Lisa See - The Interior

"It's not too late to go back to litigation. If you want experience, come to the U.S. Attorney's Office. By the end of the first year, you'll have been in court so many times-"

"But my bank account would be empty."

David shrugged. "There are things other than money."

"Really, what?" The bitterness in Keith's tone made David look up.

"Doing right, working on the side of justice, putting away bad guys." David said the words, but he didn't know if he believed them anymore. So much had happened in his own life and to his sense of who he was and what he did.

As if reading these thoughts, Keith asked, "How can you still spout that stuff after all you've been through?" When David didn't respond, Keith continued, "After everything that happened to you in China…"

No one was supposed to know exactly what had happened to David in China. Was Keith speculating or did he actually know something? David decided to dismiss the comment with a laugh.

"All I'm saying is that you might have more fun if you changed jobs," David said. "It doesn't have to be the government. There are other things you can do."

"What about my clients?"

When David raised an eyebrow inquiringly, Keith continued: "Okay, so they aren't my clients exactly, but I still feel responsible for them. I may not be the name partner, but I'm the one the clients talk to day to day."

"Who are you working for?"

"In the firm? Miles, of course."

"Some things never change."

"Oh, they change, all right." There again was that bitter tone.

"How do you mean?"

"David, you don't want to know. I mean, you'd recognize the place. We've got the same carpet and draperies and oak desks and all that shit, but, man, we're at the end of the millennium. Practicing isn't the same."

"We all get burnt out," David offered, but Keith just shook his head and took another sip of brandy.

After a pause Keith said, "You didn't ask me out to dinner to catch up. What's up? You want to come back to the firm? You throwing a bone my way? If I get you to come back, I'd be guaranteed a bonus at the end of the year."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then both cracked up. David realized that it was the first time this evening he'd seen anything of Keith's old sense of humor.

"It's not that, but when the time comes, you'll be the first to know."

"I doubt it. The name partners talk about you all the time. I'm surprised you haven't heard from them yet."

David thought about the unopened invitations he'd thrown away, but before he could follow up, Keith's smile faded and the moment passed.

"So what do you want?" Keith asked.

"It's about Knight International. Since Tartan's buying the company, I thought you could tell me about it."

"Anything I could tell you would fall under the auspices of privileged information."

David waited, hoping Keith would say more. Instead Keith took another swallow of brandy, then waved his empty glass in the air to signal the waitress he wanted another. As Keith brought his hand back down, David noticed it was shaking. Had he been nervous all night?

"Come on," David said at last. "What's Knight up to these days?"

"Why are you asking? Is this some Justice Department investigation? Because if it is, you're way out of line."

"That's a leap! I ask a simple question and you give me that?"

Keith shrugged. "I told you. Things are different at the firm. We have to be careful of outsiders."

"I'm not an outsider."

"But you're not bound by what I tell you either."

"The way you're talking makes me think you or the firm or Tartan has something to hide. Lighten up! I just wanted some background on Knight. I thought you'd be a knowledgeable source."

"Do me a favor and read about Knight in the papers."

The conversation had taken a bizarre turn. Sweat had formed on Keith's forehead, and he wiped it with a napkin. His face was flushed- from drink, from anger, from the heat of the room, David couldn't tell. But there was something more here. Since when wouldn't an old friend answer a simple question? Did Keith think it was some kind of ethics test? And that nonsense about an investigation? All this was probably just the alcohol talking. David could wait to ask his questions until tomorrow, when Keith would probably call and say his head hurt like hell and he was sorry for acting like such an ass. Instead David decided to lay his cards on the table.

"My girlfriend…" It was strange to call Hulan his girlfriend, but what was the proper word? He cleared his throat and tried again. "My girlfriend lives in China."

Keith grinned, his mood switching again. "Liu Hulan. I never met her, but I remember you talking about her. When we first met you were about as brokenhearted as they come. I heard you reconnected, shall we say?"

David ignored Keith's kidding. "One of her friends had a daughter who worked at a Knight factory in China," David continued. "I didn't know they had factories over there."

"They have one. Old man Knight thinks of himself as cutting-edge when it comes to manufacturing. What could be more cutting-edge than China?" When David didn't respond, Keith went on, "I've been over there, you know, doing the due diligence work and working with Knight's American accountants to get all the financials in order for review by the Securities and Exchange Commission. I've seen a lot of stuff." "Like?"

Keith considered, then said, "Nothing exciting. It's a factory out in the boonies, and I can tell you that those accountants Knight flew in suffered from major culture shock from the food and the strangeness of the place. Those guys came and went as fast as they could." Almost as an afterthought he added, "Although I don't know why. Knight only employs women-some pretty ones too." He wiped his forehead again.

David stared at Keith, trying to make sense of the strange fluctuations in the other man's behavior. Finally David asked, "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" There again was that testy tone, a response that was far removed from what David expected from his friend and colleague of many years.

"You seem to be under a lot more pressure than I've ever seen you. What's happening?"

Keith's eyes seemed to get watery, but he covered this by lifting the snifter and taking another sip of brandy.

"I can't help you if you don't confide in me," David persisted.

Keith put the snifter down. "I'm in a bind," he said, keeping his eyes focused on the inside lip of the glass. "I'm in trouble and I don't know what to do."

"What is it? Can I help?"

"It's personal."

"Keith, we've known each other a long time-"

"And it's professional," he said, raising his eyes to meet David's.

For the second time this evening, the honorable, yet sometimes horrible, code of ethics to which honest lawyers adhered had come into the conversation. They could skirt around the code: David could ask general questions about a client (Tartan) or about what that client was involved in (the acquisition of Knight), and Keith might even answer them, although he certainly hadn't tonight. But to exchange real information about a particular case, a particular client, a particular act involving jurisprudence? To actually divulge that a lawyer had been involved in something shady or sinister or straight-on illegal was another matter entirely. They both knew it was taboo.

David took a deep breath. "Is there something I can do?" He hesitated, then asked, "Do you need to talk to someone at the Justice Department or the FBI? You know I can arrange it."

But Keith just shook his head. "I don't know what I'm going to do. All I know is that I want to set things right."

The conversation had run aground. Keith was up against the wall, but still at a point that he couldn't or wouldn't talk about it. Keith smiled wanly, then looked away. "Man, I'm beat. Let's get the hell out of here." He flagged down the waitress, got the check, and paid it, saying, "Don't worry about it. I can expense it out." When he stood, his body swayed slightly. Then he made an unsteady line for the door.