The King of Torts by John Grisham

Author:John Grisham [Grisham, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
ISBN: 978-0-307-57602-6
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2003-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

PACE WANTED a late drink in a bar in Georgetown, within walking distance of Clay’s town house. He was in and out of the city, very vague, as always, about where he’d been and what fire he happened to be fighting. He had lightened up the wardrobe and now preferred brown—brown pointed-toe snakeskin boots, brown suede jacket. Part of his disguise, Clay thought. Halfway through the first beer Pace got around to Dyloft, and it became evident that whatever the current project was it still had something to do with Ackerman Labs.

Clay, with the flair of a fledgling trial lawyer, gave a colorful description of his trip to French’s ranch, and the gang of thieves he’d met there, and the contentious three-hour dinner where everybody was drunk and arguing at once, and the Barry and Harry Show. He had no hesitation in giving Pace the details because Pace knew more than anyone.

“I know of Barry and Harry,” Pace said, as if they were characters in the underworld.

“They seemed to know their stuff, and for two hundred grand they should.”

Clay talked about Carlos Hernández and Wes Saulsberry and Damon Didier, his new pals on the Plaintiffs’ Steering Committee. Pace said he’d heard of them all.

Into the second beer, Pace asked, “You sold Ackerman short, right?” He glanced around, but no one was listening. It was a college bar on a slow night.

“A hundred thousand shares at forty-two fifty,” Clay said proudly.

“Ackerman closed today at twenty-three.”

“I know. I do the math every day.”

“It’s time to cover the short and buy it back. Like first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Something’s coming?”

“Yes, and while you’re at it, buy all you can at twenty-three, then hang on for the ride.”

“Where might the ride be headed?”

“It’ll double.”

Six hours later, Clay was at the office, before sunrise, trying to prepare for another day of pure frenzy. And also anxious for the markets to open. His list of things to do ran for two pages, almost all of it involving the enormous task of immediately hiring ten new lawyers and finding work space to house some of them. It looked hopeless, but he had no choice; he called a Realtor at seven-thirty and yanked him out of the shower. At eight-thirty he had a ten-minute interview with a freshly fired young lawyer named Oscar Mulrooney. The poor guy had been a star student at Yale, then highly recruited, then merged out of a job when a megafirm imploded. He’d also been married for two months and was desperate for work. Clay hired him on the spot for $75,000 a year. Mulrooney had four friends, also from Yale, who were also on the streets looking for work. Go get ’em.

At 10 A.M., Clay called his broker and covered his Ackerman short sale, making a profit of $1.9 million and some change. In the same call, he took the entire profit and bought another two hundred thousand shares at $23, using his margin and some account credit. Online, he watched the market all morning.

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