The Firm

named Ray McDeere.'

'Where is he?'

'I'm afraid that's none of your business.' He stared at Royce McKnight and exposed a mammoth chip on his shoulder. The dossier said little about Ray.

'I'm sorry,' the managing partner said softly.

'Mitch, our firm is in Memphis,' Lamar said. 'Does that bother you?'

'Not at all. I'm not fond of cold weather.'

'Have you ever been to Memphis?'

'No.'

'We'll have you down soon. You'll love it.'

Mitch smiled and nodded and played along. Were these guys serious? How could he consider such a small firm in such a small town when Wall Street was waiting?

'How are you ranked in your class?' Mr. Lambert asked.

'Top five.' Not top five percent, but top five. That was enough of an answer for all of them. Top five out of three hundred. He could have said number three, a fraction away from number two, and within striking distance of number one. But he didn't. They came from inferior schools—Chicago, Columbia and Vanderbilt, as he recalled from a cursory examination of Martindale-HubbelPs Legal Directory. He knew they would not dwell on academics.

'Why did you select Harvard?'

'Actually, Harvard selected me. I applied at several schools and was accepted everywhere. Harvard offered more financial assistance. I thought it was the best school. Still do.'

'You've done quite well here, Mitch,' Mr. Lambert said, admiring the resume. The dossier was in the briefcase, under the table.

'Thank you. I've worked hard.'

'You made extremely high grades in your tax and securities courses.'

'That's where my interest lies.'

'We've reviewed your writing sample, and it's quite impressive.'

'Thank you. I enjoy research.'

They nodded and acknowledged this obvious lie. It was part of the ritual. No law student or lawyer in his right mind enjoyed research, yet, without fail, every prospective associate professed a deep love for the library.

'Tell us about your wife,' Royce McKnight said, almost meekly. They braced for another reprimand. But it was a standard, nonsacred area explored by every firm.

'Her name is Abby. She has a degree in elementary education from Western Kentucky. We graduated one week and got married the next. For the past three years she's taught at a private kindergarten near Boston College.'

'And is the marriage—'

'We're very happy. We've known each other since high school.'

'What position did you play?' asked Lamar, in the direction of less sensitive matters.

'Quarterback. I was heavily recruited until I messed up a knee in my last high school game. Everyone disappeared except Western Kentucky. I played off and on for four years, even started some as a junior, but the knee would never hold up.'

'How'd you make straight A's and play football?'

'I put the books first.'

'I don't imagine Western Kentucky is much of an academic school,' Lamar blurted with a stupid grin, and immediately wished he could take it back. Lambert and McKnight frowned and acknowledged the mistake.

'Sort of like Kansas State,' Mitch replied. They froze, all of them froze, and for a few seconds stared incredulously at each other. This guy McDeere knew Lamar Quin went to Kansas State. He had never met Lamar Quin and had no idea who would appear on behalf of and conduct the interview. Yet, he knew. He had gone to Martindale-HubbelPs and checked them out. He had read the biographical sketches of all of the forty-one lawyers in, and in a split second he had recalled that Lamar Quin, just one of the forty-one, had gone to Kansas State. Damn, they were impressed.

'I guess that came out wrong,' Lamar apologized.

'No problem.' Mitch smiled warmly. It was forgotten.

Oliver Lambert cleared his throat and decided to get personal again. 'Mitch, our firm frowns on drinking and chasing women. We're not a bunch of Holy Rollers, but we put business ahead of everything. We keep low profiles and we work very hard. And we make plenty of money.'

'I can live with all that.'

'We reserve the right to test any member of The Firm for drug use.'

'I don't use drugs.'

'Good. What's your religious affiliation?'

'Methodist.'

'Good. You'll find a wide variety in our firm. Catholics, Baptists, Episcopalians. It's really none of our business, but we like to know. We want stable families. Happy lawyers are productive lawyers. That's why we ask these questions.'

Mitch smiled and nodded. He'd heard this before.

The three looked at each other, then at Mitch. This meant they had reached the point in the interview where the interviewee was supposed to ask one or two intelligent questions. Mitch recrossed his legs. Money, that was the big question, particularly how it compared to his other offers.

If it isn't enough, thought Mitch, then it was nice to meet you fellas. If the pay is attractive, then we can discuss families and marriages and football and churches.

But, he knew, like all the other firms they had to shadowbox around the issue until things got awkward and it was apparent they had discussed everything in the world but money. So, hit them with a soft question first.

'What type of work will I do initially?'

They nodded and approved of the question. Lambert and McKnight looked at Lamar. This answer was his.

'We have something similar to a two-year apprenticeship, although we don't call it that. We'll send you all over the country to tax seminars. Your education is far from over. You'll spend two weeks next winter in Washington at the American Tax Institute. We take great pride in our technical expertise, and the training is continual, for all of us. If you want to pursue a master's in taxation, we'll pay for it. As far as practicing law, it won't be very exciting for the first two years. You'll do a lot of research and generally boring stuff. But you'll be paid handsomely.'

'How much?'

Lamar looked at Royce McKnight, who eyed Mitch and said, 'We'll discuss the compensation and other benefits when you come to Memphis.'

'I want a ballpark figure or I may not come to Memphis.' He smiled, arrogant but cordial. He spoke like a man with three job offers.

The partners smiled at each other, and Mr. Lambert spoke first. 'Okay. A base salary of eighty thousand the first year, plus bonuses. Eighty-five the second year, plus bonuses. A low-interest mortgage so you can buy a home. Two country club memberships. And a new BMW. You pick the color, of course.'

They focused on his lips, and waited for the wrinkles to form on his cheeks and the teeth to break through. He tried to conceal a smile, but it was impossible. He chuckled.

'That's incredible,' he mumbled. Eighty thousand in Memphis equaled a hundred and twenty thousand in New York. Did the man say BMW?! His Mazda hatchback had a million miles on it and for