The Firm

Lambert opened the envelope and gaped at the eight-by-ten black-and-white photographs. He stared at each one, holding them inches from his nose, memorizing each detail. DeVasher watched proudly.

Lambert reviewed them again and began breathing heavily. 'These are incredible.'

'Yep. We though so.'

'Who's the girl?' Ollie asked, still staring.

'A local prostitute. Looks pretty good, doesn't she? We've never used her before, but you can bet we'll use her again.'

'I want to meet her, and soon.'

'No problem. I kinda figured you would.'

'This is incredible. How'd she do it?'

'It looked difficult at first. He told the first girl to get lost. Avery had the other one, but your man wanted no part of her friend. He left and went to that little bar on the beach. That's when our girl there showed up. She's a pro.'

'Where were your people?'

'All over the place. Those were shot from behind a palm tree, about eighty feet away. Pretty good, aren't they?'

'Very good. Give the photographer a bonus. How long did they roll in the sand?'

'Long enough. They were very compatible.'

'I think he really enjoyed himself.'

'We were lucky. The beach was deserted and the timing was perfect.'

Lambert raised a photograph toward the ceiling, in front of his eyes. 'Did you make me a set?' he asked from behind it.

'Of course, Ollie. I know how much you enjoy these things.'

'I thought McDeere would be tougher than that.'

'He's tough, but he's human. He's no dummy either. We're not sure, but we think he knew we were watching him the next day during lunch. He seemed suspicious and began darting around the shopping district. Then he disappeared. He was an hour late for his meeting with Avery at the bank.'

'Where'd he go?'

'We don't know. We were just watching out of curiosity, nothing serious. Hell, he might've been in a bar downtown for all we know. But he just disappeared.'

'Watch him carefully. He worries me.'

DeVasher waved another manila envelope. 'Quit worrying, Ollie. We own him now! He would kill for us if he knew about these.'

'What about Tarrance?'

'Not a sign. McDeere ain't mentioned it to anybody, at least not to anybody we're listening to. Tarrance is hard to trail sometimes, but I think he's staying away.'

'Keep your eyes open.'

'Don't worry about my end, Ollie. You're the lawyer, the counselor, the esquire, and you get your eight- by-tens. You run. I run the surveillance.'

'How are things at the McDeere house?'

'Not too good. She was very cool to the trip.'

'What'd she do when he was gone?'

'Well, she ain't one to sit around the house. Two nights she and Quin's wife went out to eat at a couple of those yuppie joints. Then to the movies. She was out one night with a schoolteacher friend. She shopped a little.

'She also called her mother a lot, collect. Evidently there's no love lost between our boy and her parents, and she wants to patch things up. She and her mom are tight and it really bothers her because they can't be a big happy family. She wants to go home to Kentucky for Christmas, and she's afraid he won't go for it. There's a lot of friction. A lot of undercurrents. She tells her mom he works too much, and her mom says it's because he wants to show them up. I don't like the sound of it, Ollie. Bad vibes.'

'Just keep listening. We've tried to slow him down, but he's a machine.'

'Yeah, at a hundred and fifty an hour I know you want him to slack off. Why don't you cut all your associates back to forty hours a week so they can spend more time with their families? You could cut your salary, sell a Jag or two, hock your old lady's diamonds, maybe sell your mansion and buy a smaller house by the country club.'

'Shut up, DeVasher.'

Oliver Lambert stormed out of the office. DeVasher turned red with his high-pitched laughter, then, when his office was empty, he locked the photos in a file cabinet. 'Mitchell McDeere,' he said to himself with an immense smile, 'now you are ours.'

Chapter 15

O n a friday, at noon, two weeks before Christmas, Abby said goodbye to her students and left St. Andrew's for the holidays. At one, she parked in a lot full of Volvos and BMWs and Saabs and more Peugeots and walked hurriedly through the cold rain into the crowded terrarium where the young affluent gathered to eat quiche and fajitas and black bean soup among the plants. This was Kay Quin's current hot spot of the year, and this was the second lunch they'd had in a month. Kay was late, as usual.

It was a friendship still in the initial stages of development. Cautious by nature, Abby had never been one to rush into chumminess with a stranger. The three years at Harvard had been friendless, and she had learned a great deal of independence. In six months in Memphis she had met a handful of prospects at church and one at school, but she moved cautiously.

At first Kay Quin had pushed hard. She was at once a tour guide, shopping consultant and even a decorator. But Abby had moved slowly, learning a little with each visit and watching her new friend carefully. They had eaten several times in the Quin home. They had seen each other at firm dinners and functions, but always in a crowd. And they had enjoyed each other's company over four long lunches at whatever happened to be the hottest gathering place at that moment for the young and beautiful Golden MasterCard holders in Memphis. Kay noticed cars and homes and clothes, but pretended to ignore it all. Kay wanted to be a friend, a close friend, a confidante, an intimate. Abby kept the distance, slowly allowing her in.

The reproduction of a 1950s jukebox sat below Abby's table on the first level near the bar, where a standing-room crowd sipped and waited for tables. After ten minutes and two Roy Orbisons, Kay emerged from the crowd at the front door and looked upward to the third level. Abby smiled and waved.

They hugged and pecked each other properly on the cheeks, without transferring lipstick.

'Sorry I'm late,' Kay said.

'That's okay. I'm used to it.'

'This place is packed,' Kay said, looking around in amazement. It was always packed. 'So you're out of school?'

'Yes. As of an hour ago. I'm free until January 6.'

They admired each other's outfits and commented on how slim and in general how beautiful and young they were.

Christmas shopping at once became the topic, and they talked of stores and sales and children until the wine arrived. Abby ordered scampi in a skillet, but Kay stuck with the old fern-bar standby of broccoli quiche.

'What're your plans for Christmas?'' Kay asked.