“You probably have questions of your own, young man,” Roger invited in a more collegial tone than the rapid-fire questioning to which Jeffrey had been subjected.
“How did you hear about me?”
Roger peered up at the ceiling and frowned. “The corporate world is a small one once you travel in exalted enough circles. Your reputation precedes you. You’ve done work for several clients who are known to me, and they gave you a glowing recommendation. I’m not at liberty to divulge which ones — confidentiality being my stock in trade — but suffice to say their input was impressive enough to warrant considering you when this opening came up.”
“There have to be countless lawyers who specialize in this area.”
“Ah. There are. But most are too old, or have their own practices, or have baggage my client would rather not deal with. As you’ll see this evening, the senior partner of the firm is somewhat of a character, and has very set opinions about what sorts of personnel he takes on. One of his criteria is age — he’s of the opinion that a man’s best years are between the age of thirty and fifty, so he won’t hire anyone over thirty-two. You’re twenty-nine. You’re already in charge of your own, admittedly small, staff. You’re single, so you don’t have two whining newborns and a wife berating you for staying late at the office. And you’re still hungry — I know it when I see it. It’s a given that you’re very smart. All the candidates are. But honestly, you’re the last interview, and in my opinion, the perfect fit.”
“Fair enough. Who’s the law firm?”
“Before we get too far down that road, I need you to sign a confidentiality agreement along with a boilerplate non-disclosure. Purely a formality, but an essential one.”
Roger leaned forward, lifted his handset, and barked a terse instruction. Moments later another woman, this one a brunette in her thirties wearing slacks and a green silk blouse, appeared with a file and handed it to Roger before slipping out wordlessly.
“Take as long as you need to look it over,” Roger said, pushing it toward Jeffrey.
It was a standard blanket NDA, no surprises, and after giving it a careful perusal Jeffrey signed it and sat back expectantly.
“My client is Garfield, Fairbanks, and Lereaux.”
Jeffrey’s face didn’t betray his disappointment. He’d never heard of them.
“They’re not a household name, but I can assure you that their client roster reads like the Forbes list. They’re a specialized firm that augments the in-house legal departments of some of the largest corporations in the country. Banks, manufacturers, pharmaceutical giants, conglomerates, you name it. As you might have intuited, money isn’t in scarce supply. Their support role in class action suits alone runs into the eight figures each year, as does their lobbying arm, and that’s not their largest area of expertise. It’s a relatively small group, but frankly, the pay can’t be beaten, and if you do well, within a short period of time you’ll be a seven-figure man.”
Jeffrey swallowed, trying to remain calm at the mention of his future and undreamt-of levels of wealth in the same breath. “It sounds like a great opportunity.”
“That’s the understatement of the year. Look, Jeffrey, I know your firm. It’s a good, solid outfit, but it’s a mill, like going to work at a factory. Tell me you don’t clock sixty to eighty billable hours per week. I know the drill. You’ve got no chance of making serious money there until you’re older than I am.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Of course it is. And this is your ticket out. Look, you seem like a decent chap, so I’ll lay this on the line. Whether Garfield takes you or one of the others is immaterial to me — I still get paid no matter who they hire. But you’ve impressed me the most, and if I recommend you, you’ll get the job. So I need to know that you’re onboard, and will give notice as soon as possible, and do whatever is required to move here within a matter of days. If you won’t, any of the others will, so this is your moment of truth. Figure out what you want, and if you have any reservations about this, tell me now, in this room. Because once you’re sitting across from Joseph Garfield, you’re a shoe-in, and I don’t want to waste my ammo bringing a non-starter to that table.”
“I… frankly, this is extremely attractive. What you’ve described, running my own team, working with high-profile clients, being more than adequately rewarded… if I seem uncertain, it’s because I’m just taken aback by how fast all this is happening. I mean, we only first talked a day or so ago, and now you’re telling me I’m at the head of the line for a career-changer.”
“Welcome to the game, Jeffrey. Don’t you think you’ve spent enough time in the bullpen? You can’t warm up for the rest of your life. Fate’s smiled on you. I’d grab this with both hands and never let go.”
Jeffrey nodded. It was everything any young attorney could hope for. But in spite of all of that, something was making him uneasy. Probably the pace — they were moving at Mach ten, and Jeffrey was used to driving in the slow lane. “You make a compelling argument.”
Roger smiled wolfishly. “That’s part of the gig, Jeffrey. Let’s not beat around the bush. You want this, or not?”
Jeffrey paused, the conflicting emotions within him battling for supremacy, and then logic took over.
“Of course I do. When do I meet my new boss?”
THIRTEEN
Dinner and a Date
The driver took Jeffrey to the hotel Roger had booked for him — the Four Seasons in Georgetown. When he disembarked at the lobby entrance his sense of disbelief intensified at the sheer opulence. They were sparing no expense, and that feeling was underscored when the bellman opened his room door for him and gave him an orientation tour. Jeffrey tipped him ten dollars, reconsidering the five he was going to hand him, and when the man left Jeffrey shrugged his jacket off and plopped down on the bed, groping for the TV remote as he breathed the hotel’s rarified atmosphere, a hint of something exotic, perhaps jasmine, in the air.
Dinner would be at the hotel’s premier restaurant at seven, with Roger and Joseph Garfield. If there was going to be anyone else there, Roger hadn’t told him, and he presumed if there were they wouldn’t matter for the purposes of his evaluation. The television news was filled with the latest atrocity in the Middle East, angry mobs chanting unintelligibly for the cameras as an American flag smoldered in the background, a professionally concerned newscaster trying to flog the slim details of a bombing into a half hour of interest.
Jeffrey considered the whirlwind of unusual activity that had become his life over the last week, and wondered where this latest chapter would lead. Maybe it was time for a change. When he took all the emotion out of the decision, getting the position with Garfield would be the best thing that could ever happen to him, even if it meant suffering through some unpleasant Washington winters. As the minutes ticked away and his dinner grew near, he became more convinced that he’d made the right choice in telling Roger he wanted the job.
Downstairs, he approached the restaurant maître d’ at exactly seven and was shown to a table in a secluded corner. Roger was already there, chatting with an older man dressed much like Jeffrey in a blazer and semi-casual slacks.
“Jeffrey Rutherford, meet Joseph Garfield,” Roger said as they stood, and Garfield reached to shake Jeffrey’s hand with an iron grip. Jeffrey did a quick scan of Garfield’s face, the skin taut and smooth, a network of fine wrinkles in all the right places, his complexion glowing with prosperity, his gaze clear and hawk-like, his steel-gray eyes those of a predator at the top of the food chain.