A King's Ransom Read Free

this.
    Yes, I do, said Gilbert. He spoke with a hint of a Caribbean accent, as he was Bahamian by birth. Tiny beads of sweat had gathered atop his shaven head, the dark, smooth skin glistening beneath the fluorescent lights. His gaze moved slowly from one person to the next, soulful eyes that bespoke resignation. Mr. Fitz, you're right, mon. I don't have time to wait for trial. And I'm tired of standin' on the sidelines while you lawyers yakkity-yak-yak my precious time away.
    Teesha sank back into her chair. All right, then. What's the offer?
    I've been a litigator for thirty years, and I swear, every time I step in front of the jury it's an adventure, said Duncan.
    Nature of the beast. It's a roll of the dice.
    Precisely. So why not roll them now? Duncan removed three documents from his briefcase and laid them on the table, one after the other, like playing cards dealt face up. Med-Fam has executed three standard settlement agreements. The legalese in each is identical. Mr. Jones agrees to dismiss his lawsuit and forever release Med-Fam from any liability. In exchange, Med-Fam agrees to pay him a sum of money.
    How much?
    Excellent question. As you can see, the amount payable is hidden by white adhesive tape.
    You want Gilbert to guess?
    That's where the game gets interesting. In one document the hidden amount payable is zero. In another it's the amount of Med-Fam's previous offer: fifty thousand dollars. But in the third we pay Gilbert Jones the full amount of his latest demand: five hundred thousand dollars.
    This is preposterous. Let's go, Gilbert.
    Can't go, he said. My only chance is this.
    Reluctantly, she closed her briefcase. You don't settle a case this way.
    Why not? asked Duncan.
    Because you just don't. For one thing, my client loses two out of three.
    He wins two out of three, said Duncan. He loses only if he pulls up the zero. Or if he listens to his lawyer and goes to trial.
    There should at least be a fourth choice. The amount Gilbert would win if this case went to a jury.
    It's my game, Counselor. Take it or leave it.
    This be legal? asked Gilbert.
    Absolutely, said Duncan. Med-Fam has already signed all three. Whichever one you sign, that's the deal.
    Don't do it, said Teesha.
    Quiet. I'm trying to think.
    Take your time, said Duncan.
    Gilbert stared at the choices before him, as if trying to see through the tape that hid the numbers. He licked his lips once, then again. His eyes darted from one document to the next. The thick creases in his brow grew deeper with concentration.
    I could tell that Duncan was enjoying himself. He was even starting to sound like a game show host. What's it going to be, sir? Door number one? Door number two? Or door number three?
    Teesha said, As your lawyer, I strongly advise you to get up and walk right out of this room. They wouldn't ask you to play this game if they didn't know you were going to win at trial and win big.
    But the man's right. I'll be dead by then. This be my only chance to see my money.
    The room was silent. Duncan slid a cartridge pen across the table. Gilbert glanced at it, then locked eyes with Duncan. Finally he looked at me - why, I don't know. Perhaps he misconstrued my silence as impartiality. The expression chilled me, made me feel his desperation. This lawsuit was all this dying man had left in his life.
    His right hand shook as he grasped the pen. He stared at the first document and then at the second. The pen started toward the third, then stopped. He went back to the first one, signed on the blank line, and dropped the pen, mentally exhausted.
    Lordy, lordy, Teesha said, groaning.
    Without emotion Duncan said, Number one it is. Let's see what you could have won, had you chosen document number two. Nick, he told me, pull the tape.
    I obliged.
    Fifty thousand, said Duncan. Whoa, Nelly. That means Mr. Jones has either struck out completely or hit the jackpot. Let's have a look, shall we?
    He nodded at me once more, again delegating the honors. I