“I’ll get it done.”

“I know you will. As I told you, your rate is one hundred an hour. Nina will go over the time records with you today. Remember, don’t ignore the billing.”

“How could I forget?”

Oliver Lambert and Nathan Locke stood before the metal door on the fifth floor and stared at the camera above. Something clicked loudly and the door opened. A guard nodded. DeVasher waited in his office.

“Good morning, Ollie,” he said quietly while ignoring the other partner.

“What’s the latest?” Locke snapped in DeVasher’s direction without looking at him.

“From where?” DeVasher asked calmly.

“Chicago.”

“They’re very anxious up there, Nat. Regardless of what you believe, they don’t like to get their hands dirty. And, frankly, they just don’t understand why they have to.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re asking some tough questions, like why can’t we keep our people in line?”

“And what’re you telling them?”

“That everything’s okay. Wonderful. The great Bendini firm is solid. The leaks have been plugged. Business as usual. No problems.”

“How much damage did they do?” asked Oliver Lambert.

“We’re not sure. We’ll never be sure, but I don’t think they ever talked. They had decided to, no doubt about that, but I don’t think they did. We’ve got it from a pretty good source there were FBI agents en route to the island the day of the accident, so we think they planned to rendezvous to spill their guts.”

“How do you know this?” asked Locke.

“Come on, Nat. We’ve got our sources. Plus, we had people all over the island. We do good work, you know.”

“Evidently.”

“Was it messy?”

“No, no. Very professional.”

“How’d the native get in the way?”

“We had to make it look good, Ollie.”

“What about the authorities down there?”

“What authorities? It’s a tiny, peaceful island, Ollie. Last year they had one murder and four diving accidents. As far as they’re concerned, it’s just another accident. Three accidental drownings.”

“What about the FBI?” asked Locke.

“Don’t know.”

“I thought you had a source.”

“We do. But we can’t find him. We’ve heard nothing as of yesterday. Our people are still on the island and they’ve noticed nothing unusual.”

“How long will you stay there?”

“Couple of weeks.”

“What happens if the FBI shows up?” asked Locke.

“We watch them real close. We’ll see them when they get off the plane. We’ll follow them to their hotel rooms. We may even bug their phones. We’ll know what they eat for breakfast and what they talk about. We’ll assign three of our guys for every one of theirs, and when they go to the toilet we’ll know it. There ain’t nothing for them to find, Nat. I told you it was a clean job, very professional. No evidence. Relax.”

“This makes me sick, DeVasher,” Lambert said.

“You think I like it, Ollie? What do you want us to do? Sit back and let them talk? Come on, Ollie, we’re all human. I didn’t want to do it, but Lazarov said do it. You wanna argue with Lazarov, go ahead. They’ll find you floating somewhere. Those boys were up to no good. They should’ve kept quiet, driven their little fancy cars and played big-shot lawyers. No, they gotta get sanctimonious.”

Nathan Locke lit a cigarette and blew a heavy cloud of smoke in the general direction of DeVasher. The three sat in silence for a moment as the smoke settled across his desk. He glared at Black Eyes but said nothing.

Oliver Lambert stood and stared at the blank wall next to the door. “Why did you want to see us?” he asked.

DeVasher took a deep breath. “Chicago wants to bug the home phones of all nonpartners.”

“I told you,” Lambert said to Locke.

“It wasn’t my idea, but they insist on it. They’re very nervous up there, and they wanna take some extra precautions. You can’t blame them.”

“Don’t you think it’s going a bit too far?” asked Lambert.

“Yeah, it’s totally unnecessary. But Chicago doesn’t think so.”

“When?” asked Locke.

“Next week or so. It’ll take a few days.”

“All of them?”

“Yes. That’s what they said.”

“Even McDeere?”

“Yes. Even McDeere. I think Tarrance will try again, and he might start at the bottom this time.”

“I met him this morning,” said Locke. “He was here before me.”

“Five thirty-two,” answered DeVasher.

The law school memorabilia were removed to the floor and the Capps file spread across the desk. Nina brought a chicken salad sandwich back from lunch, and he ate it as he read and as she filed away the junk on the floor. Shortly after one, Wally Hudson, or J. Walter Hudson as letterhead declared him, arrived to begin the study for the bar exam. Contracts were his specialty. He was a five-year member of The Firm and the only Virginia man, which he found odd because Virginia had the best law school in the country, in his opinion. He had spent the last two years developing a new review course for the contracts section of the exam. He was quite anxious to try it on someone, and McDeere happened to be the man. He handed Mitch a heavy three-ring notebook that was at least four inches thick and weighed as much as the Capps file.

The exam would last for four days and consist of three parts, Wally explained. The first day would be a four-hour multiple-choice exam on ethics. Gill Vaughn, one of the partners, was the resident expert on ethics and would supervise that portion of the review. The second day would be an eight-hour exam known simply as multi-state. It covered most areas of the law common to all states. It, too, was multiple-choice and the questions were very deceptive. Then the heavy action. Days three and four would be eight hours each and cover fifteen areas of substantive law. Contracts, Uniform Commercial Code, real estate, torts, domestic relations, wills, estates, taxation, workers’ compensation, constitutional law, federal trial procedure, criminal procedure, corporations, partnerships, insurance and debtor-creditor relations. All answers would be in essay form, and the questions would emphasize Tennessee law. The Firm had a review plan for each of the fifteen sections.

“You mean fifteen of these?” Mitch asked as he lifted the notebook.

Wally smiled. “Yes. We’re very thorough. No one in this firm has ever flunked—”

“I know. I know. I won’t be the first.”

“You and I will meet at least once a week for the next six weeks to go through the materials. Each session will last about two hours, so you can plan accordingly. I would suggest each Wednesday at three.”

“Morning or afternoon?”

“Afternoon.”

“That’s fine.”

“As you know, contracts and the Uniform Commercial Code go hand in hand, so I’ve incorporated the UCC into those materials. We’ll cover both, but it’ll take more time. A typical bar exam is loaded with commercial transactions. Those problems make great essay questions, so that notebook will be very important. I’ve included actual questions from old exams, along with the model answers. It’s fascinating reading.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Take the first eighty pages for next week. You’ll find some essay questions you’ll need to answer.”

“You mean homework?”

“Absolutely. I’ll grade it next week. It’s very important to practice these questions each week.”

“This could be worse than law school.”

“It’s much more important than law school. We take it very seriously. We have a committee to monitor your progress from now until you sit for the exam. We’ll be watching very closely.”

“Who’s on the committee?”

“Myself, Avery Tolar, Royce McKnight, Randall Dunbar and Kendall Mahan. We’ll meet each Friday to assess your progress.”