial. Several dozen at least.
The woman cried almost nonstop, and while Mary Grace was profoundly sympathetic, she was also tired of all the damned crying. She was tired of everything-the exhaustion53, the stress, the sleepless54 nights, the scrutiny55, the time away from her children, their run-down apartment, the mountain of unpaid56 bills, the neglected clients, the cold Chinese food at midnight, the challenge of doing her face and hair every morning so she could be somewhat attractive in front of the jury. It was expected of her.
Stepping into a major trial is like plunging58 with a weighted belt into a dark and weedy pond. You manage to scramble59 up for air, but the rest of the world doesn't matter. And you always think you're drowning.
A few rows behind the Paytons, at the end of a bench that was quickly becoming crowded, the Paytons' banker chewed his nails while trying to appear calm. His name was Tom Huff, or Huffy to everyone who knew him. Huffy had dropped in from time to time to watch the trial and offer a silent prayer of his own. The Paytons owed Huffy's bank $400,000, and the only collateral60 was a tract57 of farmland in Cary County owned by Mary Grace's father. On a good day it might fetch $100,000, leaving, obviously, a substantial chunk61 of unsecured debt. If the Paytons lost the case, then Huffy's once promising62 career as a banker would be over. The bank president had long since stopped yelling at him. Now all the threats were by e-mail.
What had begun innocently enough with a simple $90,000 second-mortgage loan against their lovely suburban63 home had progressed into a gaping64 hellhole of red ink and foolish spending. Foolish at least in Huffy's opinion. But the nice home was gone, as was the nice downtown office, and the imported cars, and everything else. The Paytons were risking it all, and Huffy had to admire them. A big verdict, and he was a genius.
The wrong verdict, and he'd stand in line behind them at the bankruptcy court.
The moneymen on the other side of the courtroom were not chewing their nails and were not particularly worried about bankruptcy, though it had been discussed. Krane Chemical had plenty of cash and profits and assets, but it also had hundreds of potential plaintiffs waiting like vultures to hear what the world was about to hear. A crazy verdict, and the lawsuits66 would fly.
But they were a confident bunch at that moment. Jared Kurtin was the best defense lawyer money could buy. The company's stock had dipped only slightly.
Mr. Trudeau, up in New York, seemed to be satisfied.
They couldn't wait to get home.
Thank God the markets had closed for the day.
Uncle Joe yelled, "Keep your seats," and Judge Harrison entered through the door behind his bench. He had long since cut out the silly routine of requiring everyone to stand just so he could assume his throne.
"Good afternoon," he said quickly. It was almost 5:00 p.m. "I have been informed by the jury that a verdict has been reached." He was looking around, making sure the players were present. "I expect decorum at all times. No outbursts. No one leaves until I dismiss the jury. Any questions? Any additional frivolous67 motions from the defense?”
Jared Kurtin never flinched69. He did not acknowledge the judge in any way, but just kept doodling on his legal pad as if he were painting a masterpiece. If Krane Chemical lost, it would appeal with a vengeance70, and the cornerstone of its appeal would be the obvious bias71 of the Honorable Thomas Alsobrook Harrison IV, a former trial lawyer with a proven dislike for all big corporations in general and, now, Krane Chemical in particular.
"Mr. Bailiff, bring in the jury.”
The door next to the jury box opened, and somewhere a giant unseen vacuum sucked every ounce of air from the courtroom. Hearts froze. Bodies stiffened72. Eyes found objects to fixate on. The only sound was that of the jurors' feet shuffling73 across well-worn carpet.
Jared Kurtin continued his methodical scribbling74. His routine was to never look at the faces of the jurors when they returned with a verdict. After a hundred trials he knew they were impossible to read. And why bother? Their decision would be announced in a matter of seconds anyway. His team had strict instructions to ignore the jurors and show no reaction whatsoever75 to the verdict.
Of course Jared Kurtin wasn't facing financial and professional ruin. Wes Payton certainly was, and he could not keep his eyes from the eyes of the jurors as they settled into their seats. The dairy operator looked away, a bad sign. The schoolteacher stared right through Wes, another bad sign. As the foreman handed an envelope to the clerk, the minister's wife glanced at Wes with a look of pity, but then she had been offering the same sad face since the opening statements.
Mary Grace caught the sign, and she wasn't even looking for it. As she handed another tissue to Jeannette Baker, who was practically sobbing76 now, Mary Grace stole a look at juror number six, the one closest to her, Dr. Leona Rocha, a retired77 English professor at the university. Dr. Rocha, behind red-framed reading glasses, gave the quickest, prettiest, most sensational79 wink80 Mary Grace would ever receive.
"Have you reached a verdict?" Judge Harrison was asking.
"Yes, Your Honor, we have," the foreman said.
"Is it unanimous?”
"No, sir, it is not.”
"Do at least nine of you agree on the verdict?”
"Yes, sir. The vote is 10 to 2.”
"That's all that matters.”
Mary Grace scribbled81 a note about the wink, but in the fury of the moment she could not read her own handwriting. Try to appear calm, she kept telling herself.
Judge Harrison took the envelope from the clerk, removed a sheet of paper, and began reviewing the verdict-heavy wrinkles burrowing82 into his forehead, eyes frowning as he pinched the bridge of his nose. After an eternity he said, "It appears to be in order." Not one single twitch83 or grin or widening of the eyes, nothing to indicate what was written on the sheet of paper.
He looked down and nodded at his court reporter and cleared his throat, thoroughly84 relishing85 the moment. Then the wrinkles softened86 around his eyes, the jaw87 muscles loosened, the shoulders sagged88 a bit, and, to Wes anyway, there was suddenly hope that the jury had scorched89 the defendant90.
In a slow, loud voice, Judge Harrison read: "Question number one: “Do you find, by a preponderance of the evidence, that the groundwater at issue was contaminated by Krane Chemical Corporation?”After a treacherous91 pause that lasted no more than five seconds, he continued, "The answer is “Yes.”
One side of the courtroom managed to breathe while the other side began to turn blue.
"Question number two: “Do you find, by a preponderance of the evidence, that the contamination was the proximate cause of the death or deaths of (a) Chad Baker and/or (b) Pete Baker?”Answer: “Yes, for both.”
Mary Grace managed to pluck tissues from a box and hand them over with her left hand while writing furiously with her right. Wes managed to steal a glance at juror number four, who happened to be glancing at him with a humorous grin that seemed to say, "Now for the good part.”
"Question number three: “For Chad Baker, what amount of money do you award to his mother, Jeannette Baker, as damages for his wrongful death?”Answer: “Five hundred thousand dollars.”
Dead children aren't worth much, because they earn nothing, but Chad's impressive award rang like an alarm because it gave a quick preview of what was to come. Wes stared at the clock above the judge and thanked God that bankruptcy had been averted92.
"Question number four: “For Pete Baker, what amount of money do you award to his widow, Jeannette Baker, as damages for his wrongful death?”Answer: “Two and a half million dollars.”
There was a rustle10 from the money boys in the front row behind Jared Kurtin. Krane could certainly handle a $3 million hit, but it was the ripple93 effect that suddenly terrified them. For his part, Mr. Kurtin had yet to flinch68.
Not yet.
Jeannette Baker began to slide out of her chair. She was caught by both of her lawyers, who pulled her up, wrapped arms around her frail94 shoulders, and whispered to her.
She was sobbing, out of control.
There were six questions on the list that the lawyers had hammered out, and if the jury answered yes to number five, then the whole world would go crazy.
Judge Harrison was at that point, reading it slowly, clearing his throat, studying the answer. Then he revealed his mean streak95. He did so with a smile. He glanced up a few inches, just above the sheet of paper he was holding, just over the cheap reading glasses perched on his nose, and he looked directly at Wes Payton. The grin was tight, conspiratorial96, yet filled with gleeful satisfaction.
"Question number five: “Do you find, by a preponderance of the evidence, that the actions of Krane Chemical Corporation were either intentional97 or so grossly negligent98 as to justify99 the imposition of punitive100 damages?”Answer: “Yes.”
Mary Grace stopped writing and looked over the bobbing head of her client to her husband, whose gaze was frozen upon her. They had won, and that alone was an exhilarating, almost indescribable rush of euphoria. But how large was their victory? At that crucial split second, both knew it was indeed a landslide101.
"Question number six: “What is the amount of punitive damages?”Answer: “Thirty-eight million dollars.”
There were gasps102 and coughs and soft whistles as the shock waves rattled103 around the courtroom. Jared Kurtin and his gang were busy writing everything down and trying to appear unfazed by the bomb blast. The honchos from Krane in the front row were trying to recover and breathe normally. Most glared at the jurors and thought vile104 thoughts that ran along the lines of ignorant people, backwater stupidity, and so on.
Mr. and Mrs. Payton were again both reaching for their client, who was overcome by the sheer weight of the verdict and trying pitifully to sit up. Wes whispered reassurances105 to Jeannette while repeating to himself the numbers he had just heard. Somehow, he managed to keep his face serious and avoid a goofy smile.
Huffy the banker stopped crunching106 his nails. In less than thirty seconds he had gone from a disgraced, bankrupt former bank vice107 president to a rising star with designs on a bigger salary and office. He even felt smarter. Oh, what a marvelous entrance into the bank's boardroom he would choreograph108 first thing in the morning.
The judge was going on about formalities and thanking the jurors, but Huffy didn't care. He had heard all he needed to hear.
The jurors stood and filed out as Uncle Joe held the door and nodded with approval.
He would later tell his wife that he had predicted such a verdict, though she had no memory of it. He claimed he hadn't missed a verdict in the many decades he had worked as a bailiff. When the jurors were gone, Jared Kurtin stood and, with perfect composure, rattled off the usual post-verdict inquiries110, which Judge Harrison took with great compassion111 now that the blood was on the floor. Mary Grace had no response.
Mary Grace didn't care. She had what she wanted.
Wes was thinking about the $41 million and fighting his emotions. The firm would survive, as would their marriage, their reputations, everything.
When Judge Harrison finally announced, "We are adjourned," a mob raced from the courtroom.
Everyone grabbed a cell phone.
Mr. Trudeau was still standing112 at the window, watching the last of the sun set far beyond New Jersey113. Across the wide room Stu the assistant took the call and ventured forward a few steps before mustering114 the nerve to say, "Sir, that was from Hattiesburg.
Three million in actual damages, thirty-eight in punitive.”
From the rear, there was a slight dip in the boss's shoulder, a quiet exhaling115 in frustration116, then a mumbling117 of obscenities.
Mr. Trudeau slowly turned around and glared at the assistant as if he just might shoot the messenger. "You sure you heard that right?" he asked, and Stu desperately118 wished he had not.
"Yes, sir.”
Behind him the door was open. Bobby Ratzlaff appeared in a rush, out of breath, shocked and scared and looking for Mr. Trudeau. Ratzlaff was the chief in-house lawyer, and his neck would be the first on the chopping block. He was already sweating.
"Get your boys here in five minutes," Mr. Trudeau growled119, then turned back to his window.
The press conference materialized on the first floor of the courthouse.
In two small groups, Wes and Mary Grace chatted patiently with reporters. Both gave the same answers to the same questions. No, the verdict was not a record for the state of Mississippi. Yes, they felt it was justified120. No, it was not expected, not an award that large anyway. Certainly it would be appealed. Wes had great respect for Jared Kurtin, but not for his client. Their firm currently represented thirty other plaintiffs who were suing Krane Chemical. No, they did not expect to settle those cases.
After half an hour they finally begged off, and walked from the Forrest County Circuit Court building hand in hand, each lugging122 a heavy briefcase123. They were photographed getting into their car and driving away.
Alone, they said nothing. Four blocks, five, six. Ten minutes passed without a word.
The car, a battered124 Ford125 Taurus with a million miles, at least one low tire, and the constant click of a sticking valve, drifted through the streets around the university.
Wes spoke126 first. "What's one-third of forty-one million?”
"Don't even think about it.”
"I'm not thinking about it. Just a joke.”
"Just drive.”
"Anyplace in particular?”
"No.”
The Taurus ventured into the suburbs, going nowhere but certainly not going back to the office. They stayed far away from the neighborhood with the lovely home they had once owned.
Reality slowly settled in as the numbness127 began to fade. A lawsuit65 they had reluctantly filed four years earlier had now been decided128 in a most dramatic fashion. An excruciating marathon was over, and though they had a temporary victory, the costs had been great.
The wounds were raw, the battle scars still very fresh.
The gas gauge129 showed less than a quarter of a tank, something that Wes would have barely noticed two years earlier. Now it was a much more serious matter. Back then he drove a BMW-Mary Grace had a Jaguar130-and when he needed fuel, he simply pulled in to his favorite station and filled the tank with a credit card. He never saw the bills; they were handled by his bookkeeper. Now the credit cards were gone, as were the BMW and the Jaguar, and the same bookkeeper was working at half salary and doling131 out a few dollars in cash to keep the Payton firm just above the waterline.
Mary Grace glanced at the gauge, too, a recently acquired habit. She noticed and remembered the price of everything-a gallon of gas, a loaf of bread, a half gallon of milk. She was the saver and he was the spender, but not too many years ago, when the clients were calling and the cases were settling, she had relaxed a bit too much and enjoyed their success. Saving and investing had not been a priority. They were young, the firm was growing, the future had no limits.
Whatever she had managed to put into mutual132 funds had long since been devoured133 by the Baker case.
An hour earlier they had been broke, on paper, with ruinous debts far outweighing134 whatever flimsy assets they might list. Now things were different. The liabilities had not gone away, but the black side of their balance sheet had certainly improved.
Or had it?
When might they see some or all of this wonderful verdict? Might Krane now offer a settlement? How long would the appeal take? How much time could they now devote to the rest of their practice?
Neither wanted to ponder the questions that were haunting both of them. They were simply too tired and too relieved. For an eternity they had talked of little else, and now they talked about nothing. Tomorrow or the next day they could begin the debriefing135.
"We're almost out of gas," she said.
No retort came to his weary mind, so Wes said, "What about dinner?”
"Macaroni and cheese with the kids.”
The trial had not only drained them of their energy and assets; it had also burned away any excess weight they might have been carrying at the outset. Wes was down at least fifteen pounds, though he didn't know for sure because he hadn't stepped on the scale in months. Nor was he about to inquire into this delicate matter with his wife, but it was obvious she needed to eat. They had skipped many meals-breakfasts when they were scrambling136 to dress the kids and get them to school, lunches when one argued motions in Harrison's office while the other prepared for the next cross-examination, dinners when they worked until midnight and simply forgot to eat. PowerBars and energy drinks had kept them going.
"Sounds great," he said, and turned left onto a street that would take them home.
Ratzlaff and two other lawyers took their seats at the sleek137 leather table in a corner of Mr. Trudeau's office suite. The walls were all glass and provided magnificent views of skyscrapers138 packed into the financial district, though no one was in the mood for scenery. Mr. Trudeau was on the phone across the room behind his chrome desk. The lawyers waited nervously. They had talked nonstop to the eyewitnesses139 down in Mississippi but still had few answers.
The boss finished his phone conversation and strode purposefully across the room.
"What happened?" he snapped. "An hour ago you guys were downright cocky. Now we got our asses78 handed to us. What happened?" He sat down and glared at Ratzlaff.
"Trial by jury. It's full of risks," Ratzlaff said.
"I've been through trials, plenty of them, and I usually win. I thought we were paying the best shysters in the business. The best mouthpieces money can buy. We spared no expense, right?”
"Oh yes. We paid dearly. Still paying.”
Mr. Trudeau slapped the table and barked, "What went wrong?!”
Well, Ratzlaff thought to himself and wanted to say aloud except that he very much treasured his job, let's start with the fact that our company built a pesticide140 plant in Podunk, Mississippi, because the land and labor18 were dirt cheap, then we spent the next thirty years dumping chemicals and waste into the ground and into the rivers, quite illegally of course, and we contaminated the drinking water until it tasted like spoiled milk, which, as bad as it was, wasn't the worst part, because then people started dying of cancer and leukemia.
That, Mr. Boss and Mr. CEO and Mr. Corporate141 Raider, is exactly what went wrong.
"The lawyers feel good about the appeal," Ratzlaff said instead, without much conviction.
"Oh, that's just super. Right now I really trust these lawyers. Where did you find these clowns?”
"They're the best, okay?”
"Sure. And let's just explain to the press that we're ecstatic about our appeal and perhaps our stock won't crash tomorrow. Is that what you're saying?”
"We can spin it," Ratzlaff said. The other two lawyers were glancing at the glass walls. Who wanted to be the first to jump?
One of Mr. Trudeau's cell phones rang and he snatched it off the table. "Hi, honey,”
he said as he stood and walked away. It was (the third) Mrs. Trudeau, the latest trophy142, a deadly young woman whom Ratzlaff and everyone else at the company avoided at all costs. Her husband was whispering, then said goodbye.
He walked to a window near the lawyers and gazed at the sparkling towers around him.
"Bobby," he said without looking, "do you have any idea where the jury got the figure of thirty-eight million for punitive damages?”
"Of course you don't. For the first nine months of this year, Krane has averaged thirty-eight million a month in profits. A bunch of ignorant rednecks who collectively couldn't earn a hundred grand a year, and they sit there like gods taking from the rich and giving to the poor.”
"We still have the money, Carl," Ratzlaff said. "It'll be years before a dime changes hands, if, in fact, that ever happens.”
"Great! Spin that to the wolves tomorrow while our stock goes down the drain.”
Ratzlaff shut up and slumped144 in his chair. The other two lawyers were not about to utter a sound.
Mr. Trudeau was pacing dramatically. "Forty-one million dollars. And there are how many other cases out there, Bobby? Did someone say two hundred, three hundred? Well, if there were three hundred this morning, there will be three thousand tomorrow morning.
Every redneck in south Mississippi with a fever blister145 will now claim to have sipped146 the magic brew147 from Bowmore. Every two-bit ambulance chaser with a law degree is driving there now to sign up clients. This wasn't supposed to happen, Bobby. You assured me.”
Ratzlaff had a memo109 under lock and key. It was eight years old and had been prepared under his supervision148. It ran for a hundred pages and described in gruesome detail the company's illegal dumping of toxic149 waste at the Bowmore plant. It summarized the company's elaborate efforts to hide the dumping, to dupe the Environmental Protection Agency, and to buy off the politicians at the local, state, and federal level. It recommended a clandestine150 but effective cleanup of the waste site, at a cost of some $50 million. It begged anyone who read it to stop the dumping.
And, most important at this critical moment, it predicted a bad verdict someday in a courtroom.
Only luck and a flagrant disregard for the rules of civil procedure had allowed Ratzlaff to keep the memo a secret.
Mr. Trudeau had been given a copy of it eight years earlier, though he now denied he'd ever seen it. Ratzlaff was tempted151 to dust it off now and read a few selected passages, but, again, he treasured his job.
Mr. Trudeau walked to the table, placed both palms flat on the Italian leather, glared at Bobby Ratzlaff, and said, "I swear to you, it will never happen. Not one dime of our hard-earned profits will ever get into the hands of those trailer park peasants.”
The three lawyers stared at their boss, whose eyes were narrow and glowing. He was breathing fire, and finished by saying, "If I have to bankrupt it or break it into fifteen pieces, I swear to you on my mother's grave that not one dime of Krane's money will ever be touched by those ignorant people.”
And with that promise, he walked across the Persian rug, lifted his jacket from a rack, and left the office.
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testimony
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haggled
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hawks
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secluded
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pouted
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miserable
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arena
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ordeal
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civic
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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13
rumored
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.传闻( rumor的过去式和过去分词 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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14
eavesdrop
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| v.偷听，倾听 | |
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15
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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18
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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19
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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20
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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21
dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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22
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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23
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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24
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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26
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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27
cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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28
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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29
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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30
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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31
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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32
bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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33
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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34
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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35
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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36
spouses
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| n.配偶，夫或妻( spouse的名词复数 ) | |
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37
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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38
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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39
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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40
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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41
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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42
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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43
delusional
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| 妄想的 | |
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44
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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45
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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46
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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47
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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49
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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50
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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51
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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52
tally
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| n.计数器，记分，一致，测量；vt.计算，记录，使一致；vi.计算，记分，一致 | |
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53
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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54
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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55
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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56
unpaid
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| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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57
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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58
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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59
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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60
collateral
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| adj.平行的；旁系的；n.担保品 | |
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61
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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62
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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63
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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64
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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65
lawsuit
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| n.诉讼，控诉 | |
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66
lawsuits
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| n.诉讼( lawsuit的名词复数 ) | |
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67
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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68
flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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69
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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71
bias
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| n.偏见，偏心，偏袒；vt.使有偏见 | |
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72
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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73
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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74
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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75
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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76
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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77
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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78
asses
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| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
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79
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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80
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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81
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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82
burrowing
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的现在分词 )；翻寻 | |
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83
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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84
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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85
relishing
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| v.欣赏( relish的现在分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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86
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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87
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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88
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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89
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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90
defendant
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| n.被告；adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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91
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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92
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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93
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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94
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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95
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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96
conspiratorial
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| adj.阴谋的，阴谋者的 | |
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97
intentional
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| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
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98
negligent
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| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
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99
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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100
punitive
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| adj.惩罚的，刑罚的 | |
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101
landslide
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| n.(竞选中)压倒多数的选票；一面倒的胜利 | |
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102
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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103
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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104
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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105
reassurances
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| n.消除恐惧或疑虑( reassurance的名词复数 )；恢复信心；使人消除恐惧或疑虑的事物；使人恢复信心的事物 | |
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106
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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107
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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108
choreograph
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| v.设计舞蹈动作 | |
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109
memo
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| n.照会，备忘录；便笺；通知书；规章 | |
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110
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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111
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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112
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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113
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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114
mustering
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的现在分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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115
exhaling
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的现在分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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116
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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117
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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118
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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119
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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120
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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121
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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122
lugging
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| 超载运转能力 | |
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123
briefcase
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| n.手提箱，公事皮包 | |
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124
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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125
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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126
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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127
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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128
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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129
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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130
jaguar
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| n.美洲虎 | |
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131
doling
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| 救济物( dole的现在分词 )； 失业救济金 | |
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132
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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133
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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134
outweighing
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| v.在重量上超过( outweigh的现在分词 )；在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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135
debriefing
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| n.任务报告，任务报告中提出的情报v.向（外交人员等）询问执行任务的情况( debrief的现在分词 ) | |
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136
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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137
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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138
skyscrapers
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| n.摩天大楼 | |
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139
eyewitnesses
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| 目击者( eyewitness的名词复数 ) | |
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140
pesticide
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| n.杀虫剂，农药 | |
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141
corporate
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| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
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142
trophy
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| n.优胜旗，奖品，奖杯，战胜品，纪念品 | |
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143
offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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144
slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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145
blister
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| n.水疱；(油漆等的)气泡；v.(使)起泡 | |
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146
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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148
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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149
toxic
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| adj.有毒的，因中毒引起的 | |
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150
clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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151
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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