Phillip Margolin: The Associate

Daniel was furious with Susan, but he took every task seriously, no matter how routine. At first he tried to read each page of each document, but his attention to detail waned after a few hours, as did his energy. By three in the morning he was barely aware of what was on each page. That’s when he went to a small room on the twenty-eighth floor with a bed, an alarm clock, and a washroom with a narrow shower that was used by associates who were pulling all-nighters. When the alarm went off at six, Daniel showered and shaved and, coffee in hand, attacked the remaining documents. There were still two boxes to go and an eight o’clock deadline to meet. Daniel remembered Susan saying that he only had to give the documents a cursory review. He hated doing anything halfway, but there wasn’t much more he could do in the time remaining. At 7:30, Daniel began stuffing the remaining papers back in their boxes. He was almost through when Renee Gilchrist walked in, immediately noticing the boxes spread over the conference table and Daniel’s obvious exhaustion. Arthur Briggs’s secretary was in her early thirties. At five nine, she was almost as tall as Daniel and she had the sleek, muscular build of an aerobics instructor. Renee’s dark hair was cut short. It framed wide blue eyes, a straight nose, and full lips that were pursed in an angry frown. “Is that the Geller discovery?” she asked. “All one billion pages of it,” Daniel answered groggily. “Susan Webster was supposed to review that.” Daniel shrugged, a little embarrassed that Renee had found out that he’d been duped into doing Susan’s work. “She had plans for last night and I wasn’t doing anything.” Renee started to leave, then she stopped. “You shouldn’t let her do that to you.” “It’s no big thing. Like I said, she was busy and I wasn’t.” Renee shook her head. “You’re too nice a guy, Daniel.”

Wheeling a dolly loaded with cardboard boxes across the lobby of Aaron Flynn’s law office gave Daniel the same queasy feeling he would have if he saw someone running keys along the side of a Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. The exterior of Flynn’s pre-World War I office building gave no hint of the grandeur Daniel encountered when he stepped out of the elevator on the seventh floor into a huge lobby that soared upward two stories. The lobby floor was made of shiny black marble and the space was decorated in rich dark woods and bronzed metals. Several columns of lapis-colored marble supported the ceiling. A balcony containing the library ran along three sides of the upper story.

Carved into the middle of the lobby floor was a medallion displaying blind Justice holding her scales. Written around the rim in gold leaf were the words justice for all. A young woman sat at the far side of the lobby on a high dais that looked more like a bench for a judge than a desk for a receptionist. Daniel was asking the woman where to leave his load when the man himself strode through a door that led to the inner sanctum. Aaron Flynn was talking quietly to another man with the shoulders and neck of a serious bodybuilder and the craggy, weather-beaten face of an outdoorsman. “Let me know as soon as you find out where the card was used,” Flynn said. “I’ll get on it,” his companion answered. Then he walked past Daniel and out of the office.

On television, Aaron Flynn’s deep voice asked viewers if they needed a champion to help them take on the mighty corporations that had wronged them. “You are not alone,” he promised, his face at once sober and compassionate. “Together we will fight for justice, and we will prevail.” Flynn was equally impressive in person. He was tall and broad-shouldered with red hair and a face that radiated self-confidence and sincerity. His clients saw Flynn as a savior, but Daniel didn’t trust him. Part of Daniel’s duties on the team defending Geller Pharmaceuticals was to review the animal and human studies conducted on Insufort. They showed it to be a safe product. Daniel was convinced that Flynn’s claim that the drug caused birth defects had no factual basis. It would not be the first time Flynn had tried to make millions by creating causes out of whole cloth. Five years ago one of the networks had broadcast a horrifying story about a six-year-old boy who was killed in his driveway. His mother swore that her sports utility vehicle had surged forward suddenly when she stepped on the brake, driving her son through the garage door. Other victims of “sudden acceleration” surfaced. They claimed that their SUVs would surge forward when the brake was applied and could not be stopped.

Aaron Flynn had just opened his practice in Portland, but he had the good fortune to represent the plaintiff in the first “sudden acceleration” case. His million-dollar judgment against the manufacturer of the SUV made his reputation. In the end, the explanation for “sudden acceleration” proved simple. It was not caused by a mechanical malfunction but by human error: drivers were stepping on the gas instead of the brake. By the time the truth came out, the manufacturer had paid millions in damages and settlements, and attorneys like Flynn had made out like bandits. Daniel had been introduced to Flynn when the lawyer visited the Reed, Briggs offices for a deposition, but the introduction was quick and Flynn had barely glanced his way during the proceedings. That was why Daniel was surprised when Flynn smiled and addressed him by name. “Daniel Ames, isn’t it?” “Yes, Mr. Flynn.” “From the way you look, I’d guess you’ve not had much sleep.” “No, sir,” Daniel answered cautiously. Flynn nodded sympathetically. “Lisa can bring you to our coffee room for a mug of java and a muffin.” “Thanks, Mr. Flynn, but I’ve got to get back,” Daniel answered, unwilling to accept gifts from the enemy even though the idea of coffee and a muffin sounded like heaven. Flynn smiled to show he understood. Then he turned his attention to the stack of boxes on the dolly. “So Arthur’s got you slaving away doing document review. Not what you expected, I’ll bet, when you were studying the opinions of Holmes and Cardozo at Yale.” “Actually, it was the U. of O.” Flynn grinned. “Then you must be one of the really bright lights if you were able to squeeze in between the lads and lassies of the Ivy League. I’m a graduate of the law school at the University of Arizona myself. Middle of the class.” He looked at the boxes of discovery again and sighed. “You know, when I filedMoffitt v.

Geller Pharmaceuticals this firm consisted of two partners and six associates. But since your client has been kind enough to answer my requests for discovery with such thoroughness, I’ve had to lease another floor and hire five new associates, ten paralegals, and eight support staff people to work on my little set-to with Geller.” “You’re keeping me employed, too, Mr. Flynn,” Daniel said, making a nervous joke to keep the conversation going. There was something about Flynn that made Daniel want to prolong their meeting. “It seems like you cross swords with Reed, Briggs pretty often.” “So I do,” Flynn answered with a laugh. “If you ever grow tired of toiling away for evil corporate interests and decide you want to engage in some honest labor, give me a call. We public school boys should stick together. It was good seeing you again.” Flynn stuck out his hand. As they shook, the elevator door opened, attracting Flynn’s attention. “Before you go, I’d like you to meet someone.” Flynn released Daniel’s hand and led him toward the office entrance. A haggard-looking woman in her late twenties was propping open the door with her shoulder and pushing a stroller into the lobby. In the stroller was a baby boy about six months old. His head was down and Daniel could not see his face. Flynn greeted them both. “Alice, how are you? And how is Patrick doing?” At the sound of his name, the little boy looked up. He had a mop of blond hair the color of new-mown hay and sky-blue eyes, but below his eyes something had gone terribly wrong. Where his lip should have been was a raw and gaping hole so wide that Daniel could see the saliva that moistened the back of the baby’s throat. Patrick’s left nostril was normal, but his deformed lip had pushed into the right side of the baby’s nose, stretching it wide like Silly Putty. Patrick should have been adorable, but his cleft palate made him look like a horror-movie monster. Flynn knelt next to the stroller and ruffled Patrick’s hair.