Geez. So, okay… divide fifty million big buckos by the twenty-five partners upstairs, and last year’s job security was in the bag. And if that spout kept pumping, they’d soon increase the number of D. C. partners, which gave motive, clarity, and intensity to that hungry look in Barry’s eyes.
“And the types of work your firm does for Morris?” I asked.
“ Our firm, Sean.” He fixed me with a resolute look and informed me, “We’re all one team here.”
Yeah? Then let’s compare paychecks, pal-but I didn’t say that. I said, “Okay… what do we do for this company?”
“They’ve done twenty mergers and acquisitions to get their hands on technologies Jason felt he needed for his network. We handled all that. Also the work to get them patents, contracts, licenses, FCC and SEC work, overseas work, general corporate matters and financings, frequencies, and right-of-ways, and we manage their D. C. and state lobbying.”
“What don’t we do?”
“Not much-their in-house counsel handles internal legal issues, we handle external issues. They keep five partners and an army of associates laboring furiously on their behalf, and we have three foreign firms on retainer.”
“And what case will I be working on?”
“No need to get nervous, Sean.”
“I’m not nervous, Barry.”
“No… of course you’re not,” he replied dismissively. We regarded each other a moment. Clearly we did not like each other, and clearly ours was going to be a difficult relationship.
But he continued, “Morris has a number of contracts to provide telecommunications services for government agencies, including HEW, the Labor Department, the FBI, and three or four Defense Department contracts. It just won another contract for a government agency called DARPA.”
“The Defense Advanced Research Program Agency.”
“Good. So you’re aware it’s where a lot of the top-secret programs emanate. The Department of Defense put out a bid for someone to provide backbone services for DARPA, to connect all its scientists and researchers on a secure videoconferencing network so they can share ideas and advances. Morris won, and two of the failed bidders have sour grapes. AT amp;T and Sprint launched protests, which is de rigueur in these things. The last hope for thwarted bidders is to try to get the decision overturned. It’s worth one point two billion over ten years.”
I contemplated this, then asked, “And you’re-” He started to interrupt. “Right. We’re doing what?”
“Defending against the protest. Partly working with the Defense Department, and partly doing missionary work with Congress, which funds these projects.”
Everything he’d said up to this point made sense. It’s what makes this such a great country, and what makes Washington such a great city for lawyers. The Feds collect some two trillion per annum in tax revenue, it has to be spent, and lawyers are up front, writing the contracts, and at the back, suing everybody for breach of contract. It’s all one big foodfight, and the lawyers are the crumb snatchers.
“Why me?” I asked.
“Good question. Lisa Morrow worked on this same issue. We found her knowledge of the Defense Department quite helpful, and she found it equally fruitful. She learned a great deal about how your procurement practices work.” He added, “It’s pretty pathetic.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, you know… you’re dealing with military and government people.”
“I see.” Which was shorthand for, You’re an asshole.
“Also, when it’s government money, the face of politics sticks its ugly nose in. AT amp;T and Sprint have a lot of clout.”
“And I’m allowed to work on this? No conflict-of-interest issues?”
“We’ll keep you out of those areas that pose a problem. No lobbying in the Pentagon or the Hill.” He added, “But you can certainly meet with in-house counsel at Morris Networks to help prepare our case.” He put down his coffee. “Any questions?”
He was assuming, of course, that I’d be around long enough to help out. Barry obviously wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.
I said, “Not at this time.”
“Good. Now, last point. That awful uniform has to go. And, yes, we’re aware that can present a financial burden, so we’re making the same arrangement we made for Lisa.”
“And what arrangement would that be?”
“Be at Brooks Brothers at 4:00 P.M. You’ll be fitted with everything you need. The firm pays the bill and leases you the wardrobe for twenty dollars a month. At the end of your year, it’s yours to keep. Also, you may occasionally be required to drive around clients, so we’ve taken the liberty of leasing a Jaguar sedan for your use.” He regarded me with a smug expression and added, “These are professional requirements that are unapproachable at your salary.”
I stared at him, and he stared back at me. “I already have a few suits.”
“I’m sure you do. And I’m sure they’re, uh, nifty suits… just
… well, not nearly up to our quality standards. We can’t have a member of this firm walking around looking like a clown, can we?”
“How about like a gigolo?”
He laughed. “Don’t be an idiot. The people we represent don’t want to be seen with hungry lawyers. All new associates get this package.”
Sally commented, “We’ve passed this by your inspector general’s office. It’s perfectly legal.”
So what do I say? If I accepted, I was like a kept man, and I owed the firm something in return. But clearly I wasn’t being asked. So I didn’t say anything.
Sally deposited me back at my office, where some idiot had stacked a foot of thick manuals on my desk. “Those are our operating and ethics policies,” Sally explained, and with a pointed look, added, “have them read by morning. A short test will be administered to ensure you understand the material.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not. It’s routine. Fail, and you’ll have to sit through three days of instruction.”
“And then?”
“Then you’ll be retested. The firm is quite serious about its attorneys knowing its procedures and ethical standards.”
“As it should be. And if I fail again?”
“Associates are fired. In your case, the firm would probably notify the Army you can’t complete the program.”
Well, this was suddenly interesting. I said, “Really…?”
“Yes.”
I shooed her out and used the number Clapper had provided to call Lisa Morrow. A secretary answered and said she’d get her.
After a moment a slightly put-out voice said, “Thank you for calling, but I’m happy with my current phone service and I’m not at all interested in a timeshare.”
I laughed.
She said, “Weren’t you supposed to call about six months ago? About a drink? A dinner? Something?”
“Look, if you’ll please allow me to explain-”
“Sean, don’t.” I heard her draw a sharp breath. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Lisa, I’m… well, I’m hurt. I’ve never lied to you,” I replied, very sincerely.
After a pregnant moment, she said, “You’re right. That was unfair. I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” I added, “I was in a coma the past six months. They say I kept mumbling your name. It’s the only reason they didn’t turn off the life support system. I, well… Lisa, listen… I owe you my life.”
After a tender pause, she said, “Try again.”
“Again… Okay, I heard you were going out with somebody else and I didn’t want to confuse you.” Incidentally, this happened to be true.
She chuckled. “I was going out with somebody.”
Note the verb tense. Also how easily I got that out of her. Boy, am I good at this game. I said, “Guess where I am?”
“I don’t care where you are. You should’ve called. I can sort through confusion.”
“Maybe I can’t. I’m sitting in my new office at a tightassed firm called Culper, Hutch, and Westin.”
“ You’re the new exchange student?”
“Lucky me. Clapper said the last one claimed she had such a great time, I’d love it here.”
“He’s lying. I haven’t even debriefed him yet.” She added, “But you?… What was Clapper thinking?”