International cell phone ring in a most spectacular acquisition of drama Lightning debut.Last night, Google announced that it has signed a definitive agreement with Motorola mobile, price will be $ 12.5 billion acquisition of Motorola's handset business. Internet giants and mobile giants marriage, means that mobile Internet era really opened the curtain, and has always been invincible Apple iPhone, best watches replica the concentration and focus will be the face of opponents.

Yesterday evening, suddenly Google and Motorola announced the acquisition of mobile messaging, with $ 12.5 billion bid last Friday's closing bid of Motorola mobile premium of 63%, shows the Google enough sincerity and determination, now that the transaction has been approved by both companies' boards . The two sides also announced completion of the transaction, Motorola will serve as Google's mobile business continues to operate independently, while the Google mobile operating system, Andrews remains open.

Telecommunications sector has experienced a number of co-evaluation of this critic as "shocking" because there is no sign before, but rather has to be acquired by Nokia in the smoke bomb, "a cover."

Purpose == ==

Google "marriage" Motorola mobile trying to do?

U.S. market research company Forrester analyst McCarthy in the day of analysis in a blog post that Google's move has at least three purposes: by software and hardware integration with Apple and other companies to better compete; access to a large number of Motorolapatents, licensed to Google partners with Apple and other companies against patent litigation; with Motorola set-top box expertise to boost Google's network television business.

Google is currently provided free of charge to Motorola, HTC and Samsung mobile phones and tablet PC manufacturers to provide its mobile operating system Andrews. Motorola's acquisition means that Google software and mobile devices can be a "vertical swiss watches for men " integration, while the software and hardware bundle is considered to be Apple's smart phone and tablet PCs in the field an important factor in the success of BlackBerry maker RIM, Hewlett-Packard and other mobile devices business have taken a similar strategy. After the marriage of Google and Motorola, Apple's success will be able to launch a direct challenge to the business model, while the formation of other mobile phone manufacturers more competitive pressure is expected to make Google's mobile phone and tablet PC business to a new level.

     Prove safety iPhone

     Currently, Google's Android is widely used in Motorola mobile, Samsung mobile phone.Motorola mobile wireless access to the patent, Google will compete with Apple's iPhone in a better position.

     Analysts believe the move will help Google in the smart phone to Apple's iPhone to further attack.

     Google received 1.7 million Apple patent attack

     One industry expert said that Apple's recent patent for the Android platform, often to initiate proceedings, Google needs to expand a bargaining chip against the patent, Motorola as a development in the field of wireless communications patents for many years large, will undoubtedly provide sufficient protection for the Android platform, so This acquisition will allow the other to the Android platform-based mobile phone manufacturers benefit.

Served as president of Google Greater China Kai-fu Lee continuous micro-Bo interpretation acquisition, he believes Google's acquisition of Motorola's mobile hardware and software for the patent rather than integration. He said that Apple, Microsoft and other six companies acquired Canadian telecommunications provider Nortel Networks more than 6,000 patents and patent applications the price of $ 4.5 billion, so Google $ 12.5 billion acquisition of Motorola's mobile and not expensive.

For Google's acquisition of Motorola's Internet and mobile phone industry will impact, Lei Jun, founder of millet technology that Google's acquisition of Motorola's smart phone speaks the competition is the "hardware, software and services, triathlon," wrist watches for men he also expects the acquisition of In the case of two industries may lead to more imitators, such as Microsoft is likely to start the acquisition of Nokia.

     Mobile internet trend to form the Big Three struggle

Google and Motorola's hand, for the mobile Internet market competition is a great stimulus.Previously, Microsoft and Nokia have announced a joint cooperation smart phones, and Google's turn, means that the mobile Internet market will usher in Google, Microsoft and Apple's three-way competition. Well-known angel investors, Zhou Hongyi, chairman of 360-odd tigers, commented: " men wrist watches We are vertically integrated in the school Apple, HTC and then closing it is not impossible, and forcing Microsoft's acquisition of Nokia, and then three wrestling camps."

Also worth noting is that Google and Motorola join forces with other mobile phone manufacturers have released a subtle signal. Currently, many mobile phone operators defect to Google Andrews systems, including Samsung, HTC and other big, once Google can eat Motorola, these companies will not continue to stand firm Andrews camp it?

== == All of the reactions

Industry: Google saw in the patent

Google CEO Larry Page (Larry Page) issued a statement in the official blog that Google "has been seeking new ways to further strengthen the Andrew system, which is what I am very pleased to announce the acquisition of Motorola's reason."

Although Larry Page is the main reason given vague "enhanced Andrews system", but analysts say it is very clear that their main goal is that patent. Because Apple has patented the use of weapons for the success of Google, threatening that Google has been in the competition was constrained by Apple. Motorola is in the field of mobile communications with over 10 patents.

"Commercial value mens automatic watches " magazine editor in chief Peng said, Google has enriched himself through the acquisition of Motorola's patented composition, in order to deal with other companies patent challenges.

     External mixed

United States and abroad, many people optimistic about the acquisition. But there are market concerns, Google's acquisition of Motorola's mobile, it will lead to Motorola's competitors, "encirclement and suppression", and may face strict antitrust review of the prospects for the future development of the two companies is not necessarily beneficial.

Google said the acquisition will be completed early next year to the end of this year, and are subject to U.S. and European regulatory approvals, as well as the shareholders in favor of Motorola Mobile. Page said that Motorola's mobile will be listed as Google's independent business operations, Android system will still open to other manufacturers.

== == Impact

     Motorola Mobile shares soaring

     Google Inc. announced that it has 15 Motorola Mobile Holdings has signed a definitive agreement, the price will be $ 40 per share all-cash acquisition of the latter, the transaction total about $ 12.5 billion. The offer represents Motorola mobile premium on Friday's closing price 63%. Google said the deal has been in the board of directors of both companies unanimously agreed.  mens sports watch 15 opening, Motorola Mobile shares rose 57.46% to $ 38.53.

But Google's stock price but because it paid $ 12.5 billion and slightly frustrated. For Google's acquisition of Motorola's news, investors With the more complex feelings. Google received 1.7 million motor Mora patents, spent a lot of cash, the transaction amounted to $ 12.5 billion, and $ 40 price is based on U.S. stock acquisition of Motorola, which led to Google's nearly 5% of the cash runs out, Google's share price fell 1.1%.

     Three camps forming smart phones

Industry experts have learned of the news of the acquisition, said the move marks to Apple, Google, Microsoft, represented by the three camps smartphone basic shape.

"Google's acquisition of Motorola's mobile smartphone full description of the competition is 'hardware, software and services to Triathlon', the next step is a Microsoft acquisition of Nokia." Face of the industry changes, millet, Chairman and CEO Lei Jun Yesterday through micro-Boti out their views. 360 Chairman Zhou believes that the deal is "expected," he said, companies are vertically integrated in the school Apple, HTC and then closing it is not impossible, forcing Microsoft's acquisition of Nokia, and then three wrestling camps.

Mobile Internet portal FRANCISCO responsible person Zhong deposit that the acquisition of Motorola's mobile for Google is threefold good thing. First, can deal with patent problems, as the era's dominant analog phone, smart phone era leader, Motorola reserves of at least sufficient to meet the patent Apple; followed by the acquisition of Motorola, the Google Android open at the same time maintaining, but also through the integration of hardware and software Android phones designed to solve problems and short standby time, further reducing the technology gap with Apple; watches forum Finally, further widening the distance with Microsoft.

Domestic mobile phone manufacturers face Sheng Sijie

"It's not for other handset makers in terms of what is good news, it can be said is a tragedy." Editor in chief Liu Qicheng communication network in the world get the message said. He believes that Google spent $ 12.5 billion acquisition of Motorola's mobile, Apple will eventually learn to close the road. Although this time will not be achieved in a short time, but after 5 years is likely. Liu Qicheng warned that the domestic mobile phone manufacturers should recognize Google as soon as possible "pseudo-open" the face, pushing into the collective good long-term preparation. "In the domestic mobile phone manufacturers can each have their own operating system to develop under the premise should be led by the state, operators collaborate to develop as soon as the operating system with independent intellectual property rights, or we will repeat in the PC operating system mistakes. "

Zhong deposit is not without concern that smartphone makers are moving from technology to fight, to fight the product, the brand into a fight to fight the patent, which also indicates that regardless of the domestic mobile phone manufacturers to use which of the operating system must pay large royalties. "China-made mobile phone OEM will once again become the role."

 

International cell phone ring in a most spectacular acquisition of drama Lightning debut.Last night, Google announced that it has signed a definitive agreement with Motorola mobile, price will be $ 12.5 billion acquisition of Motorola's handset business. Internet giants and mobile giants marriage, means that mobile Internet era really opened the curtain, and has always been invincible Apple iPhone, best watches replica the concentration and focus will be the face of opponents.

Yesterday evening, suddenly Google and Motorola announced the acquisition of mobile messaging, with $ 12.5 billion bid last Friday's closing bid of Motorola mobile premium of 63%, shows the Google enough sincerity and determination, now that the transaction has been approved by both companies' boards . The two sides also announced completion of the transaction, Motorola will serve as Google's mobile business continues to operate independently, while the Google mobile operating system, Andrews remains open.

Telecommunications sector has experienced a number of co-evaluation of this critic as "shocking" because there is no sign before, but rather has to be acquired by Nokia in the smoke bomb, "a cover."

Purpose == ==

Google "marriage" Motorola mobile trying to do?

U.S. market research company Forrester analyst McCarthy in the day of analysis in a blog post that Google's move has at least three purposes: by software and hardware integration with Apple and other companies to better compete; access to a large number of Motorolapatents, licensed to Google partners with Apple and other companies against patent litigation; with Motorola set-top box expertise to boost Google's network television business.

Google is currently provided free of charge to Motorola, HTC and Samsung mobile phones and tablet PC manufacturers to provide its mobile operating system Andrews. Motorola's acquisition means that Google software and mobile devices can be a "vertical swiss watches for men " integration, while the software and hardware bundle is considered to be Apple's smart phone and tablet PCs in the field an important factor in the success of BlackBerry maker RIM, Hewlett-Packard and other mobile devices business have taken a similar strategy. After the marriage of Google and Motorola, Apple's success will be able to launch a direct challenge to the business model, while the formation of other mobile phone manufacturers more competitive pressure is expected to make Google's mobile phone and tablet PC business to a new level.

     Prove safety iPhone

     Currently, Google's Android is widely used in Motorola mobile, Samsung mobile phone.Motorola mobile wireless access to the patent, Google will compete with Apple's iPhone in a better position.

     Analysts believe the move will help Google in the smart phone to Apple's iPhone to further attack.

     Google received 1.7 million Apple patent attack

     One industry expert said that Apple's recent patent for the Android platform, often to initiate proceedings, Google needs to expand a bargaining chip against the patent, Motorola as a development in the field of wireless communications patents for many years large, will undoubtedly provide sufficient protection for the Android platform, so This acquisition will allow the other to the Android platform-based mobile phone manufacturers benefit.

Served as president of Google Greater China Kai-fu Lee continuous micro-Bo interpretation acquisition, he believes Google's acquisition of Motorola's mobile hardware and software for the patent rather than integration. He said that Apple, Microsoft and other six companies acquired Canadian telecommunications provider Nortel Networks more than 6,000 patents and patent applications the price of $ 4.5 billion, so Google $ 12.5 billion acquisition of Motorola's mobile and not expensive.

For Google's acquisition of Motorola's Internet and mobile phone industry will impact, Lei Jun, founder of millet technology that Google's acquisition of Motorola's smart phone speaks the competition is the "hardware, software and services, triathlon," wrist watches for men he also expects the acquisition of In the case of two industries may lead to more imitators, such as Microsoft is likely to start the acquisition of Nokia.

     Mobile internet trend to form the Big Three struggle

Google and Motorola's hand, for the mobile Internet market competition is a great stimulus.Previously, Microsoft and Nokia have announced a joint cooperation smart phones, and Google's turn, means that the mobile Internet market will usher in Google, Microsoft and Apple's three-way competition. Well-known angel investors, Zhou Hongyi, chairman of 360-odd tigers, commented: " men wrist watches We are vertically integrated in the school Apple, HTC and then closing it is not impossible, and forcing Microsoft's acquisition of Nokia, and then three wrestling camps."

Also worth noting is that Google and Motorola join forces with other mobile phone manufacturers have released a subtle signal. Currently, many mobile phone operators defect to Google Andrews systems, including Samsung, HTC and other big, once Google can eat Motorola, these companies will not continue to stand firm Andrews camp it?

== == All of the reactions

Industry: Google saw in the patent

Google CEO Larry Page (Larry Page) issued a statement in the official blog that Google "has been seeking new ways to further strengthen the Andrew system, which is what I am very pleased to announce the acquisition of Motorola's reason."

Although Larry Page is the main reason given vague "enhanced Andrews system", but analysts say it is very clear that their main goal is that patent. Because Apple has patented the use of weapons for the success of Google, threatening that Google has been in the competition was constrained by Apple. Motorola is in the field of mobile communications with over 10 patents.

"Commercial value mens automatic watches " magazine editor in chief Peng said, Google has enriched himself through the acquisition of Motorola's patented composition, in order to deal with other companies patent challenges.

     External mixed

United States and abroad, many people optimistic about the acquisition. But there are market concerns, Google's acquisition of Motorola's mobile, it will lead to Motorola's competitors, "encirclement and suppression", and may face strict antitrust review of the prospects for the future development of the two companies is not necessarily beneficial.

Google said the acquisition will be completed early next year to the end of this year, and are subject to U.S. and European regulatory approvals, as well as the shareholders in favor of Motorola Mobile. Page said that Motorola's mobile will be listed as Google's independent business operations, Android system will still open to other manufacturers.

== == Impact

     Motorola Mobile shares soaring

     Google Inc. announced that it has 15 Motorola Mobile Holdings has signed a definitive agreement, the price will be $ 40 per share all-cash acquisition of the latter, the transaction total about $ 12.5 billion. The offer represents Motorola mobile premium on Friday's closing price 63%. Google said the deal has been in the board of directors of both companies unanimously agreed.  mens sports watch 15 opening, Motorola Mobile shares rose 57.46% to $ 38.53.

But Google's stock price but because it paid $ 12.5 billion and slightly frustrated. For Google's acquisition of Motorola's news, investors With the more complex feelings. Google received 1.7 million motor Mora patents, spent a lot of cash, the transaction amounted to $ 12.5 billion, and $ 40 price is based on U.S. stock acquisition of Motorola, which led to Google's nearly 5% of the cash runs out, Google's share price fell 1.1%.

     Three camps forming smart phones

Industry experts have learned of the news of the acquisition, said the move marks to Apple, Google, Microsoft, represented by the three camps smartphone basic shape.

"Google's acquisition of Motorola's mobile smartphone full description of the competition is 'hardware, software and services to Triathlon', the next step is a Microsoft acquisition of Nokia." Face of the industry changes, millet, Chairman and CEO Lei Jun Yesterday through micro-Boti out their views. 360 Chairman Zhou believes that the deal is "expected," he said, companies are vertically integrated in the school Apple, HTC and then closing it is not impossible, forcing Microsoft's acquisition of Nokia, and then three wrestling camps.

Mobile Internet portal FRANCISCO responsible person Zhong deposit that the acquisition of Motorola's mobile for Google is threefold good thing. First, can deal with patent problems, as the era's dominant analog phone, smart phone era leader, Motorola reserves of at least sufficient to meet the patent Apple; followed by the acquisition of Motorola, the Google Android open at the same time maintaining, but also through the integration of hardware and software Android phones designed to solve problems and short standby time, further reducing the technology gap with Apple; watches forum Finally, further widening the distance with Microsoft.

Domestic mobile phone manufacturers face Sheng Sijie

"It's not for other handset makers in terms of what is good news, it can be said is a tragedy." Editor in chief Liu Qicheng communication network in the world get the message said. He believes that Google spent $ 12.5 billion acquisition of Motorola's mobile, Apple will eventually learn to close the road. Although this time will not be achieved in a short time, but after 5 years is likely. Liu Qicheng warned that the domestic mobile phone manufacturers should recognize Google as soon as possible "pseudo-open" the face, pushing into the collective good long-term preparation. "In the domestic mobile phone manufacturers can each have their own operating system to develop under the premise should be led by the state, operators collaborate to develop as soon as the operating system with independent intellectual property rights, or we will repeat in the PC operating system mistakes. "

Zhong deposit is not without concern that smartphone makers are moving from technology to fight, to fight the product, the brand into a fight to fight the patent, which also indicates that regardless of the domestic mobile phone manufacturers to use which of the operating system must pay large royalties. "China-made mobile phone OEM will once again become the role."

Watches use colorful! Master your time, your modified items, your timing tool, you have to dive, your lighting, your alarm clock, your collection, your face, so these are the surface manifestation of her; best replica watches deeper, different grades of watches, respect for people's behavior significantly different, revealing different levels of human values! You look at Ronaldo and his collection of watches!
Things to go back to September 1998, when the production of luxury Swiss watches Montega with Ronaldo signed a three-year contract, the company will introduce this as a symbol of Ronaldo R9 series watches. In the three-year contract period, the company should pay Ronaldo $ 5.2 million.

The first Patek Philippe (Patek Philippe): a sign of nobility

Founded in 1839, Patek Philippe is the only one Swiss existing independently operated entirely by the family of watchmakers. Patek Philippe has always attached importance table shape design and production processes, watch factory in Geneva to complete all processes, is the world's only one of many brand watch all the movements of "Geneva quality seal" (Geneva Seal wrist watches for men ) brand. Patek Philippe table has yet to enter Beijing.

 

Second Vacheron Constantin (Vacheron Constantin): Noble art

Founded in 1775, Vacheron Constantin has been 250 years of history, is the world's oldest and longest duration of watches. Founder to. Mark. Vacheron (Jean-Marc Vacheron) was a profound writer. Vacheron Constantin known as the nobility of art, the Swiss watch industry has been playing a key role. Currently under Swiss Richemont.

 

Third Audemars Piguet (Audemars Piguet): adhere to centuries-old tradition

In 1875, Jules - Louis. Odd Moss (Jules-Louis Audemars) and friend Edward - mens sport watches Augustine Stephen. Pijie Te (Edward-Auguste Piguet) with the creation of Audemars Piguet. In 1972, Audemars Piguet launched a full stainless steel material of high-end sports watch series, "Royal Oak" (Royal Oak), a Watch classic. Audemars Piguet watch company in Switzerland with the school, and watch each apprentice must complete a four-year school curriculum in order to obtain qualified watchmaker. Also, after 1 to 2 years of training, in order to manufacture ultra-thin movement, and to start manufacture of complex movements before, need 10 years training.

Fourth Breguet (Breguet): father of modern watchmaking

1775, A. Louis. Breguet (A. Louis Breguet) founded the Breguet brand. The universally recognized characters watch Shi Jingdian development of the brand first in Paris, then to Switzerland. Breguet watches favored by the royal family, the French King Louis XVI and Queen Mary are the proponents of Breguet. Balzac, Pushkin, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo and other writer's works have also mentioned Breguet. Britain's Queen Victoria and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and other celebrities are Breguet customers. Today, Breguet under the Swatch Group.

 

Fifth IWC (IWC): machinery manufacturing superior quality

Founded in 1868, the IWC a "mechanical experts men wrist watches " said, each IWC watch 28 times to go through independent testing. Founder of the American Foluolunting. Jones (Florentine A Jones) .20 century, the IWC in Germany, Austria and other places significant increase in sales. Today, the IWC in more than 700 sales points worldwide, the products are mainly exported to the Far East, Switzerland and Germany. Currently under Swiss Richemont.

 

Sixth Earl (Piaget): supreme treasure worthy of admiration

1874, Georges Edouard Piaget in movement production started. 1940, Piaget's grandson for Piaget to the development of the international market. In 1956, Piaget introduced the ultra-thin movement. Since the 1960s, Earl of complex movement dedicated to the research side, the top side of the development of jewelry design. From design, production of wax models to precious stone, Piaget always adhering to the purpose of excellence. The "handcuffs watch" (cuff watches) and "coin watch" (coin watches) superior design, is Piaget's treasures. Currently under Swiss Richemont.

 

Seventh Cartier: high society pets

Cartier 150 years of history, the French jewelry famous gold and silver jewelry manufacturing. In 1888, Cartier try gold bracelet set with diamonds, machinery installed on the women's table. In 1938, Cartier created the world's smallest watch, and give it to Princess Elizabeth of Britain. Cartier watch has been the high society pet, long lasting. Currently under Swiss Richemont.

Eighth Jaeger (Jaeger LeCoultre): create a "Guinness Book of Records"

Anthony. Pull off test (Antoine LeCoultre) 1833 workshop set up in Switzerland. In 1844, designer watches for men he invented the measurement accuracy of 1 / 1000 mm micron meter, so watch machining accuracy greatly improved. Jaeger-LeCoultre in 1907 launched the world's thinnest mechanical movement, in 1929 launched the world's smallest mechanical movement. 1931 product family designed for polo players watch the launch of high-end watch is a rare classic. Currently under Swiss Richemont.

 

Ninth Rolex (Rolex): the watch area's dominant

Rolex founder Hans. Wilsdorf, 1908 in Switzerland he will be registered as a trademark of Rolex. 1920s, the company developed a waterproof Rolex watches. In 1953, Rolex introduced specifically designed for divers diving watch. Rolex watches designed in line with solemn, practical, not flashy style, by a large number of people loved.

Tenth Girard Perregaux (Girard-Perregaux)

Girard Perregaux, founder of JF Bautte 1791 was produced out of his first watch. swiss made watches 1854, Girard-Perregaux (Girard-Perregaux) the name was born. To the early 20th century, Girard-Perregaux's popularity continues to expand. In 1930, when the pocket watch sales for the first time more than sales, the Chicago Park 50 years ago set the development strategy of the watch proved to be correct. In 1998, the Chicago Park to establish branches in Japan, and Japan have a watch named "best watch."

Time to give the Swiss Mido enough awards, which are each a classic design in mind for the people.

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The three detectives had many matters of detail into which to inquire; so I returned alone to our modest quarters at the village inn. But before doing so I took a stroll in the curious old-world garden which flanked the house. Rows of very ancient yew trees cut into strange designs girded it round. Inside was a beautiful stretch of lawn with an old sundial in the middle, the whole effect so soothing and restful that it was welcome to my somewhat jangled nerves.

In that deeply peaceful atmosphere one could forget, or remember only as some fantastic nightmare, that darkened study with the sprawling, bloodstained figure on the floor. And yet, as I strolled round it and tried to steep my soul in its gentle balm, a strange incident occurred, which brought me back to the tragedy and left a sinister impression in my mind.

I have said that a decoration of yew trees circled the garden. At the end farthest from the house they thickened into a continuous hedge. On the other side of this hedge, concealed from the eyes of anyone approaching from the direction of the house, there was a stone seat. As I approached the spot I was aware of voices, some remark in the deep tones of a man, answered by a little ripple of feminine laughter. best watches replica

An instant later I had come round the end of the hedge and my eyes lit upon Mrs. Douglas and the man Barker before they were aware of my presence. Her appearance gave me a shock. In the dining-room she had been demure and discreet. Now all pretense of grief had passed away from her. Her eyes shone with the joy of living, and her face still quivered with amusement at some remark of her companion. He sat forward, his hands clasped and his forearms on his knees, with an answering smile upon his bold, handsome face. In an instant--but it was just one instant too late--they resumed their solemn masks as my figure came into view. A hurried word or two passed between them, and then Barker rose and came towards me.

"Excuse me, sir," said he, "but am I addressing Dr. Watson?"

I bowed with a coldness which showed, I dare say, very plainly the impression which had been produced upon my mind.

"We thought that it was probably you, as your friendship with Mr. Sherlock Holmes is so well known. Would you mind coming over and speaking to Mrs. Douglas for one instant?"

I followed him with a dour face. Very clearly I could see in my mind's eye that shattered figure on the floor. Here within a few hours of the tragedy were his wife and his nearest friend laughing together behind a bush in the garden which had been his. I greeted the lady with reserve. I had grieved with her grief in the dining room. Now I met her appealing gaze with an unresponsive eye.

"I fear that you think me callous and hard-hearted," said she.

I shrugged my shoulders. "It is no business of mine," said I.

"Perhaps some day you will do me justice. If you only realized--"

"There is no need why Dr. Watson should realize," said Barker quickly. "As he has himself said, it is no possible business of his."

"Exactly," said I, "and so I will beg leave to resume my walk."

"One moment, Dr. Watson," cried the woman in a pleading voice. "There is one question which you can answer with more authority than anyone else in the world, and it may make a very great difference to me. You know Mr. Holmes and his relations with the police better than anyone else can. Supposing that a matter were brought confidentially to his knowledge, is it absolutely necessary that he should pass it on to the detectives?" swiss watches for men

"Yes, that's it," said Barker eagerly. "Is he on his own or is he entirely in with them?"

"I really don't know that I should be justified in discussing such a point."

"I beg--I implore that you will, Dr. Watson! I assure you that you will be helping us--helping me greatly if you will guide us on that point."

There was such a ring of sincerity in the woman's voice that for the instant I forgot all about her levity and was moved only to do her will.

"Mr. Holmes is an independent investigator," I said. "He is his own master, and would act as his own judgment directed. At the same time, he would naturally feel loyalty towards the officials who were working on the same case, and he would not conceal from them anything which would help them in bringing a criminal to justice. Beyond this I can say nothing, and I would refer you to Mr. Holmes himself if you wanted fuller information."

So saying I raised my hat and went upon my way, leaving them still seated behind that concealing hedge. I looked back as I rounded the far end of it, and saw that they were still talking very earnestly together, and, as they were gazing after me, it was clear that it was our interview that was the subject of their debate.

"I wish none of their confidences," said Holmes, when I reported to him what had occurred. He had spent the whole afternoon at the Manor House in consultation with his two colleagues, and returned about five with a ravenous appetite for a high tea which I had ordered for him. "No confidences, Watson; for they are mighty awkward if it comes to an arrest for conspiracy and murder."

"You think it will come to that?"

He was in his most cheerful and debonair humour. "My dear Watson, when I have exterminated that fourth egg I shall be ready to put you in touch with the whole situation. I don't say that we have fathomed it--far from it--but when we have traced the missing dumb-bell--"men wrist watches

"The dumb-bell!"

"Dear me, Watson, is it possible that you have not penetrated the fact that the case hangs upon the missing dumb-bell? Well, well, you need not be downcast; for between ourselves I don't think that either Inspector Mac or the excellent local practitioner has grasped the overwhelming importance of this incident. One dumb-bell, Watson! Consider an athlete with one dumb-bell! Picture to yourself the unilateral development, the imminent danger of a spinal curvature. Shocking, Watson, shocking!"

He sat with his mouth full of toast and his eyes sparkling with mischief, watching my intellectual entanglement. The mere sight of his excellent appetite was an assurance of success; for I had very clear recollections of days and nights without a thought of food, when his baffled mind had chafed before some problem while his thin, eager features became more attenuated with the asceticism of complete mental concentration. Finally he lit his pipe, and sitting in the inglenook of the old village inn he talked slowly and at random about his case, rather as one who thinks aloud than as one who makes a considered statement.

"A lie, Watson--a great, big, thumping, obtrusive, uncompromising lie--that's what meets us on the threshold! There is our starting point. The whole story told by Barker is a lie. But Barker's story is corroborated by Mrs. Douglas. Therefore she is lying also. They are both lying, and in a conspiracy. So now we have the clear problem. Why are they lying, and what is the truth which they are trying so hard to conceal? Let us try, Watson, you and I, if we can get behind the lie and reconstruct the truth.

"How do I know that they are lying? Because it is a clumsy fabrication which simply could not be true. Consider! According to the story given to us, the assassin had less than a minute after the murder had been committed to take that ring, which was under another ring, from the dead man's finger, to replace the other ring--a thing which he would surely never have done--and to put that singular card beside his victim. I say that this was obviously impossible.mens automatic watches

"You may argue--but I have too much respect for your judgment, Watson, to think that you will do so--that the ring may have been taken before the man was killed. The fact that the candle had been lit only a short time shows that there had been no lengthy interview. Was Douglas, from what we hear of his fearless character, a man who would be likely to give up his wedding ring at such short notice, or could we conceive of his giving it up at all? No, no, Watson, the assassin was alone with the dead man for some time with the lamp lit. Of that I have no doubt at all.

"But the gunshot was apparently the cause of death. Therefore the shot must have been fired some time earlier than we are told. But there could be no mistake about such a matter as that. We are in the presence, therefore, of a deliberate conspiracy upon the part of the two people who heard the gunshot--of the man Barker and of the woman Douglas. When on the top of this I am able to show that the blood mark on the windowsill was deliberately placed there by Barker, in order to give a false clue to the police, you will admit that the case grows dark against him.

"Now we have to ask ourselves at what hour the murder actually did occur. Up to half-past ten the servants were moving about the house; so it was certainly not before that time. At a quarter to eleven they had all gone to their rooms with the exception of Ames, who was in the pantry. I have been trying some experiments after you left us this afternoon, and I find that no noise which MacDonald can make in the study can penetrate to me in the pantry when the doors are all shut.

"It is otherwise, however, from the housekeeper's room. It is not so far down the corridor, and from it I could vaguely hear a voice when it was very loudly raised. The sound from a shotgun is to some extent muffled when the discharge is at very close range, as it undoubtedly was in this instance. It would not be very loud, and yet in the silence of the night it should have easily penetrated to Mrs. Allen's room. She is, as she has told us, somewhat deaf; but none the less she mentioned in her evidence that she did hear something like a door slamming half an hour before the alarm was given. Half an hour before the alarm was given would be a quarter to eleven. I have no doubt that what she heard was the report of the gun, and that this was the real instant of the murder.watches forum

"If this is so, we have now to determine what Barker and Mrs. Douglas, presuming that they are not the actual murderers, could have been doing from quarter to eleven, when the sound of the shot brought them down, until quarter past eleven, when they rang the bell and summoned the servants. What were they doing, and why did they not instantly give the alarm? That is the question which faces us, and when it has been answered we shall surely have gone some way to solve our problem."

"I am convinced myself," said I, "that there is an understanding between those two people. She must be a heartless creature to sit laughing at some jest within a few hours of her husband's murder."

"Exactly. She does not shine as a wife even in her own account of what occurred. I am not a whole-souled admirer of womankind, as you are aware, Watson, but my experience of life has taught me that there are few wives, having any regard for their husbands, who would let any man's spoken word stand between them and that husband's dead body. Should I ever marry, Watson, I should hope to inspire my wife with some feeling which would prevent her from being walked off by a housekeeper when my corpse was lying within a few yards of her. It was badly stage-managed; for even the rawest investigators must be struck by the absence of the usual feminine ululation. If there had been nothing else, this incident alone would have suggested a prearranged conspiracy to my mind."

"You think then, definitely, that Barker and Mrs. Douglas are guilty of the murder?"

 

 

THE DECEMBER COVER of Capitol Magazine featured Clay Carter, looking tanned and quite handsome in an Armani suit, perched on the corner of his desk in his finely appointed office. It was a frantic last-minute substitution for a story titled "Christmas on the Potomac," the usual holiday edition in which a rich old Senator and his newest trophy wife opened their private new Washington mansion for all to see. The couple, and their decorations and cats and favorite recipes, got bumped to the inside because D.C. was first and always a city about money and power. How often would the magazine have the chance at the unbelievable story of a broke young lawyer who got so rich so fast? mbt shoes

There was Clay on his patio with a dog, one he'd borrowed from Rodney, and Clay posing next to the jury box in an empty courtroom as if he'd been extracting huge verdicts from the bad guys, and, of course, Clay washing his new Porsche. He confided that his passion was sailing, and there was a new boat docked down in the Bahamas. No significant romance at the moment, and the story immediately labeled him as one of the most eligible bachelors in town.

Near the back were the pictures of brides, followed by the announcements of upcoming weddings. Every debutante and private school girl and country club socialite in metropolitan D.C. dreamed of the moment when she would arrive in the pages of Capitol Magazine. The larger the photo, the more important the family. Ambitious mothers were known to take a ruler and measure the dimensions of their daughters' pictures and those of their rivals, then either gloat or hold secret grudges for years.

There was Rebecca Van Horn, resplendent on a wicker bench in a garden somewhere, a lovely photo ruined by the face of her groom and future mate, the Honorable Jason Shubert Myers IV, cuddling next to her and obviously enjoying the camera. Weddings are for brides, not grooms. Why did they insist on getting their faces in the announcements too?  Tory burch shoes   

Bennett and Barbara had pulled the right strings; Rebecca's announcement was the second largest of a dozen or so. Six pages over, Clay saw a full-page ad for BVH Group. The bribe.

Clay reveled in the misery the magazine was causing at that very moment around the Van Horn home. Rebecca's wedding, the big social bash that Bennett and Barbara could throw money at and impress the world, was being upstaged by their old nemesis. How many times would their daughter get her wedding announcement in Capitol Magazine? How hard had they worked to make sure she was prominently displayed? And all of it now ruined by Clay's thunder.

And his upstaging was not over.

JONAH HAD ALREADY ANNOUNCED that retirement was a real possibility. He'd spent ten days on Antigua with not one girl but two, and when he returned to D.C., in an early December snowstorm, he confided in Clay that he was mentally and psychologically unfit to practice law any longer. He'd had all he could take. His legal career was over. He was looking at sailboats himself. He'd found a girl who loved to sail and, because she was on the downside of a bad marriage, she too needed some serious time at sea. Jonah was from Annapolis and, unlike Clay, had sailed his entire life.

"I need a bimbo, preferably a blonde," Clay said as he settled into a chair across from Jonah's desk. His door was locked. It was after six on a Wednesday and Jonah had the first bottle of beer opened. They had compromised on an unwritten rule that there would be no drinking until 6 P.M. Otherwise, Jonah would start just after lunch.

"The hottest bachelor in town is having trouble picking up chicks?" cheap mbt shoes  

"I've been out of the loop. I'm going to Rebecca's wedding, and I need a babe who'll steal the show."

"Oh, this is beautiful," he said as he laughed and reached into a drawer in his desk. Only Jonah would keep files on women. He burrowed through some paperwork and found what he wanted. He tossed a folded newspaper across the desk. It was a lingerie ad for a department store. The gorgeous young goddess was wearing practically nothing below the waist and was barely covering her breasts with her folded arms. Clay vividly remembered seeing the ad the morning it first ran. The date was four months earlier.

"You know her?" "Of course I know her. You think I keep lingerie ads

just for the thrills?" "Wouldn't surprise me." "Her name is Ridley. At least that's what she goes by." "She lives here?" Clay was still gawking at the

stunning beauty he was holding, in black and white. "She's from Georgia." "Oh, a Southern girl." "No, a Russian girl. The country of Georgia. She came

over as an exchange student and never left." "She looks eighteen." "Mid-twenties." "How tall is she?" "Five ten or so." "Her legs look five feet long." "Are you complaining?" In an effort to appear somewhat nonchalant, Clay

tossed the paper back on the desk. "Any downside?" "Yes, she's rumored to be a switch-hitter." "A what?" "She likes boys and girls." "Ouch." "No confirmation, but a lot of models go both ways. MBT Sandals  

Could be just a rumor for all I know."

"You've dated her."

"Nope. A friend of a friend. She's on my list. I was just waiting for a confirmation. Give it a try. You don't like her, we'll find another bimbo."

"Can you make the call?"

"Sure, no problem. It's an easy call, now that you're Mr. Cover Boy, most eligible bachelor, the King of Torts. Wonder if they know what torts are over in Georgia?"

"Not if they're lucky. Just make the call."

THEY MET FOR DINNER at the restaurant of the month, a Japanese place frequented by the young and prosperous. Ridley looked even better in person than she did in print. Heads jerked and necks twisted as they were led to the center of the restaurant and placed at a very powerful table. Conversations halted in mid-sentence. Waiters swarmed around them. Her slightly accented English was perfect and just exotic enough to add even more sex to the package, as if she needed it.

Old hand-me-downs from a flea market would look great on Ridley. Her challenge was dressing down, so the clothes wouldn't compete with the blond hair and aqua eyes and high cheekbones and the rest of the perfect features. MBT Trainers

Her real name was Ridal Petashnakol, which she had to spell twice before Clay got it.  Fortunately, models, like soccer players, could survive with only one name, so she went just by Ridley. She drank no alcohol, but instead ordered a cranberry juice. Clay hoped she wouldn't order a plate of carrots for dinner.

She had the looks and he had the money, and since they could talk about neither they thrashed about in deep water for a few minutes looking for safe ground. She was Georgian, not Russian, and cared nothing about politics or terrorism or football. Ah, the movies! She saw everything and loved them all. Even dreadful stuff that no one else went to see. Box office disasters were much beloved by Ridley, and Clay was beginning to have doubts.

She's just a bimbo, he said to himself. Dinner now, Rebecca's wedding later, and she's history.

She spoke five languages, but since most were of the Eastern European variety they seemed pretty useless in the fast lane. Much to his relief, she ordered a first course, second course, and dessert. Conversation wasn't easy, but both worked hard at it. Their backgrounds were so different. The lawyer in him wanted a thorough examination of the witness; real name, age, blood type, father's occupation, salary, marital history, sexual history—is it true you're a switch-hitter? But he managed to throttle himself and not pry at all. He nibbled around the edges once or twice, got nothing, and went back to the movies. She knew every twenty-year-old B actor and who he happened to be dating at the moment—painfully boring stuff, but, then, probably not as boring as having a bunch of lawyers talk about their latest trial victories or toxic tort settlements. Coach USA 

Clay knocked back the wine and got himself loosened up. It was a red burgundy. Patton French would've been proud. If only his mass tort buddies could see him now, sitting across from this Barbie Doll.

The only negative was the nasty rumor. Surely she couldn't go for women. She was too perfect, too exquisite, too appealing to the opposite sex. She was destined to be a trophy wife! But there was something about her that kept him suspicious. Once the initial shock of her looks wore off, and that took at least two hours and one bottle of wine, Clay realized he wasn't getting past the surface. Either there wasn't much depth, or it was carefully protected.

Over dessert, a chocolate mousse that she toyed with but did not eat, he invited her to attend a wedding reception. He confessed that the bride was his former fiancée, but lied when he said that they were now on friendly terms. Ridley shrugged as if she preferred to go to the movies. "Why not?" she said.

AS HE TURNED INTO the drive of the Potomac Country Club, Clay was hit hard by the moment. His last visit to this wretched place had been more than seven months earlier, a torturous dinner with Rebecca's parents. Then he'd hidden his old Honda behind the tennis courts. Now, he was showing off a freshly detailed Porsche Carrera. Then, he'd avoided the valet parking to save money. Now he'd tip the kid extra. Then, he was alone and dreading the next few hours with the Van Horns. Now he was escorting the priceless Ridley, who held his elbow and crossed her legs in such a way that the slit in her skirt showed all the way to her waist; and wherever her parents happened to be at the moment they damned sure weren't involved in his life. Then, he'd felt like a vagrant on hallowed ground. Now the Potomac Country Club would approve his application tomorrow if he wrote the right check.  Coach Discount

"Van Horn wedding reception," he said to the guard, who waved him through.

They were an hour late, which was perfect timing. The ballroom was packed and a rhythm and blues band played at one end.

"Stay close to me," Ridley whispered as they entered. "I won't know anyone here."

"Don't worry," Clay said. Staying close would not be a problem. And though he pretended otherwise, he wouldn't know anyone either.

Heads began turning immediately. Jaws dropped. With several drinks under their belts the men did not hesitate to gawk at Ridley as she and her date inched forward. "Hey, Clay!" someone yelled, and Clay turned to see the smiling face of Randy Spino, a law school classmate who worked in a megafirm and would never, under normal circumstances, have spoken to Clay in such surroundings. A chance meeting on the street, and maybe Spino would say, "How's it going?" without breaking stride. But never in a country club crowd, and especially one so dominated by big-firm types.

But there he was, thrusting a hand forward at Clay while showing Ridley every one of his teeth. A small mob followed. Spino took charge, introducing all of his good friends to his good friend Clay Carter and Ridley with no last name. She squeezed Clay's elbow even tighter. All the boys wanted to say hello.

To get close to Ridley they needed to chat with Clay, so it was only a few seconds before someone said, "Hey, Clay, congratulations on nailing Ackerman Labs." Clay had never seen the person who congratulated him. He assumed he was a lawyer, probably from a big firm, probably a big firm that represented big corporations like Ackerman Labs, and he knew before the sentence was finished that the false praise was driven by envy. And a desire to stare at Ridley. Coach for sale

"Thanks," Clay said, as if it was just another day at the office.

"A hundred million. Wow!" This face, too, belonged to a stranger, one who appeared to be drunk.

"Well, half goes for taxes," Clay said. Who could get by these days on just $50 million?

The mob exploded in laughter, as if Clay had just hit the funniest punch line ever. More people gathered around, all men, all inching toward this striking blonde who looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps they didn't recognize her in full color with her clothes on.

An intense, stuffy type said, "We got Philo. Boy, were we glad to get that Dyloft mess settled." It was an affliction suffered by most D.C. lawyers. Every corporation in the world had D.C. counsel, if in name only, and so every dispute or transaction had grave consequences among the city's lawyers. A refinery blows up in Thailand, and a lawyer will say, "Yeah, we got Exxon." A blockbuster flops—"We got Disney." An SUV flips and kills five—"We got Ford."

"We-Gots" was a game Clay had heard until he was sick of it.

I got Ridley, he wanted to say, so keep your hands off.

An announcement was being made onstage and the room became quieter. The bride and groom were about to dance, to be followed by the bride and her father, then the groom and his mother, and so on. The crowd gathered around to watch. The band began playing "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes."

"She's very pretty," Ridley whispered, very close to his right ear. Indeed she was. And she was dancing with Jason Myers who, though he was two inches shorter, appeared to Rebecca to be the only person in the world. She smiled and glowed as they spun slowly around the dance floor, the bride doing most of the work because her groom was as stiff as a board. discount coach wallets

Clay wanted to attack, to bolt through the crowd and sucker punch Myers with all the force he could muster. He would rescue his girl and take her away and shoot her mother if she found them.

"You still love her, don't you?" Ridley was whispering.

"No, it's over," he whispered back.

"You do. I can tell."

"No."

The newlyweds would go somewhere tonight and consummate their marriage, though knowing Rebecca as intimately as he did, he knew she had not been doing without sex. She'd probably taken this worm Myers and educated him in the ways of the bed. A lucky man. The things Clay had taught her she was now passing along to someone else. It wasn't fair.

The two were painful to watch, and Clay asked himself why he was there. Closure, whatever that meant. A farewell. But he wanted Rebecca to see him, and Ridley, and to know that he was faring well and not missing her.

Watching Bennett the Bulldozer dance was painful for other reasons. He subscribed to the white man's theory of dancing without moving his feet, and when he tried to shake his butt the band actually laughed. His cheeks were already crimson from too much Chivas.

Jason Myers danced with Barbara Van Horn who, from a distance, looked as though she'd had another round or two with her discount plastic surgeon. She was poured into a dress that, while pretty, was several sizes too small, so that the extra flab was bulging in the wrong spots and seemed ready to free itself and make everyone sick. She had plastered across her face the phoniest grin she'd ever produced—no wrinkles anywhere, though, due to excessive Botox—and Myers grinned right back as if the two would be close chums forever. She was already knifing him in the back and he was too stupid to know it. Sadly, she probably didn't know it either. Just the nature of the beast. cheap coach wallets

"Would you like to dance?" someone asked Ridley.

"Bug off," Clay said, then led her to the dance floor where a mob was gyrating to some pretty good Motown. If Ridley standing still was a work of art, Ridley in full motion was a national treasure. She moved with a natural rhythm and easy grace, with the low-cut dress just barely high enough and the slit in the skirt flying open to reveal all manner of flesh. Groups of men were gathering to watch.

And watching also was Rebecca. Taking a break to chat with her guests, she noticed the commotion and looked into the crowd, where she saw Clay dancing with a knockout. She, too, was stunned by Ridley, but for other reasons. She continued chatting for a moment, then moved back to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Clay's eyes were working furiously to check on Rebecca without missing a movement from Ridley. The song ended, a slow number began, and Rebecca stepped between them. "Hello, Clay," she said, ignoring his date. "How about a dance?"

"Sure," he said. Ridley shrugged and moved away, alone for only a second before a stampede surrounded her. She picked the tallest one, threw her arms around him, and began pulsating.

"Don't remember inviting you." Rebecca said with an arm over his shoulder.

"You want me to leave?" He pulled her slightly closer but the bulky wedding dress prevented the contact he wanted.

"People are watching," she said, smiling for their benefit. "Why are you here?"

"To celebrate your wedding. And to get a good look at your new boy."

"Don't be ugly, Clay. You're just jealous."

"I'm more than jealous. I'd like to break his neck."

"Where'd you get the bimbo?"

"Now who's jealous?"

"Me."

"Don't worry, Rebecca, she can't touch you in bed." On second thought, perhaps she'd like to. Anyway.

"Jason's not bad."

"I really don't want to hear about it. Just don't get pregnant, okay?"

"That's hardly any of your business."

"It's very much my business."

Ridley and her beau swept by them. For the first time Clay got a good look at her back, the full extent of which was on display because her dress didn't exist until just a few tiny inches above her round and perfect cheeks. Rebecca saw it too. "Is she on the payroll?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Is she a minor?"

"Oh no. She's very much the adult. Tell me you still love me."

"I don't."

"You're lying."

"It might be best if you leave now, and take her with you."

"Sure, it's your party. Didn't mean to crash it."

"That's the only reason you're here, Clay." She pulled away slightly but kept dancing.

"Hang in there for a year, okay?" he said. "By then I'll have two hundred million. We can hop on my jet, blow this joint, spend the rest of our lives on a yacht. Your parents will never find us."

She stopped moving and said, "Good-bye, Clay."

"I'll wait," he said, then got knocked aside by a stumbling Bennett who said, "Excuse me." He grabbed his daughter and rescued her by shuffling to the other side of the floor.

Barbara was next. She took Clay's hand and flashed an artificial smile. "Let's not make a scene," she said without moving her lips. They began a rigid movement that no one would mistake for dancing. Karen Millen Dress UK

"And how are you, Mrs. Van Horn?" Clay said, in the clutches of a pit viper.

"Fine, until I saw you. I'm positive you were not invited to this little party."

"I was just leaving."

"Good. I'd hate to call security."

"That won't be necessary."

"Don't ruin this moment for her, please."

"Like I said. I was just leaving."

The music stopped and Clay jerked away from Mrs. Van Horn. A small mob materialized around Ridley, but Clay whisked her off. They retreated to the back of the room where a bar was attracting more fans than the band. Clay grabbed a beer and was planning an exit when another group of onlookers encircled them. Lawyers in the bunch wanted to talk about the joys of mass torts while pressing close to Ridley.

After a few minutes of idiotic small talk with people he detested, a thick young man in a rented tuxedo appeared next to Clay and whispered, "I'm security." He had a friendly face and seemed very professional.

"I'm leaving," Clay whispered back.

Tossed from the Van Horn wedding reception. Ejected from the great Potomac Country Club. Driving away, with Ridley wrapped around him, he privately declared it to be one of his finest moments.

THE DECEMBER COVER of Capitol Magazine featured Clay Carter, looking tanned and quite handsome in an Armani suit, perched on the corner of his desk in his finely appointed office. It was a frantic last-minute substitution for a story titled "Christmas on the Potomac," the usual holiday edition in which a rich old Senator and his newest trophy wife opened their private new Washington mansion for all to see. The couple, and their decorations and cats and favorite recipes, got bumped to the inside because D.C. was first and always a city about money and power. How often would the magazine have the chance at the unbelievable story of a broke young lawyer who got so rich so fast? Karen Millen One Shoulder Dress

There was Clay on his patio with a dog, one he'd borrowed from Rodney, and Clay posing next to the jury box in an empty courtroom as if he'd been extracting huge verdicts from the bad guys, and, of course, Clay washing his new Porsche. He confided that his passion was sailing, and there was a new boat docked down in the Bahamas. No significant romance at the moment, and the story immediately labeled him as one of the most eligible bachelors in town.

Near the back were the pictures of brides, followed by the announcements of upcoming weddings. Every debutante and private school girl and country club socialite in metropolitan D.C. dreamed of the moment when she would arrive in the pages of Capitol Magazine. The larger the photo, the more important the family. Ambitious mothers were known to take a ruler and measure the dimensions of their daughters' pictures and those of their rivals, then either gloat or hold secret grudges for years.

There was Rebecca Van Horn, resplendent on a wicker bench in a garden somewhere, a lovely photo ruined by the face of her groom and future mate, the Honorable Jason Shubert Myers IV, cuddling next to her and obviously enjoying the camera. Weddings are for brides, not grooms. Why did they insist on getting their faces in the announcements too?

Bennett and Barbara had pulled the right strings; Rebecca's announcement was the second largest of a dozen or so. Six pages over, Clay saw a full-page ad for BVH Group. The bribe.

Clay reveled in the misery the magazine was causing at that very moment around the Van Horn home. Rebecca's wedding, the big social bash that Bennett and Barbara could throw money at and impress the world, was being upstaged by their old nemesis. How many times would their daughter get her wedding announcement in Capitol Magazine? How hard had they worked to make sure she was prominently displayed? And all of it now ruined by Clay's thunder. Karen Millen One Shoulder Ruffle Dress

And his upstaging was not over.

JONAH HAD ALREADY ANNOUNCED that retirement was a real possibility. He'd spent ten days on Antigua with not one girl but two, and when he returned to D.C., in an early December snowstorm, he confided in Clay that he was mentally and psychologically unfit to practice law any longer. He'd had all he could take. His legal career was over. He was looking at sailboats himself. He'd found a girl who loved to sail and, because she was on the downside of a bad marriage, she too needed some serious time at sea. Jonah was from Annapolis and, unlike Clay, had sailed his entire life.

"I need a bimbo, preferably a blonde," Clay said as he settled into a chair across from Jonah's desk. His door was locked. It was after six on a Wednesday and Jonah had the first bottle of beer opened. They had compromised on an unwritten rule that there would be no drinking until 6 P.M. Otherwise, Jonah would start just after lunch.

"The hottest bachelor in town is having trouble picking up chicks?"

"I've been out of the loop. I'm going to Rebecca's wedding, and I need a babe who'll steal the show."

"Oh, this is beautiful," he said as he laughed and reached into a drawer in his desk. Only Jonah would keep files on women. He burrowed through some paperwork and found what he wanted. He tossed a folded newspaper across the desk. It was a lingerie ad for a department store. The gorgeous young goddess was wearing practically nothing below the waist and was barely covering her breasts with her folded arms. Clay vividly remembered seeing the ad the morning it first ran. The date was four months earlier. Tory burch usa

"You know her?" "Of course I know her. You think I keep lingerie ads

just for the thrills?" "Wouldn't surprise me." "Her name is Ridley. At least that's what she goes by." "She lives here?" Clay was still gawking at the

stunning beauty he was holding, in black and white. "She's from Georgia." "Oh, a Southern girl." "No, a Russian girl. The country of Georgia. She came

over as an exchange student and never left." "She looks eighteen." "Mid-twenties." "How tall is she?" "Five ten or so." "Her legs look five feet long." "Are you complaining?" In an effort to appear somewhat nonchalant, Clay

tossed the paper back on the desk. "Any downside?" "Yes, she's rumored to be a switch-hitter." "A what?" "She likes boys and girls." "Ouch." "No confirmation, but a lot of models go both ways.

Could be just a rumor for all I know."

"You've dated her."

"Nope. A friend of a friend. She's on my list. I was just waiting for a confirmation. Give it a try. You don't like her, we'll find another bimbo."

"Can you make the call?"

"Sure, no problem. It's an easy call, now that you're Mr. Cover Boy, most eligible bachelor, the King of Torts. Wonder if they know what torts are over in Georgia?"

"Not if they're lucky. Just make the call."

THEY MET FOR DINNER at the restaurant of the month, a Japanese place frequented by the young and prosperous. Ridley looked even better in person than she did in print. Heads jerked and necks twisted as they were led to the center of the restaurant and placed at a very powerful table. Conversations halted in mid-sentence. Waiters swarmed around them. Her slightly accented English was perfect and just exotic enough to add even more sex to the package, as if she needed it. Tory burch shoes usa 

Old hand-me-downs from a flea market would look great on Ridley. Her challenge was dressing down, so the clothes wouldn't compete with the blond hair and aqua eyes and high cheekbones and the rest of the perfect features.

Her real name was Ridal Petashnakol, which she had to spell twice before Clay got it. Fortunately, models, like soccer players, could survive with only one name, so she went just by Ridley. She drank no alcohol, but instead ordered a cranberry juice. Clay hoped she wouldn't order a plate of carrots for dinner.

She had the looks and he had the money, and since they could talk about neither they thrashed about in deep water for a few minutes looking for safe ground. She was Georgian, not Russian, and cared nothing about politics or terrorism or football. Ah, the movies! She saw everything and loved them all. Even dreadful stuff that no one else went to see. Box office disasters were much beloved by Ridley, and Clay was beginning to have doubts.

She's just a bimbo, he said to himself. Dinner now, Rebecca's wedding later, and she's history.

She spoke five languages, but since most were of the Eastern European variety they seemed pretty useless in the fast lane. Much to his relief, she ordered a first course, second course, and dessert. Conversation wasn't easy, but both worked hard at it. Their backgrounds were so different. The lawyer in him wanted a thorough examination of the witness; real name, age, blood type, father's occupation, salary, marital history, sexual history—is it true you're a switch-hitter? But he managed to throttle himself and not pry at all. He nibbled around the edges once or twice, got nothing, and went back to the movies. She knew every twenty-year-old B actor and who he happened to be dating at the moment—painfully boring stuff, but, then, probably not as boring as having a bunch of lawyers talk about their latest trial victories or toxic tort settlements. tory burch flats sale

Clay knocked back the wine and got himself loosened up. It was a red burgundy. Patton French would've been proud. If only his mass tort buddies could see him now, sitting across from this Barbie Doll.

The only negative was the nasty rumor. Surely she couldn't go for women. She was too perfect, too exquisite, too appealing to the opposite sex. She was destined to be a trophy wife! But there was something about her that kept him suspicious. Once the initial shock of her looks wore off, and that took at least two hours and one bottle of wine, Clay realized he wasn't getting past the surface. Either there wasn't much depth, or it was carefully protected.

Over dessert, a chocolate mousse that she toyed with but did not eat, he invited her to attend a wedding reception. He confessed that the bride was his former fiancée, but lied when he said that they were now on friendly terms. Ridley shrugged as if she preferred to go to the movies. "Why not?" she said.

AS HE TURNED INTO the drive of the Potomac Country Club, Clay was hit hard by the moment. His last visit to this wretched place had been more than seven months earlier, a torturous dinner with Rebecca's parents. Then he'd hidden his old Honda behind the tennis courts. Now, he was showing off a freshly detailed Porsche Carrera. Then, he'd avoided the valet parking to save money. Now he'd tip the kid extra. Then, he was alone and dreading the next few hours with the Van Horns. Now he was escorting the priceless Ridley, who held his elbow and crossed her legs in such a way that the slit in her skirt showed all the way to her waist; and wherever her parents happened to be at the moment they damned sure weren't involved in his life. Then, he'd felt like a vagrant on hallowed ground. Now the Potomac Country Club would approve his application tomorrow if he wrote the right check. tory burch flats cheap

"Van Horn wedding reception," he said to the guard, who waved him through.

They were an hour late, which was perfect timing. The ballroom was packed and a rhythm and blues band played at one end.

"Stay close to me," Ridley whispered as they entered. "I won't know anyone here."

"Don't worry," Clay said. Staying close would not be a problem. And though he pretended otherwise, he wouldn't know anyone either.

Heads began turning immediately. Jaws dropped. With several drinks under their belts the men did not hesitate to gawk at Ridley as she and her date inched forward. "Hey, Clay!" someone yelled, and Clay turned to see the smiling face of Randy Spino, a law school classmate who worked in a megafirm and would never, under normal circumstances, have spoken to Clay in such surroundings. A chance meeting on the street, and maybe Spino would say, "How's it going?" without breaking stride. But never in a country club crowd, and especially one so dominated by big-firm types.

But there he was, thrusting a hand forward at Clay while showing Ridley every one of his teeth. A small mob followed. Spino took charge, introducing all of his good friends to his good friend Clay Carter and Ridley with no last name. She squeezed Clay's elbow even tighter. All the boys wanted to say hello.

To get close to Ridley they needed to chat with Clay, so it was only a few seconds before someone said, "Hey, Clay, congratulations on nailing Ackerman Labs." Clay had never seen the person who congratulated him. He assumed he was a lawyer, probably from a big firm, probably a big firm that represented big corporations like Ackerman Labs, and he knew before the sentence was finished that the false praise was driven by envy. And a desire to stare at Ridley.

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"Thanks," Clay said, as if it was just another day at the office.

"A hundred million. Wow!" This face, too, belonged to a stranger, one who appeared to be drunk.

"Well, half goes for taxes," Clay said. Who could get by these days on just $50 million?

The mob exploded in laughter, as if Clay had just hit the funniest punch line ever. More people gathered around, all men, all inching toward this striking blonde who looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps they didn't recognize her in full color with her clothes on.

An intense, stuffy type said, "We got Philo. Boy, were we glad to get that Dyloft mess settled." It was an affliction suffered by most D.C. lawyers. Every corporation in the world had D.C. counsel, if in name only, and so every dispute or transaction had grave consequences among the city's lawyers. A refinery blows up in Thailand, and a lawyer will say, "Yeah, we got Exxon." A blockbuster flops—"We got Disney." An SUV flips and kills five—"We got Ford."

"We-Gots" was a game Clay had heard until he was sick of it.

I got Ridley, he wanted to say, so keep your hands off.

An announcement was being made onstage and the room became quieter. The bride and groom were about to dance, to be followed by the bride and her father, then the groom and his mother, and so on. The crowd gathered around to watch. The band began playing "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes."

"She's very pretty," Ridley whispered, very close to his right ear. Indeed she was. And she was dancing with Jason Myers who, though he was two inches shorter, appeared to Rebecca to be the only person in the world. She smiled and glowed as they spun slowly around the dance floor, the bride doing most of the work because her groom was as stiff as a board.

Clay wanted to attack, to bolt through the crowd and sucker punch Myers with all the force he could muster. He would rescue his girl and take her away and shoot her mother if she found them.

"You still love her, don't you?" Ridley was whispering.

"No, it's over," he whispered back.

"You do. I can tell."

"No."

The newlyweds would go somewhere tonight and consummate their marriage, though knowing Rebecca as intimately as he did, he knew she had not been doing without sex. She'd probably taken this worm Myers and educated him in the ways of the bed. A lucky man. The things Clay had taught her she was now passing along to someone else. It wasn't fair. tory burch reva ballet flats 

The two were painful to watch, and Clay asked himself why he was there. Closure, whatever that meant. A farewell. But he wanted Rebecca to see him, and Ridley, and to know that he was faring well and not missing her.

Watching Bennett the Bulldozer dance was painful for other reasons. He subscribed to the white man's theory of dancing without moving his feet, and when he tried to shake his butt the band actually laughed. His cheeks were already crimson from too much Chivas.

Jason Myers danced with Barbara Van Horn who, from a distance, looked as though she'd had another round or two with her discount plastic surgeon. She was poured into a dress that, while pretty, was several sizes too small, so that the extra flab was bulging in the wrong spots and seemed ready to free itself and make everyone sick. She had plastered across her face the phoniest grin she'd ever produced—no wrinkles anywhere, though, due to excessive Botox—and Myers grinned right back as if the two would be close chums forever. She was already knifing him in the back and he was too stupid to know it. Sadly, she probably didn't know it either. Just the nature of the beast.

"Would you like to dance?" someone asked Ridley.

"Bug off," Clay said, then led her to the dance floor where a mob was gyrating to some pretty good Motown. If Ridley standing still was a work of art, Ridley in full motion was a national treasure. She moved with a natural rhythm and easy grace, with the low-cut dress just barely high enough and the slit in the skirt flying open to reveal all manner of flesh. Groups of men were gathering to watch.

And watching also was Rebecca. Taking a break to chat with her guests, she noticed the commotion and looked into the crowd, where she saw Clay dancing with a knockout. She, too, was stunned by Ridley, but for other reasons. She continued chatting for a moment, then moved back to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Clay's eyes were working furiously to check on Rebecca without missing a movement from Ridley. The song ended, a slow number began, and Rebecca stepped between them. "Hello, Clay," she said, ignoring his date. "How about a dance?"

"Sure," he said. Ridley shrugged and moved away, alone for only a second before a stampede surrounded her. She picked the tallest one, threw her arms around him, and began pulsating.

"Don't remember inviting you." Rebecca said with an arm over his shoulder.

"You want me to leave?" He pulled her slightly closer but the bulky wedding dress prevented the contact he wanted.

"People are watching," she said, smiling for their benefit. "Why are you here?"

"To celebrate your wedding. And to get a good look at your new boy."

"Don't be ugly, Clay. You're just jealous."

"I'm more than jealous. I'd like to break his neck."

"Where'd you get the bimbo?"

"Now who's jealous?"

"Me."

"Don't worry, Rebecca, she can't touch you in bed." On second thought, perhaps she'd like to. Anyway.

"Jason's not bad."

"I really don't want to hear about it. Just don't get pregnant, okay?"

"That's hardly any of your business."

"It's very much my business."

Ridley and her beau swept by them. For the first time Clay got a good look at her back, the full extent of which was on display because her dress didn't exist until just a few tiny inches above her round and perfect cheeks. Rebecca saw it too. "Is she on the payroll?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Is she a minor?"

"Oh no. She's very much the adult. Tell me you still love me."

"I don't."

"You're lying."

"It might be best if you leave now, and take her with you."

"Sure, it's your party. Didn't mean to crash it."

"That's the only reason you're here, Clay." She pulled away slightly but kept dancing.

"Hang in there for a year, okay?" he said. "By then I'll have two hundred million. We can hop on my jet, blow this joint, spend the rest of our lives on a yacht. Your parents will never find us."

She stopped moving and said, "Good-bye, Clay." MBT Chapa Shoes

"I'll wait," he said, then got knocked aside by a stumbling Bennett who said, "Excuse me." He grabbed his daughter and rescued her by shuffling to the other side of the floor.

Barbara was next. She took Clay's hand and flashed an artificial smile. "Let's not make a scene," she said without moving her lips. They began a rigid movement that no one would mistake for dancing.

"And how are you, Mrs. Van Horn?" Clay said, in the clutches of a pit viper.

"Fine, until I saw you. I'm positive you were not invited to this little party."

"I was just leaving."

"Good. I'd hate to call security."

"That won't be necessary."

"Don't ruin this moment for her, please."

"Like I said. I was just leaving."

The music stopped and Clay jerked away from Mrs. Van Horn. A small mob materialized around Ridley, but Clay whisked her off. They retreated to the back of the room where a bar was attracting more fans than the band. Clay grabbed a beer and was planning an exit when another group of onlookers encircled them. Lawyers in the bunch wanted to talk about the joys of mass torts while pressing close to Ridley.

After a few minutes of idiotic small talk with people he detested, a thick young man in a rented tuxedo appeared next to Clay and whispered, "I'm security." He had a friendly face and seemed very professional.

"I'm leaving," Clay whispered back.

Tossed from the Van Horn wedding reception. Ejected from the great Potomac Country Club. Driving away, with Ridley wrapped around him, he privately declared it to be one of his finest moments.

 

THE ENTIRE FLOOR above his firm became vacant at the end of the year. Clay leased half of it and consolidated his operations. He brought in the twelve paralegals and five secretaries from the Sweatshop; the Yale Branch lawyers who'd been in other space were likewise transferred to Connecticut Avenue, to the land of higher rents, where they felt more at home. He wanted his entire firm under one roof, and close at hand, because he planned to work them all until they dropped.

He attacked the new year with a ferocious work schedule—in the office by six with breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner at his desk. He was usually there until eight or nine at night, and left little doubt that he expected similar hours from those who wanted to stay.

Jonah did not. He was gone by the middle of January, his office cleared and vacated, his farewells quick. The sailboat was waiting. Don't bother to call. Just wire the money to an account in Aruba. Karen Millen Dress UK

Oscar Mulrooney was measuring Jonah's office before he got out the door. It was larger and had a better view, which meant nothing to him, but it was closer to Clay's and that was what mattered. Mulrooney smelled money, serious fees. He missed on Dyloft, but he would not miss again. He and the rest of the Yale boys had been shafted by the corporate law they'd been trained to covet, and now they were determined to make a mint in retribution. And what better way than by outright solicitation and ambulance-chasing? Nothing was more offensive to the stuffed shirts in the blue-blood firms. Mass tort litigation was not practicing law. It was a roguish form of entrepreneurship.

The aging Greek playboy who'd married Paulette Tullos and then left her had somehow gotten wind of her new money. He showed up in D.C., called her at the swanky condo he'd given her, and left a message on her answering machine. When Paulette heard his voice, she raced from her home and flew to London, where she'd spent the holidays and was still in hiding. She e-mailed Clay a dozen times while he was on Mustique, telling him of her predicament and instructing him on exactly how to handle her divorce upon his return. Clay filed the necessary papers, but the Greek was nowhere to be found. Nor was Paulette. She might come back in a few months; she might not. "Sorry, Clay," she said on the phone. "But I really don't want to work anymore."

So Mulrooney became the confidant, the unofficial partner with big ambitions. He and his team had been studying the shifting landscape of class-action litigation. They learned the law and the procedures. They read the scholarly articles by the academics, and they read the down-in-the-trenches war stories from trial lawyers. There were dozens of Web sites—one that purported to list all class actions now pending in the United States, a total of eleven thousand; one that instructed potential plaintiffs on how to join a class and receive compensation; one that specialized in lawsuits involving women's health; one for the men; several for the Skinny Ben diet pill fiasco; several for tobacco litigation. Never had so much brainpower, backed by so much cash, been aimed at the makers of bad products. Karen Millen Dresses Sale

Mulrooney had a plan. With so many class actions already filed, the firm could spend its considerable resources in rounding up new clients. Because Clay had the money for advertising and marketing, they could pick the most lucrative class actions and zero in on untapped plaintiffs. As with Dyloft, almost every lawsuit that had been settled was left open for a period of years to allow new participants to collect what they were entitled to. Clay's firm could simply ride the coattails of other mass tort lawyers, sort of pick up the pieces, but for huge fees. He used the example of Skinny Bens. The best estimate of the number of potential plaintiffs was around three hundred thousand, with perhaps as many as a hundred thousand still unidentified and certainly unrepresented. The litigation had been settled; the company was forking over billions. A claimant simply had to register with the class-action administrator, prove her medicals, and collect the money.

Like a general moving his troops, Clay assigned two lawyers and a paralegal to the Skinny Ben front. This was less than what Mulrooney asked for, but Clay had bigger plans. He laid out the war on Maxatil, a lawsuit that he would direct himself. The government report, still un-released and evidently stolen by Max Pace, was one hundred forty pages long and filled with damning results. Clay read it twice before he gave it to Mulrooney.

On a snowy night in late January, they worked until after midnight going through it, then made detailed plans for the attack. Clay assigned Mulrooney and two other lawyers, two paralegals, and three secretaries to the Maxatil litigation.

At two in the morning, with a heavy snow hitting the conference room window, Mulrooney said he had something unpleasant to discuss. "We need more money."

"How much?" Clay asked.

"There are thirteen of us now, all from big firms where we were doing quite well. Ten of us are married, most have kids, we're feeling the pressure, Clay. You gave us one-year contracts for seventy-five thousand, and, believe me, we're happy to get them. You have no idea what it's like to go to Yale, or a school like it, get wined and dined by the big firms, take a job, get married, then get tossed into the streets with nothing. Does something to the old ego, you know?"

"I understand."

"You doubled my salary and I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. I'm getting by. But the other guys are struggling. And they're very proud men."

"How much?"

"I'd hate to lose any of them. They're bright. They work their tails off."

"Let's do it like this, Oscar. I'm a very generous guy these days. I'll give all of you a new contract for one year, at two hundred grand. What I get in return is a ton of hours. We're on the brink here of something huge, bigger than last year. You guys deliver, and I'll do bonuses. Big fat bonuses. I love bonuses, Oscar, for obvious reasons. Deal?"

"You got it, chief."

The snow was too heavy to drive in, so they continued the marathon. Clay had preliminary reports on the company in Reedsburg, Pennsylvania, that was making defective brick mortar. Wes Saulsberry had passed along the secret file he'd mentioned in New York. Masonry cement wasn't as exciting as bladder tumors or blood clots or leaky heart valves, but the money was just as green. They assigned two lawyers and a paralegal to prepare the class action and to go find some plaintiffs. Karen Millen One Shoulder Dress

They were together for ten straight hours in the conference room, guzzling coffee, eating stale bagels, watching the snowfall become a blizzard, plotting the year. Though the session began as an exchange of ideas, it grew into something much more important. A new law firm took shape, one with a clear sense of where it was going and what it would become.

THE PRESIDENT NEEDED HIM! Though re-election was two years away his enemies were already raising money by the trainload. He had stood firm with the trial lawyers since his days as a rookie Senator, in fact he'd once been a small-town litigator himself, and was still proud of it, and he now needed Clay's help in fending off the selfish interests of big business. The vehicle he proposed for getting to know Clay personally was something called the Presidential Review, a select group of high-powered trial lawyers and labor types who could write nice checks and spend time talking about the issues.

The enemies were planning another massive assault called Tort Reform Now. They wanted to put heinous caps on both actual and punitive damages in lawsuits. They wanted to dismantle the class-action system that had served them (mass tort boys) so well. They wanted to prevent folks from suing doctors.

The President would stand firm, as always, but he sure needed some help. The handsome, gold-embossed, three-page letter ended with a plea for cash, and lots of it. Clay called Patton French, who, oddly enough, happened to be in his office in Biloxi. French was abrupt, as usual. "Write the damned check," he said. Karen Millen One Shoulder Ruffle Dress

Phone calls went back and forth between Clay and the Director of the Presidential Review. Later, he couldn't remember how much he had initially planned to contribute, but it was nothing close to the $250,000 check he eventually wrote. A courier picked it up and delivered it to the White House. Four hours later, another courier delivered to Clay a small envelope from the White House. The note was handwritten on the President's correspondence card:

Dear Clay: I'm in a Cabinet meeting (trying to stay awake), otherwise I would've called. Thanks for the support. Let's have dinner and say hello.

Signed by the President.
Nice, but for a quarter of a million bucks he expected nothing less. The next day another courier delivered a thick invitation from the White House. URGENT REPLY REQUESTED was stamped on the outside. Clay and guest were asked to attend an official state dinner honoring the President of Argentina. Black tie, of course. RSVP immediately because the event was only four days away. Amazing what $250,000 would buy in Washington.

Ridley, of course, needed the proper dress, and since Clay was paying for it he went shopping with her. And he did so without complaining because he wanted some input into what she wore. Left unsupervised, she might shock the Argentines and everyone else for that matter with see-through fabrics and slits up to her waist. No sir, Clay wanted to see the outfit before she bought it.

But she was surprisingly modest in both taste and expense. Everything looked good on her; she was, after all, a model, though she seemed to be working less and less. She finally chose a stunning but simple red dress that revealed much less flesh than what she normally showed. At $3,000, it was a bargain. Shoes, a string of small pearls, a gold and diamond bracelet, and Clay escaped with just under $15,000 in damages.

Sitting in the limo outside the White House, waiting as the ones in front of them were searched by a swarm of guards, Ridley said, "I can't believe I'm doing this. Me, a poor girl from Georgia, going to the White House." She was wrapped around Clay's right arm. His hand was halfway up a thigh. Her accent was more pronounced, something that happened when she was nervous. Tory burch shoes usa 

"Hard to believe," he said, quite excited himself.

When they got out of the limo, under an awning on the East Wing, a Marine in parade dress took Ridley's arm and began an escort that took them into the East Room of the White House, where the guests were congregating and having a drink. Clay followed along, watching Ridley's rear, enjoying every second of it. The Marine reluctantly let go, and left to pick up another escort. A photographer took their picture.

They moved to the first cluster of conversation and introduced themselves to people they would never see again. Dinner was announced, and the guests proceeded into the State Dining Room, where fifteen tables of ten were packed together and covered with more china and silver and crystal than had ever been collected in one place. Seating was all prearranged, and no one sat with his or her spouse or guest. Clay escorted Ridley to her table, found her seat, helped her into it, then pecked her on the cheek and said, "Good luck." She flashed a model's smile, brilliant and confident, but he knew she was, at that moment, a scared little girl from Georgia. Before he was ten feet away, two men were hovering over her, grasping her hand with the warmest of introductions.

Clay was in for a long night. To his right was a society queen from Manhattan, a shriveled, prune-faced old battle-ax who'd been starving herself for so long she looked like a cadaver. She was deaf and talked at full volume. To his left was the daughter of a Midwestern shopping mall tycoon who'd gone to college with the President. Clay turned his attention to her and labored mightily for five minutes before realizing she had nothing to say. Tory burch usa

The clock stopped moving.

His back was to Ridley; he had no idea how she was surviving.

The President spoke, then dinner was served. An opera singer across the table from Clay began to feel his wine and started telling dirty jokes. He was loud and twangy, from somewhere in the mountains, and he was completely uninhibited when it came to using obscenities in mixed company, and in the White House no less.

Three hours after he sat down, Clay stood up and said good-bye to all his wonderful new friends. The dinner was over; a band was tuning up back in the East Room. He grabbed Ridley and they headed for the music.

Shortly before midnight, as the crowd dwindled down to a few dozen, the President and First Lady joined the heartier ones for a dance or two. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet Mr. Clay Carter. "Been reading your press, son, good job," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. President."

"Who's the chick?" Coach for sale

"A friend." What would the feminists do if they knew he used the word chick?

"Can I dance with her?"

"Sure, Mr. President."

And with that, Ms. Ridal Petashnakol, a twenty-four-year-old former exchange student from Georgia, got squeezed and hugged and otherwise networked by the President of the United States.

 

THE HEADLINE IN the Daily Profit screamed: A LOUSY HUNDRED MILLION AIN'T ENOUGH. And things got worse after that. The story began with a quick paragraph about the "frivolous" lawsuit filed yesterday in D.C. against Goffman, one of America's finest consumer products companies. Its wonderful drug Maxatil had helped countless women through the nightmare of menopause, but now it was under attack by the same sharks that had bankrupted A.H. Robins, Johns Manville, Owens-Illinois, and practically the entire American asbestos industry. mbt shoes

The story hit its stride when it went after the lead shark, a brash young D.C. hotshot named Clay Carter who, according to their sources, had never tried a civil lawsuit before a jury. Nonetheless, he had earned in excess of $100 million last year in the mass tort lottery. Evidently, the reporter had a trusted stable of ready sources. The first was an executive with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, who railed against lawsuits in general and trial lawyers in particular. "The Clay Carters of the world will only inspire others to file these contrived suits. There are a million lawyers in this country. If an unknown like Mr. Carter can earn so much so fast, then no decent company is safe." A law professor at a school Clay had never heard of said, "These guys are ruthless. Their greed is enormous, and because of it they will eventually choke the golden goose." A windy Congressman from Connecticut seized the moment to call for immediate passage of a class-action reform bill he'd authored. Committee hearings would take place, and Mr. Carter just might be subpoenaed to testify before Congress. Tory burch shoes   

Unnamed sources within Goffman said the company would defend itself vigorously, that it would not yield to class-action blackmail, and that it would, at the appropriate time, demand to be reimbursed for its attorneys' fees and litigation costs due to the outrageous and frivolous nature of the claims.

The company's stock had declined 11 percent, a loss of investors' equity of about $2 billion, all because of the bogus case. "Why don't the shareholders of Goffman sue guys like Clay Carter?" asked the professor from the unknown law school.

It was difficult material to read, but Clay certainly couldn't ignore it. An editorial in Investment Times called upon Congress to take a serious look at litigation reform. It too made much of the fact that young Mr. Carter had made a large fortune in less than a year. He was nothing but a "bully" whose ill-gotten gains would only inspire other street hustlers to sue everyone in sight.

The nickname "bully" stuck for a few days around the office, temporarily replacing "The King." Clay smiled and acted as if it was an honor. "A year ago no one was talking about me," he boasted. "Now, they can't get enough." But behind his locked office door he was uneasy and fretted about the haste with which he had sued Goffman. The fact that his mass tort pals were not piling on was distressing. The bad press was gnawing at him. There had not been a single defender so far. Pace had disappeared, which was not unusual, but not exactly what Clay needed at the moment.

Six days after filing the lawsuit, Pace checked in from California. "Tomorrow is the big day," he said. Coach for sale

"I need some good news," Clay said. "The government report?"

"Can't say," Pace replied. "And no more phone calls. Someone might be listening. I'll explain when I'm in town. Later."

Someone might be listening? On which end—Clay's or Pace's? And who, please? There went another night's sleep.

The study by the American Council on Aging was originally designed to test twenty thousand women between the ages of forty-five and seventy-five over a seven-year period. The group was equally divided, with one getting a daily dose of Maxatil, the other getting a placebo. But after four years, researchers abandoned the project because the results were so bad. They found an increase in the risk of breast cancer, heart disease, and stroke in a disturbing percentage of the participants. For those who took the drug, the risk of breast cancer jumped 33 percent, heart attacks 21 percent, and strokes 20 percent.

The study predicted that for every hundred thousand women using Maxatil four years or more, four hundred would develop breast cancer, three hundred would suffer some degree of heart disease, and there would be three hundred moderate to severe strokes. Karen Millen Dress UK

The following morning the report was published. Goffman's stock got hammered again, dropping to $51 a share on the news. Clay and Mulrooney spent the afternoon monitoring Web sites and cable channels, waiting for some response from the company, but there was none. The business reporters who'd scalded Clay when he filed the suit did not call for his reaction to the study. They briefly mentioned the story the following day. The Post ran a rather dry summary of the release of the report, but Clay's name was not used. He felt vindicated, but ignored. He had so much to say in response to his critics, but no one wanted to listen.

His anxiety was relieved by the deluge of phone calls from Maxatil patients.

THE GULFSTREAM FINALLY HAD to escape. Eight days in the hangar, and Clay was itching to travel. He loaded up Ridley and headed west, first to Las Vegas, though no one around the office knew he was stopping there. It was a business trip, and a very important one.

He had an appointment with the great Dale Mooneyham in Tucson to talk about Maxatil.

They spent two nights in Vegas, in a hotel with real cheetahs and panthers on display in a fake game preserve outside the front entrance. Clay lost $30,000 playing blackjack and Ridley spent $25,000 on clothes in the designer boutiques packed around the hotel's atrium. The Gulfstream fled to Tucson.

Mott & Mooneyham had converted an old train station downtown into a pleasantly shabby suite of offices. The lobby was the old waiting area, a long vaulted room where two secretaries were tucked away in corners at opposite ends, as if they had to be separated to keep the peace. On closer inspection, they seemed incapable of fighting; both were in their seventies and lost in their own worlds. It was a museum of sorts, a collection of products that Dale Mooneyham had taken to court and shown to juries. In one tall cabinet was a gas water heater, and the bronze placard above the door gave the name of the case and the amount of the verdict—$4.5 million, October 3, 1988, Stone County, Arkansas. There was a damaged three-wheeler that had cost Honda $3 million in California, and a cheap rifle that had so enraged a Texas jury that it gave the plaintiff $11 million. Dozens of products—a lawn mower, a burned-out frame of a Toyota Celica, a drill press, a defective life vest, a crumpled ladder. And on the walls were the press clippings and large photos of the great man handing over checks to his injured clients. Clay, alone because Ridley was shopping, browsed from display to display, entranced with the conquests and unaware that he had been kept waiting for almost an hour. Karen Millen Dresses Sale

As assistant finally fetched him and led him down a wide hall lined with spacious offices. The walls were covered with framed blowups of newspaper headlines and stories, all telling of thrilling courtroom victories. Whoever Mott was, he was certainly an insignificant player. The letterhead listed only four other lawyers.

Dale Mooneyham was seated behind his desk and only half-stood when Clay entered, unannounced and feeling very much like a vagrant. The handshake was cold and obligatory. He was not welcome there, and he was confused by his reception. Mooneyham was at least seventy, a big-framed man with a thick chest and large stomach. Blue jeans, gaudy red boots, a wrinkled western shirt, and certainly no necktie. He'd been dying his gray hair black, but was in need of another treatment because the sides were white, the top dark and slicked back with too much grease. Long wide face, the puffy eyes of a drinker.

"Nice office, really unique," Clay said, trying to thaw things a bit.

"Bought it forty years ago," Mooneyham said. "For five thousand bucks."

"Quite a collection of memorabilia out there."

"I've done all right, son. I haven't lost a jury trial in twenty-one years. I suppose I'm due for a loss, at least that's what my opponents keep saying."

Clay glanced around and tried to relax in the low, ancient leather chair. The office was at least five times as big as his, with the heads of stuffed game covering the walls and watching his every move. There were no phones ringing, no faxes clattering in the distance. There was not a computer in Mooneyham's office.

"I guess I'm here to talk about Maxatil," Clay said, sensing that he might be evicted at any moment.

Hesitation, no movement except for a casual readjusting of the dark little eyes. "It's a bad drug," he said simply, as if Clay had no idea. "I filed suit about five months ago up in Flagstaff. We have a fast-track here in Arizona, known as the rocket-docket, so we should have us a trial by early fall. Unlike you, I don't file suit until my case is thoroughly researched and prepared, and I'm ready to go to trial. Do it that way and the other side never catches up. I've written a book about pre-lawsuit preparation. Still read it all the time. You should too." Coach USA

Should I just leave now? Clay wanted to ask. "What about your client?"

"I just have one. Class actions are a fraud, at least the way you and your pals handle them. Mass torts are a scam, a consumer rip-off, a lottery driven by greed that will one day harm all of us. Unbridled greed will swing the pendulum to the other side. Reforms will take place, and they'll be severe. You boys will be out of business but you won't care because you'll have the money. The people who'll get harmed are all the future plaintiffs out there, all the little people who won't be able to sue for bad products because you boys have screwed up the law."

"I asked about your client."

"Sixty-six-year-old white female, nonsmoker, took Maxatil for four years. I met her a year ago. We take our time around here, do our homework before we start shooting."

Clay had intended to talk about big things, big ideas, like how many potential Maxatil clients were out there, and what did Mooneyham expect from Goffman, and what types of experts was he planning to use at trial. Instead, he was looking for a quick exit. "You're not expecting a settlement?" he asked, managing to sound somewhat engaged.

"I don't settle, son. My clients know that up front. I take three cases a year, all carefully selected by me. I like different cases, products and theories I've never tried before. Courthouses I've never seen. I get my choice because lawyers call me every day. And I always go to trial. I know when I take a case it will not be settled. That takes away a major distraction. I tell the defendant up front—'Let's not waste our time even thinking about a settlement, okay?'" He finally moved, just a slight shifting of weight to one side, as if he had a bad back or something. "That's good news for you, son. I'll get first shot at Goffman, and if the jury sees things my way then they'll give my client a nice verdict. All you copycats can fall in line, jump on the wagon, advertise for more clients, then settle them cheap and rake yours off the top. I'll make you another fortune." discount coach wallets

"I'd like to go to trial," Clay said.

"If what I read is correct, you don't know where the courthouse is."

"I can find it."

A shrug. "You probably won't have to. When I get finished with Goffman they'll run from every jury."

"I don't have to settle."

"But you will. You'll have thousands of cases. You won't have the guts to go to trial."

And with that he slowly stood, reached out a limp hand, and said, "I have work to do."

Clay hustled from the office, down the hall, through the museum/lobby, and outside into the fierce desert heat.

BAD LUCK IN VEGAS and a disaster in Tucson, but the trip was salvaged somewhere over Oklahoma, at 42,000 feet. Ridley was asleep on the sofa, under the covers and dead to the world, when the fax machine began humming. Clay walked to the rear of the dark cabin and retrieved a one-page transmission. It was from Oscar Mulrooney, at the office. He'd pulled a story off the Internet—the annual rankings of firms and fees from American Attorney magazine. Making the list of the twenty highest-paid lawyers in the country was Mr. Clay Carter, coming in at an impressive number eight, estimated earnings of $110 million for the previous year. There was even a small photo of Clay with the caption: "Rookie of the Year." cheap coach wallets 

Not a bad guess, Clay thought to himself. Unfortunately, $30 million of his Dyloft settlement had been paid in bonuses to Paulette, Jonah, and Rodney, rewards that at first had seemed generous but in hindsight were downright foolish. Never again. The good folks at American Attorney wouldn't know about such bighearted bonuses. Not that Clay was complaining. No other lawyer from the D.C. area was in the top twenty.

Number one was an Amarillo legend named Jock Ramsey who had negotiated a toxic-waste-dump case involving several oil and chemical companies. The case had dragged on for nine years. Ramsey's cut was estimated at $450 million. A tobacco lawyer from Palm Beach was thought to have earned $400 million. Another one from New York was number three at $325 million. Patton French landed at number four, which no doubt irritated him greatly.

Sitting in the privacy of his Gulfstream, staring at the magazine article featuring his photo, Clay told himself again that it was all a dream. There were 76,000 lawyers in D.C., and he was number one. A year earlier he had never heard of Tarvan or Dyloft or Maxatil, nor had he paid much attention to mass tort litigation. A year earlier his biggest dream was fleeing OPD and landing a job with a respectable firm, one that would pay him enough for some new suits and a better car. His name on a letterhead would impress Rebecca and keep her parents at bay. A nicer office with a higher class of clients would allow him to stop dodging his pals from law school. Such modest dreams. Karen Millen One Shoulder Dress

He decided he would not show the article to Ridley. The woman was warming up to the money and becoming more interested in jewelry and travel. She'd never been to Italy, and she'd dropped hints about Rome and Florence.

Everybody in Washington would be talking about Clay's name on the top twenty list. He thought of his friends and his rivals, his law school pals and the old gang at OPD. Mostly, though, he thought of Rebecca.

 

DELIVERY ON A NEW Gulfstream 5 would be a minimum of twenty-two months, probably more, but the delay was not the biggest obstacle. The current price tag was $44 million, fully loaded, of course, with all the latest gadgets and toys. It was simply too much money, though Clay was seriously tempted. The broker explained that most new G-5's were bought by large corporations, billion-dollar outfits who ordered two and three at a time and kept them in the air. The better deal for him, as a sole proprietor, was to lease a slightly older airplane for say, six months, to make sure it was what he wanted. Then he could convert it to a sale, with 90 percent of his rental payments applied to the sales price.

The broker had just the airplane. It was a 1998 model G-4 SP (Special Performance) that a Fortune 500 company had recently traded in for a new G-5. When Clay saw it sitting majestically on the ramp at Reagan National, his heart leaped and his pulse took off. It was snow-white, with a tasteful royal blue striping. Paris in six hours. London in five. Coach for sale

He climbed aboard with the broker. If it was an inch smaller than Patton French's G-5, Clay could not tell. There was leather, mahogany, and brass trim everywhere. A kitchen, bar, and rest room in the rear; the latest avionics up front for the pilots. One sofa folded out into a bed, and for a fleeting instant he thought about Ridley; the two of them under the covers at forty thousand feet. Elaborate stereo, video, and telephone systems. Fax, PC, Internet access.

The plane looked brand-new, and the salesman explained that it was fresh from the shop where the exterior had been repainted and the interior refurbished. When pressed, he finally said, "It's yours for thirty million."

They sat at a small table and began the deal. The idea of a lease slowly went out the window. With Clay's income, he would have no trouble obtaining a sweet financing package. His mortgage note, only $300,000 a month, would be slightly more than the lease payments. And if at any time he wanted to trade up, then the broker would take it back at the highest market appraisal, and outfit him with whatever he wanted.

Two pilots would cost $200,000 a year, including benefits, training, everything. Clay might consider putting the plane on the certificate of a corporate air charter company. "Depending on how much you use it, you could generate up to a million bucks a year in charters," the broker said, moving in for the kill. "That'll cover the expenses for pilots, hangar space, and maintenance." discount coach wallets

"Any idea how much I'll use it?" Clay asked, his head spinning with possibilities.

"I've sold lots of planes to lawyers," the salesman said, reaching for the right research. "Three hundred hours a year is max. You can charter it for twice that much."

Wow, Clay thought. This thing might actually generate some income.

A reasonable voice said to be cautious, but why wait? And who, exactly, might he turn to for advice? The only people he knew with experience in such matters were his mass tort buddies, and every one of them would say, "You don't have your own jet yet? Buy it!"

And so he bought it.

GOFFMAN'S FOURTH-QUARTER EARNINGS were up from the year before, with record sales. Its stock was at $65, the highest in two years. Beginning the first week in January, the company had launched an unusual ad campaign promoting not one of its many products but the company itself. "Goffman has always been there," was the slogan and theme, and each television commercial was a montage of well-known products being used to comfort and protect America: a mother applying a small bandage to her little son's wound; a handsome young man with the obligatory flat stomach, shaving and having a wonderful time doing it; a gray-haired couple on the beach happily free of their hemorrhoids; a jogger in agony, reaching for a painkiller; and so on. Goffman's list of trusted consumer products was lengthy. cheap coach wallets

Mulrooney was watching the company closer than a stock analyst, and he was convinced that the ad campaign was nothing but a ploy to brace investors and consumers for the shock of Maxatil. His research found no other "feel-good" messages in the history of Goffman's marketing. The company was one of the top five advertisers in the country, but had always poured its money into one specific product at a time, with outstanding results.

His opinion was shared by Max Pace, who had taken up residence in the Hay-Adams Hotel. Clay stopped by his suite for a late dinner, one delivered by room service. Pace was edgy and anxious to drop the bomb on Goffman. He read the latest revision of the class-action lawsuit to be filed in D.C. As always, he made notes in the margins.

"What's the plan?" he said, ignoring his food and wine.

Clay was not ignoring his. "The ads start at eight in the morning," he said with a mouth full of veal. "A blitz in eighty markets, coast to coast. The hot line is set up. The Web site is ready. My little firm is poised. I'll walk over to the courthouse at ten or so and file it myself."

"Sounds good."

"We've done it before. The Law Offices of J. Clay Carter II is a mass tort machine, thank you very much."

"Your new pals know nothing of it?"

"Of course not. Why would I tell them? We're in bed together with Dyloft, but French and those guys are my competitors too. I shocked them then, I'll shock them now. I can't wait."

"This ain't Dyloft, remember that. You were lucky there because you caught a weak company at a bad moment. Goffman will be much tougher."

Pace finally tossed the lawsuit on the dresser and sat down to eat.

"But they made a bad drug," Clay was saying. "And you don't go to trial with a bad drug."

"Not in a class action. My sources tell me that Goffman might want to litigate the case in Flagstaff since it's a single plaintiff."

"The Mooneyham case?"

"That's it. If they lose, they'll be softer on the issue of settlement. If they win, then this could be a long fight."

"You said Mooneyham doesn't lose."

"It's been twenty years or something like that. Juries love him. He wears cowboy hats and suede jackets and red boots and such. A throwback to the days when trial lawyers actually tried their cases. A real piece of work. You should go meet him. It would be worth a trip." Karen Millen Dresses Sale

"I'll put that on my list." The Gulfstream was just sitting in the hangar, anxious to travel.

A phone rang and Pace spent five minutes in muted conversation on the other side of the suite. "Valeria," he said as he returned to the table. Clay had a quick visual of the sexless creature munching on a carrot. Poor Max. He could do so much better.

Clay slept at the office. He had installed a small bedroom and a bath adjacent to the conference room. He was often up until after midnight, then a few hours of sleep before a quick shower, and back to the desk by six.

His work habits were becoming legendary not only within his own firm but around the city as well. Much of the gossip in legal circles was about him, at least for the moment, and his sixteen-hour days were often stretched to eighteen and twenty by those at bars and cocktail parties.

And why not work around the clock? He was thirty-two years old, single, with no serious obligations to steal his time. Through luck and a small amount of talent he had been handed a unique opportunity to succeed like few others. Why not pour his guts into his firm for a few years, then chuck it all and go play for the rest of his life? Karen Millen Dress Discount

Mulrooney arrived just after six, already with four cups of coffee under his belt and a hundred ideas on his mind. "D-Day?" he asked when he barged into Clay's office.

"D-Day!"

"Let's kick some ass!"

By seven, the place was rocking with associates and paralegals watching the clocks, waiting for the invasion. Secretaries hauled coffee and bagels from office to office. At eight, they crammed into the conference room and stared at a wide-screen TV. The ABC affiliate for metro

D.C. ran the first ad:

An attractive woman in her early sixties, short gray hair, smartly cut, designer eyeglasses, sitting at a small kitchen table, staring sadly out a window. Voice-over [rather ominous voice]: "If you've been taking the female hormone drug Maxatil, you may have an increased risk of breast cancer, heart disease, and stroke." Close on the lady's hands; on the table, a close-up of a pill bottle with the word MAXATIL in bold letters. [A skull and crossbones could not have been more frightening.] Voice-over: "Please consult your doctor immediately. Maxatil may pose a serious threat to your health." Close on the woman's face, even sadder now, then her eyes become moist. Voice-over: "For more information, call the Maxatil Hot Line." An 800 number flashes across the bottom of the screen. The final image is the woman removing her glasses and wiping a tear from her cheek. Karen Millen Dress Cheap

They clapped and cheered as if the money was about to be delivered by overnight courier. Then Clay sent them all to their posts, to sit by the phones and begin collecting clients. Within minutes, the calls started. Promptly at nine, as scheduled, copies of the lawsuit were faxed to newspapers and financial cable channels. Clay called his old pal at The Wall Street Journal and leaked the news. He said he might consider an interview in a day or so.

Goffman opened at $65 1/4 but was soon shot down by the news of the Maxatil lawsuit in D.C. Clay got himself photographed by a stringer as he filed the lawsuit in the courthouse.

By noon, Goffman had fallen to $61. The company hurriedly released a statement for the press in which it adamantly denied that Maxatil did all the terrible things alleged in the lawsuit. It would defend the case vigorously.

Patton French called during "lunch." Clay was eating a sandwich while standing behind his desk and watching the phone messages pile up. "I hope you know what you're doing," French said suspiciously.

"Gee, I hope so too, Patton. How are you?"

"Swell. We took a long hard look at Maxatil about six months ago. Decided to pass. Causation could be a real problem."

Clay dropped his sandwich and tried to breathe. Patton French said no to a mass tort? He passed on a class-action lawsuit against one of the wealthiest corporations in the land? Clay was aware that nothing was being said, a painful gap in the conversation. "Well, uh, Patton, we see things differently." He was reaching behind him, groping for his chair. He finally fell into it.

"In fact, everybody passed, until you. Saulsberry, Didier, Carlos down in Miami. Guy up in Chicago has a bunch of cases, but he hasn't filed them yet. I don't know, maybe you're right. We just didn't see it, that's all." Karen Millen Multicolor

French was fishing. "We got the goods on them," Clay said. The government report! That's it! Clay had it and French did not. Finally, a deep breath, and the blood started pumping again.

"You'd better have your ducks in a row, Clay. These guys are very good. They make old Wicks and the boys at Ackerman look like Cub Scouts."

"You sound scared, Patton, I'm surprised at you."

"Not scared at all. But if you have a hole in your theory of liability, they'll eat you alive. And, don't even think about a quick settlement."

"Are you in?"

"No. I didn't like it six months ago, don't like it now. Plus, I got too many other irons in the fire. Good luck."

Clay closed and locked his office door. He walked to his window and stood for at least five minutes before he felt the cool moisture of his shirt sticking to his back. Then he rubbed his forehead and found rows of sweat.

 

THE ENTIRE FLOOR above his firm became vacant at the end of the year. Clay leased half of it and consolidated his operations. He brought in the twelve paralegals and five secretaries from the Sweatshop; the Yale Branch lawyers who'd been in other space were likewise transferred to Connecticut Avenue, to the land of higher rents, where they felt more at home. He wanted his entire firm under one roof, and close at hand, because he planned to work them all until they dropped.

He attacked the new year with a ferocious work schedule—in the office by six with breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner at his desk. He was usually there until eight or nine at night, and left little doubt that he expected similar hours from those who wanted to stay.

Jonah did not. He was gone by the middle of January, his office cleared and vacated, his farewells quick. The sailboat was waiting. Don't bother to call. Just wire the money to an account in Aruba. Tory burch shoes   

Oscar Mulrooney was measuring Jonah's office before he got out the door. It was larger and had a better view, which meant nothing to him, but it was closer to Clay's and that was what mattered. Mulrooney smelled money, serious fees. He missed on Dyloft, but he would not miss again. He and the rest of the Yale boys had been shafted by the corporate law they'd been trained to covet, and now they were determined to make a mint in retribution. And what better way than by outright solicitation and ambulance-chasing? Nothing was more offensive to the stuffed shirts in the blue-blood firms. Mass tort litigation was not practicing law. It was a roguish form of entrepreneurship.

The aging Greek playboy who'd married Paulette Tullos and then left her had somehow gotten wind of her new money. He showed up in D.C., called her at the swanky condo he'd given her, and left a message on her answering machine. When Paulette heard his voice, she raced from her home and flew to London, where she'd spent the holidays and was still in hiding. She e-mailed Clay a dozen times while he was on Mustique, telling him of her predicament and instructing him on exactly how to handle her divorce upon his return. Clay filed the necessary papers, but the Greek was nowhere to be found. Nor was Paulette. She might come back in a few months; she might not. "Sorry, Clay," she said on the phone. "But I really don't want to work anymore."  Tory Burch Shoes On Sale 

So Mulrooney became the confidant, the unofficial partner with big ambitions. He and his team had been studying the shifting landscape of class-action litigation. They learned the law and the procedures. They read the scholarly articles by the academics, and they read the down-in-the-trenches war stories from trial lawyers. There were dozens of Web sites—one that purported to list all class actions now pending in the United States, a total of eleven thousand; one that instructed potential plaintiffs on how to join a class and receive compensation; one that specialized in lawsuits involving women's health; one for the men; several for the Skinny Ben diet pill fiasco; several for tobacco litigation. Never had so much brainpower, backed by so much cash, been aimed at the makers of bad products.

Mulrooney had a plan. With so many class actions already filed, the firm could spend its considerable resources in rounding up new clients. Because Clay had the money for advertising and marketing, they could pick the most lucrative class actions and zero in on untapped plaintiffs. As with Dyloft, almost every lawsuit that had been settled was left open for a period of years to allow new participants to collect what they were entitled to. Clay's firm could simply ride the coattails of other mass tort lawyers, sort of pick up the pieces, but for huge fees. He used the example of Skinny Bens. The best estimate of the number of potential plaintiffs was around three hundred thousand, with perhaps as many as a hundred thousand still unidentified and certainly unrepresented. The litigation had been settled; the company was forking over billions. A claimant simply had to register with the class-action administrator, prove her medicals, and collect the money.  tory burch flats sale

Like a general moving his troops, Clay assigned two lawyers and a paralegal to the Skinny Ben front. This was less than what Mulrooney asked for, but Clay had bigger plans. He laid out the war on Maxatil, a lawsuit that he would direct himself. The government report, still un-released and evidently stolen by Max Pace, was one hundred forty pages long and filled with damning results. Clay read it twice before he gave it to Mulrooney.

On a snowy night in late January, they worked until after midnight going through it, then made detailed plans for the attack. Clay assigned Mulrooney and two other lawyers, two paralegals, and three secretaries to the Maxatil litigation.

At two in the morning, with a heavy snow hitting the conference room window, Mulrooney said he had something unpleasant to discuss. "We need more money."

"How much?" Clay asked.

"There are thirteen of us now, all from big firms where we were doing quite well. Ten of us are married, most have kids, we're feeling the pressure, Clay. You gave us one-year contracts for seventy-five thousand, and, believe me, we're happy to get them. You have no idea what it's like to go to Yale, or a school like it, get wined and dined by the big firms, take a job, get married, then get tossed into the streets with nothing. Does something to the old ego, you know?"

"I understand."

"You doubled my salary and I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. I'm getting by. But the other guys are struggling. And they're very proud men."

"How much?"

"I'd hate to lose any of them. They're bright. They work their tails off."

"Let's do it like this, Oscar. I'm a very generous guy these days. I'll give all of you a new contract for one year, at two hundred grand. What I get in return is a ton of hours. We're on the brink here of something huge, bigger than last year. You guys deliver, and I'll do bonuses. Big fat bonuses. I love bonuses, Oscar, for obvious reasons. Deal?"

"You got it, chief."  mbt shoes

The snow was too heavy to drive in, so they continued the marathon. Clay had preliminary reports on the company in Reedsburg, Pennsylvania, that was making defective brick mortar. Wes Saulsberry had passed along the secret file he'd mentioned in New York. Masonry cement wasn't as exciting as bladder tumors or blood clots or leaky heart valves, but the money was just as green. They assigned two lawyers and a paralegal to prepare the class action and to go find some plaintiffs.

They were together for ten straight hours in the conference room, guzzling coffee, eating stale bagels, watching the snowfall become a blizzard, plotting the year. Though the session began as an exchange of ideas, it grew into something much more important. A new law firm took shape, one with a clear sense of where it was going and what it would become.

THE PRESIDENT NEEDED HIM! Though re-election was two years away his enemies were already raising money by the trainload. He had stood firm with the trial lawyers since his days as a rookie Senator, in fact he'd once been a small-town litigator himself, and was still proud of it, and he now needed Clay's help in fending off the selfish interests of big business. The vehicle he proposed for getting to know Clay personally was something called the Presidential Review, a select group of high-powered trial lawyers and labor types who could write nice checks and spend time talking about the issues.

The enemies were planning another massive assault called Tort Reform Now. They wanted to put heinous caps on both actual and punitive damages in lawsuits. They wanted to dismantle the class-action system that had served them (mass tort boys) so well. They wanted to prevent folks from suing doctors.

The President would stand firm, as always, but he sure needed some help. The handsome, gold-embossed, three-page letter ended with a plea for cash, and lots of it. Clay called Patton French, who, oddly enough, happened to be in his office in Biloxi. French was abrupt, as usual. "Write the damned check," he said.  Coach for sale

Phone calls went back and forth between Clay and the Director of the Presidential Review. Later, he couldn't remember how much he had initially planned to contribute, but it was nothing close to the $250,000 check he eventually wrote. A courier picked it up and delivered it to the White House. Four hours later, another courier delivered to Clay a small envelope from the White House. The note was handwritten on the President's correspondence card:

Dear Clay: I'm in a Cabinet meeting (trying to stay awake), otherwise I would've called. Thanks for the support. Let's have dinner and say hello.

Signed by the President.
Nice, but for a quarter of a million bucks he expected nothing less. The next day another courier delivered a thick invitation from the White House. URGENT REPLY REQUESTED was stamped on the outside. Clay and guest were asked to attend an official state dinner honoring the President of Argentina. Black tie, of course. RSVP immediately because the event was only four days away. Amazing what $250,000 would buy in Washington.

Ridley, of course, needed the proper dress, and since Clay was paying for it he went shopping with her. And he did so without complaining because he wanted some input into what she wore. Left unsupervised, she might shock the Argentines and everyone else for that matter with see-through fabrics and slits up to her waist. No sir, Clay wanted to see the outfit before she bought it.

But she was surprisingly modest in both taste and expense. Everything looked good on her; she was, after all, a model, though she seemed to be working less and less. She finally chose a stunning but simple red dress that revealed much less flesh than what she normally showed. At $3,000, it was a bargain. Shoes, a string of small pearls, a gold and diamond bracelet, and Clay escaped with just under $15,000 in damages.

Sitting in the limo outside the White House, waiting as the ones in front of them were searched by a swarm of guards, Ridley said, "I can't believe I'm doing this. Me, a poor girl from Georgia, going to the White House." She was wrapped around Clay's right arm. His hand was halfway up a thigh. Her accent was more pronounced, something that happened when she was nervous.  Coach USA 

"Hard to believe," he said, quite excited himself.

When they got out of the limo, under an awning on the East Wing, a Marine in parade dress took Ridley's arm and began an escort that took them into the East Room of the White House, where the guests were congregating and having a drink. Clay followed along, watching Ridley's rear, enjoying every second of it. The Marine reluctantly let go, and left to pick up another escort. A photographer took their picture.

They moved to the first cluster of conversation and introduced themselves to people they would never see again. Dinner was announced, and the guests proceeded into the State Dining Room, where fifteen tables of ten were packed together and covered with more china and silver and crystal than had ever been collected in one place. Seating was all prearranged, and no one sat with his or her spouse or guest. Clay escorted Ridley to her table, found her seat, helped her into it, then pecked her on the cheek and said, "Good luck." She flashed a model's smile, brilliant and confident, but he knew she was, at that moment, a scared little girl from Georgia. Before he was ten feet away, two men were hovering over her, grasping her hand with the warmest of introductions.  Karen Millen Dress UK

Clay was in for a long night. To his right was a society queen from Manhattan, a shriveled, prune-faced old battle-ax who'd been starving herself for so long she looked like a cadaver. She was deaf and talked at full volume. To his left was the daughter of a Midwestern shopping mall tycoon who'd gone to college with the President. Clay turned his attention to her and labored mightily for five minutes before realizing she had nothing to say.

The clock stopped moving.

His back was to Ridley; he had no idea how she was surviving.

The President spoke, then dinner was served. An opera singer across the table from Clay began to feel his wine and started telling dirty jokes. He was loud and twangy, from somewhere in the mountains, and he was completely uninhibited when it came to using obscenities in mixed company, and in the White House no less.

Three hours after he sat down, Clay stood up and said good-bye to all his wonderful new friends. The dinner was over; a band was tuning up back in the East Room. He grabbed Ridley and they headed for the music.  discount coach wallets

Shortly before midnight, as the crowd dwindled down to a few dozen, the President and First Lady joined the heartier ones for a dance or two. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet Mr. Clay Carter. "Been reading your press, son, good job," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. President."

"Who's the chick?"

"A friend." What would the feminists do if they knew he used the word chick?

"Can I dance with her?"

"Sure, Mr. President."

And with that, Ms. Ridal Petashnakol, a twenty-four-year-old former exchange student from Georgia, got squeezed and hugged and otherwise networked by the President of the United States.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE SUITE WAS in a different hotel. Pace was moving around D.C. as if spies were trailing him. After a quick hello and the offer of coffee, they sat down for business. Clay could tell that the pressure of burying the secret was working on Pace. He looked tired. His movements were anxious. His words came faster. The smile was gone. No questions about the weekend or the fishing down there in the Bahamas. Pace was about to cut a deal, either with Clay Carter or the next lawyer on his list. They sat at a table, each with a legal pad, pens ready to attack.

"I think five million per death is a better figure," Clay began. "Sure they're street kids whose lives have little economic value, but what your client has done is worth millions in punitive damages. So we blend the actual with the punitive and we arrive at five million."

"The guy in the coma died last night," Pace said. mbt shoes

"So we have six victims."

"Seven. We lost another one Saturday morning."

Clay had multiplied five million times six so many times he had trouble accepting the new figure. "Who? Where?"

"I'll give you the dirty details later, okay? Let's say it's been a very long weekend. While you were fishing, we were monitoring nine-one-one calls, which on a busy weekend in this city takes a small army."

"You're sure it's a Tarvan case?"

"We're certain."

Clay scribbled something meaningless and tried to adjust his strategy. "Let's agree on five million per death," he said.

"Agreed."

Clay had convinced himself flying home from Abaco that it was a game of zeroes. Don't think of it as real money, just a string of O's after some numbers. For the time being, forget what the money can buy. Forget the dramatic changes about to come. Forget what a jury might do years down the road. Just play the zeroes. Ignore the sharp knife twisting in your stomach. Pretend your guts are lined with steel. Your opponent is weak and scared, and very rich and very wrong. Mbt Shoes Sale       

Clay swallowed hard and tried to speak in a normal tone. "The attorneys' fees are too low," he said.

"Oh really?" Pace said and actually smiled. "Ten million won't cut it?"

"Not for this case. Your exposure would be much greater if a big tort firm were involved."

"You catch on quick, don't you?"

"Half will go for taxes. The overhead you have planned for me will be very expensive. I'm expected to put together a real law firm in a matter of days, and do so in the high-rent district. Plus, I want to do something for Tequila and the other defendants who are getting shafted in all this."

"Just give me a figure." Pace was already scribbling something down.

"Fifteen million will make the transition smoother."

"Are you throwing darts?"

"No, just negotiating."

"So you want fifty million—thirty-five for the families, fifteen for you. Is that it?"

"That should do it."

"Agreed." Pace thrust a hand over and said, "Congratulations."

Clay shook it. He could think of nothing to say but "Thanks."

"There is a contract, with some details and stipulations." Max was reaching into a briefcase.

"What kinds of stipulations?"

"For one, you can never mention Tarvan to Tequila Watson, his new lawyer, or to any of the other criminal defendants involved in this matter. To do so would be to severely compromise everything. As we discussed earlier, drug addiction is not a legal defense to a crime. It could be a mitigating circumstance during sentencing, but Mr. Watson committed murder and whatever he was taking at the time is not relevant to his defense."

"I understand this better than you."cheap mbt shoes  

"Then forget about the murderers. You now represent the families of their victims. You're on the other side of the street, Clay, so accept it. Our deal will pay you five million up front, another five in ten days, and the remaining five upon final completion of all settlements.

You mention Tarvan to anyone and the deal is off. You breach our trust with the defendants, and you'll lose one helluva lot of money."

Clay nodded and stared at the thick contract now on the table.

"This is basically a confidentiality agreement," Max continued, tapping the paperwork. "It's filled with dark secrets, most of which you'll have to hide from your own secretary. For example, my client's name is never mentioned. There's a shell corporation now set up in Bermuda with a new division in the Dutch Antilles that answers to a Swiss outfit headquartered in Luxembourg. The paper trail begins and ends over there and no one, not even me, can follow it without getting lost. Your new clients are getting the money; they're not supposed to ask questions. We don't think this will be a problem. For you, you're making a fortune. We don't expect sermons from a higher moral ground. Just take your money, finish the job, everybody will be happier."

"Just sell my soul?" buy mbt shoes

"As I said, skip the sermons. You're doing nothing unethical.

You're getting huge settlements for clients who have no clue that they are due anything. That's not exactly selling your soul. And what if you get rich? You won't be the first lawyer to get a windfall."

Clay was thinking about the first five million. Due immediately.

Max filled in some blanks deep in the contract, then slid it across the table. "This is our preliminary deal. Sign it, and I can then tell you more about my client. I'll get us some coffee."

Clay took the document, held it as it grew heavier, then tried to read the opening paragraph. Max was on the phone to room service.

He would resign immediately, on that day, from the Office of the Public Defender and withdraw as counsel of record for Tequila Watson. The paperwork had already been done and was attached to the contract. He would charter his own law firm directly; hire sufficient staff, open bank accounts, etcetera. A proposed charter for the Law Offices of J. Clay Carter II was also attached, all boilerplate. He would, as soon as practicable, contact the seven families and begin the process of soliciting their cases.

Coffee arrived and Clay kept reading. Max was on a cell phone across the suite, whispering in a hushed, serious voice, no doubt relaying the latest events to his superior. Or perhaps he was monitoring his network to see if another Tarvan murder had occurred. For his signature on page eleven, Clay would receive, by immediate wire, the sum of $5 million, a figure that had just been neatly written in by Max. His hands shook when he signed his name, not from fear or moral uncertainty, but from zero shock. MBT Sandals  

When the first round of paperwork was complete, they left the hotel, and climbed into an SUV driven by the same bodyguard who'd met Clay in the lobby of the Willard. "I suggest we get the bank account opened first," Max said softly but firmly. Clay was Cinderella going to the ball, just along for the ride because it was all a dream now.

"Sure, a good idea," he managed to say.

"Any bank in particular?" Pace asked.

Clay's current bank would be shocked to see the type of activity that was coming. His checking account there had barely managed to remain above the minimum for so long that any significant deposit would set off alarms. A lowly bank manager had once called to break the news that a small loan was past due. He could almost hear a big shot upstairs gasping in disbelief as he gawked at a printout.

"I'm sure you have one in mind," Clay said.

"We have a close relationship with Chase. The wires will run smoother there."

Then Chase it would be, Clay thought with a smile. Anything to speed along the wires.

"Chase Bank, on Fifteenth," Max said to the driver, who was already headed in that direction. Max pulled out more papers. "Here's the lease and sublease on your office. It's prime space, as you know, and certainly not cheap. My client used a straw company to lease it for two years at eighteen thousand a month. We can sublease it to you for the same rent."

"That's four hundred thousand bucks, give or take."

Max smiled and said, "You can afford it, sir. Start thinking like a trial lawyer with money to burn."

A vice president of some strain had been reserved. Max asked for the right person and red carpets were rolled down every hallway. Clay took charge of his affairs and signed all the proper documents. Tory burch shoes   

The wire would be received by five that afternoon, according to the veep.

Back in the SUV, Max was all business. "We took the liberty of preparing a corporate charter for your law firm," he said, handing over more documents.

"I've already seen this," Clay said, still thinking about the wire transfer.

"It's pretty basic stuff—nothing sensitive. Do it online. Pay two hundred dollars by credit card, and you're in business. Takes less than an hour. You can do it from your desk at OPD."

Clay held the papers and looked out a window. A sleek burgundy Jaguar XJ was sitting next to them at a red light, and his mind began to wander. He tried to concentrate on business, but he simply couldn't.

"Speaking of OPD," Max was saying, "how do you want to handle those folks?"

"Let's do it now."

"M at Eighteenth," Max said to the driver, who appeared to miss nothing. Back to Clay he said, "Have you thought about Rodney and Paulette?"

"Yes. I'll talk to them today."

"Good."

"Glad you approve."

"We also have some people who know the city well.

They can help. They'll work for us, but your clients won't know it." He nodded at the driver as he said this. "We can't relax, Clay, until all seven families have become your clients."

"Seems as though I'll need to tell Rodney and Paulette everything."

"Almost everything. They will be the only people in your firm who'll know what's happened. But you can never mention Tarvan or the company, and they'll never see the settlement agreements. We'll prepare those for you." Tory Burch Sandals 

"But they have to know what we're offering."

"Obviously. They have to convince the families to take the money. But they can never know where the money is coming from."

"That'll be a challenge."

"Let's get them hired first."

If anyone at OPD missed Clay it wasn't obvious. Even the reliable Miss Glick was preoccupied with the phones and had no time for her usual expression of "Where have you been?" There were a dozen messages on his desk, all irrelevant now because nothing mattered anymore. Glenda was at a conference in New York, and, as usual, her absence meant longer lunches and more sick days around OPD. He quickly typed a letter of resignation and e-mailed it to her. With the door shut, he filled two briefcases with his personal office junk and left behind old books and other things he owned and once thought had sentimental value. He could always come back, though he knew he would not. Tory burch usa

Rodney's desk was in a tiny workspace he shared with two other paralegals. "Got a minute?" Clay said.

"Not really," Rodney said, barely looking up from a pile of reports.

"There's a breakthrough in the Tequila Watson case. It'll just take a minute."

Rodney reluctantly stuck a pen behind an ear and followed Clay back to his office, where the shelves had been cleared, and the door was locked behind them. "I'm leaving," Clay began, almost in a whisper.

They talked for almost an hour, while Max Pace waited impatiently in the SUV, parked illegally at the curb. When Clay emerged with two bulky briefcases, Rodney was with him, also laden with a briefcase and a stuffed paper shopping bag. He went to his car and disappeared. Clay jumped in the SUV.

"He's in," Clay said.

"What a surprise."

At the office on Connecticut Avenue, they met a design consultant who'd been retained by Max. Clay was given his choice of rather expensive furniture that happened to be in the warehouse and thus deliverable within twenty-four hours. He pointed at various designs and samples, all on the higher end of the price scale. He signed a purchase order.

A phone system was being installed. A computer consultant arrived after the decorator left. At one point, Clay was spending money so fast he began to ask himself if he'd squeezed Max for enough. Coach USA

Shortly before 5 P.M., Max emerged from a freshly painted office and stuck his cell phone in his pocket. "The wire is in," he said to Clay.

"Five million?"

"That's it. You're now a multimillionaire."

"I'm outta here," Clay said. "See you tomorrow."

"Where are you going?"

"Don't ever ask that question again, okay? You are not my boss. And stop following me. We have our deal."

He walked along Connecticut for a few blocks, jostling with the rush-hour crowd, smiling goofily to himself, his feet never touching the concrete. Down Seventeenth until he saw the Reflecting Pool and the Washington Monument, where hordes of high school groups clustered for photos. He turned right and walked through Constitution Gardens and past the Vietnam Memorial. Beyond it, he stopped at a kiosk, bought two cheap cigars, lit one, and continued to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, where he sat for a long time and gazed down The Mall to the Capitol far away. Coach for sale

Clear thinking was impossible. One good thought was immediately overwhelmed and pushed out by another. He thought of his father living on a borrowed fishing boat, pretending it was the good life but struggling to scrape out a living; fifty-five years old with no future whatsoever; drinking heavily to escape his misery. He puffed on the cigar and mentally shopped for a while, and just for the fun of it made a tally of how much he would spend if he bought everything he wanted—a new wardrobe, a really nice car, a stereo system, some travel. The total was but a small subtraction from his fortune. What kind of car was the big question. Successful but not pretentious.

And of course he would need a new address. He'd look around Georgetown for a quaint old town house. He'd heard tales of some of them selling for six million, but he didn't need that much. He was confident he could find something in the million-dollar range.

A million here. A million there. Cheap Coach 

He thought of Rebecca, though he tried not to dwell on her. For the past four years she had been the only friend with whom he'd shared everything. Now there was no one to talk to. Their breakup was five days old, and counting, but so much had happened that he'd had little time to think about her.

"Forget the Van Horns," he said aloud, blowing a thick cloud of smoke.

He'd make a large gift to the Piedmont Fund, designating it for the fight to preserve the natural beauty of Northern Virginia. He'd hire a paralegal to do nothing but track the latest land grabs and proposed developments of BVH Group, and wherever possible he'd sneak around and hire lawyers for small landowners unaware that they were about to become neighbors of Bennett the Bulldozer. Oh, what fun he would have on the environmental front!

Forget those people.

He lit the second cigar and called Jonah, who was at the computer store putting in a few hours. "I have a table at Citronelle, eight o'clock," Clay said. It was, at that moment, everybody's favorite French restaurant in D.C.

"Right," Jonah said.

"I'm serious. We're celebrating. I'm changing jobs. I'll explain later. Just be there."

"Can I bring a friend?"

"Absolutely not."

Jonah went nowhere without the girl-of-the-week. When Clay moved out he would move out alone, and he would not miss Jonah's bedroom heroics. He called two other law school pals, but both had kids and obligations, and it was pretty short notice.

Dinner with Jonah. Always an adventure.