“I’ve heard some great stories.”

“They’re probably true. Careers have been ruined. Last year two partners, both married to other people, started a hot affair, got caught, and were kicked out. They’re still looking for jobs.”

“But for two unmarried associates, come on.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The first courses arrived and sex was forgotten. Kyle had a leek and cheese tart. Doug went a bit heavier with a salad of Maine lobster with fennel and black trumpet mushrooms. Kyle drank less wine and more water. Doug was determined to polish off the first bottle and get to the second.

“A bit of a shake-up is coming down,” Doug said between bites. “I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Kyle nodded with a mouth full.

“It’s probably going to happen. Five of our litigation partners are leaving with a bunch of associates and several clients. The mutiny is being led by Toby Roland, and it’s not pretty.”

“How many associates?” Kyle asked.

“Twenty-six as of this morning. It’s a free-for-all. They’re waving money and twisting arms and no one knows how many will eventually leave, but it will knock a hole in litigation. We’ll survive.”

“How do we fill the gap?”

“We’ll probably raid another firm. They didn’t teach you this in law school?”

They both laughed and returned to their food for a moment.

“Will this increase the workload for those left behind?” Kyle asked between bites.

Doug shrugged as if to say yes. “Maybe. It’s too early to tell. They’re taking some big clients with some big lawsuits. In fact, that’s why they’re leaving.”

“Is Trylon leaving or staying?”

“Trylon is an old client, and it’s firmly within the protective custody of Mr. Wilson Rush. What do you know about Trylon?” Doug was eyeing him closely, as if they were moving into territory that was off-limits.

“Just what I’ve read in the newspapers and magazines. You ever worked for them?”

“Sure, several times.”

Kyle decided to push on, just a little. A waiter removed their plates. Another poured more wine.

“What’s this Bartin dispute all about? The Journal said the court file is locked away because the issues are so sensitive.”

“Military secrets. Huge sums of money involved. The Pentagon is all over it. They tried like hell to stop the companies from fighting, but it blew up anyway. There’s a lot of technology involved, not to mention a few hundred billion dollars.”

“Are you working on it?”

“No. I passed. There’s quite a team, though.”

Fresh bread arrived to cleanse the palate. The first bottle was empty, and Doug ordered a second. Kyle was carefully pacing himself.

“The partners and associates who are leaving,” Kyle said, “how many are working on the Bartin lawsuit?”

“I don’t know. Why are you so interested?”

“Because I don’t want to work on it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think Trylon is a rogue defense contractor with a rotten history of making cheap products, screwing the government and the taxpayers, dumping dirty weapons around the world, killing innocent people, promoting war, and propping up nasty little dictators, all in an effort to increase the bottom line and have something to show the shareholders.”

“Anything else?”

“Lots.”

“You don’t like Trylon?”

“No.”

“The company is an extremely valuable client.”

“Good. Let someone else work for them.”

“Associates are not allowed to choose who they work for.”

“I know. I’m just sharing my opinion.”

“Well, keep it to yourself, okay. That kind of language will get you a lousy reputation.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do the work that’s assigned to me. But as a favor, as my supervising partner, I’m asking that you keep me busy elsewhere.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but Mr. Rush makes the final decisions.”

The second wine was a pinot noir from South Africa, and it, too, caused Doug’s eyes to roll around. Their entrées — braised pork shoulder and aged prime rib of beef — were not far behind, and they got serious about eating.

“You know your rate now goes to four hundred an hour,” Doug said, chewing.

“Are you still at eight hundred?”

“Yes.”

Kyle was not sure he had the spine to bill a client, regardless of how large the corporation might be, $400 for an hour of his inexperienced legal work. Not that he had a choice.

“On the subject of billing,” Doug said. “For the month of October, I need you to estimate my hours on the Ontario Bank case. I got busy and lost track.”

Kyle managed to keep chewing a small bite of braised pork, but he almost choked. Did he say “Estimate my hours”? He certainly did, and this was something new. There had been nothing at orientation, nothing in the handbook, nothing anywhere about “estimating” hours. Just the opposite. They had been trained to treat billing as the most important aspect of their practice. Pick up a file, look at the clock. Make a phone call, record the time. Sit through a meeting, count the minutes. Every hour had to be accounted for, and the billing was done on the spot. It was never to be delayed, and it had to be precise.

“How does one estimate hours?” Kyle asked carefully.

“Look at the file. Check the hours you billed on it. Look at my work, then estimate my time for the month of October. It’s no big deal.”

At $800 an hour it was indeed a big deal.

“And don’t underestimate,” Doug said, swirling his wine in the goblet.

Of course not. If we’re going to guess here, let’s be damned sure we land on the high side. “Is this a common practice?” Kyle asked.

Doug snorted in disbelief and swallowed a hunk of beef. Don’t be stupid, boy. It happens all the time. “And since we’re now talking about Ontario Bank,” he said, meat visible between his teeth, “bill ’em for this lunch.”

“I was planning on getting the check,” Kyle said, a lame effort at humor.

“Of course not. I’ll put it on a credit card and bill the bank. I’m talking about our time. Two hours for you, now at four hundred, and two for me. The bank had record earnings last year.”

That was nice to hear. They would need healthy earnings to continue their relationship with Scully & Pershing. Twenty-four hundred dollars for lunch, and that did not include food, wine, or tip.

“And now that you’ve passed the bar,” Doug said as he took another bite, “you are entitled to use the black cars and bill clients for dinner. The rule goes like this: If you work until eight o’clock at night, then call a car. I’ll give you the number and code, and be sure the client gets billed for the car. And if you choose, you can go to a restaurant, spend no more than a hundred bucks on yourself, and also bill the client.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m at the office almost every night until eight, and if somebody else is buying dinner, then I’ll be damned sure I stay until eight.”

“Attaboy.”

“Seems kinda rich, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“Billing the client for expensive dinners and lunches and cars.”

A swirl of the pinot, a thoughtful stare at the red liquid, a long pull. “Kyle, my boy, look at it this way. Our biggest client is BXL, the seventh-largest company in the world, sales last year of $200 billion. Very smart businessmen who have a budget for everything. They live by budgets. They are fanatics about budgets. Last year their budget for legal fees was one percent of their total sales, or about $2 billion. We didn’t get all of that, because they use twenty different law firms around the world, but we got our share. Guess what happens if they don’t spend the amount they budget, if their legal fees fall short? Their in-house lawyers monitor our billings, and if our numbers are low, they call up and raise hell. What are we, the lawyers, doing wrong?

Aren’t we properly protecting them? The point is, they expect to spend the money. If we don’t take it, then it screws up their budgets, they get worried, and maybe they start looking around for another firm, one that will work harder at billing them. You follow?”