Read Online The Appeal by John Grisham - Free Book Online Page B

the great Carl Trudeau, a man who had so often watched happily from above as some unfortunate company flamed out, would now be fighting off the vultures. How many times had he engineered the collapse of a stock’s price so he could swoop down and buy it for pennies? His legend had been built with such ruthless tactics.
    How bad would it be? That was the great question, always followed soon by number two: How long would it last?
    He waited.

C H A P T E R 5
    T om Huff put on his darkest and finest suit, and after much debate decided to arrive at work at the Second State Bank a few minutes later than usual. An earlier entry would seem too predictable, perhaps a little too cocky. And, more important, he wanted everyone in place when he arrived—the old tellers on the main floor, the cute secretaries on the second, and the vice somethings, his rivals, on the third floor. Huffy wanted a triumphant arrival with as big an audience as possible. He’d gambled bravely with the Paytons, and the moment belonged to him.
    What he got instead was an overall dismissal by the tellers, a collective cold shoulder from the secretaries, and enough devious grins from his rivals to make him suspicious. On his desk he found a message marked “Urgent” to see Mr. Kirkhead. Something was up, andHuffy began to feel considerably less cocky. So much for a dramatic entrance. What was the problem?
    Mr. Kirkhead was in his office, waiting, with the door open, always a bad sign. The boss hated open doors, and in fact boasted of a closed-door management style. He was caustic, rude, cynical, and afraid of his shadow, and closed doors served him well.
    “Sit down,” he barked, with no thought of a “Good morning” or a “Hello” or, heaven forbid, a “Congratulations.” He was camped behind his pretentious desk, fat hairless head bent low as if he sniffed the spreadsheets as he read them.
    “And how are you, Mr. Kirkhead?” Huffy chirped. How badly he wanted to say “Prickhead” because he said it every other time he referred to his boss. Even the old gals on the main floor sometimes used the substitution.
    “Swell. Did you bring the Payton file?”
    “No, sir. I wasn’t asked to bring the Payton file. Something the matter?”
    “Two things, actually, now that you mention it. First, we have this disastrous loan to these people, over $400,000, past due of course and horribly under-collateralized. By far the worst loan in the bank’s portfolio.”
    He said “these people” as if Wes and Mary Grace were credit card thieves.
    “This is nothing new, sir.”
    “Mind if I finish? And now we have this obscene jury award, which, as the banker holding the paper, I guess I’m supposed to feel good about, but as a commerciallender and business leader in this community, I think it really sucks. What kind of message do we send to prospective industrial clients with verdicts like this?”
    “Don’t dump toxic waste in our state?”
    Prickhead’s fat jowls turned red as he swept away Huffy’s retort with the wave of a hand. He cleared his throat, almost gargling with his own saliva.
    “This is bad for our business climate,” he said. “Front page all over the world this morning. I’m getting phone calls from the home office. A very bad day.”
    Lots of bad days over in Bowmore, too, Huffy thought. Especially with all those funerals.
    “Forty-one million bucks,” Prickhead went on. “For a poor woman who lives in a trailer.”
    “Nothing wrong with trailers, Mr. Kirkhead. Lots of good folks live in them around here. We make the loans.”
    “You miss the point. It’s an obscene amount of money. The whole system has gone crazy. And why here? Why is Mississippi known as a judicial hellhole? Why do trial lawyers love our little state? Just look at some of the surveys. It’s bad for business, Huff, for our business.”
    “Yes, sir, but you must feel better about the Payton loan this morning.”
    “I want it repaid, and soon.”
    “So do