trouble sticking with water. Over Caprese salads, Wally quickly recapped his conversation with Jerry Alisandros and ended with a dramatic “This is the moment, Oscar. It’s finally going to happen.”
Oscar’s mood changed as he listened and gulped down the first glass. He managed a smile, and Wally could almost see the skepticism evaporating. He took out a pen, shoved the salad aside, and began scratching. “Let’s run through the math again, Wally. Is a death case really worth $2 million?”
Wally glanced around to make sure no one was listening. The coast was clear. “I’ve done a ton of research, okay? I’ve looked at dozens of settlements in mass tort drug cases. There are too many unknowns right now to predict how much each case is worth. You gotta determine liability, cause of death, medical history, age of the deceased, income-earning potential, stuff like that. Then we gotta find out how much Varrick is tossing in the pot. But a million bucks is the floor, I think. We have eight. Fees are at 40 percent. Half to Jerry, plus a stroke for his expertise, and we’re looking at a net to our firm of something like $1.5 mill.”
Oscar was scribbling with a fury, though he’d heard these numbers a hundred times. “They’re death cases. They gotta be worth more than a mill each,” he said, as if he’d handled dozens of these large cases.
“Maybe two,” Wally said. “Then we got all the non-death cases, 407 as of now. Let’s say only half can qualify after a medical exam. Based on somewhat similar cases-the mass drug variety-I think $100,000 is a reasonable figure for a client whose heart valve has been slightly damaged. That’s $20 million, Oscar. Our cut is something in the neighborhood of $3.5 million.”
Oscar wrote something, then stopped, took a long drink of wine, and said, “So, we should talk about our split, right? Is that where this is going?”
“The split is one of several pressing issues.”
“Okay, what’s wrong with fifty-fifty?” All fee fights began with an even split.
Wally stuffed a slice of tomato into his mouth and chewed it fiercely. “What’s wrong with fifty-fifty is that I discovered Krayoxx, rounded up the cases, and so far I’ve done about 90 percent of the work. I have the eight death cases in my office. David has the other four hundred upstairs. You, if I’m not mistaken, have no Krayoxx cases in your office.”
“You’re not asking for 90 percent are you?”
“Of course not. Here’s my suggestion. We have a ton of work to do. All of these cases have to be screened by a doctor, evaluated, and so on. Let’s put everything else aside-me, you, David-and get to work. We prep the cases while we’re also looking for new ones. Once the settlement news breaks, every lawyer in the country will go crazy over Krayoxx, so we gotta get even busier. And once the checks arrive, I think a sixty-thirty-ten split is fair.”
Oscar had ordered the lasagna special, and Wally the stuffed ravioli. When the waiter was gone, Oscar said, “Your fee is twice mine? That’s never happened before. I don’t like it.”
“What do you like?”
“Fifty-fifty.”
“And what about David? We promised him a cut when he agreed to take the non-death cases.”
“Okay, fifty for you, forty for me, ten for David. Rochelle gets a nice bonus but no piece of the pie.”
With so much money on the way, it was easy to toss around the numbers, even easier to cut a deal. There had been nasty fights over $5,000 fees, but not today. The money soothed them and took away any desire to squabble. Wally slowly reached across, and Oscar did the same. They quickly shook hands and plunged into their entrees.
After a few bites, Wally said, “How’s the wife?”
Oscar frowned, grimaced, and looked away. Paula Finley was a subject completely off-limits because no one at the firm could stand her, including Oscar.
Wally pressed on. “You know, Oscar, this is the moment. If you’re ever going to ditch her, do it now.”
“Marital advice from you?”
“Yes, because you know I’m right.”
“I assume you’ve been thinking about this.”
“Yes, because you have not, and that’s because you’ve never believed in these cases, until now perhaps.”
Oscar poured more wine and said, “Let’s hear it.”
Wally leaned in closer again, as if they were swapping nuclear secrets. “File for divorce now, immediately. No big deal. I’ve done it four times. Move out, get an apartment, cut all ties. I’ll handle it on your end, and she can hire whomever she wants. We’ll draw up a contract, date it six months ago, and it’ll say that I get 80 percent of the Krayoxx settlements, if any, and you and David split 20 percent. You gotta show some income from Krayoxx; otherwise her lawyer will go nuts. But most of the money can stay in a slush fund for, I don’t know, a year or so, until the divorce is over. Then, at some unknown point in the future, you and I settle up.”
“That’s a fraudulent transfer of assets.”
“I know. I love it. I’ve done it a thousand times, though on a much smaller scale. I suspect you have too. Pretty clever, don’t you think?”
“If we get caught, we could both get thrown in jail for contempt of court, with no hearing.”
“We will not get caught. She thinks Krayoxx is all mine, right?”
“Right.”
“So, it’ll work. It’s our law firm, and we make the rules on how the money gets split. Completely within our discretion.”
“Her lawyers won’t be stupid, Wally. They’ll know all about the big Krayoxx settlement as soon as it happens.”
“Come on, Oscar, it ain’t like we hit these licks all the time. Over the last ten years I suspect your adjusted gross has averaged, what, $75,000?”
Oscar shrugged. “About the same as yours. Pretty pathetic, don’t you think? Thirty years in the trenches.”
“Not the point, Oscar. The point is that in a divorce, they’ll look at what you’ve earned in the past.”
“I know.”
“If the Krayoxx money is mine, then we can argue, with evidence, that your income hasn’t changed.”
“What will you do with the money?”
“Bury it offshore until the divorce is over. Hell, Oscar, we could leave it offshore and pop down to Grand Cayman once a year to check on it. Believe me, there’s no way they’ll ever know. But you gotta file now and get out.”
“Why are you so keen on me getting a divorce?”
“Because I loathe that woman. Because you’ve been dreaming of a divorce since your honeymoon. Because you deserve to be happy, and if you sack this bitch and hide the money, your life will take a dramatic turn for the better. Think of it, Oscar, single at sixty-two with cash in the bank.”
Oscar couldn’t suppress a smile. He drained his third glass. He took a few bites. He was obviously struggling with something, so he finally asked, “How do I break it to her?”
Wally dabbed the corners of his mouth, stiffened his spine, and assumed the voice of authority. “Well, there are many ways to do it, and I’ve tried them all. Have you two ever talked about splitting up?”
“Not that I recall.”
“I assume it would be easy to start a big fight.”
“Oh, so easy. She’s always unhappy about something, usually money, and we fight almost every day.”
“That’s what I figured. Do it like this, Oscar. Go home tonight and drop the bomb. Tell her you’re unhappy and you want out. Plain and simple. No fighting, no bickering, no negotiating. Tell her she can have the house, the car, the furniture, she can have it all if she’ll agree to a no-fault.”
“And if she won’t agree?”
“Leave anyway. Come stay at my place until we can find you an apartment. Once she sees you walk out the door, she’ll get angry and start scheming, especially Paula. It won’t take long for her to blow up. Give her forty- eight hours and she’ll be a cobra.”
“She’s already a cobra.”
“And she has been for decades. We’ll file the papers, have them served on her, and that’ll send her over the edge. She’ll have a lawyer by the end of the week.”
