“I could not have scripted it better. Miyer-Brack absolutely crumbled. Arrogant shitheads were reduced to tears. They had a zillion bucks in cash and couldn’t wait to buy off the plaintiffs’ lawyers. Before the trial I had four hundred cases and no clout. Afterward, I had five thousand cases and an eleven-million-dollar verdict. Hundreds of lawyers called me. I spent a month flying around the country, in a Learjet, signing co-rep agreements with other lawyers. A guy in Kentucky had a hundred cases. One in St. Paul had eighty. On and on. Then, about four months after the trial, we flew to New York for the big settlement conference. In less than three hours we settled six thousand cases for seven hundred million bucks. A month later we settled another twelve hundred for two hundred million.”

“What was your cut?” Ray asked. It would’ve been a rude question if posed to a normal person, but French couldn’t wait to talk about his fees.

“Fifty percent off the top for the lawyers, then expenses, the rest went to the clients. That’s the bad part of a contingency contract—you have to give half to the client. Anyway, I had other lawyers to deal with, but I walked away with three hundred million and some change. That’s the beauty of mass torts, Ray. Sign ‘em up by the truckload, settle ‘em by the trainload, take half off the top.”

They weren’t eating. There was too much money in the air.

“Three hundred million in fees?” Ray said in disbelief.

French was gargling with wine. “Ain’t it sweet? It’s coming so fast I can’t spend it all.”

“Looks like you’re giving it a good shot.”

“This is the tip of the iceberg. Ever hear of a drug called Minitrin?”

“I checked your Web site.”

“Really? What’d you think?”

“Pretty slick. Two thousand Minitrin cases.”

“Three thousand now. It’s a hypertension drug that has dangerous side effects. Made by Shyne Medical. They’ve offered fifty thousand a case and I said no. Fourteen hundred Kobril cases, antidepressant that causes hearing loss, we think. Ever hear of Skinny Bens?”

“Yes.”

“We have three thousand Skinny Ben cases. And fifteen hundred –”

“I saw the list. I assume the Web site is updated.” “Of course. I’m the new King of Torts in this country, Ray. Everybody’s calling me. I have thirteen other lawyers in my firm and I need forty.”

The steward was back to collect their latest leftovers. He placed the swordfish in front of them and brought the next wine, though the last bottle was half full. French went through the tasting ritual and finally, almost reluctantly, nodded his approval. To Ray it tasted very similar to the first two.

“I owe it all to Judge Atlee,” French said. “How?”

“He had the guts to make the right call, to keep Miyer-Brack in Hancock County instead of allowing them to escape to federal court. He understood the issues, and he was unafraid to punish them. Timing is everything, Ray. Less than six months after he handed down his ruling, I had three hundred million bucks in my hands.”

“Did you keep all of it?”

French had a bite on a fork close to his mouth. He hesitated for a second, then took the fish, chewed for a while, then said, “I don’t understand the question.”

“I think you do. Did you give any of the money to Judge Atlee?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“One percent.”

“Three million bucks?”

“And change. This fish is delicious, don’t you think?”

“It is. Why?”

French put down his knife and fork and stroked his locks again with both hands. Then he wiped them on his napkin and swirled his wine. “I suppose there are a lot of questions. Why, when, how, who.”

“You’re good at stories, let’s hear it.”

Another swirl, then a satisfied sip. “It’s not what you think, though I would’ve bribed your father or any judge for that ruling. I’ve done it before, and I’ll happily do it again. It’s just part of the overhead. Frankly, though, I was so intimidated by him and his reputation that I just couldn’t approach him with a deal. He would’ve thrown me in jail.”

“He would’ve buried you in jail.”

“Yes, I know, and my father convinced me of this. So we played it straight. The trial was an all-out war, but truth was on my side. I won, then I won big, now I’m winning even bigger. Late last summer, after we settled and the money was wired in, I wanted to give him a gift. I take care of those who help me, Ray. A new car here, a condo there, a sack full of cash for a favor. I play the game hard and I protect my friends.”

“He wasn’t your friend.”

“We weren’t amigos, or fraternity brothers, but in my world I’ve never had a greater friend. It all started with him. Do you realize how much money I’ll make in the next five years?”

“Shock me again.”

“Half a billion. And I owe it all to your old man.”

“When will you have enough?”

“There’s a tobacco lawyer here who made a billion. I need to catch him first.”

Ray needed a drink. He examined the wine as if he knew what to look for, then sucked it down. French was into the fish.

“I don’t think you’re lying,” Ray said.

“I don’t lie. I cheat and bribe, but I don’t lie. About six months ago, while I was shopping for airplanes and boats and beach homes and mountain cabins and new offices, I heard that your father had been diagnosed with cancer, and that it was serious. I wanted to do something nice for him. I knew he didn’t have much money, and what he did have he seemed hell-bent on giving away.”

“So you sent him three million in cash?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I called him and told him a package was on the way. Four packages as it turned out, four large cardboard boxes. One of my boys drove them up in a van, left them on the front porch. Judge Atlee wasn’t home.”

“Unmarked bills?”

“Why would I mark them?”

“What did he say?” Ray asked.

“I never heard a word, and I didn’t want to.”

“What did he do?”

“You tell me. You’re his son, you know him better than me. You tell me what he did with the money.”

Ray pushed back from the table, and holding his wineglass, he crossed his legs and tried to relax. “He found the money on the porch, and when he realized what it was, I’m sure he gave you a thorough cursing.”

“God, I hope so.”

“He moved it into the foyer, where the boxes joined dozens of others. He planned to load it up and haul it back to Biloxi, but a day or two passed. He was sick and weak, and not driving too well. He knew he was dying, and I’m sure that burden changed his outlook on a lot of things. After a few days he decided to hide the money, which he did, and all the while he planned to get it back down here and flog your corrupt ass in the process. Time passed, and he got sicker.” .

“Who found the money?”

“I did.”

“Where is it?”

“In the trunk of my car, at your office.”

French laughed long and hard. “Back where it started from,” he said between breaths.

“It’s had quite a tour. I found it in his study just after I found him dead. Someone tried to break in and get it. I took it to Virginia, now it’s back, and that someone is following me.”

The laughter stopped immediately. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “How much did you find?”

“Three million, one hundred and eighteen thousand.”

“Damn! He didn’t spend a dime.”

“And he didn’t mention it in his will. He just left it, hidden in stationer’s boxes in a cabinet beneath his bookshelves.”

“Who tried to break in?”

“I was hoping you might know.”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“Please tell me.”

“It’s another long story.”