the King Of Torts (2003) by John Grisham

Author:John Grisham [Grisham, John]
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2010-12-19T00:41:52.703000+00:00

22

REX CRITTLE WANTED TO SCOLD, TO BE reassured, to lecture, to educate, but his client sitting across the desk seemed completely unshaken by the figures.

"Your firm is six months old," Crittle said, peering over his reading glasses with a pile of reports in front of him. The evidence! He had the proof that the boutique firm of the Law Offices of J. Clay Carter II was in fact being run by idiots. "Your overhead began at an impressive seventy-five thousand a month--three lawyers, one paralegal, a secretary, serious rent, nice digs . Now it's a half a million bucks a month, and growing every day."

"You gotta spend it to make it," Clay said, sipping coffee and enjoying his accountant's discomfort. That was the sign of a good bean counter--one who lost more sleep over the expenses than the client himself.

"But you're not making it," Crittle said cautiously. "No revenue in the past three months."

"It's been a good year."

"Oh yes. Fifteen million in fees makes for a splendid year. Problem is ,it's evaporating. You spent fourteen thousand bucks last month chartering jets."

"Now that you mention it, I'm thinking about buying one. I'll need you to crunch the numbers."

"I'm crunching them right now. You can't justify one."

"That's not the issue. The issue is whether or not I can afford one."

"No, you cannot afford one."

"Hang on, Rex. Relief is in sight."

"I assume you're talking about the Dyloft cases? Four million dollars for advertising. Three thousand a month for a Dyloft Web site. Now three thousand a month for the Dyloft newsletter. All those paralegals out in Manassas. All these new lawyers."

"I think the question will be, should I lease one for five years or just buy it outright?"

"What?"

"The Gulf stream."

"What's a Gulfstream ?"

"The finest private jet in the world."

"What are you going to do with a Gulfstream ?"

"Fly."

"Why, exactly, do you think you need one?"

"It's the preferred jet of all the big mass tort lawyers."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"I thought you'd come around."

"Any idea how much one might cost?"

"Forty, forty-five million."

"I hate to break the news, Clay, but you don't have forty million."

"You're right. I think I'll just lease one."

Crittleremoved his reading glasses and massaged his long, skinny nose, as if a severe headache was developing there. "Look, Clay, I'm just your accountant. But I'm not sure if there's anyone else who is telling you to slow down. Take it easy, pal. You've made a fortune, enjoy it. You don't need a big firm with so many lawyers. You don't need jets. What's next? A yacht?"

"Yes."

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"I thought you hated boats."

"I do. It's for my father. Can I depreciate it?"

"No."

"Bet I can."

"How?"

"I'll charter it when I'm not using it."

When Crittle was finished with his nose, he replaced his glasses and said, "It's your money, pal."

THEY MET IN New York City, on neutral ground, in the dingy ballroom of an old hotel near Central Park, the last place anyone would expect such an important gathering to take place. On one side of the table sat

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