THE POST REPORTER WAS Art Mariani, a young man who knew Clay Carter well because he'd documented his astounding rise and his equally amazing crash with careful attention to detail and a reasonable dose of fairness. When Mariani arrived at Clay's town house, he was greeted by Paulette and led down the narrow hall to the kitchen where folks were waiting. Clay hobbled to his feet and introduced himself, then went around the table—Zack Battle, his attorney; Rebecca Van Horn, his friend; and Oscar Mulrooney, his partner. Tape recorders were plugged in. Rebecca made the rounds with the coffeepot.

"It's a long story," Clay said, "but we have plenty of time."

"I have no deadline," Mariani said.

Clay took a swig of coffee, a deep breath, and jumped into the story. He began with the shooting of Ramon "Pumpkin" Pumphrey by his client, Tequila Watson. Dates, times, places, Clay had notes of everything and all the files. Then Washad Porter and his two murders. Then the other four. Camp Deliverance, Clean Streets, the amazing results of a drug called Tarvan. Though he would never mention the name of Max Pace, he described in detail Pace's history of Tarvan—the secret clinical trials in Mexico City, Belgrade, and Singapore, the manufacturer's desire to test it on those of African descent, preferably in the United States. The drug's arrival in D.C.

"Who made the drug?" Mariani asked, visibly shaken.

After a long pause in which he seemed unable to speak, Clay answered, "I'm not completely sure. But I think it's Philo."

"Philo Products?"

"Yes." Clay reached for a thick document and slid it over to Mariani. "This is one of the settlement agreements. As you will see, there are two offshore companies mentioned. If you can penetrate them, pick up the trail, it will probably lead you to a shell company in Luxembourg, then to Philo."

"Okay, but why do you suspect Philo?"

"I have a source. That's all I can tell you."

This mysterious source selected Clay from all the attorneys in D.C. and convinced him to sell his soul for $15 million. He quickly quit OPD and opened his own firm. Mariani already knew much of this. Clay signed up the families of six of the victims, easily convinced them to take $5 million and keep quiet, and within thirty days had the matter wrapped up. The details poured forth, as did the documents and settlement agreements.

"When I publish this story, what happens to your clients, the families of the victims?" Mariani asked.

"I've lost sleep worrying about that, but I think they'll be fine," Clay said. "First, they've had the money for a year now, so it's safe to assume a lot of it has been spent.

Second, the drugmaker would be insane to try and set aside these settlements."

"The families could then sue the manufacturer directly," Zack added helpfully. "And those verdicts could destroy any big corporation. I've never seen a more volatile set of............