by John Grisham
“Hear! Hear!” said a couple of Harvard alumni.
“Yes, thank you. He and his wife, Abby, are staying at the Peabody this weekend as our guests. Mitch will finish in the top five out of three hundred and has been heavily recruited. We want him here, and I know you will speak to him before he leaves. Tonight he will have dinner with Lamar and Kay Quin, and then tomorrow night is the dinner at my place. You are all expected to attend.” Mitch smiled awkwardly at the partners as Mr. Lambert rambled on about the greatness of the firm. When he finished, they continued eating as Roosevelt served bread pudding and coffee.
Kay’s favorite restaurant was a chic East Memphis hangout for the young affluent. A thousand ferns hung from everywhere and the jukebox played nothing but early sixties. The daiquiris were served in tall souvenir glasses.
“One is enough,” Kay warned.
“I’m not much of a drinker.”
They ordered the quiche of the day and sipped daiquiris.
“Does Mitch drink?”
“Very little. He’s an athlete and very particular about his body. An occasional beer or glass of wine, nothing stronger. How about Lamar?”
“About the same. He really discovered beer in law school, but he has trouble with his weight. The firm frowns on drinking.”
“That’s admirable, but why is it their business?”
“Because alcohol and lawyers go together like blood and vampires. Most lawyers drink like fish, and the profession is plagued with alcoholism. I think it starts in law school. At Vanderbilt, someone was always tapping a keg of beer. Probably the same at Harvard. The job has a lot of pressure, and that usually means a lot of booze. These guys aren’t a bunch of teetotalers, mind you, but they keep it under control. A healthy lawyer is a productive lawyer. Again, profits.”
“I guess that makes sense. Mitch says there’s no turnover.”
“It’s rather permanent. I can’t recall anyone leaving in the seven years we’ve been here. The money’s great and they’re careful about whom they hire. They don’t want anyone with family money.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“They won’t hire a lawyer with other sources of income. They want them young and hungry. It’s a question of loyalty. If all your money comes from one source, then you tend to be very loyal to that source. The firm demands extreme loyalty. Lamar says there’s never talk of leaving. They’re all happy, and either rich or getting that way. And if one wanted to leave, he couldn’t find as much money with another firm. They’ll offer Mitch whatever it takes to get you down here. They take great pride in paying more.”
“Why no female lawyers?”
“They tried it once. She was a real bitch and kept the place in an uproar. Most women lawyers walk around with chips on their shoulders looking for fights. They’re hard to deal with. Lamar says they’re afraid to hire one because they couldn’t fire her if she didn’t work out, with affirmative action and all.”
The quiche arrived and they declined another round of daiquiris. Hundreds of young professionals crowded under the clouds of ferns, and the restaurant grew festive. Smokey Robinson sang softly from the jukebox.
“I’ve got a great idea,” Kay said. “I know a realtor. Let’s call her and go look at some houses.”
“What kind of houses?”
“For you and Mitch. For the newest associate at Bendini, Lambert & Locke. She can show you several in your price range.”
“I don’t know our price range.”
“I’d say a hundred to a hundred and fifty thousand. The last associate bought in Oakgrove, and I’m sure he paid something like that.”
Abby leaned forward and almost whispered, “How much would the monthly payments be?”
“I don’t know. But you’ll be able to afford it. Around a thousand a month, maybe a little more.”
Abby stared at her and swallowed hard. The small apartments in Manhattan were renting for twice that. “Let’s give her a call.”
As expected, Royce McKnight’s office was a power one with a great view. It was in one of the prized corners on the fourth floor, down the hall from Nathan Locke. Lamar excused himself, and the managing partner asked Mitch to have a seat at a small conference table next to the sofa. A secretary was sent for coffee.
McKnight asked him about his visit so far, and Mitch said he was quite impressed.
“Mitch, I want to nail down the specifics of our offer.”
“Certainly.”
“The base salary is eighty thousand for the first year. When you pass the bar exam you receive a five-thousand-dollar raise. Not a bonus, but a raise. The exam is given sometime in August and you’ll spend most of your summer reviewing for it. We have our own bar study courses and you’ll receive extensive tutoring from some of the partners. This is done primarily on firm time. As you know, most firms put you to work and expect you to study on your own time. Not us. No associate of this firm has ever flunked the bar exam, and we’re not worried about you breaking with tradition. Eighty thousand initially, up to eighty-five in six months. Once you’ve been here a year, you’ll be raised to ninety thousand, plus you’ll get a bonus each December based on the profits and performance during the prior twelve months. Last year the average bonus for associates was nine thousand. As you know, profit sharing with associates is extremely rare for law firms. Any questions about the salary?”
“What happens after the second year?”
“Your base salary is raised about ten percent a year until you become a partner. Neither the raises nor the bonuses are guaranteed. They are based on performance.”
“Fair enough.”
“As you know, it is very important to us that you buy a home. It adds stability and prestige and we’re very concerned about these things, especially with our associates. The firm provides a low-interest mortgage loan, thirty years, fixed rate, nonassumable should you decide to sell in a few years. It’s a one-shot deal, available only for your first home. After that you’re on your own.”
“What kind of rate?”
“As low as possible without running afoul with the IRS. Current market rate is around ten, ten and a half. We should be able to get you a rate of seven to eight percent. We represent some banks, and they assist us. With this salary, you’ll have no trouble qualifying. In fact, the firm will sign on as a guarantor if necessary.”
“That’s very generous, Mr. McKnight.”
“It’s important to us. And we don’t lose any money on the deal. Once you find a house, our real estate section handles everything. All you have to do is move in.”
“What about the BMW?”
Mr. McKnight chuckled. “We started that about ten years ago and it’s proved to be quite an inducement. It’s very simple. You pick out a BMW, one of the smaller ones, we lease it for three years and give you the keys. We pay for tags, insurance, maintenance. At the end of three years you can buy it from the leasing company for the fair market value. It’s also a one-shot deal.”
“That’s very tempting.”
“We know.”
Mr. McKnight looked at his legal pad. “We provide complete medical and dental coverage for the entire family. Pregnancies, checkups, braces, everything. Paid entirely by the firm.”
Mitch nodded, but was not impressed. This was standard.
“We have a retirement plan second to none. For every dollar you invest, the firm matches it with two, provided, however, you invest at least ten percent of your base pay. Let’s say you start at eighty, and the first year you set aside eight thousand. The firm kicks in sixteen, so you’ve got twenty-four after the first year. A money pro in New York handles it and last year our retirement earned nineteen percent. Not bad. Invest for twenty years and you’re a millionaire at forty-five, just off retirement. One stipulation: If you bail out before twenty years, you lose everything but the money you put in, with no income earned on that money.”
“Sounds rather harsh.”
“No, actually it’s rather generous.
Find me another firm or company matching two-to-one. There are none, to my knowledge. It’s our way of taking care of ourselves. Many of our partners retire at fifty, some at forty-five. We have no mandatory retirement, and some work into their sixties and seventies. To each his own. Our goal is simply to ensure a generous pension and make early retirement an option.”
“How many retired partners do you have?”
“Twenty or so. You’ll see them around here from time to time. They like to come in and have lunch and a few keep office space. Did Lamar cover vacations?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Book early, especially for Vail and the Caymans. You buy the air fare, but the condos are free. We do a lot of business in the Caymans and from time to time we’ll send you down for two or three days and write the whole thing off. Those trips are not counted as vacation, and you’ll get one every year or so. We work hard, Mitch, and we recognize the value of leisure.”
Mitch nodded his approval and dreamed of lying on a sun-drenched beach in the Caribbean, sipping on a piña colada and watching string bikinis.
“Did Lamar mention the signing bonus?”
“No, but it sounds interesting.”
“If you join our firm we hand you a check for five thousand. We prefer that you spend the bulk of it on a new wardrobe. After seven years of jeans and flannel shirts, your inventory of suits is probably low, and we realize it. Appearance is very important to us. We expect our attorneys to dress sharp and conservative. There’s no dress code, but you’ll get the picture.”
Did he say five thousand dollars? For clothes? Mitch currently owned two suits, and he was wearing one of them. He kept a straight face and did not smile.
“Any questions?”
“Yes. The large firms are infamous for being sweatshops where the associates are flooded with tedious research and locked away in some library for the first three years. I want no part of that. I don’t mind doing my share of research and I realize I will be the low man on the pole. But I don’t want to research and write briefs for the entire firm. I’d like to work with real clients and their real problems.”
Mr. McKnight listened intently and waited with his rehearsed answer. “I understand, Mitch. You’re right, it is a real problem in the big firms. But not here. For the first three months you’ll do little but study for the bar exam. When that’s over, you begin practicing law. You’ll be assigned to a partner, and his clients will become your clients. You’ll do most of his research and, of course, your own, and occasionally you’ll be asked to assist someone else with the preparation of a brief or some research. We want you happy. We take pride in our zero turnover rate, and we go the extra mile to keep careers on track. If you can’t get along with your partner, we’ll find another one. If you discover you don’t like tax, we’ll let you try securities or banking. It’s your decision. The firm will soon invest a lot of money in Mitch McDeere, and we want him to be productive.”
Mitch sipped his coffee and searched for another question. Mr. McKnight glanced at his checklist.
“We pay all moving expenses to Memphis.”
“That won’t be much. Just a small rental truck.”
“Anything else, Mitch?”
“No, sir. I can’t think of anything.”
The checklist was folded and placed in the file. The partner rested both elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Mitch, we’re not pushing, but we need an answer as soon as possible. If you go elsewhere, we must then continue to interview. It’s a lengthy process, and we’d like our new man to start by July 1.”
“Ten days soon enough?”
“That’s fine. Say by March 30?”
“Sure, but I’ll contact you before then.” Mitch excused himself, and found Lamar waiting in the hall outside McKnight’s office. They agreed on seven for dinner.
3
There were no law offices on the fifth floor of the Bendini Building. The partners’ dining room and kitchen occupied the west end, some unused and unpainted storage rooms sat locked and empty in the center, then a thick concrete wall sealed off the remaining third of the floor. A small metal door with a button beside it and a camera over it hung in the center of the wall and opened into a small room where an armed guard watched the door and monitored a wall of closed-circuit screens. A hallway zigzagged through a maze of cramped offices and workrooms where an assortment of characters went secretly about their business of watching and gathering information. The windows to the outside were sealed with paint and covered with blinds. The sunlight stood no chance of penetrating the fortress.
DeVasher, head of security, occupied the largest of the small, plain offices. The lone certificate on his bare walls recognized him for thirty years of dedicated service as a detective with the New Orleans Police Department. He was stocky with a slight belly, thick shoulders and chest and a huge, perfectly round head that smiled with great reluctance. His wrinkled shirt was mercifully unbuttoned at the collar, allowing his bulging neck to sag unrestricted. A thick polyester tie hung on the coatrack with a badly worn blazer.
Monday morning after the McDeere visit, Oliver Lambert stood before the small metal door and stared at the camera over it. He pushed the button twice, waited and was finally cleared through security. He walked quickly through the cramped hallway and entered the cluttered office. DeVasher blew smoke from a Dutch Masters into a smokeless ashtray and shoved papers in all directions until wood was visible on his desk.
“Mornin’, Ollie. I guess you want to talk about McDeere.”
DeVasher was the only person in the Bendini Building who called him Ollie to his face.
“Yes, among other things.”
“Well, he had a good time, was impressed with the firm, liked Memphis okay and will probably sign on.”
“Where were your people?”
“We had the rooms on both sides at the hotel. His room was wired, of course, as was the limo and the phone and everything else. The usual, Ollie.”
“Let’s get specific.”
“Okay. Thursday night they checked in late and went to bed. Little discussion. Friday night he told her all about the firm, the offices, the people, said you were a real nice man. I thought you’d like that.”
“Get on with it.”
“Told her about the fancy dining room and his little lunch with the partners. Gave her the specifics on the offer and they were ecstatic. Much better than his other offers. She wants a home with a driveway and a sidewalk and trees and a backyard. He said she could have one.”
“Any problems with the firm?”
“Not really. He commented on the absence of blacks and women, but it didn’t seem to bother him.”
“What about his wife?”
“She had a ball. She likes the town, and she and Quin’s wife hit it off. They looked at houses Friday afternoon, and she saw a couple she liked.”
“You get any addresses?”
“Of course, Ollie. Saturday morning they called the limo and rode all over town. Very impressed with the limo. Our driver stayed away from the bad sections, and they looked at more houses. I think they decided on one. 1231 East Meadowbrook. It’s empty. Realtor by the name of Betsy Bell walked them through it. Asking one-forty, but will take less. Need to move it.”
“That’s a nice part of town. How old is the house?”
“Ten, fifteen years. Three thousand square feet. Sort of a colonial-looking job. It’s nice enough for one of your boys, Ollie.”
“Are you sure that’s the one they want?”
“For now anyway. They discussed maybe coming back in a month or so to look at some more. You might want to fly them back as soon as they accept. That’s normal procedure, ain’t it?”
“Yes. We’ll handle that. What about the salary?”
“Most impressed. Highest one so far. They talked and talked about the money. Salary, retirement, mortgage, BMW, bonus, everything. They couldn’t believe it. Kids must really be broke.”
“They are. You think w
e got him, huh?”
“I’d bet on it. He said once that the firm may not be as prestigious as the ones on Wall Street, but the lawyers were just as qualified and a lot nicer. I think he’ll sign on, yeah.”
“Any suspicions?”
“Not really. Quin evidently told him to stay away from Locke’s office. He told his wife that no one ever went in there but some secretaries and a handful of partners. But he said Quin said Locke was eccentric and not that friendly. I don’t think he’s suspicious, though. She said the firm seemed concerned about some things that were none of its business.”
“Such as?”
“Personal matters. Children, working wives, etc. She seemed a bit irritated, but I think it was more of an observation. She told Mitch Saturday morning that she would be damned if any bunch of lawyers would tell her when to work and when to have babies. But I don’t think it’s a problem.”
“Does he realize how permanent this place is?”
“I think so. There was no mention of putting in a few years and moving on. I think he got the message. He wants to be a partner, like all of them. He’s broke and wants the money.”
“What about the dinner at my place?”
“They were nervous, but had a good time. Very impressed with your place. Really liked your wife.”
“Sex?”
“Every night. Sounded like a honeymoon in there.”
“What’d they do?”
“We couldn’t see, remember. Sounded normal. Nothing kinky. I thought of you and how much you like pictures, and I kept telling myself we should’ve rigged up some cameras for old Ollie.”
“Shut up, DeVasher.”
“Maybe next time.”
They were silent as DeVasher looked at a notepad. He stubbed his cigar in the ashtray and smiled to himself.
“All in all,” he said, “it’s a strong marriage. They seemed to be very intimate. Your driver said they held hands all weekend. Not a cross word for three days. That’s pretty good, ain’t it? But who am I? I’ve been married three times myself.”
“That’s understandable. What about children?”
